finally!!! a fic update!
Title: Dark Eyes
Author: w_addams13
Chapter: 3/3
Pairing: ToraxSaga
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: some crude language
Synopsis: They do not talk when they don't have to.
Disclaimer: All I own is the brain that made this up, and the hands that typed it out.
After six long months, I finally finish this thing. I just woke up this morning from a restless sleep and my mind just went into fanfic mode. I hope you guys like it.
Chapter 3
They do not talk when they don't have to.
During lives, they pretend. He tries to play his role well, throwing him open-mouthed smiles that shout "I'm fine, we're good." He gives some back, and he does not know if it's for the fans' sake or for his, to stop him from breaking down in the middle of a live. He takes what he can, anyway. After all, he has always been the one to compromise.
So when he leaves him a short voice message one evening, he does not fuss. He does not argue with himself. He wakes up early the next morning, fights off the mixture of dread and excitement and god-knows-what-else that's threatening to spill into his day, and gets up from non-sleep.
He supposes this is better than nothing. Anything is better than nothing.
"Combini. 8 o'clock."
***
He sees them before they see him. Her bright yellow dress clings to her knees while they walk; the wind blows his unkempt bangs away from his face. Her eyes are alight with laughter, her hand delicately poised on the crook of his arm.
She is not Mizuki.
Thirty seconds into staring, he gives up. He looks down at the swirling heat of coffee in front of him. Like that night, he feels the rage clogging his throat again. He automatically knows why he brings her with him. He is scared that he'll lose control and go raving mad like the last time. And in the broad daylight of the combini, there will be no unbuckling of belts, and Tora's fingers will not make a difference.
"Hey."
He is surprised when he looks up. The girl is gone from side. He slides smoothly into the plastic chair beside him, reaching for the hot cup Saga has been so intently focused on.
"Hey," he croaks back. He watches the other man take a thin plastic spoon and lazily stir the frothy contents of the cup. He tries to make eye contact for one, two, three seconds. But Tora does not look.
"Any news on the new track?"
"Mm," he grumbles, thinking. "I think Shou's not done with the lyrics yet. And Pon wants to revise his parts."
"Oh."
He continues to follow the languid cycles of the spoon with his eyes. Tora's newly painted nails capture his attention.
As is always the case with him, Saga finds his brain fumbling for the right thing to say. The letters, words, sounds form a sea in his mind and he wades through all of them helplessly. So instead, he clutches his arms with his hands and rubs. Awkwardness is making him cold.
Tora decides to take the first dip and finally, finally, for what seems like a thousand eternities, his sharp grey eyes dare to meet his. "How have you been?"
Saga calms himself down to respond. "What d'you mean how have I been?"
"It's a simple question, Saga. Don't make it complicated."
"You're making it complicated. What do you want me to say?"
Tora sighs. "Everything doesn't need to be about what I want, Saga."
"But I want them to be." He swallows as soon as the words leave his mouth. He notices Tora stiffen slightly.
It takes him four seconds and another sigh to answer. "I want you to tell me you're okay."
And so Saga does, with a dull voice that says otherwise.
Tora stops stirring and pushes the cup back to Saga. "It's not too hot anymore, you can drink it." Saga blinks at the sudden shift of conversation. His hands feel extremely cold against the warm styrofoam as he clasps his drink. He wants to say something more to ease the thickening tension but figures it is pointless. He mumbles a weak thanks and raises the cup to his lips.
"Why do you always do what I tell you?"
Saga likes to think it is disappointment that he hears in Tora's voice but they both know it is more like defeat than anything. Once again, he drowns in the sea of the unsaid in his mind, letting the stinging heat of the coffee press his brain to urgency. But all he can come up with is a shrug. And a sigh. And an unbearably soundless silence that follows its wake.
He watches Tora close his eyes for a brief moment. Perhaps he is deliberating on walking out on him. Perhaps he is admonishing himself for even making the trip to see him. But Saga is convinced it's not regret. With all the things they both have done and regretted, he is sure there is no space for more.
"Tora."
He jolts the other man into opening his eyes.
"Why don't you always not do what I tell you?"
He sees him fight off a smirk. "Because I'm not you."
"What d'you mean by that?"
"What d'you think I mean by that?"
"Why d'you always answer me with a question?"
"Why do you?"
They're both running in circles again, chasing each other's tails like dogs. Saga should be angry, should be stomping furious that Tora never lets them get anywhere, but he is not. And maybe that is the problem.
Saga sighs. Yes, maybe that's it. He lets Tora do everything and he's okay with it. Will always be, in fact. And Saga does not know whether to laugh or to cry knowing that. That this man in front of him can twist him into a untangable mess and he'll be perfectly fine with it. As long as it's him.
As long as it's him.
He has drunk half of the coffee before he knows it. He unconsciously bites into the styrofoam and traces the dent he made with his tongue. The moment he puts the cup down is the same moment Tora reaches out and glides his finger on the edge of Saga's mouth. His heart, his body, his entire being stops at this touch.
"I'm sorry."
"...For what?"
"I shouldn't have touched you." Saga searches Tora's eyes to see whether he is talking about his mouth, or another part of him, and the mere weight of the question makes his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. He feels so sad he wants to throw up. His throat constricts again and suddenly, he can feel all the coffee he has drunk make its agonizing way down his esophagus, burning every inch of him that it passes.
Right now, the entire sea in his mind dries up, and he is left with nothing but fear.
"So it was an accident?" he dares ask.
"No. I don't think so."
"Was it pity?"
Tora grit his teeth. "No."
"A loss of control, then."
"I don't know! Fuck!" The last word was a whisper. Tora has his head in his hands now and for a moment, Saga is thrown back into that night in the dressing room again. He quickly backpedals. He now knows not to cross that line.
Saga bows his head and stares at his immobile hands. "Do you even want---"
"It was a chance," Tora breathed. Saga's fingers twitch in shock.
"What?"
"A chance." An arm reaches towards him again and for a second, Saga thinks he is going to touch him a second time, but Tora grabs the cup of coffee instead and holds it in his fist tightly, like it was his.
"A chance," Saga repeats, forcing his thoughts to catch up.
"Yeah. I guess. Maybe."
"I don't get it."
"Me neither." Tora brings the styrofoam cup to his nose and inhales. "I think I need to go now."
Saga smiles bitterly. "Of course." Tired of getting angry, he decides to sit there, unmoving. He follows Tora's movements as he digs through his pockets for some coins, which he unceremoniously plunks on the counter.
"What's this for?" asks Saga.
"For my half of the coffee," Tora replies. He drinks what's left in one big swallow and puts the empty cup in front of Saga.
"Okay."
Tora leaves him. Saga is halfway out of his chair when he comes back.
"She's my cousin."
"What?"
"The girl, from this morning."
Saga nods in understanding. "Okay."
"Mizuki's in Korea." Tora says quickly. He shuffles his feet and adds "For good."
Saga is too stunned to say anything lengthier than another "Okay."
"Okay." Tora echoes. It takes five more restless seconds of shuffling of feet and rubbing of palms before Tora is completely out of the combini. Saga lets out the breath he has been holding and turns back to the counter.
Dazedly, he grabs the coins the other man left. He glances at the empty cup. At its mouth is another set of marks, more deeply ingrained than the ones above it.
Saga's heart beats confidently. The change is warm in his hand.
***
End
A/N: If you noticed, the POV and tense changed. Not for any particular reason. It's just that my brain had it all made up and it'd be a bitch to try and tinker with it. IMO it worked, but who am I to say that? XD Reviews are love, people. Think of them as your belated birthday gifts to me lol.
Author: w_addams13
Chapter: 3/3
Pairing: ToraxSaga
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: some crude language
Synopsis: They do not talk when they don't have to.
Disclaimer: All I own is the brain that made this up, and the hands that typed it out.
After six long months, I finally finish this thing. I just woke up this morning from a restless sleep and my mind just went into fanfic mode. I hope you guys like it.
Chapter 3
They do not talk when they don't have to.
During lives, they pretend. He tries to play his role well, throwing him open-mouthed smiles that shout "I'm fine, we're good." He gives some back, and he does not know if it's for the fans' sake or for his, to stop him from breaking down in the middle of a live. He takes what he can, anyway. After all, he has always been the one to compromise.
So when he leaves him a short voice message one evening, he does not fuss. He does not argue with himself. He wakes up early the next morning, fights off the mixture of dread and excitement and god-knows-what-else that's threatening to spill into his day, and gets up from non-sleep.
He supposes this is better than nothing. Anything is better than nothing.
"Combini. 8 o'clock."
***
He sees them before they see him. Her bright yellow dress clings to her knees while they walk; the wind blows his unkempt bangs away from his face. Her eyes are alight with laughter, her hand delicately poised on the crook of his arm.
She is not Mizuki.
Thirty seconds into staring, he gives up. He looks down at the swirling heat of coffee in front of him. Like that night, he feels the rage clogging his throat again. He automatically knows why he brings her with him. He is scared that he'll lose control and go raving mad like the last time. And in the broad daylight of the combini, there will be no unbuckling of belts, and Tora's fingers will not make a difference.
"Hey."
He is surprised when he looks up. The girl is gone from side. He slides smoothly into the plastic chair beside him, reaching for the hot cup Saga has been so intently focused on.
"Hey," he croaks back. He watches the other man take a thin plastic spoon and lazily stir the frothy contents of the cup. He tries to make eye contact for one, two, three seconds. But Tora does not look.
"Any news on the new track?"
"Mm," he grumbles, thinking. "I think Shou's not done with the lyrics yet. And Pon wants to revise his parts."
"Oh."
He continues to follow the languid cycles of the spoon with his eyes. Tora's newly painted nails capture his attention.
As is always the case with him, Saga finds his brain fumbling for the right thing to say. The letters, words, sounds form a sea in his mind and he wades through all of them helplessly. So instead, he clutches his arms with his hands and rubs. Awkwardness is making him cold.
Tora decides to take the first dip and finally, finally, for what seems like a thousand eternities, his sharp grey eyes dare to meet his. "How have you been?"
Saga calms himself down to respond. "What d'you mean how have I been?"
"It's a simple question, Saga. Don't make it complicated."
"You're making it complicated. What do you want me to say?"
Tora sighs. "Everything doesn't need to be about what I want, Saga."
"But I want them to be." He swallows as soon as the words leave his mouth. He notices Tora stiffen slightly.
It takes him four seconds and another sigh to answer. "I want you to tell me you're okay."
And so Saga does, with a dull voice that says otherwise.
Tora stops stirring and pushes the cup back to Saga. "It's not too hot anymore, you can drink it." Saga blinks at the sudden shift of conversation. His hands feel extremely cold against the warm styrofoam as he clasps his drink. He wants to say something more to ease the thickening tension but figures it is pointless. He mumbles a weak thanks and raises the cup to his lips.
"Why do you always do what I tell you?"
Saga likes to think it is disappointment that he hears in Tora's voice but they both know it is more like defeat than anything. Once again, he drowns in the sea of the unsaid in his mind, letting the stinging heat of the coffee press his brain to urgency. But all he can come up with is a shrug. And a sigh. And an unbearably soundless silence that follows its wake.
He watches Tora close his eyes for a brief moment. Perhaps he is deliberating on walking out on him. Perhaps he is admonishing himself for even making the trip to see him. But Saga is convinced it's not regret. With all the things they both have done and regretted, he is sure there is no space for more.
"Tora."
He jolts the other man into opening his eyes.
"Why don't you always not do what I tell you?"
He sees him fight off a smirk. "Because I'm not you."
"What d'you mean by that?"
"What d'you think I mean by that?"
"Why d'you always answer me with a question?"
"Why do you?"
They're both running in circles again, chasing each other's tails like dogs. Saga should be angry, should be stomping furious that Tora never lets them get anywhere, but he is not. And maybe that is the problem.
Saga sighs. Yes, maybe that's it. He lets Tora do everything and he's okay with it. Will always be, in fact. And Saga does not know whether to laugh or to cry knowing that. That this man in front of him can twist him into a untangable mess and he'll be perfectly fine with it. As long as it's him.
As long as it's him.
He has drunk half of the coffee before he knows it. He unconsciously bites into the styrofoam and traces the dent he made with his tongue. The moment he puts the cup down is the same moment Tora reaches out and glides his finger on the edge of Saga's mouth. His heart, his body, his entire being stops at this touch.
"I'm sorry."
"...For what?"
"I shouldn't have touched you." Saga searches Tora's eyes to see whether he is talking about his mouth, or another part of him, and the mere weight of the question makes his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. He feels so sad he wants to throw up. His throat constricts again and suddenly, he can feel all the coffee he has drunk make its agonizing way down his esophagus, burning every inch of him that it passes.
Right now, the entire sea in his mind dries up, and he is left with nothing but fear.
"So it was an accident?" he dares ask.
"No. I don't think so."
"Was it pity?"
Tora grit his teeth. "No."
"A loss of control, then."
"I don't know! Fuck!" The last word was a whisper. Tora has his head in his hands now and for a moment, Saga is thrown back into that night in the dressing room again. He quickly backpedals. He now knows not to cross that line.
Saga bows his head and stares at his immobile hands. "Do you even want---"
"It was a chance," Tora breathed. Saga's fingers twitch in shock.
"What?"
"A chance." An arm reaches towards him again and for a second, Saga thinks he is going to touch him a second time, but Tora grabs the cup of coffee instead and holds it in his fist tightly, like it was his.
"A chance," Saga repeats, forcing his thoughts to catch up.
"Yeah. I guess. Maybe."
"I don't get it."
"Me neither." Tora brings the styrofoam cup to his nose and inhales. "I think I need to go now."
Saga smiles bitterly. "Of course." Tired of getting angry, he decides to sit there, unmoving. He follows Tora's movements as he digs through his pockets for some coins, which he unceremoniously plunks on the counter.
"What's this for?" asks Saga.
"For my half of the coffee," Tora replies. He drinks what's left in one big swallow and puts the empty cup in front of Saga.
"Okay."
Tora leaves him. Saga is halfway out of his chair when he comes back.
"She's my cousin."
"What?"
"The girl, from this morning."
Saga nods in understanding. "Okay."
"Mizuki's in Korea." Tora says quickly. He shuffles his feet and adds "For good."
Saga is too stunned to say anything lengthier than another "Okay."
"Okay." Tora echoes. It takes five more restless seconds of shuffling of feet and rubbing of palms before Tora is completely out of the combini. Saga lets out the breath he has been holding and turns back to the counter.
Dazedly, he grabs the coins the other man left. He glances at the empty cup. At its mouth is another set of marks, more deeply ingrained than the ones above it.
Saga's heart beats confidently. The change is warm in his hand.
***
End
A/N: If you noticed, the POV and tense changed. Not for any particular reason. It's just that my brain had it all made up and it'd be a bitch to try and tinker with it. IMO it worked, but who am I to say that? XD Reviews are love, people. Think of them as your belated birthday gifts to me lol.