Yomenai Kotoba 25/25 - AoiXRuki, ReitaXKai
Title: Yomenai Kotoba
Chapter: 25/25 ~ epilogue ~
Author: chuu ( akichuu)
Fandom: JRock, Gazette
Pairings: AoiXRuki. ReitaXKai
Overall Rating: NC-17
Genre: Smut. But it's sort of fluffy at some parts. Watch for some angst too.
Warnings: ManXMan sex scenes, language--just sometimes, over-exaggerated romance scenes. Un-beta-ed mistakes.
Summary: ... A glimpse of a different point of view of the whole matter...
Notes: The 25th isn't actually a chapter as in a continuation of 24th, but it's an Epilogue! ... and it came up like a thunder in broad daylight. I really hadn't seen it coming and since I screwed up what was supposed to be the 'real' 25th chapter (writer's block and stuff...), I decided to put this up instead. The 24th was pretty much a good ending, so I don't think I need to extend what doesn't need to be extended.
So it was like... I was re-reading all the chapters, and the thought about Uruha suddenly surfaced up and I thought, "My God... poor guy. Haven't I put him through too deep of shit without once given him a chance to speak up what he had in mind...?" And so I started this without a certain plot, but it turned out pretty easy to write his POV since... I don't know, maybe I had been in the same fucked up mood like he probably had been? But the mood was just perfect that I could focus, so I wrote and wrote and suddenly it became a pretty long epilogue.
The timing took place right before chapter 07, for your information.
Gomen ne, Uruha-san, I've only given you one chapter... I owe you. Pay you back later ^^
Epilogue
He couldn't suppress the small laughter that came out rumbling slightly against his lips as he scanned the paper once again, reading the whole thing which happened to be none other but his own writing, amused by the hilarity of the situation. A letter, for God's sakes? How long had it been since he last wrote one? It should've been somewhere in high school, he supposed. Nowadays, even if the fans had persistently written him letters (tons of them), he had never replied back any of them. He'd be killed doing that, he knew, or at least he'd break his fingers. To write thousands of letters manually would certainly require some godly abilities that he didn't possess. And there was always his persocon or his cellphone, electronic means that were invented to be used for certain, not to be neglected over the less-promising more ancient tools -- such as pencils, pens or papers.
Giving it another long glance, he considered if he had left anything in the sentences scribbled on the paper, probably not, he thought after a minute. If he actually left anything he could always rely on his cellphone and mail the forgotten detail or just come back here to fetch it. Satisfied with what he had done, he folded the paper, spinning on his heels to observe the dim room he was in right now, as he stood there in the middle of it, his mind fiddling with options of where to put this little paper so it would quickly attract attention... Ah. The bed. What had been a grin was now an easy smile on his lips, and at the end of his little journey towards the bed that was shrouded with a black and white checker-patterned cover, a sigh broke out from his mouth. He threw the paper onto the bed and it landed there like a feather, softly, noiselessly. Yeah... The spot was good enough, he decided.
The song of the night, the humming of vehicles and the clattering of many other unnamed things that the city was built of, the sounds of the world beyond being muffled by the window glass, they sneaked in and became the only sounds heard inside the room while he stayed quiet. It is so disturbingly lonely, isn't it? he thought to himself. There was only him since the owner of the place had been gone and probably wouldn't be coming home at any time tonight. A hint of an uncomfortable, acidic sensation ran through him when he gave it a good thought, imagining just how Reita's face would look like once he walked in to his apartment in the next morning. He couldn't help wondering just how Reita would feel exactly to find out that his guest had disappeared to thin air, leaving nothing but a piece of paper with the briefest information of his whereabouts. No explanations whatsoever about the reason why he wanted to leave. It was rude of him, he knew, to leave so suddenly without ever giving an earlier notice like a person with manners was supposed to do, a proper goodbye at least, since Reita was the host and he was the guest and a guest was supposed to say something decent before leaving the host's place... but he had no other way. The idea hadn't come to him sooner than two hours ago, and the next thing he knew, he was already going through the whole apartment excavating his stuffs, emptying his closet, stuffing everything into his briefcase. The only thing he had in mind was, if he was going to delay just one more day, he might as well just cancel this. The only thing that had kept him going up until this point was this hasty courage he had within him, so small and so fragile that he knew it wasn't going to last for so long being in the verge of doubt, one tiny push was quite enough to send it down to complete wreck.
Sighing again, he jammed one hand into his pocket, finding his cellphone and pulled it out. No notifications of anything, mails, calls, nothing, but the numbers on the external screen told him that the night was already late enough and he had to hurry if he wanted to catch the subway in time.
He tapped his foot slowly against the carpet, giving just one more glance towards the white piece of paper he had placed on top of the bed cover. It's time, he said to himself, it's time to move on, Uruha.
~
Light pop-ish rhythm accompanying soft, easy listening melodies was thumping softly against his eardrums. While he shuffled his hand into his pocket to find his keys, Uruha sang a bit of a lyric of this song that he had heard rather often. Funny how this genre of music became a sanctuary or some sorts because for sure, in his current mood, he wasn't up for any hardcore, fast rhythmed, loud riffs of guitar filled kind of songs. He had lived with the hard face of music for almost a good part of his life, and if it was even possible, he was a bit bored of it. Well... not bored, not exactly. If he was bored then how the hell would he manage to write the songs for the band? He only needed some variations in life, that was all.
The door creaked as he pushed it open--a rather disturbing noise that could even top the volume of his I-Pod--reminding him about the first task to be listed: go oil the hinges, Uruha. And he hadn't even gone so much further than his genkan, wonder what hell was waiting for him and that he would surely meet if he dared going further into his apartment.
His shoes clattered as he kicked them off his foot carelessly, he shrugged it off thinking he'd get to that later since there were more urgent places to take care of. He flicked on the nearby switch in reserved familiarity and... Voila.
Damn, the place was messy.
He dropped his briefcase and sighed almost defeatedly, he had left Reita's place with the most positive of thoughts that he could finish cleaning up his apartment before he went to bed tonight, but now that he had a good look on the place... that was an impossible goal, he concluded. Impossible indeed, unless the gods had doomed for some kind of miracle to happen tonight here in his apartment. Muttering several curses that couldn't be pointed to any other person but himself, he scratched the back of his head as he walked further into his living room. It had been a fine living room, he could remember it, it had been pretty neat... before he had gone berserk and thrashed the whole place without mercy.
There were some side effects of alcohol that he had learnt and they were important considering his intense delight in boozes (although he consistanly refused to be called alcoholic), but tonight, this was probably the most appropriate lesson ever: never EVER drink while you were alone at home, feeling like shit, having no other means of stress-release but to throw whatever you could find around you. Unfortunately back then Uruha had been alone and no one had been there to stop him from consuming almost half of his precious stash of Moet et Chandon. He had been feeling like shit (simply speaking), and he had had no other means to release his stress but to re-decorate his living room in the most grotesque sense he had never known he possessed... being dead drunk, that is.
Yeah well... It's not like he could undone what had been done, was it? He could only feel sorry now for the numerous things, innocent as they may be, that had become the victims of his uncontrollable rage. Poor vase. Poor table.
Poor... sofa!
Oh no... Not the sofa...
He walked slowly to approach one of his favorite furnitures he had ever bought that was situated in the middle of his living room. He couldn't help being a little lost at this sight in particular, as he ran a hand on the once beige surface, wondering quietly how the hell it had changed color into a sickening shade of green. The surface was dusty, and... and...
Was that... mold??
Uruha stared in horror, cringing his face in distaste looking at an ugly, big, freckle-like white spot on one cushion. He followed the traces of the same, white stain that turned out to have ruined several more parts of the sofa's surface, making patterns that might've been contemporary artistic if it had been some authentic fabric patterns. But these were not patterns... These were molds for God's sakes! Or fungi, whichever. Uruha had never scored too well in biology for as long as he could remember, to be able to distinguish one microbe with another.
Sighing sadly, he figured he was so going to get himself a new sofa, there was no way he could salvage this one. Nothing could be done to fix it, and although he loved this sofa, he had to accept reality.
Spinning on his heels, carefully not to step on any of the shattered glasses on the floor, the remaining of what had once been a full form of some item he couldn't remember what exactly, Uruha analyzed the condition of his living room, considering its importance to be prioritized for tonight. No. Maybe not. It wasn't too urgent. If he intended to sleep in bed tonight, he was going to have to clean up his bed room first. He could deal with this place in the morning... and mornings after...
~
By the next hour he had already lounged himself on the floor of his bedroom, surrounded by stuffs big and small, probably looking like a seven year old boy in the midst of his toys musing over one by one of his precious belongings that he had just dug out of his treasure box. He was far too deep in concentration that he even neglected to sing to yet another pop song that his stereo was playing. Ah... the stereo. He was so thankful that the electronic item was alright when he had found it, it had suffered no damage whatsoever. He couldn't help thinking about the worst possibilities ever, contriving analogies with what he had witnessed in his living room, also remembering about those tiny creatures that lived in the crevices invisible to his eyes, creatures that without his supervision could've chewed off the cables or eaten a hole out of the stereo's speakers... but none of his fears came true, so far. Other than the hideous stench that seemed to be coming from somewhere behind his closet, those creatures had left him no other signs of existence.
The last page of an old album was concealed now that he had flipped close the back cover, the still sceneries vanished by the time he left that last page, but in an eerie way, the memories lingered inside his brain. His youth seemed so far away now, he thought bitterly. Those cheerful and silly faces in the pictures were already out of reach even if he wanted them to stay, those being the remnants of the days of laughter that he had gone through... days that were very valuable, days that were so precious he would willingly go through them all over again. He could remember how everything was just so simple back then. He hadn't had much care as he had now, all he had known was to live day by day as they passed him by, welcoming each chance that had come knocking on his door. There had been only music, lives, pranks, laughter... and most importantly, friendship.
His mind was suddenly trapped within a maze of memories that was the band, the time was probably five or maybe six years ago. Oh how they had been so young and so hopeful... A bunch of guys that were living the same dream of conquering Japan and probably the rest of the world with the music that they created. A bunch of guys that, under Tokyo's skies that day, were drawn together by fate. They shook hands and smiled to each other, and that being the moment when 'Gazette' was born... fragile in their earlier days, trying to rise up in the midst of visual music industry that was just cruel and merciless to newcomers. But together, all the five of them, they had survived whatever shit the world had had to offer them, taking the obstacles down one by one until they had reached the spot where they were standing now: under the bright lights and showered by appreciation. A delirious taste of satisfaction was curling in his chest as he mused over the mere thought of what they had achieved along the journey of their lives together as a band. They had worked so long and so hard. It hadn't been easy, not one single day had passed without struggle... But they had come this far, and it was nowhere near regret...
Once an interviewer had asked him a question, "If a ten-years-from-now you is given a chance to say something to yourself at the present moment, what would you say?"
He answered: "You've done a good job. Now go and rock some more!"
The bang of a snare drum shocked him and brought him back to his disordered room.
He blinked, recognizing the upbeat song that was the next track on the CD he had put in his stereo.
What's with this reminiscing...? He was supposed to clean up his room!
Scolding himself, Uruha walked towards his bed, shrugging the cover off of his bed and immediately feeling grateful that he hadn't forgotten to put on a mask over his face. The amount of dust flying around was, without a doubt, going to give him an acute asphyxiation or maybe even bronchitis. Thinking wisely, Uruha walked towards the window panes and pushed them open, the cool breeze of night air flushed against his face making him shiver a bit. This was a mere precaution. He really didn't want to choke himself to death, which was what would happen for sure if he was locked in a room without proper ventilation, breathing very unhealthy air mixed with dust and bacteria and God only knew what else hovering around him right now.
He returned to the bed, tightening the mask over his face, thinking inappropriately about Reita and that bandana he wore at some lives... Letting out a small laughter, he kneeled and leaned very low, peeking under the bed, and at that very instant he almost jumped away in shock for seeing so many things piled in there. He could see some sort of a shadowy object that was a combination of many different things packed up together, resembling a terrifying creature that he had only seen in horror movies. In shame, he scolded himself again for having a very disrespectful habit of shoving everything he could find under the bed. With the stick of his broom, Uruha tackled out the stack of rubbish he had found there, shaking his head in disbelieve when he saw various items rolling out from their hiding.
Magazines. Books. Some games CDs (he had been looking for some of those!). A t-shirt that could've been black once, but it was pretty much dark grey now. A pack of... holy crap! expired condoms...
A small, black box which surface was carved in patterns of flowers and leaves rolled out, tangled under the dark-grey t-shirt, its lid clanked open as it hit the floor, and as it landed near Uruha's foot, a silver-ish item fell out from the box.
The feeling he had the moment he recognized what the thing was... was almost like his heart had just fallen from its rightful place inside his chest down to his stomach, throbbing uncomfortably there, giving him nauseas that would not disappear even if he bothered taking a medicine.
Uruha dropped to his knees, watching his own shaky hand as it moved almost on its own will, reaching for that silver jewelry and picked it up from the floor. The chain of the necklace clattered softly against his palm as he lifted his hand under his face, his eyes scanning the object while myriads of memories blazing out into the open inside his head. His other hand moved up too now, a finger came touching the gleaming surface of the pendant, following its every curve, adoring the purple gem that was in the middle of it...
A key to my heart. Just so you know, you always have it.
He surprised himself when a warm sensation flowed down his cheeks.
I always have it, huh? Uruha thought, wiping the tears off. A useless attempt, since there seemed to be more to be spilled, rolling down from his eyes. He couldn't stop a god damned drop as they came one after another, and the next thing he knew, he was crying all over again.
Damn it.
His fingers dug into his palm, forming a painful fist as he clenched that necklace tightly inside his grip. One sob started a series of it, and soon, there he was, soaking his face wet with tears, making sounds that were completely off tune with the melodies of the pop song still played on the stereo.
He was already sick of crying, of wallowing inside his misery, but he kept coming back again and again to this point. Every time he found something that reminded him about that man he had truly loved -- still truly loved -- he would just break down and cry again. Pathetic, and even he was surprised why the wound hadn't healed just yet. It still seemed too raw, too fresh. Too painful. It still seemed like his heart, that was wrecked in half, was still dripping blood like it had been wounded yesterday. But it had been months...
He loved Ruki.
God, he loved Ruki so fucking much it wasn't healthy.
But he had hurt him, and there was no turning back even if he wished there was. A major part of him was still reprimanding himself for what he had done, and he knew that even as time passed by, there was no way of forgiving himself. What he had done, it was the worst that a man could ever do. It was the disgrace of his life, the one low point that he would love to erase but it was impossible to turn back time and allow himself to do that. He had never believed in violence in the sake of hurting someone, not to mention someone he loved, and that was why he had had a hard time just to face the truth. Who had he been, back then when he shoved Ruki down on the floor and ravished him in the most animalistic ways he had never known he was capable of, who had he been? Uruha had never wanted to hurt Ruki, not for as long as he lived... But back then, how had he suddenly become that... Monster??
Yes, that's what he was. A freaking monster. A monster that could even hurt the one he claimed to love.
Ruki had cheated on him, yes. Ruki had cheated on him with his friend, true. Ruki had betrayed his sincere feelings and kicked him away like he was trash, an undeniable fact.
But could any of those be a reason for him to... rape Ruki?
He almost choked at that word as it came across his brain. Rape. Yes, that's what he had done. It was as disgusting as it sounded. It might've been better if he had beaten up Ruki instead, although it would still be a disgrace, but at least... it was still forgivable, understandable. Beating the hell out of Ruki would leave that man bruised and all, but the wounds would only be physical, and physical wounds heal in time. But by raping him... He hadn't only hurt Ruki physically, but he had also damaged him psychologically and that sort of wound... No. It would never completely heal.
His palm started to throb in pain and he released his grip, letting the necklace with the key-pendant slide from his hand to the floor.
With bleary eyes, he stared at it. It was a birthday present from Ruki, yes... He remembered it. How could he forget? It was one of those happy days when he had been nothing more but a fool in love, being promised a whole lot of wonderful possibilities as Ruki looked at him with those eyes and that smile, a face that was just so beautiful it became dangerous for people who took trust for granted. Uruha was just one of those people, unfortunately. He had trusted Ruki with all that he had got, but now trust was broken, and so was everything in his life.
A tumor in his brain, eating him alive, no chemo nor surgery could deprive him from those memories. Uruha could remember everything like they were tattooed to his conscience, clear and everlasting. He remembered just how much he had given and received back and it hadn't until the end of the road that he realized the truth behind the smile. He and Ruki, they had shared words and deeds, touches and kisses, laughter and tears, extravagant days and sensual nights... He thought it was all perfect, flawless. He thought those eyes were only looking at him... Obviously, he was wrong.
He had been so blind, so stupid...
Ruki had never loved him, at least not in the way he had been loving Ruki.
Yeah... That's what Ruki had told him. The ugly thing was, Ruki hadn't told him up until the last moments, which had made it so much more painful for him.
A key to Ruki's heart... The pendant, as it resembled a form of a key, was supposed to symbolize that. Silly, he could remember how he had been crying too, that day when Ruki handed this gift to him. Only back then, those were the tears of happiness he had cried, there was no better feeling than to know that he was the only person Ruki had allowed to enter his heart.
Well.
Ruki must've changed the lock and Uruha hadn't been informed about it, until one day he had had to knock on Ruki's door and question why the hell the door wouldn't open when he had forced the key in its hole...
Just like that night in the tour. Ruki had opened the door to someone else and locked Uruha outside. Ruki had found the one person who didn't even need a key to unlock the door and come inside, because that person was already inside Ruki's heart for a long time.
He sobbed even harder when the feelings grew even more hurtful inside of him... God, how he had lost so much... Ruki was the reason of so many things that Uruha had done, and now that he had lost him... What should he do now? What must he do and what for? It felt like losing a big chunk of his life and he was hardly complete anymore now, even breathing had become hard without a cause, not to mention to stand up and walk forward like the whole world was expecting him to do.
An annoying urge was growing quickly inside of him, he recognized it for being familiar. Yeah well... Unlucky for him, the last drop of alcohol in this house had been spent all over the sofa or the floor just outside this room, dried out to leave nothing but stains on his furnitures. He hadn't had anything inside his fridge but rottening vegetables that even those creatures that lived in the crevices would never eat.
But this was probably better. He didn't believe that a drunken version of himself could do anything prosperous for the apartment, and the place had been torn apart as it is and he really didn't need extra work to do.
Speaking of alcohols... the keyword reminded him of something else -- some one else, actually.
Reita. Oh... his beloved Reita.
Uruha had never, ever been able to understand just why the hell Reita hadn't ditched him already. Reita had seen the worst side of him, the ugly mixture of a disturbed Uruha and alcohol, must've been a terrible sight yet Reita had stayed by his side. He hadn't even muttered one complain to his face. Some people could be persistent, but Reita... oh, Reita was relentless. Well, Uruha had grown up with him, he knew it better than anyone else that Reita wouldn't give up on anything, or anyone.
Even him. Him in his darkest moments that other people had chosen to stay away from.
Which was probably why he had turned right to Reita when the world decided to shun him away as if he was condemned to eternal loneliness. Reita had received him with open arms and tucked him in to bed and taken a very good care of him, he had done everything he could and given everything he owned although he was promised nothing in return. It made Uruha wonder, most of the times, that maybe Reita had been born in the wrong side of the universe. Probably the gods had meant him to be an angel or something but had mistakenly dropped him down to mother earth.
An angel without wings, wasn't he? Or a saint wrapped with a stupid nose-band.
But Reita could be a devil misconceived or the Hunchback of Notredame and Uruha would still love him. Uruha loved him more than anything else in this world, actually, in a term deeper than boyfriends or lovers.
And it happened to be the reason why he had left Reita's place earlier this evening.
Oh no... He couldn't put Reita into more trouble. He couldn't let Reita be his babysitter anymore, although, he admitted, it was nice to have someone spoiling him when he needed to be spoiled. But not anymore... Uruha could see just how much he had hurt Reita by being a parasite in Reita's apartment, he had driven Reita to his limits, he could see it clearly on Reita's face. There was that one night when he had been sober enough to look at Reita straight in the eyes and understand what he was seeing. There in those dark orbs he found the exhaustion that was thick within his mind, and at that exact moment he knew, Reita was probably as sick as a person could be over another person but he was just overly nice not to say anything to Uruha.
If he loved Reita, he had to leave him. If he loved Reita, he had to try to walk with his own feet and not leaning his weight on Reita's shoulder anymore. It was hell enough what he had put Reita through...
A long, snotty breath came out of him. This wasn't what he had left Reita's place to do, was it? He didn't walk out of that door just to find another place to torture himself, to lay himself down on the floor and cry his eyes out. He wanted to move on...
And move on shall he do.
Grabbing the silver necklace from the floor, he stood up and strode to his nightstand, he opened the drawer and carefully, he laid that necklace inside. This was where everything must go: into a safety box. His memories, his past, everything else that was either painful or pleasant... He could never be able to replace the hurt with anything else if he wouldn't let go of the reason why he was hurt. He could never be able to welcome what was in the present and the future in he wouldn't let go of his past. He wanted to heal, and in order to do that, he had to take the thorns off his wound, let it bleed and only afterwards that he could start mending it.
Tonight he would bleed. Tonight he would let go of everything... Of his past... Of his Ruki.
=====
And... hereby I pronounce that this is The End of Yomenai Kotoba (and Filth in the Beauty).
I feel like crying right now...
But the end is the end. It's been a roller coaster of emotions during the whole story, chapter by chapter has brought me new impression that I have grown to love it so much. Before I knew it, I've become so attached to this story. Now that it's over, I might find myself being stuck in front of Persocon-sama, thinking "Oh, I have to write Yome--wait. It's finished, isn't it?" over and over again, night after night, only God knows until when.
If I was asked to say the moral of the story, based on my opinion, then it would be: don't cheat. Don't mess around in a relationship. Don't lie to your own feelings.
I feel like a hypocrite for breaking all those prohibitions myself *smiles bitterly*
It's hard. But yeah... Bye bye to this.
I guess I'll see you in another story, then.
previous chapters and other titles
Chapter: 25/25 ~ epilogue ~
Author: chuu ( akichuu)
Fandom: JRock, Gazette
Pairings: AoiXRuki. ReitaXKai
Overall Rating: NC-17
Genre: Smut. But it's sort of fluffy at some parts. Watch for some angst too.
Warnings: ManXMan sex scenes, language--just sometimes, over-exaggerated romance scenes. Un-beta-ed mistakes.
Summary: ... A glimpse of a different point of view of the whole matter...
Notes: The 25th isn't actually a chapter as in a continuation of 24th, but it's an Epilogue! ... and it came up like a thunder in broad daylight. I really hadn't seen it coming and since I screwed up what was supposed to be the 'real' 25th chapter (writer's block and stuff...), I decided to put this up instead. The 24th was pretty much a good ending, so I don't think I need to extend what doesn't need to be extended.
So it was like... I was re-reading all the chapters, and the thought about Uruha suddenly surfaced up and I thought, "My God... poor guy. Haven't I put him through too deep of shit without once given him a chance to speak up what he had in mind...?" And so I started this without a certain plot, but it turned out pretty easy to write his POV since... I don't know, maybe I had been in the same fucked up mood like he probably had been? But the mood was just perfect that I could focus, so I wrote and wrote and suddenly it became a pretty long epilogue.
The timing took place right before chapter 07, for your information.
Gomen ne, Uruha-san, I've only given you one chapter... I owe you. Pay you back later ^^
Epilogue
He couldn't suppress the small laughter that came out rumbling slightly against his lips as he scanned the paper once again, reading the whole thing which happened to be none other but his own writing, amused by the hilarity of the situation. A letter, for God's sakes? How long had it been since he last wrote one? It should've been somewhere in high school, he supposed. Nowadays, even if the fans had persistently written him letters (tons of them), he had never replied back any of them. He'd be killed doing that, he knew, or at least he'd break his fingers. To write thousands of letters manually would certainly require some godly abilities that he didn't possess. And there was always his persocon or his cellphone, electronic means that were invented to be used for certain, not to be neglected over the less-promising more ancient tools -- such as pencils, pens or papers.
Giving it another long glance, he considered if he had left anything in the sentences scribbled on the paper, probably not, he thought after a minute. If he actually left anything he could always rely on his cellphone and mail the forgotten detail or just come back here to fetch it. Satisfied with what he had done, he folded the paper, spinning on his heels to observe the dim room he was in right now, as he stood there in the middle of it, his mind fiddling with options of where to put this little paper so it would quickly attract attention... Ah. The bed. What had been a grin was now an easy smile on his lips, and at the end of his little journey towards the bed that was shrouded with a black and white checker-patterned cover, a sigh broke out from his mouth. He threw the paper onto the bed and it landed there like a feather, softly, noiselessly. Yeah... The spot was good enough, he decided.
The song of the night, the humming of vehicles and the clattering of many other unnamed things that the city was built of, the sounds of the world beyond being muffled by the window glass, they sneaked in and became the only sounds heard inside the room while he stayed quiet. It is so disturbingly lonely, isn't it? he thought to himself. There was only him since the owner of the place had been gone and probably wouldn't be coming home at any time tonight. A hint of an uncomfortable, acidic sensation ran through him when he gave it a good thought, imagining just how Reita's face would look like once he walked in to his apartment in the next morning. He couldn't help wondering just how Reita would feel exactly to find out that his guest had disappeared to thin air, leaving nothing but a piece of paper with the briefest information of his whereabouts. No explanations whatsoever about the reason why he wanted to leave. It was rude of him, he knew, to leave so suddenly without ever giving an earlier notice like a person with manners was supposed to do, a proper goodbye at least, since Reita was the host and he was the guest and a guest was supposed to say something decent before leaving the host's place... but he had no other way. The idea hadn't come to him sooner than two hours ago, and the next thing he knew, he was already going through the whole apartment excavating his stuffs, emptying his closet, stuffing everything into his briefcase. The only thing he had in mind was, if he was going to delay just one more day, he might as well just cancel this. The only thing that had kept him going up until this point was this hasty courage he had within him, so small and so fragile that he knew it wasn't going to last for so long being in the verge of doubt, one tiny push was quite enough to send it down to complete wreck.
Sighing again, he jammed one hand into his pocket, finding his cellphone and pulled it out. No notifications of anything, mails, calls, nothing, but the numbers on the external screen told him that the night was already late enough and he had to hurry if he wanted to catch the subway in time.
He tapped his foot slowly against the carpet, giving just one more glance towards the white piece of paper he had placed on top of the bed cover. It's time, he said to himself, it's time to move on, Uruha.
~
Light pop-ish rhythm accompanying soft, easy listening melodies was thumping softly against his eardrums. While he shuffled his hand into his pocket to find his keys, Uruha sang a bit of a lyric of this song that he had heard rather often. Funny how this genre of music became a sanctuary or some sorts because for sure, in his current mood, he wasn't up for any hardcore, fast rhythmed, loud riffs of guitar filled kind of songs. He had lived with the hard face of music for almost a good part of his life, and if it was even possible, he was a bit bored of it. Well... not bored, not exactly. If he was bored then how the hell would he manage to write the songs for the band? He only needed some variations in life, that was all.
The door creaked as he pushed it open--a rather disturbing noise that could even top the volume of his I-Pod--reminding him about the first task to be listed: go oil the hinges, Uruha. And he hadn't even gone so much further than his genkan, wonder what hell was waiting for him and that he would surely meet if he dared going further into his apartment.
His shoes clattered as he kicked them off his foot carelessly, he shrugged it off thinking he'd get to that later since there were more urgent places to take care of. He flicked on the nearby switch in reserved familiarity and... Voila.
Damn, the place was messy.
He dropped his briefcase and sighed almost defeatedly, he had left Reita's place with the most positive of thoughts that he could finish cleaning up his apartment before he went to bed tonight, but now that he had a good look on the place... that was an impossible goal, he concluded. Impossible indeed, unless the gods had doomed for some kind of miracle to happen tonight here in his apartment. Muttering several curses that couldn't be pointed to any other person but himself, he scratched the back of his head as he walked further into his living room. It had been a fine living room, he could remember it, it had been pretty neat... before he had gone berserk and thrashed the whole place without mercy.
There were some side effects of alcohol that he had learnt and they were important considering his intense delight in boozes (although he consistanly refused to be called alcoholic), but tonight, this was probably the most appropriate lesson ever: never EVER drink while you were alone at home, feeling like shit, having no other means of stress-release but to throw whatever you could find around you. Unfortunately back then Uruha had been alone and no one had been there to stop him from consuming almost half of his precious stash of Moet et Chandon. He had been feeling like shit (simply speaking), and he had had no other means to release his stress but to re-decorate his living room in the most grotesque sense he had never known he possessed... being dead drunk, that is.
Yeah well... It's not like he could undone what had been done, was it? He could only feel sorry now for the numerous things, innocent as they may be, that had become the victims of his uncontrollable rage. Poor vase. Poor table.
Poor... sofa!
Oh no... Not the sofa...
He walked slowly to approach one of his favorite furnitures he had ever bought that was situated in the middle of his living room. He couldn't help being a little lost at this sight in particular, as he ran a hand on the once beige surface, wondering quietly how the hell it had changed color into a sickening shade of green. The surface was dusty, and... and...
Was that... mold??
Uruha stared in horror, cringing his face in distaste looking at an ugly, big, freckle-like white spot on one cushion. He followed the traces of the same, white stain that turned out to have ruined several more parts of the sofa's surface, making patterns that might've been contemporary artistic if it had been some authentic fabric patterns. But these were not patterns... These were molds for God's sakes! Or fungi, whichever. Uruha had never scored too well in biology for as long as he could remember, to be able to distinguish one microbe with another.
Sighing sadly, he figured he was so going to get himself a new sofa, there was no way he could salvage this one. Nothing could be done to fix it, and although he loved this sofa, he had to accept reality.
Spinning on his heels, carefully not to step on any of the shattered glasses on the floor, the remaining of what had once been a full form of some item he couldn't remember what exactly, Uruha analyzed the condition of his living room, considering its importance to be prioritized for tonight. No. Maybe not. It wasn't too urgent. If he intended to sleep in bed tonight, he was going to have to clean up his bed room first. He could deal with this place in the morning... and mornings after...
~
By the next hour he had already lounged himself on the floor of his bedroom, surrounded by stuffs big and small, probably looking like a seven year old boy in the midst of his toys musing over one by one of his precious belongings that he had just dug out of his treasure box. He was far too deep in concentration that he even neglected to sing to yet another pop song that his stereo was playing. Ah... the stereo. He was so thankful that the electronic item was alright when he had found it, it had suffered no damage whatsoever. He couldn't help thinking about the worst possibilities ever, contriving analogies with what he had witnessed in his living room, also remembering about those tiny creatures that lived in the crevices invisible to his eyes, creatures that without his supervision could've chewed off the cables or eaten a hole out of the stereo's speakers... but none of his fears came true, so far. Other than the hideous stench that seemed to be coming from somewhere behind his closet, those creatures had left him no other signs of existence.
The last page of an old album was concealed now that he had flipped close the back cover, the still sceneries vanished by the time he left that last page, but in an eerie way, the memories lingered inside his brain. His youth seemed so far away now, he thought bitterly. Those cheerful and silly faces in the pictures were already out of reach even if he wanted them to stay, those being the remnants of the days of laughter that he had gone through... days that were very valuable, days that were so precious he would willingly go through them all over again. He could remember how everything was just so simple back then. He hadn't had much care as he had now, all he had known was to live day by day as they passed him by, welcoming each chance that had come knocking on his door. There had been only music, lives, pranks, laughter... and most importantly, friendship.
His mind was suddenly trapped within a maze of memories that was the band, the time was probably five or maybe six years ago. Oh how they had been so young and so hopeful... A bunch of guys that were living the same dream of conquering Japan and probably the rest of the world with the music that they created. A bunch of guys that, under Tokyo's skies that day, were drawn together by fate. They shook hands and smiled to each other, and that being the moment when 'Gazette' was born... fragile in their earlier days, trying to rise up in the midst of visual music industry that was just cruel and merciless to newcomers. But together, all the five of them, they had survived whatever shit the world had had to offer them, taking the obstacles down one by one until they had reached the spot where they were standing now: under the bright lights and showered by appreciation. A delirious taste of satisfaction was curling in his chest as he mused over the mere thought of what they had achieved along the journey of their lives together as a band. They had worked so long and so hard. It hadn't been easy, not one single day had passed without struggle... But they had come this far, and it was nowhere near regret...
Once an interviewer had asked him a question, "If a ten-years-from-now you is given a chance to say something to yourself at the present moment, what would you say?"
He answered: "You've done a good job. Now go and rock some more!"
The bang of a snare drum shocked him and brought him back to his disordered room.
He blinked, recognizing the upbeat song that was the next track on the CD he had put in his stereo.
What's with this reminiscing...? He was supposed to clean up his room!
Scolding himself, Uruha walked towards his bed, shrugging the cover off of his bed and immediately feeling grateful that he hadn't forgotten to put on a mask over his face. The amount of dust flying around was, without a doubt, going to give him an acute asphyxiation or maybe even bronchitis. Thinking wisely, Uruha walked towards the window panes and pushed them open, the cool breeze of night air flushed against his face making him shiver a bit. This was a mere precaution. He really didn't want to choke himself to death, which was what would happen for sure if he was locked in a room without proper ventilation, breathing very unhealthy air mixed with dust and bacteria and God only knew what else hovering around him right now.
He returned to the bed, tightening the mask over his face, thinking inappropriately about Reita and that bandana he wore at some lives... Letting out a small laughter, he kneeled and leaned very low, peeking under the bed, and at that very instant he almost jumped away in shock for seeing so many things piled in there. He could see some sort of a shadowy object that was a combination of many different things packed up together, resembling a terrifying creature that he had only seen in horror movies. In shame, he scolded himself again for having a very disrespectful habit of shoving everything he could find under the bed. With the stick of his broom, Uruha tackled out the stack of rubbish he had found there, shaking his head in disbelieve when he saw various items rolling out from their hiding.
Magazines. Books. Some games CDs (he had been looking for some of those!). A t-shirt that could've been black once, but it was pretty much dark grey now. A pack of... holy crap! expired condoms...
A small, black box which surface was carved in patterns of flowers and leaves rolled out, tangled under the dark-grey t-shirt, its lid clanked open as it hit the floor, and as it landed near Uruha's foot, a silver-ish item fell out from the box.
The feeling he had the moment he recognized what the thing was... was almost like his heart had just fallen from its rightful place inside his chest down to his stomach, throbbing uncomfortably there, giving him nauseas that would not disappear even if he bothered taking a medicine.
Uruha dropped to his knees, watching his own shaky hand as it moved almost on its own will, reaching for that silver jewelry and picked it up from the floor. The chain of the necklace clattered softly against his palm as he lifted his hand under his face, his eyes scanning the object while myriads of memories blazing out into the open inside his head. His other hand moved up too now, a finger came touching the gleaming surface of the pendant, following its every curve, adoring the purple gem that was in the middle of it...
A key to my heart. Just so you know, you always have it.
He surprised himself when a warm sensation flowed down his cheeks.
I always have it, huh? Uruha thought, wiping the tears off. A useless attempt, since there seemed to be more to be spilled, rolling down from his eyes. He couldn't stop a god damned drop as they came one after another, and the next thing he knew, he was crying all over again.
Damn it.
His fingers dug into his palm, forming a painful fist as he clenched that necklace tightly inside his grip. One sob started a series of it, and soon, there he was, soaking his face wet with tears, making sounds that were completely off tune with the melodies of the pop song still played on the stereo.
He was already sick of crying, of wallowing inside his misery, but he kept coming back again and again to this point. Every time he found something that reminded him about that man he had truly loved -- still truly loved -- he would just break down and cry again. Pathetic, and even he was surprised why the wound hadn't healed just yet. It still seemed too raw, too fresh. Too painful. It still seemed like his heart, that was wrecked in half, was still dripping blood like it had been wounded yesterday. But it had been months...
He loved Ruki.
God, he loved Ruki so fucking much it wasn't healthy.
But he had hurt him, and there was no turning back even if he wished there was. A major part of him was still reprimanding himself for what he had done, and he knew that even as time passed by, there was no way of forgiving himself. What he had done, it was the worst that a man could ever do. It was the disgrace of his life, the one low point that he would love to erase but it was impossible to turn back time and allow himself to do that. He had never believed in violence in the sake of hurting someone, not to mention someone he loved, and that was why he had had a hard time just to face the truth. Who had he been, back then when he shoved Ruki down on the floor and ravished him in the most animalistic ways he had never known he was capable of, who had he been? Uruha had never wanted to hurt Ruki, not for as long as he lived... But back then, how had he suddenly become that... Monster??
Yes, that's what he was. A freaking monster. A monster that could even hurt the one he claimed to love.
Ruki had cheated on him, yes. Ruki had cheated on him with his friend, true. Ruki had betrayed his sincere feelings and kicked him away like he was trash, an undeniable fact.
But could any of those be a reason for him to... rape Ruki?
He almost choked at that word as it came across his brain. Rape. Yes, that's what he had done. It was as disgusting as it sounded. It might've been better if he had beaten up Ruki instead, although it would still be a disgrace, but at least... it was still forgivable, understandable. Beating the hell out of Ruki would leave that man bruised and all, but the wounds would only be physical, and physical wounds heal in time. But by raping him... He hadn't only hurt Ruki physically, but he had also damaged him psychologically and that sort of wound... No. It would never completely heal.
His palm started to throb in pain and he released his grip, letting the necklace with the key-pendant slide from his hand to the floor.
With bleary eyes, he stared at it. It was a birthday present from Ruki, yes... He remembered it. How could he forget? It was one of those happy days when he had been nothing more but a fool in love, being promised a whole lot of wonderful possibilities as Ruki looked at him with those eyes and that smile, a face that was just so beautiful it became dangerous for people who took trust for granted. Uruha was just one of those people, unfortunately. He had trusted Ruki with all that he had got, but now trust was broken, and so was everything in his life.
A tumor in his brain, eating him alive, no chemo nor surgery could deprive him from those memories. Uruha could remember everything like they were tattooed to his conscience, clear and everlasting. He remembered just how much he had given and received back and it hadn't until the end of the road that he realized the truth behind the smile. He and Ruki, they had shared words and deeds, touches and kisses, laughter and tears, extravagant days and sensual nights... He thought it was all perfect, flawless. He thought those eyes were only looking at him... Obviously, he was wrong.
He had been so blind, so stupid...
Ruki had never loved him, at least not in the way he had been loving Ruki.
Yeah... That's what Ruki had told him. The ugly thing was, Ruki hadn't told him up until the last moments, which had made it so much more painful for him.
A key to Ruki's heart... The pendant, as it resembled a form of a key, was supposed to symbolize that. Silly, he could remember how he had been crying too, that day when Ruki handed this gift to him. Only back then, those were the tears of happiness he had cried, there was no better feeling than to know that he was the only person Ruki had allowed to enter his heart.
Well.
Ruki must've changed the lock and Uruha hadn't been informed about it, until one day he had had to knock on Ruki's door and question why the hell the door wouldn't open when he had forced the key in its hole...
Just like that night in the tour. Ruki had opened the door to someone else and locked Uruha outside. Ruki had found the one person who didn't even need a key to unlock the door and come inside, because that person was already inside Ruki's heart for a long time.
He sobbed even harder when the feelings grew even more hurtful inside of him... God, how he had lost so much... Ruki was the reason of so many things that Uruha had done, and now that he had lost him... What should he do now? What must he do and what for? It felt like losing a big chunk of his life and he was hardly complete anymore now, even breathing had become hard without a cause, not to mention to stand up and walk forward like the whole world was expecting him to do.
An annoying urge was growing quickly inside of him, he recognized it for being familiar. Yeah well... Unlucky for him, the last drop of alcohol in this house had been spent all over the sofa or the floor just outside this room, dried out to leave nothing but stains on his furnitures. He hadn't had anything inside his fridge but rottening vegetables that even those creatures that lived in the crevices would never eat.
But this was probably better. He didn't believe that a drunken version of himself could do anything prosperous for the apartment, and the place had been torn apart as it is and he really didn't need extra work to do.
Speaking of alcohols... the keyword reminded him of something else -- some one else, actually.
Reita. Oh... his beloved Reita.
Uruha had never, ever been able to understand just why the hell Reita hadn't ditched him already. Reita had seen the worst side of him, the ugly mixture of a disturbed Uruha and alcohol, must've been a terrible sight yet Reita had stayed by his side. He hadn't even muttered one complain to his face. Some people could be persistent, but Reita... oh, Reita was relentless. Well, Uruha had grown up with him, he knew it better than anyone else that Reita wouldn't give up on anything, or anyone.
Even him. Him in his darkest moments that other people had chosen to stay away from.
Which was probably why he had turned right to Reita when the world decided to shun him away as if he was condemned to eternal loneliness. Reita had received him with open arms and tucked him in to bed and taken a very good care of him, he had done everything he could and given everything he owned although he was promised nothing in return. It made Uruha wonder, most of the times, that maybe Reita had been born in the wrong side of the universe. Probably the gods had meant him to be an angel or something but had mistakenly dropped him down to mother earth.
An angel without wings, wasn't he? Or a saint wrapped with a stupid nose-band.
But Reita could be a devil misconceived or the Hunchback of Notredame and Uruha would still love him. Uruha loved him more than anything else in this world, actually, in a term deeper than boyfriends or lovers.
And it happened to be the reason why he had left Reita's place earlier this evening.
Oh no... He couldn't put Reita into more trouble. He couldn't let Reita be his babysitter anymore, although, he admitted, it was nice to have someone spoiling him when he needed to be spoiled. But not anymore... Uruha could see just how much he had hurt Reita by being a parasite in Reita's apartment, he had driven Reita to his limits, he could see it clearly on Reita's face. There was that one night when he had been sober enough to look at Reita straight in the eyes and understand what he was seeing. There in those dark orbs he found the exhaustion that was thick within his mind, and at that exact moment he knew, Reita was probably as sick as a person could be over another person but he was just overly nice not to say anything to Uruha.
If he loved Reita, he had to leave him. If he loved Reita, he had to try to walk with his own feet and not leaning his weight on Reita's shoulder anymore. It was hell enough what he had put Reita through...
A long, snotty breath came out of him. This wasn't what he had left Reita's place to do, was it? He didn't walk out of that door just to find another place to torture himself, to lay himself down on the floor and cry his eyes out. He wanted to move on...
And move on shall he do.
Grabbing the silver necklace from the floor, he stood up and strode to his nightstand, he opened the drawer and carefully, he laid that necklace inside. This was where everything must go: into a safety box. His memories, his past, everything else that was either painful or pleasant... He could never be able to replace the hurt with anything else if he wouldn't let go of the reason why he was hurt. He could never be able to welcome what was in the present and the future in he wouldn't let go of his past. He wanted to heal, and in order to do that, he had to take the thorns off his wound, let it bleed and only afterwards that he could start mending it.
Tonight he would bleed. Tonight he would let go of everything... Of his past... Of his Ruki.
=====
And... hereby I pronounce that this is The End of Yomenai Kotoba (and Filth in the Beauty).
I feel like crying right now...
But the end is the end. It's been a roller coaster of emotions during the whole story, chapter by chapter has brought me new impression that I have grown to love it so much. Before I knew it, I've become so attached to this story. Now that it's over, I might find myself being stuck in front of Persocon-sama, thinking "Oh, I have to write Yome--wait. It's finished, isn't it?" over and over again, night after night, only God knows until when.
If I was asked to say the moral of the story, based on my opinion, then it would be: don't cheat. Don't mess around in a relationship. Don't lie to your own feelings.
I feel like a hypocrite for breaking all those prohibitions myself *smiles bitterly*
It's hard. But yeah... Bye bye to this.
I guess I'll see you in another story, then.
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