[FIC] Angels Fly Alone: Addicted to You
Title: Angels Fly Alone: Addicted to You.
Fandom: Cross University RPG/Weiss Kreuz.
Warnings: ANGST. Goddammit, I want my fluff back.
Characters/couples:Yuuri/Omi.
Summary:
Rating: PG13-ish, aaaall because of angst.
Notes: *throws the angst-ball towards srgt_s_venom and sniffs in peace*
Addicted to You.
Then again, he never really thought that ‘breaking up’ would be in the same sentence (or, reality) with ‘boyfriend’, so perhaps it all goes perfectly okay together. And at least the music hides the silence. Not so much the loneliness, though, but that’ll go away too soon.
Hopefully. After all, he only knew Omi over a year. Even if he became his most important person in the world, it’ll surely all go away soon. It has too.
So he listens to music. Or tries too. Perhaps that’s the other thing why this whole breaking-up-hearing-depressing-music isn’t helping. He can’t really listen to all the song, because then, there, suddenly, there’ll be something that reminds him of Omi, or about what he saw, what he didn’t get a chance to ask and he changes the song and tries to hear another one.
He hadn’t expected Omi to leave. Not then. Not like that. Because despite all, those days in the hospital, he had missed him, and ached for him in a way that made having been shot with a friggin’ bullet seem like nothing.
The scar hurts. It doesn’t itch, as the doctor said it might. It hurts. Or perhaps it’s just mixing up with the heartache.
The sad part - or one of them, at least - is that he can’t even get angry at Omi. Yes, he is that pathetic. He should be, but he’s just heartbroken.
Perhaps that’s why he feels hollow.
When Omi left, it took hours for him to actually feel dirty, cold and sore. It took almost two days for him to actually feel hungry; even more, to remember that eating’s not just a hobby one can have.
He feels like half of what he used to be, as if Omi, by leaving, had also packed him. The thought of Omi picking him up and folding him inside his bag does make him give a barely soft turn of lips, the closest he has been in the last week at being actually human because, sure, he had went out to buy food (for two) and made laundry (for one) and cooked (for two) and went to bed (for one), but that’s just it.
Existing isn’t the same as living, y’know?
It’s as simple as the fact that he misses Omi so much that he’s almost sure that anytime soon his body will decide it has forgotten how to breathe. Right now (and that’s kind of terrible, if he thinks about it) he doesn’t care that much about the killing, about the lies and the secrets.
He just wants Omi back.
He’s not sure what he wants, or what he’ll do, but for now, he has a plan of action. Find Omi. Bring him home.
The rest? That’s the second part of the plan and, as any good plan, it’ll come later.
There are priorities: all of them have Omi’s name printed on them.
***
Of course, finding Omi proves itself almost impossible. There are no photos, no addresses, no phone numbers left. He goes to the flower shop Omi used to work and the lady there just says that he quitted and didn’t go more, he can’t find Omi’s friends or anyone that knows where he is.
So he starts reading the newspaper, now that he knows what to search and, against any and all advice - not that he’s getting any because he only said that he and Omi had a fight, and other than that he’s pretty much locked inside their room and then he just goes to the bad part of Cross and hopes for a miracle.
The miracle works almost two weeks after that first night, almost two months since the last time he saw Omi. After walking almost all night through one of Cross most dangerous neighborhoods, just as he’s about to get mugged and probably killed, he hears the sound of an arrow getting shot and, when he opens his eyes and looks up, he sees the thief running away with an arrow stuck to his shoulder.
“OMI!” Yuuri screams, looking up and down, scrambling to his feet, ignoring when a broken bottle cuts his hand, feels tears for a complete different reason. “OMI! I know you’re here! Show up, dammit!” he screams again, feeling his voice hoarse, quite possibly out of lack of use.
When there’s not another sound, he decides to risk it all. Without the pictures, with only his necklace as a proof, he has started getting the weird idea that Omi is nothing but a figment of his imagination, and he’s terrified he’d convince himself of that.
“Who do you think you are, making a choice like this without me!” Yuuri screams to the air, turning around and around to see if he catches a glimpse of the other boy. “I said ‘time’, not breaking up! I didn’t want to break up! I didn’t want you to go, you selfish son of a bitch!”
He realizes it’s the first time ever he’s actually swearing, but if there’s another time he should, Yuuri just can’t think of one.
“I’m in love with you, you idiot! How can you think this is better?! Hasn’t it been hard for you!? Don’t you miss me?! Why did you leave?!” there are tears in his voice and in his eyes, but Yuuri just rubs his eyes with his forearm and finally notices the blood coming out from his hand and holds it against his chest, still looking around. “I miss you!”
His voice breaks down in a sob. Yuuri leans against a wall, bloodied hand against his chest and still crying when he hears steps. Omi walks out from some shadows, but he’s not looking at him. Yuuri ignores that he was finally angry and instead just runs towards where Omi was and hugs him as tight as he can, just in case this is a dream or a fantasy.
Fandom: Cross University RPG/Weiss Kreuz.
Warnings: ANGST. Goddammit, I want my fluff back.
Characters/couples:Yuuri/Omi.
Summary:
Rating: PG13-ish, aaaall because of angst.
Notes: *throws the angst-ball towards srgt_s_venom and sniffs in peace*
Addicted to You.
- of course i love you and of course it's what's inside that matters but i think the whole charade is ending it seems to me to be the only way to keep from getting caught up in a long life of regretting
Then again, he never really thought that ‘breaking up’ would be in the same sentence (or, reality) with ‘boyfriend’, so perhaps it all goes perfectly okay together. And at least the music hides the silence. Not so much the loneliness, though, but that’ll go away too soon.
Hopefully. After all, he only knew Omi over a year. Even if he became his most important person in the world, it’ll surely all go away soon. It has too.
So he listens to music. Or tries too. Perhaps that’s the other thing why this whole breaking-up-hearing-depressing-music isn’t helping. He can’t really listen to all the song, because then, there, suddenly, there’ll be something that reminds him of Omi, or about what he saw, what he didn’t get a chance to ask and he changes the song and tries to hear another one.
- I never meant to do those things to you / and so I have to say before I go / that I just want you to know / I've found a reason for me / to change who I used to be
He hadn’t expected Omi to leave. Not then. Not like that. Because despite all, those days in the hospital, he had missed him, and ached for him in a way that made having been shot with a friggin’ bullet seem like nothing.
The scar hurts. It doesn’t itch, as the doctor said it might. It hurts. Or perhaps it’s just mixing up with the heartache.
- Life goes on as if it never ends / eyes of stone observe the trend/ they never say forever gaze it for me/ guilty roads for an endless love
The sad part - or one of them, at least - is that he can’t even get angry at Omi. Yes, he is that pathetic. He should be, but he’s just heartbroken.
- Yeah I think that I might break, I've lost myself again and I feel unsafe. Be my friend. Hold me, wrap me up, unfold me
Perhaps that’s why he feels hollow.
- You touched my heart you touched my soul. You changed my life and all my goals. And love is blind and that I knew when, my heart was blinded by you.
When Omi left, it took hours for him to actually feel dirty, cold and sore. It took almost two days for him to actually feel hungry; even more, to remember that eating’s not just a hobby one can have.
He feels like half of what he used to be, as if Omi, by leaving, had also packed him. The thought of Omi picking him up and folding him inside his bag does make him give a barely soft turn of lips, the closest he has been in the last week at being actually human because, sure, he had went out to buy food (for two) and made laundry (for one) and cooked (for two) and went to bed (for one), but that’s just it.
Existing isn’t the same as living, y’know?
It’s as simple as the fact that he misses Omi so much that he’s almost sure that anytime soon his body will decide it has forgotten how to breathe. Right now (and that’s kind of terrible, if he thinks about it) he doesn’t care that much about the killing, about the lies and the secrets.
He just wants Omi back.
- I've kissed your lips and held your hand. Shared your dreams and shared your bed. I know you well, I know your smell. I've been addicted to you.
He’s not sure what he wants, or what he’ll do, but for now, he has a plan of action. Find Omi. Bring him home.
The rest? That’s the second part of the plan and, as any good plan, it’ll come later.
There are priorities: all of them have Omi’s name printed on them.
***
Of course, finding Omi proves itself almost impossible. There are no photos, no addresses, no phone numbers left. He goes to the flower shop Omi used to work and the lady there just says that he quitted and didn’t go more, he can’t find Omi’s friends or anyone that knows where he is.
So he starts reading the newspaper, now that he knows what to search and, against any and all advice - not that he’s getting any because he only said that he and Omi had a fight, and other than that he’s pretty much locked inside their room and then he just goes to the bad part of Cross and hopes for a miracle.
The miracle works almost two weeks after that first night, almost two months since the last time he saw Omi. After walking almost all night through one of Cross most dangerous neighborhoods, just as he’s about to get mugged and probably killed, he hears the sound of an arrow getting shot and, when he opens his eyes and looks up, he sees the thief running away with an arrow stuck to his shoulder.
“OMI!” Yuuri screams, looking up and down, scrambling to his feet, ignoring when a broken bottle cuts his hand, feels tears for a complete different reason. “OMI! I know you’re here! Show up, dammit!” he screams again, feeling his voice hoarse, quite possibly out of lack of use.
When there’s not another sound, he decides to risk it all. Without the pictures, with only his necklace as a proof, he has started getting the weird idea that Omi is nothing but a figment of his imagination, and he’s terrified he’d convince himself of that.
“Who do you think you are, making a choice like this without me!” Yuuri screams to the air, turning around and around to see if he catches a glimpse of the other boy. “I said ‘time’, not breaking up! I didn’t want to break up! I didn’t want you to go, you selfish son of a bitch!”
He realizes it’s the first time ever he’s actually swearing, but if there’s another time he should, Yuuri just can’t think of one.
“I’m in love with you, you idiot! How can you think this is better?! Hasn’t it been hard for you!? Don’t you miss me?! Why did you leave?!” there are tears in his voice and in his eyes, but Yuuri just rubs his eyes with his forearm and finally notices the blood coming out from his hand and holds it against his chest, still looking around. “I miss you!”
His voice breaks down in a sob. Yuuri leans against a wall, bloodied hand against his chest and still crying when he hears steps. Omi walks out from some shadows, but he’s not looking at him. Yuuri ignores that he was finally angry and instead just runs towards where Omi was and hugs him as tight as he can, just in case this is a dream or a fantasy.