[FIC] Angels Fly Alone: Lovesong.
Title: Angels Fly Alone: Lovesong.
Fandom: Weiß Kreuz Glühen/ Kyou Kara Maou (AU)
Warnings: We keep on the angst.
Characters/couples: Mamoru(Omi)/Yuuri.
Summary: After this, Mamoru wakes up in Yuuri's bed.
Rating: PG.
Notes: It's the bunny that won't die! *waaaaaaaaaangsts*
Angels Fly Alone: Lovesong.
Whenever I’m alone with you,
you make me feel like I’m whole again.
However far away,
I will always love you.
He’s not sure when had been the last time he had cried that much. He’s still crying, but more silently now, just a few broken sighs and trembles breaking through him.
One of Yuuri’s hand is cradling the back of his head while the other one has been moving softly over his back in long, soothing strokes. His lips are pressed against his forehead and he has felt shy, hesitant, barely-there kisses upon his skin.
But Yuuri hasn’t spoken a word. Mamoru isn’t sure if he wants to hear him or not. It had been as natural as breathing to think of him, to search solace in his arms and, still, as painful as stitches breaking open.
Yuuri’s arm are steady around him and his breathing is constant, just like his heartbeat against his ear, as his warmth around him. Even though they’ve been having sex for several months now, it’s the first time since he went away that they are this close. He hadn’t allowed himself to think of how much he had missed it.
He should probably go now. By doing this he’s breaking all the unspoken rules of their affair, risking far too much, but he can’t make himself move. He’s just so tired.
There’s definitely a kiss pressed against his temple and then Yuuri’s voice, and this time he’s the one making a demand, although his voice is also pleading.
“Stay.”
He just nods, his face still pressed against Yuuri’s neck, still taking fistfuls of his shirt.
There are noises outside of the room. A soft scratching over the door, and then a hissed “Ayame! Tsuki!” before the cats were shooed away. Yuuri’s steps have been going through the small path between the living room and the dorm several times now. Yuuri’s probably wondering if he ought to wake him up or not.
By the light peering underneath the curtains, it’s probably around six. He’s not sure of what time does Yuuri usually wake up, but he guesses that he has to start getting ready for classes.
He has been awake for a while now, just unsure of how long. He’s been staring at the pictures Yuuri has over his nightstand for who knows how long. One of the whole Shibuya family, at least two years ago because Jennifer is holding a baby girl surrounded by so much pink ribbon and lace that only the pale face is seen and, over Yuuri’s shoulders, a grinning four years old, matching his uncle’s grin. The other one is more recent; the boy is missing the front teeth he noticed the previous time and he’s wearing a baseball shirt, and the girl, though still looking as frail as she does over the picture of she as a baby, is now smiling, curly hair held by a ribbon and, in the middle of them, crouching to be over their height, Yuuri wearing his glasses and a suit.
What draws his attention, however, is the fact that Yuuri’s necklace is there between the precious pictures of Yuuri’s family, and he can’t quite stop himself from wondering if Yuuri made that on porpoise or if it was just a coincidence.
The door finally opens. He doesn’t move, just lets his eyes close and his breathing remains slow, as if he was still sleeping. Yuuri’s steps are careful and as silent as possible.
The thought remains as he wonders if Yuuri’ll wake him up before he goes to work, or if he’ll just go. Somehow he can’t picture Yuuri doing that, but all this is so different that he’s not sure what’s normal or what could Yuuri do..
There are a few moments of almost complete silence, it being only broken by the murmur of clothes as Yuuri shifts them over his closet. Yuuri’s steps get closer to him after a few moments. It’s strange that he has no idea what Yuuri is about to do when once upon a time he knew him almost better than he knew himself.
The mattress dips slowly behind him and there’s a line of warmth pressed against his side. He can feel Yuuri’s eyes on his face and, after a few seconds, there’s a brief touch over his cheek, barely a whisper, just like Yuuri’s voice.
“I miss you.”
Fandom: Weiß Kreuz Glühen/ Kyou Kara Maou (AU)
Warnings: We keep on the angst.
Characters/couples: Mamoru(Omi)/Yuuri.
Summary: After this, Mamoru wakes up in Yuuri's bed.
Rating: PG.
Notes: It's the bunny that won't die! *waaaaaaaaaangsts*
Angels Fly Alone: Lovesong.
Whenever I’m alone with you,
you make me feel like I’m whole again.
However far away,
I will always love you.
He’s not sure when had been the last time he had cried that much. He’s still crying, but more silently now, just a few broken sighs and trembles breaking through him.
One of Yuuri’s hand is cradling the back of his head while the other one has been moving softly over his back in long, soothing strokes. His lips are pressed against his forehead and he has felt shy, hesitant, barely-there kisses upon his skin.
But Yuuri hasn’t spoken a word. Mamoru isn’t sure if he wants to hear him or not. It had been as natural as breathing to think of him, to search solace in his arms and, still, as painful as stitches breaking open.
Yuuri’s arm are steady around him and his breathing is constant, just like his heartbeat against his ear, as his warmth around him. Even though they’ve been having sex for several months now, it’s the first time since he went away that they are this close. He hadn’t allowed himself to think of how much he had missed it.
He should probably go now. By doing this he’s breaking all the unspoken rules of their affair, risking far too much, but he can’t make himself move. He’s just so tired.
There’s definitely a kiss pressed against his temple and then Yuuri’s voice, and this time he’s the one making a demand, although his voice is also pleading.
“Stay.”
He just nods, his face still pressed against Yuuri’s neck, still taking fistfuls of his shirt.
There are noises outside of the room. A soft scratching over the door, and then a hissed “Ayame! Tsuki!” before the cats were shooed away. Yuuri’s steps have been going through the small path between the living room and the dorm several times now. Yuuri’s probably wondering if he ought to wake him up or not.
By the light peering underneath the curtains, it’s probably around six. He’s not sure of what time does Yuuri usually wake up, but he guesses that he has to start getting ready for classes.
He has been awake for a while now, just unsure of how long. He’s been staring at the pictures Yuuri has over his nightstand for who knows how long. One of the whole Shibuya family, at least two years ago because Jennifer is holding a baby girl surrounded by so much pink ribbon and lace that only the pale face is seen and, over Yuuri’s shoulders, a grinning four years old, matching his uncle’s grin. The other one is more recent; the boy is missing the front teeth he noticed the previous time and he’s wearing a baseball shirt, and the girl, though still looking as frail as she does over the picture of she as a baby, is now smiling, curly hair held by a ribbon and, in the middle of them, crouching to be over their height, Yuuri wearing his glasses and a suit.
What draws his attention, however, is the fact that Yuuri’s necklace is there between the precious pictures of Yuuri’s family, and he can’t quite stop himself from wondering if Yuuri made that on porpoise or if it was just a coincidence.
The door finally opens. He doesn’t move, just lets his eyes close and his breathing remains slow, as if he was still sleeping. Yuuri’s steps are careful and as silent as possible.
The thought remains as he wonders if Yuuri’ll wake him up before he goes to work, or if he’ll just go. Somehow he can’t picture Yuuri doing that, but all this is so different that he’s not sure what’s normal or what could Yuuri do..
There are a few moments of almost complete silence, it being only broken by the murmur of clothes as Yuuri shifts them over his closet. Yuuri’s steps get closer to him after a few moments. It’s strange that he has no idea what Yuuri is about to do when once upon a time he knew him almost better than he knew himself.
The mattress dips slowly behind him and there’s a line of warmth pressed against his side. He can feel Yuuri’s eyes on his face and, after a few seconds, there’s a brief touch over his cheek, barely a whisper, just like Yuuri’s voice.
“I miss you.”