Grey Matters (01/15)
Title: Grey Matters (01/15)
Author: beyondtheremix
Band: Alice Nine, SID
Pairing[s]: Tora/Hiroto, Aki/Hiroto, Tora/Aki
Theme: #14 First Kiss
Rating: PG-13 this chapter
Warnings: AU, angst
Word Count: 2,711
Summary: Loving each other has never been harder when all you see is grey. Yes, no, I love you, I don’t - it’s not that simple.
Chapter 1
Most days it’s okay if Tora ignores him.
Most nights it’s okay if he doesn’t visit.
Today. And tonight. It feels wrong.
The lights flicker around Hiroto in erratic bursts, his world off beat angles. He can walk fine so long as he doesn’t watch his feet move in and out, in and out, forward and back, from shadows to blinding color, warm violet to angry grey. The strobes wreak havoc on his scattered mind, but they’re not the real reason his temples are throbbing, the true culprit behind his flipping stomach.
Two weeks. Two weeks and not a single call from him.
Hiroto knows he should give Tora space, trust him to be faithful. They have their separate jobs, separate lives that only sometimes overlap - he should know better - but suspicion gnaws at his every thought, pivots his hurried steps.
There’s nothing he can do about the jealously, not until they’re at an end.
Behind him Aki follows on moody feet. He’s all too aware of why they’re here, who they’re looking for, how Hiroto even knows where to look.
And he should have lied.
If anything, it would have made his life easier. He could be at home, on the couch, eating take out and muffling his worries in static and beer. Instead he’s here acting the sick puppy, two steps behind the one person he can’t have, one phone call away from the person he shouldn’t have.
The boom of the bass makes the tightening in his chest feel twice as worse as he watches Hiroto shakily drop the phone he’s still clutching; the phone that’s forgotten how to ring.
It was his face that got Aki. Every time, always the same hopeful eyes drowning in denial, a small upturn of the lips tinged with a faint regret. And like all the times before it, Aki caved. He wound up telling Hiroto exactly where his so-called lover was, the party Tora just messaged him from, the times he would be there. Above the loud music a club name rolled easily off Tora’s tongue, but not a single whisper of Hiroto was mentioned.
“Are you sure he’s here?” he asks for maybe the third time that night. And it’s mostly to hear his own voice now, to make sure he isn’t a ghost wandering astray from the afterlife.
Hiroto looks an odd mix of fear and longing. Like he wants to find Tora, touch him, make sure he exists. And at the same time he hopes the other isn’t here, isn’t in this smoke-filled club downing mixed drinks and touching made-up women.
The lights dim even further, transforming the dance floor to a single body of colored limbs and echoing voices. Everything just seems hopeless. The building is too big, too dark, too full of people and Hiroto can barely force his gaze away from the slick stained floors to even look for Tora.
Grabbing his hand, Aki pulls them to an empty table nearby. He can feel the tremors of insecurity slide off Hiroto’s fingers and up his own wrist. The guilt’s back again. He can’t bring himself to look Hiroto in the eye when the other has to work so hard for what Aki so easily gets.
---
He’s not surprised by the knock on his door. There are only two people in the world that come calling at this hour - and one of them is too busy partying to visit. Twisting the handle, it’s no surprise Hiroto’s standing on the other side, fingers pulling nervously at sweater sleeves, eyes casting quick glances over Aki’s shoulders.
“You wanna come in?”
He sags in defeat at the encouraging smile, the inaudible sigh. Come in. It’s Aki’s way of telling him No, Tora isn’t here and Yes, I can distract you. Loneliness is an awful burden, sadness a double-edged sword, but it was easy to pretend, easy to forget when Aki hands him a beer, when he’s curled up on the couch and uncertain fingers are combing through his hair.
---
They really shouldn’t be here.
Aki wants to leave. He knows better than to take Tora up on his offers (or at least he likes to think so), but more than anything he wants to get Hiroto out. The loud silence is deafening. A club full of people and all he can hear is Hiroto’s wordless stares.
They’re all men here; they know the temptations of life. In Aki’s experience Tora’s never been one to walk the straight and narrow. He’s always been dancing on the fence, sleeping with men, scandalizing women, reluctant to settle for a single relationship, always willing to push the boundaries. And Aki’s no different. It’s what he’s learned, it’s why they use each other, it’s the reason they’re friends.
Aki could care less about commitment and morality.
But.
Where Hiroto is concerned, things take on a shade of grey.
Countless men, countless women, and it’s always Hiroto’s face that manages to send waves of guilt down Aki’s throat. He’s never had to drive Hiroto out the morning after, never had to turn him down. Never wanted to. Hiroto trusts Aki enough to sleep in the same bed and wake up untouched. It’s that same trust that keeps Aki sane when guilt threatens to override pleasure as he rubs himself while Hiroto sleeps.
These days, pleasure-filled nights were soured by the same pair of haunting eyes. In the back of his head Hiroto’s face crumples - scrunches up trying not to cry - and the movement of Aki’s hips still. The lust drunk eyes beneath, above, behind and below him, hasty undressing and cheap drinks, they remind him of Tora, what Tora does, what he himself does early and late into the night. And then he doesn’t want to be like that anymore. Doesn’t want to constantly remember the sleepless nights Hiroto’s spent waiting for a single phone call.
He tugs his hand out of Aki’s grip and rubs the dark bags under his eyes. It tore Aki up to see their steadily dulling shine. Every night Tora drops unexpectedly by his apartment, drunk and horny, he wants to punch him. Punch him for pushing Hiroto to the side, leaving him out of the loop and Aki there to sweep up the hurt and inspire the hope.
But at the same time he couldn’t help being a loyal friend - keeping a sputtering torch lit and a hungry predator sated.
But at the same time he gets to be alone with Hiroto.
“Does he come here a lot?” Aki gives Hiroto the same sympathetic smile, his usual, vague “Maybe, I don’t know,” and then it’s quiet again.
“How about I get us some drinks?” Aki offers awkwardly. It doesn’t matter what he says now because Hiroto’s not listening. Scraping the legs of his chair out, he grazes past and follows the tall, dark figure out the club.
“Come to party?” Tora asks, lighting up a cigarette and cocking an eyebrow Aki’s way. Snorting, Aki pulls out his own pack, lighter flaring up in the dank air before he’s taking his own deep breaths of smoke. Eyeing the way Tora’s lips wrap around cylinder filter, watching it slide in and out, Aki wonders how they got to be like this.
But the nicotine and brush of air through lips calms him enough to say, “Hiroto’s in there looking for you.”
And then Tora shrugs, “So?” and then teasing lips or not, tonight Aki’s just about had it with Tora’s nonchalance.
“Don’t fucking ‘So?’ me,” he growls, throwing his barely touched cigarette to the floor.
He’s angry now. It’s been months hasn’t it? Months since the first week Tora left, months since the first time Tora came back. And it keeps on happening. Tora leaves and Hiroto is alone. Sometimes Aki’s almost convinced they’ve broken up altogether and Hiroto can move on, but then Tora comes crashing back into his life and he falls for it each and every time.
Aki’s used to it. He’s used to waking with Tora in his bed. He doesn’t mind the good fuck and go. It’s as much a part of him as it is Tora. But Hiroto is different; he’s not used to it.
Hiroto believes in commitment, in loyalty and the value of relationships. He believes in making love.
Tora merely cocks another brow at Aki’s bitter tone.
“Go in there and fucking do something. End it now or I’ll end it for you.”
His smirk makes Aki’s stomach flutter. “You’re my best friend Aki, you know damn well I’m not ending anything tonight.” And with that he simply walks back into the club, stamping out his own smoke and returning to his VIP spot.
Swearing, Aki’s left to try and recover his cool. No, he doesn’t understand Tora’s thinking, but he sure as hell wouldn’t let this continue any longer. Biting the rings of his lip, Aki tries to solidify his resolve as he wrenches the door open and walks back in.
Ill-will and poisoned hope, it accumulated; built up over the long days and months they’d known each other. Now everything was just a mess of half-felt emotions and concrete lies and he’s through with it. He needs to draw a line - for all three of them.
“Hey.” Looking up, Hiroto sees Aki drop back into his seat. “The bar was busy.”
“Oh,” he acknowledges evenly. “See anything… interesting?” His tone is light and blasé, like he isn’t asking Aki if he’s seen Tora, like he hasn’t just spent the past couple of weeks staring blankly at his hands waiting for Tora.
Aki’s brow creases as the minutes pass. He wants to just say no and wait for Hiroto’s exhaustion to lead them out the club doors, but then a pair of infuriatingly knowing eyes are meeting his from across the club and he’s ending this game tonight.
“Don’t pretend like you don’t care Hiroto.” The other starts at the sudden accusation, eyes widening before he looks away.
“You know as much as I do Tora doesn’t give two shits about anyone but himself. So please,” Aki stops to reach over and pull Hiroto’s hands into his own, “please give up on him.”
Hiroto continues looking intently at his lap. He wishes the table were bigger, that it wasn’t just a small circle of a top, too small to even keep his knees from bumping Aki’s. He feels too close to the truth, too close to what he doesn’t want to hear.
“Aki don’t,” his voice cracks on the plea, “don’t do this.” Sometimes he wishes he could turn his feelings off and be strong - and sometimes he can - but it seems impossible to do when Aki’s tightening his grip and tugging them close enough to bump noses. He forces their eyes to meet.
“Hiroto I really care about you. I don’t want to see you dragging yourself through the dirt anymore. It’s not worth it if… if Tora doesn’t care about you… I would know.”
His tender whispers are enough to make Hiroto’s lip tremble, enough for Aki to lean forward an inch and capture them in a chaste kiss that hurts.
“I care about you,” Aki says in a hushed voice. “I’ve always taken care of you. Please.” Hiroto’s more vulnerable than he’s ever seen him, but it needs to happen. His eyes are full of tears that refuse to fall, but it’s better than the void tunnels Hiroto’s been carrying.
“You don’t have to say anything now Hiroto, but please… let’s just get out of here. You… You shouldn’t have to force someone to love you.”
Hiroto lets Aki guide him mindlessly through the crowd and towards steel glass double doors. What he says makes sense and at the same time Hiroto can’t help the pangs of jealousy that follow each thought.
They’re almost to the doors when a familiar figure steps out of the crowd and stops them both in their tracks.
“Hiroto.”
Fuck. Hiroto’s fingertips charge with electricity at the sound. His stomach threatens to burst from his mouth and he’s shaking. Aki can feel the immediate change. Tora’s dark and sultry; his eyes scream mysterious intensity and a raw sexuality they’re both intimate with and sometimes it’s just too much to handle.
“I’m glad you could make it.” Hiroto takes a step back at the purr, shivering and clutching the sleeve of Aki’s jacket like a toddler and its security blanket.
“What do you want?” He has to bite them to make the words come out, strained and choppy, but Hiroto’s reply makes Tora hesitate. He stands on his spot picking at the words and calculating his motives.
“Didn’t you come here to talk? I have a private room tonight. We can talk there...”
How Tora still has the balls to show his face, Aki doesn’t know, but a grim line of lips is all he can muster when Tora shoots him that daggered look. He just couldn’t win could he?
“Why? So you can fuck me? Use me and leave?!” Hold up - the hysteric pitch Hiroto’s working makes both look up. Aki almost feels proud of Hiroto right now. The tables have turned. Tonight they’re in control. Tonight they can rip apart every come-on and pick-me-up Tora’s got to offer and this time leave him with the empty heart.
Except.
Except, nothing is ever that black and white.
Hiroto rubs nervously at his elbows. He hates fighting and with the people he cares about it feels twice as unacceptable. And Tora manages to look so hurt and the whispered, “No…” sounds just as pained. Through it all Hiroto can still feel guilty about this.
“Can’t we just talk? Please?”
His usual smirk and superior exterior have watered down to a delayed frown. The surprisingly pleading look is an abrupt change and yet it’s hard to resist all the same. Even Aki is taken aback by the show. If there’s one thing Tora doesn’t do, it’s act sorry.
Reluctantly however, Hiroto follows him into the separate room. There are simply too many things he wants to hear from Tora; too many things that outweigh pride and the ability to turn down this chance.
As soon as the door closes Tora presses Hiroto struggling into the wall.
“I need you.”
The whisper falls heavy and scorching across the skin of Hiroto’s neck and cheek, lurid touches in the room’s spicy air that silence his complaints because this is something he’s been waiting to hear.
He probably not thinking straight. The balmy glow of dim lights, soft squeak of leather seats and smoke-heady incense make the whole situation feel like a dream. Hiroto tries to focus on Tora’s expression - tries to read the emotion, perhaps sincerity, in each line - but his own drowsy gaze falls on the lips before him.
He should concentrate, but against all reason he’s helpless before the man above him.
Soft, plush curves, inviting roseate and sanguine, the small spike through Tora’s lip’s an alluring contrast, everything is a facsimile of the intense stare he wants to melt into, the light grip on his hips. Instinctively Hiroto moves forward to seal their lips but unexpectedly he meets resistance.
Tora’s eyes are unreadable as he holds the other at arm’s length; dark pools leaving not a hint or guide as to what he’s thinking.
And then he pulls Hiroto in for a kiss, sweet and gentle, unhurried in its tentative brushes of skin and successfully warding off the should-be anxiety and doubt.
“Don’t leave.”
Tora buries his face into the skin of Hiroto’s neck. He’s saying all the things Hiroto’s been straining each day to hear.
“Live with me? Please? Don’t go.”
There isn't much to screaming; a simple unlatch of the jaws and strain of the vocals. And yet Hiroto can’t even do that. He hates and loves the way Tora makes his knees weak, hates the long waiting and weighted longing, but it’s okay if it ends like this, right? He’s here because Tora must love him - that’s the only explanation he has - but things are never so black and white.
It hurts far less to say yes.
For Hiroto it’s as effortless as wanting to be near Tora.
Chapter 2
A/N:
Got to finish this!!!
Archive
Author: beyondtheremix
Band: Alice Nine, SID
Pairing[s]: Tora/Hiroto, Aki/Hiroto, Tora/Aki
Theme: #14 First Kiss
Rating: PG-13 this chapter
Warnings: AU, angst
Word Count: 2,711
Summary: Loving each other has never been harder when all you see is grey. Yes, no, I love you, I don’t - it’s not that simple.
Chapter 1
Most days it’s okay if Tora ignores him.
Most nights it’s okay if he doesn’t visit.
Today. And tonight. It feels wrong.
The lights flicker around Hiroto in erratic bursts, his world off beat angles. He can walk fine so long as he doesn’t watch his feet move in and out, in and out, forward and back, from shadows to blinding color, warm violet to angry grey. The strobes wreak havoc on his scattered mind, but they’re not the real reason his temples are throbbing, the true culprit behind his flipping stomach.
Two weeks. Two weeks and not a single call from him.
Hiroto knows he should give Tora space, trust him to be faithful. They have their separate jobs, separate lives that only sometimes overlap - he should know better - but suspicion gnaws at his every thought, pivots his hurried steps.
There’s nothing he can do about the jealously, not until they’re at an end.
Behind him Aki follows on moody feet. He’s all too aware of why they’re here, who they’re looking for, how Hiroto even knows where to look.
And he should have lied.
If anything, it would have made his life easier. He could be at home, on the couch, eating take out and muffling his worries in static and beer. Instead he’s here acting the sick puppy, two steps behind the one person he can’t have, one phone call away from the person he shouldn’t have.
The boom of the bass makes the tightening in his chest feel twice as worse as he watches Hiroto shakily drop the phone he’s still clutching; the phone that’s forgotten how to ring.
It was his face that got Aki. Every time, always the same hopeful eyes drowning in denial, a small upturn of the lips tinged with a faint regret. And like all the times before it, Aki caved. He wound up telling Hiroto exactly where his so-called lover was, the party Tora just messaged him from, the times he would be there. Above the loud music a club name rolled easily off Tora’s tongue, but not a single whisper of Hiroto was mentioned.
“Are you sure he’s here?” he asks for maybe the third time that night. And it’s mostly to hear his own voice now, to make sure he isn’t a ghost wandering astray from the afterlife.
Hiroto looks an odd mix of fear and longing. Like he wants to find Tora, touch him, make sure he exists. And at the same time he hopes the other isn’t here, isn’t in this smoke-filled club downing mixed drinks and touching made-up women.
The lights dim even further, transforming the dance floor to a single body of colored limbs and echoing voices. Everything just seems hopeless. The building is too big, too dark, too full of people and Hiroto can barely force his gaze away from the slick stained floors to even look for Tora.
Grabbing his hand, Aki pulls them to an empty table nearby. He can feel the tremors of insecurity slide off Hiroto’s fingers and up his own wrist. The guilt’s back again. He can’t bring himself to look Hiroto in the eye when the other has to work so hard for what Aki so easily gets.
---
He’s not surprised by the knock on his door. There are only two people in the world that come calling at this hour - and one of them is too busy partying to visit. Twisting the handle, it’s no surprise Hiroto’s standing on the other side, fingers pulling nervously at sweater sleeves, eyes casting quick glances over Aki’s shoulders.
“You wanna come in?”
He sags in defeat at the encouraging smile, the inaudible sigh. Come in. It’s Aki’s way of telling him No, Tora isn’t here and Yes, I can distract you. Loneliness is an awful burden, sadness a double-edged sword, but it was easy to pretend, easy to forget when Aki hands him a beer, when he’s curled up on the couch and uncertain fingers are combing through his hair.
---
They really shouldn’t be here.
Aki wants to leave. He knows better than to take Tora up on his offers (or at least he likes to think so), but more than anything he wants to get Hiroto out. The loud silence is deafening. A club full of people and all he can hear is Hiroto’s wordless stares.
They’re all men here; they know the temptations of life. In Aki’s experience Tora’s never been one to walk the straight and narrow. He’s always been dancing on the fence, sleeping with men, scandalizing women, reluctant to settle for a single relationship, always willing to push the boundaries. And Aki’s no different. It’s what he’s learned, it’s why they use each other, it’s the reason they’re friends.
Aki could care less about commitment and morality.
But.
Where Hiroto is concerned, things take on a shade of grey.
Countless men, countless women, and it’s always Hiroto’s face that manages to send waves of guilt down Aki’s throat. He’s never had to drive Hiroto out the morning after, never had to turn him down. Never wanted to. Hiroto trusts Aki enough to sleep in the same bed and wake up untouched. It’s that same trust that keeps Aki sane when guilt threatens to override pleasure as he rubs himself while Hiroto sleeps.
These days, pleasure-filled nights were soured by the same pair of haunting eyes. In the back of his head Hiroto’s face crumples - scrunches up trying not to cry - and the movement of Aki’s hips still. The lust drunk eyes beneath, above, behind and below him, hasty undressing and cheap drinks, they remind him of Tora, what Tora does, what he himself does early and late into the night. And then he doesn’t want to be like that anymore. Doesn’t want to constantly remember the sleepless nights Hiroto’s spent waiting for a single phone call.
He tugs his hand out of Aki’s grip and rubs the dark bags under his eyes. It tore Aki up to see their steadily dulling shine. Every night Tora drops unexpectedly by his apartment, drunk and horny, he wants to punch him. Punch him for pushing Hiroto to the side, leaving him out of the loop and Aki there to sweep up the hurt and inspire the hope.
But at the same time he couldn’t help being a loyal friend - keeping a sputtering torch lit and a hungry predator sated.
But at the same time he gets to be alone with Hiroto.
“Does he come here a lot?” Aki gives Hiroto the same sympathetic smile, his usual, vague “Maybe, I don’t know,” and then it’s quiet again.
“How about I get us some drinks?” Aki offers awkwardly. It doesn’t matter what he says now because Hiroto’s not listening. Scraping the legs of his chair out, he grazes past and follows the tall, dark figure out the club.
“Come to party?” Tora asks, lighting up a cigarette and cocking an eyebrow Aki’s way. Snorting, Aki pulls out his own pack, lighter flaring up in the dank air before he’s taking his own deep breaths of smoke. Eyeing the way Tora’s lips wrap around cylinder filter, watching it slide in and out, Aki wonders how they got to be like this.
But the nicotine and brush of air through lips calms him enough to say, “Hiroto’s in there looking for you.”
And then Tora shrugs, “So?” and then teasing lips or not, tonight Aki’s just about had it with Tora’s nonchalance.
“Don’t fucking ‘So?’ me,” he growls, throwing his barely touched cigarette to the floor.
He’s angry now. It’s been months hasn’t it? Months since the first week Tora left, months since the first time Tora came back. And it keeps on happening. Tora leaves and Hiroto is alone. Sometimes Aki’s almost convinced they’ve broken up altogether and Hiroto can move on, but then Tora comes crashing back into his life and he falls for it each and every time.
Aki’s used to it. He’s used to waking with Tora in his bed. He doesn’t mind the good fuck and go. It’s as much a part of him as it is Tora. But Hiroto is different; he’s not used to it.
Hiroto believes in commitment, in loyalty and the value of relationships. He believes in making love.
Tora merely cocks another brow at Aki’s bitter tone.
“Go in there and fucking do something. End it now or I’ll end it for you.”
His smirk makes Aki’s stomach flutter. “You’re my best friend Aki, you know damn well I’m not ending anything tonight.” And with that he simply walks back into the club, stamping out his own smoke and returning to his VIP spot.
Swearing, Aki’s left to try and recover his cool. No, he doesn’t understand Tora’s thinking, but he sure as hell wouldn’t let this continue any longer. Biting the rings of his lip, Aki tries to solidify his resolve as he wrenches the door open and walks back in.
Ill-will and poisoned hope, it accumulated; built up over the long days and months they’d known each other. Now everything was just a mess of half-felt emotions and concrete lies and he’s through with it. He needs to draw a line - for all three of them.
“Hey.” Looking up, Hiroto sees Aki drop back into his seat. “The bar was busy.”
“Oh,” he acknowledges evenly. “See anything… interesting?” His tone is light and blasé, like he isn’t asking Aki if he’s seen Tora, like he hasn’t just spent the past couple of weeks staring blankly at his hands waiting for Tora.
Aki’s brow creases as the minutes pass. He wants to just say no and wait for Hiroto’s exhaustion to lead them out the club doors, but then a pair of infuriatingly knowing eyes are meeting his from across the club and he’s ending this game tonight.
“Don’t pretend like you don’t care Hiroto.” The other starts at the sudden accusation, eyes widening before he looks away.
“You know as much as I do Tora doesn’t give two shits about anyone but himself. So please,” Aki stops to reach over and pull Hiroto’s hands into his own, “please give up on him.”
Hiroto continues looking intently at his lap. He wishes the table were bigger, that it wasn’t just a small circle of a top, too small to even keep his knees from bumping Aki’s. He feels too close to the truth, too close to what he doesn’t want to hear.
“Aki don’t,” his voice cracks on the plea, “don’t do this.” Sometimes he wishes he could turn his feelings off and be strong - and sometimes he can - but it seems impossible to do when Aki’s tightening his grip and tugging them close enough to bump noses. He forces their eyes to meet.
“Hiroto I really care about you. I don’t want to see you dragging yourself through the dirt anymore. It’s not worth it if… if Tora doesn’t care about you… I would know.”
His tender whispers are enough to make Hiroto’s lip tremble, enough for Aki to lean forward an inch and capture them in a chaste kiss that hurts.
“I care about you,” Aki says in a hushed voice. “I’ve always taken care of you. Please.” Hiroto’s more vulnerable than he’s ever seen him, but it needs to happen. His eyes are full of tears that refuse to fall, but it’s better than the void tunnels Hiroto’s been carrying.
“You don’t have to say anything now Hiroto, but please… let’s just get out of here. You… You shouldn’t have to force someone to love you.”
Hiroto lets Aki guide him mindlessly through the crowd and towards steel glass double doors. What he says makes sense and at the same time Hiroto can’t help the pangs of jealousy that follow each thought.
They’re almost to the doors when a familiar figure steps out of the crowd and stops them both in their tracks.
“Hiroto.”
Fuck. Hiroto’s fingertips charge with electricity at the sound. His stomach threatens to burst from his mouth and he’s shaking. Aki can feel the immediate change. Tora’s dark and sultry; his eyes scream mysterious intensity and a raw sexuality they’re both intimate with and sometimes it’s just too much to handle.
“I’m glad you could make it.” Hiroto takes a step back at the purr, shivering and clutching the sleeve of Aki’s jacket like a toddler and its security blanket.
“What do you want?” He has to bite them to make the words come out, strained and choppy, but Hiroto’s reply makes Tora hesitate. He stands on his spot picking at the words and calculating his motives.
“Didn’t you come here to talk? I have a private room tonight. We can talk there...”
How Tora still has the balls to show his face, Aki doesn’t know, but a grim line of lips is all he can muster when Tora shoots him that daggered look. He just couldn’t win could he?
“Why? So you can fuck me? Use me and leave?!” Hold up - the hysteric pitch Hiroto’s working makes both look up. Aki almost feels proud of Hiroto right now. The tables have turned. Tonight they’re in control. Tonight they can rip apart every come-on and pick-me-up Tora’s got to offer and this time leave him with the empty heart.
Except.
Except, nothing is ever that black and white.
Hiroto rubs nervously at his elbows. He hates fighting and with the people he cares about it feels twice as unacceptable. And Tora manages to look so hurt and the whispered, “No…” sounds just as pained. Through it all Hiroto can still feel guilty about this.
“Can’t we just talk? Please?”
His usual smirk and superior exterior have watered down to a delayed frown. The surprisingly pleading look is an abrupt change and yet it’s hard to resist all the same. Even Aki is taken aback by the show. If there’s one thing Tora doesn’t do, it’s act sorry.
Reluctantly however, Hiroto follows him into the separate room. There are simply too many things he wants to hear from Tora; too many things that outweigh pride and the ability to turn down this chance.
As soon as the door closes Tora presses Hiroto struggling into the wall.
“I need you.”
The whisper falls heavy and scorching across the skin of Hiroto’s neck and cheek, lurid touches in the room’s spicy air that silence his complaints because this is something he’s been waiting to hear.
He probably not thinking straight. The balmy glow of dim lights, soft squeak of leather seats and smoke-heady incense make the whole situation feel like a dream. Hiroto tries to focus on Tora’s expression - tries to read the emotion, perhaps sincerity, in each line - but his own drowsy gaze falls on the lips before him.
He should concentrate, but against all reason he’s helpless before the man above him.
Soft, plush curves, inviting roseate and sanguine, the small spike through Tora’s lip’s an alluring contrast, everything is a facsimile of the intense stare he wants to melt into, the light grip on his hips. Instinctively Hiroto moves forward to seal their lips but unexpectedly he meets resistance.
Tora’s eyes are unreadable as he holds the other at arm’s length; dark pools leaving not a hint or guide as to what he’s thinking.
And then he pulls Hiroto in for a kiss, sweet and gentle, unhurried in its tentative brushes of skin and successfully warding off the should-be anxiety and doubt.
“Don’t leave.”
Tora buries his face into the skin of Hiroto’s neck. He’s saying all the things Hiroto’s been straining each day to hear.
“Live with me? Please? Don’t go.”
There isn't much to screaming; a simple unlatch of the jaws and strain of the vocals. And yet Hiroto can’t even do that. He hates and loves the way Tora makes his knees weak, hates the long waiting and weighted longing, but it’s okay if it ends like this, right? He’s here because Tora must love him - that’s the only explanation he has - but things are never so black and white.
It hurts far less to say yes.
For Hiroto it’s as effortless as wanting to be near Tora.
Chapter 2
A/N:
Got to finish this!!!
Archive