#38 Theme 36: Rest In Peace - Merry; Tora/Hiroto
Title: Wanderlust
Author: beyondtheremix
Theme: 036 Rest In Peace (Merry)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Tora/Hiroto
Band[s]: Alice Nine
Disclaimer: AU
Comments: Take my hand, we'll hide in the corner. Listen to Allie Moss's Corner if you read this. They belong together :]
Wanderlust
The surrounding trees glittered freely under an open air sky, emerald leaves shining veins of sage, umber bark flakes burning their orangey-red tone in the early noon sun. Grinning, Hiroto popped the lock on his side of the car and climbed out the front passenger seat, denim lined suitcase heaved on after him. There was something magical about the tall, red-brick building he couldn't describe. Something about the fuzzy sunlit glow of each windowed stairway that made his heart clench 'home.'
Laughing, "Our room isn't going anywhere any time soon," at the other's excited, "Hurry up tiger! Go go go!," Tora clambered out from behind the wheel and grabbed a larger bag, the last of their things, from the trunk. Long hair blew haphazardly with the lingering winter wind and sneakered feet crunched their way up a paved walkway, past an open set of double doors and into the lobby.
"Welcome in and we hope you enjoy your stay." Hiroto hummed happily as two sets of keys were slid across the front desk, eyes shining when Tora snatched them all up and linked their fingers together. They would be here to stay. This was it. The receptionist blushed but didn't look away, handing them extra information sheets and a copy of their signed lease. Bowing one last time, she pointed them towards the elevator doors and watched the couple leave.
---
"Home," Hiroto whispered knowingly, nodding and dropping his things, toeing off scuffy shoes on their brand new doorway. "Home!" he sang out, waiting for Tora to do the same so he could grab the older man's hands and spin him around the hallway. They were finally alone again, a place all to their own with shiny wood floors and bare walls just waiting to be covered.
Grinning with the infectious laughter, Tora laced their fingers together and danced Hiroto across their new apartment, already seeing the curly designed wallpaper Hiroto had picked out pasted across every room. He was barely able to contain his pleasure when the smaller man's eyes once again widened at the fantastic view so close to the sky, huge windows and spacey floorboards.
Home.
They were dancing, giggling, laughing, shouting the same word over and over again as Hiroto stepped on his toes and Tora kept them twirling, threading through warm sunlight to the tune of their own happy inner peace.
Falling breathlessly to the floor, his lover close behind him, Tora was thankful he had decided against meeting up at his own house. In a split second decision, that morning he had woken up, called Hiroto and told him he'd drive over and pick him up. The soft, "Take good care of him," from Hiroto's mother and warm pat on the shoulder from his older brother had been worth the slight inconvenience, had felt ten times more reassuring than the cold goodbyes Tora's own family had to offer.
They didn't really counted as homes though, even Hiroto's family, hardly around and not quite approving, wasn't much of a home. They had tried running away together once, a couple years ago. In the end they were forced to move back in with their families, a first attempt failed. Hiroto was still too young then, needed to finish school. Tora hadn't counted on his own parents threatening to call the police, but he came home nonetheless, let Hiroto go for what would come later, worked hard and saved up so they could have this.
"I love us so much," Tora murmured, fingers sifting through slightly sweaty hair.
"I never want to let go," came Hiroto's soft reply.
---
Through the hustle and bustle of meeting new neighbors, work, and moving things in, Tora and Hiroto acquired a decently priced four-poster bed, used but with its mattress still wrapped in the manufacturer's plastic. On light feet they hauled the bits and pieces of their first real bed up eight lucky flights of stairs when the elevator proved too small for most of it. Tora's back ached afterward and Hiroto spent half a day massaging him boneless, but it was worth the hassle. It was worth the price for the split second sight of Hiroto's face as they stood on either side of the bed, arms lifting opposite ends of the sheets as they fluttered the linens up and then watched them billow back down.
Their bed was big and warm, carefully dressed in the softest of blankets and puffiest pile of pillows. Late into the night, early into the morning, and on the laziest of afternoons it was adorned with two bodies, curled up and melded into one; decorated in heavy indents and twisted outlines when the days weren't so trying and limbs burned a restless heat, lips urging for more.
Huffing quietly in their sleep, the two snuggled closer, content sighs and crisscrossing fingers.
---
Everything seemed perfect, but sometimes it got windy at night, during storms. And then the beautiful trees surrounding their apartment sounded like nails scraping against the glass, tiny critters climbing up the sides of the building to get to the eighth floor where Tora couldn't see that they were trees unless he opened a window and bent his head down. One day he woke up and there really was a critter scampering across the deep blue wallpaper near their bedroom door. Tiny cockroach legs had echoed so loudly in his ears, but the way he'd suddenly jerked wide awake was as piercing as a scream yanking Hiroto from sleep.
It was like an adventure then, limbs peeling off of limbs and feet padding this way and that, pouncing around corners while Tora followed reluctantly from behind, extra roll of toilet paper and the tiny bathroom waste bin in hand. Nothing seemed so wrong then, but afterward Tora took to waking up on windy days, startling at night just to catch any eight-six-seven, nine or five legged creature who dared crawl past the crack of their doorway, slip beneath the window screen. Lips twitching with a smirk, Hiroto would get up and join him, rolling out of bed just so he could take pleasure in the girlish scream that cut itself short when he brushed a toe down Tora's leg.
The older man preferred sunny daylight, weekends and rarer weekdays when neither of them had work and he could watch Hiroto curl up in a golden sun ray with a book, listen to the younger sing and hum while he strummed a guitar. When everything was bright and soft shining, Tora wasn't so creeped out about beetle-hard shells and buggy-veined wings, crunchy sick insides. He simply needed to turn on the television and nudge himself a place on Hiroto's lap.
Everything had been going so amazingly fine.
---
Saturday morning it was warm enough to don flimsy straw hats, holey denim jeans, and faded plaid button ups that were quickly shed as soon as their bare feet sunk into the warm beach sand. They raced up and down the untouched expanse, jeans half-undone and hanging precariously on hips while the sun kissed paled skin gold. Grinning, they tumbled sandy back inside the car when the beach got too packed. Flip-flops and clothes strewn messily in the back, they began the two hour drive back home.
It was there - getting closer to the complex, slipping past the grey concrete blocks of industrialized land, car getting chilly enough to warrant the need for buttoned shirts - they met their first hiccup.
Digging through his empty pockets and the various dashboard compartments, Hiroto sent Tora a sidelong glance.
"Do you have any money on you? Can we stop and get some lemons?"
"For what?" Tora mumbled offhandedly, signaling into the next lane and thinking about work.
"To drink..." Crossing his arms to stop their goose bumping, Hiroto shifted in his seat.
"Can't you just drink water?" He was thinking about how much they'd just spent on gas, how yesterday they had eaten out again.
"Mmm," Hiroto barely breathed, sleeves hugging his wrists. Lemons were cheap, he thought he'd make them cold lemonade and tiny lemon cakes. "I'll get them another day." He tried not to let the disappointed resignation show; the other man was obvioiusly tired.
Sighing, Tora swerved and make a hard U-turn, "We'll get the lemons."
Gasping, the younger man clung to his seat, almost pleading and trying to brush the thought off convincingly while he shoulder pressed into the door, "N-No, it's okay Tora, just forget about it. I don't want any." But then they were pulling up in front of a tiny grocery store and Tora was unlocking the doors, silently handing Hiroto a couple wads of cash and not saying a word. Waiting.
Hiroto sat hesitantly in his seat before finally unbuckling; somehow the tension had grown suffocating. He left the car with a reluctant sigh, shoulders hunched as his sandals skid-scraped up to the store's front doors. Minutes later he was back with only a pack of cigarettes in his hand. Biting his lip, he slipped back inside and tried opening them with his shaky fingers.
"Where are the lemons?"
Hiroto didn't say anything, but stopped, simply staring guiltily at the packet in his hands, scared Tora was upset with him. He didn't know what he'd done wrong; they were having so much fun today. Now his eyes stung as the driver's side opened and Tora got out, slamming the door shut and returning later with a bag full of lemons.
The drive home was silent.
They were tiny, uncharacteristic fights, one of many fueled by stress and usually ending with Hiroto hugged close in long arms. He didn't like fighting and Tora didn't want to scare him, but sometimes the words slipped out faster than the older could catch them. He was simply grateful Hiroto found the patience to understand.
---
Tora didn't know anything was wrong the first time he woke up to a swear. Feeling his arms and the bed empty, he reached over and flicked a lamp on.
"Fuck," Hiroto whimpered somewhere he couldn't see. Sitting up, Tora finally made out a fluff of hair peeking up from the foot of their bed.
"Baby, what's wrong?" He rolled out from beneath the covers and padded over, concerning lining his features and breath stopping before he stooped down to pick Hiroto up and set him on the bed. "Are you okay? What happened?" There was blood dripping from the soles of his right foot, elbows banged up red from falling.
"I-I don't know. I didn't hear anything falling, I was just going to go pee." Hiroto watched sullenly as Tora swept away broken glass and a fallen picture frame, turning on all the lights and walking carefully down the hallway for bandages and whatever else he could find in their medicine cabinet. He sat there rubbing anxiously at his wrists, pain beginning to sting through his foot and not quite remembering when he had gotten up to use the restroom. Perhaps it was the same reason he couldn't remember hearing the glass shatter - he'd bumped, tripped and fallen all half-sleep.
Hurrying back into their bedroom, this time in flip-flops and with his glasses on just to be safe, Tora found Hiroto perched on the edge of their bed, worrying his bottom lip to pieces.
"Does it hurt a lot?" he asked gently, holding the wounded foot up into the light and pulling out the few shards of glass still embedded in the skin.
Shaking his head, Hiroto clenched his fists and breathed out, "You aren't mad at me are you?" in a nervous rush.
Surprised, Tora looked up, kissing the few blood-free toes in his reach. "Why would I be mad at you, Pon?" He wiped away the blood and began to apply an antiseptic cream hoping that would do the trick.
Flinching when it stung and hoping his words wouldn't upset the other man, Hiroto whispered, "Well... you've been kind of different lately... A little more angry." He mumbled the last few words, fingers picking at the hem of his t-shirt. Tora had been getting touchier, more snappish and easier to get on edge every day.
Pursing his lips, Tora quietly mulled over the words, bandaging up Hiroto's foot and throwing everything else away. He had to admit he'd been short on patience lately, taking it out on Hiroto when he'd had a difficult day. It wasn't like him to be so selfish and guilt surged to his ears remembering how hard it was to make Hiroto cry, how lately he had been the cause of so many glassy eyes and sad, wet looks. Climbing back onto their bed, he pulled warm limbs carefully into his lap, hugging Hiroto close and regretting the past couple of days. "I'm sorry, Hiroto. I don't mean it, I don't mean to be. I love you so much." Sighing, he pressed a kiss to plush lips and felt a little better when Hiroto relaxed into his touch.
"I love you too."
---
Tora snapped awake earlier and earlier every day, jolted from sleep by creakings or faint sounds coming from the floor above. It was nothing loud enough to voice complaint over, just insect paranoia creeping itchy and irritating under his skin again. Shivering, Tora gathered the warm duvet up to their shoulders, cradling Hiroto closer to his chest and staring wide eyed, up into the dark ceiling. He would keep Hiroto safe from the stupid bugs lurking, freaky big cockroaches and their antennas, hopefully useless wings. Shuddering even harder at the thought of flying cockroaches, Tora winced as the floorboards creaked.
The spring rains had finally started their yearly plunge, huge gusts of storm-filled winds clattering at every windowsill and keeping him awake at night. He needed sleep. It was starting to affect his normal, daily life on top of the stress at work. Just that afternoon he had reprimanded Hiroto harshly for falling asleep and forgetting to do his dishes. The younger man didn't deserve that. Hiroto worked just as hard as Tora did and still managed to keep his cool. So why couldn't he?
Chest clenching at the thought, the older man willed himself to sleep even as the wind blew extra hard, howling ominously though the cracks in their apartment and making a door slam. He'd have to find time and fix those someday.
---
Tora figured there had to be something wrong the third time he woke up to an empty bed.
Like the times before it, he made his rounds through their apartment and found Hiroto completely gone. He even went so far this time as to wander through the empty floors of their entire complex, stairs and all. With a nervous sigh, Where was he? , he took the lift back up from the lobby and burrowed back into bed.
He would be back.
Even so, the same scared thoughts flitted through Tora's head, questions to be asked, worries to be stated. Hiroto's shoes were still neatly arranged by the front door just like the other times, the night sky windless and bare of clouds. The younger man had just up and vanished. Tora waited, but he always fell back to sleep on nights like these, exhaustion tugging too heavy on his bones when it was near impossible to stay awake during the day and work started early in the practical night.
Lids drooping and eyes slipping shut, Tora promised himself he would remember to ask Hiroto the next day.
---
There was something troubling about living here that Hiroto couldn't place. It didn't feel like home anymore. Every time he came back from work, the empty apartment and colorful walls did nothing for him. He would simply peel off his rain-clogged shoes, curl up in bed, and wait for Tora to come home so they could make dinner together.
They argued more these days.
Sometimes the fighting escalated. Tora would tell him to just go if he wanted to leave so badly, and Hiroto ended up crying alone. He didn't understand, he wanted to because it hurt being alone again, but there was no one left to try and understand when the apartment door was slammed shut in his face and the howling wind was all the company he had left.
He could still hear it, even after Tora took a day off to go through their entire apartment, sealing up every crack and crevice he could reach, fixing up the windows and tightening the screens. The nights they fought Hiroto slept fitfully, would wake up more tired than he wanted to be, but then Tora would be back again, opening the front door and saying he was sorry.
Hiroto knew they were meant to be together, knew they were made for each other. Yet, somehow, they were falling apart. All the work they'd put into everything was wasting away.
Biting his lip to muffle his dry sob, he unfurled himself out from Tora's arms and tiptoed down towards the bathroom.
---
Tora knew there was something wrong when he woke up, this time on a Sunday morning, and Hiroto wasn't in bed again. Usually he was back between the sheets before the sun began to shine through the curtains. Clearing his throat and pulling on some sweats, Tora stepped out of bed.
It was eerily quiet today and he could tell a big storm was brewing - the same stark contrast of light and color right before lightning struck was echoed in every window. Stumbling in the hallway, Tora's brow furrowed at the trail of mud coming in from the cracked front doorway. Panic rising, he followed the footprints and thankfully found what he was looking for in the kitchen, heart aching at the sight before him. Treading soundlessly across the linoleum floor, he made a new line for the sink where sunlight shone through the kitchen window.
Hiroto was sitting there, eyes closed, asleep, leaning against the soft yellow curtains with stains caked up deep between his knees.
"Pon? Baby, wake up."
His skin was cool to the touch, dressed in only one of the larger man's thin t-shirts, dirty feet in the sink. At first Tora was scared when Hiroto didn't respond, but then fluttering lids and a couple seconds later wide eyes were meeting his, looking far too lost for Tora's liking.
"Where am I?" he whispered, achingly soft.
"In the kitchen, baby," Tora replied, heart breaking little by little as Hiroto's tearstained face turned absolutely forlorn and his arms reached out for comfort.
"I don't remember."
He was scared, they both were.
"I think you've been doing it for a while," Tora whispered, guilt singing through his veins. The agitated nights spent waiting, the suspicion and accusations tossed around during the day, he was wrong. Of course Hiroto would never cheat on him. They'd built this life together, but now everything was falling apart.
"I have bad dreams a night..." Hiroto finally admitted. "And sometimes I see things in the day... I don't want to be crazy Tora," he choked on the words, fingers gripping tight.
Swallowing his own fears, Tora hushed the quivering bundle in his arms, "It's just sleepwalking, Pon. Nothing crazy."
Just sleepwalking barefoot out the front door, out the apartment building.
What if one day he walked out and got hit by a car?
Tora didn't want to think about those things. Instead he let Hiroto cling to him, kept one arm wrapped around his waist and turning on the sink facet with his free hand. "Let's just get you cleaned up and warm right now, okay?" He wanted to concentrate on cleaning the dried mud off, cradling Hiroto wetly to his bare chest and carrying him to the tub after. "We'll figure out the rest later."
---
That night thunder shook the entire city. Lightning pierced the already bruised sky purple and blinding.
In their bedroom Tora and Hiroto huddled against the wooden headboard, pillows and blankets piled high around them while the earth rumbled and debris pelted against their windows. All the lights in their apartment were on, the clock ticking close to ten. Even in the comforting glows, everything was too much all at once; the wild storm, Hiroto's sleepwalking. They were just trying to hold it together and get through everything one at a time.
From the floor above they could hear people pounding around; sometimes there was loud laughter, other times shouting, then things hitting the walls and floor. Although they were loud enough, Hiroto still had to muffle his scream in Tora's shirt when a loud bang sounded from near their front door, glass tinkling on the insideof their apartment, followed closely by an equally loud slam, stuttery knocking on their curtained bedroom window. Eyes wide and terrified, Tora got up and locked the bedroom door even as Hiroto clung, hissing and whispering desperately for him not to go. He couldn't hear any footsteps though, couldn't see any flitting shadows down the hall or in their living room. All he could hear was the muffled, howling wind.
Grabbing his mobile, Tora dialed the lobby's front desk just in case.
Harsh breaths reminding him of the other, Tora softened his features and turned towards Hiroto, holding his hand out, "Come here baby." Nose burrowing into soft hair, he whispered, "We'll hide til it's over."
---
They were barely nestled in their walk-in closet's open space, lights still on, surrounded by the contents of their bed, when all the power in the building went out.
It was quiet, so quiet.
Hiroto's breathing began to pick up, panic, fumbling for Tora in the pitch black.
"I'm right here baby, right here," the older man cooed, shining his mobile light for Hiroto to see. "Just hold on, the storm will be over soon." He said it confidently, holding onto the prone frame left raw and vulnerable by their early morning, but deep down Tora was scared too. Scared that someone was in here, invading their home, threatening their lives, Hiroto's life. He was scared trees would fly into the building and shatter it in half, leave it to quake and collapse out from under them.
"You're scared too," Hiroto whispered, shaking. Fear boiled in his stomach, but he wasn't blind.
Tora needed comforting too. He was just as human.
They all needed to be strong for each other.
Choking back hysteric laughter, Tora brushed back long strands of the other's hair with a trembling hand and kissed him on the forehead, "Y-Yeah. Yeah, I'm pretty scared right now, baby."
The distinct sound of their bedroom door shattering reached their ears through the closed closet door.
Tears streaming down his cheeks, Hiroto forced himself to smile.
"Take my hand," he breathed, linking their fingers under the blue light of Tora's mobile and pulling the elder's head into the crook of his neck and shoulder.
They couldn't feel any wind, couldn't hear the beating rain. Wood was breaking, metal scraping and glass falling.
"We'll hide until it's over," Hiroto choked out, eyes squeezing shut and arms wrapping deathly tight to the only man he had ever loved, sobs finally breaking free as the upstairs pounding amplified.
Tora nodded his head and curled their bodies closer.
He wanted to protect his crying lover, be the hero in shining armor. But his own fearful tears were slipping out, there was nothing he could do.
Strong arms were the only thing he had left to offer.
Hiroto's only anchor as their closet door was ripped open next.
Overload
A/N:
TO BE CONTINUED! D8 BUWAHAHAHA
This idea popped out of nowhere and surprised me, but then I had the perfect song for it.
I hope you did listen to that song... it might help you get the mood of this. Or the lyrics would at least.
Overload is the sequel to this story. It has it's own song too and you'll understand more of Wanderlust once I've finished and posted that :)
Comments = ♥
Archive
Author: beyondtheremix
Theme: 036 Rest In Peace (Merry)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Tora/Hiroto
Band[s]: Alice Nine
Disclaimer: AU
Comments: Take my hand, we'll hide in the corner. Listen to Allie Moss's Corner if you read this. They belong together :]
Wanderlust
The surrounding trees glittered freely under an open air sky, emerald leaves shining veins of sage, umber bark flakes burning their orangey-red tone in the early noon sun. Grinning, Hiroto popped the lock on his side of the car and climbed out the front passenger seat, denim lined suitcase heaved on after him. There was something magical about the tall, red-brick building he couldn't describe. Something about the fuzzy sunlit glow of each windowed stairway that made his heart clench 'home.'
Laughing, "Our room isn't going anywhere any time soon," at the other's excited, "Hurry up tiger! Go go go!," Tora clambered out from behind the wheel and grabbed a larger bag, the last of their things, from the trunk. Long hair blew haphazardly with the lingering winter wind and sneakered feet crunched their way up a paved walkway, past an open set of double doors and into the lobby.
"Welcome in and we hope you enjoy your stay." Hiroto hummed happily as two sets of keys were slid across the front desk, eyes shining when Tora snatched them all up and linked their fingers together. They would be here to stay. This was it. The receptionist blushed but didn't look away, handing them extra information sheets and a copy of their signed lease. Bowing one last time, she pointed them towards the elevator doors and watched the couple leave.
---
"Home," Hiroto whispered knowingly, nodding and dropping his things, toeing off scuffy shoes on their brand new doorway. "Home!" he sang out, waiting for Tora to do the same so he could grab the older man's hands and spin him around the hallway. They were finally alone again, a place all to their own with shiny wood floors and bare walls just waiting to be covered.
Grinning with the infectious laughter, Tora laced their fingers together and danced Hiroto across their new apartment, already seeing the curly designed wallpaper Hiroto had picked out pasted across every room. He was barely able to contain his pleasure when the smaller man's eyes once again widened at the fantastic view so close to the sky, huge windows and spacey floorboards.
Home.
They were dancing, giggling, laughing, shouting the same word over and over again as Hiroto stepped on his toes and Tora kept them twirling, threading through warm sunlight to the tune of their own happy inner peace.
Falling breathlessly to the floor, his lover close behind him, Tora was thankful he had decided against meeting up at his own house. In a split second decision, that morning he had woken up, called Hiroto and told him he'd drive over and pick him up. The soft, "Take good care of him," from Hiroto's mother and warm pat on the shoulder from his older brother had been worth the slight inconvenience, had felt ten times more reassuring than the cold goodbyes Tora's own family had to offer.
They didn't really counted as homes though, even Hiroto's family, hardly around and not quite approving, wasn't much of a home. They had tried running away together once, a couple years ago. In the end they were forced to move back in with their families, a first attempt failed. Hiroto was still too young then, needed to finish school. Tora hadn't counted on his own parents threatening to call the police, but he came home nonetheless, let Hiroto go for what would come later, worked hard and saved up so they could have this.
"I love us so much," Tora murmured, fingers sifting through slightly sweaty hair.
"I never want to let go," came Hiroto's soft reply.
---
Through the hustle and bustle of meeting new neighbors, work, and moving things in, Tora and Hiroto acquired a decently priced four-poster bed, used but with its mattress still wrapped in the manufacturer's plastic. On light feet they hauled the bits and pieces of their first real bed up eight lucky flights of stairs when the elevator proved too small for most of it. Tora's back ached afterward and Hiroto spent half a day massaging him boneless, but it was worth the hassle. It was worth the price for the split second sight of Hiroto's face as they stood on either side of the bed, arms lifting opposite ends of the sheets as they fluttered the linens up and then watched them billow back down.
Their bed was big and warm, carefully dressed in the softest of blankets and puffiest pile of pillows. Late into the night, early into the morning, and on the laziest of afternoons it was adorned with two bodies, curled up and melded into one; decorated in heavy indents and twisted outlines when the days weren't so trying and limbs burned a restless heat, lips urging for more.
Huffing quietly in their sleep, the two snuggled closer, content sighs and crisscrossing fingers.
---
Everything seemed perfect, but sometimes it got windy at night, during storms. And then the beautiful trees surrounding their apartment sounded like nails scraping against the glass, tiny critters climbing up the sides of the building to get to the eighth floor where Tora couldn't see that they were trees unless he opened a window and bent his head down. One day he woke up and there really was a critter scampering across the deep blue wallpaper near their bedroom door. Tiny cockroach legs had echoed so loudly in his ears, but the way he'd suddenly jerked wide awake was as piercing as a scream yanking Hiroto from sleep.
It was like an adventure then, limbs peeling off of limbs and feet padding this way and that, pouncing around corners while Tora followed reluctantly from behind, extra roll of toilet paper and the tiny bathroom waste bin in hand. Nothing seemed so wrong then, but afterward Tora took to waking up on windy days, startling at night just to catch any eight-six-seven, nine or five legged creature who dared crawl past the crack of their doorway, slip beneath the window screen. Lips twitching with a smirk, Hiroto would get up and join him, rolling out of bed just so he could take pleasure in the girlish scream that cut itself short when he brushed a toe down Tora's leg.
The older man preferred sunny daylight, weekends and rarer weekdays when neither of them had work and he could watch Hiroto curl up in a golden sun ray with a book, listen to the younger sing and hum while he strummed a guitar. When everything was bright and soft shining, Tora wasn't so creeped out about beetle-hard shells and buggy-veined wings, crunchy sick insides. He simply needed to turn on the television and nudge himself a place on Hiroto's lap.
Everything had been going so amazingly fine.
---
Saturday morning it was warm enough to don flimsy straw hats, holey denim jeans, and faded plaid button ups that were quickly shed as soon as their bare feet sunk into the warm beach sand. They raced up and down the untouched expanse, jeans half-undone and hanging precariously on hips while the sun kissed paled skin gold. Grinning, they tumbled sandy back inside the car when the beach got too packed. Flip-flops and clothes strewn messily in the back, they began the two hour drive back home.
It was there - getting closer to the complex, slipping past the grey concrete blocks of industrialized land, car getting chilly enough to warrant the need for buttoned shirts - they met their first hiccup.
Digging through his empty pockets and the various dashboard compartments, Hiroto sent Tora a sidelong glance.
"Do you have any money on you? Can we stop and get some lemons?"
"For what?" Tora mumbled offhandedly, signaling into the next lane and thinking about work.
"To drink..." Crossing his arms to stop their goose bumping, Hiroto shifted in his seat.
"Can't you just drink water?" He was thinking about how much they'd just spent on gas, how yesterday they had eaten out again.
"Mmm," Hiroto barely breathed, sleeves hugging his wrists. Lemons were cheap, he thought he'd make them cold lemonade and tiny lemon cakes. "I'll get them another day." He tried not to let the disappointed resignation show; the other man was obvioiusly tired.
Sighing, Tora swerved and make a hard U-turn, "We'll get the lemons."
Gasping, the younger man clung to his seat, almost pleading and trying to brush the thought off convincingly while he shoulder pressed into the door, "N-No, it's okay Tora, just forget about it. I don't want any." But then they were pulling up in front of a tiny grocery store and Tora was unlocking the doors, silently handing Hiroto a couple wads of cash and not saying a word. Waiting.
Hiroto sat hesitantly in his seat before finally unbuckling; somehow the tension had grown suffocating. He left the car with a reluctant sigh, shoulders hunched as his sandals skid-scraped up to the store's front doors. Minutes later he was back with only a pack of cigarettes in his hand. Biting his lip, he slipped back inside and tried opening them with his shaky fingers.
"Where are the lemons?"
Hiroto didn't say anything, but stopped, simply staring guiltily at the packet in his hands, scared Tora was upset with him. He didn't know what he'd done wrong; they were having so much fun today. Now his eyes stung as the driver's side opened and Tora got out, slamming the door shut and returning later with a bag full of lemons.
The drive home was silent.
They were tiny, uncharacteristic fights, one of many fueled by stress and usually ending with Hiroto hugged close in long arms. He didn't like fighting and Tora didn't want to scare him, but sometimes the words slipped out faster than the older could catch them. He was simply grateful Hiroto found the patience to understand.
---
Tora didn't know anything was wrong the first time he woke up to a swear. Feeling his arms and the bed empty, he reached over and flicked a lamp on.
"Fuck," Hiroto whimpered somewhere he couldn't see. Sitting up, Tora finally made out a fluff of hair peeking up from the foot of their bed.
"Baby, what's wrong?" He rolled out from beneath the covers and padded over, concerning lining his features and breath stopping before he stooped down to pick Hiroto up and set him on the bed. "Are you okay? What happened?" There was blood dripping from the soles of his right foot, elbows banged up red from falling.
"I-I don't know. I didn't hear anything falling, I was just going to go pee." Hiroto watched sullenly as Tora swept away broken glass and a fallen picture frame, turning on all the lights and walking carefully down the hallway for bandages and whatever else he could find in their medicine cabinet. He sat there rubbing anxiously at his wrists, pain beginning to sting through his foot and not quite remembering when he had gotten up to use the restroom. Perhaps it was the same reason he couldn't remember hearing the glass shatter - he'd bumped, tripped and fallen all half-sleep.
Hurrying back into their bedroom, this time in flip-flops and with his glasses on just to be safe, Tora found Hiroto perched on the edge of their bed, worrying his bottom lip to pieces.
"Does it hurt a lot?" he asked gently, holding the wounded foot up into the light and pulling out the few shards of glass still embedded in the skin.
Shaking his head, Hiroto clenched his fists and breathed out, "You aren't mad at me are you?" in a nervous rush.
Surprised, Tora looked up, kissing the few blood-free toes in his reach. "Why would I be mad at you, Pon?" He wiped away the blood and began to apply an antiseptic cream hoping that would do the trick.
Flinching when it stung and hoping his words wouldn't upset the other man, Hiroto whispered, "Well... you've been kind of different lately... A little more angry." He mumbled the last few words, fingers picking at the hem of his t-shirt. Tora had been getting touchier, more snappish and easier to get on edge every day.
Pursing his lips, Tora quietly mulled over the words, bandaging up Hiroto's foot and throwing everything else away. He had to admit he'd been short on patience lately, taking it out on Hiroto when he'd had a difficult day. It wasn't like him to be so selfish and guilt surged to his ears remembering how hard it was to make Hiroto cry, how lately he had been the cause of so many glassy eyes and sad, wet looks. Climbing back onto their bed, he pulled warm limbs carefully into his lap, hugging Hiroto close and regretting the past couple of days. "I'm sorry, Hiroto. I don't mean it, I don't mean to be. I love you so much." Sighing, he pressed a kiss to plush lips and felt a little better when Hiroto relaxed into his touch.
"I love you too."
---
Tora snapped awake earlier and earlier every day, jolted from sleep by creakings or faint sounds coming from the floor above. It was nothing loud enough to voice complaint over, just insect paranoia creeping itchy and irritating under his skin again. Shivering, Tora gathered the warm duvet up to their shoulders, cradling Hiroto closer to his chest and staring wide eyed, up into the dark ceiling. He would keep Hiroto safe from the stupid bugs lurking, freaky big cockroaches and their antennas, hopefully useless wings. Shuddering even harder at the thought of flying cockroaches, Tora winced as the floorboards creaked.
The spring rains had finally started their yearly plunge, huge gusts of storm-filled winds clattering at every windowsill and keeping him awake at night. He needed sleep. It was starting to affect his normal, daily life on top of the stress at work. Just that afternoon he had reprimanded Hiroto harshly for falling asleep and forgetting to do his dishes. The younger man didn't deserve that. Hiroto worked just as hard as Tora did and still managed to keep his cool. So why couldn't he?
Chest clenching at the thought, the older man willed himself to sleep even as the wind blew extra hard, howling ominously though the cracks in their apartment and making a door slam. He'd have to find time and fix those someday.
---
Tora figured there had to be something wrong the third time he woke up to an empty bed.
Like the times before it, he made his rounds through their apartment and found Hiroto completely gone. He even went so far this time as to wander through the empty floors of their entire complex, stairs and all. With a nervous sigh, Where was he? , he took the lift back up from the lobby and burrowed back into bed.
He would be back.
Even so, the same scared thoughts flitted through Tora's head, questions to be asked, worries to be stated. Hiroto's shoes were still neatly arranged by the front door just like the other times, the night sky windless and bare of clouds. The younger man had just up and vanished. Tora waited, but he always fell back to sleep on nights like these, exhaustion tugging too heavy on his bones when it was near impossible to stay awake during the day and work started early in the practical night.
Lids drooping and eyes slipping shut, Tora promised himself he would remember to ask Hiroto the next day.
---
There was something troubling about living here that Hiroto couldn't place. It didn't feel like home anymore. Every time he came back from work, the empty apartment and colorful walls did nothing for him. He would simply peel off his rain-clogged shoes, curl up in bed, and wait for Tora to come home so they could make dinner together.
They argued more these days.
Sometimes the fighting escalated. Tora would tell him to just go if he wanted to leave so badly, and Hiroto ended up crying alone. He didn't understand, he wanted to because it hurt being alone again, but there was no one left to try and understand when the apartment door was slammed shut in his face and the howling wind was all the company he had left.
He could still hear it, even after Tora took a day off to go through their entire apartment, sealing up every crack and crevice he could reach, fixing up the windows and tightening the screens. The nights they fought Hiroto slept fitfully, would wake up more tired than he wanted to be, but then Tora would be back again, opening the front door and saying he was sorry.
Hiroto knew they were meant to be together, knew they were made for each other. Yet, somehow, they were falling apart. All the work they'd put into everything was wasting away.
Biting his lip to muffle his dry sob, he unfurled himself out from Tora's arms and tiptoed down towards the bathroom.
---
Tora knew there was something wrong when he woke up, this time on a Sunday morning, and Hiroto wasn't in bed again. Usually he was back between the sheets before the sun began to shine through the curtains. Clearing his throat and pulling on some sweats, Tora stepped out of bed.
It was eerily quiet today and he could tell a big storm was brewing - the same stark contrast of light and color right before lightning struck was echoed in every window. Stumbling in the hallway, Tora's brow furrowed at the trail of mud coming in from the cracked front doorway. Panic rising, he followed the footprints and thankfully found what he was looking for in the kitchen, heart aching at the sight before him. Treading soundlessly across the linoleum floor, he made a new line for the sink where sunlight shone through the kitchen window.
Hiroto was sitting there, eyes closed, asleep, leaning against the soft yellow curtains with stains caked up deep between his knees.
"Pon? Baby, wake up."
His skin was cool to the touch, dressed in only one of the larger man's thin t-shirts, dirty feet in the sink. At first Tora was scared when Hiroto didn't respond, but then fluttering lids and a couple seconds later wide eyes were meeting his, looking far too lost for Tora's liking.
"Where am I?" he whispered, achingly soft.
"In the kitchen, baby," Tora replied, heart breaking little by little as Hiroto's tearstained face turned absolutely forlorn and his arms reached out for comfort.
"I don't remember."
He was scared, they both were.
"I think you've been doing it for a while," Tora whispered, guilt singing through his veins. The agitated nights spent waiting, the suspicion and accusations tossed around during the day, he was wrong. Of course Hiroto would never cheat on him. They'd built this life together, but now everything was falling apart.
"I have bad dreams a night..." Hiroto finally admitted. "And sometimes I see things in the day... I don't want to be crazy Tora," he choked on the words, fingers gripping tight.
Swallowing his own fears, Tora hushed the quivering bundle in his arms, "It's just sleepwalking, Pon. Nothing crazy."
Just sleepwalking barefoot out the front door, out the apartment building.
What if one day he walked out and got hit by a car?
Tora didn't want to think about those things. Instead he let Hiroto cling to him, kept one arm wrapped around his waist and turning on the sink facet with his free hand. "Let's just get you cleaned up and warm right now, okay?" He wanted to concentrate on cleaning the dried mud off, cradling Hiroto wetly to his bare chest and carrying him to the tub after. "We'll figure out the rest later."
---
That night thunder shook the entire city. Lightning pierced the already bruised sky purple and blinding.
In their bedroom Tora and Hiroto huddled against the wooden headboard, pillows and blankets piled high around them while the earth rumbled and debris pelted against their windows. All the lights in their apartment were on, the clock ticking close to ten. Even in the comforting glows, everything was too much all at once; the wild storm, Hiroto's sleepwalking. They were just trying to hold it together and get through everything one at a time.
From the floor above they could hear people pounding around; sometimes there was loud laughter, other times shouting, then things hitting the walls and floor. Although they were loud enough, Hiroto still had to muffle his scream in Tora's shirt when a loud bang sounded from near their front door, glass tinkling on the insideof their apartment, followed closely by an equally loud slam, stuttery knocking on their curtained bedroom window. Eyes wide and terrified, Tora got up and locked the bedroom door even as Hiroto clung, hissing and whispering desperately for him not to go. He couldn't hear any footsteps though, couldn't see any flitting shadows down the hall or in their living room. All he could hear was the muffled, howling wind.
Grabbing his mobile, Tora dialed the lobby's front desk just in case.
Harsh breaths reminding him of the other, Tora softened his features and turned towards Hiroto, holding his hand out, "Come here baby." Nose burrowing into soft hair, he whispered, "We'll hide til it's over."
---
They were barely nestled in their walk-in closet's open space, lights still on, surrounded by the contents of their bed, when all the power in the building went out.
It was quiet, so quiet.
Hiroto's breathing began to pick up, panic, fumbling for Tora in the pitch black.
"I'm right here baby, right here," the older man cooed, shining his mobile light for Hiroto to see. "Just hold on, the storm will be over soon." He said it confidently, holding onto the prone frame left raw and vulnerable by their early morning, but deep down Tora was scared too. Scared that someone was in here, invading their home, threatening their lives, Hiroto's life. He was scared trees would fly into the building and shatter it in half, leave it to quake and collapse out from under them.
"You're scared too," Hiroto whispered, shaking. Fear boiled in his stomach, but he wasn't blind.
Tora needed comforting too. He was just as human.
They all needed to be strong for each other.
Choking back hysteric laughter, Tora brushed back long strands of the other's hair with a trembling hand and kissed him on the forehead, "Y-Yeah. Yeah, I'm pretty scared right now, baby."
The distinct sound of their bedroom door shattering reached their ears through the closed closet door.
Tears streaming down his cheeks, Hiroto forced himself to smile.
"Take my hand," he breathed, linking their fingers under the blue light of Tora's mobile and pulling the elder's head into the crook of his neck and shoulder.
They couldn't feel any wind, couldn't hear the beating rain. Wood was breaking, metal scraping and glass falling.
"We'll hide until it's over," Hiroto choked out, eyes squeezing shut and arms wrapping deathly tight to the only man he had ever loved, sobs finally breaking free as the upstairs pounding amplified.
Tora nodded his head and curled their bodies closer.
He wanted to protect his crying lover, be the hero in shining armor. But his own fearful tears were slipping out, there was nothing he could do.
Strong arms were the only thing he had left to offer.
Hiroto's only anchor as their closet door was ripped open next.
Overload
A/N:
TO BE CONTINUED! D8 BUWAHAHAHA
This idea popped out of nowhere and surprised me, but then I had the perfect song for it.
I hope you did listen to that song... it might help you get the mood of this. Or the lyrics would at least.
Overload is the sequel to this story. It has it's own song too and you'll understand more of Wanderlust once I've finished and posted that :)
Comments = ♥
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