[bloody monday] Time, You've Got Me Running [Otoya/Fujimaru; Otoya/Aoi]
Time, You've Got Me Running
fujimaru x otoya; otoya x aoi
pg-13
a/n: rewrite of an old bloody monday fic of mine. minor edits.
I get so lovesick my sad thoughts float
Time, you've got me running
News broke today so we're not talking
I think it's best we do a little bit of stopping
I want a house on a beach and you in my dreams
I need water, yeah, and a love, love, love, love
Time, you've got me running
Time, you've got me tired
Tegan and Sara- Time Running
Haruka marries and moves out when she’s twenty-three, and suddenly Fujimaru is alone in his empty house with nothing but pictures and memories to fill the corners and silent spaces. He doesn’t last long there, a week, maybe two, before he realizes he needs to get out, needs to escape.
It’s not just getting out of the house though. He needs to get out of Tokyo, maybe even Japan for a while. He needs different places, difference faces and foods and music and air. He needs a change. He needs freedom. He needs, he just needs something else, something different, something that isn’t this.
He spends another few weeks hesitating, planning, making sure, and then he informs Haruka of his decision. She doesn’t look too surprised, and it almost makes him want to take it back, so she can stop looking at him with her sad, understanding eyes and her broken smile. He can’t though, can’t take it back, because he’s going to die if he doesn’t get out. He’s going to waste away.
He averts her eyes as she whispers okay, flinches back when she tries to reach out and touch his face. He can’t look at her, can’t take her understanding or her pity or he love. He feels like he might break if she tries to comfort him. Haruka sighs and out of the corner of his eyes he sees her drop her hand, letting it swing to a stop at her side.
Before he leaves she tells him to be safe; to be careful; to come back one day. He promises her he will and drops the keys to their old house in her hand; drops a quick kiss into her hair before he sets off to Otoya and Aoi’s house. He can feel her eyes watching him from her doorstep, until he turns the corner, but a part of him knows she will still be there waiting by the doorsteps, watching him until he comes home.
It’s that quiet, lonely thought that keeps his feet moving, keeps him from breaking down on the side of the road. The faster he gets out of Japan, he tells himself, the faster he can come back home, and the faster he comes back home, the faster he can erase Haruka’s sad, sad smile. She may not be his to protect anymore, but she is still his little sister. He can’t hurt her for too long.
He arrives on the Kujo doorstep faster than he’d like, and yet still, not fast enough. The door opens before he even has a chance to knock. Aoi, radiant at twenty-five, stares at him from the doorstep, with bright, worried eyes.
“Haruka called,” she tells him gently, as way of explanation but she doesn’t ask any questions. She’s always been good at that- not asking questions. She’s always just taken what he' thrown at her without hesitating, never mind the danger or the risks and she’s only ever berated him for being stupid. She never questioned his reasons, accepting them as his, as something he needs to do. She’s always just stood by him, supported him. She’s a good friend.
He smiles a little at her, thankful for that, for having her in his life and then he steps into the house, toeing off his shoes. He slips on the pair of slippers she leaves for him and follows her farther into the house.
Aoi sets about making tea quietly in the kitchen, commanding Fujimaru to sit down. Knowing it’s useless to argue, he settles down awkwardly onto a couch, putting the little coffee table between Otoya and him. Otoya watches him through his bangs. He doesn’t look terribly surprised and he doesn’t look terribly confused, but Fujimaru likes to think he looks a little sad, even if it makes this hurt just that much more. Fujimaru can’t help fidgeting, as Otoya just looks, saying nothing. He still feels uncomfortable, like his skin is stretched too tight over his bones; like he’s naked and transparent, with Otoya’s eyes on him, even after all of these years.
Fujimaru waits in the near-silence, glancing between Otoya and Aoi, wishing things hadn’t come to this- him so tired and weary of life that he’s running away, and all the people who care about him letting him go, disappear, because they know they can’t stop him.
“Haruka says you’re leaving,” Aoi eventually says, to break the quiet, settling down next to Otoya on the couch, tea poured. Fujimaru nods, because there isn’t much he really wants to say to that. He doesn’t want to explain, offer them the reasons they already know. He takes a sip of his too-hot tea instead and burns his tongue. “Where are you going?” Aoi asks him quietly.
Fujimaru shrugs because although he’s thought about it, he’s not quite sure he wants to put those thoughts into words. He’s not sure he wants to do that here, in this room. Aoi opens her mouth, annoyance flashing across her face, and belatedly he realizes she is going to yell at him for not thinking this through; for doing something stupid. He laughs to cut her off.
“I’ve thought about it,” he says after a moment, and he looks up at Aoi to let her know he is serious, and she closes her mouth and waits. Fujimaru takes the last step, makes his decision final. “I’ve- I’m going to the beach.” His eyes flicker over to meet Otoya’s for a second, and Otoya just stares at him, still doesn’t say a single word. He just nods and Fujimaru’s breath catches in his throat.
“The beach?” Aoi echoes and Fujimaru turns his attention back to her, away from Otoya and his silences and his blank eyes, who isn’t fighting this at all. He nods, because that’s what he is going to do, there is no changing it or taking it back now. Then he drowns the rest of his tea and stands up because he needs to get out of here. He feels like a caged bird in this house.
They follow him to the door where he slips on his shoes. Aoi places a quick kiss on his cheek and tells him to be safe, but she doesn’t cry like he knows she wants to. Otoya stares for a moment before pulling him into a quick hug, and Fujimaru lets himself cling for a second, fingers flexing in the soft material of Otoya’s shirt. He breathes in once, a memory to keep, and then he stumbles back, suddenly cold.
“We’ll see you when you get back,” Otoya tells him, the first thing he’s said to him all day (first thing he’s really said to Fujimaru in years, while looking him in the eye). Fujimaru nods once, twice, and then slips out the door, heading back to his empty house filled with sad, lonely pictures and tired memories.
The next day he quits his boring computer job, and a week later, with a duffel slung over his shoulder, he’s boarding the plane to Hawaii, Haruka and Aoi and Otoya waving him goodbye.
He never comes back.
They are seventeen and young and ridiculous and too serious for their age but just silly enough to still manage to be madly in love. They’ve saved the world and destroyed their lives, person by person, but they are here now, alive and breathing and Fujimaru holds Otoya’s hands as hard as he can because he doesn’t want to lose Otoya too, not after he’s lost just about everyone else.
They stay like that for hours, stretched across Fujimaru’s bed, quiet. The sky is bright and brilliant and blue outside his window and Fujimaru watches the clouds pass slowly by, and traces idle patterns across Otoya’s hand with his thumb. He wants to stay like this for eternity, for a thousand sun-lit summer days and a thousand star-sprinkled winter skies, with Otoya warm at his side, tangled together forever.
“Hey. Fujimaru,” Otoya says suddenly, after ten minutes have passed, or maybe two hours and Fujimaru turns his head away from the window to meet Otoya’s eyes. Otoya smiles at him, a lazy grin that makes Fujimaru something twist warm in his heart. He smiles back, eyes crinkling. Spontaneously, unthinkingly, he leans forward and presses his lips to the corner of Otoya’s mouth before leaning back just enough to press their foreheads together instead.
“What?” he asks, grinning down at Otoya, and Otoya laughs bright and clear and beautiful, like the sun-drenched summer skies.
“Someday,” he starts, before darting in for a quick kiss of his own. “Someday, we should have our own house,” he informs Fujimaru and he closes his eyes for a second and when he opens them Fujimaru knows he is somewhere else and he smiles softy down as him. “We should have a house on the beach, right up against the water.”
Fujimaru laughs softly and agrees because they are still young enough to dream crazy, beautiful, impossible, hopeful dreams.
“Alright,” he tells him later, staring up at his ceiling now, Otoya’s sleeping head nestled into the crook of his neck, breathing soft and slow. “A house on the beach- someday I’m going to live in one of those.” He tangles his hand absentmindedly into Otoya’s hair. “It’s a promise, yeah?”
He falls asleep not too long later, their fingers tangled together.
fujimaru x otoya; otoya x aoi
pg-13
a/n: rewrite of an old bloody monday fic of mine. minor edits.
I get so lovesick my sad thoughts float
Time, you've got me running
News broke today so we're not talking
I think it's best we do a little bit of stopping
I want a house on a beach and you in my dreams
I need water, yeah, and a love, love, love, love
Time, you've got me running
Time, you've got me tired
Tegan and Sara- Time Running
Haruka marries and moves out when she’s twenty-three, and suddenly Fujimaru is alone in his empty house with nothing but pictures and memories to fill the corners and silent spaces. He doesn’t last long there, a week, maybe two, before he realizes he needs to get out, needs to escape.
It’s not just getting out of the house though. He needs to get out of Tokyo, maybe even Japan for a while. He needs different places, difference faces and foods and music and air. He needs a change. He needs freedom. He needs, he just needs something else, something different, something that isn’t this.
He spends another few weeks hesitating, planning, making sure, and then he informs Haruka of his decision. She doesn’t look too surprised, and it almost makes him want to take it back, so she can stop looking at him with her sad, understanding eyes and her broken smile. He can’t though, can’t take it back, because he’s going to die if he doesn’t get out. He’s going to waste away.
He averts her eyes as she whispers okay, flinches back when she tries to reach out and touch his face. He can’t look at her, can’t take her understanding or her pity or he love. He feels like he might break if she tries to comfort him. Haruka sighs and out of the corner of his eyes he sees her drop her hand, letting it swing to a stop at her side.
Before he leaves she tells him to be safe; to be careful; to come back one day. He promises her he will and drops the keys to their old house in her hand; drops a quick kiss into her hair before he sets off to Otoya and Aoi’s house. He can feel her eyes watching him from her doorstep, until he turns the corner, but a part of him knows she will still be there waiting by the doorsteps, watching him until he comes home.
It’s that quiet, lonely thought that keeps his feet moving, keeps him from breaking down on the side of the road. The faster he gets out of Japan, he tells himself, the faster he can come back home, and the faster he comes back home, the faster he can erase Haruka’s sad, sad smile. She may not be his to protect anymore, but she is still his little sister. He can’t hurt her for too long.
He arrives on the Kujo doorstep faster than he’d like, and yet still, not fast enough. The door opens before he even has a chance to knock. Aoi, radiant at twenty-five, stares at him from the doorstep, with bright, worried eyes.
“Haruka called,” she tells him gently, as way of explanation but she doesn’t ask any questions. She’s always been good at that- not asking questions. She’s always just taken what he' thrown at her without hesitating, never mind the danger or the risks and she’s only ever berated him for being stupid. She never questioned his reasons, accepting them as his, as something he needs to do. She’s always just stood by him, supported him. She’s a good friend.
He smiles a little at her, thankful for that, for having her in his life and then he steps into the house, toeing off his shoes. He slips on the pair of slippers she leaves for him and follows her farther into the house.
Aoi sets about making tea quietly in the kitchen, commanding Fujimaru to sit down. Knowing it’s useless to argue, he settles down awkwardly onto a couch, putting the little coffee table between Otoya and him. Otoya watches him through his bangs. He doesn’t look terribly surprised and he doesn’t look terribly confused, but Fujimaru likes to think he looks a little sad, even if it makes this hurt just that much more. Fujimaru can’t help fidgeting, as Otoya just looks, saying nothing. He still feels uncomfortable, like his skin is stretched too tight over his bones; like he’s naked and transparent, with Otoya’s eyes on him, even after all of these years.
Fujimaru waits in the near-silence, glancing between Otoya and Aoi, wishing things hadn’t come to this- him so tired and weary of life that he’s running away, and all the people who care about him letting him go, disappear, because they know they can’t stop him.
“Haruka says you’re leaving,” Aoi eventually says, to break the quiet, settling down next to Otoya on the couch, tea poured. Fujimaru nods, because there isn’t much he really wants to say to that. He doesn’t want to explain, offer them the reasons they already know. He takes a sip of his too-hot tea instead and burns his tongue. “Where are you going?” Aoi asks him quietly.
Fujimaru shrugs because although he’s thought about it, he’s not quite sure he wants to put those thoughts into words. He’s not sure he wants to do that here, in this room. Aoi opens her mouth, annoyance flashing across her face, and belatedly he realizes she is going to yell at him for not thinking this through; for doing something stupid. He laughs to cut her off.
“I’ve thought about it,” he says after a moment, and he looks up at Aoi to let her know he is serious, and she closes her mouth and waits. Fujimaru takes the last step, makes his decision final. “I’ve- I’m going to the beach.” His eyes flicker over to meet Otoya’s for a second, and Otoya just stares at him, still doesn’t say a single word. He just nods and Fujimaru’s breath catches in his throat.
“The beach?” Aoi echoes and Fujimaru turns his attention back to her, away from Otoya and his silences and his blank eyes, who isn’t fighting this at all. He nods, because that’s what he is going to do, there is no changing it or taking it back now. Then he drowns the rest of his tea and stands up because he needs to get out of here. He feels like a caged bird in this house.
They follow him to the door where he slips on his shoes. Aoi places a quick kiss on his cheek and tells him to be safe, but she doesn’t cry like he knows she wants to. Otoya stares for a moment before pulling him into a quick hug, and Fujimaru lets himself cling for a second, fingers flexing in the soft material of Otoya’s shirt. He breathes in once, a memory to keep, and then he stumbles back, suddenly cold.
“We’ll see you when you get back,” Otoya tells him, the first thing he’s said to him all day (first thing he’s really said to Fujimaru in years, while looking him in the eye). Fujimaru nods once, twice, and then slips out the door, heading back to his empty house filled with sad, lonely pictures and tired memories.
The next day he quits his boring computer job, and a week later, with a duffel slung over his shoulder, he’s boarding the plane to Hawaii, Haruka and Aoi and Otoya waving him goodbye.
He never comes back.
They are seventeen and young and ridiculous and too serious for their age but just silly enough to still manage to be madly in love. They’ve saved the world and destroyed their lives, person by person, but they are here now, alive and breathing and Fujimaru holds Otoya’s hands as hard as he can because he doesn’t want to lose Otoya too, not after he’s lost just about everyone else.
They stay like that for hours, stretched across Fujimaru’s bed, quiet. The sky is bright and brilliant and blue outside his window and Fujimaru watches the clouds pass slowly by, and traces idle patterns across Otoya’s hand with his thumb. He wants to stay like this for eternity, for a thousand sun-lit summer days and a thousand star-sprinkled winter skies, with Otoya warm at his side, tangled together forever.
“Hey. Fujimaru,” Otoya says suddenly, after ten minutes have passed, or maybe two hours and Fujimaru turns his head away from the window to meet Otoya’s eyes. Otoya smiles at him, a lazy grin that makes Fujimaru something twist warm in his heart. He smiles back, eyes crinkling. Spontaneously, unthinkingly, he leans forward and presses his lips to the corner of Otoya’s mouth before leaning back just enough to press their foreheads together instead.
“What?” he asks, grinning down at Otoya, and Otoya laughs bright and clear and beautiful, like the sun-drenched summer skies.
“Someday,” he starts, before darting in for a quick kiss of his own. “Someday, we should have our own house,” he informs Fujimaru and he closes his eyes for a second and when he opens them Fujimaru knows he is somewhere else and he smiles softy down as him. “We should have a house on the beach, right up against the water.”
Fujimaru laughs softly and agrees because they are still young enough to dream crazy, beautiful, impossible, hopeful dreams.
“Alright,” he tells him later, staring up at his ceiling now, Otoya’s sleeping head nestled into the crook of his neck, breathing soft and slow. “A house on the beach- someday I’m going to live in one of those.” He tangles his hand absentmindedly into Otoya’s hair. “It’s a promise, yeah?”
He falls asleep not too long later, their fingers tangled together.