Space - NewS - PG13
Title: Space
Author: anamuan
Word Count: 1,817
Pairing: ShigePi
Rating: PG-13 for mentions of sex.
A/N: I don't know where this came from. Kinda angsty. Beta by mycroftnext because she is amazing. The coda is also her fault.
It took Shige a while to get used to it, to the other body in his bed, the other person sleeping, too close in intimate space: Yamapi wasn't touching him, wasn't moving around, but he was still intruding on the little area Shige thought of as Shige's. Shige had trouble sleeping, trouble finding a comfortable position because he didn't want to move for fear it would jar Yamapi, that he'd bump into him and wake him up. So instead, Shige lay awake, too hot under the winter futon, arm falling asleep squished up against his side, muscles tensed uncomfortably, trying to roll from his stomach to his back without actually moving at all. It didn't work very well.
Shige isn't used to the touching. Shige kept himself to himself. Yamapi clung--he craved physical contact like sunflowers follow light. It wasn't bad; it was just different and weird and Shige wasn't sure if he knew how to do it.
Then Yamapi rolled over into him--onto him--simultaneously smothering him and hogging all the covers. Shige sighed and rolled over, trying to pull the blankets back up while Yamapi snuggled closer in his sleep. Maybe this was something Shige could get used to.
*
In the end, Shige had to put away the winter futon and dig out the summer one because all that contact and heat made sleeping unbearable. Yamapi whined about being cold now, and when was it going to be summer already and warm again, but used it as an excuse to cuddle even closer at night, skin on skin, sucking body heat.
*
It had started with small things. Yamapi having his own toothbrush in the bathroom. Yamapi rummaging through the fridge and making them breakfast in bed. Yamapi leaving his clothes on the living room floor. Yamapi having clothes there at all. It took some getting used to.
The bed was the worst part. Sex wasn't the problem. When they were so close Shige had trouble telling where he ended and Yamapi began, when his entire world narrowed to a single point occupied solely by Yamapi. Then it was only natural to be in bed. Sex was different. But the rest of the time, afterward, when he came down off the high; drifting off to sleep crammed in half the space he was used to taking; in the morning, waking up tangled in someone else's limbs; then, niggling in the back of his mind, Shige couldn't deny that it felt like an intrusion. Because the bed was his and only his. He had other places, but they belonged to other people too. The apartment was his, but he brought friends over, or people dropped by. They sat on the couch, in the chair by the desk, on the kitchen counter, on the bedroom floor. They stayed off his bed. It was his last retreat.
Having Yamapi in it too was strange. Just a little closer than Shige was sure he was ready for. Watching Yamapi breathe sleeping next to him, Shige felt just a little too open, a little too vulnerable because having Yamapi there meant he was already in past all Shige's defenses. Shige didn't know what he was supposed to do with that, if he could live like that. Shige wasn't always sure he was up to finding out, but he was willing to try.
Eight months later, Yamapi really moved in. All the way. He had slept over most nights before anyway, but with the move it felt like the apartment shrunk all the same. It was always Shige's apartment before. Now it was Yamapi's apartment too. It hadn't seemed like a bad idea at the time, and life wasn't much different, really, except that now Shige only had to pay half as much rent. But the idea was a little intimidating anyway. There was a difference between basically living together and actually changing the lease. Shige wasn't sure what this meant for his concept of 'personal space' or where the new boundaries were.
*
Yamapi liked to touch--all the time--but Shige was used to it now. Got so that it was part of Shige's conceptualization of 'normal' too. Got so that things felt off if Yamapi wasn't sitting too closely at the dinner table or standing snugged up behind him in the kitchen. Got so that he had to do his homework on the couch or the floor or the bed instead of at the desk so that Yamapi could drape himself over Shige's legs, flipping through a magazine or watching tv or memorizing a new script. Got so that sleep meant Yamapi draped across Shige's body, arms and legs twined together because the contact was soothing; tangled up for no better reason than it was comfortable now, that it felt good to fall asleep like that after sex, all crammed together in a bed that was really too small for two people.
When Yamapi was on, he was on. It was like he had a switch he could flip at will. Shige didn't know how he did it. When Shige was on, he was there. He had his dorky adorable moments, his sexy intense moments, his cool moments; he did his job. But he didn't crackle like Yamapi did, like he had his own personal electrical current. He didn't hum with energy. And then when Yamapi was off, he was off. He didn't have extra bits of energy flaking off like Shige did, wasted because he wasn't focusing on the right things at the right time. Yamapi always told Shige that being so up-front about things was endearing; that he wished he knew how to try a little less and think a little more. Shige didn't know how he did it.
Shige liked to plan things. He liked knowing before-hand how his day was going to turn out. Yamapi was the opposite. On his off-time, Yamapi liked to keep thing open, free. So much of his life was scheduled, regimented; when he could, he liked to take the opportunity to be spontaneous, just roll with things as they came up, just go and do something because he was free and he could. Shige didn't, couldn't live like that. He planned his offtime to keep his sanity; he needed the security of the schedule. He was sure that had to grate on Yamapi, that he had to find it boring--all of life fitted into neat little boxes, written down between lines on paper, no space for ringing up last minute and hitting that new restuarant down the street, no room for taking off to the beach because filming ended early--but Yamapi never complained about it. He just adjusted his off-time and learned to give Shige a few hours advance notice. Shige wrote out all of Yamapi's schedules for him to make up for it.
Shige didn't really like eating breakfast in bed. Crumbs got everywhere. But he liked how pleased it made Yamapi, a kind of smug satisfaction at being purposefully lazy. Yamapi would feed Shige bits from his own plate, and Shige would brush the hair back from Yamapi's face before pulling him down for a kiss because he knew how much sharing food meant to Yamapi. One kiss always led to another until Shige had to make a rule about keeping the plates on the end-table instead of on their laps because egg yolk was hard to get out of the bed spread.
Shige didn't like surprises. But then, neither did Yamapi. That worked out nicely for both of them.
*
It started with small things. Yamapi went out more and stayed out later; Shige stopped calling to say when he'd be late. Neither thought much about it. They saw each other all the time; space was good for both of them. Shige started doing his homework at the desk again because there was no reason to do it on the couch if Yamapi wasn't home yet. Yamapi kept more of the good bits at breakfast, and while Shige's kisses were no less genuine, they were a little less frequent, a little slower in coming. He was a little less urgent, a little more used to having Yamapi around.
Five months later, Yamapi moved out. He hadn't told Shige he'd put a down payment on another place until Shige came home to half-packed boxes. With the move it felt like the apartment had grown exponentially--far too wide, far too much empty space for one person, echos of two bouncing off cavernous, white walls. Shige wasn't sure what this meant for his concept of 'personal space' or how he would fill all the places Yamapi used to be. Shige wasn't sure he was up to finding out, but he didn't really have a choice.
Yamapi took the wrong toothbrush. Shige threw out the one Yamapi had left and bought a new one. He didn't know what Yamapi did.
*
It took Shige a while to get used to all the empty space. The tiny, cramped little twin bed felt wider than the ocean, wide as eternity without the other body, without Yamapi wrapped too closely, hogging covers and generating heat. Empty without Yamapi draped across Shige's body, lonely without their arms and legs tangled together. Shige had trouble sleeping, trouble finding a comfortable position because no matter where he put his arms, legs, torso he never ran into--couldn't run into--Yamapi. He wouldn't--couldn't--shake the bed, bump into him and wake him up. Couldn't suck body heat, keeping warm under a too-thin futon. So instead, Shige lay awake under the winter futon, arms and legs spread out as far as they would go, taking up as much bed-space as possible, trying to fill it up by himself. It didn't work very well.
Said he never loved me. Shige sighed and rolled over again, cold under his winter futon. Some things would take time to get used to.
*coda*
Shige needed to change the message on the answering machine, but he never managed to get around to it, never seemed to work it into his schedule. He never checked for messages anyway. All the important people always knew to use his cell; the land line was for telemarketers and Yamapi. No one called for Yamapi anymore, so Shige let himself ignore the answering machine.
*
It started with small things. The way Shige stopped expecting to wake up wrapped up in another body. The way Shige stopped standing to the side to leave Yamapi mirror space in the morning. The way Shige stopped expecting the apartment to smell like anyone but himself. The way Shige stopped thinking about whether his schedule clashed with Yamapi's, whether his schedule matched with Yamapi's, stopped thinking about Yamapi's schedule at all. It was taking some getting used to, but, slowly, Shige was.
Author: anamuan
Word Count: 1,817
Pairing: ShigePi
Rating: PG-13 for mentions of sex.
A/N: I don't know where this came from. Kinda angsty. Beta by mycroftnext because she is amazing. The coda is also her fault.
It took Shige a while to get used to it, to the other body in his bed, the other person sleeping, too close in intimate space: Yamapi wasn't touching him, wasn't moving around, but he was still intruding on the little area Shige thought of as Shige's. Shige had trouble sleeping, trouble finding a comfortable position because he didn't want to move for fear it would jar Yamapi, that he'd bump into him and wake him up. So instead, Shige lay awake, too hot under the winter futon, arm falling asleep squished up against his side, muscles tensed uncomfortably, trying to roll from his stomach to his back without actually moving at all. It didn't work very well.
Shige isn't used to the touching. Shige kept himself to himself. Yamapi clung--he craved physical contact like sunflowers follow light. It wasn't bad; it was just different and weird and Shige wasn't sure if he knew how to do it.
Then Yamapi rolled over into him--onto him--simultaneously smothering him and hogging all the covers. Shige sighed and rolled over, trying to pull the blankets back up while Yamapi snuggled closer in his sleep. Maybe this was something Shige could get used to.
*
In the end, Shige had to put away the winter futon and dig out the summer one because all that contact and heat made sleeping unbearable. Yamapi whined about being cold now, and when was it going to be summer already and warm again, but used it as an excuse to cuddle even closer at night, skin on skin, sucking body heat.
*
It had started with small things. Yamapi having his own toothbrush in the bathroom. Yamapi rummaging through the fridge and making them breakfast in bed. Yamapi leaving his clothes on the living room floor. Yamapi having clothes there at all. It took some getting used to.
The bed was the worst part. Sex wasn't the problem. When they were so close Shige had trouble telling where he ended and Yamapi began, when his entire world narrowed to a single point occupied solely by Yamapi. Then it was only natural to be in bed. Sex was different. But the rest of the time, afterward, when he came down off the high; drifting off to sleep crammed in half the space he was used to taking; in the morning, waking up tangled in someone else's limbs; then, niggling in the back of his mind, Shige couldn't deny that it felt like an intrusion. Because the bed was his and only his. He had other places, but they belonged to other people too. The apartment was his, but he brought friends over, or people dropped by. They sat on the couch, in the chair by the desk, on the kitchen counter, on the bedroom floor. They stayed off his bed. It was his last retreat.
Having Yamapi in it too was strange. Just a little closer than Shige was sure he was ready for. Watching Yamapi breathe sleeping next to him, Shige felt just a little too open, a little too vulnerable because having Yamapi there meant he was already in past all Shige's defenses. Shige didn't know what he was supposed to do with that, if he could live like that. Shige wasn't always sure he was up to finding out, but he was willing to try.
Eight months later, Yamapi really moved in. All the way. He had slept over most nights before anyway, but with the move it felt like the apartment shrunk all the same. It was always Shige's apartment before. Now it was Yamapi's apartment too. It hadn't seemed like a bad idea at the time, and life wasn't much different, really, except that now Shige only had to pay half as much rent. But the idea was a little intimidating anyway. There was a difference between basically living together and actually changing the lease. Shige wasn't sure what this meant for his concept of 'personal space' or where the new boundaries were.
*
Yamapi liked to touch--all the time--but Shige was used to it now. Got so that it was part of Shige's conceptualization of 'normal' too. Got so that things felt off if Yamapi wasn't sitting too closely at the dinner table or standing snugged up behind him in the kitchen. Got so that he had to do his homework on the couch or the floor or the bed instead of at the desk so that Yamapi could drape himself over Shige's legs, flipping through a magazine or watching tv or memorizing a new script. Got so that sleep meant Yamapi draped across Shige's body, arms and legs twined together because the contact was soothing; tangled up for no better reason than it was comfortable now, that it felt good to fall asleep like that after sex, all crammed together in a bed that was really too small for two people.
When Yamapi was on, he was on. It was like he had a switch he could flip at will. Shige didn't know how he did it. When Shige was on, he was there. He had his dorky adorable moments, his sexy intense moments, his cool moments; he did his job. But he didn't crackle like Yamapi did, like he had his own personal electrical current. He didn't hum with energy. And then when Yamapi was off, he was off. He didn't have extra bits of energy flaking off like Shige did, wasted because he wasn't focusing on the right things at the right time. Yamapi always told Shige that being so up-front about things was endearing; that he wished he knew how to try a little less and think a little more. Shige didn't know how he did it.
Shige liked to plan things. He liked knowing before-hand how his day was going to turn out. Yamapi was the opposite. On his off-time, Yamapi liked to keep thing open, free. So much of his life was scheduled, regimented; when he could, he liked to take the opportunity to be spontaneous, just roll with things as they came up, just go and do something because he was free and he could. Shige didn't, couldn't live like that. He planned his offtime to keep his sanity; he needed the security of the schedule. He was sure that had to grate on Yamapi, that he had to find it boring--all of life fitted into neat little boxes, written down between lines on paper, no space for ringing up last minute and hitting that new restuarant down the street, no room for taking off to the beach because filming ended early--but Yamapi never complained about it. He just adjusted his off-time and learned to give Shige a few hours advance notice. Shige wrote out all of Yamapi's schedules for him to make up for it.
Shige didn't really like eating breakfast in bed. Crumbs got everywhere. But he liked how pleased it made Yamapi, a kind of smug satisfaction at being purposefully lazy. Yamapi would feed Shige bits from his own plate, and Shige would brush the hair back from Yamapi's face before pulling him down for a kiss because he knew how much sharing food meant to Yamapi. One kiss always led to another until Shige had to make a rule about keeping the plates on the end-table instead of on their laps because egg yolk was hard to get out of the bed spread.
Shige didn't like surprises. But then, neither did Yamapi. That worked out nicely for both of them.
*
It started with small things. Yamapi went out more and stayed out later; Shige stopped calling to say when he'd be late. Neither thought much about it. They saw each other all the time; space was good for both of them. Shige started doing his homework at the desk again because there was no reason to do it on the couch if Yamapi wasn't home yet. Yamapi kept more of the good bits at breakfast, and while Shige's kisses were no less genuine, they were a little less frequent, a little slower in coming. He was a little less urgent, a little more used to having Yamapi around.
Five months later, Yamapi moved out. He hadn't told Shige he'd put a down payment on another place until Shige came home to half-packed boxes. With the move it felt like the apartment had grown exponentially--far too wide, far too much empty space for one person, echos of two bouncing off cavernous, white walls. Shige wasn't sure what this meant for his concept of 'personal space' or how he would fill all the places Yamapi used to be. Shige wasn't sure he was up to finding out, but he didn't really have a choice.
Yamapi took the wrong toothbrush. Shige threw out the one Yamapi had left and bought a new one. He didn't know what Yamapi did.
*
It took Shige a while to get used to all the empty space. The tiny, cramped little twin bed felt wider than the ocean, wide as eternity without the other body, without Yamapi wrapped too closely, hogging covers and generating heat. Empty without Yamapi draped across Shige's body, lonely without their arms and legs tangled together. Shige had trouble sleeping, trouble finding a comfortable position because no matter where he put his arms, legs, torso he never ran into--couldn't run into--Yamapi. He wouldn't--couldn't--shake the bed, bump into him and wake him up. Couldn't suck body heat, keeping warm under a too-thin futon. So instead, Shige lay awake under the winter futon, arms and legs spread out as far as they would go, taking up as much bed-space as possible, trying to fill it up by himself. It didn't work very well.
Said he never loved me. Shige sighed and rolled over again, cold under his winter futon. Some things would take time to get used to.
*coda*
Shige needed to change the message on the answering machine, but he never managed to get around to it, never seemed to work it into his schedule. He never checked for messages anyway. All the important people always knew to use his cell; the land line was for telemarketers and Yamapi. No one called for Yamapi anymore, so Shige let himself ignore the answering machine.
*
It started with small things. The way Shige stopped expecting to wake up wrapped up in another body. The way Shige stopped standing to the side to leave Yamapi mirror space in the morning. The way Shige stopped expecting the apartment to smell like anyone but himself. The way Shige stopped thinking about whether his schedule clashed with Yamapi's, whether his schedule matched with Yamapi's, stopped thinking about Yamapi's schedule at all. It was taking some getting used to, but, slowly, Shige was.