[Pippa] {untitled} (mirror-mask)
{untitled} (mirror-mask)
PG, AU, Yara/Yamamoto
Random scene from Rin's mirror-mask 'verse; Yamaryo is negotiating with the Oracle, but Yara can do nothing but stand guard. (Posting more for storage than anything; this will probably make no sense to anyone else...)
~
Yara was alert. Keeping the body safe was an important job; monitoring, watching for signs of physical discomfort that would affect the soul while it was elsewhere. He took his work seriously as a rule, and even more so when it was him, Yamamoto. His Yamamoto.
Yamamoto made a noise then, a whimper that caught in the back of his throat and turned into a reflexive cough that made the muscles in his body twitch. Yara's sharp eyes remained focussed on the young man.
The twitch of his muscles from that cough did not subside, however. The tendons in his arms spasmed, and Yamamoto's fingers splayed out and then clenched as his jaw tightened and teeth ground against each other. Yara rearranged the cushions, alarmed, touching Yamamoto's forearm with a gentle hand to reassure. "Hey," he said quietly, to calm the body but keep the mind rested. "Hey, Ryouta. It's okay. I'm looking out for you. Daijoubu."
Yamamoto grunted then, a sound of pain as though he had been kicked in the stomach. His body reacted accordingly, knees jerking up as Yamamoto curled in on himself, narrowly missing knocking his head on the bedside table. Yara's eyes widened as the unconscious Yamamoto rolled onto his side and clutched at his chest, legs kicking out again and tears spilling from his closed eyes.
"Ryouta," Yara said again, this time with more urgency. He tried to get the sequence for calling someone back clear in his mind. "Ryouta, I've got you. Be safe. Come home soon." Yamamoto had moved down the bed in his thrashing, closer to Yara.
Yara put his hand on Yamamoto's head, stroking his dyed hair in as comforting a way as possible - but only for a moment. Yamamoto yelled and threw himself onto his back, arms and legs outstretched in a star shape, mouth open as he half screamed, half sobbed into the tense air of their room. Moving quickly, Yara clambered onto the bed and crouched on his knees next to Yamamoto. He lifted Yamamoto's head and upper body, sliding his knees behind Yamamoto's back and crossing one arm across Yamamoto's torso so that the young man's head was cradled against Yara's chest, awkwardly half-upright but close, pressed against Yara's body so they could feel each other's heartbeat through the physical contact.
Yamamoto was resisting now, legs kicking the blankets to the floor, one arm dangerously close to hitting Yara on the head. Yara pressed his free hand to Yamamoto's forehead, pushing back the sweat-soaked hair to hold his head still while in Yamamoto's ear he murmured, "I've got you. I'm holding you. I'm not leaving. Ryouta, come back. I've got you. Come back home, now."
He tried not to panic when Yamamoto's body went limp.
It wasn't the lack of tension of a gently sleeping person; Yara had lived long enough to recognise the difference. The half of Yamamoto's body leaning against him felt impossibly heavy, and despite the way his arm swung outwards as his muscles relaxed there was a stillness, a horrible, gut-stabbing stillness that made Yara's blood turn to ice.
"Ryouta?"
Yara's voice sounded too loud in the stillness of the room. "C'mon, kiddo. Wake up, now."
He almost didn't want to move, half cradling Yamamoto's body as he knelt there on the bed. But move he did, clumsily tugging a pillow towards him and easing out from behind Yamamoto to ease the young man to rest.
Yamamoto's eyes were still closed, and he was still, too still, and when Yara went to touch Yamamoto's hand he couldn't work out if his skin was cooler than usual or not because Yara himself was shaking. The adrenaline zipped through his veins, moving both too fast and not fast enough as pressed his head to Yamamoto's chest to listen for a heartbeat, tried to listen but the sound of his own rushing blood was too loud in his head. "Ryouta," he said.
"Ryouta. Wake up now. It's time to wake up."
Where had the connection gone? What had happened? Was he lost? Was he drifting? Was he…? Yara was startled by the sound of his own wordless cry, and before he knew what he was doing he was clinging to Yamamoto's body, pulling him close, wrapping his arms around motionless shoulders.
Yara did not weep. Yamamoto would wake up. He didn't believe himself, but refused to think otherwise. Yamamoto would wake up. Yara's eyes burned; he was staring into space, seeing nothing. Yamamoto needed to wake up.
Yamamoto's body tensed a half-second before he coughed, and Yara froze.
"Hey," said Yamamoto, voice weak, smiling faintly as he looked up at Yara from his place in Yara's arms.
"You…" Yara's voice cracked, and then the tears came. They spilled down Yara's face, dripping onto Yamamoto's chest as Yara hugged him tightly, his fingers threaded through Yamamoto's hair. "You…" Yara didn't think he could trust himself to let go, not just yet.
"I thought you weren't ever going to wake up," he rasped, laughing with nervous relief and wiping his eyes.
"…I… it, yeah," Yamamoto said, grimacing as he tried to sit up and winced at the obvious discomfort. "It was a bit… risky. I have a confession to make," he said, looking seriously into Yara's red-rimmed eyes. "I don't know how you'll take it."
Yara took a breath and exhaled, shakily trying to pull himself together. "Okay," he nodded. "Go on."
PG, AU, Yara/Yamamoto
Random scene from Rin's mirror-mask 'verse; Yamaryo is negotiating with the Oracle, but Yara can do nothing but stand guard. (Posting more for storage than anything; this will probably make no sense to anyone else...)
~
Yara was alert. Keeping the body safe was an important job; monitoring, watching for signs of physical discomfort that would affect the soul while it was elsewhere. He took his work seriously as a rule, and even more so when it was him, Yamamoto. His Yamamoto.
Yamamoto made a noise then, a whimper that caught in the back of his throat and turned into a reflexive cough that made the muscles in his body twitch. Yara's sharp eyes remained focussed on the young man.
The twitch of his muscles from that cough did not subside, however. The tendons in his arms spasmed, and Yamamoto's fingers splayed out and then clenched as his jaw tightened and teeth ground against each other. Yara rearranged the cushions, alarmed, touching Yamamoto's forearm with a gentle hand to reassure. "Hey," he said quietly, to calm the body but keep the mind rested. "Hey, Ryouta. It's okay. I'm looking out for you. Daijoubu."
Yamamoto grunted then, a sound of pain as though he had been kicked in the stomach. His body reacted accordingly, knees jerking up as Yamamoto curled in on himself, narrowly missing knocking his head on the bedside table. Yara's eyes widened as the unconscious Yamamoto rolled onto his side and clutched at his chest, legs kicking out again and tears spilling from his closed eyes.
"Ryouta," Yara said again, this time with more urgency. He tried to get the sequence for calling someone back clear in his mind. "Ryouta, I've got you. Be safe. Come home soon." Yamamoto had moved down the bed in his thrashing, closer to Yara.
Yara put his hand on Yamamoto's head, stroking his dyed hair in as comforting a way as possible - but only for a moment. Yamamoto yelled and threw himself onto his back, arms and legs outstretched in a star shape, mouth open as he half screamed, half sobbed into the tense air of their room. Moving quickly, Yara clambered onto the bed and crouched on his knees next to Yamamoto. He lifted Yamamoto's head and upper body, sliding his knees behind Yamamoto's back and crossing one arm across Yamamoto's torso so that the young man's head was cradled against Yara's chest, awkwardly half-upright but close, pressed against Yara's body so they could feel each other's heartbeat through the physical contact.
Yamamoto was resisting now, legs kicking the blankets to the floor, one arm dangerously close to hitting Yara on the head. Yara pressed his free hand to Yamamoto's forehead, pushing back the sweat-soaked hair to hold his head still while in Yamamoto's ear he murmured, "I've got you. I'm holding you. I'm not leaving. Ryouta, come back. I've got you. Come back home, now."
He tried not to panic when Yamamoto's body went limp.
It wasn't the lack of tension of a gently sleeping person; Yara had lived long enough to recognise the difference. The half of Yamamoto's body leaning against him felt impossibly heavy, and despite the way his arm swung outwards as his muscles relaxed there was a stillness, a horrible, gut-stabbing stillness that made Yara's blood turn to ice.
"Ryouta?"
Yara's voice sounded too loud in the stillness of the room. "C'mon, kiddo. Wake up, now."
He almost didn't want to move, half cradling Yamamoto's body as he knelt there on the bed. But move he did, clumsily tugging a pillow towards him and easing out from behind Yamamoto to ease the young man to rest.
Yamamoto's eyes were still closed, and he was still, too still, and when Yara went to touch Yamamoto's hand he couldn't work out if his skin was cooler than usual or not because Yara himself was shaking. The adrenaline zipped through his veins, moving both too fast and not fast enough as pressed his head to Yamamoto's chest to listen for a heartbeat, tried to listen but the sound of his own rushing blood was too loud in his head. "Ryouta," he said.
"Ryouta. Wake up now. It's time to wake up."
Where had the connection gone? What had happened? Was he lost? Was he drifting? Was he…? Yara was startled by the sound of his own wordless cry, and before he knew what he was doing he was clinging to Yamamoto's body, pulling him close, wrapping his arms around motionless shoulders.
Yara did not weep. Yamamoto would wake up. He didn't believe himself, but refused to think otherwise. Yamamoto would wake up. Yara's eyes burned; he was staring into space, seeing nothing. Yamamoto needed to wake up.
Yamamoto's body tensed a half-second before he coughed, and Yara froze.
"Hey," said Yamamoto, voice weak, smiling faintly as he looked up at Yara from his place in Yara's arms.
"You…" Yara's voice cracked, and then the tears came. They spilled down Yara's face, dripping onto Yamamoto's chest as Yara hugged him tightly, his fingers threaded through Yamamoto's hair. "You…" Yara didn't think he could trust himself to let go, not just yet.
"I thought you weren't ever going to wake up," he rasped, laughing with nervous relief and wiping his eyes.
"…I… it, yeah," Yamamoto said, grimacing as he tried to sit up and winced at the obvious discomfort. "It was a bit… risky. I have a confession to make," he said, looking seriously into Yara's red-rimmed eyes. "I don't know how you'll take it."
Yara took a breath and exhaled, shakily trying to pull himself together. "Okay," he nodded. "Go on."