Remembrance - Ni~yaxSakito - Prologue
Title: Remembrance
Author: etoilerose
Band: Nightmare
Pairing: Ni~yaxSakito
Rating: PG-15
Disclaimer: Don't own them, didn't happen D: No need to rub it in!
Summary: Ni~ya is a person who lives in the present, and right now it's doing him just fine. However, with his long lost slightly-more-than-best-friend Sakito from a decade past suddenly crashing back into his world, memories are sure to try and surface once more.
Notes: Fiiihiiinally.
P R O L O G U E
Ando…
Arai…
Ashida…
Baba.
The mere sight of that name on the yellowed directory paper was enough to make Sakito’s breath catch in his throat, make the pencil in his hand tremor along with his grip as he lowered it, tentatively engraving a line beneath the one number, listed with the one constonant that leapt at his vision. Y. Baba Y.
It was a ridiculous thought of course, this. Ludicrous. His move had been planned precisely to escape the influences that this person had left stamped and heavy over his previous home, the echoes of promises left hanging in a voice he was sure to never hear again. It had been a painful decision, but eventually he was convinced, ready to move on… Or not. For it had taken so little, just those four syllables overheard on the street to have him here, pouring over the phone book like some stalker. Maybe he was… or at least he would have been given the chance, for that name had commanded his consciousness for a decade. Baba Yuji. Ni~ya. The boy who, at 15, had become his everything and then torn it all away.
Sighing, Sakito shifted his spread-eagled posture on the futon beneath him into something a little more comfortable, pushing black-rimmed spectacles further up his nose in order to view the highlighted sequence of numbers with all the more clarity. It wasn’t Ni~ya, there was no way it could be, but somehow that tiny seed of hope was there, digging its whiskered tendrils into his mind. If he left this chance, this speculation hanging, however small and unlikely it may be, the regret would come the moment it was too late. Dipping his head firmly, as if the decisive motion could force a sense of final conclusion, he retrieved the telephone from it’s placement at his side, raising the pencil absent-mindedly to his lips as he keyed in the digits.
The moment he pressed the final button he felt his stomach clenching in nervous anxiety and, as much as he tried to convince himself this was a lost cause, anticipation. Just time to berate himself for being such a desperate fool one more time before the dial button was hit with a wrenching beep, and the shrill dialling tone began to drag into the otherwise silence, each pause making his heart lurch.
Finally the sound cut out with a distinctive crackle, and Sakito’s eyes widened at the sound of a voice that, despite the modification of ten years, was resoundingly familiar. For a number of long seconds he was frozen, until an impatient stirring on the line made him jerk into action before he was dismissed as some prank caller.
‘N-…. Ni~ya?’
The surprised pause on the opposing end almost rivalled Sakito’s until, in a sudden burst of forwardness, he spoke again.
“This is Sakito, I…”
Cutting himself off, he drew in an inhalation so sharp it could no doubt be heard by the listener. The phone quivered in his grasp.
“I miss you.”
Author: etoilerose
Band: Nightmare
Pairing: Ni~yaxSakito
Rating: PG-15
Disclaimer: Don't own them, didn't happen D: No need to rub it in!
Summary: Ni~ya is a person who lives in the present, and right now it's doing him just fine. However, with his long lost slightly-more-than-best-friend Sakito from a decade past suddenly crashing back into his world, memories are sure to try and surface once more.
Notes: Fiiihiiinally.
P R O L O G U E
Ando…
Arai…
Ashida…
Baba.
The mere sight of that name on the yellowed directory paper was enough to make Sakito’s breath catch in his throat, make the pencil in his hand tremor along with his grip as he lowered it, tentatively engraving a line beneath the one number, listed with the one constonant that leapt at his vision. Y. Baba Y.
It was a ridiculous thought of course, this. Ludicrous. His move had been planned precisely to escape the influences that this person had left stamped and heavy over his previous home, the echoes of promises left hanging in a voice he was sure to never hear again. It had been a painful decision, but eventually he was convinced, ready to move on… Or not. For it had taken so little, just those four syllables overheard on the street to have him here, pouring over the phone book like some stalker. Maybe he was… or at least he would have been given the chance, for that name had commanded his consciousness for a decade. Baba Yuji. Ni~ya. The boy who, at 15, had become his everything and then torn it all away.
Sighing, Sakito shifted his spread-eagled posture on the futon beneath him into something a little more comfortable, pushing black-rimmed spectacles further up his nose in order to view the highlighted sequence of numbers with all the more clarity. It wasn’t Ni~ya, there was no way it could be, but somehow that tiny seed of hope was there, digging its whiskered tendrils into his mind. If he left this chance, this speculation hanging, however small and unlikely it may be, the regret would come the moment it was too late. Dipping his head firmly, as if the decisive motion could force a sense of final conclusion, he retrieved the telephone from it’s placement at his side, raising the pencil absent-mindedly to his lips as he keyed in the digits.
The moment he pressed the final button he felt his stomach clenching in nervous anxiety and, as much as he tried to convince himself this was a lost cause, anticipation. Just time to berate himself for being such a desperate fool one more time before the dial button was hit with a wrenching beep, and the shrill dialling tone began to drag into the otherwise silence, each pause making his heart lurch.
Finally the sound cut out with a distinctive crackle, and Sakito’s eyes widened at the sound of a voice that, despite the modification of ten years, was resoundingly familiar. For a number of long seconds he was frozen, until an impatient stirring on the line made him jerk into action before he was dismissed as some prank caller.
‘N-…. Ni~ya?’
The surprised pause on the opposing end almost rivalled Sakito’s until, in a sudden burst of forwardness, he spoke again.
“This is Sakito, I…”
Cutting himself off, he drew in an inhalation so sharp it could no doubt be heard by the listener. The phone quivered in his grasp.
“I miss you.”