(no subject)
AI NANTE by Tegoshi Yuya, Nishikido Ryo & Shigeaki Kato
Kisses From Postcards and Polaroid Pictures - ryopi
There is a reason; a reason why he is curled up at the younger man’s side naked, his head on his heart as it beat slowly, but just right; a reason why he holds him tight around the shoulder and between his cold fingers.
A reason why Yamapi’s luggage and bags are sitting at his doorstep of the living room, filled and packed.
He is awake, gently caressing Ryo who is still sleeping at his side, breathing faintly on his chest. He plays with his soft hair, the scent of his shampoo pulling his sense of smell towards it. He kisses him on his forehead lightly, makes sure he doesn’t wake up. Yamapi feels that he has nothing to regret between them, but at the same time, regrets the whole point of their relationship.
Ryo slowly shuffles, wakes up in his lover’s arms. He yawns quietly and struggles in the nude. Good morning, he says to Yamapi, with a smile. Yamapi does the same, kissing his forehead again. Good morning, they greet the day, but it is raining outside, damp; it is a typical rainbow day.
Ryo sits up on the bed beside him, then suddenly stretches out across Yamapi-there goes the scent of his hair again, it’s on his face now-to grab his watch. Their movement within the sheets provides the only sound.
It is eight-thirty.
With Ryo awkwardly positioned over Yamapi, he becomes restless, pulls Ryo until he settles sitting on top of Yamapi. They intertwine fingers, laugh a little, giggle more. Yamapi begins on his abdomen, kissing him, working his way up. He reaches his right nipple, sucks, bites a little, then moves up to his collarbone, when Ryo bends down to whisper in Yamapi’s ear. There is a mark, a red speck on Ryo’s neck, but he doesn’t see it, as he finally comes to meet with Yamapi’s lips.
He once called them kissable, his lips, shaped like a heart, felt like a piece of the ocean either at peace or struggle, he couldn’t tell. Ryo felt them against his own. It was a little wet, but they are kissing with tongue and teeth, and there is nothing wrong with it anymore (not that there was anything wrong with it in the first place).
Their fingers are still intertwined. Yamapi grasps Ryo’s tighter. He doesn’t want to let him go. Ever.
Boarding time: ten o’clock.
They are in the airport, fingers in a clasp inside the pocket of Yamapi’s trench coat, hiding what seems to be unwanted by most people. Yamapi feels that Ryo’s hand is starting to become cold, but thinks twice, telling himself it is just his own fingers getting cold. Ryo thinks of the exact same thing, vise versa.
Yamapi is carrying one luggage while Ryo is carrying his other one as they walk, slowly. Their elbows touch as they move in the same pace, the same way. Each step steals Ryo’s breath away. He can’t take it; never did; never will. He wants to slow down his rate… slow time down or just pause it while Yamapi hasn’t boarded yet.
It was stupid of Yamapi, Ryo thought. He told the latter to stay. Stay, because he is still feverish, a little warm, and all the more cold. Ryo refuses, tells him he wants to take him to the airport. At least that. And there they are, at the entrance of their departure. Ryo tells himself that it’s stupid to cry, tells himself a man like him shouldn’t.
He shouldn’t, but he would.
Yamapi turns to him one last time, kisses him on the lips. There are watchers; Ryo is insecure, but Yamapi changes that, gets him to understand what he’s trying to say.
“It won’t be the same without you, Ryo-chan.”
He tells Ryo he’ll miss him, kisses him again, finally hugs him. Neither boy lets go. They both stay in that embrace for as long as seconds could count, for as long as people would live, for as long as love is both unconditional and unbearable. There is nothing but silence; the loudest silence ever heard, if not the only thing they can perceive besides each other.
Yamapi lets go of his face, grabs Ryo by his cheeks and takes a good look at him. He tells him he loves him, watching him bite his lip. Yamapi knows, he knows well and profound that deep inside, he is crying. He is crying, and he is not afraid to admit that, the way Ryo is. But he cares, cares for everything in the world, for the reason why he’s leaving, for the tears that refuse to show on his face, for Ryo, who is at the verge of tears, but Yamapi stops him, squeezes his arms while Ryo does the same to him.
He tells him he’ll be back; he can’t say how long, but he promises him he’ll be back.
Yakusoku.
Yamapi takes his luggage, lets him go.
Ryo now thinks of serendipity, how falling at the edge of the cliff right then and there would be good, how it would be better if there was no one to catch him on the last second, no happy ending. Yamapi hates that, when Ryo thinks too much, too negatively of everything when he isn’t around.
Ryo smiles.
He now thinks, how it’s never enough to love someone like him.