The Loneliness I Pride Myself On ~ 7/18 ~ [Reita/Ruki]
Title: The Loneliness I Pride Myself On
Author: ravennightmare6
Beta: krasivayadusha
Chapter: 7/18
Genre: AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut
Rating(Overall): NC-17
Pairing/s: Reita/Ruki (Akira/Takanori), Uruha/Aoi (Kouyou/Yuu)
Synopsis: Takanori liked to think that he hated everybody equally. Though, he had to admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that he hated a few less than others.
Warnings: Use of real names, Profanity, ANGST
Disclaimer: As unfortunate as it may be, I do not own The GazettE. I only own the plot.
Comments: At the bottom, darlings <3
Previous Chapter
After Takanori left, Akira plopped back down on the bed with a sigh. Of course he’d known the younger boy would react that way. But seeing it actually happen still left a small sting radiating through his chest. With his head cradled in one of his hands which leaned on his knee, Akira forced a heavy sigh. How had he gotten himself into this situation? When had things changed? When had such a seemingly insignificant little blonde squeezed his way into Akira’s life and turned it completely upside down?
Standing up, Akira left Takanori’s room and trudged downstairs. There seemed to be no sign of the second year as he entered the main foyer. Perhaps he’d slipped into one of the many rooms Akira hadn’t seen yet; he didn’t blame the kid. He must have gotten quite a shock waking up like that.
Akira reached the front door where he’d carelessly dropped his school bag the night before. Hoping his phone hadn’t run out of battery yet, he crouched down and rummaged through the almost empty bag, finding it easily. He flipped it open and was relieved to see the screen light up. He walked back and took a seat on the bottom step of the elegant carpeted staircase ready to make a few calls and do some explaining.
***
After Takanori felt he’d finally calmed, down he pulled himself out of his desk chair and limped, rather slowly, out of his recording studio and back into the dim hallway. The sun had almost completely set outside and he put his hand over his stomach as it growled loudly. ‘Ugh’, he thought with a sigh. ‘I’m so hungry and I’m going to have to cook for that stupid birdbrain as well.’
As he neared the staircase Takanori heard the distinct sound of Akira’s baritone voice coming from the foyer. What was he doing down there? It sounded like he was on the phone, because there was no one in the house he could possibly talk to besides Takanori. He knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but the nosey little blonde couldn’t help it. His curious side got the better of him as he drew closer to the staircase. Poking his head around the corner he saw the third year student sitting on the bottom step with his, crappy compared to Takanori’s brand new iPhone, flip-top phone pressed up against his ear. The conversation drifted up to Takanori’s ears as he moved further into the open and leaned against the mahogany railing at the very top of the staircase.
“Hey, mum. It’s me,” he began, sounding apologetic already. The tall blonde paused, obviously listening to his mother talk at him through the receiver. “I know, mum. I’m really sorry I didn’t call you until now.” A pause. “There’s no need to worry, mum. I’m just at a friend’s place.” ‘A friend?’ Takanori frowned. ‘Since when was I considered to be Akira’s friend?’ Shaking off the comment, Takanori listen back in as Akira started talking again. “Mum. I’m going to stay here for a while. My friend he… he’s going through something and I need to be here with him.” Pause. “I don’t know how long I’ll be here. Maybe a few days. Maybe a few weeks. But I can’t leave now.” Pause. “Don’t worry though, I’ll make sure my school work gets done and everything.” Pause. “Thanks for understanding, mum. You’re the best. How’s Koyuki? Is she going ok at school? I’m sorry I can’t be there to help you out…”
Takanori didn’t stick around to listen to the rest of Akira’s conversation with his mother. The little blonde retreated back to his bedroom as quickly as he could. As he went he felt a strange strangling tightness in his chest; like a hand was firmly squeezing his heart. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make it uncomfortable. The feeling didn’t subside as he swung open his bedroom door and trudged inside, dropping himself back on his bed.
What was this feeling? Takanori clutched at the shirt above his heart and lay down on his back, picking up a pillow and covering his face with it. Who was this new Akira? What was this playfulness, this caring, this kindness, this concern? This wasn’t the Akira Takanori knew. This wasn’t like any person Takanori had ever known. It was frightening. Being treated like a precious antique vase, like he was something to be cherished and protected. No one had ever treated him with such raw kindness. Ever. No one had ever stuck around long enough to try and figure him out; try and find out more. The little blonde decided, in that moment, that he was sick and tired of being alone. He’d been alone all his life, not really cared for, not really looked after. And suddenly, here was someone who was willing to force his way into Takanori’s life, to force an explanation out of him, to force him to open up. Takanori dreaded what Akira would think of him if he heard the second year’s full story. He thought that, maybe, the third year would pity him and he didn’t want that. But deep down inside, he knew he wanted to try. He knew that, for once in his life, he wanted to let someone in. He wanted someone to understand, to know how he really felt. He wanted someone to know him; the real Takanori and not that distorted version of himself that he showed everyone.
Maybe he was no different from those clones all along. He had been hiding parts of himself. He was open and comfortable with his appearance and he wasn’t afraid to wear makeup, dress the way he wanted and openly say that, yes, he was gay. But he still hid his real emotions away under lock and key, deep, deep down inside himself. Maybe Akira would be the person to finally figure him out, because Akira - that dumb, useless, birdbrained idiot - was willing to delve past the surface and search the darkness underneath.
Takanori’s raging thoughts were interrupted when the door opened again and he heard the sound of bare feet shuffling into the room and then the door shut again. The little blonde didn’t lift the pillow off his face nor did the hand clutching his shirt loosen, if anything, it tightened slightly. He really had no idea how to approach Akira anymore and he was terrified about trying to confront his suppressed emotions and desires.
“Oi, midget,” he heard Akira’s voice closer than he’d expected it to be. It sounded like it was right next to his ear and he couldn’t help but jump a little at the sound of its closeness. “You trying to suffocate yourself or something?” Suddenly the pillow was snatched away from him, revealing his frowning face.
“Give that back!” He snapped as he sat up, finally letting go of his shirt, and looked at the blonde who was knelt right next to his bed.
Akira chuckled, “I don’t think so.” The third year moved his arm backwards as Takanori tried to snatch at the pillow.
Takanori growled. “You’re such an arsehole. Why can’t you just leave me alone?” The little blonde almost winced after the words left his mouth. ‘There I go again’, he thought. ‘Pushing him away’. As much as he wanted to let the third year in, it had just become a natural instinct for him to push people away.
The smirk on Akira’s face seemed to drop slightly as he thought about a possible answer. The pair remained quiet for a new moments and Takanori realised that Akira was planning on answering his question seriously. He guessed that was ok, seeing as he did want to know why Akira sought answers so desperately. Slowly the blonde third year stood up and made his way around to the other side of the bed and sat down beside Takanori, looking at him with a serious expression.
“It’s funny, you know?” The corner of Akira’s mouth twitched up slightly as he began, not shifting his intense gaze off Takanori. “I have no idea why I can’t leave you alone.” The little blonde frowned slightly. That made no sense at all. Maybe Akira really had swallowed something from the medical kit when he’d been tending to the second year’s wounds earlier. “But… I do know that… I’ve never felt so strongly about something in my life. I feel like I need to be here.”
Takanori stared in disbelief. Were his ears deceiving him? No, they weren’t. Akira had really just said that he needed to be there. Akira needed to be with Takanori. The tight feeling in the little blonde’s chested flared up again and he brought his hand up to clutch at his shirt again, squeezing the fabric in a tight fist.
Akira leaned forward slightly, raising his hand, and Takanori flinched slightly as he squeezed his eyes shut. The only time the third year had ever raised his hand before was when he had intended to deliver a punch to Takanori’s face. “It’s alright,” Akira reassured him as he dropped his hand a little, pausing his movements, and Takanori relaxed ever so slightly, opening his eyes again. Lifting his hand again, Akira chuckled and brushed Takanori fringe away from his face, fingertips lightly brushing against his cheek. “You’re blushing, you know that, right?”
Takanori’s eyes widened as he quickly withdrew from the gentle touch and covered his face with his hands, turning away. Akira’s booming laughter rose into the still air of the bedroom as he wrapped a hand around Takanori’s arm, just below the wrist, and tugged.
“Don’t be shy.” The tall blonde chuckled and tugged again, trying to draw Takanori’s small hands away from his face.
“Go away,” the little blonde’s voice drifted out, muffled by his hands.
“Come on, Taka,” he said. “I was just kidding.”
Takanori froze, dropping his hands into his lap. He turned and looked at Akira, a look of disbelief evident across his face. “What did you just call me?” His usually confident voice came out quiet and hesitant.
A little frown creased Akira’s brow. “I called you Taka.”
Takanori blinked and looked down at the covers of the bed. A nickname? A real nickname? He’d never had one of those before; but somehow, being referred to in such an affectionate way, made a warm fuzzy feeling spread through his chest. Taka… He liked the sound of that and the way it rolled off Akira’s tongue sounded good too.
A few moments of silence passed until the second year looked back up at Akira who was still staring at him, awaiting any kind of reaction.
The little blonde figured that it might be a good time to somehow inform Akira of his decision. “It must be nice, huh?” Takanori asked with a somewhat bitter smile twitching at the corner of his lips.
Akira blinked, taken aback by the sudden question. “Eh?”
Takanori huffed. “Being able to speak your mind so easily. It must be nice.”
The blonde third year studied that younger boy for a moment. Was Takanori beginning to let him in? Even if it was just a fraction of a millimetre; was the little blonde’s guard finally beginning to drop? Akira smiled, “It is nice, yeah. There are a lot of things I don’t say, though. But, you’re pretty vocal about what’s on your mind most of the time too.”
“No I’m not,” Takanori retorted swiftly. “If you’ve got a problem you’ll tell someone, won’t you?”
Akira nodded, wondering what the younger boy was getting at.
“I won’t. I don’t… I - I can’t…” Akira watched the other blonde scrunch his nose up with the struggle to find the right words. He could tell Takanori was trying to be more open, even just a little. Akira could also tell that it was extremely hard for him.
“You’re not used to speaking up if something is wrong,” Akira predicted what the other boy was trying to say. Fairly accurately, it appeared, because Takanori looked at him and nodded. “That’s ok,” the third year shrugged. “I won’t force you to say anything. I’ll just stay here with you until you feel comfortable enough to let me in.”
Takanori dropped his eyes again and slowly nodded his head. “I…” He swallowed and took a deep breath. “I want to try… being more… open.” The second year felt so stupid. He was never this shy; but it was the first time he’d ever been to close to telling anyone about himself. It was totally unexplored grounds for him, if he was being totally honest with himself, he was really petrified.
Akira smiled, “I’m glad to hear that.” A few moments passed and the third year stood up, walking back around the bed. He took hold of Takanori’s uninjured wristed and hauled him up onto his feet. “Come on! I’m starving.”
Takanori yelped when weight was suddenly pressed on his sore foot as he was unceremoniously pulled up. “Ouch! Be more careful, idiot. My foot still hurts.” Takanori swung his arm and delivered a punch to Akira’s upper arm, though he was fairly sure the impact didn’t hurt the well-built blonde.
“Sorry!” Akira said as he dropped the little blonde’s wrist. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Takanori brushed him off. Akira’s caring nature was still going to take some serious getting used to. “Just be more careful.”
The little blonde started on his way to the door, limping on his almost useless foot. “You’re so slow.” Akira stepped up behind him and turned him around to face his official guest. All of a sudden Akira had bent over and lightly connected his shoulder with Takanori’s middle section and taken ahold of the back of his knees. The third year stood up straight again with the feather weight draped over his shoulder.
“Wha- Akira! Put me down, you idiot!” Takanori yelled as he kicked his legs and wriggled. “Oi! I said, put me down! I’m not some ragdoll you get to carry around at your will.”
“Shut up or I’ll drop you, midget,” Akira’s retorted, not making any movement to fulfil Takanori’s wish. The little blonde continued to struggle, protesting to the somewhat rough treatment. “Stop squirming or I really am going to drop you,” the tall blonde warned.
Sighing, Takanori fell limp over Akira’s shoulder until they reached the kitchen. The second year squirmed and insisted on being put back down again which Akira’s thankfully complied with, setting him down one of the chairs tucked under the island table. Takanori watched as Akira darted around the kitchen, first cleaning up the smashed glass that was still on the floor from earlier in the day and mopping up the blood; then he proceeded to zip from cupboard to cupboard, opening one, closing it and then moving on to the next.
“What the hell are you doing?” Takanori asked as he leaned his elbows on the island countertop and rested his chin in a cupped hand.
“Familiarizing myself with things.” Akira didn’t even look at his blonde host as he finally pulled open the fridge to examine its contents; luckily Takanori had just recently gone grocery shopping. “What do you want to eat?”
The little blonde’s eyes widened. “Wait… You’re going to cook?” Did that idiot even know how to turn on an oven? Takanori wasn’t sure if he would trust Akira with a knife either. Anything could go wrong.
“Of course I am,” Akira turned around to flash him a cocky grin and then faced the fridge again. “Now, what do you want?”
“You pick,” Takanori said nonchalantly as he examined the chipped black paint on his nails. He made a mental note to put another coat on later that night. He didn’t really care what Akira was going to make, as long as he got to eat soon.
Akira stood with the door of the fridge open, a small frown creasing his brow as he examined the foods that lined the shelves. He recognized most of the vegetables, though he hated the disgusting things so there was no way he’d even consider using them. He studied some of the jars and his frown deepened. ‘How does he read this shit?’ He wondered; the labels were all in English. ‘Does he speak English?’ He let out a sigh of defeat. Did Akira know how to cook? No, not at all. But he knew he had to try; he had to pay Takanori back for letting him stay.
In the end, the tall blonde grabbed a few jars off on of the shelves and pulled open the freezer, finding some beef mince, and placed the ingredients on the countertop. Spinning around, he opened the walk-in pantry and took a few spice jars out, a carton of beef stock and a few packets of noodles. Hopefully he’d be able to concoct something that was, at the very least, edible.
Akira unwrapped the beef mince, placed it on a plate and put it in the microwave; turning the device on to defrost the meat. Filling up a pot with water and putting it on the stove to boil he returned to the countertop to examine what he had taken out, wondering what he could possibly do with everything.
Meanwhile, Takanori sat picking at his nails. Yep, they definitely needed a new coat and maybe he could do his toenails as well; they could probably do with a touch-up. The sound of the microwave starting up brought him out of his trance and he looked up to find Akira staring down at the countertop in a state of bewilderment. Takanori glanced down at what had been removed from his fridge and almost fell off his chair. What the hell was Akira going to do with all that stuff?
“You can’t cook, can you, birdbrain?” He asked as he stood up from his spot at the island and hobbled over beside his blonde senior.
“Uhm…” Akira scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Not really, no. My mum does all the cooking at home. So I never really learned.”
Takanori rolled his eyes, “Well, for starters, you can’t use all of this stuff. These are capers-” he held up one jar- “And this is blueberry jam” -he held up another- “Do you know how disgusting they would taste together?”
“It’s not my fault,” Akira protested. “The labels are in English, I couldn’t read them.”
“You could’ve just asked me what they said,” the little blonde pointed out, putting the two jars back in the fridge. He continued putting away all the unnecessary things Akira had gotten out. It looked like he was going to have to cook dinner himself.
“You can read English?” the third year enquired.
“I can,” Takanori nodded. “What’ve you got in the microwave?”
“Uh, beef mince. Why?”
“Beef mince…” the second year mumbled to himself, “What can I do with beef mince…? Ah! That’s it!” He paced back to the pantry and pulled out all the necessary ingredients he’d need.
“What do you think you’re doing? I told you I’d cook,” Akira protested. “You’re hurt, you need to sit and rest.” His complaints fell on deaf ears as the smaller boy continued rooting through the pantry. “Taka, are you listening to me? Sit back down.”
Takanori strode back to the countertop with a new arm full of ingredients. “Stop telling me what to do. We’ll starve if I let you cook. So just shut up and let me do my thing, or I swear to God I will cut out your tongue with a butcher’s knife.”
Akira fell silent; wandering over to the seat his blonde host had been in a few minutes ago. “So…” He started he watched the other boy take out a knife and begin dicing an onion with a surprising amount of skill. “Can you speak English as well as read it?” When he received a nod he moved forward with the conversation. “Where did you learn?”
Takanori’s movements faltered slightly and the knife hesitated as he paused. “… My mother taught me.”
“Oh really? She speaks English too? That’s really cool,” the elder blonde was completely oblivious to the other boy’s hesitation. “How did she learn?” Akira finally looked up when Takanori sighed and he noticed that the little blonde had stopped chopping up the onion. Oh no, had he struck a chord? “It’s alright. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I mean, I was just-”
“No,” Takanori cut him off. “No, it’s ok. I said I was going to try being more open wasn’t I? May as well start off with answering simple questions, right?”
He had a point; it was a good idea to start out slowly. Akira wanted to ease him into the whole thing, not force the younger boy to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets straight off the bat. That would only result in being shut out all over again and Akira certainly didn’t want that after the amount of progress he’d already made. Simple questions would definitely be the way to go.
Resuming his chopping, Takanori focused on the blade of the knife as he spoke. “My mother is from England. That’s why I know English.”
“No way! Really?” Akira’s mouth hung open in pure astonishment. “You don’t look like you have any European influence at all.” Takanori was silent as he continued cutting, moving on to the garlic he’d pulled out, as he frowned deeply. Ok, this time Akira had definitely struck a nerve. He could tell because the little blonde was beginning to hack at the garlic as if it had done him some great offence. The tall third year figured he’d have to be more careful with what he said.
“Hey, Taka, try not to completely annihilate that garlic,” the blonde third year joked, trying to lighten the mood a little. But apparently the second year student wasn’t listening because all he did was continue his harsh treatment. Akira stood up and wandered over to his side, leaning on the countertop. “Oi cut it out, would you?” But still, Takanori hacked away at the garlic, totally ignoring the elder blonde. “Taka. Stop.” Akira spoke firmly. “Takanori, I said stop it!” Akira grabbed the younger boy’s arm, halting his movements.
“Let go of me!” Takanori let the knife fall out of his hand and wrenched it away from Akira’s grip with so much force, he had to take a step back to steady himself which resulted in him putting too much weight on his sore foot. He toppled backwards, landing with a thud on the cold tile.
“Taka, are you alright?” Surprised by the younger boy’s sudden outburst, Akira bent down with his hand outstretched, looking to help the other boy back to his feet.
“No!” Takanori shouted. “I’m fine. Just… don’t look at me,” he whispered the last part with his hand covering his eyes as he turned his head away.
“Taka…”
“I said don’t, Akira,” he said as he held out his spare had in a signal for the elder blonde not to come any closer. The only thing going through Takanori’s mind at the time was ‘Don’t. Don’t let him see you like this. Don’t let him see you so weak and helpless.’
“Takanori,” Akira spoke gently as he kneeled on the ground in front of the cowering blonde. “It’s alright, you know? Whatever it is, don’t hide it. I’m sorry if I said anything that upset you.” Akira watched as Takanori slowly dropped his outstretched hand back into his lap as a sob shook his small frame. The tall blonde’s brow creased and he cautiously moved forward. Kneeling right next to the trembling blonde he slowly wrapped his arms around the smaller boy’s shoulders and brought him into a warm embrace. “I’m sorry, Taka.” Takanori sobbed again as he moved his face to fit snuggly against the tall blonde’s well-built chest. “Shh. I’m sorry.” Slowly, Akira began to stroke his fingers through those silky blonde strands in attempt to comfort.
After a few minutes Takanori’s sobbing had calmed down a considerable amount. Akira finally drew back, placing his hands on the little blonde’s shoulders so he could look into his eyes. Takanori sniffled and slowly but surely looked up at the third year through his choppy fringe. His eyes were red and slightly swollen from crying and tears stained his cheeks, but he felt much better. No one had ever seen Takanori cry. He’d never had someone to hug him and stroke his hair when he cried. No one was ever there when Takanori cried. So it felt nice to finally be able to release his emotions in front of another person. It was also the first time he’d let emotions overtake him outside of his recording studio. It was a foreign feeling to be outside the confines of his safe place; but he somehow knew that Akira provided some kind of safe place as well.
“Feeling better?” Akira asked with a soft smile as he brought his hand up to brush a stray tear away.
Takanori nodded somewhat shyly, though he’d never admit that. “Yeah… Thanks.”
“No problem,” Akira’s smile grew slightly. “Now, why don’t we finish cooking? You can show me what to do. I think it’s about time I learned, right?”
Nodding again, Takanori let his guest help him to his feet. Together they resumed cooking dinner, though this time they did it in silence. However it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Takanori found it relaxing and it meant he didn’t have to risk another minor emotional breakdown, which he wasn’t fond of in the slightest. The little blonde could already feel himself growing used to having Akira around…
… Even if he was a stupid, birdbrained idiot and a pain in the arse most of the time.
Next Chapter
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A/N: Ah, I feel like things are finally starting to get interesting for you guys ^_^ This was another chapter I wasn't so sure about because I thought that it was a bit too angsty/dramatic? But, of course, my lovely krasivayadusha put my mind at ease.
Anyway, I really hope you lovelies enjoy the new chapter <3
Author: ravennightmare6
Beta: krasivayadusha
Chapter: 7/18
Genre: AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut
Rating(Overall): NC-17
Pairing/s: Reita/Ruki (Akira/Takanori), Uruha/Aoi (Kouyou/Yuu)
Synopsis: Takanori liked to think that he hated everybody equally. Though, he had to admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that he hated a few less than others.
Warnings: Use of real names, Profanity, ANGST
Disclaimer: As unfortunate as it may be, I do not own The GazettE. I only own the plot.
Comments: At the bottom, darlings <3
Previous Chapter
After Takanori left, Akira plopped back down on the bed with a sigh. Of course he’d known the younger boy would react that way. But seeing it actually happen still left a small sting radiating through his chest. With his head cradled in one of his hands which leaned on his knee, Akira forced a heavy sigh. How had he gotten himself into this situation? When had things changed? When had such a seemingly insignificant little blonde squeezed his way into Akira’s life and turned it completely upside down?
Standing up, Akira left Takanori’s room and trudged downstairs. There seemed to be no sign of the second year as he entered the main foyer. Perhaps he’d slipped into one of the many rooms Akira hadn’t seen yet; he didn’t blame the kid. He must have gotten quite a shock waking up like that.
Akira reached the front door where he’d carelessly dropped his school bag the night before. Hoping his phone hadn’t run out of battery yet, he crouched down and rummaged through the almost empty bag, finding it easily. He flipped it open and was relieved to see the screen light up. He walked back and took a seat on the bottom step of the elegant carpeted staircase ready to make a few calls and do some explaining.
***
After Takanori felt he’d finally calmed, down he pulled himself out of his desk chair and limped, rather slowly, out of his recording studio and back into the dim hallway. The sun had almost completely set outside and he put his hand over his stomach as it growled loudly. ‘Ugh’, he thought with a sigh. ‘I’m so hungry and I’m going to have to cook for that stupid birdbrain as well.’
As he neared the staircase Takanori heard the distinct sound of Akira’s baritone voice coming from the foyer. What was he doing down there? It sounded like he was on the phone, because there was no one in the house he could possibly talk to besides Takanori. He knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but the nosey little blonde couldn’t help it. His curious side got the better of him as he drew closer to the staircase. Poking his head around the corner he saw the third year student sitting on the bottom step with his, crappy compared to Takanori’s brand new iPhone, flip-top phone pressed up against his ear. The conversation drifted up to Takanori’s ears as he moved further into the open and leaned against the mahogany railing at the very top of the staircase.
“Hey, mum. It’s me,” he began, sounding apologetic already. The tall blonde paused, obviously listening to his mother talk at him through the receiver. “I know, mum. I’m really sorry I didn’t call you until now.” A pause. “There’s no need to worry, mum. I’m just at a friend’s place.” ‘A friend?’ Takanori frowned. ‘Since when was I considered to be Akira’s friend?’ Shaking off the comment, Takanori listen back in as Akira started talking again. “Mum. I’m going to stay here for a while. My friend he… he’s going through something and I need to be here with him.” Pause. “I don’t know how long I’ll be here. Maybe a few days. Maybe a few weeks. But I can’t leave now.” Pause. “Don’t worry though, I’ll make sure my school work gets done and everything.” Pause. “Thanks for understanding, mum. You’re the best. How’s Koyuki? Is she going ok at school? I’m sorry I can’t be there to help you out…”
Takanori didn’t stick around to listen to the rest of Akira’s conversation with his mother. The little blonde retreated back to his bedroom as quickly as he could. As he went he felt a strange strangling tightness in his chest; like a hand was firmly squeezing his heart. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make it uncomfortable. The feeling didn’t subside as he swung open his bedroom door and trudged inside, dropping himself back on his bed.
What was this feeling? Takanori clutched at the shirt above his heart and lay down on his back, picking up a pillow and covering his face with it. Who was this new Akira? What was this playfulness, this caring, this kindness, this concern? This wasn’t the Akira Takanori knew. This wasn’t like any person Takanori had ever known. It was frightening. Being treated like a precious antique vase, like he was something to be cherished and protected. No one had ever treated him with such raw kindness. Ever. No one had ever stuck around long enough to try and figure him out; try and find out more. The little blonde decided, in that moment, that he was sick and tired of being alone. He’d been alone all his life, not really cared for, not really looked after. And suddenly, here was someone who was willing to force his way into Takanori’s life, to force an explanation out of him, to force him to open up. Takanori dreaded what Akira would think of him if he heard the second year’s full story. He thought that, maybe, the third year would pity him and he didn’t want that. But deep down inside, he knew he wanted to try. He knew that, for once in his life, he wanted to let someone in. He wanted someone to understand, to know how he really felt. He wanted someone to know him; the real Takanori and not that distorted version of himself that he showed everyone.
Maybe he was no different from those clones all along. He had been hiding parts of himself. He was open and comfortable with his appearance and he wasn’t afraid to wear makeup, dress the way he wanted and openly say that, yes, he was gay. But he still hid his real emotions away under lock and key, deep, deep down inside himself. Maybe Akira would be the person to finally figure him out, because Akira - that dumb, useless, birdbrained idiot - was willing to delve past the surface and search the darkness underneath.
Takanori’s raging thoughts were interrupted when the door opened again and he heard the sound of bare feet shuffling into the room and then the door shut again. The little blonde didn’t lift the pillow off his face nor did the hand clutching his shirt loosen, if anything, it tightened slightly. He really had no idea how to approach Akira anymore and he was terrified about trying to confront his suppressed emotions and desires.
“Oi, midget,” he heard Akira’s voice closer than he’d expected it to be. It sounded like it was right next to his ear and he couldn’t help but jump a little at the sound of its closeness. “You trying to suffocate yourself or something?” Suddenly the pillow was snatched away from him, revealing his frowning face.
“Give that back!” He snapped as he sat up, finally letting go of his shirt, and looked at the blonde who was knelt right next to his bed.
Akira chuckled, “I don’t think so.” The third year moved his arm backwards as Takanori tried to snatch at the pillow.
Takanori growled. “You’re such an arsehole. Why can’t you just leave me alone?” The little blonde almost winced after the words left his mouth. ‘There I go again’, he thought. ‘Pushing him away’. As much as he wanted to let the third year in, it had just become a natural instinct for him to push people away.
The smirk on Akira’s face seemed to drop slightly as he thought about a possible answer. The pair remained quiet for a new moments and Takanori realised that Akira was planning on answering his question seriously. He guessed that was ok, seeing as he did want to know why Akira sought answers so desperately. Slowly the blonde third year stood up and made his way around to the other side of the bed and sat down beside Takanori, looking at him with a serious expression.
“It’s funny, you know?” The corner of Akira’s mouth twitched up slightly as he began, not shifting his intense gaze off Takanori. “I have no idea why I can’t leave you alone.” The little blonde frowned slightly. That made no sense at all. Maybe Akira really had swallowed something from the medical kit when he’d been tending to the second year’s wounds earlier. “But… I do know that… I’ve never felt so strongly about something in my life. I feel like I need to be here.”
Takanori stared in disbelief. Were his ears deceiving him? No, they weren’t. Akira had really just said that he needed to be there. Akira needed to be with Takanori. The tight feeling in the little blonde’s chested flared up again and he brought his hand up to clutch at his shirt again, squeezing the fabric in a tight fist.
Akira leaned forward slightly, raising his hand, and Takanori flinched slightly as he squeezed his eyes shut. The only time the third year had ever raised his hand before was when he had intended to deliver a punch to Takanori’s face. “It’s alright,” Akira reassured him as he dropped his hand a little, pausing his movements, and Takanori relaxed ever so slightly, opening his eyes again. Lifting his hand again, Akira chuckled and brushed Takanori fringe away from his face, fingertips lightly brushing against his cheek. “You’re blushing, you know that, right?”
Takanori’s eyes widened as he quickly withdrew from the gentle touch and covered his face with his hands, turning away. Akira’s booming laughter rose into the still air of the bedroom as he wrapped a hand around Takanori’s arm, just below the wrist, and tugged.
“Don’t be shy.” The tall blonde chuckled and tugged again, trying to draw Takanori’s small hands away from his face.
“Go away,” the little blonde’s voice drifted out, muffled by his hands.
“Come on, Taka,” he said. “I was just kidding.”
Takanori froze, dropping his hands into his lap. He turned and looked at Akira, a look of disbelief evident across his face. “What did you just call me?” His usually confident voice came out quiet and hesitant.
A little frown creased Akira’s brow. “I called you Taka.”
Takanori blinked and looked down at the covers of the bed. A nickname? A real nickname? He’d never had one of those before; but somehow, being referred to in such an affectionate way, made a warm fuzzy feeling spread through his chest. Taka… He liked the sound of that and the way it rolled off Akira’s tongue sounded good too.
A few moments of silence passed until the second year looked back up at Akira who was still staring at him, awaiting any kind of reaction.
The little blonde figured that it might be a good time to somehow inform Akira of his decision. “It must be nice, huh?” Takanori asked with a somewhat bitter smile twitching at the corner of his lips.
Akira blinked, taken aback by the sudden question. “Eh?”
Takanori huffed. “Being able to speak your mind so easily. It must be nice.”
The blonde third year studied that younger boy for a moment. Was Takanori beginning to let him in? Even if it was just a fraction of a millimetre; was the little blonde’s guard finally beginning to drop? Akira smiled, “It is nice, yeah. There are a lot of things I don’t say, though. But, you’re pretty vocal about what’s on your mind most of the time too.”
“No I’m not,” Takanori retorted swiftly. “If you’ve got a problem you’ll tell someone, won’t you?”
Akira nodded, wondering what the younger boy was getting at.
“I won’t. I don’t… I - I can’t…” Akira watched the other blonde scrunch his nose up with the struggle to find the right words. He could tell Takanori was trying to be more open, even just a little. Akira could also tell that it was extremely hard for him.
“You’re not used to speaking up if something is wrong,” Akira predicted what the other boy was trying to say. Fairly accurately, it appeared, because Takanori looked at him and nodded. “That’s ok,” the third year shrugged. “I won’t force you to say anything. I’ll just stay here with you until you feel comfortable enough to let me in.”
Takanori dropped his eyes again and slowly nodded his head. “I…” He swallowed and took a deep breath. “I want to try… being more… open.” The second year felt so stupid. He was never this shy; but it was the first time he’d ever been to close to telling anyone about himself. It was totally unexplored grounds for him, if he was being totally honest with himself, he was really petrified.
Akira smiled, “I’m glad to hear that.” A few moments passed and the third year stood up, walking back around the bed. He took hold of Takanori’s uninjured wristed and hauled him up onto his feet. “Come on! I’m starving.”
Takanori yelped when weight was suddenly pressed on his sore foot as he was unceremoniously pulled up. “Ouch! Be more careful, idiot. My foot still hurts.” Takanori swung his arm and delivered a punch to Akira’s upper arm, though he was fairly sure the impact didn’t hurt the well-built blonde.
“Sorry!” Akira said as he dropped the little blonde’s wrist. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Takanori brushed him off. Akira’s caring nature was still going to take some serious getting used to. “Just be more careful.”
The little blonde started on his way to the door, limping on his almost useless foot. “You’re so slow.” Akira stepped up behind him and turned him around to face his official guest. All of a sudden Akira had bent over and lightly connected his shoulder with Takanori’s middle section and taken ahold of the back of his knees. The third year stood up straight again with the feather weight draped over his shoulder.
“Wha- Akira! Put me down, you idiot!” Takanori yelled as he kicked his legs and wriggled. “Oi! I said, put me down! I’m not some ragdoll you get to carry around at your will.”
“Shut up or I’ll drop you, midget,” Akira’s retorted, not making any movement to fulfil Takanori’s wish. The little blonde continued to struggle, protesting to the somewhat rough treatment. “Stop squirming or I really am going to drop you,” the tall blonde warned.
Sighing, Takanori fell limp over Akira’s shoulder until they reached the kitchen. The second year squirmed and insisted on being put back down again which Akira’s thankfully complied with, setting him down one of the chairs tucked under the island table. Takanori watched as Akira darted around the kitchen, first cleaning up the smashed glass that was still on the floor from earlier in the day and mopping up the blood; then he proceeded to zip from cupboard to cupboard, opening one, closing it and then moving on to the next.
“What the hell are you doing?” Takanori asked as he leaned his elbows on the island countertop and rested his chin in a cupped hand.
“Familiarizing myself with things.” Akira didn’t even look at his blonde host as he finally pulled open the fridge to examine its contents; luckily Takanori had just recently gone grocery shopping. “What do you want to eat?”
The little blonde’s eyes widened. “Wait… You’re going to cook?” Did that idiot even know how to turn on an oven? Takanori wasn’t sure if he would trust Akira with a knife either. Anything could go wrong.
“Of course I am,” Akira turned around to flash him a cocky grin and then faced the fridge again. “Now, what do you want?”
“You pick,” Takanori said nonchalantly as he examined the chipped black paint on his nails. He made a mental note to put another coat on later that night. He didn’t really care what Akira was going to make, as long as he got to eat soon.
Akira stood with the door of the fridge open, a small frown creasing his brow as he examined the foods that lined the shelves. He recognized most of the vegetables, though he hated the disgusting things so there was no way he’d even consider using them. He studied some of the jars and his frown deepened. ‘How does he read this shit?’ He wondered; the labels were all in English. ‘Does he speak English?’ He let out a sigh of defeat. Did Akira know how to cook? No, not at all. But he knew he had to try; he had to pay Takanori back for letting him stay.
In the end, the tall blonde grabbed a few jars off on of the shelves and pulled open the freezer, finding some beef mince, and placed the ingredients on the countertop. Spinning around, he opened the walk-in pantry and took a few spice jars out, a carton of beef stock and a few packets of noodles. Hopefully he’d be able to concoct something that was, at the very least, edible.
Akira unwrapped the beef mince, placed it on a plate and put it in the microwave; turning the device on to defrost the meat. Filling up a pot with water and putting it on the stove to boil he returned to the countertop to examine what he had taken out, wondering what he could possibly do with everything.
Meanwhile, Takanori sat picking at his nails. Yep, they definitely needed a new coat and maybe he could do his toenails as well; they could probably do with a touch-up. The sound of the microwave starting up brought him out of his trance and he looked up to find Akira staring down at the countertop in a state of bewilderment. Takanori glanced down at what had been removed from his fridge and almost fell off his chair. What the hell was Akira going to do with all that stuff?
“You can’t cook, can you, birdbrain?” He asked as he stood up from his spot at the island and hobbled over beside his blonde senior.
“Uhm…” Akira scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Not really, no. My mum does all the cooking at home. So I never really learned.”
Takanori rolled his eyes, “Well, for starters, you can’t use all of this stuff. These are capers-” he held up one jar- “And this is blueberry jam” -he held up another- “Do you know how disgusting they would taste together?”
“It’s not my fault,” Akira protested. “The labels are in English, I couldn’t read them.”
“You could’ve just asked me what they said,” the little blonde pointed out, putting the two jars back in the fridge. He continued putting away all the unnecessary things Akira had gotten out. It looked like he was going to have to cook dinner himself.
“You can read English?” the third year enquired.
“I can,” Takanori nodded. “What’ve you got in the microwave?”
“Uh, beef mince. Why?”
“Beef mince…” the second year mumbled to himself, “What can I do with beef mince…? Ah! That’s it!” He paced back to the pantry and pulled out all the necessary ingredients he’d need.
“What do you think you’re doing? I told you I’d cook,” Akira protested. “You’re hurt, you need to sit and rest.” His complaints fell on deaf ears as the smaller boy continued rooting through the pantry. “Taka, are you listening to me? Sit back down.”
Takanori strode back to the countertop with a new arm full of ingredients. “Stop telling me what to do. We’ll starve if I let you cook. So just shut up and let me do my thing, or I swear to God I will cut out your tongue with a butcher’s knife.”
Akira fell silent; wandering over to the seat his blonde host had been in a few minutes ago. “So…” He started he watched the other boy take out a knife and begin dicing an onion with a surprising amount of skill. “Can you speak English as well as read it?” When he received a nod he moved forward with the conversation. “Where did you learn?”
Takanori’s movements faltered slightly and the knife hesitated as he paused. “… My mother taught me.”
“Oh really? She speaks English too? That’s really cool,” the elder blonde was completely oblivious to the other boy’s hesitation. “How did she learn?” Akira finally looked up when Takanori sighed and he noticed that the little blonde had stopped chopping up the onion. Oh no, had he struck a chord? “It’s alright. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I mean, I was just-”
“No,” Takanori cut him off. “No, it’s ok. I said I was going to try being more open wasn’t I? May as well start off with answering simple questions, right?”
He had a point; it was a good idea to start out slowly. Akira wanted to ease him into the whole thing, not force the younger boy to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets straight off the bat. That would only result in being shut out all over again and Akira certainly didn’t want that after the amount of progress he’d already made. Simple questions would definitely be the way to go.
Resuming his chopping, Takanori focused on the blade of the knife as he spoke. “My mother is from England. That’s why I know English.”
“No way! Really?” Akira’s mouth hung open in pure astonishment. “You don’t look like you have any European influence at all.” Takanori was silent as he continued cutting, moving on to the garlic he’d pulled out, as he frowned deeply. Ok, this time Akira had definitely struck a nerve. He could tell because the little blonde was beginning to hack at the garlic as if it had done him some great offence. The tall third year figured he’d have to be more careful with what he said.
“Hey, Taka, try not to completely annihilate that garlic,” the blonde third year joked, trying to lighten the mood a little. But apparently the second year student wasn’t listening because all he did was continue his harsh treatment. Akira stood up and wandered over to his side, leaning on the countertop. “Oi cut it out, would you?” But still, Takanori hacked away at the garlic, totally ignoring the elder blonde. “Taka. Stop.” Akira spoke firmly. “Takanori, I said stop it!” Akira grabbed the younger boy’s arm, halting his movements.
“Let go of me!” Takanori let the knife fall out of his hand and wrenched it away from Akira’s grip with so much force, he had to take a step back to steady himself which resulted in him putting too much weight on his sore foot. He toppled backwards, landing with a thud on the cold tile.
“Taka, are you alright?” Surprised by the younger boy’s sudden outburst, Akira bent down with his hand outstretched, looking to help the other boy back to his feet.
“No!” Takanori shouted. “I’m fine. Just… don’t look at me,” he whispered the last part with his hand covering his eyes as he turned his head away.
“Taka…”
“I said don’t, Akira,” he said as he held out his spare had in a signal for the elder blonde not to come any closer. The only thing going through Takanori’s mind at the time was ‘Don’t. Don’t let him see you like this. Don’t let him see you so weak and helpless.’
“Takanori,” Akira spoke gently as he kneeled on the ground in front of the cowering blonde. “It’s alright, you know? Whatever it is, don’t hide it. I’m sorry if I said anything that upset you.” Akira watched as Takanori slowly dropped his outstretched hand back into his lap as a sob shook his small frame. The tall blonde’s brow creased and he cautiously moved forward. Kneeling right next to the trembling blonde he slowly wrapped his arms around the smaller boy’s shoulders and brought him into a warm embrace. “I’m sorry, Taka.” Takanori sobbed again as he moved his face to fit snuggly against the tall blonde’s well-built chest. “Shh. I’m sorry.” Slowly, Akira began to stroke his fingers through those silky blonde strands in attempt to comfort.
After a few minutes Takanori’s sobbing had calmed down a considerable amount. Akira finally drew back, placing his hands on the little blonde’s shoulders so he could look into his eyes. Takanori sniffled and slowly but surely looked up at the third year through his choppy fringe. His eyes were red and slightly swollen from crying and tears stained his cheeks, but he felt much better. No one had ever seen Takanori cry. He’d never had someone to hug him and stroke his hair when he cried. No one was ever there when Takanori cried. So it felt nice to finally be able to release his emotions in front of another person. It was also the first time he’d let emotions overtake him outside of his recording studio. It was a foreign feeling to be outside the confines of his safe place; but he somehow knew that Akira provided some kind of safe place as well.
“Feeling better?” Akira asked with a soft smile as he brought his hand up to brush a stray tear away.
Takanori nodded somewhat shyly, though he’d never admit that. “Yeah… Thanks.”
“No problem,” Akira’s smile grew slightly. “Now, why don’t we finish cooking? You can show me what to do. I think it’s about time I learned, right?”
Nodding again, Takanori let his guest help him to his feet. Together they resumed cooking dinner, though this time they did it in silence. However it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Takanori found it relaxing and it meant he didn’t have to risk another minor emotional breakdown, which he wasn’t fond of in the slightest. The little blonde could already feel himself growing used to having Akira around…
… Even if he was a stupid, birdbrained idiot and a pain in the arse most of the time.
Next Chapter
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A/N: Ah, I feel like things are finally starting to get interesting for you guys ^_^ This was another chapter I wasn't so sure about because I thought that it was a bit too angsty/dramatic? But, of course, my lovely krasivayadusha put my mind at ease.
Anyway, I really hope you lovelies enjoy the new chapter <3