[Fic] Aurora
Title: Aurora
Author: analine
Pairing: TutixNagayan
Warnings: None. Worksafe.
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1,800
Summary: Tuti and Nagayan walking to the train in the morning, after the final Burimyu uchiage.
Notes: I had a free afternoon at work today (!!) so I managed to write some Burimyu senshuuraku fic. ^_^ Just some thoughts on what I think they might be thinking at the end of the musicals. (But I promise it's not too sad, and there are no spoilers or anything. ^_~) I hope you enjoy it. :)
The wind at Takashi’s back is practically pushing him along the street, which might not be such a bad thing considering he’s so exhausted at the moment, it feels like his legs might give out before he even makes it to the train, even though it can’t be more than a fifteen minute walk to the station. It’s still pretty cold outside too--he’s glad he remembered his scarf--even though the weather report said it was supposed to warm up a little.
His final alcohol buzz of the night is in the process of wearing off, and with it comes a strange sense of, well…he’s not even sure what to call it. Relief, maybe?
This will be his first day off in weeks after all (though it kind of feels like months) but it’s also the first day in what feels like forever that won’t be spent almost entirely among friends, beginning with a flurry of pre-performance preparations, and ending with a steady rush of adrenaline as the curtain closes on the show. It’s been a long run, one of the longest any of them have had in a while, and so really, he should be looking forward to falling into bed and staying there for as long as his body will allow him.
He’s not though. He’s craning his head around, and tuning in again to the chatter of the rest of the cast around him (the rest of the cast who’d made it this far into the morning’s revelry, that is). He blinks away a little of the fuzziness remaining in his head, as his eyes fall on his intended target.
Tuti is smiling, chatting away to Eiki, not looking at all like Takashi thinks he should right now, which would be somewhere along the lines of how he feels he must look--drained and pale in the early morning half-light, no question at all as to how he’d just spent the last evening (fluctuating at regular intervals between almost pass-out drunkenness, and questionable sobriety in no fewer than three very dark, very smoky bars). Instead, Tuti looks…well, like Tuti always looks when they’re out like this--perfectly fine. Maybe the other man has just had more practice with this scene; it’s a mystery to Takashi, sometimes.
Takashi eventually catches Tuti’s eye, and watches as the other man nods briefly to Eiki and then jogs up a few paces until he’s walking in step with Takashi, and grinning down at him.
“You feeling okay? You weren’t exactly pacing yourself back there from what I saw.”
Takashi rolls his eyes. “Geez, I don’t look that bad, do I?”
Tuti studies his face in mock-seriousness, tilting his head at him curiously. “Well, you don’t look good.”
Takashi sighs, feeling a little offended, though he’s sure it’s more the result of how incredibly tired he is than anything else. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re not charming, Tuti, really.”
“I’m kidding. You know you’re--” Tuti cuts himself off, clears his throat a little, and Takashi just raises his eyebrows at him. “You look fine. You always look fine,” Tuti finishes, and Takashi gives him an odd look.
“Well, thanks. I think.”
Tuti shakes his head, looking suddenly a little worse for wear, and Takashi takes a step closer, so that their shoulders brush together a little as they fall into step with each other again silently.
“Well, just so you know, if the next thing you’re going to tell me is about how horrible my performance has been this run, you can just take it somewhere else okay?”
Takashi wraps his fingers around Tuti’s shoulder and squeezes, feeling the fabric brush against his skin, and he’s immediately aware of the warmth there. There are too many layers though; he can barely feel it at all, and suddenly there’s a lump in his throat the size of a small orange, and he has to blink a few times, and force himself not to think about this right now--about all of this being over, about all these days spent in everyone’s company coming to an end--because if he does, he won’t be able to hold back anymore. He doesn’t want to do this now, not in broad (well, on-it’s-way-to-broad) daylight, on the way to the train, when he knows that in 15 or 20 minutes he’ll be alone in his apartment with his thoughts anyway. He can wait until then, at least. So he swallows hard, and focuses on the cold, the wind, the pavement under his feet until his head is clear again.
He doesn’t have to force himself; he really is genuinely happy to be here, in the company of these people who’ve become like family to him over the past few years. He doesn’t want to spend these last moments feeling anything other than grateful for the time he’s been able to share with them, and so he just won’t.
Tuti’s giving him a strange look though, as if he’s wondering if Takashi is actually still mad about this thing that happened, what, five years ago now?
“Tuti, I’m kidding, okay.”
“Well good, because I apologized for that a long time ago.”
Tuti’s voice is calm, matter-of-fact--they’ve had this conversation way too many times to count by now.
“I know,” Takashi says, nodding. “And I forgave you a long time ago too.”
Tuti nods back, and then says, seriously, “Just for the record though, I thought you were great. Then, and now.”
Takashi smiles, feeling the tight coil of warmth in his chest stir, just a little. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Tuti grins at him, and then they walk along a little further in silence--Takashi’s not really thinking anything, his mind is clear, if not a little blank, something else he blames on sheer exhaustion. He’s really not used to staying up all night drinking like this anymore--maybe he never was. It’s calming now though, in a way, just focusing on Tuti’s shoulder at his side like this, that brush of contact every few seconds as they make their way down the still half-darkened streets.
It’s all there in the back of his mind, of course--the stage, the lights, snippets of phrases from the songs they’ve been singing night after night for weeks, and of course, Tuti’s guitar, constantly strumming away, and the chatter, the pictures, and then last night, the hugs and sappy half-speeches delivered in a collection of different bars, over beer and sake and wine, and more beer.
It’s all there, and it’s not ever going away, but for the moment, he’s content to focus not on things being over, but on what’s coming next. Because there’s always something to look forward to, something that makes dwelling on things like this seem counterproductive. He’ll take fond memories and where do we go from here over tears any day, even if he’s the first to admit to feeling nostalgic years after the fact, and for not always being able to contain his emotions at senshuuraku.
“What are you thinking?” Tuti asks finally, as the morning light begins to brighten visibly in the sky above them.
“Well, mostly I was thinking that you really need to get better at the guitar before the next time we share space together backstage, otherwise, I’m going to have to invest in some serious earplugs.”
Tuti gasps. “You said I was getting better!”
“Everything’s relative.” Takashi grins at the look of utter disbelief on Tuti’s face. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”
“You better be. I’m not that bad!”
Takashi shakes his head, smiling. “You’re perfectly fine. You’re picking up all those chords really quickly.”
“Damn right I am.” Tuti nods, and then looks up at the sky.
“When was the last time we watched the sunrise together?” he says after a moment.
Takashi blinks. “No idea. It’s probably been a while.”
Tuti just nods, silent. Takashi stops walking and looks up at the sky for a few seconds--the blurring lines of orange and grey and blue brightening in front of them, and then rushes to catch up to Tuti.
“It’s pretty, right?”
Tuti just nods and Takashi’s eyes widen a little as he takes in Tuti’s face. “You’re not finally getting all choked up on me, are you? Tuti?”
Tuti just shakes his head, and closes his eyes.
“I’ll miss this too, you know,” Takashi says after a few seconds spent collecting his thoughts. “I really will, but…” Tuti turns to him, looking almost comically miserable, and Takashi feels his chest tighten a little before he finds his resolve again. “We’ll do it again.”
“Takashi--"
"Not this, I know that, but…” He swallows past the lump in his throat. “Something else. Something better, maybe.”
Tuti just nods.
“Okay?”
Tuti laughs a little at this. “Since when are you the one telling me things like this?”
Takashi shrugs. “We can take turns, right?”
“I guess we’d better.”
“Exactly,” Takashi agrees, and there’s a moment where he’s left facing Tuti, just before they get onto the escalator at the station, and it feels a little like there’s an unspoken promise between them then--to continue to take care of each other, maybe. At least that’s how it feels to Takashi.
Shouldn’t be too hard, Takashi thinks as he stares down at Tuti’s hat as the escalator carries them down to the trains--they’ve already been doing that for years now without any problems.
They arrive at the ticket gates, and ahead of them, people have started saying their goodbyes. Takashi observes the various stages of drunkenness on display in front of him with a smile (Tacchan looks especially bad; he’s glad that Eiki seems to be accompanying him for the moment), even if he knows he’s not much better off himself.
If it wasn’t for the quickly brightening sky up there above the station, for a second it would seem like any other night, like they’d be meeting up at the theater again tomorrow, and doing it all over again, and even though Takashi knows that they’re not, he thinks he’s okay with it.
A series of hugs, pats on the back, and mata ne’s later, and he’s left facing Tuti again, on the opposite end of the turnstile this time. Eiji’s up ahead, waving for him to hurry, the train’s arriving on their track, and so he pushes himself up on his toes quickly, and wraps his arms around Tuti’s back, squeezing the other man into a tight hug.
“Thank you,” he says softly, and then before Tuti even has a chance to ask for what, he says quickly, “I’ll call you later.”
Then he turns and follows Eiji up the stairs to the train platform.
***
Author: analine
Pairing: TutixNagayan
Warnings: None. Worksafe.
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1,800
Summary: Tuti and Nagayan walking to the train in the morning, after the final Burimyu uchiage.
Notes: I had a free afternoon at work today (!!) so I managed to write some Burimyu senshuuraku fic. ^_^ Just some thoughts on what I think they might be thinking at the end of the musicals. (But I promise it's not too sad, and there are no spoilers or anything. ^_~) I hope you enjoy it. :)
The wind at Takashi’s back is practically pushing him along the street, which might not be such a bad thing considering he’s so exhausted at the moment, it feels like his legs might give out before he even makes it to the train, even though it can’t be more than a fifteen minute walk to the station. It’s still pretty cold outside too--he’s glad he remembered his scarf--even though the weather report said it was supposed to warm up a little.
His final alcohol buzz of the night is in the process of wearing off, and with it comes a strange sense of, well…he’s not even sure what to call it. Relief, maybe?
This will be his first day off in weeks after all (though it kind of feels like months) but it’s also the first day in what feels like forever that won’t be spent almost entirely among friends, beginning with a flurry of pre-performance preparations, and ending with a steady rush of adrenaline as the curtain closes on the show. It’s been a long run, one of the longest any of them have had in a while, and so really, he should be looking forward to falling into bed and staying there for as long as his body will allow him.
He’s not though. He’s craning his head around, and tuning in again to the chatter of the rest of the cast around him (the rest of the cast who’d made it this far into the morning’s revelry, that is). He blinks away a little of the fuzziness remaining in his head, as his eyes fall on his intended target.
Tuti is smiling, chatting away to Eiki, not looking at all like Takashi thinks he should right now, which would be somewhere along the lines of how he feels he must look--drained and pale in the early morning half-light, no question at all as to how he’d just spent the last evening (fluctuating at regular intervals between almost pass-out drunkenness, and questionable sobriety in no fewer than three very dark, very smoky bars). Instead, Tuti looks…well, like Tuti always looks when they’re out like this--perfectly fine. Maybe the other man has just had more practice with this scene; it’s a mystery to Takashi, sometimes.
Takashi eventually catches Tuti’s eye, and watches as the other man nods briefly to Eiki and then jogs up a few paces until he’s walking in step with Takashi, and grinning down at him.
“You feeling okay? You weren’t exactly pacing yourself back there from what I saw.”
Takashi rolls his eyes. “Geez, I don’t look that bad, do I?”
Tuti studies his face in mock-seriousness, tilting his head at him curiously. “Well, you don’t look good.”
Takashi sighs, feeling a little offended, though he’s sure it’s more the result of how incredibly tired he is than anything else. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re not charming, Tuti, really.”
“I’m kidding. You know you’re--” Tuti cuts himself off, clears his throat a little, and Takashi just raises his eyebrows at him. “You look fine. You always look fine,” Tuti finishes, and Takashi gives him an odd look.
“Well, thanks. I think.”
Tuti shakes his head, looking suddenly a little worse for wear, and Takashi takes a step closer, so that their shoulders brush together a little as they fall into step with each other again silently.
“Well, just so you know, if the next thing you’re going to tell me is about how horrible my performance has been this run, you can just take it somewhere else okay?”
Takashi wraps his fingers around Tuti’s shoulder and squeezes, feeling the fabric brush against his skin, and he’s immediately aware of the warmth there. There are too many layers though; he can barely feel it at all, and suddenly there’s a lump in his throat the size of a small orange, and he has to blink a few times, and force himself not to think about this right now--about all of this being over, about all these days spent in everyone’s company coming to an end--because if he does, he won’t be able to hold back anymore. He doesn’t want to do this now, not in broad (well, on-it’s-way-to-broad) daylight, on the way to the train, when he knows that in 15 or 20 minutes he’ll be alone in his apartment with his thoughts anyway. He can wait until then, at least. So he swallows hard, and focuses on the cold, the wind, the pavement under his feet until his head is clear again.
He doesn’t have to force himself; he really is genuinely happy to be here, in the company of these people who’ve become like family to him over the past few years. He doesn’t want to spend these last moments feeling anything other than grateful for the time he’s been able to share with them, and so he just won’t.
Tuti’s giving him a strange look though, as if he’s wondering if Takashi is actually still mad about this thing that happened, what, five years ago now?
“Tuti, I’m kidding, okay.”
“Well good, because I apologized for that a long time ago.”
Tuti’s voice is calm, matter-of-fact--they’ve had this conversation way too many times to count by now.
“I know,” Takashi says, nodding. “And I forgave you a long time ago too.”
Tuti nods back, and then says, seriously, “Just for the record though, I thought you were great. Then, and now.”
Takashi smiles, feeling the tight coil of warmth in his chest stir, just a little. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Tuti grins at him, and then they walk along a little further in silence--Takashi’s not really thinking anything, his mind is clear, if not a little blank, something else he blames on sheer exhaustion. He’s really not used to staying up all night drinking like this anymore--maybe he never was. It’s calming now though, in a way, just focusing on Tuti’s shoulder at his side like this, that brush of contact every few seconds as they make their way down the still half-darkened streets.
It’s all there in the back of his mind, of course--the stage, the lights, snippets of phrases from the songs they’ve been singing night after night for weeks, and of course, Tuti’s guitar, constantly strumming away, and the chatter, the pictures, and then last night, the hugs and sappy half-speeches delivered in a collection of different bars, over beer and sake and wine, and more beer.
It’s all there, and it’s not ever going away, but for the moment, he’s content to focus not on things being over, but on what’s coming next. Because there’s always something to look forward to, something that makes dwelling on things like this seem counterproductive. He’ll take fond memories and where do we go from here over tears any day, even if he’s the first to admit to feeling nostalgic years after the fact, and for not always being able to contain his emotions at senshuuraku.
“What are you thinking?” Tuti asks finally, as the morning light begins to brighten visibly in the sky above them.
“Well, mostly I was thinking that you really need to get better at the guitar before the next time we share space together backstage, otherwise, I’m going to have to invest in some serious earplugs.”
Tuti gasps. “You said I was getting better!”
“Everything’s relative.” Takashi grins at the look of utter disbelief on Tuti’s face. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”
“You better be. I’m not that bad!”
Takashi shakes his head, smiling. “You’re perfectly fine. You’re picking up all those chords really quickly.”
“Damn right I am.” Tuti nods, and then looks up at the sky.
“When was the last time we watched the sunrise together?” he says after a moment.
Takashi blinks. “No idea. It’s probably been a while.”
Tuti just nods, silent. Takashi stops walking and looks up at the sky for a few seconds--the blurring lines of orange and grey and blue brightening in front of them, and then rushes to catch up to Tuti.
“It’s pretty, right?”
Tuti just nods and Takashi’s eyes widen a little as he takes in Tuti’s face. “You’re not finally getting all choked up on me, are you? Tuti?”
Tuti just shakes his head, and closes his eyes.
“I’ll miss this too, you know,” Takashi says after a few seconds spent collecting his thoughts. “I really will, but…” Tuti turns to him, looking almost comically miserable, and Takashi feels his chest tighten a little before he finds his resolve again. “We’ll do it again.”
“Takashi--"
"Not this, I know that, but…” He swallows past the lump in his throat. “Something else. Something better, maybe.”
Tuti just nods.
“Okay?”
Tuti laughs a little at this. “Since when are you the one telling me things like this?”
Takashi shrugs. “We can take turns, right?”
“I guess we’d better.”
“Exactly,” Takashi agrees, and there’s a moment where he’s left facing Tuti, just before they get onto the escalator at the station, and it feels a little like there’s an unspoken promise between them then--to continue to take care of each other, maybe. At least that’s how it feels to Takashi.
Shouldn’t be too hard, Takashi thinks as he stares down at Tuti’s hat as the escalator carries them down to the trains--they’ve already been doing that for years now without any problems.
They arrive at the ticket gates, and ahead of them, people have started saying their goodbyes. Takashi observes the various stages of drunkenness on display in front of him with a smile (Tacchan looks especially bad; he’s glad that Eiki seems to be accompanying him for the moment), even if he knows he’s not much better off himself.
If it wasn’t for the quickly brightening sky up there above the station, for a second it would seem like any other night, like they’d be meeting up at the theater again tomorrow, and doing it all over again, and even though Takashi knows that they’re not, he thinks he’s okay with it.
A series of hugs, pats on the back, and mata ne’s later, and he’s left facing Tuti again, on the opposite end of the turnstile this time. Eiji’s up ahead, waving for him to hurry, the train’s arriving on their track, and so he pushes himself up on his toes quickly, and wraps his arms around Tuti’s back, squeezing the other man into a tight hug.
“Thank you,” he says softly, and then before Tuti even has a chance to ask for what, he says quickly, “I’ll call you later.”
Then he turns and follows Eiji up the stairs to the train platform.
***