write_it_in (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
write_it_in) wrote2007-12-08 07:09 pm
write_it_in) wrote2007-12-08 07:09 pm
Entry tags:
Setbacks
Follows Identity, by about... five and a half months. Ballpark.
Mood music: Tina Dico - Let's Get Lost
Setbacks
"YUKI! Yuki let me in! Yuuuuukiiiiiiiiii!!!!!"
It was nearly three in the morning and Eiri sat on the couch, hands fisted in his hair, cigarette dangling tiredly from his lips. Ashes fell from its glowing tip to the floor every time he exhaled, like grey snow on top of blond strands that he'd torn from his own head. Why wouldn't he just go away? At this point the singer's fists pounding on the door seemed like they were pounding inside Eiri's head. He wasn't sure if it was the headache or the screaming that was keeping him from thinking straight, but he couldn't remember anymore what he'd kicked Shuichi out over this time.
Then the banging stopped. Half expecting them to be replaced by the sirens of police cars summoned by his neighbors, Eiri lifted his head to hear what moments before he couldn't -- rain falling in heavy drops against unidentifiable surfaces, only half-muffled by the walls of his apartment. The window in his bedroom was open, Eiri remembered, and his hardwood floors were doubtlessly getting flooded.
And yet, when he stood his feet took him to the front door; his hand betrayed him in reaching for the knob, turning it; his traitorous arm pulled the door open, and wind-swept rain took the opportunity to smack him in the face.
When he blinked the water away he saw Shuichi standing there, pink hair plastered to his head, expression miserable.
Eiri wondered, as he moved clear or the doorway and his drowned rat of a boyfriend stepped hesitantly back inside, just how long Shuichi would have stood there before giving up on him. Just how long the trust would have endured... most likely, far too long. The idiot was too stupid to come in out of the rain, anyway. Eiri remembered the time Mizuki had found Shuichi half-drowned and half-frozen on a park bench, during a fall storm. That was before they were...
...in any case, he remembered visiting. He remembered sitting on the floor with Shuichi asleep in his lap.
"Yuki?"
"Hn?"
"Close the door." Shuichi stepped forward and did it for him, the closed door keeping out the wind and rain that Eiri hadn't even realized were stinging his face.
He remembered now. "...I told you not to eat near my computer."
"I'm sorry, Yuki."
"Whatever. Go get some towels."
"Right." Shuichi hurried for the bathroom, dripping and slipping the entire way.
Eiri didn't care about his computer right now. He wasn't sure what he cared about, but it wasn't the computer, and it wasn't really Shuichi. Let the brat drown out there, for all he cared, right?
....no. That wasn't him.
"--ki? Yuki!"
"What?" he snapped, hands clenching into fists. Eiri was confused when he realized Shuichi's voice was coming from above him; he glanced up, his eyes refusing to properly focus.
"I... you..." You scared me, Shuichi's expression said, again. "You're sitting in a puddle. You're going to get sick."
The singer held out a towel, and Eiri just stared at it and took a moment to regain his bearings -- he was sitting with one knee pulled in, back against the closed door. His pants were slowly soaking with rainwater. Why had he ever agreed to let Shuichi hang around? Why had he decided to try and change? They weren't ever going to work out. He was incapable of relationships, everyone knew that. Trying was going to drive him insane. Trying was going to drive both of them insane, and he really wasn't worth this sort of trouble. Eiri closed his eyes and drew breath to tell Shuichi, for the first time in nearly six months, to get the fuck out. To take his shit and move in with Hiro or something, that he didn't care what happened so long as Shuichi went away... but as soon as he opened his mouth there were fingers tangling between his, impossibly warm. Or maybe he was just that cold. Shuichi eased his legs down, moved to straddle his thighs, and rubbed at his dripping bangs with the ignored towel. Every time the fabric shifted and their skin brushed, Eiri felt like he'd been burned.
"Did you take your pills tonight, Yuki?" The voice that was screeching from outside, before, was now terribly soft and gentle. The sort of voice you'd use with a wild animal.
"...I don't remember." He'd been working on a deadline, that meant he didn't remember much besides his fingers on little black keys. Keys that wouldn't press down anymore, because Shuichi had-----no. That wasn't the question. Did he take his pills? He didn't remember. But he remembered other things. He knew that not all of it was true, that sometimes his memories mixed with dreams and he forgot which were real. That just didn't seem to matter. His anger might as well have been a dream, for all he felt it, right then. Likewise the fear and doubt and the self-loathing that caused him to attempt to drive the pink-haired singer away, again and again.
"...........Yuki..."
Something in his chest cracked and shattered as if it had been made of glass... and like his words and hands, the shards were cold as they stabbed their way through him.
He wanted to be warm again.
Shuichi tasted like the rain on his tongue, clean and bright and vaguely sweet. His hand caught in the wet cotton of Shuichi's shirt, his fingers twisted through still-dripping pink hair. And as the boy's warmth seeped into his skin, chasing away the ice, Eiri remembered why he'd wanted to try.
He wasn't the one who was worth it.
***
Mood music: Tina Dico - Let's Get Lost
Setbacks
"YUKI! Yuki let me in! Yuuuuukiiiiiiiiii!!!!!"
It was nearly three in the morning and Eiri sat on the couch, hands fisted in his hair, cigarette dangling tiredly from his lips. Ashes fell from its glowing tip to the floor every time he exhaled, like grey snow on top of blond strands that he'd torn from his own head. Why wouldn't he just go away? At this point the singer's fists pounding on the door seemed like they were pounding inside Eiri's head. He wasn't sure if it was the headache or the screaming that was keeping him from thinking straight, but he couldn't remember anymore what he'd kicked Shuichi out over this time.
Then the banging stopped. Half expecting them to be replaced by the sirens of police cars summoned by his neighbors, Eiri lifted his head to hear what moments before he couldn't -- rain falling in heavy drops against unidentifiable surfaces, only half-muffled by the walls of his apartment. The window in his bedroom was open, Eiri remembered, and his hardwood floors were doubtlessly getting flooded.
And yet, when he stood his feet took him to the front door; his hand betrayed him in reaching for the knob, turning it; his traitorous arm pulled the door open, and wind-swept rain took the opportunity to smack him in the face.
When he blinked the water away he saw Shuichi standing there, pink hair plastered to his head, expression miserable.
Eiri wondered, as he moved clear or the doorway and his drowned rat of a boyfriend stepped hesitantly back inside, just how long Shuichi would have stood there before giving up on him. Just how long the trust would have endured... most likely, far too long. The idiot was too stupid to come in out of the rain, anyway. Eiri remembered the time Mizuki had found Shuichi half-drowned and half-frozen on a park bench, during a fall storm. That was before they were...
...in any case, he remembered visiting. He remembered sitting on the floor with Shuichi asleep in his lap.
"Yuki?"
"Hn?"
"Close the door." Shuichi stepped forward and did it for him, the closed door keeping out the wind and rain that Eiri hadn't even realized were stinging his face.
He remembered now. "...I told you not to eat near my computer."
"I'm sorry, Yuki."
"Whatever. Go get some towels."
"Right." Shuichi hurried for the bathroom, dripping and slipping the entire way.
Eiri didn't care about his computer right now. He wasn't sure what he cared about, but it wasn't the computer, and it wasn't really Shuichi. Let the brat drown out there, for all he cared, right?
....no. That wasn't him.
"--ki? Yuki!"
"What?" he snapped, hands clenching into fists. Eiri was confused when he realized Shuichi's voice was coming from above him; he glanced up, his eyes refusing to properly focus.
"I... you..." You scared me, Shuichi's expression said, again. "You're sitting in a puddle. You're going to get sick."
The singer held out a towel, and Eiri just stared at it and took a moment to regain his bearings -- he was sitting with one knee pulled in, back against the closed door. His pants were slowly soaking with rainwater. Why had he ever agreed to let Shuichi hang around? Why had he decided to try and change? They weren't ever going to work out. He was incapable of relationships, everyone knew that. Trying was going to drive him insane. Trying was going to drive both of them insane, and he really wasn't worth this sort of trouble. Eiri closed his eyes and drew breath to tell Shuichi, for the first time in nearly six months, to get the fuck out. To take his shit and move in with Hiro or something, that he didn't care what happened so long as Shuichi went away... but as soon as he opened his mouth there were fingers tangling between his, impossibly warm. Or maybe he was just that cold. Shuichi eased his legs down, moved to straddle his thighs, and rubbed at his dripping bangs with the ignored towel. Every time the fabric shifted and their skin brushed, Eiri felt like he'd been burned.
"Did you take your pills tonight, Yuki?" The voice that was screeching from outside, before, was now terribly soft and gentle. The sort of voice you'd use with a wild animal.
"...I don't remember." He'd been working on a deadline, that meant he didn't remember much besides his fingers on little black keys. Keys that wouldn't press down anymore, because Shuichi had-----no. That wasn't the question. Did he take his pills? He didn't remember. But he remembered other things. He knew that not all of it was true, that sometimes his memories mixed with dreams and he forgot which were real. That just didn't seem to matter. His anger might as well have been a dream, for all he felt it, right then. Likewise the fear and doubt and the self-loathing that caused him to attempt to drive the pink-haired singer away, again and again.
"...........Yuki..."
Something in his chest cracked and shattered as if it had been made of glass... and like his words and hands, the shards were cold as they stabbed their way through him.
He wanted to be warm again.
Shuichi tasted like the rain on his tongue, clean and bright and vaguely sweet. His hand caught in the wet cotton of Shuichi's shirt, his fingers twisted through still-dripping pink hair. And as the boy's warmth seeped into his skin, chasing away the ice, Eiri remembered why he'd wanted to try.
He wasn't the one who was worth it.
***
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