Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It's okay to eat fish 'cause they don't have any feelings
(Nirvana – “Something in the Way”)

“See you tomorrow!” Die was the first one to wave them good-bye before the last sounds of Toshiya's bass had fully faded away. “In a hurry, aren't you!,” Toshiya cat-called at him, though the guitarist was already out of sight. “What was that?” Shinya's softly spoken words from behind his drums mixed with the crackle of the mic as Kyo's fingers fumbled with its stand. “A date or food,” the vocalist mumbled, “most likely the latter.” Toshiya snickered, oblivious to the strain in Kyo's voice; Kaoru however gave him a wary look. For the last few weeks, Kyo had been tense, more so than usual, and bitchy, a real pain in the ass, to be honest, although he had shrugged it all off whenever their leader had approached him for a chat. “Just tired,” was the standard answer he got, and well, it was most likely true, considering the dark circles under his eyes and an odd kind of slow-wittedness that didn't seem like Kyo at all. Then again, a few nights of shitty sleep might as well have thrown him off course.

“Sure you're alright?,” Kaoru asked again and promptly regretted it when Toshiya taunted: “You look like you desperately need to get laid. Why don't you try The Blue Room for once? Helped me a lot last time I had a … block.” He grinned like a mad man, Kyo, on the other hand, looked as if he wanted to punch the grin out of his face. Hard. With both fists at once. And maybe headbutt him, just to be sure. “Too much information,” Shinya muttered and shouldered his bag before he snuck out the rehearsal room as well – and before Kyo could actually counterattack.

“We'll call it a day. Go get some rest, I'll see you tomorrow,” Kaoru hastily said, trying to prevent the situation from escalating. “Good night,” he added to make it clear that he'd dismissed them for good for today. Just as Toshiya went to vanish down the corridor, he called back to the vocalist: “You should really try it. Or are you afraid you might actually like something about it?” His laugh echoed from the walls until it was nothing but a faint chuckle, accompanied by the confident footsteps of his boots on concrete. When Kaoru glanced back at Kyo, he saw that the smaller man's knuckles had turned white from gripping the mic too tightly.

*

Darkness. Not outside his bedroom, of course, the city would never turn completely dark, but underneath his covers. As much as he needed the blackness, Kyo couldn't bring himself to closing the shutters. When he did, his palms would get sweaty, his heartbeat would speed up and the walls would seem to close in around him. He needed the neon-coloured lights to flood the place he called home, needed to feel and see that there was something like a normal life people led somewhere out there; people running ramen shops, people calling cabs to reach the airport in time, people drinking in clubs, people fixing other people's cars, people fixing other people's hearts. Another choked sob escaped his quivering lips. How strange to notice certain oddities of his body in his lowest moments: the skin around his piercings always prickled when he cried, as did his eyes, which had been often lately. He couldn't stop his legs from shaking either, even curled up in a ball like he currently was, and sometimes, he would get cramps. Nothing mattered, really, he didn't even bother most of the time, too consumed by the ocean of pain and grief that came crashing down on him whenever he tried to close his eyes.

This night, it was extraordinarily bad. His fingers fumbled with the covers, longing to be held, the fabric stretched to the verge of tearing. Kyo's breath came in little hot puffs, yet his body shook from the cold – the window was wide open, what had first been a gentle embrace of a cool breeze now held him in a merciless grip.

The words have stopped coming to me they've stopped flowing I'm floating drowning please hold me

His sobbing was close to hysteric. Never before, it seemed, had he felt so excruciatingly lonely, but he'd felt that the last time and the time before the last, too. It never got better, it only got worse.

I'm surrounded by people who don't see me the real me I mean Trapped Make them go away all the bad thoughts scissors razors racing pacing cutting bleeding oh please please hold me someone

Unconsciously, he'd started scratching his left forearm with the nail of his right index finger. This one he always left a bit longer than the others, in case he needed … Pain. The skin underneath his finger was scarred, his pulse too fast. It didn't take him long to draw blood.

Please

The sky already started to brighten when the violent sobbing finally stopped. He felt numb, just like always, and uncomfortably so. No one was there to hold him, no one ever was. Until now, he'd been too proud to seek the deceptive comfort of the Blue Room, but he no longer had the strength to fight his own needs.

Cravings.

Toshiya's mocking words resonated in his head, over and over again, his voice a distorted echo in Kyo's memory. “Or are you afraid you might actually like something about it?”

*

“Wow, you really look like shit. You okay?” Quickly passing by, Kyo ignored Die's words which most likely hadn't been intended to be insulting; he was well-known for speaking before thinking. This habit had caused him a black eye (or worse) more than once, though his bandmates didn't even notice it anymore. “Kaoru?” A soft grunt was the only response he got, their leader busy with one of the amplifiers. “I want to try it.” Kaoru finally gave him a side-eye, his left eyebrow raised in confusion. “You want to try what?” Kyo sighed and maybe considered shrugging the idea off for the briefest of moments before he voiced what could not taken back again: “The Blue Room. I want to try it.”

Chapter Text

And love is not a victory march,
it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

(...)

It's not somebody who′s seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

(Jeff Buckley – “Hallelujah”)

The Human had once been what I'd called my lover. The Human had once been my life. The Human had even been a She once, an unbelievably long time ago, but It wasn't anymore. Sometimes, even now, it seems I'm watching from afar what we'd been when we'd still been Us, through the eyes of someone else, and I start wondering whether it has all been a dream. A long dream, yet too short; the best I've ever had, the worst I've ever had. If you love with every single breath you take, with all your heart and everything you've got to give, how many years could possibly be enough?

The End had been creeping into our lives slowly, but steadily. Inevitably. Like water seeping from a leaking flask: you notice the stains but don't really care until the flask is empty. Then you die of thirst.

I'd like to claim I'd seen it coming, pretend I'd been in control of my life back then, of anything at all, but that would be a lie. One autumn afternoon, it was a Sunday, if I remember correctly, I sensed something was wrong for the first time. The Human had been sleeping much longer than usual, and It had been more quiet and distant than usual the evening before. Almost the whole day, It had spent on the couch, barely saying a word, apparently lost in either some shitty talk show on TV or Its mobile's display, and my stomach had started to churn with anxious anticipation. Yeah, something was definitely off, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

With a smile that might have been a bit too bright, I snuggled up against The Human, naïve enough even after almost 22 years of living in this chaotic world to think it would cheer The Human up. Spoiler alert: it didn't. In fact, The Human didn't seem to notice me (didn't want to notice me?), Its arms didn't lift to let me crawl into their warm embrace.

Fear.

I'd comforted a handful of friends in the past when their girlfriends had broken up with them, and I faintly remembered a few of them telling me: “She was so distant the last weeks, I should have known!” My whole body tensed at this memory, I felt hot and cold all over and had to force myself to breathe normally. Until the day before, everything had been fine, right? After several more fruitless tries to get some kind of affection or simply reaction, I stood on wobbly feet, hands shaking and damp with sweat, and started preparing dinner. The Human didn't join me but went straight to bed instead. It was 5 pm, and It left the TV running.

*

Days like these increased in number, the intervals between The Human's fits of indifference became shorter. The Human had still been the love of my life back then. My everything, my...life. But It had already started to fade into an overpowering nothingness I wasn't able to fight or withstand. There was no other man, of that I was sure, there was just...nothing It seemed interested in except for staring at displays. Distraction. Distraction I had no place in. The Human hardly left the flat, It ate, It slept, and slept some more, sometimes It took a shower, but It didn't smile any longer, or sing, or speak more than a few sentences each day. Every single action to cheer It up, to bring It back to life, only seemed to drive It further away from me. And a tiny, tiny voice in my head kept whispering to me: “You're not strong enough to safe Her. You're no good at all.”

*

I started spending the nights on the sofa, awake. Throughout the days, I was a living corpse, unable to concentrate due to my lack of sleep, functioning in the worst of terms. Throughout the nights, after I'd made sure It was fast asleep, I cried, muffling my violent sobs with our velvety cushions or by biting my hand, knowing no one would care about the scratches my teeth left on my skin. After weeks and weeks of hopelessness, I started crying right at the breakfast table. I remember taking Her hand, and It just stared back at me with a blank expression when I pleaded: “Go see a doctor, I...I think you do need help. Please, let me come with you, we can make it! Together.” It was in vain. And The End had finally taken a seat beside us.

When it had all started falling apart but there had still been Us, I thought the worst thing that could possibly happen to me would be to feel alone together only one more day. That was until I was alone for good. Suddenly, all the nights I'd spent crying like a baby, cradled in my own arms, wet from tears, and the cold fabric of the couch while The Human was sleeping indifferently in the next room, meant nothing anymore, forgotten facing the pitch black pool of loneliness I was thrown into – I had thrown myself into. When it was done, after I had managed to choke out the words “I think we should break up,” I felt that I wouldn't be able to cope well with it. 'Cause I knew I had betrayed everything dear to me, yet I couldn't watch The Human fade to grey. I just couldn't.

Coward.

Liar.

Weakling.

It was back then I started cutting myself.

*

Kaoru despised it with all his heart if he couldn't figure out how things worked. Throughout the years, the Blue Room had been a total mystery to him, despite the fact that he'd used it several times on his own. A smile played around his lips; those were good memories. Kyo, on the other hand, had always made clear that he'd not participate in any game he didn't know the outcome of. Or the rules. Or the players, to begin with. Which was why Kaoru raised an eyebrow at the unexpected request.

“What do you know about the Blue Room?,” he said after long moments of silence, eyeing Kyo suspiciously and with the stern aura of a worried father. However, he didn't stop fiddling with the tangle of cables. The vocalist shrugged. “Not much. Rumours, is all.” “Then why would you want to try it?” Kyo rolled his eyes. “Would've thought it over if I'd known I'd have to go through your questioning first.” All of a sudden, Kaoru's eyes turned soft and his fingers stopped their aimless fight with the band's equipment. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...” “Piss me off?” The band leader huffed. “Do you want to argue or answer my question?” The initial answer he got was Kyo's desperate sigh, followed by: “Jesus, Kaoru, I don't know, okay? Maybe I just need to get laid – hate to admit it, but Toshiya might have a point. I'm just curious. Let me be unreasonable for once.” Kaoru's eyebrow traveled even higher. “For once?” Losing his temper and patience, the vocalist hissed and turned on his heels. “Whatever, forget about it. Was a stupid idea to ask.” He waved his hand at the older musician and scuffed towards the mic when Kaoru gripped his wrist to stop him. “Kyo, the Blue Room is not about...” He cleared his throat. “...sex.” It was Kyo's turn to raise his eyebrow now. “Toshiya indicated it was.” “Yeah, because he loves to annoy you.” Another roll of fiery eyes. “No shit. Then what is it about? Enlighten me.”'

Kaoru cleared his throat again as if he was preparing to give a speech. “It can be about...sexual desires or fantasies, too, granted, though the main reason it exists is to provide a safe space for...” Kyo's fingers kept drumming impatiently on his arms. He knew this behaviour got Kaoru all worked up, especially when he was struggling to find the right words. Payback for being a smart-ass, leader. “...for all the dreams we have and don't dare to tell anyone. It's a safe space to discover who we really are, at least a tiny fragment of it. A tiny fragment we share with someone who might be the right one to listen.” Kyo furrowed his brow. “And if they aren't? The right one, I mean?” “Then you part ways and that's about it.” The vocalist still wasn't sure if he got it correct. “And what are the...limits?” “Nothing illegal, everything consensual.” “Sounds...easy.” “Depends on you.” “Then what do I do now?”

Kaoru leaned in closer, keeping his voice down. You're one for the drama, leader. Makes me feel like part of a goddamn satanist conspiracy. “You write down what you wish for. Then you'll get an exact date and time and...you'll see what happens and with whom.” Kyo's curiosity was definitely piqued now. “Who decides who'll keep me...company?,” he asked, suddenly nervous. “I honestly don't know, Kyo. But let me tell you: they know what they're doing.” The vocalist nodded absentmindedly and let the words sink in. A few moments passed before he grinned and asked, “Who kept you company, leader?,” giggling at the deadly glare Kaoru shot back at him as he walked over to his guitar stand.

Neither of them had noticed their bassist walking in the hallway. Toshiya had stopped dead in his tracks close to the door, hidden by the narrow corridor's shadows, and didn't dare to breathe. His heart, however, jumped a little hearing Kyo say his name.

Chapter Text

But at the moment, the problem is today's rain

I don't have an umbrella

(Inoue Yosui – “Kasa ga nai”)

Taut like a string, Toshiya tried to take in every single word that was said when suddenly, cold fingers covered his mouth, followed by a tall, lean body pressing up tight against his back. “Eavesdropping? Really, Toshiya?” Before he could start fighting the stranger's hand, Die's mock indignation caught his ear, the guitarist's breath hot against his skin, and he could practically feel the older man grin. Having to deal with Die's unexpected company made his heart skip a few beats. He would sure as hell have to explain his awkward behaviour to his friend and bandmate, and he honestly had no clue how to do so without sounding like a total stalker.

Die's hand slowly retreated. Inside their rehearsal room, Kyo and Kaoru continued talking, thankfully unaware they were being spied on. “Well?” The guitarist crossed his arms in front of his chest, the fabric of his hilarious winter jacket rustling noisily. In a less humiliating situation, Toshiya would have raised an eyebrow at his friend for wearing this monster – “Orange? Really, Andou?” –, but he was a little preoccupied with blushing in absolute embarrassment. “None of your business,” he tried, though he already knew the other wouldn't just drop the subject. “Wrong. You're actually spying on my bandmates, too, Mr. Mysterious,” Die whispered. “If you're up to no good, I'll have to warn them.” His grin had become huge by now, immaculate white teeth bared at Toshiya. Die brought both hands up to his mouth and bent them as if he wanted to shout out loud until the bassist slapped his arm in desperation. “Jesus, alright, I'll tell you, you menace!”

Hurriedly, he dragged Die along with him a few meters down the corridor to where he was certain Kyo and Kaoru couldn't hear them. Again, Die crossed his arms and waited for him to finally spill, which turned into a habit that really got on Toshiya's nerves. “He wants to use it. The Blue Room.” Die frowned, “Who?,” and was rewarded with an enormous roll of Toshiya's eyes. “Santa Clause. Who do you think, dumbass? Kyo, of course!” Saying the vocalist's name always made him feel jittery all over. As soon as the syllable spilled over his lips, he zoned out for a second, with his mind picturing the short blonde nuisance who was way too tight-lipped about fucking everything (except when on stage, of course), way too grumpy and withdrawn to even be considered boyfriend material. Strangely enough, that didn't stop Toshiya from gaping at or thinking about him a bit too often. Constantly, actually.

Die generously ignored the sarcastic remark, something he'd become remarkably good at, and shrugged, still grinning. “Your chance, then.” The bassist blinked, stuck somewhere between being mortified and stupefied. “Excuse me – what?” It was Die's turn to roll his eyes now. “Totchi, come on, that's pretty fucking obvious. You've drooled over him for the past year like a school girl, do us all a favour and give it a damn try! What's the worst that could happen?”

Toshiya opened his mouth, dumbstruck, then closed it again only to reopen it. “The worst that could happen? Have you lost your freaking mind?” His whispers had become frantic by now. “Starting with the fact that he's one hundred per cent not gay, let's see: I could ruin the fragile friendship we've struggled to establish, the band's dynamic, he could make Kaoru kick me out...doesn't sound like the worst yet? Then let's throw the public in – what if anyone gets wind of it and whistles to the press? That bad enough for you?” He had talked himself into rage. If anything, Die's low chuckle made it even worse. “Always thought Kyo was the drama queen.” Two strong hands gripped Toshiya's shoulders gently before Die pulled him into a disarming embrace. “Listen, this isn't about the public, Totchi. And it's not about the band. It's about you being unhappy and crazy in love, and about Kyo having been unhappy since...well, forever, or so it feels. It's about damn time both of you are honest with each other. Maybe you're exactly the person he needs.” Toshiya gave a weak snort. “Sure. He's been waiting just for me.” At his words, Die, stubborn, wonderful Die, embraced him even tighter and Toshiya relaxed a bit. “If you don't try, you'll never know.” “What about the fact that he's not into men?” “You can't know that for sure. And by the way, it'd be enough if he was into you, wasn't it?” The guitarist's smile was so encouraging and honest that for a split second, Toshiya actually felt he could be right – it could actually work. The thought alone made his stomach churn with nervous anticipation.

Unfortunately, he couldn't even start daydreaming for Shinya's hurried steps echoed down the corridor and Kaoru's head appeared in the doorframe, brows knitted. “Do the gentlemen care to grace us with their presence? You're all ten minutes late.” When Toshiya snuck into the small room after Die had patted his back one last time in a reassuring manner, Kyo didn't even look up from the scrapbook in his hands, and Toshiya's heart sank.

*

Kyo

Sometimes I crochet. I can't seem to truly master it and the results always end up in the trash bin, but it calms me. The way the threads are slowly entangled with each other, the same pattern that is repeated over and over again, so easy, so monotonous. Purple yarn is my favourite. Depending on the light I'm working with, I can spot different shades of the colour, and feeling the texture of it is strangely comforting. Also, my fingers are occupied and focusing on the pattern, I don't think about cutting or anyone or anything. At least for a while.

People ask themselves – not me – preferably on the internet, for everyone to leave their opinions unasked for, why I hurt myself on stage. It was nothing I ever intended to do; it just happened. Sometimes, when I'm in a slightly better mood than usually, it's almost fun to scroll through all the bullshit they come up with, the reasons why I do it. Hell, one guy even suspected I'd been kidnapped by an alien starship and can only cope with the scary experience by cutting myself, but well, most of the time, I just take these musings for what they are: bullshit. Some fans might have a faint idea of what the real reasons are, but they never even get close to it.

To be honest, I'm glad they don't. Wouldn't want anyone else to feel the way I do.

*

Toshiya flopped on the bed, his hands still a bit shaky. He had done it: he'd handed in his written plea, nothing but a small scrap of paper thrown into an nondescript mailbox, to use the Blue Room again. There'd only been one word written on it, expressing his desire – and he prayed to whatever god might listen that this would work. On the other hand, it'd maybe be better if it didn't anyways. He could only imagine Kyo's astonishment as soon as he walked into the room, and how his expression would turn into anger, rage maybe. He sighed. Yeah, this was the most likely outcome of his very own soap opera called life. With a groan, he slid under the covers and pulled the blanket over his head. “Why on earth did you do that?,” he mumbled, suddenly very, very certain that Kyo would just bite his head off the minute he stepped into sight. “Why on earth should he want you, of all people?”

His hands hesitantly wandered down his body, feeling the muscles in his flat chest and stomach. From his own perspective, he looked average at best, although he knew there were many fans – boys and girls – who would've protested. Most of the time, he felt like having bad hair days, his posture was quite horrible, he was too tall and gawky to feel attractive. Nothing Kyo would crave for, obviously. //Oh, and I'm a guy. Almost forgot about that one.//

The vocalist, on the other hand, was everything he could possibly want. His aura outshone everybody and everything else the moment he stepped into sight. Kyo knew exactly how to move, how to cast a spell over the audience at their shows, Christ, even how to lick his lips on stage to make the fans go all crazy. Every little detail others might consider unimportant was considered by him; his passion for lyrics and singing, this unearthly voice, made Toshiya drown in want and yearning, a downward spiral he couldn't escape from, and it only got worse and worse.

Automatically, his hands had started caressing the sensitive insides of his thighs, and he realized with horror that his body was slowly starting to wake up, his cock hardening at the thought of the vocalist. //Fuck, fuck, fuck, no!// With cheeks turning redder than Die's hair, he rolled onto his stomach and desperately tried to will his erection away, which, of course, didn't work at all. Both hands refused to stop their journey down his body and slipped into his jeans, going all the way straight underneath the waistband of his briefs to grasp the swelling flesh. He closed his eyes in embarrassment, but couldn't stop the movements nor his thoughts wandering off to this annoyingly wonderful human being.

Chapter Text

Salvation ain't looking for me
I drink forbidden poison
Throw myself in the stream
Saint Peter took my fake ID
Jesus walked me into Heaven
But they asked me to leave

(MXMS – “Salvation Hurts”)

Toshiya

I realized I was gay when I'd just turned thirteen. Though I didn't know a word for it back then, it had been a huge relief to finally understand why I'd always felt different. Not for my parents, of course, 'cause I didn't dare tell them. Not until I was in my mid-twenties. My mum started crying right away while my dad turned away and didn't talk to me for a whole week straight, as if we were part of a fucking afternoon TV soap opera. I remember him putting his cup of tea down which had been steaming and slowly turned cold, the billows dissolving. If the whole situation hadn't been this terrifying, it would've been kind of funny and cute to watch my mum, my tiny mum with her wrinkled face and soft hair that was slowly fading to grey, who used to be so cheerful and friendly, beat her fists against my chest in a desperate rush of emotions, all the time wailing and loudly asking herself what they'd done wrong with me. I hadn't thought there was anything wrong with me until then. But her words made me wonder.

“I'm sorry,” I whispered without knowing what I was apologizing for. “Dad,” I added, and just as I had expected, he didn't even grace me with one of his famous side-eyes. He just stood there, in the gloomy light of a rainy spring day that had never seen the sun, just stood there with his back towards me like a statue as I watched small grains of dust dance around his form and vanish behind the wooden door frame. It wasn't unusual for him to keep quiet after a confession like this. Normally, he liked to think things through before discussing them, and I deeply respected him for this very special kind of deliberation. In that very moment, however, his silence was killing me.

After what had seemed like half an eternity, my mum gave one more choked sob before she powerlessly sat back down at the table we'd had tea before. She didn't stop shaking her head, but I knew she'd understood that I couldn't be anyone I didn't want to be. “I'll leave,” I murmured. No one tried to stop me. It was not until I stepped into the chilly air outside that I could breathe normally again and clear my head. Fog had started making its way through the streets, and although I felt dank within seconds, I was happy that I could feel something. Happy I'd stood up for myself.

I had first kissed a guy when I was twelve. Some boys from my school I didn't even know well had invited me to play chicken with them, stupid little tests of courage. I really don't know what had possessed me to participate – I was usually the one to peacefully draw with my friends or play video games, but somehow, I must have been so proud that they'd wanted me coming along that my brain had shut down and was replaced with boisterousness.

Why they'd invited me soon dawned on me: to make fun of me. They laughed at me behind my back while I did what they told me to do with them watching: I had to eat a snail, jump down from a tree (almost broke my leg at that), bathe in the icy river and do more hilarious tasks I'd rather not talk about. As I refused to carry out one of them – I refused to torture a stray cat they'd managed to catch – “wimp” was what they called me, “pansy”, “sissy” and so many other names I didn't even care to remember. Paralyzed with pain and shame, I just stood in the middle of the playground we'd moved to and hung my head, my eyes wet with tears that just encouraged them more and more. “Hara's a chicken, Hara's a chicken!” Their voices echoing in my head, I tried to stop the tears from falling, hands clenched into fists so tight it hurt. When they started making clucking noises, I'd had enough. “Stop!,” I remember myself shouting which was, of course, in vain. “Such a sissy. That's 'cause he's just hanging out with girls,” the group's leader, think he was called Hiro, taunted me; his friends' laughter was deafening.

“I'm not,” I choked out, feeling like shit for it had been a lie. My only friends were girls, and not only was I lying to these idiots in that very moment, I was also denying the ones most dear to me. If anything, that turned me into a sissy. “Maybe he wants to be a girl,” one of the others mused, “a girly girl with dresses and braids!” The tears were flowing now. “Aw, poor girly girl Hara is crying. Do you need some comfort?” Hiro closed the distance between us to grab my trembling body. I knew he wanted to punch me; I could see it in his face. Where all his hatred came from, I couldn't tell, but something in those eerie, brown eyes inflamed my very own rage. “Wow, you need a girl really bad, don't you?,” was what I was stupid enough to hiss, and then, behold, I leaned forward and pressed my mouth to his. After he had recovered from the initial shock, he punched me hard enough to almost break my nose, but I was still triumphant – his face had been all but worth the black eye.

As much excitement as it caused for the following weeks among my dear fellow classmates, the kiss had been just a kiss. Real intimacy, sex, on the other hand, was a completely different story. One I'd never imagined being part of. Sports was the subject I hated most. Not only because I couldn't stand sweating, also because I really, really didn't want to get changed in front of other kids. So I ended up always being the last one in the locker room for the sake of a peaceful bit of me-time. Sometimes I was pathetic enough to carry out the dullest tasks voluntarily – collecting hockey sticks or piling up the mats we'd used – just to make sure there'd be no one left but me. (Needless to say my classmates had some flamboyant insults in store for me for playing the teacher's pet.) Except that one day, I wasn't as alone as I'd thought I'd be.

Just as I'd pulled down my pants, my shirt had been the first piece to go, with nothing left on but my underwear, Tetsu, a smaller guy I'd never exchanged a single sentence with, rounded the corner and simply stared at me. “Oh, sorry, I...,” he mumbled and shrugged. “Thought I was alone in here.” “So did I,” I replied and cleared my throat. The urge to hide my half-naked body behind the lockers was overwhelming. “Is it okay if I...stay? I'm already late.” Well, how could I say no? Wasn't my freaking house after all. “Sure.” Averting my gaze, I rummaged around in my bag to pull out my clean clothes which seemed to have magically disappeared. I let out a frustrated sigh and surrendered to my own inability of keeping anything in order, flopped down the narrow bench in front of the lockers and thudded my head against the metal door behind me. Then I felt him staring. At me. “What?,” I snapped and realized he hadn't changed one single piece of clothing. //Not that late, huh?//

Instead of turning away, he sat down beside me. And continued staring. He wasn't bad-looking, I noticed: his hair was smooth and shiny, his nose a bit too big, but straight, and his skin completely flawless. These huge eyes clung to me. Suddenly, I felt his left hand on my knee, the most hesitant touch, and his fingers were wonderfully warm. I zoned out with bliss when his hand found several other spots on my body, and the rest is history.

Yes, I knew that I was gay, and yet, two different sides of me had never stopped fighting for the upper hand. One part of me still wondered whether it would be so hard to get married and have children, grandchildren for my parents who I knew would love to hear small feet tap down their house's empty corridors again, for my parents who believed family was the greatest of all gifts, for my parents who eyed me sadly when I came to visit, for they had given up hope that they'd be grandparents at some point in this universe. This same part tried to coax me into a normal life, give up the band for good and get some normal job in a normal environment with a normal wife and a normal house. And then, there was “Rebel Me” (yep, I named it). Rebel Me refused to submit to toxic hierarchies and social rules it didn't understand.

Truth be told: no one had ever been important to me. Like, really important. And then, when I had already accepted the fact that I'd exchange one meaningless fling for another, when I'd started giving up Rebel Me's resistance, it was you, you of all people, who stumbled into my life. (To be precise, it had been me who'd stumbled into yours, but anyways, you know what I mean.) You came crashing down on me like a wave, ruthless and persistent, and there was absolutely no freaking escape. I must've gaped at you with the most stupid of all expressions on my face when we first met, since you just raised one of your delicately shaped eyebrows, our difference in height not the slightest disadvantage for you, and nodded at me. Then turned around and went out to smoke, subtly letting me know what you thought of me. And still do today.

I don't know how on Earth I could have been stupid enough to throw that damn piece of paper into that damn mailbox, 'cause it was more than obvious: you didn't want me. Hell, you didn't even like me in the first place. But there I was, holding the confirmation in my very own hands: I was invited to the Blue Room. My hands were trembling, they always did when I was nervous. Yeah, I was fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.

*

The letter arrived exactly one week after Kyo had handed in his request to use the Blue Room. Well, calling it a letter was, in fact, an exaggeration. There was nothing more than a date and time written on a light blue card, delivered in a light blue envelope. His own scrap of paper was also to be found inside. Kyo was dying to know who had carried out the delivery, or who was in charge to manage the use of the Blue Room in the first place, yet Kaoru had told him to shut up and ask no more questions. “That would ruin the magic,” the leader had commented sagely. “Ruin the magic,” Kyo mimicked while pouring water into Pun-chans tray. “What a stupid thing to say. Ruin the magic.” Pun-chan clearly wasn't as much interested in his opinion on Kaoru's advice as in the can of food he opened.

The closer the day came, the more obnoxious the vocalist became. Not even poor Shinya was safe from his caustic tongue which he would put to good use in every possible situation. One afternoon, he and Die almost ended up fighting after Kyo had asked him if that was his first try playing the guitar. When he spat out, “You sound like a rank amateur,” Die finally lost it. “Gonna teach you some manners, dickhead. What the fuck's gotten into you?” It took Kaoru and Toshiya to calm him down while Shinya stoically held Kyo in an iron grip until both of them had come back to their senses.

Finally, it was the day. Kyo's mood was at rock bottom, and by now he was convinced that booking this rip-off of a posh brothel had been the most idiotic idea he'd ever come up with (and there'd been plenty). Sitting on this hilarious blue couch framed by blue cushions made him feel like a pimp, and he wondered why he hadn't just stayed in bed this morning. He checked his mobile. 8:03 pm. Whoever was supposed to entertain him was late. There was an audible click only seconds later – the door. There was someone at the freaking door. His palms were sweaty all over. What if it was all a conspiracy to kidnap him? What if there was some dippy psychopath looking for him instead of someone he was supposed to date? //Calm down, Jeez. That's not a soap opera.// However, he wasn't so sure about that any more when a tall figure silently slipped into the room – which was clearly and unmistakably Toshiya. Yeah, he was fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.

Chapter Text

Nail me to the cross in the darkest alley
I said, the Prince of Peace doesn't have to know about it
Say three Hail Marys, turn around, pray about it
Come on, nail me to the cross in the darkest alley

(Light Asylum – “Dark Allies”)

Kyo

Toshiya is everything I've never been and will never be. And I don't mean the “tall, handsome and seductive” part. His attitude, to begin with, is as unnerving as it is motivating – he cheers people up, and although I don't like to admit it, he does a fucking great job. All I ever do is pull people down with me, into the deepest of all holes, pitch black, making them tumble and fall without ever touching ground again. Funny thing is, I don't even want that. It would be best if they all left me alone, but for a reason completely incomprehensible to me, the more secluded I get, the more they want to know fucking everything about me.

The fact that he of all people is here, in this ridiculously posh room, with me, implying that this is actually a date, is freaking me out. Thus, I do what every normal, reasonable, grown-up person would do in such a situation: I throw a tantrum.

*

Toshiya

Before I actually dare to open the door leading inside the Blue Room, I've considered turning on my heels to leave for good for about 20 times at least. It is in fact Die's annoyingly reasonable voice resonating inside my head that makes me pluck up all my courage for a few seconds; once the door clicks shut behind me, it's gone, and I'm feeling smaller than I ever did before. Like a kid witnessing something it was never meant to see. Can't even look him in the eye as I whisper a shy “Hey.”

My palms are sweating, my whole damn body is, and I deeply regret not diving into a bathtub full of deodorant before coming here. //Calm down!,// I scold myself silently, //It's not as if you're going to do the tango today.// Maybe Kyo's just as nervous as I am? Why hasn't he said anything yet?

“What the actual fuck are you doing here?” Right, so that's a textbook case of “be careful what you wish for”. Awkward silence was better after all. “I just...I...guess the same you're doing here.” Quick-wittedness must be my second name. I pray a hole in the ground would just swallow me whole right now. Kyo huffs. “Don't be a smart ass. Did they double-book the room or what? Whoever they is.” From the corner of my eyes (yep, still not looking directly at him) I can see him pinch the bridge of his nose. “Why does such a shit always happen to me?,” he mutters. If he keeps ranting on like this, he'll have me apologize for my sole existence, let alone for opening that cursed door.

“Kyo, look, I...,” I start, and close my mouth again as he rages on: “Or did you come here to make fun of me? Ah, that'd suit you well. Mocked me all the time for not going on dates.” His lips curl into a humorless grin. “Sorry that I'm not as easy to impress as some other people in the band.” Ouch, that hurt. If his words hadn't been so harsh, I might've chuckled at the way Kyo behaved like some short-tempered anime villain. But I didn't feel like chuckling. At all. At least, his insult (had he really just called me a slut?) sort of rouse me from my numbness.

“Whoa, can you calm down for a second?” No, we're definitely not going to do anything today that involves pressing our bodies together. Except for a fist fight, maybe. My voice has finally stopped cracking, we're back on track. “I'm not here to make fun of you. And the room was not double-booked.” I speak in a quiet, sincere way, hoping to get the message across. As realization slowly sinks in, Kyo's whole body seems to stiffen. “Did you know it would be me waiting here?” His voice is calm and cold now; the foreshadowing of a dawning apocalypse, I suppose. I should say no, deny it, lie to him, that'd be the smartest thing to do, but I can't. Lying to Kyo would equal committing a sin I could never atone, so I admit: “Yes.”

He remains silent for the longest time, and then asks: “Is this just a game to you, Toshiya? A joke?” The couch's fabric rustles and has me realize with horror that he got up, only to cross the room and hurry over to where I'm still glued to the spot. The moment he grabs the collar of my shirt, hard, as small as he is, I start panicking. When exactly did all this start escalating so bad? I'd be impressed at the disaster if I hadn't been so frightened to fuck it all up for good. Well, at least I could shove the fact that I'd been right the whole time right under Die's nose. Not that it was any comfort to me.

“Wanna hear what I think? You got bored with all your female flings and wanted to see how far you could take things with a guy. Behind closed doors, of course. And why try it with a friend if you could go for someone you don't even care about?” It's taken quite some time, but now, I snap. “You're wrong in so many ways I don't even know where to start.” Our eyes meet; there's always a look in his ones I can never hope to decipher. Part of it seems to be a drowning pool of loneliness, part of it could be anger, but the rest...after today's disaster, I'll probably never be able to find out. He crosses his arms, I hate that he let me go, the warmth of his ink-stained hands engraved in the fabric of my shirt, and hisses: “Spit it out.”

There's not a single clock in this blue hellhole, but I swear I can hear one ticking. Maybe it's Kyo's slender, tattooed fingers drumming on his upper arms, maybe it's my heartbeat. I don't know. I wouldn't be surprised if the White Rabbit showed up behind the couch, pointing at its pocket watch in a warning manner that was supposed to tell me: “Time's up.” I mean what I said though: I don't know where to start. Minutes pass, and I can't force a single word out of my mouth. Kyo's constant stare of doom has me paralyzed, he holds me in an iron grip without even touching me, and I can't speak, it's physically impossible. When he has finally had enough, he snorts at me and turns back towards the sofa to hastily grab his bag. “Thought so. Thanks for showing me the real you, again.” Now what's that supposed to mean?

He pushes past me, not without jostling me as hard as he can. “That was a shit idea. Doesn't surprise me, it was yours after all,” he growls before he opens the door. “I'll never set foot into your disgusting playroom again. You're pathetic.” It is just a second before he vanishes that I recover and quickly call after him, my voice now cracking again due to the harshness of his words: “I care about you a lot. That's why I came here today.” He pauses for a moment full of hope – and leaves, slamming the door shut.

I stand there dumbfounded, the blue furniture of the room suddenly feels incredibly ridiculous, and I know I fucked up big time. Like, really, really big time. Oh boy, Kaoru is so going to have my head at tomorrow's rehearsal.

*

Kyo

I flee the scenery as fast as I can, and it's all I can do not to throw up right into the bunch of hydrangea bushes outside the building as soon as I breathe in the city's stale air. If I'm very lucky, Toshiya is not going to follow me and witness my pathetic form stumble down the stairs to crouch down next to a wooden bench. It's covered in bird shit and looks horrid, but I can at least unleash my frustration punching at its dirty legs.

My head is spinning. “I care about you a lot. That's why I came here today.” Toshiya's words are on repeat in my mind, and so many feelings are fighting for the upper hand inside my heart I don't know which ones will be in the winning team. My breath is coming in little puffs, I feel so damn cold, yet my cheeks must be burning. I blink at the night sky in a desperate try to calm down, but all the countless stars up there are doing is to stare back at me unhelpfully. “No, no, no, fuck, no!” I've started shouting and kicking at the legs of the bench. A group of businessmen raises their eyebrows at me and I'm too tired to even flip them off.

I don't know for how long I've tormented the poor bench when I finally grow tired. Toshiya's nowhere to be seen, and I feel so...empty. Drained. Exhausted. The skyscrapers' skeletons lazily emerge from out of the smog in front of me, solid, rigid, ugly towers of concrete. I wish I could turn everything on standby, my heart to start with, as I lifelessly drag my feet towards the next subway station.

*

Toshiya

Rehearsal goes smoother than expected. Kyo either hasn't chirped to Leader-san about our unfortunate encounter or Kaoru ignores everything that is not exactly band-related, for he is his usual stoic self. Kyo is, too: he doesn't even acknowledge that I'm in the same room. As I learned the hard way the day before, silence can be a blessing. After an uneventful week, a suspicious blue envelope finds its way into my letterbox. As I open it, a note gracefully slides out with only one sentence written on it, which comes with the most fateful decision I'd probably ever have to make: “Would you like to use the Blue Room again?”

Chapter Text

Waiting for the telephone to ring
And I'm wondering where she's been
And I'm crying for yesterday
And the tap drips

(The Cure – “10:15 Saturday Night”)

Kyo

“Would you like to use the Blue Room again?” Although the words have been brought to paper in the most delicate writing style, almost as if the text had been printed except for a few discrepancies in the length of the t-strokes, each letter feels as if it's screaming at me. Make a decision, and make it now! That's it, the last fucking straw. Past week was bad enough, with me being a nervous wreck anywhere around Toshiya, and here I am, being asked whether or not I'd like to go back to that blue circus ring? Yes, that's exactly what I need now. Outside my window, a bunch of blackbirds is chirping happily, and I wonder whether the sound is supposed to mock me or motivate me while all it does is just stressing me out. “Go outside, meet someone!” Is that what they want to tell me? Well, I tried, cuties, and we all know how it ended.

With a frustrated groan, I push my notebook and pen to the other side of my kitchen table. The pen feels like doing a few extra rounds and happily throws itself off the wooden edge; it makes a clattering sound as it hits the floor, and I feel too exhausted to move and pick it up again. Instead, my face bumps forehead first onto the table. When the actual fuck did Toshiya, Toshiya of all people, get a damn one-way ticket into my head? I can't remember the last time I slept or ate, but boy, can I remember Toshiya's soft hair and the silky strands that fell into his face by accident all the time while we were talking (aka arguing), because they're not long enough to stay put behind his ears. I remember the way his bambi eyes could barely focus on me, almost as if he was too shy to look directly at me. Oh, and I also remember his shaky voice as he spoke to me, and every single word he said. “I care about you a lot.” Yeah, whatever. Did he really think I'd make it that easy for him to get into my pants? Gosh, I'm so fucking pissed at him.

Actually, I'm pissed at myself. Well, I'm pissed at him, too, though I'm even more pissed at myself. I shouldn't be so damn vulnerable when it comes to dating, and the fact that Toshiya could step into this room so easily, so carelessly, to imply that he'd like to give it a go with me is just...disturbing.

My phone next to me buzzes so loud I nearly jump on my chair. For a moment I'm convinced it's him before I check the name on the display, and I'm so relieved that it's Shinya's I could start crying. “Hey,” I croak in a desperate attempt at sounding normal. “Hey,” Shinya quietly replies and immediately asks: “Are you alright?” Either my abilities to hide my own insecurities in front of one of my best friends are on holiday at the moment or Shinya can just read me like an open book – he never fails to surprise me. “To be honest, no, I'm not.” There's a high-pitched bark at the other end of the line followed by some rustling and a muffled grunt. Shinya gently shushes Miyu and I can literally see him patting the top of her small head and give her a light scratch between her fluffy ears, just the way she likes it. “Sorry, she's in diva mode today.” I chuckle. “Isn't she always?” Shinya joins in. “You might be right about that. And if you think you can distract me from finding out what's wrong with you, you should know better.” My chuckle turns into a soft smile. “You already know what's going on, aren't you?”

The sound of Miyu's tiny paws pattering over Shinya's wooden floor gradually calms me down. She's most likely dances around him until he's fully focused on her again. I've watched her doing this so many times, but I never grow tired of the dynamics between these two. “I can only guess. Know you've been to the Blue Room, that's all.” My mouth feels dry. “What's your guess then?” Shinya clears his throat; I know such topics are never easy for him to talk about. “Regarding the way you behaved last week, it wasn't that successful, I'd say. And regarding the way Toshiya behaved last week,” how on Earth did Shinya notice that?, “he was the one you met.” A loud groan is the first response he gets before I add: “You'd have made the best fucking investigator in the world, you know that? Why do you have to be such a damn attentive smart-ass?”

Shinya laughs, a sound I really adore, and it's contagious. Miyu gives another short bark. “I take that as a compliment, thank you very much. So I'm right?” “'course you are.” There's no point in trying to deny it. Even if I took it into consideration, Shinya has such an honest, sincere air to him that makes it impossible to lie to him. And, although it's strange to admit it, I don't want to disappoint him.

“When did he fuck it up?” His question is taking me by surprise. “Why do you think he fucked it up?” “Because he's so head over heels with you that he can't think straight. That leads to stupid decisions, and stupid decisions are followed by stupid actions. Plus, you're super easy to annoy.” I blink. “I...wait, what?” “I mean, no offence, but...” Now it's me who shushes him, and I swear Miyu stops dead in her movements the moment I do. “What did you just say? About him being head over heels for me?” My heart is racing and I'm grateful there's no mirror around – my cheeks must be burning with embarrassment. “Oh come on, don't tell me you didn't notice!,” he shouts (which is still a rather quiet sound), “Not even you could be so oblivious.” “Alright, will you stop insulting me?” Shinya sighs. He's probably running his fingers through his hair now, he always does when he's getting frustrated, and that happens a lot when me or Die are around.

“Kyo...it's totally fine if you don't feel the way he does. But don't let this...unfortunate situation destroy your friendship.” My knees feel wobbly although I'm not even standing. Everything is just happening way too quickly for me to catch up, a race I can't win. “This really is news to me, Shinya,” I whisper. Nausea is starting to build in my stomach, for now, Toshiya's words from back then make a whole lot of different sense. And I still can't believe they're true, I just can't. He's never given me any reason to do so. “What are you going to do now?,” he asks. I gaze at the blue envelope and letter that are still waiting for my answer. Hell, that's one fucking good question.

*

Toshiya

Did you know that the smell of wet asphalt after a soothing summer rain is called petrichor? What a strange word for such a unique situation, I'd even call it ugly; it sounds clean and scientific, stripped of all the emotional components the simple act of raining is so rich with. When you step outside after a thunderstorm and breathe in the humid air, all the various scents of city life flood your sense of smell: chewing gums baked to the ground by the merciless summer sun, exhaust fumes, half-empty food boxes, dead doves. Rain makes all of it come to life. For a brief moment, you inhale everything surrounding you, and you can almost touch and feel the wetness of the air. Sounds like the friction of tires against asphalt are muffled, almost as if time slowed down a little.

A word can try to capture all the thousands of fragments that are part of such an experience, but it will always only be a word. I surely fucked up trying to get my point across with only words last time. Whenever I try to approach my feelings for Kyo the logical way, there's not one scenario I can come up with that has a happy ending for us, or an us to begin with. Is falling for someone ever a logical decision? I clearly didn't have a say in that matter, only my treacherous little heart did.

Another blue save-the-date card lies in front of me. It looks so innocent and shows no signs of being able to destroy the rest of my pathetic love life if this doesn't work out – and yes, I'm being overly dramatic, which is perfectly normal after not having slept for what feels like three weeks in a row. There are way too many questions riding the roller coaster in my head. Does this mean he's agreed to meet me again? Will I just sit down in the Blue Room alone and wait for him and he'll never show up? Surely they wouldn't be so cruel to invite me then, would they? Even though I'm already shaking like a leaf, I pour myself my sixth mug of coffee, and it's not even ten a.m. Caffeine is the fuel that keeps me going these days.

*

The eighth coffee definitely was a mistake. I can barely control my unsteady hand as I pull the handle on the Blue Room's door, and it only gets worse when I see Kyo already sitting on the couch, just like last time. A bad omen for sure. From whatever hellhole, my cocky side decides to come out and play as I lean against the door and cross my arms in front of my chest. My left foot starts tapping against the wood which I hope is the only sign of my nerves getting totally wrecked. “Look who's here,” I greet him. “What happened to me being pathetic?” Kyo glares daggers up at me. “What happened to you never setting foot in here again. Like, ever?” “Had nothing better to do.” Ouch. Well, at least, he's not throwing tantrums at me, that's something, huh?

At second glance, I notice the dark circles under his eyes, quite like mine. His petite form looks even thinner than last time I saw him, which makes me worry. Has he eaten at all? Slept? Calmed down? My voice softens as I murmur: “I'm glad you've come.” “Is that so?” Kyo quirks a brow at me. “Why did you? I really didn't expect you to.” He sighs and shrugs. That's it. No explanation, nothing – come on, give me something to work with! When he doesn't talk, I do. Am I risking my neck here? Definitely. “Kyo, I really meant what I said last time. That I...care. About you. And you were wrong, but you didn't...I didn't get the chance to explain myself.” I take another deep breath. Dear God, I wish I could just run to the toilet and puke my guts out, I've never been that jittery in my whole life. “I'm gay,” I add, “and this is not just a game to me. I wouldn't put our friendship at stake, not for a fling, as you called it. I'm serious about...this.”

There's still no reaction from him, and I'm completely drained. No words are left, no thoughts, I'm done. Suddenly, his quite voice, the one so very dear to me, addresses me: “Have you always known that you're into…men?” I can't help but chuckle shakily with relief. “Yes.” He lifts his head and looks me straight in the eye, and this time, I don't fudge. Can I risk asking him? Before I can even think it through, the words have already left my stupid mouth. “What about you?” He won't have any of it and shoots back: “What about all the girls you dated in the first place?” “Image. Didn't touch one of them.”

I hate to admit it, but yes. Image. I wait for him to snarl at me again, tell me what a dickhead I am for submitting to the rules of our business, but since it's our business, he knows how it works. Surprisingly, he keeps his mouth shut and stands up. The inner struggle is visible on every inch of his divine face as he slowly makes his way to the door and stops right in front of me. “You didn't answer my question.” It's a risk, but I really want to know. Kyo's head shoots up – the display of loneliness in his eyes is tearing me apart as he grabs my shirt again, just last time, and maybe he'll punch me today. I couldn't care less, I just want to carry this secret burden for him, this burden I know nothing about, this burden that makes him look at me with the most vulnerable eyes I've ever seen. “I don't know what I am.” His cry of help is unanswered, for his lips on mine are shutting me up in the best possible way.

I freeze. Never ever had I expected him to make the first move. My hands are dying to touch him, yet my brain is unable to give orders. “It doesn't matter,” I breathe between two kisses, and I feel him lean into me, warm bodies pressed against each other. We're clumsy, we're rushing, and it's fucking perfect. “We'll find out.”

Chapter Text

I sense a lot of tension
Loose, loose
Pull out your arsenal
Dance

(Madrugada – “Step Into This Room And Dance For Me”)

Toshiya

The day we first met is burnt into my soul with the Universe's strongest branding iron. You left your mark on me, without even noticing, the second you walked into the rehearsal room where I was waiting to meet all of you officially. You rejected me, I started craving for you, the world's most bitter-sweet imbalance, a disequilibrium, repelling magnets, a stalemate. It feels like a totally different life, a life someone else was leading one day, and it's only been a few years ago. I used to be afraid of everything before I knew you, and now, the only fear left inside of me is that you'll leave – the band, the world, me. I'd sacrifice everything to carefully wrap you into a bubble of happiness and safety, to take away all this torment and agony you've been in forever, and knowing that I don't have the right to do so is killing me. Who am I to sympathize when I don't even know the reason for all this pain? Who am I to care if you don't want me to?

*

Kyo

What the actual fuck am I doing here? I should know better than to fall for Toshiya, bait in the spider's web, and here I am, turning to butter in his very hands. His lips are the softest I've ever tasted, which is probably a lie, because I can't remember anyone's lips, not even the ones of The Human. I can't remember any body, let alone distinct parts of it. My own has to function, that's it. I don't check it in the mirror, the only times I notice it's there is when I have to take a piss, when my stomach rumbles or when the scars hurt. Apart from that, it's... I pull at his lower lip with a desperation I've never felt before, and the moment I do, his cock is twitching in his pants, against my thigh. The soft grunt he makes pulses straight into my groin as the low vibration of his vocal chords merges with my own – it should be prohibited by law to produce such noises. Starving. Every fibre of my human shell is alert and hungry, and this hunger is persistently devouring this little voice inside my head telling me that this is wrong, so wrong.

When the last tiny bit of social conventions I've internalized all these years dissolves into nothingness, swallowed whole by the radiating warmth of Toshiya's body, the initial waves of shame have subsided. There's peace inside of me. What a strange sensation.

“Stop me if I do something you're not into, alright?” As much as my brain's immediately running wild with images of Toshiya and the weirdest kinks I can think of – dipping mixed pickles into his partner's bellybutton and eating them with chocolate ice cream during sex, wearing latex animal masks and a horse tail or a Sailor Venus cosplay in bed –, I feel immensely grateful for his reassurance. The second his mouth lets go of mine, disappointment pools in my belly and mixed with excitement of what there is to come. What will the rest of his body taste like? How will his hair feel in my hands? What can I expect from him, and what does he expect of me? I realize that I haven't answered him yet and nod, a lazy movement, my head feels like a balloon. Too big, floating and all empty, but in a nice way. For once, I'm able to stop thinking, and it feels so. Damn. Good.

*

Toshiya pushes himself off the door and Kyo's smaller body towards the blue couch in a gentle movement. The chandelier's countless crystals reflect the dim light of the candle-shaped bulbs above their heads and projects a kaleidoscope of colors onto the navy blue walls. There are as many shades of blue as there are layers of sadness across Kyo's heart; he knows, he feels, even now as they're both distracted, but the singer's fragile trust in him gives him confidence. He will break through all of them. He will make sure Kyo's alright, if it's the last thing he does.

There's a soft dull sound as they reach the sofa and Kyo's legs bump against the armrest. Meanwhile, Toshiya's hands have started their journey underneath his hoodie, and they are met with solid muscle. Nothing but lust, pure and ancient and raw, is visible on the bassist's delicate features. Maybe he doesn't notice it, but the tip of his tongue pokes out just a tiny bit to lick his upper lip in appreciation. Kyo is wary at first, it's a well-trained emotion that rarely pops up alone; as usual, it's accompanied by mistrust and self-hatred, 'cause how could anyone ever honestly want him? Hesitantly, he reaches out to grasp Toshiya's arms, those strong arms that are nothing but wiry strength and talent, to turn them both around. He feels more comfortable that way, knowing he can turn away and leave every time if things get out of hand. We're past that point though, aren't we?

Toshiya's fingers roam over his belly and chest. As soon as they brush his nipples for the first time, a guttural “Ah” crawls out of Kyo's throat, and this is the last straw for the taller male; his patience is gone. “Take this off,” he whispers while tugging at the heavy black fabric. “I want to see you.”

You'd look good in snake skin

For once, there's no sarcastic comment, no protest. Kyo hastily slips out of the hoodie, the sleeves are way too long and he almost gets tangled up inside, but Toshiya doesn't laugh as he would normally do. He can't wait to discover what is hidden underneath all this black, and he'll make sure to drink in the view. When Kyo finally drops the hoodie on the floor where it pools around his worn-out loafers, insecurity is written all over his face. Is he still expecting Toshiya to laugh at him? To tell him that it has all been a joke? The thought sends chills down his spine. I've made myself too vulnerable. But there is no laughter. No jokes. Toshiya just stares at him. And the more he stares, the more restless Kyo gets. He'd kill for a cigarette right now.

“Beautiful.” The whisper is so soft that Kyo's not sure if Toshiya has said anything at all until the bassist repeats: “You're beautiful.” Kyo averts his eyes in response, glad that he can't see his face; he's probably blushing like some inexperienced teenage girl. What else should he do? He doesn't agree with Toshiya in that matter. At all. And he's not even fully naked yet.

I bloom ablaze with love

It's not that he hates his body – he just doesn't consider himself pretty. Beautiful. Lovely. Whatever. Where Toshiya might see something in the blue light that clearly isn't there, Kyo knows all his flaws. A gentle tap of Toshiya's fingers on his bare chest brings him back to reality. “Hey.” The younger male smiles at him, honest and tender. “Stay with me. Don't think too much. Just feel,” he says so full of sincere encouragement that Kyo is starting to get really frustrated. Closing his eyes, he groans. Great, he's about to ruin the moment because he can't even do the simplest thing right. He feels silly in this insinuating environment that's the furthest away from his everyday life as it could be, he feels terribly misplaced, and there's a weird fear of fucking everything up that's constantly gnawing at him from the inside. “Sorry, it's just...” Toshiya won't let him try to explain in the first place. Instead, he links their hands and leads Kyo to the seat squab. “No sorries. No explanations.” As quickly as his frustration and anger at himself have welled up, it subsides, thanks to Toshiya's comforting, warm body gently guiding him into a lying position.

As silly as the decadent couch might be, it's also undeniably comfortable. Kyo's head sinks into the velvet cushions, they faintly smell of mint and lavender, and is positive that he'll never ever get up again. As soon as his body starts to relax into the shimmering fabric, Toshiya nimbly positions himself between Kyo's legs. At first, both calloused hands caress his still clothed legs through his jeans, more like a massage than anything else. When they travel up higher, Kyo swallows audibly. Even from the distance, he can smell the other's shampoo and aftershave, a scent he should've been used to, a scent that will never be the same. Toshiya is too close, yet not close enough, and as he bends down to press his heated cheek to Kyo's equally heated skin, a thought crawls into his dirty little mind. Is he going to...?

“You deserve to be kissed on every single inch of your body,” the bassist breathes against the smooth flat, tattooed belly. The tip of his tongue suddenly dips into his navel before slowly licking around it, and he feels Kyo's legs twitch in response. “Oh, god...” One of the buttons on his trousers pops open, then the other two, and the zipper's next. Toshiya's chuckle has him freeze on the spot. What is he laughing about? Is he starting to make fun of Kyo now? The vocalist lifts his head, but Toshiya has already realized that this might not have been a smart move and points at the briefs. “They're blue.” Kyo blinks before joining in the chuckling. “I came prepared.”

Heavy breathing quickly replaces the laughter when Toshiya starts kissing his way from Kyo's chest across his flanks only to pause on his hipbone for an agonizingly long time. Kyo's right ink-stained arm covers his face all over, except for his lips. They're slightly parted, with his pink tongue poking out to lick them from time to time, going almost unnoticed. Toshiya is delirious with lust by now; he could've sworn Kyo's tattoos are all coming to life, singing to him, whispering little words of encouragement for him to go on, “Don't stop!”. And in fact, he knows in this very minute that he'll never be able to stop again.

You suck and suck on the sweet honey

It's the closest to heaven Kyo has ever been when Toshiya finally pulls the briefs down. He's beyond caring what his bandmate might think of his size or shape, he's beyond caring about anything at all, the only thing that matters is those sinful hands he is already addicted to. Like he does with his bass, he knows exactly which strings to pull on Kyo's body. He knows that the mixture of his hot breath ghosting over the singer's skin and the cool air streaming in from the AC are the perfect torture, exactly what he needs. He knows how Kyo is longing to feel these sensuous lips around his cock, which is achingly hard and doesn't like being neglected. He knows, because all of a sudden, a hot, wet mouth is all around his dick. Light-headed, He's really doing it is the only thought meandering through his overtaxed mind, and he's wondering if it's okay to entangle his fingers in Toshiya's silky hair. Not even this unspoken question goes unnoticed; Toshiya looks up at him and gives a single nod without once breaking his steady rhythm. This sight alone is dangerously close to sending Kyo over the edge.

Shall we mix and become one?

His head is bobbing up and down, up and down, his tongue presses against the underside of Kyo's erection and sometimes against the root when he's swallowing him as deep as he can. Those long fingers are not taking a rest either, gently fondling his balls and cupping them with Toshiya's warm palm. The bassist stays focused on these body parts, though he'd love to show Kyo what else he could do, but he knows better than to scare him away by putting his fingers elsewhere.

Kyo, on the other hand, is considering. (And slowly so, thanks to these talented hands and mouth glued to his middle.) What should he do next? It's out of question that he will just lay there and give nothing in return. For he desperately wants to give something. He has crossed so many lines with his own body, why shouldn't he cross that last one? He has taken his body to its limit more than once, and pushed it even further, then why shouldn't he see what Toshiya can do to it? And he has left more scars on his skin than he can count; could another human being really leave deeper ones? Toshiya hollows his cheeks and Kyo jumps up a little, eyes narrowed and close to the edge. This is when he's decided.

At nights when I feel too scared to sleep, I think of you

“Wait,” he croaks. In one fluid motion, Toshiya lets go of his cock with an obscene pop, gives his balls a last hungry squeeze and waits for Kyo to say something. If Kyo looks at him close enough though, he imagines the tiniest bit of uncertainty mirrored on his face. “I want...want to feel you, too.” In the blink of an eye, Toshiya throws his shirt somewhere, careful not to hinder Kyo's fingers from finding their way into his pants. “Yes,” he whispers, and again, “Yes.” Toshiya's cock feels silky in his hand, smooth and hot, and it's throbbing. He can feel it twitching and pulsing which increases when he draws circles around the bulging tip with his thumb, trapped between the fabric of the other's boxer briefs and his pelvis.

When their hands are no longer enough, Toshiya flips them around and pulls Kyo close until their cocks are touching. Their hair is a mess, Toshiya's long black-and-blue strands sticking to Kyo's sweaty chest. The air is starting to get stale with the smell of sex as they loose track of time. Has one minute passed or an hour? A day? It doesn't matter when Toshiya bucks his hip and closes his hands around both their cocks and Kyo is tumbling and falling along with him.

Don't leave any leftovers, please