Shuuichi paused before he turned the key, preparing himself for what he knew was on the other side of the door. An empty couch. An empty apartment. No Yuki. An empty heart. It had been a whole week since Bad Luck’s breakthrough concert, and Yuki was still in New York. Every day was a struggle not to hop on a plane and rush back to America (K would kill him for sure this time). Yuki would come back to him when he could. He believed that with all his heart. He had to, or else there was no point in getting up every day.
Hmm, maybe that would make a good line. If I didn’t know you’ll come back some day, I’d feel no need to live. Yuki would call it juvenile. But then, Yuki called everything he wrote juvenile. He figured that if couldn’t write like Yuki, at least he could be honest (maybe he’d write a love song about snow one day, just to see how Yuki would react).
He shook his head. It wouldn’t do any good to mope outside all night like this. What if Yuki called early in the morning and he missed it because he couldn’t wake up? That thought in mind, he turned the key and opened the door, closing it gently behind him and toeing off his shoes.
As expected, the apartment was dark. Shuuichi leaned against the door and knocked his head against it, calling himself ten kinds of idiot for what he was about to do.
“Yuuuuukiiiii! I’m hooooooome!” he yelled. No answer. Of course there was no answer, Yuki wasn’t here. Too tired and sad to go through his normal routine of bouncing through the apartment, looking for Yuki, he padded to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Well, couch. He never slept in the bed. Yuki didn’t want him to, and it seemed even worse to do it when Yuki wasn’t around to scold him for it.
He stared at the small shower room for a moment before turning away. He’d take a shower in the morning. No use in getting cleaned up if no one was going to be around anyway. He changed into the tank top and shorts that were still on the floor where he’d left them that morning (Yuki usually put them in the hamper when he did that), washed his face and brushed his teeth.
Yuki’s toothpaste was still in the cabinet. Shuuichi hoped he’d thought to buy himself some in New York. The one thought he couldn’t stand was that Yuki might not take care of himself without Shuuichi around to nag him about it. He spit the toothpaste froth out of his mouth and eyed himself in the mirror. “Shuuichi,” he muttered, “you’re an idiot. Yuki was doing just fine before you barged into his life, and he’s doing just fine without you.” The thought made the lump in his throat even bigger, and he washed his face again to calm himself down. Yuki hated it when he cried (Yuki hated a lot of things about him).
He left his clothes in the bathroom (he’d get them in the morning) and made his way towards the living room. When he passed Yuki’s study, he paused, unable to help himself. Just one look, and then he could go to bed, knowing for certain that Yuki had not miraculously appeared (there was always that chance). He peered carefully through the doorway.
Yuki’s laptop was on. Why would Yuki’s laptop be on? He stood in the doorway and squinted, trying to make out the rest of the room. When his eyes finally focused, they nearly fell out.
This was a dream, it had to be. He squeaked, his mouth falling open, and the figure in Yuki’s chair turned his head to face him (oh no, it couldn’t be). The figure closed the laptop, and the moonlight coming through the window was the only light in the room. Shuuichi swallowed a few times, trying to get his voice back.
Yuki (it really was!) stood and moved away from the desk, and suddenly Shuuichi could move again. He flung himself at his lover, slipping a little in his socks.
“Yuki! You’re--” His wrists were caught before he could get too close. Shuuichi forgot to breathe, suddenly terrified that Yuki had only come home to tell him they were through. It wouldn’t be the first time (but he always came back, if he didn’t Shuuichi didn’t know what he’d do). He looked at Yuki’s face, trying to figure out what was going on, but it was too dark to see.
Yuki wouldn’t let him go. Shuuichi wondered what he’d done wrong. He started to tug at his wrists, but Yuki just gripped him harder (it hurt!) and jerked him closer. Shuuichi could smell him now. He closed his eyes and inhaled.
“Look at me,” said Yuki.
He did. Yuki stared at him for a long time (what was he looking for?). Shuuichi couldn’t stand it. Why wouldn’t Yuki let him hug him? It had been so long. Before New York, Yuki had always let him hug him. Well, almost always. Often enough that he could count it as always, so why wasn’t he letting him now?
“Yu--”
Yuki cut him off, sounding like he’d discovered treasure in his back yard. “You really love me,” he said. Shuuichi blinked. Was Yuki just figuring this out now?
“Ah, yes. I do, Yuki.” He winced. He really did say stupid things... But Yuki didn’t seem to mind. He couldn’t see much, the room was so dark, but it looked like Yuki was smiling a little. After a moment, he smiled too. If Yuki was smiling, that meant he was going to stay!
Smiling or not, though, he was still staring at him. Shuuichi swallowed. The silence bothered him.
“How was the--” Before he could finish his question, Yuki jerked him even closer and brought his mouth down on his.
Yuki tasted like beer. Shuuichi wondered how many cans he’d had, and whether he would be able to walk the next day. Not that Yuki ever meant to hurt him (unless he asked) but he could get a little careless when drunk. Then again, he wasn’t planning on going to the studio in the morning anyway, not with Yuki kissing him like this. He tried to free his wrists (had Yuki ever been this aggressive?) but Yuki wouldn’t let go. It was a little irritating. All he wanted to do was hug him!
He almost lost his balance when Yuki took a step forward. The movement forced their lips apart. Shuuichi gulped in air, waiting for Yuki’s next kiss and hoping it would leave him even more breathless. He was not disappointed. Yuki continued to walk him backward, and Shuuichi continued to slip, unable to keep his balance. Releasing his wrists, Yuki lifted Shuuichi upward until Shuuichi got the hint and hopped, wrapping his legs around Yuki’s hips and grabbing onto his shoulders for support (finally, a hug!). He used the added leverage to get his tongue into Yuki’s mouth and sighed when Yuki slid a hand up under his shirt in response. He’d missed Yuki so much!
His breath was taken away again when Yuki leaned him a little too quickly against the closed door of the bedroom (when had they gotten there? He couldn’t remember). He broke their kiss with a wet sound, and then he was attacking Shuuichi’s neck and grinding him into the door and Shuuichi was sure he was going to die, or maybe he already had. He took one hand off Yuki’s shoulder to wipe at his mouth (the extra spit at the corners was tickling him), only to put it quickly back again when he nearly slipped out of Yuki’s grasp. Yuki growled and redoubled his efforts to give Shuuichi the biggest hickey on the planet.
“Yuki! Ah! Yuki, you’re hurting me!” He squirmed and tried to force Yuki’s mouth away from his neck. After a moment, Yuki stopped and dropped light kisses all over his face instead. Shuuichi couldn’t figure out why. Maybe he was apologizing (there was always that chance), or maybe he just felt like it. Either way, Shuuichi was glad for it--his neck really did hurt.
Yuki tugged at Shuuichi’s legs until he realized what Yuki wanted and slid them down to the floor. Then Yuki turned the doorknob and they stumbled into the bedroom.
As soon as he’d recovered his balance, Yuki had him up against the wall. Shuuichi groped along the wall as best he could for the light switch (he wanted to make sure it was actually Yuki, he couldn’t quite believe it) but Yuki grabbed his wrists again and all but threw him onto the bed. After climbing on after him, Yuki ripped off his shirt and pants so violently that Shuuichi flinched. He had to relax if he wanted to enjoy it, he knew, but Yuki was so aggressive... he could only stare as his lover quickly stripped himself (but he wasn’t afraid of Yuki, no, he wasn’t afraid of Yuki).
“Don’t look at me like that,” Yuki said harshly. Shuuichi grabbed hold of the blanket beneath him and stared up at the darkened ceiling, willing himself to relax. Yuki’s weight shifted, and then Shuuichi heard the top drawer of the bedside dresser open (thank goodness, Yuki remembered). There was a pause, and all he could hear was breathing. Yuki’s sounded so tense, like he was trying not to pass out. Shuuichi lifted his head and saw Yuki staring at him, on his knees, his face unreadable in the darkness of the room. He spread his legs, figuring that was what Yuki was waiting for, and was rewarded when Yuki’s hand gently caressed his inner thigh. His head dropped to the pillow; he was still unable to relax, but hoped that whatever mood Yuki was in had passed.
“Close your eyes,” Yuki ordered. He did. There was the sound of a tube being uncapped and quite a bit of lubricant being squeezed out. Shuuichi had to fight himself to keep his eyes closed when silence followed--he trusted Yuki, of course he did, but tonight Yuki was so... He was sure Yuki would stop if he asked him to. Though maybe he wouldn’t even hear him (there was always that chance). He almost shrieked when Yuki’s slick hand closed over his cock and began working it back to hardness. Shuuichi was confused. Yuki never did that until he was inside, and he hadn’t even prepped him yet. He raised his head, only to be met with a growl.
“Close your eyes, damnit.” Shuuichi let his head fall back and his eyes close, deciding to just let Yuki be Yuki. The weight on the bed shifted, then disappeared (what was Yuki doing? Was he going to just leave him when he was finally hard again?). It reappeared, straddling his hips, and Shuuichi’s eyes flew open as he felt the head of his cock suddenly surrounded by slick muscle.
“Yuki!”
Yuki’s hand slammed into the pillow next to Shuuichi’s head, and Shuuichi remembered that he was afraid.
“Don’t call me that. Not here.” Yuki sounded so angry, Shuuichi’s entire body tensed. What was with Yuki tonight? He knew in the back of his mind that he should stop him, but something in his throat was so constricted he couldn’t make a sound. Trying to calm himself, he took several deep breaths (was that Yuki breathing along with him?). After a few moments he let go of the blanket and cautiously rubbed Yuki’s knee. When that was allowed, he massaged his thigh.
“What should I call you then?” He sighed, relieved that he hadn’t lost his voice (though come to think of it, K would kill him if he couldn’t sing because of sex, so he needed to relax, relax, relax).
“...Eiri.”
Yuki suddenly slipped father down, and Shuuichi gasped, clutching at Yuki’s thigh. It was different from anything he’d ever felt before, even hotter and tighter than Yuki’s mouth (not that he sucked him off all that often, the cheapskate), and he’d thought nothing could beat that. Still, something was off, and he couldn’t quite figure out what. He reached out to Yuki for answers and found that his lover was shaking, badly.
“Talk to me,” said Yuki. Shuuichi blinked. Yuki (not Yuki now, Eiri) wanted him to talk to him? What was he supposed to say? “You talk all the time when I want you to shut up, so why aren’t you talking now?” Thousands of questions ran through Shuuichi’s head--what was going on? Was Yuki going to stay after this? Why did he go to New York in the first place? What really happened there?
“H-how was the flight?” If he hadn’t been rendered helpless by Yuki taking him in just a bit more, he would have smacked himself. Eiri lifted his head and stared at him for a moment, then let it fall forward again.
“Pretty bad,” he said, sounding amused. “I got stuck between the window and a guy who talks more than you.”
“I thought you wanted me to talk, though!” Shuuichi protested. Eiri’s body shook with silent laughter even as he bopped Shuuichi lightly on the side of the head.
“I do, but this guy said even dumber things than you do.” Shuuichi scowled and was almost offended, but couldn’t be when Eiri slipped down even farther. He gasped. Was this what Eiri felt when he was inside of him? No, Yuki (Eiri, Eiri) probably felt better than Shuuichi ever had. So maybe it wasn’t the same feeling, but Shuuichi figured it might be pretty close. No wonder Eiri always came back to him then.
Eiri was shaking again. Shuuichi tried to touch his face (maybe that would calm them both down) but Eiri avoided his hand.
“God, Shuuichi, how can you stand this?” he asked, voice panicked and tight. Shuuichi ran his hand up Eiri’s arm until he was able to rub his chest, trying to figure out what to say.
“You have to relax, it feels good then. You make it good for me, Yu--Eiri.” Eiri sighed heavily and leaned forward, dividing his weight between his arms and his hips. Slowly, Shuuichi felt him relax (he hadn’t thought it was that big of a difference) and he slipped down until Shuuichi was completely inside. Eiri closed his eyes and swallowed. Shuuichi continued to babble, now completely unnerved. “I don’t know how to make it good for you. I’m sorry, Eiri.”
Shuuichi had a sudden thought and brought his knees up, letting Eiri lean back on them. His eyes brimmed. He wanted so badly to make it good for Eiri, but he just didn’t know how!
“You cry too much,” Eiri said, though his own voice was husky.
Shuuichi hadn’t realized before just how heavy Eiri was. It was all right when Eiri was lying over him, it was spread out then, but now his entire body was right on Shuuichi’s hips, and he couldn’t move. He brought his other hand up to join the first on Eiri’s chest and rubbed them in slow, soothing circles (they were soothing for him, at least), trying to remember the things Eiri did for him. Finally thinking of something (why hadn’t he thought of it earlier?), he dropped one hand from Eiri’s chest to his groin, gently fondling Eiri’s limp cock. The spasm it sent through Eiri made Shuuichi whimper. He worked Eiri gently, trying to distract him from whatever it was that was bothering him.
Eiri started to get hard, his breath coming more raggedly. Shuuichi watched, stunned, as Eiri tilted his head back, thrusting slightly into Shuuichi’s hand (was this what he looked like?). Suddenly Eiri’s own hand wrapped around Shuuichi’s, forcing it to tighten around him and quicken its pace. A thought struck him, and before he could stop it it came hurtling out of his mouth.
“E-Eiri! Why did you--why are you--” He gulped when Eiri whipped his head back forward and opened his eyes.
“Why did I, why am I, what?” Eiri demanded, glaring at him.
Shuuichi gestured helplessly with his free hand. “I don’t get it!”
Eiri’s hand over Shuuichi’s slowed, then stopped as Eiri looked away. “You always ruin the mood,” he said. Shuuichi continued to stroke his lover’s cock, determined to do something right. He’d prove that he was Eiri’s lover.
“Please, Eiri. I’m so confused.” Eiri took his hand away from Shuuichi’s and let it fall to the bed. His body shook, once, and he leaned his head back. Something wet fell onto his knee (was Eiri crying?). His hand slowed, then stopped. Eiri wouldn’t want him to see this. Still, he couldn’t look away as Eiri’s sobs grew more violent. Crossing his legs for support, he pushed himself up and wrapped his arms around his lover. Eiri clung to him and buried his face in his hair, whispering.
“I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.” Shuuichi could feel himself becoming more and more numb as the words continued. There had to be something else going on, Eiri couldn’t mean that he really hated him, could he? He had to be thinking of someone else (there was always that chance).
“...you mean Kitazawa, don’t you, Eiri?” Eiri paused, then seemed to realize where he was and who he was with. He was silent for a long time, and Shuuichi started to get scared again. He brought a hand around to Eiri’s front and started touching his cock again, trying to get Eiri to do something, anything.
Eiri had lost about half of his erection, and Shuuichi’s arm was aching by the time he managed to get it back; it was hard to pump in the space between their bodies. Seeming to realize this, Eiri leaned back, face and eyes dry now, hands on Shuuichi’s shoulders, thrusting gently. Shuuichi almost cried (thank god, Eiri wasn’t in his own little world any more), but he was too mesmerized by Eiri and the way he moved, the way he smelled during sex and the little noises he’d never noticed before.
Eiri cried out when he came, almost as if he was in pain, and Shuuichi moaned. He’d never realized before what his body did when he came (he’d wondered why Eiri bothered to touch him at all if he was so annoying), and it was powerful. Not enough to get him off, but powerful. And Eiri... Eiri was so beautiful as he collapsed onto Shuuichi, forcing their bodies apart as they fell back onto the bed. He tried to get his legs untangled (it was really uncomfortable) but Eiri was too heavy.
“Eiri? Eiri, my legs--” He squirmed, trying to free his legs, but it really was an awkward position. After a minute, though, Eiri recovered a bit, looking calmer than he had all evening.
“You talk too much,” he said, but he didn’t sound grumpy at all. Shuuichi smiled. Eiri’s voice was a lot different when he wasn’t grumpy. Eiri lifted himself and let Shuuichi get his legs untangled, then took Shuuichi completely by surprise and slid himself back onto Shuuichi’s cock.
“E-Eiri!” he cried, stunned. Eiri lifted himself up slightly and smiled (it really was a smile!), placing Shuuichi’s hands on his hips.
“Go for it,” he said.
For a moment, Shuuichi could only stare. Eiri was letting him take him? Eiri wanted him to take him? He thrust once, experimentally, and when Eiri didn’t yell at him he did it again, and again, the heat rising with each motion. It didn’t take long before his control broke and he thrust wildly, shouting Eiri’s name as he came. For a moment he thought he really had died.
When he came back to himself, Eiri was already off the bed and out of the room. Shuuichi could hear water running somewhere else in the apartment, but couldn’t figure out where exactly. His arms shook as he pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, a movement which caused the mess Eiri had made to slither down his chest. He tried to stop it as best he could (Eiri hated wet spots) and had the sudden fleeting thought that it had to be his own come, because what had just happened could not have possibly happened. Eiri came back soon with a damp washcloth, which he threw to Shuuichi before flipping on the lights and rummaging through his dresser. Shuuichi quickly wiped himself off, then looked around for his own clothes.
“Eiri, you ripped my shirt!” he said, holding up his favorite navy tank top. Eiri raised an eyebrow at him as he slipped on a pair of clean boxers.
“So? You’ve got money, buy another one.”
“But I like this one!”
“Then take better care of it. Next time I find your clothes on the bathroom floor I’m throwing them out.” Shuuichi pouted as he found his shorts and pulled them on. After a moment’s thought, he rolled the shirt up into a ball around the washcloth and tossed both into a corner of the room. It was only a shirt, after all. Eiri turned off the lights and slid under the blanket, turning on his side away from Shuuichi. Shuuichi clenched his hands and wondered whether he’d have to sleep on the couch tonight, or whether Eiri would let him sleep in bed with him (there was always that chance).
“Eiri?” he said, wishing he had his shirt on so he could twist it.
“Yes?” said Eiri, sounding grumpy again.
“Can I sleep in here tonight?” Eiri froze, then shifted away from Shuuichi.
“I didn’t tell you to go away, did I?”
Shuuichi smiled. He slid underneath the blanket and snuggled up to Eiri’s back, wrapping his arms around him. Eiri growled a little, but made no move to dislodge him (he was definitely going to write that snow-song for Eiri when he got around to it).
“Eiri?”
“Yes?”
“Can I call you Eiri all the time now?”
“Not when there’re other people around.”
“So I can call you Eiri when we’re alone together?”
“If you want. Go to sleep.”
“... Eiri?”
“What?”
“I love you.”
“Shut up or I’ll send you to the couch.”
“Eeeeiiiiriii, you’re meeaan!”
Eiri ignored him. Shuuichi wanted Eiri to say he loved him too, but he knew that wouldn’t happen, not anytime soon at least. Eiri was still too shy (and mean), and maybe he always would be, but Shuuichi didn’t mind too much. He knew it even if Eiri couldn’t say it, and even if the words never got returned he’d keep on saying them.
There was always that chance, after all.
