Title: You. And the Moon.
Pairing: Ruki x Uruha, Ruki PoV
Warnings: Not beta-read. Possible character death.
Disclaimer: Not owning anyone in the story, only the story.
Synopsis: Two men, two extremities, and a room lit by the pale moonlight, and a distressful realization.
Author’s notes: This is my most recent fic. This time not one that has been lying around for ages, waiting to be posted, but really recent. I had started to feel a little incomplete lately, now I guess I know why. It has about 2000 words. And thanks, Paradox5.That’s all I’ve got to say, I fear.
Sitting next to your resting body, half way wrapped up in silken linen, I trace the soft skin of your thin shoulder with my fingertips. Somewhat dazed I stare down, my eyes wandering over you, marveling, as if in deep prayer. The pale moonlight is dancing on your skin, bathing it in silver, turning you into some ethereal, unreal beauty. You seem to be shining. So pure.
And so filthy.
I breathe in, deeply, take in your faint fragrance, close my eyes and lean my head back. Open my eyes, stare outside the window, at that pallid companion, and breathe out.
Looking down at your still form, you look so peaceful. Utterly peaceful. And so beautiful that if I just touched your face, I believe, I might become as beautiful as you… still. Even though I’m so ugly. So truly ugly, here, on the inside.
I cringe, and clutch my heart, gasping, my face a mirror of distress. I can’t breathe.
Again. I’m trying, I’m trying, as you always tell me, to calm down, to just relax, to breathe
Gasping for air, and then, I find the rhythm again, my heart racing from the endeavors of keeping on… living.
I want to be closer to you…
I know that I’m right next to you, yet I want to be closer, and yet I’m afraid of touching you more than this. The truth is, I’m even scared of just having my fingertips run over your skin.
Afraid, the cold moonlight will freeze your body, steal your temperature, and take you away.
The way you sometimes stare at the moon, in the middle of the night, woken up by something, it would be no wonder if that actually were happening. You, and the moon… I never told you this, but... But sometimes when I woke up, missing your weight, missing your closeness, and when I stretched out my hand, and you weren’t there... Upon opening my eyes, I usually found you leaning against one of the giant windows in this very room, those kinds that let you overlook the vast, seemingly untouched landscape. Just staring outside. At the moon. With such a sadness about you, it seemed to tear something within me apart. A sadness that I couldn’t understand, never understood, one that touched me so deeply every time I saw you like that, that I couldn’t get back to sleep even after you’d returned to bed. I always pretended to be asleep but… I was laying awake next to you most of the time, my mind filled with a myriad of thoughts, sometimes, and sometimes I was just blank, worried, understanding nothing.
You, and the moon.
Again, I raise my heavy eyes from the soft curve of your back, up to that bright face. Almost hateful I stare up. As if he were my rival. Your second lover. Or rather, your first lover, one that I’ll never be able to overcome. One just as beautiful and pure as you. I loathe him, now. Somehow… but something tells me, with the tears surging up, blurring my sight, uniting the moon with the stars, the dark sky, you, as I look back… something tells me that still… I do love him. Somehow.
Just like you.
I ignore and suppress the moisture in my eyes and lean down, carefully, to kiss your nape. A few strands of vaguely damp hair stick to my lips for a moment, and I stop my movements, taking in the feeling of Now, before I detach them from your cooling skin and lean back up. Your beautiful, honey coloured hair… Always marveling at its softness, that’s me. Also now, I can’t quite keep my hands off it, so I stroke it, lightly, affectionate, my touch as faint as the light touching you.
As if I was afraid of waking you up.
I know I won’t.
Your slumber is deep.
I wonder why I’m not freezing. Something about this room, right now, feels so cold… even though it’s summer, I know, it’s another one of our beloved, mild summer nights, and yet… my skin is warm, and yet, there’s something thoroughly cold about it.
In nights like these, when the lust is overgrowing us, surpassing our selves, fogging our minds, reducing us to a coiled up, entangled ball of heat, sometimes I become afraid that one of us might be overdoing it. Overdoing something.
Afraid of my strength. Afraid of myself.
Scenes pass my inner eye, entwined bodies, blazing heat, fingers caressing, tangling, hands grasping hair, clutching flesh, nails that scrape deeply, voices that complete each other, growing, turning into growls, barks, reverberating in this room, wild gazes of fire that burn right down my soul, reflecting my own fire, sweat, blood, tears, screams, the intoxicating smell of love, everything needed, everything
, just the two of us. And the moon.
Again, I stare down at you, somewhat warily, trying to read your face, make out the nuances of your expression, that bit I can see from this angle, anyway, and wonder… I wonder whether you’ve ever been afraid… of me.
It’s kind of funny but… sometimes I got the feeling that whenever I stare up at the moon the way you do, maybe to find out what it is about him you love so much, maybe just out of no reason at all, that just then, he hides himself behind the blackest cloud in a practically immaculate night sky. I always thought that maybe he was mocking me. A “I won’t let you see me the way he does” sort of mocking. I started believing that, as absurd as it was, and that thought steadily reappearing, deepened my grudge. However, perhaps… perhaps he was … just afraid?
That thought unsettles me, somewhat.
And your face doesn’t give me an answer. Again.
I move a little, place one arm on the other side of you, and lean down closer, bringing my face to your shoulder. Closing my eyes I breathe in this unique fragrance of your skin. So intoxicating. Such a bittersweet venom. If I could, I would breathe nothing but you. You, whom I once called ‘my life’.
A breeze from outside strokes my cheek, and I pause, wondering whether you’d feel it, too. Placing my weight onto my left arm behind your back to lift my right and caress your chin. My eyes instantly lock on your curved lips, and my heartbeat accelerates, remembering this inebriating sensation of them pressing against mine, playing, teasing, eventually committing. Blushing, somehow, even though I’m so used to their touch, their feel… still, such a simple thing as looking at your lips can make my face flush. You’re always in for surprises, aren’t you, even at times when you’re not really present...
Something drips down onto you, settles on your lower lip, forming a perfect, unmoving enclosure of the moon’s silver light. Almost instinctual, I move my fingers and wipe the warm drop away, just to find another one clinging to the tip of your nose. I furrow my brow, certain that it hadn’t been there before, oblivious to the obvious facts. I just bend over you and stare at your face, uncomprehending, as another drop drips onto your cheek, making me lean closer, weakly kissing it away. My lips tremble. So salty… on your sweet skin. Your smooth, utterly perfect skin. How much I love the touch of it, how much I love its smell…
Slowly, I move my face, my nose ghosting over your skin, continuing to breathe you carefully, every breath that fills my lungs feeling so much heavier than it should. Something doesn’t feel right, but I can’t depict it. Something feels as if I was searching blindly in the dark for something I don’t even know what is. My lips find yours, and my heart stops for an instant, making me feel the pulse in them, its weight dragging me down. Steadily, I part them, breathe against you for the time of a heartbeat, just feeling,
before I close them around yours, softly, it making me feel so terribly warm, wrapped up in this familiar warmth, for an instant… until the moment I realize that you’re not replying, nothing like the usual soft twitching of your eyebrows or the corners of your lips whenever I touch or kiss you while you’re asleep, no, nothing about you is replying… Noticing now how the wetness on your face strangely increases, I blink, puzzled.
And suddenly I seem to understand that its source is nothing else but me. It’s my hot tears burning your face, the tears I managed to ignore so well hitherto. Realizing, trembles take over my body, starting from those sinful lips of mine, spreading over my face to my shoulders and down my back, making me feel so unnaturally cold as realization claws deep into my chest, digging, searching, devastating and wrenching at the most fragile parts of my heart.
When you told me that this would be the last of our uncountable nights, I never believed you. Just one of your lame jokes, I thought. Just one of his lame jokes...
, and look where I am now, shivering, realizing how blind I’ve been all this time, how blind I’ve always let myself be, closing my eyes to the truth, here I am at the end of that joke, the last extremity of comedy, nothing but a clown consumed by his own corruption.
The first, stalled sob tears the silence, my body giving in to convulsions as hot tears stream down my face, incessantly bespattering and dirtying you, the pure one, everything about me only ever having stained you, even now, at the very last, I can’t help but bedaubing your beauty, your purity, your perfection. Shaking, I break down on top of you, clutching your body I up to now was so careful to not be touching too much, just like the mesmerizing butterfly you want to feel, despite knowing that it will be your touch that’ll make it perish in the end. And yet, there’s nothing I can do, can’t stop myself, can’t stop my tears, never I’ve been able to stop myself, never, always ending up sullying you, until the very extreme. Sobbing, I pull you close to me, wanting to fall, right now, into nothingness, with you, but you’re not there, you’re not there, somehow, you’re just not there, and no matter how much I touch and trace the outlines of your body, no matter how much I grasp you, shake you, press you close and plea for you to open up your eyes, just like the moon, you’re hiding, hiding behind that dark cloud of my impurity.
Come back. I want you to come back, please, come back.
I can’t breathe in this stagnating darkness without you, without that jealous moon, please. My tears stifle me, slowly, my throat starts to tighten, bit by bit, tighter, tighter, I need
you to come back, before this mask of ignorance shatters and leaves me with nothing but insanity. I need you to tell me to relax, the way you always do, tell me to relax, now
, tell me to just breathe, come on, wake up, now
, open those vivid, amber eyes that always make me feel at ease, always make me feel so warm and safe, those eyes that fit so perfectly into that now dreadfully lifeless, ivory face.
I’m scared, scared of the sudden, crude sounds resonating in this room, scared as I lose control, as the tears just don’t stop scorching my ugly, dirty face, scared of those hands of mine that start clasping my neck as I gasp for air, scared as my fingers start scratching, trying to lay open a way for me to breathe, scared of the dizziness in my head, terrified as my neck goes numb and my fingers become warm and sticky, terrified
as my unfocused eyes seem to catch some movement about your body, terrified as the moon again starts shining brightly into our room, terrified…
Of the one last, heavy convulsion running through my body.
For you. And the moon.
I don't really know whether I'm really back, or not, but at least it's a sign that I'm still alive. I still have a couple unfinished ones lying about, so I hope I'll manage to post them someday soon.
For this, I am deeply grateful for Despa's Paradox 5
. It only needed two times of listening, and I saw a room. Then a scene. And then, this happened~
Please go ahead and tell me your thoughts on this one, I'd love to know them.
Comments are more than appreciated. I live off them, really. ♥Fanfiction Archive