Aoi / Uruha
(PG15)
“You don’t understand, you never did, and you never will. I’ve tried, we’ve tried, but things are just too different. We’ve changed, and not for the better.”
“Aoi, man, I’d hate to see you as a woman.”
Aoi looked up, glaring across the room at the honey-blonde man perched on an amp.
“What that hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“Think about it. Don’t you have female relatives that aren’t your mother?”
“Well yah, but what’s that got to do with anything?”
“Man, you’re dense.”
“What the hell? Uruha, stop being so damned cryptic!”
“Exactly.”
Aoi’s brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what the other man meant. Realization dawned in his mind suddenly, drawing a snarl from him. He crumpled up the useless bit of sheet music that he’d been struggling with for the last hour and sent it flying across the room at Uruha
“Shut up and leave me alone!” he yelled, storming from the practice room.
Kai was nearly knocked over by the door as Aoi flew through it. Ruki helped him up off the floor, glaring at Aoi’s retreating back before following the drummer into the room.
“Honestly, what crawled up his ass and died?” Ruki asked.
Kai shook his head sadly and shrugged.
“What we had once, it’s gone. Over. There’s no use denying it. It died a long time ago, so just bury it and get on with life.”
Aoi stretched out on his couch, staring at the ceiling. He ignored the ringing phone completely, only barely registering that it was Reita on the answering machine, inquiring whether he’d like to go out and grab a drink the next night. His treat. The phone clicked off and silence fell on the apartment again.
“You sulk too much,” Uruha said, coming out of the bathroom and flopping into a chair.
“What do you know?” Aoi muttered darkly.
“Enough,” Uruha stated simply, easily crossing long, slender legs at the knee. “Enough to know that you’re going to make yourself sick if you keep this up.”
“Why the hell do you care?” Aoi snapped.
Not giving the other time to answer, Aoi dragged himself from the couch and into the kitchen. A quick glance into the refrigerator let him know that a trip to the grocery store was in order. Scribbling it hastily on his to-do list, Aoi went back into the living room. Uruha hadn’t moved.
“I’m going to bed,” the older man announced. “I suspect you can show yourself out.”
Without another word, Aoi went into his room and closed the door.
“I can’t do this anymore. You can’t either. The pressure, the stress; it’s just too much. We’ll never be able to stand up to close scrutiny, even if it is just from the other guys. Why try if we already know that?”
Aoi called Reita back the next morning, kindly declining his invitation, claiming that he didn’t feel well. That, in and of itself, was not far from the truth, but Reita didn’t know that. For his part, the bassist took it well, telling Aoi to call him if he changed his mind or wanted to go out and do something some other time. Aoi thanked him, trying to fight the anger and coldness from his tone. The last thing he needed was pity.
In a sudden fit of domesticity, Aoi made a shopping list and headed out to the market. Sliding his sunglasses securely onto his face, he walked the few blocks to the grocery store. He pulled a cart free from the row and started down one aisle after another, selecting things from his list and a few things that struck his fancy.
Half way through the store, a familiar figure emerged at the end of the cereal aisle, smiling brightly as it made its way toward him. Aoi groaned, trying hard to ignore the honey-blonde.
“Done sulking, I see,” Uruha remarked, stopping a few feet away, his hands stuffed into his jeans pockets. “That’s good.”
Aoi continued to ignore the other man, selecting a few of the healthier brands of cereal and moving on.
“Okay, so you’re still sulking,” Uruha smiled. “That’s fine, I don’t mind.”
“What are you doing, stalking me?” Aoi hissed, glaring down at the other.
“So what if I am?”
Aoi turned away and into the next aisle, fuming. Uruha trailed along, making the odd comment now and again as Aoi tried to finish his shopping without making a scene. He was almost certain that he scared the young girl at the cash register because his smile was more of a teeth-bearing grimace than an actual smile. Gathering his bags, he ditched Uruha and fled back to his apartment.
“I never wanted this. Never. Not in a million years did I dream that I would have to do something like this. Least of all to you. Then again, you were always the strong one.”
Aoi put his groceries away before he went into his bedroom. Not bothering to close the door behind him, he slumped onto his bed, burying the side of his face against the cool pillow. He closed his eyes, sucking in a deep breath. The other side of the bed shifted, a familiar scent reaching his nose and making him open his eyes once more to look.
“Hey,” Uruha said softly, sliding one hand beneath his cheek as he curled his body onto the bed. “You okay?”
“Why?” Aoi whispered, forcing himself to keep still when all he wanted to do was reach out and touch the beautiful man next to him.
“Why what?” Uruha asked.
“Why did you go?”
“Why anything? Why does the sun rise? Why is the sky blue? That’s the way of life. The way of everything.”
“You didn’t have to go,” Aoi choked out. “You could have stayed. You didn’t have to leave like that.”
“I know,” Uruha said sadly. “That was my biggest, and last, mistake.”
The phone rang next to the bed, causing Aoi to jump. He didn’t move, didn’t reach for it, knowing what he would hear. He kept his eyes locked on Uruha as the answering machine kicked in.
“Aoi… Yuu? It’s… Akira. Oh God, man the hospital just called. They… his parents… they just turned it all off. He’s gone. Call us, okay? Yutaka’s sitting on Taka right now. He’s… he wants to make sure you’re alright. Call us. Please? Yuu, just… call us when you can.”
“I won’t stop loving you. I can’t. Not in this life, or the next. I just can’t stand the look of hurt and betrayal in your eyes anymore. Not when there’s so much we have to do, this damn image that we have to keep. Please, try to understand. I’m so very sorry.”
Aoi’s eyes slipped shut again as Reita hung up the call. Tears poured down his face, soaking his pillow, silent sobs heaving his body. Blinking his eyes open, Uruha was gone. It was like he’d never been there at all. And in all reality, he hadn’t been.
And he never would be again.
His quiet tears turned to screams of pain and outrage. He fisted the pillow beneath his head and cursed everything he could think to curse. In his grief, he tore the pillow open within the cloth case.
When the tears finally subsided, he lay in an exhausted stupor on his bed, watching the day fade through the curtained window. Dust danced in the beams, moving in an almost rhythmically soothing pattern. Digging out a last vestige of energy, Aoi shoved himself up and off the bed.
In the corner of the living room stood his beautiful and treasured black acoustic guitar. Uruha would sit for hours on the floor by the couch and beg him to play just one more song. One more melody. Aoi took the acoustic now and sat on the couch, picturing Uruha sitting there, head laid back against the cushions, smiling sweetly up at him as he played.
He strummed a few notes into the semi-dark room, fingers easily falling into one of Uruha’s favorite songs. He played it through twice before he stopped, his hands suddenly numb. Quietly, he took the guitar into the kitchen and laid it gently on the counter. A little rummaging in a few draws and he came up with a pair of wire cutters. Biting his lip, he approached the guitar again.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, stroking the neck reverently. “I… I just can’t do it anymore.”
With quick applications of pressure, he cut all five strings, crying again at the discordant sound each of them made as they snapped.
“Do me one favor? After I’m gone, promise me that you’ll keep making your music. Keep playing with all of your heart and soul. Never let me, or anyone, keep you from that. Promise?”
Leaving the broken guitar on the counter, Aoi gathered his wallet, keys, and jacket, sliding into his shoes before heading out the door. A quick walk and a few more tears brought him to Kai’s door. As suspected, Reita and Ruki were there, waiting.
Succumbing once more to his grief, Aoi fell into them, letting them pull him inside, into the apartment, into their circle of warmth and support.
They were all he had left.
He held on for dear life, as if afraid that they, too, would slip from his hands and be lost to him.
Aoi was as broken as his beloved guitar. And he wondered that he would ever heal at all.
~END~
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