#19 Theme 41: Should I Love Him? - Namie Amuro; Tora/Hiroto
Title: Sweet Sleep
Author: beyondtheremix
Theme: 041 Should I Love Him? (Namie Amuro)
Rating: PG
Pairing: Tora/Hiroto
Band[s]: Alice Nine
Disclaimer: fluff
Comments: One night in a day.
Sweet Sleep
For the most part Tora kept to himself.
To his friends he was the funny guy, the one with enough witty jokes and dry comments to keep the conversation going. To his colleagues he was a hard worker, someone who pushed himself beyond his own limits and got the job done. To everyone else he was simply one big mystery, smiling one moment, glaring the next, his eyes downcast and lips a stoically firm line.
He supposed it was a little late to change the way people saw him, even so it got lonely. Intimidating, unapproachable people weren’t exactly the life of the party, but the life of the party wasn’t exactly what Tora fought for. He wanted understanding, something frustratingly difficult to find. One person and he would be fine. Just one person that got it.
“You should dance,” Shou nodded, watching Tora from his seat at the bar.
“I’d rather not...”
Why he always let himself get talked into going out Tora never knew. Dropping his fingers from his glass of booze, he tapped them against the plastic table finish. His hands. He never knew what to do with his hands. He came to these little get-togethers and wound up twiddling his thumbs, sitting just as alone as he would’ve been drinking at home. But it didn’t matter really. He was going out, exposing himself to new people, giving himself the chance to find something. But damn it he didn’t know what to do with his hands.
“I don’t dance,” Tora sighed, suddenly feeling very tired and very old. He wanted to put his head down and pretend the throbbing of his skull was merely the pulsing bass. Instead he stuffed his hands into his blazer pockets and fingered his latest pack of cigarettes. Feet were out of the question.
Shou bit his lip and stared into his drink. So much for preamble.
“Tora are you okay?”
The man in question cocked a puzzled brow his way. “Should I not be?”
Scrunching his nose, Shou pouted. “No, I mean… You’ve been a bit restless since we got on tour. I know I’m not the only one who’s seen you wandering the halls at four in the morning. We’re all just a little worried and I thought you should know. Someone sees you awake every night whether you like it or not. You need your rest…”
Shrugging, Tora kicked at the bar counter. It wasn’t a secret he barely slept these days, could hardly keep his eyes shut on the tour bus. But it wasn’t so bad; after all he was up and about when other people were awake right? Usually when they finished a live he could sleep like the dead; his body got its well-deserved rest while his mind emptied itself into exhaustion. It was really these in between days that wore at him, the breaks and traveling that got him nowhere and made him anxious for the spotlights and stage.
“I’ll sleep tonight,” he promised.
Shou was his longtime friend after all, Tora really didn’t want anyone else worrying over him; they all had enough on their minds as it were. He made a mental note to stay in his room from now on. Walking around never made him sleepy anyways.
“I’ll get to it right now, how about that?” Tora grinned nonchalantly when Shou continued to give him that same nervous frown. A little humoring went a long way. Or so he hoped. Sliding off his stool, Tora offered the singer a reassuring clap on the shoulder and took off.
---
He shared the taxi with two other members of their staff. Nodding and thanking each other for the day’s hard work, they crammed into the back seat and huddled against the night chill. Tora thinks, no, he knows it’s hard for him to sleep alone. Thighs pressed together and elbow crushed against the car door, somehow he can feel his eyes winking shut. It’s because there’s someone warm beside him; no matter how awkward the angle or professional the relationship, the comfortable blanket of nighttime quiet and alcohol is enough to make Tora drowsy.
At home it’s easier to rest, easier to fall asleep because no one’s there to tell him he should be asleep. At home he could lie in bed petting and coddling his cat until soft purrs lulled his eyes close and smooth fur spread a sleepy smile across his face. That was true comfort. The cure to his insomnia. Chicken. Deep down he knew he really just needed companionship for the night, but that didn’t stop him from leaving the hotel’s TV on until morning. Muted, the static pierced his ears and Tora could imagine it was Chicken on his bed, purring and clawing at the blankets in delight while he stroked downy ears and waited for sleep.
Sleep.
“We’re here.”
Tora snapped awake as the car pulled to a stop. Peeling his cheek off the damp taxi window, he combed the flattened left side of his hair out with warm fingers and struggled with jean pockets for his share of the fare. Sliding out into the nippy air Tora hung back in front of the hotel, wishing the other two a polite goodnight in favor of a quick smoke and a missed elevator ride in awkward silence.
Menthols for the night, Tora smiled, lighting up off to the side of the extravagantly lit building. He gave an appreciative groan around his first inhale, savoring the minty flip of his mind - like the bones of his skull had briefly parted for all the day’s stress to seep out in tendrils of smoke. It was one of the few reasons he bothered with the cancer sticks, something for his hands to do, something to ease the stress and assuage the tension. The rush of soothing smoke down his lungs was like drinking water. Coughing, he took one last drag and hoped it was enough for sleep.
Stubbing the burnt end of his cigarette against the hotel’s concrete wall, Tora rubbed the last of the ashes off and tucked it back in its pack. A little something for later. Management was still bustling around as he entered through the glass front doors and waited by the lift. They were staying on the tenth floor it seemed, everyone not caring enough to object the idea of a good city view when it was their last stop anyways. The elevator ride was long, but it was a calming long, a restful wait next to hectic days of preparation for the final.
It was the tenth floor Tora found him drowsily navigating the empty hallways.
“Hiroto? You doing okay there buddy?” He quickly grabbed hold of the other’s arms as the shorter man made to fall against a passing door frame
“Mmmphf?” was his apathetic reply.
Hiroto was obviously a bit more than drunk, putty in Tora’s hands as he sunk to his knees on carpeted floor, blinking blood-shot eyes at the ceiling lights. More than anyone else, Tora knew the younger guitarist was well-versed in the art of sleepless nights. There were blog posts, missed calls, countless texts, piled up testimony to Hiroto’s inability to sleep. He was clearly exhausted right now, yet when Hiroto tried closing his eyes, they always slid back of their own accord - the glue of sleep weak and watered down on dry lids, refusing to give him rest. Squatting down Tora caught the stink of layered alcohol and smoke.
“It doesn’t work, Pon,” he whispered through a bitter half-smile. “I’ve tried it all and none of it works.” Sleeping pills were addictive, cigarettes too abrasive and the alcohol was simply depressive. None of it was any good for them.
He ran his fingers through Hiroto’s hair before scooping him up. “We should quit while we’re ahead, ne?”
---
On the bed in his hotel room Tora finished the second half of his smoke, curling his tongue up to the round filter in his right hand while the other sifted through silky hair in his lap. He leaned against the headboard, tapping ashes into a shot glass with the sheets pulled up to his waist and around Hiroto’s shoulders. Rubbing his fingers up warm skin, Tora smiled at the other’s catlike response, back curling and neck arching into his touch.
Throwing the rest of his cigarette in the glass with a wet spit that hissed and sputtered, a tattooed hand flicked off the bedside lamp before Tora could properly settle down amongst the bedding, dragging Hiroto up to his chest and indulging in the younger’s sweet nuzzles.
He liked this. Whether he was supposed to or not, maybe he was too buzzed to care. They lay there in the dark, swallowed up in feathery duvet and the heat was irresistible. Hiroto’s face was irresistible, half-shielded by the hand his nose was pressed into - much in the same way Chicken hid from the sun, paws covering squinted green eyes on Tora’s bed.
Chuckling to himself, Tora wrapped an arm over the other’s waist and slipped into an easy sleep.
Grinning groggily against warm chest, Hiroto quickly lost himself to an effortless slumber.
Never mind what it looked like, maybe this was something they needed; it definitely worked.
Someone to hold, someone to cuddle, someone with the tranquilizing strength to make sleep.
A/N:
Yeah short I know. I’m working through my own bout of insomnia so I can’t be bothered to make this more acceptable ;_; I wrote this around 4 in the morning. Oh elusive sleep… I write about sleep a lot don’t I?!? Sleep and breathing… Redundant much… O_o
Comments please? Someone tell me to hurry up and write and finish things because I have twice as many half-written, unposted fics as I have finished, posted ones. I am not even exaggerating these numbers, ask tingedwords . It’s really only a matter of writing the endings and transitions and I could be done with so many… SOMEONE MOTIVATE ME PLEASE.
Also... I unwittingly deleted my fic archive LOL. It is on my to do list now.
Archive
Author: beyondtheremix
Theme: 041 Should I Love Him? (Namie Amuro)
Rating: PG
Pairing: Tora/Hiroto
Band[s]: Alice Nine
Disclaimer: fluff
Comments: One night in a day.
Sweet Sleep
For the most part Tora kept to himself.
To his friends he was the funny guy, the one with enough witty jokes and dry comments to keep the conversation going. To his colleagues he was a hard worker, someone who pushed himself beyond his own limits and got the job done. To everyone else he was simply one big mystery, smiling one moment, glaring the next, his eyes downcast and lips a stoically firm line.
He supposed it was a little late to change the way people saw him, even so it got lonely. Intimidating, unapproachable people weren’t exactly the life of the party, but the life of the party wasn’t exactly what Tora fought for. He wanted understanding, something frustratingly difficult to find. One person and he would be fine. Just one person that got it.
“You should dance,” Shou nodded, watching Tora from his seat at the bar.
“I’d rather not...”
Why he always let himself get talked into going out Tora never knew. Dropping his fingers from his glass of booze, he tapped them against the plastic table finish. His hands. He never knew what to do with his hands. He came to these little get-togethers and wound up twiddling his thumbs, sitting just as alone as he would’ve been drinking at home. But it didn’t matter really. He was going out, exposing himself to new people, giving himself the chance to find something. But damn it he didn’t know what to do with his hands.
“I don’t dance,” Tora sighed, suddenly feeling very tired and very old. He wanted to put his head down and pretend the throbbing of his skull was merely the pulsing bass. Instead he stuffed his hands into his blazer pockets and fingered his latest pack of cigarettes. Feet were out of the question.
Shou bit his lip and stared into his drink. So much for preamble.
“Tora are you okay?”
The man in question cocked a puzzled brow his way. “Should I not be?”
Scrunching his nose, Shou pouted. “No, I mean… You’ve been a bit restless since we got on tour. I know I’m not the only one who’s seen you wandering the halls at four in the morning. We’re all just a little worried and I thought you should know. Someone sees you awake every night whether you like it or not. You need your rest…”
Shrugging, Tora kicked at the bar counter. It wasn’t a secret he barely slept these days, could hardly keep his eyes shut on the tour bus. But it wasn’t so bad; after all he was up and about when other people were awake right? Usually when they finished a live he could sleep like the dead; his body got its well-deserved rest while his mind emptied itself into exhaustion. It was really these in between days that wore at him, the breaks and traveling that got him nowhere and made him anxious for the spotlights and stage.
“I’ll sleep tonight,” he promised.
Shou was his longtime friend after all, Tora really didn’t want anyone else worrying over him; they all had enough on their minds as it were. He made a mental note to stay in his room from now on. Walking around never made him sleepy anyways.
“I’ll get to it right now, how about that?” Tora grinned nonchalantly when Shou continued to give him that same nervous frown. A little humoring went a long way. Or so he hoped. Sliding off his stool, Tora offered the singer a reassuring clap on the shoulder and took off.
---
He shared the taxi with two other members of their staff. Nodding and thanking each other for the day’s hard work, they crammed into the back seat and huddled against the night chill. Tora thinks, no, he knows it’s hard for him to sleep alone. Thighs pressed together and elbow crushed against the car door, somehow he can feel his eyes winking shut. It’s because there’s someone warm beside him; no matter how awkward the angle or professional the relationship, the comfortable blanket of nighttime quiet and alcohol is enough to make Tora drowsy.
At home it’s easier to rest, easier to fall asleep because no one’s there to tell him he should be asleep. At home he could lie in bed petting and coddling his cat until soft purrs lulled his eyes close and smooth fur spread a sleepy smile across his face. That was true comfort. The cure to his insomnia. Chicken. Deep down he knew he really just needed companionship for the night, but that didn’t stop him from leaving the hotel’s TV on until morning. Muted, the static pierced his ears and Tora could imagine it was Chicken on his bed, purring and clawing at the blankets in delight while he stroked downy ears and waited for sleep.
Sleep.
“We’re here.”
Tora snapped awake as the car pulled to a stop. Peeling his cheek off the damp taxi window, he combed the flattened left side of his hair out with warm fingers and struggled with jean pockets for his share of the fare. Sliding out into the nippy air Tora hung back in front of the hotel, wishing the other two a polite goodnight in favor of a quick smoke and a missed elevator ride in awkward silence.
Menthols for the night, Tora smiled, lighting up off to the side of the extravagantly lit building. He gave an appreciative groan around his first inhale, savoring the minty flip of his mind - like the bones of his skull had briefly parted for all the day’s stress to seep out in tendrils of smoke. It was one of the few reasons he bothered with the cancer sticks, something for his hands to do, something to ease the stress and assuage the tension. The rush of soothing smoke down his lungs was like drinking water. Coughing, he took one last drag and hoped it was enough for sleep.
Stubbing the burnt end of his cigarette against the hotel’s concrete wall, Tora rubbed the last of the ashes off and tucked it back in its pack. A little something for later. Management was still bustling around as he entered through the glass front doors and waited by the lift. They were staying on the tenth floor it seemed, everyone not caring enough to object the idea of a good city view when it was their last stop anyways. The elevator ride was long, but it was a calming long, a restful wait next to hectic days of preparation for the final.
It was the tenth floor Tora found him drowsily navigating the empty hallways.
“Hiroto? You doing okay there buddy?” He quickly grabbed hold of the other’s arms as the shorter man made to fall against a passing door frame
“Mmmphf?” was his apathetic reply.
Hiroto was obviously a bit more than drunk, putty in Tora’s hands as he sunk to his knees on carpeted floor, blinking blood-shot eyes at the ceiling lights. More than anyone else, Tora knew the younger guitarist was well-versed in the art of sleepless nights. There were blog posts, missed calls, countless texts, piled up testimony to Hiroto’s inability to sleep. He was clearly exhausted right now, yet when Hiroto tried closing his eyes, they always slid back of their own accord - the glue of sleep weak and watered down on dry lids, refusing to give him rest. Squatting down Tora caught the stink of layered alcohol and smoke.
“It doesn’t work, Pon,” he whispered through a bitter half-smile. “I’ve tried it all and none of it works.” Sleeping pills were addictive, cigarettes too abrasive and the alcohol was simply depressive. None of it was any good for them.
He ran his fingers through Hiroto’s hair before scooping him up. “We should quit while we’re ahead, ne?”
---
On the bed in his hotel room Tora finished the second half of his smoke, curling his tongue up to the round filter in his right hand while the other sifted through silky hair in his lap. He leaned against the headboard, tapping ashes into a shot glass with the sheets pulled up to his waist and around Hiroto’s shoulders. Rubbing his fingers up warm skin, Tora smiled at the other’s catlike response, back curling and neck arching into his touch.
Throwing the rest of his cigarette in the glass with a wet spit that hissed and sputtered, a tattooed hand flicked off the bedside lamp before Tora could properly settle down amongst the bedding, dragging Hiroto up to his chest and indulging in the younger’s sweet nuzzles.
He liked this. Whether he was supposed to or not, maybe he was too buzzed to care. They lay there in the dark, swallowed up in feathery duvet and the heat was irresistible. Hiroto’s face was irresistible, half-shielded by the hand his nose was pressed into - much in the same way Chicken hid from the sun, paws covering squinted green eyes on Tora’s bed.
Chuckling to himself, Tora wrapped an arm over the other’s waist and slipped into an easy sleep.
Grinning groggily against warm chest, Hiroto quickly lost himself to an effortless slumber.
Never mind what it looked like, maybe this was something they needed; it definitely worked.
Someone to hold, someone to cuddle, someone with the tranquilizing strength to make sleep.
A/N:
Yeah short I know. I’m working through my own bout of insomnia so I can’t be bothered to make this more acceptable ;_; I wrote this around 4 in the morning. Oh elusive sleep… I write about sleep a lot don’t I?!? Sleep and breathing… Redundant much… O_o
Comments please? Someone tell me to hurry up and write and finish things because I have twice as many half-written, unposted fics as I have finished, posted ones. I am not even exaggerating these numbers, ask tingedwords . It’s really only a matter of writing the endings and transitions and I could be done with so many… SOMEONE MOTIVATE ME PLEASE.
Also... I unwittingly deleted my fic archive LOL. It is on my to do list now.
Archive