#21 Theme 11: Dear My Friend - Miyavi; Tora/Hiroto
Title: Dead End Friends
Author: beyondtheremix
Theme: 011 Dear My Friend (Miyavi)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Tora/Hiroto
Band[s]: Alice Nine
Disclaimer: brief mentions of sex
Comments: A short something hugely inspired by this song.
Dead End Friends
"Shhhh."
The spark of a match crackled the night sky, one long syllable fading into acrid smoke and green tree vine.
On the hood of his car Hiroto smirked, index finger pressed to his lips while the other hand pointed up.
Inhaling a long drag Tora followed the gloved hand high, higher, highest, up to sunken owl eyes on an ink black branch. They blinked once, twice, one at a time, smoke billowing up, ashes crumbling down, before they took flight.
The flapping of wings sounded like the open sea at night.
"You scared it," the younger man chuckled, now at his ear.
Hiroto reached for the cigarette, stealing a quick draw against Tora's hand and backing away. With neither a start nor shrug, wave or goodbye, the other listened as rubber heels crunched against pavement, booted soles dragging out the minutes behind him. And then weathered red metal revved to life, circled the small cul-de-sac and drove off.
Tora never once looked back, content with leaning on a lamppost, picking out his apartment window five stories up.
---
Beneath silky black sheets and fur-lined comforter, Hiroto shivered on his bed. Crawling out, he rummaged through the laundry hamper and untangled a pair of sweats, hoodie, t-shirt and socks. He could feel winter in the air, chill permeating glass-paned windows.
Donning yesterday's loungewear Hiroto burrowed back into bed.
It was getting too cold to sleep alone.
---
Trees flittered past in streaks of dead, branches naked in the harsh city climate. Too much iron, too little soil.
Driving alone Hiroto refused to turn on any music, listening instead to his tires roll heavily across abandoned roads, feeling his car jump beneath tethered feet.
He followed the street signs blindly, yielding at red, triangled stops, always turning right.
---
Tora pulled his tattered laces back into place, looped his tiger-striped shoes and grabbed his bag. Practice started in thirty minutes but if he was quick he could make the next train there with five minutes to spare. Thankfully he left all his gear in the studio.
Locking the door behind him, he walked to the stairway, hopping every second- third step down the countless flights of steeled wood and carpet; bag clapping lightly against his side until he reached the first floor. Pushing through the exit, heartbeat timed to his hasty steps, Tora wasn’t too surprised to find Hiroto parked in front of the building, leaning against his car, iphone out and tilted towards the sky.
“Took you long enough,” the other remarked, eyes never once leaving the small touch screen.
Rounding the passenger seat, Tora waited for him to snap a shot of the morning sun and get in. Like clockwork, two seatbelts clicked in place and ringed fingers backed the car out into the street. Tora punched on the radio and they drove to the studio without another word.
---
They could be someone else behind their instruments.
Twisting harmonies.
Grinding melodies.
Clashing cymbals that felt so right.
---
Bowing low they exited one by one.
“No, I’ll pass. I’ve got some work to do.”
“Same here.”
“Suit yourselves,” Saga grinned, cramming into the backseat of Nao’s car with Shou and a couple crew members.
Turning back to dispose of his can of juice, Hiroto caught Tora’s hungry gaze and left.
---
Click.
He never said anything, simply ignited the engine and kept his eyes ahead, waiting for the squeak of leather upholstery to subside and the passenger seat to be filled.
Tora climbed in and they drove in silence.
No music. No radio. Just lips on faded brown filters, residual riffs, and thrumming machine.
They drove through the night, headlights forming vibrant patterns against derelict fences and whizzing into the warbles of countryside. They drove to the loneliest mountain, the shadiest hill, where they were cloved in pitch black trees and silence. Where no one could hear, no one could see. Where they could touch in the secret of darkness, desperate hands sliding under too-thin shirts and undoing buttons in the backseat.
Night swallowed vision and Hiroto clung to broad shoulders, holding Tora close and pushing back.
“Do it again.”
Gasps. Whispers. Pants.
He shook in the other’s grip, eyes squeezed shut against the coming dawn, bare skin sweat-stuck to leather seats. Wet lips stealing the last of his breath away. Crows cawing lost summer air. Everything tunneled white and he was bucking up into Tora’s hand, brow damp and furrowed as the skies cried for orange.
---
Before the sun rose they were back where they started.
Hiroto pulled out the cul-de-sac.
Past the dead end sign where he left Tora most nights.
Back to being friends with no new beginnings in the light.
It was over before it began. Unquestioned nights, touches in the dark, taking what wasn’t allowed to be sought.
Love was only a myth.
Sighing, Tora rubbed a hand over his face and took the stairs five at a time.
---
When the sun shown bright, Hiroto rolled into a parking slot, felt his empty pockets as he made to leave.
On the car floor his phone glimmered in the light. Haphazardly lost in the backseat.
Just out of reach.
Wind flushed cheeks spread a bitter smile.
Abandoning it to noon, Hiroto climbed the steps to his own apartment, making it into his bedroom before he finally gave in to exhaustion. Falling to the floor, feeling his limbs unfurl, his muscles relaxing undone. Sliding his knees close, he pulled a blanket off the bed.
Curled up, aching for touch, he closed tired eyes and dreamed his dead end friend. A gap that could never be closed, a hope that could never be lost. Because they had something, something at least. It was taking them nowhere, leaving behind circles of nothing, but it was something.
A/N:
That probably made a lot more sense to me than it did to you, but I couldn't get it out of my head lol
Bitter smiles and comments :D Anyone?
DID YOU LISTEN TO THAT SONG???
hold me real close and do it again / ache for the touch of my dead end friends
That's where this fic came from.
Archive
Author: beyondtheremix
Theme: 011 Dear My Friend (Miyavi)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Tora/Hiroto
Band[s]: Alice Nine
Disclaimer: brief mentions of sex
Comments: A short something hugely inspired by this song.
Dead End Friends
"Shhhh."
The spark of a match crackled the night sky, one long syllable fading into acrid smoke and green tree vine.
On the hood of his car Hiroto smirked, index finger pressed to his lips while the other hand pointed up.
Inhaling a long drag Tora followed the gloved hand high, higher, highest, up to sunken owl eyes on an ink black branch. They blinked once, twice, one at a time, smoke billowing up, ashes crumbling down, before they took flight.
The flapping of wings sounded like the open sea at night.
"You scared it," the younger man chuckled, now at his ear.
Hiroto reached for the cigarette, stealing a quick draw against Tora's hand and backing away. With neither a start nor shrug, wave or goodbye, the other listened as rubber heels crunched against pavement, booted soles dragging out the minutes behind him. And then weathered red metal revved to life, circled the small cul-de-sac and drove off.
Tora never once looked back, content with leaning on a lamppost, picking out his apartment window five stories up.
---
Beneath silky black sheets and fur-lined comforter, Hiroto shivered on his bed. Crawling out, he rummaged through the laundry hamper and untangled a pair of sweats, hoodie, t-shirt and socks. He could feel winter in the air, chill permeating glass-paned windows.
Donning yesterday's loungewear Hiroto burrowed back into bed.
It was getting too cold to sleep alone.
---
Trees flittered past in streaks of dead, branches naked in the harsh city climate. Too much iron, too little soil.
Driving alone Hiroto refused to turn on any music, listening instead to his tires roll heavily across abandoned roads, feeling his car jump beneath tethered feet.
He followed the street signs blindly, yielding at red, triangled stops, always turning right.
---
Tora pulled his tattered laces back into place, looped his tiger-striped shoes and grabbed his bag. Practice started in thirty minutes but if he was quick he could make the next train there with five minutes to spare. Thankfully he left all his gear in the studio.
Locking the door behind him, he walked to the stairway, hopping every second- third step down the countless flights of steeled wood and carpet; bag clapping lightly against his side until he reached the first floor. Pushing through the exit, heartbeat timed to his hasty steps, Tora wasn’t too surprised to find Hiroto parked in front of the building, leaning against his car, iphone out and tilted towards the sky.
“Took you long enough,” the other remarked, eyes never once leaving the small touch screen.
Rounding the passenger seat, Tora waited for him to snap a shot of the morning sun and get in. Like clockwork, two seatbelts clicked in place and ringed fingers backed the car out into the street. Tora punched on the radio and they drove to the studio without another word.
---
They could be someone else behind their instruments.
Twisting harmonies.
Grinding melodies.
Clashing cymbals that felt so right.
---
Bowing low they exited one by one.
“No, I’ll pass. I’ve got some work to do.”
“Same here.”
“Suit yourselves,” Saga grinned, cramming into the backseat of Nao’s car with Shou and a couple crew members.
Turning back to dispose of his can of juice, Hiroto caught Tora’s hungry gaze and left.
---
Click.
He never said anything, simply ignited the engine and kept his eyes ahead, waiting for the squeak of leather upholstery to subside and the passenger seat to be filled.
Tora climbed in and they drove in silence.
No music. No radio. Just lips on faded brown filters, residual riffs, and thrumming machine.
They drove through the night, headlights forming vibrant patterns against derelict fences and whizzing into the warbles of countryside. They drove to the loneliest mountain, the shadiest hill, where they were cloved in pitch black trees and silence. Where no one could hear, no one could see. Where they could touch in the secret of darkness, desperate hands sliding under too-thin shirts and undoing buttons in the backseat.
Night swallowed vision and Hiroto clung to broad shoulders, holding Tora close and pushing back.
“Do it again.”
Gasps. Whispers. Pants.
He shook in the other’s grip, eyes squeezed shut against the coming dawn, bare skin sweat-stuck to leather seats. Wet lips stealing the last of his breath away. Crows cawing lost summer air. Everything tunneled white and he was bucking up into Tora’s hand, brow damp and furrowed as the skies cried for orange.
---
Before the sun rose they were back where they started.
Hiroto pulled out the cul-de-sac.
Past the dead end sign where he left Tora most nights.
Back to being friends with no new beginnings in the light.
It was over before it began. Unquestioned nights, touches in the dark, taking what wasn’t allowed to be sought.
Love was only a myth.
Sighing, Tora rubbed a hand over his face and took the stairs five at a time.
---
When the sun shown bright, Hiroto rolled into a parking slot, felt his empty pockets as he made to leave.
On the car floor his phone glimmered in the light. Haphazardly lost in the backseat.
Just out of reach.
Wind flushed cheeks spread a bitter smile.
Abandoning it to noon, Hiroto climbed the steps to his own apartment, making it into his bedroom before he finally gave in to exhaustion. Falling to the floor, feeling his limbs unfurl, his muscles relaxing undone. Sliding his knees close, he pulled a blanket off the bed.
Curled up, aching for touch, he closed tired eyes and dreamed his dead end friend. A gap that could never be closed, a hope that could never be lost. Because they had something, something at least. It was taking them nowhere, leaving behind circles of nothing, but it was something.
A/N:
That probably made a lot more sense to me than it did to you, but I couldn't get it out of my head lol
Bitter smiles and comments :D Anyone?
DID YOU LISTEN TO THAT SONG???
hold me real close and do it again / ache for the touch of my dead end friends
That's where this fic came from.
Archive