[Fic] And in the orange light, the fog is rising (Oneshot)
Title: And in the orange light, the fog is rising
Characters: Iwamoto Hikaru, Mukai Koji, Meguro Ren
A/N: This is the result of a depressed state of mind and certain youtube playlists. Inspired by HYPNOSIS mv.
He is rage. Bathed in rage, born from rage, a furious god that nature could never tame, a curse upon this world, people powerless when he lands eyes on them.
They’ve all heard those stories, grew up with those myths. Koji has been no exception.
The room is glowing gold and orange when he opens his eyes. The ticking sound of the pocket clock hanging by the nightstand, monotonous, as always. At first, he had trouble sleeping because of it. Now it has become his comfort, his serenity.
Funny.
The dinner table is vacant; he’s alone, when he sits down. Candles are lit, roses are fresh in the vase, vivid red, like blood. It should be brighter in here, but it never is, never has been. Shades of yellow and orange blending in sparkling illuminations.
Koji picks the glass in front of him, brings it to his lips. The liquid is cool and tastes sweet, like juice. He should be hungry, but he isn’t, not really. He leans back to the chair, glances over the stained glass window. In here, he doesn’t here the tick tock; it’s quiet instead.
Eyes stared at him as he reached the end of the forest, with nowhere else to go. Eyes that he stared back at, lost himself into them. The hand held onto the chain of the pocket watch, and Koji had to look at it, the way it moved from left to right. Made him feel the sweet dizziness, made him surrender to whatever it was causing to him.
Made him unable to leave that big bed for almost a whole day.
He puts the glass down. “Where are you off to now?” he wonders out loud, considers going down the dark corridor in the back of the house. He doesn’t like it, never knows if his timing is good. But if he’s alone here, now, it must mean something.
He’s born from rage, bathed in rage, embraced by rage. Bones and skulls, that’s what you’ll find if you ever make it to his residence. Alive, that is.
Bones and skulls…Koji has been here for how long now? He’s not sure. But bones and skulls, he hasn’t witnessed yet. He longs for it, doesn’t verbalize that urge. But deep down, he wants to see it. The rage.
“You should go.” The voice sounded pained and hurt as Koji stared at him, the way he kept digging his fingers into his own flesh, shook his head countless of times. “You should go, the doors are open, just run. I won’t come after you again.”
Koji stayed.
He gets up, walks away from the table, outside the room. Outside, it’s gloomy, the light dim. It smells of rain.
Koji stands in the corridor, watches from the big window outside. The garden is empty. It feels cold.
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The next night is colder, the next night has thunders. The ticking sound isn’t loud enough to calm him down.
He doesn’t like the darkness in the bedroom. He keeps tugging on the covers, keeps tossing and turning. Something is off. Something is unreasonable. Something is unfolding.
Koji kicks the covers away, puts his feet down.
The dining room is empty once again. The roses are withering in the vase. The candles are about to go out. Another thunder.
A pull. Is it his own instinct? Or is the eyes in his mind, staring, calling out to him? Koji runs outside the room, through the dark corridors. Down the stairs, where there’s that door, the old rusty door. Muddy footprints make him halt right outside, disproportioned, imperfect. Flawed, desperate. Koji’s hand trembles a little when he holds the doorknob, when he pushes the door open without knocking.
He’s not fond of this room. It’s messy, and the floor lamp is shedding weak, pitiful light. He misses the warm gold and orange, down here it’s grey and emerald and chilly.
The shards of glass on the floor, Koji remembers them. The worn-out couch, too. The young man lying there, barely conscious, Koji doesn’t remember him.
On the floor next to the couch, he’s crouching, curling, hands fisting the cushion. Wheezing, drawing hissing breaths. Quiet anguish. Koji shakes his head, leans down to touch the dark curls on his head.
“Oh, Hikaru…”
Rage. Rage flinches at the sound of his name, shots up his head and glares at Koji. On the small table next to the couch, another pocket clock is ticking. Hanging by its golden chain. Koji turns his head to look at the stranger on the couch. He’s younger than him, that much he can tell. His eyelids are flickering, sweat drops glistering on his temples. He’s breathing heavily; a good sign.
“You brought another.”
The eyes are still on him when he turns, ready to rip him apart if he judges. Is he judging? More like making a statement, perhaps. It will go away, the rage, because it does go away, unlike everything Koji grew up believing in. A monster, hideous creature, hypnotizing people and keeping them until they decay, turn into ashes, burn in their attempts to escape and shower in the bliss of a normal, mundane life. Hikaru is rage, burning yellow gold and yielding that pocket watch around by that long chain. The eyes that looked straight into Koji’s soul that day, held him captive until he had his own voice, his own choice. To erase them from his mind for good.
To go back.
“I’ll take care of him.” He says. And it makes Hikaru jolt, rise to his feet with a low, static sound. Makes him dash out of the room that Koji hates so much, leave him alone with the new arrival.
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It’s not a hangover dizziness. Did he imagine it? Those eyes burning with determination and dominance, rendering him unable to move, to speak, to object.
He didn’t imagine it, Ren tells himself, when he doesn’t recognize the room, the couch, the puzzle on the table next to the couch. A ticking sound, repetitive, eerie. He reaches for it, the pocket watch hanging on the table. He can’t pull it away, can’t detach it, can’t break it.
“He’ll let you go.”
Voice like honey; Ren turns to face the figure at the door, still feels a little weak. “Where am I?” he demands to know, feels immediate disgust at the sound of panic in his voice. “Who are you?”
Silence follows his questions. But the young man is still looking at him, arms crossed to his chest, leaning against the door. Should he be scared? He doesn’t feel scared, not of this person, at least. Those eyes are warm and gentle, not the eyes scorching his brain. It can’t be him.
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“I’m bored.”
Koji can’t blame him. He’s been here for a couple of days, and the room only has so much that one can occupy himself with. The puzzle on the table isn’t finished yet, there are still some pieces scattered around. But Ren doesn’t seem to be in the mood for it today.
“Do you want to eat something?”
“When can I go out? What’s the point of being here?”
After the initial shock and fear, it seems like this one has adapted quite easily. The ticking of the clock soothes Koji once again, even if it’s not in his room. This room isn’t nice, it’s humid and dark and unwelcoming.
Ren doesn’t seem to mind as much as Koji does. But he still lies on the couch with a heave, eyes nailed on the ceiling. He brings one hand to his head, presses his thumb against his forehead.
“Why do you stay?”
Koji isn’t sure he should have seen that question coming or not. He more or less revealed he’s staying on his own free will, so it probably makes sense that Ren is curious.
There’s a soft buzzing sound in his brain. “He’s lonely.”
Ren glances at him. “He’s a beast.”
“He’s rage.” Koji explains, although Ren doesn’t seem willing to grasp and accept the truth. “He’s afraid of people, because he’s rage.”
“But you don’t mind. Or did he drill into you that you don’t mind?”
Now he stares at the golden chain, the small watch linked to it. Moving left and right, the ticking present and unyielding. Koji almost wants to touch it, to close it in his palm, to stop it. Just to see what would happen.
“He told me I could go.” He says eventually. “He’s told others they could go. They went.”
Ren sits up slowly. “Where are they?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did they really go back? Can we truly return?”
“You won’t remember.” Koji says quietly, watches the spark into Ren’s eyes, the faint frown digging into his face. “You won’t remember him. But you can truly return. He’ll let you go.”
“When?”
He’s like a young god, curious and impatient and ready to conquer the world. No wonder he was chosen.
Koji walks to the door again. “I’ll bring you some food.”
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He loves the warmth of the dining room, the bright gleams and the scent of the fresh roses in the vase. The chandelier sparkling under the weight of the lit candles.
“He’s asking.” He says when he sits down; he’s not alone this time, Hikaru’s sitting quietly at the other side of the table. “You can’t leave him there forever.”
Not even a flinch. The depths of Hikaru’s thoughts, he cannot reach them, cannot swim so far. He’s lonely, he said, because he is, but it took him a while until he knew. Soon, there will be another, and then another. And when he lets them go, they will, they will vanish back to the common reality, rude and obnoxious.
The pocket watch is in Hikaru’s hand. He’s staring at it, speechless. Koji waits for the sound; it doesn’t come.
“A beast?” Hikaru finally asks. Koji rests his back against the chair, closes his eyes.
“Yes.”
The ticking sound comes, loud, deafening. Hikaru’s hand is shaking when Koji opens his eyes to look at him.
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The garden seems endless, bright green as far as Ren’s eyes can see. He stops running, barely ran outside the building, anyway. The door was open this morning; who left it, he doesn’t know. Didn’t care.
He notices them, seconds later. Those weird things on the right, like little mirror towers. Taller than him, almost twice his size. His steps take him there almost like he’s in a trance. Maybe he is in a trance. He stares at his reflection, feels a couple of drops on his face.
A drizzle. Clouds in the sky. The smell of wet grass. A little bit of fog.
He should run away now, or go back inside. He keeps staring at himself in the mirrors instead
That’s how he notices him, a hesitant figure behind him, dark curls on a sharp-edged face. It catches Ren off-guard, leaves his breath stuck in his lungs as he quickly turns. The eyes that stare back at him are engraving their shape into his mind, forever. Get him dizzy, get him dazed, get him paralyzed, or maybe it’s all in his head, or maybe he is in his head. He feels it in the back of his throat; fury, rage. His or not, impossible to tell.
The beast.
He’s holding a pocket watch, just like the one in the room. Or maybe it is the same? Ren was under the impression that one cannot be detached. He’s holding it, but he’s not doing anything with it.
“I still want it.” A voice that takes Ren aback, not a growl, a normal, quiet voice. It’s not honey like Koji’s. It’s more like velvet, a little rougher, a little hoarse. The words, Ren doesn’t understand their meaning, not in this or any other state of mind. “But…a monster.”
Ren’s world goes dark.
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Koji doesn’t like the garden. It’s green and blue and black, and it’s not as warm as it is inside.
Ren likes the garden. He spends hours there, exploring every inch of it, standing in front of the mirror towers, as if they hold secrets only he can hear, narrating centuries old stories. As if they have the key to unlocking the mystery, figuring out what he’s doing there.
He knows what he’s doing there. Koji approaches him, touches his shoulder. “It’s dinner time, we should go back inside.”
Why isn’t he running? He wouldn’t be able to, not unless Hikaru tells him to go, but why isn’t he trying to run? Koji is uncertain, the answer doesn’t come easily on his tongue. Ren turns to look at him, and he’s turbulent and vigorous and curious. Still a young god, still thinking the world is wrapped around his finger.
“With you?” he asks, and it gives Koji chills; challenging his authority, challenging the residence’s laws. “Does he eat?”
“He eats. He’s like you and me.”
“You’re not rage.” Does he understand a little better now? Koji feels like smiling, keeps a straight face nevertheless. “You’re peace.”
“Do you still think he’s a beast?”
Ren seems conflicted, a frown forming on his face. “He said he still wants it. I don’t understand.”
It’s a maze inside this young man’s mind. Koji squeezes his shoulder.
“He doesn’t want to let you go.”
“But you said-“
“He’ll let you go. He always tells people to go. But he doesn’t want to.”
“Then why?”
“He’s afraid of people. He’s afraid of himself. He never learned how to talk to people in a way they would understand.”
“But you understand.” Ren reminds him. “You always know what he means.”
Koji nods. “I stayed. So, dinner?”
“With you?”
It’s a challenge.
Maybe it’s a worthy challenge.
“With us.”
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It’s orange and gold and other tones of yellow, the dining room. There are portraits on the walls, roses on the table, candles. It’s warm, there’s food and drinks.
It’s the two of them. Koji said “with us”, but it’s only him sitting at the table with Ren. When he tries to bring it up, Koji touches his hand. Give him time. This was unplanned.
So Ren does. He eats slowly, he drinks slowly, he stares at the roses in the vase. Beautiful, innocent. Witnesses to something he doesn’t quite understand. His own trail of thoughts, he doesn’t understand, either.
The steps should spark tension in him. They don’t. He comes from the corner, and Ren can’t stop staring until he’s sitting down. He’s wearing sunglasses. Clear lens, but still.
He looks at Koji again. Koji squeezes his hand. “He’s scared of causing you daze again.”
So is it the eyes? They’re always in Ren’s mind, on a daily basis. He looks at Hikaru again, Hikaru who’s quietly sitting in his chair, stares at the glass in front of him. Ren can see his eyes through the lens, but instead of dizziness, he only feels impatience.
“You should go.”
Koji withdraws his hand. Ren sits still.
“You should go.” Hikaru says again. “You can go. You’re free to go. I won’t come after you if you go.”
Ren is gripping at his chair, his legs twitching. His feet feel unstable even in this sitting position. He should go. He should just get up and go, run and be thankful that he’s safe and sound, that he won’t get to remember this twisted routine. The possibility weighs on him, the taste of it raw and sharp in his mouth. Away from this, the monster with the scorching eyes, the dark room with the puzzle that he just can’t bring himself to finish.
Away from that constant tick tock. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock…
“Let’s finish eating first.” Koji says calmly. Honey. Soft and sweet and delicate like honey.
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Ren doesn’t run.
He doesn’t say it, but he doesn’t run. Ren sleeps in that humid room that Koji hates, Ren goes out in the garden that Koji hates, Ren sits down at the table with them, and Koji likes that.
Ren likes exploring, and he does explore. Koji follows him, mostly to make sure he doesn’t mess with anything. Sometimes, they’ll catch Hikaru just standing in the dark of the empty corridors, not really approaching them, but not running from them, either.
“I thought you said he’s lonely.” Ren says one day. “He only sits with us during meals. Why is he never around?”
Koji wishes he could say something other than give him time. Ren is fire, burning with energy and a hunger for life, constantly moving, constantly searching. Koji is standing somewhere in the middle of it, a watcher from the sides, calculating, predicting, hoping.
He likes the garden a little now. Sometimes Ren will just lie down in the grass, which Koji loathes, but he doesn’t tell him to get up. Sometimes, Hikaru will stand there, study Ren who’s watching his reflection in the mirror towers, never taking his sunglasses off. Sometimes Ren will look at him, then Hikaru will retreat back to the darkness of the dry, lifeless corridors.
Hikaru doesn’t bring anyone else here. For days. For weeks.
Ren doesn’t try to run. For days. For weeks.
Koji cherishes those days. Those weeks.
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He is rage. Bathed in rage, born from rage, a furious god that nature could never tame, a curse upon this world, people powerless when he lands eyes on them.
Ren understands it now. Rage, because he isn’t what the world wanted, because he is alone, because this is all he knows. He’s rage, but he is beautiful in his rage.
Ren isn’t any better with words. Koji knows, he must have realized it. He hasn’t asked why Ren hasn’t run. Ren wouldn’t know how to use words to give a satisfying answer.
It’s raining today. It’s cold in the room, it’s cold in the garden. It’s dark in the corridor where Hikaru is yet again standing. But there is light coming in from the stained glass window at the end of it. Where that light is coming from, Ren doesn’t understand.
But he doesn’t care anymore. There are more important things he finally understands.
It’s how he steps in, how he stands in front of Hikaru, how he slowly removes his sunglasses. It’s how he stares, intense and firm and determined, how the dizziness melts away, dissolving like smoke. “Not a beast.” He says, and he almost chokes on the word, feels the air sucked out of him all of a sudden.
The eyes that stare back at him are human, lonely and melancholic. The hand that Ren holds is warm and shaky. He knows the building by heart now, knows exactly where to go when he pulls Hikaru away from the wall.
Koji’s room feels like home. He blinks at them both when they step it. The windows are glowing, the light coming in from the windows is bright and warm. The rain, they can still hear it. But the room is bright like it’s bathing in the sun.
“I’m staying.”
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“You won’t be lonely anymore.” Koji says in the silence, his head resting on Hikaru’s left shoulder from where they’re half-sitting against the pillows on the bed. On Hikaru’s right, Ren seems to have fallen asleep, his head also dropped against Hikaru’s shoulder.
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