Fictober 2019 Day 21 - Prompt: Thunder Storms
Title: Thunder Storms
Fandom: HIGH&LOW
Pairing: Murayama/Cobra
A/N: Day 21 of the Fictober Challenge I decided to try (here) . Potential "sequel" to this oneshot .
Day 21 - Thunder Storms
Normally, the taste of blood in his mouth is not something Murayama notices, not something he is bothered with. The adrenaline, the thrill pumping in his veins, all the punches he lands on his opponent, these are all great things that he enjoys, and so blood in his mouth is just a minor inconvenience, nothing he cares about.
But now he has no opponent to distract him, and so the blood feels disgusting on his tongue. He spits some of it on the ground, cranes his neck as much as he can, wipes his mouth on his shoulder. Perhaps he should try standing up, because he can hear the commotion from a few meters away, despite the deafening sound of the rain and all the thunders. He doesn’t mind thunderstorms, they only add to the joy of fighting. But his head is spinning, and the knife buried in his stomach is killing him. Literally.
Still, he went up against all those assholes, didn’t he? And he fought pretty well, through the rain, until they started using weapons and not just their fists, until he was down on his knees, until they started making fun of him. Just an innocent stab, they said. Something to keep you obedient until your lovely boyfriend is here.
How they found out, Murayama still doesn’t know, but it doesn’t matter, certainly not now. A part of him wishes the others had never showed up to save him, just his gang. His own gang, his own people, because S.W.O.R.D. has suffered enough already, and this is not something they should all be involved with again. Rudeboys lost their leader already, Murayama can’t let himself give into this, too…
A loud thunder, and then another one, and lightning. He’s resting against the wall, tries his best to stay conscious, the water dripping down, every last inch of his clothes soaked to the bone. Figures, blurs, screams, right and left, a couple of bodies fallen a few meters away from him.
And then there’s another blinding lightning, and a thunder, and someone running up to him, and Murayama is shuddering, has to blink a couple of times, because there’s too much light. And it doesn’t help since he already has trouble seeing clearly.
But he would recognize him, from the sound of his steps alone, from that quiet gasp as he makes it here, and Murayama wants to whine, to complain; the idiot, he came, after all…
“Cobra-chan, you’re so stupid…”
Stupid Cobra-chan doesn’t seem to react to this at all, quickly crouches down to him, and when his hand touches the hilt of the knife, it’s pain all over again. But now, Murayama’s physical pain is disappearing again, replaced by the other kind of pain. The kind of pain time can’t soothe.
“Did you…get them?” he says, panting slowly, because time has passed since he got stabbed, and he held on so long, waited even though he didn’t want Cobra to show up. He didn’t want him to come, but maybe he also wanted him to come…
He feels cold.
“Don’t speak.” Cobra orders him, that bossy hiss that is only a cover for his worry, and Murayama reaches out, takes a weak hold of his collar, pulling him closer, until their noses are almost touching. “Don’t-“
“You know why they…why they did it…right?” he chokes, and Cobra’s fingers are on his face, down to his lips, as he tries once more to silence him. “You shouldn’t have come…”
More thunders. And Cobra’s face, it seems so different, so much agony and rage mixed together in his eyes…
“Shut up.”
Of course, it doesn’t make sense. Since they found out already, of course Cobra won’t care now. His fingers feel warm against Murayama’s cold cheeks, despite the heavy rain, despite all the fight. His knuckles, they’re bruised, and Murayama wishes he could turn time back a little, to stop the pain, to stop both their pain.
He swallows his own pain down, ignores the fact that he probably swallowed some blood as well. “So did you win?” he stutters, and he can feel his own grip on Cobra’s clothes getting weaker, can feel his body trembling from the cold and the loss of blood, and Cobra wraps one arm around him, as if trying to help him get up. “Cobra-chan, tell me you won…”
“It’s almost over.” Cobra replies, and now his voice is shaking a little as well, makes Murayama chuckle in sorrow. “It’s almost over, so just hold on, we’ll take you to the hospital. Hold on, did you hear me?”
He’s in love, so much that it hurts him more than the knife in his body. So much love, it’s ok if he dies right here and now, if he dies on the spot, under the pouring rain. It’s ok, because at least Cobra is here, his Cobra-chan.
And since their enemies found out what they have, what does it matter if their friends will know as well?
He pulls Cobra down, touches his lips with his own, and he knows he’s full of blood everywhere, but he can’t care about it now, never cared about it. He kisses Cobra, and Cobra kisses him back, the fingers caressing his cheeks, and Murayama can feel them shaking on his skin. Is he cold as well? Lightning comes and goes, like torch flashes, and so he closes his eyes to protect them, chases for more, for a deeper kiss. Drenched, hurt, almost dead, but still alive for this.
“…don’t go.” Cobra whispers the words onto his mouth, draws a sharp, shaky breath in, and it’s such a contrast, to all the times they had to tell each other to go at the end of their secret meetings. “Don’t go, you’re not the type to go. You’re not going, do you hear me? You’re a fighter, so don’t go…”
Afraid, terrified, the kind of tone Murayama never expected to hear from him. But he’s scared, and it scares Murayama too, suddenly very aware of how bad his condition is. No, he’s a fighter indeed, he can’t die, he won’t die.
It’s only another difficult moment, nothing they can’t handle, right?
So he looks up, just when another thunder roars in the distance, and he takes a deep breath, hopes the rain can wash some of the blood away. “You don’t go, either.” He demands, or maybe begs, or just whispers, can’t be sure with how light-headed he feels.
He’s a fighter. They both are.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
Fandom: HIGH&LOW
Pairing: Murayama/Cobra
A/N: Day 21 of the Fictober Challenge I decided to try (here) . Potential "sequel" to this oneshot .
Day 21 - Thunder Storms
Normally, the taste of blood in his mouth is not something Murayama notices, not something he is bothered with. The adrenaline, the thrill pumping in his veins, all the punches he lands on his opponent, these are all great things that he enjoys, and so blood in his mouth is just a minor inconvenience, nothing he cares about.
But now he has no opponent to distract him, and so the blood feels disgusting on his tongue. He spits some of it on the ground, cranes his neck as much as he can, wipes his mouth on his shoulder. Perhaps he should try standing up, because he can hear the commotion from a few meters away, despite the deafening sound of the rain and all the thunders. He doesn’t mind thunderstorms, they only add to the joy of fighting. But his head is spinning, and the knife buried in his stomach is killing him. Literally.
Still, he went up against all those assholes, didn’t he? And he fought pretty well, through the rain, until they started using weapons and not just their fists, until he was down on his knees, until they started making fun of him. Just an innocent stab, they said. Something to keep you obedient until your lovely boyfriend is here.
How they found out, Murayama still doesn’t know, but it doesn’t matter, certainly not now. A part of him wishes the others had never showed up to save him, just his gang. His own gang, his own people, because S.W.O.R.D. has suffered enough already, and this is not something they should all be involved with again. Rudeboys lost their leader already, Murayama can’t let himself give into this, too…
A loud thunder, and then another one, and lightning. He’s resting against the wall, tries his best to stay conscious, the water dripping down, every last inch of his clothes soaked to the bone. Figures, blurs, screams, right and left, a couple of bodies fallen a few meters away from him.
And then there’s another blinding lightning, and a thunder, and someone running up to him, and Murayama is shuddering, has to blink a couple of times, because there’s too much light. And it doesn’t help since he already has trouble seeing clearly.
But he would recognize him, from the sound of his steps alone, from that quiet gasp as he makes it here, and Murayama wants to whine, to complain; the idiot, he came, after all…
“Cobra-chan, you’re so stupid…”
Stupid Cobra-chan doesn’t seem to react to this at all, quickly crouches down to him, and when his hand touches the hilt of the knife, it’s pain all over again. But now, Murayama’s physical pain is disappearing again, replaced by the other kind of pain. The kind of pain time can’t soothe.
“Did you…get them?” he says, panting slowly, because time has passed since he got stabbed, and he held on so long, waited even though he didn’t want Cobra to show up. He didn’t want him to come, but maybe he also wanted him to come…
He feels cold.
“Don’t speak.” Cobra orders him, that bossy hiss that is only a cover for his worry, and Murayama reaches out, takes a weak hold of his collar, pulling him closer, until their noses are almost touching. “Don’t-“
“You know why they…why they did it…right?” he chokes, and Cobra’s fingers are on his face, down to his lips, as he tries once more to silence him. “You shouldn’t have come…”
More thunders. And Cobra’s face, it seems so different, so much agony and rage mixed together in his eyes…
“Shut up.”
Of course, it doesn’t make sense. Since they found out already, of course Cobra won’t care now. His fingers feel warm against Murayama’s cold cheeks, despite the heavy rain, despite all the fight. His knuckles, they’re bruised, and Murayama wishes he could turn time back a little, to stop the pain, to stop both their pain.
He swallows his own pain down, ignores the fact that he probably swallowed some blood as well. “So did you win?” he stutters, and he can feel his own grip on Cobra’s clothes getting weaker, can feel his body trembling from the cold and the loss of blood, and Cobra wraps one arm around him, as if trying to help him get up. “Cobra-chan, tell me you won…”
“It’s almost over.” Cobra replies, and now his voice is shaking a little as well, makes Murayama chuckle in sorrow. “It’s almost over, so just hold on, we’ll take you to the hospital. Hold on, did you hear me?”
He’s in love, so much that it hurts him more than the knife in his body. So much love, it’s ok if he dies right here and now, if he dies on the spot, under the pouring rain. It’s ok, because at least Cobra is here, his Cobra-chan.
And since their enemies found out what they have, what does it matter if their friends will know as well?
He pulls Cobra down, touches his lips with his own, and he knows he’s full of blood everywhere, but he can’t care about it now, never cared about it. He kisses Cobra, and Cobra kisses him back, the fingers caressing his cheeks, and Murayama can feel them shaking on his skin. Is he cold as well? Lightning comes and goes, like torch flashes, and so he closes his eyes to protect them, chases for more, for a deeper kiss. Drenched, hurt, almost dead, but still alive for this.
“…don’t go.” Cobra whispers the words onto his mouth, draws a sharp, shaky breath in, and it’s such a contrast, to all the times they had to tell each other to go at the end of their secret meetings. “Don’t go, you’re not the type to go. You’re not going, do you hear me? You’re a fighter, so don’t go…”
Afraid, terrified, the kind of tone Murayama never expected to hear from him. But he’s scared, and it scares Murayama too, suddenly very aware of how bad his condition is. No, he’s a fighter indeed, he can’t die, he won’t die.
It’s only another difficult moment, nothing they can’t handle, right?
So he looks up, just when another thunder roars in the distance, and he takes a deep breath, hopes the rain can wash some of the blood away. “You don’t go, either.” He demands, or maybe begs, or just whispers, can’t be sure with how light-headed he feels.
He’s a fighter. They both are.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..