The Painter [Chapter 10]
Title: The Painter
Chapters: 10/20(?)
Genre: Romance. Angst. AU. Fluff. Smut. Humor.
Warnings: Angst.
Ratings: PG-13
Pairings: AoixUruha (main), ReitaxRuki (side)
Disclaimer: I only own my imagination ♪
Synopsis: A painter which convictions and hopes are destroyed by a single man. A single man who would change his life.
Comments: ~
Akira opened his door and frowned, opened his mouth to say something and looked at the floor. He pushed himself off the way and the writer came in, a heavy weight on his heart. He had expected at least a smile. Naively.
- You're blond now...
It wasn't a question but a statement. The writer's hand went to touch his hair, shaking slightly, before falling back along his body. Takanori nodded. He had looked at his reflection everywhere he could find a glass, on his way to Akira's appartment and couldn't be used to it yet. He was blond, like in the past when he met Akira and Kouyou. His body was reacting to his discomfort as Akira's piercing gaze was over him. Tensed.
- That bitch asked me if I've been dumped or if I dumped someone...
A soft laugh passed Akira's lips.
- You know that it's the thing everybody does after a break up. Cutting their hair, a new color...The emotional transition, they say so.
Takanori shrugged.
- They're right. I wanted to bury the old Takanori. I don't want to stay the same.
- To go back in the past?
The writer sighed and sat on the couch, joining his hands, maybe to prevent them to touch his friend and to make things go out of control again.
- Why did you rush out like this?
Akira stared at him, the way he was hunching his shoulders and it hurt.
- I simply wanted to give you time and space to think about what happened.
Takanori laughed nervously.
- Wow it seems everybody is going to give me plenty space and time in my life!
Akira's heart started to pound at the realization of the most stupid mistake he had ever done. He acted stupidly like him, this man who hurt his friend continuously from afar. He stayed away when Takanori needed him. He went to sat beside the writer, afraid to touch him, afraid to make something wrong.
- I'm sorry...I didn't think about that. But I didn't lie, I really had an appointment with my manager Taka.
- I hope he was mad at you.
Takanori was scowling and the other laughed.
- Yeah he was, thank you.
The writer sighed. He seemed depressed, it was maybe worst than that night. And it was because of him now.
- And you, did you think about what happened?
His voice was so soft, Akira wanted to take him in his arms. But he remained still.
- I did.
Takanori leaned in the couch, resting his head now so full of thoughts.
- Maybe you wouldn't be with me for the right reasons. You're afraid to be alone again Taka.
- I'm always alone!
Akira frowned at the loud statement, how everything he could say would inevitably hurt his friend. He was starting to regret that night...
- I'm always alone.
The weakness in his voice broke Akira's heart.
- That's why you want me. To fill this place he left behind him.
Takanori shook his head.
- I didn't use you. I wouldn't use you.
The writer saw his friend standing up and sighing loudly. He seemed irritated. But how could Akira think Takanori used him?
- You won't get over him so easily.
- Yeah? Me or you?
- You see me only now. It's sad.
Takanori frowned, afraid of what kind of deep meaning had those words but he understood perfectly. He bite his lip hard, both curious and impatient.
- So I'm the only one to blame?
Akira wasn't even looking through the window, he was staring into space.
- Probably not. I blame him for making you believe he'd always be here. Because you cling to that promise with all your might, and I couldn't do anything to help you opening your eyes. I saw your love, it was enough to discourage me.
- Akira...
- I always stay away right? I did with Kou, now with you...I'm good at giving others lessons when in fact, I'm such a pain myself.
He shifted on the couch and his steps echoed in the living-room until he felt his arms around him, his warm breath almost passing through the fabric of his tee-shirt. Takanori was holding him tight from behind. Akira closed his eyes. The need of him was unbearable now but he knew he still hadn't the whole place in Takanori's heart. And he was hoping that the other will let him erase Kiyoharu.
- Fuck you, I was supposed to be mad at you and I'm hugging you.
A warm palm went to rest on the writer's hand, squeezing tightly.
His phone ringing woke him up and he sighed. He hated to be disturbed when he had a day off, when he could sleep until it was too late to be considered daytime.
- Hm yeah?
He forced his eyes to flutter open.
- It's...Kouyou.
He sat up straight on his bed and felt that the mass beside him was shifting. He turned his head and their eyes met. When she was about to open her mouth to say something, he put a finger on her full lips.
- Ah, how are you?
- I'm fine...I hope I don't disturb you.
The critic laughed nervously.
- Not at all.
She was staring at him and it was bothering.
- Hm so, this evening we're having a barbecue at Takanori and Yutaka's place and they told me to invite you as well.
The critic's brows creased, now he was being able to belong to the small circle of friends. It wasn't a dinner or some formal meeting, it was friends who were gathering up in a private place. It was touching.
- Oh, I think I'll come, it sounds good.
- Alright, I'll see you tonight then.
- Oh but wait, I don't even know where they live.
Kouyou was scratching his head, sat on his couch.
- Hm...I can drive you there.
- You don't know where I live.
Kouyou laughed.
- That's true. Then you pick me up? At 7?
- Fine, see you later.
He hung up and put his cellphone on his nightstand, his eyes falling back on the half naked silhouette beside. Her head was so close suddenly, full mouth, blond hair. Her fingers were travelling on one of his thigh while she was kissing his neck.
He was rather happy by that call of the painter. For once, someone was really making the efforts to know who he was, to be interested by more than what he wanted to show. Someone needed something else than the surpeficial mask he was wearing all the time. And it wasn't her. He slept with her twice this week, something rare. Never get back to a prey or it will try to catch you. He touched a lock of her blond hair while she was kissing his jaw line, slowly heading for...
- You should leave now.
Cold.
She frowned but tried to kiss him. He turned his head, waiting for a sign she'd give up. And deeply hurt she left the bed, picking up her clothes from the floor.
- You're an asshole.
- Thank you. I'm flattered.
She scowled, glaring at him while she was slipping on in her dress.
- I'm not going to fall in the trap again.
Yuu snickered, arms crossed, watching her getting dressed as if it was a show.
- Everything comes in threes.
- So next time think about me while you're masturbating!
The dark haired laughed loudly.
- No thank you. I only masturbate thinking about the good ones.
- That's why you came back to me yesterday yeah.
He watched her walk to the door of his bedroom and replied:
- I thought it couldn't be worse than the first time, but you managed to surprise me.
She turned around and showed the ugliest face she could have.
- Burn in Hell bastard!
Few seconds later the entrance door was being slammed agressively. Yuu sighed, tired.
You weren't good enough from the beginning. Conversing with you is boring, you're a superificial bitch. The only reason I came back to you it's because I couldn't have someone else.
When a little before 7pm he was about to take his car, he cursed loudly in his street, watching his tires all flat. On the windshield was written ASSHOLE in red. With her lipstick. He shouldn't have taken it out on her that much...
Kouyou welcomed the critic at the door, smiling. The dark haired had this weird expression Kouyou couldn't identify, bothered, annoyed, angry?
The blond watched him getting rid off his shoes and grabbed the bottle of sake he was giving him.
- I'm sorry I couldn't pick you up...
- Well it's not your fault.
The critic leaned against the door nonchalantly, arms crossed.
- Actually it's my fault.
Kouyou frowned.
- Some haters?
- Let's say this.
Takanori appeared:
- Oh Mr Shiroyama! Here you are finally, you've been a naughty boy with that girl to get all your tires flat.
The dark haired sighed, scratching his nose.
- She has no sense of humour obviously.
Kouyou watched silently their little exchange. Naive. His friend had figured out what happened better than him. A proof he didn't know who was Yuu Shiroyama...He thanked Akira mentally for calling him at this right moment and left without a word.
A pair of dark eyes followed him in the kitchen until he found a spot beside Akira who was cooking something. Their gaze met and the painter looked away, joking with his friend and Yuu had to come back on earth as Takanori talked to him.
- So how is it going with Kou?
- Where can I smoke? And I'll reply your answer.
Takanori leaded him in the terrace where Yutaka was busy keeping an eye on the meat and after being greeted by the critic, he left to go back in the kitchen while the writer was taking his role beside the grill. Yuu lighted his cigarette under the interested gaze of the other.
- How it's going...I don't know myself.
- You don't get along?
The critic shook his head.
- No, we do, it's just that...I'm not used to these kind of things.
He paused, staring at the meat that was turned over by the writer.
- Usually or people hate me and would pretend they don't, licking my feet just to win my favour. Or they're interested by my money, by my name...I don't talk about the girls who just want to get laid. But he's nothing of that. He listens to me, I listen to him, it's simple and refreshing.
Takanori smiled. Oh Yuu Shiroyama, you're falling for him and you don't even notice.
- Kou's like this. He would listen to you even though he'll feel bad.
The critic didn't utter a word, dragging on the cancer stick and looking inside at the painter who was putting down the table some plates.
- So, your plan changed?
Yuu laughed.
- Hm, I still want to get him in my bed, I don't mind the talks, he's interesting.
The writer stopped to smile.
- Don't hurt him.
The critic frowned and stared at him.
- What? Why would I hurt him?
- Because you're going to take what you want and leave. Don't fucking do that to him.
- Well I have to get him in my bed first and that's a real challenge.
His chuckles faded away at Takanori's glare.
- I'm joking okay?
The writer sighed and shook his head, a bit afraid of the possible mistake he did by minding something that wasn't his business. He would hate himself to death if the critic would hurt his friend. He hated to see him suffering. The broken Kouyou, if only he could erase it...
- Don't joke with Kou. Learn to know him, maybe you'll understand.
When the dark haired looked back through the glass, their eyes met and the sadness in the painter's gaze troubled him.
Maybe it's time to hide your stinky self Yuu and to show the real one...
A ringing phone disturbed the giggly atmosphere in the kitchen and Akira gazed at Yutaka who seemed hesitant, staring at the screen of his cellphone.
- Just take the call, we're finishing what you started. Hurry!
He smiled and nodded before rushing off to his bedroom. Kouyou frowned, sensing something weird going on and at his questioning gaze, Akira said:
- You didn't know if he talks to you, he has a girlfriend.
Kouyou laughed.
- Well he was so obvious, I don't think he gets that excited when a random friend calls him.
The other grinned, finishing to prepare the salad and paused when Kouyou spoke.
- So, Taka and you?
Their eyes met and Akira felt guilty he had kept the secret from his best friend. Caught red-handed.
- Taka talked to you? Kou I'm sorry...
- I don't care about the past, I'm talking about the present.
The other sighed, his hands now flat on the table.
- Well...We're together, even if I didn't really want it to be that quick. I know Taka still loves him. I'm afraid I won't have a special place in his heart.
Kouyou stood up from his chair and hugged his friend.
- You'll have it Suzuki. Maybe you do already because you're here for him. You've always been here and he didn't. Now you have him, don't stop to fight.
Akira frowned and looked at the painter who had pulled away.
- You...You noticed?
At his grin the agent had his reply.
- Don't talk about Yutaka, you're pretty obvious yourself. But it doesn't count, I'm your best friend.
At this right moment, Takanori was calling Akira and he left the kitchen under Kouyou's warm gaze. Things were changing around him, like he was changing himself. His mind didn't wander more as Yutaka was back, looking at what was happening on the terrace, concentrated, staying near the doorframe, calling Kouyou to get closer.
- I'm going to tell you something but if you hear about it soon, you didn't know, I told you nothing, okay?
After Kouyou's nod he started to say, still sneaking glances at the three men who could come and disturb their secret talk.
- Two days ago I was back home in the middle of the night, and I just had closed the door I was hearing moans and well you know, the usual noises people do when they're having sex. So I thought Taka had found someone while he was clubbing or something but, he cried Akira's name!
Kouyou tried to show a surprised face and managed to succeed because Yutaka didn't notice anything. It was hard not to laugh at his friend who was probably thinking he discovered the better scoop of the year.
- Really?
- Yeah, they're together apparently but they didn't decide to tell us, so, of course, you didn't know if they announce it, okay?
With that he grabbed the salad bowl and left for the terrace where the others were already sat. Kouyou gazed at someone in particular, thinking about that woman, those women, those men, those people Yuu Shiroyama was using.
He didn't want to be one of them.
The car stopped, the interior filled with Chopin's Polonaise. The critic didn't seem to be ready to leave, staring outside at one of his neighbour who was having a walk with his dog. They waved at each other quickly.
- I enjoyed, that dinner, the other night on the roof top, and today.
Yuu turned to look at the painter, to get lost in his brown eyes, trying to see why he was such a mystery.
- But I think it's better if we cease this...Masquerade.
The critic frowned.
- Masquerade?
The painter sighed and looked away.
- Yes masquerade. I can't give you what you want from me. I won't...
That girl called him an asshole, a bastard, all the names under the sun. Many people insulted him. Many people showed their disgust and hatred for him. Ironically, the gentle rejection was the most painful.
He grabbed Kouyou's arm, their eyes met and the blond could read he was hurt, at the way his face was tensed.
- Do you think I talked about myself just to fuck you? Are you fucking stupid Kouyou? Don't you think if I wanted that something from you, don't you think I'd have taken it for a while?
The painter didn't avoid his angry gaze. Instead, the critic closed his eyes and leaned back against his sit, exhaling. His voice was softer suddenly.
- You talked about being judged the other day, that's what you do too, judging me. I don't give my time like this, not for a fuck. I don't let anyone know anything deep about myself and my life like I do with you. I had a good time talking to you, but yeah maybe it's better to stop things here. I thought you were different.
He was about to open the door when Kouyou's hand held his arm, quickly.
- Wait...
He stared into space, almost holding back his breath. Kouyou couldn't see his face.
- I...Try to understand, I'm just afraid. I don't want to trust you and to be stabbed in the back.
He paused, conscious he had to say more than that to see him again. He wanted to see him, despite his fears.
- And you're right, you really showed me some side of you I appreciate. Let's meet again.
Yuu turned to look at him and smiled back at the painter.
- The small parts of you, I like them. And they're small. Let's meet again.
He came closer and one of his hand slid against Kouyou's cheek. His mouth was pressing softly against the other one. A simple kiss on the cheek. The painter was trapped between his warm palm and his lips, and closed his eyes at the smoothness of his innocent gesture. Or maybe not that innocent, maybe it was to prevent himself to do more.
When Kouyou's eyelids fluttered open, he was missing the warmth of having him so close. The door opened and Yuu Shiroyama left without a single word or gaze.
He put his head against the steering wheel, thinking that his heartbeats were so loud they were resonating in the car. His hands were shaking, he waited few seconds to leave.
From his bay window, the dark haired watched attentively at the white car disappearing behind the corner of his street. He drew a circle on the condensation and erased it with a sigh.
---------------------
I've started to work on the next chapter of Break the rules. It's driving me insane lol. Well, I don't have anything particular to say today.
Chapters: 10/20(?)
Genre: Romance. Angst. AU. Fluff. Smut. Humor.
Warnings: Angst.
Ratings: PG-13
Pairings: AoixUruha (main), ReitaxRuki (side)
Disclaimer: I only own my imagination ♪
Synopsis: A painter which convictions and hopes are destroyed by a single man. A single man who would change his life.
Comments: ~
Akira opened his door and frowned, opened his mouth to say something and looked at the floor. He pushed himself off the way and the writer came in, a heavy weight on his heart. He had expected at least a smile. Naively.
- You're blond now...
It wasn't a question but a statement. The writer's hand went to touch his hair, shaking slightly, before falling back along his body. Takanori nodded. He had looked at his reflection everywhere he could find a glass, on his way to Akira's appartment and couldn't be used to it yet. He was blond, like in the past when he met Akira and Kouyou. His body was reacting to his discomfort as Akira's piercing gaze was over him. Tensed.
- That bitch asked me if I've been dumped or if I dumped someone...
A soft laugh passed Akira's lips.
- You know that it's the thing everybody does after a break up. Cutting their hair, a new color...The emotional transition, they say so.
Takanori shrugged.
- They're right. I wanted to bury the old Takanori. I don't want to stay the same.
- To go back in the past?
The writer sighed and sat on the couch, joining his hands, maybe to prevent them to touch his friend and to make things go out of control again.
- Why did you rush out like this?
Akira stared at him, the way he was hunching his shoulders and it hurt.
- I simply wanted to give you time and space to think about what happened.
Takanori laughed nervously.
- Wow it seems everybody is going to give me plenty space and time in my life!
Akira's heart started to pound at the realization of the most stupid mistake he had ever done. He acted stupidly like him, this man who hurt his friend continuously from afar. He stayed away when Takanori needed him. He went to sat beside the writer, afraid to touch him, afraid to make something wrong.
- I'm sorry...I didn't think about that. But I didn't lie, I really had an appointment with my manager Taka.
- I hope he was mad at you.
Takanori was scowling and the other laughed.
- Yeah he was, thank you.
The writer sighed. He seemed depressed, it was maybe worst than that night. And it was because of him now.
- And you, did you think about what happened?
His voice was so soft, Akira wanted to take him in his arms. But he remained still.
- I did.
Takanori leaned in the couch, resting his head now so full of thoughts.
- Maybe you wouldn't be with me for the right reasons. You're afraid to be alone again Taka.
- I'm always alone!
Akira frowned at the loud statement, how everything he could say would inevitably hurt his friend. He was starting to regret that night...
- I'm always alone.
The weakness in his voice broke Akira's heart.
- That's why you want me. To fill this place he left behind him.
Takanori shook his head.
- I didn't use you. I wouldn't use you.
The writer saw his friend standing up and sighing loudly. He seemed irritated. But how could Akira think Takanori used him?
- You won't get over him so easily.
- Yeah? Me or you?
- You see me only now. It's sad.
Takanori frowned, afraid of what kind of deep meaning had those words but he understood perfectly. He bite his lip hard, both curious and impatient.
- So I'm the only one to blame?
Akira wasn't even looking through the window, he was staring into space.
- Probably not. I blame him for making you believe he'd always be here. Because you cling to that promise with all your might, and I couldn't do anything to help you opening your eyes. I saw your love, it was enough to discourage me.
- Akira...
- I always stay away right? I did with Kou, now with you...I'm good at giving others lessons when in fact, I'm such a pain myself.
He shifted on the couch and his steps echoed in the living-room until he felt his arms around him, his warm breath almost passing through the fabric of his tee-shirt. Takanori was holding him tight from behind. Akira closed his eyes. The need of him was unbearable now but he knew he still hadn't the whole place in Takanori's heart. And he was hoping that the other will let him erase Kiyoharu.
- Fuck you, I was supposed to be mad at you and I'm hugging you.
A warm palm went to rest on the writer's hand, squeezing tightly.
His phone ringing woke him up and he sighed. He hated to be disturbed when he had a day off, when he could sleep until it was too late to be considered daytime.
- Hm yeah?
He forced his eyes to flutter open.
- It's...Kouyou.
He sat up straight on his bed and felt that the mass beside him was shifting. He turned his head and their eyes met. When she was about to open her mouth to say something, he put a finger on her full lips.
- Ah, how are you?
- I'm fine...I hope I don't disturb you.
The critic laughed nervously.
- Not at all.
She was staring at him and it was bothering.
- Hm so, this evening we're having a barbecue at Takanori and Yutaka's place and they told me to invite you as well.
The critic's brows creased, now he was being able to belong to the small circle of friends. It wasn't a dinner or some formal meeting, it was friends who were gathering up in a private place. It was touching.
- Oh, I think I'll come, it sounds good.
- Alright, I'll see you tonight then.
- Oh but wait, I don't even know where they live.
Kouyou was scratching his head, sat on his couch.
- Hm...I can drive you there.
- You don't know where I live.
Kouyou laughed.
- That's true. Then you pick me up? At 7?
- Fine, see you later.
He hung up and put his cellphone on his nightstand, his eyes falling back on the half naked silhouette beside. Her head was so close suddenly, full mouth, blond hair. Her fingers were travelling on one of his thigh while she was kissing his neck.
He was rather happy by that call of the painter. For once, someone was really making the efforts to know who he was, to be interested by more than what he wanted to show. Someone needed something else than the surpeficial mask he was wearing all the time. And it wasn't her. He slept with her twice this week, something rare. Never get back to a prey or it will try to catch you. He touched a lock of her blond hair while she was kissing his jaw line, slowly heading for...
- You should leave now.
Cold.
She frowned but tried to kiss him. He turned his head, waiting for a sign she'd give up. And deeply hurt she left the bed, picking up her clothes from the floor.
- You're an asshole.
- Thank you. I'm flattered.
She scowled, glaring at him while she was slipping on in her dress.
- I'm not going to fall in the trap again.
Yuu snickered, arms crossed, watching her getting dressed as if it was a show.
- Everything comes in threes.
- So next time think about me while you're masturbating!
The dark haired laughed loudly.
- No thank you. I only masturbate thinking about the good ones.
- That's why you came back to me yesterday yeah.
He watched her walk to the door of his bedroom and replied:
- I thought it couldn't be worse than the first time, but you managed to surprise me.
She turned around and showed the ugliest face she could have.
- Burn in Hell bastard!
Few seconds later the entrance door was being slammed agressively. Yuu sighed, tired.
You weren't good enough from the beginning. Conversing with you is boring, you're a superificial bitch. The only reason I came back to you it's because I couldn't have someone else.
When a little before 7pm he was about to take his car, he cursed loudly in his street, watching his tires all flat. On the windshield was written ASSHOLE in red. With her lipstick. He shouldn't have taken it out on her that much...
Kouyou welcomed the critic at the door, smiling. The dark haired had this weird expression Kouyou couldn't identify, bothered, annoyed, angry?
The blond watched him getting rid off his shoes and grabbed the bottle of sake he was giving him.
- I'm sorry I couldn't pick you up...
- Well it's not your fault.
The critic leaned against the door nonchalantly, arms crossed.
- Actually it's my fault.
Kouyou frowned.
- Some haters?
- Let's say this.
Takanori appeared:
- Oh Mr Shiroyama! Here you are finally, you've been a naughty boy with that girl to get all your tires flat.
The dark haired sighed, scratching his nose.
- She has no sense of humour obviously.
Kouyou watched silently their little exchange. Naive. His friend had figured out what happened better than him. A proof he didn't know who was Yuu Shiroyama...He thanked Akira mentally for calling him at this right moment and left without a word.
A pair of dark eyes followed him in the kitchen until he found a spot beside Akira who was cooking something. Their gaze met and the painter looked away, joking with his friend and Yuu had to come back on earth as Takanori talked to him.
- So how is it going with Kou?
- Where can I smoke? And I'll reply your answer.
Takanori leaded him in the terrace where Yutaka was busy keeping an eye on the meat and after being greeted by the critic, he left to go back in the kitchen while the writer was taking his role beside the grill. Yuu lighted his cigarette under the interested gaze of the other.
- How it's going...I don't know myself.
- You don't get along?
The critic shook his head.
- No, we do, it's just that...I'm not used to these kind of things.
He paused, staring at the meat that was turned over by the writer.
- Usually or people hate me and would pretend they don't, licking my feet just to win my favour. Or they're interested by my money, by my name...I don't talk about the girls who just want to get laid. But he's nothing of that. He listens to me, I listen to him, it's simple and refreshing.
Takanori smiled. Oh Yuu Shiroyama, you're falling for him and you don't even notice.
- Kou's like this. He would listen to you even though he'll feel bad.
The critic didn't utter a word, dragging on the cancer stick and looking inside at the painter who was putting down the table some plates.
- So, your plan changed?
Yuu laughed.
- Hm, I still want to get him in my bed, I don't mind the talks, he's interesting.
The writer stopped to smile.
- Don't hurt him.
The critic frowned and stared at him.
- What? Why would I hurt him?
- Because you're going to take what you want and leave. Don't fucking do that to him.
- Well I have to get him in my bed first and that's a real challenge.
His chuckles faded away at Takanori's glare.
- I'm joking okay?
The writer sighed and shook his head, a bit afraid of the possible mistake he did by minding something that wasn't his business. He would hate himself to death if the critic would hurt his friend. He hated to see him suffering. The broken Kouyou, if only he could erase it...
- Don't joke with Kou. Learn to know him, maybe you'll understand.
When the dark haired looked back through the glass, their eyes met and the sadness in the painter's gaze troubled him.
Maybe it's time to hide your stinky self Yuu and to show the real one...
A ringing phone disturbed the giggly atmosphere in the kitchen and Akira gazed at Yutaka who seemed hesitant, staring at the screen of his cellphone.
- Just take the call, we're finishing what you started. Hurry!
He smiled and nodded before rushing off to his bedroom. Kouyou frowned, sensing something weird going on and at his questioning gaze, Akira said:
- You didn't know if he talks to you, he has a girlfriend.
Kouyou laughed.
- Well he was so obvious, I don't think he gets that excited when a random friend calls him.
The other grinned, finishing to prepare the salad and paused when Kouyou spoke.
- So, Taka and you?
Their eyes met and Akira felt guilty he had kept the secret from his best friend. Caught red-handed.
- Taka talked to you? Kou I'm sorry...
- I don't care about the past, I'm talking about the present.
The other sighed, his hands now flat on the table.
- Well...We're together, even if I didn't really want it to be that quick. I know Taka still loves him. I'm afraid I won't have a special place in his heart.
Kouyou stood up from his chair and hugged his friend.
- You'll have it Suzuki. Maybe you do already because you're here for him. You've always been here and he didn't. Now you have him, don't stop to fight.
Akira frowned and looked at the painter who had pulled away.
- You...You noticed?
At his grin the agent had his reply.
- Don't talk about Yutaka, you're pretty obvious yourself. But it doesn't count, I'm your best friend.
At this right moment, Takanori was calling Akira and he left the kitchen under Kouyou's warm gaze. Things were changing around him, like he was changing himself. His mind didn't wander more as Yutaka was back, looking at what was happening on the terrace, concentrated, staying near the doorframe, calling Kouyou to get closer.
- I'm going to tell you something but if you hear about it soon, you didn't know, I told you nothing, okay?
After Kouyou's nod he started to say, still sneaking glances at the three men who could come and disturb their secret talk.
- Two days ago I was back home in the middle of the night, and I just had closed the door I was hearing moans and well you know, the usual noises people do when they're having sex. So I thought Taka had found someone while he was clubbing or something but, he cried Akira's name!
Kouyou tried to show a surprised face and managed to succeed because Yutaka didn't notice anything. It was hard not to laugh at his friend who was probably thinking he discovered the better scoop of the year.
- Really?
- Yeah, they're together apparently but they didn't decide to tell us, so, of course, you didn't know if they announce it, okay?
With that he grabbed the salad bowl and left for the terrace where the others were already sat. Kouyou gazed at someone in particular, thinking about that woman, those women, those men, those people Yuu Shiroyama was using.
He didn't want to be one of them.
The car stopped, the interior filled with Chopin's Polonaise. The critic didn't seem to be ready to leave, staring outside at one of his neighbour who was having a walk with his dog. They waved at each other quickly.
- I enjoyed, that dinner, the other night on the roof top, and today.
Yuu turned to look at the painter, to get lost in his brown eyes, trying to see why he was such a mystery.
- But I think it's better if we cease this...Masquerade.
The critic frowned.
- Masquerade?
The painter sighed and looked away.
- Yes masquerade. I can't give you what you want from me. I won't...
That girl called him an asshole, a bastard, all the names under the sun. Many people insulted him. Many people showed their disgust and hatred for him. Ironically, the gentle rejection was the most painful.
He grabbed Kouyou's arm, their eyes met and the blond could read he was hurt, at the way his face was tensed.
- Do you think I talked about myself just to fuck you? Are you fucking stupid Kouyou? Don't you think if I wanted that something from you, don't you think I'd have taken it for a while?
The painter didn't avoid his angry gaze. Instead, the critic closed his eyes and leaned back against his sit, exhaling. His voice was softer suddenly.
- You talked about being judged the other day, that's what you do too, judging me. I don't give my time like this, not for a fuck. I don't let anyone know anything deep about myself and my life like I do with you. I had a good time talking to you, but yeah maybe it's better to stop things here. I thought you were different.
He was about to open the door when Kouyou's hand held his arm, quickly.
- Wait...
He stared into space, almost holding back his breath. Kouyou couldn't see his face.
- I...Try to understand, I'm just afraid. I don't want to trust you and to be stabbed in the back.
He paused, conscious he had to say more than that to see him again. He wanted to see him, despite his fears.
- And you're right, you really showed me some side of you I appreciate. Let's meet again.
Yuu turned to look at him and smiled back at the painter.
- The small parts of you, I like them. And they're small. Let's meet again.
He came closer and one of his hand slid against Kouyou's cheek. His mouth was pressing softly against the other one. A simple kiss on the cheek. The painter was trapped between his warm palm and his lips, and closed his eyes at the smoothness of his innocent gesture. Or maybe not that innocent, maybe it was to prevent himself to do more.
When Kouyou's eyelids fluttered open, he was missing the warmth of having him so close. The door opened and Yuu Shiroyama left without a single word or gaze.
He put his head against the steering wheel, thinking that his heartbeats were so loud they were resonating in the car. His hands were shaking, he waited few seconds to leave.
From his bay window, the dark haired watched attentively at the white car disappearing behind the corner of his street. He drew a circle on the condensation and erased it with a sigh.
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I've started to work on the next chapter of Break the rules. It's driving me insane lol. Well, I don't have anything particular to say today.