PART A
Author's notes: Although it may start off slow, I promise you it gets better. ( *hint hint Seimei* )
Oh, and I also apologize for the use of japanese words. But I love them too much to shy away from using them.
Oi -- Hey.
Ano -- Uhm, hm.
Hai -- yes.
Nani -- what.
Kio hastily made his way up the stairway, the soles of his shoes padding up the wooden planks; a dull sound echoing through the stillness of the night. He muttered curses at the biting cold that nipped at his bare hands. He wanted to stuff them in his pockets, feel them warm again - but the packages in both his hands prevented him from doing so and he was simply left to complain to himself as his long strides took him up the flight of stairs.
He couldn’t quite remember what supplies he was supposed to have brought to Soubi’s apartment; the last time he had checked Soubi’s small and rather pathetic refrigerator, it had been completely void of any food or drinks whatsoever.
And when he had scolded Soubi about it, the lithely fellow had simply looked at him blankly, and returned to his reading. Kio had fussed quite verbally to his friend at that point, and had proceeded to engage upon a heated lecture about the necessities of health and just plain common sense - ( since it seemed quite obvious to Kio that Soubi lacked either of the two. )
“Seimei does not have a problem with it,” Soubi had offered to Kio, as if the blond was supposed to have been satisfied by such an empty-headed reply.
“Seimei doesn’t care,” Kio replied haughtily, “because Seimei doesn’t have to live with you, and couldn’t care less whether or not there was food in your house at all, Sou-chan. Now I am telling you that you have to eat and drink to live - don’t you want to live? For Seimei, at least?”
Kio hated having to resort to persuading Soubi to do things by using Seimei as an excuse --- voicing such words aloud disgusted Kio. But these days, Seimei was the only thing Kio could fall upon to convince Soubi to take care of himself like a normal human being.
Soubi had become thoughtful about this inquiry of Kio’s. But, just like the high-strung blond had suspected, had soon completely forgotten about it and continued to neglect his own way of living.
So here Kio was, on a school night, standing in front of Soubi’s apartment door because it had “unofficially” become his responsibility to make sure Soubi had food and drinks to survive upon.
“Idiot,” Kio muttered for the ninth time that night.
His hands felt stiff and gnarled around the plastic handles of the shopping bags hanging by his sides; and the darkness enveloping him in a blistering cold stung his ears, nearly freezing the metal pierced in his flesh.
He huffed, his shoulders rising and dropping heavily.
“Oi - Sou-chan! You in there? Open the door, my hands are full!” Kio shouted, not bothering to care if perhaps his voice might wake up the neighbors at such a late hour of the night.
Silence.
Kio knotted his brows, felt his teeth clamp a little tighter upon the stem of his chuppa.
Stupid Sou-chan - of course he wouldn’t answer his door. Knowing him, he was probably too absorbed in some last minute painting.
Gritting his teeth, Kio sucked in a sharp intake of cold air, before slamming his foot against the corner of the door, crashing it open.
Heat flooded against his ruddy cheeks, the dim lighting from the small living room forcing him to squint his eyes as he traipsed in.
“Oi, Sou-chan, what the hell is the matter with you?” Kio demanded, not stopping to take his shoes off.
Soubi stood by the far wall. His lanky body clothed in dull black, arms hanging loosely by his sides. His usually calm eyes were filled with alarm at seeing Kio and he simply stared at Kio - as if the blond had just triggered a bomb or something.
This reaction only fueled the fire already brimming beneath the surface of the angry blond.
Kio continued with his heated assault:
“Here I come out of my way at midnight to come bring you food ‘cause you refuse to take care of yourself and you won’t even open the door for-“
Kio’s rant came to a deadening halt, as so did his journey towards the kitchen, the moment he fully realized who exactly was inhabiting Soubi’s apartment at the moment.
His breath locked in his throat.
Sitting calmly in front of Soubi’s television, his back towards Kio, was none other than Aoyagi Seimei.
Kio’s blood chilled in his veins. But then his eyes narrowed beneath the oversized lenses resting up his nose, and his fingers curled tighter around the handles of the bags.
Damn bastard - why did he have to be here! And he didn’t even have the courtesy to acknowledge him!
“Oh, I’m sorry, Sou-chan,” Kio apologized, obvious disdain dripping from his voice, “I didn’t realize you had company over.”
He proceeded over to the kitchen counter, his eyes never leaving the back of Seimei’s carefully groomed head.
Seimei turned at this comment, his shoulder twisting elegantly as he titled his face over at Kio.
Kio loathed the smooth smile the graced Seimei’s mouth.
“No need to apologize, Kio,” Seimei reassured him, the word PAUSE appearing on the television screen. “Soubi and I were not discussing anything of great importance.” He cast a disconcerted gaze in Soubi’s direction, who had relaxed slightly, but still possessed some obvious uneasiness by Kio’s sudden invasion.
Kio’s eyes flickered over towards Soubi and then back at Seimei, trying to read whatever hidden message Seimei might have been trying to send.
A sudden thought struck him, and Kio tensed, glancing over quickly at Soubi to scrutinize him with suspicious eyes. Had he interrupted something between the two of them? He tried to detect any sign of injury on the quiet young man who had still failed to greet him; and Kio’s pulse quickened at his throat.
But Soubi did not seem to be in any discomfort as he leaned back against the wall, his hands tucked loosely in the pockets of his jeans. And for a moment Kio wished he could tell Soubi to undress and prove to him he had not been harmed.
That, of course, wouldn’t have been the wisest choice of the night though.
So Kio could only silently hope that Soubi wasn’t succeeding in hiding any injuries.
“You went shopping, Kio?”
Seimei’s voice broke Kio out of his tremulous thoughts, forcing him to break his gaze off of Soubi.
“Ano, hai,” Kio nodded, not exactly caring much to converse with the younger male, and he gave a distracted nod of his head. “Sou-chan doesn’t have any food in this damn apartment - or haven’t you noticed, Seimei?” he inquired, that spiteful resentment seeping back into his demeanor.
Seimei’s smile did not waver, but Kio didn’t see any of that warmth reach his black eyes either.
Kio let his glare trail over his shoulder as he made his way to the kitchen counter. He hoisted the bags upon its surface with a grunt.
Soubi’s silence was starting to irk him. And there was an awkwardness hanging in the air; one that Kio was unaccustomed to feeling - especially in Soubi’s apartment - and he didn’t like it. He always felt that eerie uneasiness whenever Seimei was around - that smooth faced bastard, with the voice that never rose in pitch or faltered from its calm demeanor - and in all honesty, stirred something ugly within Kio’s being.
He needed to break the silence. For a second, he considered inviting Seimei to come help him with the packages. And the thought seemed so amusing to him ( Seimei the almighty raising a finger? ) that he laughed.
He felt Soubi’s gaze shift towards him. He didn’t have to turn around to know it was Soubi, because only Soubi’s eyes caused his skin to tingle and elicit that strange heat to pool through his veins.
Smiling with pleasure at having extracted Soubi’s attention upon himself, Kio twisted his head towards his friend.
Soubi didn’t speak at first, he almost seemed unsure if he should, and this restraint in his demeanor silently maddened Kio. But he pushed aside the darkness. He would not let Seimei get the best of him tonight.
“What is it?” Soubi asked finally, quietly.
Kio winked.
“Ah . . . nothing, Sou-chan,” he replied in a tone that lilted carelessly, “I was just thinking of something funny. I’ll tell you later, ne?”
He chuckled, perhaps a bit forced, in hopes to stir some sort of jealousy in Seimei, although he doubted that Seimei felt any kind of emotions whatsoever in that perfectly reserved body of his.
“So, Sou-chan,” Kio began, shoving aside the intimidating pressure lingering in the back of his mind. He had to pretend now - pretend that Seimei was not affecting him; that it was just him and Soubi together in the apartment, and that Soubi was smiling and that Kio was being his loud, obnoxious self.
Soubi lifted his brows in quiet interest.
Kio swallowed down the scowl. Why was it, that Soubi looked so vulnerable standing there in the shadows? Why did he seem that he would crumble away at the next sound to pierce the sound waves?
Act normal - must make Sou-chan feel comfortable, forget about that damnable Seimei.
“So while I was at the supermarket, I forgot which beer it was you liked, so I got a bunch of different kinds for you to test your “finicky” palette on,” he announced.
Kio was talking nonsense, and he knew it. He and Soubi both knew that Kio never forgot a single interest or preference of Soubi’s - that the only reason Kio always bought such an abundance of beer was because Kio liked a variety of them. But Kio’s mind had gone strangely blank and he was trying for any means of conversation - quite pitifully.
He cast a grin over at Soubi, who was watching him with a trace of confusion upon his brows.
Kio twisted his lips at him.
“What? Are you gonna just stand there while I unload all this by myself? I did buy all of this out of my own pocket you know - and all for you too. C'mon, Sou-chan . . . ”
Would whining help him out?
Soubi watched him for a few more seconds, as if trying to figure out Kio’s strange behavior. But then he let his hands slide from his pockets and moved away from the wall, drifting towards Kio.
“Asahi Dry,” Seimei’s voice broke through the air, halting Soubi mid-step. He looked over his shoulder towards the male, who hadn’t bothered to look away from the screen.
“Eh?” Kio asked, caught off guard.
“Soubi likes Asahi Dry. I’m surprised you do not know that, Kio - do you not practically live here with Soubi?”
Kio snapped his jaw shut, eyes blazing furiously at Seimei. For a moment he wondered if it were actually possibly for blood to boil inside of a person’s veins, and if it was, would it cause his skin to radiate smoke from it?
Kio also silently wished it were possible to burn two perfectly round holes into Seimei’s skull simply by his glare. He sucked back a string of curses, hating that Seimei had not only caught onto his obvious blunder, but exploited him of it too! Damn it. Why did Kio always feel like he was a fool to Soubi whenever Seimei was around? -- like he was in competition against Seimei for Soubi’s attention?
He bristled silently.
Once again, Seimei had gotten the best of him.
Soubi’s hand touched his shoulder, jolting Kio, and he felt a small squeeze from Soubi’s slender yet strong fingers.
“I don’t care what kinds you bought, Kio, just as long as Asahi Dry is stashed somewhere among them.”
Kio opened his mouth - was Soubi trying to reassure him? Maybe . . . Soubi knew him better than Kio thought.
Soubi wandered into the kitchen and Kio managed to relax a little.
He tried for a careless laugh.
“Aa - hai, Sou-chan! I knew you wouldn’t care,” his voice rose much louder than it needed to be for Soubi to hear Kio; and even to his own ears did his voice sound forced and uncomfortable. Pathetic.
But from the corner of his eye, Kio thought he might have seen Seimei’s mouth twitch with displeasure. Kio’s eyes glinted smugly at having successfully provoked a reaction from Seimei.
Score one for the pesty blond.
“You can never have enough beer, as I always say!”
Soubi ignored his loud outburst as he began to pull out the items from the bulging bags.
Kio’s shoulders fell. His tiny victory over Seimei was already dwindling away; because, once again, Kio was feeling like a moron in the presence of Seimei.
Continue at Part B.