[Fic] The Meaning in Our Hands
Title: The Meaning in Our Hands
Chapter: 1/1
Author: evilgeniuskoji
Pairing: Reita/Ruki
Theme: Last train ride home 15memories
Genre: Angst, romance, general
Rating: PG
Warning: None
Summary: Don't let go till we get home. Let's just get on a train and go.
Comments: To tide you over till I get the next chapter up.
They sat at the station hours after the farewell party broke up, watching trains pass them by. Whoosh, whoosh, wind kicking up in their faces and knotting through their hair. People came and went, too busy going or leaving somewhere to notice the two men sitting on the bench, but it didn’t matter. It was just them. Their little closed off piece of the world.
It was late and the air felt good and cold. You couldn’t see stars in the city, so Reita looked away from the blank black sky and stared at the advertisement on the wall across the rails instead, not really seeing it and ignoring the numbing of his hands and cheeks.
The lamps flickered on around ten, flooding the station and bathing everyone underneath them in an eerie blue-green light. If he glanced out of the corner of his eye he would see Ruki’s slouched profile, half in the shadows and half in fluorescent highlights, motionless and for a second statuesque before the vocalist shifted and his face returned to being human.
If you didn’t look past their torsos, you’d think they were strangers just happening to sit on the same bench. Glancing off in opposite directions with five inches of space between them, eyes occupied with anything but each other. Their hands were clasped loosely between them, limp and cold and clammy like dead fish but twined together like it still meant something.
The music in his ears stopped abruptly as the batteries died but he kept their hands locked awkwardly together as he yanked the buds out and shoved them into his pocket.
The speakers crackled and a cool female voice broke through the silence of the station. “Train approaching Aoyama station in five minutes. Train approaching Shinjuku station in ten minutes.”
The air howled as two spots of light appeared in the shadows of the tunnel, like eyes. Reita found himself yanked to his feet as Ruki stood abruptly. He almost fell in the process.
“What-”
“It’s the last train,” said Ruki shortly.
Reita checked his watch and it was almost midnight so he just nodded and waited, numb with cold. Their hands still grasped at one another, just as cold as before but maybe Ruki’s grip was tighter and maybe Reita squeezed his as the train rolled to a stop before them.
The car was mostly empty and smelled like musk and sweat and too much cologne. They sat down on ratty cushions and to an observer’s eye seemed to forget about one another. Reita pulled out his phone and started playing with it and Ruki looked off to the side and rested his cheek on his palm, but their hands were still twisted together between them.
It was such a practiced posture, but it felt all wrong. If Reita could’ve pretended nothing was different, he would’ve, but he was never the one to pretend. That was what Ruki did.
The train jolted and swayed back and forth steadily, the quiet lullaby of the wheels going thump-thump over the rails. It lulled their deadened senses to complacency, synchronized their heartbeats but left too much silence for their thoughts.
Reita groped blindly for something to say, something to fill the silence. Something to change Ruki’s mind, or the fact that their hands simply didn’t fit together any more, but the truth was, they never really had. In the time of one train ride, he had none of the words that would change the outcome of its end, and he never did. He was too scared, too scared to try to salvage the remains of their relationship and too scared to say anything and break the fragile balance of their clasped hands. The silence swallowed him and he let it, all his efforts mounting up to nothing but the fact that Ruki still held his hand.
A quiet ding sounded as the doors pulled open. “Aoyama station,” the female voice announced, and Reita got up mechanically as Ruki stood and led them off the train.
Their shoes sounded loud on the tiled steps as they climbed the stairs out of Aoyama’s station. Once above ground, the noisy rush of late night traffic and teenage girls chattering merrily as they crossed the street broke through the silence. Ruki turned to him automatically, and Reita wished he could persuade him to take off his sunglasses. Didn’t he deserve that, at least?
“Well,” the younger man said, his voice remote and detached, “I guess this is good bye.”
Desperation welled up in Reita’s chest and broke the hold on his throat. His hand tightened around Ruki’s convulsively. “Ruki, can’t we-”
“No,” Ruki said quietly, shaking his head. “No. It’s just time, and…” Behind the darkened shade of the sunglasses, he saw Ruki’s eyes fill with regret. “I’m sorry.”
Grasping both his hands, Ruki pressed them to his dry, chapped lips in a lingering kiss. Reita’s body wouldn’t move, not even when Ruki stroked his thumb across his cheek and broke the clasp of their hands. Something in him broke with it.
Ruki was walking away from him but even the sight of that was taken from him as it blurred and faded.
His hand fell and closed on open air, empty at last.
Chapter: 1/1
Author: evilgeniuskoji
Pairing: Reita/Ruki
Theme: Last train ride home 15memories
Genre: Angst, romance, general
Rating: PG
Warning: None
Summary: Don't let go till we get home. Let's just get on a train and go.
Comments: To tide you over till I get the next chapter up.
They sat at the station hours after the farewell party broke up, watching trains pass them by. Whoosh, whoosh, wind kicking up in their faces and knotting through their hair. People came and went, too busy going or leaving somewhere to notice the two men sitting on the bench, but it didn’t matter. It was just them. Their little closed off piece of the world.
It was late and the air felt good and cold. You couldn’t see stars in the city, so Reita looked away from the blank black sky and stared at the advertisement on the wall across the rails instead, not really seeing it and ignoring the numbing of his hands and cheeks.
The lamps flickered on around ten, flooding the station and bathing everyone underneath them in an eerie blue-green light. If he glanced out of the corner of his eye he would see Ruki’s slouched profile, half in the shadows and half in fluorescent highlights, motionless and for a second statuesque before the vocalist shifted and his face returned to being human.
If you didn’t look past their torsos, you’d think they were strangers just happening to sit on the same bench. Glancing off in opposite directions with five inches of space between them, eyes occupied with anything but each other. Their hands were clasped loosely between them, limp and cold and clammy like dead fish but twined together like it still meant something.
The music in his ears stopped abruptly as the batteries died but he kept their hands locked awkwardly together as he yanked the buds out and shoved them into his pocket.
The speakers crackled and a cool female voice broke through the silence of the station. “Train approaching Aoyama station in five minutes. Train approaching Shinjuku station in ten minutes.”
The air howled as two spots of light appeared in the shadows of the tunnel, like eyes. Reita found himself yanked to his feet as Ruki stood abruptly. He almost fell in the process.
“What-”
“It’s the last train,” said Ruki shortly.
Reita checked his watch and it was almost midnight so he just nodded and waited, numb with cold. Their hands still grasped at one another, just as cold as before but maybe Ruki’s grip was tighter and maybe Reita squeezed his as the train rolled to a stop before them.
The car was mostly empty and smelled like musk and sweat and too much cologne. They sat down on ratty cushions and to an observer’s eye seemed to forget about one another. Reita pulled out his phone and started playing with it and Ruki looked off to the side and rested his cheek on his palm, but their hands were still twisted together between them.
It was such a practiced posture, but it felt all wrong. If Reita could’ve pretended nothing was different, he would’ve, but he was never the one to pretend. That was what Ruki did.
The train jolted and swayed back and forth steadily, the quiet lullaby of the wheels going thump-thump over the rails. It lulled their deadened senses to complacency, synchronized their heartbeats but left too much silence for their thoughts.
Reita groped blindly for something to say, something to fill the silence. Something to change Ruki’s mind, or the fact that their hands simply didn’t fit together any more, but the truth was, they never really had. In the time of one train ride, he had none of the words that would change the outcome of its end, and he never did. He was too scared, too scared to try to salvage the remains of their relationship and too scared to say anything and break the fragile balance of their clasped hands. The silence swallowed him and he let it, all his efforts mounting up to nothing but the fact that Ruki still held his hand.
A quiet ding sounded as the doors pulled open. “Aoyama station,” the female voice announced, and Reita got up mechanically as Ruki stood and led them off the train.
Their shoes sounded loud on the tiled steps as they climbed the stairs out of Aoyama’s station. Once above ground, the noisy rush of late night traffic and teenage girls chattering merrily as they crossed the street broke through the silence. Ruki turned to him automatically, and Reita wished he could persuade him to take off his sunglasses. Didn’t he deserve that, at least?
“Well,” the younger man said, his voice remote and detached, “I guess this is good bye.”
Desperation welled up in Reita’s chest and broke the hold on his throat. His hand tightened around Ruki’s convulsively. “Ruki, can’t we-”
“No,” Ruki said quietly, shaking his head. “No. It’s just time, and…” Behind the darkened shade of the sunglasses, he saw Ruki’s eyes fill with regret. “I’m sorry.”
Grasping both his hands, Ruki pressed them to his dry, chapped lips in a lingering kiss. Reita’s body wouldn’t move, not even when Ruki stroked his thumb across his cheek and broke the clasp of their hands. Something in him broke with it.
Ruki was walking away from him but even the sight of that was taken from him as it blurred and faded.
His hand fell and closed on open air, empty at last.