Gift fic for kaminikaku
To: kaminikaku
From: ezyls_girl
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
Title: gravities
Pairings: Nishikato, KoyaShige friendship
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Abuse of the fuck-word
Notes: For kaminikaku. Happy holidays! I apologize for the lameness of it all. X_X Thanks to all the wonderful people who helped me with this, especially to my dear O-tan.
Summary: Ryo sees them, not once but twice. AU. [Supernatural!fic].
Shige eyed the edge of the roof with disdain.
Well. This is a bit of a let-down.
The building had carried such an impressive interior, too, crammed to its fire-limit with genuine-marble on the walls and lions’ heads spouting water-jets from their jaws in the wash basins-and yet the tenants couldn’t even afford a proper rain shelter. Shige stubbed a toe on the gravel and felt for his foot unhappily. He’s going to have to convince Pi to send a little note up to the building manager’s office.
Even worse than the questionable terrain, though, were the weather conditions. It was fucking cold up here. The tin gutter stretched around the perimeter resembled a coiled monster basking in the smog, mocking Shige with a rattle each time he took another step. A ring of metal railing had been plucked up against the weather gutter, its thin iron stakes carved into the cement at odd angles. They shook in the twenty-story wind of the skyscraper, in sync with the fragile bars of mariachi music that vibrated from beneath his feet. More sounds passed through the opening to the rooftop. Flirty giggling, clinks of glasses, the pop of a cork from cabernet sauvignon (god, was that moan he heard from one of the bathroom stalls?). Shige smelled leftover spaghetti sauce from the kitchen of the five-star restaurant, and his stomach rumbles.
All in all, a pretty nice place-it was just the shitty roof. He’s sure that, given more planning and maybe a few blueprints nabbed from Tegoshi’s burglary agency, Pi could have picked a nicer building, but that would have probably been useless, anyway. Tokyo smog certainly fended off the market for rooftop pools, Shige thinks with a sad smile, and it’s enough to make him long for Hawaii again.
Gritting his teeth against the cold, he boldly made his way towards the railing. Streetlights illuminate the early morning traffic several hundred feet below. You couldn’t see very far down here because the moisture and lights blurred what was left of it into an indistinct web of insect eyes, but it was a breathtaking view nonetheless. Tokyo Tower rises up somewhere nearby, flicking signal lamps on and off to a pair of helicopters just beyond its spires-both of their soundless sirens are heating up the sky as they chase criminals across the metropolitan area. Fairy lights from other respectable late-night, early-morning restaurant-bars shine through windows on different fiftieth-floors.
October is such a pretty color!
(Of course, Shige is completely aware that there is something fundamentally wrong about this statement, but he lets it go because Massu trying to make a break with poetry is enough for anyone to begin contemplating their crayon boxes. Or the weather. The weather’s always been a relatively safe subject.)
In another few weeks it’ll be too cold for him, and it’ll be Koyama’s turn to do this sort of thing. And, Shige reminds himself with a sigh, Koyama actually likes the freezing air.
So while these fond memories are still fresh in his mind, Shige jumps.
In the moment Ryo sees the man tumbling down past the fifty-five stories of the Miyabishi skyscraper, he drops his coffee with a splash. It soaks clean through his newspaper, getting the carpet underneath his brakes wet and short-circuiting his cell phone before the words Tegoshi Yuya - calling could flash onto the screen, but he doesn’t notice any of this, because holy fuck someone’s about to die.
He watches as the figure slips down the side of the building, almost nonchalant in its path, arms outstretched like a frog launching itself into a pond. Ryo braces himself for the stifled scream of pain that will follow, the crunch of satisfied bones colliding with the pavement below, the blood that will spray on the faces of any passersby, but what amazes him further is when the figure twists in mid-air like a champion diver, executing an Olympic-standard half-twist and a three-and-a-half somersault, dark hair flapping across his eyes in the slipstream, and now, as Ryo’s car nears the building, a cheeky grin visible on his face-
…before he disappears without a trace.
And as gravity elopes with logic, the world hits the pause button.
In the rearview mirror, eyes widen.
-
The first time, Ryo feels the crash before he sees it and tries to swerve, but it’s pointless. The exit road off the expressway is a steep one and there’s no place to go but forward. The woman driving the Toyota Prius in front of him yells something obscene when their bumpers collide and they skid fifty meters off the ramp into the frosty grass. Ryo feels his own head slam against the steering wheel, the muffled thump causing a flash of something red to pass over his eyes and through his temples. Then the sun turns a strange shade of green and Ryo’s down for the count.
The last thing he remembers is wondering where the hell the airbags went.
Shige picks himself off the ground, slightly nauseous and feeling as if someone very strong had just thrown him into orbit around the moon. He curses when he feels bile rise up his throat, but reminds himself that it’d been worse when he had just started-out jumping roofs. He takes another step forward before he lurches, emptying his breakfast onto the sidewalk. A pair of hands grabs him by the shoulders, steadying his swaying shoulders.
“How was it?” Koyama’s anxious, probably more for himself than for his best friend.
Shige brushes the hands off of his shoulders with a quiet frown. “I’ll be fine in a moment. Tell Pi to write a letter to the building manager for this one. The roof sucks.”
“The roof? What about the roof? Did they not furnish it properly again?”
Koyama’s eyebrows shoot up in worry, “Shige, stop thinking about things like that before you jump! No wonder you get so sick every time.”
Shige groans. He feels another tightening in his stomach. If Koyama doesn’t watch it, this next one’s going land on his shoes.
“Hey, is that a car accident?”
Koyama shrugs, and gives Shige another unhelpful pat on the back.
When he wakes up, Ryo is wrapped in a shell of antiseptic cream, two-thirds of his body is enveloped in thick bandages, and a squishy plaster is weighing down his leg. He’s wearing unfamiliar clothes and eau de rubbing alcohol, rolled-up in the horrifically-white sheets of a hospital bed reeking of paper towels and vomit. Just what I need, Ryo thinks sourly, another dent in the measly income.
He tries to explain to the doctors and the police officers about his accident, about the man who had jumped off the roof and executed a perfect half twist with a three-and-a-half somersault before disappearing into thin air, but all of them smile sympathetic smiles and pat him on the back. One of the doctors slips him some pamphlets-Introduction to Accepting Psychiatric Counseling and Shock Therapy: the Myths and the Miracles.
Ryo does not want shock therapy. He wants to be believed.
And as if that’s not enough, in December Ryo witnesses another one.
This time it’s at the summit of a love hotel, with snow sprinkling through freezing evening air. The sky’s already dark, and after another taxing work day (his fingers still feel raw from clawing at Tegoshi’s throat) Ryo is all but ready to commit violent, brutal acts of murder. He slams the door to his car, backs out of the parking structure without looking around for pedestrians (he wouldn’t have minded bumping around into a few, really), and ignores the speed limit as he floors it down the expressway. It’s that time of year again. Christmas displays blink like the beady little eyes of rodents from shop displays, and fake Santa Clauses loiter in the parking lot of grocery stores. His cast from that last incident with the crazy roof-diver is off his leg, at last, and the blood stain on the steering wheel is finally beginning to fade after cups and cups of toilet-bowl drainer.
The next thing Ryo knows, there is a lanky body attached to a blond-head spinning violently down the brick walls of the Murasaki Love Hotel. And at first, Ryo only smirks; this one is not nearly as graceful as the previous one he’s seen, the tuck messy, arms wind-milling about all over the place as the figure carves a parabolic path down to the ground. Ryo’s sure that this time it might actually be a suicide, and he scrambles for his phone in the passenger seat, poised to dial for the fire department before he backtracks and remembers the Shock Therapy pamphlet. And much to Ryo’s own dismay, seeds of doubt plant themselves in his head. What if it had all been hallucination? Shit, what if he’s really insane? It’s physically impossible for someone to jump off a roof and then disappear.
But they do. I saw it happen.
No. He can’t be insane. He’s worked too hard, gone through too much to make sure that he isn’t. He puts his phone down, watching the falling boy expectantly.
And although he knows what’s going to happen, Ryo is still unprepared for it. This time, the disappearance of the falling body is coupled with a bolt of lightning.
Its effects in the sky are instantaneous. Thick drops of rain splatter on the windshield, and at the honk of a horn, Ryo remembers that he’s still behind a steering wheel. He stamps on his brakes, squeezes his eyes shut.
It’s not supposed to fucking rain in December.
-
The second time, it’s an American car-big Jeep reeking phallic dominance and backyard barbeques. The battered bumper of Ryo’s vehicle barely scratches the back of the Jeep, but there’s still a hearty crash and in the next second a heavy-set, burly man jumps out of the driver’s seat looking like he’d just walked out from the set of a movie about chainsaws and brilliant bloody death.
And even though Tegoshi had left the office today bawling buckets of sparkly tears and bearing invisible battle scars on his throat, Ryo does not deserve this. He really doesn’t.
“Do you think-Shige, how can it not be our fault?”
“Well. It’s only a possibility, at most. Both accidents occurred after either of us jumped, and the guy who caused the car crashes and suffered those injuries is the same person, sure, but I’d only be surprised if he showed up when Pi jumps.”
“But it’s Nishikido Ryo! The Nishikido! we have to help him, Shige! What if he got seriously hurt? Oh god, what if he dies this time? He just got the splint off his leg, too. His ghost is going to haunt me forever. Can you imagine? Nishikido Ryo’s ghost is going to haunt me forever. OHGODSHIGE. WHAT DID I DO?”
I’m rolling my eyes, Koyama. “Calm down, Kei. I’m sure he’ll be all right. It’s just some bad luck on his part.”
“But you don’t know that. How would you feel if it happened to you? I know I’d hate it. I’d probably blame those people forever.”
“We’ve gone over this. It can’t happen to us because we’re the only ones in the world who can do this sort of thing without dying. We never die, remember?”
A pause.
“…Shige. We’re supposed to do this forever, aren’t we?” Koyama’s voice is hushed, tears welling up in his eyes.
“Koyama…” He doesn’t want to deal with this, not now.
“I don’t want to anymore. I hate this so much, Shige.”
“The only way to get out of it is if you keep trying,” he tries to keep the tiredness out of his voice. “If you keep trying, maybe one day we’ll die properly.”
“But you don’t have to. You still have a way to get out of it,” Koyama snaps, rubbing his eyes with the insides of his wrists like a little kid.
“I’m staying, Kei. I wouldn’t abandon you.”
“Why not? I can’t think of anything else more awful in the world.”
You’ll probably start doing crazy things without me keeping an eye on you, Shige thinks, but he only smiles and gives his best friend a tight squeeze, “Winter isn’t finished yet. You’ve got all of January and February to try again. Don’t give up just yet, okay?”
The phone rings. He ignores it as he hears the voicemail beep: I’m coming over, Ryo-chan! I’ve got something to show you. It has to be in person, and if you ask I won’t tell! Love you~
His head pounds. Oh please god no.
“‘When someone…decides to bother Nishikido -on a Sunday morning- they are either members of the National Police Agency…or people who would like to…look into the very mouth of Death?’ Just what is he talking-”
“Quiet, Kei! Not so loud. He’s probably still sleeping.”
Ryo grumbles, rolls over in bed and silently agrees with the second voice. While he is very proud of this threat (he’d come up with it himself), he isn’t so much when someone is reading it in a very loud, slow voice right outside his apartment door at six in the morning.
BEEP, BEEP.
It was a bad decision, he thinks, installing that door buzzer. He groans and throws the pillow over his head.
BEEP, BEEP.
“FOR FUCK’S SAKE I’M TRYING TO SLEEP.” Ryo bellows. There is no reply for a second and thank god, they must have left now, before the hallway outside suddenly erupts into wild giggles.
BEEP, BEEP.
Ryo is somehow gurgling in his sleep before he realizes that he is foaming in the mouth and very much awake.
BEEP, BEEP.
This better be good, he thinks to himself, tugging on a pair of sweatpants and tripping his way to the door without a shirt on, “This better be damn good, or I swear to god I’ll pummel the bitches who pu-”
“I’m sorry, is this a bad time?”
Ryo can only stare.
“I wanted to apologize,” says Kato Shigeaki (or at least, how he’d introduced himself and from as much as Ryo could deduce from all the rambling). The young man sticks out his hand awkwardly, and Ryo can see his fingers shake under his scrutiny. “I mean. I must’ve scared you.”
Ryo examines them without saying anything, the stocky boy with his ill-fitting voice and the awkward hand gestures, and his accomplice the jumpy blonde kid, and feels rather immature when he takes a step back from the outstretched hand. Ryo’s still not quite sure where he’s seen these two before, and it makes him nervous when there are strangers he recognizes but doesn’t recognize sitting on his front door step. “How,” he asks instead, “do you know my address?”
He can see the first guy shift uncomfortably. “That day you saw me, I followed you to the hospital on the roof of the ambulance truck,” Kato replies, sounding for the world as if it’s perfectly normal to have this type of endeavor, “No one noticed, I promise. I just…wanted to see if you were okay after all that. And Kei-chan’s always been a big fan of yours, Nishikido-san.”
Ryo frowns quietly (for a moment, he had forgotten all about being a famous idol with tabloid photos and fanboys), and just as suddenly, Kato’s words settle in, the hospital and the car accidents…and the impediment lifts from his brain like fog at mid-morning. “You! You’re those two trouble-making shitheads who jumped off the buildings.”
They stare blankly at each other, Kato looking rightly insulted, the tall blonde guy behind him frowning a little as if he’d just begun to understand what was going on, and Ryo covering his mouth in shocked embarrassment. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
Kato Shigeaki nods stiffly, his smile sarcastic. “Yes…those two. I wasn’t going to do anything about it, but then you saw Koyama here jumping, too, and he was getting a little crazy-you wouldn’t report us, would you?” The taller one nods frantically behind him.
I’m sorry, Ryo’s about to say, but when he sees Kato’s eyes soften on him Ryo regains his balance on the situation, and he snaps like the rough-character he had made himself out to be on all those tedious variety shows. These were either two highly-realistic apparitions or two highly-skilled stuntmen, but either way, they were going to pay up. “My medical bills. And the automobile insurance. I broke four ribs, cracked the rest. Counted twenty-six bruises the last time I checked. The physician said that I could have sustained castration from the kicks I received to my scrotum. And you too,” he jabs Koyama in the chest for good measure, “they found me half-dead in a side-alley in Shibuya and I received seven stitches on my chest. Cost me fifteen-thousand yen each. You better pay me in full.”
The taller one flinches, then whispers to his companion, none-too softly, “Shigeeee! I think he’s one of those swindler-people who get injured on purpose to earn our pity money.”
“Your scrotum?” Shige asks, his voice bordering incredulous.
Ryo blanches, and Koyama shrinks again into the background. “Call me whenever you want, Blondie. I’m a stingy idol. I want my money.”
There is an awkward pause that follows, where neither of the party wants to look at the other. Shige starts muttering to himself, glancing distractedly around the hallway as if he’s planning an escape route. Koyama gapes at the sight of Ryo’s perky nipples on his bare chest for a little while longer before finally giving into the temptation and poking one soundly, causing Ryo to yelp and back away, hands over his chest. “Why are these so small, Shige?”
His intelligent friend stares at Ryo’s chest, probably realizing for the first time that Ryo had been standing there half-naked for the entire length of their conversation, and blushes a stark shade of maroon. “Buh,” He says, in a stroke of brilliance.
Ryo resists the urge to pommel the blonde kid into the ground, and decides right then and there to get them out of his house. He musters his best tight smile and hands Kato Shigeaki his business card as quickly as he can, but when Ryo’s thumb brushes against Shige’s palm, he feels a sudden rush of heat on his cheeks and then he’s turning that awful maroon color, too.
He shoves the door in their faces.
On the other side, Shige blinks, dazed.
In the evening, Ryo goes online and watches enough porn to fry the brains of three cities. He stumbles into bed at eleven, and while he’s still shifting around under the blankets, he recalls the two strange roof-jumpers, and just like that, Kato’s stiff diplomacy comes back to him. He frowns, remembering the shy smile Shige had given Ryo when their hands touched. They had left in the end without apologizing, but he could feel something very different in his eyes when they left.
He had a very low voice, this Shige. Rather grave-sounding as he prattles on about apologizing, but smooth and liquid-like in his own way.
He would have probably been a nice fuck, with that voice, Ryo thinks before he falls asleep, too tired (and maybe a little unwilling) to make a backslash at his own thought.
Better not to think about it.
“I think I’m in love,” Ryo says.
“What the hell,” Pi sounds less than shocked, “No you’re not.”
“I am. And with a guy who can jump down a fifty-floor building without dying.”
“I would never believe it,” Yamapi says firmly before giving Ryo a sharp slap in the back, and Ryo coughs and never catches the look of absolute alarm on his friend’s face.
Shige bumps into the ledge of the grocery shelf with a short moan of pain. His hard-earned expression of aloofness slides off his face, replaced by a curious hunger in his eyes. Nishikido Ryo is purchasing canned-corn and fish food in Aisle #14. He turns around sixty-degrees from the horizontal to pick a pack of breath mints off the shelf, using the opportunity to flirt with the female cashier in the next row. When he turns another one hundred twenty degrees to check his grocery basket, Shige curses and ducks behind the aisle for cleaning goods.
He had only been curious that day at the accident, riding on the back of the ambulance van, and had puked into the trashcan at the sight of the bloody gash on Nishikido’s head; it was a gruesome sight. But Ryo had emerged a completely different person from the next accident, and this time, when Shige was able to observe him from ground level, when he’d seen Nishikido attacked, when he’d seen the trouble Koyama had caused Ryo and the way the hospital doctors had treated him, there had been an almost helpless little ache in his chest.
Shige had always been one to watch with helpless little aches.
He follows Ryo to his house and takes the elevator up to floor that shows Ryo’s blinking landing, looking every bit the stalker as he crouches behind a potted plant in the hallway. He’s sure that he hasn’t been spotted when Ryo goes inside the apartment, but then thirty seconds goes by and the door is thrown wide open, and a pair of strong hands latch onto his shoulders.
“What are you doing here?” Ryo asks, grip tightening sharply, so close that Shige can feel his breath on his ear. It sends a pleasant chill down his spine. Ryo’s hands have not moved from his shoulders.
“Uh,” Shige replies, fumbling for an excuse.
“Is that all you can say?” Nishikido smirks, bemused, and with a little relief, Shige feels the hands loosen their grip.
He sweats. “Just, um. This used to be my friend’s house.”
“Your friend? You mean Yamashita Tomohisa?” Ryo asks, disbelieving. Yamapi’s an entertainment idol, and Ryo’s best friend. Shige should have no business knowing him. “I bought the apartment right from him, you know.”
Shige stands up, brushes himself off. “Yes, I do know him. Some family connections. But he can’t be very well off, can he? Not after looking into the mouth of Death so many times.”
And just like that, they are standing face to face, matching each other grin for grin, and Ryo feels a little braver. “So, want to come insi-”
He’s interrupted by a crash, followed by a series of exaggerated cries of pain, and not a minute too soon, the worst possible scenario Ryo could ever imagine arrives.
Yamapi’s smile is completely sadistic. “Ah! There you are, Shige. And I was going to introduce you guys, too.”
Ryo scowls. Fuck you, Pi. “You know this guy, Shige? Don’t go around making friends with people I don’t know.”
“I’m hurt,” Yamapi swoons, falling down melodramatically. Shige reaches forward to steady him and Ryo watches, horrified, when his friend wraps a protective arm around Shige’s chest.
“Now you come,” Shige rolls his eyes and squirms out from Yamapi’s suggestive hold, “You can leave now, too.”
“Tegoshi called, Ryo-chan,” Yamapi says with a small pout. “I thought you’d like to know. That was what I talked about on the phone. Says that he and Massu are official now, and I think he’s beginning to forgive and forget. He wants you to know that your unresolved sexual tension theory’s moot, and that you should stop trying, because he’s really not interested anymore. So are you still up for that date, Ryo-chan?”
Shige suddenly looks uncomfortable, and Ryo, in an effort to get Yamapi out of here as soon as is physically possible, pretends he isn’t blushing, “Shut up, Pi. I’m not calling him back.”
“Manners, Ryo-chan,” Yamapi grins like a devil.
“He doesn’t have any. Don’t even try,” Shige huffs. “I have things to do, now, so I’ll see you around.”
“W-Wait!” Ryo says, regretting his words, but in another flash, Shige’s already down the street, jumping down the apartment steps in one bound before disappearing.
“Dinner could be nice,” Yamapi says, cheerfully redirecting Ryo’s attention back towards himself, and handing him a pair of movie tickets, “I asked him out for you, if you don’t mind. I got reservations, too. At the hotel when you guys first met. You wouldn’t believe how hard that was! Don’t give me that look. You’ve told me yourself how bad you are at this wooing thing.”
Ryo makes sure that his glare is extra-powerful before he snatches the tickets from his best friend.
“We should go to my house, first,” Shige suggests, turning red as Ryo stares at him, “I still haven’t apologized properly yet.”
Ryo licks his dry lips, once, twice. “I-It’s okay. We can just go.”
“I have some things I’d like to explain to you,” Shige says.
Here it comes, Ryo thinks. “Are you…are you a-”
“No,” Shige says quickly, “I’m not a vampire. The only thing I can do is jump off high places and vanish. It’s a…a curse. Sort of. I’m not exactly sure what it is.”
“Then I don’t care.” Ryo says, wondering whether or not he should be feeling relieved, and takes Shige’s hand in his, “it doesn’t matter, does it?”
“I don’t know,” Shige admits, “It’s just a bit strange. One minute I’m causing you car accidents, the next you’re asking me out without even demanding for compensation.”
“Well. I don’t mind letting you pay, if you insist.”
Shige stares at the hand that’s gripped his, uncomprehending, and feels a strange happiness in bubble up inside.
Maybe he’s the one…
And right then and there, Shige decides not to care. His smirk matches Ryo’s as he lets go, pecking him on the cheek and watching with a little twisted delight as Ryo flares up like a candle.
“You’re coming over, then.”
Koyama greets Ryo at the door with a pistol in his hand.
“I don’t know if you know about us already,” he starts, stroking the metal barrel of the gun with a polishing rag, “But it’d be best if you don’t go any further. Shige has a lot to deal with, ne. So does Pi. We don’t have time to fool around with money-swindlers like you.”
Even though he’s about to shit his pants in fear, Ryo’s opens his mouth and say something rude, but then both of them jump at the sound of something heavy dropping on the floor.
Shige gets to it before Ryo does.
“Koyama Keiichiro! Stop that right now!”
Ryo makes sure that Koyama is not aiming at him and cranes his head to see inside the house. With a growl, he realizes that it’s Tegoshi Yuya, sporting a dainty, shocked look on his face and Yamashita not far behind him, looking a little less shocked and more resigned. A bowl of saltine crackers has spilled on the floor in front of Tegoshi’s feet. Behind him, he can hear Shige let loose a string of profanity as he rushes past Ryo into the house; pushing Koyama aside without flinching at all. (Is that another one of his special abilities? Ryo’s wary now.)
“Koyama! Are you even listening? Stop brandishing the gun at him!” Shige orders. Koyama squeaks at the command and raises both hands, one still cocking the pistol in his left, now playing the role of an Oriental cowboy-outlaw. And if Ryo hadn’t been too scared to move and possibly looking into the very mouth of death (How ironic, he thinks), he might have even found the situation funny.
“Kei, put the toy gun away,” Yamapi says, his voice stern, “Why are you pointing it at a friend? Ryo-chan’s getting scared.”
Ryo is confused for another second before the words toy gun register in brain and he releases a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He rounds on Koyama. “What the hell?”
Koyama chokes back a sob and scampers.
“What…was that?”
“It’s our safety precaution. He shouldn’t have been playing with it.” Shige says flatly, picking up the gun and holding his wallet in the other. He is sounding more like a scary parent by the minute.
Tegoshi shrugs in the background, “I think you kinda deserved it, anyway. Kei-chan gets a little rough on days he’s has to jump.”
Before Ryo can open his mouth and ask Tegoshi why the hell he’s here at all, Shige grabs Ryo by the arm and leads him back out. “Just don’t listen to him. Let’s go, I have my things now.”
“Don’t forget the condoms!” Tegoshi calls out with a jaunty wave.
And despite his wonder and all the confusion, Ryo never forgets Koyama’s words.
“So, it turns out we all know each other,” Shige says, spreading the cloth napkin across his lap, feeling a little more than self-conscious when the food comes and the waitress uncorks a bottle of expensive wine. “You, me, Kei, Pi, Tegoshi and Massu.”
“Vaguely,” Ryo agrees, filling their wine glasses, “I knew Masuda in high school, I think. And Pi and I were always good friends.”
“With Fat Jin?” Shige asks abruptly, taking his glass with a nod.
Ryo looks at Shige in wonder, and then chokes back a laugh, “You know Akanishi?”
“He’s in the same band as Kamenashi, didn’t he? I knew Kame pretty well through Yamapi.”
“Everything circulates back to Yamapi, doesn’t it?” Ryo says, and Shige gives him a sardonic grin. “So what are you doing right now?”
“Oh, nothing really,” Shige shrugs, poking a fork into his curry, “I wanted to study law a while back. Didn’t get accepted to Tokyo, so Aoyama will have to make do.”
“Congratulations, all the same.”
“It’s nothing,” Shige mutters. (He can see Shige blush and squirm. It’s amusing; though he’s sure he’s not supposed to be enjoying this.)
Ryo pours more wine into their glasses. “To your university degree,” he says, and clinks his glass against Shige’s, “And to meeting you again, Kato Shigeaki.”
There are mixed emotions in Shige’s eyes as he brings the wine to his lips, but it dissolves into pure shock the next moment, when Ryo presses his lips clumsily against Shige’s, and it feels much less awkward than how he had imagined, and in another minute something soft brushes against his face, it’s Shige’s hand caressing his cheek, pushing back hair from his face, and Ryo finds it very hard to suppress a leer.
(And very much like the time Ryo sees Shige, the clock in world hits the pause button.)
The end of their dinner comes much too soon.
“I’ll follow you home,” Ryo offers hopefully, “Or maybe you can follow me home. Though this time I probably won’t make a detour to the combini.”
There’s smiling, and then Shige cuffs him on the head, “I’ll visit you.” And then the tone of his voice is suddenly serious. “But you know. You can still un-follow.”
“Huh?”
“And honestly, I’d rather if you did.”
Ryo’s too happy to want to understand what Shige means, so he doesn’t.
It goes on like this for a month, and for a month, Ryo wonders if it’s a dream. It certainly contains that dream-like quality to it; he’s dating a boy who can vanish from imminent deaths, a boy who can erase himself in mid-air and land next to him, a boy who can turn a fantastical shade of green and grin at the same time. He’s dating a boy who won’t hesitate to fight and apologize, who turns up his nose at shell fish, who knows big words in English like sesquipedalian, whose laugh is openly mocking when you do something stupid, who plays around with imaginary cats in alleyways, who makes the sexiest sounds when Ryo plants kisses on his hip bones.
He wonders if it will last.
“It won’t,” Yamapi tells Koyama, “It won’t last and then Ryo will hate him for the rest of his life. It happened to Tegoshi. It was lucky Massu was able to come back at all.”
“I don’t want them to hurt,” Koyama says, his voice wavering.
“No use now. They’re already on the roof.”
“And you were the one who told me to put the gun away.”
“It’s…freezing up here.” Ryo chatters, shivering in the cold on the fiftieth-floor. He feels warm again -and wonders if he’s caught a fever- when Shige wraps his arms around his waist from behind.
“It is, isn’t it,” He says, voice low and soft. They stay like that for another moment, a perfect moment, before Shige turns Ryo around and presses their foreheads together. And now Shige is staring deep into Ryo’s eyes, his gaze reflecting nothing but hard-edged resolve, and it’s so deep that Ryo drowns, he drowns willingly, and when Shige lets go and makes his way to the ledge of the roof, Ryo’s still drowning.
The second Shige falls down the side of the building, Ryo does not hesitate to catch up with him.
He’s in too deep, gravitational forces accelerating him at ten-meters per second squared, toward the only thing that ever mattered-will ever matter.
And for a moment, Ryo’s sure that they won’t hit the ground. He’s sure that he’d seen Shige smile, too, the last time Ryo had watched him jump off a building. No, it was perfectly all right. He doesn’t try to convince himself any further. You can still un-follow; Shige’s voice vibrates in the air surrounding him as he watches his own feet slip over the edge, but Ryo follows. I can’t anymore.
At the thirty-third floor, Ryo wills himself to go faster, and he catches up to Shige, wraps his arms around him, feels the warmth of two bodies centered towards the Earth.
It is almost beautiful.
At the twelfth floor, they kiss, and it’s the best kiss ever, with the wind whistling down and over their backs, pushing them forward, out. Shige’s hands reach to tangle in Ryo’s hair, and the kiss deepens as the adrenalin courses through both their veins.
And in another second, Ryo knows what’s going to happen. He feels himself drift in mid-air, his feet light against the invisible beam supporting him and the tenth floor. The boy beside him does not stop and continues to fall.
You should have un-followed me when you had the chance, Ryo.
The sun continues to shine on Shige’s back as gravity draws him to earth.
From: ezyls_girl
HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
Title: gravities
Pairings: Nishikato, KoyaShige friendship
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Abuse of the fuck-word
Notes: For kaminikaku. Happy holidays! I apologize for the lameness of it all. X_X Thanks to all the wonderful people who helped me with this, especially to my dear O-tan.
Summary: Ryo sees them, not once but twice. AU. [Supernatural!fic].
Shige eyed the edge of the roof with disdain.
Well. This is a bit of a let-down.
The building had carried such an impressive interior, too, crammed to its fire-limit with genuine-marble on the walls and lions’ heads spouting water-jets from their jaws in the wash basins-and yet the tenants couldn’t even afford a proper rain shelter. Shige stubbed a toe on the gravel and felt for his foot unhappily. He’s going to have to convince Pi to send a little note up to the building manager’s office.
Even worse than the questionable terrain, though, were the weather conditions. It was fucking cold up here. The tin gutter stretched around the perimeter resembled a coiled monster basking in the smog, mocking Shige with a rattle each time he took another step. A ring of metal railing had been plucked up against the weather gutter, its thin iron stakes carved into the cement at odd angles. They shook in the twenty-story wind of the skyscraper, in sync with the fragile bars of mariachi music that vibrated from beneath his feet. More sounds passed through the opening to the rooftop. Flirty giggling, clinks of glasses, the pop of a cork from cabernet sauvignon (god, was that moan he heard from one of the bathroom stalls?). Shige smelled leftover spaghetti sauce from the kitchen of the five-star restaurant, and his stomach rumbles.
All in all, a pretty nice place-it was just the shitty roof. He’s sure that, given more planning and maybe a few blueprints nabbed from Tegoshi’s burglary agency, Pi could have picked a nicer building, but that would have probably been useless, anyway. Tokyo smog certainly fended off the market for rooftop pools, Shige thinks with a sad smile, and it’s enough to make him long for Hawaii again.
Gritting his teeth against the cold, he boldly made his way towards the railing. Streetlights illuminate the early morning traffic several hundred feet below. You couldn’t see very far down here because the moisture and lights blurred what was left of it into an indistinct web of insect eyes, but it was a breathtaking view nonetheless. Tokyo Tower rises up somewhere nearby, flicking signal lamps on and off to a pair of helicopters just beyond its spires-both of their soundless sirens are heating up the sky as they chase criminals across the metropolitan area. Fairy lights from other respectable late-night, early-morning restaurant-bars shine through windows on different fiftieth-floors.
October is such a pretty color!
(Of course, Shige is completely aware that there is something fundamentally wrong about this statement, but he lets it go because Massu trying to make a break with poetry is enough for anyone to begin contemplating their crayon boxes. Or the weather. The weather’s always been a relatively safe subject.)
In another few weeks it’ll be too cold for him, and it’ll be Koyama’s turn to do this sort of thing. And, Shige reminds himself with a sigh, Koyama actually likes the freezing air.
So while these fond memories are still fresh in his mind, Shige jumps.
In the moment Ryo sees the man tumbling down past the fifty-five stories of the Miyabishi skyscraper, he drops his coffee with a splash. It soaks clean through his newspaper, getting the carpet underneath his brakes wet and short-circuiting his cell phone before the words Tegoshi Yuya - calling could flash onto the screen, but he doesn’t notice any of this, because holy fuck someone’s about to die.
He watches as the figure slips down the side of the building, almost nonchalant in its path, arms outstretched like a frog launching itself into a pond. Ryo braces himself for the stifled scream of pain that will follow, the crunch of satisfied bones colliding with the pavement below, the blood that will spray on the faces of any passersby, but what amazes him further is when the figure twists in mid-air like a champion diver, executing an Olympic-standard half-twist and a three-and-a-half somersault, dark hair flapping across his eyes in the slipstream, and now, as Ryo’s car nears the building, a cheeky grin visible on his face-
…before he disappears without a trace.
And as gravity elopes with logic, the world hits the pause button.
In the rearview mirror, eyes widen.
-
The first time, Ryo feels the crash before he sees it and tries to swerve, but it’s pointless. The exit road off the expressway is a steep one and there’s no place to go but forward. The woman driving the Toyota Prius in front of him yells something obscene when their bumpers collide and they skid fifty meters off the ramp into the frosty grass. Ryo feels his own head slam against the steering wheel, the muffled thump causing a flash of something red to pass over his eyes and through his temples. Then the sun turns a strange shade of green and Ryo’s down for the count.
The last thing he remembers is wondering where the hell the airbags went.
Shige picks himself off the ground, slightly nauseous and feeling as if someone very strong had just thrown him into orbit around the moon. He curses when he feels bile rise up his throat, but reminds himself that it’d been worse when he had just started-out jumping roofs. He takes another step forward before he lurches, emptying his breakfast onto the sidewalk. A pair of hands grabs him by the shoulders, steadying his swaying shoulders.
“How was it?” Koyama’s anxious, probably more for himself than for his best friend.
Shige brushes the hands off of his shoulders with a quiet frown. “I’ll be fine in a moment. Tell Pi to write a letter to the building manager for this one. The roof sucks.”
“The roof? What about the roof? Did they not furnish it properly again?”
Koyama’s eyebrows shoot up in worry, “Shige, stop thinking about things like that before you jump! No wonder you get so sick every time.”
Shige groans. He feels another tightening in his stomach. If Koyama doesn’t watch it, this next one’s going land on his shoes.
“Hey, is that a car accident?”
Koyama shrugs, and gives Shige another unhelpful pat on the back.
When he wakes up, Ryo is wrapped in a shell of antiseptic cream, two-thirds of his body is enveloped in thick bandages, and a squishy plaster is weighing down his leg. He’s wearing unfamiliar clothes and eau de rubbing alcohol, rolled-up in the horrifically-white sheets of a hospital bed reeking of paper towels and vomit. Just what I need, Ryo thinks sourly, another dent in the measly income.
He tries to explain to the doctors and the police officers about his accident, about the man who had jumped off the roof and executed a perfect half twist with a three-and-a-half somersault before disappearing into thin air, but all of them smile sympathetic smiles and pat him on the back. One of the doctors slips him some pamphlets-Introduction to Accepting Psychiatric Counseling and Shock Therapy: the Myths and the Miracles.
Ryo does not want shock therapy. He wants to be believed.
And as if that’s not enough, in December Ryo witnesses another one.
This time it’s at the summit of a love hotel, with snow sprinkling through freezing evening air. The sky’s already dark, and after another taxing work day (his fingers still feel raw from clawing at Tegoshi’s throat) Ryo is all but ready to commit violent, brutal acts of murder. He slams the door to his car, backs out of the parking structure without looking around for pedestrians (he wouldn’t have minded bumping around into a few, really), and ignores the speed limit as he floors it down the expressway. It’s that time of year again. Christmas displays blink like the beady little eyes of rodents from shop displays, and fake Santa Clauses loiter in the parking lot of grocery stores. His cast from that last incident with the crazy roof-diver is off his leg, at last, and the blood stain on the steering wheel is finally beginning to fade after cups and cups of toilet-bowl drainer.
The next thing Ryo knows, there is a lanky body attached to a blond-head spinning violently down the brick walls of the Murasaki Love Hotel. And at first, Ryo only smirks; this one is not nearly as graceful as the previous one he’s seen, the tuck messy, arms wind-milling about all over the place as the figure carves a parabolic path down to the ground. Ryo’s sure that this time it might actually be a suicide, and he scrambles for his phone in the passenger seat, poised to dial for the fire department before he backtracks and remembers the Shock Therapy pamphlet. And much to Ryo’s own dismay, seeds of doubt plant themselves in his head. What if it had all been hallucination? Shit, what if he’s really insane? It’s physically impossible for someone to jump off a roof and then disappear.
But they do. I saw it happen.
No. He can’t be insane. He’s worked too hard, gone through too much to make sure that he isn’t. He puts his phone down, watching the falling boy expectantly.
And although he knows what’s going to happen, Ryo is still unprepared for it. This time, the disappearance of the falling body is coupled with a bolt of lightning.
Its effects in the sky are instantaneous. Thick drops of rain splatter on the windshield, and at the honk of a horn, Ryo remembers that he’s still behind a steering wheel. He stamps on his brakes, squeezes his eyes shut.
It’s not supposed to fucking rain in December.
-
The second time, it’s an American car-big Jeep reeking phallic dominance and backyard barbeques. The battered bumper of Ryo’s vehicle barely scratches the back of the Jeep, but there’s still a hearty crash and in the next second a heavy-set, burly man jumps out of the driver’s seat looking like he’d just walked out from the set of a movie about chainsaws and brilliant bloody death.
And even though Tegoshi had left the office today bawling buckets of sparkly tears and bearing invisible battle scars on his throat, Ryo does not deserve this. He really doesn’t.
“Do you think-Shige, how can it not be our fault?”
“Well. It’s only a possibility, at most. Both accidents occurred after either of us jumped, and the guy who caused the car crashes and suffered those injuries is the same person, sure, but I’d only be surprised if he showed up when Pi jumps.”
“But it’s Nishikido Ryo! The Nishikido! we have to help him, Shige! What if he got seriously hurt? Oh god, what if he dies this time? He just got the splint off his leg, too. His ghost is going to haunt me forever. Can you imagine? Nishikido Ryo’s ghost is going to haunt me forever. OHGODSHIGE. WHAT DID I DO?”
I’m rolling my eyes, Koyama. “Calm down, Kei. I’m sure he’ll be all right. It’s just some bad luck on his part.”
“But you don’t know that. How would you feel if it happened to you? I know I’d hate it. I’d probably blame those people forever.”
“We’ve gone over this. It can’t happen to us because we’re the only ones in the world who can do this sort of thing without dying. We never die, remember?”
A pause.
“…Shige. We’re supposed to do this forever, aren’t we?” Koyama’s voice is hushed, tears welling up in his eyes.
“Koyama…” He doesn’t want to deal with this, not now.
“I don’t want to anymore. I hate this so much, Shige.”
“The only way to get out of it is if you keep trying,” he tries to keep the tiredness out of his voice. “If you keep trying, maybe one day we’ll die properly.”
“But you don’t have to. You still have a way to get out of it,” Koyama snaps, rubbing his eyes with the insides of his wrists like a little kid.
“I’m staying, Kei. I wouldn’t abandon you.”
“Why not? I can’t think of anything else more awful in the world.”
You’ll probably start doing crazy things without me keeping an eye on you, Shige thinks, but he only smiles and gives his best friend a tight squeeze, “Winter isn’t finished yet. You’ve got all of January and February to try again. Don’t give up just yet, okay?”
The phone rings. He ignores it as he hears the voicemail beep: I’m coming over, Ryo-chan! I’ve got something to show you. It has to be in person, and if you ask I won’t tell! Love you~
His head pounds. Oh please god no.
“‘When someone…decides to bother Nishikido -on a Sunday morning- they are either members of the National Police Agency…or people who would like to…look into the very mouth of Death?’ Just what is he talking-”
“Quiet, Kei! Not so loud. He’s probably still sleeping.”
Ryo grumbles, rolls over in bed and silently agrees with the second voice. While he is very proud of this threat (he’d come up with it himself), he isn’t so much when someone is reading it in a very loud, slow voice right outside his apartment door at six in the morning.
BEEP, BEEP.
It was a bad decision, he thinks, installing that door buzzer. He groans and throws the pillow over his head.
BEEP, BEEP.
“FOR FUCK’S SAKE I’M TRYING TO SLEEP.” Ryo bellows. There is no reply for a second and thank god, they must have left now, before the hallway outside suddenly erupts into wild giggles.
BEEP, BEEP.
Ryo is somehow gurgling in his sleep before he realizes that he is foaming in the mouth and very much awake.
BEEP, BEEP.
This better be good, he thinks to himself, tugging on a pair of sweatpants and tripping his way to the door without a shirt on, “This better be damn good, or I swear to god I’ll pummel the bitches who pu-”
“I’m sorry, is this a bad time?”
Ryo can only stare.
“I wanted to apologize,” says Kato Shigeaki (or at least, how he’d introduced himself and from as much as Ryo could deduce from all the rambling). The young man sticks out his hand awkwardly, and Ryo can see his fingers shake under his scrutiny. “I mean. I must’ve scared you.”
Ryo examines them without saying anything, the stocky boy with his ill-fitting voice and the awkward hand gestures, and his accomplice the jumpy blonde kid, and feels rather immature when he takes a step back from the outstretched hand. Ryo’s still not quite sure where he’s seen these two before, and it makes him nervous when there are strangers he recognizes but doesn’t recognize sitting on his front door step. “How,” he asks instead, “do you know my address?”
He can see the first guy shift uncomfortably. “That day you saw me, I followed you to the hospital on the roof of the ambulance truck,” Kato replies, sounding for the world as if it’s perfectly normal to have this type of endeavor, “No one noticed, I promise. I just…wanted to see if you were okay after all that. And Kei-chan’s always been a big fan of yours, Nishikido-san.”
Ryo frowns quietly (for a moment, he had forgotten all about being a famous idol with tabloid photos and fanboys), and just as suddenly, Kato’s words settle in, the hospital and the car accidents…and the impediment lifts from his brain like fog at mid-morning. “You! You’re those two trouble-making shitheads who jumped off the buildings.”
They stare blankly at each other, Kato looking rightly insulted, the tall blonde guy behind him frowning a little as if he’d just begun to understand what was going on, and Ryo covering his mouth in shocked embarrassment. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
Kato Shigeaki nods stiffly, his smile sarcastic. “Yes…those two. I wasn’t going to do anything about it, but then you saw Koyama here jumping, too, and he was getting a little crazy-you wouldn’t report us, would you?” The taller one nods frantically behind him.
I’m sorry, Ryo’s about to say, but when he sees Kato’s eyes soften on him Ryo regains his balance on the situation, and he snaps like the rough-character he had made himself out to be on all those tedious variety shows. These were either two highly-realistic apparitions or two highly-skilled stuntmen, but either way, they were going to pay up. “My medical bills. And the automobile insurance. I broke four ribs, cracked the rest. Counted twenty-six bruises the last time I checked. The physician said that I could have sustained castration from the kicks I received to my scrotum. And you too,” he jabs Koyama in the chest for good measure, “they found me half-dead in a side-alley in Shibuya and I received seven stitches on my chest. Cost me fifteen-thousand yen each. You better pay me in full.”
The taller one flinches, then whispers to his companion, none-too softly, “Shigeeee! I think he’s one of those swindler-people who get injured on purpose to earn our pity money.”
“Your scrotum?” Shige asks, his voice bordering incredulous.
Ryo blanches, and Koyama shrinks again into the background. “Call me whenever you want, Blondie. I’m a stingy idol. I want my money.”
There is an awkward pause that follows, where neither of the party wants to look at the other. Shige starts muttering to himself, glancing distractedly around the hallway as if he’s planning an escape route. Koyama gapes at the sight of Ryo’s perky nipples on his bare chest for a little while longer before finally giving into the temptation and poking one soundly, causing Ryo to yelp and back away, hands over his chest. “Why are these so small, Shige?”
His intelligent friend stares at Ryo’s chest, probably realizing for the first time that Ryo had been standing there half-naked for the entire length of their conversation, and blushes a stark shade of maroon. “Buh,” He says, in a stroke of brilliance.
Ryo resists the urge to pommel the blonde kid into the ground, and decides right then and there to get them out of his house. He musters his best tight smile and hands Kato Shigeaki his business card as quickly as he can, but when Ryo’s thumb brushes against Shige’s palm, he feels a sudden rush of heat on his cheeks and then he’s turning that awful maroon color, too.
He shoves the door in their faces.
On the other side, Shige blinks, dazed.
In the evening, Ryo goes online and watches enough porn to fry the brains of three cities. He stumbles into bed at eleven, and while he’s still shifting around under the blankets, he recalls the two strange roof-jumpers, and just like that, Kato’s stiff diplomacy comes back to him. He frowns, remembering the shy smile Shige had given Ryo when their hands touched. They had left in the end without apologizing, but he could feel something very different in his eyes when they left.
He had a very low voice, this Shige. Rather grave-sounding as he prattles on about apologizing, but smooth and liquid-like in his own way.
He would have probably been a nice fuck, with that voice, Ryo thinks before he falls asleep, too tired (and maybe a little unwilling) to make a backslash at his own thought.
Better not to think about it.
“I think I’m in love,” Ryo says.
“What the hell,” Pi sounds less than shocked, “No you’re not.”
“I am. And with a guy who can jump down a fifty-floor building without dying.”
“I would never believe it,” Yamapi says firmly before giving Ryo a sharp slap in the back, and Ryo coughs and never catches the look of absolute alarm on his friend’s face.
Shige bumps into the ledge of the grocery shelf with a short moan of pain. His hard-earned expression of aloofness slides off his face, replaced by a curious hunger in his eyes. Nishikido Ryo is purchasing canned-corn and fish food in Aisle #14. He turns around sixty-degrees from the horizontal to pick a pack of breath mints off the shelf, using the opportunity to flirt with the female cashier in the next row. When he turns another one hundred twenty degrees to check his grocery basket, Shige curses and ducks behind the aisle for cleaning goods.
He had only been curious that day at the accident, riding on the back of the ambulance van, and had puked into the trashcan at the sight of the bloody gash on Nishikido’s head; it was a gruesome sight. But Ryo had emerged a completely different person from the next accident, and this time, when Shige was able to observe him from ground level, when he’d seen Nishikido attacked, when he’d seen the trouble Koyama had caused Ryo and the way the hospital doctors had treated him, there had been an almost helpless little ache in his chest.
Shige had always been one to watch with helpless little aches.
He follows Ryo to his house and takes the elevator up to floor that shows Ryo’s blinking landing, looking every bit the stalker as he crouches behind a potted plant in the hallway. He’s sure that he hasn’t been spotted when Ryo goes inside the apartment, but then thirty seconds goes by and the door is thrown wide open, and a pair of strong hands latch onto his shoulders.
“What are you doing here?” Ryo asks, grip tightening sharply, so close that Shige can feel his breath on his ear. It sends a pleasant chill down his spine. Ryo’s hands have not moved from his shoulders.
“Uh,” Shige replies, fumbling for an excuse.
“Is that all you can say?” Nishikido smirks, bemused, and with a little relief, Shige feels the hands loosen their grip.
He sweats. “Just, um. This used to be my friend’s house.”
“Your friend? You mean Yamashita Tomohisa?” Ryo asks, disbelieving. Yamapi’s an entertainment idol, and Ryo’s best friend. Shige should have no business knowing him. “I bought the apartment right from him, you know.”
Shige stands up, brushes himself off. “Yes, I do know him. Some family connections. But he can’t be very well off, can he? Not after looking into the mouth of Death so many times.”
And just like that, they are standing face to face, matching each other grin for grin, and Ryo feels a little braver. “So, want to come insi-”
He’s interrupted by a crash, followed by a series of exaggerated cries of pain, and not a minute too soon, the worst possible scenario Ryo could ever imagine arrives.
Yamapi’s smile is completely sadistic. “Ah! There you are, Shige. And I was going to introduce you guys, too.”
Ryo scowls. Fuck you, Pi. “You know this guy, Shige? Don’t go around making friends with people I don’t know.”
“I’m hurt,” Yamapi swoons, falling down melodramatically. Shige reaches forward to steady him and Ryo watches, horrified, when his friend wraps a protective arm around Shige’s chest.
“Now you come,” Shige rolls his eyes and squirms out from Yamapi’s suggestive hold, “You can leave now, too.”
“Tegoshi called, Ryo-chan,” Yamapi says with a small pout. “I thought you’d like to know. That was what I talked about on the phone. Says that he and Massu are official now, and I think he’s beginning to forgive and forget. He wants you to know that your unresolved sexual tension theory’s moot, and that you should stop trying, because he’s really not interested anymore. So are you still up for that date, Ryo-chan?”
Shige suddenly looks uncomfortable, and Ryo, in an effort to get Yamapi out of here as soon as is physically possible, pretends he isn’t blushing, “Shut up, Pi. I’m not calling him back.”
“Manners, Ryo-chan,” Yamapi grins like a devil.
“He doesn’t have any. Don’t even try,” Shige huffs. “I have things to do, now, so I’ll see you around.”
“W-Wait!” Ryo says, regretting his words, but in another flash, Shige’s already down the street, jumping down the apartment steps in one bound before disappearing.
“Dinner could be nice,” Yamapi says, cheerfully redirecting Ryo’s attention back towards himself, and handing him a pair of movie tickets, “I asked him out for you, if you don’t mind. I got reservations, too. At the hotel when you guys first met. You wouldn’t believe how hard that was! Don’t give me that look. You’ve told me yourself how bad you are at this wooing thing.”
Ryo makes sure that his glare is extra-powerful before he snatches the tickets from his best friend.
“We should go to my house, first,” Shige suggests, turning red as Ryo stares at him, “I still haven’t apologized properly yet.”
Ryo licks his dry lips, once, twice. “I-It’s okay. We can just go.”
“I have some things I’d like to explain to you,” Shige says.
Here it comes, Ryo thinks. “Are you…are you a-”
“No,” Shige says quickly, “I’m not a vampire. The only thing I can do is jump off high places and vanish. It’s a…a curse. Sort of. I’m not exactly sure what it is.”
“Then I don’t care.” Ryo says, wondering whether or not he should be feeling relieved, and takes Shige’s hand in his, “it doesn’t matter, does it?”
“I don’t know,” Shige admits, “It’s just a bit strange. One minute I’m causing you car accidents, the next you’re asking me out without even demanding for compensation.”
“Well. I don’t mind letting you pay, if you insist.”
Shige stares at the hand that’s gripped his, uncomprehending, and feels a strange happiness in bubble up inside.
Maybe he’s the one…
And right then and there, Shige decides not to care. His smirk matches Ryo’s as he lets go, pecking him on the cheek and watching with a little twisted delight as Ryo flares up like a candle.
“You’re coming over, then.”
Koyama greets Ryo at the door with a pistol in his hand.
“I don’t know if you know about us already,” he starts, stroking the metal barrel of the gun with a polishing rag, “But it’d be best if you don’t go any further. Shige has a lot to deal with, ne. So does Pi. We don’t have time to fool around with money-swindlers like you.”
Even though he’s about to shit his pants in fear, Ryo’s opens his mouth and say something rude, but then both of them jump at the sound of something heavy dropping on the floor.
Shige gets to it before Ryo does.
“Koyama Keiichiro! Stop that right now!”
Ryo makes sure that Koyama is not aiming at him and cranes his head to see inside the house. With a growl, he realizes that it’s Tegoshi Yuya, sporting a dainty, shocked look on his face and Yamashita not far behind him, looking a little less shocked and more resigned. A bowl of saltine crackers has spilled on the floor in front of Tegoshi’s feet. Behind him, he can hear Shige let loose a string of profanity as he rushes past Ryo into the house; pushing Koyama aside without flinching at all. (Is that another one of his special abilities? Ryo’s wary now.)
“Koyama! Are you even listening? Stop brandishing the gun at him!” Shige orders. Koyama squeaks at the command and raises both hands, one still cocking the pistol in his left, now playing the role of an Oriental cowboy-outlaw. And if Ryo hadn’t been too scared to move and possibly looking into the very mouth of death (How ironic, he thinks), he might have even found the situation funny.
“Kei, put the toy gun away,” Yamapi says, his voice stern, “Why are you pointing it at a friend? Ryo-chan’s getting scared.”
Ryo is confused for another second before the words toy gun register in brain and he releases a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He rounds on Koyama. “What the hell?”
Koyama chokes back a sob and scampers.
“What…was that?”
“It’s our safety precaution. He shouldn’t have been playing with it.” Shige says flatly, picking up the gun and holding his wallet in the other. He is sounding more like a scary parent by the minute.
Tegoshi shrugs in the background, “I think you kinda deserved it, anyway. Kei-chan gets a little rough on days he’s has to jump.”
Before Ryo can open his mouth and ask Tegoshi why the hell he’s here at all, Shige grabs Ryo by the arm and leads him back out. “Just don’t listen to him. Let’s go, I have my things now.”
“Don’t forget the condoms!” Tegoshi calls out with a jaunty wave.
And despite his wonder and all the confusion, Ryo never forgets Koyama’s words.
“So, it turns out we all know each other,” Shige says, spreading the cloth napkin across his lap, feeling a little more than self-conscious when the food comes and the waitress uncorks a bottle of expensive wine. “You, me, Kei, Pi, Tegoshi and Massu.”
“Vaguely,” Ryo agrees, filling their wine glasses, “I knew Masuda in high school, I think. And Pi and I were always good friends.”
“With Fat Jin?” Shige asks abruptly, taking his glass with a nod.
Ryo looks at Shige in wonder, and then chokes back a laugh, “You know Akanishi?”
“He’s in the same band as Kamenashi, didn’t he? I knew Kame pretty well through Yamapi.”
“Everything circulates back to Yamapi, doesn’t it?” Ryo says, and Shige gives him a sardonic grin. “So what are you doing right now?”
“Oh, nothing really,” Shige shrugs, poking a fork into his curry, “I wanted to study law a while back. Didn’t get accepted to Tokyo, so Aoyama will have to make do.”
“Congratulations, all the same.”
“It’s nothing,” Shige mutters. (He can see Shige blush and squirm. It’s amusing; though he’s sure he’s not supposed to be enjoying this.)
Ryo pours more wine into their glasses. “To your university degree,” he says, and clinks his glass against Shige’s, “And to meeting you again, Kato Shigeaki.”
There are mixed emotions in Shige’s eyes as he brings the wine to his lips, but it dissolves into pure shock the next moment, when Ryo presses his lips clumsily against Shige’s, and it feels much less awkward than how he had imagined, and in another minute something soft brushes against his face, it’s Shige’s hand caressing his cheek, pushing back hair from his face, and Ryo finds it very hard to suppress a leer.
(And very much like the time Ryo sees Shige, the clock in world hits the pause button.)
The end of their dinner comes much too soon.
“I’ll follow you home,” Ryo offers hopefully, “Or maybe you can follow me home. Though this time I probably won’t make a detour to the combini.”
There’s smiling, and then Shige cuffs him on the head, “I’ll visit you.” And then the tone of his voice is suddenly serious. “But you know. You can still un-follow.”
“Huh?”
“And honestly, I’d rather if you did.”
Ryo’s too happy to want to understand what Shige means, so he doesn’t.
It goes on like this for a month, and for a month, Ryo wonders if it’s a dream. It certainly contains that dream-like quality to it; he’s dating a boy who can vanish from imminent deaths, a boy who can erase himself in mid-air and land next to him, a boy who can turn a fantastical shade of green and grin at the same time. He’s dating a boy who won’t hesitate to fight and apologize, who turns up his nose at shell fish, who knows big words in English like sesquipedalian, whose laugh is openly mocking when you do something stupid, who plays around with imaginary cats in alleyways, who makes the sexiest sounds when Ryo plants kisses on his hip bones.
He wonders if it will last.
“It won’t,” Yamapi tells Koyama, “It won’t last and then Ryo will hate him for the rest of his life. It happened to Tegoshi. It was lucky Massu was able to come back at all.”
“I don’t want them to hurt,” Koyama says, his voice wavering.
“No use now. They’re already on the roof.”
“And you were the one who told me to put the gun away.”
“It’s…freezing up here.” Ryo chatters, shivering in the cold on the fiftieth-floor. He feels warm again -and wonders if he’s caught a fever- when Shige wraps his arms around his waist from behind.
“It is, isn’t it,” He says, voice low and soft. They stay like that for another moment, a perfect moment, before Shige turns Ryo around and presses their foreheads together. And now Shige is staring deep into Ryo’s eyes, his gaze reflecting nothing but hard-edged resolve, and it’s so deep that Ryo drowns, he drowns willingly, and when Shige lets go and makes his way to the ledge of the roof, Ryo’s still drowning.
The second Shige falls down the side of the building, Ryo does not hesitate to catch up with him.
He’s in too deep, gravitational forces accelerating him at ten-meters per second squared, toward the only thing that ever mattered-will ever matter.
And for a moment, Ryo’s sure that they won’t hit the ground. He’s sure that he’d seen Shige smile, too, the last time Ryo had watched him jump off a building. No, it was perfectly all right. He doesn’t try to convince himself any further. You can still un-follow; Shige’s voice vibrates in the air surrounding him as he watches his own feet slip over the edge, but Ryo follows. I can’t anymore.
At the thirty-third floor, Ryo wills himself to go faster, and he catches up to Shige, wraps his arms around him, feels the warmth of two bodies centered towards the Earth.
It is almost beautiful.
At the twelfth floor, they kiss, and it’s the best kiss ever, with the wind whistling down and over their backs, pushing them forward, out. Shige’s hands reach to tangle in Ryo’s hair, and the kiss deepens as the adrenalin courses through both their veins.
And in another second, Ryo knows what’s going to happen. He feels himself drift in mid-air, his feet light against the invisible beam supporting him and the tenth floor. The boy beside him does not stop and continues to fall.
You should have un-followed me when you had the chance, Ryo.
The sun continues to shine on Shige’s back as gravity draws him to earth.