Ring
Title: Ring
Chapter: One-shot
Author: kiroyo
Genre: Angst, fluff?
Warnings: Very very brief mention of drug use?
Disclaimer: I own no one!
Rating: G
Pairing: Reita x Kai
Synopsis: Reita screwed up. He screwed up badly.
Comments: My first fic! :3 Didn't expect myself to start off with angst though.
A feeling of guilt washed over him. Remorse tugged at his heart strings and he felt so crushed up inside that even his guts were starting to hurt. Hurt, could it be so overwhelming that even physical material pain could be compared to the one he was going through now?
He should go see him, Reita thought. He should go to his house, ring his doorbell, stick his foot in between the door and the frame if he attempted to shut him out of his house and most probably out of his life, and explain. He didn’t care if he was going to break down and cry before him. No, protecting his male ego wasn’t his priority now. What matters most was that he got him back in his life before he called it quits.
Quits. He really should have quit cocaine huh? He felt stupid; foolish. Even those two words were extreme understatements of what he was feeling. He should have quit his bad circle of deranged friends. He should have quit his drug habit like he had promised to. He should have, he should have, he should have.
Heaving a great sigh, he slung his right arm over his eyes and allowed his left hand to wander for his handphone around the vicinity of the moth-bitten couch he was slumped on. After a few moments of struggle, his fingertips found something cool and metallic. Grabbing the device and holding it in his line of vision, he sat upright and tried to consolidate his thoughts and organize his speech for afterwards. Yes, he had decided that he was going to give him a call informing him of his arrival at his home in 15 minutes and then apologise endlessly until he would be forgiven.
The latter sounded positively crazy to him but for now it was all he could come up with. Inhaling a deep breath, he dialed the familiar set of numbers.
It rang.
There was a click, but no “Hello” followed. His call had been picked up. He stilled, and neither did he voice the complimentary greeting.
There was an awkward silence.
And an even longer silence ensued.
His thoughts were running at 300 miles per second, nothing he had planned to say were going to be made known verbally at this rate. He wanted to slap himself, to crash his head against the wall and pass out because after god-knows-how-many days he had finally garnered sufficient courage to make this call and he had picked up even though he knew the likelihood of him doing so was extremely slim. Yet all he was going to do is screw up again, like he did with his life, and chase the only person whom he cared about and vice versa, away.
“I’m sorry.” That came out of nowhere. He recognized it as his voice, and he also recognized the foreign yet familiar sensation of two warm trails of liquid sliding down his face. Was he so emotionally detached now that he could not realize it when his body reacted faster than his mind? However, he gathered himself together and waited for a response that most probably would not come.
All he could hear was his own breathing. Steady, in and out like a leaking tap. His ears could take in all of his surroundings with the exception of the other end of the line.
Still he clutched onto the phone, and waited. It seemed endless. With each passing moment, he felt as though he was falling closer to despair. He decided that it was going to be over like this. That he had ruined everything just by taking that one hit from that plastic packet. God he hated himself. His sense of self-loathing kicked in again.
He shifted a little and stared at the clock in front of him and decided that he would apologise once more and put down the phone if there was no response by the end of 30 seconds. He wouldn’t blame Kai for not saying anything because hell, if he were in his shoes, he’d probably be yelling his lungs out at him down the phone line. Yet, at that moment he thought that he would have preferred that option to this excruciating silence between them.
The second-hand inched nearer to 6 o’clock.
This is it, he thought. The happiness he had fought so hard for was blown away by a whiff of that white powder. He braced himself to press the red button on his phone.
3
2
-
“I forgive you.”
Chapter: One-shot
Author: kiroyo
Genre: Angst, fluff?
Warnings: Very very brief mention of drug use?
Disclaimer: I own no one!
Rating: G
Pairing: Reita x Kai
Synopsis: Reita screwed up. He screwed up badly.
Comments: My first fic! :3 Didn't expect myself to start off with angst though.
A feeling of guilt washed over him. Remorse tugged at his heart strings and he felt so crushed up inside that even his guts were starting to hurt. Hurt, could it be so overwhelming that even physical material pain could be compared to the one he was going through now?
He should go see him, Reita thought. He should go to his house, ring his doorbell, stick his foot in between the door and the frame if he attempted to shut him out of his house and most probably out of his life, and explain. He didn’t care if he was going to break down and cry before him. No, protecting his male ego wasn’t his priority now. What matters most was that he got him back in his life before he called it quits.
Quits. He really should have quit cocaine huh? He felt stupid; foolish. Even those two words were extreme understatements of what he was feeling. He should have quit his bad circle of deranged friends. He should have quit his drug habit like he had promised to. He should have, he should have, he should have.
Heaving a great sigh, he slung his right arm over his eyes and allowed his left hand to wander for his handphone around the vicinity of the moth-bitten couch he was slumped on. After a few moments of struggle, his fingertips found something cool and metallic. Grabbing the device and holding it in his line of vision, he sat upright and tried to consolidate his thoughts and organize his speech for afterwards. Yes, he had decided that he was going to give him a call informing him of his arrival at his home in 15 minutes and then apologise endlessly until he would be forgiven.
The latter sounded positively crazy to him but for now it was all he could come up with. Inhaling a deep breath, he dialed the familiar set of numbers.
It rang.
There was a click, but no “Hello” followed. His call had been picked up. He stilled, and neither did he voice the complimentary greeting.
There was an awkward silence.
And an even longer silence ensued.
His thoughts were running at 300 miles per second, nothing he had planned to say were going to be made known verbally at this rate. He wanted to slap himself, to crash his head against the wall and pass out because after god-knows-how-many days he had finally garnered sufficient courage to make this call and he had picked up even though he knew the likelihood of him doing so was extremely slim. Yet all he was going to do is screw up again, like he did with his life, and chase the only person whom he cared about and vice versa, away.
“I’m sorry.” That came out of nowhere. He recognized it as his voice, and he also recognized the foreign yet familiar sensation of two warm trails of liquid sliding down his face. Was he so emotionally detached now that he could not realize it when his body reacted faster than his mind? However, he gathered himself together and waited for a response that most probably would not come.
All he could hear was his own breathing. Steady, in and out like a leaking tap. His ears could take in all of his surroundings with the exception of the other end of the line.
Still he clutched onto the phone, and waited. It seemed endless. With each passing moment, he felt as though he was falling closer to despair. He decided that it was going to be over like this. That he had ruined everything just by taking that one hit from that plastic packet. God he hated himself. His sense of self-loathing kicked in again.
He shifted a little and stared at the clock in front of him and decided that he would apologise once more and put down the phone if there was no response by the end of 30 seconds. He wouldn’t blame Kai for not saying anything because hell, if he were in his shoes, he’d probably be yelling his lungs out at him down the phone line. Yet, at that moment he thought that he would have preferred that option to this excruciating silence between them.
The second-hand inched nearer to 6 o’clock.
This is it, he thought. The happiness he had fought so hard for was blown away by a whiff of that white powder. He braced himself to press the red button on his phone.
3
2
-
“I forgive you.”