[Fic] Can't Ever (Yamapi x Maki)
Title: Can't Ever
Author: kohee
Pairing: Yamashita Tomohisa x Horikita Maki
Summary: She may finally be getting over him, but that isn't exactly what he wants.
Genre: Angst/Romance
Rating: R for adult situations
Author's note: I don't even know what or why or how or when and I may officially be nuts. Damn Kurosagi.
She tells him that she is seeing someone, through a text message sent to his phone, and it seems too detached and formal and so unlike how they used to be, although there is not any other way to tell him, not with the way they are with each other now. But she does not want him to find out through newspaper reports and tabloids, or worse, through a reporter's question primed at fishing for a newsworthy response - that will be even more horribly impersonal. So she lets him know about the relationship, which will be made official soon by her publicist, because she feels that he should know, after all, they meant something to each other once upon a time.
He calls her three minutes after she pressed the send button, and she supposes she is not entirely surprised when his name flashes rapidly on the screen of her mobile. She hesitates for a few seconds before answering the call, fighting down a sense of curious unease as she does so.
The first thing he says isn't a message of congratulations, or an expression of surprise, or even a sarcastic don't-I-at-least-deserve-a-phone-call comment, or anything along the lines of her expectations. His tone is abrupt and he only asks her to meet him as soon as possible. It is at the tip of her tongue to decline, to make up some sort of excuse because she feels that she does not want to face him, but she knows that avoiding him is escaping, and she decides that she has to stop running, she has been running for too long. She has to, because she is wearing another man's promise ring on her finger, and therefore it is time to write off his chapter in her life.
-----
They meet in a nondescript little café, a place where he first held her hand, where she first smiled at him, in that special way that is - was - only reserved for him, where him and her became them, and also where they stopped becoming them. It seems almost fitting, yet painfully ironic, that they should meet here again, as him and her, so many months later.
They both used to love the signature frothy mochaccinos in the café, served in huge, colorful mugs, and they used to share one just because they wanted to, taking turns sipping and laughing, and she would dab the chocolate-speckled foam off the top of his lip, and he would kiss the foam off the corners of her mouth.
She wonders if he remembers, and she suspects he does when neither of them orders the mochaccino. He now drinks his coffee black, strong and thick without even a granule of sugar, and she now drinks green tea, free of coffee and chocolate.
It has been five minutes since they both arrive and neither has said a word. She has not seen him in months and he does not look too different from the last time she saw him. He has lost weight, but she knows he has been working very hard, and she worries for a brief moment that he has not been resting enough. Instantly, she brushes off the feeling, for it is not her place to worry about him anymore. Someone else will do it, and it will not be her.
The silence between them stretches, and it is uncomfortable and almost unbearable. Yamashita does not speak, and maybe he is waiting for her, so Maki speaks, breaking the silence, asking him how he is.
He reaches for the packet of cigarettes in his pocket, lighting one up and taking a long drag out of it. He exhales, letting out a stream of smoke, looking at her, and he finally speaks, but he does not answer her question.
“So, Maki-chan.” The familiar endearment sends a rush of emotions flooding through her and she wonders briefly if she should ask him to stop calling her that because it does not seem appropriate anymore. “You're seeing someone. Seriously.” His eyes are dark and undecipherable and she feels a funny pang when she remembers how easy it used to be to understand him. But that was when they were still them, and they no longer are.
“Yes. Yes, I am.” She says clearly.
“Do I know him?”
She shakes her head. “He's not in the entertainment business.”
He tries to feign interest, tries to fight the resentment he is feeling. “What does he do, then?”
“He's a lawyer. We met at a charity function.”
A small snort escapes him as he takes another drag out of his cigarette, struggling to keep an expressionless façade that is slightly marred by the formation of a scowl. “Congratulations. I hope it will be a wonderful and beautiful relationship.” His bitter tone is not lost on her, and as she watches him smoke, she feels the sting of his sarcasm. Her temper builds as she grips her cup with both hands, but she will not let herself lose control.
“Thank you.”
“Are you happy?” He asks, suddenly.
“I am happy.” She says, her voice steady. She watches as the color of his eyes shifted and she could not read him anymore, and that realisation weighs on her mind. After all this time, she knows that it should not matter but it undeniably does and she does not know what she can do about that.
He leans forward, his eyes locking onto hers, his voice edgy. “Are you really?”
The room is stifling and the promise ring on a chain around her neck is heavy, and suddenly, she feels angry - angry at him, angry at herself, angry at the world, angry at life and all its fucked-up circumstances and she does not know how much more she can take.
“Stop it, Yamashita.” She snaps, and she sees shock flickering in his eyes, along with glimmers of hurt and fleetingly, she realises she can maybe still read him, just a little.
“Yamashita.” He echoes, the corners of his mouth lifting sardonic smirk. “Since when am I 'Yamashita'?”
“Since the day you decided to walk away.” She fires back, meeting his gaze defiantly.
His eyes narrow and he does not avert his gaze from her face. “We both walked away.”
Maki is an actress, and she is a pretty damn good actress, she has awards to attest to that, and she is trained to always remain in perfect control of her character, and herself, but sitting across from him, seeing that face and those eyes, she feels her carefully constructed internal wall begin to crumble. She knows she cannot sit there anymore, and she may be a coward but frankly, she has had enough.
“No. You walked away. You decided it was as far as you could take it, you never asked me, you never asked what I wanted, and you decided that was it, and you walked away, Yamashita, and don't try to make it into anything else.”
He opens his mouth to speak but she cuts him off, pushing back her chair and standing up. “But it doesn't matter, because it's my turn now. I'm walking away, and we're even.” She turns and leaves, not giving him a chance to speak or say anything. She is through with giving chances.
It is raining when she steps out of the café, drizzling, and as she walks out into the rain, she wonders vaguely about an umbrella and decides that it is so stupid to worry about an umbrella when her life feels like it is coming apart when she had spent the last year so painstakingly putting the pieces back together, after a mere fifteen minutes with him.
She isn't altogether too surprised when she feels Yamashita's fingers closing around her wrist. That is always, always how he is. He runs when she wants him to stay, and he fights for her when she wants him to let go. Her step falters and she feels her throat closing up as tears begin to form in her eyes and she is glad for the rain, so she can pretend that she isn't crying.
“Leave me alone, Yamashita.” She says, her back to him and her voice flat, and it is that bleakness makes his head hurt, and makes him kind of hate himself, but at the same time, it makes him sure of what he is about to say and do.
He tightens his grip on her wrist. “Let's start over.”
She yanks her hand out of his and wheels around to glare at him, her eyes fiery and angry. “It's a little too late for that now.”
He shakes his head, and reaches out to grasp her shoulders. “It's not too late. It's never too late. I know that, and you know that. You couldn't let go either, that's why you told me about him when you didn't have to. That's why you came today.”
She twists away, letting out her words in a rapid torrent, hating him for knowing the truth, hating him for knowing her. “Don't flatter yourself, Yamashita. I told you because it is courtesy. And I came today to settle any sort of unfinished business between us, because I am letting go. ”
“Is that all I am to you, then?” He asks, his own voice raising as anger creeps in. “A courtesy? Unfinished business?”
“Yes!” She yells back. “I need closure. I need closure from you, from us, because I need to move on! I want to continue living! I've worked so hard to get where I am, to accept another person into my life. Why do you have to reappear? Why can't you just leave me alone? I can't move on, I can't and I hate you, I hate you, I hate you...”
Her angry tirade is cut short as he takes one giant step forward and pulls her to him, almost crushing her against his chest as he kisses her, hard, kisses her the way he used to, tasting tears and rainwater and Maki. His lips slant over hers and nip at her bottom lip, and she struggles against him, but he keeps his arms firmly around her, one arm tightening around her waist as his other hand tangles in her short hair, as he tongues the corners of her mouth, seeking entry. And she gives up fighting, her fingers clutching at the fabric of his coat as she returns his kiss, opening her mouth and entangling her tongue with his, deepening their kisses. He groans, the wonderful familiarity is overpowering and he wonders how could he have been so stupid, how could he have walked away from her, from her.
If this is his second chance, he is not going to fuck this up.
------
They stumble through the door of his apartment together, still kissing fervently, as his jacket drops onto the floor. She rakes her fingernails up his back, under his shirt, and she tears her mouth away from his briefly to pull his shirt over her head, and he fuses his lips to hers again, their tongues entangling and battling for dominance as he unbuttons her blouse and unhooks her bra, while she busies herself with the buckle of his belt.
He moves his lips down her neck, nipping at the skin, tasting rain and listening to her inarticulate moans as he grazes his fingers across her bare breasts, loving the fact that he can still make her feel that way and he wants to be the only person able to make her sound like that, heady and desperate. His mouth reaches her nipple and he sucks it gently, as her hands skillfully pulls down his jeans. He groans as her fingers enclosed around his erection, his need for her almost spilling out of control.
He braces her against the wall, supporting her weight with his arms as he spreads her legs and joins them together, both letting out gasps of pleasure. She deftly adjusts herself to take him, wrapping her legs around his hips, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades as she raises her hips to meet his thrusts. His arms tightened around her as he lowers his head to kiss her, almost bruisingly hard, as they both neared their release. She holds onto him and gasps his name against his mouth, and she calls him Tomo, not the formal Yamashita from just now, but Tomo, Tomo.
They collapse together on the floor, breathing heavily and clinging onto each other, and he breathes sweat and sex and her, and he thinks that all is right with the world again. She lifts herself to look at him and he kisses her, for half a minute before she gently pushes him away.
“We can't...” She murmurs, and he takes her hand, gripping it tightly, and tells her that they can, they can.
She slips out of his arms, standing up and picking up her skirt, and he looks at her and sees that she is so achingly wonderful, and tells himself that he'd be damned if he lets her go again.
“Maki. Come back.”
She buttons her blouse and rakes her fingers through her short hair, not looking at him. Frustrated, he stands up, pulling up his jeans and grabbing her arm. “Maki.”
She turns to face him. “We can't, Tomo, you can't...” she breaks off as he wraps his arms around her, holding her, and it feels so right, encircled in his arms, but she still has to say what she needs to say. “You can't hold me and kiss me and pretend nothing ever happened.”
“I'm not going to pretend that nothing ever happened.” He says quietly. “I have been an idiot, I know that, and you should...you should just walk away because I have been a fucking bastard but I want a chance. I want...I want you back.”
She shakes her head, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes as she feels the weight of the chain around her neck, and she feels so utterly remorseful and sorry and she thinks she may be the worst person alive. “He loves me.”
“And I love you.” He answers without hesitation. Pushing her back a little, he leans down and brushes her mouth with a kiss. “And you love me. I know you do.”
She does, and that, to her, is the problem. She loves him, so damn much, despite all the hurting, all the tears, despite everything, and that scares her. To death.
She frees herself from his arms and takes a step back. “Let me go. We won't ever be the same again.”
“We won't. Because I'll never leave you.”
I'll never leave you.
She wants to believe him, wants to believe that they can wash away all the hurt and the pain, wants to believe that there is a forever, but she is not entirely sure she can believe him, so she shakes her head again and backs out of his door.
He watches her leave, he watches her walk away and he feels what she felt that day when he walked away.
He does not follow her.
-----
It is three o'clock in the morning when his doorbell sounded, and Yamashita opens the door to reveal her on his doorstep, looking small and disheveled, but at the same time, looking so strong and so beautiful.
Maki looks straight at him, and there is a small smile on her face as she takes a step nearer to him.
“I don't want to go. I can't let go either.” She whispers, placing her hand on his face, and he notices that the chain around her neck is gone.
He bends down, kisses her and hugs her fiercely.
That night, they breathe together and dream of reality and forever.
-----
- end -
It's 530AM and that is my excuse for writing this. Comments and criticism = ♥ as I think this may potentially be one of the most...I-don't-even-know-what-kind-of-weird thing I have written. And again, I don't even know why. Maybe I have to stop watching Kurosagi.
Author: kohee
Pairing: Yamashita Tomohisa x Horikita Maki
Summary: She may finally be getting over him, but that isn't exactly what he wants.
Genre: Angst/Romance
Rating: R for adult situations
Author's note: I don't even know what or why or how or when and I may officially be nuts. Damn Kurosagi.
She tells him that she is seeing someone, through a text message sent to his phone, and it seems too detached and formal and so unlike how they used to be, although there is not any other way to tell him, not with the way they are with each other now. But she does not want him to find out through newspaper reports and tabloids, or worse, through a reporter's question primed at fishing for a newsworthy response - that will be even more horribly impersonal. So she lets him know about the relationship, which will be made official soon by her publicist, because she feels that he should know, after all, they meant something to each other once upon a time.
He calls her three minutes after she pressed the send button, and she supposes she is not entirely surprised when his name flashes rapidly on the screen of her mobile. She hesitates for a few seconds before answering the call, fighting down a sense of curious unease as she does so.
The first thing he says isn't a message of congratulations, or an expression of surprise, or even a sarcastic don't-I-at-least-deserve-a-phone-call comment, or anything along the lines of her expectations. His tone is abrupt and he only asks her to meet him as soon as possible. It is at the tip of her tongue to decline, to make up some sort of excuse because she feels that she does not want to face him, but she knows that avoiding him is escaping, and she decides that she has to stop running, she has been running for too long. She has to, because she is wearing another man's promise ring on her finger, and therefore it is time to write off his chapter in her life.
-----
They meet in a nondescript little café, a place where he first held her hand, where she first smiled at him, in that special way that is - was - only reserved for him, where him and her became them, and also where they stopped becoming them. It seems almost fitting, yet painfully ironic, that they should meet here again, as him and her, so many months later.
They both used to love the signature frothy mochaccinos in the café, served in huge, colorful mugs, and they used to share one just because they wanted to, taking turns sipping and laughing, and she would dab the chocolate-speckled foam off the top of his lip, and he would kiss the foam off the corners of her mouth.
She wonders if he remembers, and she suspects he does when neither of them orders the mochaccino. He now drinks his coffee black, strong and thick without even a granule of sugar, and she now drinks green tea, free of coffee and chocolate.
It has been five minutes since they both arrive and neither has said a word. She has not seen him in months and he does not look too different from the last time she saw him. He has lost weight, but she knows he has been working very hard, and she worries for a brief moment that he has not been resting enough. Instantly, she brushes off the feeling, for it is not her place to worry about him anymore. Someone else will do it, and it will not be her.
The silence between them stretches, and it is uncomfortable and almost unbearable. Yamashita does not speak, and maybe he is waiting for her, so Maki speaks, breaking the silence, asking him how he is.
He reaches for the packet of cigarettes in his pocket, lighting one up and taking a long drag out of it. He exhales, letting out a stream of smoke, looking at her, and he finally speaks, but he does not answer her question.
“So, Maki-chan.” The familiar endearment sends a rush of emotions flooding through her and she wonders briefly if she should ask him to stop calling her that because it does not seem appropriate anymore. “You're seeing someone. Seriously.” His eyes are dark and undecipherable and she feels a funny pang when she remembers how easy it used to be to understand him. But that was when they were still them, and they no longer are.
“Yes. Yes, I am.” She says clearly.
“Do I know him?”
She shakes her head. “He's not in the entertainment business.”
He tries to feign interest, tries to fight the resentment he is feeling. “What does he do, then?”
“He's a lawyer. We met at a charity function.”
A small snort escapes him as he takes another drag out of his cigarette, struggling to keep an expressionless façade that is slightly marred by the formation of a scowl. “Congratulations. I hope it will be a wonderful and beautiful relationship.” His bitter tone is not lost on her, and as she watches him smoke, she feels the sting of his sarcasm. Her temper builds as she grips her cup with both hands, but she will not let herself lose control.
“Thank you.”
“Are you happy?” He asks, suddenly.
“I am happy.” She says, her voice steady. She watches as the color of his eyes shifted and she could not read him anymore, and that realisation weighs on her mind. After all this time, she knows that it should not matter but it undeniably does and she does not know what she can do about that.
He leans forward, his eyes locking onto hers, his voice edgy. “Are you really?”
The room is stifling and the promise ring on a chain around her neck is heavy, and suddenly, she feels angry - angry at him, angry at herself, angry at the world, angry at life and all its fucked-up circumstances and she does not know how much more she can take.
“Stop it, Yamashita.” She snaps, and she sees shock flickering in his eyes, along with glimmers of hurt and fleetingly, she realises she can maybe still read him, just a little.
“Yamashita.” He echoes, the corners of his mouth lifting sardonic smirk. “Since when am I 'Yamashita'?”
“Since the day you decided to walk away.” She fires back, meeting his gaze defiantly.
His eyes narrow and he does not avert his gaze from her face. “We both walked away.”
Maki is an actress, and she is a pretty damn good actress, she has awards to attest to that, and she is trained to always remain in perfect control of her character, and herself, but sitting across from him, seeing that face and those eyes, she feels her carefully constructed internal wall begin to crumble. She knows she cannot sit there anymore, and she may be a coward but frankly, she has had enough.
“No. You walked away. You decided it was as far as you could take it, you never asked me, you never asked what I wanted, and you decided that was it, and you walked away, Yamashita, and don't try to make it into anything else.”
He opens his mouth to speak but she cuts him off, pushing back her chair and standing up. “But it doesn't matter, because it's my turn now. I'm walking away, and we're even.” She turns and leaves, not giving him a chance to speak or say anything. She is through with giving chances.
It is raining when she steps out of the café, drizzling, and as she walks out into the rain, she wonders vaguely about an umbrella and decides that it is so stupid to worry about an umbrella when her life feels like it is coming apart when she had spent the last year so painstakingly putting the pieces back together, after a mere fifteen minutes with him.
She isn't altogether too surprised when she feels Yamashita's fingers closing around her wrist. That is always, always how he is. He runs when she wants him to stay, and he fights for her when she wants him to let go. Her step falters and she feels her throat closing up as tears begin to form in her eyes and she is glad for the rain, so she can pretend that she isn't crying.
“Leave me alone, Yamashita.” She says, her back to him and her voice flat, and it is that bleakness makes his head hurt, and makes him kind of hate himself, but at the same time, it makes him sure of what he is about to say and do.
He tightens his grip on her wrist. “Let's start over.”
She yanks her hand out of his and wheels around to glare at him, her eyes fiery and angry. “It's a little too late for that now.”
He shakes his head, and reaches out to grasp her shoulders. “It's not too late. It's never too late. I know that, and you know that. You couldn't let go either, that's why you told me about him when you didn't have to. That's why you came today.”
She twists away, letting out her words in a rapid torrent, hating him for knowing the truth, hating him for knowing her. “Don't flatter yourself, Yamashita. I told you because it is courtesy. And I came today to settle any sort of unfinished business between us, because I am letting go. ”
“Is that all I am to you, then?” He asks, his own voice raising as anger creeps in. “A courtesy? Unfinished business?”
“Yes!” She yells back. “I need closure. I need closure from you, from us, because I need to move on! I want to continue living! I've worked so hard to get where I am, to accept another person into my life. Why do you have to reappear? Why can't you just leave me alone? I can't move on, I can't and I hate you, I hate you, I hate you...”
Her angry tirade is cut short as he takes one giant step forward and pulls her to him, almost crushing her against his chest as he kisses her, hard, kisses her the way he used to, tasting tears and rainwater and Maki. His lips slant over hers and nip at her bottom lip, and she struggles against him, but he keeps his arms firmly around her, one arm tightening around her waist as his other hand tangles in her short hair, as he tongues the corners of her mouth, seeking entry. And she gives up fighting, her fingers clutching at the fabric of his coat as she returns his kiss, opening her mouth and entangling her tongue with his, deepening their kisses. He groans, the wonderful familiarity is overpowering and he wonders how could he have been so stupid, how could he have walked away from her, from her.
If this is his second chance, he is not going to fuck this up.
------
They stumble through the door of his apartment together, still kissing fervently, as his jacket drops onto the floor. She rakes her fingernails up his back, under his shirt, and she tears her mouth away from his briefly to pull his shirt over her head, and he fuses his lips to hers again, their tongues entangling and battling for dominance as he unbuttons her blouse and unhooks her bra, while she busies herself with the buckle of his belt.
He moves his lips down her neck, nipping at the skin, tasting rain and listening to her inarticulate moans as he grazes his fingers across her bare breasts, loving the fact that he can still make her feel that way and he wants to be the only person able to make her sound like that, heady and desperate. His mouth reaches her nipple and he sucks it gently, as her hands skillfully pulls down his jeans. He groans as her fingers enclosed around his erection, his need for her almost spilling out of control.
He braces her against the wall, supporting her weight with his arms as he spreads her legs and joins them together, both letting out gasps of pleasure. She deftly adjusts herself to take him, wrapping her legs around his hips, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades as she raises her hips to meet his thrusts. His arms tightened around her as he lowers his head to kiss her, almost bruisingly hard, as they both neared their release. She holds onto him and gasps his name against his mouth, and she calls him Tomo, not the formal Yamashita from just now, but Tomo, Tomo.
They collapse together on the floor, breathing heavily and clinging onto each other, and he breathes sweat and sex and her, and he thinks that all is right with the world again. She lifts herself to look at him and he kisses her, for half a minute before she gently pushes him away.
“We can't...” She murmurs, and he takes her hand, gripping it tightly, and tells her that they can, they can.
She slips out of his arms, standing up and picking up her skirt, and he looks at her and sees that she is so achingly wonderful, and tells himself that he'd be damned if he lets her go again.
“Maki. Come back.”
She buttons her blouse and rakes her fingers through her short hair, not looking at him. Frustrated, he stands up, pulling up his jeans and grabbing her arm. “Maki.”
She turns to face him. “We can't, Tomo, you can't...” she breaks off as he wraps his arms around her, holding her, and it feels so right, encircled in his arms, but she still has to say what she needs to say. “You can't hold me and kiss me and pretend nothing ever happened.”
“I'm not going to pretend that nothing ever happened.” He says quietly. “I have been an idiot, I know that, and you should...you should just walk away because I have been a fucking bastard but I want a chance. I want...I want you back.”
She shakes her head, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes as she feels the weight of the chain around her neck, and she feels so utterly remorseful and sorry and she thinks she may be the worst person alive. “He loves me.”
“And I love you.” He answers without hesitation. Pushing her back a little, he leans down and brushes her mouth with a kiss. “And you love me. I know you do.”
She does, and that, to her, is the problem. She loves him, so damn much, despite all the hurting, all the tears, despite everything, and that scares her. To death.
She frees herself from his arms and takes a step back. “Let me go. We won't ever be the same again.”
“We won't. Because I'll never leave you.”
I'll never leave you.
She wants to believe him, wants to believe that they can wash away all the hurt and the pain, wants to believe that there is a forever, but she is not entirely sure she can believe him, so she shakes her head again and backs out of his door.
He watches her leave, he watches her walk away and he feels what she felt that day when he walked away.
He does not follow her.
-----
It is three o'clock in the morning when his doorbell sounded, and Yamashita opens the door to reveal her on his doorstep, looking small and disheveled, but at the same time, looking so strong and so beautiful.
Maki looks straight at him, and there is a small smile on her face as she takes a step nearer to him.
“I don't want to go. I can't let go either.” She whispers, placing her hand on his face, and he notices that the chain around her neck is gone.
He bends down, kisses her and hugs her fiercely.
That night, they breathe together and dream of reality and forever.
-----
- end -
It's 530AM and that is my excuse for writing this. Comments and criticism = ♥ as I think this may potentially be one of the most...I-don't-even-know-what-kind-of-weird thing I have written. And again, I don't even know why. Maybe I have to stop watching Kurosagi.