Hoarder (One-shot)
Title: Hoarder
Chapters: N/A
Author: konicoffee
Genre: Romance, Drama
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story.
Warnings: Language, very mildly implied sex
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/Characters: Hizumi/Aiji
Band/s: D'espairsRay, LM.C
Synopsis: Have you ever been with someone all your friends hated?
Comments: Written for olya_yutaka. My first fic for both D'espairsRay and LM.C. I hope you like it!
Sitting on his bed, Aiji sighed at the harsh morning light that scattered in his room. Onto the fixtures the sun casted its radiance, and onto every wrinkle on his bed sheets it crept. He looked lethargically at the fucking pest morning always was, stealing what little sleep he was afforded. He sucked on his cigarette, enjoying the warmth from the stick and rejecting the one from the daylight.
Cigarette smoke swirled in the air while conflict clouded his thoughts. His peripheral vision shifted, moving from one point of his room to another, settling every once in a while on some objects he kept for no apparent reason. He chuckled at a certain pair of shoes, still unused for they were too small for him to wear. The bestselling novel he never enjoyed, no matter how much other people did. The portable air heater he never took out of the packaging because his old one miraculously started working again.
He always had a tendency to keep unnecessary things. Even his friends said so. Especially his friends.
Looking at the lava lamp he didn’t even bother testing, the guitarist inhaled, letting nicotine sear through his lungs. Bitterness for bitterness, he thought. At least the one from his cigarette was warm. This bitterness felt easier to take in than the one from the people around him.
Aiji wondered what exactly they hated about Hizumi, anyway.
Everyone objected to his relationship with D’espairsRay’s vocalist. Anyone who knew him harbored a strange dislike toward him. Even Hizumi’s band mates warned Aiji about the vocalist and gave him instructions to dude, be careful, he’s a fucking asshole. He didn’t understand everyone’s apprehension at first. Sure, Hizumi was an insolent, arrogant son of a bitch sometimes. But that was it, only at times.
Just every so often.
Now and again.
Every goddamn day.
Of course Aiji couldn’t blame them. They couldn’t possibly understand how utterly addictive the man was that the blessed moments that he was nice was well worth the drudgery. After all, only he had experienced the widest variety of touches from Hizumi, from the slightest stroke of fingertips to the shoving of rough hands. No one else had heard the delicious rasp in the vocalist’s soft I love you’s. Even though everyone else thought Hizumi was the scourge of the earth, his sweetness, though rarely shown, made the world right. The all too common times the vocalist was angry, the rare times he smiled; his gentle side, his harsh side - these and everything else about Hizumi were vices.
Falling in love with Hizumi meant falling hard.
They didn’t understand that. They never did, even after a fed up Aiji finally ended his relationship with Hizumi and apparently restored peace and order in the universe. Everyone was so damn happy when they broke up. Even fate rewarded the guitarist with more friends, and strangely enough, a better career with a tour coming up and more gigs and more appearances at seemingly important events.
He still didn’t understand why everyone despised Hizumi, though. Just like he couldn’t figure out why it was impossible to sleep well these days. He didn’t know how mornings became so damn ugly, and how cigarettes surprisingly tasted like shit. All of a sudden, even with piles and piles of junk in it, his room looked empty. His heart, even more so.
Once more he sucked in a warm stream of vile heat while he watched the morning light paint bright shades of melancholy in his bedroom. He looked at his door, nearly willing it to open to let Hizumi walk in and yell at him for smoking on his own bed. He almost heard Hizumi bitch about how his room smelled like cigarettes and how it was full of stupid, useless shit that ought to be burned.
Yeah. The guitarist smiled at the frames that played in his head, nodding to contain the sting in his chest. I’m sorry.
He really did have a tendency to keep unnecessary things.
Chapters: N/A
Author: konicoffee
Genre: Romance, Drama
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story.
Warnings: Language, very mildly implied sex
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/Characters: Hizumi/Aiji
Band/s: D'espairsRay, LM.C
Synopsis: Have you ever been with someone all your friends hated?
Comments: Written for olya_yutaka. My first fic for both D'espairsRay and LM.C. I hope you like it!
Sitting on his bed, Aiji sighed at the harsh morning light that scattered in his room. Onto the fixtures the sun casted its radiance, and onto every wrinkle on his bed sheets it crept. He looked lethargically at the fucking pest morning always was, stealing what little sleep he was afforded. He sucked on his cigarette, enjoying the warmth from the stick and rejecting the one from the daylight.
Cigarette smoke swirled in the air while conflict clouded his thoughts. His peripheral vision shifted, moving from one point of his room to another, settling every once in a while on some objects he kept for no apparent reason. He chuckled at a certain pair of shoes, still unused for they were too small for him to wear. The bestselling novel he never enjoyed, no matter how much other people did. The portable air heater he never took out of the packaging because his old one miraculously started working again.
He always had a tendency to keep unnecessary things. Even his friends said so. Especially his friends.
Looking at the lava lamp he didn’t even bother testing, the guitarist inhaled, letting nicotine sear through his lungs. Bitterness for bitterness, he thought. At least the one from his cigarette was warm. This bitterness felt easier to take in than the one from the people around him.
Aiji wondered what exactly they hated about Hizumi, anyway.
Everyone objected to his relationship with D’espairsRay’s vocalist. Anyone who knew him harbored a strange dislike toward him. Even Hizumi’s band mates warned Aiji about the vocalist and gave him instructions to dude, be careful, he’s a fucking asshole. He didn’t understand everyone’s apprehension at first. Sure, Hizumi was an insolent, arrogant son of a bitch sometimes. But that was it, only at times.
Just every so often.
Now and again.
Every goddamn day.
Of course Aiji couldn’t blame them. They couldn’t possibly understand how utterly addictive the man was that the blessed moments that he was nice was well worth the drudgery. After all, only he had experienced the widest variety of touches from Hizumi, from the slightest stroke of fingertips to the shoving of rough hands. No one else had heard the delicious rasp in the vocalist’s soft I love you’s. Even though everyone else thought Hizumi was the scourge of the earth, his sweetness, though rarely shown, made the world right. The all too common times the vocalist was angry, the rare times he smiled; his gentle side, his harsh side - these and everything else about Hizumi were vices.
Falling in love with Hizumi meant falling hard.
They didn’t understand that. They never did, even after a fed up Aiji finally ended his relationship with Hizumi and apparently restored peace and order in the universe. Everyone was so damn happy when they broke up. Even fate rewarded the guitarist with more friends, and strangely enough, a better career with a tour coming up and more gigs and more appearances at seemingly important events.
He still didn’t understand why everyone despised Hizumi, though. Just like he couldn’t figure out why it was impossible to sleep well these days. He didn’t know how mornings became so damn ugly, and how cigarettes surprisingly tasted like shit. All of a sudden, even with piles and piles of junk in it, his room looked empty. His heart, even more so.
Once more he sucked in a warm stream of vile heat while he watched the morning light paint bright shades of melancholy in his bedroom. He looked at his door, nearly willing it to open to let Hizumi walk in and yell at him for smoking on his own bed. He almost heard Hizumi bitch about how his room smelled like cigarettes and how it was full of stupid, useless shit that ought to be burned.
Yeah. The guitarist smiled at the frames that played in his head, nodding to contain the sting in his chest. I’m sorry.
He really did have a tendency to keep unnecessary things.