Fic [the GazettE] - "Reminiscence"
Title: Reminiscence
Chapters: Oneshot
Author: machete_rose
Genre: Romance
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I do not own the GazettE. Sadness.
Rating: PG
Pairings/Characters: Aoi x Uruha
Synopsis: Uruha thinks back on his short-lived relationship with Aoi.
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Uruha sighed into the darkness. He was curled up on his bed, covers pulled securely over his head as he tried to ignore the sunlight that was filtering in through the blinds. He’d had another dream about Aoi and he desperately wanted to go back to sleep so that he could continue it. It wasn’t that the dream was steamy and sexy and hard-on-inducing; in fact, it hadn’t even been a particularly pleasant dream. But it was a dream that included Aoi, nonetheless. And in Uruha’s mind that alone made it worth spending the rest of the day as an inanimate lump on his bed.
Lifting the edge of the blanket just enough to stick his nose out for some much needed oxygen, Uruha shivered slightly at the feel of unexpectedly cool air. He breathed in deeply while keeping his eyes shut tight against the intrusive brightness. And his mind began to wander.
It wandered back through the last year, through the ups and downs, the good times and the bad. It wandered all the way to the very beginning, back to when he and Aoi had first gotten together. They had always been friendly enough, though being guitarists of the same band there was a natural tension, an unspoken competitiveness that always lingered in the air between them. But gradually that tension had morphed into something more, something that could almost be called love. Almost.
Uruha felt tears pricking at the back of his eyelids as his heart twisted uncomfortably. This was a bad idea, he knew it was. It was blatant masochism to relive the events of the last few months. Yet he couldn’t stop himself. As easily as his mind had wandered to the beginning, it began its methodical and painful trek through the subsequent events that had brought him to this point.
They hadn’t started off by confessing to each other. Rather, they had insulted and poked fun at each other, as though they weren’t already in their twenties. They had flirted and sent surreptitious glances the other’s way, as though it weren’t already obvious to each other and to everyone else around them. And somehow, one day Aoi had softly pressed his lips to Uruha’s, probing gently with his tongue as though it could convey his feelings, the feelings that he could not voice, to the other man. And it did.
Four months later, they broke up.
It was a spur of the moment decision, one made in the heat of an argument. Uruha couldn’t even remember what they had been arguing about, if it had even been worth arguing about. But he could clearly remember the sharp pain in his chest as Aoi slammed his fist into the wall and stalked off, muttering that this shit wasn’t worth it. It was the same pain that he felt now, as he watched the scene unfold in his mind’s eye. After that, they didn’t speak for weeks. Aoi was too stubborn to apologize and Uruha was too proud to beg. Whenever they saw each other at practice, they would be coldly polite, only speaking to each other when necessary, and ignoring each other whenever possible.
Uruha laughed softly, mirthlessly, under his covers. He couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for the other band members. Kai had tried his best to play mediator but Aoi had just glared coldly at him and walked off while Uruha looked pointedly away. Reita and Ruki had shuffled awkwardly around the studio, finding pointless reasons to engage the staff members in roundabout conversations about nothing at all.
Three weeks later, they were back together.
There was no heartfelt talk, no exchange of “I’m sorry”, “no, I’m sorry”. No mention of what had gone wrong or how they should fix it. It was another spur of the moment decision, made in the aftermath of a forced night of drinking together as a band. Even now, Uruha flushed as he remembered that night, the first night that he and Aoi had touched after weeks of bottling everything up and suppressing both their emotional and sexual frustrations. There were no sweet nothings murmured in the darkness, just raw passion and lust that drove them deeper into each other. And when it was over, when Uruha lay drowsily in Aoi’s arms, he felt the first pangs of doubt and regret.
Two months later, Aoi changed his mind again.
It was too hard, too angry, too stifling. Those were the excuses Aoi had given when he broke things off yet again, voice flat as he avoided Uruha's gaze and focused on some non-existent crack in the wall. They had been fighting almost every day since that night two months ago, often over the most trivial things. And after every fight, Uruha had felt an increasingly familiar knot form in the pit of his stomach, fearful that Aoi would storm off and leave him again without a good reason. And when it finally did happen, all Uruha felt was a sense of resignation. He didn't fight to stay together, to save their so-called relationship; instead that knot in his stomach had slowly unraveled, a faint sense of relief washing over him. Until Aoi called him late one night and the nagging regret returned.
Just friends. Friends with benefits. Just friends.
Back and forth, one label to another, wanting to leave but not wanting to let go.
There were some days that Uruha found the inner strength to distance himself emotionally from the other guitarist. Those were the days that Aoi chose to pull him back in, despite having pushed him away every other time before that. It was as though Aoi couldn't make up his mind whether he wanted Uruha by his side or not, as more than just a friend and band mate. Uruha resented Aoi for his indecisiveness, and resented himself for not being strong enough to just walk away from him. But he could never say no to Aoi. He had never been able to.
The sudden sound of his phone vibrating on the floor next to the bed jolted Uruha out of his thoughts. He rubbed his eyes disconcertedly, not surprised when his hands came away moist with unshed tears. Glancing at the screen, his heart annoyingly skipped a beat when he saw Aoi's name. Uruha paused, letting the phone vibrate for a bit longer as he contemplated not picking up. It had become a habit, a meaningless gesture to convince himself that he really was trying to move on when in reality he was bound more tightly to Aoi than he would ever admit.
"Hello?" Nonchalant answer. Good.
"Uruha, you want to come over tonight?" I miss you.
Aoi always asked as if it weren't already a given that Uruha would always come to him when he called. Uruha smiled softly, and his reply rolled off his tongue without hesitation, even as he felt that familiar pang of regret and self-loathing.
"Sure. I'll be over soon." I miss you too.
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A/N: First fic, yay!
Chapters: Oneshot
Author: machete_rose
Genre: Romance
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I do not own the GazettE. Sadness.
Rating: PG
Pairings/Characters: Aoi x Uruha
Synopsis: Uruha thinks back on his short-lived relationship with Aoi.
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Uruha sighed into the darkness. He was curled up on his bed, covers pulled securely over his head as he tried to ignore the sunlight that was filtering in through the blinds. He’d had another dream about Aoi and he desperately wanted to go back to sleep so that he could continue it. It wasn’t that the dream was steamy and sexy and hard-on-inducing; in fact, it hadn’t even been a particularly pleasant dream. But it was a dream that included Aoi, nonetheless. And in Uruha’s mind that alone made it worth spending the rest of the day as an inanimate lump on his bed.
Lifting the edge of the blanket just enough to stick his nose out for some much needed oxygen, Uruha shivered slightly at the feel of unexpectedly cool air. He breathed in deeply while keeping his eyes shut tight against the intrusive brightness. And his mind began to wander.
It wandered back through the last year, through the ups and downs, the good times and the bad. It wandered all the way to the very beginning, back to when he and Aoi had first gotten together. They had always been friendly enough, though being guitarists of the same band there was a natural tension, an unspoken competitiveness that always lingered in the air between them. But gradually that tension had morphed into something more, something that could almost be called love. Almost.
Uruha felt tears pricking at the back of his eyelids as his heart twisted uncomfortably. This was a bad idea, he knew it was. It was blatant masochism to relive the events of the last few months. Yet he couldn’t stop himself. As easily as his mind had wandered to the beginning, it began its methodical and painful trek through the subsequent events that had brought him to this point.
They hadn’t started off by confessing to each other. Rather, they had insulted and poked fun at each other, as though they weren’t already in their twenties. They had flirted and sent surreptitious glances the other’s way, as though it weren’t already obvious to each other and to everyone else around them. And somehow, one day Aoi had softly pressed his lips to Uruha’s, probing gently with his tongue as though it could convey his feelings, the feelings that he could not voice, to the other man. And it did.
Four months later, they broke up.
It was a spur of the moment decision, one made in the heat of an argument. Uruha couldn’t even remember what they had been arguing about, if it had even been worth arguing about. But he could clearly remember the sharp pain in his chest as Aoi slammed his fist into the wall and stalked off, muttering that this shit wasn’t worth it. It was the same pain that he felt now, as he watched the scene unfold in his mind’s eye. After that, they didn’t speak for weeks. Aoi was too stubborn to apologize and Uruha was too proud to beg. Whenever they saw each other at practice, they would be coldly polite, only speaking to each other when necessary, and ignoring each other whenever possible.
Uruha laughed softly, mirthlessly, under his covers. He couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for the other band members. Kai had tried his best to play mediator but Aoi had just glared coldly at him and walked off while Uruha looked pointedly away. Reita and Ruki had shuffled awkwardly around the studio, finding pointless reasons to engage the staff members in roundabout conversations about nothing at all.
Three weeks later, they were back together.
There was no heartfelt talk, no exchange of “I’m sorry”, “no, I’m sorry”. No mention of what had gone wrong or how they should fix it. It was another spur of the moment decision, made in the aftermath of a forced night of drinking together as a band. Even now, Uruha flushed as he remembered that night, the first night that he and Aoi had touched after weeks of bottling everything up and suppressing both their emotional and sexual frustrations. There were no sweet nothings murmured in the darkness, just raw passion and lust that drove them deeper into each other. And when it was over, when Uruha lay drowsily in Aoi’s arms, he felt the first pangs of doubt and regret.
Two months later, Aoi changed his mind again.
It was too hard, too angry, too stifling. Those were the excuses Aoi had given when he broke things off yet again, voice flat as he avoided Uruha's gaze and focused on some non-existent crack in the wall. They had been fighting almost every day since that night two months ago, often over the most trivial things. And after every fight, Uruha had felt an increasingly familiar knot form in the pit of his stomach, fearful that Aoi would storm off and leave him again without a good reason. And when it finally did happen, all Uruha felt was a sense of resignation. He didn't fight to stay together, to save their so-called relationship; instead that knot in his stomach had slowly unraveled, a faint sense of relief washing over him. Until Aoi called him late one night and the nagging regret returned.
Just friends. Friends with benefits. Just friends.
Back and forth, one label to another, wanting to leave but not wanting to let go.
There were some days that Uruha found the inner strength to distance himself emotionally from the other guitarist. Those were the days that Aoi chose to pull him back in, despite having pushed him away every other time before that. It was as though Aoi couldn't make up his mind whether he wanted Uruha by his side or not, as more than just a friend and band mate. Uruha resented Aoi for his indecisiveness, and resented himself for not being strong enough to just walk away from him. But he could never say no to Aoi. He had never been able to.
The sudden sound of his phone vibrating on the floor next to the bed jolted Uruha out of his thoughts. He rubbed his eyes disconcertedly, not surprised when his hands came away moist with unshed tears. Glancing at the screen, his heart annoyingly skipped a beat when he saw Aoi's name. Uruha paused, letting the phone vibrate for a bit longer as he contemplated not picking up. It had become a habit, a meaningless gesture to convince himself that he really was trying to move on when in reality he was bound more tightly to Aoi than he would ever admit.
"Hello?" Nonchalant answer. Good.
"Uruha, you want to come over tonight?" I miss you.
Aoi always asked as if it weren't already a given that Uruha would always come to him when he called. Uruha smiled softly, and his reply rolled off his tongue without hesitation, even as he felt that familiar pang of regret and self-loathing.
"Sure. I'll be over soon." I miss you too.
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A/N: First fic, yay!