Fic [the GazettE] - "Wherever You Are"
Title: Wherever You Are
Chapters: Oneshot
Author: machete_rose
Genre: Angst
Warnings: Identity disorder, abuse
Disclaimer: I do not own the GazettE. Sadness.
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/Characters: Reita/Ruki
Summary: Sometimes Ruki wished he could see just a little less of the real Reita.
Comments: Written for the AU fiction contest at _quaintnotion.
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Feather-light caresses on his cheek roused Ruki from sleep, a low groan catching in his dry throat as he pulled the covers over his head. It was warm in his bed, too warm, even though outside his window blew winter-chilled breezes and dustings of lingering snow. He heard a small chuckle before the mattress seemed to lighten and his body felt the chill of being alone. He thought to protest but before the words could breach his pouting lips, his mind drifted back to unconsciousness.
It was the smell of something delicious that finally coaxed Ruki into poking his head out from beneath his plush blanket. Small shivers danced along his pale skin, his bare toes curling against the cold, wooden floorboards as he shuffled across to the doorway.
Reita was standing at the kitchen sink washing up the dishes when he felt warm arms wrap around him from behind. He smirked a little, fully aware what it was that had at last managed to get Ruki out of bed.
“Hungry?”
“Mmm,” Ruki hummed his answer, nuzzling into the warmth between Reita’s shoulder blades. He sniffed a little, his nose crinkling at the odd blend of faint cologne, breakfast sausage, and dirty laundry. Sometimes - very few times - he wished Reita smelled just a little less like Reita and a little more like clean.
Time moved slowly, as it always does on lazy Sunday mornings; it was still before noon when Reita stood up from the table, moving to carry both their empty plates to the sink. Ruki propped his chin in his hand, watching the other’s muscles flex almost imperceptibly under the worn t-shirt. It was then that his brow furrowed, his eyes catching sight of something that he was sure he wasn’t meant to see.
“Reita,” his voice lilted delicately in feigned curiosity, as though the questions, the accusations, that threatened to spill from his lips were simply innocent musings. “What were you doing last night? You came to bed so late.”
The moment that Reita’s posture stiffened and he laid the plates a little too gently in the stainless steel sink, Ruki knew that the other man had understood exactly what it was he was asking. It stung, and Ruki felt his heart twist when Reita turned around and he saw the shadows that veiled those chocolate brown eyes.
“Little lover boy, what have we here,” a smooth voice taunted him from the darkness, the rough cotton of the blindfold blocking what Takanori feared the most: that the one standing before him now, the one whose fingers trailed ice-cold against his clammy skin and whose every sick whim and fancy he was forced to follow, was the one whom he loved the most.
A whimper escaped his throat and he ducked his head in shame, that mocking laughter echoing in his ears for what seemed an eternity.
Reita cocked his head to one side, gazing thoughtfully at Ruki. Perhaps he had not been quite as careful in cleaning up his scratches as he had thought. But no matter. This was the perfect excuse for having a little fun.
“Would you like to play, little lover boy?”
Ruki’s hands shook beneath the kitchen table and his breaths came just a little quicker. How many long years had it been and yet his body could not calm the anxiety that always spiked whenever Reita spoke those words in that deceptively silken voice. He willed himself not to move, not to flinch, as Reita stepped toward him, seemingly unhurried. But Ruki knew better; it was the measured pace of a predator stalking its prey.
Takanori screamed, the added sting of the molten candle wax against his already raw skin too much for him to bear in silence. His back arched, his abused body writhing, trying to find some way to ease the pain. His heart drummed fast, too fast, but not nearly loud enough to drown out that sardonic drawl.
“Little lover boy…”
Watching Ruki struggle to stay calm was most amusing to Reita. It was almost admirable, really, how determined Ruki was to not show his fear. Admirable and very much a challenge. Reita licked his lips, anticipation rising with each step closer.
“Akira,” Ruki breathed, his voice nothing more than a whisper. There was a glimmer within those dark eyes, a mere flicker of recognition, and his heart jumped. But just as quickly it was gone, and Ruki was left staring into soulless orbs once more.
He couldn’t do a single thing. He was watching his best friend break down in front of him and there wasn’t a damn thing in the world that he could do. Deep streaks of red were clawed onto Akira’s shoulders, as if he had been trying to pry something off. Or struggling to keep something within.
“Akira…”
Trembling, he reached out and traced one line of angry red ever so gently, yet he still felt a shudder from that now-so-frail body before him. His breath caught as Akira grabbed his hand, his eyes and voice pleading when he spoke.
“Don’t call me Akira anymore. Only call my name when you know it’s me.”
Reita sat against with his back against the wall, a cigarette slow-burning between his tired fingers. Ruki breathed shallowly as he lay on the kitchen floor, his ribs aching with each small intake of much-needed air, his eyes watching the other man warily. But he knew that there was nothing more to come.
“I’m Reita.”
Takanori’s heart twinged a little at that familiar deep voice, just as much as it shied away from the endearing hesitance that that voice now lacked. This was not his Akira, but neither was it the beast that he was chained to.
“Nice to meet you,” he paused, choosing his next words carefully, for they were the ones that would haunt him forever. “I’m Ruki.”
In truth, there were times that Ruki actually enjoyed being around Reita; the times that his soul was calm and no beast lurked by the wayside. But sometimes - only these few times - he wished Reita were just a little less like Reita and a little more like Akira.
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A/N: I blatantly used the title of ONE OK ROCK's "Wherever you are" as the title for this fic. It sort of fits, and I couldn't think of a good title myself. :3
Prompt:
Chapters: Oneshot
Author: machete_rose
Genre: Angst
Warnings: Identity disorder, abuse
Disclaimer: I do not own the GazettE. Sadness.
Rating: PG-13
Pairings/Characters: Reita/Ruki
Summary: Sometimes Ruki wished he could see just a little less of the real Reita.
Comments: Written for the AU fiction contest at _quaintnotion.
----------
Feather-light caresses on his cheek roused Ruki from sleep, a low groan catching in his dry throat as he pulled the covers over his head. It was warm in his bed, too warm, even though outside his window blew winter-chilled breezes and dustings of lingering snow. He heard a small chuckle before the mattress seemed to lighten and his body felt the chill of being alone. He thought to protest but before the words could breach his pouting lips, his mind drifted back to unconsciousness.
It was the smell of something delicious that finally coaxed Ruki into poking his head out from beneath his plush blanket. Small shivers danced along his pale skin, his bare toes curling against the cold, wooden floorboards as he shuffled across to the doorway.
Reita was standing at the kitchen sink washing up the dishes when he felt warm arms wrap around him from behind. He smirked a little, fully aware what it was that had at last managed to get Ruki out of bed.
“Hungry?”
“Mmm,” Ruki hummed his answer, nuzzling into the warmth between Reita’s shoulder blades. He sniffed a little, his nose crinkling at the odd blend of faint cologne, breakfast sausage, and dirty laundry. Sometimes - very few times - he wished Reita smelled just a little less like Reita and a little more like clean.
Time moved slowly, as it always does on lazy Sunday mornings; it was still before noon when Reita stood up from the table, moving to carry both their empty plates to the sink. Ruki propped his chin in his hand, watching the other’s muscles flex almost imperceptibly under the worn t-shirt. It was then that his brow furrowed, his eyes catching sight of something that he was sure he wasn’t meant to see.
“Reita,” his voice lilted delicately in feigned curiosity, as though the questions, the accusations, that threatened to spill from his lips were simply innocent musings. “What were you doing last night? You came to bed so late.”
The moment that Reita’s posture stiffened and he laid the plates a little too gently in the stainless steel sink, Ruki knew that the other man had understood exactly what it was he was asking. It stung, and Ruki felt his heart twist when Reita turned around and he saw the shadows that veiled those chocolate brown eyes.
“Little lover boy, what have we here,” a smooth voice taunted him from the darkness, the rough cotton of the blindfold blocking what Takanori feared the most: that the one standing before him now, the one whose fingers trailed ice-cold against his clammy skin and whose every sick whim and fancy he was forced to follow, was the one whom he loved the most.
A whimper escaped his throat and he ducked his head in shame, that mocking laughter echoing in his ears for what seemed an eternity.
Reita cocked his head to one side, gazing thoughtfully at Ruki. Perhaps he had not been quite as careful in cleaning up his scratches as he had thought. But no matter. This was the perfect excuse for having a little fun.
“Would you like to play, little lover boy?”
Ruki’s hands shook beneath the kitchen table and his breaths came just a little quicker. How many long years had it been and yet his body could not calm the anxiety that always spiked whenever Reita spoke those words in that deceptively silken voice. He willed himself not to move, not to flinch, as Reita stepped toward him, seemingly unhurried. But Ruki knew better; it was the measured pace of a predator stalking its prey.
Takanori screamed, the added sting of the molten candle wax against his already raw skin too much for him to bear in silence. His back arched, his abused body writhing, trying to find some way to ease the pain. His heart drummed fast, too fast, but not nearly loud enough to drown out that sardonic drawl.
“Little lover boy…”
Watching Ruki struggle to stay calm was most amusing to Reita. It was almost admirable, really, how determined Ruki was to not show his fear. Admirable and very much a challenge. Reita licked his lips, anticipation rising with each step closer.
“Akira,” Ruki breathed, his voice nothing more than a whisper. There was a glimmer within those dark eyes, a mere flicker of recognition, and his heart jumped. But just as quickly it was gone, and Ruki was left staring into soulless orbs once more.
He couldn’t do a single thing. He was watching his best friend break down in front of him and there wasn’t a damn thing in the world that he could do. Deep streaks of red were clawed onto Akira’s shoulders, as if he had been trying to pry something off. Or struggling to keep something within.
“Akira…”
Trembling, he reached out and traced one line of angry red ever so gently, yet he still felt a shudder from that now-so-frail body before him. His breath caught as Akira grabbed his hand, his eyes and voice pleading when he spoke.
“Don’t call me Akira anymore. Only call my name when you know it’s me.”
Reita sat against with his back against the wall, a cigarette slow-burning between his tired fingers. Ruki breathed shallowly as he lay on the kitchen floor, his ribs aching with each small intake of much-needed air, his eyes watching the other man warily. But he knew that there was nothing more to come.
“I’m Reita.”
Takanori’s heart twinged a little at that familiar deep voice, just as much as it shied away from the endearing hesitance that that voice now lacked. This was not his Akira, but neither was it the beast that he was chained to.
“Nice to meet you,” he paused, choosing his next words carefully, for they were the ones that would haunt him forever. “I’m Ruki.”
In truth, there were times that Ruki actually enjoyed being around Reita; the times that his soul was calm and no beast lurked by the wayside. But sometimes - only these few times - he wished Reita were just a little less like Reita and a little more like Akira.
----------
A/N: I blatantly used the title of ONE OK ROCK's "Wherever you are" as the title for this fic. It sort of fits, and I couldn't think of a good title myself. :3
Prompt: