[yst] [fic] At the Stars 3/?
yup, i know it's early. alas i have a lot on my plate and if i don't do this now, i'll forget.
At the Stars
Part 3
The first thing Ryo noticed upon entering the apartment was the smell. There was a faint chemical smell, like what you commonly find in hospital waiting rooms - antiseptic and cold.
The next thing he noticed was that the apartment was HUGE. As far as Ryo knew, Touma had never brought any of them to that apartment before.
Ryo whistled. The living room was spacious, bright, and the furnishings were an interesting mix of modern and traditional. There were still shoji serving as room dividers, Ryo noted, and handmade pillows were thrown over the minimalistic modern couches. A large window afforded the tenants a good view of the Tokyo cityscape.
At least three people could live here. Ryo told himself it was probably exactly the kind of apartment that someone employed as a lead researcher at a multinational drug company would be able to afford. And yet, it surprised him that the normally frugal and not-materialistic-in-the-least Hashiba Touma would go for luxurious living.
There was a balcony. And there was a greenhouse at the balcony: a small glass-enclosed garden, partly visible from the entrance to the apartment. That was strange. Touma was never one to keep plants.
But it did not escape Ryo that there were extra pairs of shoes on the low shelf by the doorway. Men's shoes. Touma had a roommate or two, perhaps?
Ryo made an offhand comment about how great the place was. Touma didn't acknowledge it. Instead he took off his shoes and noiselessly made his way across the living room.
He came to a door, then glanced back over at Ryo as if signalling him to follow. Touma seemed tense, his shoulders were hunched and he moved rather stiffly.
Ryo left his shoes beside Touma's and did as he was expected.
When he was by Touma's side, Touma slowly opened the door. "Tadaima," he said distantly, as if to no one in particular.
Ryo froze at the doorway.
For a very long second, he didn't know what he was looking at.
He didn't know how he was expected to react.
How should a person react if he was looking at a person about his age lying helplessly in bed, whittled down to little more than hair and bones and skin? A person who looked like a best friend he hadn't seen in years?
He told himself the man on the bed wasn't Seiji.
It was one of Touma's elaborate pranks. It had to be.
The real Seiji was going to walk through the door at any second, healthy as anything, with an easygoing grin on his face. He was going to laughingly apologize for the mess Touma had made of this moment, when they would finally see each other again.
Then the man on the bed opened his eyes. They were an unmistakable pale shade of violet, there was nothing else like that color.
Instantly Ryo was seized with the desire to either run further into the room, or else get the hell out of there. But Touma was blocking the way out, and that wasn't where his feet were taking him anyway. He stepped forward, a name caught in his throat.
The eyes of the man on the bed turned wide. He struggled to raise himself up to a sitting position.
"Seiji." Touma's voice, quiet but alarmed. Touma strode past Ryo into the bedroom, noticeably avoiding the chance of touching any part of him.
"Ryo," Seiji said, and it was almost a question. Touma slid one arm under his shoulders and helped him upright.
Touma was not meeting Seiji's gaze. "I called him," he confessed.
Ryo stepped forward again, and for lack of anywhere else to position himself, he knelt beside the bed. Seiji seemed to shrink from him, even as he tried to get off the bed himself. His thin chest started to heave.
"You came to this decision all by yourself," Seiji challenged the person who was helping him up. "All of a sudden?" His voice was barely a whisper, and even that seemed like it took a great deal of energy.
Touma took a deep breath before answering, in a less than confident tone, "You would've said no."
An angry look fell on those violet eyes. Seiji's hand rose to his chest. The blue veins beneath the pale skin of his arm stood out starkly. "You should've asked - " he labored to say between breaths, " - asked me - "
Ryo reached out, wanting to simply take Seiji's hand. But just as he did, as it had been many times in the past, he realized his body wanted to do something else, and there was no way of stopping it. He rose to his feet and trapped Seiji in a tight embrace.
He didn't really care if his friend was already having trouble breathing. He didn't care. He wasn't letting go, not after so long.
He felt Touma moving away from the two of them, giving them space. And he felt Seiji's breathing even out, felt Seiji's heart thumping against his own chest.
"Ryo..." He felt Seiji shiver, too weak and overwhelmed to return the embrace or to push him away. "...Not like this."
"What happened?" Ryo asked him softly, barely able to hear the trembling in his own voice. "How long has it been like this?"
There was no answer. Ryo reluctantly pulled away. He realized both Seiji and Touma were looking at him. And upon looking back at Touma, a sick feeling erupted somewhere inside him, and he realized he wanted to shout.
"How long?!"
Touma flinched as if pushed back, but he held Ryo's gaze.
Ryo knew he shouldn't be feeling as angry as he did, but he couldn't see why. It was difficult to see past red. It was difficult to pretend he wasn't being consumed from the inside out.
"I can explain," Touma assured him. "But first, calm down."
"Outside," Ryo commanded. The way he said it made both Seiji and Touma turn rigid, and he was quite sure at the back of his head that he didn't mean it to sound like that. He didn't mean to sound cross - he just wanted to know.
Touma took on a resigned look and nodded. He followed Ryo out of the bedroom.
Ryo was vaguely aware that Seiji was trying to call them both back, or was trying to tell them to wait. He was pushing himself to leave his bed, to reach for an unobtrusive cane that was propped up by the bedstand. He forced words out of his throat, hoping they would be loud enough to convey his sense of urgency.
But by that time, Touma was already standing in the middle of the living room - straight and tall, shoulders pulled back and chin held high. And then Ryo couldn't see anything else.
When Touma faced Ryo again, his sunken blue eyes were steeled with conviction.
The promised explanation started to form on Touma's lips. But it could have come faster.
Ryo's fist connected with Touma's jaw.
Tall as he was, it seemed that Touma's feet weren't as firmly planted on the ground as they should have been. Touma flew backwards against the sparse furnishings that Ryo had admired earlier.
His anger didn't dissipate after that punch. The look on Touma's face after he scrambled to recover only made it worse. Perhaps something in Ryo had been hoping the reaction would be pure shock or fear... not guilt with a touch of indignation.
Before Touma could get back on his feet, Ryo strode up to him and threw another punch. It sent Touma reeling back, destroying even more of his expensive tables and misaligning his couches.
But even as the shot connected, Ryo felt as if Touma had been waiting for it.
Ryo grabbed a fistful of the front of Touma's shirt and hauled him upwards. Touma groaned at being forcibly moved. He might have cracked a bone, Ryo realized, and might be bleeding somewhere else besides one corner of his mouth. Good.
"You hid this from us," Ryo said to him, straight to his face, where there was no escape. "For how long, Touma? What were you thinking?" Another punch was coming. Ryo stopped himself with great effort, and instead redirected his rage into an iron grip on Touma's arm. Touma winced, but made no attempt to escape. "What were you thinking?"
"Ryo..."
The call came from nearby. The look in Touma's eyes quickly shifted from defiance to concern. He looked over Ryo's shoulder. Then Ryo had to do the same.
Seiji had gotten out of bed. He was leaning against the frame of the door to his room, trying to keep his gaze steady on Ryo while struggling to breathe evenly. Thin strands of blond hair fell over one eye, and that did little to diminish the intensity of his glare.
"Ryo." There was no enmity in his voice, in contrast to what his drawn face showed. There was only pleading. "Stop."
Ryo let go of the front of Touma's shirt, but with a cautiousness he did not intend. He pulled Touma up, making sure he could get back on his feet, before letting go completely and backing off a few paces.
Touma staggered. He didn't try to distance himself from Ryo. He didn't try to return the punches either, even if he must have wanted to. He didn't try to do anything at all.
Perhaps because Seiji was there.
"Ryo," Touma began again, in spite of a split lip and aching ribs. "Listen to me..."
But Ryo knew better. Ryo knew he couldn't possibly listen, not at this point in time. Not with Seiji looking like he wanted the world to end and Touma looking like he regretted nothing.
So he headed for the front door.
"Ryo!" he heard Touma call out. The deep voice, so familiar to him, had all the bile reserved for a petulant child.
Fuck that.
Ryo shut the door behind him with a bang.
This wasn't fair.
- was the thought going through his head as he walked to the bus stop, without his shoes. He remembered the route that he and Touma had taken earlier that day, and was simply retracing it to get home. Fuck his shoes.
Seiji... he was going to grow up, just like the rest of them. He was going to get a good life. He was going to be popular and rich and surrounded by girls, and he was going to show them all how it was done.
He was going to have the future that he deserved. As a Trooper. As someone Ryo held dear.
The bus came. Ryo found himself an empty seat somewhere at the back, where his seething would not infect anyone. It was quite hard to change his mood when it was taking him over. He knew this. He knew he didn't need to be near anybody else right now.
Maybe he was vaguely aware that the other passengers of the bus were steering clear of the dark-skinned, black-haired, gray-eyed young man at the back emitting rage from every pore. Maybe he was a bit repentant. But he couldn't be bothered to care at the moment.
He tried to calm down. Be rational. He tried to think back to everything else that Touma said that day. He tried to recall what Touma had said about needing a new job. And about the nature of Seiji's illness - did Touma say something about the armor and a childhood disease?
He tried to make himself believe there was a good reason for all of this.
But Touma should've told them. It shouldn't have gotten this bad.
This was beyond stupid.
This wasn't fair.
Why had Touma not told them?
- was the question running over and over in his head. Touma was the one who had attended all those reunions. Who had always spoken on Seiji's behalf. What could have made it so hard for him to say anything?
But even as Ryo asked himself these things, his mind went into red static. He was going home. He was going to cool off. Maybe in a few days, when Shin and/or Shuu were able to check up on them, Ryo would be able to calm down enough to catch up.
Ryo settled back into his seat, forcing himself to subside and to think of other things. Forcing himself to completely forget that he had come all this way because Touma had asked for his help.
(tbc)
At the Stars
Part 3
The first thing Ryo noticed upon entering the apartment was the smell. There was a faint chemical smell, like what you commonly find in hospital waiting rooms - antiseptic and cold.
The next thing he noticed was that the apartment was HUGE. As far as Ryo knew, Touma had never brought any of them to that apartment before.
Ryo whistled. The living room was spacious, bright, and the furnishings were an interesting mix of modern and traditional. There were still shoji serving as room dividers, Ryo noted, and handmade pillows were thrown over the minimalistic modern couches. A large window afforded the tenants a good view of the Tokyo cityscape.
At least three people could live here. Ryo told himself it was probably exactly the kind of apartment that someone employed as a lead researcher at a multinational drug company would be able to afford. And yet, it surprised him that the normally frugal and not-materialistic-in-the-least Hashiba Touma would go for luxurious living.
There was a balcony. And there was a greenhouse at the balcony: a small glass-enclosed garden, partly visible from the entrance to the apartment. That was strange. Touma was never one to keep plants.
But it did not escape Ryo that there were extra pairs of shoes on the low shelf by the doorway. Men's shoes. Touma had a roommate or two, perhaps?
Ryo made an offhand comment about how great the place was. Touma didn't acknowledge it. Instead he took off his shoes and noiselessly made his way across the living room.
He came to a door, then glanced back over at Ryo as if signalling him to follow. Touma seemed tense, his shoulders were hunched and he moved rather stiffly.
Ryo left his shoes beside Touma's and did as he was expected.
When he was by Touma's side, Touma slowly opened the door. "Tadaima," he said distantly, as if to no one in particular.
Ryo froze at the doorway.
For a very long second, he didn't know what he was looking at.
He didn't know how he was expected to react.
How should a person react if he was looking at a person about his age lying helplessly in bed, whittled down to little more than hair and bones and skin? A person who looked like a best friend he hadn't seen in years?
He told himself the man on the bed wasn't Seiji.
It was one of Touma's elaborate pranks. It had to be.
The real Seiji was going to walk through the door at any second, healthy as anything, with an easygoing grin on his face. He was going to laughingly apologize for the mess Touma had made of this moment, when they would finally see each other again.
Then the man on the bed opened his eyes. They were an unmistakable pale shade of violet, there was nothing else like that color.
Instantly Ryo was seized with the desire to either run further into the room, or else get the hell out of there. But Touma was blocking the way out, and that wasn't where his feet were taking him anyway. He stepped forward, a name caught in his throat.
The eyes of the man on the bed turned wide. He struggled to raise himself up to a sitting position.
"Seiji." Touma's voice, quiet but alarmed. Touma strode past Ryo into the bedroom, noticeably avoiding the chance of touching any part of him.
"Ryo," Seiji said, and it was almost a question. Touma slid one arm under his shoulders and helped him upright.
Touma was not meeting Seiji's gaze. "I called him," he confessed.
Ryo stepped forward again, and for lack of anywhere else to position himself, he knelt beside the bed. Seiji seemed to shrink from him, even as he tried to get off the bed himself. His thin chest started to heave.
"You came to this decision all by yourself," Seiji challenged the person who was helping him up. "All of a sudden?" His voice was barely a whisper, and even that seemed like it took a great deal of energy.
Touma took a deep breath before answering, in a less than confident tone, "You would've said no."
An angry look fell on those violet eyes. Seiji's hand rose to his chest. The blue veins beneath the pale skin of his arm stood out starkly. "You should've asked - " he labored to say between breaths, " - asked me - "
Ryo reached out, wanting to simply take Seiji's hand. But just as he did, as it had been many times in the past, he realized his body wanted to do something else, and there was no way of stopping it. He rose to his feet and trapped Seiji in a tight embrace.
He didn't really care if his friend was already having trouble breathing. He didn't care. He wasn't letting go, not after so long.
He felt Touma moving away from the two of them, giving them space. And he felt Seiji's breathing even out, felt Seiji's heart thumping against his own chest.
"Ryo..." He felt Seiji shiver, too weak and overwhelmed to return the embrace or to push him away. "...Not like this."
"What happened?" Ryo asked him softly, barely able to hear the trembling in his own voice. "How long has it been like this?"
There was no answer. Ryo reluctantly pulled away. He realized both Seiji and Touma were looking at him. And upon looking back at Touma, a sick feeling erupted somewhere inside him, and he realized he wanted to shout.
"How long?!"
Touma flinched as if pushed back, but he held Ryo's gaze.
Ryo knew he shouldn't be feeling as angry as he did, but he couldn't see why. It was difficult to see past red. It was difficult to pretend he wasn't being consumed from the inside out.
"I can explain," Touma assured him. "But first, calm down."
"Outside," Ryo commanded. The way he said it made both Seiji and Touma turn rigid, and he was quite sure at the back of his head that he didn't mean it to sound like that. He didn't mean to sound cross - he just wanted to know.
Touma took on a resigned look and nodded. He followed Ryo out of the bedroom.
Ryo was vaguely aware that Seiji was trying to call them both back, or was trying to tell them to wait. He was pushing himself to leave his bed, to reach for an unobtrusive cane that was propped up by the bedstand. He forced words out of his throat, hoping they would be loud enough to convey his sense of urgency.
But by that time, Touma was already standing in the middle of the living room - straight and tall, shoulders pulled back and chin held high. And then Ryo couldn't see anything else.
When Touma faced Ryo again, his sunken blue eyes were steeled with conviction.
The promised explanation started to form on Touma's lips. But it could have come faster.
Ryo's fist connected with Touma's jaw.
Tall as he was, it seemed that Touma's feet weren't as firmly planted on the ground as they should have been. Touma flew backwards against the sparse furnishings that Ryo had admired earlier.
His anger didn't dissipate after that punch. The look on Touma's face after he scrambled to recover only made it worse. Perhaps something in Ryo had been hoping the reaction would be pure shock or fear... not guilt with a touch of indignation.
Before Touma could get back on his feet, Ryo strode up to him and threw another punch. It sent Touma reeling back, destroying even more of his expensive tables and misaligning his couches.
But even as the shot connected, Ryo felt as if Touma had been waiting for it.
Ryo grabbed a fistful of the front of Touma's shirt and hauled him upwards. Touma groaned at being forcibly moved. He might have cracked a bone, Ryo realized, and might be bleeding somewhere else besides one corner of his mouth. Good.
"You hid this from us," Ryo said to him, straight to his face, where there was no escape. "For how long, Touma? What were you thinking?" Another punch was coming. Ryo stopped himself with great effort, and instead redirected his rage into an iron grip on Touma's arm. Touma winced, but made no attempt to escape. "What were you thinking?"
"Ryo..."
The call came from nearby. The look in Touma's eyes quickly shifted from defiance to concern. He looked over Ryo's shoulder. Then Ryo had to do the same.
Seiji had gotten out of bed. He was leaning against the frame of the door to his room, trying to keep his gaze steady on Ryo while struggling to breathe evenly. Thin strands of blond hair fell over one eye, and that did little to diminish the intensity of his glare.
"Ryo." There was no enmity in his voice, in contrast to what his drawn face showed. There was only pleading. "Stop."
Ryo let go of the front of Touma's shirt, but with a cautiousness he did not intend. He pulled Touma up, making sure he could get back on his feet, before letting go completely and backing off a few paces.
Touma staggered. He didn't try to distance himself from Ryo. He didn't try to return the punches either, even if he must have wanted to. He didn't try to do anything at all.
Perhaps because Seiji was there.
"Ryo," Touma began again, in spite of a split lip and aching ribs. "Listen to me..."
But Ryo knew better. Ryo knew he couldn't possibly listen, not at this point in time. Not with Seiji looking like he wanted the world to end and Touma looking like he regretted nothing.
So he headed for the front door.
"Ryo!" he heard Touma call out. The deep voice, so familiar to him, had all the bile reserved for a petulant child.
Fuck that.
Ryo shut the door behind him with a bang.
This wasn't fair.
- was the thought going through his head as he walked to the bus stop, without his shoes. He remembered the route that he and Touma had taken earlier that day, and was simply retracing it to get home. Fuck his shoes.
Seiji... he was going to grow up, just like the rest of them. He was going to get a good life. He was going to be popular and rich and surrounded by girls, and he was going to show them all how it was done.
He was going to have the future that he deserved. As a Trooper. As someone Ryo held dear.
The bus came. Ryo found himself an empty seat somewhere at the back, where his seething would not infect anyone. It was quite hard to change his mood when it was taking him over. He knew this. He knew he didn't need to be near anybody else right now.
Maybe he was vaguely aware that the other passengers of the bus were steering clear of the dark-skinned, black-haired, gray-eyed young man at the back emitting rage from every pore. Maybe he was a bit repentant. But he couldn't be bothered to care at the moment.
He tried to calm down. Be rational. He tried to think back to everything else that Touma said that day. He tried to recall what Touma had said about needing a new job. And about the nature of Seiji's illness - did Touma say something about the armor and a childhood disease?
He tried to make himself believe there was a good reason for all of this.
But Touma should've told them. It shouldn't have gotten this bad.
This was beyond stupid.
This wasn't fair.
Why had Touma not told them?
- was the question running over and over in his head. Touma was the one who had attended all those reunions. Who had always spoken on Seiji's behalf. What could have made it so hard for him to say anything?
But even as Ryo asked himself these things, his mind went into red static. He was going home. He was going to cool off. Maybe in a few days, when Shin and/or Shuu were able to check up on them, Ryo would be able to calm down enough to catch up.
Ryo settled back into his seat, forcing himself to subside and to think of other things. Forcing himself to completely forget that he had come all this way because Touma had asked for his help.
(tbc)