[FICLET] Seeking Warmth (R; AtoJi)
Friends and companions, this is the ficlet that wouldn't let me sleep tonight. Isn't that nice?
It's the sequel/companion/whatever to a fic I wrote some time ago called To Live.
Disclaimer: I reiterate, no one can own Atobe.
Warnings: R; not really graphic m/m sex, a certain melancholy feel
A/N: Because this just needed to be written.
A companion piece to To Live
Seeking Warmth
by Solanum Dulcamara
These were the days that sent him from his home. The sky was dark before its time and raindrops drummed arrhythmically against the windows. The servants, like shadows, scurried occasionally down the corridors. His father worked. His mother socialized. The house was silent but for the incessant rapping of the rain on the windows - a mockery of door-knocks with no one on the other side. The emptiness echoed through the halls, louder than the storm; it echoed in Atobe, expanding and filling him till he was colder than the glass of the window panes... till he escaped into the rain itself.
He tried not to think too terribly hard on what sent him from the house or why he took the train. He never sat - just another water-logged passenger clinging to a handrail and waiting for his stop. The rain beat down on him, a loud roar in the underground tunnels. He never waited for the train to jerk to its final stop before heading for the door; he let himself stumble onto his platform. He'd never bothered to notice whether or not the campus looked different when he hurried in on foot, rather than in his family's car. His mind was too full of the dark, the gray and the emptiness.
The dormitories were grayer than the world outside; stairwell and hallway bleak and devoid of any signs of life. His bizarre compulsion was always to rush inside the wooden door, but he managed to halt himself each time, to knock and to wait.
The door opened, like it always did, and Jiroh stepped aside - a wordless invitation. He tried not to think about why he ended up here of all places. He had a country club membership. He had other places where people of his own class gathered. He looked down into brown eyes in the dim lighting of the storm and saw what might be a little of the emptiness that he felt, and he tried not to think at all. Jiroh's body was warm in his arms, Jiroh's mouth warmer still under his. Atobe drank in that warmth and tried to banish the cold of the rain and his house. He wrapped himself in that warmth as he pulled dry clothes from Jiroh's body and peeled wet from his own. He clung to Jiroh and the heat that filled the emptiness as they found the mattress and each other. Atobe shook as Jiroh pulled him closer, as if maybe he needed this as badly as Atobe. Jiroh pulled him in, and Atobe forgot cold, emptiness, and thought. Air he couldn't seem to exhale burnt in his lungs. The rain was a distant noise compared to Jiroh's harsh breathing. Warmth filled him as he moved, every time he pushed himself as deep as he could into the body that arched off of the squeaking mattress to meet him. Rough cotton sheets bunched around the tangle of their legs. Sweat and water trickled down from his hairline, falling in drops on the boy below him. His eyes never left Jiroh's face - mouth open on a moan that was never voiced; wide, brown eyes dark in the poor light. Fingers curled in his hair, on his shoulders, down his back - calloused like his own. Jiroh's eyes asked no questions. There was no rush, no restlessness, just a drive to be closer to the warmth offered without question. Atobe pressed towards that warmth, harder, more quickly, desperate to have as much of it as Jiroh would give him. His name slipped from Atobe's mouth in the rush and the pull and filled the air between them. He was all warmth and sensation, and Jiroh was all he felt. And he heard nothing, but watched as brown eyes closed, and felt as warmth rushed between them. Too much sensation; he laid down. The sound of the rain outside was nothing compared to the drum of Jiroh's heartbeat. He let himself relax. He would stay in this warmth given freely. He would feel the rise and fall of Jiroh's chest with his slowing breaths. The storm would rage without him, and he would rest for just a little while where the emptiness felt filled.
He often woke to the earliest sunlight and Jiroh's arms still holding him. He would not admit that he was reluctant to leave. He would not admit what the night before had meant. He did pause as he stood to thank the boy on the bed, who slept obliviously through his gratitude. He wouldn't look back as he dressed and left, shutting the door quietly behind him. He was afraid to think about what he'd felt in that unremarkable dorm room... but not too afraid to know that he'd be back the next time the chill of rain seeped through his house... not too afraid to come back to the warmth of the embrace offered on those dark nights.
It's the sequel/companion/whatever to a fic I wrote some time ago called To Live.
Disclaimer: I reiterate, no one can own Atobe.
Warnings: R; not really graphic m/m sex, a certain melancholy feel
A/N: Because this just needed to be written.
A companion piece to To Live
Seeking Warmth
by Solanum Dulcamara
These were the days that sent him from his home. The sky was dark before its time and raindrops drummed arrhythmically against the windows. The servants, like shadows, scurried occasionally down the corridors. His father worked. His mother socialized. The house was silent but for the incessant rapping of the rain on the windows - a mockery of door-knocks with no one on the other side. The emptiness echoed through the halls, louder than the storm; it echoed in Atobe, expanding and filling him till he was colder than the glass of the window panes... till he escaped into the rain itself.
He tried not to think too terribly hard on what sent him from the house or why he took the train. He never sat - just another water-logged passenger clinging to a handrail and waiting for his stop. The rain beat down on him, a loud roar in the underground tunnels. He never waited for the train to jerk to its final stop before heading for the door; he let himself stumble onto his platform. He'd never bothered to notice whether or not the campus looked different when he hurried in on foot, rather than in his family's car. His mind was too full of the dark, the gray and the emptiness.
The dormitories were grayer than the world outside; stairwell and hallway bleak and devoid of any signs of life. His bizarre compulsion was always to rush inside the wooden door, but he managed to halt himself each time, to knock and to wait.
The door opened, like it always did, and Jiroh stepped aside - a wordless invitation. He tried not to think about why he ended up here of all places. He had a country club membership. He had other places where people of his own class gathered. He looked down into brown eyes in the dim lighting of the storm and saw what might be a little of the emptiness that he felt, and he tried not to think at all. Jiroh's body was warm in his arms, Jiroh's mouth warmer still under his. Atobe drank in that warmth and tried to banish the cold of the rain and his house. He wrapped himself in that warmth as he pulled dry clothes from Jiroh's body and peeled wet from his own. He clung to Jiroh and the heat that filled the emptiness as they found the mattress and each other. Atobe shook as Jiroh pulled him closer, as if maybe he needed this as badly as Atobe. Jiroh pulled him in, and Atobe forgot cold, emptiness, and thought. Air he couldn't seem to exhale burnt in his lungs. The rain was a distant noise compared to Jiroh's harsh breathing. Warmth filled him as he moved, every time he pushed himself as deep as he could into the body that arched off of the squeaking mattress to meet him. Rough cotton sheets bunched around the tangle of their legs. Sweat and water trickled down from his hairline, falling in drops on the boy below him. His eyes never left Jiroh's face - mouth open on a moan that was never voiced; wide, brown eyes dark in the poor light. Fingers curled in his hair, on his shoulders, down his back - calloused like his own. Jiroh's eyes asked no questions. There was no rush, no restlessness, just a drive to be closer to the warmth offered without question. Atobe pressed towards that warmth, harder, more quickly, desperate to have as much of it as Jiroh would give him. His name slipped from Atobe's mouth in the rush and the pull and filled the air between them. He was all warmth and sensation, and Jiroh was all he felt. And he heard nothing, but watched as brown eyes closed, and felt as warmth rushed between them. Too much sensation; he laid down. The sound of the rain outside was nothing compared to the drum of Jiroh's heartbeat. He let himself relax. He would stay in this warmth given freely. He would feel the rise and fall of Jiroh's chest with his slowing breaths. The storm would rage without him, and he would rest for just a little while where the emptiness felt filled.
He often woke to the earliest sunlight and Jiroh's arms still holding him. He would not admit that he was reluctant to leave. He would not admit what the night before had meant. He did pause as he stood to thank the boy on the bed, who slept obliviously through his gratitude. He wouldn't look back as he dressed and left, shutting the door quietly behind him. He was afraid to think about what he'd felt in that unremarkable dorm room... but not too afraid to know that he'd be back the next time the chill of rain seeped through his house... not too afraid to come back to the warmth of the embrace offered on those dark nights.