log; complete
when; 25 July, near midnight.
rating; PG-13. Manly love sorta. (o mai.)
characters; Miibu Oriya (kyotodollmaster), Muraki Kazutaka (roy_de_epee).
summary; Old friends still share some things - but old habits die hard.
log;
It had been exceedingly dark for the entire day - something which had both delighted and peeved him. The darkness made such a nice cover - a cloak for any misdeeds anyone wanted to commit. However, his internal clock seemed too off for him to really relax. Muraki again looked at the watch on his wrist by the light of a faint moon - 11:42 PM.... earlier than he had thought. Sighing a touch, he eyed the crowd below while inhaling another puff of smoke from his cigarette. The entire city, it seemed, had been in a rave for the entire day. As interesting as it seemed, Muraki had thought better of it. He had his own tracks to cover.
"Such an energetic crowd," he murmured as he leaned against the stone balcony. He could see it all from the roof of the building - a rather large crowd, a pulsating beat of music seemingly dictating their movements as small streaks of multi-coloured light graced the darkness. Smoke escaped his mouth, rising into the air, and he looked over to his old friend with a smile of amusement. Oriya had insisted on joining him atop the building to take a look at the crowd. Muraki knew well enough, though, that it would all disappear by midnight. Only a few minutes, so it seemed.
"It's interesting, hmn?" He let a chuckle leave him before he again inhaled. Anything, really, to distract Oriya from asking too many of those questions. And he knew full well that it would happen eventually... he was too stubborn, sometimes. While the smoke filled his lungs and the flavour settled, he eyed Oriya slyly through a shade of silvery hair. It was just a matter of timing with him.
Timing, after all was everything. For Oriya, perhaps even his arrival (or second arrival) had been a play of fate, though the most vivid memory he had of this place was the destruction of a fountain into something more modernist socialites preferred to have around their buildings.
He was reminded of the Shibuya district when he'd actually been badgered by Tami to take a trip into the big city, and he'd come back with a memo-- modern cities were overrated, and to never be forced into a pair of casual jeans again. As he looked down at the partying going around beneath him, the night having continued for the entirety of the day, Oriya found that his old companionship with his kiseru was hardly forsaken- apparently he'd had it in his haori's pocket and he was more than happy to reignite the flames of fond calmness in this dream City, now living.
And there was the question of Muraki-- him being here, him being the way he was here... what exactly had he been doing here, anyway? As he blew a thin trail of smoke from his pipe, he continued to watch the city and then smirked to himself, moving a hand up to comb his hair back from falling into his face. "Interesting is probably too flattering a word." They were stark raving mad. Fortunate for them, from what Muraki had told him, this curse wasn't one that had caused them to be attracted to the colorful sticks that had come into their possession.
Bronze eyes looking towards his silver-haired friend, Oriya wrapped an arm across his own chest, resting an elbow against his forearm as he continued his smoking, then once the silence settled, he took his foray into the questions bothering him. "Are there any among those that have been of any particular interest to you, Muraki?"
"Particular interest, Oriya?" he echoed, reflecting on the patterns of smoke emitting from the ember of his cigarette. A lazy sort of curl in the air... the silvery light seemed caught on the smoke while it stretched to the stars. It was almost poetic - and if Muraki had contemplated upon it a second longer, he may well have seen poetry in action. But there was always a certain sort of purple tinge to the prose of the everyday action - the living proof stood beside him, he noted with a quick glance to the left of him. Oriya seemed a figure from a Meiji-era haiku, but he never had let on to his friend such a silly notion. His particular interests were certainly foolish, at times, after all.
He smiled a little conspiratorially, turning to properly face Oriya as he leaned against the stone edge. "You know how that works, really. Did you have to even ask?" Yes, purple... as purple as those eyes. That sneaky smirk grew a fraction at the notion... if only he had made sure the bindings were tight enough. It was his fault - resistance was a bit of a turn-on at times, and he wasn't immune to the allure. Again, he looked to the crowd after sneaking another glance at the watch. Five minutes had passed... how funny that they had seemed merely seconds. Had he been caught in a reverie? Muraki shrugged to himself in reply.
Oh that look. Oh that look. Without Muraki even needing to elaborate it, he knew. And perhaps the look of disgust that had settled onto his features was more than enough to express that he understood. He'd never been able to place it, quite honestly. Was it jealousy or was it just hatred of the people who called themselves Shinigami and the madness they had made Muraki go through that made him dislike that otherwise idiotic man? He wasn't even worth his time and yet...
Touch, inhale, savor, release. That was all it took for his expression to fall back into it's regular placid look, and turned his back to the crowd below in the city center, no longer interested in those writhing corpses and colored lights now that they had been tainted with the possibility of that simpleton present. Except he wasn't, was he? Not that he was aware of, and though he'd never cared to speak to the other, he was certain Muraki wouldn't be -here- if he -was-... which made him wonder.
Then... who was he talking about? Curiosity rose, but then he shrugged to himself. "The fact that you have graced me with your presence made me wonder. Normally your interests are more favorable to you." a smirk rose on his lips as he cocked his head in his friend's direction. "Am I wrong?"
Muraki chuckled, shooting Oriya a jocular sort of smile. "Is that all you have to tell me after such an absence?" he asked teasingly before he cast his eye down to the crowd as they still kept their rhythm in-sync with the pulsating beat. A beat almost irresistible. Most music was in 4/4 time to mimick the heartbeat.... Muraki had forgotten exactly where he had heard that, but the more he heard the music playing in the streets, the more it seemed a solidified fact. A heartbeat... like the one he lacked. How ironic.
The lights made such pretty designs in the air. His stare averted Oriya's passive look under the pretence of watching the display at first, but he found himself oddly drawn to the sight. "Besides, I have reasons for my pursuits. You know exactly why, too." A more serious look flashed in his eyes while a flash of brilliant green illuminated the crowd below. Green as the lights in the basement... where he rested, ready for a second coming. And he was in that basement, possibly worlds away from him.
And that was another subject he wished to discuss with him- it was odd, at least to him, to have felt Muraki's heartbeat so weakly against his own. Taking a few short smokes, he pondered the matter, as he formulated a response to his friend's statement, 'hmphing' aloud and shaking his head. A response that probbaly required no more words of agreement than the ones Muraki knew he had mentally given him. Sighing, he then turned to glance over his shoulder once more... a few more minutes unto midnight, and all of this would become nothing. A dream that was to end with the flicker of an eyelid.
"Don't take me for a fool, Muraki." he did say, however, pressing against the tip of the kiseru's mouthpiece with his teeth, before he closed his eyes. "While your reasons are more than solid, do you really believe I will accept that all of it is business?" he knew him better than that. The things he did to gain that accomplishment of his purpose, while in all intent were directed toward that purpose, weren't entirely for it. No, they were for personal satisfaction, and that alone was the pointed statement he wished to make to his friend as he moved away from the wall and walked towards him, stopping only to stand beside him and tap the pipe against the ledge. Ashes sprinkled out and Oriya turned to look up at his silver-haired friend with a look that was a mix of amusement, and concern as well.
He had been caught. Not as though Muraki would have expected anything less from Oriya, with his sharp mind. He honestly did know him too well. But it was never wise to lie to his friend - because, Muraki knew too well, that even a small one was easy to be caught in. And yet, sometimes, it was just too irresistible to pass up. The look on his friend's face did serve to entertain him... it just seemed as though there wasn't too much different over the years. It was a comforting thought of sorts, really.
"All work and no play leaves you a dull boy, Oriya," he replied with a small laugh. And it was a true enough sentiment. Besides, he had a life to live... well, had a life. Though that seemed inconsequential. As he took one last hit from his cigarette, a sudden silence fell upon the massive crowd below them. A small glimpse of the watch face told him just what was happening. Midnight. The heartbeat stopped. "Seems like the party's over," Muraki mused, crushing the smouldering cigarette butt into the stone ledge uncaringly. "What a shame...."
Yes, yes, he'd heard that before. Boring Oriya, serious Oriya, Oriya who never did anything but train and study. Rolling his eyes at the memory, he only paused to register the fact that the raving beneath them had come to a pretty quick standstill and he blinked, distracted by the sudden silence and the disappearance of the light, enough to turn around and look at the center square, now seeming to be as dead as the very corpses he'd given the people a comparison to earlier.
As the night began to settle in for certain, Oriya then raised his pipe to his mouth again, and as a farewell to the noise and lights, he blew out a thin trail of smoke to the welcome of silence and turned to look to Muraki again with a certain look. They were still talking, but it appeared, as usual, Muraki wished to dodge the subject, or play around. Shrugging to himself, he shook his head.
"Perhaps this place gives meaning to the words, You never miss your water until your well runs dry." hardly caring about their situation, Oriya leaned back against the railing, now able to face Muraki directly. His eyes scanned the other man's face, wondering about his words, before he raised his hand and touched his palm flat against Muraki's chest, over his heart, or where it should have been beating anyway, eyes narrowing.
"What emptied you out, I wonder." and in that alone, Oriya was telling him that he knew. What or how, he didn't-- but he wasn't so blind as to not notice the lack of presence of a heartbeat. That was yet another thing Muraki had to clarify.
Once Muraki felt the touch on his chest, his gaze moved directly to it and lingered there perhaps a bit longer than intended. Oriya had a sense about such things, it was true... but it was difficult to disguise a lack of a heartbeat. And now the answers were being asked for. Quickly, he set his mind to the idea of telling the entire story - one which certainly would take more than a few minutes. But.... Taking Oriya's hand by the wrist, he pulled it off and dug into his jacket for the pack of cigarettes he had with him. The abridged version was simply tempting... and surely Oriya would be none the wiser. If not, then....
"Am I truly empty, though?" he asked, nudging a cigarette upward from the pack as his teeth caught it. Empty was, oddly, a very loaded word. As he lit the cigarette, he contemplated a better word. When he found he couldn't, his brow furrowed. Time could be bought sometimes, though. No currency was needed between old friends - no, for that time was priceless. He blew out a thin stream of silver-blue smoke and turned his stare slowly upon Oriya. "What do you think?" he asked, moving closer and stopping only when he had barely a centimetre between him and the other. The asking price was deference. He knew that well enough. A minor distraction first... boldness was too obvious if introduced at the onset.
Perhaps in another time and life, the tactic might have even worked. However, due to the act of removing his hand from his chest, Oriya cast a look at the other, perhaps a little annoyed that he'd done so, and it became another thought confirming what he had felt when their bodies had pressed together in embrace at the time of his arrival. Perhaps it was the fact that the pulsations of a body were things that as much as he may avod them in the business that he conducted, were things he would always notice first at such close contact.
However, at his question, he only decided to delay replying by emptying out the ashes of the kiseru into a crack in the wall, hollowed, and once emptied, tucked it back into a pocket of his coat. Though this delayed his notice of his friend's distance, and his own personal space forsaken. And without even acknowledging it, he once again tracked his friend's action and what he was trying to do.
"Perhaps empty would be understating the fact that you are incapable, at the present time, to experience the same burdens of a somewhat normal being, Muraki." A loaded statement in it's own simplicity, Oriya was quietly challenging him to try again. This wasn't going to work with him, and he was glad the darkness shielded his face from revealing too many colors from the way the blood was rushing to his cheeks.
He hadn't moved away, but, Muraki noticed, he also hadn't mmoved closer. Was he suspect to judgment now? Sometimes, playing such games with Oriya - were they really games, though? - seemed more like a dare to pull the trigger. It was a frustrating feeling sometimes, but it hardly burdened Muraki right then as he barely permitted a breath's distance from Oriya. And he would keep it that way.
"Normal?" echoed Muraki. He chuckled a bit, suddenly pulling Oriya into a friendly embrace. Yes, he knew that his friend would feel the absence... he wanted that to happen. A heartbeat... well, it was more like the faint, dull hum of the city now that the citizens were departing the scene. The heart was a fragile, powerful organ... but, really, in a sense, he had achieved one more step toward that perfection. That infinity stretched before him like an endless, multicoloured ribbon in the sky... infinity was such a teasing concept.
His lips gently brushed against Oriya's ear while he moved back once more, and he shot his old friend an enigmatic sort of smile. "'Normal' is merely a concept, you know," he continued as he took one step forward. To capture Oriya was to back him against the wall - whether figuratively or physically, it didn't matter to Muraki. He would attempt both, anyhow, if it would cease the questions until the proper answers had formed.
The embrace did surprise him, but he didn't move to hold onto him, although his hands did twitch a little out of sheer temptation. The warmth that had flushed to his face would be unmistakable at this distance, especially if he moved any closer to the side of Muraki's neck, so he didn't dare budge until his friend drew away. Though he did force an expression of discontent onto his features, trying to feign dislike of the gesture at present, even though one looking into his eyes at that point would see that he didn't mind at all.
Especially after the very sadly obvious shiver that went down his body at the delicate brush of lips against his ear.
Now, caught under the darkness and the city's lights, Oriya moved his hands behind him to hold onto the ledge against which he had his back, and watched Muraki's advance with a calculative look. He was straying, delaying, and not answering. What was it that was making him keep such an important thing from him?, he wondered, and it made him feel bitter. There was nothing he'd ever kept from him, and yet...
Bastard, he found himself thinking. When he had no more room to back off, Oriya merely scoffed and turned his head to a side, closing his eyes. "One that I doubt you've ever understood." Or will. Stop where you are, you fiend., he mentally willed himself, trying to bring voice to the words and failing miserably. Why was this becoming exciting?
He had Oriya backed against the ledge now. Muraki knew now that only force would stop him, if his friend even dared use it. Of course, it was a good distraction from the mess he had to explain, and he knew well enough that close physical encounters were highly effective in most cases. Tsuzuki certainly got riled each time, as did that boy - and it seemed the case was similar with Oriya. Not that he had expected much less from his friend. The shiver he had noticed was a green light for him, and now he had no reason to feel guilty about the advances he was making under false pretences. Well, not totally false.
"Does anybody really understand 'normal'?" he challenged, taking the last step forward so that now he was just against his friend. Sure, he had been a very close friend... close, perhaps, being the operative word at this time. The small little pun made Muraki smirk while he forced Oriya's stare to look directly at him once more. "It's just such a hassle, really, isn't it?" he crooned - yes, he had ways to manipulate his voice and the timbre with which it expressed emotion. It was easy, sometimes, to produce a false lust - easier, still, with a friend. At least, such was the case here.
It was growing interesting, that much he could say for certain. He had no place to move, and here was Muraki, advancing on him like the devil himself. Maybe, some years ago, this would have been something Oriya would have welcomed with open arms. Pity that by that time, Muraki was so far gone into his work that there was nothing Oriya could have done at that point to take his mind to things that might have counted into 'normalcy'.
And now, he was hardened. By the world he had lived in, been raised in, and was controlling. Now he was too skeptical, too scrutinizing- why, he was so familiar with the act one put on as courtesy that it became a second nature to try and look through acts of charm just to see the real intent behind them.
Muraki really shouldn't have tried this on him now. But perhaps, some selfish youthful side of him still persisted, perhaps, if just for a little while, he wanted an illusion the same way the sweet tobacco took him away momentarily. However, his eyes darkened as he looked into Muraki's, his own voice softer, perhaps holding a warning within. "Normality is comprehension and expectation of how things are to be." his eyes now stared directly into his friend's, challenging him now to deny that. "And when it is thrown off..." his gaze sharpened. "You can expect to be questioned, Muraki."
For a moment, it seemed as though Muraki had been caught off-guard by the statement. And, truthfully, he had been - Oriya knew something was suspicious about this whole thing, and Muraki wasn't denying it well enough. But, such was life. C'est la vie, he sighed to himself as he studied Oriya closely from behind that shadow his silvery hair cast. Somehow, he had to keep it from going any further - if he gave the answers now, they would be raw, stinging... rather like a fresh venomous wound. Let it heal, let it settle, find the antidote. Yes, that would be best. He was the doctor, after all.
"Have I been abnormal?" he asked slyly, smirking a bit wider now. The concepts of "normal" and "abnormal" had long been lost on him - disillusionment was, at the same time, a liberating and confining thing. It brought to mind old, worldly figures whose sparkle in their eyes had been robbed. He shrugged the thought aside - another thought to mull upon at another time. Now, he had a pressing situation on his hands, and a quick call to action was necessary. Without really thinking about it, he pressed his lips against Oriya's. If that wasn't a distraction, Muraki sure as hell didn't know what was.
Oh it was a distraction alright, one that Oriya certainly hadn't seen coming, but certainly didn't find himself being unwelcoming towards. It was that moment of childishness, that moment of yearning, perhaps similar to stolen memories back in their last year of high school, memories that seemed like another world, another lifetime altogether. The bastard wasn't even giving him a way to give his answer, was he?
But it wasn't enough. Even as Oriya's hand reached up, curling his fingers around the corner of Muraki's white coat, this all felt forced. Insulting. Giving into temptation, however, despite knowing this, was the more shameful part. There, silhouetted against the late moon, Oriya and Muraki's bodies were close enough to make one think of a lover's stolen meeting, and perhaps in some other life it could be.
Not in this one though, and even though Oriya returned the kiss, his hold on Muraki's coat tightened and he broke the kiss, shoving Muraki back to do so, but not letting go of the coat, he was now able to glare into the other's face.
"If this isn't abnormal, I don't know what is. You don't have to go so far if you don't want to answer me, Muraki." he was insulted, though not disappointed. What shame was there for a man like him? Then, he tugged Muraki's face close up to his and hissed, "Your technique is lacking in tact, Muraki. Perhaps you need a refresher course?"
Despite the deathly glare as his reception, and even despite Oriya's call to his bluff, all Muraki really could do was laugh. It started as a small chuckle... but it soon erupted into a self-mocking, full-fledged laugh. Of course, Oriya would see through such a deception - perhaps his mind had slipped. He grinned at his friend, not in a malicious manner - it seemed more of an invitation to join in on the self-deprecating laughter. And gently, he took hold of one of the hands that grasped at his jacket and forced that grip to loosen enough so he could slip away.
"I know 'no means no', Oriya," he started with a hearty chuckle as he stepped back, "but you never did say it, did you?" One more small chuckle escaped him before he inhaled at his cigarette. His eyes never left his friend, who stood just across from him near the ledge. Once he exhaled the smoke, he realised there was a strange taste in his mouth. No - it wasn't strange. The faint green tea and the pipe tobacco was a taste that could best be described as Oriya. He smiled to himself - it had been a while since he had had that particular flavour.
After straying to the moon once more, his stare locked on Oriya as his index finger pushed the bridge of his glasses up. "You know I've not been one for tact all the time," he added mirthfully. It really seemed more like a joke to him than anything else - and perhaps it was.
And now he was laughing. Oriya certainly didn't feel like doing that for a long time now that Muraki had gone and done this, while-- oh he wanted to kill him so badly right now and if he hadn't already known that he had been killed here-- though if he didn't know it had been twice, he may have found some other way to utterly embarrass him. Not to say that the kissing was unwelcome- it was just the reason for it was so self-centered and ridiculous that Oriya felt embarrassed about it.
However, he recognized the laugh as something found amusing not because of him, but at Muraki's own underestimation and while that took the sting out of what he had just done being nothing more than what he had done, he wasn't going to sit and take it!
"If you'd given me any chance to speak..." he trailed off. He wouldn't have said no, but he wasn't going to give Muraki the satisfaction of knowing that. Make a joke out of him, would he? Well then. "No matter. Let's see who has the last laugh when I'm through with you." And with that thought he turned, bending slightly to slip off the sandals he was wearing, and once he stood barefoot, the straps held in his hand, he took one of them and flipped them in his hand. "Better run while you can, Kazu." A hint of devilish mirth came into his own eyes and not giving Muraki anymore warning, he flung the wood-based sandal directly at Muraki's head, and the other one, now held in his hand like a weapon, he held like one would hold the blade of a sword.
"I'll show you what lack of tact really means!!" and that was that. If Muraki was going to make a joke out of him, he was going to give it back to him tenfold.
It took a minute for Muraki to properly register the situation. So, Oriya seemed a little offended by the situation. Perhaps Muraki had overstepped certain boundaries. It was hard to tell with Oriya, as quiet as he was at times. Even after a certain amount of time, he still had trouble with reading those elusive emotions his friend experienced. Strange, but Muraki had settled into the routine that accompanied his friend. But that still didn't explain why he had removed his geta so suddenly.
And then when one of them flew in his direction, he ducked - but it wasn't time enough, as the heel knocked him on his temple. Now he was getting violent? But - no, the look in his eyes was a playful one, one he recognised from each time Oriya had challenged him to a swordfight, knowing full well that he would win each time. He chuckled to himself at the memories, taking the geta in his hand before chucking it back to Oriya - he had hoped it would have hit him on the head, but a small clack of wood on the concrete a foot befpre Oriya proved that wasn't going to happen.
".... Oops." Blanching in a joking, false manner, he then ran to the door that led to the stairwell and dove in behind it. Oh, he knew Oriya would follow behind him, as he burst into the top floor's corridor and rushed to the elevator. The thrill of it all, rather like a game of hide and seek, made it feel as though his heart was rushing - for it being deadened, that in and of itself seemed a marvel to behold. Once the elevator door slid open to the first floor, he dashed to his flat and opened the door. Even now, such childish pursuits were still as fresh as rain.
Oh this was war! Oriya's smirk appeared on his face and as Muraki ran, he only bent once to grab his retaliated sandal, and made a run for it. He didn't yell, he didn't scream, but it was obvious he was enjoying himself with the speed with which he moved. Auburn hair flying behind him as he did so, Oriya found himself suddenly younger by a near fifteen years, a fateful meeting in a sunlit Japanese garden years ago. Of course, the grass was replaced by concrete and the trees with elevator shafts and stairwells, but the memory nonetheless, stood out strongly.
He was so close, he could have grabbed Muraki, but he wanted to make him run, and he wanted to give chase. There wasn't a place in the world Muraki could hide from him and that was the very reason he never went looking- he always waited for him to come to him.
Soon enough, he had followed him in the other elevator, racing to his flat behind him just as he entered, and not giving him a moment to close the door behind him, he flung his first sandal at the back of the silver-haired one's head, and shutting the door, grinned as he tailed the other.
"Run, run, run. You won't get very far, Kazutaka!" he called after him, ready to embarrass him in a slightly more pleasant manner.
He chuckled, dodging into the dark bedroom and maintaining his position by thr doorway. He knew too well that he was obscured from vision in the darkness as he leaned against the wall. There was only one window in the entire room, cloaked in thin, sheer curtains which seemed to shine like sheets of metal with the moonlight upon the fabric. Lucky that he was, the moonlight was merely filtering across the floor near him - it didn't even reach him as it lit part of the mussed bed and a small desk nearby. No, he knew well that Oriya had strong senses, but even he had managed to pull a slip on his friend every now and then.
His breathing was shallow - not from fear, but merely from the thrill of being caught. Or, was it the apprehension of catching Oriya this time around? Muraki's hand touched over the second injury he had received at the mercy of Oriya's wooden shoe - a fleshy bump on the back of his head. He had suffered worse, but he still would make Oriya pay. Waiting as he peered out the small crack of the door he had left, he grinned to himself with satisfaction. Oh, he would get Oriya for that.
Oriya was grabbing his shoe again, and that alone what was caused him to miss Muraki's departure into his room. But certain that his friend had gone in there, Oriya followed, though lucky for Muraki, he went in much farther than he did and therefore, was stunned when he didn't see him in the room. Damn, that snake!! Oriya held both geta in each hand at ready, like a warrior handling kodachi ready to strike, and he didn't make a sound, quietly deducing where his friend was.
The slightest sound, the slightest shift, and he'd be ready to attack. His face remained towards the bed, and he maintained composure- any second now... he would hear him, he was here, he could -sense- him like every time he even took his steps into Kyoto without even needing to call him ahead of time.
... close./ He was excited, happy, perhaps... one more hit, and Muraki would be his. Revenge would be sweet.
"I know you're here." he then said, challengingly. "If you don't come out, I win."
No, Muraki didn't dare move just yet. He knew exactly what his friend was doing... his senses were sharp, it was true, but he had some tactics that Oriya seemed unable to cope with. And Muraki knew just how to exploit weaknesses in order to win. His friend, as far as he was concerned, was fair game. His smile curved further upward once he realised that Oriya was close to the bed. Just even easier.
Suddenly, he launched himself at his friend, pushing him onto the bed as he caught Oriya's form and turned it about to face him directly. No, he'd not take chances - his hands reached then to push Oriya's wrists into the wrinkled covers while he pinned him down with his full body weight. Smirking quite a deal now, he moved in closer... yes, it had been clear that proximity's sorcery wasn't lost upon even Oriya. "Looks like I win this round, Oriya," he replied triumphantly.
The sandals fell from his hand at the shock- regardless of everything, there were still some things that could surprise him in situations like this, though usually he had at least a moment to recover. However, this remained unexpected and before he knew what was happening, he was turned around and both Muraki and him literally fell to the center of the bed, as though caught on a wave and then, all of a sudden, for him at least; time went still.
He had forgotten to breathe for a moment, blinking and wondering what the hell just happened, and why Muraki was on top of him, this bloody close-- but then again?
Who the hell cared?
And before Oriya knew it, he was smiling, and that serious face found itself surprised by it's own action. A soft chuckle escaped him, and he only managed to whisper the words, "You. Wish." before he found himself laughing, laughter that was neither self-depreciating or mocking, but pleasant. And suddenly, they were seventeen again, having run after each other until they had stumbled and fallen, together with the warmth of each other's body against each other.
He had so won with two hits in the lead, and even Muraki couldn't deny it.
rating; PG-13. Manly love sorta. (o mai.)
characters; Miibu Oriya (kyotodollmaster), Muraki Kazutaka (roy_de_epee).
summary; Old friends still share some things - but old habits die hard.
log;
It had been exceedingly dark for the entire day - something which had both delighted and peeved him. The darkness made such a nice cover - a cloak for any misdeeds anyone wanted to commit. However, his internal clock seemed too off for him to really relax. Muraki again looked at the watch on his wrist by the light of a faint moon - 11:42 PM.... earlier than he had thought. Sighing a touch, he eyed the crowd below while inhaling another puff of smoke from his cigarette. The entire city, it seemed, had been in a rave for the entire day. As interesting as it seemed, Muraki had thought better of it. He had his own tracks to cover.
"Such an energetic crowd," he murmured as he leaned against the stone balcony. He could see it all from the roof of the building - a rather large crowd, a pulsating beat of music seemingly dictating their movements as small streaks of multi-coloured light graced the darkness. Smoke escaped his mouth, rising into the air, and he looked over to his old friend with a smile of amusement. Oriya had insisted on joining him atop the building to take a look at the crowd. Muraki knew well enough, though, that it would all disappear by midnight. Only a few minutes, so it seemed.
"It's interesting, hmn?" He let a chuckle leave him before he again inhaled. Anything, really, to distract Oriya from asking too many of those questions. And he knew full well that it would happen eventually... he was too stubborn, sometimes. While the smoke filled his lungs and the flavour settled, he eyed Oriya slyly through a shade of silvery hair. It was just a matter of timing with him.
Timing, after all was everything. For Oriya, perhaps even his arrival (or second arrival) had been a play of fate, though the most vivid memory he had of this place was the destruction of a fountain into something more modernist socialites preferred to have around their buildings.
He was reminded of the Shibuya district when he'd actually been badgered by Tami to take a trip into the big city, and he'd come back with a memo-- modern cities were overrated, and to never be forced into a pair of casual jeans again. As he looked down at the partying going around beneath him, the night having continued for the entirety of the day, Oriya found that his old companionship with his kiseru was hardly forsaken- apparently he'd had it in his haori's pocket and he was more than happy to reignite the flames of fond calmness in this dream City, now living.
And there was the question of Muraki-- him being here, him being the way he was here... what exactly had he been doing here, anyway? As he blew a thin trail of smoke from his pipe, he continued to watch the city and then smirked to himself, moving a hand up to comb his hair back from falling into his face. "Interesting is probably too flattering a word." They were stark raving mad. Fortunate for them, from what Muraki had told him, this curse wasn't one that had caused them to be attracted to the colorful sticks that had come into their possession.
Bronze eyes looking towards his silver-haired friend, Oriya wrapped an arm across his own chest, resting an elbow against his forearm as he continued his smoking, then once the silence settled, he took his foray into the questions bothering him. "Are there any among those that have been of any particular interest to you, Muraki?"
"Particular interest, Oriya?" he echoed, reflecting on the patterns of smoke emitting from the ember of his cigarette. A lazy sort of curl in the air... the silvery light seemed caught on the smoke while it stretched to the stars. It was almost poetic - and if Muraki had contemplated upon it a second longer, he may well have seen poetry in action. But there was always a certain sort of purple tinge to the prose of the everyday action - the living proof stood beside him, he noted with a quick glance to the left of him. Oriya seemed a figure from a Meiji-era haiku, but he never had let on to his friend such a silly notion. His particular interests were certainly foolish, at times, after all.
He smiled a little conspiratorially, turning to properly face Oriya as he leaned against the stone edge. "You know how that works, really. Did you have to even ask?" Yes, purple... as purple as those eyes. That sneaky smirk grew a fraction at the notion... if only he had made sure the bindings were tight enough. It was his fault - resistance was a bit of a turn-on at times, and he wasn't immune to the allure. Again, he looked to the crowd after sneaking another glance at the watch. Five minutes had passed... how funny that they had seemed merely seconds. Had he been caught in a reverie? Muraki shrugged to himself in reply.
Oh that look. Oh that look. Without Muraki even needing to elaborate it, he knew. And perhaps the look of disgust that had settled onto his features was more than enough to express that he understood. He'd never been able to place it, quite honestly. Was it jealousy or was it just hatred of the people who called themselves Shinigami and the madness they had made Muraki go through that made him dislike that otherwise idiotic man? He wasn't even worth his time and yet...
Touch, inhale, savor, release. That was all it took for his expression to fall back into it's regular placid look, and turned his back to the crowd below in the city center, no longer interested in those writhing corpses and colored lights now that they had been tainted with the possibility of that simpleton present. Except he wasn't, was he? Not that he was aware of, and though he'd never cared to speak to the other, he was certain Muraki wouldn't be -here- if he -was-... which made him wonder.
Then... who was he talking about? Curiosity rose, but then he shrugged to himself. "The fact that you have graced me with your presence made me wonder. Normally your interests are more favorable to you." a smirk rose on his lips as he cocked his head in his friend's direction. "Am I wrong?"
Muraki chuckled, shooting Oriya a jocular sort of smile. "Is that all you have to tell me after such an absence?" he asked teasingly before he cast his eye down to the crowd as they still kept their rhythm in-sync with the pulsating beat. A beat almost irresistible. Most music was in 4/4 time to mimick the heartbeat.... Muraki had forgotten exactly where he had heard that, but the more he heard the music playing in the streets, the more it seemed a solidified fact. A heartbeat... like the one he lacked. How ironic.
The lights made such pretty designs in the air. His stare averted Oriya's passive look under the pretence of watching the display at first, but he found himself oddly drawn to the sight. "Besides, I have reasons for my pursuits. You know exactly why, too." A more serious look flashed in his eyes while a flash of brilliant green illuminated the crowd below. Green as the lights in the basement... where he rested, ready for a second coming. And he was in that basement, possibly worlds away from him.
And that was another subject he wished to discuss with him- it was odd, at least to him, to have felt Muraki's heartbeat so weakly against his own. Taking a few short smokes, he pondered the matter, as he formulated a response to his friend's statement, 'hmphing' aloud and shaking his head. A response that probbaly required no more words of agreement than the ones Muraki knew he had mentally given him. Sighing, he then turned to glance over his shoulder once more... a few more minutes unto midnight, and all of this would become nothing. A dream that was to end with the flicker of an eyelid.
"Don't take me for a fool, Muraki." he did say, however, pressing against the tip of the kiseru's mouthpiece with his teeth, before he closed his eyes. "While your reasons are more than solid, do you really believe I will accept that all of it is business?" he knew him better than that. The things he did to gain that accomplishment of his purpose, while in all intent were directed toward that purpose, weren't entirely for it. No, they were for personal satisfaction, and that alone was the pointed statement he wished to make to his friend as he moved away from the wall and walked towards him, stopping only to stand beside him and tap the pipe against the ledge. Ashes sprinkled out and Oriya turned to look up at his silver-haired friend with a look that was a mix of amusement, and concern as well.
He had been caught. Not as though Muraki would have expected anything less from Oriya, with his sharp mind. He honestly did know him too well. But it was never wise to lie to his friend - because, Muraki knew too well, that even a small one was easy to be caught in. And yet, sometimes, it was just too irresistible to pass up. The look on his friend's face did serve to entertain him... it just seemed as though there wasn't too much different over the years. It was a comforting thought of sorts, really.
"All work and no play leaves you a dull boy, Oriya," he replied with a small laugh. And it was a true enough sentiment. Besides, he had a life to live... well, had a life. Though that seemed inconsequential. As he took one last hit from his cigarette, a sudden silence fell upon the massive crowd below them. A small glimpse of the watch face told him just what was happening. Midnight. The heartbeat stopped. "Seems like the party's over," Muraki mused, crushing the smouldering cigarette butt into the stone ledge uncaringly. "What a shame...."
Yes, yes, he'd heard that before. Boring Oriya, serious Oriya, Oriya who never did anything but train and study. Rolling his eyes at the memory, he only paused to register the fact that the raving beneath them had come to a pretty quick standstill and he blinked, distracted by the sudden silence and the disappearance of the light, enough to turn around and look at the center square, now seeming to be as dead as the very corpses he'd given the people a comparison to earlier.
As the night began to settle in for certain, Oriya then raised his pipe to his mouth again, and as a farewell to the noise and lights, he blew out a thin trail of smoke to the welcome of silence and turned to look to Muraki again with a certain look. They were still talking, but it appeared, as usual, Muraki wished to dodge the subject, or play around. Shrugging to himself, he shook his head.
"Perhaps this place gives meaning to the words, You never miss your water until your well runs dry." hardly caring about their situation, Oriya leaned back against the railing, now able to face Muraki directly. His eyes scanned the other man's face, wondering about his words, before he raised his hand and touched his palm flat against Muraki's chest, over his heart, or where it should have been beating anyway, eyes narrowing.
"What emptied you out, I wonder." and in that alone, Oriya was telling him that he knew. What or how, he didn't-- but he wasn't so blind as to not notice the lack of presence of a heartbeat. That was yet another thing Muraki had to clarify.
Once Muraki felt the touch on his chest, his gaze moved directly to it and lingered there perhaps a bit longer than intended. Oriya had a sense about such things, it was true... but it was difficult to disguise a lack of a heartbeat. And now the answers were being asked for. Quickly, he set his mind to the idea of telling the entire story - one which certainly would take more than a few minutes. But.... Taking Oriya's hand by the wrist, he pulled it off and dug into his jacket for the pack of cigarettes he had with him. The abridged version was simply tempting... and surely Oriya would be none the wiser. If not, then....
"Am I truly empty, though?" he asked, nudging a cigarette upward from the pack as his teeth caught it. Empty was, oddly, a very loaded word. As he lit the cigarette, he contemplated a better word. When he found he couldn't, his brow furrowed. Time could be bought sometimes, though. No currency was needed between old friends - no, for that time was priceless. He blew out a thin stream of silver-blue smoke and turned his stare slowly upon Oriya. "What do you think?" he asked, moving closer and stopping only when he had barely a centimetre between him and the other. The asking price was deference. He knew that well enough. A minor distraction first... boldness was too obvious if introduced at the onset.
Perhaps in another time and life, the tactic might have even worked. However, due to the act of removing his hand from his chest, Oriya cast a look at the other, perhaps a little annoyed that he'd done so, and it became another thought confirming what he had felt when their bodies had pressed together in embrace at the time of his arrival. Perhaps it was the fact that the pulsations of a body were things that as much as he may avod them in the business that he conducted, were things he would always notice first at such close contact.
However, at his question, he only decided to delay replying by emptying out the ashes of the kiseru into a crack in the wall, hollowed, and once emptied, tucked it back into a pocket of his coat. Though this delayed his notice of his friend's distance, and his own personal space forsaken. And without even acknowledging it, he once again tracked his friend's action and what he was trying to do.
"Perhaps empty would be understating the fact that you are incapable, at the present time, to experience the same burdens of a somewhat normal being, Muraki." A loaded statement in it's own simplicity, Oriya was quietly challenging him to try again. This wasn't going to work with him, and he was glad the darkness shielded his face from revealing too many colors from the way the blood was rushing to his cheeks.
He hadn't moved away, but, Muraki noticed, he also hadn't mmoved closer. Was he suspect to judgment now? Sometimes, playing such games with Oriya - were they really games, though? - seemed more like a dare to pull the trigger. It was a frustrating feeling sometimes, but it hardly burdened Muraki right then as he barely permitted a breath's distance from Oriya. And he would keep it that way.
"Normal?" echoed Muraki. He chuckled a bit, suddenly pulling Oriya into a friendly embrace. Yes, he knew that his friend would feel the absence... he wanted that to happen. A heartbeat... well, it was more like the faint, dull hum of the city now that the citizens were departing the scene. The heart was a fragile, powerful organ... but, really, in a sense, he had achieved one more step toward that perfection. That infinity stretched before him like an endless, multicoloured ribbon in the sky... infinity was such a teasing concept.
His lips gently brushed against Oriya's ear while he moved back once more, and he shot his old friend an enigmatic sort of smile. "'Normal' is merely a concept, you know," he continued as he took one step forward. To capture Oriya was to back him against the wall - whether figuratively or physically, it didn't matter to Muraki. He would attempt both, anyhow, if it would cease the questions until the proper answers had formed.
The embrace did surprise him, but he didn't move to hold onto him, although his hands did twitch a little out of sheer temptation. The warmth that had flushed to his face would be unmistakable at this distance, especially if he moved any closer to the side of Muraki's neck, so he didn't dare budge until his friend drew away. Though he did force an expression of discontent onto his features, trying to feign dislike of the gesture at present, even though one looking into his eyes at that point would see that he didn't mind at all.
Especially after the very sadly obvious shiver that went down his body at the delicate brush of lips against his ear.
Now, caught under the darkness and the city's lights, Oriya moved his hands behind him to hold onto the ledge against which he had his back, and watched Muraki's advance with a calculative look. He was straying, delaying, and not answering. What was it that was making him keep such an important thing from him?, he wondered, and it made him feel bitter. There was nothing he'd ever kept from him, and yet...
Bastard, he found himself thinking. When he had no more room to back off, Oriya merely scoffed and turned his head to a side, closing his eyes. "One that I doubt you've ever understood." Or will. Stop where you are, you fiend., he mentally willed himself, trying to bring voice to the words and failing miserably. Why was this becoming exciting?
He had Oriya backed against the ledge now. Muraki knew now that only force would stop him, if his friend even dared use it. Of course, it was a good distraction from the mess he had to explain, and he knew well enough that close physical encounters were highly effective in most cases. Tsuzuki certainly got riled each time, as did that boy - and it seemed the case was similar with Oriya. Not that he had expected much less from his friend. The shiver he had noticed was a green light for him, and now he had no reason to feel guilty about the advances he was making under false pretences. Well, not totally false.
"Does anybody really understand 'normal'?" he challenged, taking the last step forward so that now he was just against his friend. Sure, he had been a very close friend... close, perhaps, being the operative word at this time. The small little pun made Muraki smirk while he forced Oriya's stare to look directly at him once more. "It's just such a hassle, really, isn't it?" he crooned - yes, he had ways to manipulate his voice and the timbre with which it expressed emotion. It was easy, sometimes, to produce a false lust - easier, still, with a friend. At least, such was the case here.
It was growing interesting, that much he could say for certain. He had no place to move, and here was Muraki, advancing on him like the devil himself. Maybe, some years ago, this would have been something Oriya would have welcomed with open arms. Pity that by that time, Muraki was so far gone into his work that there was nothing Oriya could have done at that point to take his mind to things that might have counted into 'normalcy'.
And now, he was hardened. By the world he had lived in, been raised in, and was controlling. Now he was too skeptical, too scrutinizing- why, he was so familiar with the act one put on as courtesy that it became a second nature to try and look through acts of charm just to see the real intent behind them.
Muraki really shouldn't have tried this on him now. But perhaps, some selfish youthful side of him still persisted, perhaps, if just for a little while, he wanted an illusion the same way the sweet tobacco took him away momentarily. However, his eyes darkened as he looked into Muraki's, his own voice softer, perhaps holding a warning within. "Normality is comprehension and expectation of how things are to be." his eyes now stared directly into his friend's, challenging him now to deny that. "And when it is thrown off..." his gaze sharpened. "You can expect to be questioned, Muraki."
For a moment, it seemed as though Muraki had been caught off-guard by the statement. And, truthfully, he had been - Oriya knew something was suspicious about this whole thing, and Muraki wasn't denying it well enough. But, such was life. C'est la vie, he sighed to himself as he studied Oriya closely from behind that shadow his silvery hair cast. Somehow, he had to keep it from going any further - if he gave the answers now, they would be raw, stinging... rather like a fresh venomous wound. Let it heal, let it settle, find the antidote. Yes, that would be best. He was the doctor, after all.
"Have I been abnormal?" he asked slyly, smirking a bit wider now. The concepts of "normal" and "abnormal" had long been lost on him - disillusionment was, at the same time, a liberating and confining thing. It brought to mind old, worldly figures whose sparkle in their eyes had been robbed. He shrugged the thought aside - another thought to mull upon at another time. Now, he had a pressing situation on his hands, and a quick call to action was necessary. Without really thinking about it, he pressed his lips against Oriya's. If that wasn't a distraction, Muraki sure as hell didn't know what was.
Oh it was a distraction alright, one that Oriya certainly hadn't seen coming, but certainly didn't find himself being unwelcoming towards. It was that moment of childishness, that moment of yearning, perhaps similar to stolen memories back in their last year of high school, memories that seemed like another world, another lifetime altogether. The bastard wasn't even giving him a way to give his answer, was he?
But it wasn't enough. Even as Oriya's hand reached up, curling his fingers around the corner of Muraki's white coat, this all felt forced. Insulting. Giving into temptation, however, despite knowing this, was the more shameful part. There, silhouetted against the late moon, Oriya and Muraki's bodies were close enough to make one think of a lover's stolen meeting, and perhaps in some other life it could be.
Not in this one though, and even though Oriya returned the kiss, his hold on Muraki's coat tightened and he broke the kiss, shoving Muraki back to do so, but not letting go of the coat, he was now able to glare into the other's face.
"If this isn't abnormal, I don't know what is. You don't have to go so far if you don't want to answer me, Muraki." he was insulted, though not disappointed. What shame was there for a man like him? Then, he tugged Muraki's face close up to his and hissed, "Your technique is lacking in tact, Muraki. Perhaps you need a refresher course?"
Despite the deathly glare as his reception, and even despite Oriya's call to his bluff, all Muraki really could do was laugh. It started as a small chuckle... but it soon erupted into a self-mocking, full-fledged laugh. Of course, Oriya would see through such a deception - perhaps his mind had slipped. He grinned at his friend, not in a malicious manner - it seemed more of an invitation to join in on the self-deprecating laughter. And gently, he took hold of one of the hands that grasped at his jacket and forced that grip to loosen enough so he could slip away.
"I know 'no means no', Oriya," he started with a hearty chuckle as he stepped back, "but you never did say it, did you?" One more small chuckle escaped him before he inhaled at his cigarette. His eyes never left his friend, who stood just across from him near the ledge. Once he exhaled the smoke, he realised there was a strange taste in his mouth. No - it wasn't strange. The faint green tea and the pipe tobacco was a taste that could best be described as Oriya. He smiled to himself - it had been a while since he had had that particular flavour.
After straying to the moon once more, his stare locked on Oriya as his index finger pushed the bridge of his glasses up. "You know I've not been one for tact all the time," he added mirthfully. It really seemed more like a joke to him than anything else - and perhaps it was.
And now he was laughing. Oriya certainly didn't feel like doing that for a long time now that Muraki had gone and done this, while-- oh he wanted to kill him so badly right now and if he hadn't already known that he had been killed here-- though if he didn't know it had been twice, he may have found some other way to utterly embarrass him. Not to say that the kissing was unwelcome- it was just the reason for it was so self-centered and ridiculous that Oriya felt embarrassed about it.
However, he recognized the laugh as something found amusing not because of him, but at Muraki's own underestimation and while that took the sting out of what he had just done being nothing more than what he had done, he wasn't going to sit and take it!
"If you'd given me any chance to speak..." he trailed off. He wouldn't have said no, but he wasn't going to give Muraki the satisfaction of knowing that. Make a joke out of him, would he? Well then. "No matter. Let's see who has the last laugh when I'm through with you." And with that thought he turned, bending slightly to slip off the sandals he was wearing, and once he stood barefoot, the straps held in his hand, he took one of them and flipped them in his hand. "Better run while you can, Kazu." A hint of devilish mirth came into his own eyes and not giving Muraki anymore warning, he flung the wood-based sandal directly at Muraki's head, and the other one, now held in his hand like a weapon, he held like one would hold the blade of a sword.
"I'll show you what lack of tact really means!!" and that was that. If Muraki was going to make a joke out of him, he was going to give it back to him tenfold.
It took a minute for Muraki to properly register the situation. So, Oriya seemed a little offended by the situation. Perhaps Muraki had overstepped certain boundaries. It was hard to tell with Oriya, as quiet as he was at times. Even after a certain amount of time, he still had trouble with reading those elusive emotions his friend experienced. Strange, but Muraki had settled into the routine that accompanied his friend. But that still didn't explain why he had removed his geta so suddenly.
And then when one of them flew in his direction, he ducked - but it wasn't time enough, as the heel knocked him on his temple. Now he was getting violent? But - no, the look in his eyes was a playful one, one he recognised from each time Oriya had challenged him to a swordfight, knowing full well that he would win each time. He chuckled to himself at the memories, taking the geta in his hand before chucking it back to Oriya - he had hoped it would have hit him on the head, but a small clack of wood on the concrete a foot befpre Oriya proved that wasn't going to happen.
".... Oops." Blanching in a joking, false manner, he then ran to the door that led to the stairwell and dove in behind it. Oh, he knew Oriya would follow behind him, as he burst into the top floor's corridor and rushed to the elevator. The thrill of it all, rather like a game of hide and seek, made it feel as though his heart was rushing - for it being deadened, that in and of itself seemed a marvel to behold. Once the elevator door slid open to the first floor, he dashed to his flat and opened the door. Even now, such childish pursuits were still as fresh as rain.
Oh this was war! Oriya's smirk appeared on his face and as Muraki ran, he only bent once to grab his retaliated sandal, and made a run for it. He didn't yell, he didn't scream, but it was obvious he was enjoying himself with the speed with which he moved. Auburn hair flying behind him as he did so, Oriya found himself suddenly younger by a near fifteen years, a fateful meeting in a sunlit Japanese garden years ago. Of course, the grass was replaced by concrete and the trees with elevator shafts and stairwells, but the memory nonetheless, stood out strongly.
He was so close, he could have grabbed Muraki, but he wanted to make him run, and he wanted to give chase. There wasn't a place in the world Muraki could hide from him and that was the very reason he never went looking- he always waited for him to come to him.
Soon enough, he had followed him in the other elevator, racing to his flat behind him just as he entered, and not giving him a moment to close the door behind him, he flung his first sandal at the back of the silver-haired one's head, and shutting the door, grinned as he tailed the other.
"Run, run, run. You won't get very far, Kazutaka!" he called after him, ready to embarrass him in a slightly more pleasant manner.
He chuckled, dodging into the dark bedroom and maintaining his position by thr doorway. He knew too well that he was obscured from vision in the darkness as he leaned against the wall. There was only one window in the entire room, cloaked in thin, sheer curtains which seemed to shine like sheets of metal with the moonlight upon the fabric. Lucky that he was, the moonlight was merely filtering across the floor near him - it didn't even reach him as it lit part of the mussed bed and a small desk nearby. No, he knew well that Oriya had strong senses, but even he had managed to pull a slip on his friend every now and then.
His breathing was shallow - not from fear, but merely from the thrill of being caught. Or, was it the apprehension of catching Oriya this time around? Muraki's hand touched over the second injury he had received at the mercy of Oriya's wooden shoe - a fleshy bump on the back of his head. He had suffered worse, but he still would make Oriya pay. Waiting as he peered out the small crack of the door he had left, he grinned to himself with satisfaction. Oh, he would get Oriya for that.
Oriya was grabbing his shoe again, and that alone what was caused him to miss Muraki's departure into his room. But certain that his friend had gone in there, Oriya followed, though lucky for Muraki, he went in much farther than he did and therefore, was stunned when he didn't see him in the room. Damn, that snake!! Oriya held both geta in each hand at ready, like a warrior handling kodachi ready to strike, and he didn't make a sound, quietly deducing where his friend was.
The slightest sound, the slightest shift, and he'd be ready to attack. His face remained towards the bed, and he maintained composure- any second now... he would hear him, he was here, he could -sense- him like every time he even took his steps into Kyoto without even needing to call him ahead of time.
... close./ He was excited, happy, perhaps... one more hit, and Muraki would be his. Revenge would be sweet.
"I know you're here." he then said, challengingly. "If you don't come out, I win."
No, Muraki didn't dare move just yet. He knew exactly what his friend was doing... his senses were sharp, it was true, but he had some tactics that Oriya seemed unable to cope with. And Muraki knew just how to exploit weaknesses in order to win. His friend, as far as he was concerned, was fair game. His smile curved further upward once he realised that Oriya was close to the bed. Just even easier.
Suddenly, he launched himself at his friend, pushing him onto the bed as he caught Oriya's form and turned it about to face him directly. No, he'd not take chances - his hands reached then to push Oriya's wrists into the wrinkled covers while he pinned him down with his full body weight. Smirking quite a deal now, he moved in closer... yes, it had been clear that proximity's sorcery wasn't lost upon even Oriya. "Looks like I win this round, Oriya," he replied triumphantly.
The sandals fell from his hand at the shock- regardless of everything, there were still some things that could surprise him in situations like this, though usually he had at least a moment to recover. However, this remained unexpected and before he knew what was happening, he was turned around and both Muraki and him literally fell to the center of the bed, as though caught on a wave and then, all of a sudden, for him at least; time went still.
He had forgotten to breathe for a moment, blinking and wondering what the hell just happened, and why Muraki was on top of him, this bloody close-- but then again?
Who the hell cared?
And before Oriya knew it, he was smiling, and that serious face found itself surprised by it's own action. A soft chuckle escaped him, and he only managed to whisper the words, "You. Wish." before he found himself laughing, laughter that was neither self-depreciating or mocking, but pleasant. And suddenly, they were seventeen again, having run after each other until they had stumbled and fallen, together with the warmth of each other's body against each other.
He had so won with two hits in the lead, and even Muraki couldn't deny it.