ooc; fic
In which Kaji puts a fic that has nothing to do with this journal here.
For Ri. Safe for work but for mild implications of murder and sexytimes. Also, completely bizzare, I am so sorry.
Fog and Rain;
His dreams have been full of fog since he pushed Amano through the TV. Sometimes, he sees a figure-not enough to make out a face or what they’re wearing, but unmistakeably…female. And it seemed to him that after he pushed Konishi in, the image grew a little clearer…
He chased her, only to see something he can’t quite remember when he wakes, something the fog is hiding, and leaves him waking in a cold sweat without remembering why.
And yet he keeps chasing…without being able to help it. Every time he closes his eyes, he thinks he might be able to see…Surely, this time.
Adachi is woken up by the sound of the phone in the station, and answers the hysteria of Tarou Namatame with a deadly game of his own.
That night, he saw the ghost of a smile, and soft, rich laughter that left him chilled to the very bones.
--
The fog grows thicker with every night, and now he hears the voice when he’s awake-on rainy days, only ever on rainy days, and he wonders if he’s actually gone off the deep end. Adachi’s not stupid, he knows most people would already call him crazy, but it’s another thing entirely to be hearing voices.
He sits alone on the floor of his apartment, staring at the static of the TV and waiting for midnight, and when the room itself begins to fill with fog, he tells himself he’s not afraid.
Her fingers trace down the back of his neck, and in a moment, he realizes he can’t tell if it’s skin or bone that’s touching him.
“Tohru,” she says, and in that moment, Adachi knows he’s in over his head. When she laughs, he forgets to breathe.
--
The lunches start appearing on the counters in the morning, and Adachi takes them to work to throw out on the way there every single morning. He knows it’s no kind gesture-no attempt to make up for the claw marks in his shoulders (and he thinks that might not actually be hyperbole and her fingers actually are claws, Christ almighty).
It’s a joke, a subtle jab, and only reminds him that she will never belong to him, never belong to anyone, and he’s only there for her amusement.
And unlike all the others, there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it. Adachi grits his teeth, and smiles vapidly at Dojima for yet another day, staring into his coffee and wishing he could forget what really lies in the fog outside.
But if he can’t forget, he can drag all the rest of him down into her hands with him, and maybe then…
Maybe then, when she calls his name, she won’t be taking the tone of someone amused at a misbehaved pet.
Adachi blows the steam away from his coffee, brewed a bit stronger tonight, and prays for rain.
For Ri. Safe for work but for mild implications of murder and sexytimes. Also, completely bizzare, I am so sorry.
Fog and Rain;
His dreams have been full of fog since he pushed Amano through the TV. Sometimes, he sees a figure-not enough to make out a face or what they’re wearing, but unmistakeably…female. And it seemed to him that after he pushed Konishi in, the image grew a little clearer…
He chased her, only to see something he can’t quite remember when he wakes, something the fog is hiding, and leaves him waking in a cold sweat without remembering why.
And yet he keeps chasing…without being able to help it. Every time he closes his eyes, he thinks he might be able to see…Surely, this time.
Adachi is woken up by the sound of the phone in the station, and answers the hysteria of Tarou Namatame with a deadly game of his own.
That night, he saw the ghost of a smile, and soft, rich laughter that left him chilled to the very bones.
--
The fog grows thicker with every night, and now he hears the voice when he’s awake-on rainy days, only ever on rainy days, and he wonders if he’s actually gone off the deep end. Adachi’s not stupid, he knows most people would already call him crazy, but it’s another thing entirely to be hearing voices.
He sits alone on the floor of his apartment, staring at the static of the TV and waiting for midnight, and when the room itself begins to fill with fog, he tells himself he’s not afraid.
Her fingers trace down the back of his neck, and in a moment, he realizes he can’t tell if it’s skin or bone that’s touching him.
“Tohru,” she says, and in that moment, Adachi knows he’s in over his head. When she laughs, he forgets to breathe.
--
The lunches start appearing on the counters in the morning, and Adachi takes them to work to throw out on the way there every single morning. He knows it’s no kind gesture-no attempt to make up for the claw marks in his shoulders (and he thinks that might not actually be hyperbole and her fingers actually are claws, Christ almighty).
It’s a joke, a subtle jab, and only reminds him that she will never belong to him, never belong to anyone, and he’s only there for her amusement.
And unlike all the others, there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it. Adachi grits his teeth, and smiles vapidly at Dojima for yet another day, staring into his coffee and wishing he could forget what really lies in the fog outside.
But if he can’t forget, he can drag all the rest of him down into her hands with him, and maybe then…
Maybe then, when she calls his name, she won’t be taking the tone of someone amused at a misbehaved pet.
Adachi blows the steam away from his coffee, brewed a bit stronger tonight, and prays for rain.