A/N: Finished RahXephon a couple weeks ago, and knew I had to write a little love bit for Ayato and Haruka. So here it is! Can be placed somewhere between episodes 11 and 14. I hope you all enjoy it!
Warning(s): Very mild sensuality. Slightly AU.
Disclaimer: I do not own RahXephon or its characters, themes, or settings. I do own this story. Whoot.
Heavily revised on October 24, 2013.The same metallic chill, the same emotionless faces, the same leaden, deadened colors that pierce his mind like the laboratory syringes that pierce his skin.
He knows they are merely dreams, nightmares that taunt him with visions of Tokyo Jupiter, of home. The images never fail to leave him clammy with a strange dread, his sleep clothes sticking to his skin like a membrane. He wakes with a barely-withheld gasp, hand clutching his shirt, gaze locked on the view of the ocean. Since coming to live here, he has found the shifting waves to be a source of composed energy, enough to pacify the howl of RahXephon's call.
For now.
He tosses the blankets aside to sit up and contemplate his next course of action. Sleep is no longer an option, and the usual joy he captures in his drawings has been elusive. Nevertheless, he finds himself reaching for his trusty sketchpad, and within moments, the familiar outline of a face fills the page, blank eyes gazing back into his with understanding. It's rather sad, he thinks with a small, amused smile, that all of his time is spent daydreaming about a girl that no longer exists, at least not in the way he imagines her. If she is out there, her life is already complete, filled with the prosperous earnings of a career, the laughter of children, and the love of a devoted partner. She wouldn't give a second thought to the adolescent affections of a former classmate who really only knew her name.
The pencil strokes across the paper with gentle force, and as he shades in her wide eyes, adds pupil to iris, he feels that familiar sense of alone welling within him like the tide, cresting against the little rest he has attained. With a sigh, he drops the pencil to the floor and returns his gaze to the sea outside his window, rests his chin in his palm and studies the push and pull of the current.
"Meow."
With a violent start and a yell, Ayato falls against the rumpled mess of his futon, heart pounding as a small kitten pads into his space and rubs against his bare ankles.
"Meow."
"Buchi." With a breath of relief and a scolding tone, Ayato watches the impish kitten, lips twitching in a smirk when large eyes regard him with a sentience almost too sharp. With a shake of his head, Ayato leans forward to clasp the small ball of fur and bring him to his chest, where he rubs the calico spot behind his ear. "Where's your mom, huh?"
The cat mews again, throat vibrating with a purr when a finger strokes the underside of his chin. The boy chuckles. "You don't seem too concerned." Distantly, he can hear the rummaging sounds of Haruka as she searches the corners and cupboards of the house, her hushed voice drifting to his ears. "Guess she's already on the hunt." With a push of his unoccupied hand, Ayato rises to his feet and slides the door entirely open. He presses a finger to his lips as a signal for silence, and Buchi quirks his ears in reply. As they step into the dark hallway, the hushed calls rise in volume and Haruka's shadowed figure appears at the end of the walkway, her crouched position mutating her shape.
"Buchi! Buchi! Where are you?"
With silent steps, Ayato treads down the deserted hall to Haruka's side, Buchi's soft paws kneading against his forearms. Ayato stops just behind her, tilting his head in curiosity when she doesn't seem to sense his presence. Buchi squirms gently in his arms, his bell tinkling the vigorous movement.
"Buch-"
With a shriek, Haruka jumps to her full height, her hands going to her neck to bat away the prickling sensation of Buchi's claws as he escapes Ayato's arms and lands on her back. Ayato backs away with a short laugh that echoes softly down the hallway, lips stretched in a surprised grin. As Haruka whirls around, he notes the wide brown eyes that always remind him of the girl in his artworks; before he can blush at the comparison, she notices him.
"Ayato-kun!" Her hands are splayed over her heart, her breath coming in short pants. He winces in sympathy.
"Sorry, Haruka-san. Buchi came into my room, and I heard you looking for him. I was bringing him to you, but he got away from me at the last second." He smiles again, almost self-conscious. "I didn't mean to frighten you."
She plants her hands on her hips in response to his explanation, though her eyes crinkle in amusement. "Well, at least you're honest. When Megumi catches me by surprise, she always blames it on a ghost." They both chuckle at that, and Haruka reaches around to regard the calico kitten kneading her shoulders. "Did you go to mess with Ayato-kun, Buchi?" With a mew, the kitten hops into her embrace, thrusting his head under her chin. "I hope we didn't wake you, Ayato-kun."
The boy shakes his head. "No, I was already awake."
The woman's lips turn down in concern. "Is everything alright? Was it a bad dream?"
Embarrassment heats his cheeks at her perceptiveness. She can probably hear me freaking out from her place, dammit. He shakes his head again and prepares to assure her before another voice trails down the hall.
"Is there a reason why the two of you are standing in the hallway having a conversation in the middle of the night?"
"Uncle!" The old man gives them a wink, the glow of his pipe a dim beacon in the darkness. Haruka straightens and attempts a formal bow, though Buchi's purr ruins the effect. "My apologies, Uncle. My shift ran late tonight, and then Buchi went missing into Ayato-kun's room."
Ayato joins in the apology. "I'm sorry if we woke you, sir."
Rikudo's raspy chuckle echoes down the walkway, and he waves his hand to dismiss them. "Enough with the formality. I wish I saw this more often. This house was made for the late-night shenanigans of young people."
The statement strikes Ayato as odd, and he glances at Haruka to see the rolling of her eyes, though her cheeks are lit with a light blush. The sight makes his brow lift.
Rikudo takes the pipe from his lips and blows a puff of gray smoke into the air. "Don't mind this old man. Goodnight, you two." With that, he retreats into his room.
"Goodnight," the two of them echo back, and once again, they're left alone in the hallway. A moment of silence passes between them, a comfortable one, and Haruka turns to him with a tender smile.
"Well, goodnight, Ayato-kun. I'll make sure to keep Buchi out of your room."
Ayato watches her departure with mixed emotions, knowing she needs her sleep, but also knowing that returning to his room will mean another restless night with his thoughts as his only company.
Maybe she'd be willing to…
"Haruka-san?" The call is out of his mouth before he can lock it in his throat, and he shuffles his bare feet as she turns to regard him. Buchi's eyes glow green in the darkness, challenging him to continue.
"What is it, Ayato-kun?" Her expression is curious but welcoming, and he feels slightly encouraged.
"Would it be alright if…maybe I…spent some time at your place? Just for a while?"
The look she gives him says even more than her wide eyes and previously blushing visage. She regards him with surprise, and he can tell she's trying to school her expression into something milder. Her lips move minutely, but no sound escapes, and Buchi mews contritely when her arms squeeze him the slightest amount.
"You want…to come over?"
He almost forgoes the request entirely and considers escaping to his room, but he stays, head lowered. "If you don't mind."
She eyes him for another moment, and the clock in the living area chimes midnight. Finally, just before he loses his nerve completely, she smiles gently and nods.
"Of course. Come on."
He releases a pent-up sigh of relief and follows her down the hallway to the front door, where they step outside into the warm night air. Almost immediately, the tropical breeze and distantly roaring tide bring a halt to his mounting disquiet, and he sighs in reprieve as the pressure of his nightmares dissipates.
"Feels great, doesn't it?"
He nods and closes his eyes to the breeze, feeling the last of his worries vanish into the dark horizon. Subtly, he slides them back open to glance at the woman next to him and smiles at the relaxation on her face.
It's nice that I can feel this way, even so far from home, even with everything that's happened since I came here. I've been feeling so anxious lately.
Haruka and Buchi lead the way next door, where the small Western-style home beckons their arrival. The three of them step inside, and Ayato wonders at the silence permeating the air.
"Where's Megumi?"
"Staying the night at Kim's. She'll be back tomorrow afternoon."
As Haruka turns the knob and steps inside the door to the left, Ayato studies the organized clutter that marks every corner. Books stacked on the floor, manila folders piled on the desk, TERRA's seal stamped on the fronts. He hides a smile at the stuffed animals lined up on the bed, their small faces grinning almost in welcome.
"Megumi was right," he begins, grin breaking through despite his best efforts.
Haruka turns to him, head cocked in question.
"She told me once that, despite your age and experience in TERRA, you were still a girl at heart." He points to the stuffed lion on the edge of the comforter, a large red bow tucked under its mane. "He proves it."
Haruka's nose wrinkles in mock offense. "First time in my room and you're already making fun of me? You're a cruel person, Ayato-kun."
He chuckles. "That lion asked for it."
With a good-humored pout, the woman places Buchi onto the mattress, and the kitten immediately pounces one of the stuffed animals lined along the wall, digging his paws into its cotton belly. Haruka settles into her desk chair with a laugh and rests her chin in the palms of her hands. "So, do you have any idea what you want to do?"
With a shrug, Ayato lowers himself to the floor, feeling oddly comfortable in the older woman's room. "I didn't really think that far. I guess I assumed you would have work to do or something."
"Well, I do, but it's nothing that can't wait 'til tomorrow."
Ayato smiles with a quick shake of his head. "I don't want to impose on anything. You do your work, I'll entertain myself."
Haruka quirks an eyebrow. "Kind of ruins the point of coming here if we just ignore each other."
"We'll still be spending time together. I plan to rummage around and find embarrassing stuff about you." He pauses, losing some of his confidence. "If that's okay."
"Nosing around in my personal belongings? Knock yourself out." With a soft chuckle, Ayato crawls to the shelf, grabs a small cardboard box, and turns to Haruka for her permission. She nods, and he scoots himself and the box close to her chair and lounges against the seat. Haruka blinks at the casual proximity and flushes with pleasure as she focuses on her first set of paperwork.
The next two hours pass in the same contented silence that found them before. Ayato carefully separates the odd and ends of Haruka's possessions. Brochures from the places she's visited, old restaurant menus, her elementary and middle-school uniforms.
She keeps everything! I can't even remember my elementary school uniform, and she has hers packed away like she's gonna wear it again!
He snickers at the idea, but quickly quiets when Haruka looks down at him in question.
"What did you find?"
He edges the box away from her sight. "Nothing. Go back to work." She eyes him suspiciously but turns away again, and he waits until he hears the scratching of her pen before returning to his digging. As he circulates from box to box, he finds himself shuffling through her childhood, her teenaged and college years. He finds letters from friends and family, quizzes, tests, and essays. A faded picture of Elvy-san, an old photo of Itsuki-san, other friends and coworkers.
I wonder if the two of them are together. Itsuki-san certainly seems to know her well, but Haruka-san usually keeps herself at a distance from him.
He replaces the photos with care and leans back against the seat, and too late he realizes how close he's brought himself into Haruka's space. He waits for a reaction, a signal to retreat, and when neither comes, he relaxes completely, glancing at his faithful watch.
2:30 AM. Later than I thought. He turns to see Haruka's progress, eyes the hand that supports her smooth cheek as she signs documents, and notes the concentrated look in her brown eyes.
He knows that look. She always uses it when delved in her work, but…Ayato blushes, turning away to stare blankly at the scattered pieces of history he's uncovered.
That illusion the Dolem put me in, what did it mean? He remembers Hiroko and Mamoru, remembers Hiroko's disturbing advances, and then the café and…Haruka.
That intense look. It was in her eyes then, too. It had coaxed him, teased him with promises of things he didn't want to consider. It had all felt too real. The city bustle, Hiroko's hand, Haruka's skin and the soft swell of her breast.
But I wanted to know. At least part of me wanted to. He wants to scold himself for the thought. The memory won't let him. Even now he can feel the heat from Haruka's proximity, the small brush of her clothed thigh on the back of his neck.
Perhaps it is the fatigue weighing on his common sense, or the recent discoveries he's made. Perhaps it is simply a remnant of the confidence he found to bring himself here; regardless, in a fit of boldness, Ayato leans back entirely, resting his head on the covered skin of her leg.
"Ayato-kun?"
He closes his eyes in concentration, feels the subtle tensing of muscle under his head as Haruka accommodates his weight.
"Ayato-kun?" Her tone shifts from confusion to concern. He doesn't answer, waits instead for her to act, and he starts slightly when her fingertips hesitatingly rest on his brow line, touching delicately. He still doesn't react, and eventually her hand lays itself down entirely, sliding carefully over the curled strands of his hair.
He lifts his hand over his head, fits it over hers, and wonders why it feels so intimate to have their fingertips touch.
Why?
He tightens his hold slightly, keeps his eyes closed to preserve something he doesn't know is there.
Why is her touch so familiar?
She entwines their fingers and squeezes, as if she understands. He wonders how she can understand, when he himself doesn't.
"Sorry."
"For what?"
"Distracting you."
He feels her breathy laugh like a whisper on his lips. "It's okay."