Title: Dedicated to the One I Love
Series: Uta No Prince-Sama
Summary: Eventually, reality would catch up with him, but for now, he could pretend that burning the letters and ignoring his roommate was the way to deal with a much deeper, much more devastating problem.
Rating: R
Genre: Romance/Drama
Pairings: Ren/Masato
Author's Note: Written for saradavinci1995 on FFN, and xmasatohijirikawa on tumblr. Thank you SO MUCH for the request!
Disclaimer: This is being written for the sheer enjoyment of writing, I make no profit other than the fan's enjoyment of it
…
Years ago; years and years ago, there had been two boys who were great friends. As the years went on, one of the boys pulled away, believing their friendship to be against the natural order of things. He thought that they were going against their families in every way, and further, their true paths.
The other boy didn't understand. He sent letters, stopped by the other's house, tried to visit him at his school, but eventually gave it up for a lost cause.
Nevertheless, that other boy who pulled away kept every letter that was sent to him. They remained unopened, left in the bottom of a chest that he carted around with him regularly. It was a reminder of what he sacrificed to stay on 'The Right Path'.
'The Right Path' was a relative thing, the shy boy had found. Through many instances and separate, freak accidents, his path strayed. It weaved, backtracked, and eventually he found himself going to a school for people who were the exact opposite of him.
Flighty, ignorant, thoughtless and careless people who were oftentimes self-absorbed and hurtful in their stupidity, none more so than his so-called roommate, the very boy he'd given up so many years ago.
The first day they'd moved in together, he'd gone to his trunk, picked up all the letters, and threw them back onto the boy's bed, saying nothing, doing nothing to betray any emotion, merely returning to sender.
Words couldn't describe the emotions written all over the other boy's face, but needless to say, they hadn't been pleasant.
Two weeks later and the boy had nearly dropped out of school.
Only a girl's actions prevented the occurrence, and oddly enough, the reserved boy felt… happy about it. He still felt bitterness towards the freedom that the other boy had, the ability to do 'whatever he wanted to', and never be destroyed for it, but… that wasn't enough.
Weeks past and they still couldn't see eye to eye.
"I wrote you all those letters for a reason," his rival stated, throwing darts at his board with such pristine accuracy that it made the blue haired boy's head ache with misery.
He said nothing, drawing in his books and pointedly ignoring him.
"You can't ignore me forever," the other sighed, obvious hurt in his tone.
He could, and he would, thank you very much. Ignoring that problem was far easier than pretending he had a clue on how to deal with it.
The next day, all the letters reappeared in his chest – a fact he only noticed when he was going to pull out his writing tools again. He looked at the papers and noted that there was a new one on top.
Calmly, with anger simmering under every motion, he took the papers and placed them back on his roommate's bed, leaving a note threatening to bring in the school's authorities should his roommate see forth to touch his personal objects again.
The letters disappeared.
Then… then… 'that' happened.
'He' wrote a song. The song wasn't really anything special to people who didn't know any better, but…
The reserved boy went back to his room and found the letters on his bed. He stared at them and noted that a few of them were open, the lines circled and smeared, obviously worked on. They were some of the older letters.
With shaking fingers, he picked up the piece of paper and read over the words that had been written there, even the ones that had, very recently, been smudged out. The song's lyrics had come directly from the words pleading some contact, some reason as to why they couldn't see each other anymore.
A second letter was written underneath it, claiming… feelings that the other boy hadn't noticed, or rather, had done his best 'not' to notice. His heart was in his throat by the time he got to the third letter, the words screaming at him from the music that had just been sung to him as well as the old, old pleading on the pages.
Turning away, he dropped the pages on the bed, taking in a deep breath. His roommate entered in a few minutes later, when he was still standing there, slightly stunned. The other boy stared at him, looked at the letters, and looked like he was about to say something.
Turning away, he grabbed the pages and unopened letters, throwing them in the other boy's face as he departed the room.
"I wrote it for you."
He said nothing, wishing he could burn the feelings in his heart as much as he wished he could burn those letters.
Days past before the next action – another song was written and performed in front of their class, the S Class showing off their work for the 'lower levels'. Fingernails ground into his palms at the explicit lyrics, winding their story around in his head and choking him with words that he was sure to find on letters laid in neat rows on his bed.
That night, he 'did' burn the letters on his bed.
"I will not be lowered to this," he declared, the lighter in his hand responsible for the torching of the last letter.
The hurt on the other boy's face turned to rage, the anger and choking hatred nearly drowning them both.
Words weren't enough for what was in the air, the desperation, the 'need' to forget that this was happening to them.
He blamed it on that, although even that could never excuse his lapse in judgment. When the other boy flew at him, grabbed his shoulders and threw him onto the bed, he claimed that it was shock that kept him in place, but they both knew better.
"I swear… I am going to remove that stick up your ass and replace it with something more enjoyable."
"Get off me…"
"No."
Their first time hadn't been pleasant for either of them, the emotions running far too high.
The next day, the only reason he went to class was because it hurt too much to remain in that room, with his roommate just sitting there staring at the wall, the both of them so shocked at what had just happened.
That night, he stayed outside, refusing to return to the room that he'd been defiled so brutally in.
His roommate found him midway through the night, or perhaps some other do-gooder, but most likely it was his unstable bastard of an ex-friend, and he brought him back to his room. By the time he woke up, he was wound in the other's arms, his face buried in strawberry blond hair, tears clouding his vision and terror eating at his soul.
His clothes were still on. The panic turned into cold rage.
"You're a fool," the other had stated, lacing a hand in his hair to keep him in place. "If you would have gotten sick, there would be hell to pay."
"I would rather take my chances," he'd stated back, working 'hard' to keep the emotion out of his tone, the fear, the anger, the helpless, helpless despair.
The other had removed himself from bed at that comment, allowing him to lay there and think for a few seconds, before he realized that he realized where he was. Getting up, he removed himself and went to shower.
School progressed as was normal for the next little while, writing songs, ignoring the other. That lasted until the next cross-classroom session, when his roommate's song was… breathtaking.
It was a song of longing, of mistakes, of loss, of forgiveness.
It fell on deaf ears.
"If you pass into my side of the room, I will see to it that you are removed from this school," he told the other, who looked so miserable and hateful that he almost seemed to be the visual appearance of his own inner feelings.
The next day, he found roses on his desk, delivered by a company.
He threw them in the garbage.
The next it was chocolates, then stuffed animals, people singing to him, more flowers, a new calligraphy set, a sweater in a shade that he'd come to love, candies that he'd eaten by the boatload as a child… and finally, tickets to a performance that he'd been wanting to see for 'years'.
When his roommate came in after he got those tickets, he nearly slapped the other.
"I told you to leave me alone," he snarled, hatred mixing with so much confusion. How the hell was he supposed to react to these?
"I will not. I made that mistake once, and I found it to be the worst experience of my life," the other told him.
"What… what the HELL do you WANT from ME?" he'd screamed, throwing the tickets in his roommate's face as he felt the tears welling in his soul start to shatter his composure.
"Nothing more or less than everything you could possibly offer me," his roommate stated, picking up the tickets off the floor and taking a step forward.
"No," he said, shaking his head, feeling his heart bursting with all the emotions and turmoil that this had been wrenching in his carefully-planned world.
"I could not be more sorry for my actions previously. Please, allow me the chance to prove to you that I value you: body, mind and soul," his roommate stated, advancing again.
Backing away for each step taken, he soon found himself against the wall, shaking his head and whispering his mantra of 'no' under his breath.
"I love you," his roommate stated, the words barely a breath on the wind.
"No!" he shouted, his fingernails digging into the wall behind him as though he somehow had the ability to claw through it and get away.
"I do," his roommate stated, finally taking that last step to close the distance between them.
"N-no… I c-can't…" he stammered, shaking his head.
"Hijirikawa Masato, I love you," his roommate stated, bringing him into this entire charade. It was like a dam had broken in his mind and this bizarre situation was suddenly reality.
That hand reaching into his hair, the tears streaming down his face, the barely-functioning gasps that somehow mocked true breathing… it was 'him'.
Masato tried to turn away from the face that was swiftly coming close, but the hand in his hair kept his face forward.
"Masato…" the other boy said, his lips moving down as Masato's body unconsciously moved to meet the other's, their lips hovering less than an inch apart. "I love you."
"Y-you couldn't possibly…" Masato trailed off, his eyelids fluttering shut as their lips finally met and his mind went blessedly blank.
"I love you," was whispered as they parted, and then again as Masato was moved down to his bed. The phrase became so ingrained in his mind that he barely noticed that he was repeating it.
"I love you," Masato cried as his roommate's travels led down his body, further than his shirt, into his pants and onto certain parts of his anatomy that were sorely ignored the last time they had been together.
"I'm sorry for the harm I caused you," his roommate stated, fingers reaching into his body, spreading him wide and making him gasp desperately.
"Ah!" Masato couldn't comprehend, couldn't think to object. The sensation was so absolutely different from the ripping agony of the last time this had happened.
The entire process happened so smoothly, so absolutely, ceaselessly beautifully that by the time Masato's orgasm had caught up with him, he was buried in his roommate's luscious body, hugging him tightly and hiding from the feelings he was sure to face now.
"Masato…?" his roommate gently ran a hand along his face and Masato struggled against his emotions once more, not wanting to cry in such a perfect moment. "Masato?"
"I… I don't think I'm strong enough to do this," Masato admitted, shaking his head and giving into the battle against his tears, deciding that one battle was hardly the war.
"You're not doing this alone. I'm here," the other stated, pulling his face up so that he was looking into beautiful blue eyes surrounded by a slightly-frizzled mane of strawberry blond hair.
"I can't be strong enough for you," Masato whispered, kissing the hand that was holding his face so gently.
"You love me, you said it. Love is the most powerful thing we can have," he stated, and Masato blinked the tears from his eyes once more, taking a deep breath.
"Love is hardly enough, Ren Jinguji," Masato shook his head helplessly, and then kissed the pushy boy again. "But, for now, I guess we can…"
"I'll convince you," Ren stated, kissing him breathlessly. "You 'will' be mine, I swear it."
Masato refused to believe his beloved's words, knew that, in their world, things like this didn't just… happen. They weren't that lucky, but he could pretend. God, please, just let him pretend.