Author's note: some explanation… a while ago (what was it, a month ago?), D3athrav3n92 asked me an Akako/Hakuba fic. I wrote back that I'd think about it. By the end of that day, this had triggered so many ideas that a dozen themes were already writing themselves out in my head and I had a while notebook page scribbled black with sentences and titles. So I thought I could as well make a series of it – I made a dive in the archives and found nothing of the kind had been made before, so, definitely a series. Besides, I like this couple. Watch out for some angst, though.
Voila! Hope you'll like this!
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To forget
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The first time it happened was on the night of Kuroba and Nakamori's wedding. Of course, those two were meant to be together – they were the main characters, and though they'd had to fight with their curious relationship of love and hate they did deserve a happy ending.
Deserved it. Yes. Definitely.
Hakuba Saguru and Koizumi Akako were not stupid.
They had known for a long time the story would end that way – their friends learning what truly is trust and – no, maybe not love, because they already knew what that was and they had many times shaken their thin, strong, fragile love so hard it might have broken, only it hadn't, and though they had broken many times in the end they had found something meaningful at the bottom of this – their friends clenching onto their dream only to be thrown into reality and discovering nothing had changed; and themselves left behind.
They had always been behind, in a way – always, though they had fought to be more than secondary, but it had never, ever worked. Aoko and Kaito went first, and, my dears, that was only natural. They had been fighting an illusion all that time, until the very last moments when reality went off on a honeymoon and they just waved goodbye on the train station.
Maybe it was all very confusing, or maybe it was the alcohol they drowned themselves in that very night, to forget.
At least they had someone to be with, and when they realized this was probably a mistake to do it was already morning and the hangover was terrible.
What happened that night, confusedly and in the dark, repeated itself many times over the following weeks – it wasn't the first time for either of them, anyway. It was not something they could control, nor wanted to control. Most times it occurred when they heard about the newly-weds, or when the loneliness was too terrible and too pregnant to be stood alone.
It had been love, yes – it had been mad love, like any teenagers – and they had thought they were more mature than their classmates because they didn't faint over Kid or such. And it was only now, when they lay on the bed (his or hers, whichever) skin against skin, still grasping for air, that they realised what a childish love it had been – the kind of one they would have pushed away laughing not so long before) and they'd be ready to do anything to forget.
Because despite that childishness, or maybe because of it, it had been so pure a love it felt burnt against them, and in such moments of recognition the only haven they found was the refuge of each other's bodies; fingers threading in long hair, hands roaming over golden skin; the warmth of desperate kisses and caresses that were not at first meant for them; the afterglow where for a few more moments there was peace and silence and – yes, tenderness also.
To forget.
To forget.
It was the nearest escape, the nearest replacement, the last resort. Only there there could be understanding. Nights followed nights without a word being said about the true reason that brought them together; without a word being needed, either.
They drowned themselves in each other's arms, if only to forget.
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This is different than what I usually write, which is probably why I enjoyed it so much. I've got several ideas for a more story-like sequel, so if you're interested… let me know.