Note:
It's my first post. I wrote this story because I found only a few fon/59. Hope you like it. This story is un-betaed so sorry if there are grammar and spelling error. And English is not my mother tongue. Thank you…
A small dark apartment room with the wall paint peeled off on several surfaces. Who would know that the place was occupied? If not for a small stack of books, an out of place old grand piano, and series of gasps and moans from one of the closed doors. If someone opened that closed door he would find a tiny cabinet with several choices of garments, a futon and two sweaty bodies on it. They were a half-breed boy with distinguishing appearance and an adult with long black braided hair. Slightly tan yellowish in contrast with pale fair skin beneath. The boy who might have been only sixteen years old with silver hair squirmed under the adult on his twenty-six. The moon illuminated the room from a rectangular closed window, enough light for the older to see all out of character expressions from the boy. When the night sliding deeper, the adult had gone out of that apartment room, left no trace from the activity minutes before on his appearance. Then on the next morning, the boy would find some sum of cash beside his futon like always. But the difference was the amount of money, greater sore of the body, and a memory when the husky voices of the older filled with sadness and regret had told him that it would be their last.
Two years had passed. The half-breed boy with his two friends entered the same college in another city. The boy had never met the man again after that night. He told himself that he felt no regret nor sadness. He had friends who distracted his thought on the daylight. But when the moon had risen, the blurry memory of the man came. However, he didn't miss him, at least that what he told himself. The life must go on. Yet, he was frozen when his green met cold grey-blue eyes of a face similar to the familiar face from two years before but younger.
"What are you staring at, herbivore?" the man asked him coldly.
The silver haired man regained the control of his body, "You've got some awful bad joke calling other like that." Then he walked, leaving the other man stood by himself in the college corridor.
No one knew his slight distracted heart. He spent the day attending class, lunch with his two friends, snapped at the baseball fanatic one, and looked head over heel for the brown now mature friend. Yet, the memory swam in his head. Repeating the husky voices of goodbye, leaving a hurt aftertaste in his chest.
In the next day, after all his class was over, he walked to the gate for meeting his friends. They were there, he took a step to approach and then stopped. Leaning on the fence, a small warm smile on his lips, with eyes looked at the open book on his left hand, the man of his memory was there. The blurry nostalgia repeated again, clearer than ever. He forgot where he stood if not for a metal smacked his back head. He turned and saw the man from yesterday with a tonfa in hand.
"What the hell…" he started.
Steps, three pairs of them. He could hear the worry of his friends. And familiar mature voices.
"Gokudera-kun… are you okay?" asked the brunette while running.
"Gokudera what happen?" his other friend who came faster asked and looked at the tonfa wielder.
"Kyouya, what are you doing?" still sweet and calm, the man approached the black haired similar to him.
Then he saw him. When green met black, the time seemed like stop. Each was captured by the other's color that glazed by pain and longing. If there were no other beside them, they would stare each other and let the seconds slipped in silence. Trying to read amounts of words deep within the color. But there were three annoyed people around them and one of them didn't have enough patience, to begin with.
"What the fuck!" when the silver felt the same disturbance as before.
"Kyouya, it's not a good behavior, you know." The older counterpart said while his right hand gripped the tonfa's metal part.
The steel blue walked passed them followed by the mature one, not before a glace to the silver. "Sorry for my brother behavior."
Late that night, the half-breed couldn't sleep. He turned several times on his futon, sat on the piano stool but too distracted to play, then he went out. Despite the cold night air, he wore a red tank top and a short. Aimlessly he walked until he saw the man. Leaning on the wall beside the park. Eyes met and the older approached the younger hastily.
"Fon…" that's the only word he could utter before forceful lips sealed his.
The sensation, the shiver, the only man could make him felt all those feeling. His hand circled the other's neck while strong hands on his waist pushed him more to the older body. They broke when the needing of air was on the peak. The second kiss they share was fiercer and more demanding. They understood they were missed, they were loved, and the feeling was mutual. That two years ago, it wasn't daily nights of a prostitute and his client.
They were in the silverette apartment. Doing what their mind had played for two years. Gasps and moans, whispers of love and longing, then the cry of long hold joy filled the room. But this time, when the night slid deeper the older stayed in the room and the next morning the younger wouldn't find an amount of cash, for it had been replaced with a warm smile and sweet kiss on the pink lips.