Let us go then you and I

by kate882

A story based on the poem The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock. I gave it a slightly happier ending than the poem has.

Let us go then, you and I,

When the evening is spread out against the sky

Like a patient etherized upon a table;

Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,

The muttering retreats

Kuroko walked with Akashi, down the sidewalk. It was too late for there to be many people out, but that didn't seem to lower Akashi's guard any. The red head still walked with all the dignity of an emperor, poster impeccable, and head held high looking straight ahead.

His hand did brush against Kuroko's every few minutes though. As if to assure himself that Kuroko was still there. As if Akashi weren't the one who was going to be disappearing soon.

Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels

And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:

Streets that follow like a tedious argument

Of insidious intent

To lead you to an overwhelming question ...

Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"

Let us go and make our visit.

They stopped to get something to eat on their way, before walking again. Kuroko could feel his hands shaking as they approached the hotel. It was cheap by Akashi's standards, but still nicer than anything Kuroko could have afforded. The idea was to not be seen by anyone who would recognize Akashi. Although, Kuroko wasn't sure how much it would matter if someone recognized Akashi, because they wouldn't even see Kuroko.

When Akashi's hand touched Kuroko's again, he glanced sharply over at his companion, apparently having noticed the shaking. Kuroko gave him a look that silently begged him not to ask, so Akashi didn't, going back to looking in front of them, holding the door open for Kuroko when they reached the hotel.

In the room the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,

The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,

Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,

Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,

Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,

Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,

And seeing that it was a soft October night,

Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

Akashi walked over to the check in desk, leaving Kuroko to listen to the other's in the lobby talk. They didn't seem as intoxicated as one might expect from a group of young people standing around a hotel at this hour.

And indeed there will be time

For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,

Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;

There will be time, there will be time

To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;

There will be time to murder and create,

And time for all the works and days of hands

That lift and drop a question on your plate;

Time for you and time for me,

And time yet for a hundred indecisions,

And for a hundred visions and revisions,

Before the taking of a toast and tea.

They walked up the stairs together, not bothering to take the elevator since the group from the lobby had moved into it. It also left more time for Kuroko to change his mind if he wanted to. He considered it. Wouldn't it only hurt more if he let this happen? But he couldn't leave things as they were either.

"What time do you have to leave tomorrow?" Kuroko asked.

"My flight is at one. We have plenty of time. If you wake up early enough, we may even be able to get breakfast before I have to gather my things and get to the airport." Akashi answered.

In the room the women come and go

Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time

To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?"

Time to turn back and descend the stair,

With a bald spot in the middle of my hair —

(They will say: "How his hair is growing thin!")

My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,

My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin —

(They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!")

Do I dare

Disturb the universe?

In a minute there is time

For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

They went up the last flight of stairs, nothing less than the top floor for Akashi, and Kuroko again considered leaving. It wasn't as if this was going to matter to Akashi once he was gone. What was Kuroko compared to all of the people Akashi was sure to meet overseas? People who could further his career while also looking the part of a trophy wife. Who was Kuroko to wish any different for Akashi?

For I have known them all already, known them all:

Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;

I know the voices dying with a dying fall

Beneath the music from a farther room.

So how should I presume?

Thoughts like that didn't matter though. Kuroko may not be who Akashi would stay with, but at the moment he was who he was with. Of all of the people in Japan he could have spent his last night with, he'd picked Kuroko. Why didn't that make him feel better? Because even still, it was still Akashi's last night with him.

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—

The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,

And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,

When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,

Then how should I begin

To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?

And how should I presume?

They were on each other as soon as the door was closed behind them, something desperate and needy in their touches. Akashi had him pinned against the wall as if to make sure Kuroko was there, that Kuroko wasn't leaving him. As if Akashi weren't the one who would be gone in the morning. He kept his eyes trained on Kuroko's face as he thrust into him, clearly trying to memorize each expression that crossed his partner's so often non expressive features. He only looked away to leave bite marks along Kuroko's neck and shoulders, marking what was not his.

And I have known the arms already, known them all—

Arms that are braceleted and white and bare

(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)

Is it perfume from a dress

That makes me so digress?

Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.

And should I then presume?

Neither of them was sleeping as they lay in bed together, Akashi's arms wrapped around Kuroko and holding the smaller man to his chest.

But they stayed quite, pretending, for each other's sakes, that they were asleep since there was nothing left to say. Nothing that would help at least.

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets

And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes

Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? ...

I should have been a pair of ragged claws

Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!

Smoothed by long fingers,

Asleep ... tired ... or it malingers,

Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.

Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,

Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?

But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,

Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,

I am no prophet — and here's no great matter;

I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,

And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,

And in short, I was afraid.

As the hours flew by, far too fast and far too slow all at once, Kuroko felt a dampness on his cheeks. He bit his lip to hold back sounds that weren't going to come. Somehow, Akashi still knew. He didn't say, but he started running a hand through Kuroko's hair in a soothing gesture.

And would it have been worth it, after all,

After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,

Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,

Would it have been worth while,

To have bitten off the matter with a smile,

To have squeezed the universe into a ball

To roll it towards some overwhelming question,

To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,

Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"—

If one, settling a pillow by her head

Should say: "That is not what I meant at all;

That is not it, at all."

They ordered food from the hotel when the alarm forced them out of their quiet. Kuroko considered telling Akashi. Three simple words. Let him know that he loved him. Perhaps Akashi would reply with something that meant that just because he was leaving Japan didn't mean he was leaving Kuroko. In the end he said nothing. What was the point? Weather Akashi was leaving him or merely leaving Japan the end result was the same. Akashi would be gone.

And would it have been worth it, after all,

Would it have been worth while,

After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,

After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—

And this, and so much more?—

It is impossible to say just what I mean!

But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:

Would it have been worth while

If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,

And turning toward the window, should say:

"That is not it at all,

That is not what I meant, at all."

They said their goodbyes after breakfast. Akashi called Kuroko a cab to take him home. Akashi's car arrived first, and Kuroko watched as Akashi disappeared.

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;

Am an attendant lord, one that will do

To swell a progress, start a scene or two,

Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,

Deferential, glad to be of use,

Politic, cautious, and meticulous;

Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;

At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—

Almost, at times, the Fool.

Kuroko had never needed to be the most important. He was there to help from the shadows. And he would continue to do that, Akashi or no Akashi. Even if it hurt that the option that seemed to have come to pass was 'no Akashi'.

I grow old ... I grow old ...

I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?

I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves

Combing the white hair of the waves blown back

When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea

By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown

Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

And oh how it felt like drowning every time a magazine or news show speculated on the love life of the most up and coming business man. But when Akashi finally came back to Japan, it was Kuroko whom he sought out upon arrival. Years had passed, but perhaps they could start again.