I'm watching too many Super Sentai at the moment... Anyway, this' my first piece of fanfic for one of the four new ones I'm watching; Jyuuken Sentai Gekiranger. This pairing became my OTP way too fast. Daku mou...
Rio isn't a chameleon like Mele is, but he has his ways. He can get into SCRTC's building, easily unseen. But he is not there to steal, nor to harm. Merely to observe.
Retsu is handsome, beautiful, even, and Rio doesn't understand why he feel as if he is being pulled towards the blue ranger, is only aware that he is. Retsu has lured him in without even being aware of it, and night after night, the times when Rio can get away from the temple and from Mele, he sneak into Retsu's room, careful not to make a single sound to arouse him from his sleep.
With light fingertips, he is millimeters away from the others face, yet way too far away for his liking. He wishes he could touch. Retsu look so peaceful when he sleeps, and Rio does not wish to wake him from that slumber.
Whole nights, he can sit and watch, almost touching, forcing himself so hard not to brush his fingers across Retsu's soft-looking skin, place his palm against his warm cheek, or, even worse, kiss him.
But it's so hard, and it aches within him with longing, because damn, he want Retsu as his.
He can at least dream, and the nights he has to stay at the temple pains him, because he want to be by Retsu's side, have Retsu by his side.
He want to - no, he don't, or, at least he knows that he shouldn't want to - love Retsu, that Retsu would love him.
But it's not possible, not like this. Because they are enemies, even though Rio sometimes wonder how he ended up on this path. He knows how, but he still wonders.
Didn't he choose it so he wouldn't have to feel this pain again? But it's terrible, this feeling of complete loneliness, which only can be filled when he is close to his enemy.
And he hates it. His life, his kenpo school, his path, the Gekirangers, Retsu.
But Retsu, beautiful, beautiful Retsu. It was a dream that he knew he never would be able to reach. So he clutched it to his chest in his loneliest hours, held it close as if something fragile that could break at any moment of even the slightest carelessness, shivering, as he pressed it to his lips and longed for touches from that man, to him, so unreachable and so desirable. Under him or above him, he didn't care, just wanted the closeness and to not have to bottle up his feelings.
Because it only got worse, was never subdued.
