Unspoken With Dusk
The wind exhaled and scattered the sky.
The sunset dripped on the horizon, painting the scene a vivid hue. The colors of the day clashed with the pastels of night, bursting on the distant edge with a release of passionate dye. Stars strained against the canvas dimly, striving to free themselves from the softly fading day.
In the golden light of the sunset, Shuuichi yawned. His countenance appeared angelic for the halo of light that surrounded him in a soft nimbus, springing from the window that outlined his silhouette.
"That was a long practice," he commented, voice drifting from the shadow. The light behind was gloriously brilliant, but his form was left in cloaked darkness.
"Yeah," came the other voice, softly.
"But I think we might have it. Or at least, be closer to having it," he added, stepping into the artificial, fluorescent light. Soft features were revealed, graced with a small, rueful smile.
"But," he continued, "we can work more on it later, because it's getting late…" He let the words trail off nonchalantly, reaching over to pick up the sheaf of paper on the nearby desk. The pair of them were in Hiro's apartment, as they had needed extra practice, and this was one of the few available places.
"Because you have plans," Hiro corrected, after a moment of hanging silence. His voice was muffled; he knelt on the floor, putting his guitar into its case.
The redhead heard Shuuichi shift, threw a glance over his shoulder, and saw the younger man rub a hand against the back of his neck. A faint blush stained his cheeks. "Ah… yeah," he agreed.
He paused, as if waiting to see if Hiro would continue, but the guitarist only returned to his task, finally slipping the case closed with the soft click of two latches.
"Well… I suppose I'll see you tomorrow, Hiro-kun?" Shuuichi offered brightly.
Hiro paused, suppressed a sigh, and let his head bow forward. Crimson hair cast his eyes into shadow, and he heard the soft footfalls as Shuuichi headed to the door. To leave. To leave him.
No--not to leave him, although that's what it felt like. It was to go.
To go to *him*.
He always thought he just wanted Shuuichi happy. But it turned out he was wrong; he wanted more than that. He wanted Shuuichi to be happy–with him. He didn't want to watch him leave and go to another man, he wanted Shuuichi to always come back to him.
"Shuu," he finally said. He turned fully, and Shuuichi paused, cast a hesitant glance over his shoulder.
"Hiro… everything okay?" he asked, and there was a strain in his voice. A hesitation, a tension. Because he knew what was coming, and even if he didn't, he would have now seen it in Hiro's eyes.
He didn't know whether he was good at hiding emotion or not. But he was tired of trying.
"Why do you do this?"
Shuuichi's eyes drifted away. "What?" he asked, voice low.
Hiro's eyes narrowed. "Go to him."
The boy lifted his chin at that, jaw tight. "Because he makes me happy."
"Happy?" the redhead asked. "He-"
"I don't want to have this conversation, Hiro," Shuuichi cut him off, words sharp.
The sky flared outside the window. The room was painted in a soft golden hue, streaked with fire and light, and the artificial lights burned palely dim. The sunlight cast one side of Hiro's face in light, the other in darkness.
Shuuichi met his gaze for a moment longer, a tremor in his deeply violet eyes, and then he broke that connection, stiffly, and turned away.
"Do you love him?" Hiro demanded.
"Yes." There was conviction in his voice. He said the word with faith, with belief.
But he said it too quickly.
"Does he love you?"
Shuuichi stiffened. "Yes," he responded.
"Does he?" Hiro's voice tumbled out just after the vocalist's response. "Damn it, Shuu, I didn't think you were so naïve! I see the way he treats you... how he just *uses* you… He-"
"Shut up!" Shuuichi whirled around sharply, and anger glinted in his eyes. Anger and hurt.
Hiro bit off his words abruptly, let their harshness fade into the still air.
"The last thing I want to hear is someone question what we have… God, for the first time I have someone! And for the first time--I'm happy…! I'm happy with him."
"Shuu-"
"I'm leaving," he said, voice hollow, cutting the guitarist off.
Hiro saw him reach for the doorknob, saw his delicate hand close over it.
"W..wait," he finally said, unable or unwilling to think of his pride. "Shuu, please," he added in a whisper.
The boy hesitated.
"I'm sorry," he said, "but... God, this kills me, seeing you with him. Seeing..seeing the way he treats you. Shuu…"
Shuuichi stiffened, didn't respond.
"Don't you understand--how much this hurts?"
Hiro took a step forward, another, but then his hesitation overcame him, made him halt. The slender back before him appeared achingly distant, perfectly unattainable.
Instead of directly responding, Shuuichi said, "And don't you understand… that I'm having enough trouble with..with this already?" There was a pang of grief in his naked voice. "Yuki… he... I… it's hard enough to convince myself that I..love him." He stumbled over the word 'love'.
"So... don't make me convince you."
Hiro was suddenly two steps closer. When had he moved?
"Shuuichi," he whispered, "then… how can it be worth it? If you have to convince yourself…?"
"Because… it's nice to be wanted. It's nice to know that he does want me, even if it's not..all the time. And--and I'm trying. We're trying. Maybe…"
"....Things will change?" Hiro finished for him.
"Even if it's not all the time," he whispered again, voice haunting, "he wants me."
"*I* want you," Hiro told him fervently. "God, Shuu… You know how I feel about you…!"
Slender fingers clenched on the doorknob again.
He was just within arms reach, so achingly near, yet so far. If only to close that gap…
With hesitant desire, fearful of being denied, but unable to miss this chance, Hiro lifted his arm, placed his hand on the edge of the boy's shoulder.
Muscles tensed. Shuuichi didn't move.
Unable to resist, pulled by the light of the sinking sun, he embraced Shuuichi from behind.
Shuuichi gasped at the feel of warm, strong arms sliding around him.
"Don't go to him. Not when I'm here…" Hiro murmured, voice a bare whisper.
The moment hung suspended in the bloody light of the dying sky, Hiro wanting only to forever hold him, to give him the warmth he seemed so desperate to find, and Shuuichi torn, wavering, on the brink of the horizon. His light or his darkness.
Hiro thought he might have changed, then; thought that Shuuichi might have realized what he had, what he didn't have; the boy almost relaxed in his arms.
But then with the suddenness of a string snapped taut, he stiffened.
"What do you want from me?" His voice floated: low, dull, and empty.
Hiro felt his world tremble. "I want to make you happy," he said. "That's all." He leaned closer, his breath gusted warmly against the boy's soft skin.
No response. Then:
"Let me go."
A wailing pain keened in Hiro's soul.
"Please." Shuuichi's voice only reached a whisper.
Unable to disobey, Hiro released him and stepped back. With the absence of contact his world seemed frozen.
"I'm sorry, Hiro-kun… But I can't betray him. Maybe..in the future..things can be different. But… I've tried too hard to make this work." He finally turned around, and Hiro's breath caught at the sight of tears.
The sun turned them into streaming mercury.
"If… you've been truthful, then--you'll understand."
Hiro's heart was breaking, and his voice was tremulous. "....Okay," he whispered.
He raised his hand, silently begging permission with his eyes. Shuuichi only gazed at him, seeming both torn and lost, and he didn't pull away when Hiro gently touched his face, brushed at his tears.
"Don't cry," he murmured. The vocalist was painfully beautiful in the last light of the sun, and Hiro couldn't resist the loneliness reflected in his endless eyes.
Leaning forward, hand hovering on his cheek, Hiro kissed him. Shuuichi didn't move at first, he was again faltering on the edge of two choices. But he finally gave in, and instead of pulling away, he parted his lips, as if to sigh, and he leaned into Hiro.
Hiro's other hand crept up, cupping the other side of his face, and he deepened the kiss, releasing the emotion he hated to have to suppress, desperate for Shuuichi to understand.
Shuuichi moaned against his lips, accepted Hiro's intimacy, kissed him back forcefully.
It would have been perfect if Hiro had not tasted those tears on the boy's lips, had not known he would return to the source of those tears. It would have been perfect if Hiro had not known that they shared an aching sadness, and that he would be despairingly alone again that night.
It would have been perfect.
At length they parted, both drawing in breath that had been stolen. Their eyes met in the light of the coming night, and soft emotions reflected in Shuuichi's gaze, underlaid by a sighing resignation. In the light of his eyes Hiro could already see him drifting away. Away from him. Toward Yuki.
Unable to look deeper, unable to stand this close with the promise of nothing, Hiro removed his hands and stepped away.
"He'll be waiting for you."
"....Yeah."
I'll be waiting for you.
Shuuichi raised a hand to his own face briefly, and it hovered near his lips, then his cheek, as if uncertain. But finally, decisively, resolutely, he wiped his tears. Hiro looked away.
"Goodnight, Hiro-kun," he whispered. There was the soft sound of rustling as he turned, the light click of the door as it opened, and then the sound of whispered steps as he slipped through. It closed. Then he was gone.
Hiro felt weak and lost in the light of the new night. Drips of blood faded on the horizon, and the footsteps echoed in his mind.
The moon rose lonely in the sky, and the stars sparkled like tears.