Pairing: OshiKam

Futurefic. Written as a Valentine's present for my Oshi-love/muse/mentor/whatever. Angsty, a bit.

Disclaimer: If they were mine, I'd be richer than hell right now. My bank account says they're not.

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"Goddamnit, I hate February."

Kamio Akira was leaning up against the window in the tenth-floor high-rise condominium he occupied in downtown Tokyo. Hideously expensive, yes, but the view and the company were worth it. It was rush hour, and a light snow was drifting down over the cars and buses shuttling about on the streets below. A peaceful sight, for all its chaos.

Kamio despised the cold. He'd been called a human space heater before, but the downside of that is that he felt chill a whole lot faster than a lot of other people. There was something about the month of February that really got into his bones, though; the chill was dismal, gloomy, and seemed to go on forever despite the promise of spring to come the next month. Eventually, he realized that leaning against a glass window wasn't helping matters, and he shoved away from it to go turn up the heat.

It had been ten years since he'd left Fudomine Junior High School and their now-legendary tennis team. When he was in town, he swung by and helped his old captain, Tachibana Kippei, with the team he was now entrusted with coaching. It was gratifying to see them growing and learning under the right kind of tutelage, and -- well, he might as well admit that he got an enormous ego rush out of the hero-worship he saw in their eyes when he came calling. It wasn't every day that one of the biggest rock stars in Japan dropped by a random junior high school, after all.

The band was his life, even if it took him away from home more than he liked. Fortunately, Japan was small, and their only other tours were through the immediate area. Everyone in the group knew that it was a very bad idea to keep Kamio away from Tokyo for too long, and that it had been that way for a decade now.

He remembered the first time it had happened -- and really, by that point he should have known better. They'd gone down to Singapore for a week and four shows. First two days were fine, if a little antsy. Third day he acquired a migraine that lingered...and got worse...and got worse...and got worse. After the fourth show he'd collapsed, and the doctor that had come rushing couldn't figure out what was wrong. Kamio had never lent himself to drugs or drinking, and since he was the most circumspect member of the band there was no chance in hell that a groupie had done something to him. Eventually, they just got him home as fast as possible. The moment he was back in Tokyo, he was fine.

The rest of the band understood, even if they didn't understand. It was a peculiar sort of handicap, and one that nobody else he knew labored under. Even his carefully-concealed physical disability couldn't be taken into account for this. Nobody got it.

Nobody except the other person involved, that is.

He heard the footsteps on the stairwell long before the doorknob turned. He didn't bother turning to face the door; he'd known who it was before the key in the lock betrayed his presence. Everyone had their own rhythm, and he could hear his beloved's a mile away. Nobody would ever understand that it was physical separation alone that caused such pain. Hell, he didn't even really understand it. He just knew that it had been that way for over ten years now...

...ever since the first time he had clapped eyes on Oshitari Yuushi.

The slender young man in the pinstriped suit finally got the door open, setting his briefcase down just inside the door and slipping his shoes off as he closed it behind him. His work as one of the most in-demand architects in Japan kept him in Tokyo more often than not...and besides, few people in the world of architecture could quite figure out why such an outwardly buttoned-down figure had such a driving interest in the world of rock. Those few were the ones that knew Kamio and Oshitari had been together for a lot longer than most married couples.

He felt arms slip around his waist, heard the purr of that indescribably sexy voice in his ear. Yuushi sang quite well, but he preferred to keep his talents under wraps save around close friends. "Miss me?"

"Stupid question, Yuushi." Kamio rolled his eyes, even as he settled comfortably into his beloved's arms. "You already know the answer."

"Mm." Oshitari bent his head, running his lips down the side of Kamio's throat. "That I do. It never changes, after all."

"Never will, either." They went through this ritual every day. "I got you something."

Oshitari pulled his head up, looking askance at his lover. "Me?"

"Yes, you. It's on the table."

The architect disentangled himself, and walked over to pick up the box on the table. It was small, inconsequential really. Kamio turned to watch, a strange sort of nervousness coming over him as his lover flicked the box open. Inside sat a very simple silver ring.

The reaction was less simple. Oshitari stared for a moment, then looked up at him in disbelief. "Where...how...?"

Kamio produced a very small smile. "I found it while we were moving. It got wedged way back under one of the floorboards; I'm not surprised you couldn't find it. So I got it cleaned up. Wanted to save it for today, though."

Oshitari stared at the ring for a long time, before he very carefully pulled it out and slid it on his finger. It wasn't much to look at, really. Just a reasonably wide silver band with a small inscription on the inside. Kamio had a matching one, though. Yuushi had gotten them when they first realized how serious their relationship was. He'd lost it about a year ago and had been going bonkers trying to find it. Sure, they could have afforded nicer. These had more impact.

He stopped thinking about impact as his lover grabbed him in a tight, almost desperate embrace. His kisses never got any more commonplace, no matter how many he received. They still spoke of love, devotion, and that unbelievable bond only they shared.

"Happy Valentines' Day, Yuushi. I love you."