the brilliant dance

It was a big mistake.

Sendoh could see it now. It was a mistake to even bother getting out of bed that day. But Koshino had insisted that he "get up and move on", and he had let the little runt drag him to the club, and now he realized, it was a mistake.

He stared into his drink, knowing if he looked up, he would see him. Shinichi, whom he had been avoiding for the past week. Shinichi, the reason he buried himself under layers of blankets for days, until his best friend decided to dig him out.

He knows that Maki could see him, but was pretending that he didn't. That was fine. Sendoh didn't feel like doing the whole "everything is ok with me, how about you?" thing. What would he say to Maki? What would Maki say?

"This is odd," he mumbled to himself. Koshino looked at him questioningly, but Sendoh ignored him. It's not like you care, he thought. He knew that Koshino was worried about him, but he also knew that there was no way that his best friend could understand what he was feeling.

So this is odd,
the painful realization that all has gone wrong.
And nobody cares at all.

Koshino looked in the direction where Sendoh was avoiding, and realized what was going on. "Forget him," he told Sendoh impatiently.

Sendoh just shook his head. "Excuse me," he murmured, and got up to leave the club. He never liked clubbing that much anyway. Koshino's words rang in his ears.

Forget him.

Easier to say than to do, he thought bitterly. He wanted to tell Koshino, you try falling in love, see how you like it. And it wasn't like he hadn't tried to forget Shinichi. He had thrown away every reminder of his relationship with Maki, burned every letter. But he could not burn the pictures in his head. But he could not stop seeing memories everywhere he went.

So you buried all your lover's clothes
and burned the letters lover wrote,
but it doesn't make it any better.
Does it make it any better?

He walked down the streets, trying to stop thinking. Trying to remember how to breathe. If this is what love felt like, he thought, how does anyone survive it? He stopped, and found himself in the back alleys of the club. He quickly shut his eyes and memories flooded over him.

This was where Maki kissed him for the first time. This club was where he and Maki used to go. He remembered the texture of Maki's lips against his, he remembered his weak protests, he remembered feeling warmth for the first time.

"Was it all a lie?" he wondered softly. He stared at the wall's grafittis, remembering himself being pushed against them as Maki's kisses grew more insistent.

Without even realizing what he was doing, his fists raised and landed hard on the walls. He reminded himself to take another deep breath, savoring the numbness that was spreading through his now bleeding hand. This was what he wanted. To be able to feel something else.

And the plaster dented from your fist
in the hall where you had your first kiss
reminds you that the memories will fade

"Are you all right?"

Sendoh froze when he heard the voice. "Were you following me?" he asked, turning around to see Maki behind him.

"Koshino told me I should." Sendoh looked, confused, into Maki's hooded gaze. "You're not all right," the older boy stated.

Sendoh looked at his hands. "I will be," he said softly. He tried to smile. "I always hated that grafitti."

Maki just frowned. He knew Sendoh well. He took Sendoh's hand and examined it. "No broken bones. It's going to be really sore, though," he mumured. "I'm walking you home."

"Okay."

The walk to Sendoh's apartment was quiet and awkward. Neither of them knew what to say to the other. After all, Sendoh thought, when you break up with someone, is there really anything left to say? Even if you know that he is the love of your live? Whatever conversation they had was polite and restrained, and they never mentioned the break up, or their relationship, sometimes circling around the topic, wishing to confront, but never touching it.

So this is strange,
our sidestepping has come to be a brilliant dance
where nobody leads at all,
where nobody leads at all.

When they reached the front door Sendoh fumbled with the keys. His hands were trembling too much.

"Let me," Maki said briskly, efficiently taking the keys from Sendoh and opening the door. They went in, and Sendoh just threw himself on one of the sofas while Maki looked around the room. Everything was the same, except for the picture frames that Sendoh had turned face down, and the mess, which was more than usual. Clothes everywhere. Books all over the armchair. Rented movies stacked up on the DVD player, unreturned. But the most noticeable difference was the boy sitting on the sofa. His smile was different, and his laughter was broken.

And the picture frames are facing down
and the ringing from this empty sound
is deafening and keeping you from sleep
And breathing is a foreign task
And thinking's just too much to ask
and you're measuring your minutes by a clock that's blinking eights.

Maki sat himself on the sofa next to Sendoh. They just sat, silent. Then - "what happened to us?" Sendoh asked. Maki closed his eyes. Sendoh sounded like a child.

"I don't know," he sighed. "I don't know." His hands reached out for Sendoh's, and pulled Sendoh closer. He kissed Sendoh gently, but Sendoh knew what it was. A goodbye kiss. Still, he shut his eyes tight and melted under Maki's lips.

This is incredible
starving, insatiable
yes, this is love for the first time

Maki pulled away, and murmured, "there will be others. Wasn't that the problem to begin with?" He smiled crookedly at Sendoh and left.

"There will be others," Sendoh repeated to himself. The problem to begin with. Maki couldn't trust him, after... "it was just one time," he murmured painfully. I didn't know it would hurt so bad to lose you.

well you'd like to think that you were invincible
yeah well, weren't we all once before we felt loss for the first time?
well this is the last time.

There won't be others," he mumbled, looking at his hands. "This is the last time."

owari

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