Author's Note: So, I'm in the middle of writing Broken Circles, not planning on putting out anymore stories until I'm done with it, take a break to sit down and watch D N Angel again for the umpteenth time and voila: inspiration. So here's a story with a lot of angst regarding the relationship between Satoshi and Daisuke. It's a bit different from any of my other stories. But then, considering I only have one chapter fic up right now and a oneshot I don't have much to compare it to. Anyway, hope you enjoy.
Satoshi was always watching him. Even after both their alter egos were sealed away. He watched as he married Rika, had a son, Daiki. Watched as he became a semi famous artist. He watched and he wanted. Daisuke was always too bright, too innocent for him, he had never dared come too close to him; so Satoshi watched.
When he was alone, when he touched himself, he imagined different hands on him, a different body, a different voice crying out in pleasure. He remembered the feeling of those lips under his own, the feel of his skin. His smile.
They met again at a showing of Daisuke's artwork. Satoshi had read about it in the local paper and hadn't been able to resist the urge to show up. He wandered the exhibit. Daisuke's works all had heart. Perhaps the technicalities of what made art great weren't there, but Satoshi preferred the redhead's work to any other he'd ever seen. There was peace in Daisuke's paintings.
"Like it?"
The question made Satoshi jump. He turned to see laughing vermillion eyes and a familiar shaggy red hair cut. Daisuke's voice was deeper, changed from his adolescent treble, while he was taller, more muscular. Only his hands were the same, long thin fingers, possibly slightly callused. Artist's hands.
Satoshi glanced back at the painting he'd been staring at. It was a simple landscape. A house with a tree and lone figure sitting in the shade. He didn't know exactly why it appealed to him, but it did. "Yeah." He shoved his hands into his coat's pockets to keep them from doing something stupid, like grab Daisuke and pull him into a kiss.
"You can have it." Daisuke reached up and pulled the price tag off the painting.
"No." Satoshi protested. "You can't do that."
"I'm the artist, I can do whatever I like."
"At least let me pay you for it." Satoshi reached for his wallet.
Daisuke touched his arm, freezing him where he stood. "Consider it a gift from a friend."
Satoshi didn't protest. His voice had disappeared. He couldn't move until Daisuke pulled back releasing him from his trance.
"It's been a while Satoshi. What do you say to having a couple drinks together after this is over?"
"I can't." Satoshi hedged. "Busy tomorrow."
"Come on." Daisuke slung an arm across his shoulders. "It's been too long. I promise not to keep you too late."
Again he couldn't think. Satoshi found himself silently nodding, agreeing to Daisuke's proposal. Someone called, drawing Daisuke's attention. He pulled away laughing, waving. "I'll see you in half an hour."
It would be fine wouldn't it? It was harmless really, just two old friends getting together for drinks. Nothing wrong with that was there? Satoshi stared down at the business card in his hand. The name of a bar scrawled on the back. He shouldn't go. He wouldn't go, he would simply go back home and….
He couldn't help himself. It was a weakness. He cursed his heart as he stood at the bar, cursed the way it brightened as he heard Daisuke calling his name. Cursed himself for a fool even as he turned and smiled at the man heading toward him. "Hey."
Daisuke grinned at him as he ordered a drink. "You forgot your painting. It's in my car."
"Oh." Satoshi tore his eyes away from Daisuke's lips. They were fascinating. He could stare at them forever. Instead he focused on the beer bottle in his hands.
"So, what've you been up to? It's been a while since I heard from you."
"Nothing much, business as usual. Mostly boring." Satoshi brushed off the query. "How's the kid?"
Daisuke visibly brightened. "Good, really good. I swear he'll have grown another couple inches by the time I get back."
Satoshi stood listening as Daisuke rattled on about his son, his wife, his perfect life. In that moment he hated himself for being so stupid, standing here only to let his heart break again.
The minutes until their goodbyes dragged on and yet flashed by in an instant.
"Don't forget your painting."
"Oh, of course not." Satoshi took the wrapped frame, sliding it carefully into the backseat of his car.
"Listen don't be a stranger." Daisuke gripped his shoulder firmly. "Whenever you're back in town give me a ring. My number's on the card I gave you. Have dinner with us one of these days. I'm sure everyone would be glad to see you."
Satoshi mumbled something to the effect that he would try. It convinced Daisuke enough that he let him go, waving cheerfully as he headed to his own vehicle.
He went back to his own place. Empty. He felt wrung out, exhausted. Every time he saw Daisuke his lonely existence only managed to look bleaker and more pathetic.
"Someday you'll meet that one person who's glad you were born."
Old words that brought no comfort. He unwrapped the painting, driving a nail into the wall, hanging it carefully. The one person he most wanted to be glad of his existence already had their someone. So he sat, staring at the painting, feeling the shadows deepen around him as they always did whenever he left Daisuke.