AN: I decided to write another chapter for ones that still read this, no matter the number. Three people—three people; it's important that they are there. :) That's what my good friend, Demonic Alice (or whatever pen name she has taken now) has taught me: to write for myself and the little audience I have; if I made one person happy, it's considered a success. So I decided to write a chapter nine, despite the fact that the number of reviews and number of chapters aren't in the proportion I want them to be anymore.
New Music: This chapter was inspired by the Jrock all girl band named Exist Trace. The song is called Lilin. Feel free to listen to it while reading; I strongly recommend it. It has nothing to do with the lyrics, just the melody and rhythm.
Dedication: to my good friend, Demonic Alice (at the moment), aka Kai-chan.
I won't bother you anymore. Sit back, enjoy yourselves, and long awaited something!
Hitori, Futari
Chapter 9: Ecstatic Trance
As the time was passing by, Reno had been present at more and more events regarding Yazoo's racing. He would observe the large screen with great concentration, and every time, no matter how much he tried to suppress the feeling of anxiety and fear for his protégé's life, he couldn't. Every time, despite the number of races he'd attended, he couldn't quite get used to it. The atmosphere was amazing—all that crowd, cheering, enormous screens blinding his eyes, sound of the bikes beaming from all directions, Yazoo returning safely and refusing to claim his prize. Every time, Yazoo would confidently dismount his massive bike, strolling toward him and looking at him with a weak, cocky smirk attached to his pale face. He'd bow to the crowd, and then they would usually go inside the bar and have a few drinks.
Despite the incident, Reno didn't feel uncomfortable drinking in Yazoo's company; the entire case of Yazoo poisoning him still didn't seem trivial, and whenever he thought about it, a shiver would run down his spine. There was one thing, however, that he had learned over the period—namely, while clubbing with Yazoo, he should just take his drinks with him, never leave them on the table or a counter, and he shouldn't, as well, have many participants in his conversations. It appeared that the remnant disliked being left out of conversation even though he never had a thing to offer, be it a topic, or a few lines that would support it. That was the recipe he stuck to, and behaving in that manner helped them relax around Yazoo.
Every now and then, he wondered what it would feel like to experience once again that possibly-lethal-race with a man for who he wasn't entirely sure whether he was sane or not. By now, he had learned that Yazoo had his moods and phases that had no particular pattern. The remnant would randomly be rude and cruel to him; other times he would be more accessible, bordering on friendly, even. The redhead took whatever was offered to him, in order to carry out his task perfectly.
Six months had passed since he had been appointed Yazoo's supervisor. Seeing as how Yazoo was, in an awkward way, but still, eager to be what everyone thought was impossible, he decided to omit in his reports everything that could discriminate him. He omitted races, poisoning, his dislocated shoulder, naturally. He partly did this because it would bring his position into question as well. Sure, Yazoo was one tough creature to handle (he had, by now, became accustomed to referring to him in his mind as a person, but others most probably hadn't), but he shouldn't have tolerated so much misbehavior. By default, he should have reported him, in order for ShinRa to subdue him, or even put him to death, which was more probable.
In living day-to-day like this, in constant anticipation as to what would happen next and testing his readiness to react properly to each situation, Reno found endless opportunities. Being with the silver haired youth was mostly fun; therefore he was curious what the following days and months would bring them. The tension and hostility were present one day, absent or replaced by a light friendly atmosphere another, in Yazoo's way, that is. He still spoke so little, and when he spoke, he usually had sarcastic remarks on his tongue ready to be launched. Reno didn't mind them at all, since he himself was a fierce orator and never feared any kind of battle, let alone a battle with words.
Yazoo stood before him, as the crowd nervously and excitedly waited for him to mount his bike and start the race. The other competitors—a bunch of hooligans and ex-convicts, all possible scum one could imagine; the ones that loved such games where there was no term 'cheating', where everything was allowed—were growling in impatience. The remnant seemed unaffected by this and Reno knew why—if Yazoo wanted, he could smash their skulls on spot, but he was a nice person now, or at least was trying to be. He knew that the remnant never killed anyone; he was actually only good at tormenting others.
"How about a ride?" he offered. "You're not scared, are you?" his singsong voice echoed in the Turk's ears.
"No. It's perfectly fine with me, yo!" Reno replied. The remnant turned elegantly and headed to his bike, the redhead in tow. He mounted the bike, put his goggles on, placed his arms firmly around his protégé, finally embarking on another journey of fear and pain.
This time was almost the same; Yazoo could feel that Reno was not entirely comfortable riding like this, even though he had experienced many dangerous things and was, in most cases, cold-blooded. But it wasn't as bad as the first time, he concluded and chuckled, looking straight ahead, and avoiding one mace that was sent to smash his crazy head. He was determined to make Reno trust him with his own life. He didn't know exactly why he set that objective, but it was surely one fun thing to think about.
While sitting in the booth, after yet another successful race, surrounded by the gothic music full of sweet sounds embodying decadence, he enjoyed the silence he shared with his companion, who was now resting in a half-lying position. The air around them was damp with sweat from bodies dancing all around them in the rhythm of the music; their voices seemed distant and all reeked of sorrow; smoke all around them and people taking drugs in corners, leaned against the cold black walls, or sliding down them. He looked at Reno, whose eyes were only half-open, as if he was about to fall asleep and leave him in this hot, stuffy place.
The hollow feeling in his chest grew bigger as his mind melted in the gothic melody, which became overwhelming, so much that his thoughts drifted far away, to where Kadaj and Loz where, wherever that may be. Some time ago, he had realized that everything was going in a wrong direction, ever since Reno had seen him for the first time, at this very same place. The entire concept of him lying and omitting things in his reports seemed awfully paradoxical. Perhaps something bad was about to develop from all of this, Yazoo mused. Yet his heart never felt sad while waiting for it to happen. It was still far away, anyway. His soul, like emery, was rough.
Somewhere along the way, his thoughts returned to the present, where he came to realization that Reno wasn't dozing off, but rather, observing him. Every feature of his face was put under his scrutiny. What was he looking for? Some humanity in this body that seemed so artificial? Was it so strange for one man to be this agile, for his mind to be this simple yet pragmatic and, in most cases, precise? Was it so strange for him to be like this, in entirety, whatever that may be that the redhead had in mind?
Knowing that they worked on the same principle of adrenaline addiction, the remnant was sure that Reno would come to like racing. Seven months had passed since their first encounter after him falling out of the Lifestream. Reno was now sitting behind him and shouting in excitement and enjoyment, ducking in synchrony with him, avoiding all dangers and obstacles, their hairs disheveled. He wasn't a hundred percent secure on Yazoo's bike, however. Nevertheless, he managed to give in and enjoy it as much as he could. Whenever he dismounted the machine, he was close to realizing why Yazoo loved it so much. It was his way of living, in a way, at least, like the Huns form Earth, who ate, slept, or even made love to their wives on their horses, rarely if never dismounting them.
This night, like all the others, they decided for their already established routine of having a couple of drinks at that bar that hosted the race. It was significant in a sense, that place, the core of all happenings between them. The place where Reno had heard about the race and where Yazoo had poisoned him. The only bar they frequented. The only safe place for delinquents like the silver haired man.
Yazoo felt a bit tired, and was leaning against one of the walls. Reno was returning from the restroom, when he saw him standing like this, in his leather coat, leaned against the wall, his melancholic green eyes dully observing the events around him—drunken whores and men, dancing, laughing, passing out. Neon lights played on his figure, making a dim rainbow linger and dance on his lithe frame. The dominant color in the room was dark blue, bordering with black, however.
It was a fantastic night with many people approaching him for an autograph or a quick sex in the restrooms. Yazoo ignored all of them. After the races, he felt emptier than he usually felt. All the energy would be drained from his body, his mind weary as well. The world was too slow.
The world was still too slow, even tonight, everybody swinging to the sounds of music, in lethargy. Yazoo was still leaned against the wall, thinking that heaviness in his chest had dramatically increased, yet, at the same time, he felt nothing. He attributed it to his duality, his former and present self. He had no particular opinion on that, except that he preferred to feel his present self more and in his free time derive conclusions from the experience. Tonight, he was feeling nauseated by the very fact that he was feeling so strange, so claustrophobic, beyond comparison with his previous experiences and moods.
Reno approached him, shouting in his ear, asking if he was alright. He gave him his nonchalant glare in return, never answering the question verbally. Without much thinking, in order to isolate all the loud surroundings full of junkies and retards, he extended his arm toward the redhead. His gloved hand reached the back of Reno's head, pulling him forcefully forward. Reno had only seconds to slow down, by pressing his palms against the wall.
Yazoo's full, but tastefully shaped lips pressed against his in a gentle fashion, and started moving slowly against Reno's thin, unmoving ones. That was one of the ways to mess with the Turk's head, Yazoo thought. It was fun enough to try. It was a good distraction from his unusually depressing thoughts. He couldn't quite say they were depressing, but they sure were annoying, and he wasn't the one who went for philosophy in the first place.
They remained in that position for a few seconds; Reno's eyes wide open, but he never dared to protest, seeing as how this would disturb the silver haired man, who, apparently, had some goals set in his mind. He didn't want to go back to the beginning, to distrustful and hostile Yazoo, so he returned the kiss. With horror did he remember the list he had made about things Yazoo was striving to accomplish in order to be a normal human being—a house, a job, a girlfriend. But there was one thing he failed to see—Yazoo's list differed in one detail—on his list, instead of 'a girlfriend' was 'a lover', no gender specified, apparently.
Yazoo soon released him, surprised how Reno managed to stay calm and not struggle and shrug him off. When he looked around, he saw that people started to leave the place, which indicated it was 5 a.m. already. He gently pushed his supervisor, moving past him toward the exit, with all grace he possessed.
They stepped into the dark morning. Silhouettes of people and buildings were becoming distinguishable now. The air was humid and unpleasantly cold. Luckily, there was no wind. Everything around them had the faint turquoise color, heavy clouds in the sky.
Yazoo sat on the back of the nearby bench, his elbows resting on his legs, as he watched Reno approach him. Nothing could deny the awkwardness of this moment. Reno was trying to act as natural as possible. His efforts, in Yazoo's eyes, seemed futile. Now when he'd done it, out of fun and boredom, he decided he liked it. Having licked his lips to pick up the remnants of Reno's taste on them, he decided that it was time for him to find a partner. Reno was the only person at his disposal now. He was the only one who was 'trained' to cope with him and somewhat understand, or claim to understand his goals. He would do, for now, the silver haired youth decided.
The effect of spending the whole night without a minute of sleep started to show on the redhead's face. It reminded him of his hangovers and encounters with such dreadful, cold mornings. He felt his soul was about to go through his mouth due to him not sleeping all night. He hadn't done that in a long time. His kiss with Yazoo didn't help matters, either.
He stood before him, his eyes half-open and somewhat swollen. Yazoo was feeling dull himself, but never allowed that to show on his flawless, impish face. He looked up at Reno, who was still bewildered.
"Let's go home, Yazoo." He said in a coarse voice, tiredness evident in it. But the remnant refused to cooperate. Still under the impression of his very first kiss, he contemplated his options. Reno looked so beautiful with the turquoise wasteland behind him, his vibrant red hair representing such a sharp contrast. He wasn't satisfied with the fact that the Turk was trying to ignore what had just happened. It appeared that playing pranks like these on him stopped working. Perhaps he should repeat the kiss, but this time as something serious? Perhaps he'd been serious in the bar, too?
He took one of Reno's hands and pulled him forward, and the redhead complied. Their lips met again, only this time the redhead closed his eyes, able to feel it better. Mornings like this always sharpened his senses. Mournful mornings, cold and with so many clouds in the sky. Yazoo slowly opened Reno's lips with his, with the help of his tongue. He slowly inserted it into his mouth, massaging Reno's tongue languidly, shifting his head slowly from right to left, in synchrony with his partner.
Reno was kissing back now, thinking that resisting was futile anyway. Perhaps Yazoo would be soon bored of this. He didn't like the comfortable feeling nesting in his stomach. It felt warm. Yazoo's kisses became more intense, coming at him in chains, with unnamed hunger to them, still innocent. The youth was exploring the territory and the boundaries of kissing. It occurred to Reno that this was the remnant's first time doing so. He let it be. Even though this conduct was unnatural, it was still a good practice, wasn't it? Lips same as all the others.
Yazoo was reluctant to let go, and every time Reno tried to pull away, impatiently like a child, the remnant reclaimed his lips, engaging them in a series of shallow kisses. His body was coated in warmth, his muscles tense, as he somewhat desperately tugged at Reno's sleeve. He felt it all the way to his toes, the sweet numbness. Reno touched his cheek and brought his face closer. He was aware that Reno did not intend to pull away now. Like a fish in the trap.
They resumed kissing for a long time, spiting the woeful morning that had brought them together. Yazoo broke the kiss, standing up from the bench, looking straight into Reno's eyes. To the Turk, it appeared that all his hopes of Yazoo getting bored of this disappeared; that look in Yazoo's eyes was carrying something, something like a contract. Something that both of them had signed and sealed. He wasn't quite sure if he minded it, but the feeling altogether, even if it was with a male, didn't seem unpleasant.
"You are aware of the fact that this goes way beyond my professional obligation to interact with you, yo?" Reno asked quietly.
"So does the friendship. And you being tacit about things in your reports." Replied Yazoo. That was a valid point, Reno concluded.
Yazoo appeared to be in some kind of a divine, ecstatic trance, yet everything on him looked unchanged. He was feeling drowsy, but not because he was lacking energy. To Reno, this suddenly looked so beautiful. So was Reno, in Yazoo's eyes. His lips, that is. Now that his mind had been clearer in the morning air, he felt it was so. He kissed him once more, before they went separate ways, to their respective homes.
tbc…?
AN: I dunno if this was rushed, but I felt like writing it this way. Please make sure to review!
Errors will be corrected later.
