Must not write fluff. Must write plot. Can't help myself. So your plot (in the next chapter) is being delivered with a free fluff appetizer (this intermission).
A week had passed since Akari moved into Hirato's penthouse, and in the interim, the two had fallen into a rote pattern of polite regard, guarded distance, and surreptitious glancing. While Akari would be loath to admit it, a mephitic tension had settled in the condo, oftentimes interrupting his dreams with thoughts of the most restless variety. He was certain Hirato could sense it as well; after all, it was difficult to miss the way those incredible indigo eyes lingered too long over dinner or strayed too far when they were supposed to be glued to the television screen.
It was unnerving, knowing that he was being visually undressed at every stray opportunity.
It was thrilling also, but he'd rather take another bullet before revealing that.
As a result, the prosecutor felt much like a coiled spring, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. Perhaps that's why his roommate's ceaseless teasing had ebbed lately. In fact, apart from the shameless ogling, Hirato hadn't made an overture towards Akari in five days—not since the night he invited the blond to bed. (That he was keeping a count bothered the DA for reasons better left uninterrogated.)
So, it was awfully surprising to wake at 3AM and find the other man sitting atop his bed, looming over him with eyes glassy from excitement and lips quirked in a delicious leer.
"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," Hirato chirped. He looked supremely pleased with himself—that is, until he took a pillow to the face.
"Go away. I'm trying to sleep," Akari huffed and burrowed into the bedding.
"Sleep later. Come with me," the brunet said simply. There was a compelling sort of authoritativeness in that vibrant baritone. It demanded compliance. And having been conditioned to it, Akari acquiesced with little fuss. "Put some clothes on first."
It was as he was pulling a thick, woolen sweater over his head that he noticed it—the other man's stare fixated on the lingering damage traversing his chest. The corners of Hirato's mouth immediately turned down when seconds earlier they'd been curved in impish delight. Gloved fingers reached out before the defense attorney realized his error and retreated. He looked away, intuiting that he'd crossed an unnamed line. "Sorry."
Akari resisted the urge to take his hand. Instead, he offered whatever modicum of comfort he could. "I don't think it's your fault. You know that, right?"
An uncommon sadness manifested in the other's tenor then, and the prosecutor struggled to remember the last time he'd heard his former paramour sound so sorrowful. "Azana was freed because of me," Hirato whispered solemnly. "Try to mitigate the blame if you like, but I'll never forgive myself."
Akari nearly started at the revelation. It was rare for his companion to display any semblance of honesty, but to be so staggeringly forthwith was entirely without precedent. Even when they were together, Hirato had played his emotions close to the vest. Having no inkling of how to respond, the DA merely spoke the first words that materialized. "We'd still be enemies if it hadn't happened."
Breaths stilled as amethyst and cerise met under moonlight.
Surprisingly, it was the defense lawyer who broke the uncomfortable silence. "Get your coat. There's something I want you to see."
Despite the small fortune that Hirato had paid to live in Chicago's trendiest residence, the elevator didn't go all the way up. Eight flights of stairs stood between Akari and the rooftop, and he was uncertain of his ability to climb them—or rather, he was certain of his inability to climb them. He glanced sidelong at his companion, hoping that the conniving devil would have a change of heart. It was of no avail; Hirato merely grabbed his hand and pulled him along. "It'll be worth it, I promise."
Akari nodded gamely and marched forward, impressed by the efficacy of physical therapy. Three dozen stairs later, he found himself revising his assessment. Winded, sweaty, and just plain tired, the DA stopped to draw uneven, haggard breaths.
"Damnit," Hirato hissed before turning around. "I forgot that you're not jogging miles around Jackson Park anymore."
The prosecutor laughed between sharp inhales. "I still wouldn't take the steps."
"Let's go," the brunet offered. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize how taxing this would be for you."
How he yearned to turn back, to fall into bed, to rest. But the disappointment clouding Hirato's features caused a slight pull in his chest that had nothing to do with overexertion. "I'll be fine if we take it slow."
Biting gale force winds cut across them as they finally stepped out onto the roof. Akari shivered and pulled his coat tighter, now thankful for the body heat he'd worked up on the way. "I'm pretty sure this is trespassing," he called out, following his ex-lover to the fenced edge.
"It is. I picked the lock earlier," Hirato stated, completely unconcerned with the implications of his actions. "I wanted to be aloft this evening."
"For what?"
"Wait for it." There it was—that slightly-devious, enigmatic smirk, the one so impossibly alluring that Akari had once thrown caution to the wind and leaned across a library table to sample it. Of course, there had been some round scolding by a scandalized librarian afterwards… and the two were unceremoniously ushered out for disrupting students' concentration… and then there was the fine… but it had been worth it, if only for benefit of such a memorable first kiss. Hirato had been worth it—worth every measure of disruption in his perfectly compartmentalized life, every skipped exam review session, every exhausted moot court meeting, every drunken stumble home, every freezing hand-in-hand traipse through the heavy snow, every uncomfortably hot romp in a cramped summertime apartment. Every touch, every taste, everything. He'd been worth the heartbreak, even.
Twin rubies raked over the surreally quiet city hundreds of feet below while Akari's psyche whirled with bittersweet old memories and frightening new longings.
Several minutes passed by unmarked. And then he felt it. Almost imperceptible at first, the ephemeral icy sting of a solitary snowflake landing on his cheek. Another. In twos and threes. Eventually, snow began falling in earnest, sticking to the silk of his hair and the wool of his coat. He held out a hand and watched the tiny jewels melt against pale skin, mesmerized as he'd always been.
"It's not the first snow," Hirato said. "I remember you like to be outside for that. You were in the hospital then, so this little rooftop escapade will have to suffice."
"I distinctly recall you dragging me outside for the first snow every year," responded the blond. "You claimed it was cute that I loved snowfall."
"Some things never change," the defense attorney quipped.
No they don't, Akari conceded, closing his eyes and biting back the desperate urge to test Hirato's worth yet again. They really don't.
"We shouldn't stay out here long, counselor. Iva will murder me if you catch so much as a cold."
"That's not much incentive for me to go inside, is it?" the DA countered mischievously.
"You know, I keep telling people that you're a mean-spirited, vengeful jerk, but no one believes me."
"I've developed a talent for duplicity."
"Clearly." They both laughed.
As Hirato brushed past on his way inside, Akari wrapped a stalling hand around his arm. The defense attorney stiffened slightly but said nothing further. "I haven't gone out for snowfall in a very long time, Hirato. Thank you for tonight."
Akari waited, but to his great disillusionment, an acknowledging nod was the only reply he received. And some things do change.
Later, he would wonder what, precisely, he'd been expecting from Hirato that night.
Liner Note:
(1) Jackson Park was chosen as the site 1893 World's Fair. It's home to an artificial lagoon, wooded island, and Japanese garden. None of the World's Fair buildings remain there since they were either destroyed by the Great Fire or moved elsewhere. Even so, the park is a stunning public space, drawing Southside denizens for everything from a leisurely stroll to bird-watching.
Author's Note:
Hirato never does anything without reason. Just, um, keep that in mind, okay?
So, this intermission was supposed to be part of Chapter 10, but I felt like I needed to update 'Aloft' because a few more of you set up alerts. Thanks, always, for your support, and sorry for the wait. Lately, I've been feeling like everything I produce is utter garbage. It's difficult to write in such a circumstance. Still, I felt like I needed to try this time. I don't like disappointing readers.
But hey, I feel like this next chapter will be better than the last, and that's got to count for something, right?
Also, did you guys think this chapter was too saccharine? Most of 'Aloft' won't be so cavity-inducing. I'm trying to build a relationship, to demonstrate that something lingers between our boys that hasn't been destroyed by the past. Let me know if I'm getting this across.
