LAST CHAPTER YOU GUYS!
Can you believe it? I can't! No seriously, I'm in total denial that after today I won't have to work on this fic anymore, but I know a few hours after this is posted I'm going to go into full on nuclear meltdown crying. Three years I've spent with this fic, and I actually persevered and finished it. I am so, so proud of myself.
But also can we just take a second to appreciate how many words I've actually written about the cast of X? I'm pretty sure it's more in the last four years than I've ever written in my entire life, which is a testament to how amazing this series is and how well written all the characters are. I know I said I don't want to write about X anymore after this, but... Yeah don't hold me to that. As Mrs. Aoki and Camellia love to say, "you've got a good crew here."
Also, opening night? Finally! It feels like such a journey to get to this point, but I'm so happy and so proud of everyone for all they've been through to get here. Seriously. There's a part of me that wishes I could actually sit and watch the show, but... Ahh well, what are you gonna do?
Anyway, a huge thank you to every single person who read this story. Whether you loved it or hated it, whether you left me feedback or not, I appreciate you. It really does make it all worth it.
All right, I think that's it, enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything and I'm making no money from this.
"It's all real. Think about it. Haven't Luke Skywalker and Santa Klaus affected your lives more than most real people in the room? I mean, whether Jesus is real or not, he's had a bigger impact on the world than any of us have, and the same can be said for Bugs Bunny or Superman or Harry Potter.
They've changed my life. Changed the way I act on Earth. Doesn't that make them kind of real? They might be imaginary, but they're more important than most of us here, and they're gonna be around till long after we're dead.
So in a way, those things are realer than any of us."
- Trey Parker and Matt Stone
At 4 pm, Kamui's phone alarm sounded, loud and jarring, from Subaru's bedside table. He groaned, rolled over and shut it off. "Where'd you go?" Subaru asked in a sleepy moan, pawing softly at Kamui's upper back. Kamui smiled, rolled back over and pulled Subaru into his arms.
"I'm here," he assured him, burying his face in his neck.
"Mm…" Subaru kissed him on the top of the head. "How much time do we have?"
"Two hours to call," Kamui breathed, then, "dress rehearsal…"
"Already?" Though of course it was no surprise. The entire cast had been talking about it since previews had tightened everything up. Subaru kissed Kamui on the top of the head again, inhaling deeply through his nose. The smell of his hair was wonderfully familiar now, but no less intoxicating.
"It's so weird," Kamui said, withdrawing from Subaru's neck to look him in the face, "soon we'll be having this same moment before our final show." Subaru laughed.
"You sound like Andrew."
"Yeah, well…" Kamui kissed Subaru softly on the lips. "I'm really glad I got to meet you," he said, stroking his hair.
"Likewise," Subaru replied, quietly. Another kiss.
"I know there's still time," Kamui said, after a moment, "but I really hope we can keep this up once we're back in the city." He blushed, but stared earnestly back at Subaru.
"Didn't that go without saying?" Subaru asked, smiling widely.
"I can't read your mind," Kamui reminded him, though he was smiling too.
"True," conceded Subaru, and they exchanged yet another kiss. "You're so sweet."
"Yeah yeah, don't tell anyone." Subaru laughed, pulled Kamui flush up against him and rubbed his face in his hair.
"We should start to get ready, Hokuto's making a big dress rehearsal dinner."
"Mm…" Kamui snuggled as close as he could into Subaru for a moment, then extricated himself from the embrace and the blankets and sat up. His hair was sticking up at odd angles, and Subaru's heart swelled in his chest.
"You're so cute," he said, still smiling broadly. Kamui pulled a face, but then grinned too.
"I try. Come on, let's go."
Twenty minutes later, they were washed, dressed and on the dorm's back porch with Karen, Kakyo and Keiichi. Hokuto was serving an extravagantly prepared dinner on the old wicker table, which was sagging slightly under the weight of every pot and plate in the dorm's kitchen.
"This is so nice of you!" Yuzuriha exclaimed, arriving from across the grass with Sorata and Arashi.
"It was nothing, especially with Karen, Keiichi and Kakyo helping me!" Hokuto replied, gesturing with her wooden spoon as if it were a magic wand.
"Slave driver," Keiichi muttered.
"What?"
"Nothing!"
Everyone laughed, but then Kakyo mouthed, "He's right!" the moment Hokuto had her back turned. Everyone stifled more giggles, and Kakyo smiled, very pleased with himself. The last few weeks of rehearsal had been the happiest of Kakyo's entire life. His conversation with Hokuto had taken away an astounding amount of pressure, both from him and from their relationship, leaving him more light and free and optimistic than he'd ever felt before. 'Is this how normal people feel all the time?' he kept thinking to himself. Regardless, he was incredibly grateful, both to be feeling better and because he didn't think he'd be able to perform in front of people otherwise.
"How are you feeling about opening night?" Karen asked him, quietly.
"As good as I can be, I suppose," he replied, "I'm not really sure what to expect, so…"
"You'll do great, I know it," she told him, very seriously. Kakyo flushed, but smiled at her.
"Thank you." Karen beamed back at him; his accepting her compliment without argument or question was deeply gratifying. She caught Hokuto's eye, and they exchanged a knowingly affectionate smile. Karen thought Kakyo was lucky to have Hokuto's help, but she hoped Hokuto knew how fortunate she was to have Kakyo's in return.
"Do you need a drink?" Sorata asked Arashi.
"Yes, but I'll get it," she replied with a smile and a kiss on the lips. "Does anyone else need anything?"
"Sure!"
"That'd be great!"
When everyone told her what they wanted, Arashi went into the kitchen. It made her inexpressibly happy to be able to hang out like this with friends, do kind things for them and accept their gratitude. She couldn't remember ever feeling this way around any other group of people, and part of her brain wanted to remind her it wasn't permanent, or else ask her what she'd do once the season was over. However, she was able to answer confidently, "I'll figure it out," then, using another new skill she'd acquired, put the question to bed.
She filled two glasses with water and one more with juice, thinking how easy it would be to give Sorata and Yuzuriha all the credit for everything she'd learned. However, despite how helpful their care and support were, she'd done the real heavy lifting inside, and she felt really proud of herself for the first time in years, or maybe ever.
The moment Arashi disappeared into the kitchen, Kamui, Keiichi and Yuzuriha all clapped Sorata on the shoulder and ruffled his hair. "Get off," he whined, blushing, though of course he was beyond pleased. He'd hoped to spend the summer learning about his character, about relationships and patterns, but it all ended up coming back to himself. He couldn't be surprised though: he was where all of it began and ended, but what he'd learned was immeasurably helpful. His chest swelled and a broad grin spread across his face as Arashi stepped back out onto the porch, and yet again, he felt like the luckiest person in the world.
Yuzuriha beamed as she watched them together, detached enough now from her own feelings to be happy for people in a situation she envied. Sorata and Arashi's relationship wasn't a negative reflection on her, they were just lucky, weren't they? And, in any case, they were good for each other in this moment. As she accepted her drink from Arashi, she reflected further that the detachment wasn't denial, as it usually was. It wasn't binding or painful, it was just a relinquishing, and she was incredibly grateful for it.
"Does everyone have drinks? Food?" Hokuto asked. Everyone nodded, and those people still standing or helping her serve dinner took their seats around the wicker table. However, before they could start eating, Keiichi cleared his throat, and his castmates turned to look at him.
"I know not everyone's here, but I just wanted to say you all have been an amazing cast to work with," he said, loudly, "I couldn't have asked for more. My first show at Babylon Theatre Company, working with Fuuma Monou and playing a character who means so much to me, all with such an awesome group? It's an honor and a privilege!"
"Here here!" exclaimed Kamui, toasting him and squeezing Subaru's hand under the table.
"I wanted to save that for the cast party, but-" His voice broke, and he paused and cleared his throat.
"Aw, Keiichi!" Hokuto exclaimed, while Karen reached across the table to squeeze his arm.
"Sorry," Keiichi said, clearing his throat again. "Anyway, dig in!"
Everyone laughed, toasted each other and began to eat.
Satsuki arrived at the Igarashi early to do one last sound and light check before everyone else showed up and got under her feet. She'd expected to find the place deserted, but when she entered the theater, Kusanagi looked up from behind the dining table center stage at the same time Nataku emerged from the wings. They all looked rather startled to see each other, but then exchanged a familiar look of solidarity.
"Checking up on things?" asked Kusanagi. Satsuki and Nataku nodded.
"That is my job," Nataku replied, sarcastically, though the corner of his mouth twitched.
"And thank fuck for that," Satsuki added, raising her eyebrows as she looked around the theater. However, as she imagined her lights and her sounds playing off the sets and performances, she felt that familiar kinship with Kusanagi and Nataku. Their mutual respect, support and solidarity, which she'd always appreciated, hit her strongly all of a sudden, and she wondered where Hokuto was, their other comrade in arms. 'Probably with her project and the assorted hangers on,' she thought, though her contempt was edgeless.
"Do you two want to come over later?" Kusanagi asked. "If we don't get out super late?"
"Sure," Satsuki replied, with a half shrug.
"Maybe," Nataku grunted, his mouth twitching again. They all shared a small laugh, then went back to work.
Satsuki climbed into the lighting booth, making sure everything was working okay, then going through all of her cues. Satisfied, she returned to the lobby to get herself some coffee at the same moment Yuuto and Kanoe walked through the door. All three of them paused, and Yuuto's eyes widened as they locked with Satsuki's. However, she felt absolutely no desire to instigate, or to do much of anything, really. Backlit by the golden evening light coming through the windows and their late night texts, she saw him and their situation clearly. Yuuto was what he was, and what he was wasn't what she wanted. It had been interesting, but far too painful, and she wanted to move on. He smiled bravely at her, and though there was definitely a trace of sadness in his eyes, when he spoke, his tone was normal.
"Here early too?"
"Obviously," she replied, pouring herself some coffee. "I had a sound effect fuck up on me once in high school, never again. Now I can laugh about it because it wasn't my fault, but still."
"Was that when your klaxon got lost so your friend just stood backstage and screamed?" Yuuto asked, more bravely than he felt. Satsuki smirked.
"Yeah. I'm honestly impressed no one on stage laughed because it was really, really funny."
"I'm sure!" cried Kanoe, tossing her hair. As Satsuki blew on her coffee, it occurred to her how much easier it was to just speak to them as colleagues, without all the underlying personal bullshit. That part of her that Yuuto's texts had revealed, only to be dried out and healed, was no longer pulsing with resentment. Nothing would erase or change what had happened or how she'd felt, but at least now she could shove it away and never acknowledge it again. "His Majesty will probably be here soon, we'll leave you to it," said Kanoe, rolling her eyes, and with that, she and Yuuto left to get into costume. Yuuto had his hand on Kanoe's lower back, but gave Satsuki one last parting look over his shoulder. Satsuki ignored him, reaffirming to herself she wanted no part in this nonsense anymore. She took a determined sip of coffee, burned her tongue and swore.
"You okay?" someone asked from the doorway. Satsuki knew that voice, but it had been years since she'd heard it. She turned and, to her astonishment, saw Fuuma and Camellia walking into the lobby.
"What?" Satsuki asked, eagerly but bemusedly. "Where did you come from?"
"Nowhere important," Camellia replied, grinning. "I'm up here for something else and just happened to run into Fuuma in town," she continued, raising her paper cup of coffee.
"Why doesn't anyone have the decency to tell me where they're gonna be and when?" Fuuma asked, despairingly. Camellia looked incredulously at Fuuma, then at Satsuki, then continued as though there had been no interruption.
"I'm going to stay for the dress rehearsal, don't tell anyone." Satsuki laughed and Fuuma sighed defeatedly.
"Okay, I know I deserve that."
"When did he become self aware?" asked Camellia out of the corner of her mouth, in a tone that suggested she was concerned for Fuuma's health.
"Yesterday," replied Satsuki, to more laughter. Why did all the idle banter she was stuck in today actually feel good? When had that ever happened before? "So what else are you here for?" Camellia smirked.
"I'm fucking one of the principal dancers of a company performing over at SLA," she replied, gesturing vaguely in its direction.
"She was a punk, he did ballet," Fuuma sang. Both women ignored him.
"Oh," Satsuki replied, unsure how to take this.
"Yeah. His opening night's tonight, but his wife is gonna be there so I'm not going." Fuuma roared with laughter, but Satsuki found the words, however brief and rude, fit into some long empty and weirdly specific keyhole in her chest. Although she had no desire to unlock the door it belonged to, she felt some muscle under her shoulder blade release, and finally the pain that had been plaguing her there since tech was gone. She gave a little shudder, but managed to smile.
"Fair enough," she replied, and Camellia smiled back, tilting her head to the side.
"My number's still the same, text me after the show," she said, and Satsuki nodded.
"Sure." And she actually meant it. She then turned on her heel and headed into the lighting booth.
Camellia stared after her, a strange but deeply familiar expression on her face. "Curious or sad, Tsubaki?" Fuuma asked her, when he'd stopped laughing.
"Good question," she replied, and they headed into the now deserted theater together. "Where should I sit?"
"Wherever you're comfortable," Fuuma replied, graciously. Smiling over her shoulder, Camellia snuck into the box of seats just below the lighting booth directly opposite the stage. These were usually reserved for Setsuka's, and now Seishiro's, most important guests. "Fuck me," he muttered, before throwing his bag into one of the front row seats and climbing up on stage with his coffee.
He'd run into Camellia at the little garden café in town when he'd stopped in on a whim. He'd recognized her at once where she stood chatting with the barista as she'd made her drink, and his face broke into a wide smile as he approached. "Tsubaki?" She turned and hastily stifled a scream before throwing her arms around his neck. He picked her up and would have swung her around if not for the confined space.
"You asshole, I was gonna come to your rehearsal as a surprise!" she cried, when he set her back on her feet, her face glowing as she looked up at him.
"Fucking up plans is what I do, you know this about me," he replied, still grinning.
"Truly! Go order your drink and let's catch up!" Fuuma did so, and once they both had paper cups of coffee, they sat outside at one of the small wrought iron tables. "You finish 20,000 Leagues yet?" she asked, without preamble, leaning forward on her elbows.
"You finish your stage adaptation yet of it?" Fuuma countered, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah, and I might just ask you to direct it."
"Wait, seriously?" Fuuma asked, dropping his playful tone at once. Camellia nodded, her expression also softening.
"Yeah, it doesn't have to be here, but,"
"It could be," Fuuma interrupted. Now Camellia raised her eyebrows.
"I thought you were out after this season?" Fuuma took a deep breath in and sighed it out.
"Circumstances change," he said, evasively, then, before she could say anything, "I mean it'll depend on Seishiro, ultimately, but," he paused and took a sip of coffee and Camellia nodded.
"Letting go of resentment helps," she said, quietly. Fuuma smiled. "So does realizing the part you played. If reading 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea taught me anything, it was that." A rather embarrassed smile played around her mouth.
"You mean it wasn't not to list names of species of fish for like, forty six pages?" Camellia snorted into her coffee.
"Listen, you let a marine biology nerd narrate a story, that's what happens!"
"HA!"
They talked for the few more minutes they had to spare, then Fuuma drove them both to BTC. Clow was actually busy for the first time all summer with people coming in for opening nights, and when they passed the famous author's house they saw lines of cars parked outside it. Fuuma suspected it was for some welcome or donation event.
"Hello," Fuuma said, smiling at the entrance to the theater as his cast arrived for call. They all smiled and waved and said hello back, and by the time everyone was assembled in costume on stage, the whole room crackled with energy. "Fucking finally, right? How are you all feeling?!"
"Awesome!" Keiichi cried to laughter and applause.
"You guys have been fucking incredible, I mean that," said Fuuma, his voice lowering slightly. He knew people were rolling their eyes, but he didn't care, and he felt a rush of gratitude towards all these people who had helped him achieve his vision. "Good show everyone, take your places!" He jumped backwards off the stage and threw himself into his front row center seat, ready.
His cast obeyed, leaving the stage empty, until Satsuki killed the house lights and Nataku took downstage center. He looked so serious, he reminded Fuuma of his elementary schoolmates in public speaking classes. "Good evening and welcome to tonight's production of Paying A Call To The Prozorovs. This is just a reminder of housekeeping things: turn off all electronic devices and no photos or video recording. It says so in your program but just in case: there are flashing lights in Acts Two and Three and gunshots in Act Four. There are four exits," he paused to point at them as a flight attendant would, "and of course, no talking or smoking. I believe that's it, thank you all very much and enjoy the show." Fuuma and Camellia applauded as Nataku retreated backstage. All the lights went out, the music sounded, and Act One began.
Fuuma watched his show with rapt attention, his eyes narrowed as he contemplated every detail. His concentration was so absolute that before he knew it, Subaru delivered his last line, the entire theater went dark and the curtain call music began to play. I found empathy, from madness… Deliverance, from malaise… My heart is filled with gladness, and you're the only spirit that I crave… It was like Fuuma's entire body, not just his vision, zoomed outwards, so he saw clearly what the show had been at the start, what it had become, and what it was going to be. Black, water, black… Water… A wide smile spread across his face and his heart swelled in his chest as he watched the cast assemble on stage to take the bows they'd finally choreographed. Black, water… Fuuma applauded wildly as the cast took one bow as a group, then in turns: Yuuto, Kanoe and Sorata went first, then Keiichi, Kakyo and Kusanagi, followed by Kamui and Yuzuriha, and finally Subaru, Karen and Arashi. Black, water… They all lined up again, then raised their arms in an appreciative gesture towards the lighting booth, before taking one more bow together and heading backstage as the music finished on a morose saxophone note.
Fuuma stopped clapping abruptly and rushed the stage, leaping up onto it as his cast came sprinting out to meet him. The wide smile he was still wearing was mirrored back at him on every face, and the room throbbed with proud, excited energy. "Pretty fucking good, right? How are you guys feeling?!"
"Good!"
"Great!"
"Amazing!"
"Fantastic. While I've got you all focused I'm gonna give you your notes, then get the fuck out of here and enjoy the rest of your night, okay?" Some appreciative laughter as everyone made themselves comfortable. "Satsuki?"
"Yes?" she asked, making her way over and looking pleased with herself despite her tone.
"Just making sure you were here," Fuuma replied, placatingly, before, "so that first scene change? I'd like to see-"
Giving everyone their notes took no time at all; everyone was so excited there was no arguing or debate, though really, there wasn't much to say anyway. Feeling entirely confident about the following night, Fuuma dismissed his cast and returned to the lobby, where he was pleased to find Camellia waiting for him. His stomach suddenly gave an excited squirm, but she just laughed and took another running leap into his arms. He let out an excited cry and swung her around this time.
"I'll text you once I've collected my thoughts a bit," she breathed in his ear. He set her back on her feet and saw her face was still glowing. "But holy shit Fuuma."
"In a good way or a bad way?"
"In a very good way. I'll text you!"
"Yeah yeah." They looked at each other for a moment, and his stomach squirmed.
"You've got a good crew here," she told him, then, "I'll be in touch!" Before he could say anything else, she turned on her heel, left through the glass front doors and was immediately swallowed by the blue black night. Fuuma watched her go, thinking that during Yoru the two of them and Seishiro would have gone out for drinks and conversation. His stomach gave yet another squirm, but if she was serious about working with him again… He heard a garble of indistinct voices float out from the theater, and immediately retreated. Like all nights after rehearsal these days, he wanted space, and he wanted to leave his cast to themselves.
As he crunched down the gravel path to the parking lot, he looked fondly over the campus, quiet and still under the velvety, star strewn sky, and thought of this time tomorrow, when it would be packed with people, when the stars wouldn't be visible for all the headlights. He got into his car, rolled down his windows and turned up his music.
Close your eyes and drive on down… Bathed in white, I see you in the dark…
Fuuma drove at a leisurely pace, passing the author's old house and all the cars still parked outside it; travelling along Clow's main street, still unusually crowded; and out of town into the hills, still peaceful as ever. The only lights were the stars and his car's headlights, and he felt rather like he'd been shot up into space. He turned up his music and sang along, "Don't you know the night moves every direction? High above the clouds the stars are amazing…" He wondered what his cast was up to tonight, if they'd be responsible and go to bed or stay up celebrating. "Lights out! Electric!" he sang, speeding up. Tsubaki had told him he had a good crew, and he couldn't agree more. It had been a pleasure watching them all grow and mature and change, and he couldn't wait to see what happened next. "Time is on our side, I, can feel it." He wound through the rolling hills, looking out over the valley below, absorbing the moon and starlight in its deep blackness. He then rounded his corner. "Lights out, electric, I-" He pulled into the driveway and slammed on the brakes so suddenly the car stalled.
-don't wanna wake up, I'm dreaming…
Seishiro's car was parked in the driveway, and had Fuuma not been paying attention, he would have rear ended it. "What the fuck?!" he cried, restarting the car impatiently and pulling up beside Seishiro's with a loud screech. He shut off the engine, grabbed his bag and tore across the yard, breath harsh in his chest and blood pounding in his ears. He leapt up the back steps and sprinted through the porch into the kitchen, and knew immediately that Seishiro was there. He could feel it. The very air in the house was tingling with it, but he refused to believe it completely until he saw him.
He thundered upstairs and turned automatically towards the bedroom at the end of the hall. The light was on and the door was ajar. Fuuma let out the tiniest of longing moans and sprinted towards it, his vision tunneling in on the narrow beam of light spilling out onto the floor. He stopped dead in his tracks before entering, his heart in his throat and breath painful between his ribs. He took a moment to collect himself, swallowed, then knocked. The sound faded into the tense, thick silence that saturated the house and pressed on Fuuma's throat, chest and belly. For a second, or maybe it was a day, a year or a century, all was still. Fuuma closed his eyes and held his breath.
"Come in." Fuuma exhaled and pushed the door open with a soft creak. Seishiro was sitting up in bed, his laptop on his thighs, still in his dress pants and button down shirt. He didn't look at Fuuma, but raised his eyebrows at his computer screen, his expression as unreadable as ever. Fuuma stood on the threshold, rooted to the spot with no idea where to go. Possible strategies chased each other through his mind, but none of them made sense, let alone stuck. A buzzing like a cloud of insects filled his ears, and the moments dragged by until finally, "You fixed the screens." Fuuma shuddered, wanting simultaneously to burst into laughter or a furious tirade. However, he did neither, and just said, rather lamely,
"I told you I would." Seishiro began to type, and for another few dragging moments the only sound was the clicking of computer keys.
"You cleaned up Setsuka's room too," Seishiro continued, tapping the center of the mousepad with a little flourish before snapping his laptop closed. Fuuma had no idea how to respond to that, so he remained quiet. He hated this. He hated how insecure and off base he felt, particularly after feeling swelled full of confidence so recently. Maybe trust really was everything, because in that moment, when Seishiro was so unreadable and unreachable, trust felt like an old moldy rope with which he was supposed to climb to safety. He watched Seishiro set his laptop on the bedside table, then slowly get to his feet. He then fixed Fuuma with an uncharacteristically demanding stare that made him square his chest and stand up a little straighter. Seishiro wanted something, and he knew he'd have to provide it, but if he acted too quickly or presumptuously, everything would disintegrate. Unfortunately, being patient wore on his nerves as nothing else did. "I'm going to the show tomorrow," Seishiro informed him, eventually.
"I'm glad to hear that," Fuuma replied, and fuck if that wasn't true. Seishiro tilted his head to the side, his gaze still demanding.
"Are you?" he asked, a hint of challenge below his cool tone.
"Yes!" Fuuma replied, stung. Seishiro nodded thoughtfully, but said nothing. Fuuma waited, a sudden gnawing in his chest, and the very air around them tautened. The only sound now was the ticking of Seishiro's watch on the bedside table and Fuuma's pounding heart. "I'm sorry, but what the fuck?!" Fuuma exploded, when he could stand it no longer. Seishiro's lip curled as though he'd expected this, and Fuuma's frustration shattered into jagged shards in his chest, making every breath and heartbeat painful. "I'm sorry!" he continued, every word costing him. "What I said to you was fucking disgusting and I deserved all of the fallout! I fucked up and I'm sorry!" Seishiro said nothing, and the swirling shards of frustration tore at Fuuma's insides. "Did I fuck our shit up irrevocably? Because if so just tell me right now and I'm fucking gone!"
"Don't do that," Seishiro cut in, impatiently. "I know you're done here, but that's just childish." Fuuma closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, shame pouring out of the wounds in his chest, but he managed to remain in control of himself. He swallowed painfully and opened his eyes.
"You know I actually had no idea how much that fucked everyone up, me talking about leaving?" he told Seishiro, unable to keep the snap out of his voice though his very being ached with regret. "I swear to god," he pressed on, noticing Seishiro's eyes widen for a fraction of a second, "I wasn't trying to be that guy or make a point or whatever, I genuinely had no idea and I feel fucking awful." He expected Seishiro to contradict him or make some other disbelieving comment. However, he just folded his arms and stared back at Fuuma, his gaze demanding again. "So let me explain?" he offered instead, when he was confident he could keep his tone somewhat in check. Seishiro nodded stiffly. "I guess I'm still hurt that you dipped out on me during In Your Silence and that's how it came out. I'm sorry. I hope I haven't completely fucked our shit up because that's all independent of working here every summer. Even if I found some other gig, I wouldn't just dip out your life like that." He shivered as he said it, but noticed his heart was beating more freely, even though it ached to see genuine surprise flash across Seishiro's face. "I mean that," he said, forcefully, "but I also understand if I went too far." He swallowed the sudden burning in his throat, realizing that however crude and angry he'd been, saying all of that out loud had released something. He stared at Seishiro, who stared back, and again Fuuma could see him as that small boy in his mother's arms in that photograph downstairs, or as a quiet, secretive teenager playing the Doctor in Macbeth because someone important had asked him to.
Because someone important had asked him to.
Fuuma held out his hand, wanting more than anything to pull Seishiro onto his side of the chasm between them, to get them back on the same page. Something tightened in Seishiro's face as his eyes darted between Fuuma's outstretched hand and pleading face and back again. He hesitated for a few more terribly painful seconds, then reached out and took Fuuma's hand.
Relief flooded Fuuma's entire body in a warm, glorious cascade, and before either of them realized what was happening they had their arms around each other and were kissing more passionately than they ever had before. Fuuma felt his brain disengage as Seishiro scrabbled at his upper back, intent on getting his t-shirt off. Fuuma groaned and obliged, breaking their kiss for a fraction of a second to pull it up and over his head before diving back in for more, thrusting his tongue into Seishiro's mouth and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. Seishiro moaned softly too and tried to help, though his hands were shaking too badly to do much besides shrug it off.
At once Fuuma pulled him as close as he could, his chest warm and smooth against his own, both of their hearts pounding in their desperation for each other. Fuuma broke their kiss again, this time to move his lips to Seishiro's neck, groaning as he inhaled his shampoo, his aftershave and his cigarettes, wonderfully familiar and absolutely electrifying. Keeping one hand at his back to hold him steady, he shoved the other into his pants to grip his ass. Seishiro exhaled softly and tilted his head to the side, giving Fuuma more hot skin, and the gesture charged through his heart and erection. Had his brain been working, he might have commented on it, or made an obvious noise of satisfaction or approval, but that just wasn't important right now.
Seishiro reached between them to start undoing Fuuma's jeans, making him shiver in excitement as his pants and underwear came halfway down his thighs, then gasp as Seishiro seized his erection and began to stroke him. Taken completely by surprise but loving every second, Fuuma echoed the gesture, taking hold of Seishiro and pleasing him hard and fast, groaning at how turned on he was. Seishiro gasped and buried his face in Fuuma's neck, breathing hot and heavy in his ear. "What do you want?" Fuuma asked, softly rather than commandingly. Truthfully it didn't matter what Seishiro said: he'd give him anything he wanted in this moment. Seishiro sighed and kissed Fuuma's neck almost tenderly.
"I want you inside," he breathed against his hot, flushed skin. Fuuma's breath caught in his chest and his erection throbbed in Seishiro's hand.
"Okay," he moaned, and turned to catch Seishiro's lips in one last, soulful kiss before pulling away to step out of his jeans and throw himself into bed. Seishiro followed suit, lying down beside Fuuma, who immediately took him into his arms. Seishiro threw his leg over Fuuma's hips, and they kissed that way for a long time, tangled up in each other, Fuuma's hands up and down Seishiro's back and in his hair while Seishiro held tightly to the sides of his face, keeping him locked in their kiss. Fuuma's body was on fire, the source igniting perpetually in his chest, pumping blood and heat and passion out through his veins as if by force. His erection was begging for more of Seishiro's touch and his heart for something deeper. Fuuma rolled them over so he was on top, Seishiro's legs still tight around his waist, and thrust up against him, teasing at what they both wanted.
"Keep going," Seishiro moaned, his hands shaking as they held Fuuma's face. Fuuma nodded and withdrew wordlessly. Seishiro reached his arms above his head, gently arching in his lower back as Fuuma wrenched open the bedside table drawer and retrieved lube and a condom. Seishiro brought his feet flat onto the bed and allowed his knees to fall gently open. Fuuma paused in the act of squeezing lube onto his fingers to take in the view. However, rather than stare shamelessly between Seishiro's quivering thighs or at his flushed, heaving chest, he fixed his gaze upon his face, on his blushing cheeks, parted lips and deep dark eyes. Fresh heat surged up in Fuuma's chest and he smiled widely as he pressed two slicked up fingertips against Seishiro, who closed his eyes, took a breath in, then allowed him inside with a sigh.
"Mmhmm," Fuuma breathed, moving his fingers in and out exactly the way Seishiro liked it.
"Oh god," he gasped, his hands grabbing onto his pillow and eyes closing exultantly. Fuuma groaned and kept going, stretching and exploring until- "That's enough," Seishiro gasped, opening his eyes blearily. Fuuma nodded and withdrew his fingers, slid on a condom and lubed himself up, always maintaining fierce eye contact with Seishiro.
"Like this?" he asked, quietly, taking hold of his erection and guiding it into place. Seishiro nodded. Slowly and carefully, Fuuma slid in, Seishiro melting around him millimeter by millimeter until he was completely sheathed inside. He exhaled sharply and fell forward on top of him, breathing hard in his ear. Seishiro wrapped his arms and legs tight around him and rubbed his cheek against his, giving them both a moment but making the request. Fuuma withdrew his hips, and-
"Slow." The word sent a hot surge of arousal through every nerve of Fuuma's body. He bit back a moan and pulled away to stare Seishiro hard in the face, his heart pounding so hard he could practically feel his arms shaking with the reverberation.
"Slow," Fuuma agreed, before kissing him hard on the lips. He withdrew his hips and thrust back inside, slowly but deeply, and Seishiro shuddered violently and moaned into his mouth. Fuuma's erection pulsed almost painfully hard as he repeated the move, Seishiro's response echoing in his own body. He knew at once that neither of them would last long, but it didn't matter. He pulled out of their kiss to bury his face in Seishiro's neck and moaned, really moaned, into his ear. Seishiro cried out softly and dug his heels into Fuuma's lower back. "Oh fuck yes," Fuuma groaned, and Seishiro shuddered and let out another soft cry. Fuuma felt so in sync, so connected, and it was intoxicating in a way he'd never experienced before. He loved it, and he felt Seishiro did too. He snuck his arm underneath him, making his lower back arch again to get a better angle.
"Oh!" Seishiro moaned, his thighs squeezing tight around Fuuma's waist and inner walls squeezing tighter around his erection. "Like that!"
"Like that?" Fuuma gasped, pulling out and thrusting back inside. Seishiro closed his eyes and threw his head back in a soft gasp of ecstasy. "Oh fuck," Fuuma moaned, low and guttural, before kissing Seishiro hard on the lips again. They melted against each other as they moved together in perfect harmony, pleasure and friction building steadily and deliciously until Fuuma couldn't take it and pulled out of their kiss. They stared into each other's eyes, both of their expressions hard and blazing. "I'm gonna come if I keep going," he warned Seishiro, his thighs shaking and erection throbbing. Seishiro's eyes widened and his lips parted in a deeply aroused gasp, but then he nodded and reached between them to take hold of his own erection. "Fuck yes," Fuuma gasped, speeding up just enough but never losing the angle that had them both at the perfect, glorious edge. "Look at me!" he cried in a constricted voice. Seishiro's breath caught in his chest and he locked eyes with Fuuma, his own wide and glassy but so, so wanting and receptive. Fuuma's vision tunnelled in on his handsome face and his entire body seized up, his desire catching him in a sudden vice grip. "I'm gonna come!" he choked, and saying it aloud was all he needed.
He came, hard, deep inside Seishiro. His entire body gave a great shudder as his pleasure released him from its clutches, sending sensation and emotion rushing out through every nerve of his body. However, he kept moving, his eyes still locked on Seishiro's face, his expression rapt and ecstatic as he received him. "Me too!" he gasped.
"Good!" Fuuma needed it, and a split second later Seishiro shuddered violently as he came too, spilling himself all over his hand and belly with a satisfied groan. He kept stroking himself, never breaking eye contact, until he was completely spent.
Fuuma was upon him at once with a soft, needy moan, kissing him hard on the lips and holding him as tight as he could. Seishiro's clean hand found Fuuma's hair and held onto it, though his grip was rather slack in his satisfaction. Fuuma shivered at the gesture, pulled out of their kiss and held Seishiro's face in both hands. He wanted to say something, anything that might even begin to convey the depth of what he was feeling, but his brain was still disconnected, and he doubted he'd be able to put it into words anyway. He stared at Seishiro for a long time, still holding his flushed face and buried inside him, until he finally said, softly but clearly, "I'm so glad you're here." Seishiro just gave a little shiver and nodded.
A warm smile spread across Fuuma's face and he kissed Seishiro one last time on the lips before finally pulling out. They cleaned up in silence, then turned off the light and curled up under the covers, embracing face to face. Fuuma's brain was beginning to come back to him just as he was starting to drift off, and though it reminded him that they still had more to talk about, that this wasn't enough, it didn't bother him. They would talk as best they could once they had their feet back under them, and, for now anyway, not speaking, just feeling and listening, was absolutely perfect.
The Igarashi was the place to be the following night.
The lobby was full of people: cosmopolitan elderly couples, BTI students, curious young people and groups of friends of all ages. They were all gathered around the bar, admiring Kotori's photographs, now blown up and displayed proudly in front of the windows, comparing notes on their programs or smiling at headshots of people they knew.
Fuuma and Seishiro had avoided any and all attention by arriving early, then hiding in the box of Setsuka's special seats. They sat side by side, along with Hokuto and Mr. and Mrs. Aoki. He remembered sitting here with Seishiro and all the board of directors his first year here, then with Seishiro and Camellia the following year, then by himself last year. Their view was perfect, level with downstage center but far enough back to see everything. At the moment, the stage was empty, though he could practically hear his cast chattering excitedly backstage. He'd wished them all break a leg and good show right at call, and their excitement was truly infectious. He bounced his leg up and down in anticipation, watching the theater fill up and listening to the audience's excited conversation.
"How are you feeling, Fuuma?" asked Mrs. Aoki, leaning across her husband.
"I have absolutely no idea," he replied, just as he had done to everyone else who'd asked him that question today.
"We'll see when it's over," said Seishiro, warily, and everyone laughed.
The house lights suddenly flickered, and the tension in the theater sharpened as all the stragglers in the lobby rushed into the theater to find their seats. After a minute or so, the house lights went off, and in the sudden darkness, Fuuma took Seishiro's hand and received a squeeze in return.
Nataku emerged from the wings, and the audience broke into applause. His expression didn't alter a bit as he delivered his speech, and more applause followed him as he returned backstage. Mr. and Mrs. Aoki and Hokuto all joined in, but Fuuma and Seishiro held tight to each other's hands as Satsuki killed the stage lights. The now deeply familiar music of Act One began to play as the screen glowed into life upstage and the dark shapes of Subaru, Karen and Arashi took their places. Fuuma's lip curled.
"Al right," he said, so only he and Seishiro could hear. "Let me see it."
AND WE ARE DONE!
Again, thank you all so much for reading! I know I'm good on X for a bit, but if you're interested in reading some Code Geass or xxxHOLiC fic by me... hit me up in the New Year!
A very Merry Christmas, Joyous Kwanzaa, Happy Chanukah, Happy Winter Solstice and the HAPPIEST of New Years to all of you! Peace out, 2020!
I think about reviews when I summon my kekkai, leave me some!