One Song Glory: part five
26/27 May 2000
Van Donovan
trowa@trowa.com
---------------------
Initially inspired by listening to the song "One Song Glory" by Roger from the musical RENT
this story took a tragic turn when my real life cousin drowned May 24th, '00 while
his mother is/was dying of cancer. I suddenly have so much more for this story. Please,
learn something from it.
--------
The sheets of the bed yielded to their bodies as Aya guided them under. The silky
smooth fabric was as gentle on Youji's skin as Aya's butterfly kisses raining down over him
like snow. Aya undressed him slowly, methodically, taking complete care of him. Youji let
his eyes flit shut, aware only of the man over him, whose cold fingers felt like the softest
feathers as they trailed over his bare skin. Aya's lips brushed his chest and he reached up
to run his own long fingers through Aya's hair.
"Worried?" the red head asked, his voice a little ragged already.
Youji swallowed to try and catch his breath and shook his head. "No." But . . .
He trailed off in his mind.
Aya tightly smiled and trailed one hand along Youji's hip, caressing the flesh,
marveling over how he could feel the bones just beneath the skin. Youji was so incredibly
thin. He craned back up, kissing Youji's lips, deepening into a slow drawl. Everything was
so surreal. He was in bed with Youji. They were both nude. Youji was submissive beneath
him and kissing him back with what strength he had.
"You've been so deprived." Aya whispered into his ear as he broke the kiss, knowing
after Youji had been diagnosed the blonde had abstained from sex. Somehow.
"And how," Youji breathed, bending his knees up to let Aya fall against him. Aya
let Youji move as he wanted and kept himself braced up with one arm, barely touching against
the man. There was no wild passion. There was no sweaty screaming. This was something
they both wanted and Aya vowed to make it beautiful.
Youji turned his head to the side as Aya rained kisses along his throat. "Aya," he
breathed, finally able to form thought to the 'but' he'd thought to say earlier. Aya paused
to nuzzle Youji's neck while the blonde spoke. "I trust you. I believe what you say. You
. . . you don't have to do this, if you don't . . . want." He realized how daunting sex
felt if it was just Aya's way of proving to him that he did indeed have HIV. Youji'd rather
wait longer and do it when they both . . . wanted it. Not that he felt they didn't now.
"Of course I want to." Aya breathed, holding Youji protectively with one hand.
"I mean . . . you don't have to prove this . . ."
"Should I stop?" Aya asked, lifting his head, concerned. For all the desire in his
body, he could abstain forever if Youji wasn't comfortable.
"No. I mean," he opened his eyes, and looked up at the violet eyed red head. His
eyes widened a little at the look of concern in Aya's face. "I mean, I didn't want this to
happen just as proof." He started to say more, but Aya lightly kissed him.
"It's not for proof," he said when he lifted his head, his hair falling about their
heads and framing Youji's face with auburn locks. He gave Youji one of his sweetest rare
smiles and whispered. "I love you."
Youji's eyes filled with tears. "Aya," he whispered, blinking and let them trickle
down his face. He felt utterly at peace suddenly. His pain had stopped. He didn't feel
sick. He could only feel his complete bliss at being so close to Aya, and how happy he was
to share this intimate moment with the redhead. "Aya, I love you too. Gods how much I
do. Thank you." He breathed and his arms tightened around the redhead, the frail limbs
suddenly exerting strength he hadn't had moments ago.
Aya covered his face with gentle kisses as a reply, and then lingered on the blondes
lips while he shifted, getting them into position. Youji wrapped Aya's strong body with all
his limbs and tensed a fraction of a moment when Aya took him. The pain at first made him
gasp, but Aya froze and only laid kisses on him, whispering softly of reassurances. Then,
he began to move and Youji felt his body go completely over to passion and love making,
slipping into pure bliss.
He'd never made such sweet love.
-----
Youji's reprieve didn't last long.
He deteriorated progressively in body after that. His mind, however, was still
sharp, witty and conscious. He even managed to keep optimistic when the three of the other
members of Weiß decided it'd be in his best interest to get a permanent room in the hospital
for him. Youji hadn't even complained. He knew how much strain he was putting on them with
his condition. They all visited him daily; Aya, much more than that.
It was hard on all three of them, though. Seven months ago, Youji had been as
vibrant, active and healthy as the rest of them. Now, he could barely get out of bed with-
out assistance. The changes in Youji depressed them all, Aya especially. He'd known Youji
was ultimately going to die, but he had no clue that the virus would ravish him so quickly.
He simply couldn't spend enough time with the blonde.
"More flowers?" Youji asked, looking up as Aya entered the room.
"You should be used to this," Aya said, smiling softly at his bedridden love. He
brought a fresh bouquet of flowers everyday.
"It's unnecessary." Youji chided, but kissed Aya and smelled the flowers with an
obvious enjoyment when the other brought them close. They were roses this time, and smelled
like Aya. He enjoyed a change of scenery, and he desperately missed tending to the flowers
in the shop.
"Call me frivolous, then," the redhead said, smirking and putting the flowers on
the window sill. Youji grinned.
"Frivolous."
Aya chuckled softly and crossed back, sitting on the edge of Youji's bed. "How are
you feeling? You look radiant."
Youji laughed. His voice was as strong as ever. "The doctor told me tonight he's
going to up my drug regimen, and that it should null the pain enough for me to get out of
the bed for a few hours." His eyes sparkled and Aya smiled. They both felt they'd gotten
too little time together out on the town before Youji'd been bedridden. "So, go plan some-
thing fun we can do tomorrow."
"How great!" he whispered. "It sounds wonderful, I can't wait." he breathed.
Youji beamed back at him.
There was no question that Youji was going to die, and relatively soon. It was all
Aya could do to keep from crying every time he came into the hospital room and saw Youji's
ravished body laying frail on the bed, truly just a living corpse. He often would crawl into
bed with Youji and hold him in his arms. They'd take turns sleeping on the small hospital
bed together, nestled like spoons. Aya'd stroke Youji's long hair, turned dark brown by the
lack of sun and nourishment, and would tell him stories of their lives out of the flower
shop. Youji'd fall in and out of sleep, always clinging to Aya's warm strong body.
Sometimes, they'd just hold one another and cry together.
"Come," Aya said, sitting up after awhile. The setting sun slanted in through the
blinds and cast the room into gold. "let's watch the sunset together," Aya urged. He took
Youji in his arms, lifting the older man effortlessly and walking to the window to watch the
orb falling behind the cityscape. Youji was like paper in his arms: weightless and thin.
"Aya," Youji said, his voice filled with a sadness. Aya, blinking at the emotion
in Youji's voice, turned from the sun to look at his lover.
"What is it?"
"I don't want the sun to set."
Youji meant that in terms of his own life, and Aya knew it. He didn't want the sun
to set on his life. Aya swallowed tightly and held him more securely.
"Youji," he softly whispered. "I promise, you won't be alone."
Youji just turned his head back to watch the sun as it vanished behind the horizon
and let the tears course down his pale cheeks.
-----
The phone rang just as Omi walked passed it, and he paused, looking at it. It was
already nine at night. Aya was still out with Youji, probably spending the night again,
since he wasn't back yet, and Ken was out back in his apartment. He plucked the receiver
off the wall and spoke into it. "Hello, this is Omi."
The speaker spoke and Omi nodded. "Hai," he nodded again, listening to the voice
on the other line. His face was calm as he listened. "Hai," he said again. He was quiet
for a very long time, while the other person spoke in depth. He nodded twice. "Aa, I . . .
I see. Oh. Oh that's terrible," he said, but just blinked, his voice not trembling. "Aa,
all right. Yes, I'll tell everyone. Yes, let me get your number."
His hand began to shake as he scrawled digits down. "Aa. Thank you. Yes. Yes,
thank you. No, I'll be all right. No, that's not necessary. Aa, thank you. Uh-huh.
Yes, he's here. Hai. Okay. Goodbye."
He hung the phone up and then a chill coursed through his body.
He didn't remember turning or running, but before he knew it he found himself
flinging open the back door. A tortured cry escaped his lips: "KENKUN!!!"
He banged on the door, and then realized it was open. "Kenkun!!!" he cried. Ken
jerked up from where he was sitting, cleaning his soccer cleats out, leaping to his feet.
"Omi! What's wrong!?" but he already knew: Youji.
"He's dead!" He wailed and fell into Ken's open arms. Ken felt white-hot with
grief, but he'd prepared himself for the worst. Omi sobbed against him, shaking his head.
"It can't be!" Omi wept and shivered, shaking violently.
"Omi," Ken soothed, but Omi went limp, shaking his head more. The words were
finally wretched from the young boy's lips:
"It's not . . . Y-youji.
"Aya's dead."
--end part five--
26/27 May 2000
Van Donovan
trowa@trowa.com
---------------------
Initially inspired by listening to the song "One Song Glory" by Roger from the musical RENT
this story took a tragic turn when my real life cousin drowned May 24th, '00 while
his mother is/was dying of cancer. I suddenly have so much more for this story. Please,
learn something from it.
--------
The sheets of the bed yielded to their bodies as Aya guided them under. The silky
smooth fabric was as gentle on Youji's skin as Aya's butterfly kisses raining down over him
like snow. Aya undressed him slowly, methodically, taking complete care of him. Youji let
his eyes flit shut, aware only of the man over him, whose cold fingers felt like the softest
feathers as they trailed over his bare skin. Aya's lips brushed his chest and he reached up
to run his own long fingers through Aya's hair.
"Worried?" the red head asked, his voice a little ragged already.
Youji swallowed to try and catch his breath and shook his head. "No." But . . .
He trailed off in his mind.
Aya tightly smiled and trailed one hand along Youji's hip, caressing the flesh,
marveling over how he could feel the bones just beneath the skin. Youji was so incredibly
thin. He craned back up, kissing Youji's lips, deepening into a slow drawl. Everything was
so surreal. He was in bed with Youji. They were both nude. Youji was submissive beneath
him and kissing him back with what strength he had.
"You've been so deprived." Aya whispered into his ear as he broke the kiss, knowing
after Youji had been diagnosed the blonde had abstained from sex. Somehow.
"And how," Youji breathed, bending his knees up to let Aya fall against him. Aya
let Youji move as he wanted and kept himself braced up with one arm, barely touching against
the man. There was no wild passion. There was no sweaty screaming. This was something
they both wanted and Aya vowed to make it beautiful.
Youji turned his head to the side as Aya rained kisses along his throat. "Aya," he
breathed, finally able to form thought to the 'but' he'd thought to say earlier. Aya paused
to nuzzle Youji's neck while the blonde spoke. "I trust you. I believe what you say. You
. . . you don't have to do this, if you don't . . . want." He realized how daunting sex
felt if it was just Aya's way of proving to him that he did indeed have HIV. Youji'd rather
wait longer and do it when they both . . . wanted it. Not that he felt they didn't now.
"Of course I want to." Aya breathed, holding Youji protectively with one hand.
"I mean . . . you don't have to prove this . . ."
"Should I stop?" Aya asked, lifting his head, concerned. For all the desire in his
body, he could abstain forever if Youji wasn't comfortable.
"No. I mean," he opened his eyes, and looked up at the violet eyed red head. His
eyes widened a little at the look of concern in Aya's face. "I mean, I didn't want this to
happen just as proof." He started to say more, but Aya lightly kissed him.
"It's not for proof," he said when he lifted his head, his hair falling about their
heads and framing Youji's face with auburn locks. He gave Youji one of his sweetest rare
smiles and whispered. "I love you."
Youji's eyes filled with tears. "Aya," he whispered, blinking and let them trickle
down his face. He felt utterly at peace suddenly. His pain had stopped. He didn't feel
sick. He could only feel his complete bliss at being so close to Aya, and how happy he was
to share this intimate moment with the redhead. "Aya, I love you too. Gods how much I
do. Thank you." He breathed and his arms tightened around the redhead, the frail limbs
suddenly exerting strength he hadn't had moments ago.
Aya covered his face with gentle kisses as a reply, and then lingered on the blondes
lips while he shifted, getting them into position. Youji wrapped Aya's strong body with all
his limbs and tensed a fraction of a moment when Aya took him. The pain at first made him
gasp, but Aya froze and only laid kisses on him, whispering softly of reassurances. Then,
he began to move and Youji felt his body go completely over to passion and love making,
slipping into pure bliss.
He'd never made such sweet love.
-----
Youji's reprieve didn't last long.
He deteriorated progressively in body after that. His mind, however, was still
sharp, witty and conscious. He even managed to keep optimistic when the three of the other
members of Weiß decided it'd be in his best interest to get a permanent room in the hospital
for him. Youji hadn't even complained. He knew how much strain he was putting on them with
his condition. They all visited him daily; Aya, much more than that.
It was hard on all three of them, though. Seven months ago, Youji had been as
vibrant, active and healthy as the rest of them. Now, he could barely get out of bed with-
out assistance. The changes in Youji depressed them all, Aya especially. He'd known Youji
was ultimately going to die, but he had no clue that the virus would ravish him so quickly.
He simply couldn't spend enough time with the blonde.
"More flowers?" Youji asked, looking up as Aya entered the room.
"You should be used to this," Aya said, smiling softly at his bedridden love. He
brought a fresh bouquet of flowers everyday.
"It's unnecessary." Youji chided, but kissed Aya and smelled the flowers with an
obvious enjoyment when the other brought them close. They were roses this time, and smelled
like Aya. He enjoyed a change of scenery, and he desperately missed tending to the flowers
in the shop.
"Call me frivolous, then," the redhead said, smirking and putting the flowers on
the window sill. Youji grinned.
"Frivolous."
Aya chuckled softly and crossed back, sitting on the edge of Youji's bed. "How are
you feeling? You look radiant."
Youji laughed. His voice was as strong as ever. "The doctor told me tonight he's
going to up my drug regimen, and that it should null the pain enough for me to get out of
the bed for a few hours." His eyes sparkled and Aya smiled. They both felt they'd gotten
too little time together out on the town before Youji'd been bedridden. "So, go plan some-
thing fun we can do tomorrow."
"How great!" he whispered. "It sounds wonderful, I can't wait." he breathed.
Youji beamed back at him.
There was no question that Youji was going to die, and relatively soon. It was all
Aya could do to keep from crying every time he came into the hospital room and saw Youji's
ravished body laying frail on the bed, truly just a living corpse. He often would crawl into
bed with Youji and hold him in his arms. They'd take turns sleeping on the small hospital
bed together, nestled like spoons. Aya'd stroke Youji's long hair, turned dark brown by the
lack of sun and nourishment, and would tell him stories of their lives out of the flower
shop. Youji'd fall in and out of sleep, always clinging to Aya's warm strong body.
Sometimes, they'd just hold one another and cry together.
"Come," Aya said, sitting up after awhile. The setting sun slanted in through the
blinds and cast the room into gold. "let's watch the sunset together," Aya urged. He took
Youji in his arms, lifting the older man effortlessly and walking to the window to watch the
orb falling behind the cityscape. Youji was like paper in his arms: weightless and thin.
"Aya," Youji said, his voice filled with a sadness. Aya, blinking at the emotion
in Youji's voice, turned from the sun to look at his lover.
"What is it?"
"I don't want the sun to set."
Youji meant that in terms of his own life, and Aya knew it. He didn't want the sun
to set on his life. Aya swallowed tightly and held him more securely.
"Youji," he softly whispered. "I promise, you won't be alone."
Youji just turned his head back to watch the sun as it vanished behind the horizon
and let the tears course down his pale cheeks.
-----
The phone rang just as Omi walked passed it, and he paused, looking at it. It was
already nine at night. Aya was still out with Youji, probably spending the night again,
since he wasn't back yet, and Ken was out back in his apartment. He plucked the receiver
off the wall and spoke into it. "Hello, this is Omi."
The speaker spoke and Omi nodded. "Hai," he nodded again, listening to the voice
on the other line. His face was calm as he listened. "Hai," he said again. He was quiet
for a very long time, while the other person spoke in depth. He nodded twice. "Aa, I . . .
I see. Oh. Oh that's terrible," he said, but just blinked, his voice not trembling. "Aa,
all right. Yes, I'll tell everyone. Yes, let me get your number."
His hand began to shake as he scrawled digits down. "Aa. Thank you. Yes. Yes,
thank you. No, I'll be all right. No, that's not necessary. Aa, thank you. Uh-huh.
Yes, he's here. Hai. Okay. Goodbye."
He hung the phone up and then a chill coursed through his body.
He didn't remember turning or running, but before he knew it he found himself
flinging open the back door. A tortured cry escaped his lips: "KENKUN!!!"
He banged on the door, and then realized it was open. "Kenkun!!!" he cried. Ken
jerked up from where he was sitting, cleaning his soccer cleats out, leaping to his feet.
"Omi! What's wrong!?" but he already knew: Youji.
"He's dead!" He wailed and fell into Ken's open arms. Ken felt white-hot with
grief, but he'd prepared himself for the worst. Omi sobbed against him, shaking his head.
"It can't be!" Omi wept and shivered, shaking violently.
"Omi," Ken soothed, but Omi went limp, shaking his head more. The words were
finally wretched from the young boy's lips:
"It's not . . . Y-youji.
"Aya's dead."
--end part five--