Title: When All That's Left Is Silence
Author: Frack
Pairing: You'll figure it out.
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Right, reviews are welcome, ne? And uhm, about my other long forgotten fic (The Art Of Seduction By Mitsui Hisashi), I'll be in hibernation as long as it takes for me to write up that ninth chapter. Read on then.
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"You'll be home late tonight? Yes, I'll be fine. Don't worry."
His voice was even, some might say uncaring. Of course, those people wouldn't have detected the way his voice seemed to waver at the end of every sentence. That was the problem with people these days, they never listened. Oh no, he didn't mean simply hearing what people said, he meant listening to the way their voice rose or fell, to the way it changed with their emotions, whether slightly, drastically or not at all.
He had always heard everything. He had yet to decide whether that was a blessing or curse.
He knew exactly the way his mother's voice always grew dreamy when she talked about his late father, the way his English teacher's imitation leather shoes squeaked across the smooth cement floors of the classroom, the way a basketball gave a little whoosh as it dropped into the basket, and almost everything else imaginable. Some of these sounds were enjoyable, some annoying, but all beautiful beyond comprehension. Some were, if it was possible, too beautiful.
Especially that voice. It didn't matter what he was doing with it, it always seeped into his body, curling around his heart. Recently its beauty had been marred by the soft repentant tone of guilt. He could tell Hanamichi went to great lengths to conceal it, but it was always there. When you listened, you knew these things.
Sometimes he felt he'd rather have been born deaf.
Of course, with his perpetual smile, it's not as if Hanamichi would have guessed that he knew; it was just Sendoh thought the less he felt like a fraud the better. He supposed that since he was already going to hell he might as well save himself from spending eternity there. Then again, hell didn't seem like such a bad option compared to where he was now.
He wondered briefly how hell would sound like. In the end he decided hell's screams could never rival his own unvoiced ones.
Even before he spoke, Sendoh knew immediately who it was. No other footsteps sounded like his, no other touch quite the same.
"You're home early."
It was not a question; Sendoh would have never dared to pose such a question. He didn't want to know the answer, he rathered continuing with this little charade. Hanamichi though, was a different story. He could hear the way the guilt grew stronger very day. Soon now, he wouldn't be able to contain it anymore and the whole lurid truth would spill out. Hanamichi was always too honest for his own good.
Ironic that it was precisely what Sendoh loved so much about him.
"I'm tired. I think I'll just go have a shower and go to sleep."
Hanamichi left but the guilt in his voice floated around the room oppressively. So did the men's perfume, only Hanamichi never wore perfume. And neither did Sendoh.
Later that night, as the sounds of the sheets sliding over his bare skin reached his ears and Hanamichi's moans were all his world consisted of, that smell was back. It clung to Hanamichi's body stubbornly, a mark of ownership.
There was only one problem; the mark was not Sendoh's.
And as Hanamichi reached that high point of passion, it was not his name he heard. Hanamichi claimed he could never remember what he said during sex, Sendoh was only too happy to play along. The fact that it sounded suspiciously like "Kaede" was left unvoiced with his trademark smile.
Sometimes it was best when things were left to silence.
It was most probably just his fancy, but he seemed to hear his heart breaking.
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Right. More angsty-ness from me. Right, should stop saying right. Anyway, criticism always appreciated.
E-mail: fracky_00@hotmail.com
Website: www.geocities.com/sakuranokaerizaki
Author: Frack
Pairing: You'll figure it out.
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Right, reviews are welcome, ne? And uhm, about my other long forgotten fic (The Art Of Seduction By Mitsui Hisashi), I'll be in hibernation as long as it takes for me to write up that ninth chapter. Read on then.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
"You'll be home late tonight? Yes, I'll be fine. Don't worry."
His voice was even, some might say uncaring. Of course, those people wouldn't have detected the way his voice seemed to waver at the end of every sentence. That was the problem with people these days, they never listened. Oh no, he didn't mean simply hearing what people said, he meant listening to the way their voice rose or fell, to the way it changed with their emotions, whether slightly, drastically or not at all.
He had always heard everything. He had yet to decide whether that was a blessing or curse.
He knew exactly the way his mother's voice always grew dreamy when she talked about his late father, the way his English teacher's imitation leather shoes squeaked across the smooth cement floors of the classroom, the way a basketball gave a little whoosh as it dropped into the basket, and almost everything else imaginable. Some of these sounds were enjoyable, some annoying, but all beautiful beyond comprehension. Some were, if it was possible, too beautiful.
Especially that voice. It didn't matter what he was doing with it, it always seeped into his body, curling around his heart. Recently its beauty had been marred by the soft repentant tone of guilt. He could tell Hanamichi went to great lengths to conceal it, but it was always there. When you listened, you knew these things.
Sometimes he felt he'd rather have been born deaf.
Of course, with his perpetual smile, it's not as if Hanamichi would have guessed that he knew; it was just Sendoh thought the less he felt like a fraud the better. He supposed that since he was already going to hell he might as well save himself from spending eternity there. Then again, hell didn't seem like such a bad option compared to where he was now.
He wondered briefly how hell would sound like. In the end he decided hell's screams could never rival his own unvoiced ones.
Even before he spoke, Sendoh knew immediately who it was. No other footsteps sounded like his, no other touch quite the same.
"You're home early."
It was not a question; Sendoh would have never dared to pose such a question. He didn't want to know the answer, he rathered continuing with this little charade. Hanamichi though, was a different story. He could hear the way the guilt grew stronger very day. Soon now, he wouldn't be able to contain it anymore and the whole lurid truth would spill out. Hanamichi was always too honest for his own good.
Ironic that it was precisely what Sendoh loved so much about him.
"I'm tired. I think I'll just go have a shower and go to sleep."
Hanamichi left but the guilt in his voice floated around the room oppressively. So did the men's perfume, only Hanamichi never wore perfume. And neither did Sendoh.
Later that night, as the sounds of the sheets sliding over his bare skin reached his ears and Hanamichi's moans were all his world consisted of, that smell was back. It clung to Hanamichi's body stubbornly, a mark of ownership.
There was only one problem; the mark was not Sendoh's.
And as Hanamichi reached that high point of passion, it was not his name he heard. Hanamichi claimed he could never remember what he said during sex, Sendoh was only too happy to play along. The fact that it sounded suspiciously like "Kaede" was left unvoiced with his trademark smile.
Sometimes it was best when things were left to silence.
It was most probably just his fancy, but he seemed to hear his heart breaking.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Right. More angsty-ness from me. Right, should stop saying right. Anyway, criticism always appreciated.
E-mail: fracky_00@hotmail.com
Website: www.geocities.com/sakuranokaerizaki