It is a cool evening in early April and the whispers of rain outside lace into the melodies crafted centuries ago to create a hypnotising ode to night inside the confines of his apartment. His body moves naturally, languidly with each note, as if there are invisible strings attached to his body, to his soul that motion him in a divine synch with the touch of the keys. His hands continue with the task at hand, carefully mixing the bits of black and orange and green and yellow and pink; he will call this particular blend 'nocturne' in the honour of the night and calm awe.
"Do you like dancing?"
He could have sworn that he was alone if asked a moment ago though he knew– he knows that he was not. That is the beauty of Nijimura's presence, it is not suffocating, it is not crowding, it is not disturbing – he can share his perfect solitude with Nijimura, they can spend hours together without any words exchanged, and there is a peculiar beauty in that. A peculiar understanding he has never tasted with anyone else.
"Not particularly..." he says but he is aware that his body continues to move, track changes as if on cue, from Op 9 No 2 to Op 55 No 1 courtesy of shuffle, his shoulders and hips adjust to a new rhythm as Nijimura continues in a small voice from his place on the other side of the living room,
"You do know how to dance though?"
"Well I had to learn ballroom dances when I was young. I am very good at it, though I think anyone with good hand and feet coordination would be at least decent. It is not difficult."
Nijimura scoffs, he cannot see it but he can feel it in the tone of the reply,
"I don't think so... I suck at it. I kept stepping on my date's feet at the prom."
"Prom?"
"It is this American –"
"I know what it is Nijimura-san. I just assumed you would not be interested in things of that sort."
"Well I had to attend..."
"You must have been cute."
Wonder mixes to cringe as Nijimura responds,
"You are probably the only person to ever call me that."
"I doubt it. Also, I think you would dance well if someone taught you properly..."
"Oh, is that an offer?"
"Would you want it to be?"
"I don't know... wouldn't it be boring?"
"Maybe. Maybe not."
Akashi chuckles quietly and makes a note somewhere in his mind to teach Nijimura how to dance when they both have some free time, he can hear the silent steps then and in a few seconds as expected strong arms wrap around his waist from behind and he can feel the heat of his lover's body invade his own figure from behind, his hands do not stop in their meticulous art though.
Soon their bodies start to move in synch, pressed onto each other, Akashi's slow swings guiding Nijimura's and he can feel the warm breath over his ear. Track changes, Op 72 No 1, Akashi realises at the back of his mind and Nijimura pauses for a second, putting the smallest of distance to realign himself, his arms loosen around Akashi's waist and Akashi soon feels the soft breath on his nape instead, a kiss is bestowed; it is chaste, it is loving, it is terribly sensual and openly asexual – it brings a smile of contentment to his face and his heart floats over the peace that has filled his chest to the brim.
The keys that started slow and slowed down their bodies start rising, just as how some poignant thoughts can rise to become unbearably beautiful and passionate with the advancing hours of night, a sigh of pleasure escapes his lips as his fingers securely close the lid of the small glass jar that now holds his newest concoction. He regards the cursive letters he wrote less than half an hour ago on the fancy label of the jar, 'Nocturne' it says, Nijimura gives another tender kiss to his nape, notes start slowing down again...
It was his mother who taught him how to write cursive. Akashi was about five and had to study English, French, and Japanese, reading proved to be easy for his brilliant mind but writing was difficult for his unused and probably unready hand muscles. He was fascinated by his mother's beautiful joint-up writing of Latin letters the first time he saw it, asked for the reason why they looked so different than the printed block letters he was used to seeing.
"Because they look prettier like this, don't they?" she had said, "It is so that writing is beautiful."
Beauty.
Beauty is in itself a quality, a reason enough 'why'. Just as the Little Prince concludes – it was again his mother who gave him that book, wasn't she? He was about five and had just learnt how to read and his mother gave him a marvellous translation of the Little Prince and instilled a fondness for cursive scripts of the foreign tongues he was trying to conquer and his father gave him a newspaper to read instead and asked him to fix his pronunciation.
It was the zeal to create something beautiful, the faith his mother put in him that had nothing to do with the 'Akashi' name or familial duty but pure parental affection and interest, the afternoons spent curled up near her on the sofa with a notebook on his lap trying again and again, the lopsided loops and italics with random angles, the successful but ugly letters his tiny fingers could manage that she smiled and kissed him for... That's how he learnt it.
"It looks pretty."
"Huh?"
"The label. You wrote it?"
"Yes."
"It looks like those stylish Hallmark cards back in the States..."
The notes die down only to transition into another one, Op 27 No 2, Akashi notes silently and nods,
"My mother taught it to me. Cursive script."
Nijimura hums and nods, Akashi can feel him nod in how his dipped forehead moves and touches the back of Akashi's head, then another slow movement, another soft kiss on his nape.
Akashi smiles, keys speed up, he puts down the jar in his hand onto the surface of his kitchen counter and turns his body around, Nijimura's arms still lazily resting around his waist, his own arms rise and touch the shoulders of the man in front of him and when he looks at the face of this person, he can see the warmth of love clouding the grey orbs. When Nijimura is calm, his neutral expression is not a soft smile or peacefully lined lips but an aloof gesture that a stranger could either identify as nonchalance or indifference. In fact, it is closer to a scowl than a smile. It is quirky in its own way and amuses Akashi, makes him smile, so he smiles and when he smiles he can see the momentary glint in the eyes closely focused on his face. Their bodies move slightly faster then, slightly longer to each side, and Nijimura dips his head forward so that their foreheads touch and his eyes close, almost instinctively his arms tighten a little more...
"You are not so bad at dancing, I knew it..." Akashi mumbles,
"Does this count as dancing?" Nijimura responds in a whisper,
"Yes, I think so..."
"If you say so..." Nijimura relents, pulling the other closer to him, Akashi shifts to lean in further and to the side, he presses his face on the other's chest softly,
"She loved dancing..."
Nijimura nods and hums in acknowledgement; there is no need to ask who, there is no need to comment further on it – Akashi appreciates how Nijimura seems to understand it all, silently.
He understands, because he knows what it is to lose a loved one – he knows it better than Akashi does certainly, for Akashi was too young to fully comprehend the loss, there are still parts painfully missing and the mourning that never truly happened haunts him in the oddest times.
But it is nice like this, reminiscing about the beautiful moments in a warm embrace, sharing thoughts and feelings that were once forcefully buried alive into the depths of his mind lest they become weaknesses... It is nice like this, in Nijimura's arm, it is comforting, healing even though the wounds are so old that there is nothing but scar tissue left behind them...
It is nice like this, he thinks, and they stay like that, entangled and moving to the flow of the calm music for another ten minutes or so until the last two songs of his playlist of Chopin's Nocturnes come to an end.
It is nice like this.
He is standing in front of Akashi's door, ready to go for a breakfast together like they had planned, finally a free weekend for both of them since the start of the new term, when the unthinkable happens. Akashi's door opens to reveal someone who is certainly not Akashi. Hair dripping wet, cheeks slightly reddened from warm shower, a large towel wrapped securely around their waist and a smaller towel around their neck going down to the chest on both sides but not long enough to cover their bare nipples… There stands Mibuchi Reo in all their graceful glory but with an extra shine courtesy of sensuality water bestows upon one right after a bath. Nijimura's upper lip naturally moves to the side and he frowns.
"You will get wrinkles at a young age if you continue scowling like an old man. It would be pitiful too, you are hot."
"Is Akashi home?"
"Obviously."
'Obviously'? This damned vixen.
Nijimura sighs and forces his way in rather ungracefully, but then who cares about the etiquette when your boyfriend is home alone with a stunning half naked and literally wet beauty.
Yes, Akashi is now his boyfriend. The word is still relatively foreign but he is getting used to it, now if he could stop feeling awkward every time he even thinks of the word.
"Where is Akashi?" Nijimura asks because the redhead is certainly not in the living room.
"In the shower." Reo replies, eyebrows wiggling and lips grinning.
Nothing has happened, or rather nothing that would constitute infidelity has happened, Nijimura is certain of that much but it does not help contain his frustration with the situation.
Nijimura sits without any words, eyes trained on Reo, scowl intact and defiant. Reo giggles in response.
"You are mad aren't you?"
"Would you be mad?"
"Oh I would throw a huge tantrum and start smashing his furniture around while wailing loudly and calling him awful names."
Nijimura cannot veil his surprise at the answer which seems to amuse Reo even more,
"I am serious. Don't look so suspicious. I can be extremely jealous. I mean, I am not even his partner but I am jealous of you."
"You are jealous of me?"
In Nijimura's mind if someone has to be jealous here, it is certainly his role and not Reo's. First and foremost of all, Reo is dashing, bewitchingly beautiful in a very fitting androgynous sense. He has also learnt that the tall beauty is from a renowned and wealthy family, even if they are not in the same league as Akashi's, but that's expected. Reo must be very intelligent too for they are attending Kyodai and seeing how nonchalantly they take abrupt vacations during school term (like right now, for example), they are not barely making it as Nijimura is despite all his studiousness. It doesn't help that Reo is stylish, charming, funny, and Akashi is very, very fond of them.
Reo laughs, genuinely entertained,
"You don't believe me?"
"It just does not make sense to me."
"Hmm… Are you underestimating yourself or overestimating me? Should I be happy about this? I am not sure. But wait, are you actually jealous of me?"
"Not really."
It is actually the truth; his current frustration is more about a territorial instinct and a yearning for some sorely missed exclusive attention than real jealousy. Nor is he envious of Reo – for after all, despite the clear inclination the tall beauty shows, Akashi has chosen him over Reo. But he is fully aware of his own inadequacies in life versus others' strengths and he has to admit that from an objective perspective Akashi's decision does not make much sense. So logically, if one had to be jealous or envious, it would have to be him, not Reo, even if he will not be so because of the way his character is.
Reo smiles,
"Good, because there is no reason you should be."
Reo sits on the other side of the sofa, just at the edge of the part that makes an L shape, they regard each other silently but when Nijimura is about to speak up, the bathroom door creaks quietly. Akashi comes out in his bathrobe, pure white that contrasts the wet strands of his carmine hair beautifully.
"You are early Nijimura-san."
"Good morning to you too."
Akashi smiles,
"Let me dress up and then we can leave. Reo, don't walk around like that, it is a bit chilly, you will catch a cold."
Nijimura's eyes widen for a second and if he has not realised the tiny devilish smirk that tugged to one end of Akashi's lips as he turns towards his bedroom, he would wonder just what the hell is wrong with Akashi's priorities – but oh, that smirk explains a lot, nothing is wrong with Akashi's priorities, he has just developed a passive sadistic streak and simply enjoys tormenting Nijimura in subtle ways. Reo cackles but his gaze is rather wistful,
"And you are surprised I am jealous of you."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Do you ever see Sei-chan being a cheeky brat like that with anyone? Anyone? Sarcastic, sure. Polite, always. Calculative, at all times. Perhaps joking, now and then, perhaps. But a playful little imp? Never."
Nijimura blinks at the revelation,
"I am not sure if that is supposed to compliment me?"
"Well it should. It just shows how intimately he likes you."
Nijimura contemplates for a moment about that point and it actually makes some sense, but he does not feel sharing his agreement with Reo,
"Why are you here anyway?"
"Oh and you are asking this now? Aren't you supposed to yell that question the moment you find a half naked maiden of sublime beauty in your lover's abode?"
Nijimura is dumbfounded with that response,
"A maiden?"
"Really? That's the part that got your attention? Oh, perhaps you are interested?"
Nijimura's cheeks turn slightly pink before he can even control it, he's certainly bemused,
"What the..."
"You know I had expected you to grow nice but you've turned out even hotter. And wow, who would think that you could maintain such a nice lean figure even after leaving the spotlights of the court?"
Nijimura gapes,
"Are you... are you actually flirting with me?"
Reo almost purs, "Am I? Or am I not? Or do you want me to?" and winks.
A wink.
A fucking wink.
"You are... joking right?"
Reo bursts into laughter and almost doubles over,
"Of course I am joking... I am naturally flirtatious but I am not planning on dying any time soon for transgression and treason you know."
"What?"
"Sei-chan may not be jealous at all but can be staunch about those daring to attempt conquer what is his."
"Really?"
"Well, it is more of a theory for now since we never had the chance to actually observe it in the wild. But now that you two are an item, we will have the fortune, right? Ah, I really want to see him in his full-on vengeful god mode."
"Reo."
The duo on the sofa turn towards the door to find an impeccably dressed Akashi Seijūrō, arms crossed over his chest, eyes chiding,
"Ah Sei-chan, you're already ready?"
"Yes and you are still half naked. I hope you will not make us wait?"
"No worries, no worries, I'll get ready in five, I promise!"
As Reo rushes towards the bathroom grabbing a small carry-on baggage that was sitting right near the door, Nijimura stares at Akashi,
"He is coming with us?"
"Is that a problem?"
"Maybe. Yes. No. Whatever. When is he leaving?"
"Tomorrow."
Nijimura sighs in frustration.
He has every right to be frustrated too, not only does he have to share the precious little alone time he has with his lover with Reo, but they wait not just five but fifteen minutes for Reo to be ready. Brunch starts off fine, small talk and some half-joking half-serious snide comments back and forth between himself and the beauty, Akashi's remarks about the food like a seasoned gourmet... He is not sure how or exactly when but by the time the brunch has come to an end and they are lazily returning back to Akashi's apartment, there is certain rigidity to the way Reo acts. Flirtatious words don't stop but there is a way they stare at Akashi now and then, with a profound yearning mixed with guilt and flickers of satisfaction. It is bizarre and Nijimura cannot explain it.
When Reo suggests watching a film together instead of Nijimura leaving after grabbing some books he had apparently left at Akashi's apartment, Akashi is already aware that there is more to it. He chooses to ignore though, fully conscious about how much of an effort this whole affair is taking on Reo's part; friendly possessiveness, long-held yearnings for a possible future someday, basic jealousy, joy for a dear friend's contentment, taunting insecurities about the strength of a bond that has taken years to mould... Akashi comprehends them all and thus perhaps does not mind spoiling Reo a bit, after all Reo was the one who stood by him even when others were afraid of him. Sure, most of it was superficial awe at the beginning but what they eventually came to build between them is a real thing: it is true friendship, camaraderie, watching each other's backs and understanding certain parts of each other that the others cannot.
How terrifying it must be to lose that special position in someone's life. Akashi does not know, he has never had to endure anything like it. His pining and obsession around Kuroko had never been similar because they were never so close in the first place – it was absolutely and mockingly one-sided.
He expects the night to bring nothing but further frustration to his friend and perhaps to Nijimura, but he relents. Sometimes the bad things should occur so that one can learn a good lesson from them.
Film starts and he sits between Nijimura and Reo.
"You are a fan of Aronofsky, aren't you?" Nijimura asks absent-mindedly as he sips from his coke,
"Yes. But I have never watched this one, since it is supposed to be an 'epic love story'." Akashi replies and realises Nijimura shift in his spot a little self-consciously, Reo interjects,
"Oh come on Sei-chan, most great pieces of literature out there handle such matters..."
"Sure and I can be fond of them if they are of high quality but most mainstream works are either not, or even if they are, they are interpreted problematically."
"What do you mean?" Nijimura asks a little curious,
"Take Romeo and Juliet. It is never meant to be an ideal love story, a glorification of the obsessive infatuation the two leads share. Yet it is in general interpreted as such."
"Sei-chan, please, stop talking like that and focus on the film."
Akashi sighs and turns his attention to the screen, Nijimura's arm brushes his – in all accounts it seems like an accidental touch, but it is not, he is aware.
As the film progresses Akashi's attention becomes more and more focused, perhaps he should have given more credit to Aronofsky, Clint Mansell as well, there is a certain breathtaking quality to the cinematography, the symbolism-rich complex narrative provokes his thoughts, and the music is simply otherworldly. He has always liked beautiful things and intricate things – what could be better when they are both together?
But there is discomfort in his stomach that grows slowly; he hopes that paying less attention to it and not sparing a glance at Nijimura will allow the origin of said discomfiture to be diminished. As the credits roll, Nijimura sighs, stays still for a few seconds longer and then stands up abruptly and walks to the bedroom, shutting the door behind him in swiftly but silently. All without a single word.
So much for hoping it would not go this way; it is not as if his mind and intuition have not warned him. He should have listened to them.
Akashi turns to Reo, who is curled up on the sofa, knees pressing to the chest, eyes gleaming with remnants of the tears shed in the saddest moments of the film,
"Don't look at me like that."
"Like how Reo?"
"Full of blame."
"You had watched it before, hadn't you?"
"It is a beautiful film."
"It is, indeed. But you should not have. You should have known you should not have."
"I didn't think he would be so upset to leave liked that to be honest… I thought he would be only mildly irritated."
"You think he is vexed because of the love aspect?"
"He is not?"
There is true surprise in Reo's eyes, Akashi sighs,
"No. It is death that vexes him. Losing a loved one, not wanting to lose a loved one, hating death. It hits too close to home for him."
"I–"
"You did not think. You focused only on your own feelings and only on love. There is more to us than that. And when I say 'us', I mean us all. So you should think, the next time."
"You are really fond of him, aren't you?"
"Yes. I am."
Silence befalls them and Reo gives a sigh of fatigue. They stand up, stretching their limbs awkwardly,
"I think I will leave... for a hotel tonight. My train is early tomorrow anyway."
"You don't have to."
"I know but I don't want to see it. I don't want to witness you comforting him all night. I have never seen you comfort anyone sweetly but I am sure you will with him and I don't think I could bear it. I am still jealous."
Akashi nods in understanding.
"It is pathetic isn't it?"
"It is not pathetic, it is complex. Complex is not bad. I understand that this is foreign for you. It is... foreign for me as well."
"Is it? You rarely touch anyone yet you touch him so naturally, nonchalantly, full of affection."
Akashi nods again but it is as if he is nodding to a thought of himself than to Reo's words,
"I'll go see him. Take care then."
"Sei-chan..."
"Yes?"
"I am sorry."
Akashi smiles softly at the sincere apology, squeezes Reo's forearm with his hand for once before strutting towards the bedroom.
Nijimura has not turned on the light and is lying on the bed in darkness except the dim moonlight that seeps through the window into the room, drapes not properly shut. He sits near Nijimura and combs the tousled, inky hair with his fingers.
"I am pathetic…" Nijimura murmurs, Akashi almost feels like smiling at the comment.
"You are not."
"I am. It has been two years... and I cannot even..."
"I hate hospitals."
Nijimura's eyes turn to regard his face and Akashi continues with a tender voice, whispering his confession resolutely but without stripping the inherent hesitancy of the feelings involved,
"I hate hospitals. Not that most people like them but I specifically hate them because the last I remember of my mother is in a hospital bed. I was not allowed to visit her regularly... Her illness... advanced very fast too, she died so soon."
"I am sorry..." Nijimura mumbles and squeezes Akashi's other hand that rests on his lap,
"I was a child. I did not understand much. Yet I continue to irrationally hate hospitals. I cannot even imagine what you went through, spending so many years in and out of hospital. Two years? You are worried about that? There is nothing more normal than you to despise hospitals, diseases, death…"
"But it is stupid because they are all inevitable... That was the whole point of the film, wasn't it?"
"Yes it was and it was also the whole point of the film that the humans are irrational, that we cannot accept our inevitable end so easily. Don't be unfair to yourself."
Nijimura sighs and Akashi slowly reclines on the bed near him, instead of his hand, now his head touches the other's softly, leaning in, their fingers interlace between their bodies,
"Akashi, I am afraid I will never be able to move on..."
"I do not think it is about 'moving on'. Isn't it about acceptance? That life is death and death is life in a sense."
Nijimura turns to bury his face on Akashi's crimson hair,
"How do you accept it though? How do you do that? Family altars? Photos of the dead? Because trust me, that has not worked for me yet..."
"I believe very few of us will actually ever be wise enough to fully accept it. I think it is fair to be fearful of it and lose ourselves to that turmoil sometimes. But most times, honouring the dead is yes, one way, a certain way which I wish my father followed too... But there is more to it. Like understanding the worth of 'now' and 'here', grasping the moment because all we have is the moment. We don't live in the past. We don't live in the future. All we can ever be sure of is this moment and thus savour it."
Akashi pauses for a moment then gives a soft huff of chuckling, "I remember someone saying something similar to me actually?"
"It is one thing to say and believe and another to actually live it," Nijimura admits, "so what do we do then? How do we just…"
"This, for example. We do this. We lie on a bed and savour peace. We go for Hanami tomorrow. And when the winter comes, we could go out for the first snow..."
"You are awfully romantic for a person who is aromantic."
Akashi smiles,
"I am a little sentimental at times, I will have to admit, though I would not call it being 'romantic'."
"Whatever you wish..." Nijimura whispers and starts to drop soft kisses on Akashi's neck, who languidly watches the full moon from the large window of his bedroom.
"We could go for Tsukimi too... come Autumn." Akashi whispers as Nijimura gently pulls down on Akashi's t-shirt to expose a little more of his left collar bone, baring part of his shoulder, and between tender kisses Nijimura mumbles,
"Sure, whatever you wish..."