Ash and Escape

'Hiroki?'

Akihiko was holding out something that nineteen-year-old Hiroki recognized, to his faint horror, as a cigarette. 'Want one?'

'No, I'm good', muttered the literature student, fighting the words that rose up next. Since it was a losing battle, 'you didn't tell me you'd started smoking…'

The reproach was evident, but Akihiko merely shrugged. 'Sorry, wasn't a big deal. It's just a convenient stress-buster right before deadlines.'

But I bet Takahiro knows anyway, doesn't he? Hiroki said nothing, looking away and at his knees. For all his yearning to see his childhood friend—which seemed to grow stronger as they grew further apart—he now suddenly wished Akihiko would leave him alone.

'That means you have a deadline to meet right now, doesn't it?' he said quietly to his feet. 'Go finish writing.' Then, if you have any use left for me—any at all—please come back.

'I'm done writing for today', Akihiko said offhandedly, taking out a lighter with an ease that must have come after weeks of practice. You never told me you started smoking. I never saw you smoking.

How long has it been since you last came to see me? Do I even remember? Do you?

'I want to sleep.' Akihiko sounded genuinely weary. 'Let me borrow your bed for a while, all right?'

'Go do something about that reclusive nature of yours', Hiroki said reflexively, voice rough but unenthusiastically so. 'What do you think my apartment is for, stupid rabbit?'

The rabbit in question twitched a long ear. 'Speaking of reclusive natures… I'm not the one who spends every day of every month either in school or at home.'

That's because you get dragged out by your editor, or you go to meet Takahiro…except I spend far more time away from my apartment than you suspect. I just don't do it at a time when you're likely to find out, even though I know you'll never just drop in.

I wish I could hate you.

'I have enough things to take up my time', Hiroki replied, choosing his words with little care. 'I don't need to run to others only when I have to use them for something.' He got to his feet and began making his way to the kitchen, uncertain as to what he wanted but searching for something to keep himself occupied. 'Just go to bed.'

With his back to Akihiko, the silence seemed to stretch on interminably. It was only when Hiroki felt the cool heaviness of a hand on his shoulder that he realized it had not been a wholly empty sort of quiet.

The author's voice was unbearably close to Hiroki's ear. 'Hiroki…you're upset?' It reverberated with the innocent concern that he could expect from no one else, but it was also filtered through the wisps of cigarette smoke that now wafted around them, blameless in their tight tension.

What was your first clue? Hiroki thought bitterly, as some part of him chanted maniacally, yes, I'm so very upset. Cheer me up. Cheer me up. Cheer me up. 'I'm fine.'

'You're not', Akihiko insisted. A faint tugging told the smaller man that the usagi was trying to turn him around, to make eye contact, but he stayed where he was. His bare hands flitted robotically over the kitchen counter, toying with a butter knife; his threadbare thoughts strayed to the bedroom where a pair of dark gloves nestled comfortably in a drawer. He needed their warmth right now. It wasn't the first time Akihiko's touch had chilled him. It wasn't, by far, the first time the gloves had warmed him.

'I'm fine', he repeated. 'Go to sleep. Aren't you sleepy?'

'Hiroki, listen to me.'

Like I can stop listening to you.

'What is it?' he muttered miserably, willing his voice not to crack. Praying that the shaking of his body was not reaching Akihiko through the hand that still rested on his shoulder. He told himself that his eyes were stinging only because of the acrid burn of the cigarette smoke.

'You need to get out more. That's what's wrong with you. I never see you go anywhere but school.'

You don't see me go to school. You don't see me come home from school. Don't fucking kid yourself. Hiroki closed his eyes and gave up on trying to control his trembling entirely.

'Are you still listening?' Akihiko asked softly.

'Yeah', the brunet whispered with every ounce of effort he could muster.

'You know, I keep getting invited to all these idiotic parties that I hardly ever attend… how about I take you to one of them?'

The words took some time to pierce Hiroki's consciousness fully. "I keep getting invited…idiotic parties…take you…to one of them…?"

What?

'What are you talking about?' he asked finally, his voice as unsteady as his legs. A rush of breath landed on his neck as Akihiko sighed.

'It's better than being cooped like this, and you might even meet some interesting people. It's fine if you don't want to go—I'm just trying to help, you know.'

Go to a party with you?

With only you?

'I'll go', he said immediately. The obvious question of whether or not Takahashi Takahiro would also be attending danced over him, but he ignored it. My happiness hangs by too fragile a strand as it is.

My happiness…since when has it depended on you so completely?

'You will? Really?' Akihiko said, the surprise evident in his words as well as the squeeze of his hand as it lifted from Hiroki's shoulder. 'That's good.' Hiroki tried to hear a smile in his voice and almost succeeded. He did not turn around.

'Go to sleep, Akihiko', he said, almost pleading now. 'I—I have work to do.'

'If you say so', the taller man said lightly. 'But I'm holding you to your promise.'

Go away. Please stay.

I can't be around you anymore. I want to be by your side always.

When did I become like this?

His eyes followed Akihiko to the bedroom; watched him slip effortlessly into the bed like it was his own, toss his glasses onto a nearby table, and close his eyes. The cigarette had disappeared at some point without him realizing.

He counted to two hundred and ran for the door.

oOo

'Hiroki?'

'Yeah?' he responded acidly, giving away none of the several frantic thoughts running through him as Akihiko leaned closer. The usagi's deep violet eyes were wide but held no surprise, only an unsettled question.

'Hiroki, are you drunk?'

Hiroki snorted. Just my luck. 'Not quite. When did you see me drinking tonight, anyway?'

'I hardly saw you not drinking', Akihiko said heatedly, though his gaze seemed dispassionate. 'Even if you weren't reeking of the stuff right now, you had a glass in your hand all evening. I think I saw you taking it to the bathroom, even.' His voice came down heavily on 'bathroom'.

The brunet fought to conceal his flush of anger and mortification. That's the one time you chose to see me? Heading for the bathroom with—

'I was actually looking for a place to throw it away', he said stiffly. 'It turned out to a be a bit strong.'

'I'm sure', said his friend, shrugging. 'I'm sure Namikawa was also going there for the exact same reason.' His eyes flit off to the side, towards the entrance of the building they were leaving, then settled on Hiroki's indignant face again. 'I know it's no business of mine—'

'Then shut up.' Hiroki was no mood for bullshit; his head ached, his throat was on fire, and he'd drunk a great deal more than he'd given Akihiko to understand. 'You know it's no business of yours, right? If so, don't fucking ask.'

'You didn't tell me—'

'That you'd started smoking', Hiroki finished smoothly. 'We're even. Now shut up and let me—walk.' He'd been about to say let me concentrate on my walking, he thought, biting his tongue. Akihiko may know full well how much he'd had to drink before he could let Namikawa so much as touch him, but the idiot didn't need confirmation.

'Do you need help?' the usagi asked unexpectedly, looking away.

Stop it, stop it, stop it.

'I'm fine.' It came out a lot sharper than it was supposed to, but even through his bleary eyes Hiroki could not deceive himself into seeing any hurt on Akihiko's face. Don't touch me. The alcohol was what seemed to be setting his veins on fire. Yeah, it was the alcohol, he though fiercely.

'You're not fine', Akihiko said softly, making a swift motion as though to catch hold of his friend. Hiroki shied away almost on reflex; the thought of the hopelessly ignorant usagi touching him now was less welcome that the thought of touching a raw wound. Don't touch me! He would not let the sober, somewhat startled Akihiko support his stumbling legs all the way to the train station. Not even if his sudden movement had upset his balance and he was now tottering alarmingly on his feet.

Not even if he was going to fall, declaring to the world exactly how much he'd drunk before he could let Namikawa screw him senseless with Akihiko just twenty yards away.

Not even if Akihiko was now standing over his spread-eagled body, face blank, outstretched hand cold and unreadable.

Not Akihiko...

'Don't', he spat. The burn of his grazed elbows joined the alcohol that was coursing through him; he began scrambling away on his hands and knees, trying to get to his feet on his own despite his sudden nausea. Get away from me. 'Don't touch me!'

The author made no move to close in on him, but something in his eyes shuttered into darkness. He turned away and the slump of his shoulders pulsed in a sigh.

'Hiroki.'

Hiroki's eyes stung too. He was heartily sick of hurting all over; the unabashed concern and equally unbridled ignorance in Akihiko's voice was just another slash of self-loathing that he had no capacity to deal with, and as much as he despised his current situation he knew that it would kill him if he tried to uncover Akihiko's emotions right now. He needed to get away.

Don't touch me, Akihiko.

'Bye', he choked out. 'Good night.' With a superhuman effort, he heaved himself up on his feet and began half-stumbling, half-running in the opposite direction. His head spun, but his vision was not so unclear as to betray him; he prayed he would lose Akihiko in the side alleys of the roads so he could drag himself home in peace.

He could still hear that worry-laced voice behind him, clear but growing fainter. Hiroki! Hiroki, stop! You'll hurt yourself! Heavy footfalls. Akihiko would probably be unable to outrun him even with sobriety on his side; the brunet had an athletic childhood to thank for that. He increased his pace, fighting the bile that was searing the back of his throat. 'Stop following me!' he tried to yell over his shoulder, but his breaths were growing short already and the words fizzled out in the night air. Like he would listen.

A ludicrous image of Akihiko running came to his mind—the usagi was fast, but not as fast as Hiroki, and his floppy rabbit ears somehow lent a comic air to the whole thing. The first time he'd seen Akihiko run as a child, he'd said as much. Akihiko hadn't cared.

Idiot.

It was definitely the cold that was making his eyes water. He rounded a corner.

It really is cold. I can feel it even though I'm burning. Every gulp of air was chilling him from the inside out, while the alcohol raged in him from the outside in. He shook his head, willing away his dizziness as the pounding in his temples intensified.

Akihiko's cries were drawing closer.

Not Akihiko.

Hide. I can't run, but I can hide. The world wasn't spinning just yet and he desperately hoped it wouldn't start now—he just needed an alley, a corner, someplace dark where he could disappear in the shadows and pray that Akihiko would just run past. He could wait for his animal fear to dissipate and try to make it back on his own.

Anything—and he was sure of this, drunk or not—would be better than spending one more moment under Akihiko's curious gaze.

I need to get away.

If he so much as tripped, it would be over. He could either run as fast his legs could carry him or not be sick, but it was too much to hope for both now; he had to run, he he could not stop—

'Hiroki!'

No, his heart screamed, almost sobbing.

As he his legs began to slow, he let the first tear fall.

Something enormous—something sky-black and swift—materialized before him, seemingly out of nowhere. Before he had time to focus on this apparition, their eyes met; a powerful pair of arms was thrown around him and he found himself hoisted over a broad shoulder, knocking out of his lungs the little remaining air he had left. He had no wind to fight or even shout as the man broke into a fluid run.

What—

He took several frantic breaths before calling out wildly, 'Who the hell are you? Where are you taking me?'

'It doesn't matter', came the gasping reply. 'And I don't know anyway!'

Hiroki was so absurdly thankful for his assailant's speed that he could not bring himself to be indignant just yet. He hung limply over the stranger's shoulder and closed his weary eyes against the sidewalk that seemed to fly away from them. Anything is better.

Thank you. He found that he did not care very much why he had been whisked away by someone he had never seen; the man was running like his life depended on it, his breaths loud and heavy and warm. His whole body seemed quite warm. It was probably the exertion, Hiroki thought absently, still faint with relief despite his underlying agitation.

I don't know where we're going or who you are, but it's okay. We're getting away from Akihiko.

Akihiko...

Too exhausted to care, Hiroki kept his eyes closed and gave up holding back his tears. He could only hope the faceless stranger would not reach his destination any time soon. As they tore through the streets of Tokyo like the wet streaks on his face, the brunet could have sworn that, in the brief instant the two of them had locked gazes, he had seen bright blue.