Ren (nekoziruishi) wrote in jrock_fanfics,

1092 - Yasu(ABC) x Akira Nakayama (Plastic Tree)

Title: 1092
Genre: drama
Bands: ABC (Acid Black Cherry), Plastic Tree
Pairing: Akira Nakayama/Yasu
Warinings: malexmale, mention of sex, AU, one-shot
Rating: PG
Discalimer: Sadly enough I still don't own them, but I'm not giving up! and also everything I wrote is a mere FICTION.
Don't look at me.
Please, don't.
Don't look at me that way.
Please, don't feel guilty, please.
He caresses my cheek and shut his eyes, to prevent tears from falling.
I'm sorry, Yasu.

Author's Note: Well...I don't really know what to say apart from please enjoy (if possible) and that english is not my first language so if you see any mistakes is due to that, but also to my stupidity -.-" ok then, if you feel like it leave a comment!

Don't look at me.
Please, don't.
Don't look at me that way.
Please, don't feel guilty, please.
He caresses my cheek and shut his eyes, to prevent tears from falling.
I'm sorry, Yasu.


His arm slips behind my neck, his grip tightens. I hide my face in the elegant curve of his pale neck,  while he talks I want to imprint his scent in my memory.
I don't want to forget this moment.


My hands run from his shoulders, down to his slim waist and rest there, his hand grips the fabric of my blue t-shirt, we hold each other desperately looking for comfort.

“Yasu, I love you”

I can feel him tremble in my arms. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Forgive me. I know I promised, I know, but I didn't get the chance to choose, not this time. Forgive me.


Our guilt disappears as the number of clothes we wear lessen, we leave all behind, out of the door of this room, because we don't need it. Guilt, morals, fear, everything that kept us from doing this all this years.

Sitting in his car Toshi waits for the green light of the traffic-light. While the radio plays Mika Nakashima's last hit he looks out of the window.

We drive away all the unneeded thoughts, we don't need to think.
There's none any more, there's nothing any more that matters.
Pale yellow sheets fall on the floor and I try my best not to think about the one that shers them with you every night.

Toshi is alone in his car. On the passenger seat there's his bag. He opens it, still waiting for the green light, and draws out a little velvet black box.

Nothing matters but his skin under my fingertips.

Inside the little box there is a ring. He smiles knowing that it's stupid, that is foolish, but he bought it anyway.

Nothing but his eyes, teary because of both pleasure and pain.

Finally the green light, Toshi puts the box back and focuses on the street again.
He wants to be home as soon as he can.

Nothing but his nails drawing my back. Between moans and screams he calls my name, over and over.

And it takes only a second...

Before I head out Yasu hugs me again.

“We have to tell him”

I nod hugging him back.

“We'll work I out”

He nods stepping back in the entrance wrapping himself in the oversized sweater.

I wake up suddenly.
I'm sweating and my hands are trembling.
I try to catch my breath then I get up.
In the bathroom I don't turn on the light, I was my face and peek at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. It's almost 2 a.m.
Three years ago my brother's car was smashed by a huge track that didn't stop when he had to.
And, what was I, his beloved little brother, doing while he died? I was fucking my brother's lover. Ironic, isn't it?
In the kitchen I get a glass of water.

1902 days ago my brother was being pulled out from his smashed car and on the grey asphalt of an unknown crossroad he was dying. Someone decided that his eyes wouldn't open anymore, that his heart wouldn't beat anymore, and that he wouldn't breathe the rotten air of this city.

1902 days ago I was fucking the love of his life, that, for a sick twist of fate he is also the love of my life.

If I wasn't this involved I'd probably laugh my ass off hearing this story. Come on, is it even possible to be this unlucky? This is real life not a soap-opera!
I leave the glass in the sink and go back to my room to dress up. After such a dream I don't hope to fall asleep again.
After the accident I was the one who kept looking for Yasu, pestering him with my presence. At first  I just comforted him while he cried his heart out, then I had to put up with his anger and his accusations, I was the target of all the anger he held towards himself and the world, of his guilt, and of his helplessness.
I couldn't understand why he would feel that guilty. Was he driving that fucking track? Did he design the brake that didn't work as they were supposed to?
1092 days ago my life took a wrong turn and I started walking on a dark road and I still do.
Now, for example, at 2 o'clock in the morning I'm heading out. I walk quickly on the side of the  street trying to rise my body temperature, I left my jacket home, I don't need it, because my destination it's just at the end of the street.
I ring the bell of a nice condo, the third bell on the left and I wait.
Nobody answers, there's just the crackling of the entry phone and the dry click of the door.
I take the elevator and get off at the third floor where an already wide open door waits for me.
The lights are turned off, but I don't need them.
After the anger came the resignation, after the resignation came indifference, and now that marvellous body once full of life became a shell of pain and death.
The door of his room is open.
I see his slender figure laying on the bed, motionless, his eyes shut.
I'd sell my soul before hurting him.
I had always thought so.
From the moment I'd wake up in the morning, till the moment I went to bed in the evening, I always had that in mind, like a nail driven in mi mind that wouldn't come out no matter what.
I'd love this man until my last breath.
A love so intense that would burn my eyes.
I never saw anything else, anyone else, there wasn't anyone else to see.
I'm just fooling my self by hoping this thing I keep calling love will fix our broken selves?

1092 days ago I lost the possibility to love Yasu out of this bed.
I sit on the edge of the bed and gently kiss his lips.
He quivers.
I undo the buttons of his pyjama and caress his pale skin gently. I can feel it under my fingertips, his body temperature rising, the desire awakening.
When he opens his eyes I know he's ready. Our lips met, and our touches become frenetic.
It looks more like a fight than an act of love.
We are two wounded beasts that don't want to surrender.

1092 days ago I understood that embracing this man would be like embrace a block of ice, cold and inanimate. That what I could hope for was just a brief moment of  warmness between this sheets. I kept holding your cold body close to mine, always near my heart, is it so that the coldness penetrated it?
Sometimes I wish I could take you away from here, take you far far far away from here, somewhere where nobody knows us, were guilt, anger, memories don't exist, where there's nothing but the light of the sun and the darkness of the night. A place where living would not be this damn difficult, and where our shoulders would be free from the burden of our existence. But, in a place like that, Yasu, would love exist?
Where are you? Can you hear me? I hold him closer, but it feels like holding a cloud.

“I love you” I whisper, like an admonition to myself more than a real confession.

1092 days ago the word 'love' and all its declinations were banned between us.

“I love you, I love you, I love you...” it's like a melancholic song that grows from the depth of my own self.

“I love you, I love you, I love you...”

I close my eyes and rest my forehead at the nape of his neck. I feel his breath becoming heavier then it stops, abruptly.
They're like a ocean, boundless and deep, they are the awareness that erase our mistakes is impossible, that we can't go back on our step, they are remorse in front of the awareness that you could do better, that we could act differently, but we didn't and we consciously chose the wrong path. All this are Yasu's tears.

1092 days ago, we died to be born again in the light of this morning.

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