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jewelledhours2009-01-11 12:29 pm
catskilt.livejournal.com) wrote in jewelledhours2009-01-11 12:29 pm
Entry tags:
[Shige/Pi] A passing moment in yet another night like this
Title: A passing moment in yet another night like this [one-shot]
Pairing: Yamapi/Shige
Rating: NC-17
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
misticloud
Words: 2,737
Warnings: AU, possibly OOC
Summary: Yamashita picks Kato up one night at a gay bar.
A passing moment in yet another night like this
It’s nights like these, of darkened colours and heavy skies and saturated air, that Yamashita feels himself almost desperate with need. Most of the time he manages to keep himself in check, reminding himself – always – what might happen if he doesn’t, but nights like these he can’t.
He has heard rumours of The Bar before, scattered rumours carried around in low tones, some with derogatory snickers and others with breathless desire just peeking out over the rim of their words. He knows that a number of guys in his cohort alone are regular patrons of The Bar; he knows, too, that those who actually visit it never speak of it again for fear that too much talk will expose its secrets to a public looking for places to vent their bottled up fury. Bad times, his mother had said only last night after watching the evening news. Companies cutting down on jobs, graduates not finding employment, appreciating value of the yen…we’re going to see a lot of anger around here soon.
Yamashita has no doubt whatsoever of the potential chaos that will ensue if The Bar is ever exposed and thrown into the hungry hands of a ruthless press. He has no doubt, too, of what would happen to its patrons unlucky enough to be caught at the time of a raid. So he keeps his need to himself, covers it with a veneer of an on-off girlfriend, gentle flirtations at regular clubs, and Playboy magazines that his mum wishes he would stow away in the storeroom for fear of visitors tripping over them and getting all sorts of wrong impressions. He can safely say that his playacting has been pretty successful thus far; nobody has ever suspected him of being anything more than what he appears to be. But pressing down his need doesn’t make it go away.
Two years ago, when he’d given in for the first and only time, he’d thought that the experience would be enough to last him a lifetime, but tonight, he knows it’s nowhere near enough. This thing will keep haunting him, clawing at him, unless he does something about it. Now, he’s desperate enough to.
He gets up from his bed and throws on decent-looking clothes. Outside, his sister is watching some noisy variety show on TV and punctuating the comedians’ voices with fresh, girlish laughter. He pauses at the genkan to say, “I’m going out for a drink. Will be back late.”
“Okay,” his sister says, not turning her eyes from the TV.
Yamashita steps out into the night of heavy skies.
… …
It’ll be over soon, he thinks as he leans his head against the bus window, watching the city streets and car headlights passing by just below. A couple of hours at most and then it’ll be over for the next few years and when the next time comes, I’ll just have to deal with it again.
He folds his arms a little more tightly around himself. It suddenly feels very cold.
… …
It is, after all, not unlike any other bar, save for the glaring absence of women. There’s a guy singing a bluesy sounding song on stage, backed up with a guitarist who seems lost in his chords, and a bartender chatting to two customers. When Yamashita pushes open the door, men sitting around the room raise their eyes to take a look at him; they’re all waiting for prearranged appointments or some unscheduled partner that will fulfill their night’s desire. A few of them instantly look interested. Yamashita ignores them, takes a seat at the nearest empty table and waits for a waiter.
From behind, a young guy comes up and bumps his shoulder meaningfully as he passes. Yamashita doesn’t react and the guy doesn’t pursue.
“Welcome, sir,” says a waiter, materializing at his side with a very pretty smile. “May I have your order?”
“Gin and tonic, please,” Yamashita says.
The waiter nods and leaves, but not without throwing an appreciative look over his shoulder.
Yamashita continues sitting alone, idly surveying the scene before him, as the singer on stage launches into another song and two guys get up and walk out, hands entwined. In a darkened corner a couple already too drunk for caution is making out with hands roaming just shy of forbidden places. Yamashita sits very still. He’s not used to being around guys who are like him and he doesn’t really know what to do; feels almost repulsed at the openness of such a hidden desire.
Then one of the guys chatting to the bartender turns his head and meets his gaze almost directly. He’s somewhere between late teens and very early twenties, boyishly good-looking, with a slight, suggestive smile on his lips that makes the need inside Yamashita stir. He shifts a little in his seat and that’s all the signal the other boy requires, nodding to the bartender and his friend before rising and making his way towards Yamashita.
“Kato,” calls out a guy as he passes, “going for someone new tonight?”
“Still upset over last Tuesday, Mori-san?” Kato says congenially, his eyes on Yamashita, and Mori subsides without a word. Kato arrives at Yamashita’s table and sits down, making himself comfortable.
“Hey,” he says. “I’m Kato.”
“I’m Yamashita.”
Kato regards him for a smiling moment, then leans over and takes a sip out of his gin and tonic. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”
“This is the first time I’m here.” Yamashita isn’t sure if his voice is betraying his crazy desire to just grab Kato and find someplace where they can do whatever they like to each other.
Kato sits back and nudges Yamashita’s ankle under the table. It’s a light touch but even so it makes Yamashita swallow, and Kato notices. “There’s a hotel down the road that charges fairly and doesn’t discriminate,” he says.
Yamashita smiles. “Sounds about right.”
… …
A couple of hours, Yamashita finds himself thinking as they walk down the street, Kato a few steps ahead with his hands in his pockets. That’s all it takes, a couple of hours.
Then he looks at Kato, tall and slim in his well-fitting black turtleneck and stylishly cut jeans and thinks, almost mindlessly, maybe an hour or so more won’t do any harm.
… …
The hotel room is small and uninspired but neither of them notice as they make for the bed and almost collapse on it, Yamashita on top of Kato, pressing wet open-mouthed kisses on his face, jaw and neck before ravaging his mouth. Kato moans at the back of his throat and when Yamashita pulls away for a breather, he can feel Kato’s hardness against his thigh and almost aches with arousal.
“I don’t have…” he gasps.
“It’s okay, I do,” Kato assures him, then grinds his hips into Yamashita’s and the both of them speedily forget everything in favour of increasing the friction between their bodies. Friction so intense that Yamashita can’t think straight…it has never been like this before, never with Nanako,…not even that one time two years ago when he’d thought it couldn’t get any better than that…and then Kato is pulling off his turtleneck and his skin is warm and smooth and Yamashita can barely wait to remove all the clothes in the way, to wrap his arms around Kato and push into him so deeply that they won’t know if they’re two people or just one.
The two hours that follow are more sensual than Yamashita could have imagined. Kato spreads his legs open willingly, erection hard and red against his fair skin, and Yamashita slides all the way in, almost shaking when heat tightens around him and Kato sighs ever so softly, murmurs “Yamashita” before rolling his hips. Yamashita pulls out and thrusts back in, slowly at first then increasing in speed, Kato’s body sucking him in and releasing him time and again until he forgets every instance of the world around them, focuses only on aiming for the particular spot that causes Kato to groan and arch his back in the most beautifully erotic way that he has ever seen.
“Tomo,” he says breathlessly, bending his head to snake his tongue through Kato’s parted lips. They hold the kiss for as long as they can before Yamashita hits the spot again and Kato moans deeply, slamming his head against the mattress as he runs fevered fingers over Yamashita’s back. Yamashita inches a hand between them to wrap his fingers around Kato’s erection.
“Tomo,” he says again, “that’s my name.”
Kato nods, pulls his head down for another bruising kiss before moaning “Tomo” and Yamashita cries out, his head falling forward into Kato’s neck as he shudders, his orgasm hitting him so hard that it leaves him spent and trembling.
When he finally comes down, there’s a white sticky substance on their stomachs and he realises in a rush of pleasure, almost relief, that Kato must have come too. They lie against each other for a few moments, breathing deeply, before Yamashita pulls out and gets rid of his condom, then fetches a towel from the bathroom to wipe them down.
“There’s still time,” says Kato, his voice slow and lazy. “I’m not in a rush.”
“Neither am I,” says Yamashita, and lies back down beside him. It’s quiet, he suddenly realises, quiet outside, quiet inside, the thickness of quiet that you can only hear when it’s deep in the night and the universe seems asleep around you. “Strange,” he murmurs, “I don’t hear a single sound anywhere.”
Kato grins. “This hotel has good soundproofing. Another reason why it’s popular despite being less than high-class.”
A silence settles between them and Yamashita is okay with that, pillowing his head on his arm and listening to the surrounding lack of noise. He begins to lose himself in the quiet, basking in the afterglow and feeling the scattered thoughts and random work frustrations of the past week smoothing over, until he feels Kato’s fingers on his inner thigh and calls himself back into the solid present to find Kato touching his half-hard cock.
Yamashita blushes slightly, doesn’t quite know how to justify his evident overpowering need, but Kato just smiles at him. There’s something on his mind, Yamashita thinks, but doesn’t know what as Kato runs a thumb over the head and slides his hand up and down, teasing him back into full arousal. Still doesn’t know until Kato bends down and a hot wet tongue licks him from base to top and Yamashita almost wails, gripping the bedspread so tightly that his knuckles turn white.
Kato licks him a few more times, holding down his hips, before opening his mouth and taking him in. Yamashita can barely breathe, fighting the urge not to thrust as Kato fucks him expertly with his mouth, making certain movements with his tongue and throat that leaves Yamashita powerless to do anything but make incoherent noises. The sight alone of such a beautiful boy sucking him off makes the blood rush to his head and when Kato peers up from behind his eyelashes, cheeks flushed and mouth full, Yamashita loses it completely, fingers tightening on the sheets and moaning deeply as his second orgasm slams into him.
A moment later Kato scoots back up beside him and Yamashita turns over, drawing his head close and kissing him. He can taste his own come on Kato’s tongue and he sucks his lower lip gently before pulling away and whispering, “You’re pretty good.”
In response, Kato only returns his kiss.
… …
After a time Kato wants a smoke, so he digs out two cigarettes from his jeans pocket and lights up, passing one to Yamashita. They lean back on the pillows and smoke idly until Yamashita says, “Do you go to The Bar frequently?”
“Once or twice a fortnight,” says Kato. “When the desire gets too strong and I need someone.”
Yamashita nods; he completely understands.
“But otherwise, I have a couple of guys,” Kato continues, “partners. Sex buddies.”
Yamashita glances over at him. He’s blowing out smoke through his lips unconcernedly, as though it’s a normal and accepted fact that a guy should have sex buddies. “You…” Yamashita hesitates, “you’re in a relationship with them?”
Kato reaches out and taps his ash into the ashtray on the bedside table. “No,” he says, “I’m not in a relationship with anybody and hopefully I’ll never be.”
“Why not?”
Kato shrugs. “I don’t like women in that way and society doesn’t allow me to be with men, so I’ve trained myself not to fall for anyone. I couldn’t survive if I did. I’d always be wanting this and that, asking for more than what I’m supposed to get. So I refuse to let myself get serious.”
Yamashita says nothing, feeling a little part of his heart leave and settle down by the boy beside him saying all these sad words in such a matter of fact voice. He feels a strange compulsion to put his arms around Kato and hug him, tell him that there’s no need for such measures, that it’s okay to fall, that there’ll always be a way for things to work out. But, despite the intimacies of the night, they don’t really know each other and Yamashita isn’t one to be demonstrative towards strangers; besides, hasn’t he been suppressing his need for almost exactly the same reasons? All the things that he wants to say to Kato are simply instinctive words of comfort; he doesn’t believe in them himself. So he remains still, blowing out smoke and watching it curl and disappear into the air.
“What about you?” Kato asks. “Seeing anyone? Then again you were at The Bar so I hope you aren’t.”
“I have an on-off girlfriend,” says Yamashita. “Right now we’re off.”
Kato stubs out his cigarette and dumps it in the ashtray. “So does that mean that you’re no longer together?”
Yamashita shrugs. “I don’t know. I would break it off, but she won’t let me go.”
“Life,” Kato murmurs. “Just got to do the best with what we have, huh?”
“Yeah,” says Yamashita. “Sometimes, though, I wish I could break out of what life has for me. That’s when I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“That’s when you end up in a place like this, trying to fulfill your need for something more by being yourself.”
They’re only inches apart, but Yamashita pulls Kato closer and wraps an arm around his shoulder, leaning his cheek on Kato’s hair. Kato wriggles a bit, trying to get comfortable, and finally settles with his head on Yamashita’s chest. His breath is warm and soft on Yamashita’s skin, fingers light and caressing on his chest. Yamashita closes his eyes, wishes for more and more and more hours.
… …
They finally leave the hotel sometime after three o’ clock. The night is windy, almost cold, and Yamashita notices Kato pressing his hands to his cheeks in a bid to warm them. He hesitates a moment before taking off his jacket and holding it out to him. Kato looks at him quizzically.
“Don’t catch a cold,” Yamashita says.
“If I take it, that means we’ll have to meet again, right?” Kato raises an eyebrow.
Yamashita pauses. “I didn’t think of it in that way, but now that you mention it, maybe that’s exactly what I want.”
Kato laughs a little and shakes his head, taking a step back. “Rather than protecting me from a cold, protect me from yourself, Yamashita-san.”
Then Yamashita is once again suffocated with words, something about meeting up again in more regular, legitimate places than The Bar and a dingy pay-by-the-hour hotel, something about how Kato has managed to touch his heart with a few brief, toneless words and how he wants them to really get to know each other, to have many more hours together being themselves, but Kato has already turned his back.
It’s late, and the skies are heavy. Yamashita shoves his hands into his pockets and watches Kato walk further and further away. Another clandestine meeting over; two more unrelated people taking their leave from each other in this nighttime city of secrets and silence.
All it takes is a couple of hours, he thinks. Who would’ve thought…
It’s only after Kato disappears into the night that he turns towards the road and hails a cab to go home.
end
A/N: …This was a completely random idea and, uh, to my flist, this was the ‘Ginza’ story I was mentioning, only I did not use that cheesy title because it is not necessarily set in Ginza nor is it a love story, heh. I…apologise for the fail. Ack.
Pairing: Yamapi/Shige
Rating: NC-17
Author:
misticloudWords: 2,737
Warnings: AU, possibly OOC
Summary: Yamashita picks Kato up one night at a gay bar.
A passing moment in yet another night like this
It’s nights like these, of darkened colours and heavy skies and saturated air, that Yamashita feels himself almost desperate with need. Most of the time he manages to keep himself in check, reminding himself – always – what might happen if he doesn’t, but nights like these he can’t.
He has heard rumours of The Bar before, scattered rumours carried around in low tones, some with derogatory snickers and others with breathless desire just peeking out over the rim of their words. He knows that a number of guys in his cohort alone are regular patrons of The Bar; he knows, too, that those who actually visit it never speak of it again for fear that too much talk will expose its secrets to a public looking for places to vent their bottled up fury. Bad times, his mother had said only last night after watching the evening news. Companies cutting down on jobs, graduates not finding employment, appreciating value of the yen…we’re going to see a lot of anger around here soon.
Yamashita has no doubt whatsoever of the potential chaos that will ensue if The Bar is ever exposed and thrown into the hungry hands of a ruthless press. He has no doubt, too, of what would happen to its patrons unlucky enough to be caught at the time of a raid. So he keeps his need to himself, covers it with a veneer of an on-off girlfriend, gentle flirtations at regular clubs, and Playboy magazines that his mum wishes he would stow away in the storeroom for fear of visitors tripping over them and getting all sorts of wrong impressions. He can safely say that his playacting has been pretty successful thus far; nobody has ever suspected him of being anything more than what he appears to be. But pressing down his need doesn’t make it go away.
Two years ago, when he’d given in for the first and only time, he’d thought that the experience would be enough to last him a lifetime, but tonight, he knows it’s nowhere near enough. This thing will keep haunting him, clawing at him, unless he does something about it. Now, he’s desperate enough to.
He gets up from his bed and throws on decent-looking clothes. Outside, his sister is watching some noisy variety show on TV and punctuating the comedians’ voices with fresh, girlish laughter. He pauses at the genkan to say, “I’m going out for a drink. Will be back late.”
“Okay,” his sister says, not turning her eyes from the TV.
Yamashita steps out into the night of heavy skies.
… …
It’ll be over soon, he thinks as he leans his head against the bus window, watching the city streets and car headlights passing by just below. A couple of hours at most and then it’ll be over for the next few years and when the next time comes, I’ll just have to deal with it again.
He folds his arms a little more tightly around himself. It suddenly feels very cold.
… …
It is, after all, not unlike any other bar, save for the glaring absence of women. There’s a guy singing a bluesy sounding song on stage, backed up with a guitarist who seems lost in his chords, and a bartender chatting to two customers. When Yamashita pushes open the door, men sitting around the room raise their eyes to take a look at him; they’re all waiting for prearranged appointments or some unscheduled partner that will fulfill their night’s desire. A few of them instantly look interested. Yamashita ignores them, takes a seat at the nearest empty table and waits for a waiter.
From behind, a young guy comes up and bumps his shoulder meaningfully as he passes. Yamashita doesn’t react and the guy doesn’t pursue.
“Welcome, sir,” says a waiter, materializing at his side with a very pretty smile. “May I have your order?”
“Gin and tonic, please,” Yamashita says.
The waiter nods and leaves, but not without throwing an appreciative look over his shoulder.
Yamashita continues sitting alone, idly surveying the scene before him, as the singer on stage launches into another song and two guys get up and walk out, hands entwined. In a darkened corner a couple already too drunk for caution is making out with hands roaming just shy of forbidden places. Yamashita sits very still. He’s not used to being around guys who are like him and he doesn’t really know what to do; feels almost repulsed at the openness of such a hidden desire.
Then one of the guys chatting to the bartender turns his head and meets his gaze almost directly. He’s somewhere between late teens and very early twenties, boyishly good-looking, with a slight, suggestive smile on his lips that makes the need inside Yamashita stir. He shifts a little in his seat and that’s all the signal the other boy requires, nodding to the bartender and his friend before rising and making his way towards Yamashita.
“Kato,” calls out a guy as he passes, “going for someone new tonight?”
“Still upset over last Tuesday, Mori-san?” Kato says congenially, his eyes on Yamashita, and Mori subsides without a word. Kato arrives at Yamashita’s table and sits down, making himself comfortable.
“Hey,” he says. “I’m Kato.”
“I’m Yamashita.”
Kato regards him for a smiling moment, then leans over and takes a sip out of his gin and tonic. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”
“This is the first time I’m here.” Yamashita isn’t sure if his voice is betraying his crazy desire to just grab Kato and find someplace where they can do whatever they like to each other.
Kato sits back and nudges Yamashita’s ankle under the table. It’s a light touch but even so it makes Yamashita swallow, and Kato notices. “There’s a hotel down the road that charges fairly and doesn’t discriminate,” he says.
Yamashita smiles. “Sounds about right.”
… …
A couple of hours, Yamashita finds himself thinking as they walk down the street, Kato a few steps ahead with his hands in his pockets. That’s all it takes, a couple of hours.
Then he looks at Kato, tall and slim in his well-fitting black turtleneck and stylishly cut jeans and thinks, almost mindlessly, maybe an hour or so more won’t do any harm.
… …
The hotel room is small and uninspired but neither of them notice as they make for the bed and almost collapse on it, Yamashita on top of Kato, pressing wet open-mouthed kisses on his face, jaw and neck before ravaging his mouth. Kato moans at the back of his throat and when Yamashita pulls away for a breather, he can feel Kato’s hardness against his thigh and almost aches with arousal.
“I don’t have…” he gasps.
“It’s okay, I do,” Kato assures him, then grinds his hips into Yamashita’s and the both of them speedily forget everything in favour of increasing the friction between their bodies. Friction so intense that Yamashita can’t think straight…it has never been like this before, never with Nanako,…not even that one time two years ago when he’d thought it couldn’t get any better than that…and then Kato is pulling off his turtleneck and his skin is warm and smooth and Yamashita can barely wait to remove all the clothes in the way, to wrap his arms around Kato and push into him so deeply that they won’t know if they’re two people or just one.
The two hours that follow are more sensual than Yamashita could have imagined. Kato spreads his legs open willingly, erection hard and red against his fair skin, and Yamashita slides all the way in, almost shaking when heat tightens around him and Kato sighs ever so softly, murmurs “Yamashita” before rolling his hips. Yamashita pulls out and thrusts back in, slowly at first then increasing in speed, Kato’s body sucking him in and releasing him time and again until he forgets every instance of the world around them, focuses only on aiming for the particular spot that causes Kato to groan and arch his back in the most beautifully erotic way that he has ever seen.
“Tomo,” he says breathlessly, bending his head to snake his tongue through Kato’s parted lips. They hold the kiss for as long as they can before Yamashita hits the spot again and Kato moans deeply, slamming his head against the mattress as he runs fevered fingers over Yamashita’s back. Yamashita inches a hand between them to wrap his fingers around Kato’s erection.
“Tomo,” he says again, “that’s my name.”
Kato nods, pulls his head down for another bruising kiss before moaning “Tomo” and Yamashita cries out, his head falling forward into Kato’s neck as he shudders, his orgasm hitting him so hard that it leaves him spent and trembling.
When he finally comes down, there’s a white sticky substance on their stomachs and he realises in a rush of pleasure, almost relief, that Kato must have come too. They lie against each other for a few moments, breathing deeply, before Yamashita pulls out and gets rid of his condom, then fetches a towel from the bathroom to wipe them down.
“There’s still time,” says Kato, his voice slow and lazy. “I’m not in a rush.”
“Neither am I,” says Yamashita, and lies back down beside him. It’s quiet, he suddenly realises, quiet outside, quiet inside, the thickness of quiet that you can only hear when it’s deep in the night and the universe seems asleep around you. “Strange,” he murmurs, “I don’t hear a single sound anywhere.”
Kato grins. “This hotel has good soundproofing. Another reason why it’s popular despite being less than high-class.”
A silence settles between them and Yamashita is okay with that, pillowing his head on his arm and listening to the surrounding lack of noise. He begins to lose himself in the quiet, basking in the afterglow and feeling the scattered thoughts and random work frustrations of the past week smoothing over, until he feels Kato’s fingers on his inner thigh and calls himself back into the solid present to find Kato touching his half-hard cock.
Yamashita blushes slightly, doesn’t quite know how to justify his evident overpowering need, but Kato just smiles at him. There’s something on his mind, Yamashita thinks, but doesn’t know what as Kato runs a thumb over the head and slides his hand up and down, teasing him back into full arousal. Still doesn’t know until Kato bends down and a hot wet tongue licks him from base to top and Yamashita almost wails, gripping the bedspread so tightly that his knuckles turn white.
Kato licks him a few more times, holding down his hips, before opening his mouth and taking him in. Yamashita can barely breathe, fighting the urge not to thrust as Kato fucks him expertly with his mouth, making certain movements with his tongue and throat that leaves Yamashita powerless to do anything but make incoherent noises. The sight alone of such a beautiful boy sucking him off makes the blood rush to his head and when Kato peers up from behind his eyelashes, cheeks flushed and mouth full, Yamashita loses it completely, fingers tightening on the sheets and moaning deeply as his second orgasm slams into him.
A moment later Kato scoots back up beside him and Yamashita turns over, drawing his head close and kissing him. He can taste his own come on Kato’s tongue and he sucks his lower lip gently before pulling away and whispering, “You’re pretty good.”
In response, Kato only returns his kiss.
… …
After a time Kato wants a smoke, so he digs out two cigarettes from his jeans pocket and lights up, passing one to Yamashita. They lean back on the pillows and smoke idly until Yamashita says, “Do you go to The Bar frequently?”
“Once or twice a fortnight,” says Kato. “When the desire gets too strong and I need someone.”
Yamashita nods; he completely understands.
“But otherwise, I have a couple of guys,” Kato continues, “partners. Sex buddies.”
Yamashita glances over at him. He’s blowing out smoke through his lips unconcernedly, as though it’s a normal and accepted fact that a guy should have sex buddies. “You…” Yamashita hesitates, “you’re in a relationship with them?”
Kato reaches out and taps his ash into the ashtray on the bedside table. “No,” he says, “I’m not in a relationship with anybody and hopefully I’ll never be.”
“Why not?”
Kato shrugs. “I don’t like women in that way and society doesn’t allow me to be with men, so I’ve trained myself not to fall for anyone. I couldn’t survive if I did. I’d always be wanting this and that, asking for more than what I’m supposed to get. So I refuse to let myself get serious.”
Yamashita says nothing, feeling a little part of his heart leave and settle down by the boy beside him saying all these sad words in such a matter of fact voice. He feels a strange compulsion to put his arms around Kato and hug him, tell him that there’s no need for such measures, that it’s okay to fall, that there’ll always be a way for things to work out. But, despite the intimacies of the night, they don’t really know each other and Yamashita isn’t one to be demonstrative towards strangers; besides, hasn’t he been suppressing his need for almost exactly the same reasons? All the things that he wants to say to Kato are simply instinctive words of comfort; he doesn’t believe in them himself. So he remains still, blowing out smoke and watching it curl and disappear into the air.
“What about you?” Kato asks. “Seeing anyone? Then again you were at The Bar so I hope you aren’t.”
“I have an on-off girlfriend,” says Yamashita. “Right now we’re off.”
Kato stubs out his cigarette and dumps it in the ashtray. “So does that mean that you’re no longer together?”
Yamashita shrugs. “I don’t know. I would break it off, but she won’t let me go.”
“Life,” Kato murmurs. “Just got to do the best with what we have, huh?”
“Yeah,” says Yamashita. “Sometimes, though, I wish I could break out of what life has for me. That’s when I don’t know what to do with myself.”
“That’s when you end up in a place like this, trying to fulfill your need for something more by being yourself.”
They’re only inches apart, but Yamashita pulls Kato closer and wraps an arm around his shoulder, leaning his cheek on Kato’s hair. Kato wriggles a bit, trying to get comfortable, and finally settles with his head on Yamashita’s chest. His breath is warm and soft on Yamashita’s skin, fingers light and caressing on his chest. Yamashita closes his eyes, wishes for more and more and more hours.
… …
They finally leave the hotel sometime after three o’ clock. The night is windy, almost cold, and Yamashita notices Kato pressing his hands to his cheeks in a bid to warm them. He hesitates a moment before taking off his jacket and holding it out to him. Kato looks at him quizzically.
“Don’t catch a cold,” Yamashita says.
“If I take it, that means we’ll have to meet again, right?” Kato raises an eyebrow.
Yamashita pauses. “I didn’t think of it in that way, but now that you mention it, maybe that’s exactly what I want.”
Kato laughs a little and shakes his head, taking a step back. “Rather than protecting me from a cold, protect me from yourself, Yamashita-san.”
Then Yamashita is once again suffocated with words, something about meeting up again in more regular, legitimate places than The Bar and a dingy pay-by-the-hour hotel, something about how Kato has managed to touch his heart with a few brief, toneless words and how he wants them to really get to know each other, to have many more hours together being themselves, but Kato has already turned his back.
It’s late, and the skies are heavy. Yamashita shoves his hands into his pockets and watches Kato walk further and further away. Another clandestine meeting over; two more unrelated people taking their leave from each other in this nighttime city of secrets and silence.
All it takes is a couple of hours, he thinks. Who would’ve thought…
It’s only after Kato disappears into the night that he turns towards the road and hails a cab to go home.
end
A/N: …This was a completely random idea and, uh, to my flist, this was the ‘Ginza’ story I was mentioning, only I did not use that cheesy title because it is not necessarily set in Ginza nor is it a love story, heh. I…apologise for the fail. Ack.
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Poor Kato. If only he'd given Yamashita a chance, huh.
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Kato should've just had more sex with Yamashita. It would've healed his soul. Plus, their hotness can only match each others'.
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I agree, they should have another night's stand. Or many. :DD