Seriously? You don't respond. Are you really injured?
[ Where Ugetsu is drinking, deciding he feels nothing. Aki is restless, discontent. The grass is not so green on the other side? Or it is, but it's not the same grass that prickles his skin. Why, even in this, is there a magnetic pull, an urge to move, to go to him. It's not as if there are any real words here saying Ugetsu wants him back.
There are no words from Aki saying he wants to come back. But the restlessness tells that even after saying the words to tend what they started in high school, some part of him is still hooked.]
[ he is. he very much is. but somehow, that's not the point to ugetsu.
in a fit of impulsiveness, ugetsu hits the call button and it rings only once before he ends it just the same. the place he's curled up on the floor feels cold and a little wet. he must have dropped something else too. it's sticky. the wine? he's been warned against himself enough to know better but he never listens. and akihiko is right of course; he never replies, never puts forth the follow-up even though he'd love to prove he could.
some part of him, some part of him very much like the part when they first met and akihiko slid his arms around him in that music room, understands: you waited for him to let go, so why don't you do the same?
i can't, he thinks and it's so weak and vulnerable and stupid. ugetsu has, lately, been having a hard time with music too though he hasn't said so to anyone, hiding in this basement where nothing ever changes. the only thing that changed, once, was when someone left; probably for their better. he can't blame him after all he himself did to make sure akihiko would.
[It comes as three separate messages. Then his phone rings; by the time Ugetsu is hanging up, Akihiko answers, only to hear that sound. He can not hide his face falling, as if he anticipated hearing that voice on the other end.
He wanted to hear it.
Akihiko believes he can, has always thought he could follow-through, ever hoped, expected one day he would follow through with him that they could both learn. Could they still? Does he want to?
He left; he's supposed to stay gone. But, he misses him. He's worried about him.
He still loves him.
That is why this all rips into him, opens him up like a book, and has him reaching even if only toward his phone. Pressing the call button, Akihiko lets it ring.
Does he want him to answer? Yes. Does he need him to? Yes. Even if it is not what is best for either of them. Maybe the time apart is enough, can he go home.
Bitterness slides through his veins. Home. A soundproof dark basement where even now he imagines the worst, Ugetsu sprawled on the floor, bleeding, finally letting go of this world, and reaching out to Aki is his last goodbye.
Please answer....]
poor akihiko....ugetsu shaving years off his life even before they collide properly
[ugetsu considers not picking up, because of course he does. ugetsu considers reaching for the puddle of spilled wine and glass and running his hand through it the same as the surface of the ocean where self-inflicted danger says it would be easy. ugetsu considers akihiko, considers aki in all the places he remembers him best and the one that's clearest sharpest warmest in winter of all is this: aki with his hands cradling ugetsu's face after an accident when they were younger, kissing him between the eyes like a bullet that ugetsu would never ever be able to remove, asking him over and over and over if he was okay if he was really really okay and let's go home.
what ugetsu does not remember: how his own usually impervious hands couldn't stop shaking all that night.
his hands are shaking now too.
strange.
he lets the phone ring almost too long, committed to not picking up, when panic flares up again. he'd let it scatter a bit far before, so he has to scramble upright to pull himself over to where it is, fumbling and dropping it even as he hits 'accept'. he's not sure if the phone or his own body hits the floor first, but for the first few seconds of the call he says nothing. it's just the unsteady thinness of his breaths: shuddering in like they don't want to, splaying out because they need somewhere to go whether they're wanted or not; in, out.
in all his life, he's really only ever known two things: music...and aki. ]
That's... [ Do You need help? he almost laughs but he can't quite, coughs instead, sighs like he's already detached himself from the situation, which in a way, he has. in his voice there's the little tells of how it's been going: not well. though he did try at the beginning, threw himself into music unlike ever before until recently when music started to retract its arms and its affair and ugetsu...
well, he's here now. isn't he: the brittle quiet of his voice with the usual coy game it will probably die with, because if anything is ugetsu's last bastion it's his ability to lie to and evade the person who matters the most to him. ] ...that's what...they say.
[ that he needs help. that he's let it go too far. and he can't even argue, not really, so why bother? he's glad, at least, he got akihiko to call him, and he'll hear his voice, and maybe that will be that because despite all of this, ugetsu still believes akihiko has well and truly moved past him. it's just that, behind that 'scary' face, is a person who cares. anyone who knows aki, knows that.
ugetsu doesn't read into his concern because for as much sanguine strength as he puts out there, it's not because it's true; it's because he doesn't know what else to do. ]
[His heart is nearly beating out of his chest; the longer the phone rings,, the more panicked he becomes. It is as if he has no resistance; he rises. Moves to his bedroom and is shucking his pajamas with the phone tucked against his ear.
He is sliding the trousers up to his hips when the voice he thought he had heard enough, that he thought he had given up rings in his ears,, and Akihiko nearly fumbles the phone.
He draws in a sharp breath; his entire body freezes for a moment. That's
Then he coughs and like a tidal wave.. Akihiko comes to life, his pants are done, he's tugging a shirt over his chest while switching the phone from one ear to the next.
It's like a compulsion, he can not stop himself and nothing that Ugetsu does gives him any reason to. It's like he says I need you with the way he draws out the words. The words themselves, the long, paused silences, filled only by the sounds they make.]
Then ask for it, Ugetsu.
[Tell me to come home, tell me I can? Will he listen if he is not told, will he stay here where he stands now in his bedroom doorway, phone gripped tight in his hand, eyes wide with concern, worry ,heart stuttering in his chest]
What happened, where are you?
probably not...they are both gluttons for punishment it seems sob
[here is, arguably, the very worst of ugetsu. akihiko tells him to ask and he doesn't. akihiko does half the work for him and asks what happened and where he is, and ugetsu won't tell him. akihiko answers in the first place, and ugetsu wastes it the way he's so good at doing. not, it's worth noting, without understanding what he's wasting; he understands very well, just like every time he's pushed akihiko away before; he understands, perhaps, best of all and always will - this finite permanent part of akihiko that is the same as a classic song played for only one person.
they are neither the brightest venue nor the healthiest, but love still happened.
there was still music.
and it was good.
ugetsu blinks at the curiously blurry perception of his phone on the floor just a touch away from his empty hand and thinks that's very far away indeed.]
Nothing happened.
[ in all this time you've been away, nothing. absolutely nothing. even when they argued, there was probably a part of ugetsu that was almost happy. it's not quite 'glass half full'; it's more, a glass that almost fits in with the other glasses you have but not quite and you use only this one anyway and one day it breaks and the choice has been removed from your admittedly undeserving hands. something like that. for someone who calls other people fragile, ugetsu is no great reference for strength. he's just obstinate. it's different; and everyone who knows him knows that - everyone, being, of course, just akihiko really.
he wonders if he'll come. it's not like the door is locked and it's not like this place doesn't remember him nor the other way around; ugetsu is sure.
in a way, he hopes he does just so ugetsu knows he can still make him do it; in a way, he also hopes he doesn't, so ugetsu knows he's been properly declawed despite his best facades. either would do, probably. both are answers that might hold more finality than strangling himself to let akihiko walk away after demanding he do so, all those nights ago on a street made empty as if it knew there was no room there for anyone but the poorly timed love story, the hands that kissed goodbye because the mouths for once knew better. ]
Stop lying to me! ..[He stops, swept away already just by the sound of his voice for a moment Akihiko can do nothing but lean against the doorway to his bedroom. Here in this apartment, he got for himself; he is on his own two feet now. He was moving on, or so he kept telling himself, yet, here he is.
A choice in front of him, stay, or go. It is simple; He supposedly made that choice the night he let hands part without lips saying a final goodbye to each other.
It feels wrong for that to be it; somewhere deep inside of him, it’s as if he knew all along. The love that happened, it never stopped, still at this moment, it shivers across the line between them.
Even as Ugetsu tries to push him away and pull him as he has done for so long, it could be just yesterday that they last spoke for how easily this routine was established.
But now, he will not let it be this time. Not this time, he is more robust, he has become more than he was, he is playing again. He found his love for the violin, yet within those strings still wrapped tight around every sound he makes with the instrument, is ugetsu, even if he has denied this to himself.
He stops denying; he moves to shut off lights, grabbing his keys, sliding on his shoes. The decision was made before he ever picked up the phone. He should stop himself; he should turn around; he should hang up.]
It’s what you wanted to happen.
[Nothing, nothing has happened, because nothing has changed, those walls still know him, they even encase him within them in a way, and tonight, he can be heard over the line, obviously making his way to return to them.
More to return to the man who lives within them still. He is just going to see if he is okay, he rationalizes to himself. In his heart, he knows better.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
/JOINS YOU BECAUSE SO DO I!!!!
You don't respond.
Are you really injured?
[ Where Ugetsu is drinking, deciding he feels nothing. Aki is restless, discontent. The grass is not so green on the other side? Or it is, but it's not the same grass that prickles his skin. Why, even in this, is there a magnetic pull, an urge to move, to go to him. It's not as if there are any real words here saying Ugetsu wants him back.
There are no words from Aki saying he wants to come back. But the restlessness tells that even after saying the words to tend what they started in high school, some part of him is still hooked.]
/basically shoves them into inevitability
[ he is. he very much is. but somehow, that's not the point to ugetsu.
in a fit of impulsiveness, ugetsu hits the call button and it rings only once before he ends it just the same. the place he's curled up on the floor feels cold and a little wet. he must have dropped something else too. it's sticky. the wine? he's been warned against himself enough to know better but he never listens. and akihiko is right of course; he never replies, never puts forth the follow-up even though he'd love to prove he could.
some part of him, some part of him very much like the part when they first met and akihiko slid his arms around him in that music room, understands: you waited for him to let go, so why don't you do the same?
i can't, he thinks and it's so weak and vulnerable and stupid. ugetsu has, lately, been having a hard time with music too though he hasn't said so to anyone, hiding in this basement where nothing ever changes. the only thing that changed, once, was when someone left; probably for their better. he can't blame him after all he himself did to make sure akihiko would.
and yet.
well.
he won't say he misses him, after all . ]
/because they are gives an extra shove!!
Just tell me what happened.
Do you need help?
[It comes as three separate messages. Then his phone rings; by the time Ugetsu is hanging up, Akihiko answers, only to hear that sound. He can not hide his face falling, as if he anticipated hearing that voice on the other end.
He wanted to hear it.
Akihiko believes he can, has always thought he could follow-through, ever hoped, expected one day he would follow through with him that they could both learn. Could they still? Does he want to?
He left; he's supposed to stay gone. But, he misses him. He's worried about him.
He still loves him.
That is why this all rips into him, opens him up like a book, and has him reaching even if only toward his phone. Pressing the call button, Akihiko lets it ring.
Does he want him to answer? Yes. Does he need him to? Yes. Even if it is not what is best for either of them. Maybe the time apart is enough, can he go home.
Bitterness slides through his veins. Home. A soundproof dark basement where even now he imagines the worst, Ugetsu sprawled on the floor, bleeding, finally letting go of this world, and reaching out to Aki is his last goodbye.
Please answer....]
poor akihiko....ugetsu shaving years off his life even before they collide properly
what ugetsu does not remember: how his own usually impervious hands couldn't stop shaking all that night.
his hands are shaking now too.
strange.
he lets the phone ring almost too long, committed to not picking up, when panic flares up again. he'd let it scatter a bit far before, so he has to scramble upright to pull himself over to where it is, fumbling and dropping it even as he hits 'accept'. he's not sure if the phone or his own body hits the floor first, but for the first few seconds of the call he says nothing. it's just the unsteady thinness of his breaths: shuddering in like they don't want to, splaying out because they need somewhere to go whether they're wanted or not; in, out.
in all his life, he's really only ever known two things: music...and aki. ]
That's... [ Do You need help? he almost laughs but he can't quite, coughs instead, sighs like he's already detached himself from the situation, which in a way, he has. in his voice there's the little tells of how it's been going: not well. though he did try at the beginning, threw himself into music unlike ever before until recently when music started to retract its arms and its affair and ugetsu...
well, he's here now. isn't he: the brittle quiet of his voice with the usual coy game it will probably die with, because if anything is ugetsu's last bastion it's his ability to lie to and evade the person who matters the most to him. ] ...that's what...they say.
[ that he needs help. that he's let it go too far. and he can't even argue, not really, so why bother? he's glad, at least, he got akihiko to call him, and he'll hear his voice, and maybe that will be that because despite all of this, ugetsu still believes akihiko has well and truly moved past him. it's just that, behind that 'scary' face, is a person who cares. anyone who knows aki, knows that.
ugetsu doesn't read into his concern because for as much sanguine strength as he puts out there, it's not because it's true; it's because he doesn't know what else to do. ]
but really, would he have it any other way?
He is sliding the trousers up to his hips when the voice he thought he had heard enough, that he thought he had given up rings in his ears,, and Akihiko nearly fumbles the phone.
He draws in a sharp breath; his entire body freezes for a moment. That's
Then he coughs and like a tidal wave.. Akihiko comes to life, his pants are done, he's tugging a shirt over his chest while switching the phone from one ear to the next.
It's like a compulsion, he can not stop himself and nothing that Ugetsu does gives him any reason to. It's like he says I need you with the way he draws out the words. The words themselves, the long, paused silences, filled only by the sounds they make.]
Then ask for it, Ugetsu.
[Tell me to come home, tell me I can? Will he listen if he is not told, will he stay here where he stands now in his bedroom doorway, phone gripped tight in his hand, eyes wide with concern, worry ,heart stuttering in his chest]
What happened, where are you?
probably not...they are both gluttons for punishment it seems sob
[here is, arguably, the very worst of ugetsu. akihiko tells him to ask and he doesn't. akihiko does half the work for him and asks what happened and where he is, and ugetsu won't tell him. akihiko answers in the first place, and ugetsu wastes it the way he's so good at doing. not, it's worth noting, without understanding what he's wasting; he understands very well, just like every time he's pushed akihiko away before; he understands, perhaps, best of all and always will - this finite permanent part of akihiko that is the same as a classic song played for only one person.
they are neither the brightest venue nor the healthiest, but love still happened.
there was still music.
and it was good.
ugetsu blinks at the curiously blurry perception of his phone on the floor just a touch away from his empty hand and thinks that's very far away indeed.]
Nothing happened.
[ in all this time you've been away, nothing. absolutely nothing. even when they argued, there was probably a part of ugetsu that was almost happy. it's not quite 'glass half full'; it's more, a glass that almost fits in with the other glasses you have but not quite and you use only this one anyway and one day it breaks and the choice has been removed from your admittedly undeserving hands. something like that. for someone who calls other people fragile, ugetsu is no great reference for strength. he's just obstinate. it's different; and everyone who knows him knows that - everyone, being, of course, just akihiko really.
he wonders if he'll come. it's not like the door is locked and it's not like this place doesn't remember him nor the other way around; ugetsu is sure.
in a way, he hopes he does just so ugetsu knows he can still make him do it; in a way, he also hopes he doesn't, so ugetsu knows he's been properly declawed despite his best facades. either would do, probably. both are answers that might hold more finality than strangling himself to let akihiko walk away after demanding he do so, all those nights ago on a street made empty as if it knew there was no room there for anyone but the poorly timed love story, the hands that kissed goodbye because the mouths for once knew better. ]
Always and forever >>
A choice in front of him, stay, or go. It is simple; He supposedly made that choice the night he let hands part without lips saying a final goodbye to each other.
It feels wrong for that to be it; somewhere deep inside of him, it’s as if he knew all along. The love that happened, it never stopped, still at this moment, it shivers across the line between them.
Even as Ugetsu tries to push him away and pull him as he has done for so long, it could be just yesterday that they last spoke for how easily this routine was established.
But now, he will not let it be this time. Not this time, he is more robust, he has become more than he was, he is playing again. He found his love for the violin, yet within those strings still wrapped tight around every sound he makes with the instrument, is ugetsu, even if he has denied this to himself.
He stops denying; he moves to shut off lights, grabbing his keys, sliding on his shoes. The decision was made before he ever picked up the phone. He should stop himself; he should turn around; he should hang up.]
It’s what you wanted to happen.
[Nothing, nothing has happened, because nothing has changed, those walls still know him, they even encase him within them in a way, and tonight, he can be heard over the line, obviously making his way to return to them.
More to return to the man who lives within them still. He is just going to see if he is okay, he rationalizes to himself. In his heart, he knows better.]