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writetomyheart2013-08-23 01:47 pm
dusk037.livejournal.com) wrote in writetomyheart2013-08-23 01:47 pm
[team one] Famous last words
I was snooping through tumblr's "imagine your otp..." and this prompt hurt me, then it refused to let go. :(( Allow me to warn for character death, but if you must know without wanting to click the cut, the last sentence is "Gross," is Tamamori's automatic response, but then a wave of grief hits him full force–the brunt of an eternity's worth of feelings he only trudged through until this very moment–and it comes out as a choked sob.
...
Sleep would come rather easily tonight, Tamamori thinks as he toes off his shoes at the genkan. He's beyond tired, ready to just flop face first on the couch after such a long day, but he wants to at least get changed, to get out of the stifling monochrome of the suit he's still wearing.
The memorial service for Miyata has just ended, and now that everything's been said and done, he comes home. He's heard what people say when they step away from the altar, done with bowing down and saying their prayers, and after offering him sympathies at the exit. How it's amazing the way he's holding up, that he's so strong through it all. He wishes he could say something back, but he holds his tongue because he doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how to not let some bitterness bleed out from the words he'd manage to speak. So Tamamori just sat still during those days, bowing back with gratitude and politely responding to whatever they said to his face.
The closest he was to losing his cool at the service was when he heard some tool badmouth Miyacchi, but then Yokoo's hand was quick to hold him down by his shoulder, Fujigaya's making soothing circles at the small of his back. Nikaido and Senga politely excused themselves from the room, returning with bruised knuckles (which no one commented on); Kityama's nowhere to be found until he's walking right behind the pair, mumbling, "jeez, these kouhai," but the slight quirk of his lips says he's more than proud of the idiot combi.
It's been days since he last stepped into their shared apartment, but almost everything is as he left it. Tamamori's eyes fall on the window by the receiving area, looking at the house-warming gift they got from Fujigaya. It's a purple curtain dotted with little yellow stars, and Tamamori's lips lift into a small smile, remembering when they've moved in. Among the boxes and boxes of things they took a while to sort into, a nondescript parcel just fell at their feet, the note attached, in Fujigaya's messy scrawl, saying: "took me (and Wataru) forever to find this. enjoy ~" He and Miyata shared a laugh at that, though it's among the first things they've managed to set up. Tamamori shakes his head at that piece of memory and continues inside, opting for a shower before going to bed.
The tie around his neck is the first casualty, the knot unceremoniously yanked at and then dropped on the back of the couch, where his coat follows, and a trail of the day's clothing leads into the bathroom.
Tamamori turns up the heat, letting the spray of the water beat down the tension from his shoulders. He doesn't take too much time, he even skips taking a dip into the tub, and soon enough he steps out of the shower. Tamamori's grabbing a towel to dry himself when he sees it on the mirror, written in the plain-colored honey beeswax lipbalm Miyata always has in his bag: "Yuuta, I love you. :)"
The fog from the steam eases up and disappears, taking with it the last words Miyata left for him.
"Gross," is Tamamori's automatic response, but then a wave of grief hits him full force–the brunt of an eternity's worth of feelings he only trudged through until this very moment–and it comes out as a choked sob.
...
That done, it's![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
faded_lace's turn~
...
Sleep would come rather easily tonight, Tamamori thinks as he toes off his shoes at the genkan. He's beyond tired, ready to just flop face first on the couch after such a long day, but he wants to at least get changed, to get out of the stifling monochrome of the suit he's still wearing.
The memorial service for Miyata has just ended, and now that everything's been said and done, he comes home. He's heard what people say when they step away from the altar, done with bowing down and saying their prayers, and after offering him sympathies at the exit. How it's amazing the way he's holding up, that he's so strong through it all. He wishes he could say something back, but he holds his tongue because he doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how to not let some bitterness bleed out from the words he'd manage to speak. So Tamamori just sat still during those days, bowing back with gratitude and politely responding to whatever they said to his face.
The closest he was to losing his cool at the service was when he heard some tool badmouth Miyacchi, but then Yokoo's hand was quick to hold him down by his shoulder, Fujigaya's making soothing circles at the small of his back. Nikaido and Senga politely excused themselves from the room, returning with bruised knuckles (which no one commented on); Kityama's nowhere to be found until he's walking right behind the pair, mumbling, "jeez, these kouhai," but the slight quirk of his lips says he's more than proud of the idiot combi.
It's been days since he last stepped into their shared apartment, but almost everything is as he left it. Tamamori's eyes fall on the window by the receiving area, looking at the house-warming gift they got from Fujigaya. It's a purple curtain dotted with little yellow stars, and Tamamori's lips lift into a small smile, remembering when they've moved in. Among the boxes and boxes of things they took a while to sort into, a nondescript parcel just fell at their feet, the note attached, in Fujigaya's messy scrawl, saying: "took me (and Wataru) forever to find this. enjoy ~" He and Miyata shared a laugh at that, though it's among the first things they've managed to set up. Tamamori shakes his head at that piece of memory and continues inside, opting for a shower before going to bed.
The tie around his neck is the first casualty, the knot unceremoniously yanked at and then dropped on the back of the couch, where his coat follows, and a trail of the day's clothing leads into the bathroom.
Tamamori turns up the heat, letting the spray of the water beat down the tension from his shoulders. He doesn't take too much time, he even skips taking a dip into the tub, and soon enough he steps out of the shower. Tamamori's grabbing a towel to dry himself when he sees it on the mirror, written in the plain-colored honey beeswax lipbalm Miyata always has in his bag: "Yuuta, I love you. :)"
The fog from the steam eases up and disappears, taking with it the last words Miyata left for him.
"Gross," is Tamamori's automatic response, but then a wave of grief hits him full force–the brunt of an eternity's worth of feelings he only trudged through until this very moment–and it comes out as a choked sob.
...
That done, it's
faded_lace's turn~
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notsorry. (I had to share my pain)no subject
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I'm sorry that it made you sad, but I'm glad you found it beautiul. ♥ Thank you.
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When I wrote sad TamaMiya (Tama rejected him), my entire flist demanded happy TamaMiya to make it up to them.no subject
...that aside, thank you. ♥
Maybe my next fic(let) will be a happier miyatama. My flist hasn't come after me with pitchforks for this fic yet. orzno subject
ilu2, Sheryl.
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/offers tissues