http://snow.livejournal.com/ (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
snow.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
writetomyheart2014-11-16 01:33 am
snow.livejournal.com) wrote in writetomyheart2014-11-16 01:33 am
[team three] Detox
I promised this fic to Mandy some time ago, and the combination of a) this shiritori turn & b) her upcoming birthday (♥!) proved to be the perfect storm for me to actually get it done, lmao.
Warning: Drinking references
Crying out in surprise, Fuma starts awake out of a sound sleep and rolls over to grab his ringing phone from the bedside table. He squints at the time - nearly 2:00 in the morning - and at the caller ID - Nakajima Kento. He presses his teeth against his bottom lip as his thumb hovers over the "accept call" button. He knows he's going to answer it - it could be an emergency, after all - but his hand is shaking as though he's dreading whatever he's going to hear and his entire body is trying to delay that from happening for at least a few more seconds.
"Fuma? Fuma... are you there?" The voice on the other end of the phone sounds strange, slurred and somehow broken, and it takes Fuma a moment to respond as his heart pounds in his ears.
"Nakajima?"
"Fuma..." Kento sounds pitiful and Fuma blinks, confused. If he's been drinking - which Fuma is 99.9% sure of - he has no reason to be calling Fuma at this hour, especially since he'll never remember it in the morning. Not like he's had much reason to call you lately, anyway. Fuma shakes that last thought off and turns his attention back to his phone.
"What is it? Do you know what time it is?"
"I'm sorry... it's late, I'm late. Too late. I didn't know. Fuma? Are you there?"
"Nakajima, are you drunk?"
"Kind of."
"Why are you calling me if you're drunk?"
"I... wanted to hear Fuma's voice."
Fuma is taken aback by the bluntness. That statement was honest, and direct, and so... not Kento. He must be seriously sloshed. Kento usually isn't a big drinker, but when he's in a heightened emotional state... well. This sort of thing happens.
"Well, now you have."
"Don't be mean. You're mean. You're terrible!"
"And you sound like Marius. Where are you, anyway?"
"I don't know."
"What do you mean, I don't know?"
"I went for a walk and I... actually have no idea where I am right now."
"Isn't that a little dangerous?"
"Fumatan is worried about me~"
"Of course I am! You've been drinking and you have no idea where the hell you are! Why are you such an idiot?"
"It's fine. I don't have work tomorrow... so..."
"So you thought you'd get drunk and make me worry about you?"
"I'm sorry--"
"I don't want to hear it. Figure out where you are and I'll come get you. I can't just leave you out in the street."
"I don't... I don't know. Everything's closed."
"Then tell me what 'everything' is."
Kento provides him with the names of enough shops and restaurants that Fuma is able to establish his location with a quick internet search, and he slips out the door with a jacket thrown over his T-shirt and sweatpants. He might be an idol, but scraping your drunk bandmate off the sidewalk is not a task that anyone should have to dress up for. Thankfully, it's not a long ride - only about ten minutes from Fuma's house, by some miraculous stroke of luck - and he's there almost before he has time to pay attention to the way his stomach is twisting, over and under and around itself as though the agitation he's experiencing has nothing to do with being woken up out of a sound sleep in the early morning hours.
He finds Kento sitting on the sidewalk underneath a flickering street lamp, legs stretched out into the road, head in his hands and fingers in his hair. He doesn't look up when Fuma arrives - whether because he's embarrassed or too out of it to notice, Fuma isn't sure. His first reaction is annoyance - I drive out here at this hour to collect your intoxicated ass and you can't even stand the fuck up?! - but his second is concern, given that it's cold outside and Kento is wearing only a thin T-shirt and jeans. If Kento isn't going to come to him, Fuma's going to have to go to him, and he sighs as he cuts the engine, steps out of the car, and pockets his keys.
Kento doesn't move, even as Fuma approaches, though Fuma can see him shivering and frowns to himself. He crouches in front of Kento, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, and it's only then that Kento starts in surprise, looking up at Fuma inquisitively, as though he's forgotten that he called him at all. His eyes are shadowed, marked with dark circles, and when the weak light above finally reaches them, they seem glossy and a bit swollen, as though he's been crying. Seeing Kento in such a state sends a sharp stab of pain through Fuma's heart, dredging up feelings he thought he had buried a long time ago, and this is the worst time and place for this to happen, the worst. Fuma takes off his jacket and wraps it around Kento's shoulders, tugging it closed in the front as though it can somehow shield him from whatever's put him in this condition.
"I'm sorry, Fuma."
"Stop it already. Come on. Let's go."
Fuma gets to his feet, extending a hand to pull Kento to his. Kento stumbles over his own feet, falling against Fuma's chest, and Fuma wraps an arm around him to steady him. Kento murmurs something that Fuma doesn't catch - probably another apology that he doesn't want to hear, because Kento can be sorry all he wants to be, but it doesn't change a damn thing - and stumbles with him to the car. He absolutely reeks of liquor; Fuma can't even guess at how much he's had. He opens the passenger door, securing Kento in the car to the point that he fastens his seatbelt for him because he can't even trust him to do that on his own, and Kento doesn't argue, doesn't fight him, just stares at his knees as though he's so deep inside himself that even Fuma can't reach him now. It's frustrating - and, if Fuma is honest with himself, it's a little bit scary.
"You need to get some sleep," Fuma says when he's settled himself back in the driver's seat, fixing his gaze on Kento, who is still slumped in his own seat like a life-size rag doll. "When's the last time you slept? I mean really slept, not napped on set or fell asleep on the couch for three hours."
"I don't remember."
"Why don't you take better care of yourself?"
"It's not like I can sleep well, even when I do sleep, so what's the point?"
Fuma can't really argue with that statement, not these days, and doesn't even try, just starts the car and watches Kento rest his head against the window, still wrapped in Fuma's jacket with one hand gripping the collar as though the jacket is his shield against the world and he's afraid someone will take it from him.
"I'll take you home."
"Please... don't."
"What do you want me to do, then? I can't take you back to my house like this. Do you want me to get a hotel room?"
Kento nods. Spoiled, Fuma thinks, but maybe it's for the best. If anyone else were to see Kento like this, the outcome might be a bit... unpleasant.
"Will you stay with me?"
"I have to, don't I? If you die of alcohol poisoning, it'll be my responsibility."
"I don't want anything else to drink."
"You'd better not. Your liver's going to cry."
"Yes, Kikuchi-san," Kento replies, his voice sing-song and high-pitched and Fuma rolls his eyes. At least he's lucid enough to make jokes.
---
The ride to the hotel is, thankfully, short. It's not a particularly fancy place, but they were willing to accept late arrivals and didn't ask any questions, and that's really all that's required. Kento is able to walk in and up to the room unassisted, for which Fuma is grateful, and when the door clicks shut behind them, he gets his first really good look at Kento, caught in the light of the hotel entranceway. Not only has he clearly not slept, but he's so thin that Fuma can only guess at when his last proper meal was. His clothes are disheveled and his hair is a wreck, and Fuma thinks he really, really needs to put some space between them before he does something he's going to regret in the morning.
"Go take a shower, Nakajima."
Kento nods, disappearing without another word, and Fuma sinks onto the bed, raking his fingers through his hair and roughing it up into a mess. It's been a long time... maybe not a long time since these feelings cropped up, but a long time since he hasn't been able to push them back down. He and Kento had ended it because it had been too stressful, but the distance hasn't seemed to do either of them any good. Contrarily, it seems to have left them both raw, numb somehow, as though in order to stop feeling that sort of pain, they've had to stop feeling entirely - and they've both failed. Fuma, for all the time he spends with others, has not been able to turn off the constant stream of worry and sadness and longing, and Kento has been nearly completely alone, save for the few friends he allows himself to have - but he won't lean on them, Fuma knows, not like he needs to, for fear that he'll end up pushing them away. That was one thing Kento never seemed to worry about with him, always confident that Fuma would be by his side, but...
The bathroom door opens and Kento emerges then, cutting off Fuma's train of thought. His hair is wet, clinging to his forehead, and the hotel bathrobe is wrapped around him loosely, his clothes and Fuma's jacket folded in a neat pile in his arms.
"I didn't think I should sleep in them," he says, as though he thinks he needs to explain himself, and Fuma shrugs. Kento sets his clothes over the lone chair in the room and then makes his way over to sit on his own bed, across from Fuma, still not quite meeting his eyes.
"Kento," Fuma says, his voice gentler now than it has been all night, and Kento does look up at that, surprised. There are damp trails down his cheeks and Fuma isn't sure whether they were caused by water or tears. He supposes it doesn't matter. "Talk to me. Please. You don't sleep, you don't eat, you're calling me at 2:00 in the morning after drinking, what, an entire bottle of champagne on your own... what's going on?"
"You know what's going on--"
"--and I know it's not your fault."
"It's such a... helpless thing... not being able to do anything... change anything..."
"So you work yourself to death?"
"If I'm working, I'm not feeling."
"Come here."
Kento doesn't need to be asked twice; he slides into bed beside Fuma, one arm wrapped around Fuma's waist and his head tucked under Fuma's chin. Fuma's hand traces gentle circles on his back and he relaxes into Fuma's touch as though it's something he's been waiting for for a long, long time - and maybe he has.
"I miss you."
Kento's voice is so soft that Fuma can barely hear him, but the words register loud and clear all the same. He lowers his head to press a kiss to the top of Kento's head, lets his lips linger there longer than necessary, even for a kiss, and a sudden, strange warmth floods his body from his toes to his fingertips.
"You're an idiot. I'm an idiot. We're such idiots."
"Fuma... I'm afraid."
"I am, too."
"What kind of leader am I?"
"One who takes your position very seriously and is always professional, even when it pisses me off."
Fuma feels Kento shift in his arms and watches him curiously as he raises his hand to gently squeeze Fuma's face.
"It's cute when you pout at me. You do it a lot."
"Stop giving me reasons to do it, then."
"No. It's really cute."
"Spoiled. Drunk and spoiled."
Kento sticks his tongue out at him, exaggeratedly, and follows it up with a pout of his own.
"Fuma..."
"Hmm?"
Kento moves up to lean his forehead against Fuma's and stays there for a moment, not moving, not saying a word. Fuma can feel Kento's breath, short hot puffs against his lips and he can smell the soap from the shower. Kento's eyelashes brush the tops of Fuma's cheeks every time he blinks and Fuma can feel his heartbeat adjust to match Kento's. The hotel bathrobe slips from Kento's shoulder and he makes no move to shrug it back into place. Holding Kento like this, at this time, in this place, is the most intimate thing Fuma has ever done with another person, and he doesn't think he could feel closer to Kento than this even if he were inside him.
"Do you think we made a mistake?"
"I think we made a lot of mistakes." Fuma's arms tighten around Kento's waist and he bites back the tears welling up from a place so deep inside him that he hadn't even known it was there.
"How do we... unmake them?"
"We can't. You can only go forward, Kento. You can't go back."
"Then I want to go forward beside you. The way it's supposed to be. The way you said it would be."
Fuma can hear his own words echoing in his mind. The feelings we have won’t change, and we will go on like this together. For sure. It seems like yesterday and years ago, all at the same time, and the surge of emotion is too powerful to fight anymore. He kisses Kento swiftly, deeply, rolls over to get him on his back and feels Kento gasp and go willingly. His heart is fluttering and his hands are shaking as he pushes the bathrobe off of Kento's shoulders completely, trailing kisses down Kento's neck and flicking his tongue over the mole on his collarbone. Kento trembles and sighs beneath him, his hands clenched on Fuma's shoulders, and he doesn't move them until Fuma moves to tug at the tie holding the bathrobe closed around Kento's waist.
"I... really did have a lot to drink," he says by way of explanation when Fuma looks up at him questioningly. "I don't think I can..."
"Okay. It's okay."
Kento hesitates for a moment, then tugs at the hem of Fuma's shirt, almost shyly.
"Can you take this off?"
Fuma complies and Kento presses against him immediately, as though he's so desperate for skin-to-skin contact with Fuma that even the short amount of time it took Fuma to undress pushed him to his absolute limit. For a while, the room is silent save for the sounds of their breathing, and Fuma has a few moments to think. He smooths Kento's still-damp hair, tucks it behind his ear, and pulls him impossibly closer, as though if they hold each other tight enough, they can block the rest of the world out. His eyes slip half-shut and he idly wonders how close to dawn it is.
"Fuma," Kento mumbles, and he's clearly close to the sleep he so desperately needs. "Am I dreaming? Are you going to be gone when I wake up?"
"I'll be here. Go to sleep. We'll talk in the morning."
"Mm," Kento responds, kissing the side of Fuma's neck, the closest spot within in his reach. Fuma can almost feel the tension seeping out of him as Kento relaxes against him. "Good night."
"Good night," Fuma replies, but he's fairly certain that Kento isn't awake long enough to hear it. It's about time, Fuma thinks, leaning his head against Kento's and letting his own eyes fall shut.
---
As promised, Fuma wakes up in the same place the next day, squinting against the few rays of sunlight that have made it past the curtains and watching them gently shine on Kento's sleeping face. He reaches for his phone and quickly taps out a few messages, making sure that nobody will be worried about either of them, but stays right where he is, afraid to jostle Kento and wake him up too.
When Kento finally does come to, a few hours later, the battery in Fuma's phone is nearly completely drained from a long game session and Fuma's stomach is growling so loudly that he's almost concerned that the noise alone was enough to shock Kento awake. Instead, though, Kento blinks awake slowly, looking a bit disoriented, but Fuma can't help smiling at him all the same.
"Hey," Fuma says, and Kento groans by way of response. "Rough night?"
"Hmm. Rough at first, I think, but then somebody was very gentle with me, so I think it evened out."
"If you want coffee, you're on your own. I have no clothes and no money after I pay for this room."
"They take your clothes? What kind of hotel did you bring me to?"
Fuma tsks and swipes at Kento, who catches his hand easily and holds onto it, gently stroking his fingers.
"Fuma... thank you. For last night... for everything."
"Do you remember last night?" Kento nods. "Did you mean what you said?"
"I meant everything I said."
"Then... let's do it. Let's try again. Okay?"
"I'll try as many times as you'll let me."
Kento sounds close to tears and Fuma embraces him quickly, before he can let them fall, which Fuma is sure would lead to a chain reaction on his part in this state.
"Okay," Fuma whispers, and Kento's grip on him becomes stronger. "Okay."
Kento smiles at him softly, the kind of smile that Fuma can see in his eyes more than across his lips, and though the room is still dark, the entire world seems to brighten.
Tagging![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
funkysparks ♥
Warning: Drinking references
Crying out in surprise, Fuma starts awake out of a sound sleep and rolls over to grab his ringing phone from the bedside table. He squints at the time - nearly 2:00 in the morning - and at the caller ID - Nakajima Kento. He presses his teeth against his bottom lip as his thumb hovers over the "accept call" button. He knows he's going to answer it - it could be an emergency, after all - but his hand is shaking as though he's dreading whatever he's going to hear and his entire body is trying to delay that from happening for at least a few more seconds.
"Fuma? Fuma... are you there?" The voice on the other end of the phone sounds strange, slurred and somehow broken, and it takes Fuma a moment to respond as his heart pounds in his ears.
"Nakajima?"
"Fuma..." Kento sounds pitiful and Fuma blinks, confused. If he's been drinking - which Fuma is 99.9% sure of - he has no reason to be calling Fuma at this hour, especially since he'll never remember it in the morning. Not like he's had much reason to call you lately, anyway. Fuma shakes that last thought off and turns his attention back to his phone.
"What is it? Do you know what time it is?"
"I'm sorry... it's late, I'm late. Too late. I didn't know. Fuma? Are you there?"
"Nakajima, are you drunk?"
"Kind of."
"Why are you calling me if you're drunk?"
"I... wanted to hear Fuma's voice."
Fuma is taken aback by the bluntness. That statement was honest, and direct, and so... not Kento. He must be seriously sloshed. Kento usually isn't a big drinker, but when he's in a heightened emotional state... well. This sort of thing happens.
"Well, now you have."
"Don't be mean. You're mean. You're terrible!"
"And you sound like Marius. Where are you, anyway?"
"I don't know."
"What do you mean, I don't know?"
"I went for a walk and I... actually have no idea where I am right now."
"Isn't that a little dangerous?"
"Fumatan is worried about me~"
"Of course I am! You've been drinking and you have no idea where the hell you are! Why are you such an idiot?"
"It's fine. I don't have work tomorrow... so..."
"So you thought you'd get drunk and make me worry about you?"
"I'm sorry--"
"I don't want to hear it. Figure out where you are and I'll come get you. I can't just leave you out in the street."
"I don't... I don't know. Everything's closed."
"Then tell me what 'everything' is."
Kento provides him with the names of enough shops and restaurants that Fuma is able to establish his location with a quick internet search, and he slips out the door with a jacket thrown over his T-shirt and sweatpants. He might be an idol, but scraping your drunk bandmate off the sidewalk is not a task that anyone should have to dress up for. Thankfully, it's not a long ride - only about ten minutes from Fuma's house, by some miraculous stroke of luck - and he's there almost before he has time to pay attention to the way his stomach is twisting, over and under and around itself as though the agitation he's experiencing has nothing to do with being woken up out of a sound sleep in the early morning hours.
He finds Kento sitting on the sidewalk underneath a flickering street lamp, legs stretched out into the road, head in his hands and fingers in his hair. He doesn't look up when Fuma arrives - whether because he's embarrassed or too out of it to notice, Fuma isn't sure. His first reaction is annoyance - I drive out here at this hour to collect your intoxicated ass and you can't even stand the fuck up?! - but his second is concern, given that it's cold outside and Kento is wearing only a thin T-shirt and jeans. If Kento isn't going to come to him, Fuma's going to have to go to him, and he sighs as he cuts the engine, steps out of the car, and pockets his keys.
Kento doesn't move, even as Fuma approaches, though Fuma can see him shivering and frowns to himself. He crouches in front of Kento, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, and it's only then that Kento starts in surprise, looking up at Fuma inquisitively, as though he's forgotten that he called him at all. His eyes are shadowed, marked with dark circles, and when the weak light above finally reaches them, they seem glossy and a bit swollen, as though he's been crying. Seeing Kento in such a state sends a sharp stab of pain through Fuma's heart, dredging up feelings he thought he had buried a long time ago, and this is the worst time and place for this to happen, the worst. Fuma takes off his jacket and wraps it around Kento's shoulders, tugging it closed in the front as though it can somehow shield him from whatever's put him in this condition.
"I'm sorry, Fuma."
"Stop it already. Come on. Let's go."
Fuma gets to his feet, extending a hand to pull Kento to his. Kento stumbles over his own feet, falling against Fuma's chest, and Fuma wraps an arm around him to steady him. Kento murmurs something that Fuma doesn't catch - probably another apology that he doesn't want to hear, because Kento can be sorry all he wants to be, but it doesn't change a damn thing - and stumbles with him to the car. He absolutely reeks of liquor; Fuma can't even guess at how much he's had. He opens the passenger door, securing Kento in the car to the point that he fastens his seatbelt for him because he can't even trust him to do that on his own, and Kento doesn't argue, doesn't fight him, just stares at his knees as though he's so deep inside himself that even Fuma can't reach him now. It's frustrating - and, if Fuma is honest with himself, it's a little bit scary.
"You need to get some sleep," Fuma says when he's settled himself back in the driver's seat, fixing his gaze on Kento, who is still slumped in his own seat like a life-size rag doll. "When's the last time you slept? I mean really slept, not napped on set or fell asleep on the couch for three hours."
"I don't remember."
"Why don't you take better care of yourself?"
"It's not like I can sleep well, even when I do sleep, so what's the point?"
Fuma can't really argue with that statement, not these days, and doesn't even try, just starts the car and watches Kento rest his head against the window, still wrapped in Fuma's jacket with one hand gripping the collar as though the jacket is his shield against the world and he's afraid someone will take it from him.
"I'll take you home."
"Please... don't."
"What do you want me to do, then? I can't take you back to my house like this. Do you want me to get a hotel room?"
Kento nods. Spoiled, Fuma thinks, but maybe it's for the best. If anyone else were to see Kento like this, the outcome might be a bit... unpleasant.
"Will you stay with me?"
"I have to, don't I? If you die of alcohol poisoning, it'll be my responsibility."
"I don't want anything else to drink."
"You'd better not. Your liver's going to cry."
"Yes, Kikuchi-san," Kento replies, his voice sing-song and high-pitched and Fuma rolls his eyes. At least he's lucid enough to make jokes.
---
The ride to the hotel is, thankfully, short. It's not a particularly fancy place, but they were willing to accept late arrivals and didn't ask any questions, and that's really all that's required. Kento is able to walk in and up to the room unassisted, for which Fuma is grateful, and when the door clicks shut behind them, he gets his first really good look at Kento, caught in the light of the hotel entranceway. Not only has he clearly not slept, but he's so thin that Fuma can only guess at when his last proper meal was. His clothes are disheveled and his hair is a wreck, and Fuma thinks he really, really needs to put some space between them before he does something he's going to regret in the morning.
"Go take a shower, Nakajima."
Kento nods, disappearing without another word, and Fuma sinks onto the bed, raking his fingers through his hair and roughing it up into a mess. It's been a long time... maybe not a long time since these feelings cropped up, but a long time since he hasn't been able to push them back down. He and Kento had ended it because it had been too stressful, but the distance hasn't seemed to do either of them any good. Contrarily, it seems to have left them both raw, numb somehow, as though in order to stop feeling that sort of pain, they've had to stop feeling entirely - and they've both failed. Fuma, for all the time he spends with others, has not been able to turn off the constant stream of worry and sadness and longing, and Kento has been nearly completely alone, save for the few friends he allows himself to have - but he won't lean on them, Fuma knows, not like he needs to, for fear that he'll end up pushing them away. That was one thing Kento never seemed to worry about with him, always confident that Fuma would be by his side, but...
The bathroom door opens and Kento emerges then, cutting off Fuma's train of thought. His hair is wet, clinging to his forehead, and the hotel bathrobe is wrapped around him loosely, his clothes and Fuma's jacket folded in a neat pile in his arms.
"I didn't think I should sleep in them," he says, as though he thinks he needs to explain himself, and Fuma shrugs. Kento sets his clothes over the lone chair in the room and then makes his way over to sit on his own bed, across from Fuma, still not quite meeting his eyes.
"Kento," Fuma says, his voice gentler now than it has been all night, and Kento does look up at that, surprised. There are damp trails down his cheeks and Fuma isn't sure whether they were caused by water or tears. He supposes it doesn't matter. "Talk to me. Please. You don't sleep, you don't eat, you're calling me at 2:00 in the morning after drinking, what, an entire bottle of champagne on your own... what's going on?"
"You know what's going on--"
"--and I know it's not your fault."
"It's such a... helpless thing... not being able to do anything... change anything..."
"So you work yourself to death?"
"If I'm working, I'm not feeling."
"Come here."
Kento doesn't need to be asked twice; he slides into bed beside Fuma, one arm wrapped around Fuma's waist and his head tucked under Fuma's chin. Fuma's hand traces gentle circles on his back and he relaxes into Fuma's touch as though it's something he's been waiting for for a long, long time - and maybe he has.
"I miss you."
Kento's voice is so soft that Fuma can barely hear him, but the words register loud and clear all the same. He lowers his head to press a kiss to the top of Kento's head, lets his lips linger there longer than necessary, even for a kiss, and a sudden, strange warmth floods his body from his toes to his fingertips.
"You're an idiot. I'm an idiot. We're such idiots."
"Fuma... I'm afraid."
"I am, too."
"What kind of leader am I?"
"One who takes your position very seriously and is always professional, even when it pisses me off."
Fuma feels Kento shift in his arms and watches him curiously as he raises his hand to gently squeeze Fuma's face.
"It's cute when you pout at me. You do it a lot."
"Stop giving me reasons to do it, then."
"No. It's really cute."
"Spoiled. Drunk and spoiled."
Kento sticks his tongue out at him, exaggeratedly, and follows it up with a pout of his own.
"Fuma..."
"Hmm?"
Kento moves up to lean his forehead against Fuma's and stays there for a moment, not moving, not saying a word. Fuma can feel Kento's breath, short hot puffs against his lips and he can smell the soap from the shower. Kento's eyelashes brush the tops of Fuma's cheeks every time he blinks and Fuma can feel his heartbeat adjust to match Kento's. The hotel bathrobe slips from Kento's shoulder and he makes no move to shrug it back into place. Holding Kento like this, at this time, in this place, is the most intimate thing Fuma has ever done with another person, and he doesn't think he could feel closer to Kento than this even if he were inside him.
"Do you think we made a mistake?"
"I think we made a lot of mistakes." Fuma's arms tighten around Kento's waist and he bites back the tears welling up from a place so deep inside him that he hadn't even known it was there.
"How do we... unmake them?"
"We can't. You can only go forward, Kento. You can't go back."
"Then I want to go forward beside you. The way it's supposed to be. The way you said it would be."
Fuma can hear his own words echoing in his mind. The feelings we have won’t change, and we will go on like this together. For sure. It seems like yesterday and years ago, all at the same time, and the surge of emotion is too powerful to fight anymore. He kisses Kento swiftly, deeply, rolls over to get him on his back and feels Kento gasp and go willingly. His heart is fluttering and his hands are shaking as he pushes the bathrobe off of Kento's shoulders completely, trailing kisses down Kento's neck and flicking his tongue over the mole on his collarbone. Kento trembles and sighs beneath him, his hands clenched on Fuma's shoulders, and he doesn't move them until Fuma moves to tug at the tie holding the bathrobe closed around Kento's waist.
"I... really did have a lot to drink," he says by way of explanation when Fuma looks up at him questioningly. "I don't think I can..."
"Okay. It's okay."
Kento hesitates for a moment, then tugs at the hem of Fuma's shirt, almost shyly.
"Can you take this off?"
Fuma complies and Kento presses against him immediately, as though he's so desperate for skin-to-skin contact with Fuma that even the short amount of time it took Fuma to undress pushed him to his absolute limit. For a while, the room is silent save for the sounds of their breathing, and Fuma has a few moments to think. He smooths Kento's still-damp hair, tucks it behind his ear, and pulls him impossibly closer, as though if they hold each other tight enough, they can block the rest of the world out. His eyes slip half-shut and he idly wonders how close to dawn it is.
"Fuma," Kento mumbles, and he's clearly close to the sleep he so desperately needs. "Am I dreaming? Are you going to be gone when I wake up?"
"I'll be here. Go to sleep. We'll talk in the morning."
"Mm," Kento responds, kissing the side of Fuma's neck, the closest spot within in his reach. Fuma can almost feel the tension seeping out of him as Kento relaxes against him. "Good night."
"Good night," Fuma replies, but he's fairly certain that Kento isn't awake long enough to hear it. It's about time, Fuma thinks, leaning his head against Kento's and letting his own eyes fall shut.
---
As promised, Fuma wakes up in the same place the next day, squinting against the few rays of sunlight that have made it past the curtains and watching them gently shine on Kento's sleeping face. He reaches for his phone and quickly taps out a few messages, making sure that nobody will be worried about either of them, but stays right where he is, afraid to jostle Kento and wake him up too.
When Kento finally does come to, a few hours later, the battery in Fuma's phone is nearly completely drained from a long game session and Fuma's stomach is growling so loudly that he's almost concerned that the noise alone was enough to shock Kento awake. Instead, though, Kento blinks awake slowly, looking a bit disoriented, but Fuma can't help smiling at him all the same.
"Hey," Fuma says, and Kento groans by way of response. "Rough night?"
"Hmm. Rough at first, I think, but then somebody was very gentle with me, so I think it evened out."
"If you want coffee, you're on your own. I have no clothes and no money after I pay for this room."
"They take your clothes? What kind of hotel did you bring me to?"
Fuma tsks and swipes at Kento, who catches his hand easily and holds onto it, gently stroking his fingers.
"Fuma... thank you. For last night... for everything."
"Do you remember last night?" Kento nods. "Did you mean what you said?"
"I meant everything I said."
"Then... let's do it. Let's try again. Okay?"
"I'll try as many times as you'll let me."
Kento sounds close to tears and Fuma embraces him quickly, before he can let them fall, which Fuma is sure would lead to a chain reaction on his part in this state.
"Okay," Fuma whispers, and Kento's grip on him becomes stronger. "Okay."
Kento smiles at him softly, the kind of smile that Fuma can see in his eyes more than across his lips, and though the room is still dark, the entire world seems to brighten.
Tagging
funkysparks ♥
no subject
I'M SORRY
I DIDN'T EXPECT THIS TO HAPPEN EITHER
& THEN IT DID ;;
Fuma is somewhere rn wondering why his ears are buzzing from all of this abuse, lmao.
I like drunk Kento too so I guess we'll be sharing a room in hell!
Also, yes ♥ Fuma looking after Kento is one of my favorite things~
I apologize for your emotional distress but I'm glad you're still speaking to me, hahaha ♥