FicWad

The sky was bleeding darkness, a thick, stagnant rain that soaked into the cement and pounded right through one's umbrella and coat. In a loft in the depths of the city, two people cuddled together under an aging quilt to avoid the drafts.
It made a charming picture. The two were facing each other in a papasan chair large enough to be a bed, knee to knee, each tucked in a ball, and holding hands. A gas fire burned in the fireplace, strangely out of place in what was otherwise obviously a photographer's studio apartment.
Neither one was particularly large, but the one on the left, the one with the wing-like blue hair, was just a little smaller, just a little slimmer, than the one on the right with his bleach-blond hair, round face and smiling cupid's mouth. The blond was busily unraveling fringes on the quilt with one hand, and studiously avoiding the sharp gaze of the other.
"Hisa-bisa, busy-head. It's been ages. What have you been doing with your time that you haven't had time to visit me?"
"Don't call me that. Being in a band, Jiro...you know how busy that keeps us. How busy it...used to keep you..."
"I know...I'm still enjoying having free time to go out and find beautiful pictures to take. I'm doing pretty well with it, you know, got a gallery show next week in-"
"I know. But-"
"I miss you, Hisashi." Dark eyes darted to stare at the blue-haired man's eyebrows, nose, mouth, anywhere but his eyes. He didn't want to see the accusation, the negativity. He just wanted to enjoy this time, this surprising, but welcome visit, not face up to another round of questioning. Jiro closed his eyes, missing the soft look that misted over Hisashi's face.
"I miss you, too. We all do. We need you back. It's not the same..." The soft voice trailed off, its owner knowing he had said too much too quickly. "I miss you, especially. I miss having you around to complain, and fight with, and...I miss..." He reached out, curling his fingers, and caressed Jiro's cheek. Jiro stopped picking at the quilt and caught the hand, cradling it gently.
"I know. You were always my ultimate rival. Still are?" A shy grin bloomed on his face, and Hisashi melted.
"Of course. Like that'd ever change. But I get the point. You don't want to talk about Glay right now. You're happy taking your break, and you don't care-"
"Don't say that. Of course I care." The smile faded. "I care a lot. That's why I left. We've had this fight before, I don't want to have it now, not tonight. You...are staying, right? I know you didn't drive, and-" A blast of thunder made him pause. "-the weather is awful."
It was Hisashi's turn to smile. Jiro kissed his fingertips gently, then let go of his hand.
"Of course. I wouldn't miss this chance. Even if we're scrapping in public, we're always friends when we're alone. Ever since..."
"Yeah."
A thin veil of silence dropped. Suddenly the rain seemed deafeningly loud.
Jiro's voice was quiet, but "I guess that's just life, though, isn't it? Someone you fight with constantly turns into someone you can't help but adore."
"Wierd, isn't it? I wouldn't have expected you to be the one I..."
"Me neither. How'd it happen, do you think?"
"It was the smile. No, it was the smile on one particular day. Do you remember, that one photo shoot that we sort of skipped out on, the one down by the beach? You had your camera, and you kept taking pictures of the oddest things, like that jellyfish, or the beer cans, or, hey, remember that funky driftwood? I just thought you were nuts."
"...Yeah, I remember that one. You followed me after I wandered off after they'd finished my solo shots. It was like we were disobeying someone's very strict orders-"
"Weren't we? Takuro was pretty pissed off at us when we finally made it back."
"Heh. That was funny. And Teru just flipped his hair and tried to ignore me. It was cool."
"But you gave me this grin, over your shoulder, right as we were getting back in the van to go home, this grin that just said, 'This is our secret, and it doesn't matter how loudly we get yelled at, because it was fun, and I don't care.' I remember that better than anything else that day."
"...Yeah..."
"...And you gave me presents when I broke my leg. That didn't exactly hurt. Even if you did take that pic of me with a scary expression."
"I couldn't help it! You looked like an angry cat! It was so cute, I had to!"
Hisashi ruffled Jiro's hair affectionately, then trailed thin fingers down to tug a half-hidden silver chain out from under his collar. A tiny cat charm dangled from it, twinkling happily. He settled it back down, this time on the outside. Jiro took his hand again and kissed the center of the palm.
"I'll be back in a little while, Hisa-bisa, busy-head. I'm almost done being a pain in the ass. Tell Takuro that, okay? ...And tell him I'm sorry for making him worry so much."
"Don't call me that. What about me? Are you sorry for making me worry so much?"
Jiro didn't respond, but stretched out his arms and pulled Hisashi closer until he stretched out and rolled over, making the chair rock dangerously. After the resulting giggles had subsided, he tucked one hand under the smaller boy's waist, then curled around him.
"I'm sorry for making you worry. But you shouldn't have. You, of all people, should know that I won't give up on something once I've decided on it, and, in this case, that means both Glay...and you." He tucked the quilt firmly around them and enclosed Hisashi in his arms. Hisashi closed his eyes, and snuggled in.
"I know. I just like to make sure. You know me."
He sighed, just a brief exhalation, as Jiro kissed the back of his neck.
"I know you."
Cradled there, Hisashi could feel sleepiness breathing over him. He lifted Jiro's hand and looked at the little calluses, calluses that would never fade. He noticed a few shiny new ones that were rising, and kissed them.
"You still practice. You don't throw away the new songs that Takuro mails you, you practice them."
"Yep. It's not quite as good as being with you guys, but at least I can know my parts, right?"
Warm, fuzzy feelings crept over Hisashi, imagining Jiro sitting here alone, practicing for hours. He'd probably have that little wrinkle of concentration between his brows, maybe be chewing on his lower lip.
He bent his head down and stifled the temptation to giggle. Jiro tickled him.
"What? Is there something funny about me keeping in practice? You got a problem with that?"
"Not--hee Stopitstopitstopit!--Not in the least! I think it's wonderful." He sighed again, this time in vague exasperation, when Jiro buried his face in his hair, snuffling. "You're ridiculous."
"...Ridiculous?...You smell like...like...coconut. That's wierd."
"...Why? It's just shampoo."
"People shouldn't smell like food. Food is for eating, while people..."
"...there's an invitation in that statement, and I'm not going to take you up on it." Hisashi could feel the lips turning up into a mischevious grin against his neck. "Instead, I'm going to fall asleep on you. I'm beat."
"Awww." Hisashi elbowed him. "I was just kidding! I have no problems with that idea. Just as long as you stay here, curled up with me. I'm tired of sleeping alone."
"I'm not going anywhere until the morning. Maybe the afternoon."
"Good. I'll proposition you later, then. Goodnight kiss?"
"Of course." Hisashi squirmed around until he could comfortably kiss Jiro's nose.
"That's not a goodnight kiss," the blond complained. "Gimme a better one."
"Such is life. That's what you get."
"I don't buy it. I want my kiss."
"Allri~ght..." Hisashi grabbed Jiro by the ears and planted a Bugs Bunny style smooch, complete with loud smacking noise, right in the middle of his forehead. Jiro pouted cutely.
"Heyyy..."
Hisashi grinned, then languidly wrapped his arms around Jiro's shoulders, pulling him close for a gently passionate kiss.
"Good night, Jiro."
"Good night, Hisashi."
Jiro retightened his grip on Hisashi, slipping his hands under the thin cotton shirt. He laced his fingers together across the smooth stomach and settled down, happy.
It only took a few minutes for Hisashi to drift into oblivion, but Jiro stayed awake for almost an hour listening to him breathe, and contemplating the sound of the rain.