Shinna (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} omg_a_lemon_ic) wrote,@ 2007-08-04 03:18:00 |
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The Fatal Believer
You don't love me. I can tell, just in the way all your fingertips touch me, the way you look at me, how your eyes see straight through me. I can tell, just by looking at you, by the things you say and how you say them.
Most of all, I know it by how you have never once said you do.
The blonde drummer unlocked his hotel room door, pushing it open carelessly; quickly the equally-blonde guitarist followed him inside, and neither of them bothered to shed their shoes before the taller of the two pinned the younger to the wall, pressing up against him and kissing him heatedly, both of their breaths coming in quick pants of lust that had long since stopped surprising the both of them.
Without breaking the kiss, their tongues dancing together hotly, the guitarist reached out, his hand grasping the door to shove it closed, closing them off from the world for a few hours, at least until their band mates came calling to pry them out into the bus to spend another day on the highways of America. Once the slam ended in a click, he blindly turned the lock, as well, before both of his hands went about shoving the drummer's shirt up, pressing against the heated skin, as his head lowered to hungrily lick and nip at the soft skin of the smaller male's neck.
Shinya's back arched, his head resting against the wall, dark eyes half-closing in quiet pleasure as his body pressed into the surprisingly-soft hands of the guitarist, his own hands moving to fist the fabric of Die's shirt tightly. His heart hammered against his chest, like it always did when Die touched him that way, and a slight nudge of his shoulder prompted Die to lift his head so they could share another kiss, a kiss not of two lovers but of two people lusting after each other. When the kiss had taken their breaths away and broke, Die moved Shinya away from the wall, and before either of them really knew how it had happened, they were on the bed, the drummer with the rest of his clothes off. Instantly, the guitarist began kissing over every bit of the bare, soft skin, making Shinya squirm and shiver, whimpering softly for more as the kisses moved slowly lower.
Of course, I told you once, how I felt. Remember? That time when it was you and I, alone in that church in Germany, was it? When we had gone sightseeing with Kyo for a little bit. I pulled you aside, whispered to you my feelings.
All you did was smile, and point out something else to see, another beautiful window, an artful change of subject you've mastered so well.
Shinya's eyes fluttered open as the kisses against his body stopped, and he found himself staring up into a pair of soft, brown eyes. For a moment, he found himself searching their depths for the slightest bit of love, for some sort of kind emotion in them. There was nothing but lust, an expression he had gotten so used to seeing so long ago. Again, they kissed heatedly, Shinya abandoning the search for that love that he so desperately wanted. The guitarist didn't love him, not in that way. He loved him like a friend. They were friends, even if they went further than friends ever went.
And he gave way to passion--his eyes slid closed--as Die began to run his hands over every curve of his figure, his fingertips touching every inch of skin. Moving down, gentle lips found first one nipple, kissing it, licking it, then sucking it, making the drummer moan softly then cry out when the sensitive nub was bitten sharply, leaving a slight red mark. Die turned to the other nipple, yet he hardly gave it any attention; he was too busy working to get his own jeans off, done playing with the smaller male. Shinya's eyes flickered open halfway, watching him silently, his breath slightly uneven with anticipation.
Without another word or moment wasted, Die had buried himself deep within Shinya, elliciting a moan from the younger and smaller male. Long, slender fingers moved, the drummer's hands resting against Die's upper arms, his perfectly-manicured nails digging slightly into the skin--not enough to leave marks that would let others know what they did when they snuck off together, no, never any marks that would ever claim Die, either. He moaned again as Die began to thrust, and he moved with him, eyes closing once again.
Die leaned down to kiss him, a hasty, hungry kiss, seeking the taste of the drummer lustfully, as his thrusts quickened, becoming rougher and faster, something that, even through the pleasure, made Shinya cry out softly; Die's lips silenced him. It was only then that Shinya realized there was something on Die's breath, something in how he tasted, that was different this time. There was something there, and the smaller blonde's clouded mind tried desperately to place it, even as once again he gave way to the passion.
You'd become an alcoholic, it seemed, in the time since we'd begun our overseas touring. It wasn't enough to bother the band--no, you only had a bottle of liquor at hand at all times, taking sips here and there. I questioned it once, remember, but all you did was brush me aside and go on your way to hang out with Gene and Toshiya, remember that? A part of me blames Gene . . . A part of me blames Americans, for their loose, disgusting, beer-infested ways. You changed, you grew up, became a real rockstar.
A fucking rockstar. Bitch.
Oh, I do so hate those words.
Alcohol. It was so thick in the guitarist, that it almost made Shinya drunk just from his kisses somehow. As Die began to get rougher, his thrusts becoming vicious in nature and ripping the poor drummer apart from the inside out, Shinya broke away from the kiss so that he could let out a gasp, finally, and then a loud cry. His hands, which had been resting against Die's upper arms, pushed against the bigger man, yet he was tired; it had been a long show, his strength didn't seem to exist anymore.
He'd been feeling especially weak lately; perhaps he'd caught a bug somewhere? He'd see a doctor, when they returned to Japan. For now, he was stuck, with Die trailing kisses down his neck to his collarbone, biting at the skin as his thrusting became faster and harder, nearly unbearable. Unable to keep from sobbing at the pain of being ripped apart inside, Shinya's hands fell away from Die's arms, clenching around the sheets beneath him, as his eyes squeezed closed to keep the tears from escaping, his breathing quickening in his throat until it was impossible to fullfill the needs of his body.
"D-Die, please...Please!" he whispered hoarsely, an attempt to get Die to stop, but it was useless. Under his grunts and groans, Die couldn't hear the drummer's whispered pleas, couldn't see the pain he was causing. Suddenly Shinya's eyes opened, widening; something inside him broke, shattered into millions of pieces. A strange part of him realized it to be his heart, and a last attempt was made to get Die's attention--long fingers wrapped around golden strands, giving them a faint tug, as the drummer tried to draw a breath that would not come; Daisuke paid no mind, lost to the world of alcohol and lust.
I . . . love you . . .
At last Die came, an explosion of white-hot colors, with a long, drawn-out moan. Without opening his eyes, he collapsed on top of the small blonde beneath him, not noticing the lack of life, the stilled chest and cooling skin. The fingers were still tangled in his hair as he panted, and idly, one hand wandered over the drummer's side, caressing ribs that he could feel so easily, that he could count, and his mind began to slowly clear from the alcohol and lust.
Shinya had seemed to be becoming frail lately, hadn't he? Die had noticed, had seen him becoming skinnier and paler, eating very seldom. Had he been sick? The former-redhead wasn't sure, though he didn't think Shinya had been. If he was sick, would he have played the drums still? No, surely he would have asked for a break, to get better. So Daisuke had thought nothing of it, enjoying his alcohol and playing for the fans. Sometimes he would engage in his little teases with the younger, but it wasn't so often anymore, not like it had been when they were younger.
Teasing that always hid feelings, deep feelings that he kept from sharing. Feelings of a homosexual kind. He wasn't supposed to love Shinya. Shinya was a man, not a woman. He could never have the future that he would have with a woman. And yet, the feelings persisted, no matter how much he denied them, how much he pushed them away and covered them up. Drinking helped, helped him find a way that he could be with Shinya, at the same time. Shinya knew he was drunk whenever they had sex; that was just how it was. Yet lately--that night--the feelings had come back stronger, and he'd gotten drunker than usual, and been rough with the poor drummer.
Die frowned a little. Had he hurt him? Shinya was being so quiet, so strangely quiet, even for Shinya. He lifted his head, shifting a little to sit up a bit so he could look down at the drummer. His frown deepened as he noticed how the small male's eyes were closed, yet he didn't have the peaceful look of sleep he always had when he slept. The look was different, of a different type of sleep.
"...Sh..Shin-chan?" the guitarist whispered, his voice trembling strangely in the silence of the hotel room. Sitting up further, Shinya's hand fell from his hair, fingers still clenched, some strands of loose hair caught there, and Die stared at them for a moment before looking back at the pretty face. "...Shinya?" Cautiously he reached out, trembling fingers touching a cooling cheek. The hand made its way down, away from the cheek to trail its way along his neck to his chest; once there, the hand searched for a heartbeat and found none.
"O-Oh...fuck..." The hand drew back quickly, pressing against its owner's forehead, as Die sucked on his teeth, suddenly at a complete and utter loss for what to do. He'd just basically killed his band mate--the one closest to him--without even knowing how or meaning to. His hand lowered, pressing against his mouth. "Oh God...Shinya...Shinya, wake up...This...This isn't funny...What am I...going to do?!" Quickly he shook Shinya, an attempt to get him to wake up. "Shin-chan, please...Please, this had better be a joke, okay...? Some cruel joke, just...just to get me to...I don't know...Freak out...Oh God."
No response; Shinya laid still.
"...I...I know what this is about. This is about that one time, isn't it? When we were in that cathedral, and you told me you loved me? You're...You're trying to get me to confess, huh? Trying...Trying to trick me into confessing..." It was the only logical thing Die could think of as he sat back. "You...You just want me to say I love you. Well...I'm...No. I don't love you, Shinya. I'm not...gay..."
The insistence brought nothing from the dead drummer; Die's eyes widened, and he shook his head.
"N-No, Shinya...I...You need to stop this...It's not funny, okay...? You're scaring me now!" he protested, biting his lip to keep back the frightened tears. Then he just completely broke. "F-Fine! You win! I...I love you, Shinya! Please, stop playing around! Stop it! It isn't fucking funny anymore!" With a sob, he leaned forward, head resting against Shinya's still chest. "I...I love you...I finally admit it...Please, don't...Don't do this when I finally admit it...!" His tears overflowed as he closed his eyes, giving in to his crying.
"Please...Please, Shin-chan..I'm sorry..I never meant to hurt you...I really didn't. You know...You know I didn't...I just...I was so confused. I can't like another man...I just -can't-! I know you...you of all people would understand...Please, come back to me...I...Please!" Suddenly angry, Die sat up again, pouding his fists against the tiny chest, again and again and again, trying to get the drummer to wake up. Gradually, the pale skin began to bruise; beneath his fists; Die became aware of the cracking of fragile bones, and it only made him cry harder, heartwrenching sobs. The pounding ceased, leaving Die to rest his forehead against the drummer's chest once again.
"...Please...Oh God...Please, Shinya..." he whispered a final time before his eyes closed and sleep overtook him.
My life meant little to you, I'm sure. I was only a toy for you, a 'fuck buddy'. I was a fool, for feeling the way I did for you, for falling in love with an idiot who lived only to hurt others. I opened up to you, I gave you my heart. You broke it, in the most basic of senses.
I should have learned. Stupid me, I should have realized, early on. You could never love me. You were a straight man, and a rockstar besides, as you so eloquently put it.
Yet I didn't.
The crumpling dream spins in the
Blurred sky faraway and the sky grows dark.
The vanishing existence soon fades
Away.
You don't love me. I can tell, just in the way all your fingertips touch me, the way you look at me, how your eyes see straight through me. I can tell, just by looking at you, by the things you say and how you say them.
Most of all, I know it by how you have never once said you do.
The blonde drummer unlocked his hotel room door, pushing it open carelessly; quickly the equally-blonde guitarist followed him inside, and neither of them bothered to shed their shoes before the taller of the two pinned the younger to the wall, pressing up against him and kissing him heatedly, both of their breaths coming in quick pants of lust that had long since stopped surprising the both of them.
Without breaking the kiss, their tongues dancing together hotly, the guitarist reached out, his hand grasping the door to shove it closed, closing them off from the world for a few hours, at least until their band mates came calling to pry them out into the bus to spend another day on the highways of America. Once the slam ended in a click, he blindly turned the lock, as well, before both of his hands went about shoving the drummer's shirt up, pressing against the heated skin, as his head lowered to hungrily lick and nip at the soft skin of the smaller male's neck.
Shinya's back arched, his head resting against the wall, dark eyes half-closing in quiet pleasure as his body pressed into the surprisingly-soft hands of the guitarist, his own hands moving to fist the fabric of Die's shirt tightly. His heart hammered against his chest, like it always did when Die touched him that way, and a slight nudge of his shoulder prompted Die to lift his head so they could share another kiss, a kiss not of two lovers but of two people lusting after each other. When the kiss had taken their breaths away and broke, Die moved Shinya away from the wall, and before either of them really knew how it had happened, they were on the bed, the drummer with the rest of his clothes off. Instantly, the guitarist began kissing over every bit of the bare, soft skin, making Shinya squirm and shiver, whimpering softly for more as the kisses moved slowly lower.
Of course, I told you once, how I felt. Remember? That time when it was you and I, alone in that church in Germany, was it? When we had gone sightseeing with Kyo for a little bit. I pulled you aside, whispered to you my feelings.
All you did was smile, and point out something else to see, another beautiful window, an artful change of subject you've mastered so well.
Shinya's eyes fluttered open as the kisses against his body stopped, and he found himself staring up into a pair of soft, brown eyes. For a moment, he found himself searching their depths for the slightest bit of love, for some sort of kind emotion in them. There was nothing but lust, an expression he had gotten so used to seeing so long ago. Again, they kissed heatedly, Shinya abandoning the search for that love that he so desperately wanted. The guitarist didn't love him, not in that way. He loved him like a friend. They were friends, even if they went further than friends ever went.
And he gave way to passion--his eyes slid closed--as Die began to run his hands over every curve of his figure, his fingertips touching every inch of skin. Moving down, gentle lips found first one nipple, kissing it, licking it, then sucking it, making the drummer moan softly then cry out when the sensitive nub was bitten sharply, leaving a slight red mark. Die turned to the other nipple, yet he hardly gave it any attention; he was too busy working to get his own jeans off, done playing with the smaller male. Shinya's eyes flickered open halfway, watching him silently, his breath slightly uneven with anticipation.
Without another word or moment wasted, Die had buried himself deep within Shinya, elliciting a moan from the younger and smaller male. Long, slender fingers moved, the drummer's hands resting against Die's upper arms, his perfectly-manicured nails digging slightly into the skin--not enough to leave marks that would let others know what they did when they snuck off together, no, never any marks that would ever claim Die, either. He moaned again as Die began to thrust, and he moved with him, eyes closing once again.
Die leaned down to kiss him, a hasty, hungry kiss, seeking the taste of the drummer lustfully, as his thrusts quickened, becoming rougher and faster, something that, even through the pleasure, made Shinya cry out softly; Die's lips silenced him. It was only then that Shinya realized there was something on Die's breath, something in how he tasted, that was different this time. There was something there, and the smaller blonde's clouded mind tried desperately to place it, even as once again he gave way to the passion.
You'd become an alcoholic, it seemed, in the time since we'd begun our overseas touring. It wasn't enough to bother the band--no, you only had a bottle of liquor at hand at all times, taking sips here and there. I questioned it once, remember, but all you did was brush me aside and go on your way to hang out with Gene and Toshiya, remember that? A part of me blames Gene . . . A part of me blames Americans, for their loose, disgusting, beer-infested ways. You changed, you grew up, became a real rockstar.
A fucking rockstar. Bitch.
Oh, I do so hate those words.
Alcohol. It was so thick in the guitarist, that it almost made Shinya drunk just from his kisses somehow. As Die began to get rougher, his thrusts becoming vicious in nature and ripping the poor drummer apart from the inside out, Shinya broke away from the kiss so that he could let out a gasp, finally, and then a loud cry. His hands, which had been resting against Die's upper arms, pushed against the bigger man, yet he was tired; it had been a long show, his strength didn't seem to exist anymore.
He'd been feeling especially weak lately; perhaps he'd caught a bug somewhere? He'd see a doctor, when they returned to Japan. For now, he was stuck, with Die trailing kisses down his neck to his collarbone, biting at the skin as his thrusting became faster and harder, nearly unbearable. Unable to keep from sobbing at the pain of being ripped apart inside, Shinya's hands fell away from Die's arms, clenching around the sheets beneath him, as his eyes squeezed closed to keep the tears from escaping, his breathing quickening in his throat until it was impossible to fullfill the needs of his body.
"D-Die, please...Please!" he whispered hoarsely, an attempt to get Die to stop, but it was useless. Under his grunts and groans, Die couldn't hear the drummer's whispered pleas, couldn't see the pain he was causing. Suddenly Shinya's eyes opened, widening; something inside him broke, shattered into millions of pieces. A strange part of him realized it to be his heart, and a last attempt was made to get Die's attention--long fingers wrapped around golden strands, giving them a faint tug, as the drummer tried to draw a breath that would not come; Daisuke paid no mind, lost to the world of alcohol and lust.
I . . . love you . . .
At last Die came, an explosion of white-hot colors, with a long, drawn-out moan. Without opening his eyes, he collapsed on top of the small blonde beneath him, not noticing the lack of life, the stilled chest and cooling skin. The fingers were still tangled in his hair as he panted, and idly, one hand wandered over the drummer's side, caressing ribs that he could feel so easily, that he could count, and his mind began to slowly clear from the alcohol and lust.
Shinya had seemed to be becoming frail lately, hadn't he? Die had noticed, had seen him becoming skinnier and paler, eating very seldom. Had he been sick? The former-redhead wasn't sure, though he didn't think Shinya had been. If he was sick, would he have played the drums still? No, surely he would have asked for a break, to get better. So Daisuke had thought nothing of it, enjoying his alcohol and playing for the fans. Sometimes he would engage in his little teases with the younger, but it wasn't so often anymore, not like it had been when they were younger.
Teasing that always hid feelings, deep feelings that he kept from sharing. Feelings of a homosexual kind. He wasn't supposed to love Shinya. Shinya was a man, not a woman. He could never have the future that he would have with a woman. And yet, the feelings persisted, no matter how much he denied them, how much he pushed them away and covered them up. Drinking helped, helped him find a way that he could be with Shinya, at the same time. Shinya knew he was drunk whenever they had sex; that was just how it was. Yet lately--that night--the feelings had come back stronger, and he'd gotten drunker than usual, and been rough with the poor drummer.
Die frowned a little. Had he hurt him? Shinya was being so quiet, so strangely quiet, even for Shinya. He lifted his head, shifting a little to sit up a bit so he could look down at the drummer. His frown deepened as he noticed how the small male's eyes were closed, yet he didn't have the peaceful look of sleep he always had when he slept. The look was different, of a different type of sleep.
"...Sh..Shin-chan?" the guitarist whispered, his voice trembling strangely in the silence of the hotel room. Sitting up further, Shinya's hand fell from his hair, fingers still clenched, some strands of loose hair caught there, and Die stared at them for a moment before looking back at the pretty face. "...Shinya?" Cautiously he reached out, trembling fingers touching a cooling cheek. The hand made its way down, away from the cheek to trail its way along his neck to his chest; once there, the hand searched for a heartbeat and found none.
"O-Oh...fuck..." The hand drew back quickly, pressing against its owner's forehead, as Die sucked on his teeth, suddenly at a complete and utter loss for what to do. He'd just basically killed his band mate--the one closest to him--without even knowing how or meaning to. His hand lowered, pressing against his mouth. "Oh God...Shinya...Shinya, wake up...This...This isn't funny...What am I...going to do?!" Quickly he shook Shinya, an attempt to get him to wake up. "Shin-chan, please...Please, this had better be a joke, okay...? Some cruel joke, just...just to get me to...I don't know...Freak out...Oh God."
No response; Shinya laid still.
"...I...I know what this is about. This is about that one time, isn't it? When we were in that cathedral, and you told me you loved me? You're...You're trying to get me to confess, huh? Trying...Trying to trick me into confessing..." It was the only logical thing Die could think of as he sat back. "You...You just want me to say I love you. Well...I'm...No. I don't love you, Shinya. I'm not...gay..."
The insistence brought nothing from the dead drummer; Die's eyes widened, and he shook his head.
"N-No, Shinya...I...You need to stop this...It's not funny, okay...? You're scaring me now!" he protested, biting his lip to keep back the frightened tears. Then he just completely broke. "F-Fine! You win! I...I love you, Shinya! Please, stop playing around! Stop it! It isn't fucking funny anymore!" With a sob, he leaned forward, head resting against Shinya's still chest. "I...I love you...I finally admit it...Please, don't...Don't do this when I finally admit it...!" His tears overflowed as he closed his eyes, giving in to his crying.
"Please...Please, Shin-chan..I'm sorry..I never meant to hurt you...I really didn't. You know...You know I didn't...I just...I was so confused. I can't like another man...I just -can't-! I know you...you of all people would understand...Please, come back to me...I...Please!" Suddenly angry, Die sat up again, pouding his fists against the tiny chest, again and again and again, trying to get the drummer to wake up. Gradually, the pale skin began to bruise; beneath his fists; Die became aware of the cracking of fragile bones, and it only made him cry harder, heartwrenching sobs. The pounding ceased, leaving Die to rest his forehead against the drummer's chest once again.
"...Please...Oh God...Please, Shinya..." he whispered a final time before his eyes closed and sleep overtook him.
My life meant little to you, I'm sure. I was only a toy for you, a 'fuck buddy'. I was a fool, for feeling the way I did for you, for falling in love with an idiot who lived only to hurt others. I opened up to you, I gave you my heart. You broke it, in the most basic of senses.
I should have learned. Stupid me, I should have realized, early on. You could never love me. You were a straight man, and a rockstar besides, as you so eloquently put it.
Yet I didn't.
The crumpling dream spins in the
Blurred sky faraway and the sky grows dark.
The vanishing existence soon fades
Away.
