27-June-2003
Kaikan Phrase: Duet
by Yoiko and bonnejeanne
Contact: mightyyoiko@hotmail.com, bonnejeanne@yahoo.com
Pairings: Sakuya x Yuki
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Spoilers, Yaoi, Lemon
Part Four
Sakuya lay back on the bed, his muscles relaxing completely. After a few moments, his eyes opened, a slight, genuine smile curving his lips slightly. He sat up slowly and reached out to take Yuki's face in his hands, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. "Arigato."
Yuki was still flushed with his success as he smiled back. "It was my pleasure," he said, and for a few moments he looked up at Sakuya with a completely unguarded expression, mellow and loving.
"Are you ready for breakfast?" he asked.
"Coffee," was the one word reply. Sakuya looked down at the floor for a moment, gathering himself, then reached for the crutches. First to the spot on the floor where the cut-offs had ended up, then the maneuver to get them on around the cast, a zip up, the metal button at the top left unfastened negligently. Then he opened the sliding door and let himself onto the small balcony to stare across the city and breath the air that was never country-fresh, but which the inhabitants of Tokyo often felt compelled to sample as an alternative to the environment within four close walls.
"As you wish," Yuki murmured, and stood and stretched for a long moment before pulling on his pajama bottoms and heading for the kitchen. While the coffee brewed, he started a few eggs boiling and cut a few slices of bread to toast. Sakuya might be willing to settle for just coffee, but Yuki was hoping to entice the singer into having a somewhat more substantial breakfast.
He needed to have food in his stomach before taking his medicine.
The sound of the phone was startling in the odd peace that had settled over the small apartment. Sakuya made no move to answer it, letting the machine pick up.
"I just found out you've been hurt! I suppose that's why you haven't called me back. Just the thought of you sitting alone in that apartment with no one to keep you company or fix you a meal, or tend to your needs, makes my feminine heart throb with passion.... well, you're not picking up, hmm, maybe you can't get to the phone. Nevermind, I'll come by later and bring you a nice hot lunch. So like you not to tell me what's going on, even when you need help."
The female voice sounded more curious than concerned, perhaps even slightly smug. Sakuya came in from the tiny balcony without a glance at the machine.
Yuki walked out of the kitchen with a breakfast tray in his hands, and tried--and failed--to meet Sakuya's eyes. He'd overheard the woman's message, and it had both wounded him to think of Sakuya with someone else, and infuriated him to hear the woman's presumptive possessiveness... and he'd had to forcibly remind himself that Sakuya certainly had every right to do whatever he wanted. He'd made no promises, and been very up-front about where Yuki stood with him, and Yuki had knowingly accepted those terms. Somehow, though, reminding himself that he had no right to feel jealous didn't really help. He took a deep breath, and forced his expression and tone to remain neutral.
"I thought you might want some food to go with your coffee," he said, and was pleased to note that his voice came out sounding even and calm. "You should probably eat at least a little before you take your medicine." The pills were all there, including the painkillers he knew Sakuya wouldn't want, but it was still too early in the morning to contact the doctor.
The singer observed the combination of Yuki's calm tone and downcast eyes. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly but he could play the game of masks certainly as well as anyone else, perhaps even as well as this young professional-in-training. Making a soft, non-committal grunt, he eased himself down to the floor by the bed - his preferred spot for eating if he wasn't standing up. Using the bed as a backrest, the broken leg stuck out straight, he tucked the other foot against his thigh and reached up to accept the tray, setting it on the floor. The coffee was good, and welcome, and he allowed his face to relax in that enjoyment. Then he began methodically eating the food Yuki had prepared.
"You have practice today, I assume. Would it be impossible for me to come with you and watch?"
The question startled Yuki enough to look into Sakuya's eyes. "If you--if you like," he said, blushing. "I'll call Father and be sure it's all right, but I don't think he'd mind." No, it was a pretty safe bet that his father wouldn't mind; he'd be pleased that Yuki's friends were reinforcing the importance of Noh, rather than exerting their bad influence with 'that band nonsense.'
The real question was whether Yuki would be able to perform properly with those blue eyes watching him!
"Good," Sakuya said, finishing a last bite of toast. He took the antibiotic pill and then looked at the pain pill. It was an oval shaped one with an indention across the middle. Using the tray surface as a brace, he snapped it into two pieces and swallowed one, leaving the other on the tray.
The next problem would be finding something to wear that wouldn't scandalize Yuki's father. With a silent mental shrug he resigned himself to destroying his dress pants. It would be some weeks before he'd need them again, he certainly wouldn't be performing at the bar in this condition. It was a small sacrifice to get out of the apartment and be gone when she showed up.
Yuki's eyebrows rose as Sakuya broke the little oval pill, but he refrained from comment. He should probably consider himself lucky that the singer had taken any of it! Nevertheless, he'd feel better about it after he'd gotten the doctor's blessing. He quickly ate his own breakfast and then made his phone calls.
"You're in luck," he said, as he knelt to collect the breakfast tray and tried not to notice how close the maneuver brought his lips to Sakuya's. "Not only is my father pleased to have you visit, but the doctor said you could switch to aspirin if you preferred. I assume that meets with your approval?"
The singer didn't bother to answer what he considered a purely rhetorical question, choosing instead to take advantage of the proximity to take a momentary taste of Yuki's mouth.
Satisfied with the response, including the wide-eyed look he secretly hoped Yuki would retain for a while, he smiled at the guitar player.
"Does your father know you're gay?"
"No," Yuki said, and ducked his head. "I think... that's his worst nightmare."
One of the singer's eyebrows rose, but it came to him pretty quickly. Of course it would be the man's worst nightmare, if it meant his son would not be inclined to marry and produce descendants. The lineage and continuance of the Noh house were the only things of importance in his world, perhaps.
Whereas I have nothing of importance in mine, Sakuya thought cynically.
Pulling himself awkwardly (he assumed) to his feet, he moved to the small trunk that held most of his few belongings. "Let's see how good you are as a tailor," he commented.
Yuki stifled the urge to sigh, instead watching Sakuya move across the room. Watching Sakuya was much better than thinking about what a disappointment Yuki was to his father.... He barely noticed the ugliness of scrapes and bruises marring Sakuya's skin; he was too entranced by the perfect lines of the man's face and body, and the grace and strength and confidence in the way he moved. Belatedly, Sakuya's words sank into his consciousness, and Yuki rose to follow him.
"I can sew on a button..." he said, a slight smile curving his lips.
With a little bit of experimentation they managed to open the outside seam of the left leg of Sakuya's dress pants, allowing it to be pulled on, with some maneuvering, over the cast. The singer added a dark turtleneck sweater and combed his hair, spending a few minutes attending to his manicure. He accepted Yuki's help in getting down the stairs, a much more difficult job than going up, oddly enough. His pace to the car was leisurely, including another long look at the remains of his motorcycle, and a pause just to lift his head and look up at the sky. 'Captivity' didn't sit well with Sakuya.
"It's nice just to get out for a while," Yuki mused. /Even if it's to go to Noh practice.../ He opened the car door for Sakuya, trying not to think about how positively delicious the singer looked. The dark turtleneck made those fabulous eyes seem all the more blue, somehow, and the way it clung lovingly to the hard, muscular lines of Sakuya's torso was every bit as enticing as the cropped top the singer normally favored. Just the look of him was almost enough to distract Yuki from wondering about Sakuya's lady-friend... but Yuki reasoned that he didn't have any right to question Sakuya on the matter, and he was determined to respect the singer's privacy. If Sakuya wanted him to know what was going on, he would say something, and otherwise it just really wasn't any of Yuki's business.
He couldn't help but wonder, though, whether Sakuya was avoiding the woman on purpose, and why.
The singer stared out the window on the drive. It was not an unfamiliar position to be in, but he found it interesting that he felt relaxed in Yuki's presence, where the other person who drove him places of late required a deeper level of detachment to deal with. She was both attracted to his coldness, he knew, and egged on by it to try and get a reaction from him. The thought had occurred to him that one day she was going to take it too far, but he'd never acknowledged any future in the relationship to begin with. Breaking it off would require a lot of effort at this point. It was easier to wait until she did it.
Easier... The thoughts caused a slight restless stir before he let them go. Distraction was available in the form of the beautifully kept lawn and drive they were approaching. Without really thinking about it, Sakuya brushed the back of his hand along Yuki's arm. "Don't be nervous. Just concentrate on your practice."
A wash of gooseflesh followed the light movement, and Yuki shivered. "I'll... I'll do my best," he said, but he knew it was going to be hard to concentrate on anything but Sakuya. "I hope it won't be too boring for you."
"By comparison to staring at the hospital ceiling for several days, I doubt it could be," the singer commented dryly.
Yuki laughed. "With an act like that to follow, how can I lose?"
Sakuya inclined his head slightly in agreement. As they pulled up in the drive of the big house and parked, he wondered briefly what *she* would have thought of him being admitted to such a house, and then acknowledged that as with most things, she probably wouldn't have cared. In part because the measured strictness and scarcity of Noh would not really have appealed to her - she would have found it cold, he thought. And in part because she had never seemed to be concerned or notice anything he did, anything he was.
Opening the car door, he swung his legs out and pulled the crutches from the back of the car, getting to his feet with a movement already becoming smooth, in part through the use of sheer, if not obvious, strength.
As Yuki exited the car, the front door opened, and a stern-looking man came out to watch them approach.
"You're right on time," the man said, but not the slightest hint of approval showed in his voice or manner. "And this must be Okochi-san."
"Yes," Yuki replied, bowing. "Father, this is my... my friend, Okochi Sakuya. Okochi-san, my father, Todo Masafumi." Yuki hoped the slight slip hadn't been noticeable, and thanked whatever deity might be listening that for once, he'd managed *not* to blush.
Sakuya met the older man's eyes, then lowered his, managing to give enough of a bow under limitation of the crutches to be respectful, while retaining his own aura of complete self-confidence. "Sir." His ear caught the slight stutter and he filed it away with perfectly concealed amusement. "Please don't allow me to get in the way of your work. I don't need any attention."
"Right this way, young man," Todo-san replied. "I've had arrangements made already for your comfort. Yukifumi! Five minutes!"
"Hai!" Yuki said, and bowed before hurrying off to change clothes, giving Sakuya one last look before he ducked out of sight. He raced to his room and rushed to change clothes, not wanting to leave Sakuya alone with his father any longer than necessary. He wasn't concerned at all about Sakuya... but there was no telling what his father might say!
Three and a half minutes later, Yuki entered the dojo, breathless but properly attired.
"Ah, Yukifumi," Todo-san said. "I see you are prepared."
"Yes, Father," Yuki said, and knelt, bowing.
"Let us begin. I trust you will not shame the family name by performing badly in front of your audience."
Yuki bowed again, hiding his blush behind long hair, and deliberately concentrated on *not* gritting his teeth or clenching his fists. "I shall try my best, Father," he said humbly, and as the routine began he narrowed his focus to the pattern of careful, precise movements required of him, not daring to so much as glance in Sakuya's direction. Whether the singer was amused at his loss of face, or indifferent... Yuki couldn't bear to see either reaction.
There were few people in the world more adept at what his American father might have called a 'poker-face' than Sakuya. His appearance was one of polite, if neutral, attention to the performance. Any responses he made to Todo-san were short and noncommittal. He did not make any of the mistakes of a typical person uninitiated into the performance world - he did not applaud, for example.
Under the mask, he wasn't exactly bored, not exactly involved. He could see a precise, spare and symbolic beauty in the movements. He could see that whatever his father thought, and however nervous he might be, Yuki had a near-mastery that hinted at possible greatness to come. He wondered again idly why Yuki felt so attracted to the undisciplined side of rock music, but the answer was in the question.
For himself, though he could admire and respect the art form distantly, he would never be entranced by it. This detachment allowed him to derive a portion of enjoyment from simply watching the body of his newest lover in motion.
"I am sorry you had to witness my son's shameful performance," Todo-san said as his son headed toward the house to change clothes, "but he has had difficulty concentrating for some time now." Yuki flinched in reaction as the barb hit its mark, and Todo felt a bitter, pained satisfaction at the sight. There had been a time that he and his son had been close, and had shared their love of the family tradition and Noh... he had done everything in his power to bring Yukifumi up properly, yet his son insisted on wasting time foolishly playing with music, rather than devoting his full effort to the career that awaited him.
It was enough to break a father's heart.
Sakuya began the process of getting back on his feet, the crutches under him. With flawless precision he thanked Todo-san for his hospitality and the tea, which he'd never touched to his lips. As Yuki re-emerged, he smiled and said, "Diamond still cuts any other gem, flawed or not. Arigotou gozai-masu." Then he moved towards the door, his graceful, powerful body somehow managing to convey the impression of a tiger even in its impaired state.
Yuki was frozen for a moment, then he bowed and wished his father a good evening. Todo-san watched as his son hurried to open the car door for his wounded friend. As the two of them climbed into the car, Todo-san turned and went into the house, thinking about Sakuya's words.
Yuki, too, was puzzling over what Sakuya had said. On the one hand, it seemed that Sakuya was gently defending him... but on the other hand, maybe Sakuya was agreeing with his father that he was flawed. Or maybe it was a little of both; Yuki felt too raw to think on it for very long.
"Sorry," he said, once the car was in motion; it was easier, having the road to watch... easier to avoid those piercing blue eyes. "Is there... is there anywhere you want to go, or would you rather go back ho--back to your place? If you're hungry, we can go out to eat, my treat."
"The park," Sakuya answered, looking out the window. They could get lunch boxes from a vendor. The weather was flawless today - it would have been a perfect day for a long drive on his bike. He wanted to shake off the rigid formality of the house they had just left. There was no reason to hurry back to the confinement of his apartment and several good reasons not to.
Yuki breathed a sigh of relief and eagerly headed for the park. It would be good to just *be* for a while. There was a blanket in the back, which he'd left there since the last time he'd gone to sit and watch the cherry blossoms; they'd be able to relax in comfort for as long as Sakuya wanted.
The singer chose a spot on the side of a small hill where the nearby trees did not impede his view of the sky, lying back on the grass without waiting for the blanket. The crutches were dropped unceremoniously, showing the edge of frustration slipping from control. Looking up, Sakuya pressed the palm of one hand into the grass, the irregular texture against his skin easing his restlessness. "The conflict is going to give you a heart attack or aneurysm by the time you're thirty," he said aloud, his voice betraying the slow relaxation.
Yuki sank to the ground abruptly, the blanket still clutched in his hands. "I know," he said, and his voice came out barely more than a whisper.
His eyes tracking a cloud as it drifted across the sky, Sakuya was silent for a moment, then he said, "Work it out." The tone had a hint of a shrug in it, but rather than sounding like an order, or advice, it was simply a statement, said with something running under it that seemed to imply acceptance. He stretched his arms out slowly and then crossed them under his head, letting the stiffness left behind by the visit seep into the ground.
Yuki watched him for a moment, feeling stunned. Sakuya made it sound so easy... maybe for Sakuya, it really *was* that easy. Things either worked out for Sakuya, or they didn't, and he really didn't seem to mind either way. This was different, though... Yuki was in love with Lucifer, and desperately needed to create music with them, yet he loved his father, and wanted just as much to please him.
There didn't seem to be any way to reconcile the two halves of his life. Yuki glanced away, staring at the blades of grass as they waved in the breeze. After a little while, he stood, and spread the blanket out. "I'll get us some food," he said quietly.
The singer wasn't oblivious to Yuki's conflict. He was rarely oblivious to anything around him, in spite of what appearances suggested. But the distance he held between himself and the rest of the world was both a matter of choice and habit, the one reinforcing when the other wavered or wore thin. It seemed obvious to him that Yuki was going to have to choose. It didn't make any sense for him to choose the band, and throw away the prestige and honor and tradition he'd been born into. Sakuya wasn't ready to acknowledge, even to himself, the powerful attraction that the band and the music they played together could exert. Not quite. However it was also true that he viewed the life Yuki would probably end up focusing on, with the Noh theatre, as one that would have strangled and choked himself.
When the guitar player returned with two lunch boxes, Sakuya sat up, and pulled his wallet out of his pocket to put some money on the blanket, gauging the cost of the meal with reasonable accuracy. Unnoticed, a coin fell out onto the blanket half hidden under the paper money.
"It's my treat," Yuki said, handing Sakuya one of the bento; his short walk had given him the opportunity to more or less regain his equilibrium, and he smiled as he settled down on the blanket, grateful for the beautiful weather and the chance to just sit back and enjoy it for a while. "I hope you like chicken."
Sakuya took the box but favored Yuki with a slightly longer look. He wouldn't have accepted such a "treat" from anyone in the band, before now. Of course there were the other occasions, times when other people bought him things, paid for things. But those circumstances were just as easy to keep straight - the 'gifts' were never without an expected payback, and as long as the other person got what they wanted, Sakuya felt no further obligation. Which of us is using the other, and for what? he thought cynically. Breaking his chopsticks, he began eating. He decided to leave the money on the blanket. If it were still there when they left, Yuki would pick it up.
Yuki puzzled over that look, wondering if he'd lost face beyond recovery. "Have I... said something wrong?" he asked, and glanced down at his own hands, holding the colorful paper box. "If it's about... about before," he blurted out, "I *will* work it out, I just haven't... I just haven't figured out how, yet."
Sakuya glanced at the young actor. "It's none of my business," he said calmly. "You care too much about what other people think." Yuki's distress tugged at him, under the habit of detachment. But he had too many clear memories of being twisted up in the emotions and tragedies of a person who hardly knew he existed at times. Suffering with her pains without understanding them, accepting the transference of her anger for another onto his shoulders, feeling guilt for his existence in her life. Offering comfort only to be slapped away. It taught him to be wary and handicapped an instinctive empathy that only found voice in his music.
"Only people I--not everyone's opinions matter to me," Yuki said, and broke apart his chopsticks and began eating, feeling more foolish than ever. It wasn't as though he'd revealed any big secret, but really, at some point he'd have to learn *not* to blurt out the first thought that came into his head whenever Sakuya looked at him! One look into those deep blue eyes, and he became instantly tongue-tied and brain dead--it was no wonder that Sakuya wanted to get rid of him.
That line of thought, on top of the stress from before, tightened his stomach, and it wasn't long before he put the remainder of his lunch aside.
"Where is your guitar?" The question seemed to come out of nowhere. Sakuya too had set his lunch aside half eaten and was lying back again, watching the clouds.
"I left it in my room," Yuki admitted, laying back as well and closing his eyes. After all, the only thing that had kept that encounter even remotely civil was his father's presumption that Sakuya wasn't involved with the band. If Yuki had waltzed out with guitar in hand... he shuddered to think what his father might have said. "I'll go back for it later."
Sakuya fell silent and watched the clouds for a while. He had an incredibly strong compulsion to get on his bike and ride fast, leaving Yuki and the distant tug of emotions about him behind, but that option wasn't on the menu thanks to his own ineptitude and a patch of wet road. The clouds moved lazily across the sky and he imagined himself way up in the sky with them, where looking down, all the humans were as small as ants and the streets and buildings of the city merely a slight irregularity in the terrain below.
Eventually he let the sounds of birds and people's voices and the hum of traffic pull him back down. Restored at least in part to his habitual detachment, he considered the needs of the day. Sitting up slowly, feeling the ache and pull of bruised muscles along his right side. Stretching cautiously, he began to prepare himself for the effort of getting to his feet from the ground.
"I want to go by the hotel," he said aloud, mentally shrugging off his dislike of explaining his actions. It was a necessity at this point. "To let them know why I haven't showed up." And why I won't be able to for a while, he added silently. No hotel meant no income. He had rent for a month and perhaps enough to supply necessities for a few weeks.
"I went there the day after your accident, to tell them you were Ok," Yuki said, guessing with some accuracy what the distant tone of voice meant. "But if you want to go by there... or if you want me to drop you off and pick you up later, or clear out for a while so you can have some privacy... that's fine." Yuki frowned down at the money Sakuya had tossed on the blanket earlier; so far, neither of them had made a move to pick it up. "I don't want your money, Sakuya," he said. "You're providing me with a place to stay for a while; the least I can do is cover the meals."
Sakuya frowned slightly. Then he picked up the money and tucked it in a pocket. Uncovered, the silver coin winked up at him. He lifted it and tossed it in the air, catching it in his palm. The side with the eagle landed up. He gazed at it for a minute and then said, "Home, then."
Yuki nodded, and stood, turning back to look at Sakuya. There were so many things he wanted to say, but Sakuya probably wouldn't want to hear any of them; the last thing Yuki wanted to do was become clingy and desperate, like the woman on the answering machine. Instead, he asked, "Do you need a hand up, or have you got it?"
Sakuya pulled the crutches over with his left hand and then offered his right to Yuki silently. Gripping the guitar player's hand firmly, he allowed Yuki to help him to his feet, but did not release his hand once he was balanced and upright. Instead he pulled the young man closer, transferred his grip from Yuki's hand to his chin, and took a brief, invasive kiss.
Then he settled the crutches under his arms and moved off towards the car, the untoward public act giving him a sense of settlement and satisfaction.
Yuki stood stunned for a long moment, wide-eyed and blushing. With a little shake, he recovered himself, closed his mouth and scooped up the blanket and the bento boxes, and headed off after Sakuya.
TBC