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 Six
Sakuya dreamed. His dreams were confusing, bits and pieces of memory transplanted, spliced, altered and mingled with elements of symbol. A figure with Yuki's long hair, and a cracked Noh mask walking toward him with measured steps, then backing away... The recurrent one of the empty hospital and the empty bed, music playing from a tape that warbled, stretched from having been played and rewound too many times... In that one, a hand unexpectedly clasped around his, warm and reassuring, but when he turned to see who it was, everything faded. And finally another dream of riding his bike on rain-slicked streets. This time, he felt the weight of arms, warm around his waist, felt a body pressed against his, sitting behind him on the bike, leaning into him, moving perfectly with him as he steered the bike through its turns...
The speed, the patch of water, the skid...
The realization that it wasn't just his own life he'd gambled with, there was...
A loud banging sound woke him, startling him awake to a sensation of stiffness and pain that almost made him sick as he opened his eyes. He made it to his feet, groping for the crutches, fire stabbing along his right side and feeding the throb in his head that threatened to explode through his skull at any moment. Half asleep, he was only marginally aware that he had to make the noise STOP.
Blue eyes blazed with a pain-fed temper as he fumbled the door open.
The woman on the other side covered the instinctive flinch as she registered Sakuya's expression. Calmly she let her eyes moved down the exposed side of his body not blocked by the door, taking in the bruises and scrapes, the crutch under one arm, the cast.
"So you really were hurt," she said with a slightly cynical smile. "Don't worry, I'm going to take care of you now..."
Yuki had been frantically trying to rinse out his still-soapy hair so he could answer the door, but he froze as he heard the steady thump of Sakuya's crutch. He hadn't wanted Sakuya's rest disturbed, damn it! Irritated, Yuki hastily dried himself off and pulled on jeans and shirt. He stepped out of the bathroom, rubbing at his hair with a towel, just in time to hear a woman's voice saying, "don't worry, I'm going to take care of you now."
For a long, horrible moment, Yuki was blinded with hurt. He hadn't expected Sakuya to replace him so quickly... but he'd walked into this open-eyed, knowing that Sakuya wasn't making him any promises. The least he could do is behave like an adult about it.
His expression was perfectly composed as he stepped within view of the door and got his first look at his rival.
She certainly was attractive, but what surprised him was how much older she seemed. Dressed in an expensive red suit, her dark hair done with a perfection that had to have come from a salon, manicured fingers clutching a designer bag, still the tiny lines around her eyes gave away years that numbered beyond thirty. Yuki saw her before she registered movement and darted her eyes to look at him, and they widened in shock.
Sakuya's face was in profile and Yuki missed the narrowing of his eyes. The smooth purr in his voice as he answered her, however, could not be mistaken.
"That's all right, I'm already being taken care of, more than adequately." Sakuya closed the door in the woman's face and turned on the crutches, still naked from bed, hair disarrayed, the greenish-brown bruises along his body and dark scrapes giving him a haggard appearance. He ignored the woman yelling his name through the door as if he didn't hear it and locked his eyes on Yuki's face, studying it.
"Aren't I?" he said softly.
Yuki paused, and then slowly, hesitantly, smiled. "I hope so," he said. "Sorry I wasn't faster getting to the door, though." He wasn't going to ask who that woman was--it really wasn't his business--but he couldn't help a glance at the closed door as the sound of the woman's voice drifted through it.
"Yes, you really should work on that," Sakuya said almost absently. The voice on the other side of the door got louder for a few moments and then there was a thump, like someone striking the door with a half-hearted fist, and finally loud steps leaving.
As the analgesic of anger receded, Sakuya raised a hand to his temple, still balancing on the crutches, and closed his eyes, pressing against one of the several throbbing points of pain as if trying to will it away.
Abruptly, he gripped the crutches with both hands and then moved, steps hurried but unsteady, toward the bathroom.
The next thing that happened was almost inevitable. The tip of one crutch hit a small puddle of water from Yuki's shower, shooting out from under Sakuya; he went down without a sound. For a horrified moment Yuki was frozen, seeing the fall about to happen, then he rushed forward and slipped as well, somehow managing to land under Sakuya with a thump so hard he almost felt his teeth rattle. Sakuya landed on him a bare instant later, knocking the wind out of him.
The absolute stillness of the figure draped over Yuki was almost an anticlimax, until he realized that stillness meant Sakuya had fainted. He was a dead weight, awkward, the upper edge of the cast digging into Yuki's leg. Almost as soon as Yuki moved, however, Sakuya stirred, coming to with a barely audible mutter. His skin -- and aside from the cast there was nothing *but* skin -- was slightly clammy to the touch. His eyes were unfocused and a little dilated from pain.
"Fuck," he said distinctly, in English.
Yuki groaned softly. This wasn't exactly how he would have wanted to sweep Sakuya off his feet! "Are you all right?" he asked, shifting a little in discomfort as the cast dug into him; Yuki was bruised and sore and sure to have a knot on the back of his head, and he was afraid to even think of what sort of harm the fall might have caused Sakuya.
"No." The monosyllable ended with a hard swallow. Suddenly Sakuya moved, scrabbling over Yuki's body to half lean over the commode. He managed to just make it. The contractions that seized his body were violent, but only moderately productive, ending in dry retching. A little discolored liquid floated in the water, but nothing that justified the involuntary effort.
Leaning half on one bare hip on the cool tile, and resting his forehead on his arm as if too exhausted or wretched to move, Sakuya's "Gomen," was so soft it might have been imagined.
"God, Sakuya, I'm so sorry," Yuki said miserably, lurching to his feet. After carefully wiping away any trace of the puddle that had caused the disaster, he stooped and lifted Sakuya, straining; Sakuya's muscular body would have been heavy enough without the addition of the cast.
Careful of his burden, Yuki managed to make it to the bed and set Sakuya down gently. The singer's face was tight with pain, and there was a slightly greenish tinge around his mouth. "Should I call the doctor?" Yuki asked, gently brushing Sakuya's dark hair out of his eyes.
Sakuya looked exhausted, answering with a scowl and short, "No." However his eyes closed and he turned his face into Yuki's hand as if seeking comfort there in spite of himself. The fall and subsequent nausea had only exacerbated the pain that was running along his side and thundering in his head.
Opening his eyes finally to look up at Yuki, his pride was broken enough to want one of the full strength pain pills, but his lips acted as if they weren't a part of his body and subject to his commands.
Yuki sighed, thinking that it was awfully lucky he hadn't flushed the pain pills yet; he went to get a pill and a glass of water, and brought it over to Sakuya a little hesitantly.
"I know you don't like these," he said, "but would you please take one? For me, if not for yourself. I promise I'll stay right here while you sleep."
Sakuya held out his hand silently for the pill. Yuki put the glass of water up and came back, to find Sakuya waiting for him, eyes still open. "Don't you have practice?" he asked, a little of the edge already leaking out of his voice.
Yuki's shoulders dropped a little; he was supposed to be at his father's house in 20 minutes. There was no way he could keep his promise to his father *and* Sakuya...
"No," he said at last, and picked up the phone, and dialed.
"Yes?" Todo-san snapped into the phone.
"Father," Yuki said.
"Yukifumi? Why are you calling?" Todo-san's voice was suspicious.
"Father, I wanted to let you know I can't come to practice today."
"Yukifumi! You gave me your word! And you WILL be here, on time! Do you understand?"
"No, Father, I won't be there."
"Do you realize what you are saying? Do you realize the dishonor you heap upon yourself by breaking your word?"
"I'm sorry," Yuki said sincerely, "but I'm needed here."
"You are needed HERE!" Todo-san bellowed. "You can not turn your back on your family, on centuries of tradition! Yukifumi!"
"I'm sorry," Yuki repeated, and hung up the phone on his father's infuriated, anxious voice. His throat was tight, his eyes burning; he paused a long moment to regain his composure before he turned to face Sakuya.
"That seemed to go well," Sakuya said, the ironic glitter in his blue eyes softened a little by the ensuing effect of the pill. He gazed at Yuki, a slow smile curving his lips as the throbbing pain finally started to dull. "I would have been fine if you'd gone," he added carelessly.
"I suppose it could have gone worse," Yuki answered, and carefully climbed onto the bed beside Sakuya, resting one hand on Sakuya's shoulder. "But I wasn't about to abandon you like this."
Sakuya turned his head so that his cheek brushed Yuki's hand. Looking up, Sakuya gazed at the guitarist, the effects of the drug blurring his expression. He draped one arm across Yuki's waist and closed his eyes, relaxing into Yuki's body. "Not like this," he murmured, with a little chuckle. "After all, you're my lover, not my father."
"I wouldn't abandon you at all," Yuki amended, "but especially not like this." He gently kissed Sakuya's forehead and relaxed, content to just hold him this way.
He'd have to talk to his father, and make him understand... but for now, this was all that mattered.
When Sakuya woke a couple of hours later, he was conscious of warmth, a familiar scent, and the rhythm of someone else's breathing under his ear. He felt better - the intense pain had diminished to a barely perceptible ache and some localized but bearable throbbing in a few places.
Sitting up awkwardly, he looked around for his crutches. His eyes paused on the face of the young man in whose arms he'd been resting. Dark lashes closed over his eyes, Yuki was dozing.
Shaking himself out of a momentary reverie, Sakuya realized he wasn't going to be able to get up without disturbing the guitarist, unless Yuki was totally dead asleep. He shrugged, and then stretched carefully, not eager to waken the aches and pains from their current quiescence.
Reaching over, he brushed a few strands of Yuki's hair out of his face, and then gave his shoulder a shake. "My crutches are in the bathroom," he said calmly, watching Yuki struggle awake.
"Mm?" Yuki murmured, sleepily blinking his eyes open. "Crutches? Oh!" He sat abruptly and gave Sakuya something of a sheepish grin before clambering out of bed and heading off to fetch the crutches. Pleasant as it was, he couldn't expect Sakuya to snuggle in bed with him all day.
Half an hour later Sakuya was bathed, they were both dressed - if you could call Sakuya's shorts and a cropped shirt dressed -- Yuki having added a shirt and shoes to his jeans, and Yuki was tucking in the bed, realizing that laundry would need to be done soon. Sakuya did not have an endless supply of clean bedding, and last night had left some interesting traces that weren't simply sweat.
While Yuki made the bed, Sakuya, balancing on his crutches with an apparently full return of his usual dexterity, made two cups of instant coffee.
He sipped his own, watching Yuki finish a brief straightening of the austere room. A number of thoughts were going through his head as the hot black liquid completed the sharpening of his faculties. For one thing, he was remembering the night before, both what they had done, and what they had said.
"Ready to go apologize to your father?" he said as Yuki joined him at the tiny kitchen bar.
"Better to go ahead and get it over with," Yuki replied, drinking his own coffee gratefully. He wasn't really ready, no, but the longer he left his father to stew over his defection, the worse the fallout would be. And... he loved his father, and wanted to make him proud. He just wanted to do it his way.
The singer nodded as he drained his cup and set it down. Going over to the small closet, he pulled a pair of sandals out from the back and slipped one on his un-casted foot. Then he put on a denim jacket and moved expectantly towards the door.
Yuki hurriedly gulped down the rest of his coffee and followed. "Although..." he said thoughtfully as he locked the door behind them, "I'm not sure how much good it'll really do. I'm sorry he's upset, but I'm not sorry about any of the decisions I've made."
So it seemed Yuki still intended to move in on a more permanent basis.
Gazing out of the car window, Sakuya wondered cynically whether those plans would actually survive the confrontation that was no doubt about to happen.
Yesterday, he'd been welcomed and treated with courtesy. Today, he was the cause of Yuki missing practice, and when Todo-san realized his son intended to move out of the house, he suspected he would become an obstacle.
This time when they drove up there was no one expecting them. Sakuya got out of the car before Yuki could tell him he didn't need to. However, he simply leaned against the car, waiting.
Yuki smiled at him a little nervously and pushed his hair back over his shoulders before heading up to the door. After taking a deep breath, he knocked.
"Yukifumi," Todo-san said, obviously surprised. His father looked weary, and Yuki wondered how he'd failed to notice that his father was getting old... or perhaps it was just bitter disappointment that made him look that way.
"Father..." Yuki said, bowing respectfully. "I've come to apologize, and to inform you of some decisions I've made."
Sakuya stayed where he was, leaning against the car. He saw the door open, saw Yuki bow and words exchanged. He saw Todo-san's tired, slight surprised expression shift into a thundercloud.
How far could Yuki really stretch the tether? In another family, Yuki's rebellion would have be ignored or shrugged off. In still another, it would have been grounds for throwing the rebellious offspring out into the street. While he doubted Todo-san could afford to throw away the priceless resource that Yuki represented, he wondered. Just how far would one have to go to be disowned from a family with such a privileged tradition?
He wondered how blatant it would have to get before Todo-san realized his son wasn't just rebellious about his music; he was also gay.
The situation gave him a sense of discomfort. He reminded himself that he didn't care how it would come out. If Yuki folded in the face of his father's anger and disapproval, it didn't mean that much to him. He never expected the guitar player to stay more than a day or two.
Todo-san said something, and glanced at Sakuya leaning on the car. Yuki spoke again, and the expression on the older man's face changed.
When the two abruptly went inside and the door shut, Sakuya allowed himself a small smile. He decided that he'd be able to tell which way it went the moment Yuki came back out, by whether or not he was carrying his guitar.
It was quite some time later that Yuki emerged, carrying not only his guitar, but a suitcase as well. A young man followed behind him with a second, heavier bag.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," Yuki said grimly, keeping his emotions in check by force of will. They quickly loaded Yuki's things into the car, and then the young man returned to the house with a half-aborted bow. Yuki settled into the driver's seat, his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel the only outward indication of his inner turmoil.
To Yuki's surprise, he felt a soft brush against his cheek and looked over in time to see Sakuya's fingers move away after the brief caress. Unfathomable blue eyes met his for a moment and the barely perceptible smile was the calmest, coolest, most non-judgmental expression he had ever seen.
"Let's get some coffee," the singer said, his tone neutral and casual.
Yuki's eyes welled up with tears, and he hurriedly turned his gaze away and blinked them back. "Coffee sounds perfect," he said gratefully. As he started the car moving, the home he'd known all his life diminished in the rear-view mirror, eventually fading in the distance.
There was no going back.
This story will continue in a sequel, working title, "Trio"...