O.o o.O

Ryuichi was in his bedroom when he heard Keita come home.

“What happened?” Ryohei’s voice was quiet, muted, speaking in hushed tones.

“Nothing.”

“What did Otani-san want?”

“Nothing.” There was the sound of Keita’s shoes dropping to the floor.

“Keita, talk to me.”

“Leave off, Ryohei. I can’t do this right now.”

Ryuichi could hear Keita shuffling down the corridor, and he held his breath when Keita stopped right in front of his closed bedroom door.

“Where’s Ryuichi?”

“Napping. Shh. Don’t wake him; he’s been so tired lately. What did Otani-san say?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Keita said in a low, tight voice.

“Keita, tell me. What was it? What did he say? What did he say about us?”

There was silence as Ryohei waited for Keita to answer. Ryuichi pressed his ear against the cool varnished door, hoping to hear more.

“Ryohei, why do you want to move out?”

“Why? I…I don’t know. I just feel…like it’s the right thing to do. It’s time to move on. It’s time to be grownup and live by myself.”

“Is it because of Ken?”

A heartbeat of silence.

“Was Ken because of Ryuichi and me?” Ryuichi could imagine the look on Keita’s face, the quiet intensity and anger smouldering in his black eyes. Ryohei would be looking to the floor, avoiding Keita’s prodding looks, and Ryuichi’s fingers curled against the door; he wanted to go out and see Keita, but restrained himself.

“The problems Ken and I had with our relationship go deeper than the issue of you and Ryuichi. No relationship can be defined by a single incident, a single moment, or even a single issue. You should know that yourself.”

“Tell me what problems you had then. I want to know. I want to – you’re the oldest and the leader, but you’re my friend first and foremost. Won’t you tell me?”

Ryohei sighed. “Look, Keita…would you ever be able to explain what the hell happened between you and Ryuichi? It’s like that,” Ryohei said, when Keita couldn’t answer him. “Ken and I…are over. Moving on is what the heart needs.”

“Are you saying I haven’t moved on?”

Ryohei said nothing.

“You and Ryuichi are ready to move on – already are – but I’m not ready yet. Are you and Ryuichi just going to leave me behind?”

Ryuichi inhaled sharply.

“You can’t even tell me you won’t leave me behind! You and Ryuichi – I know you’re going to! You guys are going to move out and everyone’s good as said Ryuichi’s going to leave the group and where does that leave me? Where the hell does that leave me?”

“I – I’m sorry, Keita, I never thought that you’d – you’d think of it that way. It’s…”

“Fucking enough. This is fucking enough.”

And then Ryuichi jumped when he heard Keita’s bedroom door slam shut.

O.o o.O

Keita was dressed and ready for a night out. He had on the trousers that clung to his ass just so, the shirt that broadened his shoulders and hugged the muscles of his torso just tightly enough, the cologne that had girls practically drooling in his lap as he walked past them, and he had a couple spare condoms in his back pocket.

So why was he sitting here, on his bed, with his head in his hands and an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips?

The pack of cigarettes and lighter were on his bed next to him, and Keita spat the cigarette to the floor and shoved himself off the bed, irritation and frustration threatening to burst out of him. He wanted to break something, to hit something, to cry and shout and scream until there was nothing left in him anymore.

Keita raised a fist to hit it against the wall, but stopped.

Ryuichi’s bedroom was on the other side of the wall. Just three inches. Three inches of hollow plaster and wood panelling separating him from Ryuichi.

Keita leaned his forehead against the wall, cool against his hot skin. He traced his fingers over the pattern of the wallpaper, imagining Ryuichi sleeping on the other side. Three inches, and there would be Ryuichi’s bed and Ryuichi, sleeping with nothing other than a pair of thin boxers.

His salivary glands tingled as Keita dredged up the memories of kissing Ryuichi, touching Ryuichi, all Ryuichi, Ryuichi, Ryuichi.

Keita laid his palm flat on the wall, sighing.

There was rustling from the other side of the wall.

Keita froze. Was this a sign?

There was some more rustling from Ryuichi’s room, and Keita lifted his head to stare at his wall.

He dashed towards his door, flinging it open and turning to find himself staring at Ryuichi’s door. The door stared back, impassive and intimidating.

“What are you doing?”

Keita whirled around, eyes wide. “Ryuichi,” he gasped.

Ryuichi’s face was carefully blank, and he wiped his hands against his t-shirt, leaving behind two wet handprints.

“What’re you doing here?” Keita asked dumbly.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Ryuichi frowned slightly. “I was in the bathroom. Did you want something?”

“I…no,” Keita said. “I thought you were in your room. There was…”

“Shit,” Ryuichi muttered, eyes fixed on the ground behind Keita, who turned to look.

“What?”

“My fan’s on. Blew my sheet music all over the place.” A white corner peeked out from under the door.

“Oh,” Keita said, feeling ridiculous.

Ryuichi looked at him carefully then, eyes raking over Keita’s body. “You’re going out?”

“No.”

“But you’re –”

“I know,” Keita interrupted.

Ryuichi wrapped his arms around himself, looking down at the floor. “I’m gonna take a nap,” he said.

“You just took…” And then Keita realised that Ryuichi just wanted to avoid him. “Okay.” He shuffled over to the right, until he was in front of his own door.

There was a moment of hesitation, when Ryuichi and him both paused as Ryuichi opened his door, one step into the threshold. “I…”

“Yeah,” Keita said.

“Right.” Ryuichi’s eyes met his briefly, before he lowered his gaze and ducked into his room.

Keita stood there for at least a minute, just looking at Ryuichi’s closed door, before he went back into his room.

Ten minutes later, their front door shut quietly, and Ryuichi hesitated before replacing his music on his stand and picking up his guitar.

O.o o.O

Was it bad, Ryuichi wondered, to have such feelings at a time like this?

Ryuichi bit down harshly on his ball gag, swallowing the moan rising in his throat as he ground his hips into the toy, thrusting desperately as he tugged on his leather handcuffs, buckled to the headboard of his bed.

Keita, Ryuichi moaned in his head. Keita, Keita…

His panted breaths were loud enough to be deafening in the silence of his room, save for the rustle of his bed sheets and the creak of his bed frame as he tugged harder on his restraints.

Just…a little bit…more…there…right there…

Ryuichi hid his face in his pillow as he groaned, body trembling and jerking as he reached his climax, and he held his breath, willing himself not to make any more noise until bright spots danced behind his closed eyes and he turned his head to gasp in air, body going limp on his bed, sweat cooling his heated skin.

His brain had barely cleared before he pulled himself into a kneeling position, frowning hard at his leather handcuffs, trying to undo the belt-buckle straps on the cuff bound to the bedpost. When he finally got them off, he removed the ball gag from his mouth, wet and shiny with his saliva. He hesitated as he held it in his hand, with the two pairs of leather handcuffs still hanging off his two wrists.

Was he wrong, to have done this? Was it bad for him to have feelings like this when he really should just be serious and – and what?

It isn’t as if Keita likes you anyway, the little voice inside his head nagged at him. You saw him go out the other night to prowl for girls. He doesn’t want you anymore. It’s much better to stick to fantasy than to waste away wishing for the real thing.

That’s right, Ryuichi thought indignantly. He was a boy, still. He had desires, still. And just because he fancied getting off when bound didn’t mean that he wasn’t allowed to. And it wasn’t as if he did it when Ryohei and Keita were around; no, they were always gone, out, so there would never be a chance for the uncomfortable awkwardness at catching one’s friend masturbating by hearing them through the wall.

His wrists were red where the leather had chafed his skin, and Ryuichi sat on his bed, still naked, as he cleaned off his toys before putting them away and stripping his bed.

“I’m home.”

Ryuichi lifted his head; it was Ryohei, home earlier than expected.

“Anyone? Keita? Ryuichi?”

“Hold on a second,” Ryuichi called out, balling his sheets and dumping them on the floor, pulling out a change of clothes from his dresser and tugging them on hastily. He flung open his window and sprayed his cologne a few times randomly in the air before going to his door. “What’s up?”

And then Ryuichi promptly blushed at the knowing look Ryohei gave him, taking in his flushed, messy appearance and the cloud of perfume accompanying him. But Ryohei ignored this in favour of waving Ryuichi over towards the living room. “Sit,” he ordered.

Ryuichi sat.

Ryohei stood in front of him, arms crossed. “I…found a place.”

Ryuichi’s heart skipped a beat. “To move into?”

“Yes.”

“When…”

“The first of next month.”

“That’s just over a week from now.”

Ryohei licked his lips. “I know.” He lowered his chin, eyes boring into Ryuichi. “Is that okay with you?”

“Yes, of course.” Ryuichi tilted his head slightly. “Why?”

“I don’t want you to think I’m abandoning you. You don’t think that, do you?” Ryohei frowned, going to sit next to Ryuichi.

“I…” Ryuichi shook his head. “I know you’re not abandoning me. We’ve been over this before.”

Ryohei waited patiently, as if somehow knowing that Ryuichi had something he wanted to say but was afraid to.

“Have you…talked to Ken-chan at all?”

Ryohei looked down at his hands, folded neatly in his lap. “No.”

“Does he know you’re moving out?”

Ryohei gave Ryuichi a small, bitter smile. “I don’t see how he would.”

“But Ryohei, if you would talk to him – call him, let him know you’re doing this…he’d understand, he really would!” Ryuichi’s eyes were wide and earnest, and Ryohei hated to disappoint Ryuichi when he had this look on his face, but there was nothing else to be done.

“Ryu-chan, you need to stop thinking this way,” he said gently.

“What way?” Ryuichi glared. “I just want Ryohei to be happy. Ryohei always tried so hard to make me happy and to solve my problems, and I can’t help at all.”

“Ryuichi, please. Let’s not talk about this for now, okay?”

“But…”

“Ryuichi,” Ryohei said sternly.

Ryuichi’s eyes narrowed. “Okay. Fine.”

Ryohei sighed. “And now I just have to tell Keita.”

O.o o.O

Their flat felt strangely empty, even though Ryohei had only moved the things from his bedroom. Ryuichi felt unsettled, as if something was missing, and the absence of Ryohei’s presence only served to heighten the discomfort he felt in his own home.

Ryuichi was in the living room, reading. A single lamp lit the room, next to the sofa where he sat.
It was just him and Keita now. It had been easy to avoid the awkwardness earlier today, when Ryohei and the movers had been coming in and out, but now it was late in the evening, the sun almost completely set, and Keita was in his room, dressing after his shower.

The door to Keita’s bedroom opened and Ryuichi tensed, gaze fixed on the book in his lap but eyes not taking in the words at all.

“Do you want dinner?” Keita asked.

Ryuichi looked up. “Are you…do you want to order in or eat out?”

“I was thinking…we could cook?”

“Oh.” Ryuichi’s heart started beating faster and faster and he wished he could stop it – stop all these involuntary reactions to Keita’s looks, his shy smile, the slow blink of his eyelashes as his eyes, dark and intense, seemed to look right into Ryuichi.

“Is that…okay? I could cook for you if you want to. You don’t have to…”

“No, I’ll help,” Ryuichi said, even though he knew he shouldn’t because that would mean standing next to Keita in a tiny, cramped kitchen, bodies brushing past each other as they would reach for ingredients or utensils, with absolutely no room for escape even if Ryuichi wanted to.

“Are you sure?” Keita looked uncertain, and Ryuichi wondered if Keita could read his mind, or if he was thinking the same thing.

“Do you not want me to?”

“No!” Keita said quickly. “I mean, you don’t have to, I just…yeah.”

Ryuichi looked away first. “I’ll help.”

There was a pause before Keita answered. “Okay, then.”

O.o o.O

It was as bad as Ryuichi had predicted. They were chopping up vegetables to stir-fry and already their hands had brushed together as they reached for the knives, Keita’s entire body slid against Ryuichi’s as he went to the refrigerator for the vegetables, and now they were standing in complete silence with nothing to talk about.

Ryuichi just hoped to dear god that he wouldn’t end up cutting himself, what with the way his hands were shaking.

“Shit,” Keita swore under his breath, and Ryuichi looked over to see Keita sucking on the tip of his middle finger, lips wrapped around the first knuckle, just under the fingernail.

“Did you cut yourself?” And then Ryuichi realised how silly his question was when a trickle of blood, surprisingly bright red, oozed past Keita’s lips and down his chin.

“Mm!” Keita gave a small surprised sound, other hand wiping his chin and staring down at the smear of blood on his fingers as if wondering where it came from.

“Shit,” Ryuichi muttered, and grabbed Keita’s wrist, tugging to pull it away from Keita’s mouth. “Stop sucking on it.” He nudged Keita over to the sink, where he turned on the cold water and held Keita’s hand under it. “Does it hurt?” he asked brusquely, and Keita shook his head.

“No. Just…stings. A little bit.”

“You don’t have to act tough around me, you know,” Ryuichi said gruffly. “You can cry if you want.”

When Keita didn’t answer, Ryuichi turned to gaze up at Keita, who was giving him such a strange look that Ryuichi quickly turned away again, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly.

“Ryuichi,” Keita said, in a low, serious voice, and Ryuichi promptly dropped Keita’s wrist.

“I’ll go get you a bandage.”

“Ryuichi.” Keita grabbed Ryuichi by the bicep, gripping tightly so that Ryuichi couldn’t slip away.

“What?” Ryuichi said sharply, remembering the way Keita had looked, standing in front of his bedroom door and all dressed up and ready to go out.

“Nothing,” Keita said softly, dropping his hand. “I’m not bleeding anymore.”

“Well, you don’t want an open wound in the kitchen. Run it under water some more. I’ll be right back.”

The air outside the kitchen was fresh and cool, and Ryuichi wondered if it was just his imagination acting up on him. His hands were still shaking as he went to the bathroom cabinet, removing a bandage and a piece of gauze from their first-aid kit and heading back towards the kitchen.
Keita was standing at the sink, back towards Ryuichi. The water was still running, and Keita didn’t turn around when the kitchen door swung shut behind Ryuichi.

“Here,” Ryuichi said, reaching for Keita’s wrist again, and Keita faced him silently, lips pressed tightly together as Ryuichi dried the wound with the gauze. “Hold on.” The tip of his tongue touched against his upper lip as he wound the bandage around Keita’s finger.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” Ryuichi sidled away from Keita, back to where they had abandoned their half-chopped vegetables, and picked up his knife.

They didn’t speak even when dinner was finished, the dirty dishes washed and dried, and all that was left was a drop of Keita’s blood on the kitchen floor that the two of them had missed when cleaning up.

O.o o.O

It was just as uncomfortable and awkward as Keita had thought it would be, living with Ryuichi alone. Even the subtle tension between Ryuichi and Ryohei would have been welcome, because then there would at least be that buffer between him and Ryuichi, but Ryohei was gone now, living on his own, leaving Keita and Ryuichi behind him.

How long was it going to take, Keita wondered, before Ryuichi would move out on his own, move on with his life, and leave the group?

Keita hadn’t told anyone about his conversation with Otani, but not talking about it didn’t make the problem go away.

The sound of shuffling footsteps startled him from his stupor, and Keita looked over to see Ryuichi clutching his skateboard, wearing a leather jacket and loose jeans, undoing the locks on their front door.

“You’re going out?” he couldn’t help asking.

“Yeah.”

“It’s late.”

Ryuichi hesitated. “What’s your point?”

“Be careful.”

Ryuichi opened the front door, and looked back at Keita. “Yeah, you too. What if the paparazzi caught you fucking those girls in the club bathrooms?”

“What are you –”

Ryuichi’s eyes narrowed at him. “When you went to the club that night after you had your meeting with Otani-san.”

“But I didn’t –”

“Good night. Don’t wait up for me.”

Ryuichi slammed the door behind him.

O.o o.O

“You don’t know…how to act around him?” Ryohei repeated curiously, frowning in a way that told Ryuichi he didn’t really understand.

“No. I mean, yeah. I mean…fuck it, you know what I mean. I just – it’s just so awkward with just the two of us, and…” Ryuichi sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Ryuichi…are you actually looking for a place of your own?”

“Uh…” Lately Ryuichi had just been buying newspapers for the listings and then tossing them into a pile on his floor.

“Ryuichi.”

“Sorry?” Ryuichi said meekly. “I’ll try really hard starting tomorrow?”

“Do you…still have feelings for Keita?”

“Do I…that’s ridiculous!” And still, Ryuichi couldn’t stop his cheeks from heating up and flushing guiltily.

“Oh, really?” Ryohei said in a flat tone, just barely restraining himself from rolling his eyes.

“Well – that’s…not the point.” Ryuichi bit on his lower lip.

“So you do?”

“What difference does it make? Just…drop it.” Ryuichi wrapped his arms around himself, curling up on Ryohei’s sofa. “He’s started going out for girls again.”

Ryohei’s smile slid slowly off his face, as if he couldn’t decide whether or not Ryuichi was joking. “Are you serious?”

“I – I saw him…all dressed up. I heard him go out. What else could it be?” Ryuichi rested his forehead on his knees.

“That’s…um.” Ryohei suddenly felt like a bit of a bastard.

“You know what? I don’t even care anymore,” Ryuichi muttered. “He can do whatever he wants. He can do whoever he wants.”

“Are you…but you…that’s…um.”

“Yeah. I know.” Ryuichi lifted his head. “But what can I do, you know? I guess it was just a phase for him after all.”

“Do you love him? Still?”

“Love is…not the right word, I think.”

“What would be, then?”

“Obsession? Infatuation? I don’t know.” Ryuichi curled up tighter. “Can I spend the night here?”

Ryohei sighed. “You have to go home eventually. You still live there, you know. You can’t stay here forever.”

“I know. I just…just for tonight, please?”

Ryohei rolled his eyes, waving a hand at Ryuichi. “Do whatever you want. I don’t care about you. Arrr get off!” he shouted, when Ryuichi pounced off the sofa to attack him in his armchair and give him a smacking kiss on the lips.

O.o o.O

Onto Part 14b: Burn