First Day [Kiyoharu]

[Kiyoharu]

Kiyoharu didn't know what hurt more: the bitting grip to his writs or the look in Inaba's eyes. Every emotion his dear friend every felt filtered through his eyes and was as easy to read as a child's book. The pain that had flared up in those beautiful eyes had something in Kiyoharu twisting sharply, an old urge to reach out and comfort taking over him so strongly he almost pulled Inaba to him, wrapped him in his arms and whispered sweet nothings into his ear until that pain was chased away from his eyes.

He didn't, he couldn't. Not when the grip on his wrist became too painful and words he didn't want to hear, didn't need to hear spilled past the usually cheerful man's lips. Closing his eyes, he took another shaky breath through his nose, gathering himself so that he didn't snap, didn't say something he would regret and have another flare of pure hurt shinning so brightly in his dear friend's eyes.

"Let me go," He hissed softly, opening his eyes and scowling faintly at the other man, twisting his wrist in Inaba's grasp in an attempt to free himself. "You're hurting me." When it came down to things, Kiyoharu was never that physically strong. He was thin, willowy in shape, almost delicate compared to Inaba and he knew that his wrist would bare an ugly bruise come morning from the harsh grip upon it.

The scene that Inaba was causing didn't phase Kiyoharu, not as it normally would when he was being forced to go back to an empty house that hadn't seen a living soul and well over a year. He didn't have the hear to see what was once a loving home a ghost of what it once was and that was what had him digging his heels in, refusing to move any farther as Inaba hailed a taxi.

"I'm not going Koshi." He never raised his voice, he never had to. When he spoke, he was heard and he expected now to be no different then any other time. "Now, release me before you yank my wrist off. I'm in need of that."

[Inaba Koshi]

"I've released you far too many times."

These words in themselves had so many underlying meanings.

"Not this time, my friend. Not this time."

The man-handling persisted, with a cab stopping by the sidewalk and Inaba won't take no for an answer. Today, when he saw the heartbreak in those beautiful amber-greys...he knew he had to do it. As much as it ate away at him little by little inside.

"1-20-15 Meguro-ku, Eki mae please. Thank you. Sorry for the trouble."

Inaba only released his hold on Kiyoharu after the cab drove off, the doors on auto-lock even as the cab driver cast a quizzical gaze over to the oddly silent and brooding pair.

"....Gomenasai...is everything all right?"

The old driver recognised the pair easily as Japan's well-known musicians and he didn't mean to pry, but the scene that they were both causing just outside his car door moments ago was rather worrying.

"Would you prefer if I stop at the back exit of Meguro Eki instead? There's lesser people there."

"...Yes, yes, everything's all right. Thank you. Yes, the back exit is marvellous."

Inaba immediately responded after casting Kiyoharu a sidelong glance and acknowledging that the other was far from pleased by this entire situation. His gaze dropped then to catch the sight of reddened skin around that mistreated wrist, and the man forced his head to look away and out of the window now, falling silent.

He had accepted the Academy director's invitation despite it arriving during the busiest time in his schedule, simply because there were far too many things he realised that he had left behind.

But Iris's smiling visage stopped him, blocked him in his path into the light, prevented him from saying so many things he had wanted to say, ached to say for the longest time.

Perhaps...just perhaps...

Inaba looked out of the window as the streets of Japan rolled on by, just like the skies above and just like the rest of his life. Everything outside was colourful, vivid, yet he sat here with Kiyoharu in a suffocatingly small box that stopped time.

They were close.

He found it hard to breathe.



After three traffic junctions, the cab finally parked right behind Meguro Eki's back exit, a discreet walkway sheltering the men out and into the large cluster of studio apartments right there.

Quietly Inaba stepped out of the cab and headed for Kiyoharu's door, waiting for the automated door to click open and his friend to shuffle out.

He won't take no for an answer.

[Kiyoharu]

Anger, true anger had been something that Kiyoharu had never truly expressed verbally. He always silently seethe, allowing his body to express the anger the coursed through his body in thick, pulsing waves. That hadn't and would never changed. The anger he felt as he sat there in a cab he didn't want to be in was obvious in the way he crossed his arms over his chest and ignored Inaba, ignored the driver and stared out the widow in his own little world.

The whole drive was filled with nothing but memories, memories of pushing Hana higher and higher on a swing set, seeing Iris' content smile on her lips as she watched her child and husband and hearing his daughter's delight squeals of "higher daddy, I can almost touch the clouds!".

It was filled with Inaba's earlier words (I've released you far too many times.") filled with subliminal messages that were all too loud to Kiyoharu. He could hear each unsaid emotion, each almost regret and hidden meaning and he didn't want to. He didn't want to remember moments of missed chances and heart ache. He just wanted to move on from the ghost of Iris' tender touch, of stolen kisses backstage and masculine hands gripping and caressing, dominating with every harsh drag of rough lips across his inked neck.

He couldn't forget though. Not when each piece of building that flew by brought back a memory (a delight squeal of, "Yes, yes I will!", a heart breaking whisper of, "Why wasn't I enough for you?".) of Iris, each breath filled of sweet lavender and thyme brought back memories of harsh panting, whispered words of sweet nothings that would never come true.

Squaring his jaw, he tightened his grip on his own forearms, feeling his fingers dig into his own skin with each flash of the past he'd rather forget at the moment. Life never went the way he planned and before he knew it, he was stepping out of the cab, seeing the house he never wanted to see again standing silently before him like a ghost that wouldn't go away.

Knowing he wouldn't be left alone, he brushed past his friend silently, roughly unlocking the door and pushing it open gently, a contrast to how he unlocked it. Not even waiting, he entered a placed that was frozen in time. It still resembled the day he left (which wasn't long after Iris) and the only thing that changed was the fine layer of dust that had collected over the year.

"Are you happy now?" He asked oh so softly, running his fingers over the banister of the grand stair case that curled it's way up to the second floor and brushing the dust collected on the calloused digits off.

[Inaba Koshi]

He was too old to have wishful thinking, to still dwell in a world of idealism that might possibly harbor the hopes that yes, indeed, once Kiyoharu stepped into this very living room everything would be solved.

Kiyoharu's ghost of a murmur dissipated into the air just like the wisps of their memories together, always fading yet they continued to linger...tormenting, teasingly so with promises of quick and gratifying relief, of that fast fix just like intoxicating white powder.

Yet as the pleasure fades, the pain remains and acts as the same magnetic force that would always pull the unfortunate pair so close together again and again.

Inaba stepped quietly into the living area just behind the other, head bowed with a soft murmur of japanese apology for intrusion. Sneakers shuffled aside and gentle hands cleaning ribbons across the dusty walls and mantle, reflective eyes taking in the sight of every single aspect of this home that he had once visited only too often.

The quiet dinner parties, the English tea, the book club gatherings he would occasionally attend, poetry recitals and pjyama sleepovers for their little ones...

Everything remained as a whisper, strung to his tender heart.

Inaba looked at the shadow of the man he knew. He reached out to take it, ending with a lock of soft hazelnut silk in his long fingers, feeling its icy cool strands fall beyond his grasp and a step forward granted him the sight of the other's beautiful visage, that strong nose and sleepy gaze so lost in the past.

So lost that he too, was losing himself in them.



No!

He needed to be strong.

Inaba headed towards the floor-length glass panels that led out to the veranda and he pulled back the curtains to allow the night sky pour its elegance into the neglected home, the glass doors following suit and fresh air mixed with the stale and brought along with it a scent of evening dew.

Just like that, he stood by the balcony, turned and offered Kiyoharu a gentle smile.

"It's a start."

He spoke so softly, so tenderly, yet the sorrow remained eminent.

[Kiyoharu]

Something wet splattered his back, clumping locks of -at the time- white blond hair together and a laugh, feminine and twinkling like sweet bell chimes told him enough who was responsible for his now powder blue stained hair. Mocking growling low in his throat, he slowly turned, wielding his paint brush like a weapon.

"This means war~" It made his heart flutter and leap in his chest when Iris's face went from pure delighted pleasure to mock fear.

"Oh no," She gasped, placing the back of her slim wrist over her forehead. "Whatever shall I do~?" The wicked grin that then curled her lips should have been warning enough but, Kiyoharu missed it, to caught up in how much this woman meant to him that he missed the next batch of paint that she flung, hitting him in the face and dripping down his cheek in pale blue streaks.

Memories such as that sprung up, haunting him with the had been. The past, as Kiyoharu was finding out, was hard to forget (not that he wanted to forget everything) and left a bitter taste in his mouth. He could still have all this; still have Hana sliding down the banister and denying she ever did (even when caught red handed) and Iris welcoming him home at odd hours with a tired kissed and opened arms. If only he didn't ruin it all..

You reap what you sow and he was doing that and more.

The touch to his hair seemed to snap him out of it and he followed Inaba with his gaze, tucking loose strands of soft chocolate behind his ear. As soon as those double glass doors were pushed open, more memories rushed through him and he had to force himself to look away, to focus on the here and now and not the once upon a time.

"Too little to late." He murmured, making his way to the veranda, leaning against the railing that curled around it once he was outside. Even if they were on civil terms, Iris would never forgive him. He had betrayed her in the worse possible way and it would always be held over his head.

"Seriously this time. Enough about me. How are things with the lovely lady?" Last he heard things weren't all that great and Kiyoharu understood that. It was hard to keep up a relationship when one was as busy as Inaba. That was why he was glad he had met Iris. She was a rare flower, strong and independent, able to stand on her own two feet when he was gone on tour.

That didn't stop her from missing him though. He had to wonder as he glanced down at the yawn which once was litter with toys and a child's shoes, did she miss him now?

[Inaba Koshi]

"Not good."

Came the soft reply just as gentle palms slid over the ones that were placed limply against the hand railing. Inaba had stepped in from behind the other male, cradling that slighter, very much thinner frame with his own larger one and just like that he captured Kiyoharu between himself and the ledge, making a protective cage around the other's shoulders with his strong arms.

His eyes closed, resting a tanned chin at the crown of Kiyoharu's tousled locks, heart beating wildly yet he felt strangely calm. It was nearly a sensation of numbness, with the knowledge of building hurt yet the body feels nothing.

Right here all locked away from the eyes of the public...an embrace, he could deliver.

"She's with Tamaki now."

Inaba murmured softly with his words half-muffled against soft locks of hazel, lacing fingers with those captured hands beneath his own so warm.

"He's more of a husband to her than I am and will ever be. I'm happy for her."

It was true, at least his seperated wife had found someone else to fill in the empty spaces as well as the shadows that he had left behind. The divorce papers were never signed. It was far too messy and would risk too much on Inaba's scandal-free career....and she was never that spiteful a woman to ever want trouble to befall her husband. No matter how much of a failure he truly was as a family man.

"He brings the boys out to fish. They write me letters sometimes."

Here, Inaba can't help but steal a soft kiss, brushing his lips over Kiyoharu's temple. He took in that familiar scent, the smooth ivory skin and how those dark browns would tickle and tease his strong nose right back.

"She misses you too."

They were all family friends...yet family no more.

[Kiyoharu]

Trapped. He was trapped between Inaba's warm body and the cool marble of the railing and Kiyoharu didn't know which to lean into more. As unhappy as he was with being forced into this very home, the choice was made for him with the tender brush of lips along his temple and the tender hold on his hands. Allowing his eyes to slip shut, he sank back into Inaba more than willing to loose himself in the other man and not the memories this once loving home brought.

Was it possible to love two different people? To adore them both so much and be torn two different ways between what was right and what felt good (not that any form of love was wrong)? It wasn't fair if it was; being pulled two different ways was never pleasant and now, now that she was gone...No, that line of thought was most unwelcome. It would be confirming a long time tease and betraying those held dear.

It was with a harsh dose of reality that he opened his eyes, gazing at lush green of grass he knew would be soft beneath his feet. Softly, he squeezed Inaba's fingers, affection and support being shown through the action. Both of them were broken, caught between what was right and what was missed time and time again.

It was a tiring cycle and all Kiyoharu wanted to do at the moment was sleep, sleep it all away and brush it all off as nothing but a nightmare. That was wishful (and horrible in a way) thinking. He couldn't help it, not when what he wanted and what he always had were no longer (and never were) his.

A bitter smile curled his lips, one Inaba couldn't see as Kiyoharu raised one of their joined hands, pressing a soothing kiss to the back of Inaba's hands. She shouldn't miss him, neither of their once lovers should. He had dug his grave deeper and deeper with each stolen kiss, each inhale of toxic powder.

"And how are you holding up?" He questioned, lips brushing across the back of Inaba's hand. It was obvious to his eyes that the man behind him, holding him so tenderly wasn't holding up okay, neither of them were and, as sad as it was, Kiyoharu highly doubted the would ever be just okay.

[Inaba Koshi]

A hand slid over the reddened welts on that tortured wrist, fingering the tender skin right there that was caused by his own wilful insistence.

Does it still hurt?

Those elegant inked fingers seemed to say, massaging sweet circles into the hurt flesh slowly as he leaned in closer still. Together they looked out into the cityscape with hands linked and hearts severed, tasting the night air and each other's bittersweet misery.

"I doubt I'll be able to sleep again tonight."

He watched warm moist lips slide over his knuckles, loving how the mere sight of Kiyoharu's touch made him feel so deep down inside. And the actual touch itself no matter how sad, felt wonderful.

"Perhaps I could watch you."

Then he leaned over to steal a soft, sweet kiss.

[Kiyoharu]

Hurt was something constantly felt. There were days when there was an ache that seeped bone deep and wouldn't go away no matter what he did; he felt years older on those days. Needless to say the faint sting that remained in his abused wrist was all but forgotten, chalked up and passed off as nothing more then a memory.

"I'm rather uninteresting to watch I'm afraid," He quipped softly, an truer smile forming on his lips pressed against Inaba's hand.

Even with all that remained unsaid (and would forever remain that way) between them and the ghost of heartache that silently screamed through out the powder blue walls of the house resting just feet from wherer they stood, Kiyoharu found himself content, even a tiny but happy in the arms around him. Inaba had always brought out this harsh contradiction of emotions in him and it was simply easier to loose himself in what he knew then to break the cycle and step away or change it in any shape or form.

The kiss was unexpected, catching him by surprise. Sinking farther into those arms, he all but lost himself in the sweetness, in the familiar press of Inaba's mouth against his and the stir of emotions that woke in his chest and tingled almost pleasantly upon each rib. It was then he could forget all else, allowing Inaba's sweet kiss to chase away everything but the man if only for a moment.

"Perhaps here isn't the best place to woe me." As playful as the words whispered against lips as soothing as chamomile.

[Inaba Koshi]

"Nonsense. You're all the entertainment I need."

The man himself too, was but a dreamer.

Many times would he find himself lost in thoughts of papilions fluttering through the skies, only to fall prey to the enchanting snare of a fully bloomed sakura tree, all of which that were depicted on smooth, ivory skin so fine, a warm living canvas that he had already devoted to memory.

Such dreams were forbidden but all the more beautiful, touched with a quiet smile and a sorrowful twinkle in that lush amber-grey gaze. Inaba dreamed of sloth, of cats and creatures that resemble this beauty and he would secretly place it all into the poetry of his lyrics, into the books that he wrote...a silent dedication of forever to the man before him.

Gentle hands feathered past both wrists now, turning Kiyoharu fully around to face him, meet his gaze as solidly as before, as much as this was true, as much as he couldn't say it, couldn't bring himself to admit it, how much he really cared for the other.

"Shhh...you're spoiling the moment."

He chided gently, long elegant fingers already playing a romantic piece over Kiyoharu's inked arms and shoulders, higher still to bury themselves in the thick mussed locks at the nape of that slender neck. Affectionately he would trace the little star-shaped ink on that neck, thumbing his way over an earlobe and caressing its sensitive skin.

Inaba did it again, their noses pressed tight and breaths mingling and even awake, he was dreaming.

"....Shhh..."

And softly their lips would connect once more in a bittersweet dance, lips parted for more and the intensity grew with every painful moment in desperation...in despair.

All but a dream...

[Kiyoharu]

Like sweet ambrosia, forbidden danced and tingled along his lips, vanishing from his mind memories of the women he betrayed, of her slender fingers dancing in soothing taps along the back of his neck and sweeping though tresses of then dark chocolate hair in soothing caress as withdrawal violently took over his body, leaving him as nothing but a miserable heap of a man curled around the porcelain thorn.

With half lidded eyes, he allowed himself to be turned, watching as those hands danced up his arms, over bony shoulders, across an inked neck, painting pictures of romance and passion, of miss chances and dreams of what could have been but, never will be.

"I wasn't aware there was a moment." He whispered, allowing his eyes to slip closed. With the scent of mint sweeten breath coolly mixing with his own, Kiyoharu lost himself in the man before him, in the heat pressed against his palms and the heart beat that fluttered against tanned skin and strong ribs.

And silenced he was by a kiss that was as bittersweet as the reunion between them became. Quickly it changed, morphed from something sweet and bittersweet like dark chocolate to intense, filled with so much despair that it almost brought him to tears. None of this was fair and that was life. It wasn't fair and one simply had to make do with it.

With a jerk, he broke the contact between them, looking over Inaba's shoulder and not at him. Kiyoharu just couldn't take anymore sorrow today, anymore heart ache. "Lets go eat, you did say you'd cook for me." A change of subject, a shift of a topic.

Avoiding was what Kiyoharu was good at.

[Inaba Koshi]

So was he.

But the day's harvest was bountiful as Inaba's quiet smile emerged again, distracting Kiyoharu from his secret intentions. He nodded just as they parted, pleased somewhat that the other avoided his gaze. All the better to discreetly palm a set of spare keys to this apartment from the veranda's sidewall, where he knew Iris placed it for emergencies.

"It'll be a pleasure."

Inaba motioned towards the door. He stepped out of the balcony and closed the glass panels shortly after Kiyoharu followed suit.

"Your kitchen or mine?"

The man can't help but feel his own spirits lift somewhat, especially with the feeling of a new set of important keys tucked safely away in his pockets for future use. He pulled on his sneakers and waited for his friend's decision.

[Kiyoharu]

A cigarette was most needed at the moment. He couldn't have one, couldn't reach into his pocket and withdraw the cancerous stick and take in a lug fill of hazardous toxins that would do an oh so wonderful job of soothing his frayed nerves. Inaba was here, next to him, pressed against him, all around him and Kiyoharu needed to step back and just breath.

Upon arriving at his dear friend's apartment, that was why Kiyoharu lingered, shooing the other away with a flick of his wrist and tender words of assurance that he wouldn't leave. He just needed a smoke (not that he was going to stay that) and time to just be by himself.

Perching himself upon the stairs that climbed there way up to Inaba's floor, Kiyoharu lite one up and peeked over his shoulder, expecting Inaba to have some sort of spider sense and come swooping in, snatching the cigarette away and crushing it cruelly beneath the soles of his shoes. He didn't and Kiyoharu took a deep drag, the tension his shoulders seemed to carry since before leaving the school fading away with each in and exhale of the toxic fumes.

He didn't stay long, only staying long enough to roughly finish half of the cigarette. Hovering outside Inaba's door, he waved his hands in front of him, willing the scent of smoke away and only when Kiyoharu thought he didn't smell like he had just smoked did he enter, leaving his shoes by the door and heading towards where he assumed the kitchen was.

[Inaba Koshi]

It was a good thing Kiyoharu didn't immediately enter the new apartment that Inaba managed to procure from one of the local dealers. Although he has been here a mere three days, the place was already in pretty much of a...mess.

Well, it's not as bad as his other studio apartment in Ginza. THAT place, was a complete and utter nightmare. For some strange reason, Inaba loved clutter. He loved being surrounded by notes and papers and gizmos and knick knacks, he loved sifting through them from time to time, he loved picking an odd porcelain figure out from an entire stack of stuff and just dream about it as he turned the item around in his hands.

It was his style of working and unfortunately something that the majority can't withstand. Especially his best friend and band leader, Tak. The burly guitarist would yell and shout and grumble all day, all night until Inaba would cave in and perhaps clean out his desk in the studio...which would end up in a complete and utter mess within the next fifteen minutes.

So despite the fact that he had just newly arrived, the spacious 5-room apartment already looked pretty much well-lived in.

In fact, Kiyoharu didn't even have to ask for some time alone, poor Inaba had to ask his friend instead to wait a couple minutes outside, while he made a dash and stumbled into his new home and started picking up all sorts of junk he had lying around on the floor, yanking everything up and throwing them all into the spare guest room and locking that door.

Okay. Relatively cleaner. Whew.

There was the sound of a lot of clanking and thudding and tossing around from behind the main door, and then it opened again to reveal the flushed face that belonged to an embarrassed and anxious Inaba, smiling nervously while running a shaky hand through his tousled locks.

"Okay! Okay....you can come in now. I'm so sorry about that...!"

He apologised profusely and stepped aside to reveal the interior of his current abode.

[Kiyoharu]

The longer the crash and bangs went on with in the apartment, the longer Kiyoharu had to brush away the scent of smoke, allow it to fade away into nothing but a stale musk that would only completely fade once he gave up smoking once and for all. It wouldn't happen though, he enjoyed it.

He had give up to many things he enjoyed, he wasn't about to give up another.

"It's already a mess, isn't it?" While Kiyoharu never truly cared to keep things neat but, Iris had (still does). She would always force her way into his little office/work studio and clean it despite his protests and it didn't take him long to pick up on her habits.

Inaba though, the man thrived in clutter and, after years and years of living clutter free, Kiyoharu held a bit of loathing towards it. He wasn't a neat freak per say, he just liked order and when it wasn't there, he would make so it was. Without knowing it at times, Kiyoharu would pick things up and tidy up a bit again, the habit was to be blamed on his ex-wife.

Walking in though, it wasn't as bad as Kiyoharu had thought. Then again, Inaba was given time to clean it a tad bit up no matter how rushed he was.