Hallelujah von abgemeldet ((story of a night)) ================================================================================ Kapitel 1: ----------- How perhaps noticeable, this is a songfic. It's the first one I've ever written and I feel quite unsure about it. This is planned as a two-part (or more) Fiction. Please let me know whether the first part pleased you and whether I should go on with the second part. You know, reviews are what keeps writers writing. (Please listen to Rufus Wainwright's "Hallelujah". It's one of the most beautiful lovesongs ever written.) Hallelujah (story of a night) I've heard there was a secret chord That David played, and it pleased the Lord But you don't really care for music, do you? It was one of these days nobody needed. Living and struggling on in Tokyo was hard, even harder than he had believed. It took so long to achieve what he had actually wanted. What he had left his hometown for. Well, it had been clearly visible that going to such a city, releasing one or two singles and getting popular over night was a dream, but he never imagined it this hard. He had thought, at least the not-being-sure-what-to-eat-the-next-day-part would've been exaggerated. But on the other hand, there were a lot of people like him, here. He liked that in this city. People who weren't quite like the rest. It was as if in this city, one thing came to another. A little pebble hit the front of his shoe as he walked slenderly along the streets, and it flew far away from him. He watched it fly. Hallelujah He had gone out because there had been nothing to eat around. He couldn't sit in his apartement listening to his stomach growl and he couldn't sleep being hungry either. But that didn't really count if you really wanted something. He stopped when a big, heavy drop hit a strand of his hair and fled down, meeting his nose. He looked up in the sky critically, which seemed to even darken, blackening the stars and the moon out and growled. Wonderfully. He had no umbrella with himself. His fingers drew aside a drop on his face and he looked at the black colour on his fingertips. The makeup. He had gotten used to it. He remembered himself standing in front of a mirror, highly concentrated, to just bring on the eyeliner, not even to speak of a pattern. It had been a kind of saying good-bye to his old self, to his hometown, to his family and all this stuff he had left behind for becoming popular. He really wanted this. He couldn't remember having wanted anything like this. He had felt like a little fangirl, watching the videos of X-Japan over and over again dreaming he could be the on in front there. He had imagined what it would be, with a sea of heads in front of you, dozens of hands waving just for you and the wall of voices just so loud you didn't even hear your own thoughts. Aiji used to say he was driven. He sometimes wondered whether this was right. It goes like this The fourth, the fifth The minor fall, the major lift The baffled king composing Hallelujah The others used to comment on how songs just seemed to flow out of his feather. He didn't think they understood. They didn't know the feeling when it struck you and you hastened to your room, searching for something to write on. When you scribbled down one word and than the other. And this incredible feeling when they seemed to fit just right. When you whispered them again and again, rolling them around on your tongue, tasting whether they sounded as perfect as you wanted them to, whether there was this feeling behind them that meant so much to you. This feeling your world based on. It was like a prayer you composed, you didn't know who to. The drops washed down his face. They dripped from his lips, they soaked his clothes, but he didn't care. This was better than being at home. It was dead of the night. Life was going on in other quarters of this city. Here it was only still. The shine of a clock somewhere which showed just how late it really was. The dim light of laterns, shooting ghostly shines around the place. The clouds crowning everything and making the night somehow light. He felt so completely still, so lone. He tended to be a loner, some people said. He'd only decline, smiling. He wasn't a loner. It was just that living in such a noisy and lively city sometimes made him tired. That he felt he had to sweep off all the dirt and noise that sticked to him within the day. He felt so independant here, so completely himself. So alone. Hallelujah, Hallelujah But he wasn't, as it seemed. Another pebble hit his foot and flew onwards, met the ground with a small sound which drowned in the sound of raindrops, and came to rest at the feet of this other scheme standing in the rain. He seemed to think he was completely alone. Both of his arms were stretched aside, the palms of his hands catching the raindrops, which sprang unto them and splattered into millions of pieces, melted into each other and ran down his fingertips. He held his mouth open and let raindrops circle it, run by the rosy flesh. His hair hung down his back, heavy and black with water. He seemed to be dripping from every pore, dripping life, loneliness, relaxation. His face seemed pale in the shadowy light the clouds emitted and his neck made a tiny, even curl under his hair. His shirt clung to his chest, and the color of his skin could hardly be guessed, perhaps a milky ivory. He was slim, and he was quite tall. His legs seemed to take no end, his trousers shining back with the light of lanterns, little spotty marks on the glittering texture, soaken with water. Kirito only wondered just how much of a picture one could take up within a second. He just stood there and watched this picture, the only thing moving was the rain running down, which he always did, no matter what happened. They were completely still. And suddenly Kirito'd found something more he wanted. Your faith was strong but you needed proof You saw her bathing on the roof Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you There was yellow light glittering under his lowered lids as he turned his head towards Kirito. He had felt as if he'd been watched. He stood there and watched the other guy, completely still as well. He might have looked as soaked and as dripping as Toshiya himself, but he didn't seem to be disturbed by that. Toshiya inwardly wondered what he might do here, in the dead of the night, at such a lonley place. No one ever came here. It was his place. Now theirs. Toshiya suddenly felt naked without his add-ins: His make-up, the clip-ons of his hair, his special clothing. He felt like he'd really be seen and it gave him a strange thrill. He noticed the smear of make-up on the others face and the pale colour of it, talking about time and the life in this city. He saw the eyes that seemed to drink him up and the shinyness of the nights pale clouds within them. He saw the body, both fragile and strong, on which the clothing clung so heavy with wetness like he could slowly feel his own. He asked himself what the other saw and whether it pleased him. He always wanted to please people. But now his mind only halfway went through the procedure it normally met such looks with: Checking everything on and around him and whether it was as pleasing, delicate, beautiful, demanding as he wanted it to. Now he only stood here, being half exposed by the transparency of his clothing. She tied you To a kitchen chair She broke your throne, she cut your hair And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah It was as if the raindrops played a tune, dizzy and sad. Kirito couldn't remember having asked a question. But perhaps his eyes had. "Toshiya." The other said and bowed his head. Then he held his hand out. Kirito looked at it puzzled. The other waited patiently until Kirito slowly reached out and took the other's hand. This wasn't usual. But, after all, what of this was anyway? "Kirito." Surely not him. His hand felt a little bit cold and fragile, but his grip was firm and his fingertips sliding over Kiritos hand for a moment felt rougher than his palms did. They made one, two steps towards each other. They were surely both tired and surprised. They were surely both lonely. Toshiya took a glance towards the others face and couldn't help but smile: His make-up kept running down his cheek in little, black streams. Toshiya wondered what his face looked like without. He grinned, the edges of his lips drawing up a small bit. He drew back his hand from the other man's and lifted up his fingers to wipe away the blackish stripes. The other, Kirito, didn't shift, didn't shy back, just watched him with a strangely bemused look in his eyes. Toshiya stroke his cheek softly, whiping away the colour from the gentle skin beneath his eye. He drew his hand back towards his chest and looked at his thumb. The colour dripped down his nails and his finger and the colour turned grey on the pale skin of his hand. He turned it and little black drops fell to the ground. Kirito watched him in fascination. He could still feel the touch lingering on his skin. A gentle hand slid under Toshiyas. Slim fingers enclosed his wrist and drew his hand up and towards the other man. Toshiya didn't object. His fingertips laid themselves on the other's wrist, and then reached towards the soft flesh of his cheek. Just a stroke of his thumb over the rosy texture of Kirito's lips, his own parting slightly and the sight. Kiritos hand still held his wrist loosely. The water under his fingertips seemed to get warmer with each stroke on the delicate skin. Kirito closed his eyes. He never closed eyes to someone. Toshiyas other hand was in his hair, drawing back his head with a firm, but gentle grip. The water ran down his nose and lips, dripped from his eyelashes. His hand fell from Toshiyas wrist when the other man's lips met his own. The clear taste of water mingled on their cold lips soon warming with their breath. Hallelujah, Hallelujah Kirito prayed in the kiss, so warm and comforting and wild, he sang into it with all the breath he had. Toshiyas lips tasted like the clouds resting over them, like the rain falling down on them, he tasted like his fingers felt on Kiritos skin. Toshiyas hands tangled in Kiritos hair. The wetness of it caused his fingers to be caught, and they spent restless time just freeing themselves and getting caught again. He so worked his way down to Kiritos neck. Kiritos hands helplessly clung to Toshiya shirt, pressing up against the soft skin underneath. His hands only slowly unfolded. The material of Toshiyas shirt seemed rough under his fingertips, because of the rain. Toshiyas fingers enclosed his neck when Kiritos hands laid around his shoulders and both of them neared each other equally slow, and equally waiting. The drops went on falling on them, and the air around them seemed to become ice with the rain as their breaths became warmer, their blood rushing to their faces as they went on kissing. Kirito noticed the small shivers in Toshiyas shoulders, and Toshiya could feel the soft hairs at Kiritos neck rise. Parting for the first time since what seemed eternity, they looked at each other panting. Toshiyas bottom lip slightly trembled, and Kirito couldn't tell whether with cold or with anticipation. Kirito only whispered the words of which he didn't know where they had their origin: just a few words, tossed out by his quivering voice, but a simple invitation, and with only a nearly as simple movement of his head, Toshiya agreed to follow. Maybe I've been here before I know this room, I've walked this floor I used to live alone before I knew you I've seen your flag on the marble arch love is not a victory march It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah They did hardly talk at all. But Toshiya felt well as he took Kiritos hand, letting himself being led through the streets, away from his silent place of thinking, towards a new place. He liked new places, but this one was different: It seemed to welcome him in its silence. His naked feet felt warm on the carpet. There was a silent agreement, such a relaxing lack of words: How Toshiya slid out of his wet clothes, first taking the shirt of, then the trousers, and slid into the ones Kirito had laid down for him prepared. He wandered around, his hand slightly stroking the texture of the walls. He did notice the other door. Toshiya didn't know whether Kirito thought he was an easy kind of person: He was light-hearted, surely, most of the time, but he wasn't cheap. And though he felt at home here, with the simple floors and walls greeting him, he felt uncomfortable about what Kirito might think. Toshiya let himself sink on the edge of the bed and stayed there. It was completely still in the apartment also, apart from the little sounds Kirito was producing in the kitchen. Toshiya stood up another time and put out the lights in the room. They seemed to somehow disturb him. It had been so dark outside. So comfortably dark. Toshiya sat in the darkness and silently wondered what he was doing here at all. Perhaps it was only because he felt lonely. He was surrounded by so many people, every day, mostly his bandmates, and he still felt lonely. How could he? There was no obvious reason, but he still knew that it hurt, sometimes, at night, when he couldn't sleep but instead stared at something, and when he couldn't cope with it anymore, he fled from the apartment to think or to feel less lonely under the high sky of Tokyo. And now he felt cold, and he felt afraid because of what would happen to him, but he also wanted it to go on. He never agreed to something half-heartedly. Hallelujah, Hallelujah He hadn't heard Kirito coming in. So Kirito took a while to just stand there in the doorframe and wonder. Wonder how this man came into his apartment, wonder how it all had happened, wonder what he had done and whether it was right. And wonder why the other looked so sad. He then walked towards Toshiya and knelt down in front of him, holding a tea cup in front of his face. Toshiya seemed to startle, but soon closed his fingers around the warm cup, slightly touching Kirito's as he drew them away. He laid his lips upon the warm edge of the cup and slightly parted his lips. He let the hot fluid in, savouring the taste of tea on his tongue and staring into Kiritos face. It was still dark, but there were schemes of light, coming from the corridor. They gave the room a dusky light. Kirito had also changed clothes, rather casual, and now they just sat there, taking sips of their tea and looking at each other like for the first time. Toshiya felt himself getting calmer with every mouthful of tea he took. When the cup was empty, he still held it in his hand for comfort, and for warmth. Toshiya slid down the edge of the bed and sat down in front of Kirito. His fingers, with the cup, sank into his lap, and his face was now at the same height as Kirito's. They were close, nearly so close that Kirito could feel Toshiyas breath on his own face. Kirito then put aside the cup and slowly reached out for Toshiyas neck. When his palm, warmed from the tea, met the rain-cool skin of Toshiyas neck, he gasped very softly for a moment. Kiritos hands nearly seemed too warm, it made his skin tickle. Kirito lifted his hand off Toshiyas skin, so only his fingertips were still touching it, and let his hand lazily travel over Toshiyas face. When Kiritos fingers touched his lips, Toshiyas involuntarily thrusted out the tip of his tongue to taste the salty, soft flesh of Kiritos fingers. Kirito held his breath and stared as Toshiyas lips enclosed his fingertips and softly sucked on them. This was the most gentle and the most arousing thing he'd ever experienced. He froze within this thought before drawing his hand back. The silence became awkward for a moment, before Kirito leant in and their lips met again. Toshiyas hand entangled in Kiritos hair. His slim fingers softly tugged and his nails digged into the sensitive skin. Kirito tried to avoid the small pain Toshiyas nails caused on his neck by moving towards him, but the other drew back. His movement was stopped by the bed and he froze in the middle of the movement: His body half lifted off the ground, offering himself to Kirito, half shying back from his touch. He didn't know what to give and what not, which part of him giving into to. Their kiss was hungry, dominating on both sides. Their bodies met harshly as they cradled onto the bed. It was rather like fighting about supremacy, about domination, about pure victory. But this was not war, Toshiya thought as he leant back his head. There was a time you'd let me know What's real and going on below But now you never show it to me do you? Remember when I moved in you? The holy dark was moving too And every breath we drew was hallelujah The night seemed to enclose them in a hushed, mysterious fashion, as if to hide them from the outside. None of them could tell what was going on inside themselves and outside this room, none of them could tell how fast the arms of clocks might run. The only source of light, coming from the outside, seemed to be forgotten, lost themselves in the dark of their eyes, which sometimes stared into each other as if finding something to hold on. The air around them filled with hushed gasps and sounds, so intoxicating, and they lost in the thickness of the night around them. Their fingers clung to their skin, their lips tasted each other, and their bodies somehow melted into each other in warmth and overwhelming feelings. Every now and then, one of them would loosen his grip or his touch, to lean back and breath into a gasp, a moan, a soft cry which broke through the little universe the night had webbed around them. Like a drowning man raising his head out of the surface of water. But it was much sweeter than that. If it felt like dying in one moment, it was heaven the other. The world seemed to be still and yet move around them, move with them, completing their restless back and forth. Hallelujah, Hallelujah Their breaths seemed to become one in time, all their rhythms seemed to equal. For a moment, when everything around them stopped, their breaths ragged in their throats, and Toshiya looked at him with an expression of speechless astonishment, he had the feeling he could look straight into Toshiya, through his eyes to the very ground of his soul. He had the feeling he knew what the other felt, and it highly pleased him. He felt as if he'd found something very precious, and he felt like keeping it. But then the moment passed by, they blinked and everything seemed like it was before, except the fact that Kirito kept the memory of this look, this moment, locked somewhere deep within. Toshiyas hand let go of him for a moment, and his touch softened as he took a deep breath, slightly leaning back. He looked utterly beautiful, his lips slightly parted, his chest heaving up and down as he gasped for air. He looked like an exhausted angel, his chest slightly glittering with sweat even in the darkness, and Kirito took him into his arms again. This one moment, Toshiya had been completely still, even if his body had burnt and shivered. He had looked into Kiritos eyes, glinting in the darkness. These eyes had become so well-known during this one night. He looked into them and the next moment he knew that Kirito could read him like an open book. That, in this very moment, Kirito knew what was going on inside of him. For this moment, it pleased him in a strange way, but then he blinked and sank back and suddenly, the thought frightened him. So he closed his eyes and relaxed, while his body caught all the air he had just lost in gasping. When Kirito took him into his arms, he cosily snuggled up towards Kirito, his fingers softly laid around Kiritos neck and his back. The body also having gotten as well-known as the eyes had. A soft sigh dripped from his lips as a cosy sleepyness stole itsself into his body and mind. It was wunderful, just lying here, in his arms, to feel his steadying breath against your skin and your every pore filled up with his essence, smell and feeling. Maybe there's a God above And all I ever learned from love Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you It's not a cry you can hear at night It's not somebody who's seen the light It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah It was the next morning. Kirito woke up with a hollow ache in his stomach, of hunger, and a hollow ache in his heart as well, when he suddenly found himself alone. He rubbed his eyes for a moment and thought whether this had been real. Perhaps his mind had just played an evil trick on him. But then he felt a sharp pain stabbing his heart when suddenly his nose filled with Toshiyas scent, reavealed from a movement, from the pillows or sheets. He straightened up and took a look around. Everything had been left like it was, even Toshiyas cup, tossed aside, still lay lonely on the carpet. The floor felt cold under his feet as he got up, his eyes meeting the small clock on his desk. He'd have to hurry to meet the others, but in fact, he felt rather bad. Toshiya had left with an unsatisfied feeling. There had been so many things unsaid. But he had felt like choking in Kiritos gentle arms and they had felt so close and suddenly he had the strange feeling that he should regret everything that had been done. And what frightened him even more was that he didn't. And this look in Kiritos eyes.. all the thoughts and pictures of last night rushed into his mind and it was too much for him to take. So he slid out of the bed and into his clothes. He felt utterly strange in the apartment now, as if doing something wrong. His movements were hectical and hushed and the silence in the rooms, which seemed comfortable the last night now pressed on his mood. He had to leave, but as he passed the bedroom-door, he couldn't help but throw a look to Kirito. He lay on the now empty bed, completely still, fast asleep and he looked so peaceful and satisfied, that Toshiya felt sorry, and guilty. He slid into the bedroom and knelt down next to the bed. His fingers touched Kiritos forehead and stroked a strand of his hair aside. Then he carefully leant in, his lips softly touching Kiritos. He gave him the shortest, and sweetest, goodbye-kiss he'd ever given someone, before he raised and left the apartment fast. It was better for him to go. Because you never kissed One-night-stands like that. Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah, Hallelujah Hallelujah... The place was already crowded with people again, but they seemed to only rush by Kirito, without face, without voice and without meaning. He also ignored Jun talking next to him and the stares of the others in his back and side. He knew he was cold today, he was angry and the others thought he just had one of his moody days. Which angered him even more. He only shot a glance around every now and then, his hands buried in his pockets. The same place as last night... he felt like running away. Toshiya let himself being half-heartedly dragged along by the others. He didn't even try to look like he enjoyed. This bad feeling of guilt and the thought that he should've stayed just nagged on him and made him slowly go crazy. He wished now he had done differently, but he couldn't go back. They were in Tokyo, it had been night, and they would never meet again. It was as simple as this, but why did it hurt? It felt like he had had some hope something could develop out of it. What was nonsense. They hadn't even talked. And you don't always get a second chance in life, not even you, Toshiya. Their eyes met and both worlds of theirs seemed to slow down somehow, both of them taking in the strange and yet familiar figure of the other, their scheme, their scent, their looks... ...Hallelujah. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Toshiya und Kirito belong to noone but themselves, and (perhaps ^.~) their lovers or label bosses. I didn't mean to hurt or offend anyone, if your are hurt or offended, why did you read until now?! Excuse my (probably) terrible spelling and grammar, I tried. I admire Kirito and I do the same with Toshiya and I hope you like my way of expressing this. If you did, tell me! ~kana~ Hosted by Animexx e.V. (http://www.animexx.de)