Loveless Fan Fiction ❯ To Love and To Be Loved ❯ Farewell ( Chapter 6 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Sleep Remedy 
Soubi finds Ritsuka, only to loose him again.
(edited 12/8/2010)
Anime/Manga: Loveless Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Psychological / Occult / Hentai / Drama / Angst | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 12.08.2010 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.9K | Visits: 179 | Status: Work In Progress
Soubi finds Ritsuka, only to loose him again.
(edited 12/8/2010)
Anime/Manga: Loveless Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Psychological / Occult / Hentai / Drama / Angst | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 12.08.2010 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.9K | Visits: 179 | Status: Work In Progress
'Farewell, thou are too dear for my possessing,
And like enough thou know'st thy estimate.
The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;
My bonds in thee are all determinate.
For how do I hold thee but by thy granting,
And for that riches where is my deserving?
The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,
And so my patent back again is swerving.
Thyself thou gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing,
Or me, to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking;
So thy great gift, upon misprision growing,
Comes home again, on better judgment making.
Thus have I had thee as a dream doth flatter,
In sleep a king, but waking no such matter.'
- Sonnet #87
By Sir William Shakespeare.
- Beloved : Soubi : 25 -
It was the day of the show, but I couldn't get myself excited. The dream of the night before replayed in my head as if on automatic rerun. It was maddening, but I made no attempt to stop it.
Hoping to get myself out of this religious stupor I seemed to have fallen into, I stood before my painting and knew who it was for. A huge butterfly in mid-flight, large fragile wings painted a deep violet with black accents and outlining. Even the small transparent veins of the insects wings were present. It was a masterpiece. Or, so I was told. I only wanted Ritsuka to see it. I wondered what he would think of it. I always deeply hoped that he might see my name outside the gallery and wander in on a whim. That's why all of my showings were always public. Anyone could come. Everyone was welcome. Even high school students like my Ritsuka.
"It's so pretty, Sou-chan!" a voice to my right exclaimed. Moving slowly, I turned to face Kio. He was standing, ever confident, staring straight at the painting, his quick eyes taking in every detail. Once again, was the also ever present lollipop. I wondered idly what flavor it was today and entertained the idea of snatching it and tasting the mystery flavor along with a tint of Kio to spice it up. However, it was quickly dismissed. I didn't want to lead him on if I never intended to do anything with him.
"I'm sure everyone will love it!" he said, finally turning to me, done with taking in my "masterpiece". "Don't you think, Sou-chan?" he asked, tilting his head to the side and smiling gently.
"I would hope so," I responded quietly. Truthfully, I didn't really care about what the critics or my fans thought. It was something I painted for me. I had just decided to share it with all of them.
"Agatsuma-san! You're on in five minutes!" I heard the stage manager announce from behind some large and heavy curtain.
"Right," I murmured. I would not expect him to be there. It would be too much to bear, then, when his face waabsent in the crowd. I would not look for that pale and desperate face. I will not look about for a long out-of-place tail. I simply would not watch for him. Then, I would not be disappointed when I do not find him.
- Loveless : Ritsuka : 16 -
It was so crowded! People were everywhere and they just kept pushing and pushing 'til I didn't even know where I had come in from anymore. Pushing and shoving just a little, myself, I was able to find my way near the front of the stage and stay there. Once I was able to see the stage, I proceeded to become the iron pole that only leans in the direction it wishes to go.
While waiting, I began to think about slapping the man behind me who kept pushing me obnoxiously, as if I would move if he only annoyed me enough, or pulling the hair of the conceited woman beside me that stepped on my feet every time she moved her stilettoed feet. Thankfully, however, the lights dimmed and an unseen announcer called Soubi to the stage. He stepped out with boundless confidence. However, he always seemed confident. It was a rare occurrence to see him falter. His hair was longer and he no longer left it free, but had it tied somewhere among his shoulder blades. It was very fetching. But... But, he looked tired. He looked older than he was. I mean, he must only be in his mid to late twenties, yet he gave off the air of a man who had seen and experienced so much that he was now sick of life. It made me sad. I hoped my sudden disappearance from his life was not to blame for him changing so much.
As he stepped up to the podium to talk and one of the stage crew men set an easel with a covered painting beside him, I could see Soubi draw himself up for what seemed like an important speech. He picked a spot on the opposite wall and began in on the task of acknowledging all those involved in the creation of his painting and in the party in which the piece was being displayed. After this was taken care of and the crowd was mad with buzzing about the important and notable names mentioned, Soubi stepped down from the podium to take up a spot beside the painting and took the dark cloth in his hand with authority.
"May I please present to you," he boomed out over the crowd, with much more zeal than he had spoken before, " 'Farewell' !"
With that he jerked his hand away, taking the dark red cloth with it. Underneath stood a beautiful painting of a butterfly. It was intricate and tasteful and so, so, so... Soubi. This was definitely Soubi. I wondered if the people in the crowd realized this, but I figured they probably didn't. Applause broke out over the entire congregation of people after only a short pause of intake and digestion of the work.
Soubi then scanned the crowd, almost idly, examining the expression on each individual as his eyes moved from one side of the gallery to the other. Then, his eyes reached me. And, they froze. His expression changed. He was no longer strong and confident, but startled almost scared, it looked. He stayed frozen with the cloth still in his half raised hand and I began to worry that the ecstatic crowd might notice. He had to move. He had to do something. Some of the people next to me were already falling into a confused and secretive murmuring over his strange change of disposition.
He must have been taken aback to see me. He was probably dealing with anger, resentment, happiness, any number of strange emotions. There wasn't much I could do to remedy the situation. Although, I thought that, perhaps, if I moved out and let him have some air without me in it, he might get over it and start moving again, and stop standing there with his mouth open, catching flies.
Making my decision, I started to move away towards the back of the auditorium and towards the exit. I didn't see his face change when I started to move away. I was focused on not looking back and not turning around. I didn't see him jump down from the stage and begin to shove people out of the way. As I walked out of the entrance way with my head down, I heard the yells and the amazed rumblings, but I didn't recognize them for what they were. I was just about to make my escape down a shadowed alleyway when a hand grasped my upper arm and turned me around.
At first, I was pissed. I thought it was someone going to hit me up for money or something. It wouldn't have been the first time that happened since I came to Tokyo. However, it was not the face of a mugger or a pervert that I looked into when I turned to glare at my attacker, but Soubi's. His face was that of happy disbelief and after a moment I squeaked out his name, as if to check if it was really him.
As soon as his name passed my lips, he caught me in a rib-breaking hug. Strange thing was, even if he did break my ribs (which he didn't) I wouldn't have cared. I was finding all those things I loved about him all over again. There was that familiar soft cologne mixed with the smell of paint and canvas. Under that was the smell of his fruity shampoo and that other elemental smell that was just Soubi. I felt his long locks of loose light brown hair brush my face and noted how exceptionally soft it was. Almost as soft as his cheek against my neck, though never quite as sweet. Most of all, I remembered and fell in love with how he held me, leaned over so he could be on the same level, yet pressing me against him with his arms around my lower back and across my shoulder blades.
Being caught up in all of this, I didn't notice him picking me up or carrying me away. He started kissing my neck and I just gasped and clung to him closer. His hand on my lower back sneaked under my t-shirt and kneaded the flesh there, sending shivers up my spine. Somewhere in the back of my mind, the rational part of my brain was complaining about the relationship I had worked so hard on with Ritsu and the fact that I was being ravished in public on a city street, but it didn't really matter. Not now. Not with Soubi's lips on my neck and his hand pulling on the top of my pants. My body was resonating with his and not much other than that mattered. I was with Soubi. This truly felt right.
- Beloved : Soubi : 25 -
I had found him. I had spent so long convincing myself I wouldn't see him again. That he wouldn't be there; he never was. But, all the same, there he had been, those same sad and desperate eyes staring up at me from the crowd. He had tried to escape, but I had caught him. I knew now that I would never let him go.
I had fantasized a million times of taking a fully grown Ritsuka back to my flat in Ginza-ku and showing him the amazing sight of Tokyo's lights. I had imagined him wedged up beside me with some nice aromatic drink in his hands. I had even pictured us in the big King-sized bed with nothing but the electric lights of the city to light our activities. However, I had never imagined us in a Roppongi love hotel.
Still, I wasn't thinking of anything except finding a place for us to be alone and right there it was, the lights glaring at us from across and down the street. I hadn't even let Ritsuka go when I got the room from the mechanized clerk. I couldn't. If I put him down... What if he ran, what if his lips left my neck long enough to tell me he had a fighter, what if, what if, what if...
I don't remember what I thought about after that, because after that we were in the room and Ritsuka was on the water bed, pulling at my shirt and attacking my mouth with unknown vigor. His hands searched and his lips sucked and his tongue licked and he seemed full of unending energy. Though his knowledge and ease in these activities disturbed me, it wasn't as if I could un-see his absence of ears and tail or ignore the fact that his life and adolescence must have gone on without me, just as my career moved on without him. It would have been unfair of me to be deterred by this. So I, in response, easily matched his enthusiasm with my own forceful movements.
When Ritsuka pulled my hair free, I lifted his loose shirt over his head and threw it in the general direction of the bedside table. As soon as Ritsuka succeeded in pulling my shirt off of me, I attached my mouth firmly to his chest. I felt Ritsuka trying to take off my pants and I immediately attacked his, jumping down between his legs and stimulating him with rough rubbing first. His back immediately arched and I heard him whisper my name again. It was like a glass full of water after 10,000 years in the desert.
"Say it again," I murmured against his stomach. "Please, Ritsuka."
Ritsuka's thin fingers threaded through my hair and he said my name again; louder and more distinct, his soft voice making it lilt and sound like nothing I'd ever heard before. With this, I attacked him again, tearing off his pants and kissing and licking him until he was pleading with my name. Begging for release as if my name was the only word he knew. And, I loved it.
Coming up to lean over him and look deep into his eyes and revel in the soft glazed-over light I saw there, the soft tint of pink in his cheeks. Kiss the soft lips that were still slightly swollen from all the kisses from before. While tasting Ritsuka again, I brought my pelvis down to meet his and grind, feeling the small squeaks and moans from their beginnings in his throat. I kept moving, kept kissing, until I felt him tense beneath me and then abruptly let go.
Pulling back, I looked into the exhausted eyes of my little lover. I didn't know where he had come from or where he had been hiding. Nor did I know the hardships he went through to escape Septimal Moon's decision, but I imagined it was quite a bit. Feeling remorse for exhausting him so entirely, I covered him with the red satin sheets and pulled him next to me. Tomorrow would be a day of explanations to look forward too.
- Narrator : 7:03 am : Roppongi-ku -
Sun streaked in through the venetian blinds and onto the sleeping form on the red satin water bed. A young man, his sleeping face angelic in appearance, his long flowing hair shining gold in the morning rays. Nothing stirred except for the slight air of unease. Only one figure lay on the bed. Only one set of clothing in the room; folded neatly on the chair by the door. A small piece of folded paper on the bedside table.
Finally, as one particularly bright ray fell on the blond man's face, he stirred and came to waking, not noticing what was wrong in the room at first. However, when he began to stretch and blindly reach for his little lover, his eyes shot open in alarm and absorbed the scene before him. No Ritsuka. No remnant of him anywhere. His clothes were gone, presumably on the pale body that had walked out of the room and all that was left was a note.
With trembling fingers, Soubi reached forward and brought the note to himself, unfolding it slowly until the poem within was exposed. His eyes alighted to the words immediately, hoping that they would give him an inkling to where Ritsuka may have gone, but they did no such thing. Ritsuka's crisp and precise handwriting belay a song of sad, boundless, and hopeless love.
/"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?/
/Thou art more lovely and more temperate./
/Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,/
/And summer's lease hath all too short a date./
/Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,/
/And often is his gold complexion dimmed;/
/And every fair from fair sometime declines,/
/By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed;/
/But thy eternal summer shall not fade,/
/Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,/
/Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,/
/When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st./
/So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,/
/So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."/
Beneath his breath, Soubi quietly read off the poem. His hands were shaking. As kind as this poem was, it did not disclose the location of his lover. Lost again.
And like enough thou know'st thy estimate.
The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;
My bonds in thee are all determinate.
For how do I hold thee but by thy granting,
And for that riches where is my deserving?
The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,
And so my patent back again is swerving.
Thyself thou gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing,
Or me, to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking;
So thy great gift, upon misprision growing,
Comes home again, on better judgment making.
Thus have I had thee as a dream doth flatter,
In sleep a king, but waking no such matter.'
- Sonnet #87
By Sir William Shakespeare.
- Beloved : Soubi : 25 -
It was the day of the show, but I couldn't get myself excited. The dream of the night before replayed in my head as if on automatic rerun. It was maddening, but I made no attempt to stop it.
Hoping to get myself out of this religious stupor I seemed to have fallen into, I stood before my painting and knew who it was for. A huge butterfly in mid-flight, large fragile wings painted a deep violet with black accents and outlining. Even the small transparent veins of the insects wings were present. It was a masterpiece. Or, so I was told. I only wanted Ritsuka to see it. I wondered what he would think of it. I always deeply hoped that he might see my name outside the gallery and wander in on a whim. That's why all of my showings were always public. Anyone could come. Everyone was welcome. Even high school students like my Ritsuka.
"It's so pretty, Sou-chan!" a voice to my right exclaimed. Moving slowly, I turned to face Kio. He was standing, ever confident, staring straight at the painting, his quick eyes taking in every detail. Once again, was the also ever present lollipop. I wondered idly what flavor it was today and entertained the idea of snatching it and tasting the mystery flavor along with a tint of Kio to spice it up. However, it was quickly dismissed. I didn't want to lead him on if I never intended to do anything with him.
"I'm sure everyone will love it!" he said, finally turning to me, done with taking in my "masterpiece". "Don't you think, Sou-chan?" he asked, tilting his head to the side and smiling gently.
"I would hope so," I responded quietly. Truthfully, I didn't really care about what the critics or my fans thought. It was something I painted for me. I had just decided to share it with all of them.
"Agatsuma-san! You're on in five minutes!" I heard the stage manager announce from behind some large and heavy curtain.
"Right," I murmured. I would not expect him to be there. It would be too much to bear, then, when his face waabsent in the crowd. I would not look for that pale and desperate face. I will not look about for a long out-of-place tail. I simply would not watch for him. Then, I would not be disappointed when I do not find him.
- Loveless : Ritsuka : 16 -
It was so crowded! People were everywhere and they just kept pushing and pushing 'til I didn't even know where I had come in from anymore. Pushing and shoving just a little, myself, I was able to find my way near the front of the stage and stay there. Once I was able to see the stage, I proceeded to become the iron pole that only leans in the direction it wishes to go.
While waiting, I began to think about slapping the man behind me who kept pushing me obnoxiously, as if I would move if he only annoyed me enough, or pulling the hair of the conceited woman beside me that stepped on my feet every time she moved her stilettoed feet. Thankfully, however, the lights dimmed and an unseen announcer called Soubi to the stage. He stepped out with boundless confidence. However, he always seemed confident. It was a rare occurrence to see him falter. His hair was longer and he no longer left it free, but had it tied somewhere among his shoulder blades. It was very fetching. But... But, he looked tired. He looked older than he was. I mean, he must only be in his mid to late twenties, yet he gave off the air of a man who had seen and experienced so much that he was now sick of life. It made me sad. I hoped my sudden disappearance from his life was not to blame for him changing so much.
As he stepped up to the podium to talk and one of the stage crew men set an easel with a covered painting beside him, I could see Soubi draw himself up for what seemed like an important speech. He picked a spot on the opposite wall and began in on the task of acknowledging all those involved in the creation of his painting and in the party in which the piece was being displayed. After this was taken care of and the crowd was mad with buzzing about the important and notable names mentioned, Soubi stepped down from the podium to take up a spot beside the painting and took the dark cloth in his hand with authority.
"May I please present to you," he boomed out over the crowd, with much more zeal than he had spoken before, " 'Farewell' !"
With that he jerked his hand away, taking the dark red cloth with it. Underneath stood a beautiful painting of a butterfly. It was intricate and tasteful and so, so, so... Soubi. This was definitely Soubi. I wondered if the people in the crowd realized this, but I figured they probably didn't. Applause broke out over the entire congregation of people after only a short pause of intake and digestion of the work.
Soubi then scanned the crowd, almost idly, examining the expression on each individual as his eyes moved from one side of the gallery to the other. Then, his eyes reached me. And, they froze. His expression changed. He was no longer strong and confident, but startled almost scared, it looked. He stayed frozen with the cloth still in his half raised hand and I began to worry that the ecstatic crowd might notice. He had to move. He had to do something. Some of the people next to me were already falling into a confused and secretive murmuring over his strange change of disposition.
He must have been taken aback to see me. He was probably dealing with anger, resentment, happiness, any number of strange emotions. There wasn't much I could do to remedy the situation. Although, I thought that, perhaps, if I moved out and let him have some air without me in it, he might get over it and start moving again, and stop standing there with his mouth open, catching flies.
Making my decision, I started to move away towards the back of the auditorium and towards the exit. I didn't see his face change when I started to move away. I was focused on not looking back and not turning around. I didn't see him jump down from the stage and begin to shove people out of the way. As I walked out of the entrance way with my head down, I heard the yells and the amazed rumblings, but I didn't recognize them for what they were. I was just about to make my escape down a shadowed alleyway when a hand grasped my upper arm and turned me around.
At first, I was pissed. I thought it was someone going to hit me up for money or something. It wouldn't have been the first time that happened since I came to Tokyo. However, it was not the face of a mugger or a pervert that I looked into when I turned to glare at my attacker, but Soubi's. His face was that of happy disbelief and after a moment I squeaked out his name, as if to check if it was really him.
As soon as his name passed my lips, he caught me in a rib-breaking hug. Strange thing was, even if he did break my ribs (which he didn't) I wouldn't have cared. I was finding all those things I loved about him all over again. There was that familiar soft cologne mixed with the smell of paint and canvas. Under that was the smell of his fruity shampoo and that other elemental smell that was just Soubi. I felt his long locks of loose light brown hair brush my face and noted how exceptionally soft it was. Almost as soft as his cheek against my neck, though never quite as sweet. Most of all, I remembered and fell in love with how he held me, leaned over so he could be on the same level, yet pressing me against him with his arms around my lower back and across my shoulder blades.
Being caught up in all of this, I didn't notice him picking me up or carrying me away. He started kissing my neck and I just gasped and clung to him closer. His hand on my lower back sneaked under my t-shirt and kneaded the flesh there, sending shivers up my spine. Somewhere in the back of my mind, the rational part of my brain was complaining about the relationship I had worked so hard on with Ritsu and the fact that I was being ravished in public on a city street, but it didn't really matter. Not now. Not with Soubi's lips on my neck and his hand pulling on the top of my pants. My body was resonating with his and not much other than that mattered. I was with Soubi. This truly felt right.
- Beloved : Soubi : 25 -
I had found him. I had spent so long convincing myself I wouldn't see him again. That he wouldn't be there; he never was. But, all the same, there he had been, those same sad and desperate eyes staring up at me from the crowd. He had tried to escape, but I had caught him. I knew now that I would never let him go.
I had fantasized a million times of taking a fully grown Ritsuka back to my flat in Ginza-ku and showing him the amazing sight of Tokyo's lights. I had imagined him wedged up beside me with some nice aromatic drink in his hands. I had even pictured us in the big King-sized bed with nothing but the electric lights of the city to light our activities. However, I had never imagined us in a Roppongi love hotel.
Still, I wasn't thinking of anything except finding a place for us to be alone and right there it was, the lights glaring at us from across and down the street. I hadn't even let Ritsuka go when I got the room from the mechanized clerk. I couldn't. If I put him down... What if he ran, what if his lips left my neck long enough to tell me he had a fighter, what if, what if, what if...
I don't remember what I thought about after that, because after that we were in the room and Ritsuka was on the water bed, pulling at my shirt and attacking my mouth with unknown vigor. His hands searched and his lips sucked and his tongue licked and he seemed full of unending energy. Though his knowledge and ease in these activities disturbed me, it wasn't as if I could un-see his absence of ears and tail or ignore the fact that his life and adolescence must have gone on without me, just as my career moved on without him. It would have been unfair of me to be deterred by this. So I, in response, easily matched his enthusiasm with my own forceful movements.
When Ritsuka pulled my hair free, I lifted his loose shirt over his head and threw it in the general direction of the bedside table. As soon as Ritsuka succeeded in pulling my shirt off of me, I attached my mouth firmly to his chest. I felt Ritsuka trying to take off my pants and I immediately attacked his, jumping down between his legs and stimulating him with rough rubbing first. His back immediately arched and I heard him whisper my name again. It was like a glass full of water after 10,000 years in the desert.
"Say it again," I murmured against his stomach. "Please, Ritsuka."
Ritsuka's thin fingers threaded through my hair and he said my name again; louder and more distinct, his soft voice making it lilt and sound like nothing I'd ever heard before. With this, I attacked him again, tearing off his pants and kissing and licking him until he was pleading with my name. Begging for release as if my name was the only word he knew. And, I loved it.
Coming up to lean over him and look deep into his eyes and revel in the soft glazed-over light I saw there, the soft tint of pink in his cheeks. Kiss the soft lips that were still slightly swollen from all the kisses from before. While tasting Ritsuka again, I brought my pelvis down to meet his and grind, feeling the small squeaks and moans from their beginnings in his throat. I kept moving, kept kissing, until I felt him tense beneath me and then abruptly let go.
Pulling back, I looked into the exhausted eyes of my little lover. I didn't know where he had come from or where he had been hiding. Nor did I know the hardships he went through to escape Septimal Moon's decision, but I imagined it was quite a bit. Feeling remorse for exhausting him so entirely, I covered him with the red satin sheets and pulled him next to me. Tomorrow would be a day of explanations to look forward too.
- Narrator : 7:03 am : Roppongi-ku -
Sun streaked in through the venetian blinds and onto the sleeping form on the red satin water bed. A young man, his sleeping face angelic in appearance, his long flowing hair shining gold in the morning rays. Nothing stirred except for the slight air of unease. Only one figure lay on the bed. Only one set of clothing in the room; folded neatly on the chair by the door. A small piece of folded paper on the bedside table.
Finally, as one particularly bright ray fell on the blond man's face, he stirred and came to waking, not noticing what was wrong in the room at first. However, when he began to stretch and blindly reach for his little lover, his eyes shot open in alarm and absorbed the scene before him. No Ritsuka. No remnant of him anywhere. His clothes were gone, presumably on the pale body that had walked out of the room and all that was left was a note.
With trembling fingers, Soubi reached forward and brought the note to himself, unfolding it slowly until the poem within was exposed. His eyes alighted to the words immediately, hoping that they would give him an inkling to where Ritsuka may have gone, but they did no such thing. Ritsuka's crisp and precise handwriting belay a song of sad, boundless, and hopeless love.
/"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?/
/Thou art more lovely and more temperate./
/Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,/
/And summer's lease hath all too short a date./
/Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines,/
/And often is his gold complexion dimmed;/
/And every fair from fair sometime declines,/
/By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed;/
/But thy eternal summer shall not fade,/
/Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,/
/Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,/
/When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st./
/So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,/
/So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."/
Beneath his breath, Soubi quietly read off the poem. His hands were shaking. As kind as this poem was, it did not disclose the location of his lover. Lost again.