The Hymn of Lazarus 1/2
Jan. 6th, 2010 08:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
snoozing_kittenTitle: The Hymn of Lazarus
Pairing: Ryo Nishikido/Koyama Keiichiro
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sometimes dying is a lot harder then it looks, and sometimes there are people who live to make it hard. Ryo met Koyama one dark night and things just rolled from there.
Word Count: 13,000
A/N or Warnings: X-men meets pushing daisies; and inspired by Dr. Who. Written for the 2009 News Big Bang!
-- What you touch you don't feel
Do not know what you steal
Destroy everything you touch today
Please destroy me this way -- Ladytron – Destroy Everything You Touch
Ryo wasn’t quite sure where he’d been going, somewhere yes, he had been going somewhere. Hospital probably, for all the good it would do him at this point, seeing as how he was 99.99% sure that he had died and all. Dead, and probably straight to hell, one-way ticket and all.
On retrospect he didn’t feel too dead, there was a faint ache in his bones like freshly laid cement was fusing in his body expanding and pressing against everything at once, but not too painful, just enough that he was on the verge of passing out but not quite. He was cold, very keenly aware of the cold, more so then anything else. And on the heels of that realization was the smell of soil and flowers and the faintest smell of decay, maybe he was dead and that was him? Then he smelled tea. Zombies don’t smell like tea.
Ryo must have drifted off again because the next time he awoke he was freezing cold and he could hear someone swearing softly, the smell of earth strong and thick in his lungs almost suffocating.
“’M not dead yet.” He groaned, shaking his hand and rolling onto his side to ensure that he wasn’t about to be buried; which was answered by a very manly squeal of surprise and another crash.
“I’m sorry I’m so sorry.” More wet dirt splattered his arm. Frantic hands pressed into his shoulders and he didn’t have the energy to resist letting himself be rolled onto his back. The light was too bright even behind his closed eyes, starburst of red in the swirling blackness. “Are you okay?”
There was a snap on the end of his tongue something sarcastic and appropriately biting when he realized that besides being cold, yeah, he was actually quite alright. “What happened?” The lights were still too bright to do more then squint but the hands hadn’t left yet, fluttering down his arms chasing the chill away.
“Thank goodness.” With a final press of hands to his chest, the move strangely intimate given that he could almost feel the heat of every fingertip though his clothes against the intense chill on his skin. Then all the warmth was gone and Ryo rolled onto his side, hair falling against his eyes so he could open them a little more. The voice and hands belonged to the man crouching across from him, sweeping up soil with a small hand-broom.
“What happened?” When he thought about it Ryo could almost feel each ache, the foot to his ribs vying for attention from his broken fingers, the sharp tang of blood from his lip or from his nose? Scraped knees and hands, dizzy, he’d hit his head hadn’t he? Gritting his teeth Ryo forced his eyes all the way open, following the smooth line of the other man’s back as he stood from the crouch, moving gracefully around Ryo’s spot on the floor. His hand felt as if made of stone, but he willed his fingers to curl into a fist, and despite the cold he watched as they obliged, there was still blood all over his hand but he couldn’t feel the sharp bright pain of broken bones anymore.
“Do you want some tea? You look uncomfortable.” The hands were back, joined by a face pressing too close into his personal space. Long blond hair flopped down the side of his face, curling at the ends slightly; it looked like it might be soft. Ryo blinked, those hands, warm so warm, helped him sit up and there was still rips in his pants, blood staining the denim rusty brown. The skin he could see under it was smooth, marred by nothing more than black wiry hair. “I’ll go get the tea.”
“No.” Ryo grabbed his hand, pulling him to a stop with tight fingers, he still felt uncoordinated and he squeezed too tight, the bones under his fingers grinding together. He narrowed his eyes, scowling, “what happened? Tell me.”
“You were hurt and,” he paused, gaze flicking wildly over the room anywhere but Ryo’s eyes, “I fixed you.” Said in a tiny almost heart-breaking voice, but it really didn’t clear anything up. He was still in bloody clothes on the cold floor, and apparently pulling a Jesus-worthy recovery stunt. He still had the sense-memory of the crack of the bones in his hand breaking, gravel biting into his palm as he shielded his face from the cement imprinted on his brain. His hand curled tighter around the delicate wrist feeling the tiny bones through his hands when the other man tugged away, more confused than angry.
“You fixed it? What am I, a broken radio? You can’t just fix people.”
“I can.” He looked so small for a moment despite, the height of him and the breadth of his shoulders, that Ryo paused something inside him unravelling so fast in his belly that he couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say back to that. He really wasn’t a radio, and things just didn’t work that way in real life.
“Show me.”
This man, and belatedly Ryo realized he should have introduced himself or something seeing as he was sitting on his floor, crouched near where there was still a mess of broken pottery and a dead plant on the floor. Long fingers picked through the broken bits until he could easily lift the dead thing from the debris, cradling it in his palms so that not a single curled and withered leaf fell. The way he smoothed the leaves down and held it perfectly you’d think it was spun glass.
It was a dead plant, set on the floor next to him ridiculously carefully, the stem brown and limp, leaves hanging curled. Arching his eyebrow, because he could really use some answers right about now, and the flower was very very dead. He had a live flower now, something orange and happy with long tapered petals in one of the cheery ceramic pots that lay broken on the floor from before.
“What the hell are you doing?” Ryo could feel all the way down his shoulders now, the cold ebbing away the more he awoke, and they too ached.
“Just.” There is a little frown on his face, looking at some point to the left of Ryo’s face. He was acting more nervous than the tweaker who lived next to Ryo, well used to anyways. “Try to watch.”
For a long time Ryo wasn’t even sure what he was watching for, then the plant in the pot was wilting, and it was like watching something in fast forward, the bulbs droop leaves curling in on themselves, and the stalk slowly loosing rigidity. Ryo sort of gaped like a fish, brain at first unwilling to catch up with his eyes, then just unable to comprehend what he was seeing. The fingers gently resting on the petal finally moved when the plant began to brown all the way through. Some higher part of his brain not quite fried by incredulity slipped up to the man’s face, watching the flush on his tanned cheeks.
“What?” It was the only word that seemed to make it past the constriction in his throat.
The flower left drained in its pot he touched his fingers now to the stem of the dead flower, the movement drew Ryo’s gaze, noticing the trimmed nails and the bitten rough skin of his cuticles. A long low exhale, the dead plant firming under his fingers with brown receding to green and the leaves uncurling, unfolding to plump fullness. Ryo couldn’t help but watch, his attention rapt completely on the show before him.
When the plant was alive again, silence settled awkward between them and Ryo was overly aware of the smooth skin showing under the rip to his jeans and the dried blood under all his nails. “You fixed me?”
“Yeah,” the man seemed to be just as intently avoiding his gaze, mutual avoidance meaning that their eyes met briefly for a moment before scattering like opposite poles on a magnet. “I’ll get some tea.” After all it was only polite he offer his guest, so Ryo returned the gesture and introduced himself.
Koyama, his name was Koyama. He’d shook his head faintly when Ryo offered him a hand, and Ryo had a flash of the plant dying under those pointy fingertips. Probably for the best anyways.
“I have to go.” Koyama looked at the clock, the small hand cheerfully pointing to the 3 by now, the long hand pointed to the 2. Ryo hadn’t thought to ask why he was still here in what looked like the back room of a flower shop he couldn’t remember being dragged into. Now it seemed like a more important point, but amidst all the questions only one obvious one came to mind.
“Where?”
“I, uh,” clearing his throat Koyama grinned faintly, “there is a field not to far from here. I need to fix things before we open in the morning.”
“I’ll help.” Ryo wasn’t sure what else to do, besides the tall man looked pale and tired, and who knew, maybe playing his weird little parlour trick was tiring, it didn’t look too hard. Minus the whole reviving dead plants thing.
“There isn’t much you can do.” He was looking to that place to the left of Ryo’s face again and that just served to annoy Ryo, whom by now was feeling much more like his usual self and wasn’t willing to put up with anyone else’s bullshit.
“We’ll see.”
Which was how Ryo ended up there, leaning against Koyama’s car smoking his third cigarette of the night and watching Koyama stumble around in the too-bright light of the headlights in the vacant lot under the railway. The whole back seat of the car had been filled with dead potted plants, spilling into the trunk and down in the foot wells as well. Ryo raised an eyebrow at them, but Koyama simply looked away, long fingers curled around the steering wheel and explained that Ryo had been very hurt. The whole car ride had smelled strongly of decay and dead plant matter, until they rolled down the windows and let in the chemical smell of the streets to mask it.
Half of the plants were now lively and there was a whole bunch of dead weeds to show for it. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of his saviour, watching him get his knees all dirty reviving potted flowers like some Botanical Christ. He took another long drag of his cigarette trying to puzzle through his situation. “Need some more?” He pushed off the car with his hip, squatting to move another load of the lively plants that had been recently revived.
“Yes thank you.”
The one in his hand was tall, stiff and reedy with purple buds that unfurled from the side like thorns. He rubbed one of the waxy leaves, the flower practically glowing with life. How many of them did it take to knit his bones back together? How many plants did Koyama drain, his face flushing as he soaked up whatever it was he did, pressing those hands to Ryo’s bruised skin?
“Have you always been able to do this?” Ryo saw Koyama stumble moving from the light into the shadowed area where Ryo set down the first of the plants from the trunk.
“Yes.” He couldn’t see Koyama’s expression but it wasn’t hard to guess that he wasn’t looking at Ryo’s face even under the cover of darkness. He was a rather spineless sort Ryo decided. “I fell out of a tree once when I was little, then I killed my hamster.” Which for any normal person would be completely unrelated, but for Koyama the sorrow that tinged his voice was enough for Ryo to understand what he meant by the two. Incredibly, probably for the first time in his life he wasn’t obtuse and snapped his mouth shut with a click; must have been the lack of sleep. Might as well let dead hamsters lay.
Another weed died a slow death under Koyama’s fingertips and another flower revived, lush with a bright scarlet bloom of colour that Ryo caught in the light when Koyama stepped up to the car. He stubbed his cigarette out and set about rearranging the flowers in the back seat so none of them would fall. Outside Koyama began to chatter about the flower shop, his voice smooth and lilted, a natural melody underlining the words. Things between them still felt weird, like new shoes, didn’t quite fit right yet but there was potential there, sparking between them.
By the time they were done Koyama was visibly sagging on his feet like his pile of wilted weeds, and the car smelled like the jungle crossed with a pollen monsoon. Dawn was peeking fingers of golden light across a pink sky reaching the gaps between the buildings, meaning that it was way too late/early for reasonable people to be up. Stifling a yawn of his own Ryo busied his hands with arranging the flowers so that none of them got caught when he slammed the trunk. Task done he stuffed his hands in his pockets, fingers curled into fists and the echo of his bones snapping making his nerves twitch randomly. “Do you want me to drop you off somewhere?” The words were barely understandable from behind a jaw-cracking yawn, narrow eyes completely closed against the force of it.
“You’re not going to get very far like that.” Ryo pointed out with a nod of his chin and Koyama just smiled sleepily at him, a slow curl of his lips.
“I’ll be okay.”
“But you’re not driving me.” Ryo held out his hand and Koyama waited a whole two heartbeats before he acquiesced and dropped his car keys into Ryo’s waiting palm, he had a jingly charm on the key ring. That was the complete last of the other man’s resistance, he didn’t comment when Ryo drove a little too fast or, that he took a left when he should have gone right, Koyama had pointed the direction but he completely blew past it, and had to circle around again.
In the morning light Ryo got a good look at the storefront of the shop, there was curling text with a dragon coiling pink down the side of the sign, cherry blossoms swirling across the lettering. It was really really tacky looking. Snapdragon Flowers. The car was parked in the back, it was a tight fit next to a scooter, presumably for making deliveries.
“Do you want to come up? I can drop you off later.” He stifled a yawn; the beep of the alarm engaging made him flinch with its suddenness in the otherwise dead morning. Oops, bad choice of words.
“Yeah sure.” With a shrug he tossed the keys over the hood to the other man who fumbled them, bending to the dirt to pick them up. His skinny ass wiggled faintly and Ryo noted the way that the jeans clung to the faint curve. He followed narrow hips and a set of broad shoulders into a back door, where they climbed a set of dusty stairs two flights up. “You live up here?”
“Yeah, my rent comes out of my pay. My boss lives on the middle floor.” He threw a smile over his shoulder, finally coming to a stop behind a door with peeling red paint. “I have to work at noon, but you’re welcome to stay and get rested up.” Another jaw cracking yawn. “Sleep now.”
Koyama wandered into a room, tripping over a cat along the way, Ryo hung back tangling with the knot of his shoe laces. The entryway was cluttered with boots and shoes, enough for a whole group of people actually. When he was finally done he set his shoes down so they were in the neat line of pre-existing shoes. The living room was barely a stone’s throw from the entry way and Koyama was nowhere in sight so he poked his head in the door, voice pitched loud enough to carry through the small apartment. “Hey is there some blankets... I... really?” The other man had managed to walk straight into the bed, falling face first, his socked feet dangling off the end. He paused listening to the snuffling snores, nothing else in the room moved but the madly twitching tail of the cat sitting on the other end of the bed. “I guess he was tired.” Ryo spoke to it with a shrug, the cat glared looking less then pleased with them.
~~
When Ryo woke the light was streaming strong in through the crack in the curtains hitting him right in the face and making his skin burn. “Ow.” His fingers hurt, and there was a pain in his side that seemed to come from everywhere at once. He groaned and sat up, the blanket that hadn’t been there when he fell asleep last night. On the end of the couch, lumpy and uncomfortable thing it was, was the cat and it was giving him a lofty annoyed look. “What do you want?” He groaned, flexing his fingers into claws, and pressing against his side with the other hand.
Last night seemed far away; like a really fucked up dream.
His hand looked normal when he held it up to the light, but there was still dried blood under his thumb nail, and more in the creases of his knuckles. So despite it feeling like some messed up Steven King shit, last night happened, dead weeds, Asian Jesus and his old friends. Throwing his legs over the end of the couch he rubbed absently at the sore spot on his ribs, which probably had been broken. When he lifted his shirt there wasn’t even a bruise.
He decided to snoop around.
Besides the cat there wasn’t too much of interest in the small apartment, Koyama was almost painfully boring. He wore expensive jeans and ate cheap ramen, had pictures of two women all over his bookshelf. There were flowers on the table. He was just going through the cabinets when Koyama himself came home, dark smudges under his eyes and a baby pink apron smeared with dirt.
“Hey.” Ryo had his head in a drawer, and the cat watching with keen interest. He only just barely managed not to jump and hit the corner. Instead he made a manly grunting noise and hit his elbow in an attempt to dislodge himself from the cupboard without looking suspicious.
“You’re back.” He said and peeked out, okay so he had gotten a little stuck when Koyama startled him, to find Koyama leaning on the door frame and watching him with a small smile.
“I’m on break.” He looked like hell but he was smiling at Ryo like he was a much loved present, but then he could have been looking at the cat.
“Do you have anything worth eating? Everything in here is instant.”
“No?” Koyama smoother long fingers down his apron, pressing out the wrinkles. “Do you want something else? I have to go back to work. Here.” He pulled his wallet off of the counter, Ryo had looked at it briefly and decided there was a special place in hell for people who stole from Jesus. He pulled out some money and held it out. “Get what you want.”
Admittedly, Ryo was so shocked he couldn’t think of a single thing to say until long after Koyama had left.
Which is how he then found himself staring at cabbage and trying to puzzle out what Koyama’s intentions were instead of taking the money and booking it, he weighed the head of cabbage in his hand and thought of that pleased little curl of the other man’s mouth. It could be that Koyama was just dumb, pulling random strangers off the street and playing Nurse Betty on them. Hell, Ryo could have been some sort of dangerous psycho. He picked the head on the left, putting it in his basket with the onion and carrots he’d picked out already. The old lady at the counter was giving him weird looks and Ryo was carefully ignoring her, it wasn’t like he had any other clothes to change into even if there was blood on this shirt.
Confused, and more than a little moody from a long night Ryo picked out some pork.
When Koyama came home he looked at the meal on the table like Ryo had popped out of a lamp and granted all three of his wishes while doing the can-can. “Let me guess, you don’t cook?”
“Nope.” Koyama grinned completely unashamed as he stared at Ryo’s handiwork in awe, like being able to revive the dead was a much lesser talent. “Can I eat it?”
“You’re an idiot.” He snapped a little harsher then intended, Koyama flushed a little at that, but he was staring at the simple omelette-rice too intently to manage a full-on pout. “Of course you can eat it. I made it for you.”
“Really? Awesome thanks.” The pink apron barely made it over his head before long strides of even longer legs had him folded into the table across from Ryo and lifting his spoon in the space of a few breaths. Ryo almost laughed at how fast the tired man managed it. He made an almost orgasmic noise when he took the first bite, something that was a cross between a moan and a whimper.
“It can’t be that good.” He arched his eyebrow, embarrassed at how obviously the other man was enjoying the food.
“I haven’t had anything that isn’t instant to eat since I moved out.” He managed the statement around two cheek-fulls of rice and vegetables. Which explained a lot about the sorry state of his cupboards at least. “It’s delicious.”
“It’s just omelette rice.” He took a bite of his own and noted that it was sort of dry, could use a little more sesame oil.
“It’s good.”
Koyama reached for the tea at the same time that Ryo did, his knuckles brushing across the top of Ryo’s hand in the barest touch. Koyama gasped like he’d been shocked pulling his hand back as fast that he knocked his tea off the table. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, so sorry.”
Ryo watched him as Koyama stumbled over himself apologizing non-stop to clean up the tea, his food forgotten. There was something wrong with the picture, something about the high flush on Koyama’s face and the completely dejected set of his shoulders and the shame he wore like a mantle. He managed to look smaller as he crouched down by the spilled tea on the floor mopping at it with a cloth he’d pulled off the counter. Abandoning his own food he grabbed Koyama by the shoulder.
“Don’t.” It sounded like a plea and he was back to avoiding Ryo’s face. Hello square one.
“Can’t you control it?” Ryo pressed his thumb to the skin just above the collar of his shirt so that he was pressing against warm flesh instead of feeling the fabric of his shirt.
“Yeah.” Still he squirmed out from under his hand none the less, grabbing at the towel and mopping up the spilled tea again while Ryo watched, not amused in the least.
“Then what’s your deal?” He crossed his arms over his chest. He knew he should lay off, there was that voice in the back of his mind placed there by his mother all those years ago, and it was yelling at him to just thank Koyama and get the fuck out of there before he was even more insulting. She had hated his mouth, unwilling to censor himself for the benefit of other. Unfortunately Ryo had never managed to listen to that voice very well, there was a bigger part of him that just figured all that was just bullshit. That was the part that crossed his arms and metaphorically dug his heels into the dirt. He was confused and annoyed with Koyama, now he was ready to get invasive.
“I just don’t like it.” He looked away. Ryo didn’t believe him for a moment. So he held his tongue, his silence adding pressure. Koyama didn’t disappoint crumbling under his stare. “I hurt one of my friends in high school.” He fidgeted, wrapping his fingers together in a painful looking knot. “He touched me when I was hurt, and it hurt him. I hurt him.”
“This doesn’t hurt.” He followed the other man’s retreat pressing in until he could wrap his fingers around the other man’s wrists. “I’m fine.”
“Because I’m okay.” Koyama whined, For a moment he thought that the other man might just hit him to get away, but then his spine was the consistency of jelly and he looked like he was going to faint before he would resort to touching Ryo back.
“Then we’re both okay.” Koyama gave the hand on his wrist a desperate look, his eyes looking surprisingly misty. “Oh for fuck’s sakes don’t cry.”
That got him a sharp look at last and Koyama tugged his wrist back harshly, his whole body language screaming to let him go but Ryo wasn’t about to listen. So Ryo pressed his palm against the back of Koyama’s hand, lacing his fingers together in what looked like a heart-attack inducing amount of physical contact. “I’m not going to cry.” Except he looked like he really was. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. See?” Ryo pressed his palm so that he was cupping Koyama’s elbow with his free hand and Koyama remained shock-still and terrified under his hands.
“Yeah. Please let go, I can’t hurt you. I went through so much trouble to make you better.”
“Fine.” Exasperation, there was no way he was in the mood to deal with the other man. With both hands he pushed Koyama physically towards the table, Koyama’s voice was like a punch to his gut, and it was easier to pretend he was mad then to think about what an asshole he was. “I went through effort to make you dinner now eat.” That was about as close to an apology as Ryo’s got in the past five years. That would explain how he had ended up a bruised and bloody mess on the side of the road in front of the Snap Dragon Florist in the first place. That seemed to work as Koyama sat, picking up his spoon with a portion of his original enthusiasm while Ryo went about cleaning up the spilled tea himself steaming over his own inability and Koyama for pushing buttons Ryo didn’t know he had.
The silence stretched as Ryo returned to the table to pick up his food, Koyama keeping his hands on his side of the table only. The radio that he found in his earlier scout of the house crackled softly, he’d turned it on because the other man still looked two steps from crying and the complete awkward silence between them wasn’t helping any.
‘...Quality used cars...’ they had a catchy jingle, Ryo took a sip of his tea and watched Koyama’s hands, the neatly trimmed nails, and skin that felt like taboo to touch. Which had more to do with the way Koyama reacted when touched and less to do with any way he might or might not feel about the other man.
‘...A third victim found in what police are calling a serial murder case...’ A troubling mix of police incompetence and a twisted soul who liked to kill pretty young strangers. They couldn’t find a pattern aside from the way the bodies were all sliced up. Ryo had been watching the case in the papers before everything changed. It was less than a day but it felt like a life time ago, when he burned bridges he lit explosives under them and made sure the bitch burned.
‘Hoshi wo Mezashite...’ A new song that came out, annoyingly catchy and it would probably be stuck in the back of his head for the next few days.
“I can dive you home any time you want.” Koyama finally said after the silence started to feel oppressive even masked by the radio, and every grain of rice had been carefully shovelled into his mouth.
“There isn’t anywhere to go, I’ll just go after I do the dishes.”
“No where?”
“No, I got kicked out of my place.” Ryo shrugged like it was water off his back, and like it wasn’t his whole damn world crashing around his ankles in an impressive blaze of glory, burnt bridges indeed. He’d been sort of pushing off parting, clinging to Koyama so he wouldn’t have to deal with it for another hour, another ten minutes, now he clung to the very seconds.
Ryo finished his plate and grabbed Koyama’s taking them and heading to the sink. He could almost hear the other man thinking, searching for something polite to say. Yeah, good luck with that. He ran the water, adding some soap, and returning for the tea cups.
“Ryo,” His voice, high and tight, “I think. I mean.”
“I’ll go after the dishes, don’t worry.” He grit his teeth, that large part of him angry at Koyama for trying to go the polite way, but maybe that smiling lady in the photo taught him better then Ryo’s own mother did. Or maybe Koyama was just a better person then he was.
“No.” A faint brush of fingers against his t-shirt, probably just Koyama’s finger tips. “I want to say. You can stay here.”
That gave him pause. Mind stuttering, catching, releasing, only to get jammed again a moment later like nothing more than a series of sticky clogs. Was Koyama completely insane? That had to be it, because there was no way, after all revival wasn’t that huge of a bonding experience, and Ryo had just proved in careful steps just how much of a douche he really was.
“Wait, what?” The fingers were gone, the hand snatched back. More importantly, “Why?”
“Do you want to or not?” Now he was pouting and it was a lot easier to deal with than the vulnerable look he’d been wearing before; made it easier to look at the situation with a clear head. So Koyama was insane, Ryo could deal with that, who was he to refuse kindness when he could take advantage of it.
“I don’t have a job anymore.”
“You can split shifts with me until you find one.” With that tiny smile again, all sunshine and fucking rainbows, some unicorns prancing around for luck.
Ryo could only stare. What a freak.
“I’d like it if you cooked.” He smiled wider, and Ryo just shrugged. He could do that.
~~
Three weeks in, Ryo found a job unloading boxes for a warehouse not too far away, Koyama loved rice dishes when Ryo had time to cook and he was paying Koyama rent on his couch. Which he should note was hell on his back, and the cat liked to sleep there too, so he would wake up covered in fur. Nyanta was around more often than Koyama, his tail twitching as he glared at Ryo in contempt for banging around the kitchen without feeding him.
It was oddly domestic.
It was only one day when his new co-worker was asking if he had a girlfriend that he laughed, thinking of Koyama’s fox-like face and said ‘something like that.’ He’d already been with Koyama longer than any of his girlfriends in the past. Of course the girls usually let him touch them more, while Koyama was kind to the extreme and always smiling and laughing, he kept his physical distance. After that first day there was no touching, but sometimes when Koyama was looking at him, intent written all over his face, it felt like a touch. He couldn’t say for certain if the other man was gay or not, but he was willing to bet his whole pay-cheque that he was at least a virgin, what with his phobia of physical contact and all. He would probably start crying during sex or something, hell maybe there was some chick who would get off on that?
‘Why did you let me stay?’ Ryo had asked one night after far too much beer, the lines of the tiny kitchen blurring together and refusing to separate and focus even when he squinted. Koyama sat across the table littered with empties, his own beer mostly empty dangling in his left hand and a loose smile on his face.
‘I was lonely, and you’re not afraid.’ He grinned, stupidly drunk. ‘I like you a lot!’ Ryo’d snorted, and they started talking about soccer. He was quite sure that Koyama didn’t remember the admission, which was fine with Ryo it gave him more to think about. Maybe being able to revive things with a touch wasn’t such a handy skill to have, but he couldn’t not think about how much he could make if he rented Koyama to old rich people. Heal sickness? Check. Power of Christ? Check. Odd sense of responsibility? Check. He could even get him tights and a cape and give him a dumb moniker.
He got some pork on the way home, they could fry it, and then he grabbed a can of cat food and threw it in the basket. Him and Nyanta were close, in the fact that Koyama took them in, and loved them, but was too scared to get close. There were some days he felt closer to Nyanta than he did Koyama. The guy wore gloves to pet his cat, it was kind of funny at first but now it just frustrated Ryo.
It was late when he got back, the door closing behind him, Koyama poked his head out of the bathroom door, hair dark with water and sticking to his forehead and the sides of his neck. “Have you seen the cat?”
“Nope, he’s probably just outside.” He set the bags down on the counter and began unpacking them, hunting down the pan to cook the meat. He was planning on making pork cutlets and rice with kimchi for dinner.
“He wasn’t in the shop today.” Koyama called, his voice carrying from the bedroom, a drawer closing with a bang and a muffled curse that made Ryo grin a bit to himself.
“Maybe he got a girlfriend?” He sliced the packaging on the meat open, tearing through the plastic with a knife with maybe a tad too much glee.
“Oh! Kittens!” He looked over his shoulder, Koyama’s skin was still flushed from his hot shower, hair dripping on the cotton shoulders of his thin t-shirt. He really was quite pretty, not girl pretty, but sort of boyish pretty. It had a lot to do with the happiness that made his eyes glow and pink lips curve, Ryo wanted to hold it close, and secret it away in his pocket. Not that he would ever tell him that, but it was little moments like there that really drove the point home.
“One cat is enough.” He griped, baiting Koyama into a pout.
“But if he’s going to be a dad then he has to take responsibility!”
“How do you know which kittens are his?” The meat hit the pan with a sizzle, and Koyama came to stand near him, but not close enough that they might accidentally touch, and watch him cook.
“They would be the cute ones of course!” That made Ryo snort, reaching past Koyama, his arm coming dangerously close to brushing Koyama’s shoulder, he didn’t flinch so much as dip himself out of the way and take a few steps back. He turned on the old radio, music filling the tiny room. It was something poppy and catchy, the sort of thing Koyama liked but made Ryo’s teeth ache. He left it on.
“No more cats.”
“Fine.” Koyama pulled out a chair and sat down, singing along faintly with the radio, he had an alright singing voice but it was nothing special.
They ate dinner and Koyama talked about the customers, an old lady Ryo remembered from picking up some of Koyama’s shifts who came to buy flowers to leave on her husband’s grave every Tuesday, a man who was going to propose. He chatted about what his mother had called to say while Ryo was out for groceries. His nephew had collected a whole box full of bugs and tipped it over by accident in the house. Koyama talked and talked, and Ryo let his voice wash over him, nodding in the right places to keep the other man going. Without physical sensation of skin on skin he found that he could connect with Koyama though the cadence of his voice, and the locking of eyes. If Koyama noticed he didn’t say anything.
Ryo had the next day off, so he slept in and jerked off in the shower, visions of those long fingers on his dick, the way Koyama’s face would flush and he’d look all panicked even as his eyes darkened in hunger. He imagined being the first, showing Koyama how to touch him, how to make him feel good. Fuck, press all their skin together and rub off against one of those long thighs, he came with a hitched breath, the shower washing away the evidence as he braced himself against the shower enclosure.
Koyama darted away whenever he came close to touching his hand or shoulder, he could almost imagine the fit he’d throw if Ryo kissed him. Not that Ryo imagined kissing him. He closed his eyes and rinsed the conditioner out of his hair. He had to sweep the living room, the place got covered in cat hair so quickly no matter how often he brushed the furry bastard. But first, he needed smokes.
Damp jeans stuck to his legs in the humidity of the summer weather and Ryo yanked them up to his hips. His t-shirt stuck to his back, and he left his hair damp. Shoes shoved onto his feet, keys in his pocket he made his way down all the stairs that led out the back of the flower shop. It always smelled so good here, the back store room opening to the fresh air and carrying the scent of flowers with it everywhere. Probably the only place that would smell better would be living over a bakery. Today there was the cloying scent of the flowers, and something darker, a metallic smell and Ryo paused, looking around for the source.
“Oh shit.” He took two long strides to where the bloodied ball of fur lay crumpled just outside the door. Heart beating way to fast his knees hit the dirt and he reached a hand out. “Koyama!” His fingers touched a mess of long fur and matted blood and dirt. There was a crash from the store room, and Koyama stumbled out of the shop, blinking against the sunlight at him with widened eyes.
“What? Oh Nyanta!” He was kneeling next to Ryo in a matter of seconds, eyes already welling up with tears. “No no no, what happened?” He reached out, bare fingers touching the tip of one of his ears.
The cat twitched and let out a pitiful sound and the tears spilled over, Koyama sobbing softly. Ryo clenched his jaw. “Can you fix it? The flowers.”
“Kimiko will be back from deliveries in less than an hour, there isn’t time.” He placed his hand on the flank, fat tears rolling down his face. Ryo had to do something.
Part 2
Pairing: Ryo Nishikido/Koyama Keiichiro
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sometimes dying is a lot harder then it looks, and sometimes there are people who live to make it hard. Ryo met Koyama one dark night and things just rolled from there.
Word Count: 13,000
A/N or Warnings: X-men meets pushing daisies; and inspired by Dr. Who. Written for the 2009 News Big Bang!
-- What you touch you don't feel
Do not know what you steal
Destroy everything you touch today
Please destroy me this way -- Ladytron – Destroy Everything You Touch
Ryo wasn’t quite sure where he’d been going, somewhere yes, he had been going somewhere. Hospital probably, for all the good it would do him at this point, seeing as how he was 99.99% sure that he had died and all. Dead, and probably straight to hell, one-way ticket and all.
On retrospect he didn’t feel too dead, there was a faint ache in his bones like freshly laid cement was fusing in his body expanding and pressing against everything at once, but not too painful, just enough that he was on the verge of passing out but not quite. He was cold, very keenly aware of the cold, more so then anything else. And on the heels of that realization was the smell of soil and flowers and the faintest smell of decay, maybe he was dead and that was him? Then he smelled tea. Zombies don’t smell like tea.
Ryo must have drifted off again because the next time he awoke he was freezing cold and he could hear someone swearing softly, the smell of earth strong and thick in his lungs almost suffocating.
“’M not dead yet.” He groaned, shaking his hand and rolling onto his side to ensure that he wasn’t about to be buried; which was answered by a very manly squeal of surprise and another crash.
“I’m sorry I’m so sorry.” More wet dirt splattered his arm. Frantic hands pressed into his shoulders and he didn’t have the energy to resist letting himself be rolled onto his back. The light was too bright even behind his closed eyes, starburst of red in the swirling blackness. “Are you okay?”
There was a snap on the end of his tongue something sarcastic and appropriately biting when he realized that besides being cold, yeah, he was actually quite alright. “What happened?” The lights were still too bright to do more then squint but the hands hadn’t left yet, fluttering down his arms chasing the chill away.
“Thank goodness.” With a final press of hands to his chest, the move strangely intimate given that he could almost feel the heat of every fingertip though his clothes against the intense chill on his skin. Then all the warmth was gone and Ryo rolled onto his side, hair falling against his eyes so he could open them a little more. The voice and hands belonged to the man crouching across from him, sweeping up soil with a small hand-broom.
“What happened?” When he thought about it Ryo could almost feel each ache, the foot to his ribs vying for attention from his broken fingers, the sharp tang of blood from his lip or from his nose? Scraped knees and hands, dizzy, he’d hit his head hadn’t he? Gritting his teeth Ryo forced his eyes all the way open, following the smooth line of the other man’s back as he stood from the crouch, moving gracefully around Ryo’s spot on the floor. His hand felt as if made of stone, but he willed his fingers to curl into a fist, and despite the cold he watched as they obliged, there was still blood all over his hand but he couldn’t feel the sharp bright pain of broken bones anymore.
“Do you want some tea? You look uncomfortable.” The hands were back, joined by a face pressing too close into his personal space. Long blond hair flopped down the side of his face, curling at the ends slightly; it looked like it might be soft. Ryo blinked, those hands, warm so warm, helped him sit up and there was still rips in his pants, blood staining the denim rusty brown. The skin he could see under it was smooth, marred by nothing more than black wiry hair. “I’ll go get the tea.”
“No.” Ryo grabbed his hand, pulling him to a stop with tight fingers, he still felt uncoordinated and he squeezed too tight, the bones under his fingers grinding together. He narrowed his eyes, scowling, “what happened? Tell me.”
“You were hurt and,” he paused, gaze flicking wildly over the room anywhere but Ryo’s eyes, “I fixed you.” Said in a tiny almost heart-breaking voice, but it really didn’t clear anything up. He was still in bloody clothes on the cold floor, and apparently pulling a Jesus-worthy recovery stunt. He still had the sense-memory of the crack of the bones in his hand breaking, gravel biting into his palm as he shielded his face from the cement imprinted on his brain. His hand curled tighter around the delicate wrist feeling the tiny bones through his hands when the other man tugged away, more confused than angry.
“You fixed it? What am I, a broken radio? You can’t just fix people.”
“I can.” He looked so small for a moment despite, the height of him and the breadth of his shoulders, that Ryo paused something inside him unravelling so fast in his belly that he couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say back to that. He really wasn’t a radio, and things just didn’t work that way in real life.
“Show me.”
This man, and belatedly Ryo realized he should have introduced himself or something seeing as he was sitting on his floor, crouched near where there was still a mess of broken pottery and a dead plant on the floor. Long fingers picked through the broken bits until he could easily lift the dead thing from the debris, cradling it in his palms so that not a single curled and withered leaf fell. The way he smoothed the leaves down and held it perfectly you’d think it was spun glass.
It was a dead plant, set on the floor next to him ridiculously carefully, the stem brown and limp, leaves hanging curled. Arching his eyebrow, because he could really use some answers right about now, and the flower was very very dead. He had a live flower now, something orange and happy with long tapered petals in one of the cheery ceramic pots that lay broken on the floor from before.
“What the hell are you doing?” Ryo could feel all the way down his shoulders now, the cold ebbing away the more he awoke, and they too ached.
“Just.” There is a little frown on his face, looking at some point to the left of Ryo’s face. He was acting more nervous than the tweaker who lived next to Ryo, well used to anyways. “Try to watch.”
For a long time Ryo wasn’t even sure what he was watching for, then the plant in the pot was wilting, and it was like watching something in fast forward, the bulbs droop leaves curling in on themselves, and the stalk slowly loosing rigidity. Ryo sort of gaped like a fish, brain at first unwilling to catch up with his eyes, then just unable to comprehend what he was seeing. The fingers gently resting on the petal finally moved when the plant began to brown all the way through. Some higher part of his brain not quite fried by incredulity slipped up to the man’s face, watching the flush on his tanned cheeks.
“What?” It was the only word that seemed to make it past the constriction in his throat.
The flower left drained in its pot he touched his fingers now to the stem of the dead flower, the movement drew Ryo’s gaze, noticing the trimmed nails and the bitten rough skin of his cuticles. A long low exhale, the dead plant firming under his fingers with brown receding to green and the leaves uncurling, unfolding to plump fullness. Ryo couldn’t help but watch, his attention rapt completely on the show before him.
When the plant was alive again, silence settled awkward between them and Ryo was overly aware of the smooth skin showing under the rip to his jeans and the dried blood under all his nails. “You fixed me?”
“Yeah,” the man seemed to be just as intently avoiding his gaze, mutual avoidance meaning that their eyes met briefly for a moment before scattering like opposite poles on a magnet. “I’ll get some tea.” After all it was only polite he offer his guest, so Ryo returned the gesture and introduced himself.
Koyama, his name was Koyama. He’d shook his head faintly when Ryo offered him a hand, and Ryo had a flash of the plant dying under those pointy fingertips. Probably for the best anyways.
“I have to go.” Koyama looked at the clock, the small hand cheerfully pointing to the 3 by now, the long hand pointed to the 2. Ryo hadn’t thought to ask why he was still here in what looked like the back room of a flower shop he couldn’t remember being dragged into. Now it seemed like a more important point, but amidst all the questions only one obvious one came to mind.
“Where?”
“I, uh,” clearing his throat Koyama grinned faintly, “there is a field not to far from here. I need to fix things before we open in the morning.”
“I’ll help.” Ryo wasn’t sure what else to do, besides the tall man looked pale and tired, and who knew, maybe playing his weird little parlour trick was tiring, it didn’t look too hard. Minus the whole reviving dead plants thing.
“There isn’t much you can do.” He was looking to that place to the left of Ryo’s face again and that just served to annoy Ryo, whom by now was feeling much more like his usual self and wasn’t willing to put up with anyone else’s bullshit.
“We’ll see.”
Which was how Ryo ended up there, leaning against Koyama’s car smoking his third cigarette of the night and watching Koyama stumble around in the too-bright light of the headlights in the vacant lot under the railway. The whole back seat of the car had been filled with dead potted plants, spilling into the trunk and down in the foot wells as well. Ryo raised an eyebrow at them, but Koyama simply looked away, long fingers curled around the steering wheel and explained that Ryo had been very hurt. The whole car ride had smelled strongly of decay and dead plant matter, until they rolled down the windows and let in the chemical smell of the streets to mask it.
Half of the plants were now lively and there was a whole bunch of dead weeds to show for it. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of his saviour, watching him get his knees all dirty reviving potted flowers like some Botanical Christ. He took another long drag of his cigarette trying to puzzle through his situation. “Need some more?” He pushed off the car with his hip, squatting to move another load of the lively plants that had been recently revived.
“Yes thank you.”
The one in his hand was tall, stiff and reedy with purple buds that unfurled from the side like thorns. He rubbed one of the waxy leaves, the flower practically glowing with life. How many of them did it take to knit his bones back together? How many plants did Koyama drain, his face flushing as he soaked up whatever it was he did, pressing those hands to Ryo’s bruised skin?
“Have you always been able to do this?” Ryo saw Koyama stumble moving from the light into the shadowed area where Ryo set down the first of the plants from the trunk.
“Yes.” He couldn’t see Koyama’s expression but it wasn’t hard to guess that he wasn’t looking at Ryo’s face even under the cover of darkness. He was a rather spineless sort Ryo decided. “I fell out of a tree once when I was little, then I killed my hamster.” Which for any normal person would be completely unrelated, but for Koyama the sorrow that tinged his voice was enough for Ryo to understand what he meant by the two. Incredibly, probably for the first time in his life he wasn’t obtuse and snapped his mouth shut with a click; must have been the lack of sleep. Might as well let dead hamsters lay.
Another weed died a slow death under Koyama’s fingertips and another flower revived, lush with a bright scarlet bloom of colour that Ryo caught in the light when Koyama stepped up to the car. He stubbed his cigarette out and set about rearranging the flowers in the back seat so none of them would fall. Outside Koyama began to chatter about the flower shop, his voice smooth and lilted, a natural melody underlining the words. Things between them still felt weird, like new shoes, didn’t quite fit right yet but there was potential there, sparking between them.
By the time they were done Koyama was visibly sagging on his feet like his pile of wilted weeds, and the car smelled like the jungle crossed with a pollen monsoon. Dawn was peeking fingers of golden light across a pink sky reaching the gaps between the buildings, meaning that it was way too late/early for reasonable people to be up. Stifling a yawn of his own Ryo busied his hands with arranging the flowers so that none of them got caught when he slammed the trunk. Task done he stuffed his hands in his pockets, fingers curled into fists and the echo of his bones snapping making his nerves twitch randomly. “Do you want me to drop you off somewhere?” The words were barely understandable from behind a jaw-cracking yawn, narrow eyes completely closed against the force of it.
“You’re not going to get very far like that.” Ryo pointed out with a nod of his chin and Koyama just smiled sleepily at him, a slow curl of his lips.
“I’ll be okay.”
“But you’re not driving me.” Ryo held out his hand and Koyama waited a whole two heartbeats before he acquiesced and dropped his car keys into Ryo’s waiting palm, he had a jingly charm on the key ring. That was the complete last of the other man’s resistance, he didn’t comment when Ryo drove a little too fast or, that he took a left when he should have gone right, Koyama had pointed the direction but he completely blew past it, and had to circle around again.
In the morning light Ryo got a good look at the storefront of the shop, there was curling text with a dragon coiling pink down the side of the sign, cherry blossoms swirling across the lettering. It was really really tacky looking. Snapdragon Flowers. The car was parked in the back, it was a tight fit next to a scooter, presumably for making deliveries.
“Do you want to come up? I can drop you off later.” He stifled a yawn; the beep of the alarm engaging made him flinch with its suddenness in the otherwise dead morning. Oops, bad choice of words.
“Yeah sure.” With a shrug he tossed the keys over the hood to the other man who fumbled them, bending to the dirt to pick them up. His skinny ass wiggled faintly and Ryo noted the way that the jeans clung to the faint curve. He followed narrow hips and a set of broad shoulders into a back door, where they climbed a set of dusty stairs two flights up. “You live up here?”
“Yeah, my rent comes out of my pay. My boss lives on the middle floor.” He threw a smile over his shoulder, finally coming to a stop behind a door with peeling red paint. “I have to work at noon, but you’re welcome to stay and get rested up.” Another jaw cracking yawn. “Sleep now.”
Koyama wandered into a room, tripping over a cat along the way, Ryo hung back tangling with the knot of his shoe laces. The entryway was cluttered with boots and shoes, enough for a whole group of people actually. When he was finally done he set his shoes down so they were in the neat line of pre-existing shoes. The living room was barely a stone’s throw from the entry way and Koyama was nowhere in sight so he poked his head in the door, voice pitched loud enough to carry through the small apartment. “Hey is there some blankets... I... really?” The other man had managed to walk straight into the bed, falling face first, his socked feet dangling off the end. He paused listening to the snuffling snores, nothing else in the room moved but the madly twitching tail of the cat sitting on the other end of the bed. “I guess he was tired.” Ryo spoke to it with a shrug, the cat glared looking less then pleased with them.
~~
When Ryo woke the light was streaming strong in through the crack in the curtains hitting him right in the face and making his skin burn. “Ow.” His fingers hurt, and there was a pain in his side that seemed to come from everywhere at once. He groaned and sat up, the blanket that hadn’t been there when he fell asleep last night. On the end of the couch, lumpy and uncomfortable thing it was, was the cat and it was giving him a lofty annoyed look. “What do you want?” He groaned, flexing his fingers into claws, and pressing against his side with the other hand.
Last night seemed far away; like a really fucked up dream.
His hand looked normal when he held it up to the light, but there was still dried blood under his thumb nail, and more in the creases of his knuckles. So despite it feeling like some messed up Steven King shit, last night happened, dead weeds, Asian Jesus and his old friends. Throwing his legs over the end of the couch he rubbed absently at the sore spot on his ribs, which probably had been broken. When he lifted his shirt there wasn’t even a bruise.
He decided to snoop around.
Besides the cat there wasn’t too much of interest in the small apartment, Koyama was almost painfully boring. He wore expensive jeans and ate cheap ramen, had pictures of two women all over his bookshelf. There were flowers on the table. He was just going through the cabinets when Koyama himself came home, dark smudges under his eyes and a baby pink apron smeared with dirt.
“Hey.” Ryo had his head in a drawer, and the cat watching with keen interest. He only just barely managed not to jump and hit the corner. Instead he made a manly grunting noise and hit his elbow in an attempt to dislodge himself from the cupboard without looking suspicious.
“You’re back.” He said and peeked out, okay so he had gotten a little stuck when Koyama startled him, to find Koyama leaning on the door frame and watching him with a small smile.
“I’m on break.” He looked like hell but he was smiling at Ryo like he was a much loved present, but then he could have been looking at the cat.
“Do you have anything worth eating? Everything in here is instant.”
“No?” Koyama smoother long fingers down his apron, pressing out the wrinkles. “Do you want something else? I have to go back to work. Here.” He pulled his wallet off of the counter, Ryo had looked at it briefly and decided there was a special place in hell for people who stole from Jesus. He pulled out some money and held it out. “Get what you want.”
Admittedly, Ryo was so shocked he couldn’t think of a single thing to say until long after Koyama had left.
Which is how he then found himself staring at cabbage and trying to puzzle out what Koyama’s intentions were instead of taking the money and booking it, he weighed the head of cabbage in his hand and thought of that pleased little curl of the other man’s mouth. It could be that Koyama was just dumb, pulling random strangers off the street and playing Nurse Betty on them. Hell, Ryo could have been some sort of dangerous psycho. He picked the head on the left, putting it in his basket with the onion and carrots he’d picked out already. The old lady at the counter was giving him weird looks and Ryo was carefully ignoring her, it wasn’t like he had any other clothes to change into even if there was blood on this shirt.
Confused, and more than a little moody from a long night Ryo picked out some pork.
When Koyama came home he looked at the meal on the table like Ryo had popped out of a lamp and granted all three of his wishes while doing the can-can. “Let me guess, you don’t cook?”
“Nope.” Koyama grinned completely unashamed as he stared at Ryo’s handiwork in awe, like being able to revive the dead was a much lesser talent. “Can I eat it?”
“You’re an idiot.” He snapped a little harsher then intended, Koyama flushed a little at that, but he was staring at the simple omelette-rice too intently to manage a full-on pout. “Of course you can eat it. I made it for you.”
“Really? Awesome thanks.” The pink apron barely made it over his head before long strides of even longer legs had him folded into the table across from Ryo and lifting his spoon in the space of a few breaths. Ryo almost laughed at how fast the tired man managed it. He made an almost orgasmic noise when he took the first bite, something that was a cross between a moan and a whimper.
“It can’t be that good.” He arched his eyebrow, embarrassed at how obviously the other man was enjoying the food.
“I haven’t had anything that isn’t instant to eat since I moved out.” He managed the statement around two cheek-fulls of rice and vegetables. Which explained a lot about the sorry state of his cupboards at least. “It’s delicious.”
“It’s just omelette rice.” He took a bite of his own and noted that it was sort of dry, could use a little more sesame oil.
“It’s good.”
Koyama reached for the tea at the same time that Ryo did, his knuckles brushing across the top of Ryo’s hand in the barest touch. Koyama gasped like he’d been shocked pulling his hand back as fast that he knocked his tea off the table. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, so sorry.”
Ryo watched him as Koyama stumbled over himself apologizing non-stop to clean up the tea, his food forgotten. There was something wrong with the picture, something about the high flush on Koyama’s face and the completely dejected set of his shoulders and the shame he wore like a mantle. He managed to look smaller as he crouched down by the spilled tea on the floor mopping at it with a cloth he’d pulled off the counter. Abandoning his own food he grabbed Koyama by the shoulder.
“Don’t.” It sounded like a plea and he was back to avoiding Ryo’s face. Hello square one.
“Can’t you control it?” Ryo pressed his thumb to the skin just above the collar of his shirt so that he was pressing against warm flesh instead of feeling the fabric of his shirt.
“Yeah.” Still he squirmed out from under his hand none the less, grabbing at the towel and mopping up the spilled tea again while Ryo watched, not amused in the least.
“Then what’s your deal?” He crossed his arms over his chest. He knew he should lay off, there was that voice in the back of his mind placed there by his mother all those years ago, and it was yelling at him to just thank Koyama and get the fuck out of there before he was even more insulting. She had hated his mouth, unwilling to censor himself for the benefit of other. Unfortunately Ryo had never managed to listen to that voice very well, there was a bigger part of him that just figured all that was just bullshit. That was the part that crossed his arms and metaphorically dug his heels into the dirt. He was confused and annoyed with Koyama, now he was ready to get invasive.
“I just don’t like it.” He looked away. Ryo didn’t believe him for a moment. So he held his tongue, his silence adding pressure. Koyama didn’t disappoint crumbling under his stare. “I hurt one of my friends in high school.” He fidgeted, wrapping his fingers together in a painful looking knot. “He touched me when I was hurt, and it hurt him. I hurt him.”
“This doesn’t hurt.” He followed the other man’s retreat pressing in until he could wrap his fingers around the other man’s wrists. “I’m fine.”
“Because I’m okay.” Koyama whined, For a moment he thought that the other man might just hit him to get away, but then his spine was the consistency of jelly and he looked like he was going to faint before he would resort to touching Ryo back.
“Then we’re both okay.” Koyama gave the hand on his wrist a desperate look, his eyes looking surprisingly misty. “Oh for fuck’s sakes don’t cry.”
That got him a sharp look at last and Koyama tugged his wrist back harshly, his whole body language screaming to let him go but Ryo wasn’t about to listen. So Ryo pressed his palm against the back of Koyama’s hand, lacing his fingers together in what looked like a heart-attack inducing amount of physical contact. “I’m not going to cry.” Except he looked like he really was. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. See?” Ryo pressed his palm so that he was cupping Koyama’s elbow with his free hand and Koyama remained shock-still and terrified under his hands.
“Yeah. Please let go, I can’t hurt you. I went through so much trouble to make you better.”
“Fine.” Exasperation, there was no way he was in the mood to deal with the other man. With both hands he pushed Koyama physically towards the table, Koyama’s voice was like a punch to his gut, and it was easier to pretend he was mad then to think about what an asshole he was. “I went through effort to make you dinner now eat.” That was about as close to an apology as Ryo’s got in the past five years. That would explain how he had ended up a bruised and bloody mess on the side of the road in front of the Snap Dragon Florist in the first place. That seemed to work as Koyama sat, picking up his spoon with a portion of his original enthusiasm while Ryo went about cleaning up the spilled tea himself steaming over his own inability and Koyama for pushing buttons Ryo didn’t know he had.
The silence stretched as Ryo returned to the table to pick up his food, Koyama keeping his hands on his side of the table only. The radio that he found in his earlier scout of the house crackled softly, he’d turned it on because the other man still looked two steps from crying and the complete awkward silence between them wasn’t helping any.
‘...Quality used cars...’ they had a catchy jingle, Ryo took a sip of his tea and watched Koyama’s hands, the neatly trimmed nails, and skin that felt like taboo to touch. Which had more to do with the way Koyama reacted when touched and less to do with any way he might or might not feel about the other man.
‘...A third victim found in what police are calling a serial murder case...’ A troubling mix of police incompetence and a twisted soul who liked to kill pretty young strangers. They couldn’t find a pattern aside from the way the bodies were all sliced up. Ryo had been watching the case in the papers before everything changed. It was less than a day but it felt like a life time ago, when he burned bridges he lit explosives under them and made sure the bitch burned.
‘Hoshi wo Mezashite...’ A new song that came out, annoyingly catchy and it would probably be stuck in the back of his head for the next few days.
“I can dive you home any time you want.” Koyama finally said after the silence started to feel oppressive even masked by the radio, and every grain of rice had been carefully shovelled into his mouth.
“There isn’t anywhere to go, I’ll just go after I do the dishes.”
“No where?”
“No, I got kicked out of my place.” Ryo shrugged like it was water off his back, and like it wasn’t his whole damn world crashing around his ankles in an impressive blaze of glory, burnt bridges indeed. He’d been sort of pushing off parting, clinging to Koyama so he wouldn’t have to deal with it for another hour, another ten minutes, now he clung to the very seconds.
Ryo finished his plate and grabbed Koyama’s taking them and heading to the sink. He could almost hear the other man thinking, searching for something polite to say. Yeah, good luck with that. He ran the water, adding some soap, and returning for the tea cups.
“Ryo,” His voice, high and tight, “I think. I mean.”
“I’ll go after the dishes, don’t worry.” He grit his teeth, that large part of him angry at Koyama for trying to go the polite way, but maybe that smiling lady in the photo taught him better then Ryo’s own mother did. Or maybe Koyama was just a better person then he was.
“No.” A faint brush of fingers against his t-shirt, probably just Koyama’s finger tips. “I want to say. You can stay here.”
That gave him pause. Mind stuttering, catching, releasing, only to get jammed again a moment later like nothing more than a series of sticky clogs. Was Koyama completely insane? That had to be it, because there was no way, after all revival wasn’t that huge of a bonding experience, and Ryo had just proved in careful steps just how much of a douche he really was.
“Wait, what?” The fingers were gone, the hand snatched back. More importantly, “Why?”
“Do you want to or not?” Now he was pouting and it was a lot easier to deal with than the vulnerable look he’d been wearing before; made it easier to look at the situation with a clear head. So Koyama was insane, Ryo could deal with that, who was he to refuse kindness when he could take advantage of it.
“I don’t have a job anymore.”
“You can split shifts with me until you find one.” With that tiny smile again, all sunshine and fucking rainbows, some unicorns prancing around for luck.
Ryo could only stare. What a freak.
“I’d like it if you cooked.” He smiled wider, and Ryo just shrugged. He could do that.
~~
Three weeks in, Ryo found a job unloading boxes for a warehouse not too far away, Koyama loved rice dishes when Ryo had time to cook and he was paying Koyama rent on his couch. Which he should note was hell on his back, and the cat liked to sleep there too, so he would wake up covered in fur. Nyanta was around more often than Koyama, his tail twitching as he glared at Ryo in contempt for banging around the kitchen without feeding him.
It was oddly domestic.
It was only one day when his new co-worker was asking if he had a girlfriend that he laughed, thinking of Koyama’s fox-like face and said ‘something like that.’ He’d already been with Koyama longer than any of his girlfriends in the past. Of course the girls usually let him touch them more, while Koyama was kind to the extreme and always smiling and laughing, he kept his physical distance. After that first day there was no touching, but sometimes when Koyama was looking at him, intent written all over his face, it felt like a touch. He couldn’t say for certain if the other man was gay or not, but he was willing to bet his whole pay-cheque that he was at least a virgin, what with his phobia of physical contact and all. He would probably start crying during sex or something, hell maybe there was some chick who would get off on that?
‘Why did you let me stay?’ Ryo had asked one night after far too much beer, the lines of the tiny kitchen blurring together and refusing to separate and focus even when he squinted. Koyama sat across the table littered with empties, his own beer mostly empty dangling in his left hand and a loose smile on his face.
‘I was lonely, and you’re not afraid.’ He grinned, stupidly drunk. ‘I like you a lot!’ Ryo’d snorted, and they started talking about soccer. He was quite sure that Koyama didn’t remember the admission, which was fine with Ryo it gave him more to think about. Maybe being able to revive things with a touch wasn’t such a handy skill to have, but he couldn’t not think about how much he could make if he rented Koyama to old rich people. Heal sickness? Check. Power of Christ? Check. Odd sense of responsibility? Check. He could even get him tights and a cape and give him a dumb moniker.
He got some pork on the way home, they could fry it, and then he grabbed a can of cat food and threw it in the basket. Him and Nyanta were close, in the fact that Koyama took them in, and loved them, but was too scared to get close. There were some days he felt closer to Nyanta than he did Koyama. The guy wore gloves to pet his cat, it was kind of funny at first but now it just frustrated Ryo.
It was late when he got back, the door closing behind him, Koyama poked his head out of the bathroom door, hair dark with water and sticking to his forehead and the sides of his neck. “Have you seen the cat?”
“Nope, he’s probably just outside.” He set the bags down on the counter and began unpacking them, hunting down the pan to cook the meat. He was planning on making pork cutlets and rice with kimchi for dinner.
“He wasn’t in the shop today.” Koyama called, his voice carrying from the bedroom, a drawer closing with a bang and a muffled curse that made Ryo grin a bit to himself.
“Maybe he got a girlfriend?” He sliced the packaging on the meat open, tearing through the plastic with a knife with maybe a tad too much glee.
“Oh! Kittens!” He looked over his shoulder, Koyama’s skin was still flushed from his hot shower, hair dripping on the cotton shoulders of his thin t-shirt. He really was quite pretty, not girl pretty, but sort of boyish pretty. It had a lot to do with the happiness that made his eyes glow and pink lips curve, Ryo wanted to hold it close, and secret it away in his pocket. Not that he would ever tell him that, but it was little moments like there that really drove the point home.
“One cat is enough.” He griped, baiting Koyama into a pout.
“But if he’s going to be a dad then he has to take responsibility!”
“How do you know which kittens are his?” The meat hit the pan with a sizzle, and Koyama came to stand near him, but not close enough that they might accidentally touch, and watch him cook.
“They would be the cute ones of course!” That made Ryo snort, reaching past Koyama, his arm coming dangerously close to brushing Koyama’s shoulder, he didn’t flinch so much as dip himself out of the way and take a few steps back. He turned on the old radio, music filling the tiny room. It was something poppy and catchy, the sort of thing Koyama liked but made Ryo’s teeth ache. He left it on.
“No more cats.”
“Fine.” Koyama pulled out a chair and sat down, singing along faintly with the radio, he had an alright singing voice but it was nothing special.
They ate dinner and Koyama talked about the customers, an old lady Ryo remembered from picking up some of Koyama’s shifts who came to buy flowers to leave on her husband’s grave every Tuesday, a man who was going to propose. He chatted about what his mother had called to say while Ryo was out for groceries. His nephew had collected a whole box full of bugs and tipped it over by accident in the house. Koyama talked and talked, and Ryo let his voice wash over him, nodding in the right places to keep the other man going. Without physical sensation of skin on skin he found that he could connect with Koyama though the cadence of his voice, and the locking of eyes. If Koyama noticed he didn’t say anything.
Ryo had the next day off, so he slept in and jerked off in the shower, visions of those long fingers on his dick, the way Koyama’s face would flush and he’d look all panicked even as his eyes darkened in hunger. He imagined being the first, showing Koyama how to touch him, how to make him feel good. Fuck, press all their skin together and rub off against one of those long thighs, he came with a hitched breath, the shower washing away the evidence as he braced himself against the shower enclosure.
Koyama darted away whenever he came close to touching his hand or shoulder, he could almost imagine the fit he’d throw if Ryo kissed him. Not that Ryo imagined kissing him. He closed his eyes and rinsed the conditioner out of his hair. He had to sweep the living room, the place got covered in cat hair so quickly no matter how often he brushed the furry bastard. But first, he needed smokes.
Damp jeans stuck to his legs in the humidity of the summer weather and Ryo yanked them up to his hips. His t-shirt stuck to his back, and he left his hair damp. Shoes shoved onto his feet, keys in his pocket he made his way down all the stairs that led out the back of the flower shop. It always smelled so good here, the back store room opening to the fresh air and carrying the scent of flowers with it everywhere. Probably the only place that would smell better would be living over a bakery. Today there was the cloying scent of the flowers, and something darker, a metallic smell and Ryo paused, looking around for the source.
“Oh shit.” He took two long strides to where the bloodied ball of fur lay crumpled just outside the door. Heart beating way to fast his knees hit the dirt and he reached a hand out. “Koyama!” His fingers touched a mess of long fur and matted blood and dirt. There was a crash from the store room, and Koyama stumbled out of the shop, blinking against the sunlight at him with widened eyes.
“What? Oh Nyanta!” He was kneeling next to Ryo in a matter of seconds, eyes already welling up with tears. “No no no, what happened?” He reached out, bare fingers touching the tip of one of his ears.
The cat twitched and let out a pitiful sound and the tears spilled over, Koyama sobbing softly. Ryo clenched his jaw. “Can you fix it? The flowers.”
“Kimiko will be back from deliveries in less than an hour, there isn’t time.” He placed his hand on the flank, fat tears rolling down his face. Ryo had to do something.
Part 2
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-02-16 07:09 pm (UTC)I FREAKY LOVE THIS. this is all i have to say NOW!
*heads off for school*
no subject
Date: 2011-11-12 04:14 am (UTC)Also. I am commenting both parts. >_> Because I can. \o/
FIRSTLY BEFORE I QUOTE THINGS.
aldkjfaldsjfa WHAT IN THE FUCKING SHIT. ;A; WHY IS THIS SO AWESOME.
I love so much about this.. I have no idea how to confess all my love for it. ;_; it brings tears to my eyes. The imagry, and the way it read, it was beyond amazing. Seriously. Why the fuck doesn't this have more comments? IT DESERVES ALL THE COMMENTS!!!
KoyaRyo, KoyaRyo, KoyaRyo.
He tried to bury Ryo, but Ryo woke up. xD Omg. I laughed, hard, and then giggled because it made me awkwardly happy.
And then he shows Ryo how he saved him, at the sake of the poor plant. RIP plant-who-was-sacrificed-for-Ryo's-life
/Sobs. And Koyama just walks straight into his bed and passes out. I can honestly see this happening.
aldksjfad AND HE MADE FOOD. AND KOYAMA WAS HAPPY. The world is a happier place if Koyama is happy. Everyone will learn. >_>
And Ryo always wants to try and touch Koyama. I shrieked the entire time, going. 'LET HIM KOYAMA. LET HIM LOVE YOU. ;A; COME OOOOOOOON.' I did it so loudly, that now my throat is sore.. xD Or that may because I have an infection. >_>
Koyama wears gloves. to pet his cat. And it annoys Ryo. IT ANNOYS HIM BECAUSE HE CARES. ;_; I FEEL THE LOVE HERE. I DO. I DO.
(There is apart two, and.. three.. and maybe four to this comment, however its saved in my word doc, because I've been typing it up for 6+hours now and need a break. ;A;)
Right. back now. 1/?
Date: 2011-11-12 07:47 pm (UTC)Ryo wasn’t quite sure where he’d been going, somewhere yes, he had been going somewhere. Hospital probably, for all the good it would do him at this point, seeing as how he was 99.99% sure that he had died and all. Dead, and probably straight to hell, one-way ticket and all. That sounds about right... >_> Ryo would get a one way ticket to hell, if he died.
On retrospect he didn’t feel too dead, there was a faint ache in his bones like freshly laid cement was fusing in his body expanding and pressing against everything at once, but not too painful, just enough that he was on the verge of passing out but not quite. He was cold, very keenly aware of the cold, more so then anything else. And on the heels of that realization was the smell of soil and flowers and the faintest smell of decay, maybe he was dead and that was him? Then he smelled tea. Zombies don’t smell like tea. Again. Imagery is amazing. And also. Zombies could totally smell like tea, if they ate someone who drank a lot of tea.. /All kinds of sense is made here.
“’M not dead yet.” He groaned, shaking his hand and rolling onto his side to ensure that he wasn’t about to be buried; which was answered by a very manly squeal of surprise and another crash. Loooooooool. Sorry. I laughed hysterically, and don't even feel bad for doing so. Also, it is so like Koyama, to let out a squeal. I can almost hear it. *_*
adfadlskjf And Koyama fixes him, as if he were a broken radio. Using a plant. A PLANT. Ryo now owes his survival to a plant. And Koyama's magic hands.
“But you’re not driving me.” Ryo held out his hand and Koyama waited a whole two heartbeats before he acquiesced and dropped his car keys into Ryo’s waiting palm, he had a jingly charm on the key ring. That was the complete last of the other man’s resistance, he didn’t comment when Ryo drove a little too fast or, that he took a left when he should have gone right, Koyama had pointed the direction but he completely blew past it, and had to circle around again. Ryo has awesome driving skills, and seems to know where he's going. >_> Yeah. Okay. He just wanted to drive Koyama's car. I'd like to drive Koyama's car..
Koyama wandered into a room, tripping over a cat along the way, Ryo hung back tangling with the knot of his shoe laces. The entryway was cluttered with boots and shoes, enough for a whole group of people actually. When he was finally done he set his shoes down so they were in the neat line of pre-existing shoes. The living room was barely a stone’s throw from the entry way and Koyama was nowhere in sight so he poked his head in the door, voice pitched loud enough to carry through the small apartment. “Hey is there some blankets... I... really?” The other man had managed to walk straight into the bed, falling face first, his socked feet dangling off the end. He paused listening to the snuffling snores, nothing else in the room moved but the madly twitching tail of the cat sitting on the other end of the bed. “I guess he was tired.” Ryo spoke to it with a shrug, the cat glared looking less then pleased with them. /Sobs. I can't really explain why this is my favorite part of the fic, but it is. Probably because I could totally see him just walking straight into the side of the bed, falling and passing out the second his head hit something soft.
Besides the cat there wasn’t too much of interest in the small apartment, Koyama was almost painfully boring. He wore expensive jeans and ate cheap ramen, had pictures of two women all over his bookshelf. There were flowers on the table. He was just going through the cabinets when Koyama himself came home, dark smudges under his eyes and a baby pink apron smeared with dirt. Koyama would look good in that pink apron. *_* He may arrange my flowers any day. >D
Right. back now. 2/?
Date: 2011-11-12 07:49 pm (UTC)I had to break it up into parts because of that.
“No?” Koyama smoother long fingers down his apron, pressing out the wrinkles. “Do you want something else? I have to go back to work. Here.” He pulled his wallet off of the counter, Ryo had looked at it briefly and decided there was a special place in hell for people who stole from Jesus. He pulled out some money and held it out. “Get what you want.” Ryo thinks Koyama is Jesus, which I can see his logic. Koyama did in fact heal him.. Koyama is Jesus.. yes. Who hands out money, and lets people he brought back from the dead live in his apartment. He also cannot cook.. >_>
“Nope.” Koyama grinned completely unashamed as he stared at Ryo’s handiwork in awe, like being able to revive the dead was a much lesser talent. “Can I eat it?”
“You’re an idiot.” He snapped a little harsher then intended, Koyama flushed a little at that, but he was staring at the simple omelette-rice too intently to manage a full-on pout. “Of course you can eat it. I made it for you.”
“Really? Awesome thanks.” The pink apron barely made it over his head before long strides of even longer legs had him folded into the table across from Ryo and lifting his spoon in the space of a few breaths. Ryo almost laughed at how fast the tired man managed it. He made an almost orgasmic noise when he took the first bite, something that was a cross between a moan and a whimper. aldkfjasldkjfa words. Do not have any. Unless telling you, how domestic this entire part is. ;A; LOVE. HARD
Ryo watched him as Koyama stumbled over himself apologizing non-stop to clean up the tea, his food forgotten. There was something wrong with the picture, something about the high flush on Koyama’s face and the completely dejected set of his shoulders and the shame he wore like a mantle. He managed to look smaller as he crouched down by the spilled tea on the floor mopping at it with a cloth he’d pulled off the counter. Abandoning his own food he grabbed Koyama by the shoulder.
“Don’t.” It sounded like a plea and he was back to avoiding Ryo’s face. Hello square one.
“Can’t you control it?” Ryo pressed his thumb to the skin just above the collar of his shirt so that he was pressing against warm flesh instead of feeling the fabric of his shirt.
“Yeah.” Still he squirmed out from under his hand none the less, grabbing at the towel and mopping up the spilled tea again while Ryo watched, not amused in the least. ;A; WHY IS THIS SO SAD. I really want to hug Koyama now. Or y'know.. shove him and Ryo into a hug.
“No.” A faint brush of fingers against his t-shirt, probably just Koyama’s finger tips. “I want to say. You can stay here.” ALL KINDS OF HAPPY FEELINGS HAVE BEEN FELT NOW.
“You can split shifts with me until you find one.” With that tiny smile again, all sunshine and fucking rainbows, some unicorns prancing around for luck.
Ryo could only stare. What a freak.
“I’d like it if you cooked.” He smiled wider, and Ryo just shrugged. He could do that. They're already in love, they just don't know it yet.THIS IS YOUR DOMESTIC ROMANCE. /Slightly insane. I like how Ryo assumes Koyama is insane, because he wants Ryo to stay with him. Even went as far as to offer him part time work until he found something better.
Right. back now. 3/3
Date: 2011-11-12 07:51 pm (UTC)“Oh! Kittens!” He looked over his shoulder, Koyama’s skin was still flushed from his hot shower, hair dripping on the cotton shoulders of his thin t-shirt. He really was quite pretty, not girl pretty, but sort of boyish pretty. It had a lot to do with the happiness that made his eyes glow and pink lips curve, Ryo wanted to hold it close, and secret it away in his pocket. Not that he would ever tell him that, but it was little moments like there that really drove the point home.
“One cat is enough.” He griped, baiting Koyama into a pout.
“But if he’s going to be a dad then he has to take responsibility!” He would get excited at the thought of more cats. ladfjladsj Ryo you are so in love, just admit it to yourself. THERE ARE REASONS BEHIND WHY YOU FEEL THE WAY YOU DO.
“No more cats.”
“Fine.” Koyama pulled out a chair and sat down, singing along faintly with the radio, he had an alright singing voice but it was nothing special. Omg and Ryo tells him he can't have any more pets. Like he runs the house. Which well.. I guess he totally does. >_>
Ryo had the next day off, so he slept in and jerked off in the shower, visions of those long fingers on his dick, the way Koyama’s face would flush and he’d look all panicked even as his eyes darkened in hunger. He imagined being the first, showing Koyama how to touch him, how to make him feel good. Fuck, press all their skin together and rub off against one of those long thighs, he came with a hitched breath, the shower washing away the evidence as he braced himself against the shower enclosure. aklsdjf Damn.
Koyama darted away whenever he came close to touching his hand or shoulder, he could almost imagine the fit he’d throw if Ryo kissed him. Not that Ryo imagined kissing him. He closed his eyes and rinsed the conditioner out of his hair. He had to sweep the living room, the place got covered in cat hair so quickly no matter how often he brushed the furry bastard. But first, he needed smokes. Ryo just wants some touchy-feely time with Koyama!! And lol. Nyanta sheds. Poor Ryo having to clean it all up. Ryo makes such a good house wife. I can also imagine the fit Koyama would throw if he was indeed kissed. I foresee lots of shit getting knocked over or broken, in his haste to get away from that physical contact.
“Oh shit.” He took two long strides to where the bloodied ball of fur lay crumpled just outside the door. Heart beating way to fast his knees hit the dirt and he reached a hand out. “Koyama!” His fingers touched a mess of long fur and matted blood and dirt. There was a crash from the store room, and Koyama stumbled out of the shop, blinking against the sunlight at him with widened eyes. Tears. I admit to crying here. I do.