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Antibiosis - Reita/Ruki - oneshot

Title: Antibiosis
Rating: R
Pairings: Reita/Ruki (Gazette)
Genre: angst, romance (if you squint really hard and tilt your head to the left...)
Warnings: non-explicit sexual content, non-explicit drug use
Disclaimers: standard disclaimers apply, unfortunately.
Summary: antibiosis noun : an antagonistic association between two organisms in which one is adversely affected.
Word Count: 2,983
Notes: this piece reads a bit disjointedly - it's supposed to.

Ruki’s head was ringing like a telephone. Buzzing, whirling, a shrill endless whine making circuits inside his skull. It was familiar thing, a thing that was more of a feeling than a sound, a feeling that made his head light and wobbly like a balloon over-filled with helium; that same sort of post-orgasmic sex feeling, dizzy and insubstantial, in those brief moments before he floated down from the hormonal high that wasn’t really a high, but was better than one in so many ways. He touched his arm and it was like electricity crackling under his skin, waiting to be released, and every sense was filled with sensations, and every sensation was ten sensations, the tickling feeling of the carpet’s fibers on the back of his neck - and when did he get on the floor? - the sweaty, constricting heat of his clothes clinging to his over sensitized skin, feeling trapped; he pulled at the fabric with sticky fingers, sighing out a breath that seemed far too big for his body.

There was a slithering sound and he turned his head to see the tail of the rubber tourniquet being whipped out of view. A head of tangled, bleach-blonde hair was all he could see, the geometric points of hair looking so soft and gold, Ruki knew they weren’t soft, they just looked that way, they were stiff with hairspray. He reached up to feel, just to make sure, but his fingers danced in front of his eyes. The smooth, deep sound of Reita’s laugh faintly reached his ears; muted, as though it were a radio someone had turned down too far.

Later, sometime - minutes, maybe, hours, who the fuck knew? - there was a pressure on his face; it took Ruki a long moment to realize what it was, he felt so numb; he knew that Reita was kissing him, that was the only reasonable explanation for the pressure on his lips and the sudden overwhelming smell of Reita’s perfume and the sour cigarette-beer taste of Reita’s tongue, Ruki hadn’t smoked one in weeks, so it had to be Reita’s taste. He tried to focus his vision, seeing only a closed eyelid above him and the tiny comma of Reita’s drawn-on eyebrow. An obscure thought along the lines of why in the hell is Reita kissing me? entered his mind, but it never got any further than that, because his brain didn’t seem to be working in the proper way, and something about that bothered him more than the fact that Reita was kissing him. It was Reita, after all; it wasn’t like it was some stranger, someone he hardly knew, it was Reita, for god’s sake, it was his best friend, and maybe best friends weren’t supposed to kiss - and they definitely weren’t supposed to kiss like this, holy fuck, Ruki thought as his knees trembled - and especially if they were both guys, and, well, famous, and, you know, it was probably wrong. Probably. But reality was so extraordinarily far away just then; “right” and “wrong” were simply words, after all, what did they even mean? Because the way he was being touched could never be called anything but right, he laughed, loud and exuberant, at the mere thought of it, so brilliantly wondrously alluringly right, he closed his eyes.

This time everything, the sensations, the noises, feelings, too amplified. Every touch Reita bestowed on his slippery skin felt like a bolt of lightning, making patches of his body burn and tingle; every sound Reita made, every moan and whimper, every slap of skin on skin echoed inside Ruki’s head, rattling his brain inside his pulsing skull. Every scrape of teeth along his arched back, every press of lips and tongue, like a branding iron, agonizingly pleasurable, the way Reita was marking him. He wished he could turn to see Reita, to see his face, but he didn’t need to; he could feel him, Reita’s expression burning inside his clenched-shut eyelids every time Reita pressed his face to Ruki’s sweaty back.

Vaguely, dreamily, he thought about how much better, so much better this could be if they were both sober. He toyed with the idea in his head - flirting with the devil, as it were, what good could come of that, sober, who the fuck needed to be sober? - his cheek pressed against the wooden headboard as he clutched it for support. With every thrust, his stomach churned as if to rebel against him, his head fairly spinning with nausea, or is it pleasure? he wondered fleetingly. Where to draw the line? It stole through him powerfully, gooseflesh rising all over his pale skin, his heart pounding against the inside of his ribcage as though it could shatter his bones and escape the cruel, senseless prison of his body altogether; for too many reasons, he wished it could.

“Ffffffuuck!” Reita said under his breath, sliding away from Ruki and flinging himself down on the mussed sheets next to the vocalist, his dick, still hard, red and wet, pressed up against his belly. He laughed, a foolish grin wide on his face, rubbing his face where pink likes ran like a track across his cheeks where that stupid nose strap had been cutting into his skin before it was removed - long after the rest of their clothes - he stared lazily over at Ruki, eyes heavy-lidded and glassy. “This is wild, huh?”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Ruki muttered, gripping the head of the bed with sharp, white-knuckled hands, trembling fingers. Reita pouted, apparently displeased with the lack of attention he was being shown; he rolled over, flashing a sleepy, lopsided grin, the kind of grin that used to make Ruki’s heart flutter, should fucking know better by now, shouldn’t I? he thought to himself as Reita’s hand groped up the inside of his thigh.

“Come on, don’t you like it?” Reita smirked devilishly, his hand climbing upward between Ruki’s legs, slender bass-playing digits caressing him ticklishly, Ruki smacked his hand away, groaning. One hand over his mouth, he toppled out of the bed, stumbling like a blind man towards the bathroom, tripping and knocking into things, a bedside table, a guitar stand. He slapped the wall until the lights flickered on, the fluorescent white burning into his raw red eyes, and he collapsed against the unforgivingly cold, hard tile wall.

“What the hell are you doing?” he heard Reita yell faintly, sounding aggravated; he turned to look, watching the other man for a moment, sprawled languidly across the bed, his naked form white and angular in the sharp washed-out light from the bathroom doorway. “Get in here,” he commanded, pushing sweat-damp hair back from his face, staring at Ruki with eyes flat and vacant, glazed over in lust. Ruki nodded, flipping the lights in the bathroom back off so that the were thrown back into darkness, which, he decided, he preferred. That way, at least, he didn’t have to look at Reita’s smug face when he crawled back onto the bed and slid underneath the other man, and hopefully Reita couldn’t see when he put his face into the pillow and cried.

“You don’t look so good, you know.” Ruki found himself absentmindedly fascinated with the pouty, cupid’s-bow shape Uruha’s lips made when he was talking; less attentive was he to what Uruha was actually saying, until there was a sharp pinch on his upper arm via the guitarist’s spindly fingers. He forced his focus doggedly back into reality, staring blankly back at the bewildered-looking blonde, his vision fuzzy around the edges. Uruha gave him a very appraising sort of look. “Are you listening?”

“Course I am,” Ruki mumbled stubbornly, shaking his head to clear his thoughts, while his gaze wandered across the room to settle unwillingly on another blonde head.

“Then what did I just say?”

Ruki bit the inside of his cheek. He honestly couldn’t remember, and the fact that such incidences were occurring more and more frequently lately made his stomach curl with anxiety, but it was easy to block out worries like that. It was much less easy to dispel the feelings of resentment and guilty disgust that crept through him every time a certain bassist looked round at him with dark eyes. He sank his teeth into his cheek until he tasted blood. “Don’t pinch me.”

“I said, you look fucking unwell,” Uruha repeated irritably, crossing his arms over his pink and white tee-shirt. “I don’t think you should be here. I don’t want to catch some shit from you.”

Ruki maintained his silence, staring with an intensity bordering on unnatural at the back of Reita’s head, sucking blood from his cheek. The metallic taste enveloped his tongue, like the taste of hot flesh, the taste of last night and cigarettes on Reita’s lips. “I’m not sick,” he finally remarked. At least, what I’ve got ain’t contagious.

“Then what the hell is wrong with you?” Uruha bit. He huffed impatiently when Ruki again refrained from answering, his eyes glued in position. Uruha grumbled testily to himself, turning around to follow Ruki’s gaze. “Just what are you staring at?”

His exclamation drew the attention of the other three, who looked up from whatever it was they had been working on together, Ruki didn’t know, and fuck if he cared. His eyes darting down, he jumped up from the plastic chair, snatching his jacket off the back. “I need a cigarette,” he murmured, although by the look on Reita’s face alone it was obvious that his excuse didn’t hold any water. He forced it from his mind with a violent mental shove and ran off, only letting out the breath he’d been holding in when he was safely outside, choking on lungfuls of stabbingly cold winter air.

He didn’t light a cigarette, merely standing outside the door staring at the black cement for an unbearably long time. The walls, the sky, everything the same damp shade of gray. He gritted his teeth, chewing at the wound on the inside of his cheek, until he heard the door open and shut, and he could tell just by the uncomfortable variety of the silence that stood thickly in the air who was behind him.

“Do you want to come over tonight?” Reita asked in a calm, almost cold tone of voice. Ruki could hear him shuffling his feet on the ground.

“No,” he said, dropping his head back against the prickly brick wall behind him, fireworks of pain popping through his eyes at the contact. His throat felt chokingly tight as Reita didn’t say anything, apparently content to let the silence stretch even thinner. After a few minutes - was it seconds? Hours? Ruki felt so delirious he couldn’t even tell - Reita walked around with slow, deliberate steps, to look Ruki in the face, his own expression grave but offensively detached.

“Are you sure you don’t-”

“I don’t!” Ruki yelled. He crammed his eyelids shut. He didn’t want it, and he didn’t need it, didn’t. Reita didn’t seem startled or surprised at this outburst, his face flat and eerily emotionless - Ruki’s stomach shriveled with searing shame at the realization that he had expected more than that.

“I’m concerned, okay? You don’t need to fucking yell,” Reita said surprisingly harshly. “You’re my friend... alright?”

“Don’t fucking friend me!” Ruki spat, shoving his hands down into his pockets. “What fucking kind of a friend shoves a needle in your arm, is that a fucking act of friendship? You are some goddamn friend, Reita.”

He groaned, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes until spots blossomed on his retinas. He looked up to see Reita’s shocked expression, his dark eyes wide and lips parted as if to emit a gasp he couldn’t quite muster the energy for. For a brief moment, Ruki though he almost felt ashamed, before he caught himself. He squared his jaw and looked up at Reita, whose shock was slowly fading, the silence continuing somberly on.

Ruki bit his tongue hard, hands clenching into fists inside his pockets. “Is seven okay?”

“You’re sick,” Ruki murmured, staring with disgust into those dark eyes, sunken and weary, stubborn. Dark circles like ink stains, puffy, tired.

“Fucking disgusting.”

Pale skin, smooth cheeks - complexion ruined by exhaustion, a shadow of what it used to be, before this, before them - a gentle curve of the jaw, pastel lips, grimacing pout.

“And I fucking.”

Feathery wisps of hair, dry and brittle from years of coloring, hanging gauzily as if to mask the sad face underneath. Sickly and damaged.

“Fucking. I.”

Not even enough to hide him from Ruki’s scrutinizing eyes.

“I hate you.”

Gaze locked in the blank, dead stare of those eyes.

“Get the fuck in here!” Reita’s impatient, inebriated voice called from the next room, and Ruki jumped, tearing his eyes away from the mirror and running out of the room, snapping the lights off behind him.

A blurred streak of twinkling red lights stretched for miles in Ruki’s vision. He tapped his foot impatiently, resting his head against the window of the car door, while Reita kept checking his watch, laying on the horn as though it would make the long line of cars extending endlessly in front of them go any faster. Ruki’s head throbbed in time with the wailing sound of a hundred drivers pressing down on their horns, and he gritted his teeth, moaning quietly.

“Are you going to be sick?” Reita asked sharply, glancing over at the vocalist.


“We’re going to be late anyway,” he sighed, tapping one finger restlessly on the steering wheel. “This is fucking stupid. We should have taken the train.”

“The train’s worse,” Ruki muttered. He did feel quite sick, if it came to that, but the ailment was less physical than it was in his heart, his gut, a flesh-eating virus that was slowly corroding away his insides with each passing day, and each touch, each morning he woke up next to Reita in a post-high stupor and had to endure the awkward sober realization that nothing had changed, despite having known all along that it never would.

“I’m serious,” Reita said suddenly, sounding irritated. “Get out of the car if you’re going to be ill.”

“I’d feel a lot fucking better if you’d let up the goddamn horn!” Ruki snapped.

“Christ. Sorry,” Reita mumbled, rubbing his temples. “Why are you always so bitchy?”

“I dunno, maybe it has something to do with waking up next to you in the morning,” Ruki growled. The blonde’s head whipped around, and he gave Ruki a cutting glare, his eyes burning, but he said nothing. The car inched forward, the sound of a hundred people cursing each other out their car windows. Ruki’s head felt as though it would explode from pressure.

“Why won’t you touch me when you’re sober?” The words were out of his mouth before Ruki had time to realize that he had actually said them instead of thinking them, as he’d intended, but though it was barely more than a whisper, he knew Reita had heard him. There was no answer, but that wasn’t surprising. Fuck, a straight answer, when was the last time I got one of those out of him?

“Do you hate me? Is that why?” he continued absently, staring out the window at the mottled purple curtain of clouds hanging low in the sky. “You sure fucking do a good job of acting like it. You won’t even fucking look at me when you’re not high. Am I that disgusting, that you have to be out of your fucking mind on drugs just to be able to stand me?”

“Just shut up,” Reita interrupted sharply, his knuckles bone-white against the steering wheel.

“Why don’t you give me a straight answer for once?”

“I don’t hate you,” he said shortly. Ruki laughed dryly, biting the inside of his cheek as he stared outside.

“That’s not an answer.”

Reita made a frustrated sound. “I don’t know what kind of answer you’re looking for. I already said it. I don’t hate you.”

There was a long pause. Ruki gnawed the fresh wound inside his mouth. “How do you feel, then?”

“You’re my friend,” Reita said hesitantly. “My best friend.”

“Who you like to fuck in the ass every once in a while,” Ruki added.

“Don’t fucking talk about that,” Reita bit out harshly, his jaw ticking as he stared resolutely ahead at the buildup of traffic. “I don’t want to talk about it. I feel guilty enough just thinking about it.”

Ruki said nothing, studying his pallid expression in the side mirror. The car pulled forward another foot and then halted again, and Reita cursed quietly under his breath.

“I feel like shit...” he continued a few torturously quiet minutes later, staring down into his lap, “...for treating you like that. You know.”

“Then why do you keep doing it?” Ruki replied softly. There was no response, except for the humming of the engine as the traffic thinned and they finally moved forward.


old fic revamped. turned out sort of... hmm, I dunno, but I rather like it anyway. and it feels good to be back with my OTP again :3

and thank you for reading, as always. :)



( 12 âmes — sell )
May. 3rd, 2010 03:39 pm (UTC)
wow... love it.
but poor ruki *sobs*
May. 7th, 2010 10:40 am (UTC)
thanks for reading! :)
May. 3rd, 2010 05:50 pm (UTC)
Feels so good to read something from you again ♥
I've always loved and very much enjoyed your use of words, how you describe things and emotions. Your writing always inspires and motivates one to get better with their own^^;
I don't know why but the scene where Ruki talked to his reflexion.. I really liked that one. Felt to me like it conveyed a lot about his inner struggle. Even though he should be hating Reita, he hates himself even more for giving in and letting himself be used like that.
But I'm glad he was able the draw the tiny bit of emotion out of Reita there in the end, the guilt and shame for his actions. Even though I don't know how much better it made him feel...
Oh, and the ending, Ruki's last words.. Perfect.
Hmm.. I don't know if anything I said made much sense *laugh* I guess what matters the most is that I loved this lil' piece ^^
May. 7th, 2010 10:46 am (UTC)
what a lovely long comment, thank you! I'm glad to hear that you liked the fic :D
that short mirror scene was actually my least favorite part of this fic, I guess I felt like it was a bit too... over-the-top? but it seems to have gone over okay, in any case. thanks for commenting! :D
May. 3rd, 2010 07:58 pm (UTC)
ii lovedlovedloved the opening scene describing his high and the mirror scene too for good measure<333~ The whole ordeal was hearbreaking in it's hollowness, really; and ii enjoyed every second of reading it.
May. 7th, 2010 10:46 am (UTC)
well thank you very much, I'm glad you enjoyed it! :)
May. 3rd, 2010 09:38 pm (UTC)
You have a way with words I find myself envious of. You always manage to create these wonderful atmospheres in scenes that just gives it that extra kick. Be it calm or intense, it makes your writing all the more enjoyable to read. This piece is no exception.

Their situation is rather grim, but I think that kind of thing suits them best. Ruki, ever the masochist, haha.

I am terrible with trying to convey exactly what I think about a piece in words, so I'll just say that I loved this. :) (Ah and it's nice to you've written some good ol' Reita/Ruki again.)
May. 7th, 2010 10:50 am (UTC)
"grim" is the perfect way to describe it - that's exactly what I was going for.

thanks for reading! (it's nice to write some of my favorite pairing every once in a while - even if it's always a very long while D:)
May. 3rd, 2010 09:42 pm (UTC)
SPOT, i am so excited to see you posting bb, will be back with a comment when my head's clear enough to read ♥
May. 7th, 2010 10:51 am (UTC)
well, I tried >__> it's not really what I imagined I'd write when I dipped my toes back in this fandom again, but it just sort of came out. eek.
May. 3rd, 2010 10:32 pm (UTC)
The addiction, the denial, the yearning... this is too realistic. It's wonderful. The raw feeling of it all adds red to the dark gray background of the story.

I love it.
May. 7th, 2010 10:51 am (UTC)
thank you, I'm happy to hear that. thanks for reading and commenting :)
( 12 âmes — sell )