maayacolabackup (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
maayacolabackup) wrote2012-07-25 03:15 pm
maayacolabackup) wrote2012-07-25 03:15 pm
Entry tags:
Some Say in Fire, Some Say in Ice (Ryo/Shige, NC-17) [collaboration with sparklynoodles]
Title: Some Say in Fire, Some Say in Ice...
Pairing/Group: Ryo/Shige
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Dystopian AU
Notes: Co-written with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sparklynoodles for DOA 2012 <3
Summary: The sky loses its light on a Saturday in March.
---
The sky loses its light on a Saturday in March. Ryo is on his way home from work. He’d gotten off early, and it’s one in the afternoon. The trains are full with lunchtime travelers, and Ryo’s trapped between a crush of men in suits and the doors, almost falling out at every stop with the push and pull of people coming and going.
Two stops from Ryo’s, the doors open, and there’s a strange silence. The station is almost deserted, and something tells Ryo he should get off the train. He does.
He walks up the steps and out into the street. Everyone’s stopped, staring upward, and Ryo looks up too, and the sky is cracked pavement after an earthquake, jagged and oozing purples and blues like a bruise.
“This is it,” he hears someone whisper, and Ryo frowns, and feels a strange heat on his skin that almost burns, despite an eerie cold that rises from beneath.
---
Ryo is barefoot. He’d left his shoes inside his apartment, because it’s supposed to be summer, and the rooftop is like ice beneath the soles of his feet. His t-shirt isn’t enough to protect him from the wind, either, but he supposes it doesn’t matter.
Shige is behind him, licking his lips and slipping his hands into the pockets of his khaki trousers. The hems are frayed at the ankle, Ryo had noticed earlier, but hadn’t said anything.
“Why aren’t you wearing a jacket?” The words come out thick and choked, and Ryo turns around to look at him.
“Why are you following me?”
“You looked crazy, walking up here with no shoes and no jacket. Like you’d finally lost your mind.” Shige kicks at the ground, and his profile is hard to make out in the last fading light. “Not that you weren’t already a little crazy.”
“I’m not crazy,” Ryo says. “The world is crazy.” Ryo fishes in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes.
“There’s frost on the ground and you’re not wearing anything on your feet.”
“Anything is better than wearing pleated front khaki pants,” Ryo replies, and Shige frowns at him, the way he always does when Ryo picks on him. But still, he stays. He always does. Ryo wonders if he’s a glutton for punishment.
“These used to be my work pants,” Shige says. “Back when I still, you know, worked.” Shige sounds a little lost. Ryo understands, because he’d seen Shige pacing restlessly in the halls, reading aloud from his textbooks like they were the only things that still made sense.
There are lies in those textbooks, too, though, because Ryo knows they didn’t say anything about... this.
The world falling into ruin, dragging them both along with it.
---
Ryo had pondered stocking up on things, following the path of so many people before him- those people who had thought the world was running out of mileage and approaching the end of the road. But as he stands in line at one of the few convenience stores still open in his area of Tokyo, he begins to feel the sheer futility of it all creep into his mind.
In the best-case scenario, people will become zombies and end up like the less fortunate characters in those ridiculous movies that Jin and Yamapi had devoured so many of. Ryo isn’t sure if he would want to be alive then. He isn’t built to kill zombies.
His hands shake as he places the packages of ramen and a carton of cigarettes on the counter. The shelves lay barren, with deliveries having stopped a long time ago. Ryo is lucky enough to live close to the center of town, where supplies haven’t dissipated as quickly.
Around two hours later, he is pushing the ramen around the pot when he realizes that he picked up a flat of his least favorite flavor- a new one that had just came out before everything started. It’s cheesy and spicy chicken.
Ryo hates cheese.
It doesn’t matter, because everything tastes like just ash and feels like clumps of nothingness coursing down his throat anyways.
---
Ryo steps forward and Shige follows, until they both stand side by side at the edge, Shige next to him but not close enough to touch. Ryo doesn’t like to be touched, and Shige knows that.
Ryo finds his cigarettes, clutching the rumpled package and pulling out its last offering. His fingers shake, but it’s not fear. Just the chill that sinks slowly down to his bones.
“Still smoking?” Shige asks, and the disapproval is clear in the way he adopts his stuffy, professorial voice, the one that has always made Ryo want to punch him in the face.
“What’s it gonna do? Kill me?” Ryo laughs, and Shige winces, and Ryo looks away from him and out at the world. His apartment building only has twenty-five stories, so it’s not as if he can see past all the taller buildings. Still, the landscape is grim. Osaka used to feel so alive. It’s a little like he and Shige are the only two people in the world right now, even though Ryo knows that there are people scurrying about below like rats, searching for some kind of salvation that Ryo has given up on, himself.
Shige coughs, and it grabs Ryo’s attention. Shige is always doing things like that; asking for attention in all the wrong ways. Ryo doesn’t know why he indulges it, but, as he flicks his lighter, igniting the end of his cigarette, he slants his eyes at his companion.
Shige’s hair is too long, and it ruffles in the wind, spiking up like he’s a teenager with a cause, and Ryo finds it as amusing as he finds anything these days.
“Your hair looks stupid,” Ryo says, and Shige quirks him a half smile that quickly fades.
“Which is stupider, the hair or the pants?”
“The pants,” Ryo says. “You paid money for those, once upon a time.”
“You know, the Mayans predicted that the world would end in 2012. They had it all charted out on a prophetic calendar. It’s wasn’t about the passage of time, you know. Not really.”
“Do you think I actually give a fuck?” Ryo blinks, and moves away from the edge, surveying the rooftop.
Ryo moves as Shige continues talking, scavenging for things he can use. “They believed in 2012 there would be a cleansing for all of humanity. Humanity realizing its spiritual destiny. Finding the God within ourselves. Only the purest would survive.”
“Damn, I’d be the first to go,” Ryo says, and Shige rolls his eyes. Ryo can’t see him, because he’s elsewhere, but he knows, because Ryo always rolls his eyes at Ryo, because he thinks he’s smarter than he is. The kind of arrogance that Ryo likes to pull apart for fun because Ryo’s an asshole like that.
“You must have been a terrible student in school. Too busy making fun of your teachers to hear anything they said.”
“I was shy in school. Quiet.”
“And secretly evil, I’m sure.” Shige coughs again, and Ryo doesn’t look up this time. “You probably had awful grades.”
“And now look,” Ryo says. “We’re all going to end up in the same place. Me, you, and everyone else on the planet. Bet you wish you had partied more. Fucked more girls. Spent less time on your homework and saved less in your 401k.”
“I don’t understand,” Shige sighs and moves over to where Ryo is, sinking down to the concrete. Ryo has taken two blankets from nearby clotheslines and spread them out for a touch of warmth, but it doesn’t keep back the bite of the air now whipping across the rooftop. “I don’t get what’s happening.”
“There really isn’t much to understand, it was there and now it won’t be,” Ryo pops the top of a can of beer, nudging the other towards Shige. “I guess you are one of those people that always has to know the ‘why’ of things though, aren’t you, Mr. College Professor?”
“Yes, I’ve always been one of those people.” Shige takes the can, still slightly chilled from the fridge, and raises it in a gesture of faux-celebration. They both realise the macabre humour in the movement, and smiles briefly flit across their faces.
They sit in silence, drinking their beers in a way that is as familiar as it is new; the same scenario played out against a much different backdrop. It’s almost as if it’s everyday life viewed through a kaleidoscope, the cheery gatherings at a local bar skewed and shattered with the knowledge of the end.
Ryo’d heard through the grapevine, whispers in the streets, that it would probably be tonight. It’s only been a month since they’d started seeing the signs, but the deterioration had been rapid. The way the sun had stopped rising. The cracks in the sky look larger, and the eerie gray cloud-cover is getting a little thicker above them; an ominous curtain about to close on the world as Ryo’s always known it.
“This beer is gross. You have no taste, Nishikido,” Shige teases, and Ryo smiles genuinely for the first time that night. The banter makes tonight seem like any other night. Even the false sense of security is good enough for now. Anything to keep his mind off what is coming. Ryo’s not afraid, but Ryo’s never been one to dwell on the things that suck, either.
“And who was the one who made out with Masuda at the Christmas party?” Ryo cracks up when he sees Shige flinch. Happier memories seem distant, now. Trying to summon them is difficult, like they are veiled by an impenetrable fog.
Shige’s stomach growls and Ryo’s follows suit, the beer failing to fill the emptiness inside their bodies. Ryo feels a sharp pain and splays his hands over his stomach- the hollow feeling reminding him that he hadn’t thought to bring up any food.
He grunts in frustration at his thoughtless omission- he’d give anything for a tuna-mayo rice ball.
“Nishikido, you fatass,” Shige pokes at him with a package of chips. Ryo looks down in disinterest, but perks up when he sees the flavour. They’re Ryo’s favourite flavour- a spicy mayo seasonal one that he had stocked up on.
Ryo crunches away at the chips as Shige stares at his IPhone, flicking through photos of what he’s eaten over the past couple days.
“Eat one, dumbass.The world is ending so you might as well give up the search for the perfect figure, you girl,” Ryo says, nudging Shige with his shoulder.
Shige thinks for a second and joins in, gingerly nibbling at a few then succumbing to the lure of the greasy snack and diving in- they manage to finish the bag in five minutes.
Time passes, at least Ryo thinks it does, and the silence is deafening.
---
Ryo calls everyone in his phone one last time just to hear their voice. He doesn’t try to sentimentalize the process or tell them goodbye. He figures that will just make it harder.
Besides, nobody wants to be told that their days are numbered. It seems almost cruel to reiterate what is blatantly obvious if you look up at the sky.
After he makes those final calls, he takes out his SIM card and flings it off the rooftop, hearing it crunch on the pavement below. He wants to face this alone, in silence.
Perhaps in some ways, he is unconsciously atoning for the sins of his past; a self-imposed solitude to punish himself for his transgressions. Ryo isn’t sure what he believes comes after this, but he feels no need to think too much about it. It’s not like it can be stopped.
Lightning storms have become increasingly common in the countryside, and are just now rolling into Tokyo. Raging fires scorch the parched grass in the parks and areas where there are any plants left.
Ryo can see a few trees aflame from his rooftop. They gradually burn down, the dry green and brown leaves crumbling to nothing but charred black stems and ash that flies away in the errant winds whipping through.
He turns away and sighs, lighting a cigarette.
---
“Somehow, I thought I’d be more...sad. But now I just feel ready,” Ryo mutters, sucking the dregs of nicotine left in his lone cigarette and staring out above the desolate skyline. His body yearns for more of the soothing feeling of the smoke’s slight burn. He hadn’t bought more than a pack, though, so there is nothing for his fumbling fingers to find in his jacket pocket.
“How can you be ready for something like this?” Shige shivers with the cold and wraps his leather jacket around him.
“Giving up isn’t that hard when there isn’t anything left, Shige,” Ryo laughs bitterly, a hard edge to his voice. Shige looks away, the cold in Ryo’s eyes disconcerting.
“Shit, I’m all out,” Ryo grumbles, having already used his alternative methods of soothing himself. The beers that he had scavenged were long gone and the last cigarette reduced to ash hours ago. His hands shake a bit, but whether it is from the cold or nerves, he doesn’t know.
Shige’s mouth twists in a half-grimace, his hands deftly removing a crinkled plastic package from his back pocket. Wordlessly, he hands it to Ryo in offering.
Ryo eyes him with a bit of confusion, grabbing the pack quickly, trying to snag it before Shige changes his mind.
The sweet harshness of the menthol cleanses his nostrils as he sends tendrils dancing through the air.
“Thanks,” Ryo doesn’t meet Shige’s eyes, his shoulders hunched defensively.
“No problem,” Shige says, but Ryo knows what the gesture meant.
Shige always hated his bad habit.
It’s quiet for a long time, and Ryo can only hear Shige’s heavy breathing. He wonders if his sounds as loud.
His cigarette is down all the way to the filter, and the smoke turns black as the filter starts to burn.
"What's going to happen to us?" Shige asks, and Ryo looks at Shige, really looks at him, and sees the fear in the lines around his mouth.
"Who knows?" Ryo tilts his head to the side, and Shige’s gaze flickers down, to his mouth. Ryo wonders if he’s watching the words just as much as he’s listening to them. “The world is going to end. We might end with it. This is it.”
“This is it,” Shige echoes, and his hand clenches into a fist in his lap. Ryo almost laughs again, because he really hates those pants.
Suddenly Shige is moving, so fast Ryo barely has time to register it because of the sudden warmth that floods his limbs, chasing away the cold. There’s the sound of crumpling aluminum, and then there’s the heat of Shige’s mouth on his own, pressing against his Ryo’s cool lips, and Ryo reacts without thinking, letting his hands fall to the other man’s waist and pulling him closer, on to Ryo’s lap until they are chest to chest. The zipper of Shige’s leather jacket digs into Ryo’s ribs.
It takes a moment for Ryo to react. It isn’t until Shige starts to pull away that Ryo flows into motion, leaning forward to chase Shige’s mouth as it retreats. He parts his lips, leaving open, slightly wetter kisses on Shige’s mouth, and suddenly, it doesn’t feel as cold, because the heart of Shige’s body is covering him like a blanket and Ryo’s heart is beating quickly, pounding like a rabbit’s against his rib-cage.
Shige’s lips are softer than Ryo’d thought they’d be. Not that Ryo had ever actually thought about Shige’s lips, but if he had spent the time too, he would have assumed they were as dry as the pages of the books he’s always reading. They aren’t. Instead, they give under Ryo’s forward press, and then they’re slick as Ryo peeks his tongue out to lick at Shige’s lower lip. Shige gasps but doesn’t break away, and Ryo takes advantage, slipping his tongue inside Shige’s mouth and twining his tongue around Shige’s.
It’s not exactly how Ryo had imagined spending his last day on Earth, but there are worse ways to spend it. Shige tastes like potato chips, and like stale beer, and Ryo finds he doesn’t mind, because he probably tastes like all that plus cigarettes. Shige doesn’t seem to mind either, his hands coming up to fist in Ryo’s shirt, nails scratching Ryo’s chest as he does, and tilting his head to to the side for more access. Ryo groans, and kisses the corner of Shige’s lips, and then Shige’s cheek and jaw, as Shige pants almost too loudly in Ryo’s ear.
Ryo nips at the skin of Shige’s neck, and then soothes the tiny bites with swipes of his tongue, enjoying the feeling of Shige’s racing pulse beneath his lips, and the almost salty tang of Shige’s skin, and the way his hands, which have slipped under Shige’s jacket and shirt, have found warm skin.
“Ryo,” Shige says, and Ryo ignores him, even as he loosens his grip on Ryo’s shirt and pulls back. “Ryo.”
Shige stops Ryo with both hands splayed on his chest. Worry and confusion melt together in his eyes, and Ryo pauses in his exploration of Shige’s neck with his teeth and tongue. Lust unsated, Ryo finds it a bit hard to focus, but knows that Shige is a creature of reason, not instinct, and questions everything.
“What happens after though? What if nothing happens?” Shige purses his slightly swollen lips and stares at Ryo, his hands shifting onto Ryo’s shoulders firmly. Ryo sighs and scrambles to find an answer, every thought in his head replaced by those of how Shige would sound moaning out his name and the feeling of Shige’s skin under his hands.
“What would happen if the world didn’t end you mean?” Ryo tilts his head questioningly and Shige nods. “Then you got your mind blown,” Ryo chuckles and Shige grumbles, poking him with a beseeching look in his eyes.
“Seriously, I don’t think anything bad would come of it. Worst-case scenario- we still dislike each other and we had awesome hate sex,” Ryo half-jokes, staring Shige down with a raised eyebrow.
“I don’t hate you, although you are kind of an asshole,” Shige says, cracking a bit of a smile and easing the tension crackling between them like lightning.
“I don’t really hate you either, Shige, even though you can be a pretentious douche. And that snivelly novel was crap. Fifty Shades of Crap, even,” Ryo says and Shige motions to smack his head, huffing indignantly, but Ryo can see the sparkle of amusement in his eyes.
Ryo catches his wrist and pulls him closer instead, his heated breath skimming Shige’s cool skin. Shige shivers and Ryo’s lips find Shige’s, colliding in a mutual loss of breath. In this moment, the only thing on Ryo’s mind is how hard he is and it has only been a few minutes with Shige.
Ryo wonders why he waited so long to do something like this.
“God, you are good with your mouth. Yamapi mentioned it once, but I thought he was full of shit,” Shige whispers, his voice thin and taut. Ryo laughs and shakes his head, his fingers unzipping Shige’s jacket and tossing it to the side. Shige’s hands move to reciprocate, but instead he finds Ryo’s goose-pimpled forearms.
“I always heard you were a cold bastard,” Shige rubs Ryo’s arms teasingly and Ryo grunts. Shige’s laughter turns into a low hiss as Ryo’s teeth scrape where Shige’s pink polo shirt gives way to tanned skin.
“Who told you? Koyama? He is the type to spill,” Ryo lets out a chuckle, Shige’s response of a tongue lathing his ear turning the chuckle into a deep groan.
Shige bites Ryo’s earlobe and Ryo nearly falls over, an explosion of heat spreading over his body as a shock of lust zings down his spine. Words are lost as Shige’s hands begin to explore and fingers tease under the edge of his worn t-shirt. It has random English words scrawled across it and Shige always used to tease him about how it made no sense and Ryo should have a greater appreciation for the English language.
At the moment, Ryo is wishing the t-shirt straight to hell as it serves merely as a barrier between Shige’s exploratory fingers and hot wet lips, dancing over his skin and scraping, licking, nipping to the point where Ryo is afraid he will lose control.
“Someone has been hitting the takoyaki hard,” Shige pinches a bit of extra flesh between his fingers and Ryo yelps, kicking Shige in the shins. They fall backwards onto the blankets with a loud “oof”.
“I’m glad you’re fat now, or that would have hurt,” Shige pokes Ryo’s side again and Ryo kicks him half-heartedly, the heat of the moment returning when Ryo feels Shige’s weight pinning him down, Shige’s hardness evident against Ryo’s stomach.
“So are you going to compliment me on my rock-hard abs now?” Shige pulls off his shirt with a flourish and Ryo laughs, but his laughter is cut short when he sees Shige’s muscles contracting with every movement.
Diligence has served Shige well, and his stomach is hard under Ryo’s exploring fingers, his arms equally toned, flexing with the effort as he goes for his pants, sliding them off in one motion. Shige is left in loose light-blue boxers that hang on his hipbones, and Ryo’s eyes slide down towards along the V created by the muscles on Shige’s waist that ends at the juncture of his thighs.
“I know. I look great,” Shige teases, and Ryo groans in frustration.
“Shut up,” Ryo says. “You know I hate it when you talk.”
Shige laughs until Ryo pushes up against him, their cocks meeting through fabric, the friction lighting a fire between them. Shige groans and moves against Ryo and all of Ryo’s mind melts to nothing, leaving nothing but singed remnants of thoughts.
“Fuck,” Shige mutters, pushing himself up for a second so Ryo can remove his clothing as well. Ryo eyes the discarded pile, the offending khaki peeking out still from under the mountain of English poured onto white cotton and thick navy sweatpants.
Shige’s pants look much better off of him than they had on. Crumpled on the ground like that, Ryo almost forgives them for existing.
“Stop glaring at my pants,” Shige mutters, as he mouths wet kisses along Ryo’s collar bones, tongue finding the hollows and dips in Ryo’s skin, making Ryo shiver when the cool of the air blows across the wet stripes. His hands come up to slide into Shige’s hair, tugging a little too hard, and Shige bites him in retaliation.
“I hate those pants,” Ryo says, “almost as much as I hate your haircut.”
Shige laughs, and Ryo laughs too, and it’s like they’re both pretending this isn’t it. Like this isn’t the last thing they might do, ever, as the sky cracks above them and the world goes quiet beneath them. Shige looks into his eyes and seems to see Ryo’s thoughts written there, because his eyes darken, then, and his mouth takes on a determined slant. His kisses become more languid and slow, dragging down Ryo’s belly and lingering at every step, almost as if he’s in defiance of their time limit.
Ryo watches him with steady eyes, even though his cock is begging for attention, leaking against his belly.
Shige hooks his fingers into Ryo’s boxers and pulls them down languidly, taking his time so the waistband grazes against the tip of Ryo’s cock. He palms Ryo’s cock, thumb flicking over the top to catch a drop of pre-come, but doesn’t continue. Ryo groans deeply in need, his knuckles white in frustration as he grasps onto the blankets beneath him.
Ryo gasps and shivers, both from the cold and from Shige’s tongue swiping a path first down his neck; tracing the hollows reverently and slowly with his tongue, tasting Ryo’s skin and scraping his teeth on his collarbones. Shige’s teeth graze Ryo’s collarbone and Ryo closes his eyes, relishing the sensation of Shige’s hot breath, trying to ignore the building tension at the base of his spine, to hold back the impending orgasm that he knows isn’t far off if Shige continues to do what he is doing.
If Ryo would have known that Shige’s mouth had such amazing uses, instead of just annoying the fuck out of him, he would have initiated this a long time ago.
“Fuck” Ryo opens his eyes to the sight of Shige smirking up at him, a knowing gleam in his dark eyes.
Shige continues downward, tossing Ryo’s boxers to the side, lowering himself down and flicking his tongue over the tip of Ryo’s cock. Ryo’s fingers curl into fists, breath catching as Shige’s tongue licks alongside the bottom, then in a languorous figure-eight pattern.
Tongue moving quickly, Shige takes Ryo into his mouth, the hot warmth making Ryo forgot where he is, throwing his head back and groaning loudly.
Shige’s ministrations continue to make Ryo’s vision go blurry. Biting his lip, Ryo arches up into Shige’s mouth, his hands pulling strands of Shige’s scruffy long black hair to urge Shige on.
“Shit, Shige, I’m close,” Ryo whispers, his hips jerking upward erratically to meet Shige’s hand, the pace increasing as Ryo continues to pump back and forth. Every muscle in Ryo’s body is wound tightly, teetering on the brink of letting and falling over the edge. Shige removes his mouth and places his hand firmly on Ryo’s pulsing slick cock.
Ryo feels Shige’s grip intensify, moving up and down at a rapid-fire pace that has Ryo swearing under his breath in both Japanese and English, running through his entire repertoire of profanity.
Ryo squeezes his eyes shut, but nothing can hold back the tension coiling in his stomach, not even his fingernails making crescent moons of pain in his balled fists. Taking in one last breath, Ryo lets go, his mind nothing but a black abyss of non-thought.
Regaining his breath, Ryo looks down and sees the familiar smirk playing across Shige’s lips as Shige wipes off his hand onto the blanket. Shige looks at Ryo as if what he just did clicks in his head, suddenly slightly embarrassed under Ryo’s naked gaze.
Ryo likes the red flush of Shige’s cheeks far more than he likes the ominous red flush of the sky. His release is sticky on his belly, and Ryo’s whole body feels loose, and he doesn’t really want to move. But then Shige is sliding up Ryo’s body and slowly, deeply kissing him, and Ryo can feel Shige’s erection pressing hard into his hip through the cotton of his boxers as Shige rocks against him.
Ryo fumbles with the waistband of Shige’s underwear, and Shige uses both his hands to push them down to mid-thigh, freeing his cock and giving Ryo room to work. Ryo smiles into the kiss, because Shige seems so impatient and wild, and these aren’t things he normally associates with the pent-up, staid man.
When Ryo wraps his hand around Shige, Shige gasps, and Ryo doesn’t taste beer or potato chips on Shige’s breath, only the taste of what must be himself mixed with desperation.
This is it, Ryo thinks, and then he’s moving up and down quickly, and he can feel how close Shige is. His thighs are tight and trembling, and his hands are holding Ryo’s biceps hard enough to leave dark fingerprints. Ryo uses his thumb to push back the foreskin, rubbing across the slit, and then Shige is coming all over his hand, his cry echoing a rumble of thunder from the sky. Ryo looks up as Shige pants into the hollow between his neck and shoulder, and the sky now is as dark as blood.
Ryo’s hand is gross, so he wipes it on Shige’s trousers, before tentatively letting his hand come to rest on Shige’s shoulder blade. Shige’s skin is hot to the touch. Ryo is always cold, so it’s comforting. “I saw that,” Shige says.
“No, you didn’t,” Ryo replies. “Your eyes were closed.”
“I guess I just know you well enough, then, that I don’t have to see what you’re doing to be completely dismayed by it.”
“It’s not like you’re going to need them, anyway.”
Shige stills, and Ryo almost regrets saying it aloud, but it’s true, whether Ryo reminds them or not.
“Yeah,” Shige says. “I guess you’re right.”
Ryo takes a deep breath. The air smells like smoke, or maybe more like fire. This isn’t how Ryo thought everything would end-- him, lying on a rooftop with Kato Shigeaki, naked and completely out of cigarettes. He really only minds the last bit.
---
When the F string breaks on Ryo’s guitar, he knows time is almost up. Ryo’s world goes silent, without the anxious discordant melodies that seem to be all he can play these days, and when he looks out the window of his flat, out into an abandoned city, he can see the despair climbing like ivy up the walls of the adjascent skyscrapers.
The sky is the murkiest of greys, but there is no rain.
---
There are no trumpets or thunderclaps; nothing but the soft thumps of the rain trickling down the side of the building. The silence is nearly sacred, and neither of them say a word.
Everything that needed to be said has been.
The final streamers of red begin to paint the dusky grey away, and Shige looks up. Ryo squeezes his hand lightly, and Shige tentatively laces their fingers together. Their hands are sticky with sweat despite the chill.
Ryo looks up to the sky and smiles.
He knows.
Eventually all turns to ashes- cigarettes, Ryo, and this city too.
Pairing/Group: Ryo/Shige
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Dystopian AU
Notes: Co-written with
sparklynoodles for DOA 2012 <3Summary: The sky loses its light on a Saturday in March.
The sky loses its light on a Saturday in March. Ryo is on his way home from work. He’d gotten off early, and it’s one in the afternoon. The trains are full with lunchtime travelers, and Ryo’s trapped between a crush of men in suits and the doors, almost falling out at every stop with the push and pull of people coming and going.
Two stops from Ryo’s, the doors open, and there’s a strange silence. The station is almost deserted, and something tells Ryo he should get off the train. He does.
He walks up the steps and out into the street. Everyone’s stopped, staring upward, and Ryo looks up too, and the sky is cracked pavement after an earthquake, jagged and oozing purples and blues like a bruise.
“This is it,” he hears someone whisper, and Ryo frowns, and feels a strange heat on his skin that almost burns, despite an eerie cold that rises from beneath.
Ryo is barefoot. He’d left his shoes inside his apartment, because it’s supposed to be summer, and the rooftop is like ice beneath the soles of his feet. His t-shirt isn’t enough to protect him from the wind, either, but he supposes it doesn’t matter.
Shige is behind him, licking his lips and slipping his hands into the pockets of his khaki trousers. The hems are frayed at the ankle, Ryo had noticed earlier, but hadn’t said anything.
“Why aren’t you wearing a jacket?” The words come out thick and choked, and Ryo turns around to look at him.
“Why are you following me?”
“You looked crazy, walking up here with no shoes and no jacket. Like you’d finally lost your mind.” Shige kicks at the ground, and his profile is hard to make out in the last fading light. “Not that you weren’t already a little crazy.”
“I’m not crazy,” Ryo says. “The world is crazy.” Ryo fishes in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes.
“There’s frost on the ground and you’re not wearing anything on your feet.”
“Anything is better than wearing pleated front khaki pants,” Ryo replies, and Shige frowns at him, the way he always does when Ryo picks on him. But still, he stays. He always does. Ryo wonders if he’s a glutton for punishment.
“These used to be my work pants,” Shige says. “Back when I still, you know, worked.” Shige sounds a little lost. Ryo understands, because he’d seen Shige pacing restlessly in the halls, reading aloud from his textbooks like they were the only things that still made sense.
There are lies in those textbooks, too, though, because Ryo knows they didn’t say anything about... this.
The world falling into ruin, dragging them both along with it.
Ryo had pondered stocking up on things, following the path of so many people before him- those people who had thought the world was running out of mileage and approaching the end of the road. But as he stands in line at one of the few convenience stores still open in his area of Tokyo, he begins to feel the sheer futility of it all creep into his mind.
In the best-case scenario, people will become zombies and end up like the less fortunate characters in those ridiculous movies that Jin and Yamapi had devoured so many of. Ryo isn’t sure if he would want to be alive then. He isn’t built to kill zombies.
His hands shake as he places the packages of ramen and a carton of cigarettes on the counter. The shelves lay barren, with deliveries having stopped a long time ago. Ryo is lucky enough to live close to the center of town, where supplies haven’t dissipated as quickly.
Around two hours later, he is pushing the ramen around the pot when he realizes that he picked up a flat of his least favorite flavor- a new one that had just came out before everything started. It’s cheesy and spicy chicken.
Ryo hates cheese.
It doesn’t matter, because everything tastes like just ash and feels like clumps of nothingness coursing down his throat anyways.
Ryo steps forward and Shige follows, until they both stand side by side at the edge, Shige next to him but not close enough to touch. Ryo doesn’t like to be touched, and Shige knows that.
Ryo finds his cigarettes, clutching the rumpled package and pulling out its last offering. His fingers shake, but it’s not fear. Just the chill that sinks slowly down to his bones.
“Still smoking?” Shige asks, and the disapproval is clear in the way he adopts his stuffy, professorial voice, the one that has always made Ryo want to punch him in the face.
“What’s it gonna do? Kill me?” Ryo laughs, and Shige winces, and Ryo looks away from him and out at the world. His apartment building only has twenty-five stories, so it’s not as if he can see past all the taller buildings. Still, the landscape is grim. Osaka used to feel so alive. It’s a little like he and Shige are the only two people in the world right now, even though Ryo knows that there are people scurrying about below like rats, searching for some kind of salvation that Ryo has given up on, himself.
Shige coughs, and it grabs Ryo’s attention. Shige is always doing things like that; asking for attention in all the wrong ways. Ryo doesn’t know why he indulges it, but, as he flicks his lighter, igniting the end of his cigarette, he slants his eyes at his companion.
Shige’s hair is too long, and it ruffles in the wind, spiking up like he’s a teenager with a cause, and Ryo finds it as amusing as he finds anything these days.
“Your hair looks stupid,” Ryo says, and Shige quirks him a half smile that quickly fades.
“Which is stupider, the hair or the pants?”
“The pants,” Ryo says. “You paid money for those, once upon a time.”
“You know, the Mayans predicted that the world would end in 2012. They had it all charted out on a prophetic calendar. It’s wasn’t about the passage of time, you know. Not really.”
“Do you think I actually give a fuck?” Ryo blinks, and moves away from the edge, surveying the rooftop.
Ryo moves as Shige continues talking, scavenging for things he can use. “They believed in 2012 there would be a cleansing for all of humanity. Humanity realizing its spiritual destiny. Finding the God within ourselves. Only the purest would survive.”
“Damn, I’d be the first to go,” Ryo says, and Shige rolls his eyes. Ryo can’t see him, because he’s elsewhere, but he knows, because Ryo always rolls his eyes at Ryo, because he thinks he’s smarter than he is. The kind of arrogance that Ryo likes to pull apart for fun because Ryo’s an asshole like that.
“You must have been a terrible student in school. Too busy making fun of your teachers to hear anything they said.”
“I was shy in school. Quiet.”
“And secretly evil, I’m sure.” Shige coughs again, and Ryo doesn’t look up this time. “You probably had awful grades.”
“And now look,” Ryo says. “We’re all going to end up in the same place. Me, you, and everyone else on the planet. Bet you wish you had partied more. Fucked more girls. Spent less time on your homework and saved less in your 401k.”
“I don’t understand,” Shige sighs and moves over to where Ryo is, sinking down to the concrete. Ryo has taken two blankets from nearby clotheslines and spread them out for a touch of warmth, but it doesn’t keep back the bite of the air now whipping across the rooftop. “I don’t get what’s happening.”
“There really isn’t much to understand, it was there and now it won’t be,” Ryo pops the top of a can of beer, nudging the other towards Shige. “I guess you are one of those people that always has to know the ‘why’ of things though, aren’t you, Mr. College Professor?”
“Yes, I’ve always been one of those people.” Shige takes the can, still slightly chilled from the fridge, and raises it in a gesture of faux-celebration. They both realise the macabre humour in the movement, and smiles briefly flit across their faces.
They sit in silence, drinking their beers in a way that is as familiar as it is new; the same scenario played out against a much different backdrop. It’s almost as if it’s everyday life viewed through a kaleidoscope, the cheery gatherings at a local bar skewed and shattered with the knowledge of the end.
Ryo’d heard through the grapevine, whispers in the streets, that it would probably be tonight. It’s only been a month since they’d started seeing the signs, but the deterioration had been rapid. The way the sun had stopped rising. The cracks in the sky look larger, and the eerie gray cloud-cover is getting a little thicker above them; an ominous curtain about to close on the world as Ryo’s always known it.
“This beer is gross. You have no taste, Nishikido,” Shige teases, and Ryo smiles genuinely for the first time that night. The banter makes tonight seem like any other night. Even the false sense of security is good enough for now. Anything to keep his mind off what is coming. Ryo’s not afraid, but Ryo’s never been one to dwell on the things that suck, either.
“And who was the one who made out with Masuda at the Christmas party?” Ryo cracks up when he sees Shige flinch. Happier memories seem distant, now. Trying to summon them is difficult, like they are veiled by an impenetrable fog.
Shige’s stomach growls and Ryo’s follows suit, the beer failing to fill the emptiness inside their bodies. Ryo feels a sharp pain and splays his hands over his stomach- the hollow feeling reminding him that he hadn’t thought to bring up any food.
He grunts in frustration at his thoughtless omission- he’d give anything for a tuna-mayo rice ball.
“Nishikido, you fatass,” Shige pokes at him with a package of chips. Ryo looks down in disinterest, but perks up when he sees the flavour. They’re Ryo’s favourite flavour- a spicy mayo seasonal one that he had stocked up on.
Ryo crunches away at the chips as Shige stares at his IPhone, flicking through photos of what he’s eaten over the past couple days.
“Eat one, dumbass.The world is ending so you might as well give up the search for the perfect figure, you girl,” Ryo says, nudging Shige with his shoulder.
Shige thinks for a second and joins in, gingerly nibbling at a few then succumbing to the lure of the greasy snack and diving in- they manage to finish the bag in five minutes.
Time passes, at least Ryo thinks it does, and the silence is deafening.
Ryo calls everyone in his phone one last time just to hear their voice. He doesn’t try to sentimentalize the process or tell them goodbye. He figures that will just make it harder.
Besides, nobody wants to be told that their days are numbered. It seems almost cruel to reiterate what is blatantly obvious if you look up at the sky.
After he makes those final calls, he takes out his SIM card and flings it off the rooftop, hearing it crunch on the pavement below. He wants to face this alone, in silence.
Perhaps in some ways, he is unconsciously atoning for the sins of his past; a self-imposed solitude to punish himself for his transgressions. Ryo isn’t sure what he believes comes after this, but he feels no need to think too much about it. It’s not like it can be stopped.
Lightning storms have become increasingly common in the countryside, and are just now rolling into Tokyo. Raging fires scorch the parched grass in the parks and areas where there are any plants left.
Ryo can see a few trees aflame from his rooftop. They gradually burn down, the dry green and brown leaves crumbling to nothing but charred black stems and ash that flies away in the errant winds whipping through.
He turns away and sighs, lighting a cigarette.
“Somehow, I thought I’d be more...sad. But now I just feel ready,” Ryo mutters, sucking the dregs of nicotine left in his lone cigarette and staring out above the desolate skyline. His body yearns for more of the soothing feeling of the smoke’s slight burn. He hadn’t bought more than a pack, though, so there is nothing for his fumbling fingers to find in his jacket pocket.
“How can you be ready for something like this?” Shige shivers with the cold and wraps his leather jacket around him.
“Giving up isn’t that hard when there isn’t anything left, Shige,” Ryo laughs bitterly, a hard edge to his voice. Shige looks away, the cold in Ryo’s eyes disconcerting.
“Shit, I’m all out,” Ryo grumbles, having already used his alternative methods of soothing himself. The beers that he had scavenged were long gone and the last cigarette reduced to ash hours ago. His hands shake a bit, but whether it is from the cold or nerves, he doesn’t know.
Shige’s mouth twists in a half-grimace, his hands deftly removing a crinkled plastic package from his back pocket. Wordlessly, he hands it to Ryo in offering.
Ryo eyes him with a bit of confusion, grabbing the pack quickly, trying to snag it before Shige changes his mind.
The sweet harshness of the menthol cleanses his nostrils as he sends tendrils dancing through the air.
“Thanks,” Ryo doesn’t meet Shige’s eyes, his shoulders hunched defensively.
“No problem,” Shige says, but Ryo knows what the gesture meant.
Shige always hated his bad habit.
It’s quiet for a long time, and Ryo can only hear Shige’s heavy breathing. He wonders if his sounds as loud.
His cigarette is down all the way to the filter, and the smoke turns black as the filter starts to burn.
"What's going to happen to us?" Shige asks, and Ryo looks at Shige, really looks at him, and sees the fear in the lines around his mouth.
"Who knows?" Ryo tilts his head to the side, and Shige’s gaze flickers down, to his mouth. Ryo wonders if he’s watching the words just as much as he’s listening to them. “The world is going to end. We might end with it. This is it.”
“This is it,” Shige echoes, and his hand clenches into a fist in his lap. Ryo almost laughs again, because he really hates those pants.
Suddenly Shige is moving, so fast Ryo barely has time to register it because of the sudden warmth that floods his limbs, chasing away the cold. There’s the sound of crumpling aluminum, and then there’s the heat of Shige’s mouth on his own, pressing against his Ryo’s cool lips, and Ryo reacts without thinking, letting his hands fall to the other man’s waist and pulling him closer, on to Ryo’s lap until they are chest to chest. The zipper of Shige’s leather jacket digs into Ryo’s ribs.
It takes a moment for Ryo to react. It isn’t until Shige starts to pull away that Ryo flows into motion, leaning forward to chase Shige’s mouth as it retreats. He parts his lips, leaving open, slightly wetter kisses on Shige’s mouth, and suddenly, it doesn’t feel as cold, because the heart of Shige’s body is covering him like a blanket and Ryo’s heart is beating quickly, pounding like a rabbit’s against his rib-cage.
Shige’s lips are softer than Ryo’d thought they’d be. Not that Ryo had ever actually thought about Shige’s lips, but if he had spent the time too, he would have assumed they were as dry as the pages of the books he’s always reading. They aren’t. Instead, they give under Ryo’s forward press, and then they’re slick as Ryo peeks his tongue out to lick at Shige’s lower lip. Shige gasps but doesn’t break away, and Ryo takes advantage, slipping his tongue inside Shige’s mouth and twining his tongue around Shige’s.
It’s not exactly how Ryo had imagined spending his last day on Earth, but there are worse ways to spend it. Shige tastes like potato chips, and like stale beer, and Ryo finds he doesn’t mind, because he probably tastes like all that plus cigarettes. Shige doesn’t seem to mind either, his hands coming up to fist in Ryo’s shirt, nails scratching Ryo’s chest as he does, and tilting his head to to the side for more access. Ryo groans, and kisses the corner of Shige’s lips, and then Shige’s cheek and jaw, as Shige pants almost too loudly in Ryo’s ear.
Ryo nips at the skin of Shige’s neck, and then soothes the tiny bites with swipes of his tongue, enjoying the feeling of Shige’s racing pulse beneath his lips, and the almost salty tang of Shige’s skin, and the way his hands, which have slipped under Shige’s jacket and shirt, have found warm skin.
“Ryo,” Shige says, and Ryo ignores him, even as he loosens his grip on Ryo’s shirt and pulls back. “Ryo.”
Shige stops Ryo with both hands splayed on his chest. Worry and confusion melt together in his eyes, and Ryo pauses in his exploration of Shige’s neck with his teeth and tongue. Lust unsated, Ryo finds it a bit hard to focus, but knows that Shige is a creature of reason, not instinct, and questions everything.
“What happens after though? What if nothing happens?” Shige purses his slightly swollen lips and stares at Ryo, his hands shifting onto Ryo’s shoulders firmly. Ryo sighs and scrambles to find an answer, every thought in his head replaced by those of how Shige would sound moaning out his name and the feeling of Shige’s skin under his hands.
“What would happen if the world didn’t end you mean?” Ryo tilts his head questioningly and Shige nods. “Then you got your mind blown,” Ryo chuckles and Shige grumbles, poking him with a beseeching look in his eyes.
“Seriously, I don’t think anything bad would come of it. Worst-case scenario- we still dislike each other and we had awesome hate sex,” Ryo half-jokes, staring Shige down with a raised eyebrow.
“I don’t hate you, although you are kind of an asshole,” Shige says, cracking a bit of a smile and easing the tension crackling between them like lightning.
“I don’t really hate you either, Shige, even though you can be a pretentious douche. And that snivelly novel was crap. Fifty Shades of Crap, even,” Ryo says and Shige motions to smack his head, huffing indignantly, but Ryo can see the sparkle of amusement in his eyes.
Ryo catches his wrist and pulls him closer instead, his heated breath skimming Shige’s cool skin. Shige shivers and Ryo’s lips find Shige’s, colliding in a mutual loss of breath. In this moment, the only thing on Ryo’s mind is how hard he is and it has only been a few minutes with Shige.
Ryo wonders why he waited so long to do something like this.
“God, you are good with your mouth. Yamapi mentioned it once, but I thought he was full of shit,” Shige whispers, his voice thin and taut. Ryo laughs and shakes his head, his fingers unzipping Shige’s jacket and tossing it to the side. Shige’s hands move to reciprocate, but instead he finds Ryo’s goose-pimpled forearms.
“I always heard you were a cold bastard,” Shige rubs Ryo’s arms teasingly and Ryo grunts. Shige’s laughter turns into a low hiss as Ryo’s teeth scrape where Shige’s pink polo shirt gives way to tanned skin.
“Who told you? Koyama? He is the type to spill,” Ryo lets out a chuckle, Shige’s response of a tongue lathing his ear turning the chuckle into a deep groan.
Shige bites Ryo’s earlobe and Ryo nearly falls over, an explosion of heat spreading over his body as a shock of lust zings down his spine. Words are lost as Shige’s hands begin to explore and fingers tease under the edge of his worn t-shirt. It has random English words scrawled across it and Shige always used to tease him about how it made no sense and Ryo should have a greater appreciation for the English language.
At the moment, Ryo is wishing the t-shirt straight to hell as it serves merely as a barrier between Shige’s exploratory fingers and hot wet lips, dancing over his skin and scraping, licking, nipping to the point where Ryo is afraid he will lose control.
“Someone has been hitting the takoyaki hard,” Shige pinches a bit of extra flesh between his fingers and Ryo yelps, kicking Shige in the shins. They fall backwards onto the blankets with a loud “oof”.
“I’m glad you’re fat now, or that would have hurt,” Shige pokes Ryo’s side again and Ryo kicks him half-heartedly, the heat of the moment returning when Ryo feels Shige’s weight pinning him down, Shige’s hardness evident against Ryo’s stomach.
“So are you going to compliment me on my rock-hard abs now?” Shige pulls off his shirt with a flourish and Ryo laughs, but his laughter is cut short when he sees Shige’s muscles contracting with every movement.
Diligence has served Shige well, and his stomach is hard under Ryo’s exploring fingers, his arms equally toned, flexing with the effort as he goes for his pants, sliding them off in one motion. Shige is left in loose light-blue boxers that hang on his hipbones, and Ryo’s eyes slide down towards along the V created by the muscles on Shige’s waist that ends at the juncture of his thighs.
“I know. I look great,” Shige teases, and Ryo groans in frustration.
“Shut up,” Ryo says. “You know I hate it when you talk.”
Shige laughs until Ryo pushes up against him, their cocks meeting through fabric, the friction lighting a fire between them. Shige groans and moves against Ryo and all of Ryo’s mind melts to nothing, leaving nothing but singed remnants of thoughts.
“Fuck,” Shige mutters, pushing himself up for a second so Ryo can remove his clothing as well. Ryo eyes the discarded pile, the offending khaki peeking out still from under the mountain of English poured onto white cotton and thick navy sweatpants.
Shige’s pants look much better off of him than they had on. Crumpled on the ground like that, Ryo almost forgives them for existing.
“Stop glaring at my pants,” Shige mutters, as he mouths wet kisses along Ryo’s collar bones, tongue finding the hollows and dips in Ryo’s skin, making Ryo shiver when the cool of the air blows across the wet stripes. His hands come up to slide into Shige’s hair, tugging a little too hard, and Shige bites him in retaliation.
“I hate those pants,” Ryo says, “almost as much as I hate your haircut.”
Shige laughs, and Ryo laughs too, and it’s like they’re both pretending this isn’t it. Like this isn’t the last thing they might do, ever, as the sky cracks above them and the world goes quiet beneath them. Shige looks into his eyes and seems to see Ryo’s thoughts written there, because his eyes darken, then, and his mouth takes on a determined slant. His kisses become more languid and slow, dragging down Ryo’s belly and lingering at every step, almost as if he’s in defiance of their time limit.
Ryo watches him with steady eyes, even though his cock is begging for attention, leaking against his belly.
Shige hooks his fingers into Ryo’s boxers and pulls them down languidly, taking his time so the waistband grazes against the tip of Ryo’s cock. He palms Ryo’s cock, thumb flicking over the top to catch a drop of pre-come, but doesn’t continue. Ryo groans deeply in need, his knuckles white in frustration as he grasps onto the blankets beneath him.
Ryo gasps and shivers, both from the cold and from Shige’s tongue swiping a path first down his neck; tracing the hollows reverently and slowly with his tongue, tasting Ryo’s skin and scraping his teeth on his collarbones. Shige’s teeth graze Ryo’s collarbone and Ryo closes his eyes, relishing the sensation of Shige’s hot breath, trying to ignore the building tension at the base of his spine, to hold back the impending orgasm that he knows isn’t far off if Shige continues to do what he is doing.
If Ryo would have known that Shige’s mouth had such amazing uses, instead of just annoying the fuck out of him, he would have initiated this a long time ago.
“Fuck” Ryo opens his eyes to the sight of Shige smirking up at him, a knowing gleam in his dark eyes.
Shige continues downward, tossing Ryo’s boxers to the side, lowering himself down and flicking his tongue over the tip of Ryo’s cock. Ryo’s fingers curl into fists, breath catching as Shige’s tongue licks alongside the bottom, then in a languorous figure-eight pattern.
Tongue moving quickly, Shige takes Ryo into his mouth, the hot warmth making Ryo forgot where he is, throwing his head back and groaning loudly.
Shige’s ministrations continue to make Ryo’s vision go blurry. Biting his lip, Ryo arches up into Shige’s mouth, his hands pulling strands of Shige’s scruffy long black hair to urge Shige on.
“Shit, Shige, I’m close,” Ryo whispers, his hips jerking upward erratically to meet Shige’s hand, the pace increasing as Ryo continues to pump back and forth. Every muscle in Ryo’s body is wound tightly, teetering on the brink of letting and falling over the edge. Shige removes his mouth and places his hand firmly on Ryo’s pulsing slick cock.
Ryo feels Shige’s grip intensify, moving up and down at a rapid-fire pace that has Ryo swearing under his breath in both Japanese and English, running through his entire repertoire of profanity.
Ryo squeezes his eyes shut, but nothing can hold back the tension coiling in his stomach, not even his fingernails making crescent moons of pain in his balled fists. Taking in one last breath, Ryo lets go, his mind nothing but a black abyss of non-thought.
Regaining his breath, Ryo looks down and sees the familiar smirk playing across Shige’s lips as Shige wipes off his hand onto the blanket. Shige looks at Ryo as if what he just did clicks in his head, suddenly slightly embarrassed under Ryo’s naked gaze.
Ryo likes the red flush of Shige’s cheeks far more than he likes the ominous red flush of the sky. His release is sticky on his belly, and Ryo’s whole body feels loose, and he doesn’t really want to move. But then Shige is sliding up Ryo’s body and slowly, deeply kissing him, and Ryo can feel Shige’s erection pressing hard into his hip through the cotton of his boxers as Shige rocks against him.
Ryo fumbles with the waistband of Shige’s underwear, and Shige uses both his hands to push them down to mid-thigh, freeing his cock and giving Ryo room to work. Ryo smiles into the kiss, because Shige seems so impatient and wild, and these aren’t things he normally associates with the pent-up, staid man.
When Ryo wraps his hand around Shige, Shige gasps, and Ryo doesn’t taste beer or potato chips on Shige’s breath, only the taste of what must be himself mixed with desperation.
This is it, Ryo thinks, and then he’s moving up and down quickly, and he can feel how close Shige is. His thighs are tight and trembling, and his hands are holding Ryo’s biceps hard enough to leave dark fingerprints. Ryo uses his thumb to push back the foreskin, rubbing across the slit, and then Shige is coming all over his hand, his cry echoing a rumble of thunder from the sky. Ryo looks up as Shige pants into the hollow between his neck and shoulder, and the sky now is as dark as blood.
Ryo’s hand is gross, so he wipes it on Shige’s trousers, before tentatively letting his hand come to rest on Shige’s shoulder blade. Shige’s skin is hot to the touch. Ryo is always cold, so it’s comforting. “I saw that,” Shige says.
“No, you didn’t,” Ryo replies. “Your eyes were closed.”
“I guess I just know you well enough, then, that I don’t have to see what you’re doing to be completely dismayed by it.”
“It’s not like you’re going to need them, anyway.”
Shige stills, and Ryo almost regrets saying it aloud, but it’s true, whether Ryo reminds them or not.
“Yeah,” Shige says. “I guess you’re right.”
Ryo takes a deep breath. The air smells like smoke, or maybe more like fire. This isn’t how Ryo thought everything would end-- him, lying on a rooftop with Kato Shigeaki, naked and completely out of cigarettes. He really only minds the last bit.
When the F string breaks on Ryo’s guitar, he knows time is almost up. Ryo’s world goes silent, without the anxious discordant melodies that seem to be all he can play these days, and when he looks out the window of his flat, out into an abandoned city, he can see the despair climbing like ivy up the walls of the adjascent skyscrapers.
The sky is the murkiest of greys, but there is no rain.
There are no trumpets or thunderclaps; nothing but the soft thumps of the rain trickling down the side of the building. The silence is nearly sacred, and neither of them say a word.
Everything that needed to be said has been.
The final streamers of red begin to paint the dusky grey away, and Shige looks up. Ryo squeezes his hand lightly, and Shige tentatively laces their fingers together. Their hands are sticky with sweat despite the chill.
Ryo looks up to the sky and smiles.
He knows.
Eventually all turns to ashes- cigarettes, Ryo, and this city too.