Work Text:
Blinking white lights strung up around lamp posts and threaded between thin, bare branches add a small cheer to a crisp, winter night. Store windows glow with healthy green trees decorated in bright lights and bold colors. The hum of life: feet hitting pavement, children laughing, crying, murmurs of talking, distant honking cars, and snatches of soft, joyful music playing when a door opens creates this rush of seemingly, never-ending motion.
Akihiko ignores the background static. He keeps his eye on the one guiding light, a hand tethered comfortably to the strap of his snare case. He watches, amused, as Haruki waves his arms at the fleeing pair of teenagers. Arms linked, smiles bright, love seeping out, they escape to have a date.
Akihiko knows the feeling: his chest is still tight, his lungs heavy with acceptance, stomach fluttering at a glance, at a touch, and a soul grateful for a second chance.
He never takes his redemption for granted. Instead, he cultivates his adoration, blowing gently on the unwavering flame, controlling the burn. His partner flails, attracting attention from a chittering crowd of young girls. A few of them glance over shyly, their focus directed at the man in front of him.
For a moment, he places himself in their shoes. He watches Haruki’s hair flutter in the breeze, golden strands collecting the surrounding light and reflecting back as a halo. A red scarf curls lovingly around broad shoulders. While Haruki is smaller than him, years of carrying cumbersome audio equipment has given him definition. His body looks strong, with a trim waist and defined biceps. Haruki’s aura is soft, all golden hair and amber eyes, with an edge of masculinity presented through his trimmed goatee and piercings.
Akihiko listens to his smooth baritone voice, admonishing the running pair. In that moment he is enchanted again. He understands the lure, falling willingly and wishing he could see how his adoration, his surrender, manifests to the milling crowd. Akihiko hopes it shows as possessive pride and a hint of greed.
He swallows down his hunger with a polite cough and reaches out to tug Haruki backwards by the handle of his gig bag. Haruki stumbles in his step, voice catching on the last syllable of his rant; body falling backwards into Akihiko’s shoulder. The girls across the street erupt in a sudden motion of giggling, disrupting Haruki’s voice further.
They worked hard today, just as they did yesterday and the last few weeks. All of them dedicated extra hours in the studio together to find a synchronicity to their music and privately to refine their individual parts.
The jarring noise of a car honking near them echoes and, for a brief moment, overtakes the passing crowd. The invading clamor of voices rushes into the sudden silence. A moment away could only help Mafuyu break through the cluster of ideas and finalize the remaining lyrics.
Akihiko burns to do the same. He wants to take that momentum of their success and release that searing passion onto his partner. His desire to inscribe his love into willing flesh, to indulge in the muffled mewls his partner tries to hide straight from his lips, and to satiate his hunger in pliant flesh overwhelms him.
The outside world has grown too loud when all he wants is to focus on that one steady beat next to him. He moves his hold from the handle to Haruki’s hand and begins to walk home.