je_levy: (Woot!)
[personal profile] je_levy
Title: Butterfly Inferno
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Akame, Nakanishi, Kokame, and so many many other KAT-TUN combinations.
Warnings: This is intense; I mean, angst like you rarely(?) see in a JE fic.
Disclaimer: If I owned them, and this fic was true, then you'd have read it sooner I'm sure. lol. No seriously, KAT-TUN isn't mine and nor am I going to get money for being a serious perv
Summary: In desperation, each member of KAT-TUN silently makes his effort to repair the problem they're all afraid to talk about, but too often desire rides higher than necessity. 'Pain like this is something you can't erase, so we have to do what we can to make it all hurt a little less...because of who they are to us.'

Notes: I'm sure you know this, but I figure it's worth mentioning. Emojii means emoticons/smilies.    

 

that single second

we conquered an empty region

place we didn’t know we had

aftermath perfect.

Such little bloodshed

but wounds so deep

 

            Ueda Tatsuya enjoys what he feels are deep, solid sensations. The breathless, light-headed moments after he has run up eight flights of stairs weighed down by an extra four kilos, or the bright, sharp suffocation that came when he stuffs his mouth full, and the way he almost chokes on laughter when he’s with his friends, just being silly. These were all moments in which he found that to be breathless was also a way to appreciate life; a way to value one’s insides and workings. He often found that he liked other people to experience this breathlessness right along with him, secret, personal, breathless seconds all owed to him. So he’d lie.

Naturally, he would lie, but the key was to reveal his trick moments after or he’d miss the expression of surprise, outrage, and sometimes relief. There was something gorgeous about watching the fire of belief in someone’s eyes dim. Maintaining a straight face was an almost elemental thrill in keeping secrets or telling a little lie here and there. If not for the romance of it, it was a way to kill time when things were moving slowly. Still, there had been certain secrets and lies he’d kept for too long, ones that kept weighing on his mind a lot heavier reaching the point where looking his friends in the eye was near impossible. And yet he’d still hold to that secret, and he’d think of how it was entirely too easy to fool those close to him. It was a scary type of power.

So if he’d been asked, Ueda Tatsuya wouldn’t quite be able to express properly out loud the reason he wanted very badly to confide in Nakamaru.

            He simply had to tell someone, and somehow Ueda loves Maru. Not at all in that sense, but Ueda’s friends have always been important to him and beyond all the heres and theres between him and the members of KAT-TUN, he truly considers Nakamaru Yuichi a valuable person.

            Quite a bit more valuable than Kame.

            “I’ve been sleeping with him,” he says as Maru struggles mid-sentence. For all his supposedly normal features, Ueda thinks Maru has life and laughter in his expressions. The sharp way his pretty slanted eyes narrow under those thick eyebrows, suddenly the secret doesn’t seem so painful, doesn’t make him feel like he’s the only one who has to carry it. Even as the waiter takes the order, Ueda doesn’t see accusation in Maru’s fretful gestures, but utter sympathy. Ueda needs that.

            “You…” Maru starts to say, then hesitates.

            “What? Say exactly what you’re thinking,” he hears himself plead. “I’m telling you this because-“

          “Don’t say you trust me,” Nakamaru moans, head falling into his hands. “Whatever it is, don’t say that.”

            “I was going to say because I know you’d understand,” Ueda returns, puzzled as anything at this. He doesn’t quite get why Nakamaru wouldn’t want to be trusted; not many people trusted Ueda, but that was entirely his own fault.

            “Oh.”

            Silence drifts over their heads, and Ueda sighs, pulling his drink closer to sip from his straw. He can feel Maru’s gaze darting toward him in strange intervals.

            “Wh-why do you think I’d understand such a situation?” It’s an odd leading question, and he hears Maru inhale like it’s his last breath. Somehow this sends a prickle of irritation up his back.

            “Listen, this isn’t related to sexuality, understand? This isn’t a ‘coming out;’ this is me telling you a secret that’ll never be repeated.”

            “But why tell me? How…what am I supposed to do with this information?” Maru demands, his nerves making him act like a fretful animal. Ueda hates when Nakamaru gets like this. In ways it is a reflection of what Ueda feels he is deep down; so much like a distorted mirror image he sees worry printed in clear sight all over the other man’s face, and it makes Ueda feel a little sick himself.

            “Do you need a reason?” he whispers. “We’re in the same group; we both know him. Anyway, the point of this talk isn’t about the sex.”

            Nakamaru starts coughing into his sleeve. Ueda spies a shine of sweat on the other man’s forehead and a blank sense of resignation hits him. This is going to be a longer conversation than he’d hoped.

            “The point,” he presses on, “is that I agreed to it because I thought it would make things better, wake him up again. And it’s not so difficult; I mean, he prefers to bottom anyway.”

            Maru turns a bit grey and pulls his handkerchief out, mopping at his forehead and nose. Ueda wonders vaguely about Nakamaru’s possibly nonexistent sex life as he feels too often that when it came to anything remotely sexual Maru always retracted due to general discomfort.

            “For all I’ve done…and let him do, I don’t know if it’s making a difference, and if it is, if it’s making it worse.”

            Nakamaru now has his eyes fixed on his own hands in front of him, his eyebrows scrunched up in serious thought. To Ueda, such a pitiful expression makes him feel warm. Not because the thought of Maru in pain brings him any joy, but for the fact that the other man is showing so much more concern than Ueda expected from him. He thinks now that the possibility of things being all right is so much more real now that he has told Maru. “You know, I hate how he hurts and I want to erase it. Do you think I’ve done the right thing?”

            Maru doesn’t take his eyes off his hands, but he breathes slowly and steadily, regaining his calm. “We’re not kids, Ueda. This kind of pain is something you-you can’t erase, so we have to do what we can to make it hurt less.”

            Ueda thinks this is a simple, yet horribly sad thing for Maru to say, but only because he knows these words are excruciatingly true. Most of Maru’s ordinary replies are just exactly like that. It was about thinning out something that could never disappear. What Maru wouldn’t be able to understand, though, is that Ueda isn’t feeling pain. When he sees Kame’s number on his phone or Kame’s little mails with their saccharine emojii, he feels only weight bearing down on him. And Ueda’s always been heavily conscious of the things he feels when he’s with a lover; he stores them away in special recesses to pull out in song-writing. There’s been a song for each one, but not for this. And it isn’t at all like any kind of love or any relationship he could say he had been in previously with the wing-like feelings and the flowers, most especially the flowers. When he considers the option of writing a song for Kame’s type of love, he can’t conjure the flowers or the sky’s brightness in any type of season. He can only think of torn sheets, clutching fingers, and the bare expanse of white skin.

            “Naturally, I don’t know much about it since…since I’m not in your sort of situation,” Nakamaru says very lightly.

            This is where the pain might come in, where the burn could rest, but Ueda feels little of anything, but an all-encompassing guilt.
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