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The air is chilled around him, the city night seeping into his tired bones. Exhaling, he watches as the heat of his breath mixes with the smoke of his cigarette. Anxious pleas for the world to stop spinning flash across his mind; an extravagant wish for the simple desire to hop off and breathe, if just for a moment. Life is quickly becoming too loud, vibrating in his head to the point of pain. New stresses fall upon him everyday, endlessly piling up, long and lonely and ever late in the cramped space of his cubicle.
In the white noise of the city night he feels as if his throat is closing around nothing, contracting tighter as the laundry list of failures grows infinitely in his mind. He can feel himself falling into the cracks of his thoughts, the empty spaces where his darkest intentions lay.
Unnatural light burns through him. Each glint of the city stinging his eyes as every thought pushes him further into the murky depths of his disquiet. His mind is too riotous, scorching thoughts pouring down his throat and searing the basin of his chest. He feels like the hollow of his rib cage is filled with fire, a heat too hot to put out with the icy disdain he harbors for himself.
He tilts his head up, closing his eyes to the ceaseless scape of the skyline. His senses are overloaded, ears filling with the never ending clamor of the world around him. The frozen planes of his skin thaw with the warmth from nearby neon’s glow. Everything surrounding him is lit in fluorescent hues, each one too bright, always too hot, each sensation just too much to his tired being… and yet, it always seems as if it’s something he is endlessly called to; a biting need to be surrounded by the Too Much to drown out the Nothing that he contains. Drowning himself in the overwhelming to forget how void he truly is.
He hates the neon, detests its ever present light. Each fluorescent hue gaudy and blinding, buzzing in his ear whenever he steps out into the hazy dusk. An element trapped in glass and shocked to artificial life, screaming for his attention.
He much prefers the gentle calm of starlight. Every pinprick spark just bright enough for him. He feels called by it. The golden glimmer guiding his weary soul through the darkness of his night. He admires the unyielding strength of dying light to pull itself through the dusk and illuminate the way for all to see; an endless display of proof that anything can shine in the deepest gloom.
Yes… he much prefers his starlight.
A hollow ache fills his chest, his heart sensing the emptiness leering just outside his field of vision. The dark of their apartment calls to him like a void he would rather not dive into, the pit in the center of his being longing to get lost in the sea of black. None of it feels right. It all feels vacant and pointless. Without the vibrant starlight he lives beside, their home feels like the inky dark of night.
His nothing vibrates within him like a frequency he can’t hear, a nagging pain that has no source. Some nights he tries to place when and how this desolation grew within him, but he always comes up empty. He wonders if it’s just something that grew inside, aged along with him until it became too potent to remain unfelt. A parasitic toxin suffocating him slowly.
Most nights he would rather not dwell on it.
So instead he waits. He waits through every passing second, telling himself to wait just a moment longer. He just needs to survive another moment, and another, and another… just another moment longer and his starlight will pierce his darkened sky. Pinpoint light, so bright in the blanketing dark he resides within.
He tightens his grip around the metal railing of their balcony, barely registering the rough texture biting into the give of his skin. He pulls in another deep drag of his cigarette, relishing the burn of the smoke as it pools in the vacuity that fills him. His chest feels too devoid of anything worth keeping, so he lets the smoke seep in, hoping to relieve the emptiness for just a moment. His thoughts reel, begging just to feel as if he holds more than endless faults and weary bones.
Exhaling, he opens his eyes, righting his vision as he watches the smoke leave him. Cloudy grey curls push past his cracking lips, drifting into the night before vanishing into nothing. It’s a terrible habit, a paper stick filled with enough chemicals to kill him slowly. He should quit, but he can’t. Part of him believes he deserves whatever inevitable damage they will cause; that he deserves the stained skin and fouled clothes and hospital stays. Hifumi would tell him otherwise, stand before him and go blue in the face as he listed off every reason he deserves a long, happy, healthy life. A humorless laugh escapes him, clouding up in the cold. Alone, on their balcony, hanging above city they call their haven, he couldn’t disagree more.
Hifumi isn’t here, but Doppo is. Doppo is, and he is alone with his toxic thoughts, and death sticks, and just enough time to turn bad thoughts into worse decisions. A quick clip of bad ideas skirt his mind as he pushes back against the glass of their sliding door. He inhales deeply, pressing his head too hard into the cold. He’s begging the door to hold his tired body, to take his weight and burden so he can rest for just a moment.
But it doesn’t. He slides to the concrete, legs splayed out before him as he slams his head back once more. Yanking at his tie, he lets out a frustrated cry in desperation, pleading for release from this poisonous pain he feels. His voice echoes around him, the emptiness he’s surrounded by pushing his pain back at him.
Sneering he gazes down at the worn fabric of the garment as it pulls from around his neck. He feels the pressure he carries lighten as he loosens the noose he wears each and every day. He stares at the cloth, soft in his hand from daily use. Golden threads stitched deep into satiny green. The fabric should hold joy, a gift from long ago, a memory he cherishes everyday. He bites back against his thoughts, hating that he let the hell of his job taint the light of those times. He grips his fist tight, groaning deep before forcing his head back harder.
Pain. He deserves this pain.
His body is too tired, mind too fatigued, and will too damaged to move. He can’t stand, can’t bring himself to carry his weight any longer. He doesn’t feel human. His being is so spent, zapped of all energy and left to rot. The cold of the concrete is seeping into his legs through the thin fabric of his slacks, numbing his body as his anxious mind whirrs to life. Hours later and he still hasn’t managed to rid himself of his corporate chains. Failure. Utter fai-
He snaps back at himself. Hissing at the cyclically vicious track his thoughts tend to follow as the sky begins to blush. He inhales deeply, holding the fresh air in his chest as he wills himself to calm down. Exhaustion is gripping his every movement, but he can at least do this. Focusing his thoughts on bubbly blond and incandescent smiles, he begs himself to just wait. Just a moment longer. If he holds onto these gauzy mental pictures, soon his warmth will come and tend to his enervated existence.
The hour is late. The city settling into the chaotic and awkward time between nightlife and the morning bustle, where Friday night meets Saturday morning with a simple passing glance of the sun and moon. It’s the brutal time of day when host clubs release their employees from their grueling shifts and let them return to their daily lives. Clipped images fill his mind, flooding his chest with a familiar panging warmth. Blond hair and green highlights bouncing through the streets, a sweet lullaby hum filling the empty alleyways, a carefree hop in the step of an effervescent man. Each frame is more vivid than the last as Doppo wishes for the safe return of that bright starlight.
Just get my starlight home safe. Bring him home safe to me.
Just a moment longer. He should be home in just a moment longer. Then Doppo can peel himself off the frozen concrete and allow himself the luxury of warmth. His chest arches at the thought, wishing for nothing more than warm hands to reach within him and force heat into the coldness dripping from his ribs. Each passing second, he feels his chest frost with longing. His being is wilting, withering under the weight of his eternal fatigue. If he were to sit ever still, would his body collect the morning dew? Would the ice of his emotions freeze the water that stayed?
Just a moment longer. Please… only be a moment longer, I can’t wait more than a moment longe-
“Doppo?” Softness fills the icy space as gentle skin smooths over his face. Nuzzling into the contact, he allows himself this one selfish act. Stealing a solitary moment of respite in the chill.
His senses are flooded with soft and gentle reminders of the fragile love he keeps. A spicy trace fills his head; cinnamon and vanilla combined with the effervescent scent of the lingering spirits clinging to his lover’s lips. Champagne and roses and home cooked sweets… puzzle pieces of his warmth cluttering his senses.
“Doppo? Why are you sitting out in the cold?” Concern laces the words falling from a gentle man. He doesn’t deserve that worry.
A quiet whine pulls from the redhead’s throat, not wanting to speak just yet. He wants to surround himself in the heat of the skin connecting against his own and forget his worries and doubts. He doesn’t deserve this man’s love or concern, and Doppo knows he’s selfish for bottling up the stars, but in this moment he couldn't care less. In this moment he doesn’t want to think of the growing pile of paperwork waiting for him come Monday, or the bills they have yet to pay. He doesn’t want to feel that ever present anxiety that snakes through his chest, whispering in his ear that he just isn’t enough. He just doesn’t want to care.
No. In this moment he just wants to feel the warmth of love, peel off the ice coating his skin and fall into the embrace of liquid gold. He wants to fill the heart of the man before him and make a home in the caverns of his chest. Longing for endless nights encircled in the love they share and passion they exchange, never surfacing for air. Taking what is his, rightfully or not.
That would suit him just fine.
A second weight falls upon his chest, and he feels himself instinctively push into it, arching his back into the only touch he has ever craved. A stuttering whine sounds from above as the warmth presses back against him.
“H-Hifumi… are you home?” His voice is barely a whisper, cracking from lack of use and too much smoke.
Concerned words fall upon him like fresh snow, but he can no longer hear them. His senses have dulled to their basest abilities, pure exhaustion pushing him closer and closer to sleep. In the back of his thoughts he registers the absence of cold against his skin, the lack of wind and an enveloping warmth surrounds him. He’s turning, burying deeper into the feeling, his body instinctively craving more.
“Doppo? Hey! Doppo, are you awake?”
Groaning, Doppo falls deeper into the warm limbo he has found himself within. Floating in the nothing he’s so accustomed to, the familiar space between wake and rest. He’s slipping more, and more, deeper and dee-
“Doppo!!”
In an instant his world is violently shaken, jerking abruptly in the plush of his cocoon. He cracks open his bleary eyes, the world blurring as he slowly stares up into golden pools. His vision delays as he tries to focus upon the figure before him. Golden light wrapped up in soft black linen, bright effervescent tones cloaked in smooth confidence. Nothing about this light makes sense, and yet… together Doppo would never ask for less.
“Ah! There’s my Doppo! You had me worried for a minute.”.
A soft finger plops against the tip of his nose before a blinding smile fills his line of sight. So bright. Too bright. He wants more.
“And you know worrying is just no good! And god! You do it all the time, we can’t have that either! Doppo, Doppo, Doppo, what am I going to do with you?”
Hifumi’s energy is never ending, the blond practically bouncing as he perches himself before the weary man. He’s rambling, words dripping together in a mantra that Doppo can’t pick apart. The bright lilt to Hifumi’s voice echoes in his head, the only voice he ever wants to hear… and yet…
“Le’ me slee,” he murmurs into what he now recognizes as Hifumi’s down blanket. The fabric is soft around him, warm and cozy and pulling him back to the brink of rest. He briefly questions how he came to be wrapped in this clouded fabric, but the thought is gone before he can fully formulate it.
Slowly, he snakes his hand out of the blanket, wrapping the calloused skin of his fingertips around the smooth wrist hanging before him. He pulls down, softly begging with the bits of energy he has left for his light to just rest, just rest for a moment beside him. Curl into the cavity of his being and shed its warmth into the frostbitten edges of his soul. Just for a moment.
Come down. Rest here. Let me pull your light within me.
“Ah,hey. D-doppochin, hey.” A softer pull lifts him, positioning him upright once more.
“Eh, Hifumi, please.. s’eep now, with me..” His voice cracks, trying to ignore the pull of sleep as he continues his hopeless tug on Hifumi. He’s wavering, head lolling as he fights against the call of dark.
“Silly Doppochin, no sleeping in your suit! Let me at least get you out of this, mmkay?”
Before Doppo can answer, he feels the familiar slip of lithe hands beneath the worn panes of his suit jacket. The cool sensation of smooth metal skirts the edges of his skin leaving icy trails behind. He sucks in a breath as the blond hums to himself, seemingly unaware of the reactions he causes. Hifumi lets out the peel of a soft giggle, high like a chime, before folding the blazer and looking back at Doppo.
The redhead levels his weary gaze, staring into the bright face of the man before him. Golden pools sparkle with stars just for him. A bolt of selfish need shoots through his chest, the never ending urge to contain those lights, jar them on his nightstand and keep that glimmer to guide him through his endless dark. His glittering starlight home at last.
“Fine, fine.” Doppo sighs heavily, eyes rolling back as he tries to quiet his heart’s hammering. Over two decades later and that golden gaze still strikes him hard as ever
Doppo heaves himself from what he now realizes is the deep cushions of their couch. When… when did Hifumi bring him in here? Carrying him all this way after working until the skies lightened… at that gaudy club, women all over him, scenting him with their toxic perfume.. oh, Hifumi must feel awful, only to have to come home and care for his pathe-
“Eh? Doppochin? You in there?” Hifumi’s head cocks to the side, blond hair falling with the simple action
“No overthinking, not allowed, no way!” Hifumi shakes his head with the childlike petulance of a toddler refusing vegetables for dinner. Golden hair fans around his face, growing frizzy from long hours and too much bleach. Somehow still perfect as it falls around his eyes.
“Why can’t you just leave me here to-“
“And definitely none of that!” Hifumi’s hands slide against his cheek, tapping with each word to emphasize his point.
Doppo feels the soft give of fingers against the stubbled plane of his face. Doppo can’t help but push into the contact. In these moments, he can’t help but find himself wishing for more, always wanting more: more warmth, more tender care, just more Hifumi.
He wants to fight against it, just push the starlight out and tell him to run off. Doppo doesn’t deserve the endless kindness that Hifumi offers, sweet charity dripping from his every breath. He doesn’t deserve the home cooked meals, the gentle smiles, or the sincerest care that Hifumi selflessly rains down upon him without a second thought.
No. Doppo deserves to lay and rot alone. To stew in his own misery until he becomes nothing but dust to be blown into the busy city streets. Hifumi doesn’t deserve the pain and misery that Doppo must drag beside him throughout his daily life. He doe-
Before another venomous thought can drip from his mind, he’s hauled up. His feet barely work beneath him, but he is standing. His weight shifts awkwardly, swaying upon the source of his upheaval. Thin hands gingerly interlace with his own, silver rings and manicured fingers finding home against his rough skin. He’s shaking with fatigue as he rests against black cotton.
Warmth. Home. Hope.
He tries to push away the selfish feeling bubbling up inside of him and just. Be. He wills his mind to release this fog. He pushes against the mental walls he constantly finds himself suffocating up against, beating at the bricks and begging for them to fall. He wants to collapse into the arms of love and just realize, realize for just one moment that Hifumi is the one good thing in his rotten life and, damnit… maybe he is good for his life too.
Tired eyes look up at the blond, and Hifumi watches as emotions stir he hasn’t seen in so very long. A tender warmth is trickling into the sky blue before him, and he can’t help but let hope fill his chest. His… his Doppo deserves the world, the very best, and he will die giving it to him.
The sincerest of smiles falls upon his lips, glittering eyes sliding shut as he bows his head to the only person he’s loved in his twenty-nine years.
“No.. no sleeping yet, but… will you dance with me, Doppochin?” The request is so innocent, falling from plush lips with the nerves of a lovestruck teen. The timid words and gentle question, it pulls Doppo back to the embrace of simpler times. The same golden eyes, the same golden hair, all packaged in a smaller shy boy. A shivering frame, nervous eyes, just wanting to dance with the only friend he’s ever had.
“Wh-wha-”
“Like the old times?” A trepid giggle follows the question, nervous. Hifumi asks as if he’s never held the man before him. Never loved him in tender moments, never pressed his skin against him and begged for love in the deepest of ways. Hifumi asks as if he’s falling in love again. Falling for the redhead like children do, innocent questions loaded with the fondest of care. Love like someone who has never been hurt. Love in a way Hifumi shouldn’t be able to, and yet… just for a moment...
Deep down Doppo knows. He knows the true selfish actions he commits are those where he withholds himself from Hifumi. The moments when he pulls back from his love for fear of taking too much, when really he was taking away what was perfectly enough.
Hifumi’s been hurt, been broken like him. It’s selfish of him to think he is the only one of them with demons to bear. He’s seen the fear, known the hurt, and heard the cries at night when Hifumi thinks that Doppo is long lost to dreams. He’s beared witness to the traumas inflicted upon the innocence before him. He’s been there when Hifumi cries for his love… and yet still cannot see his worth in that innocent’s healing.
They’re both recovering, both hurt by different monsters of different breeds, but stand together fighting for another day. Doppo straightens, standing as tall as he can beside the love before him. He musters the gentlest smile his tired face can share, the warmth of the expression leaking to his heart.
“I- I would love to dance with you, Hifumi… like- like the old times.”
It’s not a perfect moment. It’s not a perfect day. They have both faced the trials of their lives, the pains of the jobs they carry and the burdens they cannot leave. It’s not perfect. It’s not meant to be. They’re each a jagged piece of a puzzle they cannot see, but fit snuggly side by side. They may not heal the other wholly; may not seal each other’s wounds completely, but they nurture the scars that they can see, and the rest… the rest will come in time.