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Furui Merodi	By : Niichan Category: J-Rock/J-Pop & K-Pop > Pierrot Views: 1255 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Pierrot. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Furui Merodi
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Furui Merodi

/An Old Melody/
Disclaimer: I do not represent these celebrities in any way, nor do I own them. I do not make any profit from this.

Aki's Notebook, http://clik.to/shiine

Vigorous days, Aiji described them, English funny but sincere, intentionally so - vigorous meant tiring he said. It was a good word, like Aiji himself, like Kohta’s mood as he sat in Kirito’s apartment while thinking of Aiji, like Kirito’s taste in furniture - bright red couches that would have been gaudy if the rest of the room wasn’t so minimal and white, the couches almost floating in the brightness of the room. Aiji had wanted green couches, lavender curtains, a wide-screen TV, a refrigerator in the living room, but Kirito kept the room bare save for white walls and white everything, a metal coffee table, and the blood red modern couches -
That was Murata Kirito, vocalist and lyricist of Pierrot, pitch-black hair, snow-white complexion. White as his walls. White as Aiji’s thighs - Aiji the guitarist and song-writer, close friend to Kirito and Kohta.
/Does Aiji snuggle up to san san in these couches at night?/ The two had been roommates for nearly two years now, and Kohta knew Aiji had been after Takeo since their indies days, but he still had to wonder. Aiji was a natural flirt – more than once he himself had been the receiving end of sparkling wide eyes and madly batting lashes, a caress on the side of his waist, a peck on the cheek, and this was outside lives. Not getting any from Takeo did take its toll he supposed, and any opportunity for affection Aiji could get he glomped on. With Kirito living with him…
The words maxi single flashed in his head again and he chased it away for the hundredth time, irritated. Practice had been so hectic today – no, make that vigorous – and he was beat. He smiled slightly as Kirito glanced at him, the kitchen adjacent to the living room, Kirito making popcorn. Funny how he bothered to put on an apron just to make microwave popcorn. Kohta smiled wryly at himself for noticing such a detail. But then again, he did such thing often -
This was Murata Kohta, bassist of Pierrot, flat blonde hair and faded tan - Kirito minus three pounds then add a few inches in height. He blinked at the pace of his own thoughts; he’d been mentally blabbering for some time now. Ah, well, it was a Friday evening – he could afford to think too much.

“Tired?” Kirito asked him, his voice regular as if he wasn’t three meters away. Kohta nodded and gave in to the temptation of leaning on his backpack, situated conveniently beside him, hugging it like a pillow. Kirito approached him and placed the bowl on the table.
“So you’ve talked to kaachan?” Kirito sat beside him, the bag between them. They had gone to his tidy apartment right after dinner.
“Un.” Kohta looked down, wanting to change. Aiji was out – earlier he said Kirito had asked him if he could sleep somewhere else tonight, because Kohta and him had something very important to talk about. Aiji of course jumped on the opportunity to hop over to Takeo’s, for an undoubtedly frustrating night they all surmised. Kirito had asked him to sleep over that night. “So we’re heading home next week?”
“Yes.” Kohta repeated the last sentence in his thoughts - Kirito had asked *him* to spend the night in his apartment. Him alone. And for the first time in more than a year, wit Aij Aiji in tow. He tried not to smile so suddenly. “Did she mention why?”
Kirito was looking at him so closely Kohta almost felt conscious – stupidly he worried that Kirito was reg hig his mind. He tried to be as nonchalant as he could and reached for the bowl of popcorn in an effort to keep their eyes from locking. “No. Did she tell you anything?”
“Yes.” Kirito was still staring at him. Wildly Kohta thought perhaps Kirito was rediscovering some long buried feelings for him and was now… yada! He squashed the thought before he giggled uncontrollably. It was embarrassing enough that he couldn’t stare his own brother in the eye for more than ten seconds. “She wants us to meet the Noh family. You, actually.”
“Why?”
At this Kirito, with his hands clenched over his lap, sat a little straighter, How handsome can his relatives be, Kohta pondered. “They have a daughter your age.”
Kohta shrugged at first, force-feeding himself more popcorn. It was hard for him to talk so seriously to someone in a checkered peach apron with an embroidered chick peeking out of an egg smack in the middle – how odd that Kirito didn’t mind getting caught wearing the thing. But Kirito was type who didn’t care about such things; he was a man, and real men had no qualms about getting all froufrou out of image issues. He was the type who’d – and here Kohta almost sighed – think nothing of wearing a knitted pastel cardigan and still look masculine–sexy-gorgeous in it.
“Kohta?”

“Mm?” Kohta looked up and realized his mind was trailing off - again. What was it that Kirito just told him? He improvised a safe reply. “So?”
Kirito looked almost… nervous. “I think… I think they’re arranging your marriage.”
Kohta blinked. Once. Twice. The bowl of popcorn fell on the floor.
/Oh shit./
“Kohta?” Kirito put a hand on his shoulder as he continued to stare at Kirito and Aiji’s immaculately white floor tiling, butter dripping from the edge of his bowl thinly – it was slightly reminiscent of his current love life. He couldn’t have heard that right. He looked up saw Kirito’s nearly blank face, his usual deadpan expression, only his eyes were much softer, almost… affecting. He swallowed hard.
“Nan desu ka?” He asked, intending it to be a scream, but it came out rather quietly. “Aniki, you don’t mean…?”
“I guessed that they didn’t tell you, and they didn’t say this to me either, but I assumed that it would be good for you to have an idea before we got there. Think things over just in case.” Kirito’s hand left his sleeveless shoulder and immediately he mourned the loss of skin on skin as much as his possible loss of bachelorhood.
Kohta nodded, not sure what to say. Marriage for love was now common around Tokyo, but arranged marriages still happened in other parts of Japan; he knew that his parents had met one another this way. It wasn’t as if he could still be forced to do anything he didn’t want but…
Kirito was right – he was glad to know about this before going there. It was just something that might – and would – upset him upon arriving home. “I see,” Kohta whispered. “This is why you took me here?”
Kirito made some sort of agreement and Kohta chuckled, seeing his older brother so serious as always, even when he was showing concern. He couldn’t say he wasn’t affected; the very word “marriage” made his insides recoil. He remembered a few years back when Pierrot had gone major, and suddenly plenty of girls were throwing themselves at their parents for an introduction to Kirito – the worse part was that the entire families had to sit through each meeting, which had sorely strained Kirito’s patience to the point of publicly declaring that he was a homosexual… and that quite effectively put a stop to all the hoopla.
“What’s so funny?ritorito rarely gave away smiles so easily, but perhaps the way Kohta suddenly laughed broke the tension and the corner of Kirito’s mouth twitched, making an odd half-smile to reward Kohta’s efforts.
Kohta shook his head. “Nan demo nai. I just remembered okaasan sneaking into my room at midnight, last, last New Year I think, asking me if you really were…” He nearly fumbled the word. “Gay.”
Kirito raised a brow. “I didn’t know that.”
“Okaasan had the idea that it was just to stop the matchmaking, but,” Kohta emphasized the words with some weird hand gestures, improvised sign language for ‘oh, you know’. Just to be sure. /Because you’ve never brought home a girlfriend or shown any passion for anything other than the band,/ Kohta added wryly in his mind. It was just one of those snotty remarks his fantasies liked to make.

“I see.” Kirito eyed the unfamiliar splotches of yellow color gracing his living room floor and rose to get something to wipe it off, heading for the kitchen. In his wintry-white house-slippers, to match most of the house, of course. Kohta stretched languidly as he waited in the couch, pushing his parents and the Noh family and the words maxi-single off his mind, watching his brother’s elegant stride. How strange that his neat introvert would want to be a rock star - he still couldn’t figure out why until now.
/Must be all the uncontrollable charisma./
Ah well, now, of all times, was not the right time to mull over such a thing anyway; Kohta grabbed his bag and easily plucked out his pajamas as Kirito exited, hoping for his little plan to work *this* time. There was a TV inside Kirito’s room, and every time he was over he’d had the unduly pleasure of nearly snuggling up to Kirito while he pretended to be dying to watch something that night – it had gone to the extent of subscribing to a channel guide just to make his excuse credible. Kirito and Aiji thought him to be a couch potato in his own home, no doubt, whereas in truth he barely touched the remote outside Kirito’s place. All for the sake of some quality time, even if it meant there was an Aiji thrown in, the oblivious guitarist wanting to partake in the “band-bonding”.
Kohta grinned impishly. There was no Aiji squeezing between them tonight. No Aiji pulling at his sleeve every minute. No Aiji stopping them from watching horror flicks because a scared Kirito might glomp on them. No Aiji making too-close-for-comfort incest jokes at the *worse* moment. But most of all, no Aiji pointing out that he looked sleepy and ushering him to the living room couch when he was trying to “accidentally” doze off in his brother’s bed. He hadn’t shared a bed with his oniisan alone for years…
“So what’d you tell kaachan?”
Kohta blinked, eyeing Kirito by the hall entry. He had changed into lime green on pon pajamas, making for a clownish Pierrot vocalist, only topped off with a freshly scrubbed face.
/Pretty cute./ His mind decided.
“Eh?”

Kirito motioned for him to follow and Kohta did so, taking his things with him, leaving trails of ‘kawaiiii’ at the back of his mind. “When he asked you if I was gay. What’d you tell her?”
“Oh.” Kohta swallowed – he didn’t want to be reminded. “The truth.”
At this Kirito paused suddenly in front of him, Kohta almost bumping into his back – not that he’d mind doing just that. Kirito turned around, shorter despite being older but still authoritative, their faces so near it made Kohta falter; he looked slightly apprehensive. “Which was?”
/Huh?/ Kohta frowned. “Straight as an arrow,” He tried not to spit the words out; they were not, in the least, his favorites.
Kirito just looked at him - as if he was waiting for more, maybe an explanation. Silence graced them for a few seconds, and then he continued to his room, leading Kohta to the bathroom. Kohta followed wordlessly after that. After he’d brushed his teeth, showered, pulled himself into fresh white boxers and an oversized Doraemon t-shirt and brushed his teeth again he padded into Kirito’s softly glowing room, most of it just varying shades of gray within blue walls had the lights been switched on, Kirito was sitting on his bed, waiting for him.
He remembered now – the pajamas were a gift from Jun, for no reason. He used to worry about Jun harboring serious feelings for Kirito, with Jun’s constant sweetness, and the very kind words the two had for each other nearly drove him to a jealous fit back then - until he found out that Jun was, in fact, reduced into helplessness at the mention of the name “Hakuei”. He’d had the not-so-small crush since their indies, and only last year did fate finally smile at him and brought their bands together – needless to say Jun unwillingly exposed his own secret by getting terribly flustered beside Penicillin’s vocalist,

“You want to watch some TV, yes?”
Almost immediately Kohta brightened, all memory of Hakuei flirting with a stammering Jun vanished; he wasn’t sure if it was the smell of clean baby blue plaid sheets or Kirito’s indirect way of inviting him in them that made his knees nearly give in as he lifted the comforters and crept under the covers – most likely both, plus the way Kirito looked at him, the green of his shirt so bright against the paleness of his skin and the sudden harshness of black hair, his cheeks smooth, his face infinitely younger without make-up.
“Un,” Kohta replied, trying hard not to drape himself over Kirito’s left shoulder. At least not yet.
Kirito, to his surprise, inched closer to him. The TV was on mute, the remote in Kirito’s hands, and he set it aside; already Kohta could feel his heart racing. Just slipping into the bed, his shirt and the covers the same perky aquamarine hue, made him think the sheets would just swallow him.
“Do you mind if we talk first?”
“Of course not,” Kohta immediately replied, sensing something unnatural with the composure Kirito was showing, Suddenly he wondered if there was more to the Noh story – his parents didn’t go ahead and propose for him, did they? After all with Kirito asking him over just to talk they must have something more pressing than a warning to worry about.
Kirito was intent – he could tell. “Kohta,” he started, but then he paused and looked away, perhaps to the screen, vibrant liquid color dripping over his eyes. He opened his mouth slowly, aiming for calmness, but the words came out slightly rushed. “Do you want to know the real reason for my refusing marriage?”
Kohta hated not understanding what was going on - seeing Kirito uneasy made him feel doubly uneasy himself and he fumbled for something to reply. “Do you know my reason, aniki?“ He parried, not sure why he asked that.
“Pierrot.” There was no doubt in Kirito’s voice. “We’ve worked so hard for all this. You have.” Large hands fell on both Kohta’s shoulders and he simply felt himself being pulled to Kirito, the sheets wedged between them, and he exulted over the sensation despite the alarm bells it tripped inside his head - Kirito was *not* touchy, not in the least, and having Kirito embrace him like this could meaneraberable, deplorable news. Nevertheless he took the opportunity to embrace him back, loving the feel of Kirito’s larger frame in his arms, wishing to keep him there for an eternity.
“Aniki, daijoubou?” He spoke quietly, almost cautious of bursting his own bubble. He felt the face nearly nuzzling his temple shift, the faint scent of Kirito’s shampoo wafting into his senses in the small movt; Kt; Kohta tried to align their bodies into a comfortable position, hoping to tha that way longer. He ended up leaning on Kirito’s chest, inclining slightly so that he could look up to his face. He nearly whimpered.
There was no way to say such things by the book, really. ”Kohta, I planned to tell you this ever since, although I didn’t really *plan* when. Now seems right, though.”
Kohta nodded dreamily. Kirito had such lovely lashes.

“I’m…”
Kirito paused, just looking at him. Kohta suppressed another random sigh.
Unceremoniously Kohta found himself pressed back on the pillows, Kirito’s warmth nowhere to be found. The man had bent forward, shaking his head – or so it looked from where he was.
“Aniki?” Kohta pushed himself forward, grabbing at Kirito’s shoulder.
Kirito looked at him – again, that peculiar expression. Waiting. It made him doubly impatient and Kohta thought nothing less of hurling himself at his brother – not ignoring this given chance, of course – and went on to whine. Whine like no one else in Japan would ever think he was capable of doing, not even his band mates… except maybe Aiji. A sort of wheedling he only did to Kirito – and they both knew it was faked. It simply broke the tension each time.
This time was not an exception. It succeeded at least in making Kirito clamp a hand over his mouth, then most of his face, as if to shove it away, but his eyes had lightened. They broke into laughter and Kohta mercilessly attached himself to his brother’s arm. “Just say it already!”
“Hei, hei.” Kirito’s face was serious again, just like that, and he was pushing him away. Kohta let up easily, waiting for the words. Maybe Kirito was worried that he’d do something drastic, too, in case an engagement was in the works. They’d have to discuss otherionsions then. No coming-out to the media necessary.
Or maybe, Kirito was going to say, Kohta, I’ve loved you all my life, I don’t want you to marry anyone else. I want you to be my bride, Kohta. I want to make-love to you every single living day of my life, from now to the edges of eternity and with this ring…
Kohta blinked. Briefly he wondered when he’d become so silly with his Kirito thoughts. Ah, ever since he discovered that angst and denial could make him explode during lives when his alpha-male itoshi circled the pack.
“Kohta, I’m…”
/In love with you,/ Kohta finished neatly in his mind, feeling like a schoolgirl. Instead Kirito said a little something else - similar, but not quite.
Dark eyes regarded him seriously. “I’m really gay.”

~ + ~

He blinked, and it blinked back. He smiled and it smiled back, only it looked so forced. Kohta touched the mirror in front of him with his fingers, mouthing the words soundlessly.
/I’m gay,/ Kohta’s reflection said, and in the absence of his own voice Kirito’s admission floated to his memories, echoing in his mind and in the bathroom a hundred times, making him want to drown himself in the tap. His brother was gay, and he said it as so, as plain and weird as this was, as awkward. Kirito with his manly lack of pretensions, in his husky voice, said, plain as day:
“I’m really gay.”
And after years of being so comfortable with how things were between them, perhaps he really had convinced himself that he was happy with their relationship, because at that pristine moment all he could come up with was:
“Aa. Sou ka.”
And then they watched half of Banshun, eyes hardly blinking, and then he pretended to have fallen asleep in the span of that hour, and Kirito turned off the lights. They slept, supposedly, with their sides barely touching, for two hours until Kohta felt the need to slap himself overwhelm him. Now he was in the bathroom, faintly smelling of Kirito’s conditioner, wondering why he hadn’t grabbed the opportunity.
Not to, Kohta told himself with a scowl, profess his undying affections. But at least, with the topic out on the table, at least admit his preferences as well. What would a, “Me, too,” cost him? Or a, “You, too?” Maybe incest was too much to ask, but a little understanding would be nice. It was Moment; it would have made them even closer, Kohta pointed out to his mirror image.
/But all you said was, ‘Sou ka,’ you bimbo./

Gay, too, huh? With the women fawning over him like they did it was kind of str the the way Kirito seemed to avoid the attention outside lives. No girlfriends on record. Best friends and band mates were all gay - save for Takeo, who was still classified as ‘unknown’ - including his own brother. A fashion sense that made Popteen models looks like fashion victims. A knack for interior design, cooking, and various domestic tasks. Plus that checkered peach apron.
There were these signs, but this was Kirito, who was so dashingly straight he could afford to announce that he was gay on national television. Kohta clutched his head as he figured.
So close and yet so far… it made him dwell on all the times he’d nearly attached himself to Kirito’s ass on and off stage. He never worried about getting caught, because he knew straight men weren’t incessantly wary of other men they considered straight as well. If Kirito was gay all along, would he have recognized it if someone was coming on to him? Even if it was his own brother? Granted the blood between them gave some leeway to the amount of closeness they could have, but…
/I’m over-analyzing this…/
Kohta stepped towards the door, intent on just dropping everything in his head at least for the remainder of the night, when a follow-up thought caught up to him.
/Of course I’m over-analyzing this! I’ve been drooling over Kirito since I hit puberty!/ He took one last glance at himself and sighednderndering why knowing that Kirito was gay mattered so much.
/Because… Kirito’s really gay! Oh gawd!/
No. /Shut up./ Kohta frowned at himself. No use getting excited over this. He was not going to fantasize and wish for stupid things - being Kirito’s brother was still above everything else and he’d still choose it over being Kirito’s lover. He was happy with their type of relationship; it was something no one else could ever claim with Kirito.
/Aa. Only sometimes, at times like this…/
“U-ru-sai.” Kohta turned for the door, upset that his own inner voice was being such a pansy. He didn’t want to think anymore – he didn’t have to face this tonight especially, with Kirito next to him. As he reached for the doorknob a steady knocking reached his ears.
“Kohta?”
Kohta, in all his years of Kirito stalking, did what he knew he never should: he panicked. Panicking meant being prone to blushing, stuttering, saying the wrongs things – it was not something a secret admirer must do if he wanted to keep is admiration a secret. “Ee?” he replied, taking quick breaths.
“You alright in there?”
/Don’t think, don’t worry./ Hoping not to stretch the tension Kohta opened the door, standing face to face with the object of his thoughts for the past few hours. Even in the darkness he saw the slight worry in Kirito’s face and he turned the bathroom lights off right away, conscious of what his own expression might show. “Daijoubou,” he whispered, scuffling to the bed.
“Yokatta.” Kirito lay beside him and Kohta turned to his side, hiding his face. He resolved to sleep on his side for the night.
For a few minutes they were quiet, Kohta trying not to fidget, Kirito’s breathing soft and leisurely. Kohta was sure his brother had dozed off when he heard him call his name, asking if he was asleep. He replied with a short huff.
“You can’t sleep either?” Kirito asked gently.
*Either*, Kohta repeated in his head. Kirito was awake all this time? Good thing he didn’t try to pull anything off while he thought the man was out cold. “Un.”
“Kohta,” a hand brushed over his shoulder but it was withdrawn quickly; hearing Kirito speak he somehow knew he was facing the opposite direction, and it was like they were talking to themselves, talking to the room alone. Kohta blinked; the walls were so dark that he couldely ely make them out, and they seemed to become farther and farther, the expanse of the area in front of him never-ending. Behind him Kirito’s voice seemed so distant as well. “I know.”
“Is that…” In truth, Kohta had very little idea what Kirito was talking about; something about the way he said it, and the way they were both acting, made him feel uneasy about it, but not acutely so. He wondered what to reply to that. How much do you know, aniki? “Sou desu ka.” What was Kirito saying?
I know that you’re really gay, perhaps, an echo of his previous admission. Kirito’s real voice reached him, sounding plain but not at all uncaring.
“I know about your feelings for me.”
Kohta inhaled sharply.
“Sou desu ka.” Kohta repeated, not trusting himself to say anything else, to think just yet. He felt the mattress move beneath them and then knew, from the mere change in the volume of Kirito’s voice that he had faced toward him, or at least, more likely, faced towards the ceiling.
“I won’t marry, Kohta. Zettai ni.”
Kohta clutched at the edges of the pillow tucked under his head, breathing labored. It was torture not letting himself just run outside and flee to his own apartment, or even just Aiji’s room, and lock himself up for a couple of days until their maxi-single needed to be promoted. Maxi-single, Kohta repeated, and clung to the word as a suddenly welcome thought. It was familiar, almost comforting.
Kirito’s voice was a ghost from behind him, soft and sibilant. “Now is the time for you to make a decision. Are you willing to marry?”
/Oh Inari, of course not./ Kohta closed his eyes, feeling so small in the darkness. He wanted to say no right out but worried about the reason should Kirito ask why. The only reason was Kirito, and although Kirito apparently knew about his feelings he wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it.
More stirring; the sheets moved over his shoulders slightly. “Kohta, even if you turn down this engagement, it won’t stop. There’ll be others.” He was, after all, carrying the last name. If Kirito won’t marry, Kohta was the one to continue the Murata family name.
“Kohta…”
Kohta closed his eyes. “Aniki. Doushite?”
Kirito was propped on one elbow, pale face glowing in the darkness down to his chest, the first buttons of his pajama top open. Kohta merely turned around and suddenly this vision was so near; he gulped, studying Kirito’s blank expression, finding nothing. “Doushite, Kirito?”
/Do you want me to do this for you? Marry some girl?/
“Kohta? Why what?”
“Boku no kimochi o wakarimashita ka? Do you *know* of my feelings, really?” Kohta fought not to close his eyes; Kirito’s presence was overwhelming him, in the gravity of what they were sharing. “Datte…”
/Datte… If you say it, I’ll do it. Any girl of your liking./
“Dakara?” Warm breath washed over his features and Kohta felt so young, so much younger beneath his brother’s gaze, Kirito nearly leaning over him with nowhere for him to back-up.

Kohta knew his cheeks were flaming; involuntarily he raised his hand, palm flat against Kirito’s chest, in a shielding gesture. “If you knew the real extent of my feelings, you know I’ll never want to marry.” Kohta felt his own hand trembling and he clutched at the lime fabric of Kirito’s top, holding back his anxiousness, afraid of how much Kirito’s answer could break him. Anything Kirito asked, he’d give. “Why must you ask? What if I don’t?”
/What will you have me do? Just say it already./
There was an abrupt intake of breath, Kirito roughly grabbing his wrist, and the space between them had vanished, his eyes shining in the darkness – it was as if something flamed up from inside them. “Then you’re mine,” he whispered fiercely, Kirito’s lips pressing against his. Kohta struggled at first, confused, that Kirito’s entire upper body had covered his so intimately, that he was pushed back against the pillows with such impact that his first thought was that his brother had hit him.
And then his eyes could no longer stay open and Kirito smelt so wonderful, and Kohta’s mind raced with the frightening tho. Ki. Kirito was kissing him, urgently, warm and wet and hushed and almost hungrily; it seemed the best feeling possible.
/I-is, is this real?/ Desperately he clung to Kirito’s shoulders, as if he was afraid that he would disappear. He felt Kirito’s tongue surge into the slight part between his teeth and he opened his mouth for more of him, barely able to kiss back anymore.
Kirito was panting slowly when he eased back but Kohta didn’t dare make a sound, close to holding his breath. It wasn’t really a very long kiss; in fact it felt as if Kirito had jerked away from him at the end. “Because there’s no turning back.” Kirito’s hold remained on his wrist, his other hand wedged behind the nape of his neck. The way something inexplicable flickered in his eyes made everything so surreal, the way they looked at him so intently that it made him light-headed and hesitant, but Kirito’s voice was husky and breathless and so alive against his lips. “Our parents will disown us, even if they never find out why.”
Kohta nodded dumbly, the word ‘disown’ flashing in his mind. It hurt just to think so, without complete comprehension, but it was the absolute truth - it was unreasonable for them not to marry, even offensive. Kirito leaned to his ear, asking him to choose. Family, or him – not with such words. Only he said, it was the time to make a decision.

Family; Kirito weredered the word lovingly as if he was part of a dream. But over Kohta’s slight, wiry built Kirito felt so solid, so real.
“Both.” Kohta answered, bridging the gap, chest heaving, Kirito’s eyes piercing through him. “Oniisan.” Brother. Lover. Family.
Kirito exhaled, and he simply fell on top of him, as if his body felt so much heavier. They stayed that way, unmoving, only at one time Kohta’s hand found it’s way to Kirito’s head and started feeling the strands between his fingers, touching them mindlessly. They stayed that way for minutes. Minutes turned to almost an hour’s respite, bodies melding like cards. Every once in a while Kirito nuzzled against his neck and for once he felt a little like he was older, Kirito asking for an unspoken assurance, clinging onto him. When they were still much younger sometimes Kirito would rouse in the middle of the night, frenedened by some horrible dream, and crawl into his futon next to him, and he would ask to be held like this all the nightlong. And he would agree.
Kohta blinked at the walls, blue and dim, emerging from the shadows. It wasn’t sunrise just yet but light was starting to filter in their room. He pulled at the sheets, the air chilly against his arms, over him and Kirito, who moved slightly to let him gather the covers over their bodies.
“I choose you,” Kohta whispered quietly. And then he fell asleep.

~ + ~

Brightness. Kohta stretched, smiling, the back of his forearm brushing over a blanket clad shoulder. Beside him Kirito was a mass of sheets, only a small tuft of black hair exposed. Right away Kohta draped himself over the sleeping figure and inhaled deeply. He loved Kirito’s scent, it was so masculine, like…

/Drum sets…/
Drum sets? Kohta blinked, pressing his face to what he supposed was Kirito’s ear. It smelt faintly ofm blm blossoms, and… drums. Of Takeo’s after-shave lotion, to be more exact, mingled with Aiji’s conditioner. The bundle in his arms stirred and a hand pulled down the covers blocking their gazes, dark eyes sleepily meeting his. And orange bangs.
“Ohayo,” Aiji turned to him and buried himself in his embrace. “Why’re you in Kiricho’s bed?” he said drowsily.
“Uh,” Kohta sweatdropped as Aiji plucked the same question right out of his mind, The man somehow managed to wrap sinewy arms around his torso and he felt deeply uncomfortable realizing that they were under one blanket. “Aiji? Oi, wake up!”
From the door there was faint chuckling, and Kohta looked up to find Kirito approaching the bed, already dressed in outdoor clothes – a red button down shirt and gray cargo pants, He sat by their feet and watched Aiji glomp his younger brother.
“Go ahead, ask him,” Kirito prodded. “About last night.”
“It’s not funny!” Aiji bolted right up, surprising Kohta, the sheets exposing him to the morning air. Kohta averted his eyes right away as Aiji wasn’t in anything more formal than his skin – it made him feel a thousand times worse about waking up next to him, but Kirito seemed to think nothing of it. He simply reached out to toss the edges of the blanket towards Aiji’s lap to allow him some decency, more for Kohta’s sake.
Aiji allowed himself to be covered then turned to Kohta, pouting. “Kohta, your brother’s being such an ass,” he pointed accusingly at Kirito. “How can you laugh at a time like this?”
Kirito ignored his protests. “Takeo kicked him out.”
“Eh?” Kohta watched as Aiji went to hysterics, about, of all things, Takeo’s ability to overact. As the story goes they had been watching videos until three a.m. and he had pretended to fall asleep in Takeo’s bedbviobviously Kohta had suggested the tactic to Aiji. Takeo apparently slept as well, but after a good thirty minutes of waiting this was clearly a wrong assumption on Aiji’s part as he pressed his lips to the drummer’s… and Takeo had him packing and out on the streets before he could even say, “I can exn…!”n…!”.
This of course was what Kirito and Kohta found so funny. Aiji seemed to be able to talk for hours about his feelings for Takeo to everyone except to Takeo himself. Being that Aiji flirted with everyone, Takeo never took any of his advances seriously. “I was so close,” Aiji whined, touching his lips.
And then he smiled stupidly. “But then… I got to kiss Takeo…” He fell back on the sheets and sighed happily, all his previous complaints lost for at least a moment of giddiness. Kohta glanced a Kirito, who eyed him meaningfully, and he knew his own cheeks had reddened slightly at that. Last night Kirito had…
“I should confess, today, at the studio…” Aiji grabbed at Kohta’s wrist for attention. “Ne?”
Kohta smirked. Contrast marked Aiji as an individual – audacious, shy, sweet, standoffish. The sweet and shy Aiji was more likely to appear before Takeo; a confession from the composer seemed a *very* unlikely highlight of the day. “You say that almost everyday, Aiji.”
“Yes, but,” Kirito stood up, walking away. He spoke so plainly, without inflection, tone gentle. “You never know the day that your life’s going to change.”
Aiji blinked and finally sat up, smiling wryly at Kirito in marvel. “Yeah. Good point. You think so, too?”
“Damn straight,” Kohta replied, a little too seriously, before Kirito had left the room. His own reply made him grin sheepishly and he directed it towards Aiji, who for some reason had started to blush lightly - Takeo scenarios were rolling in his head, no doubt. Kohta threw his legs over the side of the bed and stretched. Kirito, he noticed, decided to stay a little longer.
“Anou, Kirito, matte. We’ll all go to the studio together, right?”
“And you’ll help me confess?” Aiji pleaded, crawling off the bed - giving Kohta an eyeful, which made the bassist almost flush in the face. Kirito caught the scene and made a lurid comment about sleeping in the nude all the time and Aiji shuffled to his own room hurriedly. When he was gone, the door to his room closing audibly enough for the sound to travel through the halls and up to the brothers’ ears, it was quiet again, the apartment seemingly to themselves’.

“Ohayo.” Kirito said faintly, smiling at him. “Isho ni asagohan o tabemasen ka?”
Kohta nodded, padding barefoot towards where his brother stood. A shower, and the studio, can wait. Breakfast with Kirito sounded good. In fact, he’d like to do it everyday - the thought made him laugh and Kirito glanced at him in mild surprise.
“Kohta?”
“Betsuni.” Kohta walked ahead and tugged at his brother’s hand, leading him to the kitchen. Laughing for no reason at all, only happiness. “I like this day, that’s all.”
“Aa.” Kirito pulled him to a brief hug, kissing the back of his hand. It was still awkward for another real kiss, Kohta thought so as well, and that could wait. “I like it, too.” Kirito said softly.
Kohta smiled, feeling his eyes sting, the strands of Kirito’s hair blurring. Today was…
He wanted to say, how different their lives would be now, but Kirito knew that already. He thought instead how he wanted to say his feelings himself now, but it wasn’t something Kirito didn’t understand fully either. Because Kirito had known everything – he’d always known. Only now…
And now the only difference was…
Kohta smiled. Because now, “Aa. I *know*.”

Owarimashita ^^

++ E-mail Shu your comments/suggestions (even criticism) please!

cherrysoftness@hotmail.com

Thank you!
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