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Your Sins Into Me	By : Tcharlatan Category: > Kyo/Kaoru Views: 1394 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction. I do not personally know any of the members of Dir en grey or Penicillin, and do not profit from this work.

Chapter List
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"GASP for breath.”
Lights flashed – a flickering rainbow.
“GASP for breath.”
Bodies writhed – a twisting mass of limbs.
“GASP for breath.”
Music throbbed – a heavy beat that shook the air itself.
A slight figure stood alone on the stage, holding a microphone like a lifeline between two long-fingered hands. His leather-clad hips twisted and rocked as he sang, his shirtless torso lean and toned, his movements perfectly in sync with the music that spun about him; the envy and addiction of so many on the dance floor. The passion of his dancing mixed with the power of his voice to solidify the sheer intensity of his performance.
The singer’s face twisted into a painful grimace, one tattooed hand coming up to clutch at his own bare chest. “Love me, please! Love this blood and its meaning!”
The music spun higher and higher, faster and more powerful as the man threw his head back to scream ever louder.
“GASP for breath, GASP for breath, GASP for breath. Love me, please! Love this day and its worth!”
The music climbed away into a stirring climax, the vocalist on the stage tucking his wrists behind his shock of blonde hair to pour himself fully into dancing while the song finished itself. Dark gold eyes lined heavily with black rolled over the crowd, a soft tongue sliding out lewdly to tease and incite the crowd that screamed, cheered, danced, and lusted just for him. When the music ground to a halt and the lights died out, the singer stood panting for a long moment, basking in the raucous noise of so many strangers bidding him a wild, loving farewell. With a tired bow and a lazily blown kiss, he slid the cheap microphone back into its stand and slumped off the stage, disappearing down a nearby hall. Behind him, he could hear the DJ address the crowd enthusiastically.
He pulled on his shirt, grabbed his jacket off the hook, and pushed through the back door of the club, letting it close behind himself to cut off the throbbing bass beat of the generic dance music that had started up. His throat was raw, his voice was fading, his muscles were leaden with fatigue, and he couldn’t be happier. His set was over for the night. He sang at the club two nights a week and though it was exhausting, paid very little, and was a long way away from his home, he cherished every moment he spent on that stage. Recently, he’d gotten permission from the club owner to stretch his performances from one hour per night to two and though it was a strain on his body, he was overjoyed with the change. If he could handle singing so hard for so long every night, he’d quit his other job in a heartbeat.
In the secluded alley behind the club, a crisp spring breeze washed over him, chilling his over-heated flesh and making him shiver with pleasure. With a relieved sigh, he lit up a cigarette, slumping back against the cool brick wall and letting his eyes drift shut. Even the simple act of holding the smoking paper stick up to his lips was a shaky, adrenalin-wrought effort with his blood pounding so rapidly. The high induced by his performance would eventually begin to fade, ever so slowly, but he’d been feeling the vestiges of it for hours yet.
“Kyo!”
The blonde opened one eye to look back at the door. A tall, spindly man was hanging out of it with one hand gripping the doorframe, red and black hair hanging around his grinning face. An apron hung around the man’s narrow waist, bulging with notepads, tips, and too many pens. His free hand was holding a covered ceramic mug that let out the tiniest wisp of steam.
Kyo frowned slightly. “Die? What are you doing out here? Who’s tending bar?”
“Shin’s got it covered for now. I brought you something for your throat,” the redhead answered congenially.
Kyo smiled tiredly and took the mug. It was a comical thing – bright red with a bug-eyed, grinning demon face on the front – that Die had bought in a novelty shop years ago, and kept behind the bar just for him. “Thanks. Was it that obvious?”
“Nah, I don’t think anyone noticed. I just worry about you straining yourself with these long sets, you know. Are you sure you shouldn’t go back to only an hour?” The concern on the older man’s face was blatant.
They’d only known each other for a couple of years, since just after Kyo had moved to Tokyo, but Die was truly fond of his smaller friend. He had helped the blonde get the singing job in the club he bartended for, and he hated to think that having done so might be causing the younger man pain.
Kyo took the lid off the mug and sipped carefully, humming his pleasure as the thick, slightly-too-hot mixture of honey and ginger tea slid down his aching throat. Shinya must have made it; it was perfect. Die always used too much honey. “I’ll be fine. I need the money.”
“Aa… The tea shop cut your hours again?” The redhead’s face remained worried for only a moment before a wide grin split it once more. “Hey! There’s a guy here you totally need to meet! I started talking to him a couple weeks ago, and he’s a huge fan – he’s seen almost all of your shows!”
Kyo groaned, “Not again, Die! I don’t want to meet any more random bar people.”
One long arm waved emphatically. “This one’s different! I think you’ll like him, he’s-”
A jaunty tune started up from Kyo’s jacket pocket, cutting Die off. The blonde’s face twitched just a little, curious as he pulled out his phone, staring at the caller ID for a long moment before answering it. “Hello?”
“Hey. Where are you?”
“Just finishing up at the bar. The boss gave me the stage for longer sets now, remember?”
“Are you going to be home soon?”
“Y… Yeah, I’m leaving now.”
“Alright. See you soon.”
The line clicked softly as the man on the other side hung up, and Kyo sighed as he shrugged into his jacket. “Sorry, I have to head home.”
“Hakuei?” Die guessed despondently, his grin fading.
His shorter friend had become such a shut-in ever since he hooked up with the man several months back. He tried to be patient and understanding; most people were a little distant with their friends when they first got into new relationships, after all. And though he had only met Hakuei once, he’d gotten a strong impression that he and Kyo were really into one another, even getting an apartment together only a couple months after they met. But Kyo never hung out after work anymore, and even on his days off he would always go running home whenever Hakuei called, if he came out at all.
“Yeah.” The blonde pulled a face and downed the rest of his beverage, hissing softly against the sting as the heat pooled in his belly. He pushed past the taller man to gather the rest of his things from his little ready-room and hurry towards the front exit, calling back over one shoulder, “I’ll see you tomorrow! Tell Shinya I said goodnight!”
Dressed in all-black with a fedora tipped low to hide his face, Kyo managed to slip through the busy club undisturbed. No one recognized the short, quiet blonde with his head held low as the feral, brazen creature that had so recently bent the room to his will. When he stepped out into the open street, he was met with a strong wind that hadn’t been present in the alley, and he clutched his jacket closer as he hurried toward the subway station. It was a blessedly short wait for the train that would take him home, and he slumped into a vacant seat in the corner with a grateful sigh.
Ignoring the other passengers’ surreptitious glances at his somewhat wild appearance, he focused instead on digging out a packet of damp cloths from his messenger bag. He used the time on the train to carefully clean every last trace of make-up from his face, using the window as a mirror. With so much foundation, concealer, and eye-shadow stripped away, the glass callously reflected the heavy bruising around his left eye back to him. The harsh lights did him no kindness and he turned his back on his reflection resolutely, staring at the floor until the doors chimed and slid open at his stop. He shivered and hunched deeper into his coat, jogging from the last station on the subway line to the rundown apartment complex he lived in, cold hands fumbling with his keys in the lock.
"I’m home!"
When he stepped inside, the television was on, some sports program filling the room with cheering and an over-excited announcer’s voice. The soft yellow light of a battered old lamp illuminated an empty couch and a few dirty dishes on the coffee table. He slipped off his shoes quietly, setting his keys in the chipped ceramic bowl on the shelf by the door. His footsteps were soft and careful as he moved through the apartment to peer into the kitchen. Seeing no one, he started to step back into the hall, but found himself backing into a very solid, half-naked body.
His breath hitched in his throat. “Hakuei…”

The song described above (Merciless Cult) is intellectual property of Dir en grey, and I do not own any rights to it.
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Your Sins Into Me