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demeter918Title: "The Silent Night"
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
demeter918
Pairing: Akito/Shigure
Fandom: Fruits Basket
Theme: 8. our own world
Disclaimer: All rights and privileges of Fruits Basket characters, objects and plots are property and trademarks of Takaya Natsuki and associated parties. The author claims no legal responsibility for problems associated with using this work. The original story, relationships, and characters found within the fic are property of the author Demeter.
~*~
His legs kicked out in a cheerful jig and he didn't mind in the least as Akito's head drooped against her hands. He could tell she was only barely on the edge of consciousness. Something was streaking dark bags under her eyes and dirty smudges crept, snake-like, up from the collar of her cream yukata.
"Again."
Without a word, he picked up the pace, robes dancing around him in time to music only the two of them could hear. Her gray eyes glimmered dully, the shadows in her cheekbones were pronounced, and Akito's wrist shone translucent in the dim moonlight.
"It's getting late, isn't it." It wasn't a question, but a whisper, a thin, sharp whisper.
"It is." His voice panted slightly.
"I'm so tired. Why am I so tired?"
Once, she might have sounded frightened. Once, she might have screamed in fury. Once, she might have made him hold her. But the one time had passed, and the only thing she preoccupied herself with was breathing.
"You haven't been sleeping well." He wanted to be gentle, and tried very hard not to let the fear and madness creep into his own voice. "It's the changing seasons, you know."
"Seasons? What seasons?" Her words slurred, and he shouldn't have understood. But of course he did; he was hers, wasn't he?
But Shigure didn't answer. He didn't tell her that this was her last New Years, that no one but him had come, that she had made the decision herself, that she was to oversee the change, a single person in the haunted hallways of the inner chambers. The old words of Sohma – tradition, tradition, tradition – echoed up and down, notes shedding quietly from nowhere but her mind. Shigure wanted to know whether the notes were like chants or whether they were like drums. "Only the weather, Akito. Only the weather."
Her head fell against the pillow, and fear squeezed his gut and the breath whooshed out his lungs. His breath hitched and he looked too closely. A moment later, he released the building scream and clamped back the urge to transform and howl at the moon like some unreserved animal. Shigure reminded himself that he was a special animal and special animals were allowed certain privileges a dog might not. The vice-versa also applied.
Feet slowing down, he crossed the floor. The wood was silvery in the moonlight, and Shigure fancied he could see the boards beneath her translucent skin.
It was the moment he'd been waiting for. He'd finally driven everyone away from her and he's the only one left at her side. It's kind of comforting to look around and smile because there's no one around to smile at.
Shigure smiled some more.
"Did you like my dance, Akito?"
She didn't answer, but he thought he could see her nod faintly.
"Good. I wouldn't have wanted you bored." He smoothed out an errant fold in her robes and leaned down to press a soft kiss against hollow of her throat before loosening the belt of his fancy costume. It slid off silent, soft, unnoticeable and Shigure stood dressed in nothing but a slim pair of boxers. The room was freezing in the cold winter, but Shigure was warm and a little sweaty from all his dancing and Akito was never actually cold; her skin burned more often than not and it had eaten away at her life.
Gently turning Akito onto her back, he unwrapped the tight bands around her waist – like a present at Christmas, a naughty and completely inappropriate thought – and the thick cloth fell open, revealing skin as pale as the moonlight it was bathed in. One arm reached and gently encircled her bony hips. He pulled her close and settled his ear against her chest, his nose and lips cuddling against the side of her breast.
Though Akito didn't look it, she really was very soft to hold and no one ever seemed to realize how much love she could have given them if the curse hadn't happened, if Ren hadn't happened, if Akira hadn't happened and he felt his hands run tremble-like over the small of her back, over the soft curve of her rear, over the cool skin he could feel pressed against his body...
Silence rang in droves of dead bees and he watched the moon drift slowly across the glistening pond water as sugar-spun dreams danced happily for everyone.
~*~ fin ~*~
xposted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
30_kisses, demeter918, and altar_of_akito
Author:
demeter918Pairing: Akito/Shigure
Fandom: Fruits Basket
Theme: 8. our own world
Disclaimer: All rights and privileges of Fruits Basket characters, objects and plots are property and trademarks of Takaya Natsuki and associated parties. The author claims no legal responsibility for problems associated with using this work. The original story, relationships, and characters found within the fic are property of the author Demeter.
~*~
His legs kicked out in a cheerful jig and he didn't mind in the least as Akito's head drooped against her hands. He could tell she was only barely on the edge of consciousness. Something was streaking dark bags under her eyes and dirty smudges crept, snake-like, up from the collar of her cream yukata.
"Again."
Without a word, he picked up the pace, robes dancing around him in time to music only the two of them could hear. Her gray eyes glimmered dully, the shadows in her cheekbones were pronounced, and Akito's wrist shone translucent in the dim moonlight.
"It's getting late, isn't it." It wasn't a question, but a whisper, a thin, sharp whisper.
"It is." His voice panted slightly.
"I'm so tired. Why am I so tired?"
Once, she might have sounded frightened. Once, she might have screamed in fury. Once, she might have made him hold her. But the one time had passed, and the only thing she preoccupied herself with was breathing.
"You haven't been sleeping well." He wanted to be gentle, and tried very hard not to let the fear and madness creep into his own voice. "It's the changing seasons, you know."
"Seasons? What seasons?" Her words slurred, and he shouldn't have understood. But of course he did; he was hers, wasn't he?
But Shigure didn't answer. He didn't tell her that this was her last New Years, that no one but him had come, that she had made the decision herself, that she was to oversee the change, a single person in the haunted hallways of the inner chambers. The old words of Sohma – tradition, tradition, tradition – echoed up and down, notes shedding quietly from nowhere but her mind. Shigure wanted to know whether the notes were like chants or whether they were like drums. "Only the weather, Akito. Only the weather."
Her head fell against the pillow, and fear squeezed his gut and the breath whooshed out his lungs. His breath hitched and he looked too closely. A moment later, he released the building scream and clamped back the urge to transform and howl at the moon like some unreserved animal. Shigure reminded himself that he was a special animal and special animals were allowed certain privileges a dog might not. The vice-versa also applied.
Feet slowing down, he crossed the floor. The wood was silvery in the moonlight, and Shigure fancied he could see the boards beneath her translucent skin.
It was the moment he'd been waiting for. He'd finally driven everyone away from her and he's the only one left at her side. It's kind of comforting to look around and smile because there's no one around to smile at.
Shigure smiled some more.
"Did you like my dance, Akito?"
She didn't answer, but he thought he could see her nod faintly.
"Good. I wouldn't have wanted you bored." He smoothed out an errant fold in her robes and leaned down to press a soft kiss against hollow of her throat before loosening the belt of his fancy costume. It slid off silent, soft, unnoticeable and Shigure stood dressed in nothing but a slim pair of boxers. The room was freezing in the cold winter, but Shigure was warm and a little sweaty from all his dancing and Akito was never actually cold; her skin burned more often than not and it had eaten away at her life.
Gently turning Akito onto her back, he unwrapped the tight bands around her waist – like a present at Christmas, a naughty and completely inappropriate thought – and the thick cloth fell open, revealing skin as pale as the moonlight it was bathed in. One arm reached and gently encircled her bony hips. He pulled her close and settled his ear against her chest, his nose and lips cuddling against the side of her breast.
Though Akito didn't look it, she really was very soft to hold and no one ever seemed to realize how much love she could have given them if the curse hadn't happened, if Ren hadn't happened, if Akira hadn't happened and he felt his hands run tremble-like over the small of her back, over the soft curve of her rear, over the cool skin he could feel pressed against his body...
Silence rang in droves of dead bees and he watched the moon drift slowly across the glistening pond water as sugar-spun dreams danced happily for everyone.
~*~ fin ~*~
xposted to
30_kisses, demeter918, and altar_of_akito
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-04-18 09:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-04-21 02:22 pm (UTC)Damn it all. I want to write something fluffy! When it's always angst, it really limits the amount of space Shigure/Akito can occupy... though I guess for them, it really is all about the angst. =P
no subject
Date: 2005-04-21 07:47 pm (UTC)