Cat: There really isn't enough fanfic for this pairing, and I don't see why. Takuto and Izumi are so beautiful together. -weeps- Anyway, quick thirty minute ficlet, yay.
I looked for you in the infinite
And in the marks left by your lips
With the moon reflected in your look
I've lost you in a labyrinth
And you slip through my fingers
And life breaks in thousands pieces
- I Cry For You, Enrique Iglesias
Takuto has never seen Izumi as the person he would spend his hours with, continuous hours and days that extend infinitely, and he cannot see the end and he knows that he will never be able to. He has never thought of the man as anything short of a friend, someone to confide in, someone that could not possibly be anything more than what he already is to Takuto, and Takuto does not have a reason for these things.
Izumi has watched Takuto with restless eyes and restless hands that rap against his thighs and clutch at strands of his golden hair, and he holds his head in his hands as though it will make it better, as though keeping his mind aligned and focused will be the solution to it all. He has watched Takuto for far too many hours, and he has watched him as no friend should; his eyes are piercing, liquid gold, and they burn into Takuto and make him something Izumi considers tangible.
His wishes to touch the man but never dares to act it out.
They talk sometimes of trifles, small things of small importance and small relevance to any other thing, but they talk nonetheless and Izumi enjoys this, and Takuto wants to walk away so that he will not have to cope with the venomous feelings that stir within him when he sets his eyes on Izumi. He is intoxicated by the other, a type of inebriation that will never disappear with time, and he has hardly drank at all. He thinks that there have not been enough chances, and not nearly enough chances for far too much time.
The death of Mitsuki brings about an aura of melancholy, and Izumi and Takuto and Meroko drown together in this bath of sorrow until the years have patched this bleeding wound. Her death is inevitable, and the three knows this, and the three grieve silently and aloud for hours that they do not care to count, and it is only in the shadow of her death that Takuto sees a glint of something more than just this girl.
He thinks, solemnly, that he sees Izumi there, too.
Izumi's progressions are something that Takuto cannot act against, and friends clearly do not do these things. Friends do not kiss with such fervor, trail their lips against hot skin that melts upon impact, drag fingers heavily across one another in a haze of intensity that is not contained, and Takuto does not want to contain it and Takuto does not refuse. Friends do not do this, he thinks distantly, and his back arches and his hips raise to meet Izumi's movements, and Izumi is the only thing that is there anymore.
Izumi wonders if he is really just a friend, and if he is then he thinks that maybe it is not so bad, and he smiles when he kisses Takuto and holds the man's face in his hands like something precious. Takuto is priceless and this moment is priceless, and Izumi does not care to place a price on these things anyway, for such a thing cannot be sold and even given the chance he would not do so. His mind fades back to Mitsuki, and for a moment he wonders if she could see it, too, and if she could see this all along.
He wonders if she could see him running his fingers along Takuto's spine and telling him things that he is not sure are true.
They cannot be friends, Takuto realizes, and his eyes are closed and his fists are closed, and his fingers are gripping the collar of Izumi's shirt like a lifeline. He does not dare let go. Parted are his lips, and his breath is heavy, heavy like the weight of friendship that was never there, heavy like the denial that he has enveloped himself in all this time. He wants to say that he is sorry, wants to apologize for all this wasted time that could have been spent with this other man that he has never really known before now.
Izumi whispers a soft word in his ear, and with a shudder that he cannot suppress, Takuto thinks that this is truly what it means to fly.