dedication: les. always les. even when she divorces me for no reason, jeez.
notes: possibly a two-shot? idk.
title: eulogy for a dying lady
summary: Slow down, baby. Keep your eyes on the road. — Sasuke/Kiba.
It was more like a club than anything else. Sasuke ground his teeth and kept his eyes to the floor, intent on anything but the fact that this was his oldest friend's bachelor party. The whole thing was pretty fucked up. The fact that Kiba was getting married was pretty fucked up. The fact that he was even allowing this was pretty fucked up.
It wasn't like they were in love, or anything.
That was cliché, and Sasuke was not a person for clichés.
(He should have learned his lesson the first time—for fucks sake, you don't fuck your friends. Especially your best friends. Because feelings get involved with best friends, whether you want them to, or not. It just got so messy, when there were friendships and feelings involved.)
The strobe light flared in time to the pounding beat, and Sasuke found himself in a room full of gyrating girls and sweat-slick skin, very nearly sick to his stomach. He still didn't know why he was here. He still didn't know what the fuck was supposed to be going on. He still didn't know anything. Fuck, he'd never known anything.
(Especially not this.)
He just knew that this was wrong and that there was nothing he could do about that.
"You look like shit," laughed a voice in his ear. Sasuke turned his head a fraction of an inch, just in time to see the play of purple-blue-white explode across Kiba's face. He looked distorted under the light, smeared and blurred in a way that Sasuke could not name. But his eyes flickered with the shine of alcohol, and Sasuke felt his fists clench involuntarily, uncontrollably. Fuck, he hated this. Fuck, he hated it all. He hated it so much he didn't even have the words to describe it. Kiba felt like home up against him, close and heady, murmured passion and bright lights. Sasuke would have grabbed him and drawn him into a dark corner to reassert his authority, but Kiba was getting married.
And Sasuke wasn't a cheater.
(It wasn't cheating because they were best friends—best friends—best friends—)
But still he stood there with Kiba's mouth pressed to his ear in drunken laughter. Sasuke had to wonder is anyone knew; if anyone suspected. Maybe Karin, but she was his sister and her loyalty had always been family first, everyone else after. Karin would back him, regardless, and Sasuke knew that.
There were things he wanted to say. So many things he wanted to say, but couldn't, because Kiba was getting married.
There would be no more shitty late-night coffee in his tiny, shitty kitchen on his tiny, shitty table. There would be no more taking off without word, no more conversation, no more friendship. No more shitty coffee.
Sasuke's hands close convulsively on Kiba's wrists, nails biting into flesh to leave marks. Mine, the marks said. Mine. Always mine.
Sasuke would have gouged his named into Kiba's skin if he could, because Kiba belonged to him. Him. Mine.
Kiba raised an eyebrow.
"That hurts. What's your problem?" he asked.
Sasuke made a growling sound low in his throat, nails biting in deeper. He's always been possessive, and Kiba was no different; when Sasuke claimed something, he claimed it for life.
Except that Kiba was getting married.
It wouldn't stand.
"Come with me," Sasuke ordered. He dragged Kiba through waves of bodies moving in time to the beat, fighting against every urge he'd ever had to shove the other man into his car and make a break for it. But this wasn't the time to run; this was the time to forget that other people exist, because this was the last night—the lastnight ever—where they were both unattached.
It was dark along the wall, but the floor shivered with the pounding of a million decibels of bass and another million feet dancing, to go with it. As Sasuke shoved him against the grimy wall, tongue in his mouth, he could feel Kiba's fingers curling into his shirt. They grappled with each other and Sasuke bit down hard on Kiba's lip. He didn't have to be told that it would leave a bruise. He knew that and the pride swelled for a minute, hot and furious, because they'd always been violent with each other. Gentle had never been in their natures, and even now, it still wasn't.
Kiba pulled back, breathing hard. "Are you fucking shitting me?" he gasped, voice hoarse. "Now?"
Sasuke didn't say anything. Instead, his slanted his mouth along Kiba's and slid his hand across the suddenly evident bulge in Kiba's pants.
"Now," he muttered, as if to affirm something.
Kiba inhaled sharply and his head jerked back, clacking painfully against the wall. "Mother of fuck," he snarled from between his teeth, and Sasuke only smirked and pressed his face in to the crook of his neck. He bit down on the pulse-point hammering there and Sasuke knew, he knewthat there was no one else in the world that could make Kiba's pulse race like that.
Mine, mine, mine, sang his most possessive parts and Sasuke crushed Kiba, hips grinding down because you are mine, do you understand?
"S'no wonder my girlfriend hates you," Kiba muttered.
Sasuke snarled, and buried one hand in Kiba's hair and in the other in his pants.
Girlfriend or no—fiancée or no—some secrets weren't meant to be told.
And then darkness—
—a cab outside, sliding in and shaking, shaking, shaking with Kiba's mouth sealed to his own and the lights, the lights across his face—
—shirt half-off with the driver screeching in the background, grinning through a haze of lust—
—flash of pain and the sweet tinkle of breaking glass, the ding of the elevator—
—key card swiped with trembling fingers, unable to breathe—
—hitting the floor, screaming skin-against-skin like this was just entertainment but the want, the want and Sasuke reached—
—and then darkness.
/ / /
Sheets across the floor, over-turned table, a broken chair, and closed blinds. The feather-light circles Kiba drew on Sasuke's back mimicked the finger-bruises in the pre-dawn light. Neither moved. Neither felt the need to.
"Can't believe it's today," Kiba said.
The word married hung between, unspoken. Kiba's lips formed the word, but Sasuke didn't want to hear him say it.
He didn't want to know. He didn't want to know because this was the last, last time—the last time to be able to physically hate him, to physically prove his ownership, to physically draw his own name across Kiba's body. It would be the last time Sasuke would be able to throw his best friend across a room and very nearly break his ribs but to clutch at the heat and the want—this would be the last.
Kiba tasted like tear-stains and could-have-beens, but Sasuke had always loved a good train-wreck.
Sasuke pushed off the bed, and went to find his clothes. A tuxedo for a wedding; dressed in black like mourning, he thought, and though he grinned to himself, it wasn't a happy thing. In the dark reflection of the window, it looked like a skull pulling a grimace. And evil thing that Sasuke knew not how to retract.
"Your shit's over here," Sasuke muttered. He indicated the carefully hung tuxedos, perfect and unwrinkled. They were the only things in the closet, and Sasuke pulled his out without great care.
It was not the first tuxedo he would wear, and it would certainly not be the last.
But god, did he hate it all.
He looked over at Kiba, sitting up now with bed head and caught half in a yawn and naked. Sasuke wondered if he smashed Kiba's face against the wall and broke his nose, would his fiancée still want him? Would she still love him?
Sasuke chuckled at the thought of it.
Kiba didn't really love anybody, he thought. Not really, anyway, because love for Kiba was the same as love for Sasuke. It was dangerous, the uncertain element; love meant giving everything and Sasuke knew that giving everything meant being vulnerable.
Neither of them was ever vulnerable. Not if they could help it.
"M'gonna take a shower," Kiba yawned.
Sasuke nodded at nothing in particular, and waited until the idiot was gone to bash his head against a wall. Or maybe just destroy everything, because the urge to grab Kiba and run had yet to settle.
Sasuke knew it likely wouldn't do to kidnap the groom on his wedding day.
He walked to the window, pressed his forehead against the glass, and closed his eyes.
He wished for rain.
/ / /
Just to be contrary, they stepped out of the hotel lobby into early-morning sunlight and perfect blue sky, fresh and sweet. Sasuke swung his keys around his finger. It was an old habit, left over from high school days when deadlines weren't really deadlines and nobody ever really got hurt.
(That was a lie, of course. Sasuke was just luckier than most. Or maybe unluckier, depending on how you looked at it.)
He slid into the driver's seat. The leather was faded and soft, worn-in, and Kiba flopped down in the passenger seat, rubbing furiously at his hair. Sasuke looked him over once, and said nothing.
There would never be anything to say again.
The doors clicked locked and Sasuke gunned the engine. On the way to the wedding hall dressed in black, the two men looked away from each other, unable to speak.
"You love her," Sasuke said, but it came out sounding like a question.
Kiba snorted. "No."
Sasuke stared at him out of the corner of his eye, his gaze quietly concentrated. He knew things about Kiba that no one else did, but sitting there in the car, his oldest friend looked like a different person, coloured sunshine-yellow happiness and carrying it like a burder.
There was no happiness in his face, and Sasuke hated that.
Sasuke thought about crashing them both into a ditch and watching everything go up in smoke. The college kid in side him wanted it—wanted to mar the happiness of the day because Kiba was getting married and he didn't love her.
"No looking back," Sasuke said and pressed the gas.
"Slow down, baby," Kiba murmured in reply. "Keep your eyes on the road."
Sasuke absolutely hated him.
They drove in silence after that.
Sasuke's knuckles were white on the steering wheel as the road passed beneath them. The speakers were muted but singing, the whisper of an old loved song thrilling along his bones like this is forever or until one of us dies, but there was nothing, nothing.
The exit to the church was coming.
He could miss it. He could. Maybe just drive forever, until they hit the coast, then head north or south or something. Somewhere. Anywhere. It was a split-second decision a decade in the making.
"Hey man, next turn-off."
"Hn," Sasuke said, flicking his signal.
It was a split-second decision a decade in the making ignored.
They walked up to the church and stood just behind the doors.
"Alright?" Sasuke asked.
Maybe he would always be asking. Are you making the right decision? Are you sure you know what you're doing? Are you sure? Maybe he would always wonder. Sasuke clenched his jaw.
"Fuck off, man, you sound like you're worried or something," Kiba said. He tucked his hands in his pockets, looking unruffled and unconcerned. It was such a Kiba thing that Sasuke wanted to break him, rip, tear, destroy, control, own.
But he wouldn't.
Kiba pushed through the doors and headed up the aisle.
Half way there, he glanced over his shoulder and shot Sasuke a sad grin, the kind that said goodbye without even really meaning to.
Sasuke's shoulder tensed, and the urge to grab his friend and run reared up again.
But he did nothing, and waited for the wedding march to begin.
notes2: this may actually be the most depressing thing i've ever written in my life. i know, i say that all the time, but… seriously. shit, son.
notes3: please do not Favourite without leaving a review!