YnM Fanfiction

Sakura

Written by Calis

Disclaimer: YnM belongs to Yoko Matsushita-sensei

Chapter Eight: Sanctuary

Thus began their strange friendship.

Oriya was aware that the more he knew about Muraki, he also discovered that there were much more secrets that his sempai hid. There was really no necessity to address Muraki as his sempai but Oriya felt that it was fitting and after a while, it had became natural. Muraki had laughed and ask him whether he had mean it as a term of endearment and Oriya had denied it strongly but perhaps the older and more perspective boy was not wrong after all.

They meet regularly at Oriya’s home, sharing more of Tamura’s delicious cooking together and then conversations afterwards. Tamura would deliver the food to them and then leave. Oriya had wondered why they could not go to Muraki’s house and spare Tamura the trouble of having to sent food over and he had asked the servant one day while they were alone in the kitchen. Tamura had smiled kindly and told him that his Young Master was happy there with his friend. Oriya could not believe that he could be so dense after all from what little he had gleamed from the raw occasions that Muraki spoke about his father or mother, Oriya had draw the obvious conclusion that the Muraki family was not a close one. Very so often, his sempai would lapse into cold moody silence through out the night, standing alone a forlorn figure at the balcony not responding to Oriya's attempts to get him to talk.

In a way the younger boy supposed his house and his company was a kind of sanctuary for Muraki, a place where he could find refuge from what ever troubled him. Oriya knew better than to probe but every time Muraki shut him out, he felt strangely hurt. He desperately wanted to offer solace but unsure of the strength of their friendship, he held those impulses back. One night however changed everything.

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" Eh? Muraki sempai? "

Oriya opened the door to the thoroughly drenched figure in the doorway. A storm had been about to break when he had gotten ready for bed and now through the open door, he witnessed it at the magnificence of its full fury. The slashing rain fell in sheets hammering against the building and even though his corner apartment was a short distance away from the main corridor, Oriya could feel the wetness of rain carried to him by the howling winds that seemed to wail like lost souls. They blew through the open door; the wintry chill clearing his sleep befuddled brains. Thunder blared and a white flash of lightning illuminated a face so devoid of emotion that Oriya thought for a moment that it was a statue in front of him and not a living being of fresh and blood. Another blast of thunder snapped him out of his reverie.

" You are soaked to the skin! Come in quickly! " Oriya pulled Muraki into the apartment and shut out the natural violence of the storm.

The rain plastered the beautiful silver hair against Muraki's face, hiding his eyes in shadows as he folded his tall body to seat on his knees by the table in the living room. Oriya immediately knew that something was wrong, Muraki would not have come to him in the middle of a storm without even a coat for protection. Thinking to get him out of his wet clothes before he caught a cold, Oriya ran to his room to fetch a towel and robe. Tossing them at Muraki, he hurried off to the kitchen to brew a pot of hot tea. He came back to find the towel and robe at the original spot where they landed while Muraki sat still and motionless. Putting the earthenware teapot and cups on the table, Oriya picked up the thick white towel and started on Muraki's dripping hair.

" You need to get out of these wet clothes or you'll get a fever. " He scolded but Muraki appeared deaf to his reprimand.

Oriya was about to reach for a button on the wet shirt when a cold hand closed over his wrist stopping him. He paused and looked up questioningly and was devastated by the bleakness he saw in those silver eyes. It was an expression that Oriya had never seen before and it wounded him but Muraki needed him now and he could not falter. Oriya pulled Muraki towards him, holding him tightly heedless of wetness that soaked through his own robe. Muraki's body was like ice, the cold was not a product of the elements but it emanated deep from within as Muraki withdrew into a place that Oriya could not reach or follow.

" No, sempai! Don't! Talk to me! " Oriya shouted as he shook the unresponsive Muraki.

Stubbornly refusing to leave Muraki in the catatonic state that he was in, Oriya resorted to something drastic. Seizing Muraki's face between his hands, Oriya took a deep breath before he leaned down and kissed the motionless youth on the mouth. As his lips pressed and grounded against the chilled ones willing them to response, he poured everything he had into that single kiss. Oriya had once thought that all he wanted from the older youth was friendship but as the days went by, he was not sure anymore. Whatever he had felt for Muraki had perceptibly changed into something more... much more than simple liking. His mouth gentled gradually as passion replaced desperation, letting go of the emotions he had kept restrained inside. Oriya's lips brushed against the corner of Muraki's eyes before he returned to claim his sempai's mouth as he tried to tell Muraki something he could not put in words. Perhaps he was well and truly damned after all.

" Please come back... I need you... " Oriya whispered.

Oriya closed his eyes as he rested his forehead against Muraki's. It had not been enough, even his ardent plead had not moved the still figure in his arms. His passion died replaced by a bitter rush of disappointment. Oriya had failed when Muraki needed him most. Muraki had needed him so badly that he braved through a storm to come to him yet Oriya could not even help him a single bit. Shaken by his inefficacy, Oriya did not even feel the single tear that fell to splash upon a pale white cheek. A second tear followed.

" Men don't cry, Oriya... " The voice was faint.

" And I'm not worth it..."

" Sempai! "

Oriya's eyes flared open as he heard the familiar sound. Muraki looked up at him with haunted eyes where forlorn shadows still lingered in their depths and within the silver pools, Oriya saw the raw hurt before it was swiftly concealed. Suddenly, he realized that he was still clinging intimately to the lean damp body. Feeling conscious, Oriya pulled back abruptly though reluctantly. In an attempt to distract himself, he picked up for the discarded towel, draping it over Muraki's shoulders even as he reached for the now cool teapot.

" Get yourself dry quickly, sempai. Here's a spare robe and I'll go make some hot tea to warm- "

One arm curled possessively about Oriya's waist, drawing him down to the floor, his words cut off as Muraki captured his mouth with his own. Mahogany eyes luminous with the sheen of tears widened in surprise as Muraki covered him. The kiss was soft but tempered with a desperate edge. Responding to the silent need, Oriya's tense body became pliant as he yielded, his fingers entwined with the fine silken silver strands. He returned the kiss with the quiet fire of his banked passion.

" Oriya... "

" Don't say anything... "

Oriya brushed a thumb lightly against Muraki's lips, forestalling what he was about to say. He did not have to ask because some how Oriya already knew what Muraki needed and what he could give. Sitting up with Muraki leaning against him, his fingers worked the buttons of the older boy's shirt loose and eased the damp garment off. Muraki did not stop Oriya this time, acquiescently he let the younger boy finish undressing him. He could not help but cast appreciative eyes on naked male form; nevertheless Oriya berated himself when Muraki shivered. The older boy's skin was chilled and clammy and there he was having lustful thoughts.

Shaking out the folded yokoi, Oriya enveloped Muraki within the folds of the soft robe, giving him another hug as he tied the slash securing the lapels together. Draping one arm over his shoulder, Oriya helped the unsteady youth to his feet towards the direction of his bedroom. He eased Muraki gently down onto the thick mattress and tucked him in.. Fatigue clouded the silver eyes but they sent one last silent entreaty. Oriya smiled tender in assurance as he joined Muraki, carefully wrapping them in a cocoon of blankets. He cradled his sempai protectively, resting the silver head against his chest. Lulled by the comforting rhythm of Oriya's beating heart, Muraki slept.