Banany's fic journal

Title: Over
Pairing: Koyashige
Prompt: #004 - Over
Words: 2,081
Rating: PG
A/N: Written for je_prompts.
Summary: Koyama doesn't think he's in love anymore.



Shige could remember when he and Koyama would get home to his apartment, and as soon as they were in the door, Koyama would wrap him in a tight hug and kiss him senseless and out of breath.

He could remember when they'd make love, and Shige would let Koyama see him at his most vulnerable, while Koyama would let Shige see how gentle and caring he really could be. How he'd coo in Shige's ear, whispering sweetly to him, while Shige gasped and clutched at his shoulders, nails biting into soft skin in the throes of passion. He remembers how afterwards they'd lie in each other's arms, sweaty and sticky, but somehow never gross, and they'd always drift off to sleep, worn out, satisfied, and blissfully in love.

He couldn't remember when it all began to change - not precisely, anyway - but maybe it was around the time the infatuation wore off. It could have been when Koyama's habit of talking non-stop and fussing over everything Shige did began to get annoying. Or maybe it was when Shige's pessimism and habit of complaining about even the littlest of things stopped being cute and started to grate on Koyama's nerves. It was hard to be sure.

What he did know was that whenever they made love now, Koyama would always get up right after they'd finished to go and take a shower. Then he'd come back to bed and lie with his back to Shige, not touching him and making the bed feel emptier than when he wasn't there.

"I just can't stand feeling all gross and sticky." He laughed it off whenever Shige brought it up. "And you know, it's summer, so when I'm lying against you it's too hot for either of us to fall asleep."
Shige could never bring himself to mention that it had never bothered him before.

Koyama wasn't so insistant on kissing him whenever they got home now either. In the old days, he'd have Shige in the arms the second the door was closed, kissing him until their lips were bruised, yet holding him tenderly, lovingly, like something precious and delicate he didn't want to break. Nowadays, Koyama would just walk inside and go about his personal business, hardly even stopping to give Shige a peck on the cheek. Koyama told him that he saved his kisses for when the mood was right; otherwise it wasn't special.

It seemed like the mood was never right any more.

Shige took it in stride for a while, because the truth was that he loved Koyama, even if the infatuation was gone. Because at the end of the day, infatuation was only the pretty trimmings to a relationship which always wore away with time. The love that was left behind, that was what really counted. But in love or not, he was still Shige, and Shige didn't take things like this lying down. And so one day while they were on the couch watching TV, after furiously debating with himself whether it was a good idea or not, he brought it up.

"Hey... Koyama," Shige began, but Koyama quickly picked up the TV remote, and turned up the volume of the music video playing on the screen.
"I love this song." He said, completely ignoring Shige, and Shige felt like crying. Koyama was doing this on purpose, he was sure.
Koyama knew him well enough to tell that this tone of voice meant that Shige thought they needed to 'have a little conversation'.
Shige knew Koyama well enough to be able to tell that he wanted to avoid the confrontation.
It kind of hurt. He wanted to discuss something, but for the first time ever, Koyama didn't want to talk. Shige thought they were the perfect picture of a love falling apart.

Faced with no choice other than backing down, he turned the TV off.
"Koyama," Shige repeated, and his voice was louder than it needed to be in the silent apartment. "I think there's something we need to discuss."
Koyama smiled at him, but he looked uncomfortable - slightly pained, even. "Okay Shige. But could we leave it until another day? I'm so tired right now, it's not really a good time. I might go and take a nap."

He got up from the couch, but Shige grabbed his arm and held on tight, because part of him felt that if Koyama walked away now, he was walking away forever.
"Kei." He pleaded, and his boyfriend's shoulders visibly slumped. "Come on. Just a quick talk and then you can go and have your nap, okay?"
Koyama never could refuse Shige when he asked him for a favour, since it was so rare for him to do so. He never really asked for anything. But then again, they didn't talk that much anymore.

"Okay." He gave in, and sat back down, as far away from Shige as the couch would allow. "What's up?"
Shige gave him a look that said he already ought to know. And it was true. Koyama knew exactly what it was that Shige wanted to talk about. It was just that he'd been hoping - and would keep hoping, up until the very last second - that he was wrong.

"Koyama..." Shige said, and then stopped, realizing he had no idea how to continue. It seemed as though all he'd been doing recently was coming to dead ends.
"Shige..." Koyama said, words mirroring his in a strange sort of way. But unlike him, Koyama had something to say next. "Can't we... do we have to discuss it? Can't we just let whatever happens run its natural course, or something?"

After having felt nothing all day but resignation, Shige was suddenly angry. Angry at Koyama's casual attitude towards what was happening, angry at him for neglect, and now angry because he wanted to let it all go on until there was nothing left between them anymore.

"No." He said, almost under his breath, though there was no way that Koyama hadn't heard it. Despite this, Shige said it again, louder, with more of his emotion behind it. "You know what, Koyama? No. No, we can't just let it run its natural course. Because you know what else? That's probably how we ended up in this goddamn situation in the first place."

Shige didn't get mad very often. He was the brooding type, the type to sulk and get grumpy, but not to erupt like this. Koyama was a little scared. He wasn't used to this type of Shige.
"I don't want to!" Koyama tried to shout back, but his voice was high and strangled, the way it always sounded before he burst into tears. How many times had Shige held him while Koyama wailed about whatever was troubling him in this exact same voice? It almost made Shige want to pull him close and hug him tight. But, he realized, this time he couldn't. Because this time, it was Shige's fault.

"God, Shige. I don't want to confront this or talk about it. I've been thinking about it, every moment of every day for the past couple of months! It's killing me. I just.. it's too real, if we talk about it now. Can't we just forget and keep pretending like nothing's wrong?" He continued, and his eyes seemed to tear up more with each word.

"If it's killing you, think about what it's doing to me." Shige replied, in a stone-cold voice, a harsh contrast with Koyama's emotion-choked tone. "We are going to talk about it, and we are going to reach a conclusion. And whether it ends with us solving the problem, or packing your bags and getting out of my apartment, I don't really care. I just want closure."
He didn't receive a reply to that.

"Look at yourself, Koyama." Shige continued, anger bringing everything he'd wanted to say to the surface. "Everyone talks about how your consideration for others is one of your good points, but look at what happens when being kind doesn't benefit you. You're just as selfish as everyone else."

Koyama sniffled, and hid his head in his hands. "I didn't think it would hurt so much." He said into them, as though they'd muffle his voice, and hide it away so that only he could hear it. "I thought that this kind of thing only hurt for the other person."
"That what would hurt so much?" Shige asked, and Koyama looked at him with weepy eyes through the cracks between his fingers.

"Falling..." He started to say, but then stopped, unable to force the rest of the words out. But Shige understood well enough. They'd known each other for a long time, and they understood each other if nothing else.
"Falling out of love." He said, finishing the sentence. Koyama swallowed, but then nodded.

"How long have you been feeling like this?" Shige asked. It didn't hurt like he'd thought it would. Maybe it was because he'd half known it was coming. Or maybe he was just numb. Koyama had lowered his hands from his face, but refused to - maybe couldn't - meet Shige's gaze.

"A while." Was all he said. He didn't elaborate.
Shige sighed, the deep, slow kind with a long pause between inhaling and exhaling. The anger was all gone, replaced by an overwhelming feeling of nothing.
"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, dull and resigned and frighteningly empty.
Koyama bit his lip, chewing at it until little gashes began to form. He didn't speak for a while, but Shige was used to silence between them by now.

"I guess..." He finally said, "I guess that maybe I was hoping they'd come back. My feelings for you."
"But they didn't." Shige said, seeking confirmation.
"Yeah." Koyama replied. "I tried. God, I tried so hard to love you again, but they didn't. They just disappeared more and more."

It was as though Koyama had used those words to reach out and smack him. It reminded Shige of the sensation of slapping your legs when they fall asleep. Of hitting numb skin, and feeling it, but not really. It was like he was already too dead for anything Koyama said to do any damage.

"So..." Shige said, desperately grasping at syllables and consonants, trying to find something to say. "So, I guess... we just break up, then."
Koyama was rocking slightly, side to side, and Shige knew from experience that he didn't even realize he was doing it.

"I don't know... I just don't know..." He kept saying. Shige felt like leaning over and backhanding him to snap him out of it. It was more from annoyance than anger, and Shige wondered if this was what had happened to Koyama's feelings for him - passionate emotions slowly disintegrating into less and less, until there were finally there was none left altogether.

"If you don't love me anymore, there's nothing else to do." He said, and although it sounded harsh, he meant it. Knew it was the truth.
"But it hurts." Koyama said, grinding the words out through his teeth and tears. "I don't know how to let you go. It's been so long. How do I let you go, Shige?"
Shige sighed again, and although he thought that he was feeling very little, there were tears pricking his eyes. "I don't know either."

They stayed like that on the couch for a little while longer, not saying anything; not having anything to say. The minutes clicked by on Shige's garish wall clock - the one that Koyama had picked out for him because he thought it was cute - until finally an hour had passed. Koyama got up and left the room the second the big hand clicked on to the twelve, and Shige wondered if maybe he'd been waiting for that exact moment to get up and go.

Shige didn't follow him, knowing there was no point, and instead stayed sitting where he was on the couch.
They still hadn't reached a decision, he realized, and the conclusion he'd been seeking for what seemed to be such a long time now still wasn't in his grasp.
But then, perhaps they didn't need to decide it out loud.
They both knew it was already over.