Kagome (_newworld) wrote,

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To Wither in Spring - Miyavi/Reita

Title: To Wither in Spring
Author: Kagome
Theme: #43 – Spring
Warnings: Angst anvil
Rating: PG
Pairing: Miyavi (solo, S.K.I.N.)/Reita (the GazettE)
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.
Summary: Spring is supposed to be the season that brings life, not the season that brings death.
Comments: No, this does not contain character death, in case that’s what you were worried about. :P This is… well, it’s the first truly angsty fic I have written in a while. I am really quite proud of it, simply because, to me, it sounds quite poetic. Even though it’s sad, I really enjoyed writing it and I hope you all enjoy reading it just as much. ^______^ Written for 50stories.

To Wither in Spring

Spring has always been Reita’s favorite season. During Spring, the weather is always pleasant, never too warm or too cold—the weather is always just right. Spring is the season when flowers begin to bloom once more; Spring is the season when the grass begins to look green again, as opposed to the sickly brown that it tends to look when Winter is particularly harsh. Spring is the season when the cherry trees begin to blossom, and Reita has always considered the cherry trees in full bloom to be one of the most beautiful sights he’s ever seen.

Spring is the season that had prompted Reita to buy a small house in the countryside (with room enough for Miyavi and himself). When he had purchased the house and the few acres of land around it, he had done so with Spring in mind, because there’s no better place to get a true taste of Spring than the countryside. He had decided that it would be his and Miyavi’s place to truly get away from it all; he had decided that it would be a place where they could lie on the grass and take in everything that his favorite season has to offer. It’s nearly impossible to do something like that in the city, because the city is full of concrete and large buildings and asphalt and hordes of people, none which belong out here. Of course, there are parks in the city, but it’s not the same as this.

That had been Reita’s plan, and last year, it had worked out perfectly. He and Miyavi had vacationed here in the Spring, and Miyavi had chattered on and on about how wonderful it had been when they had finally returned home. When Reita had suggested that they pay a visit to this place again this year, Miyavi had agreed, and Reita had thought that it would be just like last year—a romantic escape from the rest of the world.

Reita had been incorrect.

He sits at the kitchen table, gazing out the window. It is a beautiful day: birds are singing, a light breeze is blowing, and blossoms decorate the cherry tree that is near the house. This beauty is all Spring’s doing, he knows. Spring brings life—Spring is associated with life, not with death. Spring does not cause flowers to wither; it causes flowers to grow and bloom.

But here, inside this very house, something has died. Something which Reita has helped to nurture for years—something that he has watched as it has slowly grown and blossomed into something beautiful. Now, what he has helped to care for through these years – what has lived and grown and thrived throughout all of the seasons for five years – has wilted and is dead.

It is ironic that the inside of this house reeks of loss – of death – and yet, outside, Reita can see nothing except the life that Spring has brought to the earth. It isn’t appropriate for anything to wither in Spring—it isn’t the way of things. It’s not supposed to happen.

It isn’t supposed to, but it has, and there’s nothing that Reita can do about it. He’s already tried. He’s pleaded and he’s yelled; he’s been on the verge of tears and he’s been withdrawn and distant, thinking that it might provoke a reaction (it didn’t); he’s done everything in his power to attempt to fix this. All of his attempts have been failures.

Now, dry-eyed and almost numb, he sits and listens to the sounds of clothes rustling, to the sounds of closet doors opening and closing, to the sounds of suitcases being shut—these are the sounds one makes when one is packing, and Reita is quite familiar with these sounds because he’s made them enough himself before, during, and after tours.

But this is different. This was not planned (at least, not by Reita), and Miyavi is the only one who is packing. When Miyavi gets back to their - Reita’s - apartment, Miyavi will have more packing to do, but Reita will stay here for a few more days to allow Miyavi enough time to get his things from the apartment. Reita will not put himself through the torture of going back home while Miyavi is in the process of removing his things from what used to be their apartment.

Reita hears footsteps, and he knows that Miyavi is finished packing. They didn’t bring much with them out here—Reita hadn’t thought it would be necessary since they would only be gone a couple of weeks. His assumption had proved to be correct, but not in the way he had planned.

The footsteps stop, and Reita knows that Miyavi is standing in the middle of the kitchen, but Reita does not bother to turn around and look at him. If he looks at him, Reita might ask him to stay again, and he doesn’t think he can bear another rejection from Miyavi. He continues to stare blankly out the window, refusing to let himself turn around.

“Uhm,” Miyavi awkwardly begins (this whole situation is awkward), “that’s everything here, I guess. Saito will be here soon… and then I guess I’ll be getting my stuff from the apartment tomorrow….”

Part of Reita wants to tell Miyavi to shut up and just go already, ride or no ride, because the sooner Miyavi leaves, the sooner Reita can allow himself to completely fall apart. But Reita doesn’t speak. The silence seems to stretch on forever, though Reita knows that it only lasts a few seconds at most.

“Reita, I--”

“Don’t,” Reita interrupts, having to force the word past the lump of emotion that is suddenly clogging his throat. He doesn’t want to hear anything else; he doesn’t want Miyavi’s words to cause more damage. “Don’t say it, whatever it is you want to say… you’ve said enough.” He has to fight to keep his voice even.

“Okay,” Miyavi finally says after several more agonizing seconds of silence. Perhaps Reita is imagining it, but he can almost swear that he hears something akin to pity in Miyavi’s voice. He does not want Miyavi to pity him.

The air is heavy with words that have not been spoken—words that will remain unspoken, because Reita feels that there is nothing else he can possibly say to help the situation, and he feels that whatever Miyavi has to say will only make the situation worse. So, neither of them say anything. Seconds become minutes, and after another small eternity, Reita hears a car pull in the drive outside.

Miyavi clears his throat. “That’ll be Saito….”

“Then I suppose you should get going.” Reita’s voice isn’t as controlled as he would like for it to be, and it frustrates him, because he wants more than anything to be in control of his emotions right now…. No. No, that is a lie. What he really wants more than anything is for Miyavi to change his mind, to tell him that he knows he’s been stupid and that he wants to fix this. It’s a stupid thing to want, because Reita knows that he will not get what he wants, not this time. But it doesn’t stop him from wanting….

“I’ll be seeing you, Rei,” Miyavi says softly. It isn’t a lie. Reita knows that they will see each other in the future—it’s inevitable, after all. But it won’t be the same. So why is Miyavi even bothering to say such a thing? Why does it seem like he’s trying to bait Reita with false hope?

Reita doesn’t take the bait. Still, he does not turn around – he cannot bring himself to look at his ex-lover – and he does not reply with the enthusiasm that Miyavi would have perhaps liked him to reply with. You don’t get to crush all of my hopes of making this work and then give me false hope, Miyavi. It isn’t right. “Yeah,” he agrees after a moment, though his voice breaks at the end of the word, and he inwardly kicks himself.

“Goodbye.” The word is barely above a whisper, and Reita almost doesn’t hear it at all. He does hear it, but he doesn’t bother to reply. He has said his goodbyes already, though without actually saying ‘goodbye’. There’s only one thing left to do now, and that is to let Miyavi go.

The closing of the door brings with it a finality that Reita has been expecting, but to expect something and to be prepared for something are two completely different things, and Reita had not been prepared for this—this feeling of loss and emptiness, and above all, heartache. Miyavi’s departure is like a physical pain, and Reita had never imagined that his leaving would hurt this badly.

Outside, birds continue to sing, butterflies continue to alight on prettily-colored flowers, and the gentle breeze continues to caress the blossoms of the nearby cherry tree like a playful lover. Spring continues to bask in its own beauty, blissfully unaware that inside this house, something that Reita has come to recognize as being just as vital as oxygen has died. Spring does not feel its loss, obviously, but Reita does. He feels it, and he wishes that he didn’t have to. He wishes that he could be detached and as oblivious to his loss as Spring itself.

For the first time ever, Reita envies Spring. It is quite a ridiculous concept in and of itself, to envy a season, but he cannot help himself. Within nine or ten months’ time (if not sooner), the beauty that Spring has conjured will wither and die. Fall and then Winter will reign over the land, and countless flowers and other vegetation will remain lifeless until Spring’s arrival. When Spring returns, so too does life return to that which had been lifeless. It is, in a sense, a resurrection, and Spring is the master of this resurrection. Reita envies that Spring can bring about such a resurrection, and he envies that Spring is so perfectly oblivious to his pain—his loss gone unnoticed by all but Reita himself.

Every year, the vegetation that Spring has brought into being dies, only to return shortly after Spring makes itself known once again.

There will be no glorious resurrection for Reita’s and Miyavi’s relationship. Next Spring, things will not have been mended between them. Miyavi, Reita is certain, will not be coming back to him.

He continues to gaze out the window, though through blurry eyes now. The tears have come unbidden and are now sliding down his cheeks, dripping onto the table.

Suddenly, the beauty outside the window seems only ugly to him, and he’s fairly certain that Spring will no longer be his favorite season.

It will bring with it memories that Reita would much rather forget, and it will remind him of what he has lost and will not regain. He lacks the power of resurrection—he cannot bring something back that is damaged beyond repair. It hurts to know that promises were made and not kept. It hurts to know that all his pleading with his former boyfriend had been in vain, because Miyavi had been so dead-set on leaving. It hurts to know that, after all this time and all that they’ve been through together, Miyavi can just… leave like he just did, more than likely without a backward glance.

Reita knows that Miyavi has no intentions of ever trying to rebuild their relationship in the future, and that is probably what hurts most of all. Reita would give anything to be able to fix this—he’d give anything to bring life back to what he and Miyavi once had together. Unfortunately, it takes two people to mend a broken relationship, and Reita knows that Miyavi wants their now-lifeless relationship to remain lifeless. Miyavi does not want him anymore.

When Spring’s flowers wither, they wait patiently for Spring to return. When Spring returns, it nourishes its flora and fauna, waiting just as patiently for their return. They have faith in each other, and they always return to one another without fail.

Reita will not wait for Miyavi. There is no point in waiting for someone who has no intentions of returning, after all. Metaphorically speaking, their relationship has withered—it has died and has, perhaps, turned to ashes, to be scattered by the same light breeze that is tickling the blossoms of the cherry tree.

Spring is such a beautiful season; it always has been to Reita. It’s quite a shame, though, that this year, its beauty has been marred—tainted. He knows that from now on when Spring arrives, he’ll be too busy contemplating what he has lost to truly appreciate what he has always been able to appreciate until today.

Reita knows he’ll never view Spring in quite the same way ever again.

Tags: 50 stories, miyavi, miyavixreita, reitaxmiyavi, the gazette

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