Strange Love

Title: Strange love
Season & Theme: Summer // Tanabata @ 4seasons_fics @ livejournal
Band: Mix Speaker's, Inc. [ v(neu) stars next in line? ]
Chapters: oneshot [series, just not chaptered. A collection of short stories, I guess.]
Author: xtirpate @ postextirpation @ livejournal
Genre: Romance / angst
Warnings: Really strange pairing deserves the warning, and some swearing.
Rating: PG
Pairings: MIKI / のの.
Disclaimer: The following is completely fictional. I'm not nor do I associate in any way with either MIKI or のの, unfortunately.
Comments: Wasn't really sure whether I should have claimed SCISSOR instead since I write mostly and mainly about MIKI and this pairing goes way back to when SCISSOR was still around (and I think のの was in Joker when they met? Its been a long time). All the same, MIKI's in MSI now so I figured, take that.

I love this pairing. Strange as it is. It happened through RP years ago. I find the contrast between these two fascinating. They're both nothing and exactly alike. This piece is, more or less, an opening understanding to what happened between them and what they feel for each other.

The short story is that they broke up, very brutally so, just as SCISSOR was disbanding. Factually, their disgustingly horrible (and wonderful) relationship was what set the rift in SCISSOR in the first place; one that slowly began to deteriorate things to the point that everyone finally said no more. After SCISSOR parted ways, they got into a rather large and violent fight. のの simply just left, and continues to ignore MIKI for two or so years until they finally meet again.

Its a very complex relationship and is definitely my number one OTP in the world of Jrock. Hope you enjoy


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The festival had slowly come to an end, and the people made their way home for the next day. Nono shuffled down a short pathway where a small river ran, seeking out a man he knew he'd find. Nono had seen him through the crowd of people he'd been with today, but pretended to have not. As always. Always pretending. The guitarist's feet stopped a few long steps away from a large boulder rock; the one that had that small body settled upon it. He felt his heart sink to the bottom of his toes and than rise up into his throat. For a moment, Nono closed his eyes just to inhale. That scent from the other, he could smell it from here. That deep smell Miki had that could only be described as mesmerizing -- or maybe he was just imagining, hoping it hadn't changed in the past years they'd been apart.

He stayed silent for awhile just to watch. What kind of man sat out by the river in a park at four in the morning in a black suit, red tie, and bowlers hat? With his white and black checkered creepers and long claw rings, casually smoking his cigarette as mismatched eyes gazed over the way watching the lanterns float by. Miki. Only Miki. Only Miki could stand out like this and yet look so perfectly fitting to the picture. Only Miki. Maybe that was what drew Nono to him. He was different, actually different. Not like others who tried so hard to be something unique. Not like himself, who tried to be what would impress the current company. Miki was Miki was Miki. Nono couldn't hide from Miki. He didn't need to pretend around Miki either. Miki only expected, and wanted who Nono was. Nothing less, and nothing more. And that...

Really pissed Nono off. The guitarist took a breath, ready to speak up -- but it was Miki who broke the silence; "something on your mind, Pukihime?"

The words came with an exhale of smoke; warm and slightly dry like the embers of a fire. Even though Nono couldn't see the other man's face, he could picture that wry grin pulling up at the corner of Miki's lips as he mouthed those words, 'pukihime'. He had a perfect vision of that fucking face, pug-like features scrunching up like the evil bastard he was.

Nono huffed and crossed his arms, looking away, "don't call me that." Miki just laughed; chuckled softly under his breath and took another drag off the end of his cigarette. Nono was silent for awhile, slowly shifting glances at the other man's back. He shifted weight. He pivoted a foot. He shuffled and kicked nearby rocks. He sighed, frustrated, and took a step closer, and closer. "Why are you following me?"

Miki let his fingers drop with a clank of metal. The cigarette lightly hung from his lips as he watched the figure wrapped up in pink and other horribly clashing colours move in closer. Two years it'd been. The vocalist still often sat outside cross legged on the front porch of his apartment and waited. Waited, and waited, and waited... and uselessly waited. Until the sun started to rise and the realization hit once again -- like a boulder crashing down on him -- Nono wasn't coming back. And all he could think to ask was why. Why. When he would have given up everything, when he had given up everything. Why.

"Are you happy Nono?" He finally asked without answering the other's question. I'm always following you, Nono. Wherever you go, I'm there. Aren't I? The guitarist didn't answer, but he crossed in front of the vocalist and sat down right beside him. He didn't look at Miki when his bony fingers reached out to grab that cigarette between soft lips and take a long inhale from it for himself. As if he wanted to suck the life right out of it. Miki did this to him. Bastard. Nono lifted his head to look up at the darkened sky and let the thick smoke roll as his fingers twisted the smoke around. He tossed it into the water with a flick - plink.

"I thought you quit," he said idly. "I did," Nono sighed.

20 questions, begin.

Miki shifted his eyes over toward the guitarist. The answer was no. His brows ebbed in a little. Where you happy with me? Nono sighed and looked away, "I have another boyfriend."

I don't know. Miki's heart sunk. He remembered what they were like together and how they came to be together. It seemed blurry. Did he hallucinate his feelings, or was he just so lonely he didn't care -- became obsessed? Strange, wasn't it? The vocalist let his eyes cast aside. It felt real. The wounds, those were definitely real. Some strange sort of love affair, some cruel sort of satisfaction gained from always being left wanting -- receiving, but never having. Those days were cold, and cruel, and really good.

And he missed them.

Miki let some silence pass before asking, "what's he like?"

"You're interested?" He's not you. Nono responded quick and snippy. Miki's brows ebbed in again and expression scrunched up, "I wasn't the one who left." -- and relaxed. His body leaned forward, and fingers reached down to pick at the soles of his shoe.

"You were the one who made me a god," nonchalant, almost. It would have been if there wasn't a silent choke in his words that said 'I wasn't ready to fall in love, to really fall in love,' very, spectacularly clear. "Its your fault," he finished in near whisper.

"You asked for it," coward -- was the vocalist's response as he continued to pick at his shoe with the tip of semi-sharp metal. "You wanted someone to see you, I saw you. You wanted power. I gave you power." there was a pause, "you wanted someone to give you life, keep you on your toes," his wry grin slipped back up onto the soft lips and his chin tucked between closed knee's for a moment. Fingers dropped. Slowly, the vocalist rolled up, and head tipped to eye the dark sky and large crisp moon. Nono felt his fingers clench, and his stomach clench, and his heart clench.

"And, well," Miki finally continued, his eyes drifted over toward the guitarist, "I gave you that too."

No one could compare, that was certain. Nono hated how certain it was, and hated how Miki knew it. He wanted nothing more than to see Miki loose faith. He wanted nothing more than, for just once, to have Miki know what it was like to wonder in the dark, uncertain and unsure about everything. He hated how Miki could read his thoughts and emotions. He hated how Miki knew just what buttons to press to fire a fist, and just how to smooth back into cruise control. What words to use, and how to reach in to those tiny little cracks in his mask. And pick, pick away with those small tactful fingers in black chipped paint.

Hated it. He hated it and he hated Miki.

Just a delusion of his own, it was. Some sort of strange belief that over came him and made him believe Miki was impenetrable. Even after he bled, and bled so well, and so thoroughly all over the stage on that last show when they finally had enough, when they finally said goodbye. All he did was bleed in every word he sang, in every word he spoke, in every drop of sweat - he bled. The tears that never ended; and he stayed there, left that man and that life right there. And walked away. Strange, wasn't it? That pedestal he was on in Nono's eyes for no, absolutely no good reason. Nono didn't notice, but Miki did. And said nothing.

Nono shifted his body toward the vocalist, and with a quick movement of his arm - snap - backhand slap. He watched as cold mental fingers rose to a soft mocha cheek tapping gentle; inhaled that sharp exhale Miki's lips let slip.

"Did that hurt?" Nono all but smiled - but the vocalist giggled softly, because he knew that he'd won, that he was right; and after all these years... after two long years -- it hadn't changed. Somehow, in the small twisted crevices of Nono's heart there he was. Did either of them even know how things turned out to be this way?

Miki made a soft noise, one of his many strange whines Nono hated to admit he'd missed and replied, "pukii ~ " as his hand dropped. Not really. Nono's eyes narrowed as he went to repeat, but his wrist was caught.

"Nono," Miki spoke softly -- "Let go of me," Nono snapped. "Should I..."

Silence. Thud.

The guitarist exhaled with a small shutter and whispered, "no, never."

Miki guided the hand slowly downward as he shifted his body to slide off the rock and rose his other hand toward that face -- inching forward little by little. What was it about Nono? He remembered when they first met. Everything he hated. Nono was everything he hated, and yet one fight lead to one night, lead to another, and another, and soon enough, without either permission or knowledge until it was far too late, what was lust became love. Such a strange happening. A strange love affair turned inside out on itself. Miki wasn't ready to fall in love like that; and he fell, plummeted to the bottom of the sea.

"So than," he whispered softly, closing in the gentle distance between them so his lips were just a hair, just one sweet whisper, just one quick stitch away; and his eyes drifted to softly half lid, matching the other's natural dark brown. So rare, catching the eyes of Miki. "I will never," sealed their lips - just a tease, a taste, a bite of what could be again -- and leaned back away from the others lips. Leave you to crave, remember what he had.

Miki smiled, and pulled out a tanzaku paper slowly moving away from the guitarist and toward the bamboo trees. Nono exhaled, and followed, mumbling something under his breath that only served a slight grin from the man ahead. The vocalist reached up to hang the paper and than pivoted. Contact covered hues shifted up to the sky once more.

"I'll see you again, Pukihime," he said with a soft smile and moved forward -- walking away. Nono meant to say something. Don't go. Hey wait. You fucking asshole was that all you had after all of these years?! I fucking hate you, get your ass back here. God dammit Miki I love you, and miss you. Fuck you. FUCK. YOU. None of it came out, but his eyes drifted to the paper that was hung.

It was blank.