name: the sound of a breaking heart
created by: seetoo
type: spiral suiri no kizuna
specification: kanone/eyes
subject: # 29 still in my lips
# 30 skin deep; touch me
warning: pg13
legality: fanwork. belongs to someone other than seetoo.
content: capability does not always ensure success, kanone knows. besides, has the world really been any other color than red. and he can still taste him on his lips.
.:x:.
Kanone is, despite the best efforts and intentions of fate, destiny, and other forces, in love with Eyes Rutherford. He doesn't really understand it, except he knows that whenever he thinks of the white-haired pianist he is made dizzy and heated. (it must be lust, for only a fool would think it love; kanone is no fool) All he knows for sure is that Eyes is breaking his self-control; he can't look into those blue eyes and not be lost.
This is weakness, and Kanone's knives no longer hit the dead center, so he tries to wipe Eyes from him. He needs to eradicate the urges. The urge to touch him. Kiss him. (And the other things he can't, won't, shouldn't)
Hurt him.
Break him.
Own him.
.:x:.
"…but you are capable of love, I can see it. However, this love of yours- your first and last and only love, your greatest and most terrible love, will never come to fruition."
"I do not love."
"But you do. I can see it in your palm; you love him."
Kanone has no response for that, so turns from the fortune-teller and her milky eyes. He had wanted to visit the area's famed seers, but now he is sorely regretting the decision. The woman is obviously a fool-to think he is in love. To think that he could fail to bring that love into being is even more absurd. He will not fail- cannot, or he will give into the voices, the relentless rhythm of what he r e a l l y is.
Hurt him.
first and last and only.
Break him.
greatest and most terrible.
Own him.
never come to fruition.
.:x:.
"You took him from me!" Rage and indignation and knowing that he can break him like a twig. He's an animal now –primal instinct demands blood.
"He walked away from you of his own volition." Kiyotaka is calm and complacent- like the not-man that he is. Like the perfection, 'the happiness of those who believe'; he is Kanone's antithesis.
An arm tenses as it strikes the wall next to Kiyotaka's head with a force it should not possess. Kanone leans in, hair shielding eyes that have long ago ceased to see the world in any other colour but red. Kiyotaka does not struggle, but flattens himself closer to the wall and watches Kanone. He is prepared, then, when the younger man captures his mouth with his own. It is barely passable as a kiss- more a fierce, ravening bite, Kanone's teeth catching his lower lip and drawing blood.
He pulls back suddenly, running a tongue over his lips, contemplating something. "You certainly taste interesting, Narumi-san." Mockery, there, haughtiness to hide his jealousy. "Something like plum, it would seem." His eyes narrow even further and Kiyotaka becomes a most flattering shade of blood-crimson. "And I can taste him on you, Narumi-san. He tastes like cream, sweet, with a hint of strawberry."
Kiyotaka is aware, now, of what Kanone wants out of this, if he wasn't already. "And you, Kanone, taste of ginger." Smile, thinly and unassuming.
"What have you done to him?" Kanone is back, one knee thrust between Kiyotaka's legs, breath gusting over his face.
"Nothing. There is nothing between us."
"Hmph." Kanone sneers, and kisses Kiyotaka again, this time with a passion bent on dirtying him. One hand creeps across Kiyotaka's shoulders and neck, while the other traces down to his hipbone. With probing fingers he finds a tender spot on the older man's neck, though it is difficult to see in the not-light, and between all the shades of red. He licks the spot, Kiyotaka shudders, and Kanone looks up with a terribly complacent expression.
"Cream."
And the world ends-to say it becomes red is to vastly understate (gasps and pants as Kanone's hand is on Kiyotaka's hardening cock and reason is ripped away by raging instincts.) - and something begins to shatter, in the deep-distance.
Hurt him.
first and last and only.
(of his own volition)
Break him.
greatest and most terrible.
(taste him on you)
Own him.
never come to fruition.
(shatter in the deep-distance)
.:x:.
Skip forward a paltry half-dozen years; they are nothing more than a blur of crimson brilliant. Suddenly there is a new picture-and there it is, the happyending. Pause, and Kanone runs his thumb over Eyes' cheekbone, dares a smile. (watch for the irony, children)
Eyes leans in subconsciously and Kanone tries to express love without speaking (watch, watch) how else but a kiss. Short and brief, closemouthed, but he can taste the elusive
wild plum
(were you watching
did you catch
just how it fits together, hmm)
And the world stops pretending to be any color but red (how could he think otherwise) and it's off to fetch the knives. (world shatters as the most beautiful background music. like a hollywood horror movie, can you guess the parts?)
Hurt him.
first and last and only.
(of his own volition)
Break him.
greatest and most terrible.
(taste him on you)
Own him.
never come to fruition.
(shatter in the deep-distance)
Hurthimbreakhimownhim
he is not yours, Kanone.
Stop wanting what is not yours.
(shattershatter)(ofhisownfreewill)
…no…no
still in your lips
and he tastes of plum
so that settles it.
.(hurt him)
.(break him)
.(own him)
.(it's time to give in)
This is the sound of a breaking heart.