Chapter Text
Art by Kiru (thank you so much!)
どんなに愛しても
抱きしめても
口づけの向こう
風に揺れる Castle of Sand
He was helplessly chasing memories on this endless stretch of desert, watching the silky grains of sand slip from between his fingers. Inevitable. The tighter he grasped, the more they were caught by the wind, swept into a shimmering scarf before returning to the dunes below. Little by little, he had come to understand that the world, the billions of people on it, time itself... they had all left him behind. Yet a nugget of warmth still existed within his heart; and this he held onto with every strength he had left.
"You should count yourself lucky." Those were the words that the guard had left them with, when they had been dumped onto this desert planet. Amongst the other prisoners, exiles, misfits and everything in between, he had gotten slightly better treatment. Hidden upon his person was seven days of ration, as well as an old military issue gun. If not for the monsters, then for protecting himself from the other people who would do just about anything to survive.
It has been thirteen days since he had last seen another soul. The soldiers' uniform he wore was already tattered and smeared with the blood of the deformed critters that hid within the dunes. He had already lost one of his military stars from his shoulder, and another badge from his chest. But what did that matter. In the eyes of his homeland, he was a traitor. Toska Hiroomi, the once esteemed soldier who had become a deserter.
He had rested enough, and patted off some sand while he stood up. Looking out at the vastness of space beyond, he was once again enraptured by the beauty of this brutal place. Silently, the silvery lilac moon, so huge that the bottom of it was almost below the horizon, gazed back at him. Hiroomi had the sense that time moved differently on this planet made of sand. Even if it had been thirteen days (as far as he could tell), he had not yet grown even a hint of stubble, nor could he feel intense thirst and hunger. This definitely helped, because he had been left here to die.
He had still failed to find shelter. As far as he could see, it was simply desert. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him, or perhaps the wind continued to change the geography and mess with his perception and direction. Hiroomi was not physically tired, but the battles and contrasting stretches of serenity where time seemed to stop were testing his mental capacities to the limit.
Onwards he travelled, reciting the laws he had memorised as a young army recruit. Even this helped a little. He wasn't sure how many kilometers he had covered before his senses alerted him to another beast. Thus he got his gun cocked and ready to engage, eyes sharpened to spot any movement from the deceptively calm dunes before him. There. A spiny, thin tail shot out from the sand, followed by the creature's twisted body. Its skin was slick as oilspill, difficult to penetrate even with the state issued bullets.
Hiroomi had learned that their weakness were their green eyes, but they also went berserk for a short period afterwards, during which he had to be careful to avoid the powerful strike of its thorned tail. But this time, the creature was larger than the ones he had engaged with prior, and he was not quick enough. The beasts' emerald blood formed domed jewels on the sand as its body whipped about. Hiroomi cussed as he tried to get out of the way, but that tail had caught him. His shoulder absorbed the bulk of it, the thorns ripping through his uniform and his skin, swiping a diagonal and ending at his hip.
He roared as he swung up his gun again, putting another bullet straight through the creature's brain before man and beast both collapsed on the sand. It was his miscalculation. He had no first aid kit, nowhere to nurse his wounds. How far had those thorns cut him? Hiroomi held tight onto the tear in his shoulder as he struggled forward. His hand was hot and moist with his own blood. Every step seemed to suck in his stumbling feet. His body temperature was dropping fast and his teeth clacked together. Just one measly little wound... Why was he reacting in such a way?
The next step took him tumbling head first into the sand. Hiroomi floated in an out of consciousness for the next hour or so, left completely out in the elements. With each inhale his lungs burned as though he had swallowed sand, or maybe it was only because of the poison seeping into his system. He wheezed softly, eyes rolling in their sockets as he tried to make out the movement in the distance. A person in white... One of the people from the ship who had come to finish him off and take his supplies? Was that his pitiful end?
A slim hand was reaching towards him. He saw the figure crouch before him but not much more than that. There was a soft touch of someone's fingertips upon his temple; the only sliver of kindness that he had received in years. Or maybe this, too, is an illusion. Hiroomi closed his eyes again.
Deep within the desert planet was a limestone maze. These were ruins of a civilisation that must have resided here thousands of years ago. One of these buildings were particularly well hidden. It was there that Hirpomi had been carried. His prone body was laid upon a thickly woven rug, the uniform peeled away, before gentle hands expertly tended to his wounds. He was mostly unconscious throughout it all, surrendering himself to whatever fate was left to him. His injury was cleaned, ground herbs applied and then sealed with a paste of gum and oil.
As Hiroomi rested, now and then he could hear quiet singing. It was a sweet and soft tenor that gave him the sense that everything was going to be all right. Oh, then that must mean he had really died and gone to heaven. If he even deserved heaven. On the other hand, the pain within him could not let him rest peacefully for long. His veins seemed to be on fire, his body drenched with cold sweat no matter how many times he was wiped down. Finally, he was fully awake, attempting to push himself up on his elbows. It brought so much agony that he cried out and fell back down.
Someone rushed towards him, hands pressing firmly yet tenderly at his shoulders till he stopped struggling. There was a man looming over him, a man with flowing white garments, dark hair and glittering black eyes. He was speaking something to him, but Hiroomi couldn't understand a word. His heart thumped painfully, fingers twitching to grab hold of the stranger and defend himself, as instinct taught him. But the man was reaching out again, holding a warm, moist towel to his forehead to dab off the gathering of sweat.
"Who... Who are you?" his voice sounded terrible. The man's brows furrowed, his moustache moving along with the slight pout of his lips. It seems that he did not understand the question. Hiroomi flinched as a hand was slipped under his neck, elevating his head. The rim of a bowl was pressed to his lips, and after he saw the encouraging nod of the strange man, he slowly drank. After this was emptied, the man displayed another bowl, this time darker in colour with residues at the bottom. He made various gestures as he spoke in that alien language, drawing a diagonal across his body in the same direction as his wound, mimicking a monster, from the growl to the scary claws...
"I got it, I got it. It's medicine for my wound? I believe you. I'll drink it." Hiroomi put a stop to that, before the charade could go on any longer. The man smiled back at him, obviously relieved, and patiently fed him the bitter brew. Another drink of water after that, and he was already feeling much better. Or maybe most of it was due to the fact that he had some kind of shelter, wasn't dead, and there was another living being beside him who didn't want to slash him to pieces or put a bullet through his head. At least he hoped not.
The man stared at him rather intently, as though he was trying to bore into his very soul. His expression was uncertain, fearful, but also hopeful... with a touch of loneliness and longing? Hiroomi was shocked himself that he could see that much from the man's eyes, but maybe, he was just strangely expressive. Because of the language barrier, it was impossible to find out much useful information about this world. The man had definitely been here for a long time, because he seems to have found a steady water and food source. After various struggles, they at least managed to exchange names. He told him to call him 'Omi' because 'Hiroomi' seemed to be too difficult. His name was Rily. From what he could gather from the gestures, he got the name from a flower.
Thanks to Rily's care, his wound was healing slowly but steadily. While the flesh around his shoulder was mangled and would leave an ugly scar, there was nothing he could do about it. The poison would take longer to leave his system, and so he had to rely on Rily for the time being. However, it seemed like they were well sheltered from the danger of the open desert, the hours, or days, or whatever they were, passing in relative peace.
They spent a lot of time exploring the old structures together. Today, Rily again took him to the spot that looked like an coliseum. There was an old instrument sitting at the centre of it. The lid of it, once a shiny enamel black, had been worn down by decades of sand. It was upon this surface that they practised communicating with each other; spreading the soft gold into a thin layer to draw characters and shapes upon it. Whenever they managed to reach understanding, Rily would be ecstatic. His laughter was the kind that animated his entire countenance. At first, Hiroomi found that openness alarming, but now, he was starting to wonder how someone's laughter could be so beautiful.
"Home." Hiroomi uttered once more as he pointed at the drawing on the sand. "My home is..." He gave Rily's arm a light tug, and then he started to ascend the steps of the coliseum. Rily followed, and the man was surprisingly nimble on his feet, hopping up much faster than he. To be fair, he was still recovering from an injury. Hiroomi gazed up at the figure waiting for him at the top. The tails of his silky white robe flaring out behind him in the wind, the pleats of his high waisted trousers falling gracefully over long legs. He was like a mirage at this magic hour, making him feel nostalgic for something that he never even had.
Rily helped him up on that last step. They were overlooking the limestone maze to the familiar blue and green planet in the distance. Hiroomi extended his arm to point towards that part of earth where he used to reside.
"Where?" Rily pressed closer to him, shoulders brushing as he tried to follow the trajectory of his pointing. "It's here." He held his wrist to point towards that place. Rily was so close that their cheeks were practically brushing together. He could smell the subtle scent of him; the scent of Jasmine. "Ah!" Rily sounded joyful when he had finally found it. "Omi's home, here."
"Where is your home?"
Rily pulled back to look at him carefully. His smile was melancholic as he shook his head slowly. He didn't know? He couldn't remember? Quietly, Hiroomi apologised, though he was unsure if Rily could understand. They stayed there in companionable silence, admiring the world beyond that continued to spin on its axis; so real, so palpable, and yet so far away. In a moment, he could feel Rily's hand slide shyly into his own. He dared to steal a glance and, in that millisecond when the white hood had slipped back because of the wind, he found the most gorgeous dusting of rosy pink across Rily's cheek. He only hesitated for a moment before giving that delicate hand a gentle squeeze.
No, he couldn't remember where his home was. As much as he wanted to, as much as he tried, his memory comes up blank. Omi was from earth. He knew about earth. In the limestone ruins, he had once managed to find an old library. There were a few salvageable volumes that he took home to read. Well, by read, it was mostly looking at the pictures, because he couldn't understand a word of the text. He learned of the various planets through these books, the creatures that lived on them, the kind of cuisine they enjoyed and the festivals that they celebrated.
It helped him to not feel so alone.
Granted, every so often, people would be thrown onto this desert planet. Omi had not been the first one. Rily did not engage with everyone he saw. Most took advantage of his good will, others tried to kill him. He had managed to make friends with one or two of them in the past, but they never stayed long. Rily wondered if it was because he expressed his desire for companionship too much, too early. He couldn't help it. So many years had passed on this barren yet beautiful land, with only the piano and the moon as his partners.
Rily hoped that Omi would be the one who stayed, because he sensed that he was different. The moment he had seen him, sprawled upon the blonde desert drenched in blood, something pulled violently within him. He had reached out to him with trembling fingers, to sweep back the black fringe and look upon his features. The slightly stern brows, the strong cheekbones, the mole beneath his right eye, the plush bottom lip... His heart had told him, "this is the one. This is the man you have been waiting for."
He believed in that intuition, but was equally terrified of believing in it. Sometimes, the way Omi looked at him... That kind of tenderness, that kind of lingering touch between their fingertips, it was a jolt that set the gears in his watch into motion again, allowing the frozen time within his world to flow once more. Some nights, he could not stop himself from watching Omi sleep. They shared that thick rug and woven blanket, using one another's body heat to relieve the bitter coldness of this planet's nights. Sometimes he was brave enough to reach out for Omi's hand to hold while they rested.
Outside, the wind howled. He could imagine the curtains of sand being swept up to billow across the backdrop of aurora lights and oscillating stars. The dunes may shift again, perhaps reveal another scorched skeleton that had been buried there for thousands of years. He brushed his thumb over Omi's cheekbone. "I think I..." No, not even 'I think.'
"I have been loving you for such a long time. I wish there was a way to tell you, Omi."
His voice was so quiet it could almost be obscured by the slithering whisper of sand across the front porch. Of course, Omi couldn't have heard him. Having spoken these deep-seated feelings aloud, his body felt as though it might soar through the roof. His heart seemed to be set ablaze, face flushing crimson. A pained noise escaped from his lips before he shifted to turn his back to the man, curling himself up and trying to get his breathing back into order.
Until Omi's hand touched his shoulder. He flinched, immediately terrified that he had been heard. Even if Omi couldn't possibly understand his language. Omi called his name, along with some other words he didn't recognise, but he could hear the worry in his tone. The incessant weight of his hand upon his shoulder implored him to turn around, his eyes glimmering in the darkness.
"You are sad. Why?" Rily breathed in sharply. How could he... Oh. His thumb brushed lightly over the rim of his eye, leaving the brief sensation of moist warmth. "Omi... Go? Goodbye?" His voice cracked a little at the end. Beneath the blanket he reached for him, fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt. "No. Why do you say that? I'm staying here. I'm staying right here with you, Rily."
He only caught the words 'no', 'stay', and 'with you'. And that was all he had ever needed. All he had ever hoped for, that made the loneliness he had suffered all worth it. How many midnight blues must have been played over the cracked ivory keys of the grand piano? Or the last time that rain had kissed this this barren earth? He could hardly breathe as Omi gazed back at him with eyes ignited with determination and passion, as thought they had been hewn out of precious sapphire. It was unclear who had leaned in first, but their lips had met with trembling eagerness. His fingers tangled with the long strands of Omi's hair while the soldier's arm wrapped securely around his waist.
His kiss was life itself. His heart had never felt so full. If he had not been laying down, he was sure that he would crumble right beneath the heated kisses like a house of cards. Even as Omi consoled him with his warm, solid body and soft hushes, tears continued to stream down his cheeks of their own accord. He was not allowed a moment to catch his breath before a velvety tongue ran between the seam of his lips, requesting entrance. Rily let him in with merely a tremble, pulling himself closer to the warm body. The noise that he made as Omi's tongue swept in was overjoyed and needy.
His tears had eventually subsided. Shuddering breaths fanned across one another's cheeks, teeth clashing as their tongues moved with clumsy eagerness. They kissed like this until they had to part for air, faces flushed from the lack of oxygen as well as the desire that was steadily bubbling over. Omi took that moment to run his fingers slowly along the curve of his waist, eyes gazing over his features so adoringly that he wondered why he ever needed to doubt in the first place.
"I'm sorry... Was that too fast? Should we stop?" Omi asked him; the moment Rily heard the word stop, he shook his head vehemently. Not when this evening had been so magical. Not when he had poured out everything to him as best as he could. And where words failed, there was still another language that could not. He was bright with embarrassment as he took Omi's palm to press to the open V between his shirt. "More, please..." The kind of noise that Omi had made in response made him melt like molten glass.
This windbitten house with the mound of sand at the entrance was their sanctuary. The wail of the night wind outside was the blues to their intimacy. Neither were well experienced, but they explored one another with an equal measure of overwhelming hunger and tender affection. Omi drank up the sight of his naked body like a parched man, his palms running over the shape of his chest and spending a long time tracing the curve of his waist. Rily was acutely embarrassed but his heart soared under the attention.
He returned this tenfold, pressing Omi onto his back so that he could rain kisses all over him. From the mole beneath his eye and curve of his jaw, the side of his neck to the jut of his collarbones, the pale scars that littered his abdomen on top of the new one that was still healing, he took care to brush his lips and the tip of his tongue over each of them. Understandably, this could not go on for too long before an impassioned Omi tugged him down, reversing their positions. The first roll of their hips together had him moaning wantonly, his body arching up to meet him.
The thought of whether Omi would be repulsed by the fact that he was also a man had never even crossed his mind. The way they touched each other was so spontaneous, so instinctive. Surely there was nothing unnatural about two people loving one another on this god forsaken planet. His mouth sought out Omi's for more of those addictive, bruising kisses, his hand reaching between them to take hold of their arousals. The way Omi grunted low and thrust into his hold was totally satisfying.
His fingers dug into Omi's muscular forearms as they moved in tandem, both artlessly chasing the high. He felt the sting of Omi's teeth on his neck and he loved it, turning his head to the side to let Omi mark him as much as he liked. Strings of curses and whimpers fell from his lips as they worked each other closer and closer to the edge. Rily made sure to watch carefully as his partner reached orgasm; he was beautiful, so powerful, the fire in his gaze intense enough to turn him into dust. He called out his name adoringly as he came as well, his moans breathless and europhic.
As though he could read his mind, Omi nudged his nose with his until their mouths could meet once more, exchanging kisses that grew lax and indulgent from the pleasure buzzing through their bodies. Tightly they held each other in that little bed, in this crumbling home, until sated exhaustion claimed them.
Hiroomi rolled over on the bed, his hand searching for the beautiful valley of Rily's waist, but coming up empty. He pushed himself up so fast that the barely healed wound cried out in abuse.
"Rily!" He called out frantically to him, his heart plummeting to his gut. If Rily was gone... He would have nothing left again. Or, was last night just a lucid dream born from the selfish desires of a wretched man? Omi tugged on his clothes, pushing past the hanging fabric that was the door, his breathing fast and uneven.
He could have toppled to the ground in relief when he spotted him, not too far from the house, carrying a pitcher of water. Rily saw him, and something on his expression must have caused him to quickly set down the pitcher and rush over to him. Through the reassuring voice and warm hands upon his cheeks, he realised that Rily had simply been retrieving some supplies.
Rily laced their fingers together, a soft smile spreading upon his shapely lips. He leaned up to brush kisses upon his cheek, his moustache tickling his skin slightly. Omi felt the tension leave him immediately, and quietly he apologised for his panic, before drawing him in by the back of the neck to claim his lips. They walked back quietly, and resumed their daily routine of filling the water pots, tending to the small vegetable garden Rily had grown, weaving silk and repairing anything that they managed to salvage from the ruins. He loved all of these moments with him, unassuming and mundane as they were. For he had never had a normal life where he could enjoy these things.
It could be that their routine took longer than usual because they would be often overwhelmed by the desire to kiss and touch. Last night had happened so fast that he could hardly remember anything apart from the brilliant burst of heat and happiness from Rily's responding passion. Currently, the man was bent over an old machine he was trying to configure. Omi's hands stilled on the loom as he spied his newfound lover; the dip of his waist and hips, visible through the translucent white robe, reminded him of the smooth golden dunes that captured his attention when he had landed upon this planet.
Hiroomi was no longer feverish with the need to find answers. Over the months he had spent with Rily, his clock had naturally slowed down to match Rily's. It seems like they were also able to sleep more regularly because of the comfort of having another person's company. Everything fell into place as though it was always meant to be. For a soldier who had never known true friendship nor love, Rily had answered every prayer that he could not even voice himself.
The winds had settled down a little. Thus they ventured out again, back to the place where the grand piano's burnished lid waited for the next fleeting inscription of their parallel desire to be connected. Hiroomi watched his lover's silhouette, outlined in starry light. The bridge of his nose was the valley of a sandy mountain, the fine curve of his chin and throat a waterfall. Rily placed his hand on his own heart, and then on his. Then he pointed to the words he wrote upon the piano, expression uncertain but hopeful.
Omi understood. Somehow. These were the words Rily had said to him last night. The words that changed everything. No... More precisely, they were the words that made everything the way it was supposed to be since the beginning of time. As he smiled and uttered his own confession to Rily, he had the sense that he understood, too. The wind sang tenderly through the air, sweeping up with it the grains of their message of love. Shimmering like a glissando, they were carried away into the long night, as though towards the overlooking moon herself.
Fin.