Disclaimer: Hard to Hold is not mine.
Rating: G, I guess?
Pairings: Hiiro→Aoshima, Shimura→Hiiro
Warnings: Age difference! BL, kissing, all that jazz.
Author's Note: After seeing Hard to Hold... I just couldn't help but write fic for it! The play was so good, and the characters were so interesting... well, at any rate, I feel bad for Shimura, so I wanted to write something where he had at least some small fragment of happiness with Hiiro... and I don't think I succeeded very well, but I tried. XD;;;;
Hiiro misses Aoshima-sensei. He misses the way he looked, the way he dressed, the way he smelled. He misses his smile, he misses the sound of his voice, he misses the way he'd get excited over little things and the way he'd brush off the bad circumstances. The way he went out of his way for Hiiro. The way he questioned Hiiro. The way he cared about Hiiro, genuinely cared about him-- and Hiiro was sure he did, even if he walked out of Hiiro's life with nothing more than a simple goodbye. Hiiro misses Aoshima-sensei almost more than anything else that's fallen out of his life, misses him with a burning intensity that eats away at his heart, hotter, redder, even, than the rabbit's eyes.
He dreams about Aoshima-sensei now and again, in his sleep or when he zones out in the middle of classes. In the dreams, he's always smiling, taking Hiiro's hand as, together, they stare out into an endless starry sky. It's breathtaking, but Hiiro's fairly certain that it's the company, not the view, that leaves his heart racing and his his breath catching in his throat and his body warm in these dreams. Aoshima-sensei smiles at him, always, and says something, only it's been so long that Hiiro doesn't quite remember what his voice sounds like, and so there's a sort of muffled silence, instead. But in the dreams, Hiiro's confident that whatever he's saying, it's something good, and even as nothing comes from between his lips, Hiiro feels happy, overwhelmingly happy
But then, he's brought back to reality by a familiar, much more recent voice speaking much more tangible words, drawn back into himself by warm, possessing arms wrapping around him and hot, needy lips pressing kisses to the back of his neck, his jaw, his ear. "I love you," comes the expected, thick whisper, always "I love you," and though these words are not the same thing as Aoshima-sensei's by any matter of means, just as this embrace is not the same as Aoshima-sensei's measured, deliberate kindness, they're insistent and definite and brutally honest, and Hiiro can't help but hold onto them, nonetheless.