Oneshot: The Witching Hour

[andrew_in_drag]

Title: The Witching Hour
Author: andrew_in_drag
Pairing: Die/Toshiya
Rating: R
Synopsis: Halloween. You can party in the same old places with the same old people, but throw some tacky decorations around and suddenly everything's transformed; put on a costume and suddenly you're not really you, and they're not really them, and just for a night, you have that luxury; you get to be somebody else, you get to...pretend.
Note: I wrote this at 7am and it didn't come out how I planned it at all. But I'm somewhat happy, because it broke my temporary writer's block. Hurray!

The Witching Hour

I have this dream where I'm with this person; a girl who isn't a girl, a boy who isn't a boy; I'm with them in my laundry room, with sounds of a party coming from the other side of the door. I have this person – this beautiful person – up on the drier, cheeks flushed and legs parted; I have this person, I have them.

Ever since I was a little kid, Halloween's always been my favourite holiday.

It's something to do with the time of year. No matter how unseasonably warm the fall might have been up until that point, Halloween night is always cold and clear and studded with hard, bright stars; even here in the city, the air takes on that woodsmoke smell of autumn, and the streets are full of people masquerading as the things they want to be.

The pavements are frozen, and your footsteps ring out over the asphalt, but nobody feels cold. This is the magic of Halloween: this is the witching hour. Instead of being touched by the cold, there's a half-drunk anticipation that warms you to your bones.

Halloween. You can party in the same old places with the same old people, but throw some tacky decorations around and suddenly everything is transformed: put on a costume and suddenly you're not really you, and they're not really them, and just for a night, you have that luxury; you get to be somebody else, you get to...pretend.

If this is a dream, let me never wake up. My eyes are closed but I can still feel this person in front of me, and I don't know what to say except that somehow, they are so magical. They are soft skin, warm skin; they are sweet lips, so kissable; they are long hair tickling my neck. I slip a hand up their skirt and they spill jack and coke in my collar. I kiss, and they bite, hot lips sticking; I grab their hair and tilt their head back, trail down their neck; they say my name, over and over again.

“Die...”

And without thinking, I whisper back theirs.

Already there was screaming; already there was music and pounding and people dancing, and the doorbell kept on and on ringing: just another Halloween. I don't know how much I had to drink. It seemed like hours and hours ago that Kyo arrived and had his first and only begrudging drink with me; how many, I wondered, had I had since then?

He wasn't dressed up. He never dresses up. Stubbornly undrunk and undisguised, he took over my place at the door, ushering in guests; I remember seeing Kaoru as a werewolf, Shinya as some obscure comic book character, Toshiya tall and slim and moving in girl-as-boy steps, so pretty, so hard to tell. Not in drag, but a girl. Bending
like a willow, smiling like the moon: a beautiful girl.

“Aren't you uncomfortable dressed up like that?” I ask at last, and I drain my beer because he smiles so wide.

“No. Do I look uncomfortable?”

I can't really answer that, so I just busy myself opening another bottle.

“What are you dressed as?” he asks me, drinking punch that dyes his lips blood red.

“Can't you tell?”

He narrows his eyes. “Sure. Are you Romeo, or Juliet?”

“Fuck you,” I say, but I take his hand and I pull him away, and he lets me.

It's ironic, but when I was a kid I used to always dress up as a rock star. I wanted so desperately to be one, but that's a hard dream to figure out when you're growing up in Mie and you feel a thousand miles from everywhere.

Now, dressing up is the only time I get to stop being a rock star. It's a funny feeling, walking the streets and feeling anonymous, blending in; like being a ghost – or maybe not a ghost, but perhaps just a soul, floating along above the pavement and getting to watch everybody instead of it being the other way around.

This is my Halloween; my favourite holiday.

The kimono he's wearing parts like the sea, drawing me in, and in my haste I rip it. The obi flutters to the ground, longer than I imagined, and I bruise his lips with my kisses whilst I drag his clothes off; as if I'm distracting him; as if he'll stop seeing that it's me.

“Toshiya, I—”

He shrugs himself free of fabric and pulls me towards him, eyes dark. I wrench the comb from his hair and it tumbles, it tumbles; the comb clatters to the floor. He touches me.

And I can't believe he's never touched me in this way before. His hand is trembling, but it's sure. There's a harsh pounding at the door, so I press him up against it, and that's that. Once there was a beautiful girl, now there's just the face; there's still the eyeliner, the powder and the sweet lips; there's still the silky skin and the flowing hair, the picture of venus with a hard cock pressing against my thigh.

“This isn't how I am,” I say, mumbling the words against his skin as I touch him all over. I can't seem to stop. He clutches me closer, and my hands are greedy, and I get to my knees in front of him.

“This isn't how I am,” I breathe, breath warm on his dick. I make him shiver.

“What do you want?” he whispers, taking my hands, and I rest my head against his thighs. I want something I can't possibly articulate, but that's alright. He gets down to my level and draws my arms around him, he guides my hands; it is the witching hour, the clock striking, and he is sweet dark magic.

“I want you,” I say instead, and my fingers brush his lips until he takes them into his mouth.

On Halloween, the normal world gets forgotten, and I think that's why I love it so much. Whatever happens, it's alright; it's allowed. You can be who you want and love who you want, and nobody can say for sure that it's really you; there's no guilt and there's no blame, and that's why I need it: witchcraft; the awakening of souls; the time of year where two different worlds cross over.

“Do you feel that?” he breathes, but I can't speak. I'm inside of him, his whole body surrounding me, and it's all I can do just to lock our trembling fingers together and keep on going, keep on moving, and know that I never ever want to stop. All I want to do is make him cum; all I want to do is go there with him.

“You're so beautiful.” I think that's what I said.

“You mean tonight?”

“You're always beautiful.”

I roll my hips against him just to make him cry out, and he grabs at me.

“Die, I—”

And he's coming, his head thrown back and his hands clasped in mine, half girl and half boy; such a pity she doesn't exist; such a shame I'm not—

I'm not gay.

I told him that in no uncertain terms, in the cold light of the morning when he was wearing my clothes and had the make-up scrubbed off his face. It was the 1^st of November. I called him a cab. 

But once he was gone I felt sort of empty inside. I sat down on the floor, and I concentrated on not crying.

I know that now I'm lost, because I'm in love.

And I'll never see that girl again.

My only hope, now, and my only reason; my favourite holiday: waiting until October rolls around again, next Halloween.

Comments

[kaiser1103.livejournal.com]

Halloween is a magical day...
Hey Die, just admit that you love Totchi!