nherizu | [La Corda d'Oro] The Green Azure

Title: The Green Azure - Opus #2: Aversion
Pairing: Ryoutaro/Len/Ryoutaro
Rating: R-16
Disclaimer: Yes, I own this fanfiction. But no, I don't own La Corda d'Oro, which is obvious for I'm not Yuki Kure xD
Beta Reader: ThinE
Warning: Boys Love (Shounen Ai)
Story's Summary:
A collection of TsuxTsu shortfics. When blue meets green, something unordinary happens between them, and here you'll find what it is.

Fanfiction.net version can be read HERE.

Previous chapter:
Opus #1 on LJ -- Opus #1 on FFnet

Note: There's a Japanese superstition says that 'idiots can't catch a cold'. I kinda use it for this story :)
Happy belated B'day to vindyfreschi ! This is your present, girl, hope you like it ^^

The Green Azure

Opus #2 - Aversion

He hated it when he couldn't help but stare at the way she linked her petite fingers with Len's as they walked through the school gate.

He hated it when he had to hear Len say her name so gently, or even when Len berated her for playing the wrong note. He hated to see Len behave so full of care to her.

And above all, he hated it because he couldn't call Len the way she called him. He couldn't walk with Len side by side, chatting so casually and sometimes embracing each other or placing a quick peck on the forehead so freely.

Not that Len would like to do it, though. Ryoutaro was even almost a hundred percent sure that Len would refuse to show such affection in front of people, even though the one who asked for it was that girl, and not Ryoutaro.

But now, at least now… how he wanted to see Len's icy eyes—those eyes with a hint of love if you peeked deeper beyond the coldness. How he needed to touch those perfect hands, the ones which were amazingly given by the God of music. And how he wanted to taste Len's lips, so sweet and smooth, addictive and compatible with Ryoutaro's; as if they were made just for him.

"What am I thinking about…" He muttered, eyes studying the ceiling of his room.

His temperature must have gotten higher again. Spending time alone like this was surely bad for his mental health. So many things came up to his mind, staying in there and slowly sticking various negative thoughts inside. And now he didn't know, whether it was because of those bad thoughts or the fever, that a bead of tear started to drop down his cheek.

No, Ryoutaro wasn't a cry-baby. He almost never cried, if it were not because of these pathetic feelings he committed towards the cerulean-haired lad. But really, tonight… his pain was doubled, his grief was tripled. And Ryoutaro wanted to believe, that it was all because of his fever.

To think about it… Long before now, he wouldn't believe that he would fall really deep for the ice prince, Tsukimori Len. It was so hard to imagine, since their relationship was just like that of cat and dog, water and oil. If there were a time machine, he would go to the time when the concourse first began, and told the old him that he was going to fall in love with his arch-enemy.

He snickered at the thought. He could see his own old self freaked out to the revelation.

"What's so funny?"

Snapping his eyes wide open, Ryoutaro caught Len's indifferent eyes staring back at him, arms folded over his chest; his violin case and bag seated on the floor beside Ryoutaro's bed.

"Tsukimori?"

Stunned, Ryoutaro could hardly believe that Len was standing beside him, in his room. He didn't even realize when exactly the violinist emerged from his door.

Sighing, Len bent over and closed his eyes while pressing his forehead to Ryoutarou's. He shook his head thereafter, taking a seat beside Ryoutaro's burning flesh.

"I can't believe you caught a cold."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" scowling, Ryoutaro attempted to sit and leaned his back to the bed board. "I'm not an idiot who can't even catch a cold!"

"Who said you were? I only want to say that you're an athlete, so it is hard to believe that you can catch a cold," Len merely shook his head in disdain, before calmly gazing at the nearly enraged Ryoutaro. "Have you eaten anything?"

"No, but… you didn't cook something for me, did you?" Ryoutaro flinched at the thought of eating Len's cooking; his face filled with fear immediately.

"Idiot," tweaking his brows, Len slapped Ryoutaro's forehead not too hard—but enough to make Ryoutaro throw an 'ouch'.

"I bought something for you. Try to eat it when you're feeling better," he continued, pointing to the plastic bag on Ryoutaro's desk.

Following Len's finger with his eyes, Ryoutaro snickered again, this time louder.

"Fine, keep on snickering alone and you'll be certified as lunatic," Len shook his head in irritation. "What happened with you, Tsuchiura?"

"I remembered our old days," Ryoutaro began expounding, his eyes gazing naughtily to the bewildered man beside him. "That time, I wouldn't know what to say if you bought me something like this."

"You mean when the concourse started," Len replied rather half-heartedly, "you were seriously annoying that time. Not that you aren't now."

Laughing, Ryoutaro curled his hand around Len's neck, pulling the other boy nearer to his face. "People said the more you hate someone, the more you love them."

Len's gaze softened, his hands wrapped around Ryoutaro's neck and instead of replying Ryoutaro's remark, his lips munched on Ryoutaro's bottom lip. It began with a slow motion, until the lad had lost his patience and started to deliciously suck on the wet plump, that was Ryoutaro's lip. The heat increased; more, more, until Ryoutaro's head slid down from the bed board, lying flatly on the bed.

"You'll get the cold," breathed the pianist despite his difficulty to control the growing needs of having Len in his arms.

The boy, the cold violinist, was still on top of Ryoutaro, creating some inches of distance with golden pools penetrating Ryoutaro's ones. The warmth of his breath ghosting over Ryoutaro's jaw-line, making everything harder for Ryoutaro to restrain. In a split second, however, Len decided to regard Ryoutaro what the pianist actually hated to receive, but delighted at the same time as Len was willing to listen to him.

"You're right, I'm not going to have that illness," he stated; straightening his back and standing on his feet to capture Ryoutaro's slightly disappointed visage.

"…Are you going home?"

A pair of eyes shot deeply through Len's gaze; sparks of hopes didn't fail to come out from beyond the seemingly tough man.

"Yes, I have an appointment in half an hour," Len heaved a sigh as he tugged the sleeve of his arm, revealing a silver watch attached to his arm. Anyone who gave all their attention to him, would never miss the ignorant feature which screamed that the owner was avoiding Ryoutaro's glance—avoiding to make the pianist's hope rise. And that included Ryoutaro.

"You'll be meeting her?"

It wasn't really a question. No, it wasn't. Because Ryoutaro was more than sure, that he had known the answer.

"She needs me. She wants me to accompany her to—"

"She needs you more than I do?"

Wide eyes were forced to meet Ryoutaro's gaze. The lips that were kissing Ryoutaro's minutes ago, now parted slightly as confusion visibly shone on his face.

"It's not like you," Len tentatively commented.

Shaking his head as the expression of pity plastered across his visage, Ryoutaro laughed, hiding his face by staring at the comforter; his voice was dry and raw.

"Of course it isn't like me. What do you expect from a sick man?" he at last mustered to reply with a smile. Len, on the other hand, simply answered him with silence, not a hint of bewilderment was remained on his figure by now.

"No, seriously," Ryoutaro continued, now having the courage to look at his loved one right in the eye. "You can go now, Tsukimori."

It was still silence that was present by the one he talked to. Blanketed in stillness and lull was Tsukimori, the lingering scrutiny sent solicitude to Ryoutaro's consciousness. The taller boy's stomach stirred and flipped, as he wasn't sure, whether the cold was really the one to blame for his nausea.

The seconds kept ticking by; the stream of time would never care about whatever happened to the people under its vigour—and Ryoutaro nearly exploded. He almost shouted and cried his heart out to Len for making him suffer in apprehension like this, or maybe even for making him guess about how unimportant he was in Len's heart.

But…

Was it really Len's fault?

Did he really deserve to be yelled at?

Wasn't Ryoutaro the one who had caused this all to happen in the first place?

Wasn't it—

"It's me."

Jolting his eyes wide open in shock, Ryoutaro peered at the sight of Len talking on the phone. Somewhere between his dramatized brooding over his agonies, Len had dialled whoever it was he called, it seemed.

"Listen, I'm sorry, I can't come today."

The moment Len's words registered in his brain, Ryoutaro was too stunned to react. His head, which was drowning in confusion, pain and self-pity before, now felt like clouded. Len's words had practically paralysed his ability to think. And there, he could only bore a hole on Len's outline, but no more of the violinist's words could seem to go through his ears now.

"…Why?"

The unintentional outburst slipped out from Ryoutaro's mouth, more to questioning himself rather than asking Len, who was by now had pocketed his mobile.

"What do you mean 'why'?"

Ryoutaro merely pressed his lips at Len's question, his jaw stiffened. The struggle to call back the control over his own self did not come to vain; he could shoot the indifferent Len with sharp eyes.

"I don't need your pity, Tsukimori. You should just go to her," he took a moment of pause, giving the bitter lump in his mouth the chance to find its way down the throat, "…like you usually do."

Sighing finally, Len shook his head with an expression which showed that Ryoutaro had just given him another headache. It undoubtedly rose the irritation and anguish inside the pianist's heart and head, forcing his system to realize that for Len, he was a burden. Nevertheless, Len was able to freeze said pianist with a nearly invisible smile.

It was merely a slight tugging of his lips' corners, too slightly that people wouldn't notice if they weren't observing the boy closely. But for Ryoutaro, it was as clear as crystals. So baffling, yet mesmerizing that sent all of Ryoutaro's thoughts out of the window.

"Really, you're like a big kid when you're sick," the soft voice greeted Ryoutaro's ears as the owner had traversed the small gap between them, claiming Ryoutaro's cheek with his palm while taking a seat on the bed. "I know you need me more than she does right now."

Reluctantly encircling his arms around Len's flesh to assure himself that Len was really there for him, Ryoutaro failed at producing any words to answer the mock. He was too busy of sensing Len's warmth. Too focused on the delight of having Len's sarcasm remark, which surprisingly managed to calm his nerves more than any other things could do to him.

"Tsukimori…"

"Hmn?" a light peck on his temple sparked more hopes inside Ryoutaro—Len pushed him down flat on the bed, fingers entangled with strands of green. Ryoutaro clenched his eyes shut hesitantly, his breathing raging as he strived to restrain the painful desire that had started growing again.

"You'll catch the cold…"

Yet, as their lips connected and their tongues discovered the depth of greed, a small, husky whisper rang in between spreading sheets and knots of blanket.

"…I'll just have to give it back to you then."

And now Ryoutaro hated Len for making him love the violinist deeper.

End of Opus #2