- Title: Silence Of Sound.

- Author: Attiqah_gensui
- Pairing(s): Implied Kenren/Tenpou and past Goujun/Tenpou
- Rating: PG
- Summary or description: Goujun-centric. Goujun wanders into Tenpou's quarters in the dead of the night and muses.

- Disclaimer: Not mine. Though I wish they were. ^^
- Email: sistertosissy (@) yahoo.com (dot) sg
- Website: http://attiqah-gensui.livejournal.com/
- Warnings: None.
- Notes/Comments/anything else: I'm Attiqah, some of you may know me from FF.net and LJ. Beta was done by Lillypuff.

 

The door swung open, the quiet whisper of the night wind continued in the corridor behind him. He took his first step in.


The smell of old books assailed his nose, wrinkling it for a moment. Books that lay half opened in the gloom rustled as he passed them. The night shadows crept around the piles of books, elongating them, stretching them into strange shapes. Was there a man there, lying face down on the floor? He blinked, and they resolved themselves into a pile of scrolls and a box of novels.


He continued with his foray, stepping softly with the natural grace and silence that his kind possessed. A flower on the cluttered desk dropped a petal, the sound of its fall suddenly so obvious in the dark. He turned to it, picking the petal up to examine it further.


Satisfied that it was indeed a flower, picked at random, barely more than a weed at most, he continued.


The sounds of night followed him. The rustle of the papers left carelessly on the floor tailed him, sometimes joining company with a few creaking floorboards. Otherwise, silence prevailed. Even the moon herself seemed noisy. The moonlight was a note, humming without sound, a relentless silence in his ears.


He stood, having delayed enough. He felt naked without his cloak, even more so out of the uniform he donned for most of the years.

 

The marshal's button shirt seemed so thin; he could tear it with one clawed finger if he chose. But still, it seemed to suit the occasion. He had let his hair out of its braid, tying it instead in a high ponytail.


Again, softly he moved to the other door, it creaking slightly at his touch. The papers were worse here. Rustling and fluttering in the tiny wind that came in with him, they tried to mask the new noises that were with them.


Shadow again, a counter-note playing counter-melody with moonlight's silent hum. They teased each other, a call and reply echoing throughout the room. And between the two was the solid sound of breathing, the bass weaving through the two unreal harmonics effortlessly.


Tenpou was sleeping on his side, his glasses taken off and placed neatly on the side table; it bent the harmonics of light and shadow slightly, adding a discordant note when he looked at it. Glass bends light don't you know? Some of his dark hair had fallen over his face, hiding it from view. But from what he could see, the marshal was smiling. He gripped the taishou's arm, thrown possessively around his hip, tightly, as though afraid that he would wake alone in the morning. Goujun stared. Remembering past years, past centuries when he had lain almost in the same position, never thinking of what could happen in the future. But that was before he found out that kami, like humans, are fickle creatures.


He closed his eyes, remembering the taste of him, the taste and sound of his very presence. He tasted of cigarette smoke and paper, fire and wood. And he sounded like currents in the water, a drone that seemed safe enough until you dared to venture in, and got sucked into the roar of water filling your ears.


Then he stopped, pulling himself away, laying one hand on the table to stabilize himself. The harmony of shadow and light returned to fill his ears again with their silence. Kenren, already seen with his arm around Tenpou, shifted. Cloth moving over cloth, another new sound to add to the cacophony of silence.


Goujun felt a sudden urge to leave, suddenly seeing himself from another's perspective. Who was he, to come into Tenpou's rooms like this? In the middle of the night, when nobody was awake. The harmony that was just reaching its climax collapsed, sending the hollow rush of air back into the room. He looked around, all the shadows back in their proper positions, none of them stretched too far, all in place with their proper silhouettes of books left around. The papers still rustled, but only at random intervals.


He took a step forward, bending down to push back some of Tenpou's hair away from his face. Nothing moved, and for a second, Goujun fancied that he heard the harmony that was prevalent a few minutes ago return. He hesitated, lips just barely brushing Tenpou's forehead, thinking of past times. Enough is enough. The thought came like an echo. He turned to look at the room, nothing out of place.


He left the key he used to enter on the table, right beside the glasses and left without a backward glance.


Then it was just a matter of time before he returned to his quarters, somehow satisfied, but yet not so.

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