Inner-cities of the Soul An X/1999 story Sephy There was a soft choke, the sucking intake of a breath caught in the act, frozen forever as it escaped fleshy whitened lips. The figure in his arms trembled as blood bubbled and trickled, a slow quickening that seemed to catch the man by surprise, tiny brown eyes widening as he lifted them towards his attacker. His skin, Sumeragi Subaru noted with dispassionate distaste, was oily and reeking of sex, a stale, sickly aroma that clung to the man, contaminating the air around him with the mix of oils and semen and beyond that a thicker, more biting tang that he knew to be blood. Subaru wiggled his fingers, feeling slippery tissue ripple then slide off his gloved fingers with a gentle splat against the carpet. Up to his elbow in viscera, he could see and feel everything, the way lungs stuttered, heart beating erratically like the wings of a trapped bird, and the weight of the body swaying as if it couldn't decide whether to fall forward into his arms or backward. He made the decision for it, pressing the flat of his palm against the man's forehead and pushing back as he yanked his arm forward, an arching spray of blood and gore splattering against the walls and his clothing, all but invisible in the low lighting. The body fell forward with one last exhalation, flecks of bloody spittle staining it's chin, lip bitten through. Subaru knelt a moment longer, tilting his head and studying the corpse, the broad shoulders and the rounding paunch of stomach and hips, as much gifts of age as the streaks of gray in neat black hair. He'd been someone once, someone important, with connections and deals to be made and a life to live with a wife and children but now … Just so much dead tissue and soon to be rotting organs. Standing up, he turned away as the first petal of sakura appeared, a single spalsh of color against the other man's still warm flesh followed by another and then another, a cloying ravenous swarm of pinks and whites to devour and take what was needed. Once he'd wondered about that but now he understood only too well. This was the Tree's way, the way it fed, the way it nourished and empowered itself, making him its extension and weapon in one. He could feel its branches even now, twisting and catching around him, a greedy, ebullient thank you that he ignored as he always did, refusing to take the pleasure it offered to share, that of a fresh kill and sacrifice. He had chosen this position, yes but equally did he choose to treat it as what it was -- a position. A job. Just as much his duty as his onmyouji was, this was something he did because there was nothing else he could do. But he could decide the who and the how of it just as he could decide what he took away with him. In this case it was the memory of agonized browns, reflecting his innumerable sins back at him a thousand times over and the almost Jell-O-like feel of the older man's chest giving way beneath the smooth plunge of his fingers, brushing past bones and mining through organs, destroying them as his fingers passed through. The movement was a familiar one, the only way he could kill now reliving that one defining moment over and over again, almost to the point where he didn't flinch at the memory of mismatched eyes glinting at him, sensual lips lifting in one last cruel smirk and then the words that followed. The words that Seishirou knew he would never forget. The words that had in one way or another damned him just as much as the spell Hokuto had placed on the other man. He pivoted slowly towards the bed and the figure that lay huddled against the cheap headboard, stained sheets over one shoulder, stringy chin-length blond hair brushing against clenched lips, staring at the mattress as Subaru approached the bed. It was a boy, probably no older than eighteen, foreign and too skinny to be anything other picked up, bought and paid for a night's pleasure. It shouldn't have surprised him, not when boy whores were a dime a dozen in this district, pandering and selling their flesh as easily as their female counterparts, sometimes with more success. This one was probably popular, his features as distinctly gaijin as you could ever hope for but with the sweet, indefinable lines of a boy, androgynous if one ignored what those sheets were covering up, easily mistaken for a girl if one could ignore the faint downy hairs threatening to grow back on his upper lip. Young then, but not young enough, not naïve enough to be blind to danger, tensing up as Subaru sat beside him on the bed but too submissive to do anything more than cower there, the tremors in his limbs turning to outright shakes. Subaru shook his head, making a low noise at him, wondering if the boy understood Japanese at all or if he only understood the money that crossed his palm. With his clean hand he reached out to stroke the whore's head, threading his gloves through brittle blond strands, smoothing his thumb over them until they feathered. The younger boy flinched, glancing at him and then away again, a hint of blue all he could see of those eyes beyond the long lashes that feathered against his cheeks when he closed them, already damp with tears. Subaru used the hand on the other's head to draw him closer until that sweetly slender body was pressed against him, the dry silk of hair brushing his lips and chin. There was no resistance, just a silent shudder and the lift of a hand to fist in the folds of his coat, the gesture hauntingly familiar though for the life of him he couldn't say why. Closing his own eyes, he dropped a kiss against the other's hair, the hand resting against the top of the boy's head tightening as he moved quickly, catching that sharp chin with his still gore-drenched hand, feeling the bone dig in as he twisted, a sharp crack and the sudden limpness of the body against his, fear silenced forever. He was careful as he leaned back this time, placing his other arm underneath the broken body, straightening it on the bed and dabbing at the smear where his bloody fingers had held its chin, drawing the covers up to the child's chest placing dead fingers over it. It looked more peaceful this way, settled and over and almost enough to make him believe that the boy was sleeping, not here catching Subaru in the midst of a violent act. That Subaru hadn't had to take his miserable life because he'd seen and no one could know the identity of the Sakurazukamori without becoming his prey. No one. Subaru glanced at the wall and closed his eyes. Except one. *** Shirou Kamui squinted, nibbling on the end of his pencil before he hunched over again, scribbling a few more words then throwing his pencil across the desk, watching as it rolled to a bumping halt against the wall. Leaning back in his chair he glanced down at the half-written paper and then the digital clock across the room next to his bed. He felt restless, antsy and unable to sit still or well, pay attention to what he was writing apparently, wincing as he reread the last few sentences he'd written. As far as he could make out from the sudden hen scratches his writing had become, he thought he recognized the words. Maybe. If he turned the paper upside down and put it in front of a mirror. Dropping his head back, Kamui listened to his swivel chair creak, making a face at the ceiling. He only had two days left on his assignment unless he begged for an extension and prayed the teacher was generous and while this would be a cause for panic on a normal day given that his prose made street signs look like the most eloquent of haikus, Kamui found he simply couldn't be bothered. He had too much on his mind and English project or no, he just found himself unable to concentrate. Not where there were other things on his mind. Like the way he could still taste Subaru, a week later now, smoke and mint lingering on his tongue, the taste just palpable enough to drive him to distraction. Or the smooth weight of those gloved hands, the ones he'd never seen bare since Subaru had left the Dragons of Heaven, against his chest coming back to him at night when he lay in that finite state between dreaming and waking. The memory of green and amber-brown hazy with passion, alive and flickering, not glassy and dark, reflecting back outward the numb horror of the past. The warmth and the smells and a thousand other little things that came back to him at random moments, like the trace of his fingertips along the contours of Subaru's face, over high, curving cheekbones and the proud ridge of nose and brow. Words that made no sense now murmured afterward, nearly drowned out by the chirrup of crickets and the sounds of the campus at night, mixing into a strange, singsong lullaby. O-kay he was so clearly not going to get any work done at this rate, turning again in his chair, standing up and stretching, arms twisting around his head and reaching for his shoulder blade, feeling the slow burn of muscles. He twisted his head until his the joints of shoulder and neck popped, a rush-relief following on its heels before he turned to his legs, balancing on one foot and lifting until his toes brushed his buttocks. It was a patently ridiculous position but it made him feel better and gave him something else to concentrate on. And that was good because there were plenty of more important things to do than wonder why Subaru had all but disappeared without a word or a gesture that he even meant to return. Certainly more important things to do than wonder what the Sumeragi was doing and if he was all right because no, he was not concerned in the slightest. Subaru could come and go as he pleased and it was all the same to Kamui because he knew from past experience that it did no good to try and put a leash on Subaru's movements or to allow himself the tantrum that begged to be thrown. He wasn't some green sixteen year old and if Subaru had things he'd rather do after that night then be around Kamui, it was really just fine. Fine. Right. 'Fine my ass' he thought mournfully, dropping his foot loudly against the floor, wincing as his toes scuffed the wooden boards. Pushing a fist against his spine, he looked around his threadbare room with very little enthusiasm. He really should have taken Keiichi up on those offer for posters, as insipid as some of those slogans had been. Granted they were the remnants of some fundraiser for the education majors and free but there was just something about cute fuzzy chicks breaking out of an egg followed up with some clichéd inspirational slogan that constituted cruel and unusual punishment or so he thought. Still, it would have been something beyond the occasional bulletin or reminder he posted on the corkboard near his bed or the lonely calendar over his desk. Something more than the white wash of walls, lovely in its own way to be sure but there was something impersonal about the room despite the piles of clothes in one corner and the books stacked along the walls, stretching out in every available direction. He didn't have a television, the radio in the corner more than enough to fulfill his needs and moreover, he'd bought it himself with his own money. The apartment itself was courtesy of Imonoyama-sama, a studio in one of the student run apartments, the Chairman of CLAMP Academy all but insisting that not only was his tuition waived but so were his housing bills. A little thank you, Imonoyama-sama had said with a twinkle in those deep blue eyes, for not letting the world be destroyed. He appreciated the gesture, really he did but after being dependent for so long he wanted to do things for himself, make his own mistakes without fear of the consequences causing the world to shatter into a billion pieces just because he happened to buy the wrong toothpaste one morning. Besides, given what he'd had to do and sacrifice in order to "save the world," Kamui wasn't sure he deserved the compensation. Certainly not for trying to do the right thing. Leaning forward, Kamui snagged his uniform shirt and tie shed and abandoned near the chair, giving both a bit of a shake as if to clear the wrinkles starting to crush into fabric. As much as he hated ironing, picking up after himself wasn't much higher on his list of fun things. 'Maybe it'll straighten out if I leave it in the bathroom the next time I shower?' It couldn't hurt, he supposed, folding the clothes over his arm and padding over to the closet to snag a coat hanger, hanging the shirt and draping the tie over the hook. And it wasn't as if he had anything better to do tonight. Granted there was probably something happening on campus somewhere if he were inclined to go hunt it up and put up with the crowds of people likely to be gathering but that would take more effort, to say little of socialization, than he wanted to put in. Kamui was also pretty sure that trying to read through his homework right now would mean re-reading the same passage over again later because he wouldn't remember what he read first time around and at this point he had no desire to start doodling Subaru's name over and over again in the margins like some lovesick teenage girl. He wasn't that hard up or desperate and he'd pass go if it was all the same to the universe. So that left the shower and maybe he could hack away some zombies on the game he'd just downloaded, grateful that CLAMP Academy felt that every student despite social or economic status needed a computer in their room, a fee his waived tuition had taken care of entirely. He hadn't quite gotten into the online lifestyle that many of his classmates were into, even less inclined to talk to a faceless handle on a computer screen than he was to a real person but he could appreciate certain aspects of it. Particularly the part where he could download or rent games for himself. Hacking up zombies or one player shooter games, those he could get into, being mindless enough he could easily pass a few hours on, more intent on blowing up animated bytes rather to focus on his own problems. Which were, he was forced to admit, not really that much in the grand scheme of things. He had a roof over his head, food, and his education was coming along and in so far as he knew, the world was in one piece. More or less. Or at least if it wasn't, it wasn't his fault or responsibility to fix it. That was something. Sort of. Maybe. He'd take what he could get. "Okay then a shower and then a round of blowing shit up on ye old computer system. What more could any self-respecting teenage boy want?" He muttered, pushing his hair out of his eyes then frowning, tapping the coat hanger against his lips. "Except that now I'm talking to myself again and I'm pretty sure that's not good." Shaking his head, Kamui rocked back on the balls of his feet, closing the closet door, hanger still in hand as he turned and promptly shrieked in a manner that made him supremely, supremely happy that his walls were soundproof and his next door neighbors couldn't hear anything incriminating. Subaru was leaning against the front door tipping his head in a quizzical fashion, though goddamn him if there wasn't a hint of something curving his lips and Kamui swore silently that if Subaru did anything that remotely resembled a smile, he'd murder him. He was dressed from head to toe in his typical mourning black, a shtick that made him look either slightly vampiric or like a refugee from a wannabe Goth club, Kamui could never decide which. It suited him but he did miss seeing Subaru in other colors even if those other colors had been varying shades of gray or white or drab green. As it was, he wondered how Subaru managed to pass through a crowd unnoticed because while Kamui appreciated the leather (in all ways did he appreciate the leather), the tight black pants and the trench coat of doom with buckles seemed to scream for attention and given what Subaru now er…did, that wasn't necessarily a good thing. I mean, hello? Sakurazukamori?' Kamui thought, waiting for his heart to calm down, not trusting himself to speak just yet. 'Not the most inconspicuous outfit ever.' Maybe he was just too used to the previous Sakurazukamori and Seishirou's penchant for off the rack suits that made him look like a businessman and not an assassin. Hanger pressed against his chest in an almost protective gesture, he held out a hand, glancing around then back at Subaru, "Okay, you with the being here and -- Excuse me but what the fuck?!" "I let myself in." "I can see that. Not that I'm not glad to see you but damn, warning? Please? I know it's probably really hilarious to give me a heart attack but how? When? Er, how? Because I'm pretty damn sure I locked that door and I'm also pretty sure I didn't hear anyone unlock it." Subaru's eyes drifted over him, arms crossed over his chest, "What would you do if I said it was magic?" "Threaten to kill you." "Let myself in," Subaru repeated without missing a beat though his eyes were a shade lighter than they'd been. "Right because you have such magic fingers," Kamui snorted then colored, his face burning as he realized what he'd said, backpedaling, "I mean, not that I would -- Or that you don't have -- That is, to say, um --" "Have what?" 'Damn him,' Kamui thought, glowering at the ground as he tried to collect himself, not buying for an instant that oh so innocent tone. "Okay, I think rather than embarrass myself any further and seeing as the earth isn't opening up to swallow me whole when I really need it to, maybe we should start again," He peered at him through a fringe of bangs, "Hi, Subaru. Nice to see you again. On campus even and we've had this discussion already, I think." "We have," Subaru nodded, "Or rather you talked and I listened." "And decided that it was a good idea to come anyway even though I've told you that it makes Imonoyama-sama twitchy and they have their phasers set to kill?" "Imonoyama-sama doesn't have phasers, Kamui." "You don't know. He could. God knows he has everything else you could possibly want here. I mean, for all we know that giant blowfish on the clock tower? Totally a death ray." "A death ray?" Kamui nodded, attempting to look serious and stern and all but having to clamp down on his lip, words muffling a bit. "I've always thought its eyes were a little suspicious, yes." "And he didn't use this during the end of the world…why?" "Wasn't developed yet. These things take time. Can't build the Death Star in a night." "There are Star Wars references now?" "Grabbed it out of my meager bag of pop culture references," Kamui admitted, resting a hand on his hip, looking chagrined, "Keiichi says it helps." "Helps?" "To sound like I haven't been living with adults my entire life. Or that I missed out on most of the last decade or so. All those little things you miss when you're running for your life." "Ah." Subaru didn't exactly look uncomfortable so much as inscrutable, more so than usual at any rate and Kamui wasn't sure if it was his bringing up of 1999 so flippantly or if he was doing it to see how far he could poke Kamui before the boy exploded on him. He couldn't fault the other man for that, given how certain subjects were more than sore points but as he couldn't exactly erase the entire year and pretend it never happened. Kamui was trying to find ways to deal with what happened or if nothing else, put things into perspective. A really warped perspective but perspective nonetheless. With some things it was easier than others, slowly coming to the realization that there were some subjects like Fuuma and the incident at Rainbow Bridge that he would never be comfortable with joking about ever. "So yeah," Kamui subsided, face relaxing as some of his amusement subsided, "You're here. Which is good. I like here. I'm just, yanno, kind of surprised." "Why?" "Because you're here at all? You kind of dropped off the radar for a few days. I wasn't really sure you were coming back." Subaru lifted an eyebrow, looking a touch wary, if not confused, "Why not?" "Oh hell, I don't know? Because you walked off like thirty minutes after we had sex? How's that one grab you? It's not exactly a ringing endorsement of my prowess or your enjoyment and just … " He paused and rubbed the back of his neck, looking pained. "I don't know? I wasn't expecting you to turn up this soon. Or at all, really." There it was again, that unreadable stare, brown and green eyes dilated to pinpoints, lips neither smiling nor frowning, just still and measuring like some ancient sphinx. It was all he could do not to fidget under the weight of that stare or worse, puff up defensively and thereby guaranteeing to put his foot in his mouth and say the wrong damn thing at the worst possible moment. It made him uneasy, that look did, as if Subaru were dissecting him bit by bit and making some sort of judgment that would decide the entire course of the rest of the conversation and he didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. "I had things to do," Subaru stirred at last, gloved hands reaching up to run through his hair, damp strands glistening in the light, Kamui noticed with a start. "Things to attend to." He said that as if it explained everything and Kamui supposed it did but it didn't make him any happier. Drawing a breath, he shrugged. "Sure, things. Everyone has things. I have things too. Lots of them. School and work and … school." "You work?" Subaru did sound surprised now, almost disbelieving. Kamui bristled. "Yes, I work. I have a steady job, thank you very much. Are you saying there's something wrong with that?" "That's not what I'm saying." "Then what are you saying? I do have to make a living now. I'm not some -- some charity case living off the Imonoyama Nokoru Orphan Relief Fund. Nor am I incapable of a hard day's work." "I didn't say that either," Subaru protested, lurching out of his lean and taking a few steps closer, studying him, "Why are you so angry?" "I'm not --" Kamui paused, realizing his voice was raising and his words were coming faster than they should have been. "I'm not angry. I'm just -- I don't want charity. Or pity. I want to do something for myself for once. I don't see what's so wrong with that." "And is that all?" Subaru crept forward another step, arms still crossed as his gaze turned more probing. Kamui frowned and he looked away, thrown by the other's sudden nearness and having to resist the urge to move back a step, to reassert some sort of distance while he tried to sort out what was in his mind. "You went away." He glanced at Subaru and then away again. "You went away and you didn't say anything after saying I'd made the right choice. Not 'That was great, honey' or 'Oh Jesus, we just did that?' or … " "Or what?" Kamui shook his head stubbornly. "You didn't say anything and I thought … Well, " he stopped picking at his fingers and forced himself to straighten up and look Subaru square in the eye, "I thought you'd changed your mind. That you'd thought better and you -- weren't coming back." "There've been times I've gone away before and you never thought I wouldn't be back," Subaru pointed out. "I'm aware of that. It doesn't mean I have to like it, Subaru. It doesn't mean that I don't mind when you do. Especially since you have a tendency to go to ground right after something big happens. A guy likes knowing where he stands sometimes." "But that's my hang up, I guess, not yours," Kamui rubbed his forehead, giving him a small smile, "It's not important." "Kamui, why do you think I'm here?" "Damned if I know," Kamui shrugged again and laughed, the sound thick and bitter, all those jagged edges making themselves known again. "Healthy dose of masochism?" "There's that," Subaru agreed, "But there's also the fact that I wanted to see you again." "You did? I mean, it's good that you did but um…why?" Unable to stop himself, Kamui raised his fingers to his lips, chewing on the nails for a moment before Subaru rolled his eyes and tugged his hand away. "I wanted to," Subaru said, squeezing his hand in emphasis, his voice never raising even if as it became more firm. "That's reason enough, isn't it?" Kamui looked at him and then their entwined fingers, nodding slowly. "I guess it is." *** 'Maybe,' Subaru thought later, shifting a bit so that Kamui was resting more comfortably against his shoulder, fingers threading through fine, still wet strands,'This is what it's like to be normal.' Kamui was warm, feverishly so, something Subaru remembered from long nights spent near his bedside, placing compresses against his forehead and watching to make sure he didn't twist or turn the wrong way, bones so broken that he'd sometimes wondered Kamui had survived any of Fuuma's attacks at all. That warmth was something that hadn't changed; indeed, even without the aid of illness or broken limbs he seemed to burn against Subaru through the layers of both their clothing as he lay dozing, hand fisted in Subaru's coat and head just over Subaru's heart. He was still damp from his shower earlier, a twitchy affair as the boy seemed torn between inviting Subaru to join him and running in the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him as he went. Instead he'd just stood there stuttering for a good ten minutes before Subaru relented and let him off the hook, making himself comfortable on the couch as he informed the younger boy he'd already had his shower for the night. He was fairly certain he didn’t imagine the faint disappointment ghosting across Kamui's delicate features before the boy shrugged and turned on his heel. What's more, he was equally certain if not somewhat taken aback to find a corresponding sense of dissatisfaction in himself. He hadn't been lying when he'd told Kamui he came around because if nothing else, at least where Kamui was concerned, all those emotions he thought long since dead seemed to resurrect themselves in a painfully jumbled ball, wound so tightly that they fed into each other with no end in sight. It was a far cry from the numb patience that seemed to surround him like a fog most days, thick and encompassing so that all he felt was the basic needs of getting through the day, the most poignant sensations of pain and the small pleasures of eating but very little of the emotions themselves. More like bits and pieces than anything else; a fragment of irritation or despair here, an almost deadened sense of curiosity about the world around him but beyond that everything seemed to switch off. He didn't care about the people milling around him like so many ants, going on with their lives, untouched and unscathed and wholly occupied with their own problems, unaware that Death walked with them. Death wrapped in the sweet smell of sakura, rich and overpowering so that no one never noticed the blood until it was too late. Once it would have hurt, would have destroyed him to take lives as he did now but Seishirou-san had done his job well, spending years hollowing out his heart until there was very little of it left, the remains left in the care of a dead man and perhaps in the hollow of this boy's small hands. Subaru frowned at that thought, wondering if it were an exaggeration or possibly a burden that Kamui didn't need to think things like that. He cared for Kamui, the younger boy intriguing him, piquing his interest when no one else since Hokuto's death had. There had been too many parallels with his own situation with Seishirou-san to make him feel comfortable when he'd first met the boy, nearly two years ago but now he'd had time to think, to live and grow into this role and to realize that for all intents and purposes and despite his very best efforts, he wasn't Seishirou-san. He didn't derive the same sense of enjoyment or purpose from taking lives. It was simply what he did. It was his position, given to him by heredity as much as his onmyoujitsu and in fulfilling it he was merely doing what he'd been appointed to do. He was a killer but a killer who felt nothing but the weight of each death sink upon his shoulders, the taint of blood staining skin that he could never wash clean and wouldn't even know where to begin should he even desire that. All he could do was choose those deaths, to pick which jobs he could live with, the deaths that his conscience could countenance. Who could be sacrificed, who couldn't. In the end, there were times Subaru wondered how much any of it mattered at all. But Kamui mattered. For whatever reason, he'd always mattered and he mattered now. Part of it was the empathy that had always existed between them, knowing the boy better than Kamui knew himself. It had never been about his importance in the general scheme of destiny, never about whether Kamui could save the world or not. Truth be told, Subaru didn't care enough about the world to really want to save it. Caring would mean rousing himself to feel something beyond the torpid, implacable rage and the growing emptiness that seemed to suck out all life, all light and joy, leaving him little more than an animated shell, limbs that moved, a heart that beat but nothing beyond that. Or so he'd thought. And now nothing was what he thought it would be. There was no satisfaction to be found in Seishirou-san's death, only the death of a past he'd been hanging onto the shreds of and now he wasn't sure who Sumeragi Subaru was or what purpose he was supposed to have in this new world. The night that had fallen seemed to be an eternal one, full of screams and blood, punishing himself as he performed his task forcing himself to relive that instant over and over again, always present in the back of his mind the question of whether things could have been different, if there was ever a moment where any of it could have turned out differently at all. Seishirou-san. Hokuto. And Kamui. The three most important people in his life and just as inexplicably as the first two had died, the third had not. Subaru just wasn't entirely sure what to do with that and damned if he didn't find himself being drawn in despite himself. Kamui twitched, fingers clenching up as a slow, involuntary jerk caused his body to coil and tighten, breath catching and he blinked, lifting bleary eyes towards Subaru as he muttered, "What time is it?" "After midnight." That seemed to wake him up more fully, Kamui blinking again before letting go of Subaru long enough to rub at his eyes, not even cognizant enough to be embarrassed by his faux pas. "You're shitting me." He couldn't help but smile at that little bit of vulgarity, so gauche and coltish and utterly Kamui. "No, unless you have every clock in the place set wrong, it's ten after. You've been asleep for some time now." "Oh," Kamui seemed to digest this, eyelids droopy and face flushed from sleep, mouth forming a pouty moue and Subaru felt something in him tighten at that, lifting a hand to brush some of the hair out of his eyes. The other closed his eyes again, leaning into his touch, kittenish and sleepy as he wriggled in closer, "This is really comfortable." "Yes. It is," Subaru kept his voice low, smoothing back Kamui's fine hair a little further, faintly amused by how messy it was, tousled and sticking out in several directions as he combed his fingers through it. There was another long pause, so long that he'd almost convinced himself that Kamui had fallen asleep again as he sat back, petting his hair while his other hand somehow found itself smoothing up and over the boy's bony back, ribs and the knobs of his spine evident through his thin night shirt, when Kamui spoke again, amethyst eyes a little more alert this time when he opened them. "Do you ever take off your gloves?" Of all the things he'd expected, that wasn't one of them. His hand stilled, Subaru taken aback, eyes widening just a fraction before narrowing again. "Sometimes." Kamui's chin dug into his chest, watching him and flexing his fingers, bunching and unbunching the fabric of Subaru's shirt. "When?" "What do you mean, when?" "Seems kind of straightforward to me. When do you take your gloves off? And why do you sound so defensive?" "I'm not defensive," Subaru retorted then winced at just how defensive he did sound. "Right," Kamui nodded, "This is you, totally not being defensive." "That's right." "Subaru?" "What?" "I'd hate to see what it's like when you are defensive," Kamui said, voice definite, moving just enough to rest his chin on the hand still clinging to Subaru. Subaru sighed, leaning back as he stared at the ceiling then brought the fingers of his free hand to his lips, closing his teeth around the tips and yanking, his hand feeling clammy and unavoidably naked as he did so. "Happy?" he mumbled around the fabric. "Well yeah, though it does bring to mind another question." "What?" "Why won't you look at your hands, Subaru?" Kamui sounded serious, letting go long enough to flatten his hand against Subaru's, a strange slick shock passing through their palms, Kamui's dry and small and Subaru's much larger with a faint hint of sweat. Kamui had always possessed the uncomfortable gift of knowing just what to ask, to say, that would hit him hardest. Whether he spoke those questions or not, luminous eyes alight with more questions than there was time in the world to answer and somehow, he always felt compelled to try nevertheless. Even if it was only to turn his words around in a manner that could only be construed as hurtful. "Do you particularly enjoy looking at your hands, Kamui?" Subaru twined their fingers so he could turn the back of Kamui's hand towards him, greeted by twisting lines of silver, thick and puffed up with age, a perfect half-imitation of a stigmata, lacking the reverence of vision and too much human intent behind their making, wondering if Kamui saw Monou Fuuma's face leering down at him every time he glanced at his hands. "At the scars you carry, on the surface for everyone to see? Your failure? Your loss?" He drew Kamui's hand to his face, lips trailing along those old scars, mapping them with his lips, a smooth slip-slide that seemed to feel the thick wreck as if it were his own scars he were touching, the only hint of distress the faint quickening of Kamui's breathing. "I don't need to see physical scars to know what I lost," Kamui didn't pull away, at least not physically, his eyes suddenly distant, so far away that Subaru felt a chill. "I don't need anything beyond waking up each morning. Listening to the birds outside my window, the sunshine across my face and I know. I know each and every thing that's not here and won't be here, that I'll never have. His eyes moved to seek out Subaru's, still away, still lost and forgetting everything, "I know their names. I say them every morning between getting up and showering, before facing the world. Tohru. Saya. Tokiko. Kotori. Fuuma. Sorata. Arashi. Hinoto. Aoki." His fingers tightened against Subaru's chest, staring at him, through him, and down in him as he sat back, voice dying away to a thin whisper. "Subaru." "Subaru." "Subaru." Kamui repeated for a third time, the name striking against the rising silence, clear and agonized and true. "All dead. Even Subaru. But the only ghost I've ever seen is the one who wears black and hides his scars in mourning." The atmosphere seemed to wind up tighter and tighter, as if the air was being sucked from the room bit by helpless bit, leaving in its place this choking, drowning sensation, caught like a bird in too large orbs of amethyst, dark and light reflected and conflicted in murky depths neither giving nor taking. He'd seen eyes like that on statues, on blind men who never had any hope of seeing at all, a gaze turned so far inward that all it could see was itself, a winding mobius loop that couldn't allow for anything but a past and a future, leaving only the present a winding, thorny maze. And Subaru felt that for the first time he was seeing Kamui, Kamui as he was, Kamui as he might be, and not the gawky shade of a sixteen year old, wrapped in blood and enraged pain. This hurt went deeper, molded into bone and DNA, quiet and still in that way water is right before something punctures the surface sending wayward silver ripples across and suddenly there were hollows in Kamui's face, the childish curve starting to strip away, lending him a lean and almost feral look. Shadows hung like bruises under already darkened eyes, his skin darker than Subaru's though not by much and his hair which Subaru had thought so artfully mussed seemed longer, tendrils curling around the base of his neck, badly in need of a cut but so wild he thought that not even that would tame it. He was too thin, knobby knees and elbows, slender and not entirely grown into his body yet but that would come, was coming and Subaru could see it with a faint edge of panic, wondering how he'd not noticed these changes, how he'd seen only those things he wanted to see for so long that he could miss this, that he could lose Kamui to, in the change and shift of youth into adulthood, time sculpting the boy into something else. Someone else. Threatening to displace Subaru once again. He leaned up, his hand snaking up to crush those curling strands, tugging Kamui down until his mouth found the other's, hard and wanting, needing an anchor against this wave, this growing realization that threatened everything else in his ordered world. Time had moved. Time was moving and it would never stop moving and he could lose this, too. He had only to wait long enough. Kamui's mouth was soft, still softer than a grown man's but it was longer, more generous than he remembered, a satiny upper lip and the rounding smooth of a plump lower lip, wet and slippery as he returned the kiss, needing no impetus or push, responding easily, needy and devouring, with just the tip of a tongue to wander along Subaru's lower lip to drive him to distraction. He balanced or tried to with the one hand that was free to him, the other still clasped in Subaru's, tremors from the weight of his leaning stalking in quick shakes through his back and chest and Subaru brought the hand in his to rest against his shoulder, letting Kamui find his equilibrium. His free hand smoothed along the fine ribs, each bone distinct and yet blending, small just before the dip of flesh between them and the jut of his hips, boxers just low enough to reveal a peek of flesh as Kamui's shirt moved. Kamui breathed as his fingers moved, chin tilting and breath stuttering against Subaru's lips, his tongue now more aggressive than before, demanding and claiming as it slid inward to brush Subaru's, refusing to let him be still, to let him lie back. No, even if he wanted to Kamui would not let him, crawling up him slowly, letting Subaru feel taut muscle and lean bones the strength of which still surprised him, sometimes rocking back just a bit then stretching forward again, teasing and teasing until he found himself wanting to kiss Kamui just as thoroughly as he was being kissed, so that all the air between them was all that was left as though they were underwater and drowning, with no one left to cling to at all. That was all right, too. They kissed, frantic and torn but without the ache of earlier, of the gazebo. No, this feeling was different, familiar and unfamiliar and Subaru found himself cleaving to it. Before there had always just been Possibility between them and what lay there now was Actuality, what existed in the space between each breath was When and How, all the Ifs taken away as if they'd never lived at all. Kamui had loved him once, maybe did still. At least he said so but Subaru knew the difference between the truth of what was and the truth of what was said. He didn't think Kamui was lying, not about this but always in the back of his mind was that niggling doubt. That one last 'What if' that refused to be dislodged. What if Kamui should know, should come to know just how much blood he bathed in, if he should know about earlier, what if he knew? What then? And perhaps the worst question yet, the one that attached itself to that fear, conjoined and birthing itself even now. What if Kamui forgave him? Easing back a touch, Kamui nuzzled his cheeks, pressing sloppy, possessive kisses against his forehead and over his eyes (over both eyes and that left him breathless), leaning in until their noses rubbed in a simulation of other acts, of other touches and caresses and that warmth that had been solely Kamui's was now his too, erupting in his stomach and traveling up him in a hot pulse. And when Kamui spoke, his breath wafting over Subaru's lips, it was that voice and the sound of his pulse rate picking up, something it no longer did not even when he killed that overpowered everything else. "Come to bed, Subaru?" Kamui took his lower lip and kissed it gently, slowly making love to it with nips and slow brazing caresses. "If you're staying… Come to bed?" He sat back, hoisting himself up by the hands that had somehow found themselves sunk into the cushions above Subaru's shoulders, pushing up and back, a quick flash of pale tummy and the curve of a hip revealed before his shirt fell forward again. He didn't wait for Subaru to answer, standing up and with one last look turning away, making it clear that whether he chose to or not, Kamui was going to bed and the decision was his to make. The weight of that knowledge was almost paralyzing, watching Kamui with careful eyes, trying to assemble the pieces of himself that had been smashed and scattered out in the last few minutes, bits and shards he wasn't even aware he still possessed, wondering if this was what Kamui felt for the entirety of that awful year. The burden of knowing that one choice, one decision could change everything for good or ill, could make it where there was nothing that could be taken back, and everything to lose. If he had, how had he lived with it? There was already too much to lose and the gain… Subaru couldn't think of gaining anything. Whenever anything had been gained, it was just as quickly lost. Better to think on the moment and act, to follow his path even if that path was only taking him ever deeper into damnation. His feet answered for him, an unsteady stagger-step as if they'd gone numb, leather pants tighter than they had been, tight and hot and he felt both, stretched and pulled and in danger of losing cohesion. It took little effort at all to hook his fingers at the ends of Kamui's t-shirt, the younger boy lifting his arms before he'd drawn near enough to reach, fingertips extended towards the ceiling, cheek against one arm, expression somewhere between coy and intent as Subaru tossed the shirt aside. Subaru found he couldn't stop himself, reminded with a jolt of the still gloved hand he bore, as he rested both hands against Kamui's shoulders, feeling the brittle bone beneath, pulse throbbing rapidly in his throat and the flat expanse of chest and stomach, of tanned nipples still faintly pink around the edges and the arching divide of breast bone and rib cage. There was something oddly sensual in this, one hand uncovered and the other gloved hand gliding across Kamui's bare skin, human and inhuman, flattening out from each shoulder to run his palms flat over his chest, watching as those flattened nubs tightened in their sea of pale flesh, counting rib bones as he went downward then up again, feeling Kamui's heart rate jump. Even through the barrier of a glove this seemed too intimate, too immediate and he lifted his eyes to Kamui's, the heart in his own chest beating painfully, his mouth flattening out for fear of trembling. Kamui's features softened, eyes somehow sad and old as he reached out, taking that protected hand and as tenderly as possible rolling the glove off, dropping a kiss on each individual finger, on the nail and the knuckle and then finally the branching network of veins visible through his skin on the back. He squeezed it and stroked the fingers before letting it go, reaching up to take the lapels of the coat, small hands working at edging the fabric of his coat back. "You never take it off, do you?" Kamui didn't wait for an answer, pushing it off one shoulder, the heavy weight of the garment falling onto the other, "It's part of your armor. It's part of how you hide. But who are you hiding from, Subaru?" Subaru had no answers to these questions. Indeed, he could scarcely comprehend what was being asked. Kamui acted as if he didn't really expect him to anyway, catching his jacket before it hit the floor entirely and taking the time to drape it over a nearby chair. This wasn't like the first time, Subaru thought. When everything had been rushed and urgent and too much to stop. There had been no time there for proprieties, no time to appreciate and to taste. There had only been the taking, a wild racing need that had spiraled outward. There was still no time but they pretended that there was, that they had the time to take. As if this time belonged to them. Subaru had never had anything that belonged to him, at least not for long. His Hokuto. His Seishirou. His Destiny. They were all things he had no control over, things he couldn't affect but drift along in the wake of, reacting passively as he did to everything else with only a bitter anger to push him. But it wasn't anger pushing him here. He felt small, vulnerable and unguarded and too aware, as if his clothes truly were armor and what was left underneath was less a man than something too soft and crushable, a worm wriggling in the face of too much light once its rock had been lifted. And without the weight and bulk of his coat, he was all too aware that the dissimilarities between his frame and Kamui had more to do with insignificant things like the broadness of his shoulders and the boyish knit of muscles that Kamui still possessed but had been carved out of him. It was odd to stand like this, with Kamui able to look him straight in the eye if he so chose when all his memories were of having to crane his head downward. He felt the younger of the two of them, out of his element to say little of his depths, and had there been enough life in him to summon a blush he might have done just that. As it was, it was all he could do to meet Kamui's gaze, reaching down and tugging his turtleneck off, Kamui's hands following along his abdomen and sides as easy as a breath, whisper light and giving him form where they touched, making him real in a way that Subaru hadn't been in years. It bewildered him that he could feel this way, that he could feel himself, could feel Subaru and Sakurazukamori so deeply entwined and entrenched, growing together instead of choking each other, the thorns of one pricking the other and both wanting this. This feeling, this act, this boy. Craving something more than desolation when those emotional deserts had been his comfort for so long. Kamui's hands were strong, fingers gliding behind the arch of Subaru's throat, bringing them together, breathless before their lips even touched, Subaru's hands gripping the other's shoulders, chests brushing then touching as they drew nearer. It was like gravity, like falling, simple and unthinking, trying to learn the ways they fit, the ways they could kiss or touch. Seishirou had always known how to kiss him or where to touch him, practiced and polished, able to set Subaru's skin on fire with just a glance or the not so subtle lift of a smirk. With Kamui it was different, enthusiasm in place of actual experience, unflagging and almost joyous, laughing just a little when they bumped chins or Subaru kissed just a little harder than was necessary. There was no acting in Kamui's reactions, no basis for falsehood, for Subaru to wonder if his lover was really with him or if his mind was elsewhere, with other things and people. He could no more parrot feelings back at Subaru than the sun and moon could switch places. What Kamui was, what he had always been at least with other people was honest, sometimes brutally so. Admissions to himself were, of course, another matter entirely. Drifting backward, Kamui twined their hands, each step slow, hampered by the kisses he darted against Subaru's mouth, leading him and still it left him stunned when their knees hit the mattress, Kamui having only a second to roll out from underneath him before his elbow caught him in the face. A second and it was enough, the younger boy rolling onto his side and finding his mouth again, kissing him as covetous fingers stroked the curve of Subaru's throat, playing at the rounding hollow there between flesh and bone. Subaru hissed as fingernails turned, raking lightly across his flesh, downward trails of teasing pleasure-pain, making awareness an acute, almost discomforting sensation. Those trailing nails skipped and skimmed a meandering path, an openly hesitant moment before they scratched across his nipple, Kamui's head lifting to watch him, just in time to see Subaru's eyes widen and feel the rush of air that escaped. Another hesitation and then those nails raked across his sensitive flesh again, catching the nub between forefinger and thumb, flicking it as violet eyes grew luminous in fascination. He caught Subaru's eyes and leaned down quickly to place a kiss in the center of his chest, as if he thought the Sumeragi needed comforting. The touch was butterfly soft, like the flap of paper thin wings or a puff of smoke curling, there and gone again. Then there again as Kamui lowered his face again, as if pulled by some magnetic north. Another kiss and then another walking across his chest like tiny feet, ticklish and breezy, Subaru's hands running across brown-black hair, watching it ruffle and feather around his fingers, the hard-soft of the scalp beneath as he offered what encouragement he could, fingers dancing and moving until he found the right spots, the ones that made Kamui's eyes become gauzy and slitted, flushing pink and pausing in his ministrations. There was power in this, in as much as he gave to Kamui he was gaining it himself, testing it out as he tugged Kamui's face forward, watching eyes close completely as kiss-swollen lips tasted then feasted on his flesh, leaving fire in their wake. And when Kamui's mouth brushed against his nipple, Subaru found himself rising into that tentative touch, desiring and repulsed, nerves shredding just a little more as teeth scraped clumsily then with growing skill against tender skin, the scour-rasp of a tongue following as if to soothe the sting. It didn't nor did it banish that dizzying, too intimate feeling. What it gave was confidence, Kamui caressing his abdomen, a slow glide, fingers curling and palm splayed, stopping just above the hemline of his pants, mouth following the path his hand had already blazed, teeth catching and rolling bits of skin between them, nibbles that deepened the pink crawling up Kamui's complexion. As lovely as that was to behold, he felt a change within himself, quicksilver and sea-shift in one, turbulent as Subaru propped himself up on his elbow, hand pressed at the juncture of Kamui's neck and shoulder as he all but buried his face on the other side. It was meant to be a kiss but the teeth behind it weren’t so gentle, impatient as the ragged breath that wrung out of him as Kamui's grip on his stomach tightened. He apologized for it with another, truer kiss against the pulse point fluttering so wildly, then over the curve, not quite mimicking Kamui's earlier actions but following the course, curious and wondering. Kamui smelled of soap and sweat and the lingering aftereffects of detergent on clothes, clean smells that made him think of happier times, when Hokuto would try and do the laundry, usually when there was nothing left in the apartment to wear and Kyoto was being stingy with their allowances. One of those lessons in life Obaachan had been so damn fond of shoving at them. Life taught its own lessons. It didn't need help. What was it like for Kamui? Subaru wondered, hands wandering, the skin beneath his hands almost girl-soft, all of Kamui's strength beneath those lean, seemingly muscle-less lines, his stomach dipping into a concave hollow just below the elastic of his dingy checkered boxers. Was he overwhelmed as Subaru was? Could he taste the reek of death and the blood Subaru had tried to soap off himself earlier, before coming over here, as if he could spare Kamui the pollution that seemed to fill his nose and mouth at odd moments? That coppery, bitter taste and the rich bile that followed, burning out the top of his throat in a sickly sweet mess? If so, he gave no indication and as Subaru studied him, he was hit by a sudden feeling of déjà vu, of lines crossing and meshing and meeting up, of similar builds and lean limbs, and it was dirty blond hair he saw, Kamui's features melting into something more gaijin and feral-lost and Subaru shuddered, his hand tightening. Kamui inhaled sharply, his hand finding Subaru's where it lay gripping his hipbone, the sound startling the Sumeragi out of his reverie, familiar features reasserting themselves, dear and alive and so very concerned as the younger boy spoke, "Subaru? Subaru … what is it?" He shook his head more out of blind stubbornness, determined not to drag those corpses chained to him into this, in between them, closing an arm around Kamui's waist and dragging him closer. He rolled back until the other was on top of him, a careless leg falling between his, desperate to forget as he craned his neck to find Kamui's mouth, giving him no more time for no more questions. It didn't take much to start things up again, just the rise of his leg between Kamui's, hips aligning, listening as Kamui's breath stuttered, eyes disquieted but his body followed Subaru's, reaching down to hold onto Subaru's hips as he rocked experimentally. Subaru thrust upward in response, his hands at the base of Kamui's spine, digging in there as he rubbed against the body on top of his, chests brushing and hips knocking through clothing, thin and thick. A thin wash of sweat broke out against his legs, leather pants drawn tighter and tighter still, Kamui's impatience finally getting the better of him and making things worse as he reached down to shove at his boxers, tangling with Subaru's arms in one breathless moment where neither seemed to be able to make their limbs work. Kamui laughed again and this time Subaru found himself chuckling in response, the sound strained and nervous and he wondered when he'd forgotten to laugh, to truly laugh. Perhaps with Hokuto, perhaps not. It wasn't fair to blame so many changes on Hokuto, on her death and her life. It was four hands that pushed at those loose boxers, Kamui lifting up with an audible breath, wriggling against him, a curving buttock revealed here, a flash of leg there as he twisted, still perched on Subaru as the Sumeragi tried to help as he could but was unable to do much more than touch errant bits of now bared skin. Disentangling himself a moment, Kamui rested his weight on the palm of one hand, arms curving towards his feet as he pulled free of the garment at last, boxers sliding off curling toes to fall onto the floor. Subaru felt his breath catch, still propped and half lying there, unbearably hot now, eyes drawn to Kamui now that he could see the other properly. For the first time without injury or sickness staining the moment, for the first time with what he knew could only be desire coiling hot in his belly, disturbing serenity with the knife's edge of lust and need. And as Kamui turned his face back around, the younger boy froze, caught in a moment of perfect tension and potential, half kneeling, legs together so that the rounding knobs of ankles lined up and a pink arching instep was revealed. Kamui's legs were long, with little meat on them below the knee, the swell of thigh that ran to his hip the exception and not the rule, the waist above those tiny. His free hand had somehow fallen in the mattress just above the juncture of those thighs, dark hair against an upright shaft, blushing at the tip where it brushed Kamui's stomach. So Kamui did want him. More than wanted him, if physical reactions were any judge. "Come here," Subaru murmured, sitting up and watching the play of indecision in Kamui's eyes before the boy acquiesced, scooting over with newfound shyness. This too was something new, his hands finding Kamui's hips and drawing him closer, watching as the boy tried not to squirm under his eyes, shocked at his own boldness as he examined the body in front of him, finding it pleasing. More than pleasing to his amazement, his hands tracing the muscles and planes before him, Kamui desperately trying to find somewhere to put his hands and being unable to, caught Subaru's forearms, his face an alarming shade of red. "Subaru," his voice was almost a pained whine, "Could you… I mean, that is -- Hell, haven't you ever seen anyone naked before?" "Not someone who's mine," Subaru answered, fingers trailing over the curve of Kamui's rear, producing another eruption of squirming before Kamui seemed to realize something. "Yours?" There was the edge of heartbreak in those wide eyes, heartbreak and hope and the nettles of other emotions too sweetly bitter to name, Subaru having to turn away from it and the hundreds of questions therein, ignoring him as he took Kamui's hands in his, placing them against the loops of his leather pants. "Help me?" Two questions and the only answer received was the unknotting of a silver belt buckle, a clinking jingle, undone and Subaru found himself breathing a little easier once it was, Kamui's head bent so that he couldn't see anything beyond the flash of white against his lower lip, the boy chewing on it absently. Breathing became a bit more of a problem as Kamui struggled with the button of his pants, the fabric catching against rounding silver and threatening to stick, the boy's wrist brushing against his erection as Kamui twisted just a little more, sending flares cascading through him in sharpening spikes, leaving something raw in its place. Raw and wanting to be filled, soothed, Subaru's head tilting back, eyes closing as he swallowed. Abruptly all movement ceased, the grip against his waistband there but still. He was about to lift his head again when something moved along the front of his pants, rubbing him through the fabric and breathing was forgotten altogether. The motion itself was simple, his hips lifting despite himself as Kamui's palm rubbed back and forth across the front of his pants, a small whimper escaping Subaru's lips. He dropped back against the pillow, knees rising as he planted his feet wider apart, voice tremulous, "T-this wasn't what I mea-nt by helping." "Wasn't it?" The words were innocent but painted with a renewed confidence and coyness that told him the meaning behind them was anything but that, leaving him to gaze at Kamui through lowered lids. The sound of the zipper that followed seemed too loud, filling the world up with a scratchy noise, impatient fingers rising to finally thumb the button free, the slack against his abdomen filling him with an edgy relief, taking the matter out of Kamui's hands as he pushed pants and undergarments off, Kamui catching the legs and pulling him completely free, tossing them over the side in what had to be a growing pile. Then Kamui was -- there again, catching Subaru's upper leg and holding it, holding him as he eyed him and Subaru's now visible lower half, leaning forward to nuzzle the length of Subaru's arousal with a slow, meaningful arch of nose and lips. Subaru whimpered, catching his--his lover's shoulders, not to restrain him but more because he needed something to hold onto, the feelings coiling in his belly threatening to erupt, a swell of fiery, mindless pleasure sweeping through him. His hips lifted again in a wordless, guttural communion, Kamui planting a kiss along the wrinkle-taut skin. He tightened his grip, squeezing Kamui's shoulders and the boy seemed to melt from under his grasp, finding his way between his legs, his expression wolfish, almost predatory as he pressed a kiss just below Subaru's navel, lips following the thin line of hair downward. "Kamui," he panted, wanting more, wanting it all to stop, ice cracking before a sea of feeling and sensation, before sight and smell and so much touch that his body groaned and creaked with it, shaken to the core. "Kamui." Everything was stripped, they were stripped of clothing, of barriers, of everything that didn't involve need and wanting, wanting so much it hurt, eyes wet as they rolled upward, the cords of his throat seeming to stretch and stretch until he was surprised they, that he, didn't burst in a million different directions, torn by invisible cords of conflicting desire. But what swam to the surface was how much he wanted Kamui, how much he wanted to feel his mouth and his fingers and that he wanted to feel his lover inside him, to know what it was to be stretched and if it was as lonely as Subaru feared. He clamped down on his lip as Kamui's mouth touched the crown of his erection, fingers sliding up and down his shaft in a singular, petting motion, the palm of one sweat-slicked hand under his testicles, lifting and rolling them around in a circular, massaging motion. His tongue lapped over the slit and the vein that roped near it, Subaru's whimpers ripped out of him now, more helpless groans, hips begging as he lifted them, Kamui knelt between the cradle of his legs. His body clenched up and then loosened again, the heat in his belly growing warmer, becoming a molten sea as Kamui's teeth scraped along sensitive skin. Subaru felt himself twitch, the lips around his erection clamping down and suckling harder, just as the hands cradling him began to squeeze harder than before, stroking and coaxing until the breath was stolen. His mouth opened in a broken cry as the wave pulled him under, spilling quick and burning into the waiting mouth, feeling the bob and close of Kamui's throat as he emptied himself. Strangely he felt anything but empty, limbs languorous and tired-tense, winded but not spent, still waiting as Kamui eyed him from the ridge of his stomach, his lips and chin disappearing after one last swallow, releasing softening flesh to place his mouth lower, Subaru feeling a jolting shudder tear through him as a tongue brushed against that intimate muscle, Kamui lifting his head again, eyes almost pleading. "May I?" There was no question what he was asking and Subaru nodded, rolling onto his side then rising to his knees, back stretching, rising as he tried to steady himself, to find a calming center instead of the now trembling, exposed core, fingers lacing in the sheets as he glanced at the headboard. Behind him there was movement and he caught the flash of an arm digging around in the nightstand nearest him, a kiss between his shoulder blades to reassure him when the faint then more frantic muttered swearing did not. That faint litany ended as abruptly as it began, another kiss against his spine this time cutting it off, the bed lifting a little as Kamui moved quickly, almost bouncing behind him, catching Subaru's hips and kneading them, wet-warm kisses touching the pit of his spine and the rounding hollow of each buttock, Subaru feeling himself starting to stir just a little despite the still present weary satisfaction. Kamui's lips moved and then -- he bit down, Subaru yelping as teeth closed around the center of one cheek, the lap of a tongue following it as he swung his head around, feeling a cold sweat break out on already dewy flesh, Kamui's gaze almost smug as he met Subaru's. "I'm paying attention," Subaru managed, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible and achieving neither, back thrusting outward into Kamui's hands. "Just making sure." Kamui wagged a thin vial of Vaseline at him, expression becoming almost reproving, "Fortunately, one of us is prepared." "You keep Vaseline by your bed in the hopes of having sex with strange men?" Subaru raised an eyebrow, watching Kamui puff up in outrage before frowning, "And how do you know I'm not prepared?" "Well, are you?" Kamui paused, sounding faintly offended, "And I was not hoping to have sex with strange men. Just one." "Are you saying I'm strange?" "I think that question answers itself. And that thing you're doing? That's avoidance, Subaru." He stretched, feeling lazy and almost sated, almost. "That's right. It is." Kamui rolled his eyes good-naturedly, uncapping the vial and squeezing a generous amount onto his fingers, "You're lucky I love you." There were times when the world drew its breath, moments when everything crystallized, ready to blossom and unfold in infinite possibilities, expectation throwing its weight and Subaru felt it hit him squarely in the chest, robbed of voice and words, the reality of what he'd always suspected hitting him with the subtlety of a brick to the head. The moment came and he didn't know what to say, lungs freezing up, the sweat trickling down his back icy. It wasn't that he didn't care for Kamui; he did. They wouldn't be in this position if he didn't but the last time he'd given an admission like that, two people had died -- his sister and the man Subaru thought he'd loved, the shell of him that was and the shards of that shell had buried deep in his heart, making him wary. Distrustful and cold and while he felt things with Kamui, things he never thought he would feel again, he found himself reluctant to put a name to it. At least not yet, afraid of what might yet come out of this. But he had to say something, trying to find his voice, "Kamui …" "Hold still," Kamui said briskly, though not unkindly, not quite lifting his gaze and the moment passed, leaving in its place a deepening sense of loss. Stung, Subaru turned his head again, towards the metal headboard and the ruffled pillows close to his hands. It was ridiculous to feel rejected, especially given how he'd all but done the same in a more evident fashion but something in him ached, joy marred though not destroyed. He closed his eyes, concentrating on this, on spreading his legs a bit more and feeling Kamui settle behind him. Soothing fingers ran over his lower back before reclaiming his hip and dragging him forward just enough to feel the presence of greasy fingers ghosting along the seam of his buttocks, down, down, down until they found a bumpy ring of muscle. Subaru exhaled despite himself, anticipation starting to build in his stomach again as he waited, wondering why Kamui was hesitating, why he wasn't -- An oil slicked finger pressed against that muscle, rubbing and massaging, Kamui murmuring indistinguishable words though Subaru listened to their cadence, allowing himself to be lulled into relaxing as a finger pushed deeper, the probing odd and invasive and not a little painful. But he wanted this, enough to grit his teeth and push back against that slow wriggle, trying to unclench as much as possible as one finger then another began working within him. Despite the slight discomfort of this gradual slide inward, Subaru found he was getting used to it, sweat beading on his forehead, pushing back as Kamui delved within him, searching and wringing a choked gasp out of him, Kamui's fingers buried to the knuckle and still moving, scissoring him open. He could feel his excitement rebuilding, a crescendo to a dance that hadn't ended. He rocked backward, groaning as Kamui's fingers found his center, brushing against it quite by accident then again with more surety, a shock traveling down his spine and legs, toes tingling. "Kamui," Subaru panted again helplessly, the words barely escaping before he realized his lover needed no encouragement, fingers pulling free and leaving Subaru bereft, a crashing emptiness in its place as he waited with ill-concealed impatience as Kamui squeezed out more greasy oil, liberally applying it to himself this time, small sounds of need and strain falling from the boy's lips. Subaru found himself suddenly seized with the urge to turn around, to use the pretext of Vaseline to touch Kamui, touch him as he'd been touched, wanting those faint grunts and bitten back whimpers, wanting to know he'd caused them. Would Kamui feel as soft there as he did everywhere else? Or would it be different? Different from the way he felt on those nights where he'd woken sweat drenched, body afire from ghostly touches and caresses, the person in his dreams changing. Sometimes Seishirou, sometimes Kamui, and sometimes no one at all, no one beyond a faceless touch, the needs of his body overruling his mind and the heart that had been barren for so long he was certain nothing would ever seed there again. But this wasn't like that, not a hollow, mechanical lust, as programmed into him as eating or sleeping. This had everything to do with want and nothing to do with duty and as such, Subaru knew nothing of it at all, understanding little how to approach it because for all he'd told Kamui he should chase down what he wanted, that he should let nothing get in his way, that too had smacked of duty, of obligation. Hokuto had given her life for him and it seemed only fair that he give his life in return. 1999 had only been a pretext for it all. But none of these thoughts mattered now, not as Kamui pressed himself close, the head of his erection against that loosened muscle as he gently grasped Subaru's rear, Subaru feeling his heart pick up in response, the other's breath coming unevenly as Kamui paused long enough to squeeze the flesh in his hands, the only warning he gave before he pushed forward, sliding inward bit by bit, Subaru unconsciously tightening around him. Taking his hips in hand, Kamui began making shallow thrusts, small, rounding pushes forward, past the initial resistance and the wavery moans bubbling up in his chest, burning Subaru's ears even as he stretched Subaru more with each slide. More and more until he was fully seated, Subaru hearing his blood rushing in his ears, his heart beating so fast he could taste it in his throat, pushing back against Kamui, urging him to move and aggravated when the only response was the knead of hands over his waist and hips. "Kamui." Fingers smoothed over his lower back and he felt his sanity slip a notch, impatience beginning to get the better of him and really, did Kamui want him to beg? "Kamui--" Kamui seemed to roll forward, skin washing against skin, sliding as the sea does against the shore, inexorable, unstoppable and strong, far stronger than one would expect. Subaru edged forward with him, the balance of his hands suddenly seeming insignificant, a tremor creeping up his arms as Kamui moved again, slim hips canting in a fluid crash of flesh on flesh, an adroit seesawing motion of pleasure that overwhelmed the pain as Kamui thrust forward, Subaru meeting him on the return crest. Subaru lowered his head, hair brushing the mattress as he rocked backward, the balmy scent of salt and sex thick in his nose, muscles locking and unlocking as he listened to Kamui's grunts, half prayer and half strangled moan, leaning forward to kiss the nearest corner of shoulder, his fingers brushing Subaru's as he used his other arm to brace them both, wrapping around Subaru's waist, thighs sliding against thighs. It was a dance, like sailing over open water, skipping across the surface, buffeted by waves and wind, pushed this way and that, each second coming faster than the one before it, bracing and freeing even as his arms and legs strained, as if he could break free of this flesh and bone holding him in place, holding them both in check, keeping them from melting into each other. Their rhythm was inborn, unchecked by propriety or duty or anything that didn't resemble desire and need, the world tinted in soft skin and increasingly violent movements, Kamui beginning to thrust faster, deeper inside him, Subaru's body mirroring, knowing where and how to move without thought, a feeling of completion and belonging sweet and heady and his, for once his. Lips touched his ear and Subaru whimpered, almost mewling as teeth joined lips, tiny nips that were a stinging counterpoint to the quivering beginning to encompass him, a storm of feeling, physical and emotional, shaking him from the inside out, aided as the arm around him slipped a little, Kamui's hand sneaking around to grasp his renewed erection, curling around it as his young lover quickened, the angle of Kamui's thrusts starting to lose cohesion, becoming wilder, out of control as his full weight slammed into Subaru, hitting his center, making the pleasure of before seem like nothing in comparison. "Su~baru," Kamui drawled, voice husking, rich and raw and rolling over his senses like whisky, the muffled cries that followed it intoxicating as he tightened around Kamui, the hand touching him spasming then moving with more surety of purpose. There was another roll and he was lost, caught in the undertow of a wave that didn't seem to stop, his body winding and winding, coiled and embracing Kamui's, bringing him home and holding on for a breathless instant that didn't have to be forever. It was more than enough, much more than enough and he knew that whatever else happened, he would never forget this, never forget the hard flow of release quaking through his body, taking Kamui with it, feeling in his lover an echo of the storm wracking him, Kamui thrusting forward one last time before they both collapsed as if all those rescue lines binding them had cut. For a moment, it was all he could do to remember how to breathe, Kamui's weight heavy and hot and covering him, still buried within him but Subaru didn't mind, listening to the slowing thud of his heart in his ears, hesitating before he closed his hand over the smaller one next to his, squeezing it as he shut his eyes. *** It was later, much, much later before he came to himself again, body aching but not terribly, feeling as if he'd run a long distance and was a little worse for the wear. Rolling onto his stomach, Subaru shifted, wincing at the sudden, sharp ache in his lower regions followed up by the even sharper realization that the place next to him was empty. Cracking his lids, he blinked bleary eyes against the light starting to filter into the room, sheets tangled around his waist as he lifted his head, groggy and worn, turning his head with ginger care before he found what he was looking for, rubbing at his eyes to clear some of the crust of sleep away. Kamui was getting dressed, half bent over his shoes as he tied the laces, his white button down shirt crisp and ironed but lacking the badges he was required to wear as a student at CLAMP Campus. He stood up, straight-backed and long, lithe limbs unfolding as he dragged his foot from the chair it was balancing on to the floor, sweeping careful hands over his black dress slacks. His hair was combed for once, still wet from a shower and Subaru frowned, wondering when the younger boy had found the time and why it hadn't registered. Wondering how and why he'd managed to sleep through it when he never slept through anything these days. He cleared his throat, sitting up just a little, his back protesting the movement. "Good morning." Kamui glanced over his shoulder, a small smile tipping his lips before he turned, leaning over to kiss Subaru lightly, "Morning." "It's early," Subaru glanced at the clock, the question implicit. Why are you out of bed? Kamui's expression was sheepish. "Uh yeah. About that. I kinda maybe have work this morning?" "Work?" "Yeah, you know that thing I said I did to earn money?" Kamui scratched his head, hair ruffling then making a face as he stopped himself. "For a few hours before I go to class anyway." "Oh," Subaru pushed some of the hair out of his face, digesting this, "Where?" "The Dukylon Bakery," There was a hint of apologetic embarrassment as Kamui smoothed his hands over his pants again. "They work around my hours and -- it's something even someone like me can do and not screw up too badly." Subaru wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to that, feeling that something was expected. Perhaps some sort of protestation but before he could even begin, Kamui shrugged again, "Anyway, I don't want to go in but --" "You have to?" "Yeah." They both looked away and Subaru felt some of the sated feeling, the safe calm ebb a little, back in the waking world where things were not nearly so easy and suddenly he didn't know what to say or do. What was expected of him. What did one say to someone else after a night -- Well, a night like that? Again, Kamui took the initiative, face more guarded than he could remember seeing it, his voice grudging, "Are you coming back?" The question was simple, understandable even but it felt like a slap in the face, and he wondered at that, at why that was so because of course Kamui would ask something like that given the circumstances. He glanced at him then down at the blankets puddling around his lap before nodding once. Kamui nodded, fierce expression relaxing just a touch before he leaned over again, moving quickly as he pressed his lips to the corner of Subaru's eye, a faint whiff of aftershave and soap following him as he slipped away before the Sumeragi could even react, opening the door and then pausing, looking over his shoulder, "I do love you. Even if that doesn't matter. I -- I do." The door swung and he was gone before Subaru could even think of a suitable reply. *** 'I,' Kamui thought mournfully as he let himself into the shop, 'am an idiot. A massive, gigantic idiot.' A huge idiot of epic proportions even if he could flee his apartment like he did, pulling away from Subaru out of instinct and fear, trusting his feelings but not -- Well, Subaru had been known to pull his disappearing trick before and if he tried that this time, the least Kamui wanted was the illusion of a morning after. Of being able to pretend he was a normal boy, just like any other, going off to work while his boyfriend lay asleep in his bed. Boyfriend. Bed. He buried his face in his hands, swallowing hard as he went past the rows of pastry displays into the back, flipping on the lights as he went. His boss wouldn't be in for another forty-five minutes at the very least and it'd be a good hour before any of his co-workers showed up. Kamui found himself grateful for the reprieve, for the silence and the time to digest everything that had happened, feeling himself flush again as his mind drifted back to Subaru and how he'd looked lying in sea of white sheets, rippling around his naked form, well-shaped arms and the defined muscles of his back as he rested on one hand, tousled hair feathering around his face, features slack and free of the habitual moroseness, relaxed around the eyes and his mouth for once not pinched with a shapeless frown. Subaru had looked peaceful, so peaceful that Kamui hadn't had it in him to disturb him, taking a care to be as quiet as possible when he moved around, all but holding his breath in the shower as if Subaru would be able to detect that. Having him wake up, having to talk to him and the rushing of all those fears he'd sought to avoid, Kamui had chosen the coward's way out and prolonged things, afraid and wanting to know what Subaru thought, if he wanted him the way Kamui wanted Subaru, if last night had meant everything or nothing at all. And yet as much as he wanted to know that, Kamui found himself deathly afraid of the answer. He'd survived Fuuma and the apocalypse, had swallowed his fear to face both and what sent him running? Sumeragi Subaru. Subaru who had always held something of him in the palm of his hand and only now after so much time had passed could he admit that it was a piece of his heart, one of the few pieces that hadn't been shredded or pounded to so much fine dust, lost with Kotori or Fuuma, lying broken and dead with Sorata. Subaru held his hope, a thin fierce flame that would take so little to snuff out, just an indifferent wind, the chill of disinterest and uncaring. But Subaru had stayed, he reminded himself and if nothing else, that was something. Had stayed and promised that at the very least, this would not be the end. Or rather that he'd be back. Granted, he hadn't said in what capacity that returning would arrive in but Kamui knew better than to press his luck. "What's the worst that could happen?" he muttered as he unlocked the door to the storage room, determined to retrieve his apron and to get busy setting the shop up which was certain to be a distraction for -- five whole seconds, maybe. "Funny, that's usually my line." Kamui froze up, keys dropping from his hand, his stomach dropping in time with that too familiar, too pleasant voice, soft and modulated tones elegant with gentle rebuke. Squeezing his hand around the knob, he resisted the urge to thud his head against the door in front of him, turning slowly on the ball of his heel, having to work not to drop his eyes like a scolded child. As a rule, Imonoyama Nokoru was a striking, utterly prepossessing man, every inch the aristocrat for all he acted like the most adept of courtiers. He made a svelte figure in pearl gray with gold buttons, his thigh length coat neat and simply cut, framing slim hips and accentuating the cravat at his neck, pleated slacks as spotless as the black shoes he wore, clean enough Kamui swore if he leaned over, he'd be able to see his face in their shine. The head of one of the wealthiest zaibatsu in Japan (as well as the Chairman of CLAMP Campus), Imonoyama-sama had an unerring, if not downright uncanny ability at making an entrance and though this would never top the first moment they met, stained with blood and the remnants of his aunt splattered around him, it was hardly the most auspicious of occasions either. And something in those blue-gray eyes told Kamui that the Chairman knew it as well. "Pardon the abruptness of my appearance but I thought that you and I," Imonoyama-sama's gaze sharpened even as his smile remained in place, outwardly placid, unconcerned and cool. "Should talk. Alone." Outwardly lying. He made no pretense at not knowing what this was about. "You managed to detach Takamura-san from your side. Must be serious." "I would say allowing the Sakurazukamori onto campus grounds after an edict not to is fairly serious, yes." Imonoyama-sama's tone was mild, his words were not. Kamui leaned back against the door, arms behind him, trying not to fidget and damning himself when he kicked the toe of his shoes against the floor. "I wouldn't exactly say I let Subaru do anything," he remarked dryly. Imonoyama-sama's features relaxed, his smile a bit more understanding as he lifted his scarlet and gold fan to tap lightly against his ear. "This is true. He does have a habit of doing as he pleases and damn everyone else, doesn't he?" Not angry then, Kamui decided, watching the tap-tap-tap of those gilded edges against golden locks. Exasperated was more like it, Imonoyama-sama catching his eye and shaking his head, his expression a bit more reassuring. "I suppose then," he continued, bringing the fan to touch his lips, "It's a good thing that someone knows how to tamper with the campus security system." Letting go of the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding, Kamui slumped, "Thank you. Imonoyama-sama, I--" The Chairman held his fan up, sounding more stern than before. "I don't like lying to Suoh, Shirou-kun. You know this. I like it even less when I've had to do it on two separate occasions. He becomes very distressed when he knows something is wrong and is left without any answers." "I know that." "And you also know why Sumeragi-san is forbidden to be on campus." "Subaru wouldn't do anything like that," Kamui flared up. "I promise on my life that no one here is in any danger --" "We thought Sumeragi-san would not change sides during 1999 and he did so. He has always been difficult to predict and given that the Sakurazukamori is a paid assassin and this campus is home to some of the wealthiest and brightest in Tokyo -- No, in Japan … Do you see where I'm having a problem, Shirou-kun?" "Subaru isn't here to kill anyone. He wouldn't. I know he wouldn't." "Just like you knew you were perfectly safe the night someone attempted to strangle you in your bed?" Kamui subsided, hand unconsciously rising to his throat, looking away, "That was different." "It's always different," Imonoyama-sama sighed, looking pained and uncomfortable. "I mean no disrespect but Kasumi-san? And Nekoi-kun and Shiyu-kun? Were they different? Kasumi-san thought it was worth her life to come here, to give us warning which we disregarded. I won't make that mistake again." "Nor will I but this is different. This is Subaru. I know Subaru. I know him. He wouldn't --" "No one knows Sumeragi-san. Not truly. I'd wager not even the former Sakurazukamori understood him completely. And that's what makes him so dangerous," Imonoyama-sama crossed his arms and gave him a penetrating look, "I don't suppose it's crossed your mind what bad timing this is, in the middle of things as we are. Unless you were planning on telling Sumeragi-san about that as well--" "No," Kamui cut off, shaking his head emphatically, straightening, "It's not something he needs to know and --and it'll hurt him. And I don't want to do that. Ever." "Besides," Kamui said after an uncomfortable pause, "Given everything else, given -- Well, I think an assassin, imagined or otherwise is the least of my concerns right now. And I won't not live what's left of my life. Not after everything else. That's not fair." "Shirou-kun, I've found that whether something is fair or not is often beside the point. Suppose you say nothing, you leave everything unsaid and he should find out later about what's really going on here? About our endeavors? What if by not telling him, things become worse? If nothing changes at all and we fail? Don't you think that it will hurt him more to find out later, when so much time that you have now is lost? What then?" "Then I'll handle it," Kamui let go of the knob behind him, pushing the door inward and reaching for the apron hanging behind it, slipping it over his head and shoulders before looking at him again, "If it happens, if something goes wrong then I'll accept full responsibility for it." "Like always," he added bitterly, tying the strings of the garment around behind him. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." He started to move past but a hand clamped down on his shoulder, Imonoyama-sama's expression more subdued, worried and apologetic. "Shirou-kun, you don't have to be alone in this. Not in this or the other. You know that." Kamui gave him a weary smile, shrugging the hand off his shoulder, "I am alone, Imonoyama-sama. No matter what you or anyone else does, in the end … I've always been alone." "And Sumeragi-san?" A brief flash of pain flickered over Kamui's features before disappearing again, face drawn, "Will do what he's always done -- what he has to. But I won't put this on him. Not this or the other. It -- it isn't fair. And maybe that doesn't mean anything at all to anyone except me but the decision is mine." His smile became rueful. "The decision is mine. I think I finally understand what that means now. So close to the end. I think I understand everything better and then I realize that I don't understand anything at all. And maybe now, I never will." He glanced at the Imonoyama then away again before he had to see the pity in his face, the sympathy that cut too deeply and the knowledge that was even worse, whatever hope he had left threatening to desert entirely. Straightening his apron, he took a breath and started walking towards the front again when the Chairman spoke again, his voice deep, as if from a tunnel, a question he was slowly starting to get used to, no matter how much he loathed hearing it. "Shirou-kun, how are you feeling today?" Kamui paused, inclining his head though not turning around as he considered the question. "I feel like I'm dying, Imonoyama-sama. Just like the day before and the day before that. Thank you for asking." ***End return to splash page