[Seiji]
I can still remember it in dreams: my torment. The soundless screams that escaped my throat as I ran as though in slow motion, fleeing from demons with my face. Korin... Korin had led me to this. They didn't want Seiji, they wanted Korin; Seiji was the tool to get it. I shift restlessly as the memories come back.
How I hated it! The uselessness! He freed me and I was still useless, unable to comprehend that I could not kill the bastard with Korin. Korin was nothing. I was nothing. Nothing...
It burns now, the pain of that realization. I lie in my bed and tell myself that I could have done something different, that I could have realized that it was no good. I can still hear the others screaming, 'Seij'! Seiji!' I can still hear my screams as Korin's power is mutated and turned against me... I was an idiot.
Because of me... It was because of me that the others were helpless, forced to suffer the same fate that I had. It was because of me that Ryo's love died before it could even truly be born. My fault. Mine.
The expected tears don't leave me waiting; they come in a hot flash of shame, streaking down my face. Am I crying for the other Troopers? Am I crying for the suffering they felt, or am I crying for myself? Courtesy... Rei... I don't deserve Korin anymore. Did I ever? I remember standing on the bridge after the monster was defeated, wishing that I had the nerve to throw myself into the water so far below. Nothing could ever defend what I had done.
The tears are burning my face, leaving tracks of fire as they roll over my cheeks. I grope blindly for a pillow to hide them; there's no one there to see them, but I don't want to feel them myself. I can feel the cool of the linen as I pull it over my face; the sensation reminds me suddenly of It and the sobs come, the horrible wrenching sobs that tear from my resisting throat and release themselves into the pillow. I wish the pain of them would ease the pain that's surrounding me, pricking me constantly. I know it won't work.
I feel the weight on the mattress next to me but don't move to acknowledge it. I know who it is; only two people come to see me. Shuu... well, Shuu and I never really got along, and Shin... Shin's too sweet, I think I frighten him now. Only Ryo and Touma care enough about me to... no, that's not right. They care about Korin's bearer, the one who helps to make the Kikoutei, not Seiji. Never Seiji.
"I brought you some food."
Touma, then. Always with his mind on food. I pull the pillow from my face and look at him, sure that my eyes are demonic in their appearance; the crying would have left them red, making their paleness all the more apparent. I look at his expression and snarl. Pity! I'm tired of pity!
"You need to eat, Seiji."
The smell of the food is making my stomach knot with nausea. A sweep of my arm sends the bowls clattering to the floor, showering Touma's legs with rice and broth. His soft exclamation of surprise is followed shortly by a curse, and before I can blink, his hands are on my shoulders, slamming me against the mattress.
"You are the most ungrateful bastard I have ever met!"
I stare up at him, feeling as though my eyes are unnaturally large, filling my face. Never, never would I have guessed that cold, distant Touma had such a temper, that he would actually touch me. Touch me! I swallow, my throat feeling suddenly scratchy, the thickness of tears nearly choking me. "Touma...?"
He shakes me again, slamming me against the mattress over and over. I can only stare as suddenly tears are in his eyes and he's pulling me up, cradling me against his chest. I can feel his hands stroking my back, the desperation in his grip as he holds me tightly. His name escapes my lips again as I feel his tears wetting my throat. What's happening?
"Don't ever do that again."
I don't know what he's talking about. "All right, I won't." What am I agreeing to? I don't care, if only it will stop his tears. My arms encircle his body; I can feel him shaking within my embrace. Or is that my own trembling? "Touma...?" I suddenly can't stop saying his name; it rolls from my tongue in a mantra, binding him to me even as his tears run down my throat to wet my bare chest.
"I thought you were dead. Oh, God, I thought you were dead... I don't want you to die, Seiji, not for a long time."
I brush his hair back from his forehead, feeling the strands wrapping around my fingers. "Touma..." Suddenly, I want to tell him everything he is to me, but only his name comes.
"Seiji..."
He says only my name, but I know the rest. A soft sound escapes me as my arms lock around his neck, holding him against me. Heaven. It's like reaching out and being able to grasp Heaven. We've never touched much before, none of us. The closest we've had was forming the Kikoutei, the merging of our beings. Was that what did this, what made us so inseparable? I suddenly can't breathe at the thought of being without him and look down at him, my mouth open to speak. But before I can say a word, my eyes are locked with his and my chest is constricting.
Then his lips are on mine, soft and curious for only a heartbeat before crushing against me. My arms draw him in to me, pressing him against my body as I moan softly. I am unaware of the sound until he echoes it, breathing it gently into my mouth. I pull him over me as I lay back down against the mattress and feel his hands bury themselves in my hair. I moan again and grip his shoulders, feeling our slow dance build to its inevitable conclusion.
I may not deserve him, I may not deserve anything. But for now, here, Touma is mine. Mine.
[Touma]
He feels so good, better even than I'd imagined. I never thought he'd feel this good, like I caught hold of a sunbeam. His light fills me and I cry out with the force of it, with the surge of my emotions. I thought he hated me! I thought he hated all of us. But he's here, in my arms, and I'm... I'm happy. When I thought he was dead, I never thought I'd be happy again, but here I am.
Because of Seiji.
We'd been so indifferent to each other when we first met, like old dogs circling each other. If I had known he'd come to mean this much to me, I would have treated him better from the start. I would have chained him to my side... or maybe to my bed.
Oh, yes, Seiji is good in bed.
Later, when he's pillowed against my chest and my fingers are drifting through his thick blond hair, I take the time to wonder if it would have made a difference. We'd have had more time together, yes, but would he still have been taken? Would he have been safe from the scientist and Shikaisen? Or would I just have been hurt even more?
My arms tighten unconsciously around him, causing him to look curiously up at me. My eyes slide away from his gaze and study the far wall as I shake my head. Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I turn my head into the pillow and close my eyes. Nothing will be wrong ever again.
[Seiji]
"Love?"
I look up at him and meet his concerned blue eyes, watching me as I slowly read the newspaper. I smile slightly, my lips tight with the effort, and lower the paper into my lap. "Yes?"
"Are you hungry?"
He's adorable when he's concerned; his eyes glow with an inner light beneath the perfect folds of his eyelids, and the stubborn line between his brows disappears and reappears with the movements of his forelock. "No."
He frowns then; he's worried because I've only deigned to take a slice of bread yet today. I am not hungry, but the excuse does not work on him. He comes to sit next to me and rests his head on my shoulder, tilting his head to glance up at me through his lashes. I hate his eyes; they need only to look at me like that and I'll soften into a formless puddle of goo.
"Shin's making your favorite. Just for you. Are you sure you aren't hungry?"
He blinks those immense blue eyes at me and I try to remain neutral, but I can already feel my guts sliding toward my toes. I give in with a sigh and lean my cheek against the top of his head. "You enjoy doing this, don't you?"
"No... but you have to eat, love."
I frown, idly stroking my fingers over his forearm. I can't feel him now, his sweatshirt covers the skin. But I remember him, his delicate texture, as soft as a flower petal. I remember him freeing me, releasing me from the machine that had been my prison for so long. I remember the burst of joy - and fear - that greeted his appearance. I knew then.
"Seiji?"
I blink; I hadn't realized that I hadn't responded, being too busy wool-gathering. "Shh," I murmur, feeling his silken hair brush against my lips as they move, "shh, I'm just not hungry now. Later."
He is upset by that. He tries to hide it, of course, but I can tell; his body has tensed against my side, and his head has risen off of my shoulder. His eyes, lovely eyes, have darkened to the shade of blue that I've come to recognize as his frustration. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come, for my mouth is there before they. His lips are pliable, soft, warm as always. I wish I could crawl into that warmth, feel it melting the coldness, tearing down my prison of ice. Ice Maiden... It's a bad phrase from a bad novel, but it's how I feel.
I can feel him resisting at first but don't let him escape. My mouth follows his as he tries to retreat, my tongue traces the delicate folds of his lips, tasting him. Windblown, that's how my lover tastes. Windblown and fresh and new, like the gentle caress of a cool breeze on a hot day. My arms embrace him before I've made the conscious decision, and then he is beneath me, sprawled on his back against the firm cushions of the couch. I can feel his heart beating against my chest, fluttering madly, a wild thing trapped within his ribs and yearning for freedom.
I move my mouth from his, kissing instead down the pale length of his throat, where his pulse pounds as though to break through the skin. I touch the leaping bit of flesh with gentle fingers, fascinated as always by the intricacies of this man, by his reactions to me, for me. I close my mouth over that pounding spot, gently licking the flesh, tasting the faint saltiness of his skin. His breath stirs my hair and I rise over him again, my arms on either of his sides, to look down at him. "Perfect," I breathe, unaware of the escaped sound until he smiles. He's beautiful when he smiles, beautiful and pure. "Touma..."
He smiles again and touches my cheek; his fingers are warm and dry. I stare down at him, feeling the touch of his fingers now against the back of my neck, gently moving through the fine blond hair at the nape. I close my eyes and shiver; by that single touch, he has brought me to life. I can feel every inch of my body, every inch that touches him. Our legs are twined together, denim with wool, our bellies are flattened against each other's. My arm brushes against the side of his chest, and even that small contact is enough to send my breath slamming into my throat.
My lips touch his again, briefly, only long enough for our exhalations to mingle and flood across our skin, warming my chilled flesh. I stare into his deep blue eyes and feel myself drowning, caught in an undertow that I have no hope of escaping. I am not sure that I want to escape; I can think of no better way to die. One of us moves, I'm not sure which, and our bellies caress each other's through the cloth of our shirts; I can feel the buttons that line the front of mine pressing into my skin. I take his mouth again, roughly, tasting deeply of him until my mind is gone and there is only Touma.
"Hey, are you two com-- oh. Never mind. They're at it again, guys, better save some for later. Touma'll be hungry."
I ignore Ryo's disturbance until Touma's shaking body forces me to move. I look down at him, not caring that my eyes are passion-dark or that my mouth is swollen from our kisses. I don't deny the truth any more than I deny my desire for more of it. But he is laughing, hard enough to dislodge me from my comfortable position over him. Irritated, I move, rising to my unsteady feet to await an explanation.
I am to be disappointed; Touma apparently feels no need to explain anything to me. He only laughs. He's beautiful when he laughs, almost as beautiful as when his face is clouded with ecstasy. Damn. I kneel next to the couch and touch his parted lips, brushing a soft kiss over the corner of his mouth. What is so amusing?
My fingers run down his throat, searching for the spots that enflame him, that drive him as mad as his hands drive me. He is unmoved, his laughter continuing, deep chuckles escaping from his throat. Beautiful throat. My mouth comes to rest against it, my lips savor a slow trail down the slender column. He laughs. I frown and rise to my feet, feeling the burn of his affront as I turn slowly and make my way up the stairs. Bitter tears sting my eyes, tears that I have felt too often since I was freed and the monster was killed. I stumble on a step as my vision blurs and catch myself on my knees. I can't get up again.
The sound of the blood rushing in my ears and my own soft sobs cover his approaching footsteps. I don't know that he's coming until his hands are on my shoulders, guiding me back to my feet. Sullenly, I attempt to jerk away only to find myself brought up against the banister. No escape there. With no other recourse, I let him take my arm and guide me to my room. My empty room, marked by no more than one bed.
Of all of us, I am the only one who sleeps alone. I am the only one who doesn't know the soft breathing of someone sleeping only a few feet away, the sounds as they shift in their dreams, murmuring to specters. I think of my home and my eyes fill with tears again. Always alone, always on the edges, never fitting in anywhere. A sob catches in my throat and I feel myself being turned, drawn against him, cradled against the slim expanse of his chest. Unconsciously, my arms move around him and my hands clench shut around great handfuls his of sweatshirt, holding tightly as my tears soak his front. I am alone again, blind, killing myself, being killed by myself. My throat is raw and yet the sobs come, welling up from some deep, ugly pit within me, brought forth by demons.
He only holds me, letting my sobs slowly dwindle, my tears slowly trickle to a halt. He understands, my warrior angel, and doesn't murmur things to trivialize my pain. I slowly straighten and his hand moves to wipe the few damp traces of tears from my cheeks.
"Come to bed, love."
My eyes fly to his, searching for the meaning behind the soft command. Hesitantly, I comply, moving with graceless motions to perch on the edge of the narrow bed. I sit there and stare at my stockinged feet, wishing I could make the answers appear in the weave of the fabric.
His hands are on my shoulders again, gently pushing me back. I go. What else can I do? His lips touch mine as nimble fingers part my shirt, gently smoothing the fabric over my shoulders and down my arms. I can hear the faint rustle as the garment is dropped to the floor, then his fingers are at my waist, undoing the tab of my pants and lowering the fly. This is not the first time he has done this for me, although, I remember as he pulls the twisted clothes down my legs, the other times had been under more enjoyable circumstances. The socks disappear with the rest and I am left naked on the bed, his heat having left me with only a teasing breeze to bring goosebumps to my flesh.
I roll onto my belly and rest my head on my forearms, my legs trailing over the side of the bed to twist on the floor. I wish I could hear him, but I hear only the pounding of my own heart, filling my ears until I am sure that my head will explode with the force of it. He is back suddenly, his hands warm against my sides as he picks me up, cradling me against his chest while he turns down the sheets. I'm tucked beneath them, feeling like an invalid child but not having the energy to protest.
I can hear the soft hiss of fabric against skin as he strips, although I don't roll over to look. I know what he looks like, he's been imprinted on my mind for me to see whenever I wish. The bed shifts when he stretches out behind me, his arm coming to rest around my waist. His heat burns into my back as he spoons around me and I sigh, wishing there was some way I could have that permanently, that feeling of absolute warmth. I shiver, feeling the cold of the rest of me in contrast, and press against him.
His hand splays across my belly and I shiver again, although not from cold this time. I can feel the pressure of him against my back, my thighs, my buttocks. We are nearly the same size and he fits perfectly against me, his contours matching mine with a sensual shift of skin being all that is necessary to change everything. He is still, though. I eventually feel myself relaxing, drifting off to sleep, only to feel his lips on the back of my neck and his hands in my hair. I am lost.
[Touma]
I still don't know why I love him. He's so cold always, so distant, so apart from me. Even when we're together, really together, it feels like something's missing. I'll find that something, Seiji, I swear I will.
For once, he has fallen asleep before me, no doubt exhausted by his earlier sobs. I take the opportunity to brush back the thick blond hair that clings to his forehead, reveling in the feel of it against my fingers. I'm almost jealous of his hair, so thick and soft while mine has to be kept short to be controlled. But, I suppose, it is good this way, because this way I can be the one to play with it, to bury my face in it, to feel it brushing over my skin. I do exactly that now, pressing my face into the thick fall and inhaling the scent that is Seiji.
He stirs and murmurs something but I can't understand the sleepy words. I brush my fingers over his lips and smile; even relaxed in sleep, his mouth is a tight Cupid's bow, curving sweetly across his face. I kiss it , feeling the slight response under my lips. Does he know that I'm doing that? Fearing awakening him, I move away, once again wrapping my arms around him and holding him close. The heat of his body warms me and, yet, frightens me. It makes me think of how very fragile he is, how very easy it is to break him. The heat is Seiji's, but the body is just a shell, and the shell can be snapped too easily for me to want to consider it very long.
I shiver, pressing myself closer to his body. He murmurs sleepily again, turning his face toward me with just the slightest smile curving his lips. I love that expression, that hesitantly loving look that he only gets when he thinks I can't see it. I tuck my head against his chest and feel his heat slowly penetrate me as I remember his tears earlier. Before... before Shikaisen, before that fucking scientist took him, Seiji did not cry. Seiji was strong, Seiji was our stability, virtually the only one to keep his head in our innumerable crises. But now...
Against my will, my body tenses, and I must spend some long moments relaxing it again, rather than spread that tension to Seiji. He needs his rest. Rest and time. Time, I suppose, is all that can end his tears. It kills me to see him cry, to know that he hurts and that it's not something that I can bandage or kiss better. I can only be here when he heals and hope that he'll still want me.
[Seiji]
I wake the next morning in a sprawled tangle of limbs, comfortably stuck. His chest rises with the even measure of his breath under my cheek, my hand rests against his side, cupping him to me. I can feel one of his hands still in my hair; it's a habit that he got into after our first night together, sleeping with my hair wrapped around his fingers. I don't complain. It's a secret fetish of mine; I love people who love my hair. I can sit happily for hours while someone brushes it and will beg like a dog at someone's feet if they'll run their fingers through it. Touma is perfect. He loves my hair. I don't frighten him away with a glance, my abnormal eyes don't send chills of horror down his spine, and he does not seem to mind that I am an emotional vampire.
The change in his breathing alerts me to his waking and I move, wriggling slowly up his side to kiss his sleepy lips. His hand leaves my hair to stroke over my cheek and I smile, the expression coming more easily for him. I kiss him again, enjoying the languor of his movements as he stretches. Not a morning person, my lover, but I'm glad. He is unusually seductive as he watches me with half-lidded eyes, his lips still swollen from our passion during the night. His hand moves slowly to tangle in my hair again and pull my mouth down to his. His kiss of greeting is lazy and slow, matching the rest of his movements perfectly.
I greedily lap up his heat, wishing I could stay abed with him for a few more hours, but already my body is insisting that I get up. Move! it tells me. I trace his eyebrows as I straighten and slide from the bed, the perfect blue wings that follow the curve of his skull. His beautiful eyes are nearly closed again as I tuck the blankets around his shoulders and cross the room, nude. I can feel him watching me and smile to myself, taking special care in my movements as I dress to go out. The worn shirt and shorts aren't flattering, but I tell myself that I don't care. No one else is up this early, no one else is around to see my descent into casual dress. I grab my running shoes and perch on the edge of the bed to pull them on.
His hand lazily traces my arm as I finish tying the laces, and I turn to look at him, capturing his hand before it can move onto more interesting ground.
"Hurry back, love."
I kiss his fingers; yes, I'll hurry back. I'll be back in plenty of time to crawl back into bed with him, still sweaty from my run. Soon he'll be pouring with his own sweat and we'll both be enjoying it immensely. I smile; I do like our morning rituals.
I kiss his fingers again, then release him and gently brush back his hair. "Go back to sleep, Touma." I brush my fingers over his beautiful smile, the smile of a sleepy fallen angel with lips swollen from lust, and rise. Escaping before I would be trapped there, I jog down the stairs and through the house, pushing through the door before I extend my legs and run. I run and run, as far and as fast as I can until I feel as though my heart will pop; only then do I stop. I look back the way I came and smile; even with the distance between us, I can picture his seraphic face in sleep. Yes, I'll hurry back. One does not disappoint angels.
[Ryo]
I catch myself running, fleeing the demons in my dreams as I scream her name. I can see her, falling, falling endlessly, never hitting the ground. I leap to catch her only to miss, her braid sliding sinuously through my fingers.
You can never choose the one you'll love...
I met her while she was attempting to kill my best friend. We're all friends, of course, but no one is quite so close to me as Touma. We know secrets about each other that the rest can only dream of.
Ironic, isn't it, that I loved her anyway?
I remember the first touch of my hand around her wrist, the surprise on her face as she turned from Touma to look at me. She had gorgeous eyes; that was my first thought, one that I thankfully managed to hide with expressionlessness. She fled before I could truly appreciate more, and I dismissed her from my attentions. Touma needed me more.
Poor Touma, so worried about Seiji and trying so hard to hide it. He was so surprised when I confronted him about it. I can picture it easily, as easily as I can still hear his hasty denial.
"So you love him," I'd said as we sat down to a late night meal of left-overs, truly a miracle with Shuu around. He'd spat out his mouthful of milk and stared at me with those huge blue eyes of his.
"No," he'd practically whispered, the sound tight in his throat.
I'd smiled and let it pass; we'd chattered meaninglessly for a while before he set his food aside and turned a serious gaze on me.
"What made you say that?"
I looked at him, not needing to ask what he was asking about; the topic was still fresh in my mind, despite the time lapse. "You're a wreck." I smiled and reached across the table to squeeze his hand. "That was only Korin, not Seiji. Seiji is all right. He has to be."
His eyes filled with tears before they lowered from mine, the wash of salt water only amplifying his pain and making his eyes somehow more beautiful. His mouth opened, only to close again as his teeth caught his lower lip.
I looked away, unable to take the sight of Touma's suffering. Beautiful Touma with his beautifully scientific mind. Touma, caught in the maelstrom of his emotions, Touma, usually so in control, Touma, suffering for the love he may have found too late.
The memory is still fresh in my mind as I come out of my dreams. The pains linger even longer: Pain from my nightmare. Pain from my friend's suffering. Pain from my own jealousy.
Yes, jealousy.
Even as I frown and rub my eyes, Touma and Seiji are probably together. Touma found his love, freeing him from within himself as easily as he freed him from Shikaisen. Like newlyweds, they seem to be joined at the hip, Touma with his soft touches, Seiji with his soft smiles, intended only for his lover. The pair of them, with something that I can never have.
It hurts sometimes, hurts that I was cheated by that bastard of a scientist. One shot, one lucky shot and I was alone forever, without even a kiss goodbye. All I can do now is mourn.
[Seiji]
I can hear his heartbeat under my ear, thrumming slowly in the confines of his chest. I smile and tighten my arms around his slim waist; that sound is sweeter to me than any music, more precious than any gem. I close my eyes and settle closer to him, feeling the texture of his skin against mine, still dampened slightly by sweat from our earlier activities. I smile again and kiss the skin beneath my cheek; Touma has displayed a decided enthusiasm for my quirks. Reaching up, I finger the scarf still bound around his wrist, its end trapped somewhere under his body. Beautiful, curious Touma...
I have to get away suddenly and I move, careful not to disturb my lover's heavy slumber. The emotions whirling through my heart are sharp-edged with their intensity, so sharp that tears spring suddenly to my eyes. I look down at Touma, his face open and youthful with sleep, only to close my eyes, feeling my hands clench into fists at my sides. Too much, it's too much. When did he become so necessary to me? Why does the very thought of being without him send spikes through me?
Shivering, I shrug into a robe and leave my room, intent on my path to the kitchen. I am surprised to find the lights still on, even more so to see Ryo sitting at the table, brooding over a cup of something foul-looking. I enter the room with only enough noise to alert him to my presence; he doesn't appreciate surprises. I can feel his eyes following me as I go to the refrigerator and pour myself a glass of water, then settle in a chair opposite him. "Why are you still up?"
"Couldn't sleep."
I study him over the rim of my glass, analyzing the short phrase he just grunted at me. His eyes flicker to meet mine and I blink at their redness, then they're hidden again by the sweep of dark lashes. I suck in a breath and set my glass down, rising and circling the table to enfold him in a loose embrace. "You hurt."
He is tense in my arms, his muscles unbelievably hard against me. I don't care; I continue to hold him as my hands stroking slowly, soothingly, over his back in a rhythm that I vaguely remember my grandfather using on me when I was ill as a small child. He relaxes slowly, so very slowly, and suddenly his face is pressed against my shoulder and he is shaking with harsh sobs. I lean my cheek against his hair and let him grieve in peace, all too aware of my part in the cause of it.
His head eventually rises from me and he scrubs at his wet eyes with a shirt sleeve, unheeding when the wooden buttons there dig into his cheeks. I gently push his hand into his lap again and use my own soft sleeve to wipe at the tears, then release him and cross the kitchen to get him some tissues. He takes them with a brief grimace and blows his nose, his eyes not once meeting mine. Hesitantly, I touch his shoulder, my voice sounding intrusive to my own ears as I murmur, "Ryo... Please..."
He grimaces again, but looks at me. The pain in his eyes nearly makes me take a step back and forces a soft gasp from my throat. He lowers his gaze again to study his hands clasped in his lap. "I don't know what to do," he finally whispers, his breath hitching on the last word. "I..."
I frown and tip his chin up, forcing him to meet my eyes. "She would want you to live." I know what he means, all too well; it is a mirror of the pain I had felt, the pain that still flared in the raw spots rasped across my emotions. My arms go around him of their own will and pull him against me as my face comes to rest in his thick hair to hide the sudden surge of sympathetic tears. "You have to go on."
His smile is cynical; I don't need to see it to know it. So is his exhaled 'hn' and the hand that comes to rest on my hair. "Why?" he asks, his voice rough from his earlier sobs, "Why do I have to?"
I pull back and cup his face between my palms, searching his eyes, so much like Touma's. Large, blue, thickly-fringed eyes, although they lack the naiveté that sometimes colors Touma's, replacing it with a bitterness that I hadn't guessed at. My thumbs trace the curve of his lower lip as I answer, "Because. We need you."
He jerks his chin away and I guess that I answered incorrectly. I exhale in a frustrated rush and catch his chin again, giving him a gentle shake. "You're my best friend, dammit." His eyes return to mine at that, tinged with skepticism at my claim. His mouth opens, presumably to argue, and I rush on. "I've never had close friends before, never like us. I'd die for you. I have died for you, all of us have. That's how much you mean. Catling... don't write yourself off yet."
He stares at me for a moment before a faintly surprised grin curves his lips. "Go back to bed, Seij', I'm okay."
I'm not sure that I agree, but I know that insisting on remaining would probably hinder rather than help. I nod and tousle his hair as I stand, drawing my robe tightly around me once more. Turning, I leave, my last glimpse of him remaining fresh in my mind. It's still there when I curl against Touma's warm, sleeping form again. Hopefully I'll never forget Ryo's smile, his simple joy that makes everything worth working for.
[Ryo]
I watch Seiji leave, aware that I still have a stupid grin on my face. It feels good to have a reason to grin again. That that reason would be Seiji is ironic, but any reason is a good reason now. I laugh, "Catling," to myself and rise, turning off the lights and making my way to the room I share with Shin. Just knowing that Seiji is all right has made me feel better, although it also gave me the strange urge to crawl into the bed between he and Touma and to snuggle in for the night. Impossible.
I change into my night clothes and slide under the covers, feeling the fabric rasping over my legs as I pull it up to my waist. I cross my hands behind my head and settle in to think.
Why are we all so close? Yes, we've fought together for years. Yes, we've saved each others' lives. Yes, we depend on each other. But why are we so close now? The fighting is done, isn't they? Still, I can't imagine a day going by without hearing Shin puttering around the kitchen or Shuu laughing over some stupid TV show or seeing Seiji and Touma snuggled on the couch. They are a part of me, all of them.
Is it because of the armors? Or because of the Kikoutei, in particular? I know it was just the armors merging to form it, but, still... couldn't it have carried parts of our souls along with it, weaving those together as well? I can practically read their minds; surely that's not normal.
I look over at Shin where he slumbers, his head turned to the side and his hand curled next to it, as though he were sucking his thumb. The stab of love that rises is sharp, so sharp, but so sweet at the same time. I turn my thoughts to Shuu, Seiji, and Touma in turn; the love is there, too. Is it love? I close my eyes and press my fingers against the lids until the psychotic light show begins, searching for the answers in the tangles of colors. Why does the thought of leaving them behind make me want to tie them to me?
I've already lost one of my loves... Luna, gone forever, is and always will be irreplaceable. Am I to lose the others as well? Maybe not so finally, but still a loss, as we all drift off to our own schools, our own homes, our own pursuits.
I roll onto my belly and vow to myself that I'm going to keep them close. No matter what happens, we will always be together.
Always.
[Touma]
Seiji thinks he hasn't woken me, but even I couldn't sleep through his crawling back into bed. Silent and stealthy, yes, but this is also Seiji, and Seiji is like receiving a jolt from a live wire for me. I listen to his breathing even off into slumber and slide an arm around him, tangling my fingers in their customary position in his hair. I can feel his breath, soft as butterfly wings, against my skin and smile, putting my other arm around him as I turn onto my side, cuddling him closer.
I always want to feel him close like this.
Always.
[Seiji]
I never was much of one for dreaming; it was only after Shikaisen that I had visions outside of meditation. But, unlike those torments, this is a nice dream.
Touma and I are together at the waterfall; I am in only my hakama, he is in nothing more concealing than a pair of well-worn jeans. He is in my lap and my arms are around him, our mouths are close but not touching. I can hear the pounding of the waterfall, only slightly louder than the pounding of the blood through my veins. I can feel his weight against me and, although I don't want to look away from him, I look up.
The others are there, only a few feet away. They sit close, almost, but not, touching. I smile at them and they smile back, their eyes dancing with the strength of their spirits. I lower my chin to rest on Touma's hair and hold out an arm, beckoning. Without a word, Shin and Shuu approach, one sitting on either side of me, their thighs pressing flush against mine. Ryo is the last to come, sitting directly across from me and holding out a hand.
Without knowing why, I rest my hand on top of his. Touma surprises me by placing his hand over mine; Shin then touches Touma's, while Shuu's covers Shin's. I can feel my very bones liquefying as the current races through us, and I can see Touma close his eyes, his face lit with ecstasy. I close my eyes as well, but not before I see Ryo's smile, the bright light in his eyes. I trust them with my life; to leave them would be to become lifeless No. I want to live.
The bond quivers and I shiver in dread, feeling the others getting ready to move away, to break the contact. Without thinking, I place my other hand over Shuu's, leaving all but Ryo caught between my palms. But he has his own thoughts, covering my hand in turn with his, completing the cycle. The energy surges, lancing through my body with an almost orgasmic rush, leaving me feeling fulfilled. Complete.
Unerringly, my lips find Touma's, worshipping at the altar of his mouth. Yes, I know now. Touma is my altar, the others are the beams holding up the dais; if one should leave, we'll all collapse, hurt, perhaps irreparable. I know now; we will be together forever. None of us could withdraw our support without knowingly causing the downfall of the others.
I can't help but smile as the dream fades, leaving me with no more than a tingling in my veins and a single certainty.
We will be together always.
Always.
Fallen Angels is one of those pieces that makes me wince every time I remember that I wrote it - it's rough, it's self-serving, it's disjointed, and it just generally sucks. It was originally written for a fanfiction contest, and I'm sure is still floating around the archive of the site that hosted the contest. I prefer to pretend it didn't exist, although I'm still too blinking much of a completist to pull it from my archive. Maybe it will be rewritten some day, but if it is, it will be unrecognizable as having stemmed from this piece.