Wahaha. No smut. The plot thickens.
Chapter Nine: Unloved
Around six o’clock in the morning, Kamui untangled himself from Subaru and went into the bathroom. A long, hot shower had him feeling somewhat more like himself, though his body still ached. He was so sore he could barely walk straight. It was eerily reminiscent of how he’d felt after his second time with Fuuma.
He blocked out the thoughts irritably and left Subaru to sleep, despite the two faxes that were waiting. He was really having a hard time caring about Subaru’s job at the moment. Or, for that matter, caring about anything. He dressed and headed to school simply because he was so used to doing so.
After all, he’d lived through so much already, how could this make things any worse?
He went to the nurse’s office upon arriving at school to get his shoulder and wrist checked out. She gave him a rather severe glance and told him that the shoulder had been strained badly and he was lucky it hadn’t been dislocated. The wrist was only twisted. She bandaged it and insisted on putting his arm in a sling to avoid any further strain to the muscles in his shoulder. Naturally, this made him feel rather stupid. He drifted aimlessly through the first half of the day, trying to keep his mind on lessons rather than on how awful he felt. It didn’t help that it was rather painful to sit down without squirming.
“Hi, Kamui!” Keichii bounced up alongside him at lunch, looking rather startled to actually see him at two school days in a row.
“Huh? Oh, hey.” Kamui glanced up, then looked despondently back at his lunch.
Keichii sat on the bench next to him, looking at the sling his arm was in and the dark bruises on his face. “What happened? Are you okay?”
Kamui told him the same story he had told the nurse. “Yeah, I’m fine, I just fell. Twisted my shoulder and my wrist and smacked my face against the wall. That’s all.”
Keichii gave him a long, steady look. “You know,” he finally said. “I don’t mean to be cruel, but . . . if you don’t want to talk about what happened, why don’t you ever just say that? I would accept that, you know. It’s none of my business, really. But I really don’t like the way you keep lying to me, like you actually expect me to believe it.” He was starting to sound a little upset. “I mean, do you think I’m a total idiot or something? I don’t see how you could, seeing as you’re only passing most of your classes because I help you.”
Kamui gaped at him. Keichii simply wasn’t allowed to say things like this. It didn’t fit in with his nature. Then again, he supposed Keichii had been awfully patient with him. He didn’t really blame the blonde boy for being upset.
“I mean, I thought that we were friends,” Keichii said softly.
“We are, Keichii, it’s just . . .” Kamui looked away.
“Kamui, I don’t think you know what it means to be friends,” Keichii said. “You say you’re friends with me, but you lie to me all the time and you never seem to actually want to spend time with me unless I’m helping you with your schoolwork.”
“I’m not using you, honestly, I just . . . I have trouble with things like this, I don’t know how to act or what to say . . .”
“Hasn’t anyone ever just let you be yourself?” Keichii asked, sounding exasperated.
Kamui looked away. “No . . . no one ever has.”
“It’s like everything I know about you is a lie,” Keichii said. “Have you ever told me the truth about anything?”
Kamui closed his eyes.
“That’s what I thought,” Keichii said, standing up. “Look, when you feel like actually talking to me, you know where to find me.”
With that, he walked away, leaving Kamui sitting there in open-mouthed astonishment. In a way, it seemed utterly unlike Keichii, but when he considered it, his friend (?) had every right to be upset with him. Still, it was really the last thing he needed. He felt his eyes start to burn with unshed tears, and after a minute he stood up and wandered away in the opposite direction.
What was he supposed to tell Keichii, anyway? He wouldn’t understand Kamui’s relationship with Subaru. The whole end-of-the-world thing was something that Kamui wanted to put behind him, but there was too much that wouldn’t make sense if he didn’t explain it. He wanted Keichii to remain innocent, free of the mess that was Kamui’s life.
He walked off campus without really realizing it and wandered aimlessly through town. He hadn’t eaten since lunch the previous day, and his stomach ached despite the fact that he didn’t really feel any desire to eat. He thudded onto a bench and sat there for what felt like hours, trying not to cry.
The sun was setting by the time he finally got up, walking with his head down. He didn’t want to go home, unsure of what kind of mood Subaru was going to be in. But he had nowhere else to go. He continued to wander, not really caring where he ended up.
“Hey, watch where you’re going!” a very familiar voice said as he suddenly found himself walking right into an equally familiar chest.
Kamui looked up. Stopped. And stared. “Fuu . . . Fuuma . . . you’re . . .” He was torn between the urge to throw his arms around his ‘friend’ and start bawling, or to run away screaming as quickly as he could, or to try to kick Fuuma’s ass right there in the street.
Fuuma looked at Kamui over the rim of his sunglasses. “Sorry,” he said cheerfully. “Do I know you?”
Kamui opened his mouth and tried to speak. What came out was a rather undignified squeak.
“I have amnesia,” Fuuma quickly clarified. “You know, it’s funny -- over the course of the last couple weeks I’ve met a bunch of people who say they’ve known me, but you’re the first that’s actually looked familiar.” He paused, tilting his head to one side. “I wonder why that is. What’s your name?”
“Sh-Shirou Kamui,” he managed.
Recognition dawned in Fuuma’s eyes, which made Kamui rather nervous. Then, even more nerve-wracking, Fuuma gave him a rather blatant onceover, smirking. “Yeah, okay, I saw your name in my sister’s address book,” he said. He paused, then added, “Sorry about what happened.”
Kamui stared. “How do you know about that if you have no memory?”
“Well, I don’t really,” Fuuma replied. “But a friend of mine said I kicked your ass a few times. Since I don’t remember it, maybe we can start on a clean slate.”
Kamui felt torn again. On the one hand, Fuuma was correct in that there was definitely a clean slate here, if he wanted one. But Fuuma obviously hadn’t reverted back to his former personality -- if, Kamui considered, he had ever really had that personality, or had only been using it to hide this one. And he wasn’t sure he could ever trust this Fuuma. “Uh . . . sure,” he finally managed to say, somewhat weakly.
Then he snapped to attention as something occurred to him. The only people who knew what had happened between himself and Fuuma were the Seals and Angels -- all of whom were now dead except for himself, Subaru, and apparently Fuuma. “Who told you that?” he demanded.
“Who told me what, that I kicked your ass?” Fuuma asked, surprised, inwardly wondering why he had been favoring this scrawny kid over Seishirou. Age difference, maybe. “Guy named Seishirou. Don’t think you knew him.”
“Wait, slow down, stop, back up,” Kamui said weakly. “When did Seishirou tell you this?”
“I dunno, few days ago. Why?” Fuuma blinked at Kamui.
Kamui was suddenly rather sure he was going to pass out. Everything was starting to spin. “But . . . Seishirou’s . . . dead,” he finally managed.
“Yeah, he told me that some people thought he was,” Fuuma said with a shrug. “He was in a coma for about eight months, I don’t know exactly what happened. You want to go out for ice cream or anything?”
Kamui’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s Seishirou staying right now?”
“With me,” Fuuma said. “Why?”
Kamui choked. “With you? Little old for you, isn’t he, Fuuma?”
Fuuma shrugged, obviously not caring what Kamui thought of him. “You didn’t answer my question. Why do you want to know?”
“Because I’m going to kick his sorry ass for not letting Subaru know he’s still alive,” Kamui said, and started down the street. “Feel free to come watch the show if you really want.”
Fuuma trailed along after him. “How do you know Seishirou?”
“It’s a really long story and I don’t particularly feel like explaining it at the moment,” Kamui said. He was fuming inwardly. Coma or no coma, Seishirou could have had the common decency to let Subaru know he was alive. For one thing, though Kamui was unsure of the specifics, there might be a chance that Subaru would no longer have to be the Sakurazukamori. Secondly, Kamui guessed it might go a long way towards solving some of Subaru’s most obvious neuroses.
He realized that he had wandered quite far in the direction of Fuuma’s home without even knowing, and so it wasn’t worth taking a taxi. “I don’t know if he’s going to be home,” Fuuma mentioned from his place at Kamui’s side, where his longer legs were easily keeping up even though Kamui was practically jogging. “He was out all day and most of the night just the other day.”
Kamui skidded to a halt. “He was?”
“Yeah,” Fuuma said. “Didn’t get back ‘til past one in the morning.”
The wheels in Kamui’s head were starting to turn. He stared at Fuuma for a long moment, then spat out, “That God damned dream!” and took off at a flat out run.
“What dream?” Fuuma asked, hurrying to catch up.
Kamui reached Fuuma’s house in a few minutes and waited impatiently for Fuuma to unlock the door before slamming inside, well aware that he was breaking just about every rule of etiquette in the book and not caring even the slightest bit. “Seishirou!” he yelled. “Seishirou, get your sorry ass out here!”
There was a slight moment of silence. Then cautious footsteps. Seishirou entered the main room looking -- there was no better word for it -- panicked. “Kamui,” he said, blinking at him. “Why are you here?”
“Why am I here?!” Kamui asked incredulously. “You’re the one who’s been dead for eight months!”
“Actually, I was only dead for about ten minutes,” Seishirou said. “And then I was comatose until after the Final Day so I wouldn’t be able to interfere with destiny. Then I woke up. And now I’m here.”
“And you didn’t tell Subaru you were still alive?” Kamui gaped at him. “You gutless chickenshit bastard!”
Seishirou blinked, then said, in a very sharp voice, “I hardly think you’re one to complain, when you’re the one sleeping with him.”
Kamui squeaked. “How do you know that?”
Fuuma raised his eyebrows, watching the approaching train wreck with interest.
“I saw you,” Seishirou replied bitingly. “I came to see whether or not my apartment was still empty, and you two were -- ”
“WHAT?!” Kamui yelled. “You’re telling me that you spied on us?”
“It’s my God damned apartment!” Seishirou shouted back. For thirty-four years, he had never lost his temper, and he felt the explosion building up. “What the hell right did you have to move in and start sleeping with my Subaru-kun?”
“You were dead, you . . . you fucking pedophilic lecherous PERVERT!” Kamui bellowed. “I have the right to sleep with anyone I damn well want! And if you come near him again I will claw your eyes out!”
“Oh, that’s excellent!” Seishirou yelled. “You come here to demand why I haven’t let him know I’m alive and now you’re threatening me if I come near him. What the hell do you suggest I do, then? Make up your mind!”
“Would you two quit yelling?” Fuuma intervened. “You’re giving me a headache and I think things are about to start falling off my walls.”
Kamui turned on him. “YOU stay out of this! You’re just as bad as he is!”
“Look, don’t go dragging me into this when I can’t even defend myself,” Fuuma said. “It’s not fair.”
Kamui made a noise of disgust and turned back to Seishirou. He took a few deep breaths, then said, “All right. I’ll stop yelling. You have two minutes to explain yourself, and then I’ll explain myself. Deal?”
Seishirou forcibly squashed his anger. “Deal. To sum up, I love Subaru. I always have. Upon nearly dying at his hand, I came to the conclusion that I’ve been a selfish bastard my entire life and I decided that his happiness is the most important thing to me. When I got out of the hospital, I went back to my apartment with every intention of moving back in, only to find you in bed with him. Needless to say, I was rather angry about this, but I decided that since Subaru looked moderately happy with you, I would leave it be and let you two be together. Satisfied?”
“Except for three things,” Kamui said, but he had relaxed marginally. “Number one -- why the hell are you staying here of all places?”
“I ran into Fuuma in the hospital. We were friends before I was nearly killed; he’s the person who saved my life.” Seishirou gave Fuuma a rather uneasy look at this, causing Kamui to realize that Seishirou had not explained how they had known each other to Fuuma. All for the best, as far as Kamui was concerned. “We talked some, I came here after I’d had my unpleasant surprise at my apartment and he asked if I needed a place to stay. Thus, I am here. Second question?”
“The dream Subaru told me about.” Kamui’s eyes narrowed. “It wasn’t a dream, was it.”
Seishirou at least had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed. “No. It wasn’t. I suppose I just needed . . . one last time with him. Before I let him go.”
Kamui considered this. “I suppose . . . if you love him . . . then maybe I could forgive that.” Then his eyes hardened. “If it wasn’t for the fact that you’ve driven Subaru totally insane and now you’ve left me to pick up the pieces and try to put them back together in some semblance of order, and you’re making yourself fucking feel better by telling yourself that this is what’s best for him.”
Seishirou looked pained. “Kamui,” he said quietly, “I know I made mistakes.”
Kamui gave him a look.
“All right, you want the truth?” Seishirou asked. “I fucked up utterly, and I know it. Everything I’ve ever done has hurt him. So I’m just going to leave him alone now. But at least let me have my regrets, all right?”
Kamui glared fiercely, then nodded. “Third thing -- is he or is he not the Sakurazukamori?”
“He is,” Seishirou said. “I was dead long enough for the position to transfer onto him. And before you ask, there’s nothing I can do to change that.”
“All right.” Kamui paused. “I guess you want my explanation now?”
Seishirou sagged into a chair. “To be honest, Kamui, I don’t really care why you’re sleeping with Subaru-kun. In fact, I think I’d rather not hear the story. It’ll only make me more depressed.”
Kamui paused. “Oh.” In truth, a small, malicious part of him was longing to dangle his victory under Seishirou’s nose and gloat.
Seishirou’s next words knocked that thought completely out of his head. “Besides, there’s nothing for you to be too pleased about. Looks like he’s not treating you very well, is he.”
Kamui unconsciously raised his free hand to the bruises on his face. He didn’t bother with any of his lies; he knew damn well that Seishirou wouldn’t believe them. “Yeah, you know what happened?” he asked viciously. “He got home from your little dance with him in the park and was so desperate to forget about it that he practically raped me. Does that make you feel better, Seishirou?”
Seishirou gaped at him. “Subaru-kun did?”
“Yes.” Kamui rubbed his eyes. “Nice, sweet, innocent Subaru-kun. Isn’t that great? Aren’t you proud of what you’ve done to him?”
“But . . .” Seishirou looked at him helplessly.
“Oh, shut the fuck up, Seishirou,” Kamui snapped. “I don’t need your pity. I can take care of myself.” He shot a glance at Fuuma. “I managed around him for a year.”
Fuuma laughed a bit at that.
“It’s not funny, you prick,” Kamui said, still glaring. He turned back to Seishirou. “Just do me one favor. Promise me you’ll never come near Subaru again.”
Seishirou nodded. “I promise. I’ll leave you both alone.”
Kamui looked at him for a long second, then nodded, satisfied. “Okay, good. And keep your new fucking boytoy away from me, too.”
He walked out the door without another word.
~~~~
Subaru wasn’t home when Kamui got there, but there was a message on the answering machine. Kamui blinked, having not been instructed on what to do in these circumstances, then pressed the play button.
“Ano . . . this is Segawa Keichii, calling for Kamui . . . um, I just wanted to let you know that I was sorry for what I said earlier. I’ll see you in school tomorrow, ne?” There was a brief pause. “Well, if you want to talk, you have my number. Jaa.”
Kamui erased the message and flopped down on the couch. Somehow, Keichii being so forgiving only made him feel worse. He treated the blonde boy like his personal tutor, and was only now beginning to realize it. The problem was that Keichii was so giving, it was hard to even know you were taking until he got upset. “Damnit Keichii,” Kamui said into the cushion. “You wouldn’t get walked all over if you weren’t so damned nice.”
He sat up and reached for his backpack, spreading his stats homework out across the coffee table. As usual, he didn’t understand it.
“Fuck it,” he announced, standing up and walking away from it, taking the sling off his arm and throwing it across the room. “I’ll just flunk the damned class. What the hell does it really matter, anyway.”
He poured himself some tea and let his head thunk against the wall. Fuuma being alive he could deal with. He had wanted Fuuma to be alive, after all. That had been his final Wish, the one that had saved the world -- that Fuuma could live as himself. All right, that didn’t mean he wanted to start spending loads of time in Fuuma’s company, but he could deal with the fact that Fuuma was alive.
Seishirou being alive was an entirely different matter.
Part of Kamui wanted to tell Subaru about it. He was fairly sure that there would be a lot of good that came of it. Subaru would stop wallowing in guilt, Subaru would have a chance to talk to Seishirou about his true feelings and maybe be convinced that he was worth something . . .
But on the other hand, Kamui had to agree with Seishirou in that everything that he ever did hurt Subaru. They seemed to simply be cursed. Perhaps it really was best for Subaru if Seishirou just walked out of his life forever.
What bothered Kamui most was that he had no say in the decision. Oh, he could talk big and threaten Seishirou, but he knew that in the end, it was entirely up to him. Seishirou had decided that he wouldn’t see Subaru anymore, and Kamui knew there wasn’t anything he could do to change that, even if he had wanted to.
He decided to make dinner, busying his hands with chopping vegetables for a stir fry so he didn’t have to think. Unfortunately, vegetables weren’t terribly occupying, and he found himself thinking anyway. He turned on some loud music to try to drown himself out, but that didn’t work either.
If Seishirou had chosen to come back, he was well aware that he would have lost Subaru forever. That didn’t really bother him -- he knew that Subaru didn’t love him. And regardless of that, he wanted whatever would provide the greatest happiness for Subaru. If that had been Seishirou, so be it. But apparently it wasn’t.
And if that had happened, where would he have gone?
To Keichii?
“Sure,” he said softly to himself. “I’d just go use him for one more thing.” Tears began to slide down his cheeks, unnoticed. He was surprised that Keichii could even stand him, let alone like him. He chopped vegetables furiously, trying to ignore the ache in his heart. It was getting difficult to hold the vegetables steady with his injured arm. That only made him think about what had happened the night before, and the next thing Kamui knew he had nearly sliced his thumb off in his distraction.
“Damn it damn it damn it . . .” He quickly ran some cold water and held his thumb underneath it, trying to pinch the cut closed. It wasn’t big, but the pain was much greater than he would’ve expected for such a tiny wound. He bit his lip, trying not to think about it, and went in search of a Band-Aid.
He found one in the cupboard in the bathroom. Then he left the vegetables where they were and crawled into bed. He hadn’t slept all night and was rather anxious to catch up on his rest. Besides, if he was asleep, he wouldn’t have to think about his life.
It was late -- he didn’t know how late -- when Subaru came in. Kamui jerked awake as Subaru softly padded across the room and got underneath the blankets. His entire body went tense involuntarily as Subaru’s arms slid around his waist.
“Kamui . . .” Subaru said softly. “Do you hate me?”
Kamui blinked. “No . . . I don’t hate you.”
“But after what I did to you . . . last night . . .” Subaru pulled Kamui a tiny bit closer, hugging him tightly. “I won’t blame you if you hate me.”
“But you wouldn’t let me go, either, would you,” Kamui said.
Subaru didn’t reply.
Neither of them spoke again.
~~~~
“So,” Fuuma said, hauling himself up to sit on the counter. “You’re in love with this Subaru guy, huh.”
“Yes.” Seishirou didn’t look up from the tea he was drinking. In fact, he’d been studying the same cup for forty-five minutes, as if it held the secrets to the mystery of life. “Do you have a problem with that?” he asked.
“No, but I think you’re being an idiot,” Fuuma said mildly.
Seishirou gave him a sharp look. “How so?”
“Give me a break,” Fuuma said. “You love him. From the way Kamui was talking, he obviously loves you. So what’s so wrong with you two being together?”
“I killed his sister,” Seishirou stated flatly.
“Well, that does sort of put a damper on things,” Fuuma said brightly. “But hey, if Subaru doesn’t care, you shouldn’t either.”
“Believe me, he cares,” Seishirou said dryly. “He may love me, but he hates me just as much as he loves me. There’s no way we can be together.” He closed his eyes. “Besides, for God’s sake, I’m in a coma for eight months and what does he do? Shacks up with a sixteen year old.”
Fuuma coughed delicately. “You know, there’s this old adage about pots, kettles, and their dark quality . . .”
“Shut the hell up.”
“Look,” Fuuma said. “All I’m trying to say is that I think you’re making yourself miserable.”
Seishirou opened his mouth to say that he didn’t matter.
“And you’re obviously making him miserable.”
Seishirou closed his mouth,
“And you’re also making Kamui miserable.”
“You’re still happy,” Seishirou retorted.
“Yes, but that’s because I have amnesia and therefore don’t remember anything I might have had to be unhappy about,” Fuuma said. “For all I know, I’m just as miserable as you.”
Seishirou snorted. “Not likely.”
Fuuma shrugged. “Hey, if you want to do this, I can’t stop you. I’m not your baby-sitter. Just don’t come whining to me.”
“I don’t,” Seishirou said. “I just screw you senseless, that’s all. You object to that?”
“The actual screwing, no, of course not,” Fuuma replied. “The fact that you’re only doing it to forget some old fling does kind of irritate me. Not that I’m on the lookout for any sort of serious relationship, but it sort of tarnishes my delicate self-esteem.”
Seishirou gave him a withering look. “The day you have delicate self-esteem is the day that Kamui wants to sleep with me.”
Fuuma sighed. “Look, Seishirou, I’m trying to see things from your point of view, okay? But I just can’t get my head that far up my ass.”
He turned and walked away.
~~~~
Chapter Ten
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