Um, yeah. You can thank the rapid succession of chapters on Karasu. She's the one demanding that we write every day. And while you're at it, all comments about how cool Seimei is go to her as well; she's the one writing him. I mean, no character of mine would ever be that polite. Not that Seimei is in this chapter. Or Seishirou, for that matter. He demanded some time off.
If Fuuma seems slightly OOC... well, it's my interpretation of Fuuma and I can do whatever I want. So there. ^_~
Chapter Thirteen
“Of all the places for them to be,” Hisoka said, looking doubtfully up at the Government building.
“They live in a basement,” Tsuzuki said wonderingly. “That must be so depressing.”
Hisoka sighed slightly. “They’ll probably be watching for people, so we’d better not let anyone see us,” he said, and vanished without another word. Tsuzuki followed suit, and the two of them made their way up the steps, past varying people of different ages. They figured that the elevator would alert the people they were going to visit, and so opted to take the stairs. It was a long way down.
“This is depressing,” Hisoka agreed, as they reached the main door. He went visible again, as did Tsuzuki, then pushed open the door and walked in.
“Look out!” a voice called, and Hisoka suddenly found himself getting smacked in the face with a frog. He stood there, blinking, while a tall, androgynous figure hurried over to retrieve said frog, and Tsuzuki attempted valiantly not to burst into giggles.
The figure looked at them, then said blankly, “You’re not Fuuma.”
“No,” Hisoka said. “We’re here to see Fuuma.”
“He’s not here.” He paused, apparently totally taken aback by the concept of unfamiliar people in the room. “I’m going to get Satsuki.”
“Go ahead,” Hisoka said, fairly graciously considering that he was the intruder. He and Tsuzuki opted to follow Nataku into the next room, where Satsuki was entangled in Beast.
“Satsuki,” Nataku called, “people you don’t know are here.”
Satsuki didn’t emerge. “Not possible.”
Tsuzuki smiled slightly. “Konnichi wa, Satsuki-san.”
Satsuki’s head stuck out, her goggles still on and wires trailing from her skin. “How did you get in here?” she asked incredulously.
In answer, Hisoka went invisible.
“Like that,” Tsuzuki said with a cheerful grin. “We’re here to talk to Fuuma.”
Satsuki stared at them. “This isn’t allowed.” She glared at Beast. “How could you let this happen?”
“We’d better go,” Nataku said studiously. “She gets funny when she’s like this.”
They followed him back out to the main room.
“Do you know when Fuuma is going to be back?” Hisoka asked, thinking that if this was what Fuuma had in the way of Angels, they may as well stop worrying.
“He said he was taking Kakyou-san out. I don’t think they’ll be too long.” Nataku paused. “I am Nataku.”
Tsuzuki introduced himself and Hisoka. “Nice to meet you.”
“What do you want with Fuuma?”
“Just to talk to him,” Tsuzuki said disarmingly, and then further disarmed Nataku by joining him in playing with the frog. Hisoka did a little inconspicuous exploring, but the other doors either led to empty rooms or bedrooms. One was obviously Nataku’s; there were children’s toys and books scattered everywhere. Another door led to his lab. The other two bedrooms, apparently Fuuma’s and Kakyou’s, were interchangeable; he’d have to meet the owners before discerning which was which.
The main door opened again and Fuuma walked in, carrying Kakyou, whose arm was around Fuuma’s neck for better balance. Fuuma stopped dead in his tracks. “Who the hell are you?” he asked.
Kakyou was staring equally. “What are you?” he corrected. He should have seen this coming, and he hadn’t. It was quite unnerving.
Tsuzuki and Hisoka saw no need to temporize. “We’re Shinigami,” Hisoka said. “My name is Kurosaki Hisoka, and this is my partner Tsuzuki.”
Fuuma looked uncertain. “Shinigami?” he asked cautiously. He’d heard of them, but only in mythology; he’d had no idea they actually existed.
Kakyou looked even more blank.
“We’re dead,” Hisoka explained bluntly. “We stick around to help the dead move on and to find and judge unsavory spirits.”
“Oh,” Fuuma said. “So why are you here?”
Kakyou murmured something in his ear which sounded suspiciously like Kotori’s name. Fuuma went very slightly pale.
“It’s not that,” Tsuzuki said, shaking his head. “Not that we approve, but you’re human and we can’t do anything to you. This has nothing to do with it. It’s bigger than that.”
“Are you supposed to stop the end of the world?” Fuuma asked, sounding amused. Then he suddenly stopped, considering this. “Wait, can you?”
“No, we can’t,” Hisoka said. “We’re not even technically supposed to interfere, but we’re here to keep an eye on things and do what we feel is necessary. We thought you might like to know.”
“So what you’re saying is that you’re here to spy on us and help the other side,” Kakyou said flatly.
Hisoka was giving both of them a funny look; the empathic impression they gave off was very strange. “Not necessarily,” he said. “For one thing, we can’t spy on you. If we wanted to spy on you, we wouldn’t have let you know that we were here.”
“Fair enough,” Kakyou said.
“We won’t say that we’d like the Seals to win, because that’s obvious,” Tsuzuki said quietly. “But we want to end this with as little tragedy as possible.”
Fuuma opened his mouth, then shut it, looking away. He put Kakyou on his feet and helped him over to one of the chairs.
“So is that it?” Kakyou asked skeptically. “You just wanted to introduce yourselves?”
“Mostly,” Hisoka said, smiling slightly. “And meet you. It’s always good to know all the information, isn’t it?”
“How did you find us?” Fuuma asked abruptly.
“I’m afraid to say we bought the information,” Hisoka said flatly.
Fuuma’s eyes narrowed. “From who?”
“Muraki.” Hisoka said his name like it was poisonous. “I advise you not to keep him in your employ. He’s hardly the most decent of individuals.” He glanced over at Nataku, who was shrinking against the wall, and sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said, in as soothing a tone as he could manage.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Fuuma said coolly. He had hardly thought that Muraki was loyal; then again, he’d had no idea Shinigami even existed, let alone were looking for him. He smiled down at Nataku. “Ne, Kazuki, why don’t you take the frog into your room, all right?”
“You just want to talk without me here,” Nataku said, without rebellion, just pointing out a fact. He picked up the frog and headed into his room, shutting the door behind him.
Fuuma looked back at the Shinigami. “Out of curiosity, what price did you pay?”
“I had to have dinner with him,” Tsuzuki said.
Fuuma rolled his eyes. “God, he’s creepy. If I had anyone else to take care of Nataku for me, I’d go with it, but I don’t. And he’s behaved himself so far. Trust me, if he lays a finger on Nataku, I’ll know, and I’ll kick his ass so hard he forgets what country he lives in.”
Tsuzuki nodded, moderately satisfied. “Here’s why we came,” he said abruptly. “Sooner or later you were going to find out about our presence; we’ve already promised to help Kamui if he needs it. We figured we would come let you know ourselves, and tell you that we aren’t against you. We know your duty just as well as you do, and we won’t stop you in anything you need to do. You’re just as human as the rest of us, and we don’t want to hurt you.”
Kakyou and Hisoka blinked at him, taken off guard by this sudden speech.
Fuuma stepped forward a bit, tilting his head to one side and examining Tsuzuki. After a long moment of silence, he just said, “Thanks. I appreciate that.”
Tsuzuki blushed suddenly, realizing that the others were staring at him. “Ah, we’d better go,” he stammered. “C’mon, Hisoka . . . jaa ne!” He practically bolted from the room. Hisoka saw no better option but to follow.
Fuuma turned to Kakyou with a raised eyebrow. “You didn’t like them?”
“I don’t like the unexpected,” Kakyou corrected, smoothing the folds of the sweater Fuuma had bought for him on their shopping trip. “At least, not that unexpected.”
Fuuma considered this. “I guess since they’re dead, they move outside the normal realm of fate,” he finally said. “Weird.”
“I’ll keep an eye on them specifically from now on, I assure you,” Kakyou said.
“Cool. Thanks.” Fuuma dropped onto the couch.
“I know I was startled by his speech, and I noticed that Hisoka was too, but you seemed to understand him,” Kakyou said thoughtfully. “Like he understood you. What was that about?”
“I don’t really know,” Fuuma said, frowning. “All I know is that while he was talking, I looked at him and he really, really wanted everything to turn out all right. Even for me.”
“Interesting,” Kakyou finally said.
Fuuma nodded, and lapsed into silence. He didn’t speak again until much later that evening.
~~~~
“Tsuzuki?” Hisoka asked hesitantly, flopping down on his bed. The walk back to the hotel had passed in silence; Tsuzuki was wrapped up in whatever he was thinking, and Hisoka had been too timid to disturb him. “Are you okay?”
Tsuzuki was twitchy. He looked up as Hisoka spoke. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said with a broad grin. “Ne, do you think it’s too late to go get some dessert? I’m -- ”
“Tsuzuki,” Hisoka interrupted. “What were you talking about in there?”
Tsuzuki blinked at him, uncomprehending. “I don’t know. Just what I said.”
Hisoka shook his head slightly. “You weren’t talking about any of that stuff before we went in. About . . . Fuuma being human, or not stopping him in anything he needed to do.”
Tsuzuki looked away. “Well, what did you think of him?”
Hisoka hesitated for a long minute, scuffing the floor with his shoe. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “He gave off a very confusing impression. He’s heartfelt in what he’s doing . . . but I don’t know what that is. He doesn’t regret any of it, I don’t think. But it was hard to feel with Kakyou projecting love and devotion so loudly.”
Tsuzuki shrugged. “I don’t know, I just got the impression that he wasn’t a bad guy, and that . . . that he needed to hear it.”
“I’m not angry,” Hisoka said, frowning in confusion. “I’m just . . . I just want to know what’s going on. There’s something you’re not telling me.”
“I told you already,” Tsuzuki said, his voice slightly sharper. “It’s just something that happened to me a long time ago, and I’d rather not talk about it.”
Hisoka flinched. “I’m sorry. I’m just worried, that’s all.”
Tsuzuki sighed, already regretting his harsh tone. “I’m not mad at you.”
“You look like you’re mad at me,” Hisoka said, sounding a bit sullen. “And you feel it, too.”
“I promise I’m not mad at you,” Tsuzuki said patiently. “I might not be happy at the moment, but I’m certainly not angry with you. I appreciate the fact that you’re concerned.”
Hisoka didn’t reply for a long minute. Then he finally sighed and changed the subject. “All I really know is that Fuuma isn’t exactly what he seems. And . . . while you were talking to him . . . he seemed very relieved. So I guess it really was something he needed to hear.”
“Aa,” Tsuzuki said, looking out the window.
There was a long moment.
“You okay?” Hisoka asked quietly.
“Sort of.”
Hisoka cast around desperately for something to say. “Want to go out for dessert?” he eventually came up with.
“Of course!”
~~~~
Kamui stood up suddenly as Subaru sat down at the table without so much as a hello. “Where’ve you been?” he asked, startled out of his studying. His normal tutoring sessions had been called off three times now, and he’d been forced to ask Keiichi for help (not that he minded spending extra time with Keiichi, of course, or that they actually did much studying -- Kamui was much too glazed in Keiichi’s presence for that) but Subaru had given no reason for his absence. His first call had been very brief; all he’d said was that he wouldn’t be around for a few days.
“I was being unfit for human company,” Subaru explained, sitting down and lighting up a cigarette.
Kamui gave him a close look. “Did you go see Seishirou?”
“Yes, I did. We had a horrific argument. I nearly knocked his head off his shoulders, then walked out. Then I spent three days being unfit for human company.”
“Oh,” Kamui managed, after a long minute to process this. “What did you argue about?” he asked hesitantly.
“I’m not really sure,” Subaru said thoughtfully.
“How can you not be sure?” Kamui asked, frowning slightly.
“We didn’t really argue about anything, we just . . . argued. I’m not sure.”
“Oh,” Kamui said again, then looked away guiltily. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have suggested it. I-I didn’t mean for you to get hurt . . .”
“This isn’t your fault,” Subaru assured him.
“But you wouldn’t have gone if I hadn’t told you to,” Kamui pointed out.
“No, I would’ve just kept moping,” Subaru corrected. He sighed slightly and glanced at Kamui’s textbook. “Do you want to learn anything or not?”
“Uhh . . . not at the moment,” Kamui said.
“All right.” Subaru stood. “Do you want to go for ice cream? I’ll admit I’m not really in the mood to be teaching anything at the moment anyway.”
“Okay,” Kamui said, well aware that he was going to be skipping class and not caring.
Subaru, for his part, wanted to take Kamui somewhere fun. His life should not consist entirely of the end of the world and school. That was hardly fair, especially given that he was only a teenager. Subaru wasn’t quite sure when he had decided this, but he definitely had. And in the unfortunate event that Kamui lost, Subaru did not want him to have spent his last few months worrying about schoolwork.
Besides, it would make Seishirou jealous.
Kamui seemed oblivious to Subaru’s thoughts, walking beside him in silence, keeping to his own thoughts.
“I’m sorry to have been gone,” Subaru said. “Did you manage your schoolwork okay?”
“Uh, yeah . . . sort of . . . Keiichi helped me.”
Subaru raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure he did,” he said, in a slightly teasing tone.
“Well, he tried . . . I just wasn’t paying much attention,” Kamui admitted. “It’s not my fault!”
Subaru was too busy being glad that Kamui had apparently gotten over his first infatuation -- the one he’d had with Subaru himself. He considered inviting Keiichi along, but didn’t want to seem like he was horning in. He also didn’t want Keiichi to think that he was horning in, so it seemed best if they kept this to a pair.
He really didn’t have much experience in where to go for fun. He tried to think like Hokuto, and could only come up with places to shop. That was perhaps the only thing about Hokuto that he truly didn’t miss; her propensity to dress him up in bizarre clothes. In fact, he was distinctly glad that it was over.
The beach, though . . . Hokuto had been very fond of the beach. It wasn’t too terribly far away, either; and it wasn’t even noon yet. They had plenty of time. It probably wouldn’t be warm enough to swim just yet, but that wouldn’t stop it from being fun. He considered himself too pasty to ever get into a bathing suit anyway.
“Would you like to go to the beach?” he asked, decision made.
“Huh?” Kamui asked, taken off guard by this apparent total non sequitir.
Subaru’s lips twitched slightly. “The ocean. Would you like to go there.”
Kamui blinked, then blushed. “With you?”
“I could get you a bus ticket if that’s what you would prefer,” Subaru said, still trying not to smile.
“No, no, you’re fine,” Kamui said, waving his hands around in the air. “Just . . . when did you become fun-loving!Subaru instead of angsting!Subaru?”
“I think at about eight o’clock this morning,” Subaru said thoughtfully. “Not quite sure, though.”
“Oh,” Kamui said weakly. “But I don’t have any stuff with me and Sorata is expecting me home for dinner and -- ”
“You can call Sorata, and I make more than enough money to buy whatever it is you want there. It’s not like I spent the money on anything else, after all.”
Kamui started to protest, then saw the look on Subaru’s face and trailed off into stutters. “Uhh . . . okay . . .”
Subaru smiled, one of his real smiles that were very rare and thus became precious. If Seishirou had been there, he probably would’ve killed Kamui at that very moment. “Good. Let’s go.”
~~~~
Weeks had passed in what Kakyou might have considered peace, were it not for the impending events hanging over everyone’s head. Kamui attended school and dated Keiichi in that way which no one actually considered dating. Subaru studied and did jobs and tried to pretend that he didn’t want to rip Seishirou’s throat out. Or tackle him and screw him, one or the other. Seishirou avoided everyone as much as possible. Seimei complained to Hisoka that his father had seemed nice for about thirty seconds and then gone back to his old behavior. Hisoka nodded and sympathized and fought the urge to beat Seishirou’s head into a wall, then went back to the hotel and sat around with Tsuzuki, waiting for something to happen. So far, it was the easiest assignment they’d ever had. Kakyou managed to hobble around. Nataku made it through the W volume.
And still, nothing changed.
Kakyou saw the change coming, of course. Saw the one event which would start to tip the scales. The beginning of the end? He wasn’t sure. It was certainly the first thing Fuuma did that actually caused Kamui to try to fight back with any force.
Thus he was expecting it when Fuuma finally came to his room, mere hours after it had happened. His clothes were still bloody. He simply walked in and flopped down on Kakyou’s bed without a word. Kakyou was sitting in his chair, waiting, not even pretending to read. He waited for Fuuma to speak, and when he did not, said, “Hi,” with a smile that he hoped was at least somewhat comforting.
“I guess you probably already know what happened, huh,” Fuuma said. It wasn’t a question. For a few seconds, Kakyou panicked, thinking that Fuuma might be angry with him for not warning him, not doing his duty as a Dreamgazer. Then he calmed down. Fuuma obviously wasn’t angry. It was very easy to tell when Fuuma was angry, really.
So Kakyou just nodded. “I’m sorry it had to happen that way, if that helps any,” he said, knowing it didn’t help.
“It’s weird,” Fuuma said, with a shaky laugh. “I didn’t care about killing my own sister. Why am I freaking out about decapitating some guy that I barely knew?”
“Because,” Kakyou said, wondering at Fuuma’s definition of ‘freaking out’, “I think in your eyes, Kotori deserved it, and he didn’t.”
“Deserved it. Sure.” Fuuma laughed again. “And then I dumped his head in Kamui’s lap. Look what a great guy I am.”
Kakyou stood up and wobbled his way over to the bed, holding onto the nightstand until he could make it. He sat down beside Fuuma and reached out to gently touch his face. “For once the ends really do justify the means,” he said quietly. “And if you were really as bad as you seem to think, you wouldn’t be sitting here feeling horrible.”
Fuuma pushed Kakyou’s hand away, staring steadfastly into the distance. “Yeah, try explaining that to Kamui,” he said, his voice harsh. “Or Kotori. Or Daisuke. Or Subaru. Or any of the hundreds of other people I’ve hurt or killed.”
Kakyou leaned against the headboard, not upset at Fuuma’s behavior, but not sure how to react. “I’m not trying to tell them. I’m trying to tell you.”
“Yeah, well, thanks for the effort, but it doesn’t really help,” Fuuma snapped, the fact that he was upset showing clearly in his voice.
“Is there anything that will help?” Kakyou asked, keeping his voice gentle without being condescending or impatient.
Fuuma sighed. “Nothing that you can do,” he said. “All I want . . . is for it to not be true. For today to not have happened.”
“I would change it for you if I could,” Kakyou said, resisting the urge to reach out and touch Fuuma again. He had found, much to his surprise, that he was a very touchy-feely person, when it came to those he trusted and cared about. He supposed it came from so long being denied human contact of any sort. “Sometimes I think it would be a much better gift to change the past than to see the future.”
“But it’s not just today,” Fuuma said, his voice strained. “It’s going to be tomorrow and the day after and the day after and every day until it’s over. I have to make him hate me. There’s no other way.”
“I know.” Kakyou gave in to his impulse and wrapped a tentative arm around Fuuma’s shoulders. “Just try to remember, for yourself, that you’re not evil.” The most frustrating thing was that he knew damn well he wasn’t helping, but couldn’t do anything about it.
Fuuma leaned into Kakyou’s embrace. “It doesn’t matter. I’m killing people. Lots of people. If that doesn’t make me evil, I don’t know what does.”
“You’re saving more people than you’re hurting,” Kakyou said, hugging him tighter. “So I guess you really don’t know what evil is.”
“That isn’t the point!” Fuuma pulled away abruptly, his voice rising. “I don’t want to kill people!”
“I would be disturbed if you did.” Kakyou let him go, figuring it would do Fuuma some good to blow off some steam, especially since this was the only place he could do it safely. He sat back against the headboard again, watching as Fuuma began to pace around the room.
“There must be some other way,” he said. “There just . . . has to be.” He finally slumped back onto the bed, next to Kakyou, holding his head in his hands. “I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t.”
Kakyou leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Fuuma’s waist and hugging him from behind. “You don’t have much choice,” he reminded Fuuma gently, hating the fact that he had to say it. “If you stop now, it’s all been for nothing.”
“I hurt him really badly today,” Fuuma said, not lifting his face from his hands. “He’s going to be in bed for a week. And I can tell from the look on his face that he still won’t be able to do it. I’ll just have to keep hurting him and hurting him and I don’t think I can. I can see his Wish now, and he wants to get me back more than anything. We . . . we could be happy together.”
Kakyou severely doubted it, and didn’t want to say so. He kissed the back of Fuuma’s neck in what he hoped was a comforting manner. “I’m . . . I’m not sure it’ll work out that way,” he said slowly. “Even if you could back out now.”
“Because Fate flipped a coin and I got fucked,” Fuuma said flatly, his voice muffled.
“That’s about how it works, yes,” Kakyou said softly.
“Well, gee, remind me to come to you the next time I need comforting,” Fuuma snapped, standing up and heading for the door, kicking the wall on the way.
“Fuuma, wait.” Kakyou tried to stand up and follow, but it was at the end of a rather long day and his legs felt decidedly wobbly. Fuuma stopped in the doorway, but he didn’t turn around, or say anything. Kakyou managed to make his way over and hug him from behind again. “Come back. It’s just that none of this is your fault, and there isn’t much I can say or do to help, and I wish I could.”
“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” Fuuma replied, still not turning around.
“So?”
“So, get back in bed,” Fuuma said, as if this should be obvious.
“No,” Kakyou said, sounding slightly insulted that Fuuma had even suggested it.
“You just said that there’s nothing you can do to help,” Fuuma said patiently. “So why even bother?”
“That’s not how it works,” Kakyou replied. “Besides, you’ve been thinking with your emotions and no logic for some time now, so you can’t make your logic work on me. I can tell you don’t want to be alone, so don’t leave.”
Fuuma sighed slightly. “All right then.” He began to shove Kakyou back towards the bed.
Kakyou didn’t budge. “Are you going to stay?”
“Yeah, I’ll stay.”
Kakyou smiled slightly, letting Fuuma push him along. “Why the sudden protective streak?”
“I dunno,” Fuuma said with a shrug. “I have no idea what I’m thinking these days.”
“Well,” Kakyou said, wobbling along, “I suggest that you stop overanalyzing. Or analyzing at all, for that matter.”
Fuuma helped Kakyou sit down on the bed and pulled the blankets up to his waist, then sat down on the edge. “I can’t help but overanalyze,” he complained. “It’s so fucking unfair, it’s driving me even crazier than I already am.”
Kakyou picked at the blankets, missing the physical contact already. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t say you’re crazy. At least, no crazier than I am.”
Fuuma read the desire clearly and reached out to start playing with his hair. “Maybe. I don’t know. I just hate this.”
“I really wish I knew how to help,” Kakyou said, then added, “You know, besides saying the same pointless things I’ve been saying over and over again.”
Fuuma laughed slightly. “Yeah, well. It’s not like there’s much to be said to ‘You’re fated to kill thousands of people in order to make your best friend hate you so he can kill you and thereby save the world.’”
“No, unfortunately, there isn’t,” Kakyou said. “I think the best I can offer is some distraction.”
Fuuma smirked at Kakyou. “Kyou-chan, are you offering what I think you’re offering?”
Kakyou smiled back serenely. “I don’t know. What kind of take-out were you thinking of?”
Fuuma shook his head mournfully. “You’re such a tease. I’d go for pizza.”
“I’ve never had pizza,” Kakyou said thoughtfully.
“Pizza it is, then,” Fuuma said, then added softly, “Kakyou . . . I don’t want to die.”
Kakyou cursed inwardly. Just when he thought he’d actually managed to distract the younger man, he had to come back with something like that. He did the only thing he could think of; pulled Fuuma down next to him and gave him a hug. “I know. I’m sorry.” It sounded pretty pitiful, but there was really nothing else he could say.
Fuuma buried his face in Kakyou’s shoulder, and for a brief moment the yumemi thought he might be crying. “There’s just so much I haven’t done,” he said. “That I’ll never get to do.”
Kakyou ran his fingers through Fuuma’s hair, figuring that if he liked it, Fuuma probably would to. “Well, why don’t you go do some of it?” he suggested. “You have the money. There’s nothing to stop you.”
“Nothing to stop me except a world to destroy and a best friend to torture,” Fuuma said bitterly. “Besides, I’ll never get it all done. It just isn’t possible.”
“Something is always better than nothing,” Kakyou said, then added firmly, “And you’re not destroying the world.”
“Maybe,” Fuuma admitted. “So if I go and do some of it, and then a little more, but there’ll always be something else I need to be doing and it’ll feel like I’m running out of time. Which I am. So I won’t even enjoy any of it.”
“Everyone runs out of time,” Kakyou said with a shrug. “It’s just a fact of life.” He pulled Fuuma closer. “I just don’t think it’s right that you’re going to be so miserable for the time you have left.”
“I’m eighteen years old and I didn’t have a fucking choice and I hate this,” Fuuma said flatly, his voice muffled in Kakyou’s shoulder. Kakyou just hugged him, not knowing what to say, not knowing if there was anything he could say. “And then when I die no one is even going to care except for you and maybe Kazuki. Hell, Kamui’s probably going to throw a party when I finally kick off. No one will ever know the truth, and I guess it’s easier for Kamui that way, so I’ll let it happen. But it’s not like it’s any fun for me, dying and leaving behind a bunch of people who are going to hate me.” He paused. “As well they should after everything I’ve done.”
“No, they shouldn’t,” Kakyou said gently. “They might, but that doesn’t mean they should.” There was a long pause. “And I’ll make sure people know the truth. After everything you’ve done for me, that’s the last I can give you in return.”
“But then Kamui will feel like shit for never realizing and for killing me anyway and I don’t want that. Hell, I don’t know what I want anymore.”
Kakyou shrugged. “Sometimes I think the person we know the least is ourselves. And as for Kamui finding out, I’ll figure something out.” In truth, he wasn’t sure which way would be harder for Kamui.
“It’s not like it really matters. I don’t know why it bothers me,” Fuuma said, though his voice was unconvincing.
“Because you’re human and you’re hurting,” Kakyou said, his fingers still running through Fuuma’s hair. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Why did all this have to happen?” Fuuma asked quietly.
“I don’t know.” Kakyou gave the only answer he could.
“It could gave been anyone,” Fuuma said. “Anyone on this fucking planet. Out of everyone, why did it have to be Kamui and me?”
“Because Kamui was born to it,” Kakyou said, “and someone close to him had to be the Twin Star. That just seems to be how it works.”
“I’d say it’s not fair, but we seem to have covered that about a dozen times already and you probably just want me to shut up and quit whining.” Fuuma sounded a bit amused, but Kakyou had a suspicion it was only for his benefit.
“I want nothing of the sort,” he replied. “I just want to help, and I feel horrible that I can’t.”
“Don’t worry about.” Fuuma sat up. “You’re right, I think too much.”
Kakyou gave him a concerned look. “You know, I understand that I told you to stop dwelling on it, but now I think you’re bottling it all up, which can’t be good either. I’m coming to the inevitable conclusion that I’m just no good at this therapy thing.”
“Maybe so, but you’re all I’ve got,” Fuuma said with a shrug. “And you’re doing as good a job as anyone could. I’ll deal. I just don’t feel like doing it today.”
“So don’t,” Kakyou suggested. “Just stay here and relax for a while. No one ever bothers you while you’re in here with me.” Why this was true was somewhat beyond him, but it was. He could only assume that they were afraid they’d walk in on something, which amused him to no end. “Take a break and don’t try to deal with it.”
“Easier said than done,” Fuuma said, but he allowed Kakyou to tug him back down so he was lying in Kakyou’s arms again.
“You’re doing too much doing,” Kakyou admonished. “Just lie down and take a nap. You need it. I know you haven’t been sleeping enough.”
“You’ll just do anything to get me in bed with you,” Fuuma said teasingly.
“You’re right,” Kakyou said, knowing better than to argue. “Now go to sleep.”
“Bossy prick,” Fuuma said, but he closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax, and for the first time in weeks, didn’t suffer from any bad dreams.
~~~~
Right. Now everyone hug Fuuma and leave feedback for the poor starving authors.
Chapter Fourteen
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