Title: Secret

Author: WolfPilot06

Category/Warnings: Shonen ai, hints at Dark!Hisoka, quasi-angst?, quasi-fluff?, past deaths of characters.

Pairing: Tsuzuki/Hisoka

Notes: One fic idea down, two to go.  Then, Abandoned!  Whoot.

==

Warm. 

Tsuzuki Asato was warm.

Something tugged at the corner of his mind, bidding him towards consciousness.  Wrapped in the comforting arms of slumber, he resisted, but inevitably awoke.  At first, he did not know what had pulled him from his sleep; then, the bundle of soft warmth in his embrace moved again.  Instinctively, his arms tightened, and sleep-roughened words escaped his lips.

"Don't go."

There was a pause, the briefest of hesitations, before the slender body turned and a kiss was placed upon his forehead.  Warmth caressed the side of his face.

"Go back to sleep, 'zuki," a quiet voice urged, "I'll be right back.  I've got to go to the bathroom."

With a reluctant sort of acquiescence, Tsuzuki let him go and wriggled into the shallow dip in the bed his partner had previously occupied, basking in the fading warmth of Hisoka's affection.  He heard the bathroom door click shut and wrapped his arms around Hisoka's pillow, breathing in the younger man's scent, sleep already beginning to creep back into his mind.  He barely realized when Hisoka returned, slipping into the bed beside him and burrowing into his arms.  He merely tucked his partner's head under his chin, held him to himself, and slept.

Tsuzuki Asato was content.

Once upon a time, Tsuzuki seemed to remember a time when he had been plagued by unhappiness.  Nightmares had filled his nights, and fear and self-loathing had been as intrinsic to his own being as his eyes.  Walking by Hisoka's side into the office, holding his partner's slender hand in his and feeling the waves of contentment and love that flowed between them, Tsuzuki could not imagine why he had ever been unhappy.  There was a reason, he was sure, but he no longer remembered or cared.

After a brief trip to the coffee machine to pick up a gently steaming mug of tea for Hisoka and a donut for himself, Tsuzuki happily set to work.  There was no better way to spend the time, he believed, than to work – if only so he could play at the end of the day.

Tsuzuki seemed to remember a time when slacking off had seemed a lot more attractive than work, but he shook that thought away and focused on the case report before him.  He could feel Hisoka's eyes on him, and endeavored to work harder.  Anything to make Hisoka happy – that was the motto by which he now existed.  Hisoka was happy when Tsuzuki worked hard, and so Tsuzuki worked.

Tsuzuki Asato was in love.

The office was, of course, different from what it once was.  Tsuzuki had lived so long that people's faces and names had begun to slip from him, despite the youthfulness of his appearance and the occasional childishness of his behavior.  Sometimes, his mind brought images to his mind that he could not connect to reality.  He chalked it off to daydreaming. 

Tatsumi, his longtime friend, had "moved on" quite a few years back.  Nobody could quite remember exactly what drove the stern secretary to turn in his resignation papers – it had seemed like a sudden thing when it happened.  One day, the office opened, and Tatsumi was not there.  Hisoka said that he had decided to move on.  Nobody questioned the young Shinigami; they had no reason to. 

It seemed as if once there was a bright-eyed, bouncy fellow, with long blond hair and a tiny creature that always flapped around his head or sat on his shoulder.  Tsuzuki could not recall his name, but he felt compelled to believe that the person, in his chemical-stained and burned lab coat, was real and not a figment of his imagination.  Whenever he tried to remember more, though, something in his mind always seemed to stop him.  The person was gone – what did it matter if he remembered his name?

Tsuzuki Asato was forgetting.

Sometimes, Tsuzuki knew he was daydreaming.  Sometimes, he would stare out the office window at the falling sakura petals, the dying, delicate flowers stirring some strange memory of crimson-stained moonlight and roses in his mind.  He would remember flashes of white, of dances over a rocking, rolling world –

//Don't remember.  Live in the present.  He never was.  He never shall hurt you again, Tsuzuki.  Don't remember.  Live in the present…//

-and he would turn back to his work, disembodied heads and angelic demons forgotten.

Tsuzuki Asato did not know.

He did not know of the green eyes that always watched him, possessive and loving.  He did not know of the soft, familiar voice that constantly sounded in his mind.

//Don't remember, Tsuzuki.  Don't remember.  Live in the present.  Forget all that happened.  Love me, Tsuzuki.  Love me…love me…love me…//

Tsuzuki Asato was happy.

==

C&C? =D

**Wolf**