Bit of Seimei Soubi... it is evil but in a concealed sort of way... enjoy it. I feel dirty!

Amidst a hot rainbow sea of t-shirts and shorts, there moved within a grey, woolen trenchcoat. A pair of black pants, two matching dress shoes, and a high collar. The beaming sun pursued its fun with the winter clad figure, boiling, pecking, simmering underneath the coat flesh that no one else could see.

Seimei Aoyagi wiped the back of one hand over his forehead.

The boy had been functioning surprisingly well in the midday sun, despite his dress. He saw, where no one else seemed to see, that the park was full of nightmare creatures, whose paws were grubby and unclean, button noses running, the soles of their sneakers caked with dirt and dog excrement. The sun-soaked benches were drooling monster jaws, teeth sparkling with diseased blood, covered in maggots. The swings were harboring weighted clock pendulums, oscillating with venomous ends that came closer, fell away, closer, fell away. Seimei avoided these, his skin crawling, amplified by the sweat that explored the small of his back and the nape of his neck.

"Master, you're sweating…"

A Luna moth fluttered through the filth, alighting at his side, molting its own moon-shimmering poison at his feet. Still, the presence of Soubi brought some cooling sensation along his entombed forearms. For this his body was grateful, and so the sharp remark his heart had prepared grew sluggish and perished within his throat. He cleared it, disgusted, wishing he had the courage and audacity to spit.

Two keen, blue eyes observed Seimei with the intensity of a predatory bird. It was embroidered into the other's nature to be so loyally avid; the scars would attest to that truth. Seimei allowed his own gaze to meet Soubi's, even though the Fighter was being ostentatiously invasive with his prying, and did not deserve his attention. As he settled and contemplated, he allowed the eyes to contain him, to undo the scene around him where germs and sickness thrived. He recalled the first time he had truly seen the color of Soubi's irises. Blue to the common passerby, amber to an observer at dusk, in actuality a recipe of both ingredients, forever shimmering and changing and cooking.

Cooking. Soubi's cooking. His digestive system sputtered to life at the very thought, stomach rumbling. Of course Soubi had heard it, and may have smiled, but by now Seimei's attention was abruptly drawn to a brutally dirty child who squealed in the sandpit, castle parapet construction halted by his glee.

"Seimei, why don't you take your jacket off?"

His fingers coiled into a white hot fist, but the weapon remained inert at his side, as it usually did. It was a rare occasion that Seimei would exert any kind of force on his Fighter. After all, Soubi had come to endure pain by learning how to enjoy its natural passion. With it he could fulfill the many sensations of affection he had been deprived of for so long. There was no need to impart such affection on Soubi here, as they passed through the park where dozens of children ran about them and made everything awful.

"You always ask useless questions, Soubi. I'm beginning to think you just like to hear yourself talk."

Soubi shook his head immediately, a bit of fear sparking in the deeper indicators of his expression, namely the corners of his mouth, which assisted now in a vague frown. Seimei knew he wouldn't answer verbally, if only to deny absolutely an accusation that implied that Soubi might care for himself or his own words in any way. And so the smirking Seimei was ultimately shocked into paralysis by Soubi's voice, clear and sudden.

"It's hot. I want you to take the jacket off."

The Fighter may as well have been asking for the virginity of his drooping, wilting feline ears, the way that Seimei's heart began to race, the flesh of his cheeks gone red enough to attract the sun's envy. The heat became an unbearable factor in his decision, backing Soubi's order, melting the request into Seimei's scalp, directly into the pulp of his sparking brain tissue.

He slapped Soubi hard across the face.

The park continued to thrive, oblivious of their relationship, caught up in the delights of a loud summer outing. Seimei's slap receded into the commotion of the playground, mingled and twisted with screams of monstrous joy and infectious games of tag. Soubi did not move to re-center his bared cheek, which speckled itself in red and white before Seimei's eyes, a work of art on an expensive and obedient canvas. Soubi's expression and posture would always illicit an urge in Seimei to apologize, or stroke that cheek, or explain away his actions to this sudden infant. He had a way of creating in Seimei the false sense that he'd just harassed a younger, more innocent victim. Someone weaker than Soubi was. Someone whose delicate, fragile existence could perish after such a simple blow, if only commanded to. Someone who relinquished themselves, gave absolute trust and responsibility to another. Someone like...

Seimei slipped the jacket from its perch. It fell away immediately and heavily, revealing the blushed faces of his shoulders, faintly misted with sweat, stippled a little with rogue freckles. Seimei's skin had seen sun after all, but only in the safe and immaculate conditions he could control and prepare for himself. Long limbs were already bronzed, already unfurling and shimmering. Soubi became a white ghost mare in his presence, made of translucent tissue paper, bowing to admit his rider. Seimei shoved the coat into Soubi's chest and folded his arms over his own.

"Are you happy now? Stop staring at me." Seimei squeezed himself tighter, drawing attention to the curve of his clavicle. The longest and most lifeless of his curls threatened to sweep the arch with black tendril fingers. He continued, in a protective and withdrawn way, to peer at Soubi through the thicket of hair that buried his violet leer.

"I am happy," Soubi admitted softly, the whisper itself planting pins of ice in Seimei's spine, riling his nervous system. "Very happy…."

"Good." Silence.

Soubi finally rekindled his impudence, gesturing at an empty bench. "Shall we sit?"

Seimei found the wooden surface unbearable at first, both hot and splintered and likely crawling with hundreds of tiny daggers. The ambling, snow colored Fighter waved away some terrible buzzing insect before they sat, but Seimei refused to position himself over the fly's former landscape. Soubi took up the challenge easily, leaving the most suitable spot for his master. There they remained, two striking, ethereal creatures among the small and scampering minions who took them for granted. Where light seethed in the ivory of Seimei's eyes, it settled on Soubi's hair, lighting it on white fire and creating for him a blinding halo.

They shared some intimate moment, knees barely touching, between them and the bench a triangulating power that lent them stability. Seimei hated to admit it but Soubi's suggestions proved satisfying. The bench relieved his tired legs of active duty, the absence of his heavy coat allowed him an energy and buoyancy he had never experienced in this environment. Never had he revealed himself this way without the love and protection of his younger brother, Ritsuka, who was now learning some arithmetic or another in a sunny classroom…

"What are you thinking about, Seimei?"

His eyes zipped up, refocused, taking away the unconscious dreamy bliss that had settled over his features. Soubi's smiling curiosity faded as well, and it only angered Seimei to think that it could be relocating itself to the same place that his had, into Ritsuka's memory.

"Be quiet."

Soubi nodded or bowed, either way it mattered little. And then a little one plopped down on the empty space beside him, terrified him so completely that he could not move nor smile, only fix his powerful eyes. Only Soubi would understand his tranquility was an automatic travesty, and he moved one long, fresh arm around his shoulders, pulled him closer. Seimei allowed the familiarity, instinctively clutching at Soubi's thigh, pressing his body into the sturdy torso of his fighter. The union of their flesh ignited Soubi's heart, his essence, and broadcasted a deafeningly potent psychic signal to other teams for a few miles around. At this Seimei settled further against him, coaxing out these reactions, swollen with pride and contentment at the challenge they would pose to all.

The child on the bench had finished tying his shoe and jumped up again to join his friends. Seimei did not bother to remove himself from Soubi's side, or his draping limb, spider fingers playing a harp on the fabric of his shirt. There was safety in Soubi's embrace. Seimei had always known, but been remiss to take advantage of such power. To do so would be to admit dependence, to become as reliant on Soubi as that boy was on him. Exhaustion began to creep up in the corners of his eyes, put to sleep his feet, thighs, waist. Dirty, germy chaos continued to buck and thrive around them, yet nothing would assail him within Soubi's warm grasp. The Fighter was a light, attracting wayward moths, creatures of dusk and night. And yet no germ would attach itself to Soubi's milky glow now, nor question the motive for his embrace, for they understood that Seimei was the deepest, darkest, dirtiest virus of them all, landlord of this twilight wish, master of the night light.

In a place where Seimei would barely allow his skin to breathe, he undressed his senses and fell asleep under Soubi's arm. The fighter watched distantly the ministrations of children, running free and unburdened by the two, accepting them as a bright and familiar piece of scenery, part of their playful fantasy. A yellowed butterfly fluttered wildly before Soubi's eyes, searching for some brilliant blossom. Soubi seized his own flower just a bit closer, the softness of a cat ear twitching in dreams against his scarred throat. It beat the rhythm of his name again and again, the sensation mounting in fervor though the ear remained quiet and gentle. Soubi swallowed over it, but the awareness grew more abusive of his calm, began to throb within him, constricted.

The fighter's breathing grew more laborious, through it never woke Seimei from his peaceful ignorance. Soubi was wracked with the rare pleasures of Seimei's innocence, his entire body alive and listening, wishing so absolutely to exist now and only now, in an epitome of carelessness and joy. The giggling of some dark haired child,--Soubi's eyes stopped upon him suddenly and perceived a ghost of Seimei—threw the ear into such fitful jerking against the raw and sensitive throat that it broke Soubi in two. He tightened and buried his face in the mess of his master's dark chocolate hair, clenched his jaw, surged in dizzying, unspeakable fulfillment. He gasped his name into the curls, even caught a few in his mouth, clean flavored on his tongue. Seimei groaned and stirred, sensing some great dam break and spill, coming up layers of sleep to wrap a bare arm around his Fighter's torso and ride the rest of the sensation to its end.

Trembling slightly, Soubi unhinged his jaw, releasing his prey, thumping and beating in restricted exhaustion where no one could see. The playground seemed to sense the echoes of his spent energy, all squealing and red toy planes and cartwheels.

"Soubi…" Seimei uttered throatily, drawing it out and chastising him in half-sleep. His skin no longer crawling, his short dreams having been pleasant and rewarding, Seimei chose to soothe the anxiety of his Fighter with his willpower. It had always been strong, and proved so now as Soubi's breathing began to taper and regulate.

"Good boy…"

The two remained locked against each other under the sun and in the presence of a teeming, living park. Soubi watched the empty coat laying beside him on the bench, visited occasionally by some inquisitive fly. Seimei would have been mortified. Soubi grinned to himself and sighed, watching the day wane away.

Sitting alone on the jungle gym was that demi-Seimei, who had bubbled out the laugh that had so unknowingly detonated his heart. Between his cupped fingers Soubi perceived the yellow butterfly. Would the tiny Seimei crush it? Would he sever its life within his palms, save it for some specimen case later on? Would he command it to serve him till in death they parted ways? He watched so visibly passively, though inside he was consumed by personal turmoil.

The boy opened his hands and let the butterfly go.