A/N: Lyrics at the end are from Cold's A Different Kind of Pain
I saw Omi today on television. Well, I saw the man who used to be Omi. The man I saw today is Mamoru Takatori, or Persia. . . he's not the Omi I used to know. Seeing him didn't hurt as much as it used to, but the pain is still there. I suspect it always will be, though I hope it will fade a bit over time.
The first time I saw him after he left, I didn't know how to react. Here was my old lover, the man I had given my heart to, and he stood there as if I were nothing but an employee.
In the few minutes that we were blessed with his presence, he had declared himself as Mamoru Takatori, and Persia. As he spoke of his intent of putting Omi Tsukiyono behind him forever, it took all of my strength to not cry out to him, beg him to stop. How could he do this? How could he want to kill everything we had had together?
That cold look in his eyes nearly crushed any hopes I may have had at the time. The lack of recognition, the emptiness in those eyes pierced through me, forcing me to realize that the man before me was indeed a different person than the Omi I had loved.
I almost gave up then. . . I nearly allowed my love to die. But as he turned to leave, our eyes met. In that second of locked gazes, I saw, deep down, buried beneath all the indifference he was struggling to project, a flicker of Omi.
The second I recognized that flicker for what it was, it was gone, replaced by Mamoru's characteristic indifference. However, that one second was all I needed to give me hope. Hope that perhaps, somehow, Omi would come back to me. Maybe all he needed was a little help, the slightest push in the right direction. . .
It wasn't hard to get an appointment to see Mamoru Takatori. I needed only to go through Rex, to have her pencil me in amongst his numerous other engagements. The afternoon I was scheduled to meet with him, I arrived a half hour early, determined to not allow my typical lateness interfere with what could be my only chance to break through to him.
When I arrived on the correct floor of the office building, I had to go through a security checkpoint. I had expected this, and appreciated it as well. I wanted Omi as safe as possible, after all. What I had not expected was to see a former member of Schwarz overseeing the operation.
As he patted me down, I could not help but notice a slightly hostile look in his eyes. Was he still holding old grudges? If so, why would he be working to protect the head of Kritiker? Was he perhaps here gathering data? Omi had to know who he was. . . but he really had always been so quick to trust people.
I felt a small pang as I entered Omi's office and was greeted formally. I could not bring myself to answer with 'Mamoru-san', so I compromised with 'Persia'. There were a few moments of polite talk about the well-being of the rest of Weiss before I decided I could take no more of this pretense.
I stood from the seat I had been so politely offered and paced towards his desk, tears threatening to spill over as I begged the man before me to come back to me, to be the Omi I loved so much. His eyes widened in an unrecognizable emotion as I drew nearer.
I ran into an invisible wall before I was within even an arm's length of the desk. I was informed by a cold voice behind me that I would not approach Mamoru without his permission.
Omi's eyes shifted from me to the man behind me, and I knew in that instant that I had lost him forever.
The look in those eyes. . . I knew that look all too well. I had seen it turned on me more times than I could count. Somehow, though, this was more intent, more. . . needy. He looked at Nagi as if he could not draw his next breath without his presence.
That look knocked the breath out of me, causing me physical pain as its significance ripped through me. When I could draw breath again through the tension that filled the air, I turned to see the man behind me. He was looking over Omi as if I had physically wounded him, and turned a look of pure malice towards me. It was the look of one who would die protecting the one he loved.
But the one he loved was not Omi. The man sitting before me was not Omi. It had taken that look exchanged between them for me to realize that Omi was gone. . . Mamoru was all that remained. And Mamoru was in love with his bodyguard, Nagi.
Nagi moved around me, carefully using his powers to hold me in place, to stand behind Mamoru. He placed his hand on his boss's shoulder and gave me a defiant glare. Mamoru took a deep breath, as if drawing physical strength from that small point of contact.
He then calmly explained to me that Omi was no more. Omi was gone, and Mamoru was all that remained. He placed his hand over Nagi's as he continued.
"I am sorry, Siberian," he said quietly. "You should know that Omi loved you, but I am Mamoru. . . and I love Nagi more than anything."
I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath to steady myself. Behind my closed lids I saw Omi's face; Omi laughing, Omi crying, Omi clinging to me with such desperation the night before he left to begin his new life as Mamoru Takatori.
I opened my eyes to see the man seated before me, and in that instant I believed every word he had said. This man was not the Omi I had loved so much. Omi could never do some of the things this Persia had done, and could never have so coldly called me by my codename instead of the loving 'Ken-kun' that had passed those same lips so many times in the past.
Yes, Omi was gone, replaced by this stern man before me, this heir to the Takatori fortune, and head of Kritiker. However, I could not bring myself to be angry at him, or the man who stood behind him with a firm grip on his shoulder. They were only victims in all this as well, what right did I have to ask of them something they could not give? Mamoru could not return Omi to me. . . and even if he could, would I have been able to separate the two men before me, after seeing the nearly palpable love between them? Even if Nagi had been Weiss's enemy, something that strong cannot be denied.
"I apologize for my behavior. . . Mamoru-san," I managed to choke out. "I allowed my emotions to get the better of me. I will heed your words and treasure the memory of what Omi and I had together." I looked up to see a slight release of tension around his eyes as I spoke. "I wish you and Nagi-kun happiness."
"Thank you, Ken-kun," Mamoru said softly, looking as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Nagi bowed his head in thanks as well, a look of relief evident on his normally stoic face.
Turning and walking out of that office building was the most difficult think I had ever done. I was walking away from everything I had pinned my hopes on, a friend who had been there for me for years, and the greatest love I had ever known. Knowing that the man Omi had turned into was loved by someone as powerful as Nagi with as much intensity as I had seen in his gaze was all that gave me the strength to walk away from Mamoru and into the pain that I knew would take a lifetime to fully recover from.
A different kind of pain
Is someone there to hold you?
Is someone there to take you away from me?
It's a different kind of pain
Before you let me go
I needed you to know
It's a different kind of pain. . .