Fandom: Fruits Basket
Character/s: Yuki, Ayame
Words: 1036
Notes: Continuation of 'Humour', kinda. I like Yuki and Ayame's relationship.
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He couldn't believe his eyes at first, and then he couldn't believe his ears. Who could have thought that Hatori - intelligent, kind Hatori - could ever make an error so horrendous.
"You ought to see your faces."
Yuki stared, eyes wide with shock, with dim horror, as the elation the glee that had rippled out from Ayame's very pores suddenly froze and plummeted to the ground, shattered into a thousand thousand pieces. He watched with his heart in his throat as his brother's shoulders stiffened, as the little he could see of Ayame's perpetually animated face grew suddenly sad and still.
It lasted less than a second, but it seemed to last forever, the draining of hope from pale features even more beautiful than Yuki's own, the agony and resignation that splayed across that face.
Ayame turned to face him, struggling to repair his expression, eyes bright and broken and covered over with a thin sheen of tears. They stared at each other, and Ayame smiled like shattered glass.
"Dear brother, don't be that way - you mustn't be jealous. Tori-san just loves me best!"
And he pushed away from the table and vanished through the door behind Hatori in a cloud of silver hair and quick, bright gestures, and sorrow as obvious to Yuki as the oblivia Hatori was suffering.
The Rat stared at the Dragon and wondered at the near-merry smirk upon his face. Was it even possible that he did not understand what had just transpired, what he had just done?
"My apologies, Yuki, but I simply could not resist."
There were ten thousand things that Yuki wanted to say to that, and yet nothing that would convey exactly what was whirling through his mind; nothing, after all, that would make Hatori understand -
"I don't think I'm the one who needs an apology, Hatori-sensei."
He came to his feet, stepped over Shigure, still giggling on the floor, and out the door after Ayame. His brother. Still his brother, after everything that had come between them over the years; his brother, who had stopped halfway up the stairs to cover his face with his hands.
"Oniisan," Yuki whispered tentatively, and could not think of anything more to say. Ayame took a deep breath, and Yuki watched the silver-white strands of his hair shiver violently with the forced attempt at calm.
"Something the matter, Yuki?" The Snake's voice, normally so strong and confident, sounded shattered. Yuki pushed his way up the stairs ahead of Ayame, grabbed the Snake's arm and tugged him along the hall into Yuki's own bedroom. Ayame's body followed his movements as though there was no soul within it. With the door safely closed behind them, Yuki stared at his brother, his bold, strong brother, and wondered why it took their absence before the qualities were noticed. Ayame did not even appear to notice his surroundings, hands rising once again to curl defensively about his cheeks, his eyes. Watching the transformation, Yuki began to panic just a little.
"Oniisan," he began again, and jumped when Ayame let out a high-pitched, rasping sound that stuck in his throat and formed a lump in Yuki's. The Snake was crying. Yuki panicked. "Oniisan!" His voice was too sharp, then, and he winced, worried that it would carry down the stairs - or worse, to Tohru in the kitchen.
Pity, he thought a little wildly. Tohru would be better at this.
Ayame did not remove his hands from his face, but he did take another trembling lungful of air, and that horrible, soft keening sound was silenced. "Yes, Yuki?" The Rat's voice stuck in his throat.
"I don't think he understands," he quietly confessed, and Ayame startled him by letting loose a short and bitter laugh.
"It's my fault," he muttered, finally letting his hands fall from his eyes, screwed desperately shut against the outside world. His brow was painfully furrowed, his mouth set in a grimace as he struggled to control, to contain, his grief.
"I tried so hard to hide it - I wanted - I wanted him to be happy," Ayame hissed, voice breaking. "It didn't matter if he - but I hid too well, and he doesn't... he doesn't know. It's not his fault." The golden eyes opened to tiny, grieving slits, the silver lashes clotted with tears.
"Oniisan..." Yuki could not agree, but his brother had always defended Hatori, applauded him, more than he had ever boasted about his own accomplishments. Yuki could understand... if he trusted Shigure's assessments, if he trusted Tohru, he could understand why his brother might blame himself.
But Yuki had blamed himself enough for his own failings. It had to stop.
His hands rose, and stopped.
It all had to stop.
Rose, and stopped again. Teeth worried nervously at his lip.
I wish Tohru was here.
He reached out, and pulled Ayame into a clumsy hug, one arm around his shoulders, one arm about his waist.
Ayame froze, and for a second Yuki was ready to recoil, certain he had done the wrong thing. But then the breath rushed from the Snake's lips, a hiccupping sob into Yuki's ear, into his hair, and Ayame enveloped his younger brother in a desperate, constricting embrace. Yuki held on determinedly, tightened his arms despite his breath becoming shorter, held on tight and whispered, "It isn't your fault either, 'niisan."
Ayame's hand clutched at his hair, his arms giving one final squeeze, and he murmured, "Thankyou," just before he pulled away. One hand, still immaculate, materialised a handkerchief, and he dabbed at his eyees, though no amount of careful pressure with that cloth would rid them of the raw colour they had turned.
"Well, Yuki, I suppose it's time you hit the books, eh?" He suggested as brightly as he could manage. "Perhaps I'll stay and help you for a while. Although, you know, even if you're last in every class, you'll still have the eternal support of your older brother!"
The smile was almost genuine, the cheer and enthusiasm very nearly back in place. Yuki was too relieved to be annoyed, and watched his brother with a bitter-sweet smile.
"I know I will, oniisan."
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