Not the Same

Part VII - Decision

.

.

BELOVED was gone.

The mirror hinges squeaked as Soubi closed it. He turned the gauze roll over and over in his hand; he'd taken it from behind the mirror out of habit, but it seemed that there was no longer any secret to be kept. The zigzagging lines of Seimei's sadistic whim were gone, taking the last remains of Beloved with them.

Breath choked in his throat as he gazed on the smooth patch of skin. He was finally alone.

Taking the gauze in his unsteady fingers, he wrapped the strip around his neck quickly. It was the same as he had always done, but like a wrecked car repainted, it simply didn't seem quite right. Frustrated, he wretched the fabric off and threw it in the trash forcefully. The whispers and horrifying longing were gone, but so was order and certainty.

The house was just as it used to be; the floor boards creaked and the winter sun poured through dusty windows brightly. Yet Soubi suddenly felt like a stranger in his house, as if he had broken into some other man's home and was constantly anxious its real owner to return unannounced.

"Where are you?" he asked the air. But it wasn't truly a question, because he did not seek an answer, only to take up the reaching emptiness.

What was he to do now?

The space seemed to echo his uncertainty and suddenly he felt that this place was not for him. Soubi scrambled over to middle of the room and flipped open all the floorboards. He frantically pulled out all of his clothes and his suitcase. Not even caring to inspect the clothes, he began to shove them all into the suitcase. There was the small matter of the rent—he'd already paid until the end of the month, but he could stand to take the loss. The money his parents left him would still last for several more years if he was careful.

Hastily, he threw in anything that caught his eye. A paintbrush, a slip of paper with a scrawled note from Kio, anything. There was no reason or order for his packing. If his mind lingered over the item, it went into the suitcase. There would be plenty of time to sort them all out later.

Just as he zipped up the bulging luggage, a knock came from the door. Soubi crept up to the door stealthily and peeked out from the looking hole, cautious of not letting his shadow make sudden movements to alert the person outside he was home.

Ritsuka.

He swore under his breath. He'd made his peace with them all, all but Ritsuka. It would break his young heart. Leaning his head against the door, he winced. For a second, he contemplated pretending to not be home, but his better judgement whispered that it would be cruel to ignore the boy.

Opening the door slowly, he tried his best to look casual.

"Soubi—you're here," Ritsuka whispered, obviously shocked to see him.

"This is my house, yes."

Ritsuka blinked, not finding his response charming in the least. The boy pushed the door open without warning and barged into the studio. Shutting out the cold quickly, Soubi stumbled to keep up with him.

"Where the hell have you been? It's been days!" Ritsuka suddenly burst out angrily.

Soubi tried his best to placate the situation. "I took a little trip."

"And you thought it was considerate to not tell me? I've been calling you since forever!" The boy continued to shout.

"I left my phone at home."

Ritsuka folded his arms and huffed, "That's awfully convenient."

"I give you my word, I really did." Soubi glanced at the cellphone in the corner of room, dead and forgotten. Perhaps it had been insensitive of him.

"So—" Ritsuka hesitated and seemed unsure of himself. "You just didn't want to talk to me. You've lied to me!"

"Ritsuka, you know I care for you." For a moment, the statement seemed to provoke a disappointed forgiveness, but it was short lived. His sacrifice, no, just Ritsuka, stared at him accusingly. His dark eyes trailed to the suitcase behind Soubi, and his exterior fell.

"You're leaving again."

Soubi stopped and followed his line of sight.

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"I don't know."

"Were you going to tell me at all?"

"I—"

"You're all the same, leaving me!" Ritsuka's eyes were bright with distress.

Soubi knelt down to be more at eye level with the boy. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Forgive me. There are a lot of things you can't understand yet, Ritsuka, and I don't know how to explain them. Letting someone go is the hardest thing you can ever do, but if it is Hitsuzen, they'll come back."

"But what about being my fighter?"

"I don't want to sully words with violence anymore. Loveless has a fighter, and you may not know him now or be able to imagine him, but he will find you. They always do, and it'll feel like meeting a part of yourself that you never even knew existed."

"I don't want him. I want you."

He ruffled Ritsuka's hair affectionately. "I'm sure he'll be half as charming as me."

"I don't care. I want you!"

"Ritsuka, a sacrifice bases their entire life's meaning on their fighter. If their fighter dies, they loose their desire for living. The world stops being in color, the air stops feeling warm, words stop having meaning. Do you honestly feel that way about me?"

Furrowing his brows, Ritsuka looked panicked. He searched Soubi's face as he struggled to decide his answer. After a moment of quiet turmoil, he lowered his head as he could not meet Soubi's clear blue eyes. There was no use in lying to himself. He didn't feel that way.

"Soubi—" he croaked, on the verge of tears.

The young man enveloped him in a loving embrace. Ritsuka clung to his shoulders like a lifeline. Soubi liked to think that he was being merciful. "I know it seems like I'm throwing you away, but you can't belong to anyone but yourself, least of all me. One day you'll understand, and you'll forgive me."

"But—"

He placed a chaste kiss on the boy's temple and straighted up. "Don't just see the grace and beauty in things, be it." A frosty glow of magic surrounded his fingertips as he wrapped them around Ritsuka's small hands. "It plays with our minds, but we can't refuse because we're so desperately lonely. And beauty makes our hearts beat so fiercely that they threaten to give out."

The spell in his heartfelt words burst forth from their hands; Ritsuka stared wide-eyed. Silvery tendrils crept from their hands and gathered about Ritsuka, condensing into a snow white lily. He held the flower delicately, afraid to damage its ethereal form. "Use your distress and your emotion to build your powers."

"Will I see you again?"

"Don't forget me, beloved."

He lifted his suitcase from the bed, grabbed his coat, and headed for the door. Ritsuka stood rooted to the floor as Soubi opened the door, frozen like the flower in his hands.

"But I don't understand," he protested.

"Sometimes we're not meant to."

Soubi walked into the freezing winter, carrying his suitcase with ease despite its weight. He turned his back on the flat and did not look back; he had no desire to see a distraught Ritsuka dashing to the railings with eyes trailing him. There was only one place for him to go before he set out into the world.

Kio didn't live far, in fact, he lived suspiciously close. So close that, if he hadn't moved in before they ever met, Soubi would have sworn that its location were deliberatly chosen to be next to him. Instead, it only seemed a strange coincidence. Kio's house was the ground floor of small concrete building that screamed the new urban "shabby-chic" where young people reveled in their own poverty.

A row of oddly elegant plastic flowers covered the window sill, bursting color into the bleak grey of February. Soubi rang the buzzer nervously. He couldn't discern why his heart was pounding so fiercely; he'd done this a million times before. But this was not like the rest, his mind worried, this would be the last.

"Konchikuwa!" Kio's bright voice crackled from the intercom. Soubi smirked at the greeting. Always obsessed with food, Kio couldn't even keep a fish reference out of his hellos. Chikuwa, really.

"Who is it?" the buzzer crackled again.

Soubi found his throat closed. He put a hand on the door and contemplated what to say.

"Oh hell, just come in. Please don't murder me~!"

The door rumbled, and the lock clicked open. Shivering, Soubi stepped into the foyer with his baggage. The door to his right swung open, yielding a slightly disheveled Kio. The two stared at each other, frozen in place, both seemingly expecting someone other than the one across the threshold. Kio tried to smooth his wild hair down as he stammered, "Sou-chan, what a—surprise!"

"I'm leaving," Soubi announced without any explanation.

Kio gave him a puzzled look and opened the door wider, gesturing for Soubi to enter. "Leaving? To where?"

Soubi shook his head and replied, "I don't know. Somewhere nice. I've come to say goodbye."

"You're weirding me out, Sou-chan. It sounds like you're not coming back." Kio's normally cheerful face sunk into a serious expression.

An uncomfortable silence passed between them and Kio perceptively asks, "Has something happened?"

Soubi cast his eyes down at the floor, debating whether to tell Kio the truth. He fidgeted with the buttons of his coat for a while before unbuttoning the collar and opening it to expose his bare neck. Kio tilted his head in confusion at the sight.

"Sou-chan? Your bandages?" he ventured.

"The scars have disappeared."

Unable to understand the full meaning, Kio furrowed his brow. He took a step closer to inspect the skin, reaching out tentatively. Soubi made no move to slap his hand away, merely standing still with his head hung low. The shorter man closed the distance between them and traced hesitant fingers on the smooth skin of Soubi's throat. There was only a shadow of the scars once littered across the space.

"But isn't that good? He, Seimei, gave them to you, didn't he?"

"I don't know. I'm leaving because things are not the same anymore. Everything feels empty now," he confessed as Kio slide his warm fingertips further into his coat collar. Soubi shuddered at the touch. It had been many years since anyone graced him with their touch.

"Don't be fooled by your emptiness, Sou-chan," Kio said gently, "There's always room for happiness."

Soubi glanced up at Kio's face, shocked.

Smiling, Kio tugged his head down and kissed him, a sweet and inviting sensation. Soubi let himself be pulled into the kiss with closing eyes, tongue flickering into Kio's mouth and arms wrapping around his slim shoulders. Kio's singular scent of saccharin lemon and soap overwhelmed his senses. He sighed as wandering lips traveled down his neck, gently placing kisses along the trail of void left by beloved. He felt free.

"Stay," Kio pleaded into his ear.

Soubi looked into his eyes and saw no reflections of himself, only artfully formed organic dashes of centered gold fading into blue. He found himself mesmerized by the clarity and complexity in them. In that moment, Soubi knew he would stay.

There was room for happiness.

He wanted to paint.

.

FIN

.

Thanks for reading, I hope it was entertaining! I really wanted to address the issue of personal reformation and overcoming dependency, because I believe that everyone can achieve independence no matter of their traumas. I'm not saying that Soubi should end up with Kio, just that for the time being, I think Kio is the only person who is really good for him. Ritsuka is just young and can't provide stability or equality in a relationship.

references:

1. Room for Happiness is quoted from the Kaskade song of the same name.

2. Konchikuwa is a play on "konnichiwa" which subs in "chikuwa", a type of food made from fish. Tadashi from the band Plastic Tree often says this.

3. Hitsuzen means preordained fate.