Good morning! Happy Thursday!
So this fic... Oof.
A little explanation: back in October, I was talking to my dear friend SilverServerError about If You Love Me, Answer Me Softly (you know, as you do) and she was asking me about Seishiro and sort of, why he is the way he is. My response was "pfft I dunno" because truthfully, I hadn't given it any thought. All I knew was that his behavior made Subaru's life difficult, I didn't really care why. She told me she had a whole headcanon about it and asked to run it by me. WHO WOULD SAY NO TO THAT?! So we ended up discussing it for, I'm not kidding, a good four hours (best Friday night ever!) and the next morning, this fic came into being, fully formed in my head, while I was grocery shopping.
So yeah, it's entirely her fault. At first I really didn't want to write this, and with very good reason. However, she talked me into it and I agreed to do it for NaNoWriMo (a goal of mine since I was about seventeen, so yay!).
Okay! People to thank, because this fic to a village, let me tell you!
Firstly, to my flesh and blood friends and boyfriend, who supported and encouraged me throughout this whole thing, even when they didn't really know how.
Second, to my brother, truly the Subaru to my Hokuto, for sharing his experiences as a young gay man with me. I'm immeasurably grateful for his bravery, honesty and patience as I picked his brain for five hours over the phone, then in subsequent texts.
Third, to my mother, for reading (THE CENSORED VERSION OF) If You Love Me and getting far more interested in Seishiro than anyone else. She was visiting me, and we ended up talking about him the entire weekend, but her opinion just reaffirmed where I was planning to go and made me feel much more confident about my choices.
Fourth, to my Twin Star, for giving me the title (Night in Greek!) and for explaining to me some truly fascinating and relevant mythology, as well as for her excitement and encouragement. She's been wonderful!
Lastly, to SilverServerError, the father of this story. She was INVALUABLE to me throughout this process with her unwavering support, love, encouragement and hype. At all hours I could text her to ask for help or vent or cry or whatever else, and she met me where I was. I am so lucky and grateful, I can't even express it. This fic was the most emotionally taxing thing I've ever written, I wouldn't have been able to do it without her.
RIGHT! Let me shut up now. Enjoy chapter 1!
"You aren't even going to say goodbye?" Seishiro asked, raising an eyebrow. Subaru closed his eyes for a moment, his face falling into the soft pain Seishiro knew so well.
"Can you guys give me a second?" He asked, looking over at the people he'd brought with him. Kamui, the one Seishiro recognized, the one who had been trying to steal Subaru away, looked horrified, but his friend cut across him.
"Are you sure?" He asked, his tone deadly serious. Seishiro wanted to roll his eyes, but restrained himself. What did they think he was going to do, really? Subaru nodded, and his friend continued, "We'll be outside. Come on, Kamui." Kamui clenched his fists, and Seishiro smirked; he'd gotten under his skin.
"Is this what you wanted? To come into Subaru's life and disrupt everything?" "And what will you do after this? Play house until Subaru comes back to me?"
"I-"
Yes. He'd definitely gotten under his skin. Good. Let him suffer. That's what he got for interfering in their relationship, for intruding. Seishiro felt his stomach clench uncomfortably as he watched Kamui and his friend drag Subaru's suitcase back down the hallway and out of his apartment. Subaru turned to face him again. His expression was strange, and not one Seishiro had seen before. It was as though the pain, so soft and quiet a moment ago, had hardened and sharpened. Seishiro waited, but said nothing.
A moment's silence passed before Subaru sighed and reached into his pocket for his keys. His long, slender fingers found the two keys he needed to get into this apartment and removed them from the ring. He held them out to Seishiro, who just stared at them. Subaru had beautiful hands. It had been one of the first things he'd noticed.
He returned his gaze to Subaru's face. He was still wearing that same strange expression. He was definitely angry, Seishiro could tell. However, usually when he was angry it was cute, containable, easily pacified or derailed. Now, though, his eyes were burning with tiredness and… Was it contempt? No… "After you begged and begged me for them?" Seishiro asked, his stomach clenching uncomfortably again. Subaru flushed. There, that was familiar.
"I won't need them anymore," Subaru informed him, his voice shaky but determined.
"Ah," Seishiro replied. He seriously doubted this and still wouldn't reach for the keys. He didn't want to touch Subaru anyway, not with his face like that. Subaru placed the keys on the back of the couch, then looked Seishiro in the face. His eyes flashed again.
"You weren't supposed to be here," he said, and the anger in his voice was unmistakable. Again, it wasn't the half hearted, fearful anger or the weary, begging displeasure Seishiro had long since come to expect. The only other time he'd seen this anger had been the day before, when they'd been talking on the couch. Seishiro still didn't really know what to do about it, but- No. That wasn't true. He knew Subaru inside and out. Subaru was easy, simple. It was that boy, Kamui, telling him god knows what, that had started all of this.
Seishiro just tilted his head to the side, trying to keep his own expression impassive and neutral. He couldn't provoke Subaru by getting angry or raising his voice; that only scared him away. When Seishiro was quiet, Subaru would come to him, would do all the work. This was only right, considering it was Subaru who had done wrong in the first place. He was definitely aware of this, though Seishiro doubted he understood it on an intellectual level.
"I knew you'd be back," Seishiro said, as though it were obvious, which it had been from the moment Subaru had left the day before. After their conversation on the couch, Seishiro had returned to his dark bedroom and slammed the door. He leaned against it, breathing deeply, listening and waiting. He'd expected to hear Subaru's fists on the door or him crying and begging to be let in, despite being told explicitly to leave. Subaru was so needy; he always had trouble hearing things like that correctly.
Seishiro had listened to him cry with a deep satisfaction until, "Kamui?" Anger had flared alarmingly inside Seishiro, but he'd kept breathing and listening until Subaru had actually left. Well, if Subaru wanted to run crying to someone else, let him. He could enjoy one night away, one night of exploration and subsequent disappointment (because, truly, what could someone like Kamui give to Subaru that Seishiro couldn't?) before coming back to what he actually needed. Seishiro was displeased, of course, but he'd forgive Subaru. Eventually.
"I know you well," he reminded him. Subaru's eyes flashed yet again, and Seishiro smiled. Even through this ugly, hard anger, he could still see Subaru. He really was adorable when his emotions were so intense, when he felt them so hard, when they clouded his judgment.
"You only know the me you can control," Subaru said. Seishiro's smile widened.
'That's all of you, Subaru,' he thought. 'You showed me everything so easily, it was only Kamui who started forcing you to keep secrets.' Out loud, though, all Seishiro said was, "Control is a strong word." He sounded more amused than he'd intended, and Subaru's expression hardened still further.
"You know who you want me to be," Subaru started to say, and his voice rose alarmingly as he continued. "You know the me who is scared of losing you and will do what you say-"
'That is you, Subaru,' Seishiro thought.
"-but I'm done!"
'We'll see.'
"This has nothing to do with Kamui or anyone else!"
'That's bullshit and you know it.'
"This was never going to work and I should have known better!"
'So cute…'
"I'm done. You wanted goodbye? Goodbye."
Seishiro just stared, smiling his usual impassive smile, waiting, drawing it out, letting Subaru's emotions build and build. At last, he said, "All right, Subaru." Subaru gave him a contemptuous look, then turned to go. Like a striking predator, Seishiro reached out and caught him by the wrist. He could feel his pulse under the warm, smooth skin.
"Let go of me!" Seishiro raised his eyebrows and tightened his grip in spite of himself.
"I'll always love you, you know," he said, softly spiteful. He could see the words fighting to take hold of Subaru and keep him there, but he somehow managed to fight back. This was another Kamui thing, and Seishiro didn't like it at all. He shouldn't have to get physical, his words should be enough; they'd always been enough. His touch was a reward, withdrawing it was punishment. Subaru wrenched his wrist out of Seishiro's grip, and he felt the action all the way up his own arm.
"I loved the man I met in Tokyo, but he's been gone a long time!" Subaru said, his voice shaking with fury. Seishiro watched him storm back down the hall, pull open the door and slam it shut behind him. The crash echoed in the sudden, silent stillness. Seishiro stood resolute, feeling-
"I've been the same person the whole time, Subaru," he told the silence. "You just couldn't see." Contempt rose up from deep inside him, but he remained where he was, breathing and finding comfort in the easy, familiar emotion.
After a minute or so, he returned to his bedroom to retrieve his cigarettes, but paused. The two bottom dresser drawers that Subaru had unpacked were hanging out at odd angles. The closet door was also open, and the few hangers Subaru had been allowed were bare, leaving a gap in the wall of expensive suit jackets, like missing teeth in an otherwise perfect smile. Seishiro narrowed his eyes in disgust and strode across the room. He pulled all of his jackets into place, feeling bizarrely like he was covering up evidence, but evidence of what?! He turned to the drawers and kicked them shut as well. He'd half hoped they'd slam, but he'd gotten a dresser with quiet closers.
Anger began to simmer inside him as he imagined Subaru there, on his knees, shoving clothes haphazardly into his suitcase. Seishiro knew another agreeable wave of contempt, though it just gave way to more bubbling, uncomfortable anger. Subaru had asked for these spaces, had taken them over, then left them desecrated. Seishiro always kept things neat, and Subaru knew that. It was like one last "fuck you."
On another sudden swell of anger, Seishiro remembered the day Subaru had arrived here. It had been a raw, January night, and Seishiro had actually gone to get him from JFK. Subaru had been pleased, but Seishiro just didn't trust him not to get lost. They'd come back to the apartment, and Subaru had looked around eagerly; it was his first time seeing it.
He'd then dragged his suitcase into this room and looked to Seishiro for instructions. He did this a lot when they were together. Tell me what to do, give me direction. Make my choice for me, you know best. Seishiro both loved and hated it.
"Here, I put aside these two for you," he told Subaru, indicating the two bottom drawers in his dresser. Subaru looked touched.
"Thank you," he replied, smiling, still rather pink in the face from the cold.
"There's space in the closet as well," Seishiro continued. "Hang your nice things up so they'll be ready when I take you out." Of course, Subaru's sister had picked out most of his nicer clothes, so they'd have to be replaced. Subaru just nodded, obviously thrilled at the promise. Seishiro smiled. It was all even easier in person, when there wasn't a phone screen and thousands of miles between his words and Subaru's desperate ears.
Seishiro turned away from the dresser, remembering what happened next with further disdain.
Subaru had placed his suitcase down next to the dresser, but his eyes kept darting back to Seishiro. It seemed he was torn between unpacking, and…
"What's wrong?" Seishiro asked, propping himself up on his hands to look down at Subaru. The warm, rosy light of the bedside table lamp lit up his face beautifully; his pale skin contrasting so sharply with his dark hair and wide green eyes framed by thick black lashes.
"Nothing! I'm sorry!" He cried, wiping his tears away with his fingertips.
"Does it hurt?" Seishiro asked, his eyes narrowing.
"No! You know I love it, it's just…" He swallowed and closed his eyes. More tears slid down the sides of his face into his hair. "It's just a lot right now," he said, his voice shaking slightly. He opened his eyes again and they stared at each other. Subaru's face was so full of pleasure and emotion and Seishiro was waiting for it to subside. He kissed Subaru, and he moaned softly, wrapping his legs more tightly around him.
"Don't cry," Seishiro said, both commanding and encouraging. He didn't like when Subaru cried, especially in situations like this. Subaru nodded, wiping his eyes one last time.
"Keep going."
Seishiro made a soft, contemptuous noise as he picked up his pack of cigarettes from his bedside table. That had been the reason he'd come in here in the first place, before he'd gotten distracted by unpleasant memories. He returned to his living room and sat down on his couch. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, trying to refocus. He didn't need to remember all of this yet. He'd remember it later, when Subaru came back, so he could remind him of all he'd walked away from. Of why you don't let people intrude this way, of all the things Seishiro would have to forgive him for.
He leaned back against the couch and heard something small and metallic hit the floor. He looked around, then remembered Subaru had placed his keys there before he left. Seishiro felt his stomach clench painfully as he took another drag from his cigarette. He stood up, walked around behind the couch and picked them up. He stared at them, cold and shiny against his palm. He'd given Subaru these keys after he'd whined and begged for them for weeks. It was one of the earliest issues he could remember them having.
"I don't understand why you need a set of keys if I'm always here to let you in," Seishiro said, dismissively. He had taken Subaru out to dinner at a small, discreet place by Union Square. They sat facing each other, and the light from the candle on their table made Subaru's eyes shine.
"I could have a job that ends in the middle of the night or something, I'd feel bad waking you up." His hands twisted on the table, so delicate and pale.
"You shouldn't take jobs like that," Seishiro said, quietly. Subaru opened his mouth to respond, but Seishiro reached across the table and took his hand, distracting him completely. He smiled at their clasped hands, then nodded.
Eventually, though, Seishiro had given in. He'd made a copy of his keys especially for Subaru so that he could work, and apparently play, late at night. Then he'd returned them as though it all meant nothing.
Seishiro closed his fist around the keys and took another pull from his cigarette. "I won't need them anymore," Subaru had said.
'Really?!' Seishiro thought, suddenly, but it wasn't his own voice. It was a completely different voice: a raspy, furious female voice. Seishiro's eyes widened and he tightened his hold on the keys.
"Really?!"
"Yes, really!" Seishiro had thrown the keys and they'd smacked hard against the peeling and stained dining table, then slid away rather sadly. She'd watched them, then looked back up at Seishiro, unflinching and utterly disgusted. "Fuck you, I hope the next time I see you it's when I have to identify your fucking body!" Seishiro had stormed out of her apartment and slammed the door, anger coursing through him like hot poison, searing his nerves and churning his stomach.
"Ah!" Seishiro had smoked his cigarette so quickly it had burned past the filter and singed his fingers. He dropped the end into the nearest ashtray and sucked on his fingers.
"Oh no, how did you do that?!" She pressed her soft lips against his fingertips. "Come on, cold water." She lifted him up to their kitchen sink, turned on the cold water and shoved his hand underneath it.
"Ow!"
"Stop it, it'll feel better in a second." Seishiro sniffed and rubbed his eyes with his other hand balled into a fist. "How did you do that?" She asked him again.
"Your, your lighter…" He told her in a very small voice. With her free hand, she smacked him sharply on the back of the head.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" She demanded, and Seishiro began to cry harder, even as the cold water was soothing his blistered fingers. "You know not to touch that! STOP CRYING!"
"I'm sorry!"
Seishiro forced himself back to the present, alone in his apartment because Subaru had… His burned fingers throbbed annoyingly and he strode down the hallway to his kitchen to run them under cold water. His kitchen, decked out in brand new finishes and spotlessly clean. He stared unseeingly at the backsplash behind his sink as the cold water soothed his sore fingers.
Suddenly, a cockroach scurried out from a corner. He didn't have cockroaches, where had it come from?! Dropping the keys onto the kitchen floor, he seized the roll of paper towels off the counter. However, before he could smash the insect, it disappeared. Seishiro stared hard at the wall, breathing deeply, and replaced the paper towels on the counter. He must have imagined it. Imagined it because their apartment always had cockroaches. Her apartment always had cockroaches. He'd probably just seen them in the memory that was suddenly and so grotesquely fresh in his mind.
"Be quiet!"
It was completely disgusting. Although that was before the habit he'd inherited had gummed up her vocal chords with tar, when her voice had been soft and beautiful even as she'd screamed at him.
"There, better?" She'd asked, grudgingly, setting him back on the kitchen floor and drying his hand with a napkin she'd kept from a take out order. Seishiro had nodded, even though his fingers still ached. She'd kissed them and returned to her bedroom, where she'd been before she'd heard him cry out in surprise and pain. Alone in the kitchen, Seishiro sucked on his burned fingers, then rubbed his eyes with his other hand, still balled into a fist.
Seishiro continued to stare straight ahead at the tiled wall, barely aware of what was going on. At last, he decided his fingers were probably fine and turned off the water. He dried his hand on the dishcloth folded over the handle of the oven door. He hadn't used the oven the entire time he'd lived in this apartment. He'd never really learned to cook, who would have taught him how? She-
Seishiro forced his mind away, but the memories chased him, tried to claw at his back and take hold of him. He tried to resist and redirect his mind, by remembering that Subaru couldn't cook either. All he'd ever made for Seishiro was coffee, which was pointless, considering he could just get coffee from his office.
"Ah!" He gasped softly again and took a step backwards. He'd stepped on the keys he'd dropped a moment ago, and the sharp, serrated edge had dug into the bottom of his foot. He bent down to pick them up. He stared at them for a moment, then, feeling vaguely disgusted, set them on the counter. He looked down at his hand and flexed his fingers. His hands were bigger than Subaru's; a fact that both of them had seemed to take pleasure in.
"You have beautiful hands," Seishiro had told Subaru, one of their first nights together.
"You have his hands," she had told him, one random day when he was in elementary school.
"Let me…?" Subaru had asked, softly, his face flushed and sweaty, bringing Seishiro's fingers up to his parted, eager lips.
"You have his hands," she had said again, swallowing and rubbing her cheek gently against his knuckles. "Be home on time tonight, there's someone coming over I want you to meet."
Seishiro took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and first two fingers. Why was he remembering all this? He hadn't thought about any of it in years, and now the memories were buzzing around inside his skull like bothersome flies. He didn't like this at all. He didn't need to be remembering any of this; it served no purpose. His memories of Subaru weren't even those that allowed him to feel contemptuous, or those he could use to embarrass him or make him feel guilty once he came back. The others, well…
Seishiro straightened up and returned to his living room, both fists clenching and unclenching. He sat down on his couch, then reached for his cigarettes and lit another one, watching the smoldering end burn and smoke curl all around him. His palms were suddenly sweaty and he was breathing rather harder than was necessary. Why though? And now his heart was speeding up too? He took another drag from his cigarette, though it was doing absolutely nothing to calm his nerves. It seemed he'd needed more and more of them to achieve his desired effect these days.
Another wave of bitterness rose up inside him, sick and spiteful. Of course he did! He'd been dealing with Subaru actively fucking up their relationship for how many weeks, now? Seishiro had tried so hard to keep Subaru with him, keep him safe in his arms, but he'd still been lured away. 'Is it really so surprising, though?' Seishiro thought, on yet another wave of bitter feelings. Subaru was so spacey and all over the place, it only made sense that he could be lured away. 'Like a cat leaving its owner for someone else just because they feed it,' he thought, disdainfully.
But why though?! Who the fuck was this Kamui?! Just something new and exciting tempting Subaru away from what was clearly better, obviously. It was just like-
His heart beat alarmingly against his ribs again and he took a fierce drag from his cigarette. No, it wasn't like her at all, because she had had nothing good to start with. His father had rejected her outright. Then again…
"Seishiro you know I love you, don't you?"
"Yes, Mother."
"You know I love you more than anyone else in the world, don't you?"
"Yes, Mother."
"And who do you love more than anyone else in the world?"
"You, Mother!"
Seishiro felt his stomach twist nauseatingly. He swallowed, then snubbed out the end of his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table. What lies she'd told him. She'd never loved him the most. That had been clear for a very long time. He lay back against the couch, his stomach still lurching and clenching.
His mother, Setsuka, had given birth to him when she was 19, out of wedlock and alone. He'd never met his father. Setsuka almost never talked about him, except to vilify or mourn him. Seishiro had learned quickly not to ask about him, and once he'd grown up his curiosity had evaporated completely. The closest he'd ever gotten to his father were his random phone conversations with Setsuka that had also stopped as he'd grown up. He remembered, suddenly, being four or five, probably around the same time he'd burned his hand with her lighter.
He was in his tiny bedroom at her apartment, his childhood home, run down, cold and dark. He sat on the old, dirty rug beside his bed, playing some pretend game with the only toy he had, a penguin stuffed animal he'd called Blue because of its color. His mother had taken him to the Bronx Zoo on a random swell of maternal instinct and bought it for him for being good. He was talking quietly to Blue about who knows what when he heard his mother's voice, shrill and furious, ring out through the apartment.
"YOU CAN'T DO THAT YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Seishiro froze. "HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE AND RAISE YOUR SON ON THAT?!" A pause, and Seishiro clutched Blue to his chest, gazing terrified out into his living room. His mother laughed sharply, cruel and humorless. "If you didn't want your wife to find out you shouldn't have been fucking me in the first place!" Another pause. "PLEASE! It's not like you can't afford it!" Again, she laughed. "You think I won't take your pathetic self to court?! Fucking try me!" A long silence. Seishiro was shaking all over as he held tight to Blue. He wanted so much to slam his bedroom door shut, but he felt rooted to the spot by fear. At last, his mother spoke again. She'd stopped yelling, thankfully, but the cold contempt and threat in her voice was far scarier. "So you'd force me to work when I could be home raising your son? You're so fucking disgusting. I hope she does find out and she does leave you. I hope you're stuck paying for all three of your kids!" Another pause. "Fine. Okay, fine! Yes! Goodbye!"
Seishiro shuddered as he heard her slam the telephone receiver back down. He waited, clutching Blue, eyes wide and fearful. A thick silence permeated the apartment, and a few minutes passed before, "Seishiro?" Seishiro swallowed, but didn't move. "Seishiro! Come here, please!" Seishiro padded cautiously into the living room, following his mother's voice into the kitchen. She was on the floor, back against the refrigerator and knees hugged up into her chest. Her long, silky black hair fell around her like a funerary veil.
She looked up as he approached, and Seishiro saw that she was crying. This was just as scary as her screaming. He stared at her, wide eyed, at a total loss for what to do. Something in her face shifted, and she began to cry in earnest. Seishiro just watched, terrified, but she pulled him into a tight hug, sandwiching Blue between them. Seishiro stiffened; he was unsure if she'd direct her temper at him or not.
She cried that way for a long time, her narrow shoulders shaking, and Seishiro remained stiff and frightened in her arms. Eventually, she pulled away and looked him in the face, holding tight to his upper arms. "You know I love you, right Seishiro?"
"Yes!" He nodded vigorously, and she gave him a tearful smile.
"Even if I'm not always there to pick you up from school?" Seishiro didn't understand, but nodded anyway. "Your father doesn't think we need as much money anymore," she told him, and his eyes widened fearfully. "He threw us away, and now he doesn't want us to be happy." Now Seishiro wanted to cry too. He still didn't understand, but his mother was crying again, and she sounded so angry, and he hated the person who would make her feel this way. "You're all I have, Seishiro," she told him, cupping the side of his face. "The only good man in the world, and I gave birth to him."
She stood up, then lifted him into her arms. He was still frightened, though she seemed to be calming down. She carried him into her room and they lay down in her bed, curled around each other. He rested his head against her chest, his arms still around Blue, finally feeling safe. She had stopped crying. He could hear her heart beating.
Seishiro stared straight ahead, a sense of numbness and disconnection upon him. The memories continued to play as though his glasses were a projector screen.
The next day at school, Seishiro's teachers had laughed when he'd asked them how he could get a job and earn money. He wanted to help his mother, though he'd been too young to understand exactly what she'd been talking about. He hadn't yet found out that his father, a married doctor with two children, had begun an affair with a beautiful young nurse's aid at the hospital where they both worked. He hadn't learned that upon finding out she was pregnant, he had promised to leave his wife so they could be together, that he would support and take care of her always.
Unfortunately, that happy transient dream had only lasted a few months before he'd changed his mind. He'd paid what she called child support, though it was with an under the table cashier's check. Periodically, he'd threaten to cut them off or send less money, but he'd never actually go through with it. He couldn't: Setsuka had irrefutable evidence of what had happened and could so easily ruin his life and his marriage with a phone call to a lawyer.
Seishiro lit another cigarette. The numbness inside him seemed to make him impervious to the effect of the nicotine.
"Your father never wanted us, Seishiro," his mother said, sitting beside him on the couch in their living room. "But I'll always have you, so he'll always have me."
Seishiro's stomach twisted uncomfortably through his numbness. She didn't have him anymore. He had escaped; he'd gotten out and away from her. However, he still felt disgusted remembering the things Setsuka had said to him. "I love you" was her mantra, and she had repeated it constantly. He'd believed her at first. What choice did he have?
His mother had come to pick him up from school the day he'd asked his teacher about getting a job. "Did you do well today?" She asked. His teacher smiled.
"He's already asking about getting jobs and earning money," she replied, her smile widening as she looked down at him. "He'll be a good provider for his wife someday, he's so enterprising!" She'd obviously intended it as high praise. Seishiro had certainly taken it that way, though he was thinking about his mother rather than some future wife. He'd help her. He'd protect her.
His mother took his hand and led him back home, not saying anything except, "Watch the cars!" Their old and grimy building was on Clinton Street between Houston and Stanton, a block that got very scary at night. Their apartment was on the third floor, and their neighbors all spoke vociferously and aggressively in languages neither of them understood.
They climbed the stairs (their building had no elevator) and reentered their apartment. His mother slammed the door before jerking Seishiro to the floor. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, asking your teachers this shit?!" She demanded, flushed and furious. "Do you want them to know your father doesn't love us?!" Seishiro scrambled to his feet and tried to run away, but she caught him by the hair, pulled him around and slapped him hard across the face. He burst into tears and screamed, so scared he could barely breathe, the side of his face stinging. "Are you ashamed of me?!" She demanded, raising her hand again.
"No!" He cried. Her next slap echoed through his body and he fell over onto the floor, curling up instinctively to protect himself. However, she didn't approach him again. She turned away and stormed into her bedroom. Seishiro winced as the door slammed, shaking with his tears. He waited a few seconds, then got up, ran into his bedroom and shut the door. He jumped into bed, finding Blue tangled up in his blankets and hugged him so tightly his arms hurt.
Cold air leaked into his room from around the window above his bed. He shivered and got under his blankets. He must have cried himself to sleep, because the next thing he knew, the sun was setting and his room was dark and shadowy. He wanted to turn on a light, but he was afraid to get up. His stomach had also started to growl, and he wondered if his mother would even bother providing dinner. He'd gone to bed hungry more than once.
However, a few minutes later, his mother opened his door without knocking, and he sat bolt upright. Fortunately, all she said was, "I'm making dinner, come eat." She then turned away, leaving the door open.
A strange shiver ran through Seishiro's body, breaking through his numbness. For a moment, it was as though he really were that small boy, cold and hungry and- Seishiro swallowed and stood up, trying to get his wits about him. He didn't ever think about this. He'd always been able to suppress these hated memories, but now he was flooding, and he couldn't get his mind to stem the flow. Was it just because of all that had happened with Subaru? Had it really triggered all these unpleasant memories and bitter feelings? It was rather pathetic, but it enabled Seishiro to blame Subaru. Anger rose up inside him, hot and uncomfortable, but righteous and validating. After all, Subaru used to ask him about his family and how he'd grown up all the time, even when Seishiro made it clear he shouldn't.
"Why are you so curious?" Seishiro had asked him. They were lying in bed in one of his hotel rooms in Tokyo. He was smoking, sitting up against the headboard at his ease, and Subaru was lying curled up next to him, watching him with wide eyes.
"I don't know," he said, going slightly pink. "I'm just interested, is all." Seishiro's lip curled.
"It's not that interesting." Subaru sat up and leaned his shoulder against the headboard.
"I, I like you a lot, Seishiro," he said, quietly, his blush deepening. "I don't mean to pry, I just-" Seishiro interrupted him with a kiss, making him gasp softly. He pulled away and stared hard at Subaru, who stared back, looking both eager and unsure.
"My mother died when I was twenty two," he said, and Subaru covered his mouth with his hand. "I never knew the rest of my family, so really, there isn't much else to say." Subaru's eyes widened still further.
"I'm so sorry…" He said, and he obviously meant it. Seishiro considered him thoughtfully for a moment, then put out his cigarette and reached forward to cup the side of his face. Subaru was so devoted even though they'd had barely any time together and most of it was fucking. He was so giving, so genuine, so unlike anyone he'd ever been involved with before.
He kissed Subaru, who kissed him back enthusiastically and even more passionately than usual. Seishiro couldn't help but feel affected. He lay Subaru down again and fucked him greedily, then rolled off of him to recover. Subaru lay beside him, gasping and shivering, before bending over Seishiro and whispering in his ear, "You don't have to be alone, you can have me."
Seishiro's fists clenched again and he rolled his eyes. At the time, he'd wondered if Subaru was just getting off on playing the "sticking by someone even though they're obviously fucked up" role, but he'd let go of that fairly quickly. At that point in their relationship, all of Subaru's words were genuine, even if all of Seishiro's weren't: as far as he knew, Setsuka was still alive. He had lied to Subaru, it was true, but it was for a good reason. The lie kept things simple and made Subaru all the more devoted to him.
This attachment might have alarmed Seishiro, but Subaru wasn't like others. He was all for Seishiro in every respect, and he had done it gladly and of his own will. It was ideal: Seishiro could give him a few words, or kiss him a little longer, and he'd give him way more back. It had all worked out so well, until Subaru had started spending time with Kamui. It suddenly occurred to Seishiro that Kamui could easily have done the same thing. Had he also lured Subaru away with performed loneliness and a tragic past?
Seishiro's stomach clenched. It was pathetic. Setsuka had been the same way with all the worthless men she'd brought into their house. He felt another wave of disgust, and this time it rose up in his throat. He pressed his first two fingers against his lips and breathed deeply through his nose. He didn't want to think about this. He didn't need to think about this, why wasn't his mind cooperating? Why was his body betraying him? He felt an unpleasant prickle creep up his spine. His body had always betrayed him, even from the time he was small, just as Setsuka had predicted it would.
"Mother?" Seishiro asked cautiously, standing in his bedroom doorway and holding tight to one of Blue's wings. He was supposed to be in bed, but he couldn't sleep. His mother was sitting on the couch, smoking and wearing an odd expression on her face as she stared at their TV. "Mother?" She looked around.
"What, Seishiro?" He shifted awkwardly between his feet.
"I can't sleep." Setsuka sighed, put out her cigarette and patted the space next to her on the couch. Seishiro's heart skipped and he ran over to sit beside her. The news was on, and it showed an overcrowded hospital ward. Doctors suited up in gloves and masks were walking back and forth between the rows of beds with nurses in toe.
"The AIDS ward at St. Vincent's Hospital is the largest on the East Coast," a reporter's voice was saying over the footage. "After public health officials and gay rights activists have spent years-"
"It's horrifying," his mother said, looking down her nose at the TV screen. Seishiro looked between her and the television, squeezing Blue's wing with his hand.
"Those people are all sick?" Seishiro asked. His mother nodded. "Will they all die?"
"Yes," she replied. Seishiro's eyes widened.
"No one can help?" He asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
"They're trying, but I doubt it'll make a difference," she said, coldly. She paused for a moment, still staring at the TV. Seishiro watched one of the doctors bend over a patient hooked up to a respirator, his face and chest covered in dark purple blotches. "You need a man around," his mother muttered, just loud enough for Seishiro to hear. "So you don't turn out like this."
Seishiro let out a bitter, entirely joyless laugh. Setsuka had been worried about him ending up not only gay, but her worst idea of what that meant fueled by the media of the time, and her idea of a preventative measure had been to bring all of those worthless boyfriends around.
Now that really was fucking funny.
Not that he blamed her for his sexual orientation. Indeed, it was one of the few things he didn't blame her for. Truthfully, if he could have switched off his sexual urges and desires for all other people, he would have done it in an instant. Then, he'd never have gotten involved with anyone and he wouldn't end up in situations like this.
Anger flared suddenly inside him and he let it burn away all those other, unpleasant sensations. Yes, this was what had started all of this. Subaru had left, and it made Seishiro angry, even though he knew he'd be back. He'd be back, full of apologies, begging for forgiveness. 'As he should,' Seishiro thought, viciously.
He took his fingers away from his mouth. He seemed to be feeling calmer, or at least more in control of himself. He stretched, wondering what he should do next. It was obviously too late to go into work, but he could at least get something done remotely. He'd taken the day off because he knew Subaru would be back and wanted to be here for it. He hadn't told his coworkers this, obviously, but he didn't really need to give them a reason. No one ever questioned him at work. They, unlike Subaru, knew better.
Seishiro made a soft, contemptuous noise in his throat, sat down on his couch again and pulled his laptop towards him. Even though he was stuck working from home because of his boyfriend acting ridiculous, it made Seishiro feel better to open his e-mail, to type a reply, to think about the very important phone calls he'd need to make in the next few days. Work had always been where he was happiest, or at least where he was most comfortable. He was smart, he was good at his job and people respected him for these things.
"He's so enterprising!"
Seishiro narrowed his eyes at the computer screen. 'Yes, I fucking am,' he thought, the sound of his typing echoing in the silence.
Setsuka would have done well to encourage him in that. Not that he'd ever needed her encouragement, but considering how well off he was now compared to how he'd grown up… He might have even helped her out occasionally if she'd asked. Or maybe not; she had made her bed, trying to depend on all those worthless men, let her lie in it. That was what she was best at, anyway.
Seishiro remembered the first time he'd met one of his mother's boyfriends. It was the August after he'd finished second grade, and she had stuck him in a summer program at his elementary school because she worked during the day. Seishiro hated it. It was like being in school year round except every class was gym. His teachers would try and encourage him to join in and play, but he didn't like interacting with his classmates. They were loud and rough and couldn't say his name properly.
Seishiro had gotten used to being alone by now, anyway. Just as she'd said she might, his mother had stopped coming to pick him up from school or his summer program, leaving him to get back to their empty apartment on his own. He didn't mind though, and he liked having his very own set of keys. It all made him feel very grown up. However, she never told him exactly where she would be or when she'd be back.
A few months ago, she'd been gone past dinnertime, and it had really scared Seishiro. He'd seen on the news about people going missing, about what terrible things could happen, especially to young women like his mother. He knew how to call 911, but would they even believe him? Would they care? He'd stayed up waiting for her in his living room with the news on as she always did at night, cuddled around Blue with a blanket draped over both of them. He'd tried to sleep, but gotten nowhere. At last, he heard the scrape of her key in the lock and cried out in relief. She entered the apartment and spotted him at once. "Why aren't you in bed?!" She demanded, her voice rising. Seishiro stared back at her, wide eyed and terrified. "It's nearly midnight, what the fuck is wrong with you?!"
"I didn't know where you were! I'm sorry!" In answer, she grabbed him by the upper arm, pulled him off the couch, threw him into his bedroom and slammed the door.
After that, Seishiro would still wait up for her, but in his own bed, listening with all his might. He'd hear her open the front door, slam it shut and bolt the locks, and would know a deep, sweet relief. She'd always approach his room, then open his door and peer inside. Seishiro's heart would slam against his ribs as he'd pretend to be asleep. He knew he'd be in trouble if she found him awake. She never did, though. She'd leave his door open and retreat, and the sounds of her clattering about and getting ready for bed would lull him to sleep.
On this day, however, she was there right on time to pick him up, and he'd run towards her eagerly. She had a strange expression on her face, and for a moment he was worried, but she smiled and hugged him. "I'm sorry I've been away so much," she said, taking his hand and leading him back to their apartment.
"It's okay," he replied, slowly.
"I've been seeing this nice man," she told him, looking both ways surreptitiously before pulling him across the street. Seishiro's eyes narrowed.
"Who?"
"Someone I met at work." Seishiro already didn't like this. He wanted to question more, but kept his mouth shut.
"Is he your boyfriend?" He asked, a note of challenge in his voice. He thought he might be pushing it, but she laughed.
"Maybe so!" A moment's silence passed. "He's back home waiting for us."
"What?!" His mother turned sharply around and gave him a warning look.
"Yes, and this is important, so be on your best behavior!" Seishiro glared back at her, but nodded. They made their way home in silence, Seishiro holding tight to his mother's hand as his stomach twisted uncomfortably. They climbed the stairs and entered their apartment. Sure enough, there was a man Seishiro didn't know sitting on their couch.
"Hey," he said, standing up. Seishiro held his mother's hand all the more tightly. "I'm-" but it didn't matter. Seishiro couldn't remember any of their names. He didn't really need to. They were all basically the same person: some totally undeserving unimportant guy, good looking in the exact same vacant, conventional way. They reminded Seishiro of the stupid looking male models on fashion billboards. Their first words would usually be some iteration of "I don't usually date girls with kids already, but…" Apparently Setsuka had such power that they'd overlook this minor detail.
"Say hi, Seishiro, don't be rude!" His mother said, rather impatiently.
"Hello," he told her boyfriend, coldly. "I have summer reading to do." He strode into his bedroom and shut the door. It was a lie; he'd finished his summer reading months ago, but he doubted his mother knew this.
"He takes his schoolwork very seriously," he heard her tell her boyfriend hastily.
Seishiro's heart was beating rather fast and he was breathing hard through his nose. He didn't like this at all. Some random new person thought he could just walk in his house and take his mother away? Make her leave him up all night and terrified?
Seishiro threw his backpack onto his bed then climbed up himself. He could hear his mother outside, talking to her boyfriend in a high-pitched voice that sounded nothing like her. Anger rippled through him and he reached into his bag for the library book he'd started reading that day. His classmates made fun of him for how much he read, both in school and in his summer program. He didn't let it bother him, though. It wasn't his fault his classmates weren't as smart as him.
Seishiro could hear his mother making dinner, which she almost never did, and felt another ripple of anger. He tried his best to keep reading, to concentrate on his book rather than his mother's constant gnawing chatter and her boyfriend's inarticulate grunting. Eventually, he heard her approach his room, and she opened the door without knocking. She'd been doing this as long as he could remember, but recently it had been really starting to annoy him.
"Dinner's ready!" She told him, her voice happy and singsong. Seishiro looked up at her with raised eyebrows. It was nice to see her in such a good mood, but it was all rather strange and hard to believe.
"I'm reading," he told her. Her eyes narrowed.
"We have company, come eat," she said.
"I'll be there in a minute," he countered. His mother actually entered the room and shut the door. Seishiro stared determinedly back at her.
"You will do as you're told. Come eat." Seishiro remained still, though his heart began to speed up.
"No," he told her. She took a step towards him.
"Seishiro," she said, all warmth and happiness in her voice gone. He said nothing, and they stared at each other a moment longer before she lunged forward and knocked his book out of his hands and onto the floor. "Be outside in five minutes or you will live to regret it, I fucking promise you." Seishiro looked down at his book, lying spine up and open on the floor.
"Fine," he said, resentfully. She rolled her eyes, but said nothing else. She turned and left, slamming the door behind her. Seishiro flushed in anger. She only ever closed the door when she slammed it in temper. He heard her tell her boyfriend,
"Sorry, my son-" but the blood pounding in Seishiro's ears drowned out the rest of her words. He hated when she referred to him that way, as though he didn't have a name. She'd also always call him "my son" when she was angry with him or when she was speaking about him to one of her boyfriends.
Seishiro picked up his book, fixed all of the pages and put it on his bedside table. He then returned to the living room with a deep sense of ill usage upon him. His mother's boyfriend was sitting at the head of their dining table as though he belonged there. They didn't have a real dining room; one room served as their living room and kitchen, but his mother always called the plastic table in front of the counter "the dining table."
Seishiro gave her boyfriend a thoroughly mistrustful look and took the seat opposite him. He didn't look at Seishiro; he seemed too preoccupied staring at his mother as she served them dinner. She sat down and looked proudly back and forth between them. Her boyfriend had a look of vague satisfaction on his face, as though this scenario, in some abstract sense, was desirable. Seishiro glared at his plate and pushed his food around with his fork.
"So, uh," her boyfriend began, and Seishiro refrained from rolling his eyes with extreme difficulty. "What grade are you in, Seishiro?" Seishiro's heart sped up sharply as it always did when someone mispronounced his name, and he didn't reply.
"You're going into third, right?" His mother said, trying her best to sound encouraging.
"Yes," Seishiro replied, grudgingly.
"Why are you so shy today?" She persisted, rather aggressively.
"I'm not," he snapped back. It was true. He wasn't shy, he just didn't like this person and he didn't want to talk to him.
"It's uh, it's cool," her boyfriend said, in what he must have imagined was a take control, reassuring way. "What's your favorite subject?" He tried next.
"Math."
"Oh yeah? That's cool. I suck at math, it makes no sense to me." His mother let out a false, high-pitched laugh that so grated on Seishiro's nerves.
"You're just not smart like me," Seishiro told him, coldly. He was still looking down at his plate, but his eyes darted to his mother. His heart sped up fearfully as he wondered if he'd crossed a line. Her eyes widened, and a moment's awkward silence passed, then she and her boyfriend started to laugh.
"Seishiro!" She exclaimed, sounding more bemused than angry. Seishiro looked up at her, and her expression was soft and gentle. He so rarely saw her look this way, and he held her gaze a second longer before looking away again. It was nice to see her genuinely affectionate for once, but he had no idea why they were both laughing. He hadn't been joking at all; this man was so obviously not as smart as Seishiro it was ridiculous.
"You're too blunt, just like your mom," her boyfriend told him.
"What?!" She demanded, and they both laughed. Seishiro finished his dinner in silence while their conversation continued around him. At last, it was over, and he hurried back to his room. He shut the door and leaned against it, listening. He wanted his mother's boyfriend to leave, but from the way they were talking it seemed he'd be hanging around. Seishiro sighed, feeling suddenly lonely.
His bedroom was dark because he hadn't turned on the overhead light. The window on the opposite wall faced an airshaft, so it let in hardly any light after the sun sank too low in the sky. However, it did let in lots of noise, even when shut. He'd hear people yelling at each other in garbled mixes of several languages, music blaring and sometimes, even gunshots.
He sighed again, listening to his mother talking to her boyfriend through the closed door. "Yes, did you want a drink?" She asked, her voice falsely high-pitched again.
"Yeah sure, thanks, babe." Seishiro rolled his eyes. Now his mother and her boyfriend were alone his voice had become less formal, less polite, though still obviously devoid of anything intelligent. Seishiro didn't want him in their house. He didn't want him around his mother. He wanted to make him leave, but he didn't want to go back out there.
Someone turned on the TV to what sounded like the news. Seishiro hardly ever understood what anyone on the screen was talking about, but it was the only thing his mother ever had on. Maybe, though, he could just go sit and watch, just visible enough to discompose her boyfriend without actually having to participate…
With one last, resigned sigh, Seishiro went back into the living room. He found his mother curled up next to her boyfriend on the couch. He had his arm around her, a beer in his other hand and his legs spread ostentatiously as though he were intentionally taking up as much space as possible. Seishiro eyed him with ever growing dislike and waited to be noticed. The news seemed to be running a story on Tompkins Square Park. A reporter's voice was saying, "Police battled the homeless and their supporters for nearly four hours last night in what is being called a full-scale police riot. Police officers, protestors as well as innocent passers by were injured after the police attempted to force a curfew-"
"What are you doing out here, Seishiro?" His mother asked, finally realizing he was there.
"Can I come sit with you?" He asked. She looked at her boyfriend, who just shrugged. Seishiro sat down on the end of the couch nearest him, forcing him to shift over and close his legs. On the TV, an old man who Seishiro knew to be the Mayor was gesticulating rather stupidly, apparently making a speech.
"We can't let ourselves be intimidated or give into the demands of these people," he said, with obvious distaste.
"Seriously," his mother's boyfriend agreed. Seishiro didn't understand, but he hated his tone. Who was he, trying to sound as though he knew better? "I used to want to be a cop when I was a kid," he told Seishiro's mother, and she smiled indulgently. "Or a firefighter," he added, stupidly, and she laughed. "Um, what do you want to be when you grow up, Seishiro?" He asked, bravely. Seishiro looked at him coldly, debating his answer.
"I don't know," he said. "Maybe a doctor." Her boyfriend nodded appreciatively, and Seishiro felt a ripple of anger. "Yeah, so I can cut people open." His mother and her boyfriend exchanged a look, seemingly unsure if they should laugh or not, and it gave Seishiro a deep satisfaction. He had no desire what so ever to become a doctor, but that answer always got a rise out of people, even if he said it as a throwaway statement.
"So like, a surgeon?" Her boyfriend asked. Seishiro shrugged.
"A surgeon, or someone who cuts open dead bodies like on TV." Her boyfriend just nodded, his expression tightening, and his mother looked back and forth between the television and Seishiro's face, horrified. He just smiled. "Those people are called medical examiners."
"Go take a bath and get ready for bed, Seishiro," his mother interjected, sharply.
"You said I could sit here with you!" He reminded her, crossly.
"I don't care, it's nearly past your bedtime anyway, go!" Dire warning had entered her voice, and Seishiro knew not to push it. He hopped off the couch, retrieved pajamas from his room and walked resolutely down the tiny hallway to their bathroom, full of rust and cracked tiles. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what the fuck has gotten into him!" He heard his mother cry.
"It's cool," her boyfriend replied.
However, it apparently wasn't cool, because by the time Seishiro had finished his bath, her boyfriend was gone. Seishiro walked back down the hall, his hair damp and skin flushed, to find his mother still on the couch, smoking. He eyed the back of her head cautiously as he approached his bedroom. "Seishiro, come here please." Seishiro's heart sped up. He wondered if he was about to be punished as he walked over and sat next to her. "You didn't like him, did you?" His mother asked. Seishiro shrugged, still unsure if he was in trouble or not. "It's okay if you didn't," she continued, putting out her cigarette, and Seishiro felt an enormous relief. "He's not going to work out." Seishiro said nothing. "At least I told him. It was my choice," she said, as though trying to talk herself into something. However, her eyes suddenly flashed as she whirled around to look at Seishiro. "What kind of answer was that?!" She demanded, and Seishiro scrambled away from her. Fortunately, she didn't raise her hand.
"I don't know!" He cried, his heart hammering, but she just sighed.
"I suppose it's to be expected. He was a surgeon too." Seishiro didn't understand, but she no longer sounded angry. She ran her fingers through her long, silky hair. "You need to be nicer to these men, Seishiro," she told him, firmly. "I want you to have a father." Seishiro remembered again that news report from before, of the young man covered in purple blotches, and nodded grudgingly.
"Okay." She sighed.
"Come sleep in my bed tonight," she said. Seishiro nodded, this time feeling pleased. He'd have her all to himself for the rest of the night. No one else would intrude or interrupt. "Let's go." He ran into his room to get Blue, who he still slept with every night, then hurried to his mother's room and jumped in her bed. Once again, he fell asleep listening to her heartbeat.
A sudden ping of an e-mail notification startled Seishiro, forcing him back to the present. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and first two fingers.
In retrospect, he had to give Setsuka credit for recognizing that boyfriend would never work and ending it herself, rather than waiting for him to just stop calling, or disappear, or get arrested. However, he couldn't feel proud of her, considering she made the same mistake over and over again. Seishiro shuddered slightly as he put his glasses back on.
He'd be lying if he said he weren't at least partially to blame for his mother's relationships failing. If he really didn't like someone, and he really didn't like most of them, it was easy enough to get rid of them. In spite of himself, Seishiro felt a sudden rush of spiteful pleasure about how he'd done the first one. All it had taken was a lie about wanting to cut people open, how utterly fucking pathetic was that? Although, he supposed the creepy murderous child cliché was enjoying a great vogue at the time, even if it never actually happened in real life.
Seishiro rolled his eyes. That was what that man got for trying to invade his house, for intruding on himself and Setsuka. These men had all felt like enemy forces, and Seishiro had been the brave defending army, protecting his castle. Sometimes his weapon was acting out, though that was rare; temper tantrums had never been his thing. His favorite tactic was to withdraw, to be totally unresponsive to both his mother and whichever boyfriend it was. That always got a rise out of them as they fought for his attention, for his words. Still other times, it would happen completely by accident.
He remembered one time in particular when he'd woken up in the middle of the night, his throat burning so badly swallowing brought tears to his eyes. He'd staggered down the hall to his mother's room, feverish and sweaty. Her door had been closed, but he'd opened it anyway.
"SEISHIRO!" His mother had screamed, diving under her covers. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" Seishiro began to cry in earnest, the noise of her screams echoing in his sore head. "Oh for god's sake, what's wrong?!" He just cried harder than ever, totally helpless against the sickness raging inside him. "Sorry," his mother told whichever boyfriend it was. He'd hung around for a while, at a total loss for what to do, before finally going home.
Even in his feverish, miserable state, Seishiro was very pleased to have his mother all to himself again. It was even better because he was actually sick: she was gentle and loving rather than furious at him for driving another man away.
The next morning, Setsuka had taken Seishiro to the doctor. She was angry she'd have to take the morning off work, but pleased that this job at least gave her health insurance. The doctor had poked and prodded Seishiro, then taken a throat culture than made him gag and cry out in pain. While Seishiro and his mother were waiting in the empty office for results, he had half-heartedly tried to read the new library book he'd brought with him, though he could barely focus on the words, everything hurt so much. The doctor returned to the room, clipboard in hand, and immediately noticed Seishiro reading. "Do you always read with books so close to your face, Seishiro?" He asked, kindly. Seishiro looked up, then nodded.
"I have to or it's blurry," he said, his throat burning and tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. His mother had looked fearfully between him and the doctor.
"He needs glasses?" She asked.
"I'm not an optometrist," the doctor said, his tone still kind. "So I can't say for sure, but once he's feeling better I'd take him to get his eyes tested. I can give you a name." Setsuka nodded, looking suddenly sad. "To that end, yes, it's definitely strep," the doctor continued. They talked for a few minutes about it before he gave her a prescription for antibiotics and the name of a local optometrist.
Later that day, Seishiro was in bed, covered in extra blankets and feeling nauseated from his medicine on top of everything else. His mother sat on the edge of his bed, staring at him with the same sad expression. "How long have you had trouble seeing?" She asked, and Seishiro knew if he weren't sick, she'd have been screaming.
"I don't know," he replied, weakly, hugging Blue more closely to him. His mother just sighed and ran her fingers through her hair.
"I shouldn't be surprised, I guess," she said, quietly. "He wore glasses too." She stood up, but paused. "You still sleep with your penguin?" She asked. Seishiro nodded. "The penguin I bought for you?" Again, Seishiro nodded, and she actually smiled. "Good." She kissed him on the forehead and left the room.
Seishiro put his glasses back on, and his apartment came back into focus: dark, sterile and empty. Empty because Subaru had left. Subaru had always liked Seishiro's glasses, and he'd always try to play with them for some reason.
"Don't."
"What?" Subaru's eyes widened and he held Seishiro's glasses to his chest.
"Give them to me," Seishiro snapped. Subaru looked suddenly fearful and handed them over at once.
"I'm sorry!" He cried, but all Seishiro said was,
"Don't touch my glasses." Subaru nodded, still looking fearful.
'Good,' Seishiro thought. Subaru used to do things like that all the time, small things that would so irritate Seishiro. He'd never let them get under his skin or make him really angry, of course, but he shouldn't have had to tell him in the first place. Subaru should have known, but then again, how could he? Subaru was so all over the place, or up in his head, he always needed someone to guide him and show him the way. Seishiro had tried as hard as he could, only to have it all thrown back in his face.
Truthfully, he had been concerned for longer than he'd like to admit. He had started to, not panic, but worry, when Subaru was no longer fazed by his words or his pulling away. It had been easy when they were first together. The pattern was simple: Subaru would inevitably do something Seishiro didn't like, even something small, and all he had to do was withdraw.
Very suddenly, he remembered one night in particular, six weeks or so after Subaru had come here. They'd been out having dinner in midtown, at another small, discreet place. He and Subaru were sitting at a corner table, looking at each other but not speaking. They'd started having trouble not too long ago, and Seishiro found the best way to pacify Subaru was dinner somewhere nice and sex. However, he was taking time out of his schedule for this, so Subaru would do well to make an effort and be grateful. The CTO at Seishiro's company had taken on a whole new massive project with their Tokyo office, which meant more work for everyone, not to mention a party to celebrate. If Seishiro had had his way, he'd have been home working, but… Subaru being unhappy didn't do him any favors.
Their server approached them, and he was young, energetic and very good-looking. He greeted them as he would any table, but Seishiro noticed his eyes darting to Subaru more often than was necessary, given that all he was doing was taking drink orders. Subaru seemed to encourage it, and they had an entire conversation about one specific cocktail. Seishiro just watched, displeasure simmering inside him. Subaru laughed at something their server said, throwing his head back as he did so. Finally he retreated, and Subaru watched him go, still smiling, before returning his gaze to Seishiro. His smile vanished. "What's wrong?" He asked, softly, and Seishiro's lip curled.
"Nothing," he replied, delicately. Subaru tried to reach for his hand, but he took it off the table.
"Seishiro…" Subaru said, obviously hurt.
"Decide what you want," Seishiro told him. Subaru just nodded and looked away. When their server came back, he seemed taken aback by Subaru's sudden change in demeanor, and this only irritated Seishiro further. "Nothing's wrong, right, Subaru?" He asked, once they were alone at their table again. Subaru looked more confused than ever.
"I-"
"You're fine. You don't want people to look at us strangely, do you?" Subaru's eyes widened, and he shook his head.
The rest of the night, Subaru became overly talkative every time they were alone. He was trying to make the rest of the night good and make up for his earlier lapse. Seishiro would just nod or answer in one word or a clipped phrase. He knew Subaru hated it and was getting more fearful by the second. On some level, Seishiro hated it too. He wished Subaru would just be quiet, but that seemed impossible now.
At last, dinner was over, and they were back on the 1 train downtown. They didn't speak until they were back up in their apartment. It was late, but Seishiro sat down on the couch and pulled his laptop towards him, intending to do all the work he'd neglected while taking Subaru to dinner. "Seishiro?" Subaru hesitated for a moment, then sat down beside him.
"What?" Subaru looked away, and Seishiro watched him out of the corner of his eye. His expression was sadder than ever, and it was both gratifying and infuriating.
"Are you angry with me?" Seishiro managed not to roll his eyes, but it was a close thing.
"No," he replied, patiently, typing something. The clicking of the keys seemed magnified in the rapidly thickening silence.
"But-" As usual, Subaru was totally unprepared to take his word for it. "What happened at dinner?" He continued, forging bravely ahead.
"You tell me," Seishiro replied, coldly, pausing in his typing to reach for his cigarettes. "You know not to let people interfere or intrude." He lit up and took a deep pull from his cigarette, then finally turned to look Subaru in the face. He seemed totally at a loss.
"I'm sorry," he said, his eyes wide. "I wasn't trying anything, I swear!" Seishiro exhaled smoke and returned his gaze to his laptop. Subaru sighed heavily and Seishiro's gaze immediately snapped back to him.
"Are you intentionally stressing me out?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.
"No! I just…" Subaru looked away, apparently unable to finish his sentence.
'You just do stupid things like flirt with our server at dinners I take you to,' Seishiro thought, spitefully, though out loud he said nothing. He returned his gaze to his laptop and silence fell between them again. Out of the corner of his eye, Seishiro watched Subaru staring down at his hands, folded neatly in his lap. After a few minutes, he stood up. "Where are you going?" Seishiro asked, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table.
"Out for more cigarettes." Seishiro thought this unlikely, considering no stores in this area would be open at this hour. However, if it would keep Subaru occupied for a bit, fine. He watched him put on his coat, grab his keys and leave the apartment, just as he had done that very morning. That night, of course, Subaru had come back, just as Seishiro had known he would, just as he knew he would today as well. Seishiro had waited, responding to e-mails about the trip he'd need to take to his job's Tokyo office. "I'm home," Subaru called cautiously from the doorway an hour or so later. Seishiro listened to him walk down the hall, but remained silent a few seconds longer, finishing the sentence he was typing.
"Welcome back," he said, finally, without turning around. "Did you get what you wanted?"
"Nowhere was open."
"Ah." Neither of them spoke for a moment. Seishiro continued to type, debating his course of action. He was sorely tempted to remain withdrawn and continue to ignore Subaru. However, with all the work he'd have to do, not to mention the party they'd have to attend together next week, he didn't think he could stand Subaru being that needy. "Go draw a bath," he said, finally, coming to his decision. "I'll be there soon." Subaru hesitated, then scurried through their bedroom into the en suite.
Seishiro sighed heavily. He hadn't been hurt by this at all; he got what he needed when they were still at the restaurant, when Subaru had realized he'd done wrong. However, Subaru had kept pushing, and now Seishiro had to pacify him. All because of a server at a restaurant Seishiro hadn't even wanted to go to in the first place. He sighed again as he closed his laptop and put it back on the coffee table. He stood up, then walked slowly through his bedroom, thinking irritably that fights like this, if you could even call them fights, were becoming more and more frequent. Still though, at least he could end them easily by withdrawing his touch, then saying the right things as he gave it back. As long as he had that, it wasn't too bad.
Seishiro opened the bathroom door. Through the steamed up glass shower walls, he saw Subaru pause in the act of scrubbing himself clean. Seishiro undressed, pulled the shower door open and stepped inside, right up behind Subaru, who stiffened. "You're not upset with me, are you, Subaru?" Seishiro asked, quietly, before wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. Subaru swallowed, but Seishiro felt him relax very slightly. "You know I hate when you're angry with me."
"I'm not." Seishiro held Subaru more tightly, reminding him of what he could lose.
"I'm glad," he breathed, right in his ear. "I don't even know what that was all about, that's what hurts the most."
"I'm sorry!" Subaru cried.
'You should be,' thought Seishiro. Subaru tried to turn around and face him but Seishiro held him firmly in place. Out loud, he said, "I know." It was true, after all. Subaru was always sorry for all the issues he created. Of course, it would be best if he just learned how to prevent them, but Seishiro would take what he could get in the mean time. "Go get in the bath." He let go of Subaru, and he got out of the shower, eyes averted and face flushed. Seishiro felt a surge of satisfaction and decided to take it further, both to reward and reclaim Subaru.
Seishiro scrubbed himself clean, knowing a surge of anticipation and feeling much better all of a sudden. He rinsed off, shut off the water and slid into the tub on top of Subaru. At last, he looked him in the face. "I love you," Seishiro reminded him quietly, feeling his heart speed up in spite of himself.
"I love you too," Subaru replied. Seishiro smiled down at him.
"I know." It was true. Subaru said it all the time, and when his actions didn't line up with the words, he was apologetic and remorseful, as he should be.
'Unlike Setsuka,' Seishiro thought, bitterly, before his mind was back on Subaru, underneath him in the hot water, soft and fearful and beautiful.
Seishiro kissed him, and he responded enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around his neck. He was always this way after arguments: even more unselfish and giving than usual.
They got out of the bath, dried off and got in bed to continue. "I'm yours, Seishiro, no one else's," Subaru told him in a soft moan, his eyes shining with meaning.
"I know," Seishiro breathed, thrusting deep inside him. Subaru threw his head back, his expression exultant. Seishiro definitely loved this: Subaru giving him everything and relishing every second of it.
Seishiro pulled out, ripped off the condom he was wearing and made himself come all over Subaru's erection. Subaru moaned softly in appreciation and smiled up at him. Seishiro moved away to sit up against the headboard, breathing deeply. "Come for me, Subaru," he said. Subaru flushed, but nodded. Seishiro watched him obey with a deeply satisfied smile on his face. He could do whatever he wanted to Subaru, and he'd always call it "making love."
"Seishiro!" He moaned softly as he came all over his belly. He lay back, eyes closed and gasping for a moment, and Seishiro gave him a soft kiss on the lips.
"Clean up and bring me my cigarettes."
"O-okay…"
They fell asleep next to each other that night, and Seishiro spooned him for good measure. After all, he'd be lying if he said it didn't feel good for him too.
A sudden wave of bitterness rose up inside Seishiro and his chest and throat constricted painfully. What was this…? He remembered suddenly, viscerally, how it felt to hold Subaru close, to kiss him, to be deep inside him… That had been the basis of their relationship at first, before they'd agreed to add feelings, to "make it official." Another wave of bitterness. That had been Subaru's idea too.
"I'm yours, Seishiro, if you'll have me," he'd said, and Seishiro had smiled, his heart unexpectedly light.
"You're mine, then."
Now, his heart was throbbing as more righteous anger swelled inside him, burning away the bitter feelings. Their decision to call what they were doing a relationship had made sense: Seishiro hadn't been fucking anyone else and Subaru was so willing, but still… Subaru had asked for his commitment only to throw it back in his face when someone new came along.
Anger boiled inside Seishiro. How could Subaru just end it? Why had he stopped fighting for him? Why did he suddenly stop being afraid of losing Seishiro when they both knew he was the best person for him? Seishiro shook his head in utter disbelief and disgust.
Subaru would come back, though. He'd come back all those other times. Even though something had apparently changed, it wouldn't last. Subaru would come back.
Seishiro breathed deeply, taking comfort in these thoughts, and feeling his anger abate very slightly. He'd brought Subaru to New York, according to his wishes, what else could he have wanted? Seishiro sighed heavily, wondering, not for the first time, if things would have been easier if Subaru had just stayed in Tokyo. When they'd been apart, Subaru had been far less demanding and much more understanding.
"I loved the man I met in Tokyo, but he's been gone a long time!"
Seishiro rolled his eyes. Subaru had been the one who had changed. Seishiro had been the same person the whole time, Subaru just hadn't… It didn't matter. Subaru would realize he was wrong in no time. Besides, Seishiro actually did know what it was to see someone change so drastically, so-
A massive, pricking shiver began at the back of Seishiro's neck and radiated out through his whole body. He remembered, again, sudden and terrifying and visceral, a hand, one larger than his mother's, around his throat, hot furious breath on his face and tears- "No!" He said, out loud, taking himself by surprise. Where the fuck had that come from? His heart was pounding in his chest and his hands were clammy as he ran his fingers through his hair. That was exactly why Seishiro never put his hands on people, why his words had to be enough, because losing control of yourself in your anger was shameful!
"You chose to follow me." The sound of Subaru's headphones breaking in half seemed to crack through the air, as though it were happening all over again.
"Yes, really!" The sound of metal smacking against the cheap, plastic dining table at Setsuka's apartment.
Seishiro had lost control both of those times. His emotions had taken him over. His body had betrayed him. Disgust rose sickeningly up in Seishiro's throat and he clapped his hand over his mouth.
"SEISHIRO! NO! PUT HIM DOWN!" Seishiro kicked out. The hand released him and he collapsed onto the floor, gasping for breath and crying.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
Seishiro felt cold sweat on his face. He was trying with all his might to resist the memories, to fight back…
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" The sound of the punch and her scream echoed through the apartment and seemed to rip through Seishiro.
It was no good. His body was betraying him.
I'll be updating this every Thursday morning, see you next week!
I think about reviews when I summon my kekkai, leave me some!