Disclaimer: I don't own. CLAMP does.
Nothing Else Matters
He can feel his nerves twitching with every move Satsuki-chan makes, every dab of cottoned care that seems to go on for ages, until he can hardly stand to watch. He can feel an urge to rip those damn tweezers out of her hands, hands which seem to move far too slowly, far too gently to even stop the bleeding in time, hands which mock him with their steadiness as they hover over a face that he's never dreamed to see this way. The contrast almost makes him keel over, collapse under the severe changes that only took a few delayed minutes to progress, minutes he can still feel slipping between his fingers like the dust of a former life, a life where Fai would tilt his head and shrug, annoying him by another one of his idiotic smiles. He can feel his fingers tighten with panic, searching desperately for the last ledge before the endless drop, only to realize there is none. It's all over and he's left to endure the fall, left to squirm hopelessly in the air, fighting for a last act of control, an act he'll never be able to fulfill before the ground shatters beneath him.
Fai has stopped fighting. The only sign of survival are shallow, ragged breaths that ring out softly in a room that's never felt so hollow, never felt so empty, thin gasps of air that make Kurogane's heart pound in a silent prayer after each pant that it hasn't been the last.
"It's no use…" The woman's words pierce through the silence like venom through tensed muscle, each statement which follows more deadly that the last, confirming the truth Kurogane has forced himself to deny. It makes him want to run away and hide, force himself into a corner where everyone ceases to exist, where everything looses its meaning and time stands still, where nothing matters. But his feet have long since lost their purpose, like everything else. All that really matters is the man on the bed, the man who's not uttered a word of protest, not let a twitch of fear betray him as he quietly listens to his own predicament, ears open to the screams of the manjuu, the panicked pleading for his own life.
Only it's Fai's own, strangled words that drive the dagger home, cut through all the carefully threaded strings of patience and hope, leaving Kurogane numb to everything else, even to the pain that's starting to spread through his fist as he smashes it into the cemented wall beside him, the scratches and gouges no comparison to the pain choking him in his chest. He's oblivious to everything else, oblivious to the looks of others in the room, the worried expression of the Witch as she watches doom unfold, the deep wounds zigzagged up his back, drenching his shirt with crimson blood. All that exists is the pale face in front of him, the face he forces closer to his own as his fist tightens around material that's drenched in cold sweat and blood.
He isn't aware of Mokona crying for him to stop, to let Fai down. Instead, he hisses through his teeth, fighting for control, control to prevent him from trying to shake the mage in front of him so hard that through the daze of shock and acceptance- he'll understand that he can't die. That he won't let him die. Yet Fai only smiles, a single, sorrowful eye looking back at him, a single flicker of gratitude, of genuine apology that Kurogane fears will be the last one he'll witness. It encourages his fingers to hold fast to the last thing that really matters.
…The last smile that really matters.
A/N: The comment button's right there. :D Make my day.