Disclaimer: Oh, believe me. If I owned Subaru and Seishirou, or any of those pretty little Clamp characters, they'd be wishing for their original miserable lives back, because I don't play very nice.
Warnings:Seishirou sympathizing, shifting of pov and tense, masturbation, unrequited yaoi, angst, and the overall frustration of five story concepts that became nothing but fantastic drabbles.
Drabble Redeux
1.
He didn't understand feelings, really. He over-analyzed them, complicating his emotions beyond recognition. Seishirou Sakurazuka did not know that everyone was corrupt, that everyone was fake, that everyone cared primarily for themselves. Therefore, love was unrecognizable to him-the society he imitated was completely dishonest, nobody could admit that they could just as easily take their lover as leave them, nobody admitted that their love served solely selfish motivations. If Seishirou had not been acting an act, he would have recognized biology. He was so fake, his fake made your fake feel real. Seishirou didn't know love when he felt it.
2.
My mind racing, blood pounding in my ears, I want to focus on the warm pumping, wrist loose, fingers half-tight... I buck my hips, and the white behind my eyes begins spreading... Seishirou.
There's no point after that, I can't finish, instantly limp and shivery. I growl, frustrated, and twine my hands in sheets and hair. I tried fighting the sobs, but I was helpless, like always.
My success rate with masturbation can't even be 10%. I think of him and I can't help it. It makes me so sick and guilty and sweaty and cold...
This is my life.
3.
My reflection makes me sick. I'm such a liar. It's when I smell my blood that I know I've punched the glass. I reassure myself. " I'll win this bet..."
Another lie.
I'm an excellent liar, to those around me, to myself. Truth is based on perception. I cannot lose to Subaru; he'd lose his novelty.
If he loved me, he wouldn't put himself at risk.
If Subaru knew who I was, what I'd done... If he remembered, how could he love me? I have to win.
If I give Subaru my heart, he's no choice but to break it.
4.
Subaru's eyes don't sparkle anymore. He walks slowly, head bowed, lost in thought. He is… The pale ghost of his sister, for though she died as a sacrifice in his stead, he still chose to die, in a sense. Too kind. Unable to allow Hokuto's death to mean anything, or to understand the motivations of his utterly devoted and loving twin. Still, though I killed her, Hokuto wanted nothing but for Subaru and me to "live happily ever after". As if. Did she really know Subaru at all I wonder, to think he could ever forgive a betrayal so horrible?
5.
Seishirou's things. He certainly left in a hurry-our little game of cat and mouse, he chasing me, I chasing him- the smoke from his abandoned cigarette drifting lazily upward. Sitting at the table it's only moments before I pick the cigarette out of the ashtray, too morbidly curious to stop. I take a long drag, too deeply, but deny the nausea. Nothing makes me sick anymore, or so I think, until I open the shoebox in front of me. Over forty different identities. Japanese, Chinese, German, and American passports, dozens of personas, each one Seishirou smiling back at me.
***********************************************************************************Note: I wanted so much more out of all of these, but even though I hacked and slashed some words to make them all fit the way I needed to, I decided they're not too bad.