Disclaimer: I do not own Blue Exorcist.

I see you, silence
by. Poisoned Scarlett

"Neeeeeh, is that all you got, you punk? How long have we been through this and you still can't light those two damn candles!" Shura barks, lounging on the shingles of the rooftop. The air is chilly, making her want to head back inside before the temperature gets on her nerves. The sun paints the horizon colors of pink and blue, scratches it a bruised purple. She uncrosses her bare legs and leans back on her elbows, stabbing the heel of her sandal into a nook of a shingle to keep herself steady. Her hair's a mess—she just woke up after a long and hard night of drinking, something she's not at all happy about because her head hurts like a bitch—and her skimpy sleeping gown catches on the currents of the wind, the straps sliding down her shoulders. When she doesn't hear a reply, her frown becomes a scowl. "HEY, I was talking to you, you damn—!"

"I heard you the first time! Shut up, I'm concentrating!" Rin snaps, fingers connected at the tips. He darts his eyes back to the three candles that sit before him, unlit and dull. Just light the two on the sides, it can't be that hard, right?

Fucking WRONG, Rin thinks with a growl of frustration, setting his jaw and focusing harder on the candles. It's just the two on the sides, not the middle one, anyone can do it—hell, it's child's play, so why can't he do it? If he can just do it, he can prove to his brother that he isn't a total failure and prove to everyone that he's safe—he's dependable—and they don't need to be afraid of him because he can control them.

I can control them, Rin thinks and feels the heat swell within him, a dark energy that a part of him wishes to bask in with wretched delight. His teeth grind. Control, he needs to control it. I know I can….just once, I just need… His eyes water from staring at the candles so hard. He can vaguely hear Shura whine about something. If I can just light one…

It always happens like this: that heat, that wretched, depraved, evil, it bursts inside of him like a broken valve and then lights everything. These flames, it's like they have a life of their own and they don't give two shits about what he wants. They burn what they like, incinerate everything before his eyes, and he can almost hear them cackle—cackle like that bastard Satan, a high and maniacal laugh that makes his skin crawl.

"DAMMIT!" Rin roars, eyes sparking dangerously. "WHY CAN'T I FUCKING DO IT! ARGHHH!"

"RIN!" Shura gasps, sitting upright sharply. Her fingers twitch to her chest instinctively, to the marking that paints her skin bloody red all the way down her taut stomach. But she doesn't reach for her blade, no, she watches Rin's flame abruptly vanish. His shoulders are rigid, his back is stiff, and when Shura calls his name out cautiously, he turns and his eyes are flaming blue—dilated, his jagged teeth gnashing. He looks positively demonic, something spawn from the dark depths of the Gehenna, and for a second she wants to flip that old priest Shiro the finger and slay Rin where he stands.

But she doesn't because she's made a promise and, well, for whatever Yukio thinks of her, Shura Kirigakure does not break promises so easily. And Rin, she's grown a little fond of that idiot—he makes her laugh like nothing else and, well, as she's said, she's always had a thing for boys who aimed high.

Her eyes sharpen. "You need to use your head, you moron! You can't rely solely on will power for this work, USE YOUR HEAD!"

"I KNOW THAT!" Rin snarls. He needs to keep calm, keep calm, keep calm, keep calm. "It doesn't work! Argh! This is bullshit—fuck this! Can't you just give me my sword? What does controlling my flames have to do with anything—?"

"We already went over this, you runt," Shura sneers back and stands up. Her nightgown is skimpy, practically see-through, but she notices idly that he barely notices. His fangs are out, his ears pointing a bit more than usual. Even without releasing the Kurikara from its sheath, he can still alter his features—show his true self, she thinks with interest. "Until you can control your flames, we ain't doin' any sword training. If you cant even control your flames, what makes you think you can control your own sword? Learn patience, use your head. I'm outta' here—my head hurts and laying on these things aren't good for my back!" She huffs and leaps over the edge with a final goodbye, leaving Rin alone on the rooftop.

He stares at the place Shura once stood, his fists quivering.

She's right.

He knows she is.

But he can't—

A growl hums low in his throat, that other part of him rising up from the pits of his soul at the beck of his dark thoughts. It's such a dog for his bad habits; starved of his evil thoughts, it takes what it can and pounces. He can feel it, inside of him, that part of him that he hates so much. Rin turns back to the candles, all melted wax and resembling more a puddle than an actual candle, and sharply turns away. He heads to the edge of the roof and leaps off it like Shura did but with no stops in-between.

He clears a sixty foot jump easy.

"Inhuman"

He vaults over a ten foot high fence, lands on his feet with an agility not normally seen, rushes across an empty lot with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Monster"

He reaches an ally, crouches and jumps nearly ten feet to land inside the fire escape. The climb up is too easy and he grabs the edge of the roof and swings himself over swiftly.

"Demon"

"…Ahh, I'm no good at this thinking stuff," he grimly tells himself and looks beyond the city towards the skyline. He thinks that he hates that the most, how it can look so peaceful and beautiful. It has a calm he can never bring, a beauty he can never have. He looks down at his hands, human-like with normal-sized fingernails. But the instant he unsheathes his sword, he can kiss them goodbye. Claws take their place, long and harmful. From the corner of his eye, he catches a flash of black, and when he looks he finds his tail is swinging to one side. He grabs it, winces a little because it feels weird and it kind of hurts if he grabs it too hard.

Yeah, there's the real sign of his heritage, his flames notwithstanding. His tail. It took some getting used to, having something actually connected to the top of his ass. Showering was awkward—the thing kept getting in the way and knocking over all the bottles on the edge of the tub. Once he even knocked his brothers special shampoo clear across the bathroom but he didn't break it, thankfully. Things would've gotten nasty pretty quickly if he had wasted his bro's girly shampoo on the floor.

A grin cracks his face at the thought but it fades, his shoulders slumping again.

He thinks that, although he saw it coming, he really was an idiot. What else did he expect? That they'd happily accept him despite being the son of Satan and things would go on their merry way? Was that it? Was that the delusion he'd let himself get wrapped up in? And after he promised himself not to get his hopes up ever again because people were mean and their hearts were ugly. People were cruel and their intentions filthy. They cheated and hated and hurt—he's seen it, their cruel laughter and their crueler actions.

Shooting pigeons into bricks.

Laughing at the good intentions of others.

But people can be kind, too, kind and beautiful and all the things those poets his brother knew of sang about. They were helpful and compassionate—like those girls in shoujo manga's, yeah, kind and sweet and pretty.

Like Shiemi.

But this isn't a shoujo manga, his smile drops once more, this wasn't perfect like that. He was writing this as he went along and he isn't doing a very good job, truth be told. It can never be perfect like a shoujo manga. Because if this was a shoujo manga, he'd have already made a move on Shiemi and they'd have gotten through this together, and right now he wouldn't be all alone on a roof of some random apartment building—feeling his chest heave, his heart becoming heavier and heavier with every thought like those demon boulder pieces of crap Shura made them carry as collective punishment; with his eyes stinging with the very wet tears that always assured him that he was also human.

He was human.

He was human, too, goddammit, so why couldn't anyone, anyone—?

His tail flicks into his vision again and he drops to a crouch, slapping a hand over his mouth. Oh, god, he's crying now, how dumb is that? So uncool, not like how his old man wanted him to grow up to be. He's back to being ten, back to watching his brother Yukio laugh with his classmates while he watches quietly from the sidelines, yearning for that type of contact. He wants it so bad, so bad no one can understand, because he's never had it before and it looks so great; so, so great. He wants it, needs it, but everything he touches turns to cinders and everything he reaches for turns to vapor.

"IT'S NOT FAIR! IT'S NOT MY FAULT! THEY WERE CALLING ME A MONSTER," he roars, sounding less human than he thinks. He's six and his teachers cower, holding their hands up as if to shield themselves; horrified. Cries fill his ears—he likes them, their cries, he revels in their cries of despair because he deserves it. He deserves it, they were being mean to him, it's not his fault. Not his fault, why can't no one see that, why are they helping them, those men kids? WHY? WHY AREN'T THEY HELPING HIM, HE'S IN MORE PAIN THAN THEM, HE FEELS LIKE HIS HEART'S GONNA' EXPLODE—

"IT'S THEIR FAULT," he screams, eyes slammed shut. His tears escape down his cheeks there, too, freely and heavily. "NOT MINE!"

Yeah, it's always been their fault. Always their damn fault, never his fault, and yeah it's true: he ain't good with this type of deep thinking stuff. This is more Yukio's forte. He's never been all that smart, not like Yukio, or that dedicated to his studies like Yukio. He's just not cut out to sit around in class, listening to some old hag or old fart drone on and on about something he doesn't give a shit about and frankly will never help him in the future. How does learning about the Edo period help him in any way?

History, he'd yawn, it's all in the past so why should it affect his future?

He clutches his chest, where his very human heart is. It beats strongly and it hurts just as strong. Yeah, why should the past affect his future? Why does it—why does the past, those memories, ancient history, hurt him so bad now? Rin sucks in a breath, roughly wiping away at his cheeks with his knuckles. They come away wet and he feels more tears slid down his cheeks. He thought he left that history behind years ago, isn't that what he told himself? Forget about it, he waved off, it's all been done and who cares?

Yeah, but that was before his dad dropped the bomb on him and before his brother froze up like that, like he doesn't care and he never will; a walking ice-cube who likes to act like he's some mature adult even though he's the same age as him, younger by a few hours.

Rin isn't that smart, he's never been and probably never will, but he feels. He feels so much it has become another form of intelligence. He likes to think of it that way, even if his brother makes fun of him for crying over some cliché shoujo manga or stupid dramas on TV. But it's because he feels and he can relate and he can understand so much it's ridiculous. Maybe because he's always been at the other end, outside looking in, and those feelings of hurt and pain just kept piling up, piling up, until they became all he could feel. So when he spots that pain in others, it resonates with him a little too personally.

And the world is so full of this misery.

It's everywhere.

He can never forget—it never lets him forget, this world.

"…damn stupid…"

Their rejection when they found out, it hurt. He found it, y'know? That kindness he'd been yearning for since he was a kid. He'd been all excited about finally being in that circle of friends Yukio was always surrounded with when they were children. He'd shot his hopes up above the clouds, to the heavens that he would never see. And look what happened: they came crashing back down with a little note that read haha try again, you brat! Here they were, his broken hopes, turning blue and becoming ashes, too. Because history, yeah, he finally understands that it's important because it molds who he is and shows what has happened and from it spurns the future and—

"Tch," Rin sneers and stands up, running his sleeve under his red and runny nose. "Whatever. History's important. I get it now. So…"

The reason their rejection hurt was because it reminds him of the rejection in his past—all those rejections, all that misery because everyone thought he was a demon. And guess what? As luck has it, he is a demon. And not just any kind of demon, no, he's the son of Satan, directly related to the worst demon of all. He's always had pretty good luck but this must be punishment for all that good fortune; all of it just coming down on him like a torrent of blue rain.

"Aghhhh!" Rin growls, scratching his head furiously. "S-so what, if they don't like me…I'll just have'ta make them like me again! Yeah, just…just try harder!" He looks up, red-rimmed eyes brightening at the prospect. Okay, so history is important and all, and even though he hurts because their rejection burns like his past, that doesn't mean all is lost. No, right? They liked him once, right? Once upon a time, they had thought he was fun and they actually liked him, but they're just scared of him now. Scared because he's the son of all things evil and, well, he can't really fix that but—

He can fix it a little, enough to gain that kindness back—and he'll start by learning to control his flames! Rin nods, invigorated by these new thoughts, and he rubs his face clean of any tell-tale sign of tears. Yes. That's it! If he can control his flames, that means he can control that part of him that growls quietly in the silent banks of his soul, and if he can control that vicious part of him then what's there to be afraid of, right? He nods, swallowing down his guilt and shame and hurt and pain and darkness.

He'll start with his flames then, his flames!

Then Suguro will stop looking at him with such disgust.

Konekomaru will stop flinching away from him.

Shima will stop laughing awkwardly, shuffling away from him.

Eyebrows, she'll stop rolling her eyes at him and—eh, she did that to everyone anyway. Well, maybe she'd see him as someone worthier of her time!

Shura will stop gazing at him with annoyance, like he's some hindrance she got stuck with and can't get rid of.

Yukio, he'll stop treating him like some fucking idiot—like he can't do anything on his own and he's a hazard. Maybe he'll even…even take back what he said, when he first started the cram school, about him just needing to die because he's…

And Shiemi! Shiemi will look at him again, laugh her tinkling laugh and her eyes will light up their pretty green at the sight of him. She'll trail behind him like usual, admire the world with those wide emerald eyes of her and tug on his arm to show him nothing new. But she'd instill new beauty into it, make him see it differently.

"AHAH! ALRIGHT THEN!" Rin grins, sniffling. He looked at his tail, the curl of black hair at the tip, and shoves it into his pants so no one could see it anymore. He wiggles his ass, grunting because it feels weird and he's never been fond of hiding his tail. He feels all repressed, like those times his old man bundled him up with too many jackets on a snowy day. Rin leaps down from the building mindlessly, rushing across the alley until he reaches that lot again—and he jumps over the fence, slides to a stop and darts to the roof top where he last left the candles.

When he arrives, he's surprised to see three more candles laid out along with a bento box.

He nearly drools—oh, rice balls and meat and MORE MEAT—and he grabs that first, peeling open the top and digging in before anything. He never realized just how starved he was until he took the first bite. Then his eyes catch sight of a note slipped underneath one of the candles and when he reaches for it, he spots Yukio's signature at the bottom.

Keep trying, brother, didn't you say you'd make me eat my words? By the way, I saved you some food. I figured you'd be hungry considering you did not come down for dinner. Good luck!

Yukio.

"Heh," Rin munches on a rice ball. "No 'love, Yukie' anymore, even though I'm your loveable big brother? Pfft!" He folds the note and slips it into his back pocket, finishing up his dinner and taking a deep, satisfied, breath. So he isn't that smart and getting all down in the dumps about all of this, their recoil because he's—

Rin clenches his jaw, staring at the three candles.

He has to try—try to regain that kindness he'd yearned for for so many years. He has to because if he doesn't, then he really will became that everyone fears. Or maybe not, maybe he'll just end it all. Yeah, that sounds better, he'd take his brothers advice and—

"Aghhh!" Rin growls, crossing his arms petulantly. His fingers clutch his shirt to stop their shaking. Calm down, calm down, calm down. He's not ten again: he's fifteen and practically grown up. Calm down. "I'm not good…at this thinking shit."

"Then quit thinking so much!" Shura's voice snaps from behind him. He jumps and swivels around, finding her standing at the edge of the roof with a slight smile on her face. She's back in her short shorts, the bra that barely covers her breasts, a hand set on her hip while her other one picks food from between her teeth. "Let's try this one more time before you tuck in for the night, eh?"

Rin nods, determinedly.

He looks back at the candles, concentrating, feeling that heat well up inside of him. He closes his eyes, imagines the wick of the candles. He just needs to ignite that part and…it's not igniting. He frowns and focuses harder but nothing happens. The hell? He tries harder and nothing happens. Oh, hell, all that thinking made him even worse! DAMMIT—!

Shura grins wryly, rubbing the back of her neck in fond exasperation as Rin screams in frustration and throws a fit of curses and growls because his flames burst out of control again.

"Well, that was a little better than usual," Shura says, interrupting his tantrum. Rin stops, staring at her with sparkling eyes.

"R-really? You really mean that?"

Shura chuckles. That kid, he could be real cute sometimes. "At least ya' got all the wicks lit this time!"

Rin blinks and looks back at the candles, finding them no worse for wear; not melted, not totally obliterated. Just lit, their strong flames flickering with the wind. Rin grins goofily, turning back to Shura and giving her a bright thumbs up.

"I'll get it right next time for sure!"

"Eh, don't go promising stuff like that, that was totally a fluke."

"EH? What're you talking about? That was intentional—I made it happen! Want me to show you again?!"

"Nah, I just wanna' go to sleep already!" Shura yawns and leaps off the roof, swinging down to the ground from the ledge a story down. Rin just leaps down, like the superhuman he is. Or more specifically, the loveable demon he is. Shura sighs and shoots him a bemused look. "Get in bed, will ya'? Y'know what time it is, you brat, way past any little boy like you is supposed to be awake!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Shura sticks her tongue out as they enter the dormitory. "Whatever you want it to mean, you big baby!"

"OI, TAKE THAT BACK YOU BIG-BOOBED AIRHEAD!"

"THE FUCK YOU CALL ME?!"

"I SAID—!" Rin chokes, hair standing on end as Yukio glares down at him with bags under his eyes. He's dressed in his usual sweatpants and baggy shirt…meaning he had just gotten up from bed, meaning he had probably been asleep. Rin instantly grins, laughing nervously. Waking up Yukio from his sleep was just asking for it. "U-uh, hey, Yukio…what's up?"

"Brother," Yukio begins, frigidly. "I am trying to sleep. It is past midnight, YOU IDIOT, WE HAVE SCHOOL TOMORROW!"

"Neh, neh, c'mon, chicken, calm down—!" Shura rolls her eyes when Yukio growls at her to quit calling him that, choking a squirming and cursing Rin in his headlock as he drags him back to their room.

And the candles on the roof, they flicker under the moonlight.

The middle one snuffs out.

A/N: My first Blue Exorcist fic, Rin-centered because that kid gives me chest pains. I hope I did his character justice! I'm still trying to get the hang of this entire manga and its characters—actually, just the Blue Exorcist universe in general. It's a little weird, since I've been with the Soul Eater fandom for such a long time.

The setting for this, in my mind, is mostly manga-versed however it's pretty close to the anime, too. Perhaps just one or two things that were taken from the manga but nothing noticeable. This fic is more me trying to get the feel for the characters so sorry if it's nothing new. But I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless!

Scarlett.