Title: Prince
Author: Mellodramattic
Pairings: hinted Jasmine/Yuki; friendship Kamijo/Hizaki.
Warnings: Angst, some tragedy.
Summary: (Jealousy -- the Prince was superior; Kamijo was alone.)
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Kamijo, Hizaki, Jasmine You, Teru, Yuki, or Versailles-Philharmonic Quintet-. I merely write drabbles; this one is for the fifteenth birthday of my soulmate, Hannah N. Johnson.
PRINCE
by Mellodramattic
Stupid man.
It was the hospital, and they were in France, and Kamijo didn't know how to drive; it was near the Louvre, Kamijo laughed wildly to himself in disbelief, and tried to put the damn car in reverse. Fucking stick shift--
Kamijo had received a beautiful car on his eighteenth birthday, a fabulous black automatic Porsche, and he treasured it beyond this absolute piece of shit dear Jasmine, lover of vehicles, had loaned him. (Never mind that Kamijo had quietly wrecked it not long after; he had always been a terrible driver.)
Jasmine -- he sobbed. Always lecturing Kamijo for being a reckless fool, an inevitable massacre, and yet he himself now lovingly crumpled his BMW and his bones. Physician, heal thyself. Your waiting room overflows.
Kamijo, screamed his roses. Yuuji, shouted his friends. Dear Princess, sang his phone, and when he picked it up, Hizaki calmly told him to take a taxicab.
"Of course," agreed Kamijo's bodiless voice. "What did you think I was doing?" (Silence -- the Prince was always dependable.)
----
"Kamijo?"
He clutched his pale face in his feminine hands, rocking back and forth as he remembered dead fingers, mangled feet, broken eyes. He pictured the small bloody thing in a trash bag, still shuddering, and he thought of its ancestors -- a bloody bundle flushed down a toilet; wrapped in lace. His history of the other side.
"Kamijo!"
He saw Hizaki, but he didn't; Kamijo closed his eyes and refused to look. An invite to immortality -- stupid, foolish man, he'd let this happen again? Imbecile.
It was his fault, and yet he blamed her; cockroach. They desired his money, his fame, his body, and when he gave them himself, they laugh and destroy him from the inside. Second fear, another descendant; third fury, another destruction. He was an idol.
"Kamijo! Are you alright?"
"I think I'm done with women," Kamijo admitted with a bitter laugh. "Or, at least -- they certainly seem to be done with me."
Hizaki laughed and didn't understand. (Kamijo didn't mind -- the Prince was indestructible.)
----
He sat quietly as the hospital president ranted at him, ranted and raved and Kamijo sat and quietly considered the cracks in the floor.
"I apologize sincerely," said the Prince, and excused the silly behavior as simple immaturity -- his silly, irresponsible boys -- and it would never happen again. When the president shook Kamijo's hand, he squeezed with a dark smile; the Prince said nothing.
The Prince sat quietly in the vomit-colored waiting room, calmly watching over his roses: Hizaki, Teru. Sullen Yuki was thereafter banned from this hospital of hell; already dead, unrevivable. The rock lacked its Jasmine bass.
Kamijo said nothing, and quietly hooked Jasmine back up to his I.V., and Jasmine smiled and waved off Yuki's verdict as his own silly whim; Kamijo admired his loyalty.
(Jealousy -- the Prince was superior; Kamijo was alone.)
----
The Prince was dependable, responsible, intelligent, indestructible. The Prince was above and beyond human emotions. The Prince never lost his temper, never bore tears, never made a silly mistake at the expense of him, or of others. The Prince was their leader.
The Prince was Kamijo.
Kamijo wasn't the Prince.