Lying on his back, Ritsuka laid on his bed staring at the ceiling, his room was dark and lit only by the flashes of light darting in between the gaps of the billowing curtains by the window. He hadn't been able to sleep since Seimei's return.
"I've been lied to again" he thought, "but can I really blame Seimei? Maybe he had a good reason, but leaving me with Mother like that… Father never protected me. If "Ritsuka" returned would he have forgiven Seimei? I don't know what to think anymore, I don't understand all this, and Soubi doesn't tell me anything, damn Soubi"
Blonde streaks flickered amongst the white curtains and cast dark shadows across the room and Ritsuka, "Soubi?…"
"Good afternoon Ritsuka", the tall man strolled in, his long, pale hair flapping behind him as he moved over and sat at the foot of Ritsuka's bed. A small smirk spreading across his face as he looked down at the small boy, still glancing up at the ceiling as if he wasn't there, it was something he was starting to get used to.
"You look troubled tonight Ritsuka. What's the matter?"
His ears twitching slightly he flashed a quick look down at the man sitting by his feet, reeking of stale cigarettes and musty dew from his coat, he'd obviously been caught in the rain again. He knew he could gain no truths from Soubi, in the end, despite what he might say, he still belonged to Seimei, what happened in Gora proved that, not that Ritsuka blamed Soubi. He once again looked away, and back at the ceiling, not acknowledging the older man.
The ghostly figure seemed almost intuitive to Ritsuka's thoughts. Instantly, the smirk was lost from its face, slowly tilting forward as Soubi lowered his head, his hair falling downing in front of him, hiding his expression as he muttered:
"No"
They sat still together in the darkness, neither moving nor speaking. The both of them recalling the events of that night.
"No"
Finally catching his attention, Ritsuka sat up. He knew how torn Soubi was between himself and Seimei. To an extent, Ritsuka felt the same. Both had betrayed him but both had also looked after him. It was rare that Ritsuka was the one who had to look after Soubi, it wasn't often that he needed any sort of consoling, he always seemed too distant to care.
Moving to his knees, Ritsuka shuffled over to Soubi and knelt beside him on the bed. Raising his hand as of he was unsure of what he was doing himself, he pushed the golden hair back and behind his companions ear, revealing his face, staring into space in thought.
"Soubi... Soubi, you weren't to blame. I don't really understand what happened that night, why Seimei was like that… why he did that… but it's not your fault. I love Seimei, I don't hate you for helping him."
Ritsuka sighed and lowered his head to Soubi's. He didn't know what to say anymore. He didn't know if there was anything he could say to help Soubi. He forgave him, but he knew that the figure next to him would not forgive himself. All the same, Ritsuka knew that even if he ordered him, it would still be bothering him, he just wouldn't show it.
It occurred to Ritsuka that it was so much easier to forgive Soubi then it was to forgive Seimei. Time and again, Soubi had gone behind his back, lied to him, kept so many secrets, but it never seemed to matter for long, he was always forgiven, and he kept coming back to hold Ritsuka's hand.
Still kneeling beside the man sitting at the end of his bed, he leaned forward, placing his forehead on Soubi's shoulder and put his arms around his torso. The tall gentleman turned and placed his face against Ritsuka's. He couldn't shake the guilt from his betrayal. More than anything the small child he held so dear relied on him for protection, but with Seimei's return… Seimei's wonderful homecoming, he didn't know whether he could.
Returning the gesture, Soubi turned and held the boy, putting his long arms around his waste. Slowly moving backwards, Soubi laid down and placed Ritsuka strewn across his chest. Both of the males closed their eyes, although neither slept, both of them kept awake by the things separating them. They moved their arms together, hands connected and intertwined, but only by fingertips, constantly moving around each others, never fully together, always just apart.