Author's Note: I've only seen the anime (9 dozen times) and have yet to read the manga (though I've researched a lot ;;) so I apologize if this is filled with utterly atrocious characterization. I did my best. Anyways I hope that you like this story and reviews are highly appreciated. ) Title is taken from a David Bowie lyric. Though not a song fic in any way, or even music inspired, the line seemed to fit.
The chemist's hands were soothing as they gently spread cool aloe over the burns the shadow master's skin had obtained from the serpent's flames. True, with their immortal healing ability the wounds would be nothing but a memory by morning, but that did nothing to dull the sharp pain that they brought him now.
No words had passed between them since Tatsumi had gone in to save Tsuzuki and Hisoka before Touda's flames could fully consume them. After the pair had been settled in and were assuredly safe and on the road to recovery in the infirmary, the two other shinigami had made their was silently to the sanctuary of Watari's lab. Sitting side by side on the scientist's cot, Watari had finally convinced Tatsumi to remove his shirt and allow him to put some aloe on the singed flesh.
Amber eyes studied the older of the two, whose own ice blue gaze was glazed, eye's fixed on some sight only clear in his mind. Though it might seem callous, or uncaring, the focus of the scientist's worry was not the two over in the infirmary, rather the silent man before him. Watari knew that Tatsumi was holding back all that he must surely be feeling in such a situation as this, and he also knew that the stubborn secretary would keep it all bottled up inside and never let anyone in to help or to love him as fully as possible. . . Tatsumi liked to blame the failure of his long and ago affair with Tsuzuki on the amethyst eyed man's overly emotional state, when really, in all likelihood, they were both equally to blame.
"You must have had ulcers out the wahzoo when you were alive," the blond broke the silence with a lightly murmured comment.
"Hmm?" Tatsumi's eyes regained that spark of life as they turned to the man at his side who was just applying the last of the cream.
"I asked," a slight sigh, "if you had ulcers in your living life."
"Not that I was ever aware of." The answer was matter-o-fact and precise. "Why?"
"Because if it weren't for the fact that you're dead, you'd make yourself sick with all of your emotional constipation!" No response had been expected and Watari was not surprised when he did not receive one from his. . .Lover seemed too strong a word, yet fuck buddy was far too vulgar and detached for whatever the unnamed tie between them was. . . From his fellow shinigami.
Careful not to touch the sore red tissue, the bespectacled scientist leaned his head against the older man's shoulder, golden tresses spilling over the exposed chest. "Seiichirou. . . Please, just for once don't keep it to yourself."
A void of silence lingered so long that it actually startled Watari to hear the soft words come from his partner, the vibration of speech rumbling against the ear pressed to Tatsumi's side.
"I. . . I don't know what to feel. . . Am I a horrible friend for saving Tsuzuki?. . . For hesitating?. . . For not just letting him die like he's wanted to for so long? Or. . ." The blond man knew what the unspoken words in shadow master's mind surely were, but he was almost shocked to hear the man actually admit to it. "Or for envying Kurosaki? In many ways. . ."
In a gesture of comfort the scientist reached between them to squeeze the troubled man's hand. The current situation was so incredibly awkward that it hurt and was embarrassing and uncomfortable. . . The strong emotions that they both knew ran between Tsuzuki and Hisoka, a life line of love an compassion, and the feelings that once connected Tatsumi and Tsuzuki. . .
Would anything so deep and so pure ever exist between them? Would either of them run into certain death to save the other if ever presented with the situation. No. . .Tatsumi would neither die nor live exclusively for Watari, and neither would Watari do the same for him, if such a predicament were ever to arise. . . But the thought of loving someone so much. . . It seemed so unreal, yet so desirable.
The feeling of fingers deinterlacing his his own drew the blond out of his thoughts as the secretary's own hand was brought up to his eyes, wiping away tears that had begun to fall silently. Momentarily the blond wondered if he should leave and give the older man some privacy in his vulnerable state, then pushed the urge to run away aside. It was a gift of trust, and some level of affection, to show a weak and emotional side to the scientist, and Watari knew that he had to handle it gracefully if he wished to ever see such a side again.
"It's okay. It's not your fault. . . Don't worry." Were the softly whispered words that spilled from the blond's lips.
Bringing his hands up, he lifted the other man's glasses away and set them aside on the cot, before pulling Tatsumi's face down to his chest so that he could cradle the man's head. Softly stroking the other man's hair, he rocked back and forth ever so slightly, it was the best attempt to console that Watari could manage. For his part Tatsumi tightly drew damaged arms around the smaller man's midsection as he stifled his long repressed sobs in the soft material of Watari's turtle-neck.
Though no empath himself, nor an overly emotional person by nature, the chemist felt the urge to be a sympathy crier for all of the pain that he was sure Tatsumi must be suffering right now. . . Watari had caught himself feeling animosity towards Tsuzuki every once in a while for the selfish and thoughtless way in which he just cast the good thing in front of him aside. . . But then again, he had to rationalize to himself, if Tsuzuki returned the shadow master's feelings then he would have never have found his way into the chemist's arms, and in that respect Watari was very grateful for the rejection. . .
"I'm sorry," he whispered softly against the older man's ear, as a warm drop of saline slid liquidly down his own face. "I wish that I could love you like that, because you deserve it."
Pulling away Tatsumi's wide, startled and reddened eyes met Watari's sad, and likewise tear filled, amber orbs. A sad smile graced the blonde's face as he cupped the secretary's smooth cheek lightly.
Forever was a very long time to be alone, and even the most solitary of people eventually grew lonely. The pain of it all would eat away at your heart until you became numb and dead inside with it all. . . Tsuzuki now had Hisoka to fill that consuming emptiness, and in the process had robbed Tatsumi.
Finally returning an equally apologetic inclination of lips, the older man reached over to stroke the younger shinigami's face, wiping a tear away with his thumb. "It's alright. . . You make it bearable." Gently the two embraced again, and brought their mouths together in a chaste yet bittersweet kiss, the taste of liquid salt from their mutual crying tainting the creases of each or their lips.
It wasn't I live for you or please live for me, but for the time being it was enough. And though they were no where near the connection of the two down the hall sleeping soundly in the infirmary, they weren't impossibly far behind either. . . And there was always forever to catch up.