Disclaimer: Do I really have to? You know the drill.

Pairings: Lea/Isa

Before we get to the actual fic, I would like to get this out of the way: This is NOT an Axel/Saix fic. This story will not be about Axel or Saix, although I promise that they do turn up for a bit at the end. I should probably say that I will be taking some liberties with Lea and Isa's characters. While I was developing them, I tried to deliberately make sure they weren't just clones of Axel or Saix—I did however try to develop them into people who could've sparked their birth.


Lea pulls a smile to the corners of his mouth, and Isa watches as the small, black triangles on his cheeks rise along with it.

Isa is not happy.

"You got a tattoo?" he says with all the quiet intensity of an expanding balloon about to burst.

"Tattoos. Like 'em?"

"No."

There are no adjectives, no adverbs in Isa's response—it is short and honest, which is exactly the way Lea prefers Isa. He stretches his honesty over as few words as possible, keeps it full and intact. If he doesn't feel like telling the truth, he keeps his mouth shut.

Lea's smile only broadens and reveals teeth; Isa's composure twitches slightly as he watches the marks almost touch Lea's eyes.

"I figured you wouldn't," Lea says easily.

"What on earth possessed you to do this?"

Lea gives him a discerning look, "Do you believe in life after this one?"

"You're not answering the question."

Lea laughs, as if Isa has just stated the entire point of this conversation.

"Hold on, I'm getting there."

There is something softer about Lea now, something more earthy and serious about his stature, as if he is about to say something that is as equally romantic as it is ridiculous.

"What if…" he pauses, trying to find the right words, "What if there is a life after this one? What if we've already lived a hundred lives before this one?"

Isa shrugs easily, "I wouldn't know the difference."

"Exactly!" Lea throws his hands up and Isa—who normally isn't fazed by anything—is surprised to find his eyes widening slightly, his eyebrows perking upward at the sight of Lea's intensity.

Lea's words have a strange sort of gravity to them, and Isa is suddenly aware that this is much more than just idle philosophical conversation.

"I just…I want…I don't want who I am now to…" Lea clutches at his chest, as if gripping at the threads in the scarf around his neck will somehow tighten his grip on the threads of his current thought.

Isa observes this scene for a moment. Lea is the exact image of longing—he is a picture of lines that frame the very essence of fear. Isa takes in everything; every curve that captures this boy's fear of disappearing from existence; every angle that denotes his longing for significance, his need for something that marks his life amongst the other thousands he must share this existence with.

Isa watches as Lea silently struggles to explain himself, but he already understands.

As honest as ever, he says, "Well. That's stupid."

And suddenly every line has sharpened its focus, the fear twice as apparent. The hurt sets in and weaves itself into the curve of his spine, wraps itself around the white angles of his clenched knuckles.

Isa doesn't stop, "You should've thought this through better."

"…They're…they're just tattoos…"

But no, they aren't because Isa suddenly finds himself very angry, finds a hand making its way to Lea's face. He has the most inexplicable need to make the marks disappear, to cover them up from his sight—and so he does.

His hold on Lea's cheek is steady, and he smoothly brushes his thumb over a single mark, watches as the other boy's breath hitches and then stops completely.

"You need something," it is all Lea can to do to not look away as Isa draws closer, "that goes deeper than mere skin."

A sound traps itself in Lea's throat as Isa covers the second mark with his lips.

"…Isa?"

"To be honest, I'm also a little jealous."

Lea's mind is hazy, and he has trouble hearing the words buzzing against his skin.

"J-jealous?" he tries to laugh easily, but it comes out forced.

"I'm not sure, exactly," Isa pulls back a few inches to gaze at the mark, "I guess I just don't like anything marking you that isn't me."

Isa then spends the next few minutes or so repeatedly trying to kiss the marks off of Lea's face.

Lea doesn't stop him.


"Do you think my mom knows about us?"

Lea looks across at Isa, who is currently busying himself with a game of footsy under the bed covers.

"Hmm…she's a pretty smart woman. Although I doubt she'd let me sleep over if that was the case. Does it matter?"

Lea tries to not let himself get distracted as Isa entertains himself with the fabric of his night shirt.

"What if she walks in on us? Maybe we shouldn't be in the same bed…you can have the top bunk if you want."

"That's Reno's old bunk, right? Sorry, but I'd rather sleep in your bed."

As if to make his point, Isa wraps an arm around Lea's waist. Lea bites down the urge to point out that his bunk is the top bunk, and has been ever since his brother moved out, but it seems Isa is bent on sharing a bed with him, and the top bunk isn't safe enough for two people.

"But, if she sees us…"

"It's pretty late. She's already asleep. You should get to sleep too—you get cranky during the day when you stay up late."

Lea pouts, "I'll fall asleep when you do."

Even as he says this though, there is a slight hesitance in his voice. Isa takes forever to fall asleep—he's always been more of a night person. More likely than not, Lea will fall asleep long before Isa does.

Lea looks Isa square in the eye, determined, and Isa smiles softly. They remain like this for awhile, looking at each other in comfortable silence before Lea has to make conversation.

"…Isa?"

Lea waits for a sign to continue—Isa doesn't utter a single word, doesn't even seem to move, but there is something in the way Isa looks across the space between them that urges him to continue.

"Promise me you won't change."

It is not a question.

Isa looks at Lea and feels the weight of the boy's words settling within him. They are heavy, insistent, almost physical, like a vice gripped around his heart. He looks at Lea and suddenly realizes that their roles have reversed.

Isa is scared, and because honesty has always been his policy, he knows that Lea can see it in his eyes, because Isa is too authentic, too candid to look away.

Isa doesn't want to make this promise.

One glance into Lea's perceptive gaze and Isa's heart beats painfully hard and then contracts, feels unbearably small. He knows the reason is because it would completely break him if he ever broke a promise to this person, and despite Isa's best intentions, he isn't sure this is a promise he can keep.

He can feel it perched within him, something desperately wanting to burst out of him—something that makes his heart ache against its ribcage prison.

Lea knows it—he remembers, because with Isa honesty and full disclosure are two entirely different things—if Isa doesn't feel like telling the truth, he keeps his mouth shut.

Isa breathes in slowly. They have not lost eye contact, not once, but Isa breaks it now in order to place a kiss on Lea's eyes. Lea's lids flutter closed just before he connects, and he almost wishes that Isa would say something that would hurt a lot worse later on, if only it meant he didn't have to hurt right now.

But only almost.