Moving
21st October 2005
Soubi likes watching people and things, and he loves watching Ritsuka best, because Ritsuka makes an interesting study. Watching the stillness of certain objects is interesting – stilled movements of cats on the hunt, or photographs, silent, patient frames of captured memories – but Soubi likes looking at the sharply fluttering movements of anxious butterflies, and in that same way he likes observing Ritsuka.
The younger boy is always in movement, whether consciously or not, and they tell Soubi a great deal more about what Ritsuka thinks, in comparison to what he actually says. He may not have wings, like butterflies, but Ritsuka certainly has ears and a tail, and they would give him away even if he stayed mute and kept his face absolutely poker (which he can't). Soubi naturally draws the comparison to Beloved – Seimei always kept his face expressive, open, but Seimei never gave away anything that he didn't intend to. Beloved was an intensely private person, and it bothered Soubi, that for his skill at observation, Beloved was the one person he was never able to read.
Soubi reads people; his new Sacrifice reads books. Soubi always tells Ritsuka that he's not intellectual, whether the smaller boy presses him to read Nietzsche, or Kant or Freud, all those philosophers of the mind. It's not just that, though. It's also because Soubi believes that people can't be studied out of a book like that. People are meant for reading, their incomplete half-control over their bodies giving them away left and right. And Ritsuka is an open book to him, unlike his older brother. Soubi wonders whether he should teach Ritsuka this, but eventually decides against it.
Because it is a selfish wish, but Soubi would love for Ritsuka to stay oblivious, lest Soubi himself lose the pleasure of seeing him like this, open and innocent and unguarded, looking out the window and swaying softly with the motion of the bus, small and fragile like a candle in the wind. He smirks to himself, then reaches out a hand and lays it gently on Ritsuka's shoulder. Ritsuka jumps, cat ears leaping in surprise (there would be no catching him unawares, either, if Soubi showed him the truths of body language. It was an impossibility to catch Seimei off guard) before returning to that half-perked, half-rest that says 'Yes?' before he even opens his mouth to utter the word. And Ritsuka's eyes have always been warmly expressive, impatience dancing in them like faint stars as he waits for Soubi's answer.
Beloved was never impatient, the unbidden thought comes to Soubi's mind, and he hates himself, hates himself for having to compare Ritsuka to Seimei at every available opportunity, the shadow of Beloved hanging between the two of them for always. But on the other hand... Soubi rather finds that he likes this facet of Loveless's personality. It helps that Soubi sees a different person in Ritsuka altogether, not the complete opposite of Seimei but someone all on his own, so that the reminders do not hurt as they would have otherwise.
Smiling gently, he says nothing, only moving his hand from the shoulder upwards, brushing the back of his hand over the soft skin of Ritsuka's neck and cheek before setting his fingers on the delicate tip of one ear, playing with the silky black fur, his fingers venturing inside to touch the warmth of the velvet skin of the inner ear. The ear twitches against his palm, the ticklish sensation sending a chuckle through Soubi's throat. 'Nothing,' he finally answers, and Ritsuka's pretty lips draw back into a faint frown as the younger boy turns away form him, going back to glaring out the window at the passing winter scenery.
Soubi lets him. Sometimes it isn't wise to push Ritsuka, it isn't safe to try and get too close. It'll only drive Ritsuka to run further and further away, because Ritsuka is like a fluttery bird, maintaining the appropriate flight distance from everyone until coaxed closer, softly, slowly, gently. And so, Soubi presses gentle fingers to his scalp, rubbing around the ears and luxuriating in the sensation of black hair and black fur, mingling and sliding over his skin. Ritsuka's tail is twitching, swaying back and forth lightly, a dead giveaway that he likes it, even though he's still resolutely looking away from Soubi.
'I wish you'd stop that,' Ritsuka mutters, turning to Soubi with a glare in his eyes, but his ears are quivering, brushing against Soubi's hands in light, tense flicks, so Soubi does not stop. 'You don't like it?' Soubi asks, increasing the pressure, massaging with the tips of his fingers, pressing softly against the scalp.
The involuntary purr that escapes from Ritsuka is all the answer that he needs, but the younger boy's tail begins to swish faster: he wishes he could take it back. He knows Soubi picked up on it, so he snarls a quick 'No!' and knocks Soubi away hurriedly. Soubi settles back against the seat and smiles again, cryptically. 'As Ritsuka wishes, then.'
The small Sacrifice makes a 'hmph'ing noise, leaning back, his hand next to Soubi's on the seat. Soubi would love to take that hand, small and delicate with the veins showing beneath the pale skin, but he knows Ritsuka would just pull away, so instead he does nothing and just waits. And true to form that soft, long tail sneaks across to Soubi, brushing against his arm in shy slow strokes before twining around his wrist, coiling twice and then stilling, a warm weight against his wrist.
Soubi stole a glance at Ritsuka and suppressed a chuckle. The younger boy was still looking away from him, clueless as to what he had just done, the unconscious movements of that slender, lithe body betraying the truth of his emotions to the world.
Lies and angry words didn't matter, did they? There was a lot to be said for this kind of communication, after all.