a/n: well, it's certainly been awhile. anyway, going through my collection of works, I found this little piece—enjoy. also cross-posted over at ao3 under the title 'dance with the enemy, i've got a remedy' and 'god complexes & insecurities' over at the writing blog.
+standard disclaimer.
this coming storm won't have a calm
(you're not one of them, dammit, your kind didn't die, shut up. / a character study on fushimi saruhiko)
There is a sudden feeling of camaraderie, and it's a biting, gnawing, real feeling bubbling up from the bottom of his stomach. A feeling he doesn't quite understand, but one he can't deny is there. Looking at Homra and their chanting and their tears and the light is strange (but thank the gods that damn mark is gone… right?). But the sight makes him feel the need to run down—join them (you're not one of them, dammit, your king didn't die, shut up).
It makes him sick.
.
.
.
The silence that engulfs Scepter4 is suffocating. They shouldn't be mourning. (It's… wrong. After all those years, all the fights and… no. They shouldn't be mourning.) They have no right. They didn't share memories with the Red Clan—they didn't laugh with the Red Clan; they didn't betray the Red Clan. They have no need to mourn for the Reds, because they were never a part of them. Not in the least. So no, they shouldn't be mourning. Not in his eyes, anyway.
Munakata might've been friends with Suoh and Awashima is (was? Saruhiko doesn't know anymore) close to Kusanagi, but there are some things that even they wouldn't know—there will always be things they'd never know. Secrets reserved for members of Homra. Little bits of information like the tenderness between Suoh and Kusanagi when they were alone, or the reasons behind Chitose's womanizing habits. What they don't (and will never) understand are the things that bonds the band of misfits together. That's something that Saruhiko doesn't think they are capable of understanding, because in Scepter4, there aren't bonds, just a drive for the same cause—justice (what the fuck is that anyway, Saruhiko thinks).
.
.
.
Saruhiko knows that some of his clansmen are wondering what they will do when Munakata dies. He wants to laugh, because he knows some of them are thinking that they'd die with him, because they love their king. They think they love their king the same way (more, even—the thought makes him sick) Homra loved—no, loves (present tense, because they'll always love him) Suoh Mikoto. They're wrong, of course, because no one can love a person as much as Anna loves Mikoto. And anyway, it's truly impossible for anyone to love someone as much as Homra loves Suoh, at least for the Blue Clan.
The Blue Clan is not a family, after all.
(Saruhiko is okay with that.)
.
.
.
Awashima flat out says she'd die with Munakata, and Saruhiko almost decks her on the spot. (Bitch, Homra didn't drop dead when Suoh died, who the fuck do you think you are, he wants to tell her.)
But he doesn't deck her because there are witnesses, and he doesn't want to deal with Munakata. So instead he trembles in disgust because they act like they love their king more than Homra, and they're so fucking wrong it hurts. He wants to scream about how they didn't blow up an entire hospital to save Anna, they didn't have their most cherished member murdered, they didn't have their fucking king killed. In fact, they're sheltered in comparison to other clans.
(Most of all, they don't know anything about Homra.)
Someone comments on his trembling and he glares at them so hard he's pretty sure he makes someone piss their pants. They continue their conversation nonetheless and Saruhiko snaps.
"None of you know jack shit," he grunts and walks away—he's going to do paperwork, for once.
He doesn't miss the hurt that flashes in Awashima's eyes. It makes him feel alive.
("You can mourn, you know," she says, later. But no, he can't. He lost that right when he left them. So he tells her to shut the fuck up and mind her own goddamn business. He secretly relishes the memory of when tears gather in her eyes. He's alive, so, so fucking alive.)
.
.
.
He runs into Misaki a few days later.
"Hey, Monkey," the ginger says roughly, angrily (Saruhiko can hear the pain, though). He doesn't look right. His beanie and skateboard are missing. His hair is disheveled and there are bags under his eyes. His clothes clearly haven't been washed, but what really tells Saruhiko that Misaki isn't okay is his general presence. He looks so, so small. (Saruhiko is a little unsettled by this.) "Kusanagi-san told me to tell you we're um, holding a… you know, a…"
Saruhiko knows the boy can't get the words out—it hurts too much. It hurts him too, because even after everything he's done to them, they're forgiving him, welcoming him back. He doesn't deserve this; and really, he doesn't want the invitation, either. But it's also a final goodbye of sorts. If he goes, he's letting go of the past. No more restraints. Just… freedom. (Cutting out Homra for good, in layman's terms.)
"A memorial."
The words don't seem right. Then again, Suoh Mikoto should not be dead. And Fushimi Saruhiko really shouldn't be having this conversation, but he asks anyway.
"Why am I invited?" he asks quizzically, because seriously, this doesn't make any sense. They shouldn't be forgiving him.
"You're part of Homra," the vanguard replies as though that's enough. He says it with a quiver in his voice, like he needs reassurance of it himself. It's childish, really, because Misaki knows more than anyone that Saruhiko doesn't want a damn thing to do with Homra.
"Don't kid yourself, Mi-sa-ki. I'm not part of a bunch of street punks."
He almost winces as he says it. Misaki does, though, and glares at the taller boy.
"You know what? Fuck you," Misaki spits, and Saruhiko doesn't know what to feel. "And don't use my fucking first name, traitor."
(Later, he'll decide being hated is what keeps him sane—what keeps him alive.)
.
.
.
Fushimi Saruhiko is alone, and torn, and he's the first to admit it.
There are two sides to him that shouldn't be near each other (no, they shouldn't exist), the side that belongs to Homra—the younger him, his past—and the side that belongs to Scepter4—the current him, his present. Saruhiko is lost and alone when he realizes there is no one in Homra who will be able to understand him (not anymore), and there is no one in Scepter4 who will be able to understand him (there never was). He's alone, so alone and maybe, just maybe, he doesn't actually want to be reached. He's numb. (And honestly, he doesn't want help.)
Soon, the others realize this, and stop trying to reach him. He knows he's crushed Awashima and Misaki and everyone that's ever cared about him. But in knowing that, he is more alive now than ever before. (It's disgusting and sickening and he feels fucking fabulous.)
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.
(In the very end, he thinks that the world is better off without him, anyway.)