In this part of the story I am the one who
Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,
Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood.
Pablo Neruda
During one of his many strange phases, Totsuka had taken up painting as a hobby. He wasn't any good at it, of course, but he'd attacked the activity with vigor. "If you mix red and blue, you get a lovely shade of violet!" the blonde had explained to him, enthusiastically mixing two buckets of paint together until they resembled a murky shade of purple.
Totsuka was wrong, Suoh thinks as he stands rooted to the ground. Snowflakes swirl around him but he feels no cold, wouldn't be able to even if he tried. The flakes sizzle as they hit his aura. Slowly, the delicate designs hiss and melt into vapor, fading to nothing. Reisi had tried to show him the snow once. It was a Christmas long past, many years before the whole mess with the king business had started, a distant memory tucked into a time when they were both young and fairly unscathed. Suoh remembers it vividly now-the bright blue of Reisi's hair, his lashes fluttering as flakes descended upon his face. It's not the snow that stands out to Suoh in the memory. No, it's the portrait of Reisi when he didn't seem to bear the weight of the world of his shoulders. His hair was such a vivid color, standing in stark contrast against the immaculate landscape, dyed in a blue so deep Suoh imagines he could drown in it.
Those blue strands are now dyed red. Totsuka was wrong, Suoh thinks, the thought distantly processing in some numb corner of his mind. Blue and red don't make violet. The two colors combined don't even make purple. All blue and red mix together to create is death, cold and looming and endless, stretching across Shizume City and sinking its claws into the earth. Bright bouquets of crimson have sunk into the frozen ground, droplets of blood scattered like rose petals. The remains of SCEPTRE 4 lie in ruins, the very portrait of destruction. Reisi would have thrown a fit if he could have seen the state of his precious headquarters.
But Reisi won't be able to nag him ever again. Suoh will never hear those words of admonishment ever again, those constant reminders to take care of himself, make sure you eat properly, and won't you close the door, Suoh, it's cold.
No, Reisi is gone, gone, gone. With him, a piece of Suoh has gone as well.
Reisi is slumped against a corroded wall, blood flowing from his abdomen and pooling down into the snow. His skin is so pale. Reisi has always been pale, a subject that Suoh never failed to tease him about, but never before has his skin been as white as the snow falling on him. He stirs slightly, a barely perceptible action. Suoh's heart races with hope.
The redhead runs towards the Blue King. His fire sings with hope-a desperate wish for his grim prediction to be wrong, for Reisi to survive. Suoh gathers Reisi in his arms, cradling the man against his chest. Reisi is cold to the touch, his lips tinged a pale blue. The Blue King looks so faded in his weakened state. Never before has Suoh seen him so completely and utterly defenseless. His heart clenches at the sight.
"Suoh," Reisi breathes out. The word is faint, far too quiet for the devastation around them. His eyes barely slip open. Reisi glances up at Suoh through lidded eyes, struggling to focus his vision on the Red King.
Suoh clutches Reisi tighter. His heartbeat flutters irregularly, slow, dull thumps as the muscle strains to deliver blood to his ashen skin. Don't die, Suoh wants to say. He isn't the type for sentimental words, has always believed that actions speak louder than words, but there's so much left to say and so little time to say all that needs to be said. Every passing second cuts deeper into Reisi. The man is barely clinging on to life at this point. If only Suoh had come sooner, if only he had noticed the two Swords of Damocles hanging in the air, if only he hadn't had that fight with Reisi. He wants to beg the Blue King not to go. He doesn't know what he will do when the sole chain restraining him has dissolved. Suoh loves HOMRA, sure, loves them like a family, but Reisi is his anchor. Reisi is the water to his fire, the cool winter breeze to extinguish his raging inferno. What a shame that Suoh has only realized this now. "You never struck me as the type to go out this way, Munakata," is what he says instead. He wants to punch himself in the face. Reisi has always accused him of sticking his foot in his mouth, but now is the worst of times to prove his lover true.
A strained breath forces its way through Reisi's lips.
"Kiss...me...Suoh."
The Red King gives in for once, not bothering to subvert Reisi. What's the point when he won't provoke a reaction? What's the point when he won't be able to hear the Blue King's huff of annoyance, when he won't be able to irritate him to the point where he finally turns away from endless amounts of paperwork, when he won't be able to push the latter down into the bed and press kisses down his spine? He's losing a rival, a lover, an equal, and there is nothing that Suoh can do to stop it. He may be a king, but even kings are mortal. At the end of the day, all men must die. Suoh is powerless to stop it.
So he kisses Reisi, attacks the Blue King's lips with a desperate hunger. If he could, he would swallow Reisi whole, capture his soul and keep it tucked safe in a corner of his chest. Reisi's too weak to return the kiss. Suoh swipes his tongue across Reisi's lips-they're as cold as the snow covered ground-and plunges it into his mouth. He tries to push air into Reisi's lungs. Suoh would kiss him forever, if only to delay the inevitable.
But nothing last forever. Suoh eventually has to break the kiss to come up for air. He leans his forehead against Reisi's, puffs of breath fogging up between them. His eyes fall upon the crimson stain dying the Blue King's coat. An anger stirs up within him, the raging inferno pounding in his ears, an animalistic desire to destroy the one who dared hurt his beloved. "Who did this to you, Reisi?"
Reisi stares up at him, face as composed as ever, and doesn't answer. His lips quirk up into a small smile. I'm sorry, Reisi's eyes say. I'm sorry, don't worry, I wish it didn't have to end this way. Please take care of my clan. Take care of yourself, Suoh. These unspoken messages pass across their gaze. Suoh understands, even though Reisi hasn't uttered a word. So when Reisi finally opens his mouth, Suoh is surprised by the message. "Don't do...anything...stupid...Suoh."
Reisi's chest stills. His last exhale hangs between them, the fog slowly disappearing along with the shreds of Suoh's past life. Reisi's hand falls limp, crashing down to the earth with a dull thud.
The Blue King is dead.
Munakata Reisi is dead.
The only man Suoh Mikoto has ever truly loved -
is dead.
The fire spills out of the Red King, flames hungrily licking at the icy ground. A raging inferno scorches the earth - burning, burning, burning. There is destruction in the air and Suoh seeks it out. He wants to tear it all apart, wants to rip down the buildings and crash down with the weight of his grief, wants to paint the land red. He will find the murderer, he vows. He will track down Reisi's murderer, and when he finds the one who killed his lover, he will take his revenge with fire and blood.
HOMRA comes across him later, standing in the middle of the flames, their shadows flickering across his face. The Red King cradles the late Blue King in his arms. Kusanagi waits until the flames die down, unable to pass through the fiery boundary, then goes to his king and coaxes him into letting go of the body.
If you've managed to make it through the story, thank you so much! I apologize for how rough, unedited, and ooc this fic probably is - I wrote it a year ago, before I actually watched K Project.