A/N: Written as a Rare Pair Fest 2017 exchange gift for pyrrhical (anoyo).
Not tonight.
Disappointment welled up in Kamui's chest and pooled out to his limbs, head, entire being. He slumped in his chair and glowered at the clock on his desk. 10:13 pm, the clock mockingly blinked back at him in bloodshot red.
Subaru had not promised he would visit for tutoring lessons that night. In fact, he had visited a few days ago, but Kamui never thought that was enough. At least Subaru avoided all forms of sugarcoated promises, especially in Kamui's case. That was something Kamui could believe in. But he hoped, desperately craved, Subaru's attention when he was the most vulnerable working on homework he didn't have the slightest inkling about how to finish.
Homework was so mundane compared to everything else, but the implications of comfort were far more powerful.
At this rate, Subaru would slink in after midnight and leave a few comments and take off without a word. It happened sometimes when Subaru had dropped into another pit of despair he couldn't pull himself back out of, the same hole in the Earth that threatened to swallow them all whole.
Kamui flipped the pencil between his fingers. He bit his lip, eyes blurry. Staring at the same textbook questions for an hour never had good results, but he pushed himself, only motivated by the thought Subaru would see his potential.
(x)
Eagerly, Kamui propped his elbows on the gazebo table. He had worked extra on this assignment. Days early! Falling behind in class had been a problem for him these past few months, but now he was in a groove that couldn't be beat. Subaru had looked a little less stressed lately because of his efforts—even cracked the semblance of a smile at his enthusiasm—when he pushed ahead of the game. Kamui was in loath to contribute to Subaru's sadness. Giving him a distraction was all he could do.
Subaru noncommittedly traced a hand on the back of his neck. He silently mouthed answers to himself as he thought and took everything into account. He drank in the way those green eyes scanned the page, the quirk of his thin lips while he calculated something in his head.
Subaru nodded. Kamui breathed a sigh of relief.
"You are getting very good at these equations." Subaru lowered the paper and scratched a few red lines between the string of letters and numbers on the page.
Kamui perked up. He immediately wiped off the infectious grin that threatened to cross his face, basking in the small piece of praise nonetheless. "You're just saying that."
Surely Subaru had been a model student back in his high school days, right? Kamui only imagined such a scenario. He didn't know much about those times still, but he didn't doubt Subaru had been smart, even though he had so busy and constantly distracted from schoolwork.
"No, I mean it." Expression darkening, Subaru instantly distance himself from the bright, sunny midday. It was the tidings of self-doubt and anger that normally stewed in his composure, his heart, every time Kamui brought up a topic Subaru could never let go of. Cold dread swept through Kamui seconds before Subaru's eye twitched—that stark and terrible realization he had made him remember the faint echo of ancient memories. "Or, I could be wrong."
Kamui wanted to shout at the top of his lungs that Subaru was
not wrong. He painstakingly read over his notes, the textbook, anything he could find that would refresh the information in his long gap in education. Even a month before then, Keiichi had let slip that Subaru had asked him for tips, methods, anything from class that they had covered. Subaru had never mentioned that at all.
He never wanted Subaru to say that about himself. He tried harder than anybody, including Kamui himself.
Kamui latched onto Subaru's wrist. Subaru glanced at his hand, uncomprehending, slightly taken aback at the burn of purple certainty and subdued fury in Kamui's eyes.
"Nothing about you is worthless or wrong, Subaru. If you're wrong, I have no reason to be right."
(x)
Kamui gingerly brushed the back of his hand where he had touched Subaru that time. He idly circled the spot with the tip of his finger. Even now, the faint spark of Subaru's warmth and his own unwavering revolve lingered.
Such a memory was merely one instance Kamui remembered Subaru losing track of himself while teaching him. It wasn't that rare, either, and there were a a handful more times.
All Kamui wanted was one thing.
Subaru emphasized that he noticed an innate quality about Kamui that Kamui, quite frankly, didn't see. Subaru was the splendid prism of light which reflected and inverted warmth, love, and compassion. Kindness was stored in his heart like a radiating star galaxies away that struggled to make its own presence known to their world. And Kamui didn't know how to always show those feelings for anyone, even when Yuzuriha smiled sunnily at him and he wanted to make her happy and not worry about him.
Nonetheless, Kamui never wanted to look away from such magnificent beauty. Subaru was everything he aspired to be, the magnet he wanted to cling onto and never, never in a million years, let go of. Subaru simply touching his hand while he wrote out his homework left Kamui awestruck and frozen in his tracks. In those moments, he was unable to speak. He only prayed for Subaru would see that he was trying. That he was doing his best.
Why didn't he love himself the way Kamui loved him?
But Subaru disliked it when he brought it up to him directly, and he would always look away, guilty and downtrodden.
Shaking his head, Kamui took another stab at his homework. The equation turned into a long string of nonsensical numbers, stretching out to infinity on his paper until the words ran off the paper, smudging the post-it notes that he had stashed under his textbook.
He rubbed at his eyes and yawned. Definitely, this was all he should manage. Sorata had told him not to overdo it, and the day had been rather tiresome. Being subjected to Fuuma's torture made it worse, of course, but school was draining enough. And once again he pictured Subaru… Subaru having dark lines etched under his eyes. Subaru, aloof and wore out, but making time for Kamui anyway.
Years ago, Subaru had made the ultimate decision; he dropped out of high school. High school wasn't essential, especially for the head of a reknowned onmyouji family, but Kamui still witnessed the traces of his longing. It was a hidden desire to make another buried wish come true. Subaru's dream had not been realized. If the world screeched to a halt, he definitely never would.
Kamui didn't know all the details. Revenge and the toll of work had taken over his life. Some days, Kamui couldn't get out of bed. The thought of Subaru's face, awkwardly smiling or grieving, sent a jolt of electricity down his spine and relieved his lethargy. And yet, Kamui admired that about Subaru. His perseverance to walk forward through a trail of bloody cherry blossoms and duty to protect Tokyo. Each step to that goal had chipped away at his soul, the wounds never healing but standing tall and strong.
Kamui grit his teeth and closed his eyes. All that effort wasted because of a world so fraught with cruelty…
Was Subaru tired yet? Was he working overtime again?
Kamui raised his fist and hammered down on the desk. Everything shook. With a loud twack, the mathematics textbook on his textbook slipped off and crashed against the floor. It was enough to wake him up out of his semi-happy daydream and begrudgingly reach for it. When he finally looked back up, he noticed the sheaf of post-it notes that had been under the textbook.
Subaru will want to know I'm struggling with this…
The realization comforted him. Warmth burned his cheeks and bubbled up in the core of his stomach like leaves dancing in the wind. As long as he thought of things like that, he would be okay. He envisioned Subaru's patient and winsome gaze holding his. Kamui would look forward to the next day knowing that he may see that soon.
If Subaru found solace in helping him, that was enough. Even if it was brief… Kamui wanted to be capable of that. Kamui didn't need anything else in his life if Subaru would just entrust his smile to him and ask for nothing else.
Kamui slid the pad of yellow post-it notes out. Shifting the pen, he marked the page number and question number. Page 342… question number #34, worksheet #7...
Why did he have to endure so much and receive so little in return? He scribbled on the post-it, pressing the pencil so hard the tip snapped off from the pressure, tearing and blotting the sheet at the same time. Kamui stared at it and shook his head. White dots danced in front of his eyes.
Why? Kamui asked himself, distraught. Why does he have to suffer like this? Why can't he see that he's a good person? Why doesn't he feel like that, why doesn't he see that he sacrificed so much for me. And his eye…. Eye….
The bandage across Subaru's eyes floated mockingly in front of his mind's eye. Hurriedly, he pushed it out of the way for safekeeping. That was too much pain right now.
Kamui glared at the word on the paper, tempted to throw the pencil across the room. He usually didn't get as angry as he did before his decision. Who could blame him?
Now that he started, though, he didn't know how to stop the incoming anger and frustration. He scribbled on the page even harder with the broken end of the pencil and frowned at the smudge marks left behind.
Kamui did a double take at the words on the post-it. He could barely read them—the scribbles blended into each other now—but the message was perfectly clear.
This was a message that was easy for Subaru to read. He couldn't ignore them and give him cryptic looks when he read it, he wouldn't have to avoid the issue at hand.,,
Smirking a little bit, Kamui peeled off more post-it notes. Then, after arranging his thoughts, he wrote everything. He dotted and crossed each line. He simply hoped.
Subaru heaved a sigh. He flopped down on the bed, craning his head towards the ceiling. The wings of his trenchcoat flared out at his sides and sweat dotted his head. Moonlight poured through the window blinds.
He was tired, yes. His last job had taken an extra few days, but he had never forgotten to come back and Kamui. Despite that he hardly deserved Kamui's adoring puppy dog eyes aimed at him he sort of did not mind it.
Subaru still wanted him to know he was important to him.
Even with the hospitality Dragons of Heaven showed him, he never liked to be here among them. Still, his apartment was a grave he couldn't stop visiting, a cold and lifeless stone that he wanted to curl up inside and never see the light of day again. Once, his apartment had been furnished with Hokuto's stylings and decorated from head to toe. In this place, though, he could detach himself from those colors that no longer existed and focus on Kamui.
Doing something for Kamui was the one constant bright spot in his life that helped him trudge on. Helping him was a breath of fresh air no matter how exponentially dog-tired he was. He couldn't be a pillar of knowledge, but Subaru never minded brushing up on old school materials.
Papers rustled against his thigh. He seized up for a minute, alert, then realized what it was. Subaru frowned and placed a gentle hand on the mismatch of papers and thick textbooks stashed there. Kamui said he didn't mind if he would leave it in his own room and Subaru walked in to get it, but Subaru was opposed to that. He didn't want to wake him up no matter how Kamui's face lit up like the moon on the darkest of nights in in delight after he realized Subaru was there and jumped out of bed to greet him.
Actually, it was kind of strange. Kamui normally tried to pull that wool over his eyes. Why didn't he do it tonight?
Even he was exhausted this late (too much searching, too much talking to clients, too much dodging questions). It didn't matter. He mustered up the strength and reached for the top paper in the pile. A loose piece of paper fluttered against his fingertips. He blinked, bemused.
I'm sorry this homework isn't done.
Subaru couldn't help it. He laughed a little, although it was a muffled sound, amused and bitter and sad at once.
When was his homework ever fully done? Kamui usually waited to do a good chunk of it with him. He wasn't motivated with everything happening in their lives, but he most certainly wasn't stupid or lazy. Kamui was ten times smarter than Subaru could hope to be. Subaru brushed it off, peeling the note off and flicking it to the side. He scanned the page and noticed that small eraser indents lined up the page. Based on the work, he could tell Kamui had pulled out all the stops on this assignment.
And then, he opened the mathematics textbook.
Post-it notes were on every page of the assigned chapter. Subaru was lost after he read one of them out of the corner of his eye—Kamui had never left so many notes before—and a stone sunk to the bottom of his stomach.
Thank you for being here with me.
It was a kind and considerate message. And yet Subaru burned from his fingertips to the bottom of his stomach. His entire body seized up with immense guilt.
Numbness swelled in his heart. Full of wonderment he stared at the words, confused but fixated. Of course he would put that. Kamui always said it. Perhaps Kamui was just lonelier than usual. Subaru couldn't do much more than what he was doing, but if he kept going, he could probably forget about it. Tentatively, Subaru flipped the page and swore he heard another rustle of paper—
You don't feel it, but I do cherish you.
The next one covered a diagram.
You are special.
Subaru skanned the book and laid it on the comforter. He breathed as steady as possible, arms falling to his sides.
For all his life, he had been told he was a prodigy. But he wasn't. Every person in Tokyo had a purpose beyond his own scope, a life that had not been tarnished in the kind of bloodshed he had let allow trick and deceive him.
Subaru rubbed his temples. His heartbeat pounded against his ribcage like the beat of a taiko drum at a lively festival. Kamui should not think these things about him. None of this would workout. But it didn't change the fact that Subaru wanted Kamui to think about whatever he wanted if it gave him enough strength to not give up hope. Morbidly curious, he continued on to the next closest textbook.
History. History should be a safe subject...
The first note covered a sprawling black and white picture of an empty countryside.
Thinking about you makes me happy for the whole day.
Memories of Kamui clinging to him and hugging him flooded to the forefront of his thoughts. He did look happier after he left him, sometimes like he were experiencing a wonderful dream of sorts…
Subaru dully flipped through more pages. Some pages were bare while others had post-it notes attached. The colors changed from yellow to blue, pink, or red, giving Subaru evidence he must have run out of yellow.
When you leave, I miss you.
Subaru examined the room around him. He had no attachment to this place. Nothing about it was his. The bed was a little dusty, the rest of the room spotless. He didn't miss this place—he didn't want to be here, he didn't want to be anywhere. Why would anyone miss him?
Slumping back against the covers and pillows, Subaru groaned. Moving was suddently too draining and every droplet of energy in his bones zapped away. He felt boneless and nerveless and nothing even hurt. The images of Kamui's messages swam in his conscious, but he didn't know how to process so many things at once that were simply positive about him and him alone. He instantly fell asleep just to mind his mind from anything, everything, the cruel world.
Kamui didn't know how to give up.
Despite his confusion, Subaru slept peacefully.
The post-it notes persisted. For two weeks Subaru never mentioned them, and Kamui never did in words either. On the contrary, he would always come with something new and creative to say in his post-its. Subaru secretly wondered how Kamui came up with more material for his post-it notes than his own impending essays.
Subaru tried to leave them in the books instead of taking them out. But when he did this, Kamui never took them out to make his point clear, all the notes clogging up the pages. Subaru solemnly decided he may as well do it himself after all. He pried the notes out, dropping them in a pile on the desk. If Kamui ever came into his room and noticed the ever growing mountain of post-its, he never disturbed the pile. Subaru never bothered to hide them.
One day, the pile overgrew its welcome. Now, he was sure there were enough notes to make a complete book.
Subaru laid the post-it notes on the bed and arranged them. He struggled to find places for them; he tried to find patterns in what Kamui said in each of the notes and how he said it. Many times, Kamui emphasized how much he missed or liked talking to him or, more recently, how beautiful he was. How had Kamui gotten that bold? Which sentence went first? Then he thought, did they actually go in order? No, he wouldn't entertain that possibility.
Regardless, ever since that first night, his words had haunted him. He still didn't deserve anything like that. But something had changed. Subaru, although he refused to believe he had attachment to this place, didn't mind coming here as much. The mountain of post-its was comforting to look at in the middle of the night.
Subaru guessed he didn't mind so much anymore….
By the time he ceased trying to organize and stared at the pile instead, he saw something at the corner of his eye. His chest constricted upon seeing another note he hadn't taped to the bed's headboard. Strange, he hadn't noticed that one before. He squinted in the moonlight to read it.
Can I care about you enough for the both of us?
No, he didn't feel like living, or even pretending to trudge through the trials of a life he never would find enjoyment in again. This world only had the shade of monotone grey to him. It would be selfish to ask someone to care about him when he couldn't give the same amount of love back.
Subaru stared so long at the note that he barely flinched as the bedroom's door creaked open. A darkened form tiptoed towards him. The bed dipped under the smaller male's weight, and he wrapped arms around his neck.
"You deserve someone who will love you forever, Subaru," Kamui said quietly. He didn't ask for anything besides Subaru's company, holding on tight. "I love you, you know."
The onmyouji closed his eyes and guessed he had things to learn from his student as it was. Accepting anything was impossible for him in words. No, Subaru did not want to reject Kamui's confessions, because he had enjoyed being told he was something again—real, a thing that could change and impact others. Perhaps he could be the dark moon that transformed into a sliver and became whole again. No matter how long that would take.
Sighing, Subaru leaned back into Kamui's chest and didn't speak. For today, he may as well leave it in his hands.