A/N A piece inspired by the Deep Blue Something song "Breakfast at Tiffany's".
Disclaimer: I don't own Loveless.
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Breakfast at Tiffany's
...
When the time came, they didn't know what hit them. They didn't know they could be hit with anything like that. That's probably why it took them some awful disorienting moments to realise there was something wrong. The sudden loss of the contact, of the ever-present chain linking them together, transporting emotions, feelings and occasional thoughts back and forth.
The power of Beloved could not be restrained, much less defeated.
That's why they were robbed of it.
...
"Seimei", came a tentative yet nervous voice from the door, "What are you doing?", a small figure slipped into the room and was now standing next to the door, hugging himself.
"Packing", the reply was harsh but devoid of both ire and wariness. It was empty.
"You know you can stay here", one, two steps. A soft sound when the figure perched himself on the bed.
"Why should I?"
"Because that's where you live. Where you have stayed for the last three months and been around for years."
A snort.
"Those years all came undone, if the memory serves right."
"If the memory indeed served right, they would be all there", a gentle whisper.
No answer. Another shirt was added to a growing pile in a small bag. And another. Then, the would-be-traveller, or maybe a runaway, stood up to collect a stash of CDs laying on a desk.
"I mean it", big round eyes followed the movements of the curly-haired man, "There's no need for you to leave."
"There's none for me to stay either", the voice was still collected but with the underlying current of frustration.
The figure on the bed looked down and began to worry on his lower lip. He hugged himself even more tightly, tugging at a sleeve of a too big sweater.
"In that case", he started apprehensively, "Wouldn't it be better to stay and think it over? A journey without a purpose is nothing more than pointless wandering."
"Stop that."
"Stop what?"
"Those flowery speeches", snapped the other man while putting the CDs into the bag, "You're no longer a fighter."
The one in a too big sweater narrowed his eyes slightly and tilted his head to the left.
"That's the way I speak. It won't suddenly evaporate just because my words no longer have an impact on my surroundings", a deep sigh, "Just as the fact you've lost your sacrifice's power doesn't mean you're no longer welcome in my house."
The former sacrifice looked up sharply with something akin to confusion in his purple eyes, but the expression was lost as soon as it appeared.
"Seriously, Seimei", the smaller man trotted to the other and crouched down next to him, staring at him anxiously while he continued on packing, "Seimei, talk to me", a thin hand gently poked a jeans-clad knee, "Or at least look at me."
Both requests were ignored. The frail man wouldn't be swayed, though.
"You have to accept that what's done is done. And live on. Not scurry away with a tail between your legs."
A week ago such talk would have earned him a scowl or a scolding. Now it didn't bring forth any heated response.
"There's no tail to speak of", the tone was emotionless again, "You took care of that."
The former fighter closed his eyes briefly as if to control himself. When he spoke up, his words didn't waver.
"Ya. Isn't that a reason to stay?"
That finally made the other look at him. Nisei didn't like what he saw in Seimei's eyes, though. Because he saw nothing, just an endless pit.
"No."
"No?", the smaller man couldn't stop himself from sounding bewildered, "Seimei, can you hear yourself? How can you say it doesn't mean anything? You gave me your ears, your prized, ever-protected ears…"
"You were my fighter."
"Forgive me for not getting the point", a hiss.
"You were my fighter, I was your sacrifice", Seimei was gazing somewhere ahead, "There was a bond. Now it's broken."
Nisei pursed his lips, then bit them, then snorted and shook his head.
"I don't believe you", he stated simply, smiling a dark half-grin. "I don't fucking believe you", now his voice shook at the end.
"What do you want me to say, then?", the former sacrifice frowned, glancing at his companion, "That I loved you? That I decided you're the one I wanted to spend my life with?"
As soon as the words left his mouth, Nisei was jumping to his feet.
"Maybe that you actually cared", he sneered, "That you cared what happened to you. That you gave a damn about who you slept with", he began pacing, unconsciously straightening his sweater again and again.
Seimei just kept giving him a puzzled look.
"I did. You were my fighter, it was only expected…", he started slowly.
"Only expected to land in my bed, that what you're trying to say?", Nisei whirled around, hurt and betrayal clear in his eyes, "Because you were giving the impression that you didn't want to be touched, to be defiled by anyone, despite their status…"
"I thought I could prevent it", the words were bitter, "It turned out the pull was just too strong."
"You mean you have only ever embraced me because of some fucking unspecified 'pull'?", the former fighter looked as if the ground had suddenly slipped from underneath him.
"Haven't you?", a quizzically arched eyebrow.
Nisei seemed to be ready to say something but in the end, he just shrugged. Seimei waited for the answer for a couple of seconds but then resumed his packing as the previously talkative man withdrew into himself, returning to his spot on the bed.
Few minutes later, the bag was full and zipped. A rucksack got taken out of a wardrobe and placed on the desk. Only some most frequently used things would get inside.
"You can still stay", the former sacrifice almost didn't catch the soft invitation. "At least until you come up with some sensible course of action."
Seimei sighed and licked his lips, without turning to his former fighter.
"I just don't get what you're trying to achieve", he murmured sadly.
"The same goes about you", Nisei shot back, with some fire back in his voice, "You've spent three bloody months living with me and six years knowing me and now suddenly you decide you don't want to have anything to do with me?", even though his tone was hard, he sounded as if he didn't believe what he was saying. As if it was too incomprehensible to be put into actual words.
"It's all true", the curly-haired man confirmed, his shoulders tensing up, "I've done all that because you were my fighter, we worked together. A unit. A bond", he slowly turned around, "And it's all gone. I can't feel you, you can't read me, we…"
"Can't we just act like normal people?", Nisei shouted as he lost all his cool, lowering his arms in a hopeless gesture, "Living together, doing all those things together, that's what regular people do, we could just omit the magical parts and carry on those 'normal' ones!"
"We did those 'normal' things because we were a unit", Seimei stressed, his face taut.
"And what are we now?"
"Nothing", Seimei smirked, but it was a self-pitying smirk, "Strangers. Who should probably continue in their own direction each."
"I don't… I can't", Nisei was shaking his head, breathing laboured and an expression of utter misery etched on his face, "Have I only ever been a tool to you?", he finally choked out.
Seimei smiled sadly at him.
"No. You were", a pause, "A fighter. That's its own category. You know it cannot be expressed. Fighters are… Everything for their sacrifices, because they're theirs. But those ties are different from any others."
"So I am important to you", Nisei replied with a stubborn kind of hope despite the evidence.
"You were", Seimei corrected, "Because you were a fighter. I can't say you're important now. I don't think so."
"You're abandoning me?", the smaller man's eyes bore into the other. They were glistening. Not with malice. Not with craziness.
With tears.
"No!", the former sacrifice ran his hand through his curls, "I mean", a frustrated huff, "You're not my fighter. That's it. I don't have a fighter, because I'm not a sacrifice. We're just two strangers. I'm not abandoning you. We're just…", he had to stop, unable to find a suitable expression. They were just what?
"Strangers?", Nisei gracelessly crawled off the bed, "You're leaving when I'm asking you to stay! If that's not abandoning me, then I don't know what is!", that wasn't begging. He wasn't a fighter, he didn't have to beg. That was something else, something Seimei had not yet encountered himself, but had seen in the TV or read about.
"Get a grip", he took three steps back to distance himself from the miserable man, "You sound as if I was breaking up with you or something."
Nisei gave him the most mournful glare, then hid his face behind a veil of black hair.
"No", Seimei's voice was disbelieving. He took a step forward, then back away, then tried to reach out to his former fighter but decided against it, "You can't think like that. You can't think we were lovers, Nisei!", his yell was meant to be disapproving, scathing even, but came out scared and desperate.
No answer. But the thin arms were hugging themselves tighter than ever.
"Look", Seimei continued from the safe distance, "I realise it may have looked like that to the outsiders. But you've known my feelings all along!"
"You don't have feelings", a small interruption.
"Well", the former sacrifice was thrown off the track for a fracture of a second, "It's not as if you were overly emotional yourself!"
"You don't know me!", was it disappointment in his tone?
"That's exactly what I'm about. Nisei, despite everything, we're strangers", Seimei quickly carried on afraid of letting the other interject, "We've never got to know each other. Admit it, under different circumstances we wouldn't have spoken a single word to each other. The bond kept us together, our desires unheeded, but now when it's gone you have to face the fact we don't mean anything to each other."
Despite Seimei's intent, Nisei seemed to perk up at that.
"How can you be so sure that we would have never been friends in a different situation?", he asked carefully, his face still obscured.
"Because we… Because we're not very alike", Seimei finished lamely.
"But you've just said we don't know each other", the former fighter insisted.
"Not properly, yes. But it doesn't take a genius to notice we've got nothing in common. Just look at the two of us", Seimei spread his arms, "No common ground. We act differently, we speak in different voices, we've never treated each other with a minimum of courtesy, we've never even been introduced to each other as we should have!"
"Why don't we do it now, then?", a wickedly gleaming eye peeked from behind the hair.
"Do what?"
"Do the introductions", Nisei grinned, "See if we can find the common ground."
"I don't get you", Seimei sighed helplessly.
"Oh, let me show you", the former fighter's voice grew a bit stronger and lighter, "It's easy", he walked up to the other and extended his right hand, "I'm Akame Nisei."
Seimei blinked.
"You're mad", he began but before he knew what was happening, Nisei was shaking his hand vigorously.
"Nice to meet you!", he chirped, looking straight into the purple eyes, "Let me give you some details. I'm twenty two. My second name is Alejandro, after my granddad who was Spanish, as well as my grandma. They were from old noble Catalan families and a fighting unit called Anointed. I've got a ten-year older brother Ichiro who thinks that just because he wears a fancy suit, drives a fancy car and has a killing license I have to put up with his shit", Nisei made an appropriate face, "My father is the president of the National Bank of Japan but there's no need to concern yourself with him, he doesn't acknowledge me and I share the sentiment. My mum is dead", he didn't offer any additional information but carried on cheerfully, "My aunt María is an opera singer who's not actually fat and lives in Buenos Aires with her balding idiotic husband and fighter Eduardo who works as a bank clerk and is permanently surprised by how low his income is. They're Dearest and have a daughter Elena who plays the flute, likes dinosaurs and hamsters and is a future sacrifice of Blessed. My uncle Iker, a stockbroker, lives in London and refuses to get involved in any fighting business and supports Real Madrid just because their goalkeeper has the same name as his. He has an English wife Natalie who's a teacher and two children: Nathaniel and Ana Catalina, one of whom will probably turn out to be a fighter or a sacrifice and ruin their father's peaceful world, which is exactly what he deserves for supporting Real."
Seimei found himself sitting down without making sure there's actually anything to sit down on behind him. Fortunately he managed to land on a chair.
"Now, about me", Nisei made a pause and a 'thinking' poise, "I'm a computer programming student but as I want to become a hacker there's no need to get a diploma as finding a job a regular way is out of question. I speak Japanese, Spanish, Catalan, English, French and a bit of Russian and if my career plans come to nothing I can always open a translating business. I like big cities but I hate traffic and I think that commuting for longer than an hour is outrageous so I don't intend to work in Tokyo unless I actually become a hacker and can work from my flat. I like Barcelona because I was born there and they have Gaudi's buildings there and the best football team ever, which I'm a great fan of. I like visiting museums and monuments but my interest in history ends with the end of the nineteenth century. I like books but I don't really like films, though there are some I can watch over and over again. I like Tolkien but I don't find hobbits as great as other readers and I prefer elves, especially the line of Fëanor even though he was slightly crazy and killed his own race. I can't stand Harry Potter because he's just so perfect but I can find a bit of love for Malfoy. I like Dostoevsky even though his works are dark and he's xenophobic and I think Sherlock Holmes was the best detective ever even though he never existed. I like clothes but I don't like shopping for long and I like fish but I don't like sushi. I'm not picky but I draw a line at eating something that still moves or resembles something that crawls in the grass. I like wine but I don't like beer because I have headache after it, I don't like vodka because it's too strong and I don't like cocktails because their colours look suspiciously like liquids from a Chemistry lab. I like Latino, Middle Eastern and Celtic music and I don't like jazz or blues or other things that sound too smooth and husky. I can't play any instrument and I have no ear for music but I still sing in the shower. I think that only uncultured people get involved in the politics and that one should never treat money too seriously. I think that it's stupid to dislike someone for their skin colour, religion or nationality but I think it's alright to hate someone because of their idiocy or stupid ideas. I think all revolutions are bad and that it's weird not to have a written constitution. I automatically dislike people who don't know where Ulan Bator is or who Rasputin was and those who say that history and literature are unimportant. I'd like to travel in time to the Antiquity or la belle époque. I like Shakespeare but I don't like Molière. I think people like Schliemann are the biggest heroes and I like Alexander the Great but I don't like Napoleon. I like eating out and socialising but I need a lot of time to myself, otherwise I feel like kicking the nearest person. I don't like asking for advice or help and I don't like teamwork. I prefer doing things my own way and at my own pace and I can't focus for long but I can multitask easily. I like psychology but I hate talking about my feelings so I pretend not to have them. I can't keep more than three friends at one time but I can be pretty loyal and helpful while still unsympathetic and arrogant. I say mean things I actually mean but not mean to hurt others with them. I can lie easily ad frequently but I'm usually the one to state the uncomfortable truth. I hate injections and I faint when I have my blood taken even though I've been given an anaesthetic. I think that the only proof that there's an intelligent life in the outer space is that no one has ever contacted us. I find the conspiracy and UFO theories ridiculous but I like mysteries and I think that we should never forget the myths or try to give them a scientific explanation. I like watching people squirm when I say uneasy things. I don't like any games apart from this one where you have to list a country, a city, a river and so on starting with the same letter. I usually think that mathematics is the queen of all science even though I tend to be a revolutionary under her rule. I don't like getting involved in conflicts because I never find any side right enough to support and I like arguing just for the sake of exercising my wits. I think a human mind is the greatest tool available", he finally made a break.
"That's…", Seimei stuttered, "A lot of information. Probably more than you've ever given me", and more that he had managed to memorise anyway.
Nisei gave him a sheepish smile in response.
"I hope you don't expect me to list my personality traits like that…", the former sacrifice was a little alarmed. He knew the one in front of him was slightly crazy, but it was a relieving sort of craziness.
"Claro, no", Nisei smiled wickedly, "Unlike you, I've picked a lot things up during the last six years of our cooperation."
That sobered Seimei up. He squared his shoulders and glared at the former fighter seriously.
"So you can see nothing would ever work between us without the bond", he saw Nisei opening his mouth to interject, so he hurried on, "Don't mind the personalities for a while. Just… Look at us. You're some aristocratic European arse with more money than you can possibly spend and more influential relatives than you may ever need. Maybe if we have really met those years ago as strangers and worked from there we could be friends now or even something more. But right now, with our past, with me having no name, no existence and no means of continuing this pitiful life…", he shook his head, not finishing this line of thought. "You were my fighter. It sounds lame, I know, but you also realise how I've learnt to treat fighters. Do you truly believe you could stand someone who abused you? Aren't you afraid I'll never see you as my equal?", he didn't notice his tone changed. There was an eerie light in it.
Nisei must have sensed it, because he gave him a crooked smile.
"You're already treating me like more or less and equal. Hello", he waved his hand in front of Seimei's eyes, "You're discussing stuff with me and you're aware I can punch you when you're being too much of an arse now", he grinned goofily.
"But", Seimei deflated again, much to the other's annoyance, "We've lost everything. All that we had. All we were used to having. If we stay together", he forced himself to voice that possibility, "We'll never forget. It will restrict us, it will grow into something sour and bitter and will make us both miserable. There will be guilt, reproach, grief and the conviction that nothing can ever change, that we can't just walk away from each other, because we've decided to stay together…"
"No!", Nisei protested with evident fury, "We will leave the past behind. We will remember, but not reminisce. We've lost something very important that we thought defined us, but it's not true. We define ourselves, and we're still Nisei and Seimei. Actually, it's even better now, because we're Nisei and Seimei and not Beloved, and we can see each other for what we are, not for what we're supposed to be", he closed his eyes for a second. "Don't think you can't live without magic. I won't say it's more difficult for me because I was a fighter and therefore was more sensitive to it. No", he shook his head sadly, "I believe that the loss is just as painful for you too. But you can learn to live without even the very thing that was the essence of you existence."
"That's crap, Nisei", Seimei stated bluntly, "That's some shrink talk and nothing more. You know that."
"I know I'm right", Nisei shot back angrily. "You know", he mused aloud, "When I was a kid I wanted to be a footballer. I'd train every single day and brag about playing for Barca one day. I was pretty good", he smiled fondly. "But then when I was seven I developed a lungs illness. They've not been working properly ever since. Training was out of question, most of the sports still are. So I found a new hobby. Reading turned out to be just as captivating, if maybe a bit less exciting", he smirked a little.
Surprisingly, Seimei looked embarrassed.
"Well, I certainly didn't know…", he started awkwardly, not used to comforting anyone and not entirely sure whether Nisei craved any comfort.
"I know."
"I'm sorry."
"Haha, what for?", the former fighter laughed, his eyes dancing, "At least with things being like that, Iniesta can have all the fame. I'd have stolen it from him if I'd continued on training!", he winked mischievously.
Seimei was clearly at loss of words, so Nisei took pity on him and approached him, smiling warmly.
"Hey, give it a try. Why are you so reluctant to stay with me if you don't think me a broken toy that can be thrown away?"
"Because", the former sacrifice bit his lip, then ran a hand through his hair, "We truly have no common ground to start from. And our lives… They've really created such a deep ditch between us", he sighed with frustration, "I mean our lives from before our meeting, and from before my bloody ears… And the whole world… It'll come between us. They won't leave as in peace. They'll want us gone. Even if the Septimal Moon don't get us, there are all those missing documents, those police files, those…"
"Are you afraid of them?", Nisei asked incredulously, "Aoyagi Seimei afraid of the Septimal Moon? A bunch of stuck-up sacrifices who don't know a thing about the real world? Who holed themselves up in some God-forsaken rat nest centuries ago and have not come out since?"
"Never!", Seimei snapped indignantly before he could think it through, "I'm not afraid of anyone!"
Instead of brightening up at that, though, Nisei lowered his eyes.
"So, you really just don't care, do you?", he whispered in a small voice.
"I don't know", Seimei felt he owed him the truth. His world had fallen apart and he no longer knew what he cared about and what he didn't, and whether he actually still gave a damn about anything. Being a sacrifice had been all he had left after being rejected by Ritsuka. As he was no longer a brother and no longer a sacrifice, he had no idea what he was. And why his former fighter, who despite all his crimes and misdeeds had always managed to maintain a normal life with friends, family and stupid books and had never given all of himself to their (or rather, Seimei's) plans wanted him to stay so desperately. He had kind of expected to be send packing by a vengeful Nisei. He may have not mistreated him recently, but he had doubted that the dark man would just forget about the first years of their co-existence.
"What about "Breakfast at Tiffany's"?", he was shook out of his musings by a puzzlingly light voice. He looked up and met Nisei's warm chocolate eyes.
"The film?", he asked in confusion.
"Sí."
"Uhm…", Seimei racked his brain for a suitable answer, "I think I remember it", his face lit up on its own, "And as I recall… I think I kinda liked it."
"Well", Nisei grinned at him, "That's the one thing we've got. I think we should risk it and work from there."
Seimei was lost in his memories of the film. Come to think of it, Holly and that writer, Paul was his name, didn't have a lot in common too, except being lonely and a bit messed-up. Yet they took their chance.
"Sure", he shrugged, smiling, "Why not."
...
A/N Comments, anyone? Too sappy or not?