Kurosaki Hisoka had a lot to think about, lying awake in his futon, surrounded by the silence of the near-empty space he called a bedroom, his storming thoughts more than enough to make up for the lack of external sound. The worst part about being an empath was that he had a perfect understanding of everyone's emotions but his own, and the more he struggled to understand them, find the answers to the questions burning constantly in his mind, the less he wanted to know and accept the truth.
Since Kyoto, emotions he'd tried so hard to deny, to be rid of, had only grown exponentially stronger. It had started after the Nagasaki case as a mere fondness of the amethyst-eyed baka he'd been tricked into working with. That affinity had taken on a twinge of jealousy towards Minase Hijiri during the Saagatanasu ordeal; he'd found himself more than slightly annoyed at Hijiri's mere mention of his partner's name with that starry look in his eyes. The jealousy that had confused him for so long... after all, why should he care who made romantic advances towards that idiot? He tolerated Tsuzuki Asato, he even liked him, but his feelings were purely platonic... weren't they?
Only the slightest hints of attraction had begun to surface during the fiasco in Hokkaido. When Tsuzuki had offered him his hand, the only light in a pitch black forest, his heart had raced so quickly and loudly that he was certain the elder shinigami must have heard it. For the sake of his pride, he'd acted cold and indifferent, even angry, pushing the beautiful man even further away from him. He'd felt something for Tsubaki-hime, nothing powerful but something nonetheless, and had felt no embarassment in physical contact with her. How, then, could the very thought of taking Tsuzuki's hand in his own have such a profound effect on his body? The idea still brought a stain of pink to his ivory cheeks.
It was at one of the Count's annual tea parties that his sentiments had begun to radically transform. The time his idiot partner had been trapped in the Count's enchanted story book; he had been forced to realize just how deep the emotions between Tsuzuki and Tatsumi had run even after their partnership had ended. "My happiness... is your happiness," the normally steely secretary had declared.
He had bitterly envied Tatsumi at that moment, nearly to the point of hatred.
To have that sort of bond with Tsuzuki... it was then that Hisoka had discovered, much to his horror, that this innocent, meaningless crush had become something much more serious... a longing more intense than anything he'd ever felt before, even more so than his deep yearning as a child for the love of his parents. He wanted more than anything else to be the one Tsuzuki turned to in times of despair and need, to be the protector as opposed to the protected.
He'd been more than grateful for the case in Okinawa, despite his being prone to fainting. No Muraki, no powerful demons... and no Tatsumi. At first, he'd been a bit irritated with Chizuru for bringing them out to that city with ungodly temperatures for a personal favor, but one look from those mesmerizing purple gems was all it had taken to sway him. Those eyes had been so much easier to say "no" to when he had been trying to hate the puppy-boy. He'd admitted to Tsuzuki then, "I lost that battle the day I became your partner." That was the day it had all begun, wasn't it? Even then, he could never find it in himself to hate the sweet-tooth.
Then there was Kyoto, where Muraki set out to break an already fragile soul, and succeeded by accusing Tsuzuki of not being human, of having demon blood in his veins. That night, Tsuzuki had turned not to Hisoka, but to alcohol for solace. Hisoka, however, had insisted on going with him, later giving him an excuse along the lines of, "This city doesn't need another drunk wandering around by themselves." Tsuzuki then revealed what Muraki had claimed him to be, bolting out the door of the bar as memories he'd never wanted to relive wracked his heart with unbearable pain. He'd then proceeded to mar the beautiful eyes he so loathed, that had brought him so much persecution in life. Hisoka had rushed over to him, halting his self-mutilation, insisting that Tsuzuki was human, and…
He'd embraced him, held him in his arms. As the older man's head had rested upon his lap, he'd felt a serenity unlike any other wash over his gorgeous partner, that feeling then infiltrating his own soul. He could die like this…
He almost had, as the peace was shattered beyond repair by the mad doctor once more, who had turned the helpless girl they'd made every effort to protect into that… monster. Disobeying her master's orders, Suzaku killed the girl, sending Tsuzuki into an emotional cavern from which there was seemingly no return. 'Another life taken because of me,' he'd thought before succumbing to unconsciousness, Muraki seizing the opportunity to snatch the fragile man. It was then Hisoka had known that the 'want' he had felt before had evolved into a blinding 'need' as he pursued Muraki in vain, screaming Tsuzuki's name.
That need drove him to fight a battle he couldn't possibly win against Mibu Oriya, to jump into Touda's flames despite the threat of a permanent death, to throw himself into the broken man's arms, begging him to stay, even if only for the sake of his own selfishness. "I need you!" Yes, he'd confessed this to Tsuzuki, screamed it, receiving a soft, almost inaudible reply of, "Can I… stay with you?" The answer, of course, had been, "Yes." Tsuzuki had held him even tighter then, and the void in Hisoka's heart was filled with a sense of warmth, belonging, and love. He would gladly die this way if it meant he could keep that sense of completion, the feeling he could only experience by Tsuzuki's side…
Rescued by Tatsumi's shadows, they had lived, and Hisoka's need for Tsuzuki had grown voracious. In the few months that had passed since the insanity of Gensoukai, another dangerous emotion had begun to worm into Hisoka's being: lust. The dreams he'd begun having had frightened him at first, but became increasingly appealing as they returned more and more frequently. Dreams of Tsuzuki's satin lips against his own, tongues warring as those long, slender fingers glided over every inch of his body… of him moaning and writhing against the elder shinigami's perfect form, whose amethyst eyes clouded with desire as his mouth ventured lower…
This line of thought had to stop if Hisoka wanted to get any sleep tonight.
He marveled at how a simple fondness had turned into a ravenous need, innocent attraction into consuming lust, how hatred (which was really more annoyance than anything) towards the childish sweet-addict had turned into---
Reality slapping him in the face, the truth refused to be denied any longer as Hisoka realized what should have been so obvious long ago.
He was in love with Tsuzuki.