Dedicated to: A White Rain, as the idea accidentally came from a discussion over her story, Lineage.
Chapter 2
Out of Line
The next time Subaru came downstairs to find Kamui standing in the entrance hall, he smiled and went to meet the boy. He'd been ordered to keep him company after all.
"I'm so glad you're here today!" Because in a place where everyone died or disappeared, it really was good to see the boy again. "Is Monou-san here too? Is he with Seishirou-san?" Kamui didn't respond, but Subaru hadn't expected him to. "I could show you around some more while you wait. If you want, of course." When he took a couple steps and Kamui followed, Subaru decided to take that as Fuuma's permission. It was a good thing, because he wasn't allowed to interrupt Seishirou to ask. "Do you like to read?" He steadfastly avoided the kitchen, heading up the stairs instead, Kamui in tow.
There was a servant polishing the banister on the second floor who called out a soft "good evening" as they passed, causing Subaru to jolt a bit under the weight of eyes, that familiar hitch when someone looked at him. But they were swiftly past, and as the corridor stretched between them, he let out a breath. Safe.
The library wasn't just a single room—it was a conglomerate of rooms, all leading one into the other. The first was the largest, lined with shelves but open in the center so that the moonlight pouring in through the windows along the far wall could be clearly visible. It was there that Subaru led them, to the hall outside the main room. And as he pulled on one of the ornate handles, dragging the door open so that the room beyond was revealed in one long arc, there was a startle of white out of the corner of his eye. It was gone by the time the door swished fully open, leaving Subaru calling a tentative "hello" into the hollow shell of walls that remained. The echoing emptiness held no answer, but there was white moonlight reflecting off the silver of a little vase on one of the shelves, and satisfied, he stepped across the threshold, letting Kamui in behind him.
"Do you have a favorite story?" It was always a little awkward. Subaru was naturally a quiet person, and when he was with Kamui he felt like he did nothing but talk—felt like he should be letting the other boy speak. But then he'd remember that was impossible without Fuuma's permission: if the man didn't want anyone else to hear Kamui's voice, then no one ever would. A swell of pity welled up inside Subaru at the thought. To have a voice and choose not to use it, that was one thing, but to have a voice and not be able to use it was quite another… If anything ever happened to Fuuma, Kamui would be helpless. Subaru didn't understand how anyone could do that to someone else.
Seeking a diversion, he pulled a book off a shelf. Then, looking down at the worn green binding, he smiled nostalgically.
"Seishirou-san asked me to read to him once, years ago." He glanced at Kamui shyly. "I would like to read to you, if you don't mind." Since the boy couldn't read books himself—well, not without being told to. Choosing a covered bench near the windows, he curled up, drawing cold feet up off the floor (no shoes—nothing that would ever allow him to leave), and waited for Kamui to follow him. The book was a comfortable weight in his lap. And as the yellowed pages fell open at his touch, he felt warm, despite the chill in the room. But maybe that was just due to amethyst eyes watching him expectantly.
"There was once a wizard who used to take the form of a poor man…" The story was easy, the words falling from his tongue. Maybe it was his imagination, but those blank eyes seemed just the tiniest bit content. It was a strangely buoyant feeling, a sudden elation, to know that this was something he could do. Being with Kamui he felt a great swell of helplessness, shame—there was so little he could do. He couldn't free the other boy. Couldn't even touch him. And never before had he wanted so much to reach out to another, to take the boy by the shoulders and assure him it was alright. But the memory of burnt and bleeding hands was still raw in his mind, and he held back.
In the end, all he could do was read.
"They locked all the doors of the house, that no one might escape, set fire to it, and…" And Kamui was scowling. Not that look of perpetually passive indifference he always wore, or one of the politely attentive shades it sometimes took on, but a true scowl, etched into his eyebrows and the set of his mouth and the eyes… Subaru petered off, losing the words under the force of that look. Angry amethyst. But he barely had time to register what that might mean, the significance of such an expression, before a shadow fell over them and then Kamui was jerked violently away from him. The other boy's expression smoothed away into neutrality seconds before Fuuma's grip tightened on his arms.
Subaru sat frozen, mouth dry, struck into silence by the memory of that look on Kamui's face, unsure what had happened, unsure when things had gone wrong. Hadn't Kamui been perfectly content with the story just a minute earlier? And now…
Fuuma snarled, jerking Kamui roughly in his grip. Hit him. Hard. And when Kamui turned to look back at him with those same blank eyes, hit him again. The second time, the boy collapsed to the floor under the force, crying out.
It caught Subaru's attention—snapped his head up—because it was the first time he'd heard the other boy make a sound.
And he couldn't stand it anymore.
"Stop it!" Subaru shouted before he could restrain himself. "Stop it! You're hurting him! He doesn't like it!" The outburst was met with a flash of gold eyes, Fuuma turning on him, and behind him… Seishirou. Seishirou had seen, eyes narrowed dangerously where he stood by the door. Even Kamui was staring at him, expression perfectly blank again. Subaru instantly snapped his mouth closed and dropped his gaze, but it was too late. The damage had been done.
Don't speak unless spoken to. Don't meet anyone's eyes. Don't talk back. The words rang emptily, hollowly in his head.
When Fuuma spoke, it was quiet, a dark whisper. "I think I know what Kamui really wants best, little Subaru." Subaru flinched. The words were a reprimand and a reminder—a reminder of just what his place was, a reminder that he had no place. He had no name, and without a name he didn't exist. He was nothing. Less than dirt. And he felt like dirt too right then. But it wasn't Fuuma's place to punish him.
The sharp clip of Seishirou's shoes echoed loudly in the wide open library.
"My apologies, Monou-san. Subaru-kun isn't usually so… forward." Subaru cringed at that too, that Seishirou had to apologize for him, that he had reflected so poorly on the man. He scurried to shove the book off his lap and stand as the man approached, training his eyes obediently down at the man's shoes. "Poor little Subaru-kun, who can't stand to see anyone get hurt." There were fingers suddenly, sliding along the nape of his neck, toying with strands of black hair. Subaru flinched at the unexpected gentleness, shuddering, knowing he wouldn't like what came next.
"Pick out a book. A long one." The words were whispered into his ear. Subaru blinked, glancing back at the man uncertainly, but those amber eyes gave nothing away. "Go on." Without further hesitation, he walked to the shelves, picking up the largest book that presented itself, before turning back to Seishirou. It was heavy, red, several inches thick, weighing down his hands. "Read it." And when Subaru had opened to the first page, still a bit quizzically, and started reading aloud, that was when Seishirou added, "Don't stop until I tell you to." Emerald eyes opened wide in realization a little too late as, satisfied, the man turned and invited Fuuma back downstairs, Kamui following helplessly in their wake, all without a backward glance… leaving Subaru standing rooted to the spot, that last command keeping his mouth open, running over word after word, reciting pages to an empty room…
It only took a couple hours for the pain to set in, his throat raw and dry, still rasping words to no one. The book he'd grabbed turned out to be an encyclopedia of medicine. Subaru wasn't sure it would have helped if it had been a story.
After twenty-four hours, the sounds coming out of his mouth could hardly be called words anymore, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't stop. His throat had long since been shredded by continual use. There was blood in his mouth and blood on his parched lips and blood on the book, shaking in his hands.
He wasn't aware when Seishirou came back in, wasn't sure if he'd finished the book or if he was still trying to mouth some forsaken page in the middle. He hadn't slept in somewhere close to forty hours by that point, was swaying on his feet, mouth open and rambling nonsensical things. The hand that brushed his forehead though, that he felt.
"That's enough, Subaru-kun." No sooner had the words been said than the book fell brokenly out of his hands and he collapsed, knees buckling with fatigue, into a solid set of arms. He was already unconscious by the time he was lifted up, cradled close to a warm chest, and finally carried out of the empty room…
On the bench, the green-bound book that had never been finished was still open, the last words unspoken but glaring up at the room from the page: "…had to burn."
Fuuma killed too. The night he came back from the Sakurazuka estate with Kamui a silent shadow at his heels was one of those nights. It was the eyes, he decided. Grey or green or brown or blue—it was something different every time. This time she met him at the door—brown eyes—asked if he required anything. Only that. She'd probably done it a dozen times before. But it was different this time—different because Subaru's words were still ringing in his head, different because the reminder that the green-eyed boy could defy orders was still raw and painful, different because he was pretty sure someone had been following them, and different because her eyes were blank, fixed, and they resembled… The next second his hand lashed out, pleasant mask cracking into rage, and she fell back, trachea crushed, writhing on the floor until the rasping of her breaths faded away. Fuuma blinked at his still extended hand, startled to find it there. Then there was a faint tug at his sleeve—fingers tightening in the fabric—and the next second he had Kamui in his arms and was sitting down heavily in a nearby chair, pulling the boy onto his lap, crushing him to his chest.
"Kamui, Kamui…" There was no response of course. There wouldn't be. The boy remained limp and docile, merely letting himself be held. And that was the most frustrating thing of all.
"Do you enjoy Shirou-kun's company?" From anyone else it would have been an innocuous question. But this was Seishirou.
Subaru froze, poised like a small animal caught in the light, searching dizzily for a safe answer. The problem was, with Seishirou, nothing was safe. If he said it had been pleasant enough keeping the boy company, Seishirou might decide Subaru liked the boy too much and kill him. If he said their guests hadn't interested him, he might appear ungracious, or worse, like he was rejecting the man's kindness in letting the boy keep him company.
While he stood there, caught in indecision, Seishirou reached out and caught the hem of his shirt, tugging him forward till the man's hands could easily encompass his waist, inexorably drawing him down. Subaru gulped, staring transfixed into those penetrating amber eyes. He tried to lean away, but Seishirou had him fast. Caught, he thought, and wondered if Seishirou could hear his heart hammering in his chest. But of course he could. Of course he could.
"Is it such a difficult question? Or is your voice still bothering you?" Seishirou leaned closer, purring into his ear, enjoying the boy's predicament. "I won't ask again. Do you enjoy Shirou-kun's company?" Of course, the man knew… It had been three days since the book reading incident, and Subaru hadn't touched a book or talked to a soul since then. And it certainly wasn't because he couldn't… Not anymore at least. Seishirou knew all this. Maybe the man was tired of his silence.
But if he couldn't concentrate before, he certainly couldn't now, not with the man looking at him like that. Clearly though, Seishirou expected him to try.
"I prefer your company," Subaru stuttered in the end, hoping that would suffice, too distracted by the hands gliding over his hips to decide if it was a good enough answer. Seishirou stilled at that, and a brief shimmer of coherent worry threaded through Subaru's thoughts, but then those hands crept inward, between his thighs, and he relaxed—if writhing in painfully pleasant anguish could be considered relaxing.
"Clever boy," Seishirou chuckled, and it really wasn't fair that the man could sound so calm and unaffected at that moment. "Well, I hope you'll be able to endure their company awhile longer. I wouldn't want you to be… bored, after all." Subaru nodded deliriously, and Seishirou, for once taking pity on his plight, pushed him down on the bed…
Amethyst eyes turned Fuuma's direction when the man came in, the door snicking closed behind him. For a minute, he stood there, as though he were a bar across the shut door, keeping everything behind him locked out. For a minute, he only stood, the boy sitting on the edge of the bed where he'd left him, totally stripped, bare legs dangling a few inches above the floor.
Kamui wasn't doing anything in particular—he couldn't do anything even if he wanted to, wasn't even really allowed to want to—but even not doing anything, he followed Fuuma with his eyes, watching the man from across the room as if perpetually waiting for the moment he'd be told to do something else. Fuuma didn't like it—didn't like the way the boy was so dependent on him for drive. The Kamui he remembered all those years ago had been independent and demanding. Seeing him so acquiescent reminded Fuuma continually that the boy sitting passively on the bed wasn't Kamui anymore.
Right then in particular it was frustrating. Fuuma wasn't in the mood to deal with unresponsiveness, having been interrupted once and having just spent an hour hopelessly tracking someone who may or may not have been a product of his imagination.
A second later, he had crossed the distance between them and taken the boy by the shoulders, shaking that thin frame roughly. "Has anyone been in here? Has anyone seen you?"
Kamui shook his head, and it was only then that Fuuma relaxed, tension visibly draining out of him. Shoving back strands of fine black hair, he kissed the boy's forehead, and then, suddenly desperate, pushed him back onto the sheets, kissing him properly. Soft lips parted when he forced his tongue through, but there was nothing in it, nothing at all. Kamui tasted as much like ashes then as he had the day they'd met.
Eyes that were just as empty as the kiss stared up at him, directionless, and he couldn't stand it: that flat stare where there had once been purpose, that void where there had once been fire. Unfortunately, it was highly impractical to tell the boy to stop looking at him. There had been a time when he'd avoided Kamui for days, unable to stand the sight of that amethyst gaze. A time when he'd just ignored the boy's presence, refusing to so much as look at him. But that had caused other problems: it had been soon after he'd started avoiding Kamui that he'd found the boy fully dressed in the freezing bathtub.
When a second order was carried out incorrectly, followed by a third, Fuuma had to start wondering whether it was possible to intentionally misconstrue instructions, which was absurd. It shouldn't have been possible for the boy to intentionally do anything. Questioning Kamui over the incidents ultimately got him the same unhelpful answer every time, "Fuuma told me to," and the boy couldn't lie anymore than he could disobey.
Maybe it was a little better on the days Fuuma kept Kamui at his side, but that didn't solve the problem of the boy's blank eyes on him.
Kamui, I think I'm going mad.
It shouldn't have bothered him. It wasn't like every servant in the estate didn't look at him with those same eyes every day. He'd never taken particular notice of any unwavering stares before. They'd glanced off him, inconsequential. But now… now it was like each and every one of them was a reminder—Kamui's stare, trapped in the features of another. And there was only one way to escape it. Only one way to get away from it. Only one way to make it stop.
When he reached down and crushed the boy's hand in his own… then there was a response. Kamui gasped up into his mouth most pleasingly as fragile fingers were snapped. Fuuma could hear them crack. And at last that empty expression was washed away, broken like those delicate fingers. Kamui had always been particularly vulnerable to physical stimuli. Every second of injury inflicted upon his body showed on his face. And therein lay the answer.
Pain was the only thing that could crack that mask—that could shatter those horrid, expressionless eyes. To see emotion on that pretty face, any emotion… the boy had to break a little. It might not have been the real thing—might have been only a pale substitute of what he really wanted, the fully responsive boy—but it was a response.
"Kamui, are you sure no one saw you?" he asked, a direct question so the boy would be forced to answer, and then promptly bit down on the boy's arm until he felt bone grind beneath his teeth so that a sharp cry split the responding words, "No one." There was blood in his mouth then, but he wasn't so young as to be undone by scent or taste. He did enjoy it though, licking it from teeth and lips.
"Tell me again." A command, punctuated with a dangerous rake of teeth—fangs—over a smooth chest, before dipping lower, lapping at the boy's navel.
"No one saw me."
But there Fuuma broke off, head jerking up from his appreciation of the boy's body, alerted by that same faint presence pressing at his awareness as before, when he'd left the boy to go out and confront it—a futile exercise. After a second a flicker of annoyance flashed across Fuuma's face. The presence was a nuisance, but it didn't come any closer, and he refused to leave Kamui to chase it again. He wouldn't fall for the same feint twice.
Slowly, he turned back to the boy beneath him, ignoring whoever it was out there, and contemplated where they'd left off. A dangerous smile curved his lips, staring at once-again empty amethyst eyes.
So if he wasn't as careful as dealing with humans necessitated—not bothering to check his strength—if the boy got a little more damaged than usual, if one of his thrusts dislocated a hip or if he pressed down on a delicate waist hard enough to crush ribs, it was only to hear a voice besides his own in the otherwise empty room, only to feel another body jerk in response to his. Even if it wasn't the way he wanted it. Even if it was only the motions of an empty body responding to physical stimuli. Even if was only the response to a command that couldn't be disobeyed.
Afterward, he healed the broken body, letting his blood drip into the boy until bruises formed and faded and bones reknit. It was possibly as painful as having them broken in the first place. Fuuma had to force his fingers between the rows of teeth to get the blood down, because the boy kept clamping his mouth involuntarily shut. And then he watched, rapturous, as the boy writhed and jerked, raking at his own arms as if to claw out the blood burning inside (it was hopeless of course—the welts simply healed over, prolonging the process). Watched that face contort in the throes of exquisite agony—the only proof that it could feel, could react. When at last Kamui lay there panting and trembling but whole, he pulled the unresponsive body into his arms, curling up with it more or less contentedly.
Author Note: This story was originally intended to be 3 chapters in length, but then my beta read it… And as stories are wont to do when read by betas, things changed. Now we're hoping to end it at 6 chapters. So ch. 3 is going to take awhile while I write the entire second half of the story I thought was finished. ^^, But! There'll be more Sei and Su and their backstory in the second half, so I hope it'll be worth it. And next chapter you'll get to find out what really happened to Kamui. Most of it.
I want to thank everyone for their encouragement and all the reviews. They made me so very happy.
The green bound book: Fitcher's Bird by Grimm here: http: //www .familymanagement. com/literacy/grimms/grimms35. html.
Review Responses:
Nickel Xenon: I'm glad. *laugh* I must be doing something right if I can hook people by the first chapter! It's true, there are lots of vamp stories out there but few of value. I'm glad you seem to consider mine among that minority. ^_^ And happy I'm not the only one craving a good vampire story right now. Pleased to be of service!
Leuv: It's true. It was intentional even. I think as I write more and more I'm beginning to adjust the characters. TF, as my first story, was started before I really even understood X at all, and in hindsight, Seishirou is a bit too nice, Fuuma a bit too cruel. So when I started LB, I intentionally tried to fix that. Though, Fuuma certainly isn't completely nice here either, as demonstrated by this chapter.
Akuma-river: Kamui's still there. He can't do anything, not really, but he knows what's going on and what's being done to him. Also, yes, this is in the X category because character abilities are closer to those in X than TRC. And yes, Kamui's ability definitely has something to do with the inferno.
Secret For Keeps: I've said it before, but I'll say it again: it's good to hear from you once more. It seems so long since we were all DK writers eagerly awaiting the last books. I miss that. I've been enjoying seeing your posts in the alfeegi community and wish now I hadn't posted my last DK story to ff. net a month or two back to get it off my computer. *mourns* Otherwise I could've given it to you for your site. But I'm glad you seem to like this story so far and that at least X is a series we all seem to have in common too. *laughs and feels your love*
LeiCross: Even before we decided to expand this story into 6 chapters, I wouldn't really have called it… well, short is relative. Short compared to TF, yes. But considering that 90% of all fics never hit the 10k mark, and considering half of my own stories are shorter than this, I'd say this is decent sized. And 3k is a good length for chapters. I'm sure readers prefer the 5k chapters, but those take longer to write, and in the end I think it's preferable to have shorter chapters that come out more regularly than huge chapters that take months to complete. (Um, that looks painful. Should I find glue dissolvent? XD)
Laustic: Thank you. Reading other people's descriptions of my writing is always fascinating, since I'm never sure if it's coming off the way I want, unable as I am to see my own writing clearly. It wasn't until you called it 'intense' that I decided it was turning out all right. ^_^
Nekoi: I'm glad you like it! Things do seem to turn out best when I use all four main characters. Unfortunately, Kamui's personality is rather suppressed at the beginning. And due to circumstances in the introductory scene, he wasn't particularly outspoken there either. Subaru cares too much about people. It gets him in trouble.
KamFum: I'm honored! Knowing my readers are recommending me to other readers is sort of thrilling. I just hope I can live up to your friend's recommendation!
Zuzanny: So there I was, right in the middle of answering reviews and all of a sudden I realized I had another one! XD I almost missed it! So what happens next… well, after this chapter, our lovely characters are going to run into even more problems, naturally. In particular, Kamui's past is going to come back to… haunt him. Subaru's going to be forced to give away his location—a thing even he doesn't fully understand the consequences of yet. And Fuuma will have to face a particularly powerful group of people. Not all necessarily in the next chapter.
