Zelle
By: PhoenixJustice
Disclaimer: Boku Dake ga Inai Machi (ERASED) is owned by Kei Sanbe; I only own this story and make no profit from this.
Warning: Rated Mature for language, future sexual content, yaoi, etc.
Pairing: Gaku Yashiro/Satoru Fujinuma, one sided Kenya Kobayashi/Satoru Fujinuma.
Setting: Post-episode 12 of the anime, spoilers for for entire anime (possible spoilers for the manga.)
Summary: He can't let it lie as it were. Unable to help himself, he meets the man in a cell, beginning a dialogue that soon spirals into something deeper, darker, and more.
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Chapter Four - Ein Netz von meinem eigenen Design
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He frowns and blinks, but there is nothing there any longer. No Butterfly and nothing else happens.
"Satoru."
Except...him. The mysteries of what he may or may have not just seen are erased as he moves his eyes back down once more. He swallows hard and looks back across from him where Yashiro is waiting, patience in his gaze mixed with a hunger that he either cannot, or does not, hide. The expression on Yashiro's face twists into one he cannot acknowledge, not now. His hand extends out towards Satoru, making him push back in his chair, the full effect of what he had just been doing-and who he had been doing it with-hitting him hard.
Yashiro's expression shutters until it's back into one of neutrality. He stands and grabs Satoru's glasses. He flinches when Yashiro puts them back on his face, but his hands do not linger.
They feel cold now.
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He can feel the eyes of the therapist, Takekura Akira, on him, as always. One hand nearly clenches into a fist but he manages to keep from doing so. His thoughts had swirled around that one moment, for days now. Days. He hadn't see him in days. Everything that happened...it had been...
He hears the therapist sigh. "You don't have to talk, but I would like you to speak. Whatever you say will not go outside this room, as I've told you before."
Should he reach out? But...no, that was probably not the best idea yet? Perhaps-
"Did you see Fujinuma-san again, since the last time you were here with me?"
His head whips to look at the therapist, eyes narrowing. He wanted to strike the man for daring to say any part of Satoru's name. Ahh, but look, Satoru, strike, not kill? Isn't that progress! That must be something good in Satoru's eyes. Perhaps it would get him to even smile a little? No? Probably not. Too soon. But surely there must be something that he could do to get Satoru to smile at him again, like that smile he bestowed on him after completely upending his life with that one Golden Statement: In this world, the only one who knows the real you...is me.
Beloved Satoru, with his Golden words and passionate eyes. Fifteen years of waiting, of going through a perpetual cycle of Hell and Hope, of hope he would awaken (he had to! Yashiro was here, so he must!) and the utter despair and depression of the fact (as it felt then, during the dark void of waiting and turmoil and pain of waiting. Of Satoru being so very close, but not being there with him) that Satoru would never awaken.
Nothing had ever filled him with pain before that moment. He had recognized pain as a response, physically and mentally, but it had never truly bothered him in his life. Not when his brother would snap at him and hurt him. Not when his mother hanged herself. Not when his fiancee died. Not when his father grew weaker and weaker until he died. Not until...not until... Not until then. When he would gaze down at Satoru, ever growing Satoru, his ever sleeping beauty, could reach a hand to flit through his growing hair and there would be no response. No happiness or anger or sadness or joy or despair; no emotions reached to Satoru through Yashiro's touch, his presence there.
He could only watch.
And feel pain. Pain so deep and dark that he sometimes longed to gouge out his own heart just so he didn't have to feel anymore. Surely, he thought then, this pain would go away if he killed Satoru. If he no longer had to look at him-!
What a joke. The fact that he could think those things and not see the truth in front of his face then. His own naivety surprised and humbled him in many ways. Not until Satoru awoken, by then already having awoken things in Yashiro that he never knew slumbered within him. Not in over forty years of life had he ever felt anything, until then, until Satoru.
I can't live without you.
Until then he hadn't even know what it truly meant to live. The concept as foreign to him as English, as happiness, and as love. What did it mean for someone to be in pain or to be happy or to be sad? Those were things so utterly unknown to him, until a handful of words spoken on a rainy rooftop completely shattered what he thought he knew about the world, and himself.
For the first time in his life he could feel the rock in his chest beating. The staccato pulse a thump thump in his chest, his veins. He feels alive and everything, all at once, becomes new to him. And all he can do then, as Satoru completely changes everything that is Yashiro Gaku, completely wiping away anything that was the shell named Nishizono Manabu, leaving only him Satoru's Yashiro, is to try and rebuild himself from scratch. It was a process both invigorating and harsher than he could ever have expected-if he had ever been able to guess the kind of changes one person could ever leave on him.
The touch of Satoru's trembling lips-
A sigh. "Nishizono-san, if you would but talk to me. I could-"
Could what? What did a faceless person, a nobody, offer in the scheme of Yashiro's life to Yashiro? Nothing. A man of many words and thoughts, but none which could understand anything related to Yashiro Gaku, to the man himself. To what made him him. Only one had ever been able to navigate the impossible spider web maze and get to the deep and pulsing thing that was Yashiro. Only Satoru had. Spice, do you know how signficant that is? Do you know what that means to me? Do you know what you mean? In the grand scope of a faceless, uncaring world, he somehow found another person to see him across the infinity of nothing.
Spice, you are...
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He doesn't take any visitors for days, other than his mother, who refused to let him be alone for so long alone. But even then, her visits are infrequent, due to her work hours, which leaves Satoru a lot of time being alone still. Alone with his thoughts, that he doesn't want to face. He knew being around others would probably help in some way-help him to ignore the things he does not want to acknowledge-but by the same token, he felt, irrationally, he knew, that they'd just somehow know what he had done, what he had been apart of; that they would read it on his face and be disgusted with him.
What did you do?
And the worst of it was not even the thoughts he was having while awake; it was the things that were now invading his dreams.
Sometimes it was only fragments, glimpses of his past self (his true eleven year old self? Himself in his past self's body? He often couldn't tell.) Sometimes those glimpses seemed...more, somehow, in ways he could not quite figure out. And at other times it was so detailed and layered and seemingly full of life that he could scarcely tell it from real life.
Sometimes those were of the past, at least his younger self, and at times with himself in the present, with his adult body.
Yashiro was always present.
Every moment in his dreams, from times in school, to home, to...to... to things that make his face burn with utter embarassment and heat. He was not always physically present in these moments, Yashiro, but even then...he could tell that Yashiro was never far from his mind.
Even in his dreams he could not be free of him.
And the worst part of it all? The very worst of it...
He puts his hands on his face, pulling on his face. Why did it have to feel good? In the dreams it never felt bad or wrong. No, it was...nice. Times in a dream set in the past, when he would be merely riding in the car with Yashiro, listening to him speak about his day, sometimes just letting his voice wash over him, soothing him. And that alone told him that it was some sort of twisted...thing, that it was just his mind creating odd dreams; because there was certainly no way he would ever willingly get in a car with Yashiro again.
And sometimes, instead of being in his younger body, he'd be in his body now, but it wouldn't be in the hospital; it'd be at home. But not home...it was home. He sees obvious signs of cohabitation and that, at first, makes his heart beat against his will-even within the dream, realizing he's dreaming. It was small things; a cup washed of the coffee from the earlier part of the day (coffee that he didn't drink), a well read book lying on a table, carefully bookmarked for a later read.
And even if he hadn't seen glimpses of Yashiro then...he'd have known it was him.
He was happy in these times and it was killing him. He could feel his resolve crumbling with each dream, each goddamn smile that Yashiro would give him there, that...that he could be happy. What must be wrong with him that he could ever find happiness, even within a dream, with such a thing?
How could he...but he did. And the worst part of it all? It made him see things. Things he didn't want to see, or to acknowledge. They were no single revelation, as was given to Yashiro through him, but a series of revelations. Why must it be this way? Why couldn't he...
He's startled, hands flying from his face, as there is a knock on his door. He barely has enough time to put his glasses back on before the door opens.
It was Kenya.
"Ah." Kenya says. "Good. You're awake."
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"I'm not...intruding, are I?" Kenya asks, hesitantly. "I know you didn't want to see anyone just yet, but..."
He shrugs, looking away, and Kenya takes that as invitation enough to enter inside, closing the door gently behind him. Satoru hears, more than sees, Kenya take a seat in the chair next to his hospital bed.
"You're...okay, right?" Kenya asks again, his voice gentle. "Yashiro didn't-" At Yashiro's name, he stiffens. "He didn't hurt you right? I mean, I know he's shackled when you see him, but there are other ways to hurt someone..."
Wait...Kenya didn't know Yashiro was no longed shackled? He turns to look over at him, seeing Kenya look at him almost beseechingly, making him swallow a bit at the sight of it. Why would Kenya not know? He knew that Kenya wasn't on the prosecuting side, despite being a lawyer himself (much too personal a case, said some of the other lawyers.)
Hurt him?
"Spice." Yashiro says, with such an obvious seductiveness that he shivers. And then next, when the man's mouth moves over his, the first to ever do so, and his mouth is wet, is Satoru's first thought. And warm. He had expected it to be cold, like he expected Yashiro to be. But when it came to Satoru, Yashiro was...
"Satoru?" Kenya questions.
He jerks a bit, startled out of his thoughts. Kenya's face hadn't twisted with any disgust just yet, so he luckily hadn't blurted out anything, as he was wont to do sometimes.
"I'm..." He licks his lips. "I'm fine. It's just...a lot sometimes, dealing with him."
"Only sometimes?" Kenya jokes, which makes Satoru crack a smile. But he sobers up quickly though, giving Satoru another look that he can't decipher. He hesitates. "Satoru...I...don't want you to be alone in this. You know that I-that we're all here for you, right?"
"I know." He says immediately. "But I have to do this alone."
This gives him pause and now he can't look Kenya in the face again. He feels his face burning. He doesn't want to acknowledge why, but the thought starts beating him on the head.
"Spice, Spice," Yashiro whispers, again and again, taking his mouth again and again, as if starved for it. His hand clutch Yashiro's shoulders, feeling helpless, yet more in control than he had in ages. He was wanted and his head spun with that fact, even more than the fact of just who it was that wanted him. A thought that should probably have disturbed him, yet he finds it doesn't in the slightest. "Satoru, Satoru..."
"You know the answer to that, Spice." Yashiro says immediately, sounding insulted. "Why would you ask that? What did I tell you before, Spice? Because I meant it then and I mean it now and I will always mean it. And you know that."
I cannot live without you.
"That you would come, even at this late hour, pleases me, Satoru."
"Come, Satoru."
"What do you think of me, Satoru? Is it as simple as Kenya thinks of me, or your mother? Or of those who call themselves your friends?"
"Spice."
His hands clutch his thin blanket like a lifeline.
He wante-
He's startled as he feels a hand move over his and he turns to see Kenya looking at him. Kenya's hand is clammy with sweat and obvious nervousness. He looks down at Kenya's hand.
He trembles as the man's hands move up to remove his glasses, setting them gently onto the table. He can't help but stare as Yashiro's hands, bare and warm, move to cup his face with a gentleness that he never would have expected from him.
"Spice."
His hand jerks away and he's not sure which of them is, or looks, the most startled.
"Ah," He says helplessly. He looks down at his lap. "I'm sorry."
"No, don't-" Kenya coughs. "Don't apologize. It's my fault. I keep forgetting you're..."
A child. He knew that was what Kenya wanted to say. The thought infuriates him. After all he had said and done, in the past and now, even for those of them who didn't know about the Revivals and experiences Satoru had, what they did know should be sufficient enough for them not to treat him like a child!
Again...again it was only Yashiro who treated him differently. Yashiro whom had looked at him as an equal after that fateful confession in that car, the water...the fifteen years...the rooftop...he treated Satoru as an equal and never anything less. He never saw him as less or as...as...
Why was it him?
He feels tears falling down his face, unable to stop them, barely hearing Kenya's exclamation.
"Satoru! It's...I didn't mean-"
"It's fine, Kenya." He says, strained. "I just need some time alone now." He looks up, watching Kenya take in a breath at Satoru's tear stained face. "Okay?"
"Satoru-"
"Please!" He removes his glasses, rubbing at his wet eyes. "Please, Kenya."
"Alright." Kenya says, softly. "I'll...I'll come again another time, alright?"
He hears the door close quickly, but softly and puts his face in his hands.
Yashiro, I want...to...see you.
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It's dark along the halls as he wheels down and almost eerily quiet. It's well past time for regular visitors now but he was immediately given access after showing off his key. It's past time for visitors but usually some noise could be heard. It made the sounds of his wheels, of his breathing, all the more loud to his ears. He swallows as he gets to the door, staring at it for a very long moment before letting out a deep breath, swiping the key, watching the green light come on, a shaking hand opening the door.
He heads in, seeing Yashiro at the window once more, seemingly lost in reflection. As he heads in, the noise seems to start the older man, making his head turn, looking at him in obvious shock.
"Satoru? What are you-"
His legs are already shaking as he pulls himself up and he starts to walk over to him. Yashiro's eyes widen and he seems absolutely rooted in place, watching Satoru's slow walk over to the window. He finally reaches him, feeling as if he's walked a marathon, and looks up at him. The look on Yashiro's face takes his breath away.
"Spice." Yashiro whispers. He starts to reach a hand to Satoru. "I-"
He feels his legs start to give out and cries out as he starts to fall, eyes closing to brace for the impact-but it never comes. He feels nothing but warmth. He opens his eyes to see Yashiro on the ground, having cushioned his fall with his own body, hands holding him so very carefully, like he was something precious.
"Spice-"
"No." He says, thickly. "No, just...please...let me..."
His arms wrap around Yashiro, trembling, feeling the shock run through Yashiro's body more than seeing it. After a moment, he feels Yashiro's arms around him in return.
"You never have to ask, Spice, for anything from me," Yashiro whispers."Ever. I will give you anything you have ever wanted. Don't you know that?"
His arms tighten around the man's body. Warm, still so very warm...
"Let me stay like this..." He says quietly. "Just..." He swallows. "Just for a little while."
Yashiro lets out a breath at that and he trembles greater at the feeling of the man's mouth kiss him on the side of the head.
"Yes."
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I hope you enjoyed this!
Let me know what you thought! :D
-PhoenixJustice