CENTENNIALS
900: Ink
For the fourth time that night, Ritsuka noticed a strange rustling sound as Soubi raised his cigarette to his lips.
'What's that noise?' he asked sharply over the top of his book, eyeing Soubi with a hint of suspicion.
The Fighter promptly switched hands on the cigarette between his lips. There was another rustle as he casually dropped his hand into his lap. 'Nothing,' he said lightly.
Ritsuka closed his book with a dry snap, cat ears canted back.
'Don't lie to me!' he hissed, scrambling off the bed to where Soubi sat cross-legged on the carpet.
Soubi looked up expectantly, a small smile on his lips. He obligingly extended his cigarette away from his body when Ritsuka demonstratively wafted the offensive smoke away from his scrunched up nose.
'It's nothing bad,' Soubi amended smoothly, leaning forward ever so slightly to look up at the teen glowering at him.
With a frown of disbelief, face set, Ritsuka plopped down on his knees and held out an expectant hand. The corners of Soubi's smiling mouth twitched before he obediently placed his hand in Ritsuka's, palm up.
The warmth of Soubi's hand resting in his, fully relaxed, coursed from Ritsuka's fingertips straight to his cheeks, igniting a flush on his cheekbones. In its wake, goosebumps shivered to life on his skin.
Gnawing on his lip in the hope that it would somehow quell the tremor that had settle into his hand, Ritsuka fumbled to open the button and push up Soubi's sleeve – the Fighter's thumb grazed his finger as it passed. A strip of what looked like plastic wrap was wrapped around Soubi's wrist. Beneath it, Ritsuka noticed white gauze.
'What is this? Why is this on you arm? Soubi, are you hurt?'
Soubi, hands incapacitated by his cigarette and Ritsuka's grasp, gently touched his forehead to Ritsuka's frowning one. The careful brush made Ritsuka's eyes snap up from their wary scrutiny and he was a little startled at how close the Fighter's periwinkle eyes now hovered.
'I'm not hurt, Ritsuka,' Soubi said in a low murmur. When Ritsuka looked clearly unconvinced at the assertion, poised to argue- why else was there a wound dressing?- he continued, 'I wanted to show you when I was sure my body wouldn't reject any of the ink, so you could see it just as I imagined it.'
Comprehension began dawning on Ritsuka. 'Soubi, did you...?'
'Ritsuka, I got a tattoo of your name.' For all his usual stoicism, Soubi beamed.
Ritsuka stared, horrified. First at Soubi's face, then at the wrist he was still cradling in his hands and lastly, unwillingly, at the strips of bandages covering Soubi's throat. Soubi's smile dimmed in the heavy silence that followed, his eyes remaining fixed on his Sacrifice's features.
'Why?' Ritsuka asked finally.
Why would Soubi want Ritsuka's name? Loveless. A cold shiver pushed back against the warmth spreading from Soubi's and and Ritsuka released it abruptly, at though burned.
His eyes once again fell on Soubi's throat. Though hidden, he could clearly see the jagged scars of BELOVED in his mind's eye. The marks always made Ritsuka's insides squirm, to see his brother's name carved into Soubi like he truly had been nothing more than the tool he always told Ritsuka he was.
Ritsuka never wanted to see the word Loveless on Soubi's skin. Even if Soubi did it to strengthen their bond, Ritsuka did not want them to share that name. If his fate as Loveless was unavoidable, he didn't want to be constantly reminded of it. And he certainly didn't want Soubi to brand himself as such willingly. It felt like a cruel joke on Soubi. How he´d been passed around, going from Beloved to Loveless.
Soubi´s expression was unreadable, but his lips were tight as he replied softly, ´I wanted to show I belong to you.´ His fingers curled restlessly now that Ritsuka was no longer holding his hand. ´It is a constant reminder of our bond.´ Eyes falling to his covered wrist, Soubi added, ´A memory.´
With a slow shake, Ritsuka lowered his head, unruly black hair hiding his face. Bonds. Names. Fighter and Sacrifice. Orders. That´s what it all came down to. Orders. Seimei´s orders.
Distantly, Ritsuka wondered if he ever would have heard those three words if Seimei had never ordered Soubi to say them.
Barely above a whisper, Ritsuka spoke to his knees, ´You shouldn't have.´
There was another pregnant pause, broken by a short query from Soubi, weighed despite the airy tone. ´Why not?'
Another slow shake of his head. 'You- You shouldn't- Because you're- Or... because you're not...' Ritsuka huffed, heat packing tighter and tighter in his face. You're not Loveless, Soubi.
Soubi's forehead creased sharply and he dropped his cigarette to the floor, its flame having silently died.
'Ritsuka,' he said, grabbing the plastic with determined fingers to tear it off, peeling away the gauze beneath it, 'please don't be angry until you've seen it. If it still displeases you, then...' He trailed off in implication. It wasn't necessary to speak the familiar words out loud as he shifted to his knees and extended his wrist with downcast eyes. Punish me. Swallowing, Ritsuka took Soubi's hand again.
Intimately tucked away in the crook of his wrist were not the eight letters the teen had expected. Instead, there were seven, flowing delicately across Soubi's inflamed skin.
RITSUKA
A/N: Thank you very much for reading. All comments are welcome!