Silence
(Stained Glass #1)
By Aithine
Takes place near the end of the Nagasaki arc, after Tsuzuki has rescued Hisoka.
It was too quiet.
Of all the things he thought he'd ever miss, the noise he made hadn't been at the top of the list. In fact, if asked, he'd flatly deny missing the idiot at all.
They were just work partners, after all. And they probably wouldn't even be that for much longer.
But he couldn't hear him any more.
He slammed a fist down, hitting the mattress near his hip. Why does that bother me so much?
He'd only known the man for a few days. But he was already used to hearing him in his head.
I may not understand him most of the time, let alone any of the emotions he broadcasts so loudly for me to hear--but he's there. Close enough to touch. Close enough to--to hurt me.
All he could hear now was silence, and it was deafening.
He sat up, the lightweight hospital blanket pooling around his waist. Now he could hear the clock from the other side of the room; the second hand was sweeping steadily along, on its way to mark off another minute wasted in someone's life.
He could hear the sounds of someone in the other room of the infirmary, restlessly tossing in their fevered sleep, and the low murmur of voices from down the hall.
But he couldn't hear him anywhere.
He slowly slid out of the bed, hands lightly sweeping over where he'd been wounded. Not a trace remained of the events of the previous day, except in his mind.
Thanks to him.
He grabbed his clothing from the chair beside the bed. Someone had left clean clothes to replace the blood-soaked ones he'd collapsed in after they'd--
He shook his head abruptly and finished dressing, forcing his thoughts back to a slightly safer topic.
Think, damn it. Where would he go?
Watari had checked up on them early this morning and the other two had started to talk about the weird-looking contraption Watari had put together last night. He'd fallen asleep halfway through the description of what it did. It probably had something to do with food--he'd been interested, anyway.
Damn it, why the hell do I care where he is? He's just--just--infuriating. He doesn't listen to me, only thinks about his stomach, is never serious, calls me "boy" and--
And he'd run straight into a trap--knowing it was set for him--to save a partner who had shown him nothing but scorn.
Idiot! I don't understand him! Why would he do that--for me?
He had been so angry when he'd discovered Hisoka bound like that to the bed--just as angry as before. But this had been very different from the anger Hisoka had felt from him the first time. Then he hurt because he thought I'd rejected him, too, just like all the others.
But this . . . This was as if--
As if Muraki had done all those--those things to him, rather than to me.
He'd been furious.
So angry it made my heart hurt.
He shook himself slightly, realizing he'd been standing there for several minutes with his hand pressed tightly to his chest. Idiot. Get going.
He'd thought Konoe was a doddering old fool for saying Tsuzuki was the most powerful of the Shinigami.
I was so wrong.
How could someone so seemingly gentle be so incredibly dangerous? How could someone who never saw beyond the next dessert be so swift to deal out retribution for those he felt had been wronged? How could he handle constantly swinging from one emotional extreme to another without going insane?
How can he care so much and not hurt all the time?
It made his head hurt just thinking about it--he couldn't imagine what it would feel like to actually have those emotions and not just feel the reflections in his mind.
He doubted he'd ever know what it felt like to feel so strongly about anything, but perhaps Tsuzuki would--
He snorted. Yeah right. Like you're going to just ask him why he heedlessly threw himself into such a dangerous situation just to save you.
He finished buttoning up his jacket and headed to the door. Turning in the doorway, he glanced around the room they'd shared so briefly, then shut the door a little harder than was needed.
Maybe he would ask Tsuzuki why.
He just had to find him first.
This story is for Mer, who likes to talk about characters and their motivations in depth and at great length, who asks great questions that really make me think about what I'm writing, and without whom my existence as a fannish magpie wouldn't be nearly as interesting. *vbg* I can definitely blame acquiring this fandom on her. For which, of course, I am also terribly grateful. *bg* You rock, girlfriend!
Please feel free to leave both comments and constructive critiques--I adore both! :)
originally posted 6.29.01
minor edits 1.15.02