Author's Notes: See, this is what happens when I know what's supposed to be happening. It gets done scarily fast. The next chapter is, quite literally, the reason that I wrote the entire story. ^__^
Warnings? Yaoi. Weird potion effects.
Enjoy!
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Outside Looking In
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Chapter 4
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The knock on the door was quiet, unobtrusive. Hesitant, almost.
Seated behind his desk, Tatsumi didn't raise his eyes from the papers stacked neatly before him. "Yes?" the secretary called, raising his voice just loudly enough to be heard through the wood of the door. "Who is it?"
No answer came, but a moment later the door opened just wide enough for Hisoka to let himself inside. He pressed it quietly closed behind him.
Sharp blue eyes lifted from their work to see what the problem was, taking one quick, appraising glance. The boy's face was set, serious, and he looked, Tatsumi thought, distinctly displeased about something.
"Kurosaki-kun," he greeted, watching as the young shinigami helped himself to a seat. "You wanted to talk to me about something?"
A quick nod preceded the soft voice. "About my empathy."
"Oh?" The secretary had moved to retrieve his pen, intending to work through the distraction, but the boy's words had caught his full attention. "Are you having problems with it?" The man considered the problem seriously. "Perhaps Watari-san could come up with a solution."
"No!" Hisoka yelped, much too quickly. "That is," he admitted with a quick blush. "I asked for Watari's help before. I don't have my empathy right now-- he was working on a potion to dampen it."
Tatsumi frowned, leaned forward over the desk. "And he doesn't think he can create an antidote? I thought that he always kept notes on possible neutralizing agents."
The boy's wide green eyes were peculiarly embarrassed. "That isn't the problem." He hesitated, coming as close to fidgeting as Tatsumi had ever seen him. "It's Tsuzuki," the young shinigami admitted at last.
"Oh?" A very slight smile played at the corner of the man's lips. For all Hisoka pretended not to care about his partner, Tatsumi suspected that most of the distress stemmed from the fact that he couldn't feel the violet-eyed shinigami's emotions anymore. They were overwhelming even without empathy, after all; he could only imagine that their loss must be shocking.
"He has it," the boy said simply, refusing to raise wide green eyes to make eye contact.
Tatsumi blinked, wondering if he'd missed part of the conversation. "Excuse me?"
"My empathy," the boy elaborated. "Tsuzuki has it."
A long moment of silence descended. Tatsumi adjusted his glasses, a gesture of habit. "Well," he said-- but it wasn't a beginning, merely an acknowledgement.
"I thought that you might be able to help me. I can never feel anything when I'm around you." Hisoka fixed him with hopeful green eyes, though the expression on his face remained closed, distant. "Can you teach me how?"
The secretary regarded him with a cool blue gaze for a time, thinking about the answer. "I can try," he finally agreed. "But I think that some of it's natural."
"Right." With a nod and a quick breath, the boy was ready to begin. "What should I do?"
* * *
While not normal by any stretch of the imagination, the rest of the day was bearable at least. Which is to say that the walls had kept Tsuzuki from discovering anything too embarrassing, and that half of the paperwork was finished by the time the two partners left the office. Despite the fact that they should been able to complete it with time to spare, it was good progress as far as Tsuzuki was concerned.
Building his mental walls strong enough to keep someone else out, Hisoka had been startled to discover, was a draining effort. Every moment had been spent making sure that he wasn't leaking emotions, and his mood had gradually deteriorated throughout the afternoon. It only made him more irritable to consider the fact that he might not be putting enough energy into the task, and that Tsuzuki could very well know -exactly- what was bothering him so much. Needless to say, the patience that the violet-eyed shinigami displayed with the boy's fraying temper was -not- appreciated-- particularly when Hisoka thought he saw a bit too much understanding in the kindness of those eyes.
By the time he kicked off his shoes and stumbled into the little house, sleep was the young shinigami's sole objective. It, at least, would smooth out the rough edges of the day, and rid him of the headache that was beginning to pound its way into his temples.
Four steps brought Hisoka to the couch; upstairs was too far away, and too much effort. The boy settled himself without hesitation, sliding into an exhausted sleep moments later.
* * *
It was a deep sleep, black and dreamless-- the sort that didn't happen very often. For an instant, Hisoka hovered on the edge of consciousness, clinging tentatively to oblivion, attempting to fall back into a rest without nightmares. But the knock on the door dragged him into a reluctant sort of consciousness, and the boy opened his eyes to find that the room had darkened into night.
He didn't want to get up. Not really. For a moment, reluctance and an irrational irritation warred in the boy, until he surrendered with a sigh.
The headache was gone, and he was still tired enough that clinging to the anger seemed a wasted effort. And so he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, pushed himself away from the couch, and moved to answer the door.
The sight that greeted the boy's eyes was one he had not been expecting.
His partner stood in the doorway, clutching a pillow in both arms and looking ridiculously childish. The habitual black trench coat was hanging open, to reveal patterned pajamas. Huge violet eyes shined hopefully as the man tried on his most winning smile. "Hisoka? Can I stay here with you?"
The boy closed the door in his face, ignoring Tsuzuki's startled cry. He picked his way toward the kitchen, still half-asleep, and prepared water for tea, only half-listening to the older-shinigami's pleas.
"Come on, Hisoka!" came the voice that drifted through the closed door. "I'll sleep on the couch!" It waited for a response. "I won't take anything from your fridge! And, uh, I'll be quiet! I won't bug you, honest!"
Setting out two cups on the counter, the boy turned back toward the front door.
"Pleeaaaase?" the voice begged. "I'll make you breakfast tomorrow morning!"
Hisoka jerked the door open, regarding his partner with a level stare. "You say that like it's a plus." Judging by Tsuzuki's expression, the boy got the distinct impression that, had he possessed his empathy, the gratitude that the other man was projecting would have been overwhelming.
"Thank you!" the violet-eyed shinigami gushed, letting himself in and abandoning his slippers at the step. "I didn't know you'd be sleeping already, honest."
Hisoka started, realizing that the lingering drowsiness must have been obvious to the new empath. And a moment later, the boy cursed silently to himself; now he had to put the walls up again. He raised them carefully, checking for chinks as Tatsumi had taught him, and was dismayed to find that they hadn't been in place for more than five seconds before the headache returned full force.
The young shinigami bit back a sigh, turning toward the kitchen once more as his partner kept up the too-cheery monologue.
"But... I was trying to sleep, and people kept walking by outside, and I kept feeling what they were feeling." He trotted along after the boy, pillow still in his arms. "And Watari said to find someone if the empathy started bothering me."
"So you wanted to find someone -else- to be around? You really are an idiot," the boy proclaimed mildly. He considered, then added wryly: "Watari, too, if he told you that was a good idea." Retrieving the tea from it's spot, Hisoka poured some into the cups.
"I didn't think you'd mind so much," Tsuzuki protested. "I was hoping you might be able to tell me how--" The older man cut off abruptly when he was presented with the tea. "Oh! Sankyu, Hisoka!"
"Here's my advice," the boy told him, fixing his partner with a green-eyed stare. "Get some sleep. You don't feel it as much, then." And with that, the young shinigami turned to the stairs, taking the first two steps up.
"Where are you going?" Tsuzuki protested, violet eyes begging.
"To bed." Hisoka firmly ignored the kicked-puppy look that his partner shot in his direction, continuing in his path up the stairs. He sincerely hoped that the walls were strong enough that the other man didn't know how much those pleading looks affected him.
~end part 4~
Warnings? Yaoi. Weird potion effects.
Enjoy!
===============
Outside Looking In
===============
Chapter 4
===============
The knock on the door was quiet, unobtrusive. Hesitant, almost.
Seated behind his desk, Tatsumi didn't raise his eyes from the papers stacked neatly before him. "Yes?" the secretary called, raising his voice just loudly enough to be heard through the wood of the door. "Who is it?"
No answer came, but a moment later the door opened just wide enough for Hisoka to let himself inside. He pressed it quietly closed behind him.
Sharp blue eyes lifted from their work to see what the problem was, taking one quick, appraising glance. The boy's face was set, serious, and he looked, Tatsumi thought, distinctly displeased about something.
"Kurosaki-kun," he greeted, watching as the young shinigami helped himself to a seat. "You wanted to talk to me about something?"
A quick nod preceded the soft voice. "About my empathy."
"Oh?" The secretary had moved to retrieve his pen, intending to work through the distraction, but the boy's words had caught his full attention. "Are you having problems with it?" The man considered the problem seriously. "Perhaps Watari-san could come up with a solution."
"No!" Hisoka yelped, much too quickly. "That is," he admitted with a quick blush. "I asked for Watari's help before. I don't have my empathy right now-- he was working on a potion to dampen it."
Tatsumi frowned, leaned forward over the desk. "And he doesn't think he can create an antidote? I thought that he always kept notes on possible neutralizing agents."
The boy's wide green eyes were peculiarly embarrassed. "That isn't the problem." He hesitated, coming as close to fidgeting as Tatsumi had ever seen him. "It's Tsuzuki," the young shinigami admitted at last.
"Oh?" A very slight smile played at the corner of the man's lips. For all Hisoka pretended not to care about his partner, Tatsumi suspected that most of the distress stemmed from the fact that he couldn't feel the violet-eyed shinigami's emotions anymore. They were overwhelming even without empathy, after all; he could only imagine that their loss must be shocking.
"He has it," the boy said simply, refusing to raise wide green eyes to make eye contact.
Tatsumi blinked, wondering if he'd missed part of the conversation. "Excuse me?"
"My empathy," the boy elaborated. "Tsuzuki has it."
A long moment of silence descended. Tatsumi adjusted his glasses, a gesture of habit. "Well," he said-- but it wasn't a beginning, merely an acknowledgement.
"I thought that you might be able to help me. I can never feel anything when I'm around you." Hisoka fixed him with hopeful green eyes, though the expression on his face remained closed, distant. "Can you teach me how?"
The secretary regarded him with a cool blue gaze for a time, thinking about the answer. "I can try," he finally agreed. "But I think that some of it's natural."
"Right." With a nod and a quick breath, the boy was ready to begin. "What should I do?"
* * *
While not normal by any stretch of the imagination, the rest of the day was bearable at least. Which is to say that the walls had kept Tsuzuki from discovering anything too embarrassing, and that half of the paperwork was finished by the time the two partners left the office. Despite the fact that they should been able to complete it with time to spare, it was good progress as far as Tsuzuki was concerned.
Building his mental walls strong enough to keep someone else out, Hisoka had been startled to discover, was a draining effort. Every moment had been spent making sure that he wasn't leaking emotions, and his mood had gradually deteriorated throughout the afternoon. It only made him more irritable to consider the fact that he might not be putting enough energy into the task, and that Tsuzuki could very well know -exactly- what was bothering him so much. Needless to say, the patience that the violet-eyed shinigami displayed with the boy's fraying temper was -not- appreciated-- particularly when Hisoka thought he saw a bit too much understanding in the kindness of those eyes.
By the time he kicked off his shoes and stumbled into the little house, sleep was the young shinigami's sole objective. It, at least, would smooth out the rough edges of the day, and rid him of the headache that was beginning to pound its way into his temples.
Four steps brought Hisoka to the couch; upstairs was too far away, and too much effort. The boy settled himself without hesitation, sliding into an exhausted sleep moments later.
* * *
It was a deep sleep, black and dreamless-- the sort that didn't happen very often. For an instant, Hisoka hovered on the edge of consciousness, clinging tentatively to oblivion, attempting to fall back into a rest without nightmares. But the knock on the door dragged him into a reluctant sort of consciousness, and the boy opened his eyes to find that the room had darkened into night.
He didn't want to get up. Not really. For a moment, reluctance and an irrational irritation warred in the boy, until he surrendered with a sigh.
The headache was gone, and he was still tired enough that clinging to the anger seemed a wasted effort. And so he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, pushed himself away from the couch, and moved to answer the door.
The sight that greeted the boy's eyes was one he had not been expecting.
His partner stood in the doorway, clutching a pillow in both arms and looking ridiculously childish. The habitual black trench coat was hanging open, to reveal patterned pajamas. Huge violet eyes shined hopefully as the man tried on his most winning smile. "Hisoka? Can I stay here with you?"
The boy closed the door in his face, ignoring Tsuzuki's startled cry. He picked his way toward the kitchen, still half-asleep, and prepared water for tea, only half-listening to the older-shinigami's pleas.
"Come on, Hisoka!" came the voice that drifted through the closed door. "I'll sleep on the couch!" It waited for a response. "I won't take anything from your fridge! And, uh, I'll be quiet! I won't bug you, honest!"
Setting out two cups on the counter, the boy turned back toward the front door.
"Pleeaaaase?" the voice begged. "I'll make you breakfast tomorrow morning!"
Hisoka jerked the door open, regarding his partner with a level stare. "You say that like it's a plus." Judging by Tsuzuki's expression, the boy got the distinct impression that, had he possessed his empathy, the gratitude that the other man was projecting would have been overwhelming.
"Thank you!" the violet-eyed shinigami gushed, letting himself in and abandoning his slippers at the step. "I didn't know you'd be sleeping already, honest."
Hisoka started, realizing that the lingering drowsiness must have been obvious to the new empath. And a moment later, the boy cursed silently to himself; now he had to put the walls up again. He raised them carefully, checking for chinks as Tatsumi had taught him, and was dismayed to find that they hadn't been in place for more than five seconds before the headache returned full force.
The young shinigami bit back a sigh, turning toward the kitchen once more as his partner kept up the too-cheery monologue.
"But... I was trying to sleep, and people kept walking by outside, and I kept feeling what they were feeling." He trotted along after the boy, pillow still in his arms. "And Watari said to find someone if the empathy started bothering me."
"So you wanted to find someone -else- to be around? You really are an idiot," the boy proclaimed mildly. He considered, then added wryly: "Watari, too, if he told you that was a good idea." Retrieving the tea from it's spot, Hisoka poured some into the cups.
"I didn't think you'd mind so much," Tsuzuki protested. "I was hoping you might be able to tell me how--" The older man cut off abruptly when he was presented with the tea. "Oh! Sankyu, Hisoka!"
"Here's my advice," the boy told him, fixing his partner with a green-eyed stare. "Get some sleep. You don't feel it as much, then." And with that, the young shinigami turned to the stairs, taking the first two steps up.
"Where are you going?" Tsuzuki protested, violet eyes begging.
"To bed." Hisoka firmly ignored the kicked-puppy look that his partner shot in his direction, continuing in his path up the stairs. He sincerely hoped that the walls were strong enough that the other man didn't know how much those pleading looks affected him.
~end part 4~
