Closed Doors
By Leareth

Part Five
Tatsumi couldn't sleep. It probably had something to do with the fact that a loosened button-shirt and slacks weren't appropriate sleepwear and he was too tall to lay comfortably on the sofa, but he had learnt to live with discomfort a long, long time ago. He stared up at the ceiling; the shadows were moving too slowly for his liking. If he strained his ears, he could catch the sound of hushed breathing from his bedroom. He sternly told himself not to.

It had been a difficult evening, most difficult. He hadn't expected Tsuzuki to visit in the middle of his little sojourn into self-doubt – he really shouldn't have let him in, but then again, he shouldn't make Tsuzuki unhappy either. Neither should he have let him stay, but on the other hand, he shouldn't be a bad host.

Tatsumi took in a deep breath, then let it out. There were a lot of things he shouldn't have done today. He shouldn't have let himself be drawn into conversation with Tsuzuki. He shouldn't have let Tsuzuki come near him. He shouldn't have let Tsuzuki touch him, shouldn't have put his arms around him, shouldn't have turned his face into Tsuzuki's hair to feel how soft it was and end up tasting his lips instead. And he really, really shouldn't have let Tsuzuki stay the night. Tatsumi had done it all anyway.

"You want him too, don't you."

Tatsumi closed his eyes as if he could shut the memory away. Damn Muraki. Damn the man to hell for doing this to him. Everything had been so straightforward until Muraki had planted things in his head, things that over the week had sprouted and spread like choking weeds in the orderly garden of his mind.

Ah, but was it planted there, or woke?

"I am merely pointing out to you what you do not yet realise or acknowledge."

Perhaps he had always had some ulterior motive behind all those little touches he never could resist. Cleaning Tsuzuki's face with his own fingers, for example – there wasn't any real call for it, was there. He didn't have to. All that was required was ordering Tsuzuki to get a towel. Yet he insisted on doing it himself. After all, Tsuzuki had such a pretty face ...

A hiss of annoyance; Tatsumi turned over to face the sofa's backrest. So Tsuzuki was attractive, so what? He had known that for over half a century and it had never bothered him before. It was something he had come to take for granted, another characteristic that made up Tsuzuki Asato like his weakness for sweets and eagerness to please. Now it stood out as blatant as a rose amongst daisies. With that in mind, Tatsumi supposed he could see why Muraki had done what he had done.

"We're more alike than you'd like to admit, you know."

Tatsumi shuddered. If he could understand, then he could do the same. The way he was looking at Tsuzuki now it was entirely possible.

And yet ...

Tatsumi stared at the upholstery without seeing it. And yet even knowing all of this, what Tatsumi thought of him, Tsuzuki still trusted him utterly. Tatsumi wasn't sure why. Was Tsuzuki just being foolishly naïve or did he truly know something Tatsumi didn't? Knowing the answer would certainly help him sleep easier. He pulled the covers tightly about himself, found a less-uncomfortable spot on the sofa –

Something was wrong.

Tatsumi sat up. It didn't take long to realise what had disturbed him. He may not have been as sensitive as Hisoka, but his reikan ability was more than enough to sense the fear and hurt pulsating from his bedroom.

Tsuzuki was having another nightmare.

Quietly, before he realised what he was doing Tatsumi rose from the sofa and slipped into the bedroom. He flicked on the bedside table lamp and his breath caught. Looking very small against he king-sized mattress, Tsuzuki lay curled in a tangle of sheets, his face buried in the pillow. Even as Tatsumi watched, he whimpered in half-realised pain or fear as he tried to hide from whatever specter his nightmares had conjured up, a heart-breaking contrast to the determined young man who had badgered his way into Tatsumi's home.

"Tsuzuki-san?" Forgetting any of his earlier trepidation, Tatsumi reached out to shake him. "Tsuzuki-san! Wake up!"

He grabbed the young man's shoulder; at his touch Tsuzuki jerked away and lashed out wildly, landing a glancing blow on Tatsumi's cheek. Tatsumi ignored the sting as Tsuzuki unconsciously cowered away from him at the edge of the bed. If he went any further he would fall off. Quickly, before the terrified shinigami could react Tatsumi grabbed his wrist and pulled him backwards into his arms on the bed. He held firm as Tsuzuki sobbed and struggled against him like a wild bird that couldn't get free. Did he think Tatsumi was someone else? Someone else trying to hurt him?

"Shh, it's alright, it's alright," murmured Tatsumi, holding him tightly. Tsuzuki was so tense; Tatsumi almost feared he would shatter at his touch. "It's alright ..."

A hand grabbed desperately onto his shirt-front and refused to let go.

" ... it's just me, Tsuzuki-san. Wake up."

Tsuzuki's eyes flew open. They were lovely, damp and wild. Pulling away he stared fearfully at Tatsumi. Then recognition dawned and with a small cry, Tsuzuki threw his arms around his friend and sobbed in relief. Carefully, Tatsumi leaned back against the headboard, cradling Tsuzuki against him, still murmuring comfortingly and feeling tears soaking into his shirt.

" ... it's alright, everything will be alright now ..."

Slowly, the crying lessened. Tatsumi let his words stop and fell silent, simply holding onto the younger man as he waited for him to cry himself out. How fragile Tsuzuki was, he thought distantly, despite being the most powerful of them. Strange, too, how those disturbing thoughts dissolved away like mist. The attraction was still there, what with having Tsuzuki pressed against him so closely, but it was irrelevant in the face of the immediate need: comfort. There was simply this person who trusted him, who needed him, and for now that was enough.

As for what tomorrow would bring between them, well, he'd wait and see.

Finally, Tsuzuki calmed down. He lay with his head tucked under Tatsumi's chin in absolute trust as the other man stroked his dark hair.

"Better?" asked Tatsumi quietly. Tsuzuki nodded against him, exhausted, and Tatsumi gave a low chuckle. "Silly puppy. You know you're not supposed to worry me like that."

He felt Tsuzuki smile a little. "I'm sorry I woke you," he said softly.

"There's no need to feel sorry for anything." Tatsumi kept his voice gentle.

"But you're tired."

"I wasn't asleep."

"How come?"

"My sofa's too small."

"... I'm sorry."

"What did I say about you feeling sorry?"

"I-I'm sor–"

An amused almost-laugh. "Just go to sleep, Tsuzuki-san."

The hand clutching Tatsumi's shirt tightened. "Will you stay?"

Tatsumi opened his mouth, the instinctive evasion on his lips, then stopped. He looked down at Tsuzuki's dark hair, all he could see of the other shinigami at this angle. Tsuzuki was very still, almost breathless. As if already expecting Tatsumi's answer and bracing himself against it.

"... I understand. It's ok. Really."

... Liar.

Tatsumi closed his eyes against the memory, tightening his embrace. It was pleasant.

"Yes."

A smile. Tsuzuki relaxed and snuggled a little closer, already drifting off into peaceful slumber. Tatsumi listened as the heartbeat beside his steadied, still stroking Tsuzuki's hair. He wondered what he had been so afraid of.

Nothing.

Tatsumi smiled wryly at himself. Then he willed the shadows to switch off the light. It was late, and he was falling asleep. Besides, he had to make Tsuzuki breakfast in the morning.

~finis~

Behold, The Void @ http://doki3.net/void/