Thank you so much, everyone, for all the reviews. This is inadequate thanks... but it's all I can truly manage for now. Wish I could say thank you in many different languages or something equally fancy.
© 2002 Copyright Original Storyline by Gold
Disclaimer: If I had been CLAMP, Seishirou and Subaru would have lived happily ever after. With each other. Nevertheless, what's a CLAMP story without some tears? --Even if it's only fanfiction...
By the way, this is the third millennium, people use key-cards, not keys. They give their friends access-cards, with a special code. To ban access, they simply alter the code.
After The Fact (Version 3.0)Part 10: The Hardest Fall of All
Seishirou looked silently at the two holographic models poised above his desk. He turned them round and round, viewing it from every possible angle, including sideways and upside-down, just for the heck of it. Two bridges; both were beautiful and looked fairly similar. The architects and engineers who had designed the newer bridge had tried to recapture some of the old design, but since it was not meant to be a copy of the original, they had of course made several changes. The gleaming white curves and columns of Rebirth Bridge, the successor to Rainbow Bridge, had won world acclaim for the team behind it. It stood today as a magnificent example of early twenty-first century design and engineering.
With a flick of his thumb, Seishirou turned off the holographic display. Rainbow Bridge…it did not exist in this time, but there had been holographic models of it, and he owned some of the best holograms of it. He had shopped around until he found the best. After all, he had died there in his previous lifetime, for a number of reasons it had taken years to understand. How many times had he examined Rainbow Bridge? How many times had he walked over Bridge of Rebirth, so named in honour of the rebuilding of Tokyo, just to feel what it might have been like?
His eyes fell on the two photographs that he kept on the desk in his study. One was that of his family, and the other, of him with Subaru and Hokuto, in a pose not too dissimilar to one from the past, which he remembered vaguely. Just Subaru and Hokuto, and him, standing over them. A soft smile touched Seishirou's lips. It was one of his favourite photographs. It had been taken only last year, on one of the outings Hokuto had dragged him out on, trying to matchmake him with Subaru again. Though she had decided to find him a boyfriend/girlfriend all those years ago, she had abandoned that idea in favour of trying to get him together with her twin. And if fate had permitted it, Hokuto needn't have tried—Seishirou would have been happy to join in her schemes.
It was difficult to tell when he had started to notice Subaru—difficult to tell when the line between friendship and love had crossed, and difficult to tell if what he was feeling was a powerful echo of the past, or something from this lifetime. Would he have fallen for Subaru without those memories of the past? He wasn't quite sure, exactly. He certainly didn't feel for anyone else the type of emotion Sumeragi Subaru seemed to rouse in him, but at the same time, Seishirou had never let this emotion get anywhere beyond passive. Or perhaps he was exceedingly successful at clamping down on an emotion he refused to allow himself the luxury of enjoying or developing. True, he couldn't help caring; couldn't help doing little things and extra gestures; couldn't help it because he just wanted to be the one to make Subaru happy. Sometimes Seishirou wouldn't even realise what he was doing, until one of Subaru's shy but eloquent looks sent him to his senses.
And so what if Subaru had gone with Kamui to the senior dance that night? It was really a graduation dance of sorts for the high school seniors. But still, it was only a dance. Seishirou buried his face in his hands. He was dog-tired, his head ached, and his heart hurt, and he'd rather be anywhere than behind his desk in his apartment. But then again, it was nothing new. It wasn't as if this was the first time…
He was so tired that he did not know when he fell asleep at his desk.
He was so tired that he did not know when 2 a.m. struck and unexpected guests arrived.
He was so tired that he did not hear a muttering Hokuto ("I told you not to drink, but did you listen?! Nooooooo…") with a somewhat tipsy Subaru on one arm, stumble into the apartment, or Kakyou, doing the same for Shirou Kamui.
He was so tired that he did not know when Kakyou left, and Hokuto pottered grumpily around the apartment, looking for Sei-chan and walking past the locked study.
He was so tired he did not wake until the crick in his neck made its presence painfully felt. Or perhaps all the noises had managed to stir his subconsciousness…
He was so tired that he did no more than to glance at the digital clock through bleary eyes; it said two forty-three and counting.
He was so tired that he did not hear any unusual noises, but simply dragged himself out of the study and headed for his bathroom.
And then—
He just happened to pass the living room.
He was not so tired that he didn't notice the liplocked duo sprawled gracelessly across his favourite armchair.
Seishirou went white.
It felt as if a thousand blades were systematically and mercilessly twisting their way through him, their aim fierce and true, and—oh, the pain, the pain. He gritted his teeth, but he could not stop himself from stumbling back and falling against the wall. He wondered briefly how long it would be before his heart would stop breaking—if that was what it was doing, twisting and turning wildly, and then shattering a hundred different ways at once. Somehow he had a feeling that it was never going to end until he died. If he had wanted to know whether what he had felt for Subaru was real or simply a reflection of the past, well, there was nothing echo-y or reflective about the thousand blades tearing through him, and it was certainly closer to passion and heartbreak rather passivity…
Sumeragi Subaru never knew what it was that alerted him at the edges of his somewhat hazy consciousness, to something other than Shirou Kamui's lips on his. Perhaps it was the sound of the vase that had gone crashing to the floor, swept off its perch by the involuntary movement of a young man with a shattered heart. Whatever it was, Subaru found himself suddenly stumbling to his feet, pushing the equally tipsy Kamui away. He turned his head slowly—and froze. It was as if he had been given a sobering tonic.
Seishirou was leaning against the wall, rumpled and weary, his hair attractively mussed from sleep. He was still in one of his work shirts, which Subaru recognised, but it was open at the neck, and badly crumpled. He was, as usual, absolutely and breathtakingly gorgeous, and Subaru swallowed hard.
But it was the stricken look on his face that told Subaru what Seishirou must have seen. Seishirou simply stood still, looking oddly pale and tragic, and for a moment, his eyes met Subaru's, anguished and transparent, and there was nothing left to be said. The walls had crumbled, the masks were gone, the abyss had yawned before them and they had fallen. Subaru, who had gone scarlet at first, now went dreadfully white in his turn, and he was filled with horror at his mistake. If he had ever thought that Seishirou did not love him, he saw at a blinding flash that he had never been more wrong. He gave a choked, inarticulate cry.
"Seishirou-san! I—I—" Subaru stumbled forward unsteadily, hands outstretched pleadingly, remorsefully, but Seishirou stepped back swiftly, out of reach. "Seishirou-san—!" cried Subaru, his eyes filling with tears. "Don't—!"
But Seishirou said nothing, and only looked at him with a strange new face—the face of a man who sees someone who is a stranger to him.
Subaru halted, his voice catching in his throat. "Seishirou-san—" he whispered painfully, wanting to apologise, but he was cut off.
Seishirou had walked towards him and into the living room. He did not look at either Subaru or the equally silent, horrified Kamui. Instead, he stopped some distance from the front door, his back to them. "You have half an hour to get out, Sumeragi-san," he bit out. "See that Shirou-san's presence is removed from my home, as well as yours."
Seishirou did not wait for a reply. Before half a minute was through, he was out of his own apartment, and out in the streets, and he would not return this night.