written for j. on livejournal as part of a ficbit meme, late may 2005.
sleep wake hope and then
Kantarou has lived this scenario a shameful number of times over in his head. Haruka's sharp-nailed fingers around the base of his throat cannot quite erase the reality-new but dream-familiar way Haruka is crouched over him, so close that he can feel Haruka's breath cold against his face; even the weight of Haruka's body pressing the rough weave of the sheets against his skin doesn't seem overly foreign.
He can't even manage to tense up when Haruka says, "I could kill you like this." His voice is low and uninflected. "Any time I wanted. I don't believe you haven't thought of it, the day this could be real. You make it so easy --"
"If you kill me before I finish my next article," Kantarou replies, "you won't have anything to eat after the wake. Be reasonable, Haruka."
And Haruka's eyes are human again, still hungry, but troubled in a way that his demon instinct never bothers to be -- cannot, in fact, comprehend. Kantarou finds it harder to look him in the face this way. It is easy to speak to youkai, who do not judge him by standards he has never been able to measure up to, who find the subtleties of human emotion too foreign to understand. In a way it will be simpler when Haruka becomes as he was.
"You should be more careful," Haruka says. He loosens his hold; his hands are just hands now, queerly elegant for being blood-flecked, and he places his palms flat against Kantarou's breastbone instead.
"It is," he says, "a little too late for that." He tries a smile, wanting instead to lift his own hand to his neck to press away the stinging sensation from the broken skin there. He wants quite a few things right now, and he swallows, wishing for the first time that Haruka would leave. "Maybe this isn't the best time to have this conversation. Haruka, please, I --"
Haruka has been looking at him, and now leans in to murmur into Kantarou's ear, "A request is not an order, you know."
Oh. "Oh," Kantarou says. "I mean -- Haruka?"
"You should be more careful," Haruka says again, looking amused. His touch is no less gentle now than it had been, and Kantarou half-shuts his eyes, tugs him a little closer, ignoring the last distance between them; he has always been good at that.