Impersonator Waltz

Chapter Three

Roses Burning

The early morning wore on as beautiful and precious as a fresh crystal's winks. Strips of pleasant wind laced themselves leisurely around the arms of slumbering trees, searching for peace and settlement. It was a lovely mid-winter atmosphere, with no one but Ayame Sohma to enjoy. That is, if he was enjoying it. As it appeared, joy could not be further than it was right then, like the dew a dying bird craved, twittering for it with its last tweet.

He was by an open window, fully awake, prominent elbow against the bottom sill and chin propped on the back of his long hand. Eyes of golden dust peered with an intense curiosity at the moon as it hung in the bare sky, sleepily, tauntingly. The slight breeze toyed with the loose strands that escaped his equally loose bun, held up half-heartedly by a long, worn quill: Shigure's favourite. He sighed emptily and switched position with quiet grace, allowing himself to cross his arms on the sill, chin now resting on them. The painted surface of it was pleasant against Ayame's skin and he savoured the loveliness, thinking that something so small, and yet so pleasurable, could just be at hand's reach. Unlike other things, drifted a rueful thought.

'I told you to go to sleep, Aya. When will you learn to listen?' Scolding, playful.

It was Shigure. Sweet, sweet Shigure.

'You told me to rest, Shigure. And you should know by now that I don't listen.'

'Yes, that's true.'

Ayame wanted to turn around and see him smile, except … he didn't want to see happiness right now, even though the intensity of it matched that of a dead firefly. Footsteps padded softly against the floor, nearing him. Ayame blew at the hairs in front of his eyes, beginning to feel drowsy from the combination of exhaustion and the wind's consistent licks against his cheeks.

'You listen to Hatori.' Shrugged off, like it was nothing.

Ayame felt that, just as much as he would feel a physical whip. He recoiled into himself just a little more, dropping his shutters over his eyes that little bit. Wind invaded them from the distance, tousling their hairs, bringing with it random tears of the sky. It seemed it had began drizzling outside, a shy greeting of nature to those asleep. Drips of it folded themselves in their crowns of strands, settling there like raw diamond fragments. Fragments, shattered little pieces of things too sharp to mend.

'The wound still gapes, Shigure. Don't throw your salt.' Dryly, miserably.

Shigure settled somewhere beside him, first gazing at Ayame's troubled face, and then toward the sky blanketing their Earth. His eyes were solemn, and secretive.

'I wouldn't dream of it.'

Ayame smiled a humourless smile; one Shigure cared to notice to be often as of late. A little silence beheld them. It was a calming silence, something a little different for them, compared to recent times. Shigure couldn't help the frequent darting of his eyes toward Ayame. Everytime he expected him to break down and cry hysterically, Ayame was still, quiet, peaceful, almost content. It was impossible, disquietening.

'Shigure?'

The called turned. Ayame stared on. He was in another world, a forgotten world, like mannequin in a once-glamorous antique shop. The wind blew again. Ayame's hair swayed to a delusional waltz.

'Shigure, someone's here to see you.'

It was Tohru at the Study door, peering anxiously at Ayame and inquiringly at Shigure. She shivered obviously in her skirt and thick skivvy. The rosy splodges on her cheeks looked enchanting, Shigure decided. Her thick, shining hair was out again, no doubt having defied the purpose of yet another elastic band. Shigure smiled wanly as he stood, suspecting things involving his two younger cousins.

'Don't bother telling me – I know who it is.'

He patted her head as he walked by, touch reassuring. The air warmed up as he stepped out of the room.

'You can go inside. He's a little better now,' he added as a kind whisper, knowing how much she wanted to comfort Ayame, even though she didn't know the full extent of the damage. Tohru nodded jerkily and stepped inside, closing the door quietly as both persons decided their routes.

Shigure's smile grew to an almost Cheshire cat grin as he neared the door, giddily contemplating whether blowing up the situation to an impossible, ridiculous turn and worrying Tohru senseless would be as amusing as punching Hatori –

Hatori.

Shigure's momentary happiness dissipated instantly the moment he opened the door, like a lover blowing at the cigarette plumes.

'Pretty hickey,' was his immediate comment, eyeing the multi-coloured creations Hatori sported on his jaw with a half-availing innocent expression. A sadistic smile tickled the edges of his lips, like poison caramel, defeating his child-like aim. Shigure crossed his arms, stiffly stepping aside to let the visitor through. The Doctor squeezed in, being extra careful to keep Shigure-contact to an absolute minimum.

'Yes, they're pretty big, actually. I forgot to ask if you wanted one.'

Shigure rolled his eyes, meaning for Hatori to see that the jest was not appreciated. His hair, however, fell about his eyes at the exact time and all Hatori got was the unappreciative snort that accompanied the eye-roll. The Doctor returned with a grunt of his own.

'Where's Ayame?' Hatori said, more statement than question. He began walking toward Shigure's study without waiting for an answer. A thin briefcase was clutched in his right hand, one that, Shigure noticed with narrowed eyes, was being clasped with a white-knuckled grip.

He was nervous. Bastard.

'I believe I remember saying that you're not welcome here.'

Hatori's steps slowed. He did not turn around.

'And I believe I forgot to say that I don't give a fuck.'

Oh, he swore, drifted the amused thought across the Dog's manipulative mind. He's really worked up about this. I wonder if I should toy around with him for just a little while longer.

'I believe he said you're not welcome here.'

It was Yuki. Hatori turned his head a little to the right. The Rat was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, bangs askew, eyes alight. Kyo stood stoically behind him, visage expressionless, but his open-close fists said it all.

Indeed, Hatori was not welcome.

'He needs medical attention,' he said, standing behind, or rather, hiding behind his words. 'You all know that. I'm the family doctor therefore I have the right to –'

'Right now, Hatori, you don't have the right to wipe anyone's ass.'

The Doctor was silenced effectively, out of shock or out of intimidation, he himself did not know. His bangs obscured his eyes.

Shigure was lightly amused by the situation. He had never heard Yuki reduce himself to talking down to the Doctor. It was usually Kyo who –

'So get out already. Fucking liar.'

Oh, there it was.

Hatori turned to Shigure, one last pleading spark in his good eye. The rest of his face was blank. His hands were damp with sweat. It was so uncharacteristic, but then again, it was uncharacteristic of Ayame to stay in the snow on purpose.

'You heard the little kids, Doctor.' Shigure smiled a sarcastic smile. 'Get out.'

Hatori looked at Shigure fully, inspecting every sign he collected from all the years they had been friends. The slight upturn of his lips when he was calling a bluff; it wasn't there. The twinkle in his eyes when the joke was going his way; it wasn't there. Folded hands behind his back when he thought it was funny… it wasn't there.

'All right.' Hatori kept his cool. He walked to the door. Right beside Shigure. He could feel the burning eyes of the younger men etch their anger into his back, like floating boiled rocks against the flesh. The words he whispered made the unseen smile inShigure's mind become all the wider.

'Just … tell him … I didn't know.' No answer. 'All right?'

He stepped outside, hot feet sizzling the snow, like fire eating a rope, consuming it, nearing the inevitable explosion. Coldness assaulted him, but he was sure it was not the snow.