Vigil
by Apple-chan

Summary for part 2: Hisoka watching Tsuzuki as he sleeps. Tsuzuki/Hisoka with a bit (or a lot?) of angst.

Disclaimer: YnM is (c) Matsushita Yoko and Hana to Yume.

Just like the first part, this one is dedicated to da-mouse, a long overdue second installment birthday gift of sorts.

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In Sadness

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Another day without a mission.

Tsuzuki and I, we rarely get to have these days. You know, that kind where you can just…well, as he puts it: relax, get some food, relax, have dessert, relax, lie down and watch the eternal bloom of the cherry blossoms here in Meifu, and savor the breeze as it scatters petal after petal of the blossoms all around you. And then…relax some more. Marvel in the paradise all around you. Be thankful for it. Be happy.

Be cheerful. Smile.

Everything will be fine.

He always tells me that, but...I never listen. I hear him, but I don't listen.

Not that I can't. More like I choose not to, for many reasons.

It's not that easy.

I don't know how he does it.

Sometimes I find myself wondering, like I do now, why I'm still with him. Why I chose to stay, in spite of everything.

And why I'm here now. Here, sitting underneath this tree, with his head on my lap. His eyes are closed, and he's breathing peacefully.

He's asleep—and I'm watching him. For some reason, I am, even though I've never done it before. It's always been the other way around, when we're together. I sleep. He watches me as I sleep. He doesn't think I know, but I do.

I never told him, though. At least, I never thought I ever would…until that night.

A lot of things can change in the passing of a moment…much more so than in the passing of a lifetime. And that night, something changed.

I know it was my doing. I knew I could have kept myself still, and allowed him to continue on with his routine of watching me sleep, of keeping vigil over me in the few hours of my rest. But I didn't. I chose to confront him about it, to tell him I knew…and in the process, I broke through the wall.

He's different now, when it comes to me. He doesn't need to hide anymore, because I knew, and he knew I knew.

That made all the difference, and that was what mattered to him.

I ran my fingers through his hair, trailing it softly, gently down his cheeks. It's what he often does, whenever I sleep. Nowadays, he even does it when I'm awake.

I can't say I don't like it, because I do. Then again, I can't say I do like it either, because…that wouldn't be me. Kurosaki Hisoka doesn't like being touched by anyone.

And I still don't…but he's an exception. He's always an exception.

I don't like touching people either. Touching, for me, is a channel of feelings, of thoughts. With me, those two go hand-in-hand. And with me, it's never a good thing.

If life is full of suffering, of pain…death is even more so. I deal with both.

A lot of the times, I don't even recognize where other people's emotions begin and where mine end. A lot of the times, they connect. They join.

For an empath, that's never a good thing. Whatever emotion, it's never good. Not even happiness.

I can't feel my own happiness, because all throughout my life, I've never known it. So even if I do feel something, chances are, it's someone else's and not mine. Never mine.

Touching, for me, is never a good thing.

Except maybe if it was him. Like I said, he is an exception.

In many, many ways that I can never hope to count, he and I are different, yet in some ways, we're alike. He never mentions it, but I know he has gone through as much as I have. He has suffered as much as I have…or perhaps even more. And he's still suffering, even in death, same as I am.

Maybe that's the only thing in common we have. Then again, maybe that means everything. Maybe that explains everything.

Maybe that's the reason why I'm still here, with him.

As the wind blows, he shifts in my lap, so that now his face was turned towards me, and I can see it clearly. He has that soft, serene smile on his face—the kind that was pure, and innocent. The sort of smile I've seen on little children's faces, little children who had only known how it was to be happy, and never had any problems. The kind of smile that radiated joy, happiness—only that.

I look at him now, and I want to do the same. I want to smile the way he does, be happy the way he could be, in spite of everything—but I can't.

He's been through much, much worse things than I have, I know. On the occasional times that he lets the memories of his past go, I feel them…and they hurt.

And I can't understand it. How can he smile? How can he make himself happy, truly happy—in spite of everything that he has gone through?

Is this what happens when you have gone through so much pain? When it hurts so badly that it becomes unendurable…can you even be happy after that?

I don't understand.

The wind blows again, and now the soft breeze brings with it a shower of bright pink cherry blossom petals, all around us.

I knew there were some petals in my hair, but I allowed my head to remain resting at the bark of the tree. I was in no mood to get up. I wasn't in a hurry…and Tsuzuki was still asleep.

It's late in the afternoon, but we can stay here for a while longer.

The passing of the time here in Meifu is never noticeable, as it was, and will always be, eternally springtime. Mornings, afternoons and evenings were not much different from each other. And the weather—it was irrelevant here. Because after all, we were dead.

I let out a long, and somewhat tired, sigh. Yes, I was dead. Though I can't say I'm happy with it, this was something I had chosen. It was better than my life, at least.

In my life, I didn't have anyone. Of course, my parents were around—physically. But they weren't there, not really. My empathy had made sure that I was always alone. Even if my father was there, he never treated me as anything more than…a doll. I wasn't his son; I was just a doll with feelings, and who happened to be able to sense feelings. A doll in his possession. A doll he had helped create.

My mother…my mother, who used to love me, well—she was there. But she didn't see me. She didn't see the son she used to love. She didn't see the child she used to adore to the ends of the earth. She didn't see me as the angel that used to light up her life the way she did mine. I was just…a cursed child. A monster that happened to have feelings. I was the child who never should have been born—the child she regretted giving birth to.

Three years after I was cursed, I died…and I always used to wonder if they had grieved. If they had mourned over the loss of a child they had so repulsed, but was still their child nevertheless.

I think I wondered because…at the back of my heart, I always had this wish that someday, somewhere, sometime, they'd accept me again. That despite my empathy, my curse, they would love me…especially now that I was dead.

It was wishful thinking, I suppose. That was the only thing I ever wanted, all my life—to be accepted. It never happened when I was alive.

And I didn't think it ever would, not in death, anyway. I was only here, after all, to seek the truth about my death. I chose to be a shinigami to find out what had caused it. And then later on, to kill the one who had cursed me, made me suffer for three years until I died.

Sometimes, I wonder if I should have thanked him for giving me that curse that had eventually ended my life. It wasn't like I had much to live for at that time, anyway. No one wanted me. I was better off dead. There was peace in death, at least.

Perhaps I would have been better off not knowing how died, and who had killed me. If I had chosen to rest in peace instead of being...what I am now, maybe everything would have worked out better. At least, I wouldn't have had to worry about anything. I'd have been… "resting in peace," as they say.

But then again, had I chosen that other path, I…never would have met Tsuzuki. He and I would not have been partners.

Would that have been better? I don't know. I still wonder, even now.

…But when I look at him, I realize…maybe I don't need to know.

Perhaps, in some way, when I had chosen to become a shinigami, I didn't do it merely for the sake of finding out the truth about my death. Perhaps…subconsciously, I was still searching for that one person who would finally accept me at long last, despite the curses that have been afflicted on me. Or because of them.

And I found him.

In most of my life, the only thing I've ever wanted was to be accepted for who I was. It wasn't even about love. All I wanted was for my parents to…at least accept me, as their child—to see me, not as a monster, not as a curse, but as their son.

That never happened. When I was alive, I didn't have anyone.

In death, I never thought anyone would accept me, but they did. They all did—especially him. Tsuzuki.

Here, at least, I had him.

Him.

It's a bit funny, thinking about it like that. When I first became a shinigami, I had only one concern, one goal in mind. I was so certain that the path I was going to take was that path, and that alone: I would live like this to find out how I died. And once I get all the answers that I need, once I'm satisfied, I would move on. Like any other person who has died, I would rest in peace—and that would be the end of it. The end of me. The end of everything.

I had thought that would be the best thing that could ever happen.

I didn't think it would take this long, finding out the truth. Come to think of it, although it was in the back of my mind that I might have been, for lack of a better term—murdered, I…never considered it a possibility. Perhaps because I was afraid…afraid that it might be true.

Of course, I did find out how I died…I found out more than I ever wanted to know. However, I couldn't quit being a shinigami. I didn't want to quit, not until I had extracted my revenge on the one who had taken my life from me.

…That's why I'm still here. Or at least, that's what I keep telling them. That's what I say, out loud, to all of them.

"I can't leave. Not until that being who had caused my death dies. Until that time comes, I'm staying here. I'll continue to be a shinigami."

It's not a lie when I tell them that. It's the truth, even though not all of it.

And honestly, even I'm not so sure what the whole truth is. I choose to stay because I can't leave, not until my murderer dies. I choose to stay because I wanted to stay. I choose to stay because of them—all of them. I choose to stay because of him. I choose to stay because he needs me, and I need him.

Maybe it's one of those things. Or maybe it's all of them, I don't know.

Which one of those things means the most to me? I can't be certain, but…

Foremost in my mind, one which I always, always think about is: when I'm gone, what would become of him?

Or, when he's gone, what would become…of me?

Thinking about that makes me sad. Thinking generally makes me sad, but…it's what I do. I think, and I feel.

…And him? He doesn't do a whole lot of thinking. It's not the way he does things, after all—feelings tend to rule him over most of the time. But when he does think…I get them. For some reason, I do. It might be an extension of my empathy, or it might be because I'm so close to him that even his thoughts go through me. Either way…

Strawberry…short…cake…mmm…

That particular thought came through me in passing, like a soft breeze. And when it did, I couldn't help but smile.

Dreaming about food—sweets, in particular—was something he did very often. Quite amusing. Sometimes, also quite irritating, but…he wouldn't be Tsuzuki without them. On quiet, peaceful days like this, two different types of thoughts pour out of him. The first type—those consisted of his thoughts about his past—those dark, sad thoughts that he kept buried deep within him. His sadness, and his pain. And it's hard, when he gets those thoughts…for even as I try to console him, I feel him. I feel his sadness, his pain…and I don't like them.

I'm just glad he never gets those thoughts too much. I think he tries to suppress them for my sake.

The second type usually consisted of this—dreams about food, his favorite drinks, his favorite things to do, all the good things that he has experienced. These kinds of thoughts make him happy, and when he's happy—I tend to feel happy, too.

"…Hisoka, let's stay at this hotel longer, their chocolate cake is gooood…" He was talking in his sleep now.

"When I'm with you, I'm happy. No, more than happy. When I'm with you, I feel positively…"

If I closed my eyes right now and concentrated long and hard enough, I would probably be able to picture clearly in my mind what exactly he was dreaming about.

"…Euphoric. Yeah, that's the word."

When he was smiling, he was happy. And I see him happy often enough. Whenever he was with our colleagues—that is, our fellow shinigami, and our friends…he was happy.

"You're different, though. When I'm with you, I'm…different."

It wasn't just because of that one night, I think. Things had changed between us because of that night, yes. But I had long ago noticed that things were already different—particularly when it comes to me, to him, to us, and the way we treated each other. The way we regarded each other. The way we felt when we were together. The way he felt when he was with me, and the way I felt when I was with him, and when it's just him and me.

That night just made everything all the more clear to us. It brought everything out into the open, as they should be. He didn't need to hide anymore…and I didn't need to hide anymore, either.

Isn't it weird that when everything starts to become clearer, at the same time, they become more confusing? Now, I have more questions in my mind—more than I ever did before.

Sometimes, you don't need to know.

Perhaps I should stop trying to put everything in terms of logic. Maybe…maybe this is just one of those things that surpass that.

Sometimes, you don't need to understand.

…Something that surpasses logic. Is there even such a thing?

A small chuckle broke through my train of thoughts. "…Hisoka, stop frowning…"

Frowning? Was I frowning?

I know Tsuzuki couldn't read thoughts, and as I looked at him now…I realized…

He was awake.

Tsuzuki was awake.

How could I have not noticed? Me, the empath, sensitive to emotions, to slight changes in movement…and most especially to people waking up. Especially people who happened to have their heads on my lap…

How could I have not noticed that he was awake?

"Don't look at me like that," Tsuzuki gazed up at me with that pleading, slightly wounded look in his eyes, "…I've only been awake for two minutes…"

And he'd been awake for two whole minutes! What had I been doing in that span of time?

A soft sigh. "Hisoka, you really need to stop thinking too much…"

Thinking? I stared at him, long and hard.

Is that what I've been doing all this time?

"How the HELL did you know that?" I gave him a swift glare. He winced, but he soon recovered long enough to raise himself into a sitting position and gaze at me eye level. I knew why he was doing that, of course. He didn't want me glaring down at him.

The glare was instantly wiped away from my face as he inched closer, and tapped my forehead with his finger. "You were frowning off into space," he stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And it probably was.

I slapped his hand away from my face and tried to look away. "Dammit."

But as much as I tried to, he held my chin gently and forced me to meet his gaze. "Those must have been some very intense thoughts, if they got you so worked up…" Then, he brought his other hand to my face…and I…

I so hate it when this happens.

You know…this.

I really, really, really do.

…I mean, technically, I was supposed to be dead, but…every single time his fingers even so much as graze my face in the way that he does…this always happens. And even though I shouldn't be, I'm always afraid that one of these days I might just die of blood loss.

Ironically enough...weren't touches supposed to heal, and not kill? Maybe it's different if you're already dead, particularly if you're a shinigami. And, most especially if you were me…

But I'm not saying I don't like it, though, because in truth…I do.

Not that I'll ever say it out loud, of course.

I shook my head in an effort to make the redness on my face subside, but to no avail. He was still touching my face, his fingers caressing my cheeks. My back was still resting against the tree, and so was my head. I did not turn anywhere else, because I couldn't.

Needless to say, I was trapped. "It was nothing. I was just…" Distracting. His face was just inches from mine, and it was very, very distracting…

"You need to smile more," he murmured, tracing the frown lines on my face. I didn't even know I had frown lines. But then again, I was often frowning, so I suppose it makes sense…

"I don't really feel like smiling," I muttered.

"Why not?" He was pouting. Yes, he was definitely pouting.

I shrugged. "Because."

He continued to pout. "Hisokaaaa…" No, wait—now he was whining. "Pleeaaase?" And now he was looking at me like a pleading puppy.

I sighed. No one could ever resist him when he's like that—least of all, me. "I can't just smile when you tell me to."

He was silent for a moment…thinking, I presume. And I could probably guess what he was thinking…

"—If I get you some cake, will you smile for me?" As I thought. Tsuzuki could be quite predictable at times.

…Predictable, but not unsuccessful.

"You know I don't like cake." I tried to hide the smile that had found its way to my face…but I couldn't. "You're the who wants it."

A sheepish grin. "That's true." He admitted.

I rolled my eyes. "Hn."

"…But at least I got you to smile." He slapped my cheek playfully, grinning in triumph over his latest victory.

"No you didn't!" I snapped, fighting off the blush that was threatening to stain my cheeks yet again. Just as it was starting to subside, the stupid thing. Stupid, stupid blush reflex.

"Yes I did," he sang back out to me.

I gave him a dark, deadly glare. "If you don't stop this, you're gonna get hurt, I swear."

Stupid puppy remained unfazed as he met my glare squarely. "I don't care," he said cheerfully, tapping his finger yet again on my forehead. "I'm not scared. You can hurt me all you want!"

I sighed. He was exasperating. "Tsuzuki…" I shook my head. "You are insufferable." Exasperating, insufferable, annoying, and yet…strangely enough…

You love me anyway.

…That was a thought, sent straight to me. How he had managed to will that on his own, I'll never know. But he was looking at me like a hopeful puppy.

Right? Right? You love me, right?

Another thought, sent straight to me. I could practically see his tail wagging.

…And I couldn't help it. I laughed. I laughed and laughed until tears came to my eyes.

Yup. No doubt about it.

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He couldn't hear my thoughts; I know that perfectly well. At that time, he had asked me a question, and a question had to have an answer. It needed an answer—a spoken, verbal one, because that was the only way around it. Because unlike me, he wasn't an empath.

…But he never asked for it. After hearing me laugh, for some reason, he never did.

Him and I, we don't really need words between us.

Sometimes I wonder, as I look back on that day…did he ask me that question only to make me laugh?

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-END-

3553 words

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Author's Notes:

The laugh is Hisoka's way of saying "Yes, I love you. So shut up."

Big thanks to everyone's reviews and comments for the Tsuzuki part. A special thanks goes to Dark-One Shadowphyre for your concrit, which I have taken note of, rest assured. Hopefully this chapter clears up a bit as to why Hisoka can read Tsuzuki's surface thoughts. I'm still not saying it's accurate, but I believe it's a logical depiction, so I won't be changing anything in the previous part, nor in this one. I'm still open to debate regarding Hisoka's abilities, though.:D

Additionally—my apologies for any inconsistency (with canon) that you may have come across in this fic, particularly regarding Hisoka and his knowledge of how he supposedly died before Muraki reminded him and all that.

And yes, this one is a bit longer than the Tsuzuki POV, and that's because when my Hisoka muse starts to think, he doesn't stop.—grins sheepishly—

As always, comments/reactions/concrit/everything else are still very much appreciated.