Disclaimer: I do not own X. I own Sei-Sei's cat.

Author's Thanks 1: To Whitesakura the co-writer, to Irresistibly Cruel the wise advisor. Other many thanks, not a bit fewer than those of the above, go to Trench Kamen for advising me about this story.

Also many thanks to my beta, Cait-hime-sama(-dono).

Also, many thanks to my boyfriend for advising me about Sei's car, how it could have gotten a technical problem and generally endured my nagging fretting I'm-a-female-and-knows-shit-about-cars presence during the conversation we had XD.

Author's Thanks 2: To Tintangel from (More smut you asked, more smut you got!), To my reviewers whose words I can't read because AFF are fucked at the moment XD.

Author's Notes: This is the second edition, re-edited version of Equivocal since I've been feeling that the way the story was told the first time failed to hit the right spot in you readers and get the right result from you.

Disclaimer 2: This story is a non-humor satire, aimed to mock a certain way far too many writers focus on the yaoi quartet: Fuma-Kamui-Subaru-Seishiro.

Any OOC, over-the-top, non-canon and downright stupid behavior by the characters has its purposes and is NOT written out of the belief that this is how the characters are really or should really be.

I have absolutely no excuse good enough to come up with to explain why I haven't updated in so long. I worked a lot and got a boyfriend, but mostly I've been lazy. I apologize; I hope this piece of Suby/K will be enough of compensation.

Chapter Seven: Violator

Clean

The bed sheets are twisted. Kamui stirs when the blanket wrapped around his lower torso is pulled taut.

Seishiro is moving on the other side of the divan, turning over to reach for a pack of cigarettes on a side table.

The cotton coils around Kamui's thigh, threatening to cut off blood flow when the Sakurazukamori settles back against the pillows.

Kamui's annoyed frown smoothes as Seishiro's body - blue moonlit planes and hollows - is suddenly thrown in sharp relief by the flicker of an orange flame. Seishiro puts a cigarette between his lips and brings the lighter to it.

Kamui's eyes linger over the man's mouth, strangely soft in post-coital lassitude.
"Care to give me one?" Kamui asks. His voice is hoarse from moans and threats.

Seishiro doesn't reply, simply leans further into his feathered pillow. The Sakurazukamori tilts his head up, taking the cigarette out of his mouth to exhale a plume of smoke.

"Are you listening to me?" Kamui demands as Seishiro continues on his cigarette, his broad chest expanding and contracting by slow turns.

Kamui clenches his teeth and attempts to scramble up when the Sakurazukamori suddenly strikes - presses Kamui against the mattress.

Kamui swallows his breath at the glittering eyes above him.

His wrists hurt. The hands around him are much larger and broader than his own slender fingers.

The cigarette still dangles between Seishiro's lips and Kamui's eyes are focused on its column of ash. It grows slowly, centimeter by centimeter like a snake shedding its gray skin.

Just when he thinks the embers will fall on him, Seishiro lets Kamui go and chuckles.

"I don't think so," the Sakurazukamori smirks, running a hand possessively over Kamui's body.

Seishiro's fingers trace the outside of Kamui's leg, then slide inward, tracing a strange shape on the tender skin of Kamui's thigh. A circle. A triangle. Then Seishiro starts on another shape, a triangle over the first one. Inverted.

Kamui hisses as Seishiro digs in his nails.

"Do you like that?" Seishiro says, voice too low and self-assured to be a whisper.

Kamui's eyes sting. Any more pressure and his skin will puncture and he will bleed.

"Well?"

Kamui clenches his teeth and reluctantly says the safety word. "Subaru."

All at once, Seishiro withdraws. The heavy body lifts off of Kamui. Fingers slide away like sticky maple
syrup, leaving nothing sweet, only fading bruises. Even the heat of the Sakurazukamori's attention is gone.

Kamui glares at the ceiling while Seishiro rolls out of bed for a shower. The ash on Seishiro's
still burning cigarette dislodges at the abrupt motion and Kamui scowls as he brushes cinders out of his hair.

"I'll call you a cab," Seishiro says, rummaging in the drawer for new clothes.

Kamui starts, then slides carefully toward the edge of the bed, pulling away the blanket to reveal his nude body. He tilts his head aggressively and asks in a coy voice, "Are you sure you don't want me to stay?"

Five minutes later, Kamui shivers outside a Shinjuku apartment, waiting for a pair of headlights to pull up.

The alarm clock's snoozer goes off. Kamui turns his head to it and realizes the time. It's the third time the alarm went off, which means he's fifteen minutes too late to wake up. That's fifteen minutes late to breakfast, to the bathroom, to get dressed, to get to class. God damn it; being a good boy is so exhausting.

It's not that he's more tired these days or that he gets less sleep; he just can't wake up in the morning.

Who'd want to wake up knowing the something special in his life is gone? That Fuma will never love him, never loved him? That the time he spent with Seishiro was not only wrong, twisted, vile and corruptive, but also a waste of his time and energy? That the only friend he now has in the world is the one he stabbed in the back?

Flashes of memories first thing in the morning, as Kamui tries coaxing his mind back to sleep while waiting for the first snoozer to go off, do not help waking up.

Kamui plays back the memories of his mischievous deeds with Seishiro to solve his morning glory, hoping Sorata won't barge into his room to pull him out of his bed and catch him red handed.

These memories, as intoxicating and pleasurable as they may be, are starting to wear off. More and more these days Kamui remembers less the sex and more the nasty little bits afterwards. Well, who wouldn't, after such a cruel goodbye as Seishiro gave him?

What bothers him is not the searing pain these bitter memories evoke in him; these only help to forget the Sakurazukamori and become clean. What bothers him are the tears he sheds because of those memories. The tears and the dull, stubborn ache in his chest.

He was not in love with the assassin. He was not in love with the assassin. He was not!

Even if he cries for days on end and loses his appetite for good and would become so stricken with heartache that he wouldn't even be able to get up in the morning and get out of bed, he will never admit to any feelings towards that bastard.

That old lecher, that perverted pedophile, that deviant…idiotic…fucking…bastard. Kamui whimpers and slams the pillow on his head.

Fuma, it's the heartache over Fuma that makes him so upset.

Sorata barges into his room. The door's hinges complain; they sound a little like what the sound the hinges in Arashi's eyes would make whenever she rolls her eyes at the monk.

"Yo, Kamui, rise and shine, man; you're gonna be majorly late if you don't get up now. Breakfast is already on the table and getting cold…What's wrong? Are you feeling ill?"

Kamui bites his lower lip. He does not want to be seen crying now, even if Sorata will never know why he's crying.

The monk realizes his leader's condition and sits on the bed by Kamui's feet. "Hey, it's okay. If you don't wanna go to classes today it's okay, you know."

His voice is so soft and kind. That klutz can really sound like a big brother when he wants to.

But Kamui does not want comfort right now.

Not this comfort anyway.

Kamui wants jade eyes so soft and warm they almost glow. He wants long delicate thin arms only a little wider and longer than his to hold him. He wants the slightly wider than his, flat bony chest to press against as he wraps his arms around the equally bony back. He wants a long neck reeking of cigarette smoke to bury his face in.

Kamui wants Subaru's comfort. He wants Subaru's comfort so badly that any other form of comfort seems an obscene imitation of the real thing. Sorata's voice is too high pitched as he tries to sound friendly, his body's too heavy on the edge of his mattress, his mind knows not enough about Kamui's woes to understand why he aches so.

'And Subaru knows why you ache so?'

'Yes, stupid voice, he knows.'

'Ah, because you were both fucked and dumped by Sakurazuka Seishiro? Yeah, come to think of it, he does know why you ache so.'

Kamui's fist clutches and twists the sheets so hard tiny tears are opened at the seams of the sheets, 'SEISHIRO DID NOT SLEEP WITH SUBARU!'

'You think? You sure? Even if he told you he did?'

"Shut up." Kamui whimpers into his pillow and the mattress under him is drenched by a new wave of tears.

Sorata sighs. "Hmph. Back to those moods, huh?" Sorata's weight lifts from the bed and the sound of his slippers softly padding on the floor reaches Kamui's ears through the pillow. "I really aughta not be so surprised; you've really…I don't know…grown apart from us all lately."

He stops at the door, holding on to the wooden side and staring into the corridor outside Kamui's bedroom, trying to decide if he should say what's on his mind or not. "It's not like you've ever been the social sparkling guy, but lately you've really set a new record in shunning us all out."

The pillow shoots from Kamui's head to Sorata's, slamming into the back of the monk's neck powerfully.

"I'm going through some hard shit at the moment, Sorata, ever thought of that! You all never went through what I've been through; you've all had it easy in comparison to me! While I'm facing the all dancing, all singing fuck of the world, you sit aside and do shit to help me, and then you demand I also be happy and cheerful through all the shit I'm going through!" Kamui's standing in his bed, screaming at the top of his lungs, tears rolling down his face.

For a moment Sorata stays the way he was - facing the hallway - and for a moment he is silent. The next moment he spins around, eyes blazing, brows furrowed, mouth snarling.

"KAMUI!Yuzuriha's gone missing because she fought a Dragon of Earth, Saiki's dead because he fought a Dragon of Earth, Aoki-san divorced his wife because he thinks he's going to die, we're all here to support you, to listen to you when you have a hard time, to help you through anything! What the hell do you think we're doing here?"

He doesn't shout so much now, his voice is lower and less aggressive. He's not arguing with Kamui; he can't argue with the boy for such a long time. Sorata never yelled at Kamui like that, never spat the ugly, badly phrased truth like that. He was never blunt with Kamui and maybe that's where he went wrong. Maybe he spoiled the boy. Well, he'll be damned if he won't finish this conversation with a new and improved Kamui in his hands.

"Where the hell have you been these past few months! We try to talk to you and it's like we're air, your grades hit rock bottom, you get into stupid fights with Fuma like we told you not to do about a million times.

"Where's your head, Kamui! What are you going through that's….that's….I can't describe it without sounding too damn poetic, but…It's like you're wrapped up in fog or something; we just can't get through to you…."

Kamui sits down on the bed, turning his back on Sorata he folds his arms on his chest and bites his lower lip hard enough to bleed.

Oh no, not another 'I'll shut myself in my shell, stay away, I'm depressed' attitude. Sorata hangs his head. Just how many pep talks can one give another!

"Sorata…"

Sorata shoots his head up, taking a hopeful step towards the teen's bed, "Yes?"

"Fuck off."

"….Wha…you little…"

"And if you ever scream at me again I'll punch your face in."

That's it. Sorata closes the distance between him and Kamui, grabs the boy's pajamas by the collar and spins him around. He grabs the front of Kamui's shirt and yanks his face to his.

He's so angry, so completely inexperienced with these moments of sheer rage that his palms are sweaty and shaky. He never thought he'd do this, but at the moment he can see nothing but red and those insolent violet eyes glaring fire at him.

"You dirty little bitch," is all he can think of saying, he doesn't know the words are coming or why he attached them to Kamui; the blood's pounding too powerfully in his temples.

"Bitch! You just called me a bitch!" Kamui hisses. 'Bitch' is what Seishiro called him whenever he'd demand something and it wasn't even as venomously as Sorata now pronounced it, it was a kind of a teasing nickname, like 'boy'. The tears are warmer now and they make Sorata's inches-from-his face blurry, but Kamui too is taken by rage.

He covers Sorata's palm with his and digs his nails into the tanned skin, carving four lines from Sorata's knuckles to his wrist.

Sorata's eyes twitch from total shock's gape to fury's wince. He punches Kamui – half as powerfully as he could – and immediately regrets it. To him, punching Kamui means he sank into a whole new level of outrageous behavior, forbidden things that aught to have never happened.

To Kamui the battle is not yet over. He has taken one too many hits and turned the other cheek for the past few months, he will not take one from Sorata. Though half way through it he already regrets it, Kamui's palm flashes past Sorata's face, leaving another set of scratches on the monk's skin.

The two men retreat, each to their own sanctum. Kamui crawls back up against the wall on his bed and curls into a ball, crying powerfully. Sorata stomps his way down to the kitchen, trying to remember to blink and breathe while his mind is completely numbed by the latest development in his relationship with Kamui.

Arashi spots the monk on his way to the kitchen. In two minutes they'll need to leave for class and Sorata didn't even wash his face or brush his teeth, his hair is still a mess.

He zooms past her with an expression on his face that's completely alien to her; it's grave and angry and sad and each emotion is so powerful he looks like a completely different person. For a fragment of a second Arashi's heart shrivels with fear and she wishes to cover her face.

Sorata walks into the kitchen and tries to wash the dishes. The dishes are already clean and drying in the rack. He tries to wipe the kitchen counter of any sticky or grainy breakfast-induced dirt, but there's none. His wrath he finally takes out on putting the already dry dishes in the cupboards.

His hand bleeds all over the kitchen counter and the clean dishes, which keeps him busy cleaning when the dry dishes run out. He can feel the blood trickling down his neck and knows he'll have to change into a new shirt and get his wounds bandaged. But not now; not when he's still mad.

Only with his back to her does Arashi note the broadening patch of blood on his white shirt and she rushes to his side.

"What happened to you!"

The glass Sorata holds with shaking fingers slips his grip and falls to the floor, shattering. He leans on the counter, covering his face and shaking all over. "I hit Kamui….and he hit me back…." His voice starts out high and whimpering, panicking even, "He….he's going through something, and it's not a good 'something'." Now his voice is deep and serious.

Arashi retreats and tries to think of something to say. She has nothing to say. She goes to get the first aid kit.

Kamui throws the duvet all around him and cries so hard he wails instead of sobs. He grabs at his hairs and pulls at them. He's panicking.

"I'm sorry….." He whimpers between hiccups and sobs, "I'm sosorry…" he wipes at his nose with his pajama sleeve, "I'm so sorry, Subaru…."

Sweetest Perfection

Summer dies away and already autumn is stepping in, sending cold winds and short rain spasms onto Tokyo's inhabitants, but the warm weather is not over yet.

Seishiro picks his sweaty body off Subaru's bed sheets, slowly peeling soiled cotton off wet skin, and pads towards the onmyouji's shower. He leaves behind him the heavy scent of musk, sweat and semen. The hot air inside the stuffy hot room, soaking up the day's unexpected warmth through the walls, enhances these scents.

Subaru takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

Something's bugging him; the memory of what a sin he had just committed. Seishiro comes to him more often these days. He comes with an eye burning with passion and leaves with an air of disappointment.

If Subaru didn't have something better to think of he'd worry about Seishiro's displeasure with what they've been doing the same way for almost six years now.

With running water's calming sound coming from the shower, Subaru stares up at his ceiling and ponders. He must visit Kamui again sometime. The boy has been healing from his physical wounds alright, it's the mental ones that still ache; it's most obvious when he looks into Kamui's eyes.

Whatever it was that happened that last time Kamui met Fuma, it shook Subaru's leader quite badly. The last time he came to visit Kamui, Sorata told him of the boy's detachment, his plummeting grades, his short span of attention and patience.

Subaru flips himself to lie on his belly and hugs the pillow under his head, eyes staring out the window at the city outside. The hot day turns water puddles from last night's rain into fumes until it seems the whole city is wrapped in fog. Looking out the window becomes mostly useless as half the view is a white mist.

He'll go visit Kamui today. Better get ready now or he'll be caught in traffic and only arrive at Clamp Campus by evening time.

Subaru peels his sweaty, sticky body off the sheets and pads to the shower.

Kamui's been warmer to him lately, softer than ever. No matter how silently bitter he might be around his roommates, whenever Subaru's around Kamui's in a much better mood.

He's edging closer as well, and not only for a comforting hug. Kamui's looking into his eyes more, listens to him more, talks to him more. It's true the boy's eyes are filled with some unexplained torment whenever they make eye contact, but Subaru can't help feeling somewhat pleased about it.

How sweet the boy is, how soft and comforting. Someone who's exactly like him; tormented by the same pain, suffering the same personality misunderstanding from everyone around him, is burdened by the same duty and feeling the same loathing towards said duty. Long ago Subaru decided that stepping into the Battle was worth it, if only for Kamui's benefit.

There's a wonderful feeling that's spreading in Subaru's chest, like someone's rubbing warm honey onto his torso. Subaru grabs his towel and buries his nose in it, feeling the slightly prickly texture collide with his blushing soft cheeks.

Seishiro's reflection in the bathroom mirror catches Subaru's eye. The man's back is to him as he lathers himself with short effective motions. He must be in a hurry as well. Or maybe he's avoiding him as much as he can? Lately Seishiro leaves his house not only disappointed, but also quickly.

"Seishiro-san…are you in a hurry?"

Starting the water again, pouring water on his body where the tap can't reach, in a hurry to clean himself of the soap, "I have a job to do."

Subaru's face darken, "A Sakurazukamori job…" he whispers.

Completely washed from soap, Seishiro steps out of the shower, tears the towel out of Subaru's hands and shoots a quick, impatient glare at his lover, "No, I have an evening shift in Ikebukuro Burger King branch, where I work part time. What other job do I have!"

The tiles on the bathroom wall echo the silence as Subaru blinks at Seishiro.

Why is he being rude to him? Cruelty is something Subaru's used to coming from Seishiro, but rudeness?

"Y-you sound bitter for some reason, Seishiro-san."

Seishiro stops his enthusiastic toweling and stares at Subaru with surprise behind his careless mask. Since when can Subaru spot emotions in what he says according to the words he uses alone? So far the onmyouji was fooled by his monotonous speech or his fake emotions enough to be fooled by the words, but now he's listening more carefully. What's going on!

By the time he's finished drying himself Subaru's already halfway through his own shower. "You're in a hurry, Subaru-kun, you too have a job?" saying caring words while not caring always hurt Subaru no matter what mood the light onmyouji was in.

"No, I'm going to meet my Kamui."

The soap slips out of Subaru's hurrying palms and as he bends over to pick it up Seishiro snags him and forces an hour's delay on both their schedules.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"I'm so sorry I came at such an hour, traffic was horrible." The air in the Seals' dorm tells Subaru no one's going to listen to him here.

Arashi, who opened the door to Subaru, nods quietly and mumbles a "Welcome back, Subaru-san." She casts a short glance across her shoulder at Sorata and takes Subaru's coat from him.

"I think city council made a mistake by closing the A36 highway for construction. Now everyone who wants to leave the city takes the B2 and…" Subaru realizes no one's hearing him and stops the formal banter.

Sorata's sitting in the living room, half sunk in the sofa, frowning at the channels he keeps switching on the television with a can of beer in his left hand. His right hand is bandaged. There's a large gauze square held by lines of surgical tape on his left cheek.

The monk looks more than angry; he looks deeply enraged and absolutely frustrated at being incompetent about what's bothering him.

"Good evening, Sorata-san."

"You came here to talk to him?" Sorata sounds surprisingly old when his voice is slightly hoarse and his words are loaded with anger. His eyes are fixed on the television screen, brows still furrowing.

"…"

"You always come here for Kamui, so you must have come here to talk to him today as well."

"S-Sorata-san…"

"I 'aint angry, not at you anyways." Sorata finally moves his gaze from the television to Subaru, "He's acting weird lately and we're all sick and tired of it. We 'aint sick and tired in the 'let's do something to help him' kind of way no more; we're in a 'let's kick the bitchy bastard out of the apartment already' kind of mood."

Arashi gasps and covers her mouth. Subaru's eyes hurt because his shock made him forget to blink.

"So talk to him and try to get it into his thick skull that if he's going to keep at his crappy attitude he's going to find himself outside this apartment."

If Sorata's going to keep talking like this Arashi's going to reprimand him. Subaru noticed the way the monk managed to work his way under the miko's icy shell by showing her his warm and kind side; this suddenly bitter and uncouth behavior might deal a deathblow to the budding relationship.

To cut the conversation short, Subaru nods and hurries upstairs to Kamui's room.

Whatever it is that Kamui did, whatever it is that happened and made Kamui behave the way he did to Sorata, it couldn't have been bad enough to excuse such behavior. Sorata knew Kamui during the boy's first steps in Tokyo, when any wrong word to the boy meant a danger to your life, and Sorata survived those times; what pissed the monk off must have been horrible.

Subaru opens Kamui's room's door with his eyes to the floor, shutting the door behind him with his back to the boy without saying a word.

"Kamui…" His voice came out as serious and authoritarian as he had hoped it. He turns around.

Kamui's kneeling on the bed in his pajamas, leaning forward towards him, eyes welling with tears and mouth open with awe-filled happiness. His hair is a mess yet it frames his face so beautifully and as the comprehension of Subaru's presence in his room finally sinks in, Kamui's cheeks flare in magnificent blush.

"...K-kamui…I've…uh…S-Soraaa…Um…H-how are you, Kamui?"

Once Subaru thought he'd always like girls. He thought there was no reason (or proof) that he was unlike any other male around him and might choose his own sex as objects of love.

Then, as 1991 ticked by he realized Seishiro-san might be an exception, but nothing else.

A year later, during three months of especially passively suicidal depression, Subaru discovered that when he tried destroying himself with the aid of a famous sexually transmitted disease (which he never managed to catch no matter how many people he lay with unprotected) the men he chose as his possible murderers were always taller than him, more muscular and preferably in business suits. He marked himself as the uke and felt at home with it.

1999 comes along and with it the earthquakes his grandmother foretold him about. She never mentioned the earth of sexual preferences would shake under his feet too, as a slimmer, more effeminate, stunningly beautiful boy with a life story so parallel to his bursts into his life.

This time it didn't take Subaru a year to realize he is attracted to Kamui, it just made him wonder.

Wonder if he's up for the seme role. Wonder if he'll have the guts to start a relationship with the boy. Wonder if his nearly schizophrenic attitude towards Seishiro will allow him anything with the boy. Wonder if Kamui'll notice him at all.

Kamui not only saw him, Kamui listened to him, Kamui treated him as someone different than the rest of the Seals, Kamui looked into his heart, Kamui spoke to his soul, Kamui asked him how he's doing, worried about his health; so many wonderful things coming from someone he's interested in.

After eight years of chasing the one he loves, having the one he's interested in actually returning his affection made Subaru lightheaded.

Subaru was happy with Kamui, even when the boy was almost drowning in pain, even when he himself was drowning. When he's with Kamui the whole world disappears and white joy wraps him like a warm duvet. So many times during this wretched year he managed to claw himself out of bottomless depressions with only one notion of how Kamui'll miss him if he killed himself.

But is Kamui feeling the same? Is he seeing things the same way?

World in My Eyes

Seishiro taught Kamui many things. Most of them were sexual tricks to please a man. None of them will he use on Subaru – Subaru's too pure and kind to deserve Seishiro's treatment filtered through Kamui's hands.

The only thing Kamui learned from his adventures with Seishiro that he is going to use is the way to use his helpless appearance for seduction.

He knew his torn-collared pajama shirt was slipping off his shoulder and exposing more skin than what's decent between friends. He knew his boxer shorts hug his thighs and behind nicely, enhancing his legs' shape. He knew he was blushing the way that makes him look adorably helpless and excited and he knew that blush often has a near fatal effect on other men.

'You're going to seduce Subaru now? You think getting some might make you fucking his lover look any better when you tell him? You are still going to tell him, right?'

'….No….I won't….I'll listen to you and not seduce him. He doesn't need me in his life, not the me who seduces him anyway…' Tears rolled down Kamui's flaming cheeks.

'Ho? Could it be that you're actually listening to me?'

'I can only damage him like I damage everything around me…no, I won't touch him.'

'You're being good, Kamui.'

Subaru shook his head a little and sat by Kamui on the bed. He kept his head low and his eyes on the floor, fearing his acts might he look at the striking boy once more. "You had a fight with Sorata, didn't you? He looks very upset."

Kamui sat back on his heels and kept his mouth shut. His fingers mulled the bed sheets.

"Arashi's very upset too ….Funny, but…without you actively amongst them they seem…almost deflated…" Subaru stopped his mouth running when he realized he was thinking out loud.

"I'm very sorry, Subaru."

"I'm glad to hear that you are," does he sound parental enough? Because if he doesn't think himself parental, or at least older-brother-like he's going to have to find a better excuse for not staring at Kamui's smooth bare legs tempting the corner of his eye, "You should go and apologize to Sorata-san; he's very upset."

Kamui nodded silently, "Not right now please, I'm…I mean…I will apologize, it's just that it's too close to the fight now…"

Is Subaru avoiding eye contact and acting all fatherly like on purpose? Why!

'He…he couldn't have found out…could he?'

'Why do you ask me! I'm your conscience, not friggin' Hinoto!'

'Shit! What do I do!'

'How about confessing?'

'What! Are you nuts! No way.'

'You're trying to fix everything you've ruined and pay for everything you've done wrong, aren't you?'

'I never said a thing about wanting to do the latter.'

'Kamui, don't make me bitch-nag you again.'

'...Subaru…'

"…Subaru…I-I've done something horrible…" tears on the cheap bed sheets.

"It'll be all better the moment you apologize Kamui. If you look deep into your heart and realize just how important to you the person you hurt is, and then apologize, everything will be forgiven. I promise."

'This is too much.'

No matter how hard he tried to fight it or deny it, Subaru simply could not complain about Kamui's actions as the boy suddenly leaped on him, pushing him flat onto the mattress, wrapping his delicate arms around his neck and burying his tearful head in its corner. He couldn't deny the feeling of warmth and love that exploded in his chest, the heat and need in his pants.

"Oh, Subaru….I'm so sorry, Subaru….I've done such horrible things to you…"

No matter how hard he tried to repress it, Kamui could not fight the feelings that Subaru's welcoming arms, the comforting palms he rubbed his back with, the undeniable erection he could feel through the bigger man's jeans, started in him. The biggest was relief; the second biggest was humiliated acceptance.

Kamui realized Subaru didn't know what he was talking about and was too thick, or horny, or crazy, or whatever to understand what he'd say unless he basically screamed 'I USED TO FUCK YOUR PRECIOUS SEISHIRO-SAN ON A DAILY BASIS!'.

"Horrible things? Oh, Kamui, you have no idea how wrong you are." It hurt Subaru, but he had to pull Kamui a little away from him so he could look the boy in the eyes while saying what's in his heart.

"N-no, you don't understand, Subaru…"

"You've only done wonderful things for me, Kamui."

"B-but…but…"

'You don't have the balls to say that name while looking him in the eye, do you?'

"You made me a happy person, Kamui."

'Eh!'

"You made me want to live whenever I was so depressed I had everything prepared for suicide. You made me want to wake up in the mornings because, maybe, somehow, I'd get to meet you. You made me smoke less, you made me think about Seishiro-san less than I used to." Short nervous giggle, "You made me go to the city library and refresh my math knowledge so I can help you with your homework."

Kamui mouthed a bit while tears silently flooded down his face.

"Whenever I look at you, or think about you, I get all warm inside. You make me happy, Kamui; you make me a happy person. Can you understand that? That the only thing you've ever done to me was good?"

"B-but…Seishiro…I…."

Subaru's face darkened, but only a little bit; his eyes still glittered with excitement. "He scares you, and he's not completely out of my heart, I know that. But Kamui, you're still not completely over Fuma, are you? That's okay because I understand what you're feeling; our hearts are so much the same."

Subaru hooked his arm around the small of Kamui's back, pulling the boy closer to him again. His other hand took Kamui's, weaving thin fingers with thin fingers.

"Kamui…I know this sounds crazy, but….we can help each other, we can work together. We can cling to each other through the toughest storm, through this crazy year. Kamui…we can be together."

'…..What…..the….hell….!'

'Sounds right, you know.'

'EEEH! You mean I have your permission!'

'What am I, your father! I'm just saying this sounds right.'

'It's right?...It is, isn't it?'

'The man loves you.'

'But I didn't tell him yet….'

'….Do you still feel something towards Seishiro?'

'I never did!'

'Sure, fine, whatever. This is your big chance to set things right, Kamui, to be a good boy and stick to the right side.'

'It is, isn't it…'

'You better not fuck up with this one.'

'He's not a very good kisser…aught to teach him to use his tongue. God, when was the last time he kissed anyone! What's he waiting for me to use my tongue? I'm going to be the seme here!'

"Mmmm, Subaru..." legs tightly wrapping around the onmyouji's waist, hands already roaming the bigger man's back under his shirt, hips gently grinding against Subaru's bony ones.

If everything Subaru said is true, if they really can help each other out of their pathetic excuses of a lives then what's a bit of fake passion?

Yes, fake passion. Kamui likes Subaru, loves even (in a twisted kind of hidden way), but he's not attracted to him. Subaru's shoulders aren't wide enough. His chest is too thin and devoid of muscles, much like his abdomen. His palms aren't big enough and they grab Kamui with not enough force. As he rolls over to top Kamui, his pelvic bones poke Kamui's much like his ribs.

But for the sake of finding a spot of light to drag himself towards out of the pit of dirt he's in at the moment, Kamui'll feign anything.

Now if only he could stop picking up the scent of cigarette smoke from Subaru…

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

What should he do? How should he do it?

Of course Subaru knows how to make love to a man, that is, he knows the basic mechanics; no one can have Seishiro as a bedmate (occasional and casual as those encounters were) and not know how to do it.

Subaru just never took the role of top before.

Will Kamui notice?

Will Kamui care? Will he care? After all, Subaru realized as he sheepishly thumbed Kamui's shirt off, these are their first steps as a couple. A couple that will fight together to push away the badness and work towards improving their lives. What's a bit of first-time-and-not-so-good-sex to them?

If so then come on, Subaru, get your act together and start making love to this boy. This beautiful boy you love. He's all yours now.

Kamui lay under him, his creamy chest rising and falling rapidly, his cheeks flared, his eyes testing. God, he's so beautiful, so very beautiful.

Subaru dipped into another kiss and laid himself fully on Kamui. Maybe if they just lie together in each other's arms and grind against one another it'll give him time to recalculate his next moves.

Think again. Kamui seems very enthusiastic about getting it on. He nearly ripped Subaru's ears off as he yanked the onmyouji's black shirt off him. Next those lovely fingers flew down to his belt buckle, undoing it in record speed.

Would you listen to that, he's really turned on by this. Hmmm….don't his moans sound good, you've never heard your name spoken with such lustful breathless hoarseness before, have you?

Come on, Subaru, do something, damnit! All this time you wondered what it'd feel like to run your tongue across his skin, now is your chance!

Kamui tastes like sweat and vanilla. His skin is like silk and somehow his tongue keeps pulling it a bit so there's always a tiny line of skin at its tip. He must be doing things the right way because Kamui's fingers are going to pull his hairs out if they keep threading themselves across his scalp.

Kamui's nipples are pink and warm, inviting. There's a tiny concentration of fat under the skin which Subaru sucks on gently for a while, his head reeling with need.

He needs to be inside the boy and he needs to do it now or he'll surely explode.

"Uh…K-Kamui…you don't happen to have…uh…something like…erm….an oil or something?"

How can you explain what a lubricant is to a complete virgin?

Kamui's eyes focus and dart around the room. He withdraws from under Subaru, folding his legs, and starts rummaging through the drawers in his bedside table. What he pulls out nearly makes Subaru choke.

Where would a complete virgin get a tube of K-Y?

"Kamui?"

And where would he learn what to lubricate and how?

Try to concentrate on that even if he's stroking your penis more than what's needed for proper application of the gel.

"Kamui, how do you know what to do now?"

For a moment Kamui seems to be distracted by listening to something else, but immediately he snaps back to reality. He blushes, which doesn't help Subaru's need to concentrate on the mystery before him, and looks away sheepishly.

"I-I…I h-have….uh…Manga….about stuff…like this…"

How wonderful is that? They even chose the same means of release for their special needs as teens. Subaru wraps his arms around the boy and slowly lowers them both back to the mattress.

Kamui feels warm and tight around him and so very good and exciting that Subaru's nearly over the edge from the first thrust.

He's in such rapture that he fails to notice Kamui felt nothing of the pain one usually feels while being penetrated for the first time.

Kamui wiggles under him, moving his hips this way and that, trying different angles to place his legs in. Subaru thrusts through all this, sweaty forehead on Kamui's collarbone, eyes shut tightly to best enjoy the moment. His palms on Kamui's sides try to stroke the boy from time to time, when his mind pulls itself out of the pleasure enough to remember he aught to do something.

By the time Kamui grabs for his own manhood and starts pumping it, Subaru's already at the point of no return.

A moment later and five minutes from the first kiss they shared, they're lying in each other's arms, collecting their breaths and lazily trying to stroke each other.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was horrible. Even for a first time. It was like…like…sleeping with a virgin. Now what is up with that, huh?

If Seishiro hadn't bragged to Kamui that he has been sleeping with Subaru for several years now then Kamui would have not minded the lousiness of the act he just participated in.

However, Seishiro would have never let Subaru take the role he just took and so, maybe his lack of experience in the topping side of sex could explain what happened just now.

But surely Subaru knows that the partner he's with aught to be pleased too, that the special angle in which your penetrated lover enjoys sex aught to be searched for. Subaru did none of that.

Maybe he was so excited and sheepish that this is how it turned out?

Or maybe, since his first time was such a blast, his expectations are way too high for Subaru to meet.

Perhaps. You know what? No, not 'perhaps'; 'definitely'!

He and Subaru are going to be a couple from now on which means that they'll have plenty of time to work on the sex. Yup, the horrid sex they just had means absolutely nothing.

Kamui smiled and snuggled closer to Subaru, burying his face into the other man's shoulder. His finger trailing along the man's other shoulder, his thigh gently rubbing against the man's thigh.

Fatigue from the days' events starts dragging Kamui gently into sleep.

How pleasing it is to fall asleep in the arms of a man who loves you, who just made love to you. Nothing feels safer than knowing that when you wake up the next morning, this man will be here, that this is not a one night stand, that he'll be here the next morning and the next and the next.

A teardrop lands in Subaru's shoulder.

Halo

The alarm clock by Kamui's bed showed him it was 03:26AM when he opened his eyes and realized his arms, like his bed, are empty.

Subaru must have gone to the bathroom.

Kamui smiles into the pillow and snuggles deeper into his duvet.

The alarm clock informs Kamui that it's 03:45AM and Subaru's not back in bed yet.

Maybe he was called for some job or something. Maybe his cell phone was on vibrate and so, when he was called, Subaru could answer the phone without waking him up so Kamui didn't hear any of it. Maybe.

Kamui pushes the pillow onto the wall and sits up, pulling the duvet back over him and stares out his bedroom window in anticipation.

It's 04:38AM and Kamui tears the duvet off of him after realizing he had nodded off and forgot to keep watch for Subaru's return.

Subaru's not going to return. If so, then where is he? A red rage boils in Kamui's temples, mixed with the faintest notion of humiliation.

He leaps downstairs and, as he spots Subaru sitting before the huge sitting room windows, opens his mouth to shout.

The scent of cigarette smoke catches in Kamui's nose and his eyes become enough accustomed to the light of Clamp Campus coming through the window and nearly swallowing Subaru's shadowy shape to notice the bigger man's position.

Subaru sits with his nose glued to the cold glass; his eyes stare outside with the same foggy dimness as the glass' pane. Left leg half folded and leaning on the thick windowpane, right leg stretched forward on the pane's edge.

He's brooding about something, Kamui understands, probably daydreaming like he so likes to do. What about?

Perhaps about them, about what they did, about their future together. Kamui knows that if he hadn't had such an emotionally tiring day he'd be up all night with excitement as well, thinking about how they're going to be and how their future together would look.

"Seishiro-san…" Subaru's low moan reaches Kamui's ears.

He's thinking about that horrible man, nothing more. Nope, nothing more.

"Oh, Seishiro-san…"

Maybe of ways to explain to that bastard about the fact that they're not going to be together again, ever, that they're nothing but enemies now.

"I'm sorry, Seishiro-san…"

'Sorry, Sei-bitch, but I found someone who really loves me, or is working on it,' Kamui smiles in the dark, rubbing his arms to keep himself warm, 'and from now on your presence in my life other than as the man who killed my sister and is a Harbinger I must fight due to my Seal-ness, is coming to an end.'

"I've done something very silly, Seishiro-san…That poor boy, he's so confused. And I took advantage of it. Oh, Seishiro-san, forgive me. I…I was dazzled by something that could never be given to me."

"What! Don't be stupid, Subaru! Of course you can have it! You can have it anytime you want! It was not a mistake, stop talking to that fucking bastard like he's here and you owe him something!"

Subaru doesn't even turn his head towards Kamui, doesn't even twitch or move or make any sign to show he had heard Kamui.

The world seemed to freeze in time and move forward from Kamui as he realizes that Subaru didn't hear him. Didn't hear him when he was nearly shouting. Why?

"I don't deserve something as good as Kamui and Kamui doesn't deserve something as horrible as me. I'm so useless, Seishiro-san, that I can't even avenge my sister's death. I'm so very small and petty and selfish and useless. I need to apologize to that boy, I'll do that tomorrow."

"W-why…." Kamui whimpers, tears rolling into his open lips, "Why is it that both of you call me 'boy'? Is it an onmyouji thing?" His whimper become a hushed shrilling whisper, "None of you see me….none of you really look at me…both of you see nothing but my body and my general problems….neither of you ever really look into my heart…."

"I hate you, Seishiro-san….but I also love you….and I always will."

Kamui turns his back to the onmyouji and starts climbing the stairs back to his room as soon as he notices that Subaru's drawing inverted pentacles on the back of his palm with the butt of his cigarette.

Some things are too difficult to watch, even for Kamui.

Almost Blue Dress

Great, just great.

Not only was he stuck in traffic for three hours because every coward and his sister wants to flee Tokyo, not only is he going to be late for tonight's victim's departure from his business meeting, but now the damn engine's overheated.

God damn it, this is a Ferrari, not some junk-lump of a car; since when do these things suffer silly technical problems like an over heated engine!

Fine, so he might have tested its engine a bit too much on the way until he ran into the traffic jam. But, come on, after waiting for your specially ordered right-hand drive Ferrari Maranello to arrive, and had just received it from the port; you'd play with your new toy a little bit, wouldn't you?

And standing in traffic for three hours straight must have also played a part in the engine's current condition.

Okay, okay; also, as soon as the traffic jam dissolved he sort of raced a bit too much towards his target. A little bit too fast. A little bit too roughly.

But, god-fuck-it! This is a fucking Ferrari, for fuck's sake, it shouldn't be so shocked at such treatment; it's a fucking racing car for fuck's fuck!

Maybe the long time of sitting in the shipping container all the way from Italy to Japan…bullshit! Cars don't sleep! Cars are nothing but pieces of metal, leather and plastic put together; they can't be 'woken up surprisingly' they don't have to 'warm up and stretch their limbs a bit'!

Perhaps Seishiro was so upset about the car because he was very much in danger of the engine heating up beyond repair on the damn thing's first drive.

He stopped and rolled the car to a shoulder in the road as soon as he noted soft white fumes coming from the designed hole in the hood. Opening the smooth, curved, shining black hood Seishiro had to blink at the sight of what is possibly one of the most advanced and capable car engines in the world smoking like it just drove five Grand Prix in a row.

Oh well, there's nothing much he can do about it, is there? Just change the engine's water and wait for it to cool down a bit.

Cars passing by honk their horns at him and catcalls rip through the surprisingly hot air whenever a knowledgeable male driver passes the assassin and his resting work of automobile art. As soon as he realizes the fuming engine brought on his beholders the impression that this fancy-ass car was, in fact, not in the best of shape, Seishiro closes the hood and stands there smoking his cigarette. Now let them die with envy.

"Holy shit!" A familiar boyish voice reaches Seishiro's ear as soon as he climbs back to the road near his car (he was taking a leak behind a few bushes decorating the road's edges). "It's a 550 Maranello! That's….awesome!"

It was the boy. What he is doing here and how he got here does not bother Seishiro; not as much as the boy being here at all did. Seishiro doesn't feel like dealing with a bitterly hissing and bellyaching Kamui at the moment. And he really doesn't feel like answering a " YOU SAVED ME! WHY!" speech right now.

"Oh. It's yours. I should have guessed."

Somehow, the boy didn't sound half as bitter as he should have. Nor did he sound hateful. He just sounded sad.

Seishiro lights another cigarette and opens the hood to see if the fumes cleared out a little bit. Almost time to put some water in.

Kamui stands at some distance from Seishiro, blankly checking on the car from time to time.

"He…Subaru I mean…he won't let go of you."

Oh boy, here we go…

"I really hate that. It's stupid, and ridiculous and useless. Why can't he get his head out of his ass and move on in life!"

Beg your pardon?

"If I were him I'd grow a spine, like, ages ago and kick your ass big time. Or just get over you and then kick your ass. Or wait for this year to come along to kick your ass while I get myself someone else to love because I got over you ages ago."

Is he talking about Subaru or about himself as Subaru?

"Anyways, I came to the conclusion that Subaru's a cowardly prick and I've had enough of it. He makes me sick with how pathetic he is."

"There's a bottle of distilled water in the trunk; get it for me, boy."

Kamui nods quickly, a glint of excitement dancing in his eyes for a moment at the thought of helping to maintain a car of that sort.

"Subaru thinks that I'm so much like him; well that's bullshit! Here, wait, I'll unscrew it. No, I can do this alone! See? I'm not that weak."

Seishiro takes the bottle calmly away from Kamui and begins carefully pouring water into his precious engine.

"Yeah, that's what I'm talking about; Subaru's so much weaker than me, and so much more spineless. Why does he think I need his help? I don't know."

"He doesn't like you clinging to him."

"E-eh!"

Seishiro slams the hood gently shut. For a moment he stares at his soot-blackened hands and the car, nearly baffled. "Boy, there's a pack of baby wipes in the right door's pocket; get them for me."

"What do you mean he's tired of me clinging to him!" Kamui pulls two wet wipes for Seishiro to use, "I don't cling to him anymore, I stopped clinging when I started sleeping with - "

Cleaning under his fingernails, Seishiro smirks. "So, you've had enough of my property?"

"Property, you say? Ah, fuck it, I don't care anymore. Yeah, I'm done 'playing with your toy'. Bastard; that's all you ever cared about, isn't it?"

Slipping into the driver's seat while pushing Kamui out of his way semi-roughly, Seishiro reaches for the starter and gives it a delicate turn. "That's right, boy."

The magnificent car starts with a pleasant purr and drives away sleekly, as if hovering above the road.

Kamui stares after the disappearing car and sighs. He wants to be mad at what Seishiro said, but he can't. Because Seishiro asked him to help him, even if it was with small things, even if he addressed him as 'boy' and nothing more; he still asked him to do something he could have done himself.

And Seishiro saved him from dying in the Garden Place. Saved him again later, even though he let go of him, Kamui knew it.

"Maybe….maybe….you're not such a bastardly bastard after all. Maybe."

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

'No, please do not lie to him, do not lie to them!'

'Hush now, my dear; fall asleep, rest.'

Subaru stepped into Hinoto's darkened room. He walked up to her decorated platform and stood still, awaiting her words.

"Thank you, Sumeragi-dono, for coming to see me…"

(tbc)