Warning: Graphic violence, blood. Shounen-ai.
Pairing: Hijiri x Tsuzuki x Hisoka
Disclaimer: I tearfully am forced to admit… I don't own them.
A/N: It's a 'Christmas bonus'! (Please, don't bother asking). I finished editing this only a few moments ago, and decided that I didn't want to make everyone wait, since I had already done that. This was a hard chapter to write, but I think it turned out well. At least I hope it did.
An Amethyst and Two Emeralds
Chapter Five
Longing: Part Two
My violin had always comforted me, it shared in my tears, tried to raise my spirits through the beautiful sounds it produced. The instrument was my one surviving friend; my only family, a lover. Everyone else was gone, they had left me.
I could see the remains of the flowers given to me by Tsuzuki and Hisoka; the last memory I had of them. It had been over a year since the concert. The stems and leaves had lost their vibrant green long ago and the once colorful petals now littered the shelf, some beginning to turn to dust and drift away. I didn't care how unsightly they became; I wouldn't throw them out. No one saw them anyways; besides me.
The two Shinigami had promised that they would wait for me, but how was I supposed to wait? Why did I have to wait?
I was trying to live as I once did, but everything had changed. No, that was wrong; I was the one who had changed. Maybe I didn't die during the ordeal with the shinigami, but my heart was still among the dead.
Tears that had fallen many times before once again left my eyes. I was sitting on my bed, the hard coils of metal within the mattress pressed into my flesh. Gently I cradled my violin in my arms, embracing the last thing that cared about me in this life. Wooden, cold, the instrument only warmed me after it was heated by my skin. A violin became alive only when played; all other times it was silent, cold, and lifeless; the same as all that surrounded me. My violin and I had become the same. Each day I lived as a reanimated corpse. The only part of life I enjoyed was making music. When my fingers caressed the smooth wood of my instrument, I was able to forget everything besides the notes.
On the wall beside my bed were the pictures I had taken with Hisoka. Most showed me smiling, cheerfully staring into the camera as the Shinigami froze time by pressing a button. However, for one of the pictures I had been able to drag my double in front of the lens. I stood smiling, just like in all the other photographs, but beside me was the other teen, cold and straight-faced. But he was there, unlike the past year, unlike now.
While I stared at that picture with clouded vision, I realized what I wanted. I no longer wanted to pretend to live, to wait for an unknown point in the future. I wanted to be with Tsuzuki and Hisoka.
Carefully I lay my violin upon the cold blankets that covered my mattress and left the bedroom.
When I returned, I gingerly held one of the sharpest knives from my kitchen. Its steel blade glinted and glittered in the low light, mirroring the shine of the metallic strings on my violin. The knife, too, was cold and I set it to rest beside the instrument on the bed. With urgency, I found my bow, sliding it against the small piece of rosin I had left on the floor.
One last time, I dropped the silk cloth I used when playing upon my shoulder. It draped over me, pure and white. Then, I exchanged my bow for the knife; the blade was still chilled as it touched my skin. Goosebumps prickled where metal rested against flesh. Before I let the knife perform its duty, I glanced in the mirror across the room, made sure I would sever the artery beating beneath my skin. The pain was bearable as I swiftly drew the blade across my neck. I wasn't sure if I began to cry once again or if I had been the entire time. I knew the cloth upon my shoulder became stained with crimson blood.
For the final time, I lifted my violin so that it rested on my shoulder, positioning my chin in place. The metal that adorned the end of the instrument made my wound sting, I tried to ignore it. Vaguely my mind realized that my blood would ruin my violin, staining the honey-colored wood with deep crimson. It would only make my ownership of the instrument stronger. The world would know this violin belonged to me, the property of the country's best marked with his blood.
My right hand fumbled as it groped in a wild search for the last piece. With the conclusion of my strength I placed my bow against the strings. The violin slid against my neck, my blood lubricating the wood and metal; only causing me to apply more pressure and gouge the instrument further into my flesh. Kami-sama it hurt, burned, tormented. I felt the cool metal seemingly meld into my body as it absorbed all of my warmth. Closing my eyes I began to play; not knowing what songs the notes I created were part of. It wasn't important, just as the pain wasn't. Neither was the sensation of my fingers pressing metallic strings against the wooden fingerboard. They cut my fingers, carving thread-like incisions on each pad. It didn't matter.
Someone was shouting, through the thickness of my mind I could barely hear it. Jumbled words reminding me to be quiet of the late hour. What sense did that make? Pointless.
My only concern: I was going to see Tsuzuki and Hisoka; my Shinigami, the ones I loved.
To be continued.
A/N: See you all soon! crosses fingers