Cursed.
By : EclipseRedMoon.
Summary :
My first Hisoka / Muraki story - don't know if it's any good. :(
Don't know where this came from… bad dreams and re-reading Yami no Matsuei! A little story in which I wanted to explore Hisoka's curse / Muraki's manipulation. Inspired by a Mur/His photo I saw online :
MY PRECIOUS DOLL, THERE IS NO WAY YOU CAN RESIST MY CALLING. ONE DAY YOU WILL FINALLY REALIZE THAT.
Disclaimer :
I don't own Yami no Matsuei or the characters et cetera. All rights to Yoko Matsushita and publishing companies et cetera. I am completely obsessed with the series though! (Guilty as charged!)
Please pretty please review - I appreciate feedback!
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YOU ARE MINE.
It was just after sunset, and Hisoka was sitting in a cafe with his partner, Tsuzuki, when he heard the call.
COME.
He put his hands to his head, but it made no difference. The call repeated itself, louder than any noises in the room.
COME TO ME.
"Hey, Soka? Are you even listening?" Tsuzuki mumbled, his mouth full of apple pie.
"Gomen, what were you saying? I…"
YOU ARE MINE.
"You need to eat something, Soka! You haven't eaten all day, and since we finished up that case, we should celebrate!" Tsuzuki repeated.
"We haven't finished the case until we finish the paperwork," the teenager retorted. "We should get back. Tatsumi will…"
MY LITTLE DOLL.
Hisoka blinked his green eyes. He was standing up, but he didn't remember getting to his feet.
Tsuzuki had stopped eating, and was now staring at him suspiciously. Worry had begun to creep into his brilliant purple eyes.
"What's wrong, Soka? You're pale," he said in a more serious tone of voice than usual.
YOU BELONG TO ME.
"I... I'm fine," Hisoka stammered.
He could barely hear Tsuzuki or any of the sounds in the cafe. All he could hear was the call repeating over and over, becoming impossible to ignore.
AND YOU ALWAYS WILL.
"I just need some air. I'm going to take a walk. I'll meet you back at the office…"
He didn't even hear his own voice as he said the words, and he didn't notice how his feet had carried him to the door until he was half-way through it.
COME TO ME.
"No! Go away, go away!" groaned the boy quietly, hitting his head with both hands and squeezing his eyes shut.
But still, he continued to walk, blindly following the call forward into the night.
COME, LITTLE DOLL.
Hisoka crossed the street and went into a nearby park. Moonlight shone on the grass and the trees cast vague shadows against the ground.
COME CLOSER.
Hisoka staggered forward, rushing to answer that summons, his whole body wanting nothing more than to obey that calling, even though his mind wanted to flee.
But he had no choice. He was driven by an uncontrollable NEED to go wherever his master was.
COME, MY DOLL.
He was almost there. He could feel it. His pace quickened.
He hurried towards a tree at the top of the nearest hill. That was when he saw the white shadow standing calmly under the cherry tree, surrounded by a gentle rain of pink petals in the moonlight.
COME TO ME.
Hisoka staggered up the hill towards the man who called him, the man who had placed that curse upon him and whose power even now drew him forwards.
He wanted to fight it, but there was no way he could resist. Instead, he ran straight back to the man who had killed him, hurrying eagerly to meet him, until finally, the call stopped.
GOOD DOLL.
Hisoka found himself standing at the top of the hill, several feet from his murderer. He was panting from the effort it had taken him to get there.
Muraki looked like an angel beneath the falling cherry blossoms.
"Why is the sakura always falling when you're around," Hisoka growled in annoyance.
When the man in the white trenchcoat moved towards him, he flinched, but discovered that he couldn't move a muscle, not even to take a single step back.
Muraki cupped his chin with a smooth pale hand.
"Such an obedient doll. You always come when I call you…"
Hisoka glared at him.
"I am not your doll…"
A white hand beckoned him.
Hisoka's feet moved him forward against his will.
He clenched his teeth in anger but fell silent.
"That's better," approved Muraki calmly.
Hisoka fought to control the fear that was rising in him… the blind panic that always took over him when he was in Muraki's presence. A shudder of terror went through his body, but he quickly covered it with anger.
"Muraki, why have you brought me here?" he demanded, fighting to keep his voice as level as possible.
"Do I need a reason to see what is mine?" Muraki replied evenly.
He felt Muraki bind him in place with the curse. Every mark on his body tightened as if they were actual wires wrapped around him, squeezing impossibly tightly against his slim body, and holding him immobile.
Muraki was circling him, now, running a hand through his hair, examining his head and body.
"It's been too long since I've played with you, doll, and I do want to make sure my toy has not been damaged."
"I am not yours," whispered Hisoka defiantly.
"REALLY?" Muraki smirked.
Suddenly, he was on fire. The curse marks flared to life, branding him with a searing caress. Red-hot pain raced through every line on his body.
Screaming in agony, Hisoka collapsed into Muraki's arms.
The pain stopped. Muraki petted his hair and carefully stood him up again, placing him on his feet like a doll on a shelf.
"So beautiful… your perfect body, eternally sixteen… so supple and innocent…" mused the man in white.
Hisoka was still shaking from the pain the curse marks had inflicted on him, but he ground his teeth together and managed to glare back at his captor.
"Psycopath…" he muttered through his teeth. "I'm not that innocent."
"Hmmm, that brings back fond memories," Muraki growled, his voice dropping even lower and ripples of lust emanating from his body.
"You bastard..."
"Now, now, child, behave."
"I'll kill you!"
Muraki smacked him across the face.
"Insolent brat!"
Hisoka stood there, stunned, his cheek stinging from the impact.
Muraki stood before him, immaculate in white and terrible in his fury.
When he spoke, he never raised his voice, but his anger was ice cold.
"Ever since I let you remember the night I killed you, boy, you have felt entitled to revenge, and you are entitled to nothing. You belong to me," Muraki hissed.
"No," Hisoka insisted.
"Wishing doesn't make it so, Kurosaki Hisoka," the white angel overrode him. "You belong to me, whether you like it or not. I think it's time you learned that. You have no right to revenge. You are simply my possession."
Forgetting the curse that bound him, Hisoka lunged forward at the man in white, attempting to strangle him. The burst of energy was wasted. He barely moved an inch forward before the invisible strings tightened.
Muraki narrowed his steel eyes, and Hisoka was swiftly yanked backwards several feet and bound in place.
"What the…?!" he gasped.
"I gave you immortality at sixteen… an eternity in this form… You should be thanking me, boy," Muraki continued, his voice smooth and proud.
"But you… you…" Hisoka stammered. Tears shone in his eyes.
"I what?" Muraki smirked. "I took what I wanted."
POSSESSIVENESS.
ANGER.
DARKNESS.
DESIRE.
Hisoka cowered under the waves of emotion coming from the white angel in front of him.
"Did you know?" he asked in a very small and shaking voice. "When you…"
"When I cursed you?"
Hisoka flinched.
"Did you know that I would become a shinigami?" Hisoka whispered.
Muraki smiled, barely concealing his amusement.
"Now, how could I possibly have known that, my doll?" he chuckled softly.
Hisoka squinted at him suspiciously. Somehow, his answer seemed a little too evasive.
Muraki continued smoothly. "When I cursed you, I knew only that I wanted you. Of all of my possessions, you are the most perfect. I knew from the moment I saw you that I wanted to keep you forever. Tell me, boy, is that so terrible?"
A cruel smile spread over Muraki's face.
"After all, with your gift…? Noone could ever love you."
Hisoka glared back at him, fire in his green eyes.
"But when noone else wanted you, I did… Who else could possibly want you, my dear boy?"
"Shut up," Hisoka snarled under his breath.
Muraki chuckled smoothly. "A monster child like you… They locked you up in a cage, didn't they?"
Hisoka screamed with rage.
Possibly the only memories he had that were worse than the night he was raped and killed were the memories of being locked in a cell and left in the dark, abandoned and hated by his own parents.
"Shut up! I hate you!" he shouted at his captor, furious.
Muraki sighed and adjusted his glasses.
"It looks like you still haven't learned your lesson. I've been trying to teach it to you for awhile now, but little children can be so stubborn." His voice finally carried a trace of irritation.
Hisoka's hands closed into tight fists as he strained against his bonds.
Muraki actually laughed. "You were so irresistibly helpless and alone. You looked so lost and so beautifully frightened that I just had to break you!"
Suddenly, his captor closed the distance between them, leaning very close to Hisoka's face, making the teenager squirm uncomfortably.
Muraki's voice dropped to a seductive whisper.
"That is why I put a spell on you, giving you the slowest death imaginable. I wanted to draw out your suffering for as long as possible so that I could enjoy every exquisite, agonizing moment of your beautiful death…"
"You're sick!" Hisoka blurted in horror.
Muraki kissed him, hard, silencing him with his pale mouth against the boy's rosy lips.
Hisoka struggled, but Muraki's arms wrapped around him, crushing his slender body against his firm chest.
The physical contact unlocked a flood of emotions and memories, and as Muraki kissed him, Hisoka knew only that the man WANTED him.
His empathic powers were causing Hisoka to sink in the sea of emotions, until he could no longer sense himself, he was so far under Muraki's mind.
He would have screamed, but Muraki's mouth smothered him.
BLOOD.
DESIRE.
CRUELTY.
LAUGHTER.
BLACKNESS.
COLD.
PAIN.
Then, very clearly, he heard Muraki's silken voice in his head.
I KNOW YOU CAN SEE.
NOW PAY ATTENTION.
Muraki raised a memory and forced it upon his empathy.
It was the night he had been murdered, but in this memory, he was not watching Muraki stab a woman to death. No, he was stabbing the woman to death, and when he turned around, he saw… himself.
This was Muraki's memory of that night. He saw himself through Muraki's eyes. He was a skinny child, dressed in a thin robe, wandering alone at night… so alone, so beautiful… so frightened.
WHAT A PRETTY YOUNG THING.
SUCH A FRAGILE LITTLE DOLL.
WHAT A JOY TO BREAK HIM.
I WILL KEEP HIM FOREVER.
ADORATION.
DESIRE.
POSSESSIVENESS.
YOU ARE MINE.
He watched himself run away, or at least try to run away.
OH, HOW PRECIOUS.
YOU CANNOT RUN FROM ME…
MY SWEET PREY.
He watched his own clothes being stripped from him until he was naked on the ground.
SUCH A BEAUTIFUL BOY.
SO VULNERABLE.
SUCH A PERFECT DOLL.
HE IS MINE.
Muraki pulled his lips away for a moment, and the teen gasped for air.
"Get away from me!" Hisoka shrieked in panic, his empathy almost overloading him.
"Shh, shhh, hush now. Stop thrashing around," soothed the pale man without pity.
Hisoka struggled in his arms, until Muraki's mind smothered his own.
BLACKNESS.
The boy stilled but trembled.
"Calm down. It will be over soon," came Muraki's cold voice through the dark emotions surrounding him.
He ran a slender hand through the boy's honey-coloured hair, and then cupped his chin.
TRIUMPH.
LUST.
Muraki kissed him again, brutally pressing cold lips against his and invading his mouth with his tongue. Slowly but forcefully, his tongue moved inside Hisoka's mouth, invading every space and corner, sliding across his tongue, and tasting him.
Hisoka didn't fight back. Muraki bit his lower lip gently and then pulled away.
"Delicious," he smirked. "Do you understand now, boy?"
Hisoka nodded.
"You wanted me and you claimed me when noone else did," he recited automatically.
His mind was still spinning from the onslaught of emotions and memories he had just experienced.
"Very good," Muraki purred. "Even the most stubborn children can be taught."
Hisoka shook his head and took a deep breath, trying to regain a sense of himself. The flood of emotions that Muraki had just forced on his empathy was finally over, but he felt weak and dizzy from the experience.
He was not completely sure if Muraki's mind had completely receded. He could still feel the doctor's darkness surrounding him. He could barely recognize where the dark lust ended and his own terror began.
Gradually, he began to feel his own mind returning, but he was still not completely alone. He tried to raise his shields again…
But Muraki was merciless and didn't give him a chance to recover.
The doctor touched Hisoka's chest with one finger, and the curse marks burned, causing the boy to hiss in pain. At the same time, the strings that bound him in place released their hold, and Hisoka was free to move.
"It won't be so painful if you just accept it," Muraki said in a voice like silk.
Muraki walked backwards away from him, his arms gracefully opened in a mock imitation of love, and Hisoka went to him, willingly.
The pain didn't disappear, but it subsided.
Muraki folded the boy into his arms.
"Good," he purred. "You're learning."
Hisoka began to cry.
Muraki kissed his tear away and licked his lips.
Hisoka buried his face against the doctor's chest. He had nowhere else to go. He couldn't escape the man's arms or the heat that crawled through his skin from the cursed patterns. Pain and fear blended together, mixing with the dark waves coming from Muraki himself.
PRIDE.
POSSESSIVENESS.
POWER.
PAIN.
His slender arms reached out and wrapped around Muraki's waist, almost without him knowing it. He was clinging to his murderer like a little child, shuddering with quiet sobs.
"Please… take it off me," he begged, crying. His voice was barely a whisper. The words slipped out before he thought about it.
It was a desperate plea to the one man who could help him.
Muraki's laughter enveloped him like black satin. It was deep and smooth and cold, and it sent shivers of horror through Hisoka's body.
"Now, why would I want to do that, my precious doll?" Muraki smirked in blatant amusement.
Hisoka felt the marks of the curse tighten around him like strings, squeezing him, holding him immobile.
"Besides, it's unbreakable. I'm surprised you haven't realized that already. I carved this curse into your body, and your corpse has long since rotted away, yet here you are, dead and still cursed, with my claim still branded into your very soul."
Hisoka shivered as he listened to his own murderer explain the curse that had killed him once and now tortured his soul.
"Then, what do I do?" he asked desperately.
"Do?"
Muraki laughed again, and his voice was both soothing and pitiless.
"You poor thing. I'm afraid there's nothing you can do, my dear, except obey. You will come when I call. You will dance when I pull your strings. You will sing for me, my doll."
One of Muraki's hands undid the buckle of his belt. His other hand slid smoothly over Hisoka's flat stomach and down, lower than his waistband, and grabbed him.
Hisoka let out a yelp of pain and humiliation.
Muraki squeezed his length in a painfully tight grip.
Then, Hisoka wanted to shriek, but the noise was strangled in his throat and came out as a series of squeaks and whimpers.
"Those are nice noises you are making," purred Muraki, leaning close to watch his victim's face.
PRIDE.
SATISFACTION.
DESIRE.
DOMINANCE.
TRIUMPH.
Muraki was enjoying the whimpers of discomfort and reveling in the boy's fear and agony. Hisoka could feel it.
Muraki continued to stroke his length, sending violent tremors through Hisoka's slender body. The teenager arched his back and tried futilely to move himself away from Muraki's hand, but this only seemed to excite him more, and Muraki doubled his movements. With one more cruel squeeze, the doctor removed his hand from Hisoka's pants.
"Oh! I don't know which way I prefer you… When you are a perfect, obedient doll or when you panic, and I feel you straining pointlessly against me!" Muraki said gleefully. "Either way, you are delectable. You give me quite a rush, my little doll."
Once again, Muraki folded his arms around the boy in a mockery of an embrace.
Hisoka squirmed in his arms, but the taller mans grasp was inescapable. For a few moments, he held the teenager trapped firmly against his chest. Then, he took afew steps back to survey his prey.
Muraki tipped his head, and Hisoka shivered at the look in his silver eyes.
"But I think what i like best is when your little mouth is wide open and screaming..." he decided. His voice was seductively sweet. "And you know how easily I can make you scream, little doll."
Muraki reached into his coat pocket.
Emerald green eyes widened in terror.
"Muraki… no! Please, don't!" Hisoka squeaked.
He knew full well what was always hidden on that cost pocket.
"So… Are you ready?" Muraki asked with a wicked little smile.
The blade of a scalpel flashed in the moonlight, held delicately between the doctor's long, pale fingers.
A pale hand caught a fistful of Hisoka's blonde locks and pulled his head back. Holding him in place with the spell and by his hair with one hand, the other hand pressed the scalpel against his throat hard enough to draw blood.
Hisoka drew in a sharp breath.
A cut.
And then another. And another. And another.
Muraki's hand danced over Hisoka's throat and chest. Every tiny movement of his hand was accompanied by the swift sting of a fresh cut into the boy's skin. Hisoka writhed, and for the next several minutes, his world was nothing but pain.
"Stop! Stop, please, stop!" he begged.
Muraki liked it when he begged, but he continued, mercilessly.
"I will stop when you tell me what I want to hear," he responded calmly.
"No, oh no!" Hisoka gasped.
Another cut. Another cut. He didn't know if the patterns were random or if Muraki was carving the curse over again, but it didn't matter. Pain was still pain.
"No. Muraki, please! Stop," Hisoka begged.
His only answer was the sound of low, cold laughter.
DARKNESS.
AMUSEMENT.
THRILL.
PLEASURE.
The pleasure wasn't his. It was Muraki's. The pain he felt from the blade and the curse marks blended with his own fear, but at the same time, he was enjoying his own suffering. His own terror and desperation mixed together with Muraki's satisfaction into a confused mess of emotions.
He could feel how much Muraki ENJOYED torturing him, even as he was being tortured.
It made him feel sick
Fear.
ECSTASY.
Helplessness.
TRIUMPH.
Panic.
CONTROL.
Suffering.
AMUSEMENT.
Pain.
BEAUTY.
Emotions flooded over him along with the pain, twisting together in the darkness until he could no longer stand it. And he screamed and screamed as Muraki laughed.
Finally, Muraki stopped. He stepped back to give the empath a chance to breathe and clear his mind.
"So now, my doll. Have you learned your lesson?" he asked quietly.
Hisoka nodded.
He made no effort to stand on his own feet. Instead, he hung limply against the invisible strings that wrapped around him. He truly was a puppet on Muraki's strings.
"Then, tell me," the doctor commanded.
Hisoka closed his eyes and shivered.
"Tell me what I want to hear," Muraki repeated patiently.
Hisoka took a shaky breath and began to recite the words he knew by heart. Even as he spoke, he could hear them echoed in Muraki's thoughts.
"I am yours."
YOU ARE MINE.
"Your little doll."
MY LITTLE DOLL.
"I belong to you."
YOU BELONG TO ME.
"And I always will."
AND YOU ALWAYS WILL.
"Good boy," Muraki breathed against his ear.
The white angel kissed the boy on the lips once more, this time very gently, and then released him.
Every line of the curse on his body stopped burning simultaneously. The invisible strings that bound him disappeared as Muraki stopped using his magic to hold him. Hisoka dropped to the ground in a broken pile, suddenly unsupported.
Calmly, Muraki put away the bloody scalpel, checked his watch, and put his hands in his coat pocket.
Hisoka lay at his feet, too afraid to try to run away.
"Well, I should get going. I have other business to attend to, tonight," said Muraki easily, as if he had just finished a cup of tea. "We will have to do this again soon, my sweet doll. I do so enjoy our times together…"
Slowly, Hisoka pushed himself up on his hands. He lifted his head, which was at the level of Muraki's knees, but he did not dare to raise himself any higher.
"I don't understand," he whispered. "You're letting me go?"
Muraki chuckled very softly. "Never," he whispered. "My strings are around you, boy. We will always be connected, you and I."
A large hand came down softly on his head and stroked his hair once.
Hisoka cringed.
"How I love playing with you, doll. You will always be my very favorite."
Muraki began to walk away, his hands in the pockets of his white trenchcoat, his silver hair moved by a slight breeze, his steps as calm and steady as ever.
"Run along now, boy. The land of the living is no place for the dead to stay… but I feel sure that we will meet again very soon."
Hisoka watched his enemy until the man had disappeared into the night. Once he was sure Muraki had left, he shakily got to his feet and looked himself over.
The geometric designs of the curse were still shining an angry red against his pale skin, but the pain was fading away and the call had stopped. He knew that within afew hours, the marks would slowly fade to silver and then disappear from sight, hidden until his master brought the curse to life again.
Hisoka brushed himself off and rearranged his clothes until he looked presentable again. Then, he teleported back to his office at the JuhOhCho, safely returning to the world of the dead.
Hisoka re-materialized inside the Ministry of Hades, landing lightly beside his desk.
The abrupt switch from a darkened park at night to the bright space of the office made him blink afew times.
Everything was suddenly so normal.
Afew minutes ago, he had been trapped in the hands of his murderer. Muraki had been carving into his flesh, tormenting his mind and body, playing with him like he was... a doll.
Now, he was safely back in the spirit-world. His wounds had already healed. Everything was back to normal, and startlingly so.
Hisoka shut his eyes, welcoming the relief of the mundane office rhythm.
His co-workers moved around their respective offices, finishing their paperwork for the night. The florescent lights shone brightly. The desks were made of wood. He could hear footsteps and the sound of staplers and the shuffling of papers, pens, and coffee cups.
Eyes still closed, he reached out with his empathy. What he felt was so normal and soothing that he almost laughed with relief.
Everyone was tired. Terezuma wanted a smoke. Watari was still in his lab, oblivious to the time and right in the middle of some extremely important experiment.
He carefully reached out to Tatsumi's office. As usual, he felt nothing but a carefully measured amount of calmness emanating from the room. Hisoka smiled. Tatsumi never failed to keep his emotions shielded and stable.
All in all, it was a completely normal evening for the Guardians of Death.
Suddenly, Hisoka was slammed with an explosion of enthusiasm.
His eyes flew open.
The first thing he saw was his partner's black trenchcoat, piled in a sloppy heap on the chair at his desk.
The next thing he saw was a blur of movement, a flash of purple, and a glimpse of chopsticks.
"SOKA! You're back! Here! I found something for you to eat!"
"Tsuzuki! What are you... mmrrrff!" Hisoka blurted in surprise before the chopsticks and the noodles were shoved into his mouth.
For a second, he chocked on the mouthful of food before managing to swallow it.
"You were gone awhile. I was starting to worry, kid!" Tsuzuki flashed the teenager his brightest, most cheerful smile. He put his hand on top of Hisoka's head and ruffled his hair.
"Hey, cut it out," mumbled Hisoka irritably, but he didn't mean it, and Tsuzuki knew it.
Tsuzuki just laughed. The man had no idea how dazzling he was when he was happy.
"You've got to eat, Soka! You're my partner, so it's my job to make sure you don't starve, even if I have to feed you myself!"
Hisoka shot him a glare, pretending that he didn't like it when his partner treated him like a child. (The truth was that it didn't bother him nearly as much as he said it did.)
"I'll eat if I'm hungry, and I can't exactly starve to death so... mmrrrff!"
Hisoka started to protest, but Tsuzuki simply shoved the chopsticks back in his mouth with another bunch of noodles.
Green eyes flashed, but he couldn't talk with his mouth full of food.
"Instant ramen," Tsuzuki continued apologetically. "I know it's not fancy, but it's pretty good, right?"
The teenager swallowed. "Ugh, baka," he muttered.
He tried to keep the appearance of being angry, but quickly melted when he saw the hopeful expression on Tsuzuki's face.
"Oh, give me that," he finally demanded, snatching the bowl of ramen and the chopsticks from Tsuzuki's hands.
The taller man beamed happily.
"I can feed myself, you know!" Hisoka shot at him, only slightly annoyed.
The truth was, even though Hisoka always said he didn't want Tsuzuki to look after him, he secretly craved Tsuzuki's attention and protection. He would never admit it, but he adored the times when Tsuzuki took care of him.
Tsuzuki was like the big brother he had never had before.
His partner could be childish and lazy and naïve, and impulsive. He was over-protective, over-emotional, and sometimes overly-depressed. But Tsuzuki was also fiercely loyal and defensive of those he loved, and Hisoka had seen how far his partner was willing to go to defend them all, especially himself. Tsuzuki thought of himself as a demon, but Hisoka could feel only goodness in his soul.
The man was the most kind-hearted person he had ever met, and his emotions (although usually deafeningly loud and totally unchecked) were completely genuine.
Hisoka bathed in those emotions now, letting them wash over him.
WARMTH.
HAPPINESS.
AFFECTION.
STRENGTH.
HUMOUR.
BROTHERLY LOVE.
PROTECTIVENESS.
They felt so different than the coldness he felt from Muraki.
Hisoka shuddered.
He was still shaken from his encounter with Muraki, but he tried to tell himself that encounters like this were just a normal part of his life… or rather, his afterlife.
He was cursed, after all, and he could still feel the strings on him that would pull him back to his puppet-master.
CONCERN.
Hisoka looked up to see Tsuzuki watching him closely with a little frown of worry on his face.
Oops. He had been quiet for too long, lost in his own thoughts.
"This is good. Thank you," he said quickly, nodding to the bowl of ramen in his hand and taking another bite.
"You okay, kid?" his partner questioned gently.
"I'm fine. I just didn't realize how hungry I was," he mumbled.
It was true. He was suddenly starving, and he hadn't realized that he was so hungry until he'd started to eat! He ate faster, now. The warm soup was comforting.
Tsuzuki nodded at him proudly. "See? You should listen to your partner more often! You don't eat enough, Soka!"
"So, fill me in. Why are you still here at the office?" he asked quickly.
"Tatsumi's in a bad mood," Tsuzuki whined. "He said we have to finish these case reports tonight, and we can't go home until they're done!"
"Okay, then let's get started."
Hisoka set the bowl of instant ramen down on the desk. Tsuzuki immediately snatched it back up and shoved it in his hands.
"You finish your dinner! I'll finish the paperwork!" Tsuzuki argued.
"Yeah, right. You'll never finish all that by yourself," Hisoka scoffed.
They continued arguing as usual, and for just a minute, Hisoka really did feel like everything was back to normal.
But the events of the evening had him rattled. His green eyes clouded over with sadness.
"Tsuzuki… would you… would you still want to be my partner if I already belonged to someone else?" he asked timidly.
Tsuzuki looked at him in shock, chocolate hair falling over violet eyes.
Then, slowly, the shock faded, and Hisoka could see him putting two and two together in his mind.
Hisoka rolled his eyes. Tsuzuki was never any good at controlling his emotions.
Tsuzuki's face hardened into understanding.
"Muraki?" he demanded.
Hisoka nodded.
I KNEW IT.
SOMETHING DID HAPPEN.
HE WAS GONE TOO LONG.
I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE.
THAT BASTARD.
ANGER.
IT WAS MY FAULT.
PROTECTIVENESS.
GUILT.
Hisoka punched Tsuzuki in the arm.
"Stop that! It wasn't your fault! And put up your shields!" he snapped.
Tsuzuki stood up and took Hisoka by the shoulders.
"You don't belong to him, Hisoka. You are not his doll," he said firmly.
"Aaaugh!"
Hisoka flung up his hands up to get Tsuzuki away and stepped back, shaking his head with his eyes closed tight.
"But I do...! I am...! You dont understand..." he stammered in frustration.
Tsuzuki placed one hand firmly on his shoulder. His face was serious, and the look in those deep purple eyes was one of complete honesty. The brunette was absolutely sure of his own words, willing Hisoka to trust him.
With his most gentle and yet most serious tone of voice, Tsuzuki said :
"He's a psychopath and a sorcerer, and he doesn't own you."
"It's not like I believe that or anything, but it's just a fact!" the teenager nearly shouted at him. "Whether I like it or not, THIS…"
Hisoka fumbled frantically with the buttons of his cuff and then yanked his sleeve back to reveal his arm. Angry red marks were still glowing in a beautiful design across his skin. The pain was gone, but the marks were there nonetheless.
"THIS is unbreakable! I will always belong to him, and he will always find me, and we are connected, and I put you in danger... all of you! Don't you get it? He's not going to go away! He'll come back… for me… and after everything he's done to you… I… I…"
Hisoka chocked, feeling tears stinging his eyes.
"I would understand if you don't want to be near me."
Tsuzuki was silent for a minute. Then, Hisoka felt it. The purple-eyed man was radiating a plea for Hisoka to trust him.
WARMTH.
GENTLENESS.
HONESTY.
"Hisoka," he finally whispered. "I am not going anywhere."
The boy's head snapped up. Green met purple, and for a second, Hisoka felt completely and forever safe.
PLAYFULNESS.
JOY.
A second later, Tsuzuki had turned into a child again.
"Besides! Muraki can't have you! You're my partner!" he exclaimed.
Tsuzuki jabbed a finger into Hisoka's chest playfully.
"My partner! You got that?"
He rolled his eyes.
"All right, all right! I'm your partner!" Hisoka shoved the taller man away and pointed to the stack of papers on the desk. "And your partner says we have to finish this, because I want to go home!"
He grabbed another chair and sat down at the desk beside Tsuzuki, and together, they finished the paperwork. Then, together, they went back to their apartment.
And Hisoka felt safe. He was home. He was in the world of the spirits, surrounded by friends. He had Watari and Terezuma and all his friends and coworkers. Tatsumi would look after him, of course, and he had Tsuzuki. He would always have Tsuzuki, and they would always save each other.
He was safe, at least for now, but he knew the truth.
He was cursed.
And like an echo, he heard the voice at the back of his mind whisper :
YOU ARE MINE.