Disclaimer: I obviously do not own Yami no Matsuei, thank you very much.
That's What Love Is For
He couldn't move.
It was, oddly, the exact first thing he noticed. Then a second later, he tried to curse, and he noticed that he couldn't speak, either.
His heart thumped very, very painfully inside him as he felt a very familiar heat.
His eyes were open, but it only just then seemed to register on him that he was back in the dream. But how? How could he have possibly been there? Tsuzuki was with him – if he so much as made a peep, Tsuzuki was right there to calm him down. Had Tsuzuki left the room? But the man knew better; he wouldn't do that, and besides, even if he did he would come back and see Hisoka's state and Hisoka would be saved from this place.
The relief from that realization was immediately swept away when Tsuzuki's form was made visible between the flames. Tsuzuki turned his head and looked back behind him. He saw Hisoka and grinned.
"I won't let you escape this place, my little doll."
Hisoka's heart lurched. Muraki. Muraki was talking to him again? His heart started beating double-time. How? Why? What did he mean, 'I won't let you escape'?
Dream-Tsuzuki turned to him and stepped through the flames, which seemed to almost move aside for the him. Then when Tsuzuki got right in front of him, he reached up his hand and – Hisoka flinched – gently caressed his cheek. He said nothing.
"This will be your second home until you do what little Marie could not."
Marie. His breath whooshed out. He knew about Marie – but of course he did, Muraki had been... this had to be the real Muraki. He – the real Muraki – had even known about his little confession to Tsuzuki in one of the dreams, when he'd been trying desperately to stop Tsuzuki from erasing his own existence and had dumbly shouted out that he loved the man.
But then that meant that Muraki really was controlling these dreams – not surprising, a part of him told himself – and wanted these dreams to... to what? Weaken Hisoka? But he was about to fade, so wouldn't that completely ruin the point of doing this?!
"Tell them, little boy. Tell them that you can't escape the fire. Tell them there is no escape. Not until your soul is mine. If you don't want to fade away, little boy, come to me."
Never! he wanted to shout, but his lips were clamped shut. The Dream-Tsuzuki in front of him grinned again before backhanding him. His body didn't move at the contact, but he still felt the sting, felt blood in his mouth.
"I will not let you escape, not after waiting so long for results. I'd been disappointed initially, of course, since it was you I'd received, but in the end it worked out even better than I had planned. I will have not only Saki's body and mind, but also his soul!" And the man laughed, so loud and clear and full of madness that Hisoka felt chills race up his spine.
Dream-Tsuzuki punched him then, and then again, and Hisoka found himself unable to move away from the assault, unable to even gasp as one rib, then another was broken, and Muraki just laughed and laughed...
When he awoke, it was with absolutely no flourish whatsoever – his eyes simply snapped open.
"'S'okay, 'Soka," Tsuzuki mumbled, and Hisoka realized with a start that he could clearly see dawn playing outside his window.
No more than an hour had passed.
"Tsuzuki," he whispered, and only when he was certain he could talk again did he move.
He rolled over and clung to Tsuzuki's shirt desperately.
"...Mnn-huh? Hisoka?" Tsuzuki, now successfully awake, was bowed over, so Hisoka knew he was trying to stare at him, but Hisoka had already grabbed at Tsuzuki's chest and was huddled into it like a little child, too terrified to act more composed.
"Hisoka, what – oh my God. Hisoka, your lip is bleeding."
He knew. He could taste it.
"Tsuzuki," he said again, then just repeated the name. How he'd wanted to call out for the man while he stood powerless under Muraki's control. Again. And before he knew it, he was crying. "Tsuzuki... shit."
"How?" Tsuzuki breathed. "How did this happen?"
"He... Tsuzuki, he...!" He wrapped his arms around Tsuzuki and just held on, as if maybe doing it could stop the dreams from grabbing him ever again. He felt pain shoot up and down him and couldn't help the sharp cry of pain.
"Hisoka – oh God, what happened? Why didn't I wake up?" Tsuzuki cursed himself, gently pushing Hisoka onto his back. He cried out again at the very distinct feeling of his ribs moving inside him. Tsuzuki prepared a body search, his violet eyes staring at Hisoka's left cheek.
"Don't – ribs," he gasped. Tsuzuki immediately understood and hissed. There were actual tears in the man's eyes. "Tsuzuki, I can't... I can't do this again," he had to say.
"Hold on, Hisoka... we'll get through this." But Tsuzuki was despairing, too.
He had to be strong. For Tsuzuki. "I'll... I'll heal in a bit."
"Hisoka, how...?"
He had his own theory about that. Pretty slick, huh? Didn't need Watari for everything. "He was back, Tsuzuki. Muraki. He came back, and I couldn't move."
Tsuzuki's hands were hovering over him, wanting to help but afraid to hurt. "You couldn't move?" he repeated.
"No. And I couldn't talk, and I didn't move or anything even when... even when I was being hurt. I think that's why... I didn't move, Tsuzuki. Not even here – I stayed still, maybe."
Tsuzuki's hand seemed to wobble in midair. It was shaking. "Oh God."
"It's okay," Hisoka soothed. "If you don't mind doing an even bigger favor for me."
"Hisoka?"
Hisoka's mind had already pieced together what they needed to do. "Tsuzuki, no one sleeps completely still; everyone shuffles around in their sleep. If I go too still, I need you to wake me up."
"Hisoka... I'm sorry, but I don't know that I can always catch that quickly enough..." Tsuzuki looked absolutely stricken, and Hisoka could almost hear the man berating himself for his imperfections.
"I know that, Tsuzuki. I... I'm asking for something that might actually be worse than that." Ah, thank goodness; his body was beginning to heal.
"I don't understand."
"Tsuzuki, I need you to be awake while I sleep."
At Tsuzuki's shocked expression, Hisoka sat up. "Only for a while," he said, "until... until I – we," he quickly amended, seeing Tsuzuki's face begin to harden in determination, "figure out what to do." Which may very well be impossible.
But Tsuzuki was nodding, and he seemed to have somehow revived himself, so Hisoka guessed it was okay. For now.
Tsuzuki propped himself up on the bedpost. "I'll stay up," he said, "so you can rest up and heal faster."
Hisoka hesitated, then carefully propped himself up, as well, and carefully gave Tsuzuki a measured look. "There are... a couple other things to tell," he admitted, and received a Feeling of sharp little spikes of fear that seemed to match a pulse. "For instance, that Watari was right. Muraki... is the cause of this."
And then the fear was swallowed up by hate. "How?" Tsuzuki asked, his voice carefully neutral.
"I... I don't know." Hisoka considered not telling Tsuzuki the rest, but in the end, it was just too important, especially for whatever Watari may have been trying to figure out, to let it go. "He said... this... whatever-it-is... was meant for you, Tsuzuki."
Tsuzuki jerked, causing the headboard to bang against the wall.
"And," Hisoka bulldozed ahead, "he said that the dreams were meant for you as some sort of plan of his, but that them being given to me instead worked out for the better in the end." He just cut through Tsuzuki's semi-horrified reaction, continuing. "And he said that he would have not only Saki's body – you, I'm guessing," just the idea pissed him off, "but also his soul. It... it goes back to what he'd been planning before."
Tsuzuki blinked for a moment, belatedly realizing that everyone had been so worried about Hisoka's dreams that they'd somehow neglected to ask exactly what Muraki had been doing to Hisoka during those days in the abandoned SM building.
So Hisoka ended up segueing straight from the dreams to Marie, explaining how, after having 'met' Amara inside of him, Muraki had begun trying to create a sort of replica of her, how that had ended up being what had happened to Serendipity and the others – the rejects of his experiments – and how the man had successfully made Marie to the point where she had enough form to attack him. Then he tried to explain the convoluted thought processes of the madman, how he'd thought that weakening Hisoka's soul could make it possible for him to extract Hisoka's soul from his Shinigami body and then somehow use his soul to make it possible for... Saki? ...Saki's soul to be inside Tsuzuki's body either before, during, or after the transplant of Saki's remains into and on Tsuzuki's body.
The idea of the operation made Hisoka feel sick.
Tsuzuki was leaning heavily on the headboard, apparently shocked to the point of speechlessness. "All this," he gasped, "just to bring one person back?"
"Was the man important to him?" Hisoka wondered, bitterly trying to imagine the sort of man Saki would had to have been to be important to that murderer.
"He's doing this to so many just to bring someone back?" Tsuzuki repeated, his horrified voice jerking Hisoka out of his own thoughts. Hisoka was forcefully reminded of Tsuzuki's horror over the lives he'd blamed himself for.
He carefully touched Tsuzuki's shoulder. Tsuzuki's eyes were wide with sorrow, so much so that Hisoka hurt for him. Those eyes shouldn't be clouded with such sadness. "Hey. We'll stop him, Tsuzuki. I swear it."
Ah, a promise he didn't know he could keep. Hadn't he berated Tsuzuki for doing such things?
They fell into an interesting silence, one close to being companionable... but Hisoka felt an awkwardness in it that was totally on his side only. Because it was a companionable silence in a bed and it was shortly after a certain erotic dream and there was no way he could sit here under the covers with Tsuzuki right beside him and not be one hundred percent aware of Tsuzuki's body warmth and his scent and... oh hell. He'd just had broken ribs healed and felt tired as hell because of it. Surely that should slow down his... his sexual interest? Agh, he was blushing just from thinking the words.
"Hisoka?" Tsuzuki had finally turned to him, and Hisoka was surprised at how close those amethyst eyes were to his own – only a few inches. He swallowed back a yelp.
"Uh, yeah?"
"You should get some sleep," Tsuzuki said seriously. "I'll stay awake and watch over you."
As stalker-ish as it could have sounded, it gave Hisoka a sense of security. It was strange how often he felt the urge to just blurt out his feelings these days, but he'd gotten used to repressing such things long before he'd even died, so he just nodded and slid down, trusting Tsuzuki to take care of him.
And though the heat of the fire called out to him several times, its blazing fingers never got a firm grip on his consciousness.
It was an odd thing, waking up and realizing that you owed your health and rest to someone who looked about to keel over.
"Tsuzuki!" Hisoka was sitting up in a second and lowering Tsuzuki into the bed. "Idiot!" he snapped, pushing Tsuzuki down. "This wasn't what I meant – if you need to freaking sleep, then sleep!"
Tsuzuki just gave him that little half-repentant smile and shrugged. "I figured you needed more sleep than me, so..."
"We both need sleep, idiot. Now it's your turn. And don't worry about me; I can handle being awake for a while. Just sleep." He tucked the covers under Tsuzuki's chin and tried not to think about how warm the guy felt, and how much he felt the desire to slip in there with him.
"No practicing with that sword," Tsuzuki mumbled, and Hisoka just sighed.
"Fine." He'd practice his defensive skills, then. Or maybe he'd be sensible for once and just find something else to do?
Tsuzuki seemed to accept Hisoka's words, though, because he smiled again and twisted into a different position on his side in order to fall asleep.
"Sleep well," Hisoka murmured, and padded softly over to the kitchen. He was starving.
It made him think about Tsuzuki as he cooked – should he wake the man up? Yes, he decided. Tsuzuki shouldn't go without meals just because he was babysitting Hisoka. It made him feel guilty, thinking about everything Tsuzuki was giving up. Every day would be hard for him – sleeping, then watching over Hisoka as he slept. He felt like he was stealing Tsuzuki's afterlife from him.
And what would they do after the month was up? It had already been two weeks since he and Tsuzuki had been given a month off from work. They'd already used up half of their time. What about the next half? Would this little dance continue for two full weeks? What would they do when it was time to return to work? This... curse was the word, right? This curse wouldn't simply go away because they'd trumped Muraki's little maneuver. It would only get worse. And when they returned to work, he would return to the nights of pain.
And what worried him more was that short span of time between falling asleep and having the dream. Only about an hour or so. That wasn't good.
How many times, he wondered, had Tsuzuki had to wake him from the nightmare?
He took out a pot and thoughtlessly pulled out all the ingredients for curry. He hadn't quite perfected the art of curry-making yet, but it was supposed to be healthy and hearty, whatever the hell the latter meant, and it gave people energy. Hisoka figured Tsuzuki could use all the energy he could get.
So Hisoka spent the next hours – it was the middle of the night, proof that Tsuzuki had gone too damn long without sleeping – puttering around the kitchen like a maid, studiously ignoring the ridiculous apron that Tsuzuki had stuffed into a corner of the pantry. If he paid too much attention to it, it would start looking lonely and bedraggled, or maybe just plain ridiculous, and he didn't want to do anything ridiculous like touch it or sniff it or, Lord forbid, wear it.
So it was over an hour later that Hisoka finally finished the curry. A careful taste-test proved the food to actually be quite edible, thank you very much, so he put it on a plate and put the plate on a tray and stuck a juice on there as well – Tsuzuki could beg for caffeine if he wanted, but Hisoka wasn't going to give it to him; Tsuzuki needed to be able to sleep, dammit – and headed to the bedroom.
But when Hisoka entered the bedroom, he simply had to stop and stare. Tsuzuki, in the darkness, was nothing more than a big lump underneath the covers, so he couldn't moon stupidly over the man's sleeping face – which he'd already done plenty of times. No, this was a completely different thing that caught his attention.
How very right it seemed to have Tsuzuki sleeping in his bed.
He almost screamed and ran out of the room. What the hell was wrong with him? Hadn't he told himself to just drop it? Was he a masochist, or was he an idiot, just like Tsuzuki? Tsuzuki was his partner. Partner. Friend. Comrade. Person-who-he-shouldn't-kiss. But he couldn't stop the feeling from invading his senses; look, that stupid voice told him. See how he fits right there on that side of your bed. The thing had always been too large, it continued, but now it seems the perfect size, doesn't it? Doesn't the room finally feel complete?
Shut up, he told the stupid voice, and stormed forward. He carefully didn't look at Tsuzuki as he placed the tray on the nightstand. Instead he glared out the window at the moon. It was strange, sometimes, seeing things that existed on Earth in Meifu, as well. The moon, for instance, or those sakura trees. Funny; he'd always hated sakura trees. But for some reason, they didn't bother him so much anymore. Maybe it was because he constantly found Tsuzuki sleeping underneath them, his eyes closed in contentment. It reminded him of their beauty, their majesty. Their frailty, even. Because they were very, very much like Tsuzuki himself. Never dying, always blooming and blowing their petals everywhere, always beautiful, always desperately surviving. Always in danger of being destroyed, just like that. If trees had feelings, he could imagine sakura trees mirroring Tsuzuki's – constantly smiling while fighting a deep sorrow, as if their blossoms existed just to try to hide their misery.
Shit. He was head-over-heels, completely freaking screwed, one hundred percent in love. It was so obvious – he was waxing poetic, for God's sake.
"Screw it," he muttered, and turned to Tsuzuki. He was surprised to see eyes glittering up at him. "Uh..." He sighed mentally in relief, glad he hadn't said anything he'd been thinking out loud, before saying, "what are you doing awake?"
"I smelled food," Tsuzuki whispered, respecting, Hisoka thought, the silence of the room, the darkness that was penetrated only by the moon's light.
Hisoka huffed. "I made some curry and thought I'd bring some in for you. You must be starving." Tsuzuki sat up without a word, turning to the food. Hisoka instantly felt bad. "Ah, s-sorry," he stammered out, handing Tsuzuki the tray after he'd properly arranged himself on the bed. "I hadn't thought it all out properly. If you keep doing this, you won't be able to do anything, and you'll hardly have the time even to eat."
"It's fine," Tsuzuki said, pausing before beginning to eat and sending Hisoka a quick smile. "I don't have a problem with it."
Of course not. Because Tsuzuki would do anything for his friends. Ah. That thought hurt.
Hisoka scowled. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn't. Either Tsuzuki got angry – a rare enough event – and Hisoka felt guilty and upset, or Tsuzuki was kind to him – definitely common – and he felt pained by the idea that Tsuzuki saw him only as a friend. He couldn't freaking win.
"Don't worry, Hisoka. I'll be sure to take care of myself." Tsuzuki seemed to have picked up on his agitation.
Hisoka harrumphed. "Just finish it all, and don't forget to drink all the juice. I'm come back in a couple minutes to check. And don't fall asleep with it in your lap!"
"Aye-aye!"
Hisoka hid his grin as he stalked out of the room.
He grabbed a portion of the curry for himself just as he heard appreciative moans coming from the bedroom. He let out a breathy laugh and just bathed in the feel of Tsuzuki's presence in his apartment. Yes, he was hopelessly in love, and he'd admitted it to himself a long while ago. He would just take the moments of happiness as they came and not ask for anything more.
When he finished, he washed his dishes and put away the bowls and spoons he'd left out earlier. Then he made his way back into the bedroom.
Tsuzuki had fallen asleep with the dishes still in his lap.
With an aggravated sigh, he moved over to the bed and almost shook Tsuzuki awake, but then he caught a look at that face and he was just lost. He just sighed again and carefully removed the tray and dishes. Well, at least the man had finished off everything, including the juice.
Then he stuck the mound on the nightstand again and just... looked.
It was always painful, these moments when he got the chance to simply look at Tsuzuki when the man was unaware. He couldn't help the longing that rose up inside of him, the almost physical need to touch. Tsuzuki looked so much younger, so much more vulnerable, when he slept, that mouth slightly open, those almost imperceptible snores slipping through those lips. His hair always fell in interesting directions, sometimes to the point that it looked like a cat had licked it all night by the time the man woke up.
Hisoka imagined it and almost died from the pain, even as he made that breathy chuckle again. He clutched at his stomach, feeling like he was breaking apart.
He needed. He needed to touch, just once. Just a tiny brush of his fingers. If Tsuzuki woke up, he could just pretend to be irritated, to yell at Tsuzuki to slide back down into the covers. If he woke up...
Hisoka touched a lock of Tsuzuki's hair, holding his breath, almost afraid of what he was doing. Then, certain he was safe, he pushed it back, away from those kind eyes, away from the eyelashes that looked long in the moonlight. His chest felt heavy with the weight of his love, a burden that made it difficult to stand and carry the tray away. He felt oddly exhausted as he washed off Tsuzuki's dishes, but the feeling wasn't due to his lack of proper sleep, and he let the feeling go without analyzing it, almost afraid of what more he might learn.
Othello was a moron.
It was official; Hisoka hated Othello.
After all, what was with the 'put out the light, then put out the light' nonsense? Obviously Othello was referring to his plan to kill Desdemona, but really, the man was just stupid. Apparently free will thinking had yet to be invented. And why was he reading the thing, anyway? It was annoying, and parts of it were just boring enough to get him slipping almost into sleep. He had to find something else to do.
Dawn was breaking through, and he, the idiot who hadn't turned on any lights but the one he read by in deference to the fool in his bedroom, wouldn't have to fight the pull of darkness any longer. He yawned, the third time in as many minutes, and clapped the book closed. He winced at the sound and tiptoed over to Tsuzuki, but the man was still sleeping soundly. He'd slid down at some point during his sleep, thank goodness, and was splayed on his back, arms wide, mouth agape. Hisoka smiled.
Then he shook himself and went to make himself another bowl of cereal. At least he couldn't sleep while eating. Hopefully.
After that he basically wasted his day, dusting things off and listening to Tsuzuki's soft snores, rearranging things and listening to Tsuzuki toss and turn. He glared at the abstract painting and heard Tsuzuki mumble something incoherently.
Okay. This was bordering obsession.
On a whim, he slipped into a new pair of slacks and a shirt and slipped out the door, leaving a note for Tsuzuki as to where to find him. He wanted to follow up on those random musings he'd had – he was going over to the sakura trees.
He was happy to find himself the only one in the little field and took the chance to look around; he could easily find Tsuzuki's favorite resting spot, and he went there, looking at the trees. He couldn't help but associate them with that night, remembering their haunting beauty as Muraki grabbed him and forced him down, ripped off his robe and...
He shivered. But if he kept his eyes open, he could call different memories to mind, times when he and Tsuzuki stood in this field and spoke to one another, promising each other Muraki's defeat, and even recalling a time when he'd been sent to find Tsuzuki and had chanced upon the man as he looked up at the trees, a sorrow in his eyes that Hisoka hadn't then understood.
Thinking about Tsuzuki's pain always left Hisoka feeling helpless and weak. He wished, almost desperately, that he could go back in time, back to when Tsuzuki had been alive, and... and what? He always drew a blank. What could he, Hisoka, the emotionally challenged, possibly do to help Tsuzuki?
He sat down in Tsuzuki's favorite spot and just looked up at the sky. It was a peaceful enough scene. So peaceful he had trouble fighting sleep. He could understand why Tsuzuki came here. There was a calm sort of acceptance here, as if the trees were willing to accept your presence no matter who you were. He put a hand to the bark of one and let the sound of the wind and the feel of the petals on his skin soothe him.
He Felt Tsuzuki before he crested the hill.
"Hey," he called back when he heard Tsuzuki's footsteps crunching the grass. "You rested? Should you be up?"
"I'm fine," Tsuzuki answered, and wordlessly plopped down to watch the clouds with him.
"Aa. Hey, next time be more careful. You fell asleep with the tray on your lap and your neck twisted."
"Oh. Sorry 'bout that."
"Just take more care." Hisoka shuffled a bit and played with a blade of grass. He couldn't forget his own deviation from his personal rules. The phantom feel of Tsuzuki's silky hair still played on his fingers.
They sat there in silence again, and Hisoka just pulled up the blade of grass and began studiously splitting it. He felt that desire again, the desire to just rest against Tsuzuki's shoulder. But that would definitely be an intimate thing to do and therefore not too brilliant. He thought he sighed.
He finished splitting that blade of grass and plucked up another one. Tsuzuki watched him this time as he ripped along the veins of the thing, and he wondered if the grass could scream in pain. It made him feel bad, and he let the blade fall to the ground, even though it was too late and why the hell was he imagining the grass pulling their injured brethren down to try to treat him? Tsuzuki's random mind processes were infecting his brain.
He had just looked back up to the sky when Tsuzuki sighed. "Do I have to do it?" the man asked, and Hisoka jerked to him in surprise. With a tiny little smile, Tsuzuki reached out and flicked a lock of hair out of Hisoka's face.
He blushed tomato red.
Tsuzuki laughed right in his face, apparently delighted with his embarrassment. He managed a little glare at the man. "Ah, sorry, sorry," Tsuzuki said, waving his hands in an attempt to placate. "It's just that I'd thought it was so cute, and..." But 'cute' was a taboo adjective to Hisoka and Tsuzuki stopped.
"Cute?" Hisoka repeated, not sure whether his anger was fully justified or not.
"Yeah," Tsuzuki said carefully. "You know, like nice?" The word surprised him; Hisoka's thesaurus didn't stick 'cute' with 'nice.' "It made me really happy..."
Well fuck. That wasn't fair; Tsuzuki saying something made him happy automatically made that something okay. He was way over his head here; he still didn't understand this whole 'love' thing. Why had Serendipity been right when explaining the finer details of love? Give up everything indeed.
He humphed.
Tsuzuki looked back up to the sky, seeming to understand Hisoka's grunt as a sign of forgiveness. "You know, for the longest time I gave up on being loved."
Hisoka stilled.
"I thought, 'how could a monster like me ever be loved by anybody?'" Tsuzuki gave him that chuckle that didn't have any humor in it. That sound always brought that helpless feeling rearing inside of Hisoka. "But then you brought me back from Touda's fire and I realized I'd been wrong."
"Of course," Hisoka said firmly, almost vehemently. "You aren't a monster."
Tsuzuki huffed out a small smile and pulled his knees up to his chest before crossing his arms around them and resting his head on top. "Yeah..."
"I mean it," Hisoka said, almost growling. He turned more fully to Tsuzuki and leaned his hands on the ground. It gave him a better position to glare at the man. "You aren't. Everyone here cares about you-"
"Even you?" Tsuzuki whispered.
"Of course!" Hisoka snapped, almost scared by the question. "I said you could live in my heart, didn't I?!"
Tsuzuki glanced over at him, took in his flushed face and furious scowl. "No matter what?" the man continued, and Hisoka felt that fear spike a bit more. Was this... Tsuzuki's reply?
He steeled himself for the pain and hissed out, "don't be stupid."
Tsuzuki let that sink in. Then his smile widened and he suddenly had Hisoka in his arms. "Thanks, 'Soka!"
What the hell?
Hisoka carefully returned the hug, albeit much more calmly, and tried to keep his guard up. Tsuzuki just Felt relieved more than anything, and whatever else he was feeling was lost behind that one strong surge of emotion. What was Tsuzuki doing? What was this all about?
Then Tsuzuki was pulling back and their eyes locked, bright violet on emerald, and then Tsuzuki leaned in and – on a shocked moan, Hisoka's lips were met with his.
It took about half a second for Hisoka to respond, and he did. Radically.
His back arched and another moan slipped past, echoing against Tsuzuki's lips. And then a heat rose in him, strong and intense, and before he understood the action he parted his lips, asking for something without understanding the question.
Tsuzuki gently pushed them to the ground, leaning over him, careful not to put his weight on his partner, and Hisoka was deadly aware of the feel of Tsuzuki's hair on his cheek, of the heat from Tsuzuki's body and the odd clash against the cool wind as it seeped between them, and oh the hot, warm, almost spicy taste of Tsuzuki's mouth, of his tongue...
Hisoka wrapped his arms around Tsuzuki's neck and pulled him down, until that damn wind couldn't touch him anymore.
It was electric, like he'd been hooked up to ten thousand volts. It was hot, a volcano, a storm. It was a big, huge spark of white and bright yellow, a heated pain that went straight down to his groin.
But better, more... it was a release from a pain so large, so familiar, that it physically hurt. Like he'd been carrying a burden for days, weeks, months, a burden heavier than Atlas', and finally he could let the burden fall. He almost wept from the freedom, from the unloading of such a painful weight.
Then a blossom's petal fell on his cheek and the moment was wholly ruined.
He jerked, pushing Tsuzuki back. As soon as Tsuzuki was sitting up, Hisoka shoved away from him, panting, eyes wide, panic singing through his veins.
Hands gripped, he couldn't get them free, terrified – what was this man going to do? Kill him, too? No, that eye... too malicious, the man was insane, he could Feel it–
"Hisoka?"
"Sorry," he panted. Hell. Sakura trees... he remembered very vividly their mocking pink petals as they fell around him, Muraki's hands on him... he shuddered again.
Tsuzuki's emotions pulled him back from his memories. They weren't anything like Muraki's; instead they were regretful, hurt, disappointed, confused. He must have started thinking that Hisoka's reaction...
"It's not you," he said. "It's the trees."
Confusion took prominence for a few moments before a very quiet, "ah...!" sounded, and he trusted Tsuzuki to have figured out the basic reasons. "Sorry."
Hisoka just shook his head and looked back at Tsuzuki. Could it be real? Could this really be happening? All his doubts... had they been for nothing? "I don't mind."
And as if sensing his thoughts, Tsuzuki reached out and gently touched Hisoka's hand. Without thought Hisoka flipped it over and linked their fingers. It felt surreal, Tsuzuki's long fingers between his, the almost cool feel of Tsuzuki's palm.
"I've always been afraid," Tsuzuki murmured, his soft words seeming to fit seamlessly with the air around them.
"Me, too," Hisoka whispered, afraid that his own words wouldn't match quite so perfectly. Afraid his words, always so inadequate, would fall uselessly past his lips.
Tsuzuki squeezed his fingers. "I've always wondered if you'd..."
"Me, too," he repeated. "But I didn't... didn't want to lose your friendship, so I..." He studied their fingers, the way they linked together.
"I was afraid of that, too," Tsuzuki told him.
It made Hisoka look up. Tsuzuki's eyes were almost a sort of golden warmth despite their violet color, and his smile was radiant. It had Hisoka sucking in a sharp breath. "I've always worried," Hisoka said breathlessly, "if maybe someday I'd cross the line... I'm not good at things like this." He admitted it awkwardly, though he was certain Tsuzuki had always known it.
"I know. Neither am I," Tsuzuki told him. "But... I want to try?"
As if Tsuzuki had to shoot him those puppy eyes for him to respond the way he did. "I do, too."
It made Tsuzuki chuckle a bit, a happy chuckle not unlike that of a kid being given a rare compliment. "I... love you, Hisoka."
Hisoka opened his mouth to respond the words, but had a hard time spitting them out. He kept getting stuck on the first one, and the second seemed to carry so much weight... come on, he berated himself, you've been fighting not to say them for weeks!
"You, too," he mumbled, glaring at the grass. Why couldn't he just simply say it?
But Tsuzuki laughed out loud anyway and hugged him again, pushing them back into the grass. "Thank you, Hisoka!"
"Baka. What are you thanking me for? It's just how I feel." But he didn't push the man away.
"I was so scared... maybe you'd meant something else when you touched my hair... maybe I'd read you wrong..."
"Idiot," he sighed. "You haven't read me wrong yet."
But instead of laughing, Tsuzuki just hugged him tighter. "I'm glad," the older man murmured. His voice was a bit... strained, but his emotions were definitely positive – happy, relieved, excited. The rebound of them off of Hisoka's own happiness made him almost giddy.
"Should we try the kissing part again at the apartment?" Hisoka offered, and it made Tsuzuki laugh.
"Later. You need to sleep."
Mother hen.
Hisoka was awakened a few hours later by a knock, his body curled on its side, Tsuzuki's warmth beside him.
Tsuzuki growled something and turned to him, his eyes having strayed toward the door. "You're awake?" he asked, even as Hisoka's eyes slitted open.
"Yeah," he grumped.
They both got out of the bed and moved toward the door. Tsuzuki was the one to open it this time, and smiled as the same two visitors greeted them. "Hi, Tatsumi, Watari!"
"Hiya!" Watari said cheerily. He leaned past Tsuzuki to extend the greeting to Hisoka, who was only awake enough to nod at him.
"Move, Watari," Tatsumi said, and Watari stuck his tongue out at the man. Hisoka touched two fingers to his forehead; he was feeling a headache coming on.
"Hisoka? Are you okay?"
He waved off Tsuzuki's concern. "Fine," he answered, and led the two guests into the kitchen again. "Tea?"
"No, thank you," Tatsumi answered. Watari waved off the offer, as well, causing 003 to tip off his shoulder and once again go zooming around in circles. Hisoka was reminded of that stupid little bird in the Harry Potter series – what was its name? Pig? Whatever. That name was right up there with '003,' in Hisoka's opinion.
"What are you guys doing back here?" Tsuzuki asked, sitting down in the same seat as before. Tatsumi and Watari did the same, leaving Hisoka with the same seat between Watari and Tsuzuki.
"Well, celebrate, boyo!" Watari said, clapping his hands together, no longer able, it seemed, to contain his excitement. "I've once again managed to solve all your problems!"
Hisoka thought about that with a little less enthusiasm, brought on mostly by past experience. "What?"
"I've figured it out, boyo!" Watari said proudly. "You remember, after all, I was there when you and Tsuzuki came out of that fire! There's only one way that curse could only hit one of you and not both, and that's if you came into contact with something! And of course Muraki wouldn't leave it up to chance, so this is it!" Watari stuck a finger into the air. "You touched the metal of the building, didn't you, boyo?"
"Eh?" Hisoka thought back. "Of course – I had to push things out of my way to get to Tsuzuki. But Tsuzuki had touched the building before..."
"Yes, but not after having called out our dear Serpent friend. After that, only you touched the building. Even Tatsumi and I didn't. We only had to grab the two of you and pull you out, and we just hopped over to Tsuzuki."
Yeah. Remind him that he hadn't thought of it to begin with. He'd been in a full state of panic, and in the middle of it all had forgotten that he had that particular power.
"So because of that, I got cursed?" Hisoka scowled. "It sounds lame."
"Lame but effective," Watari pushed, a bright grin on his face. "So all we have to do is counteract the curse."
"And how do we do that?" Hisoka asked sarcastically.
Watari's owlet chose that moment to plop itself right in the middle of the table and hoot. Watari slipped his eyes from Hisoka's to clap for the little thing, and it returned to his shoulder. Huh. Annoying but well-trained. Hisoka wondered if he could make a metaphor between the thing and its owner without sounding downright cynical.
"Well," Tatsumi said, picking up the lost thread of the conversation, "that is where we hit a bit of a wall. We need to return to the scene."
Hisoka's heart just freaking stopped.
Tsuzuki carefully nudged him under the table. Hisoka met the man's eyes, Feeling Tsuzuki's own disturbed emotions.
"And since you're the one affected, Kurosaki, we need to have you with us."
Tsuzuki sat forward. "Tatsumi, you can't be serious! Hisoka's still recovering!"
"Tsuzuki, he'll never recover unless we do this," Tatsumi said, his voice still as calm and unflappable as ever.
"He's right," Hisoka said.
"Hisoka!" Tsuzuki hissed.
"He's right," he repeated. "We can't continue like this. At this point, all we're doing is waiting for Muraki to win."
"At this point?" Tatsumi repeated.
"Hisoka, we can handle it. You're still so weak," Tsuzuki started, but Hisoka glared at him. 'Weak' was a taboo adjective, too.
"I can handle it." He turned to Tatsumi and steeled himself. "We can go whenever you're ready."
Watari nodded, drowning out Tsuzuki's protests. "All right, boyo! Get packing! We're heading out in an hour, okay?"
Hisoka nodded. "We'll be there."
"What do you mean, 'at this point'?" Tatsumi asked.
"Tatsumi, it's gotten worse." Hisoka sent another glare Tsuzuki's way, but this time it seemed the older Shinigami was having nothing of it. "Muraki really is in control in some way. Hisoka doesn't move or anything anymore; he's trapped in place, and he got injured again."
Tatsumi's eyes roamed over Hisoka. "Is this true, Kurosaki?"
Dammit. "Yes."
"How badly?" Watari asked, falling into serious-mode.
Hisoka shuffled around a bit in his seat, but he finally said, "a bruise and a couple broken ribs."
"From a dream?" Watari gasped.
Hisoka hunched into himself. Yeah. From a dream. Yuck it up.
"It's not a normal dream," Tsuzuki hissed. "Who gets hurt from a normal dream? You may wake up afraid, but that's it. This is different. And the fact that Muraki's able to change the occurrences... I think you're right, and it really is some sort of curse."
"But what kind of curse leaves the one cursed observable?" Tatsumi mused.
"That's it; now we absolutely have to go. Boyo, why didn't you mention this earlier?" Watari asked.
And that got Hisoka's back up. Sure. Let's just complain to the stronger Shinigami – they'll take care of it. He, the pathetically weak one, would simply sit on the sidelines and cheer them on.
"Kurosaki, we all work as a team. Remember that." Tatsumi stood then and stared pointedly at Watari until he did the same. "We'll meet up with the two of you in the second meeting room in an hour. Be ready."
"Yes, sir," Hisoka murmured, eyes on the table. He felt shame hitting him on each side – work as a team? And who was he on this team? The third replacement for the catcher, maybe, or the one out in right field.
Tsuzuki walked them out.
When he returned, Hisoka was still sitting dumbly in his chair. "Hisoka... I'm sorry for telling them. But I thought-"
"It's fine."
Hisoka's voice said that even if that was fine, something else certainly wasn't.
Tsuzuki knelt down next to him. "Hisoka? What's wrong?"
Hisoka looked down at him almost impassively. Things hadn't suddenly changed between them; Tsuzuki was still Tsuzuki, and he was still himself. Had he expected something... something tremendous... to happen to them?
...Maybe.
Hisoka bent down and pecked Tsuzuki on the lips, then blushed furiously and stood. "Let's get ready to go."
It seemed to take a moment for Tsuzuki to recover, but finally he said, "all right," and got up to fetch his things.
They were ready in forty minutes, thanks to Hisoka's careful observation, and met up with Tatsumi and Watari with a few minutes to spare.
"Good," Tatsumi said, apparently pleased with their preparedness. "We won't stop off anywhere; we're going straight to the old building. No breaks, no detours. Can you manage that, Kurosaki?"
Hisoka nodded. "I'll be fine."
"Then let's go!" Watari enthused, pumping a fist. Little 003 hooted in apparent agreement.