This is an unfortunate by product of listening to melancholic music late at night whilst reading some of my old (angsty) poetry. I've read it through to check for spelling and tense errors but I'm tired and the bed is beckoning so I'm sorry if you find any mistakes.
Apart from that, this is probably best taken with a dose of syrup if you know what I mean.
Disclaimer: I do not own Yami no Matsuei.
I'm Still Alive
I can hear your heart beat…
Good…you can make sure I'm still alive.
He wakes in the half light of morning, caught between consciousness and oblivion as the first orange light slips through the cracks in his blinds. He watches as it flickers and sets the world on fire, levelling everything in flame. On the cusp of sleep, he rolls over and reaches out for the familiar form of his partner, expecting to find comforting warmth but alarmingly, the sheets are crisp and cold. The pillow that Hisoka normally pulls down to hug in the night is up in its proper place.
Oh…that's right.
Don't get up, I'll make breakfast.
I don't want to die again Tsuzuki.
He sits up in the semi-darkness and blinks, staring at the empty space. The orange light creeps across the soft sheets, too pristine, not slept in. Something is squirming inside him, something huge, bigger than anything he's ever faced before. He draws his knees up until he can rest his cheek on the hard caps and hugs himself so hard that the breath is forced out of him. If he doesn't let this feeling out, maybe it will die out before overwhelming him.
Won't the others be surprised seeing us coming to work together.
Shh, shut up idiot.
The sky lightens slowly and he stays rooted to the spot, compressing his lungs and his feelings right along with them. He can't take his eyes off of the empty side of the bed any more than he can stop the occasional hot tear rolling down his cheek onto the top of his knees, burning in the light.
It's his alarm that eventually breaks the silence and forces his gaze from the empty side of the bed to the little bed side table. He was told that he could take all the time he needed, that he could come back to work when he was ready. He's just forgotten to turn off his alarm…
They have a new case for us, come on.
Tsuzuki, where did you get that cinabon? You just had breakfast.
He gets up and makes himself a cup of coffee, not that he needs the caffeine, he's never felt more awake in his life. It's just easier to slip into his normal work routine. Coffee granules spooned into pot, kettle on, wait two minutes, pour. He stares at the brown sludge before him and tries to muster some sort of emotional continuity. With the presence of morning, and in the comfort of his familiar routine, he seems to have formed some sort of numb, emotionless shell.
In this state, it's almost like he can forget…
This case will be a piece of cake! When we're done, we should go out to celebrate.
Like we'll be able to afford it and you shouldn't typecast cases you know, this could be trickier than it looks.
I've worked here for 70 years Hisoka, after a while, you tend to get a grip on what kind of cases you're presented with.
He lets himself fall into the rhythm, only vaguely aware as he pulls on a pair of work trousers from the closet and a crisp shirt. He picks out his tie and pulls up his trench coat, grabbing a scone just as he's about to leave the apartment. He won't eat the scone because the minute he leaves the apartment, he'll remember that this was one of a twin pack and the this one was for…
No…no…PLEASE STOP…AH!
Hisoka, it's okay…it was a nightmare…it's okay, you're okay…you're okay now.
He stops when he reaches the grove of sakura trees, the pathway to the Bureau, and stares at the pale pink blossoms being teased from the trees by the wind. There's that stirring within him again except this time, he can't pull his knees up and hug himself tight to restrain it. His hand automatically reaches up to rest on his heart. His knuckles whiten as he grips his work shirt.
For a moment, just for a moment, his mind is assaulted with violently defined imagery. Muraki's burnt and puckered face is leering in the light from the red moon. The sakura trees that surround him are morphing into stiff, imprisoned corpses.
The roses that he is so carefully dead heading as a child are covered in blood and every time he chops off a bloom, it screams in Hisoka's voice.
TSUZUKI, LOOK OUT!
"Tsuzuki?"
He jumps and the images scatter. He's left standing beneath the sakura trees with his former partner. He doesn't turn to look at Tatsumi because he doesn't want to try and read the secretary's expression. He doesn't want to try and comprehend how to deal with the sympathy or the fear that's sure to show through. A long silence hangs between them, Tsuzuki watches the flight of the blossoms until Tatsumi clears his throat.
"What are you doing here? You've been given bereavement leave, you should be at home."
Tsuzuki doesn't say anything but his eyes slip slowly down to the Bureau. He doesn't want to go home, home is empty, lonely…half of his home is missing.
"I want to work," he manages in a detached voice.
He can feel Tatsumi's eyes burning into his back but he doesn't care.
I just can't figure this out…if the victim's souls aren't in Meifu…and they're not here in Chijou…then where are they?
Tsuzuki…the curse…
Hisoka rolls up his sleeve and-
Tsuzuki follows Tatsumi through the double doors into the main office. He expects to be bombarded with sympathy and questions but none of them seem to be looking twice at him. Don't they know yet? Haven't they seen the empty desk where his partner usually sits? Haven't they noticed that the files from the last case the pair were on are missing?
Tatsumi makes to lead him to his office but Tsuzuki wanders over to his own desk and sits down, his eyes fixed on the empty chair by Hisoka's desk, just as they were fixed on the empty space in his bed.
Hisoka…Hisoka what's wrong?
I can feel his spiritual residue…I know where to find him.
Tsuzuki makes a point of picking up the manila folders that contain his most recently neglected paperwork. He pulls out the first damage report and puts it neatly down on the desk. He picks up his pen and arranges his stationary in size and colour order. The noise of the room washes over him, he gets a few hellos and to his surprise, its easy to fake a smile and say hello back. Its easy to forget in the presence of normalcy.
When the Chief calls everyone in for a meeting, Tsuzuki doesn't follow. He doesn't even look up as the door clicks shut.
Silence crushes down.
Hisoka, I don't think I can hold him off, get out of here!
I'm not leaving you.
It takes him a couple of attempts to stand on heavy legs and take those 2 steps over to Hisoka's desk. As he sits in his partner's chair, he feels that he has inherited Hisoka's empathic gift and can sense the spiritual residue of the green eyed boy…like a remnant of beauty in the dark. He takes a few moments to appreciate the view from his partner's desk, to see things as Hisoka did, to muster up the courage to open the drawers and rescue a couple of the boy's prized possessions before the rest of it is cleared away to make room for a new employee.
Carefully, he opens the first drawer and peers inside. It's meticulously organised like the rest of Hisoka's desk with stationary neatly stacked and arranged for quick and easy use. There's little in here to set Hisoka apart from any normal employee but something catches Tsuzuki's eye. At the back is a crumpled piece of paper, wedged between a stapler and a hole puncher. The reason it catches Tsuzuki's eye is because its been so carelessly tossed aside. It's so unlike the boy he knows…knew…
He reaches into the drawer and picks it out, noting right away how shiny the paper is, how thick. As soon as he gets it into the light, he realises it's a crumpled photograph. A spark of curiosity catches in the swamp of desolation in Tsuzuki's heart and he takes extra care as he smoothes the picture out.
Tsuzuki only manages to get a glimpse of the scene forever frozen before his sight blurs with swimming tears.
Hisoka, go! Get those souls out of here!
TSUZUKI, LOOK OUT!
By the time the others emerge from the meeting, shocked and sorrowful, Tsuzuki has already gone. He hasn't run away exactly, just taken himself on an early lunch. At least that's what he tells himself as he ambles down the sakura laden pathway. He has no particular destination in mind so he is just as much surprised as pained when he realises he's standing outside of Hisoka's apartment.
He spends a long time indecisively trying to convince himself to turn around and go home. The emotional repercussions from this visit so soon after…
He moves over to the door and takes out his key. He doesn't remember picking up the key to Hisoka's apartment that morning but there it is, safe in his hand. He puts the key in the lock and turns.
I can hear your heart beat.
Good…you can make sure I'm still alive.
The apartment is quiet and cold, Tsuzuki moves through it like a formless spectre. Everything is as it was the day that Hisoka left with Tsuzuki. The wardrobe has been left open where Hisoka was forced to pack his stuff quickly, there are plates still on the drying rack. Tsuzuki makes a point of touching nothing. He wants to keep everything just the way it is as much as possible. Its as if, by touching something and changing it now, he will be negating Hisoka's existence. Perhaps its because Hisoka won't be around to change things again after Tsuzuki leaves.
Despite not wanting to change anything, he makes a point of watering Hisoka's withering plants and smoothing out the crumpled photograph he found in Hisoka's drawer. With careful concentration, he searches Hisoka's apartment for a photo frame but the youth has a surprising lack of pictures.
He is forced to settle for pinning the picture on the fridge with a couple of novelty fridge magnets he bought for Hisoka in Okinawa and Kyoto.
Tsuzuki's own face smiles out of the picture, completely care free. Hisoka scowls back. Tsuzuki resists the urge to place his index finger gently on the cheek of his immortalised partner. He can only assume Hisoka didn't like this picture because of his scowl. Hisoka was always scowling.
TSUZUKI, LOOK OUT!
He stays frozen before the picture as a dark desire blooms in his stomach. Why should he have to live without Hisoka anyway? The only reason he ever accepted life was because Hisoka had asked him to.
No time, no time to comprehend as Hisoka shoves him to one side and takes the blast. He's staggered, confused but he still turns in time to see the light leaving Hisoka's eyes. He launches himself forward and catches his partner before he drops, placing him carefully in the recovery position though somewhere he knows that this won't do any good.
Blood is gushing from the gaping hole in Hisoka's body, Tsuzuki tries to stem the flow with his hands but its just not enough.
Hisoka…oh God Hisoka…you're going to be alright, everything's going to be fine.
He's sobbing, great uncontrollable hiccoughs that seem to be making his whole body seizure. He's crying so hard that there are no tears, only those huge heaving gasps.
Hisoka is fighting for oxygen and this is his dying breath. He reaches up to touch Tsuzuki's face and leaves a smear of blood on his partner's cheek. Tsuzuki grips that hand and holds it there even though its starting to go cold against his flesh.
Hisoka opens his mouth to say something but dies before he can get anything out.
Tsuzuki has lived long enough to know that pain fades. If he was to wait, eventually, memories of Hisoka would ebb away and he would start to feel happy again. He would be able to rebuild his life at the Bureau, would take an interest in sweets and treats again, would get a new partner to build a new bond with…
But somehow, he doesn't want to move on. He doesn't want to move on and forget Hisoka when Hisoka didn't move on and forget him given the choice.
With resolve in his demeanour, he takes himself into Hisoka's bedroom and sits on the edge of the bed. He looks around at his partner's bedroom and falls into the sheets, breathing in deeply to capture Hisoka's scent still lingering in the fabric.
He's still lying there when Touda appears and the place starts to burn crimson. He watches as the closet disintegrates and Hisoka's clothes curl in the flame. He watches as the fire starts eating through the walls until he can see through the apartment to the picture still pinned to the fridge.
He smiles at Hisoka's scowling face.
'I won't be long…' He thinks.
He stares at the picture until it burns away, keeping his eyes on Hisoka's face until the last. Once the picture is gone, he closes his eyes and waits for the end.
I can hear your heart beat.
Good…you can make sure I'm still alive.