Grey Flower

"There's this place in me where your fingerprints still rest, your kisses still linger, and and your whispers echo softly. It's the place whre a part of you will forever be a part of me."

Chapter Fourteen

I was pretty sure I knew what Kaname was planning now, and that was all well and good. But, when a flash of blonde caught my eye, I turned hoping to see Takuma. In stead, it was a familiar once-thought-to-be-Cabinet member, who was now proved to be a liar and a murderer. I watched him among the crowd, standing there waiting for something to happen — for Kuronue to breathe again. That was what everyone wanted, wasn't it? The revival of Shiki Kuronue at the expense of another Shiki. It really didn't matter to any of them that the sacrificial Shiki in question was the cousin of a Pureblood, and was totally against his own death. No, because now they didn't think of me as Shiki Senri, son of Kuran Rido and Shiki Naoko; I was just a courier to Kuronue's blood. I was worthless; nobody needed me anymore, and even still, nobody wanted me. If I could be replaced with someone a little more useful, then by all means, right?

And what really got to me was that... that Takuma was funding the excavation that would lead to the end of my life... Takuma wanted this, too. I choked on my next breath, biting my lip hard as I supressed a sob. Zero stopped tying a jeweled ribbon around my neck to check on me, to make sure he wasn't cutting off the airflow. I wished, then, that he had just killed me there. I welcomed this execution now that I realized that my very own everything had betrayed me, and I had been completely oblivious to this the entire time. It explained why he liked Shitsuren and Miyabi so much. Those two back-stabbing... no three. All of them had betrayed me, rubbed my trust in the mud. Though, with my death fast approaching, it wasn't like it really mattered, did it? After this, I wouldn't have feelings that they could worry about having hurt, or that could potentially come back to bite them on the ass.

Tears were beginning to spill over my cheeks now. No matter what harsh thoughts I put into my own head, I still didn't want this to be true. It couldn't be real. It was all a dream... Just a story. In a few more chapters, I'd wake up and that'd be the end of it. Yeah, that was all. Some deranged, freakshow fangirl was writing a story about me, and I just happened to be living it in my dream. That sounded about right, and kind of logical at the time. My mind was going into overdrive with all the frantic things I was remembering and taking note of and telling myself; I felt like screaming, but could you blame me? At one point, I remembered Takuma laying astride me as I huddled up in my blankets in the dark; he was reading me one of his favourite manga, even though I had told him I wasn't interested. And I distinctly remember listening to every word, the way Takuma said each word in so smooth a string that his voice sounded like silk... his laugh was musical and uplifting. I had been quite ill then, and Takuma had skipped class to stay with me and keep me company — I think that was the very first time I ever felt the attraction to him.

Something else I remembered vividly was rising now in my memory...

xXXx

I came back to the dorm late one afternoon with Rima, just before Christmas holidays after an intense photoshoot for Sacrament of Visions, a hot new fashion label that had chosen me as one of their exclusive male models. They were very demanding; as the model, I had to have every shot perfect, and the clothes had to be advertised more fully than was normal for me. Usually, I just used the 'Oh-Look-It's-Shiki-Senri Method', in which people would buy the clothes just because I was wearing them; but that didn't fly with them. I had to act a little more, show off a little more, lay back this way, turn my head that way — and for every new pose they put me in, someone was always right next to me to fix the clothes... It was the single most tiring day of my life. And that wasn't even the half of it. Some of the poses they asked for weren't just for their catalogues, but for their own personal pleasures.

Though, for some people, photographs just aren't enough. Not like I wasn't used to this sort of thing happening... it's just another part of being a top model.

When I arrived back in the dorm, Takuma was up waiting for me, the blackout curtains drawn tightly over the windows. As soon as I stepped in, it was apparent that he had been trying to read one of his manga, but his nerves had gotten to him and he had to put it down. Usually when I returned, Takuma had the dorm cleaned up and awaiting my arrival, and today, he didn't. I looked up at him from staring at the floor, periwinkle eyes meeting glassy emerald — he looked like he was going to cry. Takuma managed to hold it in, getting up to acknowledge my entrance with a weak smile.

"You're late," he informed me, and I looked up at the clock on the wall. "You said you'd be back by midnight, Shiki-chii. I was worried."

"I know, I should have called; I'm sorry." I dropped my bags at the foot of my bed, kicking off my shoes. I proceeded to begin to undress, not really worried about whether or not Takuma saw my body. I mean, so many people already had that it really didn't matter anymore. "It's just that... Sacrament of Vision is alot more pushy that I thought they'd be. I thought they just hired alot of talented models, but really, they're just pushing us past our limits."

I threw on my pajama bottoms and made a dive for my bed, ready to fall asleep mid-leap when Takuma took my wrist. "Senri... Uhmm... I think you're bleeding." He had already begun to clean up, starting with the clothes I had just removed. I looked up at Takuma, who was blushing furiously, and then at the particular article of clothing in his hand. My pants. I had prepared for something like that by tying a sweater around my waist so that no one — especially Takuma — would see. But I forgot about my dormmate's obssession with clean floors. "Are you okay? Do you want to go see the nurse?"

"No, I'm fine. I just got into a little scrap, that's all." I pulled my wrist from his grasp, pulling back the thick comforter on my bed. Behind me, Takuma spluttered a little, not knowing how to respond.

It was obvious for a few seconds that he had never encountered this sort of a situation before, and that he had no idea about the dark side of the modelling world. I had been just as oblivious once, but that had been ripped away from me at a young age — if I was going to be a model, I had to learn early on what it was really all about. Takuma just didn't seem able to wrap his head around it; then again, I wouldn't have believed it unless I had experienced it first-hand, either. "A little scrap," he finally responded, his voice low and weak. "So... it wasn't consentual...?"

He was catching on quickly now. "It hardly ever is. I've just learned to accept it — it's a part of life, isn't it?"

"No, Shiki. This is wrong. You need to learn to stand up for yourself..." He paused studiously as I turned to stare at him, almost wide-eyed. No one had ever said anything like this before. "Do you always just do things because other people want you to? Do something for yourself for once. Don't just let people walk all over you."

And then I realized... Yeah... I did.

But I was upset with him because he was telling me that the lifesyle I had adjusted to because my Mother wanted me to be a model — and there it was again — was wrong. I climbed into bed, turning away from Takuma. "Ichijou, do you always have to but into other peoples' buisness? This is the way it goes in the modelling world, and you can either accept it and shut up, or watch me move out."

"Fine. Do whatever you want," Takuma had audibly deflated. I realize now that he was trying to help me, and very soon after, I took his words to heart when I ended up in the hospital after a brutal night with a photographer. The only thing was that now, I needed those words more than ever.