A/N: Good gosh! Thank you so much for the response on the first chapter! (: Thanks for all the encouragement! I really felt like I had to continue writing this story; it's always been on my mind, what life would be like for Shion if Nezumi were to leave. Judging from some of the fanart that's going around, I'm sure plenty of you have already predicted the end. For me likewise, I cannot bear to see Shion lose Nezumi. I honestly think Shion will go batshit crazy. He's so unpredictable sometimes. Sweet yandere. Though, I've been really bad to Shion in this chapter. I feel terrible.
I felt incredibly pressured to write something better than the 1st chapter, but I think I'd never be able to. It stands pretty much on its own. Please enjoy the effort it took to write this chapter for all you lovely reviewers! (: I'm so sorry too, I didn't know there was a way to reply to comments before this! Gosh, it shows how old I'm getting... Well, enjoy the chapter (:
"When I fall in love, it will be forever." - Jane Austen
Shion dreams that he is back in Nezumi's old room.
There are yellowing scores of parchments lining the walls, and books towering over him as he lays in bed. The familiarity puts him at ease. He plans out what to cook for dinner, but before he even rises from his place, the door opens. Nezumi looks different today; his hair is worn short and the scarf is missing from his shoulders. He doesn't think much of it, and greets his companion with a ready smile as always.
Welcome back. The words are forever at the tip of his tongue.
I'm home, says Nezumi.
And the dream ends, uneventful, but it is more than enough.
He almost doesn't wake up on time, because the bed feels so nice and warm against his bare skin. The window is latched tight. He doesn't smell the outside air. There is no snow on his desk nor in his hair. It doesn't feel right already. By the morning, Nezumi is still there, and Shion thinks maybe it's because he died along the way home, and now he's able to see other ghosts too. A plausible explanation, he thinks sleepily. His fingers are entwined with the other's, the first time in four years, but it doesn't shock him. Not really. He merely feels disturbed by the fact that his body remains so accustomed to it.
Nezumi is already awake. In the morning glow, they examine each other for a long time, not saying anything.
It is odd. This Nezumi with short hair. It doesn't tumble down past his neckline anymore. Shion sees more of Nezumi's face like this, and he quite likes it.
It is alluring and frightening, this enchantment he is under.
"So are you going to make breakfast for me or what?" says the dark-haired boy teasingly.
The sound of Nezumi's deep, potent voice brings him back to earth. It takes a lot more than willpower to remove his hand from Nezumi's grasp, and he gets out of bed to dress. It is too early in the day for tears.
When Shion is done with the bathroom, he finds Nezumi looking through his bookshelf. He's also opened the drawer where the scarf is kept but it is left untouched and unmentioned. Shion doesn't reprimand him, feeling guilty instead.
"No morning kiss, either?" Nezumi attempts, returning the book he's taken to its rightful place. Shion ignores him.
Since he's woken Shion hasn't said a word. He's afraid of what would come out if he did. He knows he's being abnormally quiet, but what good would come from talking to the dead?
That morning, he makes cocoa for two, and they eat the remnants of a soggy cherry cake. It is only now he realizes that he's bought two of everything; two knives, two dishes, two goddamned mugs. Nezumi sits at the table, like everything's perfectly fine, and swallows his food like a living person. Shion is caught between confusion and acceptance. It is a quiet day. The misty morning light bathes the small kitchen in an almost white glow. Nezumi doesn't disappear, doesn't fade off in the sun. Shouldn't all ghosts retreat during the day?
When did he start believing in ghosts anyway?
This must be heaven, Shion decides.
Who am I kidding. This is nothing but hell.
~ooo~
"I swear, having you around is like babysitting a five-year-old."
"Huh?"
"You ask too many questions for your own good. It makes me wonder if you've learned anything on your own, during these sixteen years of your life."
"I just don't know things about you," Shion says, unoffended. "That's all I want to learn now. Ask, and you will be given, right?"
Nezumi taps his finger on Shion's forehead. It is slightly belittling. It is also affectionate. "Not everything has a straight answer, Your Majesty."
~ooo~
Nezumi is cautious with his words. He seems to understand that his sudden appearance has uprooted the very solitude Shion has constructed. Whenever Nezumi tries to get close however, he freezes up, or tears his eyes away, but never opposes his touch, even leans into it from time to time.
"Say something, Shion." He has an arm wrapped around the smaller boy's waist. "I'm here now. What do you want me to do?"
Shion keeps determinedly silent. He presses delicate fingers all over Nezumi's neck and chest. He feels the beating heart that's there. Subconsciously, he lifts his hand to his own heart. It beats just as fast.
I'm alive. Or maybe... or maybe, it still feels like this when you're dead.
"You've changed," Nezumi comments darkly.
Shion is suddenly afraid. There is a stranger in his house. What if the Nezumi he knew has changed too? Why is he here now? Has he come back to bring Shion to the grave with him? Although he was so ready to die just the night before, Shion is not prepared for it now.
Are you going to hurt me, Nezumi...?
The fear must have shown itself somehow, for the strange look in Nezumi's eyes is quickly replaced with something more nonchalant. He eases into a flirtatious mood. "You've gotten sexier," he says, preening Shion's hair with his fingers. "I'm glad you didn't dye it."
"You cut your hair," are Shion's first words of the day.
"It was time for a change," Nezumi replies simply.
Shion weaves his hands into Nezumi's locks, feeling every strand, making sure this is real. He presses close to the broad chest; this is the scent he remembers from so long ago. There seems no need to doubt it anymore. And after the events of last night, there should be no room left for wild guessing. He still feels Nezumi's strength moving within him, the heat of his touch still tingles in some places, the way Nezumi grips his hair from behind, the familiar rush of passion breaking him down over and over and over. He wants to believe and yet...
"You're stronger than you think, Shion," Nezumi encourages. He doesn't speak of himself or how he managed to find his way to Shion's doorstep. Shion remembers that Nezumi likes that air of mystery around him. But it doesn't shed light on other things.
Shion convinces himself there is a logical explanation for this.
He needs the dream to end.
~ooo~
It is days like this that Shion feels as though he will follow Nezumi to the ends of the earth, indulging his every possible reckless whim.
"You learn fast," Nezumi flatters, and guides him around his fumbling feet.
Simply with a firm hand on his back and the other clasping his own, Nezumi seems to control both their bodies at once. It is the same in dance as it is in sex, Shion thinks, with a blush.
"I'm only following your lead."
Nezumi blows hot breath into his ear, startling him. It tickles in a pleasant way. "You learn fast," he repeats. "I don't dish out compliments to just anyone. Be proud of yourself, once in a while."
~ooo~
Shion wills himself not to get overly emotional throughout the session.
He sits in the lounging chair, wondering if the taste of Nezumi on his tongue will fade if he talks long enough.
"How are you feeling today, Shion?" the therapist asks. A routine start. The normalcy of it all unnerves him. He's been having these appointments since about three years ago, but this is the first time he feels truly nervous.
I'm not fine. I'm not fine at all.
"He's back," Shion cuts right to the chase. His voice shakes badly. "He was waiting for me at home last night, and he hasn't left."
"...Nezumi?" she recalls, putting her pen down. The Nezumi boy has always been the main topic between them until just recently. She creases her brow in worry. They've been through this. "Your friend who's passed on?"
Shion recognizes that skeptical look. He tries to calm himself, tries to sound normal, but everything he says is far from it.
"H-he feels too real, too vivid. I'm able to touch him, feel him, kiss him... Why is that?"
I'm not crazy.
"Please believe me," Shion begs, eyes overflowing with earnest. "I don't have a history of mental illness. There must be a valid physical cause that's shaping these delusions. There must be something very wrong with me."
"Have you been on any medication recently?"
"No drugs, no medication. Nothing of the sort. I've been sleeping well."
The scratch of a ballpoint pen as it scribbles something onto a clipboard. Shion feels judged.
"So he came to you last night. What did you boys talk about?"
The question startles him. "What... we talked about?"
"Yes. Did he ask you for something? Did you feel the need to want to speak to him about anything?"
"I'm not crazy," Shion says defensively. He is close to melting point.
"Shion, I'm not saying you are."
"Then why would you think I had a typical conversation with my hallucination?" Shion's hands quiver in his lap as he forces to keep the tears at bay. "I don't know why I'm seeing him now of all times. He's even changed in appearance; it's like he's grown up too. I-Is that significant? I d-don't... I don't usually think about these things, I don't imagine how he'd look like, if he was still with me! I don't fantasize about it! I have nothing to say to him anymore. I've moved on." He grows agitated by the second. "It's been four years. There is nothing left between us! I just want him out of my house! I want him out of my head! If I see him again I'll die!"
It's brought me this much misery!
The therapist is not unnerved in the least. Shion remains one of her easier patients, still. "It's normal to want to speak to the dead, Shion. There might be some things at the back of your mind which prompt you to feel uneasy or guilty and sometimes, the brain has a way of projecting these unspoken desires outwardly. Perhaps the best way to go around this is to face him head on."
I'm anything but normal. I'm anything but sane.
Shion denies it now. He must be sick in the head. Or schizophrenic. Yes. He needs treatment. He needs to get himself cured. Or he'll...
"But just as a precaution, I suggest you go for a scan. Especially if this is affecting the way you live now."
It's a cancer. It must be!
"...I'm dying, aren't I?" The back of Shion's palms are wet. His tears are falling right onto them. Drip. Drop. "Nezumi is going to kill me."
"Did he threaten you?"
"No... I didn't mean it that way."
"You're going to be alright, Shion. If this is the same Nezumi we've talked about, he wouldn't hurt you. Not even in your mind. Anything unusual about his behavior? Was he happy to see you?"
He recalls Nezumi's tender voice from this morning. I'm here now. What do you want me to do?
Shion wants to hear that voice again. He doesn't want Nezumi to leave. He does. No, he doesn't. Nezumi chose to appear for a reason. There must be something that needs to be done.
"Sad." Shion mumbles, remembering Nezumi's wistful gaze. "He was sad."
~ooo~
"I think I love you, Nezumi."
"Phff, where did you learn such big words from? Do you even know what you're saying?"
Shion nods proudly. "It's the best way to put it. It all adds up. This must be it."
"...Whatever you say, Shion."
"I care for you, I worry about you. I never like seeing you get hurt. Sometimes, I think I'd die if you weren't around anymore. I can't even bring myself to think about it."
"...Is this the part where you ask me if I love you too?" Nezumi doesn't even smirk. He looks apprehensive, even.
"I already know the answer to that," Shion says, beaming. "I catch on fast, remember?"
Nezumi blinks, feeling unarmed. But he ruffles Shion's hair, a secret smile playing on his lips. "Don't get all smug with me now, airhead."
~ooo~
Shion spends a good ten minutes standing at his front porch, in the cold, scared to death.
Please be gone, please be gone, please be gone, he prays. He doesn't want to confront Nezumi. Frankly, he's too tired. On the other hand, he wouldn't know how he'll take it, if Nezumi were to disappear. I'll have to face it, either way. He steels his heart, and unlocks the door.
The house is unbearably quiet. The cutlery remains unwashed and it seems like Nezumi hasn't bothered going through his things this time. Everything is in its place. If he'd left the heating on, it isn't on now, and Shion feels his teeth chattering as he removes his coat. He heads upstairs cautiously, a stranger in his own home; he doesn't dare call out, tries to make the least noise as possible, as though disturbing the peace would cost him some form of sanity. The house isn't big. There's no room for Nezumi to hide, and Shion doubts he is in hiding. He stands in the middle of his bedroom, dangerously alone.
"Nezumi?" he tries, softly.
Nothing.
What was I expecting? It was all in my head after all.
Shion expects to feel relief, joy even, but all he feels is a hollow ache in his chest, as he stares at the tightly shut window of his room. He moves to unlatch it, but stops himself. No. No, no, no. If he does that, if he opens the window, everything will be as it was before. A home with no Nezumi in it, a home in which he wakes up alone with frost in his hair, shaking off the remnants of a dream as he gets out of bed. There is nothing worth waking up for, without Nezumi at his side.
"Nezumi," he calls again, moving his search to the corridor. There is nothing. The blood drains from his face. His breathing turns labored and he starts to grow dizzy.
"Nezumi?" He enters the empty living room. Not even a trace. "Nezumi!" he screams, and there is no way Nezumi wouldn't be able to hear.
Nezumi, Nezumi, Nezumi!
His mind does all the screaming, when his lungs have failed.
Shion barely believes it, when he feels the tears rolling down, unbidden. He doesn't even put in the effort to stop them. All his strength is gone. He feels so mentally exhausted like he's never been. He feels like he can sleep for days and weeks after this is over. He cannot think. He cannot breathe. Not with all these tears, not through all this pain. It hits him hard. Nezumi isn't here. Never was. He lost him for the second time.
"Nezumi..."
He fully comprehends what it's like to be broken. It is not even an exaggeration, he learns. Every part of him is in pieces and he'll never be able to fix himself together. All he wants, is to curl up into a tight ball, and forget the boy named Nezumi ever existed.
"You called, Your Highness?"
Shion whips his head around so fast it almost snaps.
No...
Nezumi stands a mere distance away, leaning against the wall, arms folded casually. Like his little disappearing act never happened.
"What..." Shion begins, but he is so tired, so weak, that his brain refuses to string together enough words for a coherent sentence.
"Shion?" Nezumi notices the tears and comes over. In an instant, his hands are supporting the smaller boy, holding him together, unwavering as always.
Even though he is shaking in the knees with fear and apprehension, Shion lifts his head, and stares into the eyes of his dead lover. "Nezumi," he wrings out, "I'm going crazy." He feels pathetic, absolutely deplorable, that Nezumi has to endure him in this state. The eyes that look back at him are warm, understanding. A hand cradles the back of his head lovingly. He feels safe. He feels like he is sixteen again. Nezumi wordlessly grazes his lips on an ivory brow, and Shion twists about in those arms. No. He is not sixteen anymore. He will not be appeased so easily.
I have to face the truth.
"Don't," he warns through clenched teeth. The kisses are just a distraction. This Nezumi is a lot more different than he previously thought.
"Alright," Nezumi says, pulling away. The look he has on his face is one of half-confusion, half-impatience.
"I've suffered enough of this witchery," Shion whispers, only because his voice is just beginning to restore its energy. "Why are you here, Nezumi? We both know what happened. I've lived so long denying it. I never wanted to forget you. But now that you're here, I realize how sick I am. Perhaps I've been sick a long time, perhaps this is a lingering symptom from the disease I survived. It's feeding me illusions. My imagination, it's brought you back to life."
Nezumi does naught but listen, unamused and undisturbed by Shion's accusations of him being a mere mirage of the mind.
Shion swallows down the last few sobs. "I love you. Is that what you came back to hear, Nezumi? I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you so much I can't seem to let you go."
Shion rests his closed eyes against his upturned palms. He just wants to sleep it off.
"Are you listening to yourself?" comes Nezumi's snide remark. "You sound absolutely nutters. Going to see that shrink was a bad idea, Shion."
He's never told Nezumi about it. That morning he lied and said he was going to work.
He's in my head. He knows everything I know.
"I've had the mice follow you," Nezumi elaborates. "I don't appreciate being lied to."
"You don't understand!" Shion steps away from Nezumi's hold. His fisted hands are shaking against his will.
"What don't I understand, Shion? I think I know perfectly well what's going on. I leave you alone for four years and come back to find you a wreck. What's with all this dying bullshit? Are you trying to pass this off as a dream? Perhaps you are sick – fine, I'll admit, you have been a little off since I found you, but I am certainly not a figment of your imagination-!"
"Enough!" Shion yells. His throat strains from the effort. "You're the reason I've been a wreck! Nezumi, you're dead! You died! You cannot be standing here right now! Not in a thousand years!"
A hand siezes his throat, holding him in place, before Nezumi strikes him hard across the face. It's over in a flash.
Nezumi... hit me.
Shion stumbles, shrinks back, blinded with fear. He loses his center of equilibrium for a second, struggling to regain balance like a weak-limbed fawn. He refuses to fall in front of the other. Reeling with sheer shock, he cowers at the other end of the room, holding his burning cheek. He tastes blood. There is a cut at the side of his mouth. It is as though Nezumi has wrung all the words out of him. He shudders. Such is the dominance Nezumi displays over him. He finally feels the difference in power; Nezumi has always been superior in strength, but it's matured like the rest of him. Nezumi doesn't say a word, and that is the worst part.
Shion doesn't stay scared for long. He's not a doll. He's not going to shatter. Fear gives way to searing hatred; hatred for himself, for his weaknesses, for the fact that he let Nezumi lay a hand on him. He doesn't retaliate. He's better than that. He's not a child anymore. He's not going to suck it in, like a lovestruck fool. Yes, Nezumi's right, he's changed. Four years is a long time.
I will show you just how much.
"I'm done mourning you," he declares, though his voice is all aquiver. The room is filled with the sound of his troubled breathing. "But I've never stopped cherishing you, I've never stopped being grateful to you. I still love you. But that doesn't mean I will follow you to the grave. That day, you asked me to live on, for the both of us. It took me great courage to come to terms with what happened, but I'm keeping my end of the promise. I realize, there's more to life than just you. I want to live for me, too. You may call me terrible or selfish. Say whatever you want. But you were the one who taught me I wasn't worthless."
Blood dribbles past his lower lip, staining it red. He attempts to swallow the rest but it only serves to choke him. When he looks down, he sees that the blood has already been dripping onto the carpet. The injury is more severe than it feels.
He watches as Nezumi disappears into the kitchen before returning with a damp cloth. He thrusts it into Shion's face, hiding his burning guilt beneath the most impassive gaze he can muster.
Unintentionally, Shion flinches so hard his head hits the wall behind with a dull thud. He doesn't want to be hurt again. He feels slightly humiliated by his actions, but from the flash of remorse in the other's eyes, Nezumi cannot be feeling any better.
He takes it upon himself to treat the wound. Shion tenses up, as the wet cloth is brought to his chin and his lips, dabbing gently. None of the former brusqueness is present, and Shion allows himself to relax when he is sure of Nezumi's intentions. The raven-haired boy (or man, really) stands so close now, Shion is nearly engulfed in his shadow; he's grown so tall, so lean, Shion is displeased that he hasn't caught up yet. There is a hand pressed against the wall next to his head; Nezumi's eyes are cast on anything but his own, and he focuses on the task at hand with a tenacious resolve. He bids Shion's mouth to open, with a gentle inclination of his hand, swabbing at the injury until all the excess blood is relieved.
Shion wishes to get hurt more often, if only to see this side of Nezumi. He vaguely worries about his masochist tendencies and tries to remember how he's managed to put up with this four years ago.
"I..." Nezumi starts, and falters on the spot.
Ghosts feel guilt too? Shion thinks. He tries not to say anything which might upset Nezumi further.
"You deserve," Nezumi finds his courage, "everything that is good in the world. To be valued, cherished, respected..."
Shion waits on bated breath for Nezumi to finish.
"But I..." He doesn't.
Shion understands the rest. He brings his hands to cup Nezumi's face. The cheeks are warm beneath his chilly fingertips. He urges the other to look him in the eye. "I'm sorry, Nezumi," he says. The sincerity of his voice ignites something akin to distress in Nezumi's gaze. "My problems have nothing to do with you. This is something I have to deal with on my own. I shouldn't have yelled at you. I'm sorry."
Nezumi's next punch is aimed at the wall. Shion is sure there's a crumbling dent right where his fist is buried.
"Idiot," Nezumi scolds, but his tone is weak, despondent. "Idiot. Who apologizes for something like that? You..."
The arm next to Shion's head is trembling slightly.
"You don't apologize to the person who hurts you."
Shion stands on his tip-toes and melds their lips together. It is a kiss of forgiveness, more than anything else, one that Nezumi accepts gracefully.
"I'm no better," Shion admits, "for having hurt you too."
This is my fault. It's my fault you're here, Nezumi. I'll do whatever it takes, to send you off properly into the next life.
~ooo~
"When..." Shion is trying not to let his emotions run him. If he opens up now, the overwhelming intensity will surely engulf them both. "When will I see you again?"
"...Come on, don't say such things." Nezumi is tired of talking.
His next words leave a bitter trail on his tongue. "I'm so sorry, Nezumi. For everything I could never do for you... For everything I never gave you. I'm so sorry." His mouth is full with the twang of salty tears.
"You're so stupid," Nezumi berates. He wipes at the tear that has fallen onto his own cheek. "Don't go apologizing to the person who's making you cry."
-End-
A/N: There is still one more chapter in the making, that will be the conclusion to all this drama and hopefully banish all speculation as to what's really going on. Yes, the therapist says Nezumi is dead, but remember, she only has Shion's side of the story. I also wanted to keep the love making for the last chapter, so. It will be rated M, after this, please look out for it! (: But so far... do you guys dig it? What do you hope for in the next chapter? It seems like I have a thing for drama... Not sure if that's good or not. Well thanks for reading! (: Don't forget to review, darlings!