LOSS

Hello everyone! First of all, thank you guys so much for the amazing and totally unexpected support this fic has gotten! And yes, it's incredible but I've actually stirred from my absolutely epic lazy-ass-ness to write the final chapter of this fic. I know the ending of the previous chap was kinda sinister and probably made you guys think of the worst outcome… but. BUT. While something bad (or at least seriously gross) definitely happened, it wasn't quite what you think and I'm back here to finally clarify and bring this fucked-up plot to a conclusion. So enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of substance use, mentions of depression, other angsty crap

Loss.

How could one pinpoint and handle this feeling of emptiness, of sheer hollow left behind by the brightest of burning fires? An artist does not handle emotion, they harbor, treasure it, allow themselves to be carried away, infected by it even to a certain extent. For this reason, he'd always treasured experiences over things and, since experiences were fleeting in their very nature, Uta had not felt loss in this way before.

It was... incapacitating to say the least. As such, the ghoul artist could only lie sprawled out onto his shabby living-room couch, eyes glued to the fine cracks of the ceiling, absently watching the clouds of smoke floating upwards, floating and dissipating like the very minutes of one's life, feeling abandonment in every fibre.

Uncharacteristically – because Uta was meticulous by excellence – now he couldn't be bothered to even clean up the mess he'd done in the kitchen. No, disposing of... of the object of this completely unreasonable attachment had been the only effort the raven-haired ghoul had been capable of, in the aftermath of his blinding moment of passion.

Having only one good arm at the moment did count too, the other – nearly chewed to the bone – hanging limply over the worn, plushy edge which was now stained with more than cheap beer and soy sauce. It would heal, of course, he would heal too, but some mark would still remain. After all, it was unlikely that the destroyed tattoos could be restored to perfection once the flesh grew back.

And the worst was... that this was unprecedented. Wrong.

What he'd just done was wrong. So deeply wrong that it could probably even spell his own doom, because his deed would come back to hunt him down. The CCG would come after him.

"So he was found?! What, I mean where-…?!"

Shinohara's hurried steps fell down heavily on the hospital's pristine floor and beads of sweat had gathered on his forehead, a deep-seated fear seeping through his every pore. For the past two days he'd been searching, searching, searching, still there was no sign of Juuzou in the aftermath of the confrontation. He'd only found Jason lying under a pile of contorted irons – the worst of signs – but not the body of the infamous quinque's owner. So where…? Sure, the CCG knew about the missing bodies of agents killed in action, they even had a solid clue as to what was happening, but still, Shinohara refused to think that Juuzou, his precious Juuzou, had ended up on some ghoul's dinner table.

"I know it's unbelievable, but he was found lying on a street bench right in front of the CCG headquarters early this morning, still in full gear, but out cold," Seidou Takizawa explained quickly, his voice slightly choked by the effort to keep up with the taller man's large strides. "He was probably drunk or something, jeez…"

"Doctor?!" the older investigator inquired panting, as a man in a white robe walked out of the ward he'd been indicated to at the reception. "How-… how is he?!"

The doctor tsked and threw the younger a severe and slightly annoyed glance. "He wasn't drunk, just heavily drugged. His bloodwork is yet to be completed, so we don't know yet what it was, but-"

"Great, so now he does drugs!" Seidou concluded, rolling his eyes.

Shinohara ignored him. "No, no, but how is he, doctor?! What happened to him?! Is he in one piece or-…?!"

"He's fine, I told you!" the other investigator stated. "He's just fine, just a couple of scratches and bruises he must have gotten in battle, but nothing else!"

The doctor shrugged and nodded in turn, placing his binder under his arm. "He's still asleep, but you can see him if you want."

Shinohara did not wait to be told twice – before the other could even finish his phrase, his hand had shot forward for the knob and he pushed in without hesitation.

"You need to talk to him about this shit! This is just unacceptable!" Seidou shouted in his wake. "Damn brat!"

Once inside, the investigator closed the door carefully, obstructing all invasive sounds, and padded quietly to the bed, where he leaned over the sleeping form. Juuzou looked peaceful and untroubled, his small chest rising and falling with steady movements, but Shinohara's attention was suddenly drawn to the thin wrist resting on top of the covers. It looked freshly bruised all around, as if the boy had been struggling against some restraints. Frowning, he pulled back the covers to check Juuzou's other arm – the same story there.

His prodding made the other stir, almost imperceptibly at first, then Juuzou suddenly awoke with a violent flinch, instinctively jerking away from the large form hovering above him.

"Juuzou! Juuzou, it's alright! It's me! You're alright, you're safe! It's okay! It's over now!" Shinohara reassured him, sitting on the edge of the bed while the boy's eyes quickly scanned the white hospital room with a confused and still sleepy expression. And he made no sound.

"Juuzou, I-… I was so worried! Where were you?" the older investigator asked gently, large hand reaching out to stroke the other's cheek with awkward gentleness.

Juuzou sighed, relaxing back into the pillows, eyelids falling closed again. "Kitchen… " he murmured absently. "…was in a kitchen… But I don't remember his name."

The brunet flinched, but kept the horror from his voice as he spoke. "It's alright, it doesn't matter. But… was it a ghoul?"

"… a ghoul. He ate-…" Suddenly Juuzou sat up, eyes wide again, and wrapped his arms around his supervisor's neck, pressing close to the other's strong body, instinctively seeking warmth and protection. "He ate his own arm! Cut a-along the bone and… and ate… and… and then I don't remember…"

"But he let you go, I think," Shinohara said, as absurd as it sounded. "He didn't harm you, Juuzou, that's what matters. He didn't… harm you, right?"

The boy didn't answer right away, but the older investigator felt the tiny fingertips digging into his shoulders. "I don't understand why, but…" He pulled away, large ruby eyes glancing into the other's, innocently questioning.

"…but I liked it."

End