Hiei is OOC and totally a Sad Boy
Cross posted to Ao3
Oh, the sun has risen.
Taunting flickers of light reminded him why he wasn't where he meant to be this morning.
He might have thought too much about finding a decision, all night, again. The fox says he thinks himself into an endless cycle to the point where no conclusions can be found. His sister calls it anxiety. Those human books put ideas into her head that are too difficult to argue. Most human things have become too difficult to argue nowadays.
She says, like the fox, he spirals until he can't find his way out. He falls until it all collides in his mind into a whirling pit of regret and guilt and shame and hopelessness with no chance of any light ever shining in. It's all a habit that needs breaking. Such an old habit. He appears grounded to others, but it's getting harder to maintain steadiness now that he has caring eyes on him so often. He still tends to be mentally gone long before he physically and rudely removes himself, but they all keep welcoming him back. She wants to help and he feels like a fool for not knowing how to follow her words or accept the aid or even listen without wanting to run until he finds something to cut. He misses cutting.
At least her happiness is a comfort. Or with great want, allows him to feel he might have played a part in it.
What a desperate thought! Yusuke and Kuwabara got her out of that disgusting human's prison. He showed up at the last minute and almost got himself thrown back into a solitary cell.
She said to label everything within eyesight if he thought about his shortcomings. The shortcomings were a warning that the spiral was imminent.
White bark.
Sage leaves.
Frost.
Clover?
Waves.
The sea.
Nonsense.
All of this place is nonsense and I shouldn't be here. I don't belong.
The point is, it's brooding. The detective is annoying, but does well at calling things as he sees them. They all see it…
At least his sister is well conformed. Wearing their clothes. Using their speech. Learning a profession and letting their ways sink its claws into her creations. She's been spinning her hair into small spears as the silly girl named rabbit in the moving images box does and baking enough sweet bread to finally make his teeth start rotting.
She is happy.
So is the fox.
Somewhat...
The fox found that girl again after so many years. The one Hiei cared not for and barely acknowledged when seeing a demon that might have been involved in his sister's disappearance. Well, the fox, as clever as he may be, hasn't pulled together the facts to see that the girl was led straight to him by wicked shadows. Something wicked, that looked into a mind knowing he was breaking parole and trust and committing an assault, that thought he could bring something positive into this mangled, sloppily put together mess of fools that the detective calls family. Silly, hope doesn't suit the dirty.
She's dying. Much, much sooner than Shiori ever will. She will suffer a horrid, needlessly painful and slow death. The fox can't fix it. He's tried and continues to try, but maybe he has recognized that too many other humans and demons couldn't bear to see him enter another state of sacrificial desperation. He holds himself back and gives all he otherwise has to offer. Oh how the mighty have turned soft.
Hiei led another pain straight to the first person he could properly label as a friend and could trust with most everything he thought worth acknowledging, and then some. Guilt, or something else, claws at the inner walls of his chest.
He is cursed to wait for the spiral's end. Or at least for a distraction to show up.
Labels.
Waves.
Loud.
Clouds.
Pink.
Such pretty eyes.
Eyes that say touch me and he does even though it makes him feel like he's assaulting once again. He is too dirty to touch something so ethereal. It's his certainty she wants him – and internally pleads for his glance alone – that allows and pushes him to continue. Her thoughts are loud and addicting. Inviting. How could she let something so horrid touch all of her?
The waves don't seem to notice the ugly soul's internal pleas of an accidental drowning so he might escape all his uncomfortable... somethings. The moon in its last farewell to the waves doesn't call them up to grab him. Neither knows he's a terrible swimmer.
It's a pity, if he could pity anything, he would willfully give into such a dismal and pathetic death. He wants to vomit.
The morning frost never formed near him, but what of it he can see is starting to turn to dew.
Don't look at it.
Something that should have been home crosses his mind and he's grateful he has mastered distracting himself from at least that train of thought.
Focus on that awful trip northward Yusuke forced all the 'guys' to take for team bonding or whatever he packed into that thick skull that said they should all work towards being more in tune to one another's 'vacation vibes'. What. Fucking idiot wouldn't stop saying the tiny train room was too hot and asking aloud why-
Something flecked at the back of his mind.
Well, there's the distraction.
His... something he hasn't gathered the courage to properly, respectfully label flies down on the oar that shouldn't be working since she hasn't ferried a soul in nearly a decade. She tells him he's been a silly spark, sitting on a cliffside all alone this close to winter's beginning. She made him another hat with the name like the red filling in the, what was the chewy rice cake called again? It doesn't matter, though. She will keep making them. Countless scarves and gloves as well. She dresses him for each coming winter as if he might freeze at the mere thought of snow Though, she is well aware he has felt cold only once. Letting that particular story pass his lips, for the second time, is something he never planned on doing. Sharing led to her affection that night, something he didn't want, but craved nonetheless.
He's accepted her affections behind walls or far enough into the woods, finally, to her greatest joy she states. Reluctantly he admits, her touches and words of endearment are sweeter than any bread his sister could ever conjure up and the thought brings shame. At least he is confident he is not the main cause of her heartache anymore ( foolish ). The sadness has left her voice – for the most part – when speaking of him if she believes he is not within earshot. She once whispered to his sister she is calling him a light bearer. A flickering sunflake. That he is receiving all of his radiance from their friends' love, and especially his twin. He doesn't agree, but can no longer state such deception aloud.
She brings him collapsed cookies and dry sweet bread his sister has gently, desperately, attempted to correct, but he eats them as if made the same because he can't help but consume every part of her that's offered to him.
Yukina says he has a sweet tooth. Heh, Botan is a cavity and he doesn't plan on having her drilled out.
He still doesn't use the bristle stick she put in her bathroom just for him.
Theirs?
She wants ours, theirs, we…
That's what he was supposed to be deciding.
He wants to give her what he can out of his stupid, blind, haze ridden mind.
But she's sitting beside him now. One hand gripping her skirt, the other in his hair towards the ends. The blue ends make her think of some flower Kurama has pointed out and named too many times. She told him after their last tangle it looked lovely out of the knot he puts in it these days.
Where are her eyes?
She stopped using the boxed potion on her own hair. She said it was because about a year's past he had stated – into the small gap between their lips in that moment before the night meets the dawn – his desire to know every part of her, even the ugly corners - he naively thought there were none - of her mind.
What have I done…
Now it's grown past her shoulders once more, and shines the same as woven sunlight. Pale and brings out her eyes more. He hates it.
Every day since it started to sprout again he has heard her inwardly scream how much she hates the color into whatever reflection she comes across. She won't say this aloud, even with his indirect prying.
The rest of her thoughts still mostly shine with hope and joy and excitement. Knowing he – even unintentionally – caused another blight along the edges of her cheerful mind reminded him of something else he has been putting off. He needs to teach her how to close her mind, but he is a selfish demon.
She has thoughts that don't include him. Occasionally. Maybe.
The same could be said of him these days.
Here.
She's here.
She's wearing human clothes. So is he. They look like they belong in this realm if not for the fact they are sitting somewhere not accessible by foot.
She smiles and he feels his gut twist into a familiar and nauseating warmth. He might like it. He doesn't like being addicted, tethered. He likes thinking of her every time the moon sets and she's here physically in the wondrous moment.
But she's also screaming again.
She's hoping he isn't mad at her. She feels silly for asking for something she probably needs and he can't find the courage to just endure through the whole damn thing like he has been for years.
When she asked, he couldn't grasp the concept. He knew what it was. Knew about it from distant tales he overhead bandits tell over a campfire. it had a different name, but its all the same and he knew what it was since he was the size of a ca- fuck you Kuwabara for making that comparison.
He learned more than he had ever wanted to (which was nothing) when the detective gathered their mismatched family so he could ask his girl some loaded question that came off as only having one correct answer.
He tried. He listened to her hours long explanation and went over in detail what it all was (as if he never witnessed the rehearsed promises and drunken disaster everyone called a reception) and how theirs could be different and be meaningful to them. Something tailored to his comfort. Small. Quiet. Outside.
He didn't appreciate the focus being so much on his needs and wanted to say he doesn't want or need the coddling, but again, he's learned not to state such things.
She even dragged the fact that Maya would love it into the one sided conversation. There was some reason the fox and her didn't have their own performance, something about currency. Currency and, and... doctors? It was always currency with humans.
He didn't get it.
She had him. He was here. He kept coming back. He saw her and most of the others nearly every day. He hated it. It made his lungs become inadequate and unable to properly fill his ribs. The very air in her own lungs brought him peace. Her mind, so unlike his, showed him all the pieces of himself that could maybe, just maybe, be capable of benevolence. She obnoxiously shoved hope into his everyday thinking. He found bliss in her body. Her smile made his stomach leap and yearn. He had realized after several instances of long nights (spent alone together or around others) that his cheeks ached from smiling so much.
Saying all of these thoughts in front of anyone, even her, made him want to return to never holding still, antagonizing, killing, stealing, rarely eating, and repeating until he collapsed somewhere alone to avoid fulfilling some prophecy he never asked to be a part of.
She wanted it all to be a surprise. Where was her childish mind running off to. Like the fox hadn't noticed decades ago and the detective had not done some accidental questioning that was never intended to trick her into revealing whatever this was. Like no one noticed he was practically living at the temple the same as her and Yukina.
Like it didn't spread like every wildfire he's ever caused. Fate found humor in watching him heat up in rage at their teasing.
At least Yukina was kind.
Clever, sweet, beautiful sister. Saying all she knew with her actions.
He had left after he assumed her fantasies were fully stated.
Days passed and he avoided everyone. Still so easy it was boring. He could at least give her something now.
"Botan,"
She smiled at him again. Her eyes reflected the sea's blue. They're the same color as the lavender she hung over the bed they share. For bad dreams. His bad dreams. Her hands had stilled, but there was that shortness in her breath he couldn't help but notice.
He's caused her so much agony since he first came into her life. Invading. Avoiding.
He wants to give her all he can imagine. Removing all the nasty things he's ever said to her from her mind. Something to remove the burn mark on her arm. A home he built with his own hands. A head from the realm that abandoned her. Her human friends a longer life. Another fucking cat.
"You deserve all your heart desires."
Breathing, and not looking at her face, gets him to the next sentence.
"Maybe... We can-" Fuck.
Coward.
His sigh makes her jaw tighten. Her smile remains.
Nothing makes him want to jump into the water more than the fact she still has patience for him.
"We- I made a mistake not letting this happen awhile ago."
It stung. He wants to flee.
A darker, indulgent hole inside of him said to cut her. Then he would have an excuse to never come back to any of them.
The real mistake was selfishly and immaturely threatening her to never speak of their encounters with anyone, ever. She took all that ridiculous behavior with grace. Grace he wasn't deserving of. He found out later by spying into her mind once again, unknowingly to her, that she did that out of respect and not fear.
He hates himself.
They agreed and never broached the subject again. They just... kept fucking. More and more often. And watched the moving images box that was now flat until one of them passed out first. Eating meals together. Sitting in spots like these, letting the time pass in silence. They stood next to each other not touching with every other pair in their group holding hands (or in the detective's case: dry humping) and she smiled through the seasons while he ignored everything around him, her heart especially. He will never understand the patience reserved only for him.
The favor he would do her by never returning.
Bite the cheek.
Compose your words into something that prioritizes her desires. Something his sister advised rang in his distant mind.
"When I refer to you to others, what would you want me to call you? "
It wasn't what she wanted or hoped for, and came years too late, but her eyes widened and her smile relaxed into something more genuine. Something closer to the kind he only sees in places like this.
He hated it all. He failed her as he failed his sister, but somehow worse. He hurt, over and over, the two women determined to bring him peace and love. He hurt her even more with this avoidant question that isn't giving her a sliver of what she asked for.
He kept the Jagan closed tight. Sinister, malice laced intentions begging him to indulge. Her smile kept growing softer.
"Botan..."
Shame.
Find the words.
"I love you. I want that to be known to you and those we trust."
The tears were what he expected to see. The sobs were what he deserved to hear.
He held her until the sun had long started to reflect in her eyes and felt all his urges to run fade.
He spent that night blissing her as an apology.
He stared at her sleeping form and felt his gut twist into the realization he had fucked up even further.
He left before the next sun could taunt him further.
He was gone for over a year.