Serendipity. (Loveless, Ritsuka/Soubi)
Title: Serendipity.
Fandom: Loveless.
Warnings: Nothing.
Characters/couples: Ritsuka/Soubi, Yuiko.
Summary: Soubi says 'it's a good thing, to believe'. Ritsuka isn't so sure.
Rating: G.
Notes: So I was thinking how long it has been since I last wrote Loveless fiction and then I got inspired, just in time for Valentine's Day as well. Oh, well.
Serendipity.
Talking with Yuiko is, Soubi has discovered, a pleasure that perhaps shouldn't be. Ritsuka has told him as much, glaring and pouting, his expression fierce and protective and jealous, saying that she's just a normal girl and that he's an adult and that adults shouldn't be speaking with kids like that.
Soubi hadn't quite explained that it was that what made it attractive. Ritsuka wouldn't have understood it, which would have truly angered him, or he would have understood, which would have saddened him. Instead of risking any of those, Soubi had smiled and asked if Ritsuka was jealous, watching how his Sacrifice flushed and spluttered, stalking away from him.
It's quite simple, in the end. He has never known someone as naïve as her. Yuiko might be, perhaps, the one child that Soubi has known in his life, because the students at the school stop being children once they become a pair, once they learn about bonds and fights and spells and Words. It doesn't matter for how long they keep their ears, they are no longer children. They have to shed innocence to gain power, and none of them regrets it, not at all.
And Ritsuka isn't innocent either, even though he is at the same time. But his eyes are jaded and he knows too much about pain to be a child.
But Yuiko is a young girl, bright and eager and happy, and Soubi doesn't quite bask on her happiness the way he does with Ritsuka's soft happiness, but he enjoys it anyway.
“Do you believe in palm-reading, Soubi-san?” Yuiko asks, and he hears the way she must be flipping through a magazine. “You can read your future there!”
“Do you believe in that?”
He can almost hear how the blood rushes to her face, making her blush. “Um! Um um, well, Ritsuka-kun says it's stupid and he doesn't really believe in that and he kinda said it was stupid to read things about it but... "
“But you believe in it,” he finishes for her.
Her silent agrees with her, and then; “Do you think it's wrong, Soubi-san?”
Ah, but what does Soubi know about faith after all. His faith is on his master, on their bond they share and he has none. His faith is on Seimei or was in Seimei but Seimei is no more. Should his faith rest on Ritsuka? Would that burden his young Sacrifice the way so many other things seem to do? He doesn't know and he doesn't quite care to guess, no when there is no answer to that.
Instead he sighs. “Of course not, Yuiko-chan. It's a good thing to believe.”
*
Ritsuka isn't waiting Soubi but he sort of is. It's weird how this works, how sometimes he's sure that Soubi will be there and yet he doesn't come, and so Ritsuka only half sleeps, waiting for footsteps on his balcony that won't come, how sometimes he actually guesses and he's ready to be angry at him. He's always waiting for Soubi, he thinks, an exhilarating kind of exhaustion that runs bone deep and that Ritsuka finds that he quite possible wouldn't know how to be without any longer.
But still, he's coming back from his bath, his hair still wet when he sees Soubi smoking at his balcony, leaning against the railing, thoughtful and then smiling when he notices him and Ritsuka rushes to open the window, ignoring the cold that makes him shiver for a moment, instead focusing on glaring at Soubi.
“Idiot! What if one of the neighbors had seen you?”
But Soubi just smiles as he takes a last smoke of his cigarette before he presses it against the sole of his shoe, putting the half done cigarette back on the packet, and Ritsuka made a mental note to keep the windows open tomorrow, lest his mom smell the cigarette and think he's the one smoking.
“You're cold,” Soubi says, reaching to touch his damp hair, where the water from his hair has formed wet patches against his shoulders. Ritsuka steps back from the warmth of those fingers, glares as he moves to close the window.
“And whose fault is it?!” and before Soubi can say something stupid about punishment and violence, he crosses his arms, refuses to go and sit down by the bed. “Why are you here?”
“I thought Ritsuka could miss me.”
“As if!” He says, glaring and blushing and hating how Soubi says things like that, hating the fact that it sounds as if he knew that sometimes Ritsuka just sits around and thinks about Soubi, wonders if he's okay, if he's injured, if he should call him or not.
“Should I go?”
... and he hates those questions the most, because he can't answer. Yes, he wants him to leave, forever if possible, and take this stupid confusion with him. No, he doesn't want Soubi to go, not now not ever, because if it was possible Ritsuka would almost like to trust him enough to believe that he'd stay.
So despite it all he moves to the bed and sits down, combs his hand through his hair to try and shake the last of the water and he tries to ignore Soubi's presence in his room, the way he is so aware of the way his heart beats faster with Soubi there. But Soubi, of course, can't let him have that and he moves as well, kneels in front of him so that all of Ritsuka's defenses run over themselves and before he can push himself backwards to keep some room between himself and Soubi, Soubi's hand has captured his right one.
“Soubi! What...!”
“Shh, Ritsuka,” Soubi says gently, his eyes blue and warm and his smile soft. Long, knotted fingers coax his hand open, and then Soubi's calloused fingers are running through the lines of his hand in a feather soft way that makes Ritsuka shiver. His toes curl inwards and he tries not to squirm, but he can feel the way his tail hits his thighs, the bed., and he can hear the way his heart beats wildly against his chest.
“... what are you doing?”
Soubi's smile is different then, soft and almost not there, just a tiny hint of his lips turned upwards, and his eyes are open. It almost looks sad, the way Soubi smiles like this, and Ritsuka aches when Soubi's thumb brushes the bones of his wrist.
“Making sure that Ritsuka has a long life line, of course.”
“Stupid!” Ritsuka calls him, pulling his hand away, glaring, annoyed at it. “What does that have to do with anything?”
He had said something similar to Yuiko, even though he had made her sad. But it's stupid, to try and pretend that something like hands can tell his future, his life. Yuiko had said that he had a long life line, but is it his life? Or is it Ritsuka's life, the Ritsuka mother wants to come back so desperately? He doesn't know and he can't know with something like that, which is what scares him and makes him angry.
And what about the scars? Ritsuka has more than enough scars on both his hands, lines that have faded and some that are still there. Do those count? They should, at least, because they're part of his history, even if they're not natural, even if he wasn't born with it. Papercuts and burns and the times that mom has scrubbed at his hands as if washing him away she could bring her son back.
Soubi is still smiling that soft, almost sad smile. His hand touches his face and Ritsuka does his best not to lean against his hand.
“There are lines that keep us together, Ritsuka. Perhaps not physical ones, but they exist,” Soubi stands up, and leans against him. Ritsuka closes his eyes as tight as possible, but Soubi only presses a kiss to his forehead, leaning for a moment against his head. “Good night.”
It's almost hard to breath but he hears Soubi take the three steps needed to be at the door.
“... Soubi, wait!” he calls, and he runs towards him, takes hold of Soubi's hand with both of his
Ritsuka traces the lines of Soubi's hand, feels himself flush, the way his ears are pressed against his hair. He's not sure what he should be searching for, though, what kind of inherent truth should be hidden on the skin of Soubi's hand, on the lines that run through his palm. Soubi's hand has small scars that will probably disappear sometime soon, not giving Ritsuka time to learn that they were there at all. It's almost as if Soubi would vanish too, if he wasn't careful.
“Ritsuka?”
Before he loses his courage, Ritsuka presses a kiss to Soubi's hand, right at the middle of his palm. He hears the way Soubi's breath catches on his throat, but he doesn't dare to look up to see his expression. He's blushing, can feel the blood rushing to his face.
“Good night!” Ritsuka shrills, hopes that his mother is already asleep as he goes to bed, hiding beneath the covers, praying that the way his heart is thumping against his chest isn't as loud as he thinks it is.
He counts to ten, and Soubi finally moves when he's about to reach 'two'. He's silent, sliding the windows open, closing them behind him. Ritsuka counts to ten again and then he stands up, hides against the curtains to peek outside. Soubi hasn't moved from in front of his house but he's not looking towards his room. No, he's looking at the hand that Ritsuka kissed and Ritsuka can't see his expression despite the fact that suddenly he craves for it, something almost like hunger twisting inside his stomach.
Then, he sees Soubi move his hand, press his own lips to it, exactly to where Ritsuka kissed it. Ritsuka touches his lips carefully as he swallows, as if he could have felt Soubi's kiss like that before he pushes himself away from the window, berating himself from doing stupid things.
*
Soubi smokes, and he paints an almond in full bloom, the tiny white-pink flowers taking most of the canvas, just a hint of brown here and there, tiny bits of a sunset-lit sky between the branches of the tree. There are no butterflies this time, only the five-petal flowers and a violet sky.
He texts Ritsuka: 'I love you, dream of me.' but it's late and he doesn't want to wake Ritsuka up. Instead he smokes, and he touches the unmarked skin where Ritsuka kissed his hand, doesn't dare to touch it and instead he tries to remember how it felt, Ritsuka's breath against his skin, and then his lips burning an invisible mark that only Soubi knows exists there. It's not a Name but he can't dislike this mark Ritsuka has bestowed upon him.
Soubi wonders if Ritsuka sleeps with his hands close to his face, or if he, perhaps, is only sleeping like that today.
Fandom: Loveless.
Warnings: Nothing.
Characters/couples: Ritsuka/Soubi, Yuiko.
Summary: Soubi says 'it's a good thing, to believe'. Ritsuka isn't so sure.
Rating: G.
Notes: So I was thinking how long it has been since I last wrote Loveless fiction and then I got inspired, just in time for Valentine's Day as well. Oh, well.
Serendipity.
Talking with Yuiko is, Soubi has discovered, a pleasure that perhaps shouldn't be. Ritsuka has told him as much, glaring and pouting, his expression fierce and protective and jealous, saying that she's just a normal girl and that he's an adult and that adults shouldn't be speaking with kids like that.
Soubi hadn't quite explained that it was that what made it attractive. Ritsuka wouldn't have understood it, which would have truly angered him, or he would have understood, which would have saddened him. Instead of risking any of those, Soubi had smiled and asked if Ritsuka was jealous, watching how his Sacrifice flushed and spluttered, stalking away from him.
It's quite simple, in the end. He has never known someone as naïve as her. Yuiko might be, perhaps, the one child that Soubi has known in his life, because the students at the school stop being children once they become a pair, once they learn about bonds and fights and spells and Words. It doesn't matter for how long they keep their ears, they are no longer children. They have to shed innocence to gain power, and none of them regrets it, not at all.
And Ritsuka isn't innocent either, even though he is at the same time. But his eyes are jaded and he knows too much about pain to be a child.
But Yuiko is a young girl, bright and eager and happy, and Soubi doesn't quite bask on her happiness the way he does with Ritsuka's soft happiness, but he enjoys it anyway.
“Do you believe in palm-reading, Soubi-san?” Yuiko asks, and he hears the way she must be flipping through a magazine. “You can read your future there!”
“Do you believe in that?”
He can almost hear how the blood rushes to her face, making her blush. “Um! Um um, well, Ritsuka-kun says it's stupid and he doesn't really believe in that and he kinda said it was stupid to read things about it but... "
“But you believe in it,” he finishes for her.
Her silent agrees with her, and then; “Do you think it's wrong, Soubi-san?”
Ah, but what does Soubi know about faith after all. His faith is on his master, on their bond they share and he has none. His faith is on Seimei or was in Seimei but Seimei is no more. Should his faith rest on Ritsuka? Would that burden his young Sacrifice the way so many other things seem to do? He doesn't know and he doesn't quite care to guess, no when there is no answer to that.
Instead he sighs. “Of course not, Yuiko-chan. It's a good thing to believe.”
*
Ritsuka isn't waiting Soubi but he sort of is. It's weird how this works, how sometimes he's sure that Soubi will be there and yet he doesn't come, and so Ritsuka only half sleeps, waiting for footsteps on his balcony that won't come, how sometimes he actually guesses and he's ready to be angry at him. He's always waiting for Soubi, he thinks, an exhilarating kind of exhaustion that runs bone deep and that Ritsuka finds that he quite possible wouldn't know how to be without any longer.
But still, he's coming back from his bath, his hair still wet when he sees Soubi smoking at his balcony, leaning against the railing, thoughtful and then smiling when he notices him and Ritsuka rushes to open the window, ignoring the cold that makes him shiver for a moment, instead focusing on glaring at Soubi.
“Idiot! What if one of the neighbors had seen you?”
But Soubi just smiles as he takes a last smoke of his cigarette before he presses it against the sole of his shoe, putting the half done cigarette back on the packet, and Ritsuka made a mental note to keep the windows open tomorrow, lest his mom smell the cigarette and think he's the one smoking.
“You're cold,” Soubi says, reaching to touch his damp hair, where the water from his hair has formed wet patches against his shoulders. Ritsuka steps back from the warmth of those fingers, glares as he moves to close the window.
“And whose fault is it?!” and before Soubi can say something stupid about punishment and violence, he crosses his arms, refuses to go and sit down by the bed. “Why are you here?”
“I thought Ritsuka could miss me.”
“As if!” He says, glaring and blushing and hating how Soubi says things like that, hating the fact that it sounds as if he knew that sometimes Ritsuka just sits around and thinks about Soubi, wonders if he's okay, if he's injured, if he should call him or not.
“Should I go?”
... and he hates those questions the most, because he can't answer. Yes, he wants him to leave, forever if possible, and take this stupid confusion with him. No, he doesn't want Soubi to go, not now not ever, because if it was possible Ritsuka would almost like to trust him enough to believe that he'd stay.
So despite it all he moves to the bed and sits down, combs his hand through his hair to try and shake the last of the water and he tries to ignore Soubi's presence in his room, the way he is so aware of the way his heart beats faster with Soubi there. But Soubi, of course, can't let him have that and he moves as well, kneels in front of him so that all of Ritsuka's defenses run over themselves and before he can push himself backwards to keep some room between himself and Soubi, Soubi's hand has captured his right one.
“Soubi! What...!”
“Shh, Ritsuka,” Soubi says gently, his eyes blue and warm and his smile soft. Long, knotted fingers coax his hand open, and then Soubi's calloused fingers are running through the lines of his hand in a feather soft way that makes Ritsuka shiver. His toes curl inwards and he tries not to squirm, but he can feel the way his tail hits his thighs, the bed., and he can hear the way his heart beats wildly against his chest.
“... what are you doing?”
Soubi's smile is different then, soft and almost not there, just a tiny hint of his lips turned upwards, and his eyes are open. It almost looks sad, the way Soubi smiles like this, and Ritsuka aches when Soubi's thumb brushes the bones of his wrist.
“Making sure that Ritsuka has a long life line, of course.”
“Stupid!” Ritsuka calls him, pulling his hand away, glaring, annoyed at it. “What does that have to do with anything?”
He had said something similar to Yuiko, even though he had made her sad. But it's stupid, to try and pretend that something like hands can tell his future, his life. Yuiko had said that he had a long life line, but is it his life? Or is it Ritsuka's life, the Ritsuka mother wants to come back so desperately? He doesn't know and he can't know with something like that, which is what scares him and makes him angry.
And what about the scars? Ritsuka has more than enough scars on both his hands, lines that have faded and some that are still there. Do those count? They should, at least, because they're part of his history, even if they're not natural, even if he wasn't born with it. Papercuts and burns and the times that mom has scrubbed at his hands as if washing him away she could bring her son back.
Soubi is still smiling that soft, almost sad smile. His hand touches his face and Ritsuka does his best not to lean against his hand.
“There are lines that keep us together, Ritsuka. Perhaps not physical ones, but they exist,” Soubi stands up, and leans against him. Ritsuka closes his eyes as tight as possible, but Soubi only presses a kiss to his forehead, leaning for a moment against his head. “Good night.”
It's almost hard to breath but he hears Soubi take the three steps needed to be at the door.
“... Soubi, wait!” he calls, and he runs towards him, takes hold of Soubi's hand with both of his
Ritsuka traces the lines of Soubi's hand, feels himself flush, the way his ears are pressed against his hair. He's not sure what he should be searching for, though, what kind of inherent truth should be hidden on the skin of Soubi's hand, on the lines that run through his palm. Soubi's hand has small scars that will probably disappear sometime soon, not giving Ritsuka time to learn that they were there at all. It's almost as if Soubi would vanish too, if he wasn't careful.
“Ritsuka?”
Before he loses his courage, Ritsuka presses a kiss to Soubi's hand, right at the middle of his palm. He hears the way Soubi's breath catches on his throat, but he doesn't dare to look up to see his expression. He's blushing, can feel the blood rushing to his face.
“Good night!” Ritsuka shrills, hopes that his mother is already asleep as he goes to bed, hiding beneath the covers, praying that the way his heart is thumping against his chest isn't as loud as he thinks it is.
He counts to ten, and Soubi finally moves when he's about to reach 'two'. He's silent, sliding the windows open, closing them behind him. Ritsuka counts to ten again and then he stands up, hides against the curtains to peek outside. Soubi hasn't moved from in front of his house but he's not looking towards his room. No, he's looking at the hand that Ritsuka kissed and Ritsuka can't see his expression despite the fact that suddenly he craves for it, something almost like hunger twisting inside his stomach.
Then, he sees Soubi move his hand, press his own lips to it, exactly to where Ritsuka kissed it. Ritsuka touches his lips carefully as he swallows, as if he could have felt Soubi's kiss like that before he pushes himself away from the window, berating himself from doing stupid things.
*
Soubi smokes, and he paints an almond in full bloom, the tiny white-pink flowers taking most of the canvas, just a hint of brown here and there, tiny bits of a sunset-lit sky between the branches of the tree. There are no butterflies this time, only the five-petal flowers and a violet sky.
He texts Ritsuka: 'I love you, dream of me.' but it's late and he doesn't want to wake Ritsuka up. Instead he smokes, and he touches the unmarked skin where Ritsuka kissed his hand, doesn't dare to touch it and instead he tries to remember how it felt, Ritsuka's breath against his skin, and then his lips burning an invisible mark that only Soubi knows exists there. It's not a Name but he can't dislike this mark Ritsuka has bestowed upon him.
Soubi wonders if Ritsuka sleeps with his hands close to his face, or if he, perhaps, is only sleeping like that today.