No Strings Attached [Tokyo Babylon, X/1999]
Title: No Strings Attached
Fandom: Tokyo Babylon and X/1999
Characters: Subaru/OMC
Rating: R
Warnings: Not-quite explicit depiction of m/m sex
Word Count: c. 3,000
A/N: For the springkink prompt Tokyo Babylon, Subaru/OMC: first time - "I don't even see your face."
Summary: A casual offer opens up possibilities Subaru can't let himself consider.
September 1997
When Subaru was told about the job, he didn't think much of it. A simple haunting, in an old, quiet neighborhood a little ways east of Tokyo. Of course, seemingly simple jobs could sometimes be anything but.
There were buildings in Yanaka that had been there since the seventeenth century, but the small apartment block he had been called to was no more than twenty years old, at best guess. Subaru looked up at the structure from across the street, re-evaluating his strategy. Old ghosts could be tricky to get rid of due to the sheer weight of history pinning them in place. New ones? New ones tended to be angrier.
Subaru finished his cigarette, then headed across the street and up to the second floor.
To his surprise, he couldn't feel any presence at the apartment number he had been given, but he rang the buzzer anyway.
A few minutes later he rang it again.
He was about to go find a phone to go and call back to the estate to make sure he had been given the right address when someone cheerfully called out from down below.
"Hey! You here about the ghost?"
Subaru peered over the railing. "Yes. I'm Sumeragi Subaru. I--"
A young man with a very full laundry basket and a puckish grin looked up at him. "I'm Kunieda Masaru. I called you guys a couple days ago. 'Bout time you showed up." Then, he shook his head and laughed. "Damn, you're a lot younger than I thought you'd be."
Subaru cracked a half-smile at him. The comments about his age grew fewer and further between with each year, but he still got them from time to time. They were hardly unexpected.
This time, though, the comment didn't sound in any way dubious. If anything, Kunieda's surprise sounded... pleased.
"I'll be right up, and I'll fill you in on the sitch. 'Kay?"
He took the stairs two at a time, and when he got to the door, thrust the laundry basket for Subaru to hold while he got the door unlocked.
"Let's just drop that off, and I'll take you around to the Apartment o' Doom."
Kunieda dropped the basket inside, pushing it with his foot until it was clear of the door. It tipped over, spilling clean laundry over the tatami mats. From what little Subaru could see of the interior, it was exuberantly cluttered. There were splashes of color everywhere, and while he couldn't tell what they were before Kunieda closed the door, something about them caused a tightness in Subaru's chest.
He was used to such sudden spasms of grief, and he knew better than to look at them too closely anymore.
"So, this ghost..."
Kunieda gave him a puzzled look, head tilted to the side like a dog listening to a high-pitched sound, then laughed and shrugged. "Gloomy, aren't you? Guess it goes with the job or something."
Or something. Subaru smiled wryly and followed Kunieda along the balcony to the far end of the apartment block. Normally, Subaru would be checking on his surroundings for any unpleasant surprises, but something about Kunieda drew his attention. Spiky brown hair that still bore traces of bleached-orange at the tips. A purple and green rugby shirt that was two sizes too big. Paint-spattered jeans. A way of walking that was one step away from a strut. He spoke quickly, hands cutting the air as he spoke.
"The apartment's been haunted for years. Suicide, my gran said--I took over this place a couple years back, in case you were wondering--and since then you got shit flying off shelves, doors slamming, faucets turning on, stuff getting broken. I guess that's usual? Right?"
"I don't think there is a usual in this job." Subaru almost didn't recognize his own voice, or the faint laughter that threatened to escape.
"Good point, good point." Kunieda jabbed his forefinger in the air as if keeping score.
He opened the door to the apartment, and Subaru felt the ghost's anger at once. Kunieda seemed a little subdued as he walked in, and although they had known each other for maybe five minutes, Subaru found it unsettling and atypical.
"What do you think triggered her?" he asked.
That got a faint smile from the other man. It was more reassuring than it should have been. "Figures you'd know it was a her. Anyhow, an engaged couple moved in." He shrugged. "Turns out this one in here," he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder towards the bathroom, "got dumped by her childhood sweetheart. Slit her wrists in the tub. Note on the fridge said he betrayed her, but he says there wasn't ever anything between them. According to him, it was all in her--hey, you okay?"
When Subaru opened his eyes, the past faded away, and Kunieda was peering at him again, curious and concerned.
"I'm fine. It's... well, it's a common story, I'm afraid." He smiled, but it was mostly forced. "It doesn't get any easier in the telling. Or the hearing."
Kunieda studied him for a moment in silence. It was a strangely active silence, with lots of thinking going on in the background, and an air of vibrant seriousness that piqued Subaru's curiosity.
"Guess you see a lot, in your business." Kunieda spoke more slowly than before, pulling together any number of conclusions as he did so.
Subaru knelt down and got out his kit, deciding that he would rather try to force an exorcism than attempt to talk the ghost into leaving of her own volition. That would take more effort than he was willing to expend today. "Oh, I could tell you stories."
He didn't normally engage in unnecessary small talk. So why today?
He had just about dismissed the thought when Kunieda laughed.
"I'll take you up on that. I bet you've got some doozies."
Subaru nearly dropped the matches. But when he picked them up, he smiled and shook his head as Kunieda hid a laugh behind a cough.
The exorcism went smoothly enough. The ghost didn't want to leave, of course, didn't want to let go. But Subaru was good at what he did, and sent her away before she could air her protests or dig herself in any deeper. It was kinder that way, he told himself. If she was that angry--and she was--telling would be no catharsis, only a spilling of poison. Better to put her and her pain where they would be dissolved than to let it contaminate anyone or anything else.
Subaru had told Kunieda he could wait outside, but didn't go so far as to order it. He did say that Kunieda had to remain quiet, and out of the way, no matter what happened. Surprisingly enough, he did. Kunieda sat in a corner, legs bent and tucked up to his chest, chin resting on his knees as he watched, enthralled. He seemed apprehensive, but not scared, each time Subaru snuck a peek out of the corner of his eye.
Only once, there was a quick hiss of breath as Subaru cut the ghost off mid-rant.
"Wow." Once the ghostly mist had cleared and the apartment grew lighter, that was all Kunieda had to say. When Subaru caught his breath, and rolled back off his knees into a more comfortable sitting position, Kunieda just shook his head and gave a half smile.
"Are you all right, Kunieda-san?"
"Ah, call me Masaru. That was..." he chuckled softly and rolled his eyes a little. "I'd say it was 'cool,' but it was also kind of sad, you know?"
Subaru found himself smiling slightly, unforced and unasked-for. "I know."
"Think she'll be okay, wherever she went?" From the way Kuni--Masaru looked up, one would have thought that the ghost had disappeared into the smoke alarm.
"I don't know. I hope so."
Masaru studied him again, and something about the way his head was tilted and his tongue poked out slightly between his teeth told Subaru that he was trying very hard not to say something.
In the end, he rolled forward and stood up smoothly, then clapped Subaru on the shoulder. "C'mon pal. You look like you could use a drink."
The usual excuses came quickly to mind, but it proved easier to say "sure" and follow Masaru out of the room than to do anything else.
"I really lucked out, you know? I look after the place for my gran, and in return, I get free rent and a place to work."
Subaru sat on a worn denim cushion in Masaru's apartment, and looked around in wonder at the various canvases propped here, there, and everywhere, anyplace there was room among the mish-mash of furniture and gaudy floor pillows. The canvases were all abstracts, in colors normally only found in candy. Here and there, bright scraps of patterned fabric had been shellacked to the canvas, with the paint spilling over and around them.
"It's got great light." Subaru lifted the beer bottle to his mouth and took a small sip. Normally, he abstained, but ever since... well, for a while now, he had found that some indulgence only served to sharpen him. Something was shifting, and he didn't know what.
His eyes lit on one scrap of fabric that covered half of a large canvas. It was roughly triangular, black and red stripes shot through with gold thread. Daubs of pale but shocking pink covered one end entirely and scattered over the rest of the fabric.
"Is that supposed to be something?" he asked, wary.
Masaru looked at the painting in question, narrowing his eyes and scrutinizing it between sips of beer. He was on his second. He studied the thing as if he hadn't seen it before. "Dunno. I don't think about that sort of thing as I work. It is what it is. I guess it's whatever you see in it."
"The fabric reminds me of my--of a skirt my sister made. Once. A long time ago."
"Hmm." Masaru didn't say any more. He did, however, bring Subaru another beer. He sat down right next to Subaru as if it meant nothing in the world. His warmth was startling.
"Guess it shouldn't surprise me, but this job of yours--it can fuck you up pretty good, can't it?"
Subaru was very lucky he had already swallowed his mouthful of beer. His first instinct was to wonder what kind of game Masaru was playing, but he wasn't sure if this was a game, or just a case of the other man doing and saying whatever came to mind, when it came to mind.
He wasn't...
This wasn't like...
A face, a time, another life pressed up against Subaru's memory, but he'd had too much to drink and all the bright colors and gaudy patterns glowed in the late afternoon light and wouldn't let him look any further than here and now.
"Kunieda--I'm sorry, Masaru-san..." Subaru put his beer down with deliberate care, then shifted to face the other man. "I'm not very good at this, but what do you, I mean... what are you...?"
Masaru blinked, and then his face crinkled in the impish grin that was so much a part of him. "Want? Well, you're pretty damn hot, for one thing, so I want that." He let out a long, loud belly laugh at Subaru's stunned expression. "Hey, I'm not proposing marriage or anything, and no hard feelings if it's not your sort of thing, right?"
Subaru could have said 'no, it isn't' right then, and Masaru probably would have put the idea aside with a 'my bad--so, how about another beer before you have to catch your train?'
"But if I'm reading you right, I think that maybe it is your sort of thing? And like I said, it's no strings attached. It just is what it is."
Subaru didn't say anything, and he didn't protest when Masaru hooked an arm around his neck and kissed him hard.
Subaru eventually got the hang of kissing back. When he'd stammered out that he had never done this, any of this before (and when was the last time he stammered, anyway?), Masaru simply said that there had to be a first time for everything and then proceeded to give Subaru his very first blow job.
Later, he would revisit the moment and looking down and seeing that orange-tipped hair, and the mischievous look that Masaru flicked up at him.
It took him about twenty minutes before he could finally return the favor. Masaru told him it was cool, 'cause hey--this is new to you and it's supposed to be fun and hands work just fine, but Subaru still found he wanted to try.
It wasn't as easy as he thought, but Masaru seemed to enjoy himself well enough, and Subaru found he enjoyed the feeling of Masaru's hands (artist's hands) twining through his hair and encouraging him and petting him.
He had forgotten what it felt like to be close to someone. To trust and to be trusted. It felt good.
Still, a few hours later, after they had proven that yes, hands did work just fine, Subaru lay beside Masaru on his futon, staring at the ceiling as the other man slept.
To say he had not expected this job to end in this way would be an understatement to say the least. Subaru didn't exactly regret it, but he didn't know what to make of it, either.
It was nice, being here like this, with a man who didn't want anything but some fun and some mutual pleasure. A man who had simply shrugged and moved on after Subaru had brushed a curious finger away from the pentacles on the backs of his hands. He wondered what it would be like to wake up in a room where brightly colored canvases leaned against each other and reminded him of other times and the way things might have been.
He wondered if Hokuto would have liked Masaru, and discovering that he could no longer say for sure whether or not she would was enough to bring the tightness back to his chest.
He wondered what story the ghost would have told if he'd let her.
Masaru rolled over, accidentally kicking him in the leg. A hand wound up on Subaru's chest, not possessively, but gently curled and weighing hardly anything at all.
Hokuto would probably like Masaru's paintings, Subaru decided, and he wasn't sure if that made things better or worse. It was too easy to imagine her in here, trying to boss him around, telling him to use this color and not that one. It played out only a little differently if she liked Masaru or if she didn't.
There was someone else to think of, too. Someone who didn't fit into this bright and cozy picture at all.
Subaru tried, though. He tried to imagine looking down and seeing a mocking gaze instead of a mischievous one, carefully styled dark hair instead of wild, orange-tipped spikes.
He couldn't.
He should have been able to, but he couldn't imagine something he knew would never happen, and he had to get out, he had to get out of there.
Quietly and with all due courtesy, he slid out from beneath Masaru's hand. Masaru opened one eye.
"Gotta go, huh?"
"Yes. Sorry."
"Mmmm." No regret. Just a smug, sleepy smile.
Subaru wasn't sure what he was supposed to do next, other than doing a quick cleanup in the washroom and getting dressed.
In the end, he settled for a brief 'thank you,' and was rewarded with a satisfied chuckle and a 'take care of yourself, okay?'
No strings attached. Just as promised.
Subaru paused for a moment, hand on the door. There had to be some catch. Something that would keep him here and tie him to this honest, cheerful man. It couldn't be this easy, could it?
There had to be a catch. There was always a catch.
But no matter how hard he looked, he couldn't find one. He could only see the absence of someone. Someone he had to find, no matter what. No matter what he left behind.
He walked through the door and headed back to Tokyo proper without looking back.
The next year passed slowly. Subaru suspected the next one would pass in much the same way.
It wasn't as if he had much to do, outside of his job. Outside of searching.
Down time was spent in whatever apartment he had at the time. He never spent time enough in any of them to think of them as 'home.' He kept them painfully uncluttered, with only a bed and maybe a desk for furniture. The walls were always left bare and white.
Against a blank canvas, it was easier for him to imagine who he wanted to imagine. And if he dreamed of bright colors and brighter laughter, it was easy enough to forget those dreams by morning.
He never brought anyone back to these empty apartments. The answering machine was company enough. Messages were erased as soon as they were listened to, including the one inviting him to an art exhibition and drinks after. He took what he needed from the messages, and afterwards, the words were gone as if they had never been spoken.
It was easier this way, with no one to hold on to him, no things to tie him down.
No strings other than the ones that had been tied to the back of his hands all those years ago.
They held him tight, but they were all that held him and the only thing he would hang onto in return.
Fandom: Tokyo Babylon and X/1999
Characters: Subaru/OMC
Rating: R
Warnings: Not-quite explicit depiction of m/m sex
Word Count: c. 3,000
A/N: For the springkink prompt Tokyo Babylon, Subaru/OMC: first time - "I don't even see your face."
Summary: A casual offer opens up possibilities Subaru can't let himself consider.
September 1997
When Subaru was told about the job, he didn't think much of it. A simple haunting, in an old, quiet neighborhood a little ways east of Tokyo. Of course, seemingly simple jobs could sometimes be anything but.
There were buildings in Yanaka that had been there since the seventeenth century, but the small apartment block he had been called to was no more than twenty years old, at best guess. Subaru looked up at the structure from across the street, re-evaluating his strategy. Old ghosts could be tricky to get rid of due to the sheer weight of history pinning them in place. New ones? New ones tended to be angrier.
Subaru finished his cigarette, then headed across the street and up to the second floor.
To his surprise, he couldn't feel any presence at the apartment number he had been given, but he rang the buzzer anyway.
A few minutes later he rang it again.
He was about to go find a phone to go and call back to the estate to make sure he had been given the right address when someone cheerfully called out from down below.
"Hey! You here about the ghost?"
Subaru peered over the railing. "Yes. I'm Sumeragi Subaru. I--"
A young man with a very full laundry basket and a puckish grin looked up at him. "I'm Kunieda Masaru. I called you guys a couple days ago. 'Bout time you showed up." Then, he shook his head and laughed. "Damn, you're a lot younger than I thought you'd be."
Subaru cracked a half-smile at him. The comments about his age grew fewer and further between with each year, but he still got them from time to time. They were hardly unexpected.
This time, though, the comment didn't sound in any way dubious. If anything, Kunieda's surprise sounded... pleased.
"I'll be right up, and I'll fill you in on the sitch. 'Kay?"
He took the stairs two at a time, and when he got to the door, thrust the laundry basket for Subaru to hold while he got the door unlocked.
"Let's just drop that off, and I'll take you around to the Apartment o' Doom."
Kunieda dropped the basket inside, pushing it with his foot until it was clear of the door. It tipped over, spilling clean laundry over the tatami mats. From what little Subaru could see of the interior, it was exuberantly cluttered. There were splashes of color everywhere, and while he couldn't tell what they were before Kunieda closed the door, something about them caused a tightness in Subaru's chest.
He was used to such sudden spasms of grief, and he knew better than to look at them too closely anymore.
"So, this ghost..."
Kunieda gave him a puzzled look, head tilted to the side like a dog listening to a high-pitched sound, then laughed and shrugged. "Gloomy, aren't you? Guess it goes with the job or something."
Or something. Subaru smiled wryly and followed Kunieda along the balcony to the far end of the apartment block. Normally, Subaru would be checking on his surroundings for any unpleasant surprises, but something about Kunieda drew his attention. Spiky brown hair that still bore traces of bleached-orange at the tips. A purple and green rugby shirt that was two sizes too big. Paint-spattered jeans. A way of walking that was one step away from a strut. He spoke quickly, hands cutting the air as he spoke.
"The apartment's been haunted for years. Suicide, my gran said--I took over this place a couple years back, in case you were wondering--and since then you got shit flying off shelves, doors slamming, faucets turning on, stuff getting broken. I guess that's usual? Right?"
"I don't think there is a usual in this job." Subaru almost didn't recognize his own voice, or the faint laughter that threatened to escape.
"Good point, good point." Kunieda jabbed his forefinger in the air as if keeping score.
He opened the door to the apartment, and Subaru felt the ghost's anger at once. Kunieda seemed a little subdued as he walked in, and although they had known each other for maybe five minutes, Subaru found it unsettling and atypical.
"What do you think triggered her?" he asked.
That got a faint smile from the other man. It was more reassuring than it should have been. "Figures you'd know it was a her. Anyhow, an engaged couple moved in." He shrugged. "Turns out this one in here," he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder towards the bathroom, "got dumped by her childhood sweetheart. Slit her wrists in the tub. Note on the fridge said he betrayed her, but he says there wasn't ever anything between them. According to him, it was all in her--hey, you okay?"
When Subaru opened his eyes, the past faded away, and Kunieda was peering at him again, curious and concerned.
"I'm fine. It's... well, it's a common story, I'm afraid." He smiled, but it was mostly forced. "It doesn't get any easier in the telling. Or the hearing."
Kunieda studied him for a moment in silence. It was a strangely active silence, with lots of thinking going on in the background, and an air of vibrant seriousness that piqued Subaru's curiosity.
"Guess you see a lot, in your business." Kunieda spoke more slowly than before, pulling together any number of conclusions as he did so.
Subaru knelt down and got out his kit, deciding that he would rather try to force an exorcism than attempt to talk the ghost into leaving of her own volition. That would take more effort than he was willing to expend today. "Oh, I could tell you stories."
He didn't normally engage in unnecessary small talk. So why today?
He had just about dismissed the thought when Kunieda laughed.
"I'll take you up on that. I bet you've got some doozies."
Subaru nearly dropped the matches. But when he picked them up, he smiled and shook his head as Kunieda hid a laugh behind a cough.
The exorcism went smoothly enough. The ghost didn't want to leave, of course, didn't want to let go. But Subaru was good at what he did, and sent her away before she could air her protests or dig herself in any deeper. It was kinder that way, he told himself. If she was that angry--and she was--telling would be no catharsis, only a spilling of poison. Better to put her and her pain where they would be dissolved than to let it contaminate anyone or anything else.
Subaru had told Kunieda he could wait outside, but didn't go so far as to order it. He did say that Kunieda had to remain quiet, and out of the way, no matter what happened. Surprisingly enough, he did. Kunieda sat in a corner, legs bent and tucked up to his chest, chin resting on his knees as he watched, enthralled. He seemed apprehensive, but not scared, each time Subaru snuck a peek out of the corner of his eye.
Only once, there was a quick hiss of breath as Subaru cut the ghost off mid-rant.
"Wow." Once the ghostly mist had cleared and the apartment grew lighter, that was all Kunieda had to say. When Subaru caught his breath, and rolled back off his knees into a more comfortable sitting position, Kunieda just shook his head and gave a half smile.
"Are you all right, Kunieda-san?"
"Ah, call me Masaru. That was..." he chuckled softly and rolled his eyes a little. "I'd say it was 'cool,' but it was also kind of sad, you know?"
Subaru found himself smiling slightly, unforced and unasked-for. "I know."
"Think she'll be okay, wherever she went?" From the way Kuni--Masaru looked up, one would have thought that the ghost had disappeared into the smoke alarm.
"I don't know. I hope so."
Masaru studied him again, and something about the way his head was tilted and his tongue poked out slightly between his teeth told Subaru that he was trying very hard not to say something.
In the end, he rolled forward and stood up smoothly, then clapped Subaru on the shoulder. "C'mon pal. You look like you could use a drink."
The usual excuses came quickly to mind, but it proved easier to say "sure" and follow Masaru out of the room than to do anything else.
"I really lucked out, you know? I look after the place for my gran, and in return, I get free rent and a place to work."
Subaru sat on a worn denim cushion in Masaru's apartment, and looked around in wonder at the various canvases propped here, there, and everywhere, anyplace there was room among the mish-mash of furniture and gaudy floor pillows. The canvases were all abstracts, in colors normally only found in candy. Here and there, bright scraps of patterned fabric had been shellacked to the canvas, with the paint spilling over and around them.
"It's got great light." Subaru lifted the beer bottle to his mouth and took a small sip. Normally, he abstained, but ever since... well, for a while now, he had found that some indulgence only served to sharpen him. Something was shifting, and he didn't know what.
His eyes lit on one scrap of fabric that covered half of a large canvas. It was roughly triangular, black and red stripes shot through with gold thread. Daubs of pale but shocking pink covered one end entirely and scattered over the rest of the fabric.
"Is that supposed to be something?" he asked, wary.
Masaru looked at the painting in question, narrowing his eyes and scrutinizing it between sips of beer. He was on his second. He studied the thing as if he hadn't seen it before. "Dunno. I don't think about that sort of thing as I work. It is what it is. I guess it's whatever you see in it."
"The fabric reminds me of my--of a skirt my sister made. Once. A long time ago."
"Hmm." Masaru didn't say any more. He did, however, bring Subaru another beer. He sat down right next to Subaru as if it meant nothing in the world. His warmth was startling.
"Guess it shouldn't surprise me, but this job of yours--it can fuck you up pretty good, can't it?"
Subaru was very lucky he had already swallowed his mouthful of beer. His first instinct was to wonder what kind of game Masaru was playing, but he wasn't sure if this was a game, or just a case of the other man doing and saying whatever came to mind, when it came to mind.
He wasn't...
This wasn't like...
A face, a time, another life pressed up against Subaru's memory, but he'd had too much to drink and all the bright colors and gaudy patterns glowed in the late afternoon light and wouldn't let him look any further than here and now.
"Kunieda--I'm sorry, Masaru-san..." Subaru put his beer down with deliberate care, then shifted to face the other man. "I'm not very good at this, but what do you, I mean... what are you...?"
Masaru blinked, and then his face crinkled in the impish grin that was so much a part of him. "Want? Well, you're pretty damn hot, for one thing, so I want that." He let out a long, loud belly laugh at Subaru's stunned expression. "Hey, I'm not proposing marriage or anything, and no hard feelings if it's not your sort of thing, right?"
Subaru could have said 'no, it isn't' right then, and Masaru probably would have put the idea aside with a 'my bad--so, how about another beer before you have to catch your train?'
"But if I'm reading you right, I think that maybe it is your sort of thing? And like I said, it's no strings attached. It just is what it is."
Subaru didn't say anything, and he didn't protest when Masaru hooked an arm around his neck and kissed him hard.
Subaru eventually got the hang of kissing back. When he'd stammered out that he had never done this, any of this before (and when was the last time he stammered, anyway?), Masaru simply said that there had to be a first time for everything and then proceeded to give Subaru his very first blow job.
Later, he would revisit the moment and looking down and seeing that orange-tipped hair, and the mischievous look that Masaru flicked up at him.
It took him about twenty minutes before he could finally return the favor. Masaru told him it was cool, 'cause hey--this is new to you and it's supposed to be fun and hands work just fine, but Subaru still found he wanted to try.
It wasn't as easy as he thought, but Masaru seemed to enjoy himself well enough, and Subaru found he enjoyed the feeling of Masaru's hands (artist's hands) twining through his hair and encouraging him and petting him.
He had forgotten what it felt like to be close to someone. To trust and to be trusted. It felt good.
Still, a few hours later, after they had proven that yes, hands did work just fine, Subaru lay beside Masaru on his futon, staring at the ceiling as the other man slept.
To say he had not expected this job to end in this way would be an understatement to say the least. Subaru didn't exactly regret it, but he didn't know what to make of it, either.
It was nice, being here like this, with a man who didn't want anything but some fun and some mutual pleasure. A man who had simply shrugged and moved on after Subaru had brushed a curious finger away from the pentacles on the backs of his hands. He wondered what it would be like to wake up in a room where brightly colored canvases leaned against each other and reminded him of other times and the way things might have been.
He wondered if Hokuto would have liked Masaru, and discovering that he could no longer say for sure whether or not she would was enough to bring the tightness back to his chest.
He wondered what story the ghost would have told if he'd let her.
Masaru rolled over, accidentally kicking him in the leg. A hand wound up on Subaru's chest, not possessively, but gently curled and weighing hardly anything at all.
Hokuto would probably like Masaru's paintings, Subaru decided, and he wasn't sure if that made things better or worse. It was too easy to imagine her in here, trying to boss him around, telling him to use this color and not that one. It played out only a little differently if she liked Masaru or if she didn't.
There was someone else to think of, too. Someone who didn't fit into this bright and cozy picture at all.
Subaru tried, though. He tried to imagine looking down and seeing a mocking gaze instead of a mischievous one, carefully styled dark hair instead of wild, orange-tipped spikes.
He couldn't.
He should have been able to, but he couldn't imagine something he knew would never happen, and he had to get out, he had to get out of there.
Quietly and with all due courtesy, he slid out from beneath Masaru's hand. Masaru opened one eye.
"Gotta go, huh?"
"Yes. Sorry."
"Mmmm." No regret. Just a smug, sleepy smile.
Subaru wasn't sure what he was supposed to do next, other than doing a quick cleanup in the washroom and getting dressed.
In the end, he settled for a brief 'thank you,' and was rewarded with a satisfied chuckle and a 'take care of yourself, okay?'
No strings attached. Just as promised.
Subaru paused for a moment, hand on the door. There had to be some catch. Something that would keep him here and tie him to this honest, cheerful man. It couldn't be this easy, could it?
There had to be a catch. There was always a catch.
But no matter how hard he looked, he couldn't find one. He could only see the absence of someone. Someone he had to find, no matter what. No matter what he left behind.
He walked through the door and headed back to Tokyo proper without looking back.
The next year passed slowly. Subaru suspected the next one would pass in much the same way.
It wasn't as if he had much to do, outside of his job. Outside of searching.
Down time was spent in whatever apartment he had at the time. He never spent time enough in any of them to think of them as 'home.' He kept them painfully uncluttered, with only a bed and maybe a desk for furniture. The walls were always left bare and white.
Against a blank canvas, it was easier for him to imagine who he wanted to imagine. And if he dreamed of bright colors and brighter laughter, it was easy enough to forget those dreams by morning.
He never brought anyone back to these empty apartments. The answering machine was company enough. Messages were erased as soon as they were listened to, including the one inviting him to an art exhibition and drinks after. He took what he needed from the messages, and afterwards, the words were gone as if they had never been spoken.
It was easier this way, with no one to hold on to him, no things to tie him down.
No strings other than the ones that had been tied to the back of his hands all those years ago.
They held him tight, but they were all that held him and the only thing he would hang onto in return.