Fanfic - Visits - [Loveless: Soubi/Ritsuka]
Fandom: Loveless
Pairing: Soubi/Ritsuka
Rating: PG-13?
Warnings: Vague mentions of domestic violence, but not more than the show does. Haven't checked this over yet for errors, since I was supposed to be offline... five minutes ago [ack], so let me know if you spot any!
Dedicated to moffit, because she was the one who asked me for a Soubi/Ritsuka. Not exactly what you had in mind, I don't think, and it turned out more angst than fluff, but meh. Hope you like, daddy. =D
Visits
The first time it had happened, Soubi had knocked. It hadn’t, however, been the knock that had gained his attention; it was the way the feel of the whole room had changed. How the air had become suddenly thicker, intangibly heavier with a familiar scent. He hadn’t even needed the brief tap, really. He was in fact, looking up even before the sound came, knowing somehow who was at the window.
Nothing that Ritsuka said ever convinced Soubi that visiting him at night was completely unnecessary. Most of the time it wasn’t really needed. Soubi simply wanted to see Ritsuka, and that was all there was to it. There were even those few times when Soubi came at an utterly unreasonable hour, when Ritsuka was fast asleep and couldn’t have let him in.
Sometimes, Soubi thought he came at these unearthly hours because of that. Then he got to lean against the glass and just look at Ritsuka. And there was no one to tell him to leave.
But then there were those times when Soubi would be in his apartment with Kio, trying to figure out how to rush a painting that he’d been given two weeks for in two hours, and he’d suddenly feel a kind of sharp, stabbing pain in his head. And Kio’s accusatory complaints would fade into the background, distant blurry noise and he’d find himself rising without even thinking about it, barely remembering to grab his coat on his way out the door and Kio’s words would peter out into surprised silence. Those were the times he’d arrive to find the window already open and Ritsuka in his room crying. Sitting at his desk, or balled up on the bed and once, crouching by the window and waiting. And always, always with blood on his face and his eyes wide open and tears streaming down his cheeks silently.
Those were the times when he would ask Ritsuka again, even though he knew what the answer would be, whether he wanted to get rid of his mother. And when the answer came in the negative, he would wrap his arms around Ritsuka and bring him to his bed; clean up his wounds and bandage them, then rock him into an uneasy sleep. When Ritsuka had finally settled, Soubi would stand, wonder briefly if he should disobey Ritsuka, and then leave the way he had entered, pondering how he could finish his assignment in negative two hours.
When Ritsuka awoke the next morning, bleary-eyed and hand automatically springing out to silence a noisy alarm clock, he only remembered some of what had transpired. What had set his mother off was something he invariably forgot. What happened after he remembered in bits and pieces - running up to his room, locking the door, opening the window, waiting… and an odd warmth, and after that darkness. But even if he couldn’t remember, he still knew, especially when Soubi would come to pick him up from school and his eyes were so unusually intense that he would forget about his questions, just for that day. He always knew, and those were the days when he’d ask Soubi to take some pictures with him again. To make some memories. And he’d leave the window open again that night, but Soubi wouldn’t come because he wouldn’t have felt the stabbing pain and he had his own assignments to finish, and Ritsuka would eventually fall asleep at his desk, a small smile on his face and his phone clutched in a gradually loosening fist.
Those times, those nights, were the reason why Ritsuka let the midnight visits from Soubi continue. Why he never said anything to Soubi, but continued to feign sleep, allowing the older man to simply look at him for a while. It made him uncomfortable sometimes, but he allowed it because it was something he could do for Soubi.
Ritsuka wondered, often, if Soubi would ever learn that he never locked his window anymore.
~fin
Pairing: Soubi/Ritsuka
Rating: PG-13?
Warnings: Vague mentions of domestic violence, but not more than the show does. Haven't checked this over yet for errors, since I was supposed to be offline... five minutes ago [ack], so let me know if you spot any!
Dedicated to moffit, because she was the one who asked me for a Soubi/Ritsuka. Not exactly what you had in mind, I don't think, and it turned out more angst than fluff, but meh. Hope you like, daddy. =D
Visits
The first time it had happened, Soubi had knocked. It hadn’t, however, been the knock that had gained his attention; it was the way the feel of the whole room had changed. How the air had become suddenly thicker, intangibly heavier with a familiar scent. He hadn’t even needed the brief tap, really. He was in fact, looking up even before the sound came, knowing somehow who was at the window.
Nothing that Ritsuka said ever convinced Soubi that visiting him at night was completely unnecessary. Most of the time it wasn’t really needed. Soubi simply wanted to see Ritsuka, and that was all there was to it. There were even those few times when Soubi came at an utterly unreasonable hour, when Ritsuka was fast asleep and couldn’t have let him in.
Sometimes, Soubi thought he came at these unearthly hours because of that. Then he got to lean against the glass and just look at Ritsuka. And there was no one to tell him to leave.
But then there were those times when Soubi would be in his apartment with Kio, trying to figure out how to rush a painting that he’d been given two weeks for in two hours, and he’d suddenly feel a kind of sharp, stabbing pain in his head. And Kio’s accusatory complaints would fade into the background, distant blurry noise and he’d find himself rising without even thinking about it, barely remembering to grab his coat on his way out the door and Kio’s words would peter out into surprised silence. Those were the times he’d arrive to find the window already open and Ritsuka in his room crying. Sitting at his desk, or balled up on the bed and once, crouching by the window and waiting. And always, always with blood on his face and his eyes wide open and tears streaming down his cheeks silently.
Those were the times when he would ask Ritsuka again, even though he knew what the answer would be, whether he wanted to get rid of his mother. And when the answer came in the negative, he would wrap his arms around Ritsuka and bring him to his bed; clean up his wounds and bandage them, then rock him into an uneasy sleep. When Ritsuka had finally settled, Soubi would stand, wonder briefly if he should disobey Ritsuka, and then leave the way he had entered, pondering how he could finish his assignment in negative two hours.
When Ritsuka awoke the next morning, bleary-eyed and hand automatically springing out to silence a noisy alarm clock, he only remembered some of what had transpired. What had set his mother off was something he invariably forgot. What happened after he remembered in bits and pieces - running up to his room, locking the door, opening the window, waiting… and an odd warmth, and after that darkness. But even if he couldn’t remember, he still knew, especially when Soubi would come to pick him up from school and his eyes were so unusually intense that he would forget about his questions, just for that day. He always knew, and those were the days when he’d ask Soubi to take some pictures with him again. To make some memories. And he’d leave the window open again that night, but Soubi wouldn’t come because he wouldn’t have felt the stabbing pain and he had his own assignments to finish, and Ritsuka would eventually fall asleep at his desk, a small smile on his face and his phone clutched in a gradually loosening fist.
Those times, those nights, were the reason why Ritsuka let the midnight visits from Soubi continue. Why he never said anything to Soubi, but continued to feign sleep, allowing the older man to simply look at him for a while. It made him uncomfortable sometimes, but he allowed it because it was something he could do for Soubi.
Ritsuka wondered, often, if Soubi would ever learn that he never locked his window anymore.
~fin