log; complete

[notyourmessiah]

+ When: 26 June, afternoon.
+ Where: Fuuma's residence.
+ Who: Shirou Kamui (notagirldamnit), Monou Fuuma (notyourmessiah).
+ Summary:


Confusion had been Kamui's prevalent emotion upon arriving in this place, especially considering he was just moments away from being killed back home. He'd thought he was dead at first, but... Fuuma was here, too, so that couldn't be the case. Unless Fuuma had offed himself, which Kamui would be extremely pissed at him for. Either way, he wanted to go see his twin star; to get answers and just to make sure he was alright in this strange place. Not that... Fuuma wouldn't be, but whatever.

Only problem was that... he didn't exactly know how to get around, and while the internet located in this place was able to get him directions to the address Fuuma had provided, there was a small problem of... well, car? Kamui had never driven before; didn't need to in Tokyo. Sure, he knew the basics by watching adults do it when he was younger, but... he'd never tried. Couldn't be too hard, right?

Or so he thought. "Oh shit!" he accidently slammed on his breaks as he pulled up to Fuuma's place, trying to park along the street, but not having the feel of acceleration and breaking yet to do it proper. Instead he just ran up onto the curb, accidently hitting the house's mailbox, almost knocking it over, but not quite. "Uh..." he blinked with wide eyes, frozen, for a moment before putting it in reverse, pulling off the curb, and deciding to just let the damned thing stay parked crooked.

He had had a sense that his twin star was in the same place he was. And yet, Fuuma had felt it wiser to allow Kamui to come to him instead of the other way around. This place - well, how did he manage to get here? The gods (self-proclaimed, anyhow) had explained it rather poorly. Just snatched up because one "looked tasty"? It made a person wonder - it seemed like a bad inside joke.

His thought, interrupted, when a crash was heard from outside. So things weren't quite that peaceful in this place, after all. It was beginning to sound like home, really. He smiled wryly at the thought as he rose to look through the curtained window. Someone had parked rather crookedly in front of the house. Someone that looked - felt - familiar. So he still was so willing, eager, perhaps even naive. So be it.

Kamui didn't know he was being watched; if he had, he probably wouldn't have gotten out of his car to kick it (dent number two, and he'd only had it a few hours) and yell at it. Stupid machine. It should be able to drive himself, damn it! Nevermind that it was... a piece of shit, in the first place. Mis-coloured, a little rusted, and probably almost as old as he was. Why couldn't he have gotten one of the cooler cars he'd seen in some driveways?

Gingerly, he approached the house's door, checking the house number with the piece of paper he'd written the address on, before knocking. And then taking a few good steps back. It wouldn't do if Fuuma still somehow had his Shinken, and thus would run him through first thing.

The knock. Funny how someone could tell who it was just by the knock. Fuuma knew - Kamui's knock was shallow, not intrusive. And, well, it also helped that Fuuma could sense the other's aura. Oh, yes, he knew.

When he opened the door, he leaned on the doorjamb with a cryptic smile. "How may I assist you in your Apocalyptic needs?" he replied with the friendliness of a store clerk. May as well bring some levity to the meeting. Kamui wished it so, at least this time around.

Kamui stared at him flatly, annoyed with such an introduction, before he matter-of-factly pointed to the object he'd hit, "I killed your mailbox." Because, obviously, the fact it was leaning at a near sixty degree angle didn't hint at that fact.

"You..." he looked away a little, temperment changing as it was apt to do, worried a little now since one question had been on his mind since finding out Fuuma was here, "you're not dead, right? I mean, you weren't killed or anything, and we both ended up in hell, and..." Fuuma had to be alive. Had to be, no matter what.

Fuuma blinked a bit. Those odd fluctuation in moods. He knew them still, but always a little amusing. No matter, he had a rather important matter to bring disambiguity to. And he knew that if he didn't answer the question, Kamui would surely die. Heh.

"Heartbeat," he replied after a moment, before smiling once more with the likeness of a cheshire cat. "But dead, alive, how can that be proven?" He had given much thought to it all - could it have been possible for this to be an afterlife? But what did that matter? Well, to some, a lot. Not much to him, really.

Kamui blinked, and decided he didn't want to think on that too much. Was a rhetorical question, anyway. Instead, he reached out his hand, touching Fuuma's chest over his heart, visible calming when he felt it beating evenly. "You're alive," he whispered in relief: Fuuma was too warm not to be, and that heartbeat was just fine. Unless this world was messing with him, and they were still dead but seemingly alive, and... stop. Thinking. Damn it.

"Um... have you been okay?" He turned a bit to glare back at his car, "and did you get a crappy ass car, too?"

Amusing how simplistic Kamui's mind seemed to be in the face of such confusing scenarios. Really, Fuuma himself was a touch unsure about his own status, but he bluffed, as he was wont to do in such situations.

He took a look at the hand on his chest before he moved away to the window. "You didn't look, did you?" he replied, pointing out the window with a smile. Right in the driveway was a chopper motorcycle; the black paint on the gas tank and the chrome on the tailpipe and engine gave it away as almost-new, if it wasn't new altogether. He smirked a bit, pulling out a license from his back pocket. Driver class: M.

Kamui glared, outright glared; both at Fuuma and the motorcycle. "How come you get a cool motorcycle, and I'm stuck with that stupid..." He huffed, deciding he wasn't going to let that string of swears coming to mind out into the open At least, not right at this moment. "Do you even know how to drive it?" Bastard got all the cool stuff, but as far as Kamui knew, he hadn't ever driven anything, either. At least he couldn't do as much damage with that thing as Kamui did with his car. The local mailboxes, trash cans, and shrubbery were much safer with Fuuma, most likely.

"So not fair..." he mumbled to himself, arms crossing in a pissed bratty manner.

Fuuma pocketed the license quickly and looked to Kamui. "If I do, I do," he replied simply as he hummed a touch. Whether or not he could drive it was not very relevant or necessary information for Kamui to know. "Either way, though, I'm less a terror to the mailboxes or sidewalks." He snickered a bit while he moved past Kamui to the kitchen. Damn, he was thirsty - a cold beer would do the trick. He had been lucky enough that one of the cashiers at the grocery store was blind as a bat.

"Shut the hell up," Kamui growled, but he wasn't really THAT angry at the comment, since... it was entirely true? "Don't make me run you down with my shitty car." Like he would, anyway. He didn't want Fuuma to die, his wish was...

He found himself following Fuuma to the kitchen like a baby kitten, watching attentively and bristling a little when he grabbed a beer. What was with him being around people who did things bad for them? "That?" he pointed to the beer, "kills braincells, you know."

Fuuma frowned a touch as he opened the beer with a snap, but he quickly seemed to take no mind of Kamui's inflammatory remark when he took a drink. After a long guzzle, he looked at Kamui once more with a strangely serious stare. "As does crashing into a mailbox," he remarked before he took another sip and moved to the couch to sit. Of course, he was joking a bit, and he expected Kamui to bristle at that - it was what he wanted to do, so he had to provide the context.

"Shut up," another huff-snort as Kamui followed him again, but this time he slowly became more timid as he started to think. They couldn't act this way, could they? Not after... well, he knew his wish now. He knew how fucked up it was, and to be acting so comfortable and teasing with each other... it was somehow wrong. At least for right now.

"Fuuma..." he hid his eyes behind his bangs, head turned to the aside, looking rather ashamed, "I'm sorry."

He looked over at Kamui with a blank stare on his face. "Sorry?" he asked before taking another sip. He leaned back into the sofa and looked again at Kamui. Sorry, indeed... He had no solid evidence as to what, but he had a theory. After all, he was only Kamui's twin star - the wavelength came standard. "Why are you sorry?" he echoed, a stoicism overtaking his tone.

"I... I'm sorry that... my wish..." How the hell did he put this? His wish was selfish, he'd realized that shortly after his intital realization came about; thus, he needed to apologize to Fuuma for it. For not thinking of him. "I never... well, I didn't know it until... but..." He covered his face with his hands, other wrapping around himself. "I never once... thought about how you might feel about it. About anything. I'm sorry."

Fuuma took another contemplative sip of beer, and for a moment his gaze shifted outside to the car that parked so crookedly outside on the curb. So it seemed Kamui had finally realised his true wish. Fuuma smiled a touch at the notion, and he let Kamui see it when he turned his stare back to the shorter teenager. "Is that it, Kamui?" he replied calmly.

"Fuuma, you..." Kamui rubbed his arm nervously, still unable to look at the other, but catching that smile from the corner of his eye, "you had so many chances to kill me. To give me my wish, and let me die so you and your future could live. But, still..." Oh god, what if he was wrong about all this? What if he say something incorrect, and then Fuuma would be upset with him once more. "You never killed me. Or left me to die. Was it because... you wanted me to realize it? Before it was too late..." He'd barely made it as it was, Fuuma was about to kill him because he had to on the Promised Day unless Kamui changed something.

"Fuuma..." his voice was very soft now, and he moved back a little, giving his twin star space, "what is your wish?" It involved him, didn't it.

"My wish?" He blinked a little, canting his head at Kamui. No one really had asked him such a question before... And that wasn't really the point, was it? No, not really. The key was to remember how selfish most people were. That seemed the case, anyhow.

Fuuma eyed Kamui for several seconds more before chuckling. "Does that matter?" he replied humouringly.

The look he finally got was a hard one, Kamui completely serious in all of this. This... this was important to him. He'd realized his problem, and now he wanted to change it. "Yes, it matters. Maybe not to everyone else, but it matters to me. I thought about what I want all this time... to die for you... but I never thought about what you want." Feeling a little braver, he stepped forward just a bit. "And I know it's not my death you wish for. That one is obvious enough."

Kamui had realised it. His smile grew marginally wider at the thought before it faded into a gentle, barely-there look of serenity. And he had realised more than simply his wish. Fuuma contemplated upon this - had it really taken just a blade to the chest and a threat upon his life upon the Promised Day? No, of course not; it was too easy.

"It conflicts yours, is that what you mean?" he responded matter-of-factly. Another swill of beer was all it took to empty that can, and he crushed it with his hands before setting it down on the otherwise immaculate coffee table before him. "If that is what you know, that's all you need to know."

"They do... conflict..." he said, almost afraid to be speaking all of this aloud. "I'm not sure how deeply or why, but they do." For Kamui wanted to die for Fuuma; to protect the person who had become his entire world. Fuuma, on the other hand, was going against his supposed fate; always denying Kamui death when it got too close.

"Your promise..." he suddenly realized, looking rather sad, "I broke my side, but you still... were protecting me in a way, weren't you?" Protecting him from himself by not granting his wish right away, by giving him a chance. "I'm sorry..."

That promise. Well, yes, he still did remember it. It was a bit difficult not to - that particular memory was too strong to forget, really. "I'll protect you." Yes, of course.

His serene smile faded as a grave look emerged from the background. Kamui was far wiser than he gave himself credit for at times. "Why is there a need to apologise?" he asked flatly, rising from the sofa while keeping his eye on Kamui. "I'd have demanded such if it were necessary." Or if he so wished it.

He stepped back, worried that maybe he'd said something wrong, waded into the wrong topic. It would be very much like him, after all, to screw things up now. "But... I failed you. My wish, my promises... if I hadn't been so selfish in the first place..." Then this would have been resolved a long time ago. "I should have known. I should have figured things out before the Promised Day, but I didn't. I made you go through everything because I'm a selfish moron." He hugged himself, looking... alone and somehow scared now. He didn't want to break things more. Didn't want to.

Silence seemed to fit the situation well, and silence was precisely what greeted Kamui after Fuuma took in all that he had said. The other finally comprehended the situation fairly well - perhaps with a bit of a self-loathing skew on Kamui's part, but still. Fuuma looked out the window once more before turning about to fully face Kamui once more. "Seems you've realised your true wish," he remarked quietly with an inscrutable smile on his face. "Good boy."

Kamui almost bristled at the 'good boy' comment, but managed to hold off, staring for a moment. "But now I need to know your's." And in this, he was determined. Hopefully it wasn't misplaced determination, as his quest to save Fuuma was. "I was told... that when your wish is fulfilled, it's the happiest moment of your life. I want... you to feel that." He was practically rambling now, not entirely sure where he was going with it, or if it was the right way to go. "My wish... maybe the one I can fight for now is giving you what you wish for." Oddly like Fuuma had been doing before, even though that was entirely unintentional.

Kamui seemed more than prone to oversimplifying situations like this. While it was cute and endearing, it also was a little inconvenient sometimes. Strange how something could both amuse and irritate him at the same time. But such was Kamui's nature, it seemed.

Fuuma merely looked at Kamui, still standing there for what seemed ages. He didn't really have much to say. So he chuckled instead. And then it grew into a bit of a low laugh. What he was laughing at, well, it seemed hard to identify the one thing that set it off.

Out of all the times for Fuuma to laugh, this had to be one of the worse ones. Instead of getting angry and yelling, Kamui instead just looked slapped; hiding his eyes behind his bangs once more. He'd meant all that, he really had, but... maybe he should just give up. He'd never get this. "I'll go now."

"Is that what you'd like to do?" he asked finally, that chuckle subsiding while he smiled again at Kamui. Now Kamui was upset. He had a feeling why, but he wouldn't dare say anything about it until Kamui put it in his own words. Because that generally went over as well as this did, apparently. "Is that it? The door has been open, you know," he continued.

He didn't WANT to leave, no. He wanted... to stay with Fuuma, even though he knew that was stupid and couldn't quite place a rational reason as to why he wanted to stay. "I..." he finally looked to the other again, sadness and confusion showing, "I don't want to lose you." Why the hell did he have to come out and say that? "I mean, it's stupid for me to think that after everything, but... I don't know." Nervously, Kamui chewed his bottom lip. "We just showed up here, you know... pulled out of a vital moment where I could have died. Back home, there would have been no second chances, but here..."

A long pause, Kamui holding his face in his hands, "I don't understand..."

Fuuma merely stood where he was and watched Kamui carefully. Didn't want to lose him... what a silly, contradictory thing to say. He frowned a bit, tossing a flat look to the other teenager before moving past Kamui to the kitchen. He still was thirsty, oddly enough. "Don't understand," he echoed, opening the fridge once more and reaching for the carton of orange juice. "You never seem to understand, do you, Kamui?"

Here he was, telling Fuuma exactly what he thought and felt, and the other... was just blowing him off. Mocking him; hurting him. It finally made the younger boy's temper snap, causing him to stomp over, grab Fuuma's arm roughly, and turn him just enough. "Fuck you, Fuuma!" he growled suddenly and then then outright slapped him. Hard. Very hard. Staring at his stinging palm right after. Whoa, had he really just done that?

"I..." his hand clenched, "Stop it. You're not heartless. Stop acting that way!" And now his eyes were watering. Damn it.

That stung. Fuuma looked at Kamui with a stagnant sort of expression, his hand still holding the orange juice carton as the other rose to touch at the area on his face that showed the redness. It stung and almost tingled... A small smirk curled on his face after a moment. "Heartless?" he repeated. "Hardly. Kamui knows better than that, doesn't he?"

"I want to..." his voice cracked, one hand holding the other to his chest as if it was a security blanket, "I want to know that for sure." Finally, his eyes met Fuuma's, a tear streaking down his cheek as much as he hated that. "But it's hard when you always act so cold. Do you hate me?" A random conclusion, one that Kamui thought wouldn't be true, but at this point, he didn't know. "Do you hate me because I don't understand everything you think I should, that I don't think as you want me to..." God, this hurt.

Those tears. Oh, yes, he had seen them before. Of course, Fuuma knew why they came at such a time - why they came every time that they did. The smirk on his lips faded while he grabbed Kamui's hand on his chest. "You should know better by now," he replied simply and with a final sort of tone. "Kamui."

"Then just..." his voice was practically a whimper, all his frustrations -annoyingly- chosing this exact moment to come out. "Why can't you just let me know where I stand? I'm bad at guessing, I'm bad at..." Well, he was pretty bad at everything, in hindsight. Protecting people, making choices; he was a failure. "I'm useless. You know that. You've seen that."

"Where you stand with what?" Always with such questions. Kamui really was an interesting boy, even though he sometimes had the same questions everyone else had. A bit disappointing in that aspect. Disappointing, perhaps, in this situation. Though that remained to be seen. "I stand in the kitchen, at the moment. Shall I stand in the living room instead?"

Repressing the urge to slap him again, Kamui settled on glaring at him. If only it wasn't so off-put by the tears still in his eyes. "With you, jackass!" His questions were revealing more than he wanted them to. It was obvious how he felt for Fuuma, even if he didn't realize it entirely himself. "I want to know what you think about me. If you like me, dislike me, hate me, lo..." And he stopped there, looking away and blushing a little. God, this was going to make him go through a full range of emotions, wasn't it?

And now was when the tide turned. Fuuma smiled a touch - not too much, lest he reactivate Kamui's anger. I want to know what you think of me... And here he had thought he was so clear. Perhaps not. Fuuma let go of Kamui's hand and moved once more to the couch in the living room while taking a swig directly from the carton of orange juice. "If I like you, dislike you, hate you.... and what else?" he asked. "Someone should know all their options."

"That's gross," Kamui commented as he saw Fuuma drink directly from the carton, even though he sometimes did that himself. "And you know what else," he whispered as he leaned back against one of the living room's walls, hugging himself, eyes hidden in his bangs again. "Love."

He took another long swill of orange juice and then stared pointedly at Kamui. He wasn't at all fooled - he knew Kamui drank from the carton quite a deal. "Love... eh?" he mused a moment. His eyes absently trailed to the nutritional facts label on the side of the carton while he seemed to mull over the questions he had been given. "And what if I told you that was it, Kamui? What would you say then?" Suddenly, his golden stare snapped up to look directly at Kamui. "What would you do?"

"What would I do?" he echoed, blinking for a moment as he thought it over, blushing hard now. What would he do? And why did that thought make him feel oddly giddy? "I... I don't know..." He thought more, a rather stupid reaction coming to mind, but it was probably the most honest one. If not the most embarrasing one. "I would... pounce you, most likely." Ah, his face was burning.

Fuuma stared at the other for what seemed ages before he walked toward him. "Kamui..." Once he was right in front of the boy, he pinned him there, taking his chin in his hand to raise it gently. "Do you know what I think...?" he asked softly. He mustered up a serious look while he let his stare pierce directly through Kamui's violet eyes. Oh, he knew what he was doing to the other.

Oddly (at least to Kamui), his heart skipped a beat when Fuuma had him pinned against the wall. "W-what? What do you think?" He wanted to know, he wanted... well, it seemed he wanted Fuuma to feel that way about him. At least that's what he interpreted the blushing and rapid fluttering of his heart as. As well as the random urge to kiss him, the position being perfect, and he was just lucky his shyness was stopping that urge.

He smiled a little to himself, watching Kamui's reaction. His breathing had grown shallower, his skin growing slick with mild perspiration, that heartbeat - yes, that heart - was moving faster... but he knew too well of consequences. His solemn look cracked into a smile while his hand moved down from his chin to his neck. His other hand moved to rest onto the other's shoulder as he pulled Kamui away from the wall. "I think...." He trailed off, leading Kamui through the front door of the house. "It may be time for more shrubbery to perish at your hand," he finished brightly as he stepped away and behind the door to quickly shut it.

Kamui let out a wail as he was shut out, upset beyond belief. Toying with him. Fuuma was only toying with him. "Asshole!" he finally screamed, turning and punching Fuuma's door as hard as he could. Now he was just plain pissed. And showed that further after he got into his car, running down Fuuma's mailbox all the way before he backed up and left. That'd show him.