"Memory" Drabbles
A matched set this time -- Hisoka, Tatsumi, Tsuzuki and (a personal first) Watari!
The Kiss
From the first moment Tsuzuki leans forward, Hisoka knows this is something he needs to remember.
Just this, hands resting on his shoulders -- the weight, warmth, pressure, the space between them unraveling, and for a second it is as though he's already looking back across a vast span of years: Tsuzuki's face is blurred, his hands insubstantial as dreams, the heat wrapped inside his touch fading to nostalgia.
Tsuzuki's thumb moves almost imperceptibly against his collar bone. A puff of hot air, and the distance between them folds up.
Hisoka doesn't close his eyes. He wants to remember this forever.
Another Spring, Another Love
He’s in love with Hisoka. But Tatsumi smiles across the table at him with sad, blue eyes.
"This was your favorite song."
It still is.
Tatsumi knows his favorite song.
Tatsumi remembers.
Tsuzuki is in love with Hisoka. But that doesn't stop his heart from breaking just a little more.
Pilgrim
He cannot remember.
But there are moments when he knows: that his hands are charnel-houses, that his heart is twisted out of carrion; that on starless nights a monster comes and waits outside his window while within he dreams of seeing something, safe and warm, beyond a sheet of glass and in those dreams he knows. He wakes and all that's left is a chill like the night wind in his lungs and the faint image of a feast locked up like the bones of a saint in little glass boxes -- rotting, rotting...
He falls asleep again.
He cannot remember.
The Last Days of Pompeii
Once, in those last frantic days of his life, he had it -- not the formula or an image of how to combine molecules into something unnatural and utterly new -- but why he was searching. It was as though a little piece of God slid through him: he understood the question inside himself so well, he no longer needed an answer.
He lay down on his pallet and slept.
Now, he spends a slow eternity mixing and testing and forcing things to become what they are not.
He searches for an answer. He no longer remembers why he asked the question.
The Kiss
From the first moment Tsuzuki leans forward, Hisoka knows this is something he needs to remember.
Just this, hands resting on his shoulders -- the weight, warmth, pressure, the space between them unraveling, and for a second it is as though he's already looking back across a vast span of years: Tsuzuki's face is blurred, his hands insubstantial as dreams, the heat wrapped inside his touch fading to nostalgia.
Tsuzuki's thumb moves almost imperceptibly against his collar bone. A puff of hot air, and the distance between them folds up.
Hisoka doesn't close his eyes. He wants to remember this forever.
Another Spring, Another Love
He’s in love with Hisoka. But Tatsumi smiles across the table at him with sad, blue eyes.
"This was your favorite song."
It still is.
Tatsumi knows his favorite song.
Tatsumi remembers.
Tsuzuki is in love with Hisoka. But that doesn't stop his heart from breaking just a little more.
Pilgrim
He cannot remember.
But there are moments when he knows: that his hands are charnel-houses, that his heart is twisted out of carrion; that on starless nights a monster comes and waits outside his window while within he dreams of seeing something, safe and warm, beyond a sheet of glass and in those dreams he knows. He wakes and all that's left is a chill like the night wind in his lungs and the faint image of a feast locked up like the bones of a saint in little glass boxes -- rotting, rotting...
He falls asleep again.
He cannot remember.
The Last Days of Pompeii
Once, in those last frantic days of his life, he had it -- not the formula or an image of how to combine molecules into something unnatural and utterly new -- but why he was searching. It was as though a little piece of God slid through him: he understood the question inside himself so well, he no longer needed an answer.
He lay down on his pallet and slept.
Now, he spends a slow eternity mixing and testing and forcing things to become what they are not.
He searches for an answer. He no longer remembers why he asked the question.