[fic] Beloved Disarray [Soubi]
::waves:: First-time poster. Hello to everyone. :D
Title: Beloved Disarray
Fandom: Loveless
Rating: PG-13
Character: Soubi
Status: One-shot, complete
Genre: Semi-drama/angst, introspective
Wordcount: 550
Summary: A Fighter cannot belong to two Masters. Or can he?
Beloved Disarray
by Rhea Logan
He could be, and used to think he was, so much of everything that had been expected of him. So it had seemed, once. In the end, Soubi thought bitterly, he turned out to have been every bit of nothing.
His mouth tasted as bitter as those words, as sour as his inner voice. Yet another cigarette stub met its end in the nearly full ashtray at his side. A few lay at his feet, he noted absently, discarded in a disarray akin to that of his mind. He mustered just enough will to lift his hand and retrieve another cigarette from the half-empty box before it dropped loosely onto his lap. Such weakness, such disorder, was a truly disgraceful state.
He thought little of the far too insufficient pain as he dug his fingernails into the back of his other hand. Lacking, faulty, not enough. Just like him, he mused, and the unlit roll of tobacco that hung from his lip trembled as he sighed.
“Failure,” he heard his own faint whisper. It sounded alien to him. Rename yourself, if you somehow can. You are not worthy of the name of Beloved.
Not anymore. Seimei was dead.
It seemed so simple to say that now, aloud or in his thoughts. He repeated those words over and over to himself, in silent, stubborn hope that it would tear his heart to shreds. He wondered if, should it happen, it would free him from the bonds of obedience. Perhaps it would only let him feel again. It seemed like centuries had passed since he had grown this numb, this empty.
He lifted weary eyes and glanced around the room. Colorless, the world did not bid him welcome; the walls returned the echo of yet another sigh, and that was all he would receive. No absolution, no mercy. Not for him. He had failed, ultimately so, and Seimei was dead.
Had he not lived to protect his Sacrifice? Had he not sworn to do so? On every scar. On each droplet of blood that had sealed their fates together into a boundless union of two halves of the same soul. Beloved died. Beloved lived. Split asunder, he was worthless now. He should have followed his master, his beloved, down that path as he had done before.
Yet he had not. His orders were clear. They kept him in this pitiful disarray of scattered thoughts and cigarette stubs that somehow passed for life. Soubi had never imagined he would so much as consider disobedience, but it assaulted him with temptation so difficult to resist. Seimei had made him swear that he would cling to the shards of broken strength Soubi still had left. For Ritsuka, he had said.
For Loveless.
Soubi reached for a lighter, discarded between the crumpled folds of his bed sheets. He would muster a smile, soon. One, then another, because he had been told to do so. He would force his heart awake from its unfeeling slumber, his mind from its unrest. Such were his orders. He would welcome the sun again, and let it melt the ice he had become, because Seimei's word was law. It was love, too.
So be it, he thought wistfully. He would love Loveless, now.
Title: Beloved Disarray
Fandom: Loveless
Rating: PG-13
Character: Soubi
Status: One-shot, complete
Genre: Semi-drama/angst, introspective
Wordcount: 550
Summary: A Fighter cannot belong to two Masters. Or can he?
Beloved Disarray
by Rhea Logan
He could be, and used to think he was, so much of everything that had been expected of him. So it had seemed, once. In the end, Soubi thought bitterly, he turned out to have been every bit of nothing.
His mouth tasted as bitter as those words, as sour as his inner voice. Yet another cigarette stub met its end in the nearly full ashtray at his side. A few lay at his feet, he noted absently, discarded in a disarray akin to that of his mind. He mustered just enough will to lift his hand and retrieve another cigarette from the half-empty box before it dropped loosely onto his lap. Such weakness, such disorder, was a truly disgraceful state.
He thought little of the far too insufficient pain as he dug his fingernails into the back of his other hand. Lacking, faulty, not enough. Just like him, he mused, and the unlit roll of tobacco that hung from his lip trembled as he sighed.
“Failure,” he heard his own faint whisper. It sounded alien to him. Rename yourself, if you somehow can. You are not worthy of the name of Beloved.
Not anymore. Seimei was dead.
It seemed so simple to say that now, aloud or in his thoughts. He repeated those words over and over to himself, in silent, stubborn hope that it would tear his heart to shreds. He wondered if, should it happen, it would free him from the bonds of obedience. Perhaps it would only let him feel again. It seemed like centuries had passed since he had grown this numb, this empty.
He lifted weary eyes and glanced around the room. Colorless, the world did not bid him welcome; the walls returned the echo of yet another sigh, and that was all he would receive. No absolution, no mercy. Not for him. He had failed, ultimately so, and Seimei was dead.
Had he not lived to protect his Sacrifice? Had he not sworn to do so? On every scar. On each droplet of blood that had sealed their fates together into a boundless union of two halves of the same soul. Beloved died. Beloved lived. Split asunder, he was worthless now. He should have followed his master, his beloved, down that path as he had done before.
Yet he had not. His orders were clear. They kept him in this pitiful disarray of scattered thoughts and cigarette stubs that somehow passed for life. Soubi had never imagined he would so much as consider disobedience, but it assaulted him with temptation so difficult to resist. Seimei had made him swear that he would cling to the shards of broken strength Soubi still had left. For Ritsuka, he had said.
For Loveless.
Soubi reached for a lighter, discarded between the crumpled folds of his bed sheets. He would muster a smile, soon. One, then another, because he had been told to do so. He would force his heart awake from its unfeeling slumber, his mind from its unrest. Such were his orders. He would welcome the sun again, and let it melt the ice he had become, because Seimei's word was law. It was love, too.
So be it, he thought wistfully. He would love Loveless, now.