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Subaru's room smelled like smoke. He'd made sure of it, every night, before he went to sleep. Years ago, he'd thought smoking was a bit gross. The idea of ash filling someone's lungs was horrid in and of itself, but the addiction that came with it made him wrinkle his nose at the very thought.
He didn't start with the familiar Mild Sevens. For a long while, the brand was too hard to look at — too many memories associated with its particular smell.
That hadn't lasted very long.
Now, he inhaled deeply, taking a long drag of his cigarette. His apartment in Tokyo was permeated with the smell of smoke. Subaru wondered, sometimes, what Hokuto would've said if she saw him now. She likely would've made some joke about smoking the same cigarettes as Seishirou. No matter what happened, she'd always supported him in his feelings. He couldn't imagine that changing, even now.
Ashes scattered to the floor, indistinguishable from the dust built up over the months. Subaru snuffed out the remains of the cigarette, staring blankly into nothing.
His mind had been playing tricks on him, lately. It wasn't uncommon for him to see things in places they shouldn't be — Hokuto, smiling widely when he saw someone walking with an outfit she would've loved. Seishirou, everywhere. In shadows, by every cherry blossom tree Subaru saw, walking away from him in a sea of people, vanishing before Subaru could ever hope of reaching him.
What was unusual, though, was his dreams. It had been a long time since he'd accepted his feelings for the Sakurazukamori. There was no point in denying them; even now, after everything. Subaru was used to seeing that night on repeat in his mind, every time he closed his eyes. Those dreams were expected, almost welcomed, in some sick sense of the word.
The dreams where Seishirou was there, on his bed, were new.
Each morning when Subaru awoke, he could still feel a phantom touch from his dream version of Seishirou. His hands especially would prickle in the morning, where Seishirou's mark was permanently embedded into his skin. His body ached as if he'd been kept awake all night, though that wasn't so much new as it was getting worse.
He had a habit of touching his lips after waking, as if there had been something covering them, imagining what could have been. Maybe it was a bit pathetic, pining after the man who ruined your life.
It wasn't like Subaru hadn't tried. For years, he'd attempted to cast Seishirou out of his mind, out of his heart, out of his soul. No matter what he did, the feelings would resurface the very next day, a mocking reminder of his failures. At what point did one stop fighting and accept the unacceptable? At what point did Subaru's desire to go back to how things were change to something new — something darker?
He wanted… he wanted. Subaru had never been the kind of person to want. He'd done as he was told; he'd listened to his elders and performed exorcisms and wore whatever Hokuto had created for him, lovingly. He'd never said no to someone in need, and even when he was stretched so thin he might snap, he did his best to serve regardless.
Now, he clutched his sheets desperately every night, desperately wanting for something that could never be. If Seishirou couldn't love him — if he couldn't have what he'd craved so badly — then he would gladly accept death by his hands. Death from the cherry blossoms that seeped into his veins.
At least then, Subaru would surely be embedded into Seishirou's heart, if only for a brief moment. It didn't matter if he was just one of his many victims, it didn't matter if he'd forget about him the very next day. If Seishirou was the one to kill him, Subaru would be able to pass on peacefully.
With heavy eyes, he laid his head down on his pillow, the familiar scent of Mild Sevens filling his lungs. His pillow smelled like what he imagined Seishirou to smell like. It was the only thing that could lull him to sleep.
As had been usual, those days, Subaru woke up in his dream. Standing by the edge of his bed was Seishirou, sunglasses hiding his expression. Not that it really mattered, Subaru thought bitterly. It was a dream, and none of his dreams ever got Seishirou's face right. There was always something wrong, be it a properly genuine smile that no longer existed or a guilt-ridden look that someone like Seishirou would never wear.
"You're awake," Seishirou said, mildly surprised. His eyebrows raised just so behind his glasses.
Who wore sunglasses at night, anyway, Subaru thought. There was no heat behind it, though. There never was. "Not really," he replied, sluggish. "I'm dreaming, aren't I, Seishirou-san?"
A slow, predatory smile spread out over the dream Seishirou's lips. "Of course, Subaru-kun. You're dreaming."
Subaru nodded, expecting that answer. He felt like he was dreaming — detached from his body and mind, like he was a third-party observer rather than the one in the driver's seat.
Instead of replying, he continued to study the dream Seishirou. As he was usually, he was in a suit and tie, black and perfectly pressed. His long, dark trench coat sat neatly on top of it. In his dreams like this, he always looked a bit older, as if his mind's eye was compensating for the years between then and now.
As always, he was handsome. He smelled exactly the way Subaru remembered him to. It was a comfort, in a way, to know that he could still remember him so clearly. With each passing day memories threatened to fall apart, as he'd seen happen so many times. Maybe that was why he did this, saw these things every night — he refused to let go. Neither his twin nor Seishirou could be overtaken if he never stopped looking for them in every corner.
That settled, he let himself fall back onto his pillow and closed his eyes. There were two ways this could go, Subaru had learned. If he let his dream self fall back asleep, he'd wake up with the phantom feeling still lingering, but only in chaste places like his hands or his face. If his dream self stayed awake, however…
The mattress dipped as Seishirou sat on the side. Subaru blinked, turning his head to watch the apparition. He'd taken off his long coat and suit jacket, and was now working on his shoes.
When he was younger, his dreams had never been this real. They'd been fragments of all sorts of things — from his day, from his education, the bright colors of his sister's fabrics. When Seishirou killed Hokuto, that changed overnight. Suddenly it was all exactly as it had happened. The smell of blood, Seishirou's calloused smile, the way his sister's body was limp and lifeless.
He watched with half-lidded eyes as Seishirou's shoes were set aside carefully, a gentle clack from the heel hitting the hardwood floor. "You're as cute as ever, Subaru-kun," Seishirou said, smiling.
When Subaru didn't say anything, Seishirou continued. "It's almost endearing that you leave cigarettes burning just for me," he said, and Subaru realized he hadn't put it together.
Yeah, it was a dream. There was no way Seishirou would miss the obvious — that Subaru had started smoking because of him. He was far too smart for that. Subaru fixed him with a peculiar look, debating on if he should say anything. He supposed it wouldn't do any harm. It was his dream, anyway.
"Smells like you," he said honestly. Whether or not his answer surprised Seishirou remained to be seen, as his face was as carefully blank as always. At least he could tell him things like that, even if it wasn't real. It wasn't like he'd appreciate the sentiment in the real world.
After a long moment of silence after Subaru's confession, Seishirou removed his sunglasses, putting them in the pocket of his coat. One golden eye and one blind one stared down at him. Subaru blinked back, knowing what was coming. This was one of the dreams he would stay awake for, it seemed. He moved over, pointlessly making room for Seishirou to join him on the bed.
Pointless, because he'd be on top of him soon.
Seishirou didn't wait in this dream. One moment, he was sitting next to Subaru on the edge of the bed, the next, he was hovering over him, caging Subaru with his arms. Their eyes were locked, and Subaru stared at him in a daze.
He always looked so beautiful on top like this, Subaru thought. The only thing he wished his mind would change in his dreams was that eye. Even now, the guilt-wracked him horribly as he continued to stare at it.
"Subaru-kun." Seishirou practically purred his name, and even in his sleep, Subaru shivered. "What am I going to do with you?"
There was no reason to answer him. Still, he couldn't help but respond. "Whatever you want," he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
It was a dream — here was probably the only place he would allow himself to say such a thing, he reminded himself again. Here was the only place he could.
Seishirou laughed unkindly. Before Subaru could even hope to get his bearings, he was pulled into a brutal kiss, Seishirou taking the lead almost immediately. Subaru opened himself willingly, letting Seishirou do what he wanted, exactly as promised. Seishirou's tongue was forcing its way inside his mouth before Subaru could think; his eyes fluttering closed and surrendering himself to whatever wicked things his dreams felt like conjuring.
Blinking blearily, Subaru awoke to nothing and to no one, as he always did. His cold apartment in Shinjuku was barren still, with no decorations save for a few scattered pictures of those days. As he did every morning, he scanned the room for any trace of Seishirou.
A useless endeavor. The Seishirou who kissed him with such fervor, who fucked him until Subaru could no longer remember his own name, who put a sleeping spell on him so he'd sleep soundly after was just a figment of his imagination. Something his broken mind thought up to torture him — always things he wanted and could never be.
Despite knowing it was a dream, Subaru's limbs felt heavy, as if he'd been under a spell. It was early still, looking at the sun rising out his bedroom window, which was…
Open. Subaru sat up, focus narrowed in. He hadn't left his window open. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd done such a thing, placing wards before he went to sleep was second nature to him. He hadn't missed a single day since—
"Odd," he said out loud to himself.
Shaking off the sleep to the best of his ability, he stumbled over to the window, closing it tightly. A quick check showed him that his wards hadn't been tripped, so it really must have been his mistake. The only people he would allow through were Hokuto, and…
Those dreams were getting to him more than he thought. Without thinking, Subaru reached for a cigarette, far past caring about waiting to smoke in the mornings. He needed to focus — he had a job that evening. Something low level to be sure, but a job nonetheless. He couldn't be thinking about the Sakurazukamori when he was working.
The long drag helped sharpen his mind as he breathed deeply. It tasted the same way he always imagined Seishirou to taste in his dreams.
That night, when Subaru returned, he triple-checked his wards. If his autopilot wasn't working properly, he should clearly be more careful. Hokuto would've been worried about him.
Everything was exactly as he'd assumed. The doors were locked, the windows had all been closed, and Subaru was alone in the empty apartment he was supposed to be calling home. It wasn't anything he wasn't used to, that creeping loneliness, but he hated it all the same.
The ghosts of Hokuto and Seishirou were everywhere, filling up the empty spaces. Settings that maybe once had been filled with laughter, color bursting at the seams from all of Hokuto's shopping and creations, were lifeless and dull. This was the reality he had to live with.
He tapped on his Mild Sevens box, taking his second cigarette of the night. The pack was nearly empty — he'd just bought the thing a few days ago. Lighting it up, Subaru took another long drag, letting the nicotine hit him. When he breathed out his smoke, he could almost make out Seishirou in the wisps.
And later that same night, he imagined Seishirou crawling in through the window. His fingertips would lightly lift Subaru's chin, seemingly satisfied at his state, but would breathe a sleeping spell into him anyway.
Even in his dream, Subaru wanted to resist — wanted to see Seishirou, to speak with him, to look at him. The Sakurazukamori had always been cruel, but Subaru's own mind was worse.
His workday had been far too long. Subaru practically collapsed onto the edge of his bed, leaning against the wall and feeling like hell. None of his cases that day had been particularly difficult, but there were a lot of them piling up. Something was shifting in the air, changing, and his grandmother's calls continued to remind him of what his destiny would be.
The Kamui had yet to awaken, though. For now, Subaru would continue on as he was. There was only one person that he would let kill him, and it certainly wasn't any of the spirits he'd dealt with that evening.
However, the last spirit had taken the form of a hawk, and it had stirred something in him. A thumb gently brushed against the mark on his hand. The mark of the Sakurazukamori hurt, sometimes. It ached and it burned and Subaru cherished it; if it were causing him pain, it meant Seishirou was at least thinking of him. It didn't matter if that was as a predator thinking of his prey, not to him.
They hadn't hurt today, but Subaru sometimes wondered if he could make them hurt. If he were to scar them intentionally, would they flare to life? Would Seishirou know?
Even as he smoked, sitting on his bed, he was transfixed on the symbol on his hand. Without realizing what he was doing, Subaru took the last remains of the cigarette in his other hand and pushed it into the center of the symbol.
Instantly, Subaru hissed in pain, but didn't let up. He watched with bated breath as the embers eventually faded, but the mark did not burn along with it. The pain was one of the only things that he could remember feeling that day. An angry red burn seemed to mock him from his skin, itchy and hot. Maybe he'd do it again, just… not on the mark of the Sakurazukamori. He almost felt bad about marring his last remaining connection to Seishirou.
The cigarette butt lay discarded on the floor, forgotten, as Subaru went to sleep that night.
Subaru awoke in his dream to Seishirou examining the burn mark on his hand.
"Tsk, tsk, Subaru-kun," Seishirou reprimanded, dropping his hand when he realized he was staring. "You shouldn't mark up what I've left for you. It's quite rude, you know."
Rude. Of course that was how Seishirou would take it, even in his dream. Subaru let himself fall back against his pillow. "What does it matter," he mumbled to himself. "You're not real. This is just a dream." He draped the arm that Seishirou had been holding over his eyes, willing himself to go back into a deeper sleep.
He'd never voiced it during these dreams, too eager to let his mind show him what he truly wanted, but he was tired. Subaru was tired, and he was sick, both to his stomach and in his heart, with how much he missed Seishirou. The longing that never went away might kill him sooner than the Sakurazukamori himself.
He hated himself. It was absurd, to still have feelings for the man who murdered his twin sister, but Subaru couldn't make himself stop. He'd tried, lord knows he tried, but at the end of the day, it always came back to the simple truth. Subaru had never stopped being in love with Seishirou. He never would. Frequently, he wondered if Hokuto would hate him for it. He liked to think she'd understand — that she'd still support him, despite it all. That was just her nature.
"Well," Seishirou said, and Subaru felt the bed dip where he sat down. "Since this is your dream, Subaru-kun, why don't you tell me what you want?" There was something sinister in his tone, but there often was.
What did give him pause was the fact that his dream Seishirou was asking him that question at all. "What I want?" He repeated, startled by the thought.
What he wanted didn't matter. It was his dream, sure, but his dream was for Seishirou — Seishirou as he was, which was someone who did not care about other people's desires or whims. He supposed that was answer enough. Slowly, he let himself peak out from behind his arm. Seishirou waited, expectant. His mismatched eyes bore into Subaru, and he hid his gaze with his arm once more.
"What I always want, Seishirou-san," Subaru said, fatigue catching up to him even in his dreams. "Whatever you want."
Seishirou grabbed his arm, pushing it away from his face so he could climb on top of him properly. Subaru stared into his eyes, unblinking. Maybe it was stupid, the way he still felt guilty over his lost eye. Maybe it was worse how in his dreams like this, he wanted Seishirou to pluck his own eyeball out so they matched. Maybe then he could be solidified in Seishirou's heart, somehow.
Subaru sometimes didn't know which of them was more sick.
Without a word, Seishirou kissed him, just as fiercely as always. Subaru submitted to him almost immediately, relaxing his body and carding his fingers through Seishirou's hair. The taste of smoke clung to his lips. It was easier, like this — easier to let Seishirou take control, to use him.
It didn't take long for one of Seishirou's legs to pry Subaru's apart, slotting itself neatly in between. Even in his dreams, Subaru never got much time with Seishirou; their sex never lasted longer than absolutely necessary. Always in and out as quickly as petals in the wind. Instead of dwelling, Subaru reacted quickly, searching for friction against Seishirou.
There was always something bittersweet to it. Seishirou bit at his neck, careful not to leave any marks, and Subaru bent his neck to accommodate him. One of Seishirou's hands ghosted Subaru's stomach, moving upward slowly. It was almost like the touch wasn't there at all.
Subaru desperately wanted him to be more forceful — to leave marks, to bruise him, to remind him that he had been there. But this Seishirou was not real, and there would be no marks when Subaru eventually opened his eyes, just like every time.
Without realizing it, Subaru deflated. His arms grew limp, falling to the bed without much fanfare. What was the point? This wasn't real, and he wouldn't get a thing out of this. In the morning, Subaru would be alone, and Seishirou would still be missing. Hokuto would still be dead. None of it mattered.
Seishirou instantly sat up, narrowing his eyes. "Subaru-kun," he said, voice low and dangerous, "is there something you need to tell me?"
There was really something bittersweet about it. Seishirou would never give this much care to him if this were real. He would take, and take, and take, no matter how willing or how present he was.
Subaru didn't bother to respond.
Seishirou grabbed Subaru's chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Did you not say you wanted whatever I want?" He asked.
Something snapped. With an anger that he hadn't felt in a long time, Subaru shoved Seishirou back off of him. It didn't do much but move him slightly, but it was enough for Subaru to wiggle out from under him and sit up more fully. If his mind was going to force him to dream about Seishirou, Subaru might as well make the most of it.
"I want you to want me," Subaru hissed, matching Seishirou's glare. "I want you to come back! I am so sick of this being inside my head. I want to—"
"You want to kill me," Seishirou mused, and Subaru wanted to scream.
"No," he snarled. "This is so stupid. Even in my own head you're like this." All the anger seeped out of him in an instant, and he couldn't help but laugh at himself.
Seishirou, for his part, just stared at him with wide eyes, one still unseeing. It was a good metaphor, Subaru thought. No matter how good at hunting Seishirou was, he was never very good at understanding his prey's feelings. Not like this.
A hand came up out of nowhere, gripping around Subaru's neck like a noose. It wasn't tight enough that he couldn't breathe. Not yet, anyway. "Well, this has gone on long enough," Seishirou said, as if they had made it to the end of a good joke. "I'm getting a bit bored of it, Subaru-kun."
That made Subaru pause. "What do you…"
The cold smile he'd become so acquainted with spread over Seishirou's face. "If you want me to have my way with you, you're going to let me." Whether or not you want to, was the unspoken ending to his words. The grip on Subaru's neck tightened to punctuate the point.
He really wanted to hate it. He wanted to hate the fact it was a struggle to breathe, wanted to hate the fact that he was torturing himself in his own sleep, but the pressure on his windpipe made Subaru's skin tingle with anticipation.
Slowly, Seishirou moved Subaru's body back down onto the bed, hand still firmly choking him. One of Subaru's hands came up to his arm in a meek attempt to get him to stop, but all it managed to do was give him the slightest amount more room to breathe.
This dream was very, very different. What was he doing, suffocating himself in his sleep or something?
"You're going to be a good boy and stay there," Seishirou told him. His tone was light, airy, but Subaru knew better — he knew this was a command, not to be ignored.
So he stayed perfectly still, barely even breathing even as Seishirou removed his hand. He continued to stay as still as a corpse while he removed his shirt, and then his pajama pants, dropping them into a careless pile on the floor. There was no movement as he pulled at Subaru's nipples, bit at his neck harshly enough to draw blood, lightly trailed his fingers up and down the curves of Subaru's body over and over and over.
Subaru continued not to move, even as Seishirou grabbed the bottle of lube Subaru kept on his nightstand, watching as Seishirou coated his fingers.
He finally broke when Seishirou entered him with no preamble, two fingers forcing themselves inside. It hurt, and Subaru gasped, hands scrambling for purchase and finding themselves tangled in his sheets. Seishirou practically purred, spreading his fingers wide to open him up. The pain probably shouldn't feel quite so good, but he moaned, hating the way he gripped at anything he could hold. Despite not having a single touch since they'd started, Subaru's cock was hard, hot against his stomach.
"This isn't so bad, right, Subaru-kun?" Seishirou whispered, lips moving over the shell of his ear. "You want this."
God, did he want this. Subaru nodded without thinking, moaning loudly when Seishirou pushed his fingers upwards, hitting him just right. How stupid had he been? If he was going to get off in his dreams, he might as well enjoy it.
However this time, Seishirou was purposefully marking him everywhere he could. His neck and chest were littered with bite marks, and there was a spot on his collarbone that Subaru knew would very likely bloom into a very dark bruise if this were in real life. The marks on his hands itched and burned — he didn't have to look at them to know they were glowing a blood red, pulsing with Seishirou's magic.
Were they doing that in real life, too? Was his body reacting to something, was this dream somehow Seishirou's doing…?
"You're thinking too much," Seishirou crooned, smile cruel. He took his fingers out of him completely, and Subaru whined at the loss almost immediately.
In a surprising act of kindness, Seishirou moved his hand to Subaru's cock, though the touch was barely there. He rutted against it, desperate, seeking friction in any way he could. Frustratingly, Seishirou didn't move his hand at all, keeping it as a feather-light touch on his hot skin. Any pleasure Subaru wanted to glean he'd have to take on his own.
He whined again, feeling pathetic, but slowly losing the will to care. Dignity be damned, this was his dream, after all. "Seishirou-san, please just — just — I want—" He cut his own begging off, not knowing how to even say what he was looking for, fisting the sheets until his knuckles were turning white.
He apparently didn't have to wait for long for Seishirou to figure it out. Without another word, Seishirou's hand was taking his cock out of the confines of his pants, not bothering to undress himself at all. Even in his hazy state of mind, Subaru saw it for what it was — another display of the dichotomy between them. Seishirou will always be in control; Subaru will always relent to him.
"Subaru-kun." His name sounded like honey, but Subaru knew just how dangerous that was. Seishirou lined his cock up to Subaru's hole, and did nothing but tease the rim. "You're still so cute."
Subaru moaned as Seishirou pushed into him roughly, hands flying up from the sheets to dig his fingernails into Seishirou's still-clothed arm. His legs wrapped around Seishirou's waist, trying to pull him in as deep as he could go. It did approximately nothing, no matter how much he writhed underneath Seishirou. Just like everything else, he would go at whatever pace he dictated.
Seishirou laughed at his pitiful attempts, moving backward as if to pull out of him completely. Subaru went wide-eyed in panic.
"No, no, Seishirou-san — please — I need—"
Whatever words he was going to say were lost completely as Seishirou moved back in, burying himself to the hilt inside of Subaru. Tears pricked his eyes as he grabbed at Seishirou, unable to keep his hands from moving.
No matter how many times they did this in his dreams, Subaru could never get used to the feeling. It was completely different than the times he'd done it to himself — so much more full. Seishirou did not wait for him to acclimate, pushing Subaru into the bed and leaving bruises wherever his hands went.
Like this, it was easy to pretend it was real. That Seishirou had come back into his life, that somehow, everything was alright. That everything was like it used to be. In this fake little world of Subaru's, he was Seishirou's in mind, body, and soul. In this fake little world, that wasn't a truth that made his stomach churn.
No. Here, the world was entirely Seishirou. His voice whispered that Subaru belonged to him, body pressing into Subaru's completely, filling him up. Subaru's ankles linked behind Seishirou's back, clinging onto him as he cried in earnest. One of his hands finally unlatched itself from its death grip on Seishirou, moving to stroke himself in time with Seishirou's thrusts.
Wrapped in the comfort of his own mind, Subaru came with a cry, spilling over his hand and bare stomach. Seishirou kissed him then, licking his way inside his mouth with little care for Subaru's tears. Subaru, of course, let him — he was too frazzled, too out of focus to know right from left.
Seishirou's hands on his waist probably should have hurt, Subaru dimly realized, but he wanted those bruises to stay. He wanted to be able to wake up in the morning and see that it had been real, instead of…
His hands burned.
Seishirou's lips moved down to sink his teeth into his neck again. Subaru let out a yelp, yanking on Seishirou's hair in pain. It didn't deter him at all — if anything, it stirred something in him, as moments later he was spilling into Subaru.
For a moment, Subaru just let himself enjoy the feeling of Seishirou's weight still on him. Usually, this was about when he would go back to a dreamless sleep, and wake up in the morning with a heavy heart.
Instead, Seishirou slowly pulled out of him, eyes trained on the marks on Subaru's hands. Subaru should've questioned it, maybe, but he was exhausted. The emotional toll sex with Seishirou took on him was too great. Not to mention the physical burden.
Subaru watched as Seishirou got off the bed, neatly tucking himself back into his pants and retrieving his sunglasses from his jacket pocket. Subaru blinked. This dream had been an anomaly in and of itself; maybe he'd fall back to nothingness soon.
"Are we done pretending now, Subaru-kun?" Seishirou asked, leaning against Subaru's wall with an unreadable expression on his face.
A bucket of cold water poured over him, washing away any bleariness in an instant. "Seishirou-san?" It was a futile attempt, Subaru realized, but he had no idea what to even say.
None of that had been real. Seishirou didn't want him like that, and he certainly wasn't in the habit of sneaking into Subaru's room to fuck him while Subaru slept. They hadn't seen each other in nine years.
But then Subaru's mind started turning. The open window from the other night. The fact that the promised day was soon approaching, and the Dragons were gathering in Tokyo. If he was one, it wasn't unreasonable to assume Seishirou was one of the opposite kind. He thought about how sore he'd been, lately — how his body always felt like he'd run a marathon in his sleep. Subaru was used to not sleeping much at all, but that was different. New.
Seishirou's smile was enigmatic. "Forgive me," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "I thought you'd known after—"
"Leave." Subaru held his gaze, anger flooding his senses. He needed — he didn't know what he needed. Time to process, for certain, that he'd been unconsciously sleeping with Seishirou for weeks.
He should hate him. He should despise him. He should want to kill him, like Seishirou assumed.
None of those happened. It just felt like grief. Like mourning. Like death all over again.
In an instant, Seishirou's smile fell. His expression was still unreadable to Subaru. "Subaru-kun—"
"I said get the hell out!"
Everything went starkly quiet. Subaru and Seishirou stared at each other; Subaru barely holding it together. Seishirou's expression didn't change again, still hidden behind his glasses and the mask of indifference he wore so well. There must have been something in Subaru's eyes, though, because Seishirou turned on his heel with his jacket hanging from his arm, and left through his front door without another word.
Subaru counted to ten, twenty, one hundred, until he was sure Seishirou had really left. He was under no delusions that the Sakurazukamori hadn't been following him — maybe for the entire nine years they'd been a part.
The thought shouldn't mean anything to him. If anything, it should have pissed him off. Made him hate Seishirou. Instead, it just hurt, the way everything did when it came to him.
There was no logic in love, Hokuto used to tell him. The heart would set its course, and people were just supposed to follow it. It was why she was so convinced that things could work out between him and Seishirou. It was why she always pushed for Subaru's happiness, no matter the situation or current happenings. He was her heart, she'd tell him.
He wished he could hate him. Seishirou deserved it. Alone again, Subaru curled into a ball, and let himself cry.
Love was never supposed to feel like this, Subaru thought.
Waking up hurt. Subaru pressed a hand to the side of his neck, wincing. He normally hated looking at mirrors, reflections, anything that showed his face back to him — it was why he had cut his hair. It was never himself staring back, but Hokuto's ghost.
That morning, Subaru uncovered the bathroom mirror, taking himself in. His neck had gnarly bruises shaped like fingerprints. There was a sign of Seishirou everywhere on his body, now. Wasn't that what he had wanted? Wasn't it what he had asked for? Subaru put the towel back on the mirror hastily, not wanting to look anymore. When he got dressed, despite the warmer weather, he put on a turtleneck. For the first time in months, he put his gloves on.
When he left his apartment, he threw his almost full pack of Mild Sevens in the nearest trashcan. And on his way home, he picked up a pack of Kents instead.
It tasted different.