Flicker

Pairings: Tsusoka

Rating: R

Warnings: stream of consciousness, yaoi, NCS mentions, and unabashed man smut

Summary: Sometimes all it takes is one touch to ignite a flicker into a flare…Hisoka POV

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or storylines of Yami no Matsuei…I am but a poor college student trying to entertain herself.

Reviews are greatly appreciated!

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Flicker

Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if I had never died…I don't know why I think about this when I know I can't change the past, but I do. Maybe it's just a natural reaction with coming to grips with what I am or maybe it's something I don't understand, but it keeps running through my thoughts as I sit in my office that I share with Tsuzuki. I'd never voice these aloud, the baka blames himself for enough things as it is and I don't want to add this up there; I don't regret becoming a Shinigami. It's just…would I have still turned out the way I have if I was allowed to live out my life? Maybe I would have learned how to feel certain things if I had, but then again, maybe not. Now, all I can do is wonder.

His voice shakes me out of my reverie, just one of many I've fallen into lately, and he asks me if I'm all right, like he always does. The purple eyes, the ones he hates but I can't help but stare at, are boring into me with such an intensity I look away…I don't want him to see what's there. I feel what he feels for a moment before I remember to raise my shields: worry, sadness, a lingering self-hatred that never seems to fade, affection, attraction…and something else I can't reciprocate.

"I'm fine," I respond tersely before changing the subject to his abysmal paperwork skills. I don't want to talk about what he wants…let him keep whatever foolish allusions he has about me for a bit longer. It's selfish, I know, but I don't want those feelings he directs toward me to go away…just like I didn't want him to leave that day in Kyoto. I was selfish then too. Weak too, just like everyone always told me I was; seems death doesn't change everything after all.

He still wants to talk about it, but I'm thankfully saved by Watari who's carrying what looks to be some sort of confectionary treat. I wouldn't know…I hate sweets. He plasters that fake smile he's so accustomed to wearing and promptly begins to beg the blonde scientist for some of it…good, he's forgotten. I don't stick around to see the forthcoming haggling ensue as Watari tries to convince Tsuzuki to guinea pig for him and Tsuzuki tries to steal the cake, I've seen it enough times. I tell Tatsumi that I'm heading home…that I don't feel well; yet another lie for my collection. He doesn't believe my lie, I can feel it roll of him, but he lets me go anyway. Maybe he sees what I try so hard to hide.

I pull my jean jacket around my lanky frame and walk out into the brisk late afternoon Meifu is offering for its residents, ignoring any stares or feelings I sense sent my way. My green eyes pause over the sakura tree in front of our office…I hate that tree. I see myself forced against a tree that looks just like that one for a brief moment before tearing my gaze away, silver hair flashing in my memory as I hug my jacket around me tighter. It doesn't provide any extra warmth, but it makes me feel better, like I'm more protected. I don't know what I'd be protected from here, but I can't shake the feeling that's lodged its way in my mind.

The sun is setting now, and I think back to what Tsuzuki asked me, if anything was wrong, and I told him no. It was a lie, but it's nothing that he can fix, that anyone can fix. He needs someone who'll be able to show him the affection he needs so badly…he deserves that. I'm not that person, and I never had a chance to become him. Sure, it's not the best deal for me, but I don't care about that; he'll be happier this way. What the hell is he going to do with a broken doll who can't feel anyway?

That's rich, an Empath who can't feel his own emotions…so rich it makes me chuckle darkly under my breath.

I reach my apartment and open the door to the darkness, an unsettling feeling of uncertainty takes over for a moment before I shut the door. I hate the dark, always have, but I don't turn on the light switch…determined to act like I'm not weak even when there's no one around to see. It's the moon that gets me though, shining through the window now that night's fallen; it's full and bright in the sky but all I see is red. I suddenly don't want to act brave in the dark, the hands my memory provides seem real and I can feel his overpowering anger, amusement, and lust all over again. I blindly grope for the switch, and when I switch it on, I'm alone. Alone, that almost makes me wish for the darkness again. I don't know when I've become so dramatic, but the thought still comes.

I issue out a shuddering breath and slide to the ground beside my couch, closing my eyes and resting my head against my pulled up knees, knowing and not caring that I look pathetic. I used to do this when I didn't have any books to read when my parents locked my away in that basement. You could call it a room, but it wasn't…it was a cell meant to hold something dangerous and inhuman; my own dark seemed more comforting than that of the empty cell. I would always be sure to not be caught by my father like this, I always was composed and ready for him, but when alone it seemed to have the same effect as pulling a jacket tighter about my body.

I take a deep breath and push up off the ground, deciding I need to drink something to ease the dryness my throat as suddenly been overcome with. It's just water that I grab, but I don't need anything else…getting drunk isn't exactly my strong suit and it won't make the nightmares go away; it intensifies them if anything. I'm about to head for my room, having every intention to shower away my worries and memories as usual, but an insistent knock at my front door stops me. Frowning, I head back the way I came and open the door, wondering who would show up at my apartment at night and why I had decided not to ignore it as the door swings open to reveal the perpetrator.

I'm met with a pair of calm violet eyes, framed by chocolate brown hair, whose calm demeanor doesn't show the anxiousness and worry I feel roll off my partner. I admit, I'm too surprised by the sudden and unexpected arrival of my immature partner to put up much of a resistance as he enters my home and leaves me to shut the door after him. Granted, I don't think I would have put up much a fight anyway, the almost desperate look in his eyes able to melt away any kind of protest from me in an instant. He always seems to be able to that to me…something I can recognize but don't understand.

"Hisoka, please don't run anymore…"

If possible, my eyes go even wider in shock as he steps closer to me as he utters that statement; I double my effort into my shields to block what he's feeling. I step back, and we continue this dance, his step forward and mine back, until my back meets with the wall, and I have no where to go, nowhere to hide from that probing heliotrope gaze. I call upon the only defense I have and pull my features into an angry scowl as I stare right back at him. I tell him he doesn't know what he's talking about and try to move away, but arms trap me on either side of my body, something that only brings him closer to me.

He responds, somewhat angrily and surprising to me, that he does and that I can't keep doing this to myself. Does he think I want to do this? That I'm a masochist and enjoy tormenting myself? Thanks, but I get enough of that from my nightmares…why is he pressing so close? I get a lecture about how Tatsumi sent him to check on me, that I hadn't looked good as I left earlier today, and I grimly think that the secretary doesn't understand me after all. He says he's here because he's worried about me, and I believe him but I still cling to that anger coursing through me, one of the few things I understand. I tell him to back off…he grabs my upper arms instead.

He asks me if I can feel what he feels, and why I'm fighting something that will help us both. I say I don't need help, to which he responds with a slight shake that makes me nervous and declares that I do. He's probably right, but the moment I admit that I know I've lost, and I can't lose him…I just can't. There's my selfishness again, just like that day I made him stay with me instead of leaving an immortal existence he can't stand, and my façade starts to crumble under his scrutiny. I ask him, it's not a demand, to let me go, but he doesn't, just continues to look at me. I felt it first, through my empathy, what he was going to do, but it still surprised me as his lips brushed against mine in a silent plea for me to open up…hypocrite.

As he pulls back to look into my verdant eyes again, my mind begins to race with unspoken questions. I wonder if I'm scared about this because of one horrible moment where Muraki took something from me with a ruthless thrust, or because I think that I'm not worth his concern. It's probably a bit of both…and an unknown feeling stirring deep inside me that aches. I've wanted this for a long time, but I always thought it would be best to keep it as a dream because I couldn't love…but if I can't, why does it hurt so bad to see him staring at me like that?

"Why do you care so much?"

It's spoken in a broken kind of whisper, one that no longer is hidden behind the cold and indifferent mask I wear as much as he wears that grin, and the grip on my arms shifts to an embrace that presses my slim, immortal sixteen year old body against his taller frame. I muse silently that he's almost as thin as I am as he pulls away slightly and lifts my chin up so he can look into my face. He's tragically beautiful, but for once in a rare while, the grin is gone and all that's there is a naked expression, bare and open. Who's the hypocrite now, I ask myself sardonically.

"Because I do…I always have."

He proceeds to tell me exactly why he does, how we can help each other past our demons, but all I can focus on is the unrestrained feeling of warmth, caring, and love that exudes from him into me. It warms up my cold exterior, and I feel myself melting into his embrace further, a natural reaction I can't seem to stop. I'm not listening to my head anymore now…I'm listening to something I thought had died underneath a sakura tree when a blood red moon hung in the sky. I can feel he's about to tell me something important, the nervousness is mixing with the pleasant emotions and annoying to me…selfish again.

"I need you to love me, and you need me to show you how."

I ask him if he minds that I don't know how, and he responds no, placing one hand at my hip hesitantly…he's worried about my past like I am. I admit to him that I'm scared of being alone, and he tells me that I don't have to worry about that as the hand at my hip moves to the small of my back. I tell him to not make promises he can't keep, something I've told him before, and he responds with a simple, "I'm not," as his other hand moves to cradle my neck upwards. Everything I'm feeling from his so intoxicating, and I feel that unknown emotion inside growing…

He places another chaste kiss to my slightly parted lips and pulls away for the third time that night to give me a questioning look with his violet orbs. I suddenly don't care about my worries, the consequences, or my inadequacies anymore, and I shove every excuse I've ever made for myself out of my mind as I reach up and pull his head back down to mine…I need to feel him, feel what it's like to be cared for. There's nothing chaste about this kiss, my hands buried in his dark hair and his hands pressing me closer to him as my back presses almost painfully against the wall. Our mouths are working furiously against each other, nipping and sucking with a nearly frantic quality, as if this will end if we stop for even a moment.

I let his tongue slip into my mouth with a needy moan, tightening my arms around his lanky frame and push back with my own. I really don't have any actual experience with kissing, the one that I have was not of my own choosing and was nothing like this, so I let him lead; I let him teach me what to do. One of his hands slips under my jacket and orange shirt, and his hands feel so hot against my cold skin; like fire and ice. That's what we are. My jacket falls to the floor, and so does his, although I'm not sure how either of those happened. He lifts me up, using the wall as leverage, and the only thing I seem to be able to do is wrap my skinny legs around his waist. Why doesn't this scare me like I thought it would?

I don't have to angle my head up to reach his lips anymore, and they meet in a slower fashion this time…maybe we both are starting to believe the promises we made to each other are real. I can feel him moving, walking more specifically, towards what I can only assume is my bedroom but all I can seem to focus on is what his lips are doing against mine. I feel something building inside me and it's not something I've felt before, and I know that this is different than the last time.

I'm sitting on something soft now, no longer in the air but on something solid, but I'm still tangled around him. He pulls away then, and looks at me with darkened amethyst eyes, skin flushed and lips as swollen as mine must be…I notice he doesn't even have a shirt on and wonder if I'm responsible for that. He's looking at me with a mix of apprehension, desire, and…I feel it and know the last one is love. And then I hear it, the question that I've been waiting to hear…the one that makes this my decision, my choice.

"Are you sure you want this, Hisoka?" He says my name in a deeper tone, like it deserves some kind of reverence. I feel my heart swell at that tone and smile back at him, a true smile and not one of my damn smirks that probably annoy him to no end. I'm smiling for more than one reason though…I'm smiling because I've just proven my parents, Muraki, and myself wrong. I do feel more than just anger, hate, and fear, and I can learn to understand.

"This feels right." I know I don't need to say anything else…we both understand the weight of that statement.

And then, oh Gods, then he smiles at me…and his is real too. He whispers three words as his mouth claims mine again as if he's trying to imprint them upon my body to erase the scars there left by a madman. And it's working…I don't see a red moon anymore, only his smile. The hands aren't cruel and smooth, but gentle and rough. Love instead of hate is filtering into me via my empathy, and violet replaces silver…looks like I can be fixed after all.

I really don't know how the rest of both our clothing ends up on the floor, his mouth was doing interesting things to my neck at the time, but it does. He tells me I'm beautiful, and I think that there's no word to describe him then; I do have my limits after all. Every inch he touches ignites a fire in my belly, so different from the fire I felt when those damn curse marks were being etched into my skin, and I can't seem to get enough. His lips meet mine again and I can't help but drink in the taste of him…he's my drug and I never want to go through withdrawal.

He stretches my gently, smiling every time I let out a moan or a gasp…he's probably enjoying that I'm so vocal right now, I just find it ironic. He asks me again if it's all right, as if he's afraid I'll break if he makes one wrong move. Maybe he's right, maybe I will break, but nothing he's doing could cause that, so I nod and answer.

"Yes."

It hurts for a few moments, an uncomfortable feeling of something foreign and unfamiliar, but that fades and then I only feel something so good it can't be real. I knew it would feel different, but this is almost unreal…maybe it's just because it's Tsuzuki. My legs are draped over his shoulders and he's pushing me further into the mattress, my back arches as he brushes against something deep inside me and I cry out almost simultaneously with him.

"Tsuzuki…"

"Hisoka…"

This is what it's supposed to be like, being like this with someone who you love and who loves you back; this is what I never thought I'd have. Neither of our past matter, and the future doesn't matter either…only here and now, our flesh coming together as our immortal spirits heal each other. I don't doubt that he wanted to stay with me anymore when I asked him to that day in Kyoto, and he doesn't worry that I see silver hair and eyes as he touches me…it's a nice feeling, not worrying.

We're both sweaty and breathless afterwards, and I can't seem to keep this awful, adoring looking grin off my face…I know I'm never going to hear the end of this. He just grins at me in his goofy way, but it's different because it's still sincere, and tells me to go to sleep as he rolls over so I'm lying across his chest. I feel my eyes close and listen to this man's heartbeat, this man who saved me in every way that a person can be saved, and marvel at how fast the little flicker in between us turned into a flare.

I didn't think I actually went to sleep, to full of emotions that were my own to possibly calm down enough, but when he places a gentle kiss to my temple, my eyes flutter open and focus on his smiling face. He's still holding me, and the sunlight trickling into my room through the slits in the blinds frames his chocolate hair and I feel my breath catch. He tells me we might be late for work if I keep looking at him like that, a mischievous glint lighting in his purple eyes that I thought had been extinguished in the flames Touda had created. I glare at him and mutter that I don't care, kissing him before falling back across his chest; that's the first kiss I only have initiated, and judging by the wave of warmth I get from him, Tsuzuki knows that too.

"Are you all right?" he asks me after a few moments of comfortable silence, echoing the question that had led him to me last night in the first place. I smile against his skin and nod.

"I'm fine."

And, for once, I mean it.

Owari

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Review pretty please! If you do, I might do more of these…I seem to have developed a slight obsession with this pairing!

Osco