Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9212444.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      X_-エックス-_|_X/1999, CLAMP_-_Works
  Relationship:
      Sakurazuka_Seishirou/Sumeragi_Subaru
  Character:
      Sakurazuka_Seishirou, Sakurazuka_Setsuka, Sumeragi_Subaru, Shirou_Kamui,
      Monou_Fuuma, Kanoe_(X/1999)
  Additional Tags:
      If_You_Love_Me_Answer_Me_Softly, Alternate_Universe_-_Modern_Setting, New
      York_City, Flashbacks, Childhood_Memories, Emotionally_Repressed,
      Repressed_Memories, Childhood_Trauma, Child_Abuse, Mildly_Dubious
      Consent, Domestic_Violence, Mother-Son_Relationship, Mother_Issues, Anal
      Sex, Anal_Fingering, Oral_Sex, Rimming, Infidelity
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-01-05 Completed: 2017-02-02 Chapters: 5/5 Words: 62728
****** Nihta ******
by QueenTzahra
Summary
     We're all victims of circumstance. Stable or chaotic, loving or
     fearful, content or furious: we carry how we grew up in our bodies,
     even if we ignore or suppress the memories. Seishiro begins to
     remember after Subaru breaks up with him and leaves his apartment for
     the last time. His mind and body force him to explore his past,
     recent and distant, to find answers. What will he learn?
Notes
     Good morning! Happy Thursday!
     So this fic... Oof.
     A little explanation: back in October, I was talking to my dear
     friend SilverServerError about If You Love Me, Answer Me Softly (you
     know, as you do) and she was asking me about Seishiro and sort of,
     why he is the way he is. My response was "pfft I dunno" because
     truthfully, I hadn't given it any thought. All I knew was that his
     behavior made Subaru's life difficult, I didn't really care why. She
     told me she had a whole headcanon about it and asked to run it by me.
     WHO WOULD SAY NO TO THAT?! So we ended up discussing it for, I'm not
     kidding, a good four hours (best Friday night ever!) and the next
     morning, this fic came into being, fully formed in my head, while I
     was grocery shopping.
     So yeah, it's entirely her fault. At first I really didn't want to
     write this, and with very good reason. However, she talked me into it
     and I agreed to do it for NaNoWriMo (a goal of mine since I was about
     seventeen, so yay!).
     Okay! People to thank, because this fic to a village, let me tell
     you!
     Firstly, to my flesh and blood friends and boyfriend, who supported
     and encouraged me throughout this whole thing, even when they didn't
     really know how.
     Second, to my brother, truly the Subaru to my Hokuto, for sharing his
     experiences as a young gay man with me. I'm immeasurably grateful for
     his bravery, honesty and patience as I picked his brain for five
     hours over the phone, then in subsequent texts.
     Third, to my mother, for reading (THE CENSORED VERSION OF) If You
     Love Me and getting far more interested in Seishiro than anyone else.
     She was visiting me, and we ended up talking about him the entire
     weekend, but her opinion just reaffirmed where I was planning to go
     and made me feel much more confident about my choices.
     Fourth, to my Twin Star, for giving me the title (Night in Greek!)
     and for explaining to me some truly fascinating and relevant
     mythology, as well as for her excitement and encouragement. She's
     been wonderful!
     Lastly, to SilverServerError, the father of this story. She was
     INVALUABLE to me throughout this process with her unwavering support,
     love, encouragement and hype. At all hours I could text her to ask
     for help or vent or cry or whatever else, and she met me where I was.
     I am so lucky and grateful, I can't even express it. This fic was the
     most emotionally taxing thing I've ever written, I wouldn't have been
     able to do it without her.
     RIGHT! Let me shut up now. Enjoy chapter 1!
See the end of the work for more notes
  This work was inspired by
      If_You_Love_Me,_Answer_Me_Softly by QueenTzahra
***** 01 *****
 
"You aren't even going to say goodbye?" Seishiro asked, raising an eyebrow.
Subaru closed his eyes for a moment, his face falling into the soft pain
Seishiro knew so well.
"Can you guys give me a second?" He asked, looking over at the people he'd
brought with him. Kamui, the one Seishiro recognized, the one who had been
trying to steal Subaru away, looked horrified, but his friend cut across him.
"Are you sure?" He asked, his tone deadly serious. Seishiro wanted to roll his
eyes, but restrained himself. What did they think he was going to do, really?
Subaru nodded, and his friend continued, "We'll be outside. Come on, Kamui."
Kamui clenched his fists, and Seishiro smirked; he'd gotten under his skin.
"Is this what you wanted? To come into Subaru's life and disrupt everything?"
"And what will you do after this? Play house until Subaru comes back to me?"
"I-"
Yes. He'd definitely gotten under his skin. Good. Let him suffer. That's what
he got for interfering in their relationship, for intruding. Seishiro felt his
stomach clench uncomfortably as he watched Kamui and his friend drag Subaru's
suitcase back down the hallway and out of his apartment. Subaru turned to face
him again. His expression was strange, and not one Seishiro had seen before. It
was as though the pain, so soft and quiet a moment ago, had hardened and
sharpened. Seishiro waited, but said nothing.
A moment's silence passed before Subaru sighed and reached into his pocket for
his keys. His long, slender fingers found the two keys he needed to get into
this apartment and removed them from the ring. He held them out to Seishiro,
who just stared at them. Subaru had beautiful hands. It had been one of the
first things he'd noticed.
He returned his gaze to Subaru's face. He was still wearing that same strange
expression. He was definitely angry, Seishiro could tell. However, usually when
he was angry it was cute, containable, easily pacified or derailed. Now,
though, his eyes were burning with tiredness and… Was it contempt? No… "After
you begged and begged me for them?" Seishiro asked, his stomach clenching
uncomfortably again. Subaru flushed. There, that was familiar.
"I won't need them anymore," Subaru informed him, his voice shaky but
determined.
"Ah," Seishiro replied. He seriously doubted this and still wouldn't reach for
the keys. He didn't want to touch Subaru anyway, not with his face like that.
Subaru placed the keys on the back of the couch, then looked Seishiro in the
face. His eyes flashed again.
"You weren't supposed to be here," he said, and the anger in his voice was
unmistakable. Again, it wasn't the half hearted, fearful anger or the weary,
begging displeasure Seishiro had long since come to expect. The only other time
he'd seen this anger had been the day before, when they'd been talking on the
couch. Seishiro still didn't really know what to do about it, but- No. That
wasn't true. He knew Subaru inside and out. Subaru was easy, simple. It was
that boy, Kamui, telling him god knows what, that had started all of this.
Seishiro just tilted his head to the side, trying to keep his own expression
impassive and neutral. He couldn't provoke Subaru by getting angry or raising
his voice; that only scared him away. When Seishiro was quiet, Subaru would
come to him, would do all the work. This was only right, considering it was
Subaru who had done wrong in the first place. He was definitely aware of this,
though Seishiro doubted he understood it on an intellectual level.
"I knew you'd be back," Seishiro said, as though it were obvious, which it had
been from the moment Subaru had left the day before. After their conversation
on the couch, Seishiro had returned to his dark bedroom and slammed the door.
He leaned against it, breathing deeply, listening and waiting. He'd expected to
hear Subaru's fists on the door or him crying and begging to be let in, despite
being told explicitly to leave. Subaru was so needy; he always had trouble
hearing things like that correctly.
Seishiro had listened to him cry with a deep satisfaction until, "Kamui?" Anger
had flared alarmingly inside Seishiro, but he'd kept breathing and listening
until Subaru had actually left. Well, if Subaru wanted to run crying to someone
else, let him. He could enjoy one night away, one night of exploration and
subsequent disappointment (because, truly, what could someone like Kamui give
to Subaru that Seishiro couldn't?) before coming back to what he actually
needed. Seishiro was displeased, of course, but he'd forgive Subaru.
Eventually.
"I know you well," he reminded him. Subaru's eyes flashed yet again, and
Seishiro smiled. Even through this ugly, hard anger, he could still see Subaru.
He really was adorable when his emotions were so intense, when he felt them so
hard, when they clouded his judgment.
"You only know the me you can control," Subaru said. Seishiro's smile widened.
'That's all of you, Subaru,' he thought. 'You showed me everything so easily,
it was onlyKamui who started forcing you to keep secrets.' Out loud, though,
all Seishiro said was, "Control is a strong word." He sounded more amused than
he'd intended, and Subaru's expression hardened still further.
"You know who you want me to be," Subaru started to say, and his voice rose
alarmingly as he continued. "You know the me who is scared of losing you and
will do what you say-"
'That is you, Subaru,' Seishiro thought.
"-but I'm done!"
'We'll see.'
"This has nothing to do with Kamui or anyone else!"
'That's bullshit and you know it.'
"This was never going to work and I should have known better!"
'So cute…'
"I'm done. You wanted goodbye? Goodbye."
Seishiro just stared, smiling his usual impassive smile, waiting, drawing it
out, letting Subaru's emotions build and build. At last, he said, "All right,
Subaru." Subaru gave him a contemptuous look, then turned to go. Like a
striking predator, Seishiro reached out and caught him by the wrist. He could
feel his pulse under the warm, smooth skin.
"Let go of me!" Seishiro raised his eyebrows and tightened his grip in spite of
himself.
"I'll always love you, you know," he said, softly spiteful. He could see the
words fighting to take hold of Subaru and keep him there, but he somehow
managed to fight back. This was another Kamui thing, and Seishiro didn't like
it at all. He shouldn't have to get physical, his words should be enough;
they'd always been enough. His touch was a reward, withdrawing it was
punishment. Subaru wrenched his wrist out of Seishiro's grip, and he felt the
action all the way up his own arm.
"I loved the man I met in Tokyo, but he's been gone a long time!" Subaru said,
his voice shaking with fury. Seishiro watched him storm back down the hall,
pull open the door and slam it shut behind him. The crash echoed in the sudden,
silent stillness. Seishiro stood resolute, feeling-
"I've been the same person the whole time, Subaru," he told the silence. "You
just couldn't see." Contempt rose up from deep inside him, but he remained
where he was, breathing and finding comfort in the easy, familiar emotion.
After a minute or so, he returned to his bedroom to retrieve his cigarettes,
but paused. The two bottom dresser drawers that Subaru had unpacked were
hanging out at odd angles. The closet door was also open, and the few hangers
Subaru had been allowed were bare, leaving a gap in the wall of expensive suit
jackets, like missing teeth in an otherwise perfect smile. Seishiro narrowed
his eyes in disgust and strode across the room. He pulled all of his jackets
into place, feeling bizarrely like he was covering up evidence, but evidence of
what?! He turned to the drawers and kicked them shut as well. He'd half hoped
they'd slam, but he'd gotten a dresser with quiet closers.
Anger began to simmer inside him as he imagined Subaru there, on his knees,
shoving clothes haphazardly into his suitcase. Seishiro knew another agreeable
wave of contempt, though it just gave way to more bubbling, uncomfortable
anger. Subaru had asked for these spaces, had taken them over, then left them
desecrated. Seishiro always kept things neat, and Subaru knew that. It was like
one last "fuck you."
On another sudden swell of anger, Seishiro remembered the day Subaru had
arrived here. It had been a raw, January night, and Seishiro had actually gone
to get him from JFK. Subaru had been pleased, but Seishiro just didn't trust
him not to get lost. They'd come back to the apartment, and Subaru had looked
around eagerly; it was his first time seeing it.
He'd then dragged his suitcase into this room and looked to Seishiro for
instructions. He did this a lot when they were together. Tell me what to do,
give me direction. Make my choice for me, you know best. Seishiro both loved
and hated it.
"Here, I put aside these two for you," he told Subaru, indicating the two
bottom drawers in his dresser. Subaru looked touched.
"Thank you," he replied, smiling, still rather pink in the face from the cold.
"There's space in the closet as well," Seishiro continued. "Hang your nice
things up so they'll be ready when I take you out." Of course, Subaru's sister
had picked out most of his nicer clothes, so they'd have to be replaced. Subaru
just nodded, obviously thrilled at the promise. Seishiro smiled. It was all
even easier in person, when there wasn't a phone screen and thousands of miles
between his words and Subaru's desperate ears.
===============================================================================
Seishiro turned away from the dresser, remembering what happened next with
further disdain.
Subaru had placed his suitcase down next to the dresser, but his eyes kept
darting back to Seishiro. It seemed he was torn between unpacking, and…
"What's wrong?" Seishiro asked, propping himself up on his hands to look down
at Subaru. The warm, rosy light of the bedside table lamp lit up his face
beautifully; his pale skin contrasting so sharply with his dark hair and wide
green eyes framed by thick black lashes.
"Nothing! I'm sorry!" He cried, wiping his tears away with his fingertips.
"Does it hurt?" Seishiro asked, his eyes narrowing.
"No! You know I love it, it's just…" He swallowed and closed his eyes. More
tears slid down the sides of his face into his hair. "It's just a lot right
now," he said, his voice shaking slightly. He opened his eyes again and they
stared at each other. Subaru's face was so full of pleasure and emotion and
Seishiro was waiting for it to subside. He kissed Subaru, and he moaned softly,
wrapping his legs more tightly around him.
"Don't cry," Seishiro said, both commanding and encouraging. He didn't like
when Subaru cried, especially in situations like this. Subaru nodded, wiping
his eyes one last time.
"Keep going."
===============================================================================
Seishiro made a soft, contemptuous noise as he picked up his pack of cigarettes
from his bedside table. That had been the reason he'd come in here in the first
place, before he'd gotten distracted by unpleasant memories. He returned to his
living room and sat down on his couch. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply,
trying to refocus. He didn't need to remember all of this yet. He'd remember it
later, when Subaru came back, so he could remind him of all he'd walked away
from. Of why you don't let people intrude this way, of all the things Seishiro
would have to forgive him for.
He leaned back against the couch and heard something small and metallic hit the
floor. He looked around, then remembered Subaru had placed his keys there
before he left. Seishiro felt his stomach clench painfully as he took another
drag from his cigarette. He stood up, walked around behind the couch and picked
them up. He stared at them, cold and shiny against his palm. He'd given Subaru
these keys after he'd whined and begged for them for weeks. It was one of the
earliest issues he could remember them having.
"I don't understand why you need a set of keys if I'm always here to let you
in," Seishiro said, dismissively. He had taken Subaru out to dinner at a small,
discreet place by Union Square. They sat facing each other, and the light from
the candle on their table made Subaru's eyes shine.
"I could have a job that ends in the middle of the night or something, I'd feel
bad waking you up." His hands twisted on the table, so delicate and pale.
"You shouldn't take jobs like that," Seishiro said, quietly. Subaru opened his
mouth to respond, but Seishiro reached across the table and took his hand,
distracting him completely. He smiled at their clasped hands, then nodded.
===============================================================================
Eventually, though, Seishiro had given in. He'd made a copy of his keys
especially for Subaru so that he could work, and apparently play, late at
night. Then he'd returned them as though it all meant nothing.
Seishiro closed his fist around the keys and took another pull from his
cigarette. "I won't need them anymore," Subaru had said.
'Really?!' Seishiro thought, suddenly, but it wasn't his own voice. It was a
completely different voice: a raspy, furious female voice. Seishiro's eyes
widened and he tightened his hold on the keys.
"Really?!"
"Yes, really!" Seishiro had thrown the keys and they'd smacked hard against the
peeling and stained dining table, then slid away rather sadly. She'd watched
them, then looked back up at Seishiro, unflinching and utterly disgusted. "Fuck
you, I hope the next time I see you it's when I have to identify your
fuckingbody!" Seishiro had stormed out of her apartment and slammed the door,
anger coursing through him like hot poison, searing his nerves and churning his
stomach.
===============================================================================
"Ah!" Seishiro had smoked his cigarette so quickly it had burned past the
filter and singed his fingers. He dropped the end into the nearest ashtray and
sucked on his fingers.
"Oh no, how did you do that?!" She pressed her soft lips against his
fingertips. "Come on, cold water." She lifted him up to their kitchen sink,
turned on the cold water and shoved his hand underneath it.
"Ow!"
"Stop it, it'll feel better in a second." Seishiro sniffed and rubbed his eyes
with his other hand balled into a fist. "How did you do that?" She asked him
again.
"Your, your lighter…" He told her in a very small voice. With her free hand,
she smacked him sharply on the back of the head.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" She demanded, and Seishiro began to cry
harder, even as the cold water was soothing his blistered fingers. "You know
not to touch that! STOP CRYING!"
"I'm sorry!"
===============================================================================
Seishiro forced himself back to the present, alone in his apartment because
Subaru had… His burned fingers throbbed annoyingly and he strode down the
hallway to his kitchen to run them under cold water. His kitchen, decked out in
brand new finishes and spotlessly clean. He stared unseeingly at the backsplash
behind his sink as the cold water soothed his sore fingers.
Suddenly, a cockroach scurried out from a corner. He didn't have cockroaches,
where had it come from?! Dropping the keys onto the kitchen floor, he seized
the roll of paper towels off the counter. However, before he could smash the
insect, it disappeared. Seishiro stared hard at the wall, breathing deeply, and
replaced the paper towels on the counter. He must have imagined it. Imagined it
because their apartment always had cockroaches. Her apartment always had
cockroaches. He'd probably just seen them in the memory that was suddenly and
so grotesquely fresh in his mind.
"Be quiet!"
It was completely disgusting. Although that was before the habit he'd inherited
had gummed up her vocal chords with tar, when her voice had been soft and
beautiful even as she'd screamed at him.
"There, better?" She'd asked, grudgingly, setting him back on the kitchen floor
and drying his hand with a napkin she'd kept from a take out order. Seishiro
had nodded, even though his fingers still ached. She'd kissed them and returned
to her bedroom, where she'd been before she'd heard him cry out in surprise and
pain. Alone in the kitchen, Seishiro sucked on his burned fingers, then rubbed
his eyes with his other hand, still balled into a fist.
===============================================================================
Seishiro continued to stare straight ahead at the tiled wall, barely aware of
what was going on. At last, he decided his fingers were probably fine and
turned off the water. He dried his hand on the dishcloth folded over the handle
of the oven door. He hadn't used the oven the entire time he'd lived in this
apartment. He'd never really learned to cook, who would have taught him how?
She-
Seishiro forced his mind away, but the memories chased him, tried to claw at
his back and take hold of him. He tried to resist and redirect his mind, by
remembering that Subaru couldn't cook either. All he'd ever made for Seishiro
was coffee, which was pointless, considering he could just get coffee from his
office.
"Ah!" He gasped softly again and took a step backwards. He'd stepped on the
keys he'd dropped a moment ago, and the sharp, serrated edge had dug into the
bottom of his foot. He bent down to pick them up. He stared at them for a
moment, then, feeling vaguely disgusted, set them on the counter. He looked
down at his hand and flexed his fingers. His hands were bigger than Subaru's; a
fact that both of them had seemed to take pleasure in.
"You have beautiful hands," Seishiro had told Subaru, one of their first nights
together.
"You have his hands," she had told him, one random day when he was in
elementary school.
"Let me…?" Subaru had asked, softly, his face flushed and sweaty, bringing
Seishiro's fingers up to his parted, eager lips.
"You have his hands," she had said again, swallowing and rubbing her cheek
gently against his knuckles. "Be home on time tonight, there's someone coming
over I want you to meet."
Seishiro took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and first two
fingers. Why was he remembering all this? He hadn't thought about any of it in
years, and now the memories were buzzing around inside his skull like
bothersome flies. He didn't like this at all. He didn't need to be remembering
any of this; it served no purpose. His memories of Subaru weren't even those
that allowed him to feel contemptuous, or those he could use to embarrass him
or make him feel guilty once he came back. The others, well…
Seishiro straightened up and returned to his living room, both fists clenching
and unclenching. He sat down on his couch, then reached for his cigarettes and
lit another one, watching the smoldering end burn and smoke curl all around
him. His palms were suddenly sweaty and he was breathing rather harder than was
necessary. Why though? And now his heart was speeding up too? He took another
drag from his cigarette, though it was doing absolutely nothing to calm his
nerves. It seemed he'd needed more and more of them to achieve his desired
effect these days.
Another wave of bitterness rose up inside him, sick and spiteful. Of course he
did! He'd been dealing with Subaru actively fucking up their relationship for
how many weeks, now? Seishiro had tried so hard to keep Subaru with him, keep
him safe in his arms, but he'd still been lured away. 'Is it really so
surprising, though?' Seishiro thought, on yet another wave of bitter feelings.
Subaru was so spacey and all over the place, it only made sense that he could
be lured away. 'Like a cat leaving its owner for someone else just because they
feed it,' he thought, disdainfully.
But why though?! Who the fuck was this Kamui?! Just something new and exciting
tempting Subaru away from what was clearly better, obviously. It was just like-
His heart beat alarmingly against his ribs again and he took a fierce drag from
his cigarette. No, it wasn't like her at all, because she had had nothing good
to start with. His father had rejected her outright. Then again…
"Seishiro you know I love you, don't you?"
"Yes, Mother."
"You know I love you more than anyone else in the world, don't you?"
"Yes, Mother."
"And who do you love more than anyone else in the world?"
"You, Mother!"
Seishiro felt his stomach twist nauseatingly. He swallowed, then snubbed out
the end of his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table. What lies she'd
told him. She'd never loved him the most. That had been clear for a very long
time. He lay back against the couch, his stomach still lurching and clenching.
His mother, Setsuka, had given birth to him when she was 19, out of wedlock and
alone. He'd never met his father. Setsuka almost never talked about him, except
to vilify or mourn him. Seishiro had learned quickly not to ask about him, and
once he'd grown up his curiosity had evaporated completely. The closest he'd
ever gotten to his father were his random phone conversations with Setsuka that
had also stopped as he'd grown up. He remembered, suddenly, being four or five,
probably around the same time he'd burned his hand with her lighter.
He was in his tiny bedroom at her apartment, his childhood home, run down, cold
and dark. He sat on the old, dirty rug beside his bed, playing some pretend
game with the only toy he had, a penguin stuffed animal he'd called Blue
because of its color. His mother had taken him to the Bronx Zoo on a random
swell of maternal instinct and bought it for him for being good. He was talking
quietly to Blue about who knows what when he heard his mother's voice, shrill
and furious, ring out through the apartment.
"YOU CAN'T DO THAT YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Seishiro froze. "HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO
SURVIVE AND RAISE YOUR SON ON THAT?!" A pause, and Seishiro clutched Blue to
his chest, gazing terrified out into his living room. His mother laughed
sharply, cruel and humorless. "If you didn't want your wife to find out you
shouldn't have been fucking me in the first place!" Another pause. "PLEASE!
It's not like you can't afford it!" Again, she laughed. "You think I won't take
your pathetic self to court?! Fucking try me!" A long silence. Seishiro was
shaking all over as he held tight to Blue. He wanted so much to slam his
bedroom door shut, but he felt rooted to the spot by fear. At last, his mother
spoke again. She'd stopped yelling, thankfully, but the cold contempt and
threat in her voice was far scarier. "So you'd force me to work when I could be
home raising your son? You're so fucking disgusting. I hope she does find out
and she does leave you. I hope you're stuck paying for all three of your kids!"
Another pause. "Fine. Okay, fine! Yes! Goodbye!"
Seishiro shuddered as he heard her slam the telephone receiver back down. He
waited, clutching Blue, eyes wide and fearful. A thick silence permeated the
apartment, and a few minutes passed before, "Seishiro?" Seishiro swallowed, but
didn't move. "Seishiro! Come here, please!" Seishiro padded cautiously into the
living room, following his mother's voice into the kitchen. She was on the
floor, back against the refrigerator and knees hugged up into her chest. Her
long, silky black hair fell around her like a funerary veil.
She looked up as he approached, and Seishiro saw that she was crying. This was
just as scary as her screaming. He stared at her, wide eyed, at a total loss
for what to do. Something in her face shifted, and she began to cry in earnest.
Seishiro just watched, terrified, but she pulled him into a tight hug,
sandwiching Blue between them. Seishiro stiffened; he was unsure if she'd
direct her temper at him or not.
She cried that way for a long time, her narrow shoulders shaking, and Seishiro
remained stiff and frightened in her arms. Eventually, she pulled away and
looked him in the face, holding tight to his upper arms. "You know I love you,
right Seishiro?"
"Yes!" He nodded vigorously, and she gave him a tearful smile.
"Even if I'm not always there to pick you up from school?" Seishiro didn't
understand, but nodded anyway. "Your father doesn't think we need as much money
anymore," she told him, and his eyes widened fearfully. "He threw us away, and
now he doesn't want us to be happy." Now Seishiro wanted to cry too. He still
didn't understand, but his mother was crying again, and she sounded so angry,
and he hated the person who would make her feel this way. "You're all I have,
Seishiro," she told him, cupping the side of his face. "The only good man in
the world, and I gave birth to him."
She stood up, then lifted him into her arms. He was still frightened, though
she seemed to be calming down. She carried him into her room and they lay down
in her bed, curled around each other. He rested his head against her chest, his
arms still around Blue, finally feeling safe. She had stopped crying. He could
hear her heart beating.
===============================================================================
Seishiro stared straight ahead, a sense of numbness and disconnection upon him.
The memories continued to play as though his glasses were a projector screen.
The next day at school, Seishiro's teachers had laughed when he'd asked them
how he could get a job and earn money. He wanted to help his mother, though
he'd been too young to understand exactly what she'd been talking about. He
hadn't yet found out that his father, a married doctor with two children, had
begun an affair with a beautiful young nurse's aid at the hospital where they
both worked. He hadn't learned that upon finding out she was pregnant, he had
promised to leave his wife so they could be together, that he would support and
take care of her always.
Unfortunately, that happy transient dream had only lasted a few months before
he'd changed his mind. He'd paid what she called child support, though it was
with an under the table cashier's check. Periodically, he'd threaten to cut
them off or send less money, but he'd never actually go through with it. He
couldn't: Setsuka had irrefutable evidence of what had happened and could so
easily ruin his life and his marriage with a phone call to a lawyer.
===============================================================================
Seishiro lit another cigarette. The numbness inside him seemed to make him
impervious to the effect of the nicotine.
"Your father never wanted us, Seishiro," his mother said, sitting beside him on
the couch in their living room. "But I'll always have you, so he'll always have
me."
===============================================================================
Seishiro's stomach twisted uncomfortably through his numbness. She didn't have
him anymore. He had escaped; he'd gotten out and away from her. However, he
still felt disgusted remembering the things Setsuka had said to him. "I love
you" was her mantra, and she had repeated it constantly. He'd believed her at
first. What choice did he have?
His mother had come to pick him up from school the day he'd asked his teacher
about getting a job. "Did you do well today?" She asked. His teacher smiled.
"He's already asking about getting jobs and earning money," she replied, her
smile widening as she looked down at him. "He'll be a good provider for his
wife someday, he's so enterprising!" She'd obviously intended it as high
praise. Seishiro had certainly taken it that way, though he was thinking about
his mother rather than some future wife. He'd help her. He'd protect her.
His mother took his hand and led him back home, not saying anything except,
"Watch the cars!" Their old and grimy building was on Clinton Street between
Houston and Stanton, a block that got very scary at night. Their apartment was
on the third floor, and their neighbors all spoke vociferously and aggressively
in languages neither of them understood.
They climbed the stairs (their building had no elevator) and reentered their
apartment. His mother slammed the door before jerking Seishiro to the floor.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing, asking your teachers this shit?!" She
demanded, flushed and furious. "Do you want them to know your father doesn't
love us?!" Seishiro scrambled to his feet and tried to run away, but she caught
him by the hair, pulled him around and slapped him hard across the face. He
burst into tears and screamed, so scared he could barely breathe, the side of
his face stinging. "Are you ashamed of me?!" She demanded, raising her hand
again.
"No!" He cried. Her next slap echoed through his body and he fell over onto the
floor, curling up instinctively to protect himself. However, she didn't
approach him again. She turned away and stormed into her bedroom. Seishiro
winced as the door slammed, shaking with his tears. He waited a few seconds,
then got up, ran into his bedroom and shut the door. He jumped into bed,
finding Blue tangled up in his blankets and hugged him so tightly his arms
hurt.
Cold air leaked into his room from around the window above his bed. He shivered
and got under his blankets. He must have cried himself to sleep, because the
next thing he knew, the sun was setting and his room was dark and shadowy. He
wanted to turn on a light, but he was afraid to get up. His stomach had also
started to growl, and he wondered if his mother would even bother providing
dinner. He'd gone to bed hungry more than once.
However, a few minutes later, his mother opened his door without knocking, and
he sat bolt upright. Fortunately, all she said was, "I'm making dinner, come
eat." She then turned away, leaving the door open.
===============================================================================
A strange shiver ran through Seishiro's body, breaking through his numbness.
For a moment, it was as though he really were that small boy, cold and hungry
and- Seishiro swallowed and stood up, trying to get his wits about him. He
didn't ever think about this. He'd always been able to suppress these hated
memories, but now he was flooding, and he couldn't get his mind to stem the
flow. Was it just because of all that had happened with Subaru? Had it really
triggered all these unpleasant memories and bitter feelings? It was rather
pathetic, but it enabled Seishiro to blame Subaru. Anger rose up inside him,
hot and uncomfortable, but righteous and validating. After all, Subaru used to
ask him about his family and how he'd grown up all the time, even when Seishiro
made it clear he shouldn't.
"Why are you so curious?" Seishiro had asked him. They were lying in bed in one
of his hotel rooms in Tokyo. He was smoking, sitting up against the headboard
at his ease, and Subaru was lying curled up next to him, watching him with wide
eyes.
"I don't know," he said, going slightly pink. "I'm just interested, is all."
Seishiro's lip curled.
"It's not that interesting." Subaru sat up and leaned his shoulder against the
headboard.
"I, I like you a lot, Seishiro," he said, quietly, his blush deepening. "I
don't mean to pry, I just-" Seishiro interrupted him with a kiss, making him
gasp softly. He pulled away and stared hard at Subaru, who stared back, looking
both eager and unsure.
"My mother died when I was twenty two," he said, and Subaru covered his mouth
with his hand. "I never knew the rest of my family, so really, there isn't much
else to say." Subaru's eyes widened still further.
"I'm so sorry…" He said, and he obviously meant it. Seishiro considered him
thoughtfully for a moment, then put out his cigarette and reached forward to
cup the side of his face. Subaru was so devoted even though they'd had barely
any time together and most of it was fucking. He was so giving, so genuine, so
unlike anyone he'd ever been involved with before.
He kissed Subaru, who kissed him back enthusiastically and even more
passionately than usual. Seishiro couldn't help but feel affected. He lay
Subaru down again and fucked him greedily, then rolled off of him to recover.
Subaru lay beside him, gasping and shivering, before bending over Seishiro and
whispering in his ear, "You don't have to be alone, you can have me."
===============================================================================
Seishiro's fists clenched again and he rolled his eyes. At the time, he'd
wondered if Subaru was just getting off on playing the "sticking by someone
even though they're obviously fucked up" role, but he'd let go of that fairly
quickly. At that point in their relationship, all of Subaru's words were
genuine, even if all of Seishiro's weren't: as far as he knew, Setsuka was
still alive. He had lied to Subaru, it was true, but it was for a good reason.
The lie kept things simple and made Subaru all the more devoted to him.
This attachment might have alarmed Seishiro, but Subaru wasn't like others. He
was all for Seishiro in every respect, and he had done it gladly and of his own
will. It was ideal: Seishiro could give him a few words, or kiss him a little
longer, and he'd give him way more back. It had all worked out so well, until
Subaru had started spending time with Kamui. It suddenly occurred to Seishiro
that Kamui could easily have done the same thing. Had he also lured Subaru away
with performed loneliness and a tragic past?
Seishiro's stomach clenched. It was pathetic. Setsuka had been the same way
with all the worthless men she'd brought into their house. He felt another wave
of disgust, and this time it rose up in his throat. He pressed his first two
fingers against his lips and breathed deeply through his nose. He didn't want
to think about this. He didn't need to think about this, why wasn't his mind
cooperating? Why was his body betraying him? He felt an unpleasant prickle
creep up his spine. His body had always betrayed him, even from the time he was
small, just as Setsuka had predicted it would.
"Mother?" Seishiro asked cautiously, standing in his bedroom doorway and
holding tight to one of Blue's wings. He was supposed to be in bed, but he
couldn't sleep. His mother was sitting on the couch, smoking and wearing an odd
expression on her face as she stared at their TV. "Mother?" She looked around.
"What, Seishiro?" He shifted awkwardly between his feet.
"I can't sleep." Setsuka sighed, put out her cigarette and patted the space
next to her on the couch. Seishiro's heart skipped and he ran over to sit
beside her. The news was on, and it showed an overcrowded hospital ward.
Doctors suited up in gloves and masks were walking back and forth between the
rows of beds with nurses in toe.
"The AIDS ward at St. Vincent's Hospital is the largest on the East Coast," a
reporter's voice was saying over the footage. "After public health officials
and gay rights activists have spent years-"
"It's horrifying," his mother said, looking down her nose at the TV screen.
Seishiro looked between her and the television, squeezing Blue's wing with his
hand.
"Those people are all sick?" Seishiro asked. His mother nodded. "Will they all
die?"
"Yes," she replied. Seishiro's eyes widened.
"No one can help?" He asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
"They're trying, but I doubt it'll make a difference," she said, coldly. She
paused for a moment, still staring at the TV. Seishiro watched one of the
doctors bend over a patient hooked up to a respirator, his face and chest
covered in dark purple blotches. "You need a man around," his mother muttered,
just loud enough for Seishiro to hear. "So you don't turn out like this."
===============================================================================
Seishiro let out a bitter, entirely joyless laugh. Setsuka had been worried
about him ending up not only gay, but her worst idea of what that meant fueled
by the media of the time, and her idea of a preventative measure had been to
bring all of those worthless boyfriends around.
Now that really was fucking funny.
Not that he blamed her for his sexual orientation. Indeed, it was one of the
few things he didn't blame her for. Truthfully, if he could have switched off
his sexual urges and desires for all other people, he would have done it in an
instant. Then, he'd never have gotten involved with anyone and he wouldn't end
up in situations like this.
Anger flared suddenly inside him and he let it burn away all those other,
unpleasant sensations. Yes, this was what had started all of this. Subaru had
left, and it made Seishiro angry, even though he knew he'd be back. He'd be
back, full of apologies, begging for forgiveness. 'As he should,' Seishiro
thought, viciously.
He took his fingers away from his mouth. He seemed to be feeling calmer, or at
least more in control of himself. He stretched, wondering what he should do
next. It was obviously too late to go into work, but he could at least get
something done remotely. He'd taken the day off because he knew Subaru would be
back and wanted to be here for it. He hadn't told his coworkers this,
obviously, but he didn't really need to give them a reason. No one ever
questioned him at work. They, unlike Subaru, knew better.
Seishiro made a soft, contemptuous noise in his throat, sat down on his couch
again and pulled his laptop towards him. Even though he was stuck working from
home because of his boyfriend acting ridiculous, it made Seishiro feel better
to open his e-mail, to type a reply, to think about the very important phone
calls he'd need to make in the next few days. Work had always been where he was
happiest, or at least where he was most comfortable. He was smart, he was good
at his job and people respected him for these things.
"He's so enterprising!"
Seishiro narrowed his eyes at the computer screen. 'Yes, I fucking am,' he
thought, the sound of his typing echoing in the silence.
Setsuka would have done well to encourage him in that. Not that he'd ever
needed her encouragement, but considering how well off he was now compared to
how he'd grown up… He might have even helped her out occasionally if she'd
asked. Or maybe not; she had made her bed, trying to depend on all those
worthless men, let her lie in it. That was what she was best at, anyway.
Seishiro remembered the first time he'd met one of his mother's boyfriends. It
was the August after he'd finished second grade, and she had stuck him in a
summer program at his elementary school because she worked during the day.
Seishiro hated it. It was like being in school year round except every class
was gym. His teachers would try and encourage him to join in and play, but he
didn't like interacting with his classmates. They were loud and rough and
couldn't say his name properly.
Seishiro had gotten used to being alone by now, anyway. Just as she'd said she
might, his mother had stopped coming to pick him up from school or his summer
program, leaving him to get back to their empty apartment on his own. He didn't
mind though, and he liked having his very own set of keys. It all made him feel
very grown up. However, she never told him exactly where she would be or when
she'd be back.
A few months ago, she'd been gone past dinnertime, and it had really scared
Seishiro. He'd seen on the news about people going missing, about what terrible
things could happen, especially to young women like his mother. He knew how to
call 911, but would they even believe him? Would they care? He'd stayed up
waiting for her in his living room with the news on as she always did at night,
cuddled around Blue with a blanket draped over both of them. He'd tried to
sleep, but gotten nowhere. At last, he heard the scrape of her key in the lock
and cried out in relief. She entered the apartment and spotted him at once.
"Why aren't you in bed?!" She demanded, her voice rising. Seishiro stared back
at her, wide eyed and terrified. "It's nearly midnight, what the fuck is wrong
with you?!"
"I didn't know where you were! I'm sorry!" In answer, she grabbed him by the
upper arm, pulled him off the couch, threw him into his bedroom and slammed the
door.
After that, Seishiro would still wait up for her, but in his own bed, listening
with all his might. He'd hear her open the front door, slam it shut and bolt
the locks, and would know a deep, sweet relief. She'd always approach his room,
then open his door and peer inside. Seishiro's heart would slam against his
ribs as he'd pretend to be asleep. He knew he'd be in trouble if she found him
awake. She never did, though. She'd leave his door open and retreat, and the
sounds of her clattering about and getting ready for bed would lull him to
sleep.
On this day, however, she was there right on time to pick him up, and he'd run
towards her eagerly. She had a strange expression on her face, and for a moment
he was worried, but she smiled and hugged him. "I'm sorry I've been away so
much," she said, taking his hand and leading him back to their apartment.
"It's okay," he replied, slowly.
"I've been seeing this nice man," she told him, looking both ways
surreptitiously before pulling him across the street. Seishiro's eyes narrowed.
"Who?"
"Someone I met at work." Seishiro already didn't like this. He wanted to
question more, but kept his mouth shut.
"Is he your boyfriend?" He asked, a note of challenge in his voice. He thought
he might be pushing it, but she laughed.
"Maybe so!" A moment's silence passed. "He's back home waiting for us."
"What?!" His mother turned sharply around and gave him a warning look.
"Yes, and this is important, so be on your best behavior!" Seishiro glared back
at her, but nodded. They made their way home in silence, Seishiro holding tight
to his mother's hand as his stomach twisted uncomfortably. They climbed the
stairs and entered their apartment. Sure enough, there was a man Seishiro
didn't know sitting on their couch.
"Hey," he said, standing up. Seishiro held his mother's hand all the more
tightly. "I'm-" but it didn't matter. Seishiro couldn't remember any of their
names. He didn't really need to. They were all basically the same person: some
totally undeserving unimportant guy, good looking in the exact same vacant,
conventional way. They reminded Seishiro of the stupid looking male models on
fashion billboards. Their first words would usually be some iteration of "I
don't usually date girls with kids already, but…" Apparently Setsuka had such
power that they'd overlook this minor detail.
"Say hi, Seishiro, don't be rude!" His mother said, rather impatiently.
"Hello," he told her boyfriend, coldly. "I have summer reading to do." He
strode into his bedroom and shut the door. It was a lie; he'd finished his
summer reading months ago, but he doubted his mother knew this.
"He takes his schoolwork very seriously," he heard her tell her boyfriend
hastily.
Seishiro's heart was beating rather fast and he was breathing hard through his
nose. He didn't like this at all. Some random new person thought he could just
walk in his house and take his mother away? Make her leave him up all night and
terrified?
Seishiro threw his backpack onto his bed then climbed up himself. He could hear
his mother outside, talking to her boyfriend in a high-pitched voice that
sounded nothing like her. Anger rippled through him and he reached into his bag
for the library book he'd started reading that day. His classmates made fun of
him for how much he read, both in school and in his summer program. He didn't
let it bother him, though. It wasn't his fault his classmates weren't as smart
as him.
Seishiro could hear his mother making dinner, which she almost never did, and
felt another ripple of anger. He tried his best to keep reading, to concentrate
on his book rather than his mother's constant gnawing chatter and her
boyfriend's inarticulate grunting. Eventually, he heard her approach his room,
and she opened the door without knocking. She'd been doing this as long as he
could remember, but recently it had been really starting to annoy him.
"Dinner's ready!" She told him, her voice happy and singsong. Seishiro looked
up at her with raised eyebrows. It was nice to see her in such a good mood, but
it was all rather strange and hard to believe.
"I'm reading," he told her. Her eyes narrowed.
"We have company, come eat," she said.
"I'll be there in a minute," he countered. His mother actually entered the room
and shut the door. Seishiro stared determinedly back at her.
"You will do as you're told. Come eat." Seishiro remained still, though his
heart began to speed up.
"No," he told her. She took a step towards him.
"Seishiro," she said, all warmth and happiness in her voice gone. He said
nothing, and they stared at each other a moment longer before she lunged
forward and knocked his book out of his hands and onto the floor. "Be outside
in five minutes or you will live to regret it, I fucking promise you." Seishiro
looked down at his book, lying spine up and open on the floor.
"Fine," he said, resentfully. She rolled her eyes, but said nothing else. She
turned and left, slamming the door behind her. Seishiro flushed in anger. She
only ever closed the door when she slammed it in temper. He heard her tell her
boyfriend,
"Sorry, my son-" but the blood pounding in Seishiro's ears drowned out the rest
of her words. He hated when she referred to him that way, as though he didn't
have a name. She'd also always call him "my son" when she was angry with him or
when she was speaking about him to one of her boyfriends.
Seishiro picked up his book, fixed all of the pages and put it on his bedside
table. He then returned to the living room with a deep sense of ill usage upon
him. His mother's boyfriend was sitting at the head of their dining table as
though he belonged there. They didn't have a real dining room; one room served
as their living room and kitchen, but his mother always called the plastic
table in front of the counter "the dining table."
Seishiro gave her boyfriend a thoroughly mistrustful look and took the seat
opposite him. He didn't look at Seishiro; he seemed too preoccupied staring at
his mother as she served them dinner. She sat down and looked proudly back and
forth between them. Her boyfriend had a look of vague satisfaction on his face,
as though this scenario, in some abstract sense, was desirable. Seishiro glared
at his plate and pushed his food around with his fork.
"So, uh," her boyfriend began, and Seishiro refrained from rolling his eyes
with extreme difficulty. "What grade are you in, Seishiro?" Seishiro's heart
sped up sharply as it always did when someone mispronounced his name, and he
didn't reply.
"You're going into third, right?" His mother said, trying her best to sound
encouraging.
"Yes," Seishiro replied, grudgingly.
"Why are you so shy today?" She persisted, rather aggressively.
"I'm not," he snapped back. It was true. He wasn't shy, he just didn't like
this person and he didn't want to talk to him.
"It's uh, it's cool," her boyfriend said, in what he must have imagined was a
take control, reassuring way. "What's your favorite subject?" He tried next.
"Math."
"Oh yeah? That's cool. I suck at math, it makes no sense to me." His mother let
out a false, high-pitched laugh that so grated on Seishiro's nerves.
"You're just not smart like me," Seishiro told him, coldly. He was still
looking down at his plate, but his eyes darted to his mother. His heart sped up
fearfully as he wondered if he'd crossed a line. Her eyes widened, and a
moment's awkward silence passed, then she and her boyfriend started to laugh.
"Seishiro!" She exclaimed, sounding more bemused than angry. Seishiro looked up
at her, and her expression was soft and gentle. He so rarely saw her look this
way, and he held her gaze a second longer before looking away again. It was
nice to see her genuinely affectionate for once, but he had no idea why they
were both laughing. He hadn't been joking at all; this man was so obviously not
as smart as Seishiro it was ridiculous.
"You're too blunt, just like your mom," her boyfriend told him.
"What?!" She demanded, and they both laughed. Seishiro finished his dinner in
silence while their conversation continued around him. At last, it was over,
and he hurried back to his room. He shut the door and leaned against it,
listening. He wanted his mother's boyfriend to leave, but from the way they
were talking it seemed he'd be hanging around. Seishiro sighed, feeling
suddenly lonely.
His bedroom was dark because he hadn't turned on the overhead light. The window
on the opposite wall faced an airshaft, so it let in hardly any light after the
sun sank too low in the sky. However, it did let in lots of noise, even when
shut. He'd hear people yelling at each other in garbled mixes of several
languages, music blaring and sometimes, even gunshots.
He sighed again, listening to his mother talking to her boyfriend through the
closed door. "Yes, did you want a drink?" She asked, her voice falsely high-
pitched again.
"Yeah sure, thanks, babe." Seishiro rolled his eyes. Now his mother and her
boyfriend were alone his voice had become less formal, less polite, though
still obviously devoid of anything intelligent. Seishiro didn't want him in
their house. He didn't want him around his mother. He wanted to make him leave,
but he didn't want to go back out there.
Someone turned on the TV to what sounded like the news. Seishiro hardly ever
understood what anyone on the screen was talking about, but it was the only
thing his mother ever had on. Maybe, though, he could just go sit and watch,
just visible enough to discompose her boyfriend without actually having to
participate…
With one last, resigned sigh, Seishiro went back into the living room. He found
his mother curled up next to her boyfriend on the couch. He had his arm around
her, a beer in his other hand and his legs spread ostentatiously as though he
were intentionally taking up as much space as possible. Seishiro eyed him with
ever growing dislike and waited to be noticed. The news seemed to be running a
story on Tompkins Square Park. A reporter's voice was saying, "Police battled
the homeless and their supporters for nearly four hours last night in what is
being called a full-scale police riot. Police officers, protestors as well as
innocent passers by were injured after the police attempted to force a curfew-"
"What are you doing out here, Seishiro?" His mother asked, finally realizing he
was there.
"Can I come sit with you?" He asked. She looked at her boyfriend, who just
shrugged. Seishiro sat down on the end of the couch nearest him, forcing him to
shift over and close his legs. On the TV, an old man who Seishiro knew to be
the Mayor was gesticulating rather stupidly, apparently making a speech.
"We can't let ourselves be intimidated or give into the demands of these
people," he said, with obvious distaste.
"Seriously," his mother's boyfriend agreed. Seishiro didn't understand, but he
hated his tone. Who was he, trying to sound as though he knew better? "I used
to want to be a cop when I was a kid," he told Seishiro's mother, and she
smiled indulgently. "Or a firefighter," he added, stupidly, and she laughed.
"Um, what do you want to be when you grow up, Seishiro?" He asked, bravely.
Seishiro looked at him coldly, debating his answer.
"I don't know," he said. "Maybe a doctor." Her boyfriend nodded appreciatively,
and Seishiro felt a ripple of anger. "Yeah, so I can cut people open." His
mother and her boyfriend exchanged a look, seemingly unsure if they should
laugh or not, and it gave Seishiro a deep satisfaction. He had no desire what
so ever to become a doctor, but that answer always got a rise out of people,
even if he said it as a throwaway statement.
"So like, a surgeon?" Her boyfriend asked. Seishiro shrugged.
"A surgeon, or someone who cuts open dead bodies like on TV." Her boyfriend
just nodded, his expression tightening, and his mother looked back and forth
between the television and Seishiro's face, horrified. He just smiled. "Those
people are called medical examiners."
"Go take a bath and get ready for bed, Seishiro," his mother interjected,
sharply.
"You said I could sit here with you!" He reminded her, crossly.
"I don't care, it's nearly past your bedtime anyway, go!" Dire warning had
entered her voice, and Seishiro knew not to push it. He hopped off the couch,
retrieved pajamas from his room and walked resolutely down the tiny hallway to
their bathroom, full of rust and cracked tiles. "I'm so sorry, I don't know
what the fuck has gotten into him!" He heard his mother cry.
"It's cool," her boyfriend replied.
However, it apparently wasn't cool, because by the time Seishiro had finished
his bath, her boyfriend was gone. Seishiro walked back down the hall, his hair
damp and skin flushed, to find his mother still on the couch, smoking. He eyed
the back of her head cautiously as he approached his bedroom. "Seishiro, come
here please." Seishiro's heart sped up. He wondered if he was about to be
punished as he walked over and sat next to her. "You didn't like him, did you?"
His mother asked. Seishiro shrugged, still unsure if he was in trouble or not.
"It's okay if you didn't," she continued, putting out her cigarette, and
Seishiro felt an enormous relief. "He's not going to work out." Seishiro said
nothing. "At least I told him. It was my choice," she said, as though trying to
talk herself into something. However, her eyes suddenly flashed as she whirled
around to look at Seishiro. "What kind of answer was that?!" She demanded, and
Seishiro scrambled away from her. Fortunately, she didn't raise her hand.
"I don't know!" He cried, his heart hammering, but she just sighed.
"I suppose it's to be expected. He was a surgeon too." Seishiro didn't
understand, but she no longer sounded angry. She ran her fingers through her
long, silky hair. "You need to be nicer to these men, Seishiro," she told him,
firmly. "I want you to have a father." Seishiro remembered again that news
report from before, of the young man covered in purple blotches, and nodded
grudgingly.
"Okay." She sighed.
"Come sleep in my bed tonight," she said. Seishiro nodded, this time feeling
pleased. He'd have her all to himself for the rest of the night. No one else
would intrude or interrupt. "Let's go." He ran into his room to get Blue, who
he still slept with every night, then hurried to his mother's room and jumped
in her bed. Once again, he fell asleep listening to her heartbeat.
===============================================================================
A sudden ping of an e-mail notification startled Seishiro, forcing him back to
the present. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and
first two fingers.
In retrospect, he had to give Setsuka credit for recognizing that boyfriend
would never work and ending it herself, rather than waiting for him to just
stop calling, or disappear, or get arrested. However, he couldn't feel proud of
her, considering she made the same mistake over and over again. Seishiro
shuddered slightly as he put his glasses back on.
He'd be lying if he said he weren't at least partially to blame for his
mother's relationships failing. If he really didn't like someone, and he really
didn't like most of them, it was easy enough to get rid of them. In spite of
himself, Seishiro felt a sudden rush of spiteful pleasure about how he'd done
the first one. All it had taken was a lie about wanting to cut people open, how
utterly fucking pathetic was that? Although, he supposed the creepy murderous
child cliché was enjoying a great vogue at the time, even if it never actually
happened in real life.
Seishiro rolled his eyes. That was what that man got for trying to invade his
house, for intruding on himself and Setsuka. These men had all felt like enemy
forces, and Seishiro had been the brave defending army, protecting his castle.
Sometimes his weapon was acting out, though that was rare; temper tantrums had
never been his thing. His favorite tactic was to withdraw, to be totally
unresponsive to both his mother and whichever boyfriend it was. That always got
a rise out of them as they fought for his attention, for his words. Still other
times, it would happen completely by accident.
He remembered one time in particular when he'd woken up in the middle of the
night, his throat burning so badly swallowing brought tears to his eyes. He'd
staggered down the hall to his mother's room, feverish and sweaty. Her door had
been closed, but he'd opened it anyway.
"SEISHIRO!" His mother had screamed, diving under her covers. "WHAT THE FUCK
ARE YOU DOING?" Seishiro began to cry in earnest, the noise of her screams
echoing in his sore head. "Oh for god's sake, what's wrong?!" He just cried
harder than ever, totally helpless against the sickness raging inside him.
"Sorry," his mother told whichever boyfriend it was. He'd hung around for a
while, at a total loss for what to do, before finally going home.
Even in his feverish, miserable state, Seishiro was very pleased to have his
mother all to himself again. It was even better because he was actually sick:
she was gentle and loving rather than furious at him for driving another man
away.
The next morning, Setsuka had taken Seishiro to the doctor. She was angry she'd
have to take the morning off work, but pleased that this job at least gave her
health insurance. The doctor had poked and prodded Seishiro, then taken a
throat culture than made him gag and cry out in pain. While Seishiro and his
mother were waiting in the empty office for results, he had half-heartedly
tried to read the new library book he'd brought with him, though he could
barely focus on the words, everything hurt so much. The doctor returned to the
room, clipboard in hand, and immediately noticed Seishiro reading. "Do you
always read with books so close to your face, Seishiro?" He asked, kindly.
Seishiro looked up, then nodded.
"I have to or it's blurry," he said, his throat burning and tears leaking from
the corners of his eyes. His mother had looked fearfully between him and the
doctor.
"He needs glasses?" She asked.
"I'm not an optometrist," the doctor said, his tone still kind. "So I can't say
for sure, but once he's feeling better I'd take him to get his eyes tested. I
can give you a name." Setsuka nodded, looking suddenly sad. "To that end, yes,
it's definitely strep," the doctor continued. They talked for a few minutes
about it before he gave her a prescription for antibiotics and the name of a
local optometrist.
Later that day, Seishiro was in bed, covered in extra blankets and feeling
nauseated from his medicine on top of everything else. His mother sat on the
edge of his bed, staring at him with the same sad expression. "How long have
you had trouble seeing?" She asked, and Seishiro knew if he weren't sick, she'd
have been screaming.
"I don't know," he replied, weakly, hugging Blue more closely to him. His
mother just sighed and ran her fingers through her hair.
"I shouldn't be surprised, I guess," she said, quietly. "He wore glasses too."
She stood up, but paused. "You still sleep with your penguin?" She asked.
Seishiro nodded. "The penguin I bought for you?" Again, Seishiro nodded, and
she actually smiled. "Good." She kissed him on the forehead and left the room.
===============================================================================
Seishiro put his glasses back on, and his apartment came back into focus: dark,
sterile and empty. Empty because Subaru had left. Subaru had always liked
Seishiro's glasses, and he'd always try to play with them for some reason.
"Don't."
"What?" Subaru's eyes widened and he held Seishiro's glasses to his chest.
"Give them to me," Seishiro snapped. Subaru looked suddenly fearful and handed
them over at once.
"I'm sorry!" He cried, but all Seishiro said was,
"Don't touch my glasses." Subaru nodded, still looking fearful.
===============================================================================
'Good,' Seishiro thought. Subaru used to do things like that all the time,
small things that would so irritate Seishiro. He'd never let them get under his
skin or make him really angry, of course, but he shouldn't have had to tell him
in the first place. Subaru should have known, but then again, how could he?
Subaru was so all over the place, or up in his head, he always needed someone
to guide him and show him the way. Seishiro had tried as hard as he could, only
to have it all thrown back in his face.
Truthfully, he had been concerned for longer than he'd like to admit. He had
started to, not panic, but worry, when Subaru was no longer fazed by his words
or his pulling away. It had been easy when they were first together. The
pattern was simple: Subaru would inevitably do something Seishiro didn't like,
even something small, and all he had to do was withdraw.
Very suddenly, he remembered one night in particular, six weeks or so after
Subaru had come here. They'd been out having dinner in midtown, at another
small, discreet place. He and Subaru were sitting at a corner table, looking at
each other but not speaking. They'd started having trouble not too long ago,
and Seishiro found the best way to pacify Subaru was dinner somewhere nice and
sex. However, he was taking time out of his schedule for this, so Subaru would
do well to make an effort and be grateful. The CTO at Seishiro's company had
taken on a whole new massive project with their Tokyo office, which meant more
work for everyone, not to mention a party to celebrate. If Seishiro had had his
way, he'd have been home working, but… Subaru being unhappy didn't do him any
favors.
Their server approached them, and he was young, energetic and very good-
looking. He greeted them as he would any table, but Seishiro noticed his eyes
darting to Subaru more often than was necessary, given that all he was doing
was taking drink orders. Subaru seemed to encourage it, and they had an entire
conversation about one specific cocktail. Seishiro just watched, displeasure
simmering inside him. Subaru laughed at something their server said, throwing
his head back as he did so. Finally he retreated, and Subaru watched him go,
still smiling, before returning his gaze to Seishiro. His smile vanished.
"What's wrong?" He asked, softly, and Seishiro's lip curled.
"Nothing," he replied, delicately. Subaru tried to reach for his hand, but he
took it off the table.
"Seishiro…" Subaru said, obviously hurt.
"Decide what you want," Seishiro told him. Subaru just nodded and looked away.
When their server came back, he seemed taken aback by Subaru's sudden change in
demeanor, and this only irritated Seishiro further. "Nothing's wrong, right,
Subaru?" He asked, once they were alone at their table again. Subaru looked
more confused than ever.
"I-"
"You're fine. You don't want people to look at us strangely, do you?" Subaru's
eyes widened, and he shook his head.
The rest of the night, Subaru became overly talkative every time they were
alone. He was trying to make the rest of the night good and make up for his
earlier lapse. Seishiro would just nod or answer in one word or a clipped
phrase. He knew Subaru hated it and was getting more fearful by the second. On
some level, Seishiro hated it too. He wished Subaru would just be quiet, but
that seemed impossible now.
At last, dinner was over, and they were back on the 1 train downtown. They
didn't speak until they were back up in their apartment. It was late, but
Seishiro sat down on the couch and pulled his laptop towards him, intending to
do all the work he'd neglected while taking Subaru to dinner. "Seishiro?"
Subaru hesitated for a moment, then sat down beside him.
"What?" Subaru looked away, and Seishiro watched him out of the corner of his
eye. His expression was sadder than ever, and it was both gratifying and
infuriating.
"Are you angry with me?" Seishiro managed not to roll his eyes, but it was a
close thing.
"No," he replied, patiently, typing something. The clicking of the keys seemed
magnified in the rapidly thickening silence.
"But-" As usual, Subaru was totally unprepared to take his word for it. "What
happened at dinner?" He continued, forging bravely ahead.
"You tell me," Seishiro replied, coldly, pausing in his typing to reach for his
cigarettes. "You know not to let people interfere or intrude." He lit up and
took a deep pull from his cigarette, then finally turned to look Subaru in the
face. He seemed totally at a loss.
"I'm sorry," he said, his eyes wide. "I wasn't trying anything, I swear!"
Seishiro exhaled smoke and returned his gaze to his laptop. Subaru sighed
heavily and Seishiro's gaze immediately snapped back to him.
"Are you intentionally stressing me out?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.
"No! I just…" Subaru looked away, apparently unable to finish his sentence.
'You just do stupid things like flirt with our server at dinners I take you
to,' Seishiro thought, spitefully, though out loud he said nothing. He returned
his gaze to his laptop and silence fell between them again. Out of the corner
of his eye, Seishiro watched Subaru staring down at his hands, folded neatly in
his lap. After a few minutes, he stood up. "Where are you going?" Seishiro
asked, putting out his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table.
"Out for more cigarettes." Seishiro thought this unlikely, considering no
stores in this area would be open at this hour. However, if it would keep
Subaru occupied for a bit, fine. He watched him put on his coat, grab his keys
and leave the apartment, just as he had done that very morning. That night, of
course, Subaru had come back, just as Seishiro had known he would, just as he
knew he would today as well. Seishiro had waited, responding to e-mails about
the trip he'd need to take to his job's Tokyo office. "I'm home," Subaru called
cautiously from the doorway an hour or so later. Seishiro listened to him walk
down the hall, but remained silent a few seconds longer, finishing the sentence
he was typing.
"Welcome back," he said, finally, without turning around. "Did you get what you
wanted?"
"Nowhere was open."
"Ah." Neither of them spoke for a moment. Seishiro continued to type, debating
his course of action. He was sorely tempted to remain withdrawn and continue to
ignore Subaru. However, with all the work he'd have to do, not to mention the
party they'd have to attend together next week, he didn't think he could stand
Subaru being that needy. "Go draw a bath," he said, finally, coming to his
decision. "I'll be there soon." Subaru hesitated, then scurried through their
bedroom into the en suite.
Seishiro sighed heavily. He hadn't been hurt by this at all; he got what he
needed when they were still at the restaurant, when Subaru had realized he'd
done wrong. However, Subaru had kept pushing, and now Seishiro had to pacify
him. All because of a server at a restaurant Seishiro hadn't even wanted to go
to in the first place. He sighed again as he closed his laptop and put it back
on the coffee table. He stood up, then walked slowly through his bedroom,
thinking irritably that fights like this, if you could even call them fights,
were becoming more and more frequent. Still though, at least he could end them
easily by withdrawing his touch, then saying the right things as he gave it
back. As long as he had that, it wasn't too bad.
Seishiro opened the bathroom door. Through the steamed up glass shower walls,
he saw Subaru pause in the act of scrubbing himself clean. Seishiro undressed,
pulled the shower door open and stepped inside, right up behind Subaru, who
stiffened. "You're not upset with me, are you, Subaru?" Seishiro asked,
quietly, before wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on his
shoulder. Subaru swallowed, but Seishiro felt him relax very slightly. "You
know I hate when you're angry with me."
"I'm not." Seishiro held Subaru more tightly, reminding him of what he could
lose.
"I'm glad," he breathed, right in his ear. "I don't even know what that was all
about, that's what hurts the most."
"I'm sorry!" Subaru cried.
'You should be,' thought Seishiro. Subaru tried to turn around and face him but
Seishiro held him firmly in place. Out loud, he said, "I know." It was true,
after all. Subaru was always sorry for all the issues he created. Of course, it
would be best if he just learned how to prevent them, but Seishiro would take
what he could get in the mean time. "Go get in the bath." He let go of Subaru,
and he got out of the shower, eyes averted and face flushed. Seishiro felt a
surge of satisfaction and decided to take it further, both to reward and
reclaim Subaru.
Seishiro scrubbed himself clean, knowing a surge of anticipation and feeling
much better all of a sudden. He rinsed off, shut off the water and slid into
the tub on top of Subaru. At last, he looked him in the face. "I love you,"
Seishiro reminded him quietly, feeling his heart speed up in spite of himself.
"I love you too," Subaru replied. Seishiro smiled down at him.
"I know." It was true. Subaru said it all the time, and when his actions didn't
line up with the words, he was apologetic and remorseful, as he should be.
===============================================================================
'Unlike Setsuka,' Seishiro thought, bitterly, before his mind was back on
Subaru, underneath him in the hot water, soft and fearful and beautiful.
Seishiro kissed him, and he responded enthusiastically, wrapping his arms
around his neck. He was always this way after arguments: even more unselfish
and giving than usual.
They got out of the bath, dried off and got in bed to continue. "I'm yours,
Seishiro, no one else's," Subaru told him in a soft moan, his eyes shining with
meaning.
"I know," Seishiro breathed, thrusting deep inside him. Subaru threw his head
back, his expression exultant. Seishiro definitely loved this: Subaru giving
him everything and relishing every second of it.
Seishiro pulled out, ripped off the condom he was wearing and made himself come
all over Subaru's erection. Subaru moaned softly in appreciation and smiled up
at him. Seishiro moved away to sit up against the headboard, breathing deeply.
"Come for me, Subaru," he said. Subaru flushed, but nodded. Seishiro watched
him obey with a deeply satisfied smile on his face. He could do whatever he
wanted to Subaru, and he'd always call it "making love."
"Seishiro!" He moaned softly as he came all over his belly. He lay back, eyes
closed and gasping for a moment, and Seishiro gave him a soft kiss on the lips.
"Clean up and bring me my cigarettes."
"O-okay…"
They fell asleep next to each other that night, and Seishiro spooned him for
good measure. After all, he'd be lying if he said it didn't feel good for him
too.
===============================================================================
A sudden wave of bitterness rose up inside Seishiro and his chest and throat
constricted painfully. What was this…? He remembered suddenly, viscerally, how
it felt to hold Subaru close, to kiss him, to be deep inside him… That had been
the basis of their relationship at first, before they'd agreed to add feelings,
to "make it official." Another wave of bitterness. That had been Subaru's idea
too.
"I'm yours, Seishiro, if you'll have me," he'd said, and Seishiro had smiled,
his heart unexpectedly light.
"You're mine, then."
===============================================================================
Now, his heart was throbbing as more righteous anger swelled inside him,
burning away the bitter feelings. Their decision to call what they were doing a
relationship had made sense: Seishiro hadn't been fucking anyone else and
Subaru was so willing, but still… Subaru had asked for his commitment only to
throw it back in his face when someone new came along.
Anger boiled inside Seishiro. How could Subaru just end it? Why had he stopped
fighting for him? Why did he suddenly stop being afraid of losing Seishiro when
they both knew he was the best person for him? Seishiro shook his head in utter
disbelief and disgust.
Subaru would come back, though. He'd come back all those other times. Even
though something had apparently changed, it wouldn't last. Subaru would come
back.
Seishiro breathed deeply, taking comfort in these thoughts, and feeling his
anger abate very slightly. He'd brought Subaru to New York, according to his
wishes, what else could he have wanted? Seishiro sighed heavily, wondering, not
for the first time, if things would have been easier if Subaru had just stayed
in Tokyo. When they'd been apart, Subaru had been far less demanding and much
more understanding.
"I loved the man I met in Tokyo, but he's been gone a long time!"
Seishiro rolled his eyes. Subaru had been the one who had changed. Seishiro had
been the same person the whole time, Subaru just hadn't… It didn't matter.
Subaru would realize he was wrong in no time. Besides, Seishiro actually did
know what it was to see someone change so drastically, so-
A massive, pricking shiver began at the back of Seishiro's neck and radiated
out through his whole body. He remembered, again, sudden and terrifying and
visceral, a hand, one larger than his mother's, around his throat, hot furious
breath on his face and tears- "No!" He said, out loud, taking himself by
surprise. Where the fuck had that come from? His heart was pounding in his
chest and his hands were clammy as he ran his fingers through his hair. That
was exactly why Seishiro never put his hands on people, why his words had to be
enough, because losing control of yourself in your anger was shameful!
"You chose to follow me." The sound of Subaru's headphones breaking in half
seemed to crack through the air, as though it were happening all over again.
"Yes, really!" The sound of metal smacking against the cheap, plastic dining
table at Setsuka's apartment.
Seishiro had lost control both of those times. His emotions had taken him over.
His body had betrayed him. Disgust rose sickeningly up in Seishiro's throat and
he clapped his hand over his mouth.
"SEISHIRO! NO! PUT HIM DOWN!" Seishiro kicked out. The hand released him and he
collapsed onto the floor, gasping for breath and crying.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
Seishiro felt cold sweat on his face. He was trying with all his might to
resist the memories, to fight back…
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" The sound of the punch and her scream echoed through the
apartment and seemed to rip through Seishiro.
It was no good. His body was betraying him.
***** 02 *****
Chapter Notes
     Happy Thursday!
     How's everyone doing today, good? I hope so! Today's my birthday, and
     my gift to you all is this chapter! Um... join the celebration I
     guess?
     Ugh. So this chapter. Quite frankly I'm thrilled to see the back of
     it. It was exhausting to get through every time I edited it. It took
     a lot out of me, but I hope you guys all like it! I know it's long
     and we spend most of our time in the past, but I promise everything
     that's there is there for a reason. This is like, the set up a whole
     bunch of stuff chapter, I guess.
     ANYWAY, let me stop.
     CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains graphic depictions of both
     domestic violence and child abuse. You have been warned.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Seishiro slumped against the smooth, cold tile of his bathroom wall, knowing a
profound sense of relief in his whole body. He stayed there a moment, gasping
and wiping his streaming eyes, then reached out to flush the toilet. He wanted
to get up and get water or something, but his legs were shaking too badly. He
swallowed, then breathed hard through his open mouth as his mind came back to
him.
However, that completely physical relief was draining away to be replaced by a
forceful disgust and a terrifyingly powerful hatred. He kept breathing, willing
himself to relax, but he seemed to have lost some of his resolve. Apparently,
now these memories had been dragged up from deep in his mind, he'd been
weakened. His body was always betraying him, and now his mind was trying to
hurt him too. Was he actually sick, or was this just a side effect of
everything that had happened today? For the first time in many years, he
thought of that man he'd seen on TV, covered in purple lesions, dying while
being treated like a lab specimen of some biological evil.
Seishiro shuddered and felt sickness threaten to rise up inside him again, but
he kept breathing, trying to stay calm and focused. No. That, at least, had not
been his fate, though in retrospect it was a miracle he'd gotten out of his
teens and early twenties in one piece, considering…
Seishiro swallowed again, and for a truly bizarre moment he really, really
wanted Subaru there. He could have called him over, made him bring him water,
felt reassured by his concerned, would-be nurturing presence. But of course, he
was alone now.
'You'd think I'd be used to it,' he thought, though it made him feel
disgusting. He wouldn't be alone. Subaru would definitely come back, and even
if he didn't, not that that was an option, Seishiro was fine being by himself.
He didn't need other people. Needing other people, especially a boyfriend, was
how you ended up like Setsuka, and he would never end up like Setsuka.
Seishiro ran his fingers through his hair, desperately looking for the will to
stand up, but more unpleasant memories had taken hold of his weakened body and
were keeping him firmly in place. For years, he'd tried so hard to ignore and
repress and rework them, but apparently they had been fresh and raw inside him
the whole time, ready and waiting to devour him. Goosebumps rose up his arms,
and he couldn't tell if it was from being sick, or walking out of school into
the cold.
He was about twelve, and it was a raw March afternoon. The winter had been
long, and spring was having terrible trouble getting there. Seishiro exited his
middle school in the same winter coat he'd worn last year, which was too short
in the arms. He paused on the front steps, his eyes out of focus behind his
glasses, while his schoolmates swirled around him like a loud, rude whirlpool.
He sighed, thinking he should probably go to the library, when suddenly, he
heard his mother's voice. "Seishiro!" He started and looked around wildly, then
spotted her. She was older now, but no less beautiful. His schoolmates were all
eyeing her as only horny teenaged boys could and making lewd comments under
their breath. Seishiro didn't bother to tell them off as he approached her; he
knew she didn't mind the attention.
"What are you doing here?" He asked. He was now tall enough to look her right
in the eye when he spoke to her.
"Don't give me attitude, Seishiro," she said, wearily. "I'm here because-"
"-there's someone at home you want me to meet?" He finished the sentence for
her, a mocking note in his voice. She was about to respond, but he forestalled
her. "I have to go to the library and work, can he come around on the weekend
or something?" He wasn't trying to give her attitude; he just didn't want to
spend an evening of his life having a meaningless conversation with someone
he'd likely only know for five minutes.
"No, Seishiro, listen to me," she said, earnestly. "I think this one might
actually work out! He's better than the last one!" She had said that about the
last one, or three, or ten, and Seishiro had to fight with himself not to roll
his eyes.
"Mother, come on…"
"Seishiro," she said, and warning had entered her voice. "You can do your work
tomorrow. Tonight I really need you home." Seishiro stared back at her a moment
longer, then shrugged.
"Fine, whatever." She smiled, and they headed home. Like countless other times,
Seishiro let himself into their apartment to find a man he didn't know sitting
on their couch. However, this man stood up, looked Seishiro right in the eye
and smiled.
"Hi," he said, extending his hand. Seishiro stared back at him as he toed off
his shoes. He liked to withdraw and observe at first, then create a plan of
attack. "Seishiro, am I saying that right?" He was. Taken aback, Seishiro
narrowed his eyes at the man's seemingly kind face and extended his hand.
"Yeah, um, nice to meet you," he muttered. The man smiled, and they shook
hands.
"I'm-"
-but Seishiro wouldn't remember his name.
"Do you have homework to do, Seishiro?" His mother asked, rather breathlessly.
"I told you I was going to the library to work when you picked me up at
school," he reminded her.
"Oh, yes…"
"Not paying attention again, Setsuka?" Her boyfriend asked. He laughed, and she
joined in with that horrible, high-pitched laugh she always put on around these
men.
"Yeah, I told her that but she made me come back here to meet you instead,"
Seishiro said, eyeing her boyfriend curiously to see how he'd take this.
"Setsuka," he said, reproachfully, and again she just laughed. "If you have
homework to do, don't let me keep you," he told Seishiro. "Go work and come
back for dinner."
"Um…" Seishiro began, incredulously. Who did this guy think he was? He looked
at his mother to see if she'd disagree, but she was staring at her boyfriend
with a look of almost creepy devotion on her face.
"Go to the library, Seishiro," she said, without looking at him. "Dinner will
be ready by 6:30." Seishiro felt suddenly uneasy leaving his mother by herself
with this person. However, it seemed alone time was on both of their minds, and
he didn't want to be around for that.
"Um, yeah, okay," he said, stepping back into his shoes.
The public library was a short walk from his apartment. He spent a lot of time
there. He liked to read, and it was easier to do homework here, especially when
his mother would bring guys around. Seishiro picked a table and set to work,
researching and taking notes for an essay.
After an hour or so, a few boys, in high school by the look of them, sat down
across from Seishiro, apparently to do math homework. One of them, he noticed,
had large, green eyes that always caught the light. He smiled a lot, and he and
his friend would have to cover their mouths to keep from bursting into
laughter. Seishiro tried to concentrate on his research, but the work was
nowhere near as engaging as the older boy.
Unfortunately, they finished their work quickly and got up to leave. The boy
turned to check he hadn't left anything, and for the briefest moment caught
Seishiro's eye. He smiled. Seishiro blushed and snapped his gaze back to the
textbook in front of him, his heart racing. He didn't look up again until he
was sure they were gone. He sighed, and tried to refocus, but all he could
think of was that boy's eyes and the smile they'd exchanged…
Seishiro sighed again. He still had time before he had to be home, but it
seemed unlikely he'd get more work done. He gathered his things and headed
back, feeling strangely light as he walked along a crowded and dirty Houston
Street.
He let himself into his apartment to find his mother at the stove and her
boyfriend sitting at the dining table. They both actually looked up as he
entered the room, making him feel like he'd walked on stage. "Did you get all
your work done?" His mother's boyfriend asked.
"I got a lot done," Seishiro replied, making an effort not to be rude. Her
boyfriend nodded.
"You know, I was just saying to Setsuka," he said. "You really should have our
own computer, especially as you're going to high school soon." Seishiro had no
idea what to do with that statement, so he said nothing.
"Well, money's a little tight right now," his mother said, though she was
eyeing her boyfriend in that appraising way that churned Seishiro's stomach.
She'd always been good at extorting rent or electric bill money from her
boyfriends, though none of them could afford to buy her really nice things.
Seishiro couldn't entirely blame her for taking what she could get, though he
did find it all vaguely repulsive.
"I've got some cash," her boyfriend said with a reassuring smile.
"Really? Oh no, you don't have to do that!" His mother cried, a hand on her
chest. Her boyfriend waved the words aside.
"For my future stepson? It's nothing." Seishiro's mouth went dry as he watched
his mother laugh, really laugh, her face alight with pleasure. Hadn't they
justmet? They both turned to look eagerly at Seishiro, and he felt as though
he'd been backed into a corner. "How about it? We can go this Saturday and you
can pick something out. It'll be an early birthday present." This was all too
much too soon, and Seishiro didn't like it at all. He knew this person was
trying to help, but it felt invasive. Seishiro didn't want this, but he also
knew if he refused he'd be in for it later with his mother.
"Y-yeah, okay, sure," he agreed, finally. "Thank you." His mother looked
delighted, her boyfriend smiled appreciatively and they sat down to dinner.
Seishiro listened to the adults talk, only contributing to the conversation
when it was absolutely necessary. His stomach continued to twist and squirm,
even as he saw his mother happier than he'd seen her practically his whole
life. He liked that, of course, but he didn't like that she'd just let this
person come in and start calling the shots in their house.
Then again, it wasn't really surprising. He'd recently realized exactly how
passive his mother was, how much she loved when other people took control. It
was disgusting, especially because she kept looking outside to get it. Seishiro
didn't understand why she couldn't just listen to him. He'd spent his whole
life at her mercy, swept up in the tides of her fleeting wishes or
inspirations; he knew better than anyone how to change things. Besides, he was
sick of watching her make the same mistakes over and over again, with money,
with men, whatever.
However, maybe this time really would be different. This guy seemed
intelligent, at least, and he was older than what she usually went for. Maybe
she'd finally gotten lucky.
===============================================================================
The overhead light felt suddenly, painfully intense and Seishiro shut his eyes
tight. A dull throbbing pain was beginning in his temples, or maybe that was
just remembering all of this; this moment growing up where things might have
turned out differently. Of course, Seishiro had never trusted this man, even in
the beginning when he'd been supportive and kind. Seishiro had known something
was wrong, or at least off. He'd known! Disgust (or was it just more nausea?)
rose up inside him again as memories continued to flood his mind and waterlog
his body.
His mother's boyfriend had indeed bought him a computer and helped him set it
up in his bedroom. There hadn't really been enough space, but they'd made it
work, and Seishiro had typed up his essay on it Sunday evening and saved it to
a floppy disk. The following afternoon, he went to the library to print it, and
he got to see that boy with the green eyes and nice smile again. He was with a
girl this time, and Seishiro watched them from behind a bookshelf. He put his
arm around her, she giggled and kissed him, and he smiled his smile. It made
Seishiro's chest constrict painfully around his throbbing heart.
Obviously he'd seen people do this before: at school, on the train, his mother
with her myriad of boyfriends. These two were different, though, and Seishiro
didn't really understand how. All he knew was seeing them made him feel so,
suddenly and painfully lonely. However, he continued to watch them anyway,
clutching a new book and his printed essay to his chest, until they finally
finished their work and left holding hands. Seishiro sighed heavily, feeling
strange and inadequate, and walked to the front desk to check out his book.
It had never really occurred to Seishiro to want to be in that type of
relationship before; his only example had been his mother, and he knew that
wasn't what he wanted, but… Was there an alternative? Was the couple in the
library really different?
Seishiro sighed heavily again as he began his walk home. He entered his
building and climbed the stairs to his apartment, only to find it empty: his
mother and her boyfriend were both still at work. He stepped out of his shoes,
took off his coat and walked into his bedroom, the creaking floorboards echoing
in the silence. Even though he was alone, he didn't feel nearly as lonely as he
had done watching that couple.
He caught sight of some of his mother's boyfriend's t-shirts on the back of the
couch and felt a rush of dislike that condensed into heavy guilt in his
stomach. He knew he should be grateful, or at least happy that his mother was
happy. However, he couldn't shake the feeling he'd always had about his
mother's boyfriends: they were the invading army trying to infiltrate his
castle, steal his mother and take over, and he was Brave Seishiro, standing
alone to defend and mount a counter attack. He hadn't yet tried anything with
this boyfriend, because he was doing good, or at least material, things for
them. Seishiro was sure he'd slip up eventually though. They all did.
He extracted his library book from his school bag and lay down on his bed to
read, whiling away the time until he heard a key in the lock and the scrape of
the door opening. "Seishiro?" His mother called. He turned the page of his
book. "Seishiro are you home?" He rolled his eyes.
"Yes!" He called, and she appeared in his doorway.
"Seishiro." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She smiled. "How was
school today?" Seishiro shrugged. "Did you hand in your assignment?"
"It's due tomorrow, I just printed it today." She nodded, and silence fell
between them.
"I'm going to go make dinner," she said, finally. "So it'll be ready when your
stepfather gets home." Seishiro flushed and returned his gaze to his book.
"Could you please shut my door?" He asked, turning a page. His mother sighed,
but backed out of the room and shut the door behind her. Seishiro stared hard
at his book, listening to her taking pots and pans out of cabinets. He felt
sort of bad about blowing her off, but he didn't want to be around her when she
spoke that way, as though she and her boyfriend were married or whatever.
Seishiro knew his mother found all of this secure and reassuring, but the fact
that it had happened so quickly made that impossible for him.
He'd spent half of his life hearing some iteration of "I love your mom, so I'm
going to be your dad now" from men who'd be gone the very next morning, never
to be seen or heard from again. He and his mother were the only consistent
people in each other's lives, and the only time she seemed to recognize that
was after one of these men would leave her, when she'd take him into her bed
and tell him how much she loved him.
Seishiro realized his grip on his book was so tight his knuckles were white. He
exhaled forcefully, trying to discharge some of the tension built up in his
body. He shut the book and held it to his chest, noticing his sweaty
thumbprints on the old, plastic dust jacket.
===============================================================================
Keeping his eyes closed, Seishiro shifted his position on his bathroom floor.
The pins and needles in his foot, the pain in his head and the burn in his
mouth and throat were the only things keeping him present, helping him fight
the memories threating to make him regress into his younger self. Subaru had
wanted so badly to know that person, but Seishiro had worked as hard as he
could to leave him behind at Setsuka's apartment! His chest constricted
painfully and he felt another shiver begin at the base of his skull and radiate
outwards. He could remember exactly when everything had started to go wrong,
but he didn't want to, he didn't…
Over the next few weeks, his mother's boyfriend essentially moved into their
apartment. His mother loved it, flying into the role of devoted housewife as
though she were born to play it. Though of course, she still worked, and she
still took Seishiro's father's gag money. "See? This is how things were
supposed to be for you growing up," she told him, over and over again. "I love
you most in the world, but you need to have a father."
However, the more time her boyfriend spent with them, the more things changed
for the worse. At first it had been small things. His mother's boyfriend would
criticize her and put her down, both in the house and in public. She always
laughed it off, agreeing with a giggle, and Seishiro had just watched, too
disgusted to do anything. Her boyfriend had tried to get him on his side, to
join in making fun of his mother for stupid things, but Seishiro wouldn't give
in. He wouldn't defend his mother, she should be doing that herself, but he
wouldn't join this person either. There he remained, grudgingly neutral, until
the first time her boyfriend had actually gotten angry.
Seishiro was in his room, typing an essay for English class and waiting for his
mother and her boyfriend to return from work. His mother was late, and though
Seishiro was used to it, it still made him uneasy. At about 6:00, the door
scraped open, and Seishiro leaned back in his chair, expecting to see his
mother, but it was her boyfriend. More uneasy than ever, he sat up straight
again to continue his work. His mother's boyfriend strode across the living
room and Seishiro closed his eyes for a moment. "Hey, Seishiro," he said,
lightly and easily.
"Hi."
"How was school?"
"Fine." Seishiro began to type again, hoping the man would leave him be.
"Where's your mom?" Seishiro shrugged and pressed his fingers harder into the
keyboard, trying to drown him out with the noise. "Where's your mom?" He
repeated, and Seishiro heard his tone shift.
"How should I know?" Seishiro asked, refusing to turn around.
"Excuse me?" Seishiro rolled his eyes.
"She probably got held up at work, I don't know." A moment's silence passed.
"Huh," was all her boyfriend said. Seishiro heard him turn to go, but, "What's
that?" Seishiro rolled his eyes again.
"What's what?" He asked, rather irritably. Her boyfriend didn't respond, so
Seishiro finally turned around. His eyes widened in horror. His mother's
boyfriend had picked up Blue, his now very old and battered penguin stuffed
animal, from where he usually kept him under his pillow. Seishiro's heart leapt
into his throat and he stood up at once. "My favorite toy from when I was
little," he said, his hands balling themselves into fists. His mother's
boyfriend nodded, then placed Blue back onto the bed.
"I see," he said, thoughtfully. "Well, I'll let you get back to work." He left
the room, shutting the door behind him. Seishiro rushed forward, picked up the
stuffed animal and held him to his chest. He was much smaller now, from going
through the washing machine and from his stuffing getting matted together.
Seishiro breathed deeply, glaring at his closed door, an angry flush in his
neck and face. How dare this man come into his room, touch his things and tell
him what to do? Who the hell did he think he was?! Seishiro took a deep breath
in and sighed it out. He felt the act like a violation, and he wouldn't stand
for it. He wanted to call himself his stepfather? Move into his house? Invade
and intrude this way? Fine. Seishiro was ready. He'd fight back.
Unfortunately, that night his plans got derailed. At about 8:00, his mother
finally arrived home. "Sorry!" She cried, helplessly. Seishiro jumped out of
his desk chair and stood in front of his closed door, listening and waiting.
"Sorry! I got held up at work, I had to stay late and cover for someone, I-"
"Why are you home so late?" Seishiro's eyes widened at her boyfriend's tone. It
was lower than he'd ever heard it, and there was threat simmering just beneath
the seemingly innocuous question.
"I just told you, I was covering for a coworker," his mother replied, wearily.
"I'll start dinner now."
"Setsuka…"
"What?!" A pause. "Oh my god, I'm sorry! I-"
"Really? You'll raise your voice at me?" Seishiro reached out and gripped his
doorknob, ready.
"No, I-"
"You lie to me about what time you'll be home and now you give me attitude?
Really, Setsuka? After all I've done for you?" The anger that had been
simmering inside Seishiro all evening suddenly flash heated. He wrenched his
door open and stormed into his living room, fists clenched and eyes blazing.
"She didn't lie to you, she got stuck at work because of some useless coworker,
do you not fucking listen?!" Seishiro snapped, trying and failing to keep his
voice calm. Blood pounded in his ears as he glared at his mother's boyfriend,
whose lip curled.
"Seishiro!" His mother snapped, her voice much higher than usual. "You do not
speak to your stepfather that way, go to your room!" Seishiro turned to her
instead, this injustice fueling his fire.
"Are you serious?!"
"YES I'M SERIOUS! GO!" Seishiro held his ground a moment longer, then made a
deeply contemptuous noise, strode back into his room and slammed his door. He
stared unseeingly out of his window, listening to a neighbor singing drunkenly
in what could have been any language and his mother's voice, begging and
desperate. "I'm sorry! I swear I didn't do it on purpose, please just let me
make dinner!" Seishiro realized he was shaking.
"Fine," her boyfriend said, and the contempt in his voice was palpable. "We can
talk more later." He stomped down the hall to "their" bedroom and slammed the
door. Silence fell upon the apartment like a fresh snowfall. After about five
minutes, though, Seishiro heard his mother pull pots and pans out of the
cabinets and start to prepare dinner. Seishiro wondered if he should go to her,
but, no. She'd taken her boyfriend's side. She hadn't stood up for herself or
for him. Seishiro was still shaking. He had to finish his essay, but he climbed
into bed and got under the covers instead. He lay curled up on his side,
staring at his closed door.
Eventually, his mother approached his room and opened the door without
knocking. Seishiro rolled over to avoid looking at her. "Seishiro?" He said
nothing. "Seishiro, are you awake?"
'I'm dead,' he told her, mentally. She sighed impatiently.
"Dinner's ready, come and eat." Seishiro remained still and silent, willing her
to leave him be. He'd go to bed hungry, he didn't care. However, she stepped
forward, placed her hand on his shoulder and shook him gently.
"What?!" He snapped at her, in spite of himself, and she withdrew her hand. She
shuddered and looked away, and Seishiro's chest constricted. "What?" He asked,
his tone even.
"Please come eat," his mother said, very quietly. Seishiro swallowed, his chest
constricting further as he thought of his mother out there by herself with her
boyfriend. As much as he didn't want to, he couldn't let her do it alone.
"Fine," he replied, grudgingly. She smiled, almost gratefully, and left his
room. He let out a soft groan and sat up, feeling weirdly groggy even though he
hadn't actually fallen asleep. He sat down at the dining table with his mother
and her boyfriend, and though dinner was tense and silent, there was no further
conflict. Seishiro glared down at his plate, chancing regular looks up at his
mother's boyfriend and feeling waves of dislike each time. He found it weirdly
empowering: a small dose of the poison to make him feel strong, in control and
ready. He'd get this man out of their house one way or another.
===============================================================================
Seishiro felt more of the same righteous anger swell in his chest, then drain
out of him, giving way to more powerful, corrosive hatred. His stomach
clenched, and he swallowed, trying to keep his body calm. He opened his eyes,
found the light was still too much and closed them again. However, he could
still see Setsuka's kitchen as though his eyelids were a projector screen, as
though the effort he'd put into forgetting and blocking out all of this was for
nothing.
After that first argument, Setsuka had started making meals ahead of time and
freezing them, telling Seishiro if she wasn't home by a certain time to just
heat them up. Seishiro thought this was ridiculous and didn't know what was
stopping her boyfriend from cooking instead, but he knew better than to ask. It
didn't matter anyway. For the first time in Seishiro's life, she'd started
coming home on time every night. Even though he was still angry with her for
taking her boyfriend's side in that fight, he'd started coming home right after
school too. It seemed they both needed this time together, even if they didn't
speak to each other, before her boyfriend would appear and fill the house with
demands and tension and turn her into some fucked up caricature.
A week or so after the argument over dinner, Seishiro sat at the dining table
doing math homework while his mother was at the stove. They weren't speaking to
each other, though his mother would occasionally glance at him over her
shoulder. "What are you working on, Seishiro?" She asked, more polite than
genuinely curious.
"Factoring," he replied.
"I remember that, I think," she said, and they both smiled for what felt like
the first time in days. "When-" she began, but at that moment they heard her
boyfriend's key scrape in the lock. The door opened, and they fell silent as he
entered the apartment.
"Hey," he said, striding across the room to kiss his mother on the cheek.
"Hi," she said, smiling. "How was work?" He just shrugged. "Well, dinner will
be ready in about five minutes, so…" In answer, he strode down the hallway to
"their" bedroom and slammed the door. His mother gazed after him, already
looking resigned. Seishiro just watched the exchange with a deeply malevolent
look on his face. "What's wrong with you?!" His mother snapped, suddenly, and
Seishiro raised his eyebrows as he looked up at her.
"With me? Nothing." His mother just sighed and returned to whatever she was
cooking.
"Put your stuff away and set the table," she said, after a few seconds.
Seishiro did so, taking as much time as he could in his room before returning
to the kitchen. His mother's boyfriend was sitting at the head of the table,
watching her serve dinner, and Seishiro moved around them, collecting plates
and cutlery with a sense of ill usage. He set the table carelessly and took the
seat opposite her boyfriend, keeping his eyes averted. His mother served
dinner, sat down between them, and they began to eat in silence. Seishiro
simply had nothing to say, but he could tell his mother was keeping quiet out
of nerves.
"How was school today?" Her boyfriend asked Seishiro, who shrugged.
"Same as yesterday." Her boyfriend seemed to be waiting for him to elaborate.
Seishiro glared back at him, preparing his counterattack, getting ready to
enter the firing line with the first of his tried and true methods. "There was
a fight at lunch today, though. It was pretty fucking funny."
"Seishiro!" His mother interjected, her eyes wide.
"What? He asked," Seishiro countered. As he spoke, the anger he felt almost
constantly around this man heated up inside him again. Her boyfriend's lip
curled.
"Oh yeah? You think fights are funny?" Seishiro looked up at him and felt heat
rush up his neck.
"When the fight is over something stupid? Yeah, definitely," he replied,
challenge in his voice. "We're supposed to go on a field trip to the opera
soon," he continued, the anger inside him simmering more insistently. "It'll be
hilarious, we'll probably get kicked out." He turned to his mother now. "You
still need to sign my permission slip," he reminded her. "You're my parent or
legal guardian, right?" He tilted his head to the side as if daring her to
contradict him.
"Seishiro what's wrong with you tonight?" His mother asked, looking genuinely
confused.
"I told you before, nothing," Seishiro replied, returning to his food. "He
asked a question, I answered it, then I reminded you of something you promised
to do a week ago," he finished, simply. His mother and her boyfriend exchanged
a look.
"Oh, is that all?" Her boyfriend asked, and Seishiro was pleased to see he
wasn't happy.
'That's fucking right,' he thought, with enormous satisfaction. 'You want to
call yourself my stepfather when you've done fuck all to earn it?Prepare
yourself.'
"You don't think that was disrespectful?" Seishiro rolled his eyes.
"That's what started the fight at school today," he said. "Disrespect. You
people let yourselves be disrespected so easily, it's pathetic."
"Seishiro!" His mother snapped, making to stand up, but-
"Let me handle this, Setsuka," her boyfriend said, his voice lowering.
Seishiro's eyes widened almost excitedly. His mother's boyfriend stood up and
walked around to Seishiro's side of the table. Seishiro's body seemed to
stiffen, but he wasn't afraid. He'd spent his childhood getting slapped around
by his mother; it wasn't like he couldn't take more. However, her boyfriend
didn't get any closer to him. Instead, he walked across the living room towards
Seishiro's bedroom.
"Wait!" Seishiro cried, his eyes widening in fear this time. "Don't go in my
room, what the fuck!" He scrambled out of his seat and sprinted to his bedroom.
"Get out of my room!" He yelled, his heart pounding. His mother's boyfriend
picked up Seishiro's school bag and extracted the library book he'd been
reading. Seishiro's eyes darted back and forth between the book and her
boyfriend's face, which was twisted into a look of triumphant fury. "GET OUT!"
Seishiro screamed. His mother's boyfriend ripped the book in half. His smile
widened sickeningly as he threw both halves across the room at Seishiro, who
jumped out of the way at once. "That's a library book, are you fucking
serious?!" Seishiro cried, horrified, looking down at the torn pages all over
his floor. His mother's boyfriend sneered.
"That's your problem, isn't it? You disrespectful little shit," he snapped,
before turning away. Outside, Seishiro's mother was still at the kitchen table,
frozen in horror. Seishiro held her gaze for a moment, then turned away
defiantly. "And you can stay in your room the rest of the night!" Her boyfriend
added, spitefully. He pushed past Seishiro and slammed his bedroom door.
The crash echoed in the sudden silence and Seishiro stood completely still, his
body ringing with the force of what had just happened. He had expected his
mother's boyfriend to slap him across the face or twist his arm or scream the
way she always did, but this was… Seishiro wrapped his arms around himself,
feeling suddenly shivery. His eyes burned and he blinked furiously.
Outside, he heard his mother's boyfriend start to speak again, and it seemed to
cut through the wall of stunned silence. "What the fuck do you mean? He had it
coming!" Seishiro's hands tightened around his upper arms. The injustice of
this welled up inside him and he blinked furiously again. "What?" A pause.
"Setsuka, listen," her boyfriend continued. He was speaking to her as though
she were a child, and Seishiro's stomach twisted in hot disgust and anger. "If
you don't take a firm hand with boys at this age, they'll go down a bad path,
trust me." Seishiro's eyes widened incredulously.
"I've been raising him by myself this whole time and he's always been good!"
His mother protested, suddenly, as though this fact had only just occurred to
her.
"Setsuka," her boyfriend said, wearily patient. "I'm a man, all right? I
understand much better than you." Seishiro wanted to go out there, to put this
disgusting, unworthy person in his place, but he felt paralyzed. He wasn't
afraid, though! He couldn't be afraid! Not of such a worthless person, and yet…
"He'll learn," his mother's boyfriend said, his tone both confident and
threatening. "He'll learn." Seishiro realized his fingernails were digging into
his upper arms and let go. Neither his mother nor her boyfriend said anything
else.
Seishiro sighed. Slowly and carefully, he began to pick up all the pages that
had fallen out of his book when it had torn. His heart beat faster with each
page he collected, as though he could feel their pain. Obviously that was
ridiculous, but… His vision went suddenly blurry. He blinked, and the tears
slid down his face. He wiped them away impatiently as he put all of the pages
back in order, then back between their covers. He placed the book carefully on
his desk, then climbed into bed and under the blankets.
It was dark outside, and though it was a relatively warm night, he still felt
cold and shivery. He retrieved Blue from underneath his pillow and curled up
into a ball around him, trying to stay warm. In the living room, it sounded
like someone had turned on the news. Seishiro heard the beginning of a report
about "further investigations into the World Trade Center bombing," which had
been constant for the last two and a half months. He closed his eyes and
drifted in and out of sleep.
He woke up some time later, groggy and hungry. He checked the time on the alarm
clock on his bedside table and found it was nearly 1 AM. 'Good,' he thought. He
got out of bed, opened his door slowly and walked cautiously through his living
room into the kitchen, the floorboards creaking under his feet. Darkness
pressed on his eyes, but couldn't turn on any lights. He'd be in trouble for
being up this late, regardless of which adult caught him.
He opened the refrigerator and reached for an old take out container full of
leftovers. He hadn't really tried it at dinner, so he had no idea if it would
taste good or not, but it didn't matter. He closed the refrigerator, then
turned to open the cutlery drawer. Everything was mismatched, cheap or just
more plastic relics from take out orders. Seishiro's throat constricted
painfully, but he swallowed and, almost defiantly, grabbed a fork and shut the
drawer. His throat was still tight as he sat down at his dining table. He began
to eat, but he could hardly swallow.
After a while, he heard "their" bedroom door open and someone walk quietly to
the bathroom. The light clicked on, illuminating the hallway entrance, and
Seishiro paused, gazing cautiously in its direction. He heard the sink turn on,
then off before everything went dark again. The hallway floor creaked under
someone's footsteps as they walked towards the kitchen. Seishiro's heart sped
up and he braced himself for getting screamed at or whatever else.
His mother entered the room, looking exhausted. "What are you doing up?" She
asked. She didn't sound angry. Seishiro looked down at the take out container,
then back up at her. Her face seemed to sag, and suddenly, for the first time
ever, she looked old. Seishiro's throat burned as she crossed the room, picked
up her pack of cigarettes from the coffee table and sat down beside him. "Would
you like me to heat that up?" She asked. Seishiro closed his eyes and shook his
head before returning to his food. His mother lit her cigarette, took a deep
pull on it and exhaled the smoke over her shoulder. "Go get whatever I need to
sign, please?" Seishiro swallowed his last bite, then hurried to his bedroom as
quietly as he could. He retrieved the permission slip and a pen from his desk
and returned to the kitchen. She took them from him and signed it wordlessly.
"Thank you," he said. He hesitated, then sat down beside her again. She just
sighed, looking older than ever through the haze of cigarette smoke.
"Are you excited?" She asked. Seishiro shrugged. His mother put out her
cigarette in the ashtray between them. "He cares for you, you know, Seishiro."
Seishiro and his mother locked eyes and his fists clenched under the table. "He
wants you to grow up well, that's all." Seishiro pressed his lips tightly
together to keep himself from disagreeing. It wouldn't do either of them any
favors to get into a fight right now. "But," she added, a pleading note in her
voice. "Let's try not to make him angry, okay?" Seishiro's eyes widened in
horrified disbelief. "Seishiro, please," she hissed, before he could say
anything. They stared hard at each other, and Seishiro knew there was no
arguing with her.
Instead, he just nodded, and she hugged him. In spite of himself, Seishiro felt
some of the tension in his body drain away in a weird rush. He screwed up his
eyes and held onto her. "I love you more than anyone else in the world,
Seishiro," she told him. Seishiro nodded against her chest. "I'll clean this
up, you go to sleep," she said, when she let go of him. "You have school
tomorrow." Seishiro nodded again, feeling suddenly exhausted. "And, um, get
some cash out of my purse to pay for that library book." Seishiro closed his
eyes, and nodded yet again. He did as he was told, though he wasn't sure how
much money he'd need, and traipsed back to his room.
He shut the door and got back into bed without bothering to change into
nightclothes. He curled once more around his stuffed animal and listened to his
mother clean up the remains of his dinner.
The next day at school, Seishiro handed his permission slip to his English
teacher as the last bell rang. "Ah, perfect, thank you!" She told him, smiling.
Seishiro liked this teacher. She didn't have the do-gooder, savior attitude of
her peers or the jaded "the younger generations are leading us to hell"
attitude of her superiors. He turned to go, but, "Seishiro?" He looked back at
her, and he could read sadness in her expression. He waited, curious, but all
she said was, "You did a really good job on your last essay. I was impressed."
Seishiro shifted his schoolbag to his other shoulder.
"Thank you." She smiled.
"I'll be excited to hear what you think of Madame Butterfly on Sunday."
Seishiro just nodded. "Have a good rest of your night, okay?" Again, Seishiro
nodded, then turned to go.
On his way home from school, he took a detour to the library, feeling nervous.
Fortunately, as he approached the front desk, he saw it was the nice librarian
working. She was an older lady who knew both his name and how to say it
correctly. She smiled when she saw him, and his stomach clenched guiltily at
what he was about to tell her. "Did you finish that book already?" She asked,
sounding impressed. Seishiro flushed, but his voice was steady.
"Um, about that, I," he swallowed. "I think my mother may have thrown it away
by accident."
"Oh dear!" Seishiro nodded. He'd been debating excuses all day and had decided
on this one at lunchtime.
"Yeah, I'm really sorry," he continued, and he meant it. "I brought in money to
pay for it, though, so…" His flush deepened.
"It's all right honey it happens. I think we have another copy if you want to
check it out, hold on a moment." She was about to look it up but Seishiro shook
his head. After all, it wasn't like he couldn't still read the copy he had.
"No, it's fine, I'll just check out something else." She nodded understandingly
and Seishiro handed over the money he'd taken from his mother's purse. He then
prowled between the shelves of books, looking for something new to read, and
possibly that boy with the green eyes. Unfortunately, he wasn't there today.
Not that Seishiro had any idea what he'd do if he saw him, but it would have
been nice. In the end, Seishiro checked out another book and headed home,
disappointment and shame churning his guts.
His mother's boyfriend's temper cooled off over the next few days, and
Seishiro's next clear memory was Sunday morning, the day of his field trip. His
mother was at work, and her boyfriend wasn't in the house, which suited
Seishiro just fine. He washed and dressed carefully, unsure what to wear and
feeling self-conscious. He didn't really have nice clothes. Once he was as
satisfied as he could be with his appearance, he gathered his things and was
out the door.
It had gotten cold again, and a chilly breeze ruffled Seishiro's damp hair, but
the sun hung high overhead, coating the city in fresh spring light. His
neighborhood was crowded with people: families with small children, old ladies
with grocery carts and here and there a young, single person who appeared way
more affluent than the surrounding crowds.
Seishiro headed up one block, then west along Houston Street towards the train
station. He boarded a dirty and graffitied D train and rode it uptown, unsure
what to expect. He very rarely took the train anywhere; he didn't really need
to leave his neighborhood for much. His world was small: his apartment, his
school and those places in between. When he was younger, it had felt secure,
knowing only the small corner of New York City in which he'd grown up, even
though the area could hardly be called safe. Recently, though, it had started
to feel oppressive. Seishiro wanted to expand and explore, especially as his
mother's boyfriend became more and more demanding.
After about twenty minutes, he emerged from the train station at Columbus
Circle. He looked around with wide eyes. It was crowded here too, but everyone
appeared well dressed, affluent and friendly. The streets were clean, and there
weren't any police officers around. To Seishiro's right, the southwest corner
of Central Park was surrounded by tourists and families. He felt totally out of
place, but did his utmost not to panic as he continued up Broadway, trying not
to draw attention to himself.
A few blocks later, Seishiro arrived at Lincoln Center and immediately felt
that visceral spasm of intimidation that always came with travelling to nicer
parts of the city. He had never been here before, and his curiosity fought with
his anxiety as he looked around. He was standing in front of three large white
buildings, all modern, sleek and covered in posters advertising the current
season of opera, music and ballet. Swallowing another rush of intimidation,
Seishiro crossed the street and spotted his school group, large and chattering,
with their teachers attempting to control them.
"Seishiro!" His English teacher called, waving as he joined the group.
"Perfect! Okay, everybody! We're going to go ahead and get into pairs now!"
Seishiro's schoolmates went as quiet as it was possible to get them. "I'm going
to call out the pairs and you'll line up in front of me, yes?" In the crowd,
someone called,
"Yes!" And she laughed.
"Okay!" She began calling people's names, then finally, "-and Seishiro!" He
stepped into line and was joined by a boy who always sat a few seats away from
him in English and math. They'd never spoken, though; he was also the type to
want nothing to do with their classmates. He smiled rather furtively at
Seishiro, who returned the gesture, noticing his bright green eyes and feeling
his heart speed up for some reason. They didn't speak to each other as they
walked side by side towards the opera house. They entered through large, glass
doors and there was a collective, "Ooh!" from his classmates. Seishiro himself
let out a soft gasp, staring around in awe. He'd never seen such a beautiful,
glamorous place, even in photos.
He noticed that a few elderly people, presumably going to the same show, were
casting them all resigned, cross looks. Seishiro felt his face grow hot. He bit
his lip and looked down at the ground, but his partner just laughed. Seishiro
watched him out of the corner of his eye. He smiled and waved at the nearest
couple, who responded with even dirtier looks. His partner just rolled his
eyes. "Assholes," he muttered to Seishiro. "We have just as much right to be
here as they do." Seishiro's flush deepened, but he felt heartened by his
partner's bravery and stood up straight again.
They climbed a set of carpeted stairs that wound upwards and upwards and were
directed by tuxedo wearing ushers to a section in the middle of a high tier.
There was another collective "Ooh!" as they looked over the edge of the
balcony. The curtains still drawn across the stage were a rich red, and the
walls on either side were painted a deep, bright gold. Above them, a chandelier
glittered in the soft light that radiated from the hundreds of stage lights,
and below them the orchestra was getting ready in the pit. A low, anticipatory
chatter filled the air, and everyone Seishiro could see looked excited. "Have
you been here before?" Seishiro started and turned to see his partner smiling
at him. He shook his head, fresh heat rushing up his neck.
"Have you?" He asked, tentatively.
"I came here with my sister to see the ballet once, but I was really little so
I can't remember it too well." Seishiro nodded, watching his eyes shine
beautifully in the golden light and his lips forming the words. "It was-" the
lights overhead suddenly flashed and a hush fell over the audience.
"Quiet, please, everybody!" Their English teacher's voice rang out from behind
them. The lights dimmed, and Seishiro stared intently at the stage. The
orchestra all played the same, long note together, paused, then played the note
again. An elderly man in a suit entered the orchestra pit, and the audience
broke into applause.
"The conductor," Seishiro's partner whispered to him, and he shivered slightly
as he began to clap too. They watched him shake hands with a younger man
holding a violin, then take his place on a podium. He raised his arms, and the
orchestra began to play the first act. The curtain rose, and Seishiro fixed his
eyes upon the stage as the two men there began to sing. He gasped softly and
shivered again. He'd never heard anything like it before, and he felt the music
in his entire body, not just his ears. It was an almost overwhelming feeling,
and he wasn't sure if he liked it. He shifted slightly in his seat, biting his
lip. Next to him, his partner also let out a soft gasp, and Seishiro shivered
yet again. Above the stage, an English translation of the script was projected,
and he followed as best he could, though the performers were mesmerizing. In no
time at all, the first act ended, and Seishiro clapped hard with the rest of
the audience. He let out a shaky exhale, though he hadn't even realized he'd
been holding his breath.
"What do you guys think?" Their English teacher asked, leaning over to address
Seishiro and his partner.
"It's awesome!" Seishiro's partner cried, enthusiastically, and Seishiro's
heart skipped.
"Yeah!" He agreed, nodding, although, truthfully, he didn't trust that American
soldier at all. He reminded him of all of his mother's worthless boyfriends,
seducing with power and promises they had no intention of backing up. He
swallowed. He already felt like he knew how the story would end. However, as
the second act started, he became fully engrossed once again. He found his eyes
fixed upon the small boy playing Butterfly's son, not speaking but clinging to
his mother's kimono.
Seishiro watched Butterfly be rejected by her son's father. He watched him and
his American wife agree to take in Butterfly's son. Finally, he watched her
commit suicide. He couldn't help but wonder if his own father would ever accept
him and take him in, though he highly doubted it. His father had never wanted
him, after all, and he didn't think his wife even knew he existed. So then,
what would become of Seishiro if something were to happen to his mother? Would
he just be left in the care of her boyfriend? Molten fear suddenly erupted in
Seishiro's chest and he shut his eyes, feeling overwhelmed and doing his utmost
not to start crying from the sheer force of it all. He couldn't cry here, not
in front of all his classmates. Besides, his mother was fine! She always told
Seishiro how much she loved him; she'd never leave him!
Applause broke out suddenly, making Seishiro jump. He clapped along with the
rest of the audience, defiantly swallowing his tears. "That was so good!" His
partner cried, his arms raised so he was clapping above his head, and Seishiro
couldn't help but smile. They got up and filed out of their row of seats,
following the rest of their classmates out of the theater. "Hey, are you okay?"
Seishiro's partner asked, suddenly, looking at him in some concern. Seishiro
flushed, but nodded, forcing himself to pay attention.
"Yeah! Yeah I'm fine."
"The ending was really fucked up." Seishiro swallowed.
"Yeah."
"All operas have fucked up endings, though," his partner continued, and
Seishiro found this very reassuring, though he couldn't have said exactly why.
He felt the sadness and fear in his chest abate slightly as they walked side by
side back out of the opera house. He blinked in the bright, late afternoon
sunlight, and felt rather uplifted all of a sudden, though still disconnected
from those around him. His teachers were saying goodbye to everyone as they got
picked up or headed off in groups back into the city. Seishiro felt all the
more awkward as he watched, waiting for everyone to be gone to he could slip
quietly back down Broadway. "Are you just going home now?" His partner asked,
suddenly.
"Um," Seishiro started to say. His partner was still smiling. "Um, yeah, I
guess so."
"Are you taking the D train?"
"Yeah…"
"Do you want to go together?" Seishiro's eyes widened. He'd never been asked
such a thing before and wasn't really sure how to respond, except,
"Oh, um, sure…" He prayed he didn't sound as awkward as he felt. His partner
laughed.
"Cool, let's go!" They told their teachers goodbye, then headed off together
down Broadway. Seishiro's heart was beating rather fast. He found his partner
strangely engaging, different from the rest of his schoolmates, and apparently
he thought the same of Seishiro. He wanted to say something to him, but had no
idea what. He sort of wished he could just observe him secretly from afar: his
facial expressions, the way his hair swayed when he turned his head, the way
his hands moved in the pockets of his sweatshirt. "Do you live close to
school?" He asked. Seishiro shook himself.
"Yeah, on Clinton Street." His partner nodded thoughtfully. "What about you?"
Seishiro asked, seizing onto the subject even though it was basic.
"I'm on Houston, right across from the library," he replied, and Seishiro's
heart leapt.
"Oh, I go there all the time!" He cried, before he could stop himself. He
flushed, but his partner grinned and nodded.
"Yeah, me too!" They exchanged an excited smile as they entered the train
station at Columbus Circle.
"You, you like to read?" Seishiro persisted, cautiously as they stood waiting
on the downtown platform.
"I love to read," his partner replied, very seriously. "I like high fantasy or
science fiction, anything that takes place in another world." Seishiro nodded,
his eyes wide. "What do you like?" He asked, looking at him curiously and
making his heart bang against his ribs.
"I like non-fiction, but… What's your favorite book? Maybe it'll change my
mind." His partner's face lit up.
"My favorite? Oh it's gotta be this sci-fi series-" But at that moment the D
train trundled into the station and he fell silent as they boarded it. It was
quite crowded, and they had to stand much closer together than they would
usually have done. However, Seishiro listened eagerly to his partner talk about
his favorite series of books, about the huge cast of characters and the
adventures they had together, fighting against an oppressive intergalactic
force trying to take over all the planets in the universe. Truthfully, it
didn't sound like Seishiro's thing at all. However the way this boy described
it, so animated and eager, made him want to pick it up. He found him slightly
overwhelming, but he couldn't look away.
Between Herald Square and West 4th Street, the train came to a sudden stop and
all the passengers seized the nearest pole or bar. Seishiro's partner fell
forward, right into him, and his breath caught in his chest. "My bad!" His
partner exclaimed, looking embarrassed.
"No, it's fine!" Seishiro replied, hastily, helping him to stand up straight.
His heart was pounding again, and he felt as though all the parts of his body
that had been in contact with him were burning. He didn't mention this,
obviously, but he knew he was blushing. Fortunately, it was only one stop after
that. They got off the train at Broadway Lafayette Street and headed back east,
then said goodbye on Seishiro's corner.
Seishiro felt as though his heart and lungs had suddenly grown too large for
his body as he watched him go. At the same time, though, his steps were lighter
than ever as he made his way back home. He hoped he'd find his mother in a good
mood. He'd like to tell her about the show, if she wanted to hear it. Then he'd
finish the library book he had checked out so he could go get the first volume
of that sci-fi series. He smiled to himself as he opened the door to his
building.
However, as he climbed the stairs to his apartment, he knew immediately
something was wrong. Over the music and television blaring behind other
people's doors, Seishiro could hear what was unmistakably an argument. 'Oh no,'
he thought, feeling like his overfull guts had suddenly disappeared. He
sprinted up the stairs and heard his mother scream,
"FUCK YOU!" His hands shook as he dug in his bag for his keys.
"YOU'RE REALLY GOING TO TALK TO ME THAT WAY?! YOU WORTHLESS SPOILED BITCH!"
Seishiro shoved his key into the lock and wrenched his door open just in time
to see his mother's boyfriend raise his hand and slap her hard across the face.
She fell down onto the floor, clutching her cheek, a look of abject terror on
her face.
Seishiro's vision seemed to hone in on his mother's boyfriend's face, red and
twisted in terrifying fury. He sprinted across the room and stood in front of
his mother, his arms spread wide. "SEISHIRO, NO!" His mother screamed.
"GET AWAY!" Seishiro yelled. His mother's boyfriend sneered and drew his fist
back.
===============================================================================
Seishiro clapped his hand over his right eye. Even though he couldn't remember
the punch itself, he could still feel the pain. He felt another shudder begin
right at the back of his neck and the ensuing wave of nausea, but he resisted
it as hard as he could, feeling the memories overtake him again.
The next thing he knew he'd woken up in his bed, it must have been the next
morning, the entire right side of his face aching. He sat up, feeling groggy
and rather sick. His vision was blurry and he squinted, feeling around on his
bedside table for his glasses. He picked them up, but found the right lens
cracked and the temple missing. Seishiro stared at them for a moment, then
carefully held them up to his face so he could at least see as he tried to
piece together what had happened.
He'd come home, found his mother and her boyfriend in a fight and- He jumped
out of bed and sprinted down the hall to his bathroom, still holding his broken
glasses to his face. He looked at himself in the mirror above the sink and let
out a horrified cry. His right eye was bloodshot and all around it was swollen
and bruised. Seishiro dropped his broken glasses into the sink and stood on
tiptoe to inspect the damage. His lip trembled as he tenderly felt the area
around his eye with his fingertips. "Ow…" He said, softly, and tears came
before he could stop them. "Mother?!" He called, suddenly, desperately, though
he knew she wasn't home. "Mother?!" He cried again, breathing so fast he was
making himself dizzy. "MOTHER!" He sprinted into her bedroom, unable to see
through his near-sightedness and tears, feeling so, utterly alone. "Mother…" He
said, softly, crying without restraint.
He fell into her bed and wrapped himself in her covers, trying desperately to
recall her soft voice, her heartbeat, any sense of safety he'd ever felt with
her. He couldn't stop crying and his heart and face throbbed in pain.
After who knows how long, he finally heard the door creek open. Seishiro sat
bolt upright, the blankets still wrapped around him. "Seishiro?" His mother
called, and he cried out in relief.
"I'm in your room!" She came rushing down the hall and appeared in the doorway,
carrying a plastic bag from a drug store. Her eyes filled with tears as they
fell upon Seishiro. He noticed her lip was swollen.
"Oh my god, Seishiro…" She said, her hand over her mouth. Seishiro began to cry
again and she rushed to sit beside him. He fell into her arms, crying without
restraint and holding onto her as tightly as he could. She held him for a few
moments, rubbing his back and sighing heavily. Her voice shook slightly when
she finally spoke, even though she was trying to sound reassuring. "It's all
right, Seishiro, look," she said, extracting a smooth black glasses case from
her shopping bag. "I went to the eye doctor and got you a new pair while you
were sleeping. You'll have to go for an eye exam before you get another new
pair, though, they said."
Seishiro sniffed and wiped his left eye before taking the case from her. He
opened it and put on his new glasses, bringing his mother's bedroom into focus.
More tears slid down his face, but he just wiped them away impatiently. "I also
got bandages, so you can cover your eye while you're at school." Seishiro
nodded.
"Um, where is…?" He shuddered.
"At work, he'll be back this evening."
"What?!" Seishiro stared at her in horrified disbelief. "No! I don't want him
back, make him leave!" His mother sighed.
"I can't," she said, simply, though it clearly pained her. "I… It was my fault
we had that fight yesterday, I have to try and make it better."
"Mother, he hit you in the face, are you fucking serious?!"
"Do not speak to me like that, Seishiro!"
"Mother, please! Please don't let him come back!"
"I will and you will respect that!" She snapped, suddenly furious. Seishiro
moved away from her. "I'm your mother, do not fight with me about this, do you
understand?!" Seishiro realized he was shaking, but he said nothing. His
mother's expression softened slightly. "He cried so hard last night, Seishiro,"
she said, her voice thick with emotion. "He was so sorry, he kept icing your
eye while you were sleeping." The idea of that man continuing to touch him
while he was unconscious made Seishiro want to throw up. He pressed his lips
tightly together, still saying nothing. "He's so, so sorry." Seishiro looked
into his mother's face, her expression desperate and pleading. All he could do
was nod. They passed a few moments together in very tense silence.
"Can I have the bandages so I can go to the library?" He asked, wearily. His
mother nodded.
"I'll help you put them on, here." She had tried, but she kept wrapping them
too tightly. Seishiro had finally snapped at her, and she had retreated. He
stood in the bathroom, squinting at his reflection, and bandaged up his black
eye. When he finished, he put on his new glasses. The sight of his own
reflection made him want to crawl into a hole and die. Or kill his mother's
boyfriend. Or something. Clenching his teeth and his fists, Seishiro gathered
his things and left the apartment, debating for the first time just never
coming back.
===============================================================================
Seishiro opened his eyes, his nausea having finally abated. The light in his
bathroom wasn't quite so hard on his eyes, though he still felt weak and sick.
He reflected that the afternoon at the opera and the subsequent fight had been
like losing the last, tiny pebble restraining a massive, catastrophic
landslide. After that, everything had started moving, and it was painful and
terrifying and shameful.
He remembered going to school the next day and feeling like Frankenstein's
monster: a smart and dignified creature, horribly disfigured, rejected by its
creator and shunned by all the people around it.
Naturally, his classmates were all very curious about why he had missed a day
of school, then shown up covered in bandages. They weren't troubling to keep
their voices low as they gossiped behind their hands, or just openly teased
him. He had always been teased, for his name and his clothes and his overall
strangeness, but now all the work he'd put in to making himself invisible
seemed to be for nothing. He felt humiliated and furious.
"What happened to your eye?"
"Why do you have bandages on?"
"You look like a pirate!"
"It's none of your fucking business what happened!" Seishiro snapped, finally,
during his first period English class. "And the next person to ask me is
getting knocked the fuck out!" His classmates all exchanged half apprehensive,
half excited looks.
"Seishiro?" His teacher's voice. Great.
"Yes?" He asked, far more aggressively than he'd intended.
"Stay inside during break today. The rest of you, in your seats, now. We need
to get started." His classmates obeyed, still muttering to themselves. Seishiro
was barely listening to what his teacher was saying the entire class, but he
didn't care. He was worried about what she was going to say to him. He knew
she'd ask about his eye and he was well aware of the dangerous path such a
conversation could take.
When his mother's boyfriend had come home from work the night before, he'd
asked to speak to Seishiro. It made his skin crawl even looking at this man,
but he agreed. "I'm sorry, Seishiro," he said. Seishiro said nothing. "I'm
sorry, I swear I didn't mean to do that to you. I didn't mean to lose my
temper." He was staring hard at Seishiro, apparently pleading for him to
understand, and Seishiro stared back, but remained silent. He felt that what
happened went well beyond losing your temper. However, he knew not to argue.
"Your mom and I had been in a fight, and-" Seishiro didn't bother listening to
the rest of the excuse. He watched the man's lips moving, but all he heard was
an odd ringing in his ears. He hated this man. He hated him. He wanted him
gone, and he would find a way.
"Your mother said you fell when you were climbing some scaffolding."
"What?" Seishiro suddenly found himself in front of his teacher's desk, though
he had no idea how he'd gotten there, or even when class had ended. His teacher
tilted her head to the side, a strange expression on her face.
"You were climbing scaffolding in front of a building and fell on Sunday
night." Seishiro had to fight hard not to roll his good eye. Really? That was
the best she could come up with? "That must have hurt," his teacher continued,
sympathetically.
"Yeah, I guess," Seishiro muttered, shuddering, seeing again the raised fist
and feeling the memory in his entire body. For a moment, he wondered if his
teacher believed his mother's story, and if she didn't, would she ask for the
truth? Or guess? Seishiro knew he could tell her what had really happened and
she'd be obligated to notify the authorities. He had to admit, his mother's
boyfriend being led away in handcuffs was an appealing vision, though it
dissolved just as quickly as it had come. He doubted it would ever get that
far: he had no proof except for the bruises and his own word, because he knew
his mother would parrot whatever lies her boyfriend told about how she and
Seishiro had gotten hurt. He knew how it would look to police, a teenaged son
trying to get his mother's new boyfriend in trouble. Sick anger bubbled inside
Seishiro. Even as he swore to himself he'd get rid of this person, right now he
was completely stuck, and he absolutely hated it.
"Keep putting ice on it," his teacher advised him, quietly, her eyes full of
concern. Seishiro nodded. She sighed heavily and looked away for a moment
before continuing. "I was thinking about you the other day." Seishiro stared at
her, perplexed.
"Me? Why?" She smiled.
"I know it's early, but have you thought about where you'd like to go to high
school?" She was staring at him very intently, and Seishiro met her gaze,
though he felt more perplexed than ever.
"Um, no… I mean, should I?" She nodded.
"There's a college prep school around the corner from here," she said, her gaze
intensifying. "A really good friend of mine teaches there, you may want to look
into it." Seishiro understood the last part to mean, "I'd like you to apply."
Truthfully, thinking that far ahead was rather a foreign concept to him. He'd
always been so absorbed in the moment, in his mother's mood, in who she was
bringing around now, in whether or not she'd come home that night, and it had
gotten worse since this boyfriend had entered the picture. How could he think
about what would happen the year after next when he wasn't even sure what would
happen that night? However, all he said out loud was,
"Yeah, maybe." His teacher swallowed, and for a moment she looked so sad.
Seishiro clenched his fists. He didn't need her sympathy. How could she
possibly understand?
"School is a good way out, Seishiro," she told him, delicately but seriously,
and his eyes widened in more confusion.
"I," he began, though he had no idea what to say.
"At least, it was for me." She stared at him, hard in the face, and he stared
back, his heart beating uncomfortably. "You're smart, Seishiro. Don't waste
it." His heart continued to beat, but he said nothing. The bell rang loudly in
the hallway, signaling the start of the next class.
Seishiro spent the rest of the day avoiding looking at his schoolmates and
trying to block out everything they said to and about him. He really wanted to
go home, even though he was terrified about what he'd find there. His teacher's
words also kept coming back to him, intriguing and bothersome. 'But how will
school be a way out? I can't just leave, Mother needs me!" He thought as he
walked slowly down the hall. He stared straight ahead, though took in none of
his surroundings. 'She needs me to protect her from all these guys she brings
around, I can't just…" He pushed open the door and walked outside, shivering
even though it was a warm, sunny day.
"Seishiro?" He started and turned. His partner from the field trip was there,
apparently waiting for him. Seishiro flushed.
"Hi," he replied.
"I wanted to talk to you before, but," he broke off, his eyes full of concern,
and Seishiro's flush deepened. "You aren't in trouble, right? For what you
said?" Seishiro shook his head. "Okay good because that would be unfair as
hell." Seishiro felt the words, genuine and validating, in his chest.
"She just wanted to talk about high school," he replied, quietly.
"Cool," his partner said, smiling, and Seishiro couldn't help but smile back.
"I, um, I got the first book in the series you told me about." His partner's
entire face lit up in excitement and Seishiro's heart throbbed almost
painfully.
"That's awesome! Do you like it?" Seishiro swallowed, fresh heat rushing up his
neck.
"I haven't started it yet," he replied, apologetically, his stomach squirming.
"Don't worry about it! Just let me know when you start. I don't know anyone
else into it, so it'd be really cool to have you to talk to." Resolve emerged
from deep inside Seishiro and he nodded earnestly.
"Tomorrow," he said, very seriously. "We can talk about it tomorrow." His
partner smiled excitedly.
"Awesome. I actually have to go, but, I just wanted to make sure you were
okay." Once again, Seishiro felt the words in his chest.
"Thanks," he replied, rather lamely, though he was being sincere. "I'll, um,
I'll see you tomorrow!"
"Yeah, for sure!" His partner turned and hurried away, waving over his
shoulder. Seishiro's heart pounded in his chest, but it seemed to soften some
of the hurt and fear and anger that had hardened his guts over the last few
weeks. He started his walk home, feeling like he could handle what would happen
once he got there as long as he could escape into his room, feel safe behind
his closed door with his book.
He finished the first volume of the sci-fi series in two days and checked out
the next one from the library at once. It wasn't something he would have read
on his own, but it allowed him to disconnect from his current, sad
circumstances. Escaping to another world and spending time in someone else's
head was such a relief, even if it was all fictional. His favorite character
was a villain who worked for the government as an assassin. However, it he had
recently done the protagonist and her friends a few favors and his motives
weren't clear yet.
It also gave him and his… friend? Yes, his friend, so much to discuss, and they
both loved it. His friend would wax on about his favorite characters, swear
loudly in horror when he accidentally revealed a spoiler and get emotional when
talking about the sad parts. Seishiro could just watch and listen, and it was
perfect. They started having lunch together almost every day, and even in the
ugly fluorescent light of the cafeteria, his green eyes would shine so
beautifully as he'd go through his myriad of facial expressions. Seishiro
started to feel like he was living for those twenty-five minutes they had
together every day, sequestered in their corner, impervious to everything else.
His friend had asked him a few times if he'd like to come over after school,
but Seishiro would always blush and say no, claiming his mother wanted him home
every day until his eye was better. This wasn't true, of course, and Seishiro
hated lying to his friend, but what was he supposed to tell him? "I'm scared my
mother's boyfriend will hurt her if I'm not there?" He didn't want to ruin what
they had, their tiny bubble of safety Seishiro had come to depend on.
"What about when your eye is better, though?" Seishiro bit his lip as he stared
into his friend's eager face, but nodded. "Shake on it!" Seishiro couldn't help
but smile. They shook hands. His friend's hand was smaller than his, warm and
smooth, and he gave Seishiro's a squeeze before letting go and turning to head
home. Seishiro stared at his hand, which seemed to be tingling. He flexed his
fingers a few times, then began his own walk home.
A week or so later, Seishiro was in front of his bathroom mirror, squinting at
his reflection. His bruises had faded to an unpleasant greenish yellow, but
they were much less noticeable. He could get away with not wearing bandages
today, which meant… He walked into his living room. His mother was sitting on
the couch, a cigarette smoldering sadly in her hand. She stared straight ahead,
her eyes glazed over. She'd been like this the last few days, since she and her
boyfriend had gotten into a fight over her job. Thankfully, it hadn't
escalated, but Seishiro knew she was afraid of what was to come. "Mother?" She
started and looked around. It seemed like she was having trouble getting him
into focus.
"Yes? What is it, Seishiro?" He swallowed.
"I'm um, I'm going to a friend's house after school today," he told her, his
stomach squirming guiltily.
"What?" He didn't blame her for her shocked tone. He couldn't remember ever
telling her that before.
"I'm going to a friend's house after school," he told her again. "So I'll be
home later than usual."
"Right, okay," she replied. She still looked totally perplexed, but also seemed
too tired to think about it too much. Seishiro picked up his school bag and
walked across the room to the door. "Wait!" His mother jumped to her feet and
sprinted over to him. "Will you please come home before he does?" She asked,
her eyes wide and fearful. Seishiro's throat burned alarmingly as he stared
into his mother's face. She looked terrified, and so… Seishiro couldn't name
the expression, but he nodded bravely. She hugged him, exhaling sharply into
his neck. "I love you more than anyone else in the world, Seishiro," she told
him. The smoke from her cigarette swirled around them and Seishiro shifted
uncomfortably in her arms.
"I love you too." A pause. "I have to go to school." She let go of him, and he
was out the door. Guilt tugged at his insides as he hurried along Delancey
Street, but the unpleasant feeling was eclipsed fairly quickly when he saw his
friend outside the school building. "Hey!" He called. His friend turned, and
his eyes widened in surprise.
"Whoa, you can see again!" They exchanged an excited smile.
"Yeah! So, I can come over after school today, I mean, if it's still okay…"
"Awesome!"
"I can't stay long because my mom wants me home for dinner, but-"
"That's cool! Oh man this is awesome, there's something I really want to show
you!" His friend continued excitedly as they walked into school. The rest of
the day seemed to drag. Seishiro longed for it to be over so he and his friend
could go off together. He had no idea what to expect, but it was such a welcome
change he couldn't help but feel excited.
At last, they met up in front of school and set off together, walking side by
side. Seishiro's palms were sweating, so he kept them in his pockets. They
didn't speak much until they crossed Houston Street, and Seishiro's friend
indicated a scratched and graffitied door. "This is me. My sister might be
home, but," he shrugged, and opened the door. Seishiro followed him up to the
second floor, then through the first door on the left.
His first impression was of warmth, light and coziness. He felt slightly
overwhelmed as he looked around his friend's living room. It was full of
natural light and all the furniture was covered in crocheted blankets. A
teenaged girl was sitting on the couch, her homework spread out over the coffee
table. She looked up. "Hey," she said, smiling.
"Hi," his friend replied. "This is my friend, Seishiro, from school." She stood
up, walked over and extended her hand with a smile.
"Nice to meet you."
"You too." They shook hands.
"We'll be in my room," Seishiro's friend continued, and his sister nodded.
"Do you guys want snacks or anything?" She asked, kindly. Seishiro looked to
his friend, who grinned.
"Yeah, that'd be awesome," he replied. "She's only being nice cause you're
here," he added to Seishiro in a stage whisper.
"Shut up, worm," she snapped, though it was clearly a term of endearment. "I'll
bring you something, you guys go ahead." Seishiro could only nod, feeling
overwhelmed by such kindness, and followed his friend to his room. He'd never
been in a place so saturated with happiness, where everyone seemed at ease and
safe. He wished his mother could have experienced it.
They entered his friend's bedroom, and Seishiro let out a soft gasp. It was
full of books, and there were photographs and posters all over the walls. His
collection of his sci-fi series was displayed proudly on a shelf above his bed.
Seishiro looked around eagerly. He wanted to touch some part of it, connect
even for a moment with this world that felt so foreign and imbibe some of its
safety and happiness. "I, I really like your room," Seishiro said, rather
awkwardly, and his friend just laughed.
"Yeah it's all right. Here, I wanted to show you…" He walked across to his
dresser, on which a collection of small figures was displayed. He picked up one
of them, turned around and held it out to Seishiro. "He's your favorite
character, right?" Seishiro's eyes widened as he stared at the figure, dressed
all in black with a mischievous smile.
"Yeah! How did you get that?!"
"I've got everybody, see?" Seishiro looked and realized he had the entire cast
in miniature, all displayed on his dresser. "I ordered them from a magazine,"
he continued, obviously pleased with himself. Seishiro nodded, gazing at the
figure of his favorite character. "But they sent me two of him by mistake when
I ordered the set, so I figured you could have it if you want it." Seishiro's
throat constricted painfully.
"Are you sure?" He asked, when he found his voice. His friend nodded.
"Yeah! Here," he handed the figure to Seishiro, who held it in both hands and
stared at it in wonder.
"Are you sure?" He asked again, the generosity so overwhelming it was enough to
make him light headed.
"I keep telling you I am," his friend reminded him, though he was smiling at
how pleased Seishiro was. Seishiro just nodded and tucked the figure carefully
into his schoolbag.
"Thank you," he said, very seriously, hot in the face and heart pounding.
"No problem." They stared at each other. Seishiro wanted to… Hug his friend,
or… His stomach twisted nervously, but… A knock on the door broke their gaze
and a moment later his sister entered the room with snacks.
The afternoon passed far too quickly for Seishiro's liking. Regretfully, at 5:
30, he said he had to be getting home. His friend nodded in a sad, but
understanding way and helped him gather his things. Seishiro felt cold dread
creep into his body. He really didn't want to go home. He knew he had to be
there for his mother, be brave and protect her. However, he couldn't help but
feel resentful as he thought about what he was walking away from. "Thanks for
having me," he said, rather formally as his friend and his sister walked him to
the door.
"Come see us again, it was nice meeting you," she said, hugging him. The
gesture took Seishiro by surprise, but he did appreciate it. "Hug your friend
goodbye, what's wrong with you?" She added. Seishiro's friend smiled and hugged
him too. Seishiro's breath caught in his throat and his heart throbbed in his
chest.
"I'll see you tomorrow," his friend said, right in his ear, and Seishiro
shivered. They broke apart.
"Yeah, see you tomorrow."
The entire walk home, Seishiro could feel the parts of his body his friend had
touched pulsing as though with electricity. His stomach also kept leaping
uncomfortably, and he didn't understand. The sensations weren't unpleasant,
but… He turned onto Clinton Street. As he caught sight of his building, all the
feelings seemed to condense into a sad, fearful weight inside his stomach. He
entered his building, climbed the stairs and opened the door to his apartment.
"Where the fuck have you been?" Seishiro's fists clenched. His mother's
boyfriend stood in the center of the living room, arms folded and lip curling.
His mother sat on the couch, watching fearfully. "Where the fuck have you
been?" Her boyfriend repeated, when Seishiro said nothing. His heart beat
faster, but he stood his ground, staring determinedly back at him.
"I was at a friend's house," he replied, coldly. He slammed the door shut and
dropped his schoolbag.
"Who said you could do that?" Seishiro sneered. He knew it wasn't wise to
escalate fights, but the question just hit him in exactly the wrong way,
especially when her boyfriend was home early from work out of nowhere. For the
first time in a long time, he recovered his initial sense of indignation at
this man. Who the fuck did he think he was? Anger lapped at Seishiro's insides.
Smart or not, he was ready.
"My mother, my actual parent," he snapped.
"Seishiro!" His mother cried, softly.
"Shut up," her boyfriend told her. He returned his gaze to Seishiro and pounded
his fist against his chest. "I'm in charge here, you little shit, did you
forget?" He took a step towards Seishiro, but he remained where he was, his
vision honing in on the face he hated so much.
"Are you gonna give me another black eye?!" He asked, heat rushing up his neck.
"I hope you do, then I can call the cops and get you arrested!"
"Really?" Her boyfriend asked, his voice pulsing in aggressive challenge, and
Seishiro's mother let out a small, terrified noise.
"Yeah, really! Come on, hit me if you're going to, I don't care!" It was true.
As long as he kept his hands off his mother, Seishiro could care less. Her
boyfriend's eyes narrowed in furious disgust, and Seishiro stared back,
waiting, bracing himself, but her boyfriend just turned away. Seishiro knew a
split second's relief before he realized he was walking towards his bedroom
again. His blood ran cold. "What the fuck?! STAY OUT OF MY ROOM!" He sprinted
through his doorway in time to see his mother's boyfriend toss his pillow aside
and grab Blue, old and battered and loved. "NO! PUT THAT DOWN!" Seishiro
screamed, and he hated how frightened and desperate he sounded. His mother's
boyfriend leered at him, then ripped the stuffed animal's head off. Seishiro
watched, horrified and speechless, as her boyfriend dropped the pieces, then
ground them into the floor with his foot and kicked them across the room.
"Learn some respect and this won't happen," he said, simply. "You're too old
for stuffed animals anyway, I'm doing you a favor." He paused, a look of cruel
satisfaction on his face. "You can stay in your room the rest of the night." He
pushed passed Seishiro and slammed his door shut. Seishiro stood there, numb
and horrified for a moment before he bent down, picked up the pieces of his
most favorite toy and held them to his chest. In the living room, he heard his
mother begin to cry. "What the fuck is that for? Stop it!" He slapped her
across the face, and the sound seemed to dispel some of Seishiro's numbness.
He looked down at Blue, torn in half, and began to cry too, hating himself and
his mother's boyfriend. He crawled into bed, wrapped himself in the covers and
pressed Blue into his eyes, just as he'd done when he was small.
===============================================================================
Seishiro shut his eyes tight, hearing the sound of the neck seam ripping as
though it were happening all over again. At the same time, he heard the
snapping of Subaru's headphones as he himself had broken them the day before.
He'd broken them because he'd wanted to scare Subaru, punish him for letting
someone come between them, for being led astray. He hadn't meant to lose
control, he hadn't given into his anger, he was better than that!
He felt again that ominous, full body shudder that began at the back of his
neck. His head swam sickeningly as he heard, over and over, seams being torn
and plastic snapping.
"What the fuck is that for? Stop it!"
"Get out, come back for the rest of your things when I'm not here."
Desperate, deeply wounded sobs. Were they Setsuka's? Subaru's? His own? No, of
course not!
Seishiro's stomach clenched in fear and disgust surged up his throat. He
clapped his hand over his mouth and screwed up his eyes. 'No, not again, not
again!' He pleaded with his body. 'Not again!' But of course, it was no good.
For a second time, Seishiro slumped back against the cold tile wall, listening
to the toilet flushing. He felt again that visceral relief flood his body even
as there was cold sweat on his face and his eyes were watering and his hands
were shaking. He gasped for breath and cringed in disgust. His body was forever
betraying him and his mind had been betraying him all fucking afternoon…
Seishiro wanted to cry out in frustration, but forced himself to his feet
instead. He immediately felt dizzy and had to grab onto the wall for support.
He shut his eyes and took deep breaths, trying desperately to refocus, to force
his body to recover. If only his knees would stop trembling!
At last, the world stopped spinning. He blinked his eyes open and took a few
careful steps to his sink. Keeping his eyes down to avoid looking at his
reflection, Seishiro turned on the water, cupped his hands under the faucet and
brought them up to his lips. He felt more relief as he swirled the cold water
around in his mouth and spat it out. He placed his hands on either side of the
sink and stared into it. He finally seemed to be recovering, and with his
recovery came his anger, strengthening and validating.
He wasn't like Setsuka's disgusting, pathetic boyfriend. After all, he never
put his hands on Subaru. 'And he should be fucking grateful,' he thought,
viciously. 'You can't complain about headphones when I could have given you a
black eye, or-' His stomach lurched and he gripped the sides of the sink more
tightly. He would never put his hands on Subaru. He had lost control, that fact
remained inescapable, but it was just a brief moment of weakness brought on by
Subaru's betrayal, because he'd let someone come between them, just as Setsuka
had let countless people into their relationship.
Seishiro's grip on the sink was so tight his knuckles were white. He was still
furious with Subaru, but his anger was now tainted by disgust and unpleasant
memories. He shouldn't have broken Subaru's headphones. His words should have
been enough. But that was the whole point! His words had stopped being enough.
Subaru had stopped listening. Seishiro swallowed. When Subaru came back, which
he would, would he still be immune to his words?
Seishiro felt a prickling on the back of his neck, almost as though he were
being watched. He shuddered as he shut off the water, straightened up and
walked through his bedroom, then down the hall to his kitchen. The prickling
feeling persisted and his heart pounded against his ribs. He pulled a glass out
of the cabinet, filled it with water from the sink and drank it slowly. Of
course his words would be enough, and even if they weren't, withdrawing his
touch would work. It was the exact opposite of Setsuka's boyfriend's actions,
and it would always affect Subaru, even if he were led astray for a moment.
Seishiro's hand began to shake violently and he set his glass on the counter
before he spilled anything. What was wrong with him today? Another unpleasant
shudder began at the base of his skull and crept outwards, wrapping itself
around his stomach, heart and lungs.
"What's wrong with you?!"
"Why are you always so-"
"What the fuck?!"
Seishiro had been asked these questions by so many people. Setsuka, guys he'd
fucked, Subaru, himself… He still had no answer, not that he owed one to
anybody. He was what he was, and yet all these people who said they loved him
wanted him to be something different.
"Act normal, okay?"
Seishiro emptied his glass and slammed it back down on the counter. He then
stared at the tiles behind the sink, breathing hard through his nose. He'd
spent a great deal of his life taking Setsuka's rage, her resentment and
hurtful words. She had a whole repertoire of confusing, fear-inducing things
she'd say to him, the most common being "What's wrong with you?" followed by "I
love you." Of course, when Setsuka said "I love you," the meaning was always
dependent on the context. At least when Subaru said it, it was consistent. The
resentment inside Seishiro suddenly flash heated. Had she ever actually known
what she was saying? She was so fucking stupid.
Righteous anger surged in his chest. "I love you," because I can use you to get
back at your father. "I love you," except when you get in the way of me and
whichever boyfriend. "I love you," so you can't ever leave me. "I love you,"
but why did you call 911? The anger seared Seishiro's nerves, burning away some
of his resistance to the memories. The next part wasn't as painful, anyway,
because he'd been right, and she should have headed him, even though his words
meant nothing to her.
The day after his mother's boyfriend had- Seishiro shuddered. After his
mother's boyfriend had told him to "learn some respect," his mother had taken
the day off work. She had a cut lip and couldn't hide it with make up, or maybe
she just couldn't be bothered. Seishiro had gotten ready for school as usual
and found her sitting on the couch, smoking and staring straight ahead with
glazed eyes. "Seishiro, will you please stay here today?" She asked, not
looking at him.
"I have school," he reminded her.
"I know, but… You can miss a day, can't you?" Seishiro stared at his mother,
looking older than he'd ever seen her, and sighed. He hadn't finished all the
homework due today anyway. Last night, he'd cried himself to sleep and woken
up, hungry and still exhausted, at sunrise.
"I guess." She turned to look at him, and the relief in her face made his heart
ache. She put out her cigarette.
"Come here." She heaved herself off the couch, took him by the arm and led him
into her bedroom. She climbed back into bed. "Come here," she repeated.
Seishiro swallowed and lay down beside her, just as he had done when he was
small. Like those other times, he felt that bubble of safety rise up between
them, then surround them. He lay on his back, and his mother was on her side,
staring at him. She reached out and began to tuck his hair gently behind his
ears. Seishiro closed his eyes and shifted uncomfortably. "You look more and
more like him every day," she whispered. She inched forward and lay her head
across his chest. He stiffened underneath her and screwed up his eyes, his
heart throbbing. "I love you, Seishiro," she breathed.
Seishiro shuddered. No. He wanted to get up and go to school. He opened his
eyes and looked down at his mother. Her eyes were closed and her long black
hair fell gracefully around her. She seemed simultaneously like a small child
and an old lady, and Seishiro felt a weird rush of revulsion as well as a
desire to protect her. He really wanted to get up, but he couldn't disturb her.
He stared up at the ceiling, feeing numb and lost.
Seishiro may have fallen asleep, he didn't know, but the next thing he was
aware of was, "SETSUKA!" She and Seishiro sat up at once. The front door
slammed. "SETSUKA!" She sprang out of bed and ran into the living room.
Seishiro followed her, his heart pounding, ready for the fight.
His mother's boyfriend stood in the living room, his face livid, clutching a
ripped envelope in his hand. His mother looked fearfully between the envelope
and his face, utterly perplexed. "What…?" She said, in a small voice. Her
boyfriend laughed humorlessly and advanced on her.
"What the fuck is this?!" He demanded, shoving the envelope in her face.
"I don't-" She began, looking terrified, but then understanding seemed to melt
away any last semblance of composure. She clapped her hands to her mouth and
began to cry. "How did you get into the mailbox?" Was all she managed to ask.
Her boyfriend threw the envelope at her. She shuddered as it hit her in the
face, then fell lightly to the floor. Seishiro realized what it was: the check
his father sent every month to keep his mother quiet about his existence.
"Please!" She cried, tears pouring down her face. "I need the money to survive,
it's-" Her boyfriend seized a fistful of her hair and pulled her right up close
to him.
"NO!" Seishiro sprinted forward, but his mother's boyfriend knocked him away
with the back of his hand. Seishiro cried out and fell over, his head spinning.
His mother's boyfriend pulled her even closer, baring his teeth and screaming
right in her face. She kept her eyes shut tight, wincing and crying.
"HOW MANY MEN SEND YOU MONEY I DON'T KNOW ABOUT?" He shook her violently and
she cried out in pain. "HUH? YOU FUCKING WHORE?!"
"NONE! I SWEAR IT'S NOT-" He threw her to the ground and took a step towards
her. She screamed and tried to crawl away, but he kicked her hard in the ribs.
Seishiro scrambled to his feet and forced himself between them.
"KEEP YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF HER!" He screamed, blood pounding in his ears. Her
boyfriend's lip curled, and it ignited the rage inside Seishiro to a blazing
inferno. He spat in her boyfriend's face. He stared, stunned at Seishiro for a
split second, then seized him by the throat and slammed him up against the
wall. The back of his head smacked into it and he immediately felt dizzy. He
gasped for breath, tears leaking from his eyes. Her boyfriend was screaming,
but Seishiro had no idea what he was saying. All he knew was hot breath in his
face and total, all consuming fear and rage.
"SEISHIRO! NO! PUT HIM DOWN!" His mother's scream seemed to reach him, forcing
his ears open.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Her boyfriend screamed. Seishiro kicked out and his foot
hit his soft, doughy belly. He cried out and released Seishiro, who collapsed
onto the floor, gasping and crying. His mother was back on her feet, screaming
at the top of her voice, and her boyfriend faced her again. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"
Seishiro scrambled to his feet, and as he sprinted down the hallway he heard
his mother scream as she got punched in the face. The sound echoed in his
entire body, but he didn't look back. He ran into his mother's bedroom, slammed
the door and locked it. He seized the phone from the bedside table and dialed
911, still gasping and listening to his mother and her boyfriend screaming.
"911, what is your emergency?"
"Help me, please! My mother's boyfriend is beating her, my address is 28-30
Clinton Street, apartment 3F!"
"Okay does he have weapons?" Seishiro's blood ran cold.
"I don't think so but please! He's beating her and he tried to strangle me,
send someone!" Seishiro heard his mother's boyfriend storm down the hall and
knew a moment of utter terror as he tried to force the door open.
"OPEN THE DOOR!" Seishiro's entire body was shaking.
"The police are on their way," the dispatcher told Seishiro. "Do not open the
door." Seishiro gripped the phone as though it were a lifeline, listening to
the doorknob rattling, the banging, the death threats. "Whatever he tells you,
do not open the door."
"I'LL KILL YOU! BOTH OF YOU!"
"Do not open the door."
"POLICE! GET ON THE GROUND! GET ON THE GROUND!"
"Thank you…" Seishiro whispered to the dispatcher. She hung up, but Seishiro
clutched the phone, listening to the fight outside the door. His mother's
boyfriend kept screaming even though the police were telling him to stop
resisting. Then, finally, the unmistakable sound of handcuffs clicking into
place.
"Get up, you're coming with us." Seishiro heard him being led away and a police
officer reading him his rights. A few moments of relative calm followed.
Seishiro hung up the phone, his ears ringing, then jumped at a soft knock on
the door.
"Seishiro?" It was an unfamiliar woman's voice. "Seishiro, I'm a police
officer, will you please open the door?" Seishiro hesitated. "It's all right,
he's been taken away. It's safe to come out." Seishiro swallowed, then
approached the door and unlocked it. He opened it to find a middle-aged woman
in uniform, sturdy and reassuring. "Thank you," she said. "We're going to take
you and your mom to the hospital, okay?"
"I'm not hurt," Seishiro said, dully. A sense of numbness had set in throughout
his body and mind. He was aware he was breathing, but that was about it.
"I know, but we have to make sure, okay?" He just nodded. She led him out of
the apartment and down the stairs. Seishiro's neighbors were all standing in
their doorways, looking around, fearful and curious. Outside, there were police
cars with their lights flashing red and blue. However, it only registered dimly
to Seishiro as the policewoman helped him up into the back of the ambulance.
The doors slammed shut, and they were off, sirens blaring at half their usual
volume.
Seishiro couldn't remember much after that. It was as though time would rush
past, then stop abruptly in a freeze frame or random slew of images. He
remembered the screech of the ambulance siren, the bright lights of the
hospital, the din of the emergency room. He remembered being stuck alone on an
examination table, then doctors and nurses coming in. They stripped him to his
underwear and poked and prodded him before allowing police officers to
photograph the bruises on his face and neck. Seishiro was dimly aware of
feeling exposed, but he didn't say anything to anyone until a police officer
interviewed him.
"Has he done this before?"
"Yes."
"Your mom has broken ribs, has he hurt her that badly before?"
"No, but he's been hitting her for a while."
Seishiro wondered vaguely where his mother was, but his mind was too numb, too
stuck, to be really curious.
They ended up spending the night in the hospital "for observation." A nurse
with a kind face led him up to a room at the end of a quiet ward and gave him a
pair of pajamas that were slightly too big. He climbed up into the bed and
stared straight ahead. Another nurse came in to give him something "to help him
sleep," and bustled around, smoothing his bedcovers and adjusting his pillows.
Seishiro swallowed the pill with some water and continued to look straight
ahead, waiting for something to happen.
He wasn't aware of falling asleep, or even being tired. It was as though his
body and mind had switched off, then switched back on. Once again, he was
staring straight ahead in a hospital room, but it was daytime and his vision
was blurry. He squinted around for his glasses, found them on the plastic tray
attached to his bed and put them on. The room came into focus, but his mind was
still fuzzy. He swallowed and sighed heavily, memories of the night before
coming back to him in painful pieces, fighting through the fog in his brain.
A nurse poked her head around the door, then entered, carrying a breakfast
tray. "Good morning," she said, quietly, placing it in front of him. He just
stared at it, feeling too groggy and queasy to even think of eating. "Not
feeling well?" The nurse asked, kindly. Seishiro said nothing. "I need to check
your vital signs, okay?" He nodded, and she did so, but her hands were soft and
tender, and it seemed to reach him, make him feel more aware. She scribbled on
a clipboard, then sat on a chair beside him until a doctor came in, looked at
her notes, nodded and left. "You can go home soon," the nurse said, her voice
still soft and kind. "Your mom will be in here in a few minutes, I'll let you
get dressed."
The nurse left the room, and Seishiro got up, redressed and sat on the edge of
his bed, watching the door. A few minutes passed, and he looked at the
breakfast tray. More for something to do than because he wanted anything, he
reached for the plastic container of juice, peeled back the foil cover and
drank it. It didn't have much flavor, but the sour taste seemed to revive him
further.
Eventually, his mother appeared in the doorway, followed by a woman he didn't
know. His mother crossed the room and fell into Seishiro's arms, hugging him as
tightly as she could. Seishiro clung to the back of her shirt, relief flooding
his insides, though his eyes remained fixed on the other woman, still framed in
the doorway. She was holding a stack of folders in one hand and had the other
pressed to her chest. She had a simpering smile on her face that made
Seishiro's stomach lurch uncomfortably.
His mother let go of him and sat beside him on the bed. She then reached for
his hand and held it in both her own. "Hi, Seishiro," the other woman said,
extending her hand. Seishiro shook it. "I'm a social worker," she continued.
Seishiro just nodded, not sure he understood. "Last night was pretty scary,
wasn't it?" Seishiro just stared at her, and his stomach lurched uncomfortably
again. "I'm going to be checking up on you guys for a while, okay?" She
persisted. "Everything's going to be fine, but if you need anyone to talk to,
I'm here, all right?" Seishiro's stomach was twisting. "I care about you and
your mom, you know. Everything will be fine." Seishiro swallowed.
"You see, Seishiro?" His mother said, quietly, squeezing his hand. He turned to
look at her.
"I think I'm gonna throw up."
An hour or so later, Seishiro and his mother were in a cab back to their
apartment. Seishiro leaned his head against the grimy window, finally feeling
present again. However, as the numbness faded, he became aware of all the pain
in his body, mind and heart.
At last, they were back outside their building. It was a truly beautiful day.
Sunlight fell through the leaves of the skimpy trees that lined their street,
casting a warm, soft light over the garbage and graffiti. Seishiro looked
around, and felt for the first time that he really didn't belong here. Was this
really his world? Was this actually where he'd come from? This tiny, dirty,
dangerous corner of New York City where no one could pronounce his name?
Seishiro let out a shaky exhale and followed his mother into their building.
He'd lived his whole life here. His neighbors were born here and would most
likely die here. The overhead light that illuminated the dirty hallway was
flickering. Seishiro felt an unpleasant tingling on the back of his neck as
though he were being watched, even though his neighbors all had their doors
closed. He could still see their faces from the night before, morbidly curious,
unable to look away from the sick, shameful sight. Seishiro flushed and looked
down at the filthy, sticky floor and followed his mother up the stairs. She dug
in her purse for her keys, wincing as the movement disturbed her ribs, and let
them into the apartment.
All was quiet and still, just as they'd left it. Seishiro had expected to see
the place in total disarray, things broken and knocked over, but it was
undisturbed. He stood in his living room, wishing he could return to that state
of numbness and unreality, but he was here, he was present, and he felt more
out of place than ever. He was used to not belonging, but it was different now.
He didn't want to be here. This wasn't what he wanted or who he wanted to be.
He turned and watched his mother sit down on the couch, then extract the
bottles of pills she'd gotten from the doctor and arrange them on the coffee
table. She sighed, reached for her cigarettes and lit up. She looked exhausted
as she exhaled, older and wearier than Seishiro had never seen her, and he felt
a sudden, strange sense of loss. He wanted to say something to her, he wanted
to reach her, but he had no idea how.
Cautiously, he approached her and sat down beside her. She just smoked her
cigarette, and they said nothing, music coming from their neighbor's apartment
filling the space. At last, his mother turned to him. Seishiro met her gaze,
but her expression was unreadable. His heart began to race. "Are you happy,
now?" She asked. Seishiro just stared at her, perplexed. "He's gone, isn't that
what you wanted?" She sounded both angry and on the verge of tears, and
Seishiro had no idea what to do.
"What…?"
"You always do this!" She cried. "Every time I try dating someone you get in my
way! I'm doing this for us, so that you can have a father, don't you
understand?!" Seishiro clenched his fists, anger surging alarmingly inside him.
"No, you don't understand!" He snapped back. "You didn't need any of those
guys, you have me!"
"You're my son, Seishiro, not-"
"Yeah, don't fucking remind me!"
"Don't you swear at me!" She drew her hand back and slapped him hard across the
face, but the pain didn't even register. He just stared at her with narrowed
eyes, unflinching and fearless.
"Are you done?" He asked her, coldly. She opened her mouth, but Seishiro cut
across her. "Your boyfriend gave me a black eye and tried to strangle me-" his
voice broke, but he swallowed and recovered himself. "You think that's going to
do anything?!"
"You didn't have to call the police!" His mother snapped. She was curling the
fingers of the hand with which she'd slapped him, angry tears beginning in her
eyes. Seishiro stood up, blood pounding in his ears and righteous anger and
pain searing his nerves.
"SO WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?!" He screamed, his chest heaving. His mother's
face twisted in furious anguish.
"GO TO YOUR ROOM!" She screamed, tears pouring down her face. "JUST GO AWAY,
SEISHIRO!"
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?! You wish I was dead!"
"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" Seishiro's fists were clenched so tightly his fingernails
dug into his palms.
"I wish I was dead! Then no one would be here to protect you! Then your next
boyfriend could kill you and you'd deserve it!" His mother's eyes widened, and
her lip trembled for a moment before she fell forward, clutching her ribs and
crying without restraint. Seishiro just watched, vindictive fury burning inside
him, fueling him. "I hate you! I can't wait to be out of here!" Shaking in rage
and disgust, Seishiro stormed into his room and slammed the door. He breathed
deeply through his nose, anger still coursing through him. He wanted to vent
his feelings, break and hurt. He looked around, and knew a surge of reckless
excitement as his eyes found the computer his mother's boyfriend had bought him
in a pathetic attempt to win his affection and trust.
Seishiro climbed up onto his bed and forced his window open. He then rushed
back across the room and unplugged the computer and all its attachments. He
lifted the monitor, and though it was huge and cumbersome and his arms shook
under its weight, he didn't even notice. He got into his bed on his knees and
heaved the monitor onto the window ledge. With one last, deeply gratifying
surge of vengeance, Seishiro pushed the monitor out the window. It fell three
floors and crashed onto the concrete bottom of the airshaft. Seishiro looked
out, feeling deeply satisfied at the sparks and cracked screen, then returned
to his desk for the tower and keyboard.
Finally, he slammed his window shut again and sat down on his bed, his heart
pounding. He stayed there for a long time, waiting to regain control of
himself. However, all that happened was he felt the same sense of loss he'd
felt in his living room. Seishiro had no idea who or what he was grieving, but
he would always remember this moment as a death, as an irreversible, final
loss.
Chapter End Notes
     Goodness, that was an odyssey. Is everyone surviving? Ish? I'll take
     it.
     I think of reviews when I summon my kekkai, leave me some!
***** 03 *****
Chapter Notes
     Good morning good morning! Happy Thursday!
     How's everybody doing, good? Recovered from the last chapter? I hope
     so, because truthfully I don't think I am. This chapter is, I don't
     want to say better or worse, but it's definitely a different flavor
     of awful. It was certainly challenging to write, but for completely
     different reasons, so I'll be very curious what all of you think!
     To that end, this chapter is the halfway point, so I'd like to thank
     every single one of you who has read this story, whether you loved it
     or hated it, left me comments, reviews or kudos or not. It means the
     world to me, you guys are all fantastic!
     Anyway, let me be quiet. Chapter 3, let's go!
     CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains graphic depictions of
     statutory rape and exploitative sex with a minor.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Seishiro stared at the tile backsplash behind his sink, waiting for the
memories to drain away. He had to give his thirteen-year-old self credit, he
thought. He'd lost his mother that day, even though it would be another few
years before he'd completely stop speaking to her.
Although he'd known it on some level for years, that fight made it explicit:
everything Setsuka had told him about him being her top priority, of her loving
him more than anyone else, was a total lie. She had taken care of him out of
necessity, then depended on him, that was all. Seishiro wondered if she ever
saw him as a person, or just "my son." His chest constricted and he shuddered,
a strange burning in his throat. She'd always refer to him that way, as though
he didn't have a name, as though he only existed as he related to her. She was
so fucking self-absorbed. Seishiro remembered, suddenly, as though his brain
were switching gears, how Subaru had also agonized over what to call him.
"Is boyfriend okay? Or is partner better? Lover doesn't feel right…" He mused,
right after they'd agreed to "make it official."
"Just call me by my name, Subaru," he replied, nonplussed. Subaru smiled.
"Well, yes, but when I'm talking about you to other people who don't know you,"
he explained. The words stirred something in Seishiro. He appreciated that
Subaru had actually asked, rather than assigning him a title the way his mother
had, but also… Had anyone else ever thought of him this way? Most of his, for
want of a better term, relationships, had to be kept a secret and were
exclusively sexual. This title was powerful, and it might have been unpleasant,
but he liked all the sway it held for Subaru. He reflected further that now
he'd actually have something to tell people at work when they asked about his
personal life.
Times had changed, that was for sure.
He looked at Subaru, so giving, so devoted, so beautiful. "Boyfriend is fine,"
He said, rather more quietly than he'd intended, but Subaru's face was alight
with pleasure. He kissed Seishiro, smiling against his lips.
"Boyfriend it is."
===============================================================================
Seishiro's chest constricted further. That title had supposedly meant so much
to Subaru, and he'd thrown it away. Thrown it away for some punk ass kid he'd
met at a party. Did they already have titles? Had Subaru agonized over what to
call him too?
Seishiro's throat burned again and he swallowed. Subaru had told him constantly
how much he loved him, how special he was, how he was different from anyone
else he'd ever met. Was Seishiro wrong to believe him? No, of course not!
Subaru was so sincere, at least at first; things had only changed because he'd
met Kamui. Even then, Subaru knew better than to lie to him. Of course, even if
Subaru were telling the truth, Seishiro was always meticulous about what he let
him see, how could he really know anything?
Seishiro had learned that secrecy early on, because men interested in him only
saw him as what they wanted anyway: a means of getting back at someone I love,
a means of expressing my sexuality without my wife finding out, a means of
experiencing some fantasy I have. He hadn't minded, really. It was less awful
being strange and out of place if it made him desirable.
Subaru had been different, though. He had actually seemed to value him for
being Seishiro Sakurazuka, even before he was "the guy I'm seeing" or "my
boyfriend," even if the Seishiro Sakurazuka he knew was only what he had been
allowed to see.
Seishiro's throat burned again, but he shook his head, trying to stay focused.
Maybe that was what had drawn him to Subaru, had kept his interest even after
he'd gotten what he wanted. Subaru was so open, willing and devoted and
Seishiro was used to secrecy, resistance and guilt. Although, he couldn't
really be surprised considering he'd spent most of his late adolescence and
twenties sleeping with closeted married men. It wasn't like he had other
options, though: he couldn't seek people out at school or at work. He wasn't
worried about outing himself, necessarily, but he didn't want to mix school or
work and sex.
That had also been because of the time. Twenty years ago, he wouldn't have been
able to talk about "his boyfriend" at work, let alone bring him to parties and
introduce him as such. Subaru was too young to really understand this and how
much easier he had it. He was lucky that Seishiro could take him out and do all
those nice things for him without it arousing suspicion. Subaru always
appreciated it, though, that was something. He was easily overwhelmed by nice
places and gestures, and Seishiro had liked all of his praise, recognition and
appreciation. Seishiro wasn't usually so easily swayed, but it had been
different with Subaru. Everything was different with Subaru. Seishiro had
expected it to be a one-night stand, but for some reason he'd actually replied
to the texts Subaru had sent him afterwards, even once he was back in New York.
Subaru had asked if he was coming back, and Seishiro had actually told him. He
remembered how excited Subaru had seemed as they'd made plans to meet up. He
assumed Subaru would come to his hotel room, they'd fuck and he'd leave.
However, he ended up staying over, then spending every night of his stay with
him. Seishiro hadn't minded. In fact, he started to like it. This young,
gorgeous person waiting for him was a surprisingly nice change from coming home
to his empty apartment every night.
"That was amazing…" Subaru sighed. He was lying on his back, crisp white linens
draped over him, and looking up at Seishiro with an exultant expression.
Seishiro kissed him, then offered him a drag from his cigarette, which he
accepted gratefully. Seishiro didn't usually care what people had to say about
his performance, but he was pleased to hear Subaru's praise.
"Amazing?" He asked, wanting more. Subaru closed his eyes and smiled softly.
"It's so good, I-" he opened his eyes and looked meaningfully at Seishiro.
"It's the best sex I've ever had." He blushed furiously, and Seishiro tilted
his head to the side.
"Oh?" Subaru nodded. Seishiro smiled, knowing a most pleasurable feeling of
power.
"I, I hope it's good for you, too," Subaru continued, his blush deepening.
Seishiro considered him: pale skin illuminated by the soft rosy light from the
bedside table lamp, purple bruises on his chest and shoulders, black hair,
bright green eyes…
"I really like fucking you," Seishiro told him, exhaling smoke. Subaru laughed
rather embarrassedly, but he was obviously pleased. He inched closer to
Seishiro and tentatively ran his fingers up and down his arm.
===============================================================================
Seishiro wondered for the first time if what Subaru had said was true. What
Seishiro had said was true; he liked it a lot. Subaru would let him do pretty
much anything he wanted, and even when he knew he was being rough or selfish,
Subaru would moan and beg for more. He liked having someone else take control,
even if they weren't going out of their way to please him. Seishiro didn't
really understand the appeal, but he'd certainly been with people like that.
In spite of himself, Seishiro wondered how sex would work between Subaru and
Kamui. Neither of them would top, he could tell, and there was no way Kamui
could hold all the power the way Seishiro did. He may have led Subaru astray,
but he wouldn't be able to keep him or satisfy him. Seishiro's lip curled.
Rather spitefully he imagined them together, in an unmade bed in some tiny
apartment, trying to consummate their fling. Unless they'd… The momentary
bitter satisfaction evaporated. No. Never. Subaru wouldn't dare. Seishiro had
floated the idea, certainly, after Subaru had neglected to mention all the time
he was spending with Kamui and his friends. However, he didn't actually think
he'd try anything. Even if Kamui instigated something, Subaru would have
refused him. Subaru was too loyal. He always had been.
"I know we aren't official or anything," Subaru had said, one night over
Facetime. Seishiro had returned to New York after Subaru had called him the
best sex of his life, and they'd been texting back and forth almost every day,
then Facetiming a few nights a week. It was nice, actually, lying in bed
talking to Subaru for a while before going to sleep. Seishiro found himself
looking forward to it, though it had been weird at first.
"Yes?" Seishiro asked, watching Subaru bite his lip through the phone screen.
"But I won't see anyone else. I can't imagine it, honestly." Seishiro narrowed
his eyes.
"I didn't ask you to do that."
"I know, it's my choice," Subaru replied, very seriously. They paused, staring
hard at each other hard through the phone. Subaru was in bed too, but it was
early morning in Tokyo. Sunlight was pouring through his window, lighting up
his fine features. "I'm counting down the days until you come back here," he
continued, his eyes shining. "I, I can't wait…" Seishiro smiled.
"What are you most excited for?" Subaru flushed, chewing on his lower lip.
"Everything."
"Everything?" Subaru nodded. Seishiro's lip curled. "Tell me what you're most
excited for, Subaru." Subaru shivered slightly, and Seishiro was already
getting excited in spite of himself. Subaru really was amazing.
"I," he began, apparently gathering his strength, his blush deepening. "I… I
can't stop thinking about you inside of me," he said. Seishiro smiled.
"Really?" Subaru nodded.
"Like last time, when you went in really deep…" He was flushed in his neck and
chest now, and Seishiro could tell he was turned on.
"You liked that, didn't you?" He asked, very quietly. Again, Subaru nodded.
"You like when I fuck you deep, Subaru?" Subaru shut his eyes tight and gasped
softly.
"Yes!" He replied in a constricted voice. He opened his eyes and stared at
Seishiro through the phone screen. Seishiro was completely hard now and his
heart was beating against his ribs. He hadn't expected this, but he liked it.
"Are you hard now, thinking about it?" He asked, even though he could tell he
was just from his expression. Subaru swallowed and nodded. "Show me." Subaru's
eyes widened, but he nodded again and put his phone down. For a moment,
Seishiro saw only his bedroom ceiling and heard a rustling of blankets and
clothes. Subaru picked up his phone again and switched the camera view. Now
Seishiro was staring between Subaru's legs, his pants pulled halfway down his
thighs and erection straining against his underwear.
Seishiro let out a soft noise of satisfaction, remembering how that would all
feel in his hand. Soft fabric, softer skin and hard erection twitching as it
was teased mercilessly. The camera switched back to Subaru's face. He was
blushing harder than ever, but his expression was so desperate. "You want to
touch yourself, don't you?" Seishiro asked in barely more than a whisper.
Subaru shivered.
"Is… Is that okay?" Seishiro felt his own erection twitch.
"I want to watch." Subaru let out a soft, excited gasp, then nodded. The camera
view switched again. Seishiro watched, transfixed, as Subaru's long, slender
fingers reached into his underwear, wrapped around his erection and brought it
out for him to see. He began pleasing himself in quick, deliberate strokes, and
Seishiro heard his soft groan. 'Fuck,' he thought, finding this way more
exciting than made sense. His own erection was asking to be touched, but he
ignored it. He was back in Tokyo in two weeks; he could wait, or he could just
find someone here to fuck, but-
"Seishiro, I'm close!" Seishiro took a deep breath in.
"Come for me, Subaru." Subaru gasped and came all over himself with a soft
groan. Seishiro watched his belly move up and down with his breath, his hand
forcing out the last few drops… "Let me see your face." Subaru switched the
camera again. He looked slightly dazed, and he was blushing more deeply than
ever, but he smiled at Seishiro.
"I've never done that before," he said, quietly. "On video, I mean." Seishiro's
lip curled.
"I like it, do it more for me." Subaru laughed, looking very pleased with
himself. Seishiro watched him clean up, his own erection beginning to deflate.
"You've been a lot of firsts for me," Subaru said, after a minute or so.
"Have I?" Subaru nodded.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Yes."
"Does that… Bother you?" Seishiro raised his eyebrows.
"No, should it?" Subaru shifted uncomfortably.
"I don't know, I just… I hope you like what I can offer you, even though it's
not much." Seishiro's heart throbbed suddenly, and he felt both impatient and
pleased, it was strange.
"You know I do," he replied, and Subaru smiled gratefully. "Otherwise I
wouldn't still be doing this."
===============================================================================
Seishiro sighed heavily. He hadn't been lying. Something had kept him
interested, and it was the first time in a long time he had found himself
wanting more and going out of his way to get it. He was used to just going in,
getting what he needed and leaving again, be it an orgasm, his sense of control
or pure, shameless spite.
"We shouldn't be doing this…"
"Do you top, by any chance?"
"Can, can we go again?"
Seishiro felt a rush of disgust.
"What was your first time like? If that's okay to ask…"
"It was with one of my friends from school. I was fifteen."
Subaru had accepted the story, even though all that was true was Seishiro's age
at the time. There again was Subaru wanting to know about things Seishiro had
no interest in remembering, let alone discussing. He felt another rush of anger
at Subaru, for asking, for trying to leave, for making him remember. "One of my
friends from school." He'd said that because, even now, even though it was
utterly pathetic, he wished it were true. His friend who had shown him the sci-
fi series, who had invited him over and been so kind to him, had been
Seishiro's first real crush, though he hadn't recognized it for what it was at
the time. Not that it mattered; he and his family moved to New Jersey after the
school year had ended. Although it had hurt, Seishiro hadn't been entirely
sorry about it.
"I'm gonna miss you, Seishiro," his friend had told him, as they stood facing
each other in front of their school on the last day before summer break.
Seishiro didn't trust himself to speak, so he just nodded. His friend hugged
him goodbye, and Seishiro's heart throbbed painfully in his chest. They let go
and stared at each other. Seishiro took in his friend's features one last time:
his green eyes, his soft smile, he wanted to… But his friend just sighed sadly
and turned away, disappearing into the crowd, leaving Seishiro completely
alone, just as Subaru had done that very morning. Of course, Subaru would come
back, where as Seishiro had no idea what had happened to his friend.
He wondered, fleetingly, if his friend had been aware of his feelings even when
Seishiro wasn't himself, if they really could have… It didn't matter. You
couldn't change the past with your thoughts even if you reworked your memories.
However, saying he lost his virginity to a friend who had cared about him and
for whom he'd actually had feelings sounded so much nicer than the truth. He
imagined telling Subaru, "I spent a year of my life fantasizing about kissing
this friend I'd never see again, then realized I liked all guys, not just him,
but had no idea what to do about it. Then my mother-" Seishiro felt hot disgust
rise up inside him as he remembered. Subaru definitely wouldn't have been able
to handle it.
Seishiro remembered the months between his friend leaving and his first time as
a weird blur from which he could only pick out random scenes, like a damaged
reel of film.
After his friend left, Seishiro retreated into himself and tried to stay
cocooned in his numbness as much as possible. Setsuka had started working more
hours again, out of necessity and probably to avoid him, so he was alone a lot.
He didn't mind, though. They barely spoke to each other, and when they did it
was an argument. The only moments of solidarity they had were when the social
worker they'd met in the hospital came to call. They both hated her, though
they couldn't really express it.
"Act normal, okay?" Setsuka told him the first week she was due to arrive,
taking a resigned drag from her cigarette. "I don't need this bitch asking
questions." Seishiro just rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, whatever."
Every month the social worker would show up to interrogate them, and Seishiro
and his mother would sit side by side on the couch, answering her politely with
contempt boiling inside them.
"Do you have any plans for the summer, Seishiro?" She asked on her first visit.
"No."
"Do you know where you'd like to go to high school?"
"No." The social worker smiled at him in what she must have imagined was a
kind, sincere way.
"You know, Seishiro, if you're still thinking a lot about what happened, you
can talk to me. I'm a psychotherapist-"
"Seishiro doesn't need that," Setsuka interrupted. "Do you?"
"No." Truthfully, Seishiro didn't care either way. He knew it would just be
more of whichever adult asking him questions he'd refuse to answer. The social
worker put on a look of concern, an "I care!" expression that was so obviously
only skin deep.
"It will help you to talk, you know," she said, and Seishiro found her tone
deeply condescending. He didn't want to talk about any of it. He didn't want to
remember or feel any part of it ever again. How would talking do him any good?
However, he just nodded politely, and fortunately she hadn't pressed the issue
after that.
Aside from her visits, Seishiro mostly kept to his room. He could lie in bed
for hours at a time, staring up at his ceiling or reading or sleeping,
listening to the silence or whatever noises his neighbors were making. However,
as summer descended, thick and hot and heavy over the city, it got so hot in
his apartment that Seishiro had to get outside for fresh air.
One day in July, in the middle of a brutal heat wave, Seishiro left his
apartment in the afternoon and wandered around for hours. He moved steadily
uptown and to the west side and found himself in much nicer parts of the city.
He'd usually find these neighborhoods intimidating, but he felt safely cocooned
in his numbness. Everyone was ignoring him anyway; it was too hot to pay
attention to people you didn't know. Seishiro just kept walking, moving through
the sea of people, aware of his surroundings but not engaging with them. It was
strangely freeing. No one up here knew who he was and no one cared. He could be
totally invisible, stand strong in his strangeness.
Eventually, he found himself in Washington Square Park, eating pizza he'd
bought from some hole in the wall on MacDougal Street. A soft breeze blew
through the park, though it did little to disturb the miasma of heat trapped by
the surrounding NYU buildings and luxurious townhouses.
Seishiro chose a bench on the perimeter of the park, eating his pizza and
staring about in discreet interest. Even in the heat, the park was crowded:
tourists taking photos with the arch, homeless people asleep on benches and NYU
summer program students and professors. Two women, a few years younger than
Setsuka, by the look of them, walked past him slowly with their small children.
One of them, with long, shiny black hair, had her young son on her shoulders
and was speaking to him playfully. The little boy kept saying, "No! No. No no
no," which made his mother laugh. She noticed Seishiro and smiled a powerful
smile. He flushed and looked away, though he watched them go out of the corner
of his eye, a sudden ache in his chest.
He sighed heavily and returned to his pizza. He was used to being invisible,
then being met with confusion and derision when he was noticed. This woman,
though, had smiled, just like that older boy in the library, like his long gone
friend, like his English teacher. Their smiles discomposed him and made him
feel alone as nothing else could. He stared moodily ahead of him, watching two
scholarly looking men, sweating in full suits, debating as they headed towards
the huge red building Seishiro knew to be the library.
All of a sudden, his English teacher's words came back to him from some deep
corner of his memory. "School is a good way out, Seishiro." Had she known about
his mother's boyfriend? Or were his and his mother's circumstances sad enough
on their own? 'Yes,' Seishiro thought at once, taking himself by surprise.
Guilt twisted his stomach, though at the same time he knew he was correct. He'd
known it since he and his mother had come back from the hospital, when Seishiro
had had that moment of total alienation and disconnection.
Before his mother's boyfriend had come into the picture, Seishiro would never
have considered leaving her. She needed him, as he was constantly reminded, and
for so long he had wanted to protect her, but…
Anger flared in his chest. Things had changed. "Then your next boyfriend could
kill you and you'd deserve it!" He'd said that to her, and he'd meant it. She'd
always cared more for them than for Seishiro anyway. He bit into his pizza,
anger still bubbling inside him. If he left, she'd finally be free to do what
she wanted. Seishiro had also told her he wished he were dead. That would be
even more final than just leaving. He shuddered slightly, biting into the hard
crust, the flour dry and jarring on his tongue.
Death would certainly be faster than waiting to leave for college, and Seishiro
was impatient. However, if he died, Setsuka would get more sympathy she didn't
deserve. Wasn't that the worst thing to happen, losing a child? Seishiro didn't
want to give her the satisfaction. If he just got into a good school, got a job
and moved away, which was supposed to be the natural progression of life, even
one as strange and fucked up as his own, no one would question it. People would
even be happy for Setsuka, and she'd be suffering, but she wouldn't be able to
say so.
Seishiro imagined telling her, "I've been accepted to college and I'm leaving
and never coming back, take care." He saw her shock, her fear, her tears, and
knew a surge of vindictive pleasure. Yes, this would be the better way.
However, as he looked around the park, doubt seeped into the vision, blotting
and smearing it. Could he even get in anywhere? And if he did, could he
assimilate, or remain sufficiently invisible? He tried to imagine himself as
one of these students or professors, wearing nice clothes and having important
conversations. It was almost there. He didn't really like the idea of himself
as a scholar, though.
"You're smart, Seishiro, don't waste it." He knew he was smart. He had always
been smart, but he didn't feel drawn to the sciences or medicine. Besides, his
father had been a surgeon, he knew. He narrowed his eyes, recalling again that
vision of himself grown up in his nice suit with lots of money and prestige,
people admiring and valuing him but remaining at a safe distance. How would he
get there?
The sun set, draping Washington Square Park in a diffuse, blue light, then
fading to a rich black despite the light pollution. Seishiro got off his bench
and shoved the greasy paper plate into the nearest overflowing trashcan.
Despite NYU's presence and the surrounding luxury, Washington Square Park still
got scary at night.
Seishiro proceeded southeast, his dream of leaving his mother for affluence
taking a firm, spiteful root in his head. When school started again in
September, he'd ask his English teacher about that college prep school. He had
the distinct impression she'd help him get in. Then he'd work hard for four
years, get into a good college and escape.
On Bleecker Street, Seishiro caught sight of two men, probably in their early
twenties, holding hands as they walked. He blushed, watching them discreetly
until they turned a corner.
===============================================================================
Seishiro sighed heavily and pushed himself away from his counter to lean
against his refrigerator. He stared down at his feet, the next eighteen months
rushing past. Either the memories weren't important or he'd successfully
suppressed them, unlike those of Setsuka's crazy ex that showed up in his
nightmares for years afterwards or were forced to the forefront because of
Subaru. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, his stomach twisting.
Shortly after his fifteenth birthday, Seishiro found himself at his dining
table working on a mountain of physics homework. Setsuka was off somewhere, and
though Seishiro was used to her working longer hours, he didn't always believe
her when she said that was where she was. She hadn't brought any boyfriends
back to the apartment since her ex had been arrested, probably because she was
scared of Seishiro's reaction. 'At least she's finally learned,' he thought,
coldly. He wasn't worried about her being out constantly; he didn't care what
she did anymore. He was grown up now; he could take care of himself. However,
it was still annoying when she'd come home in the middle of the night and wake
him up, loud and intoxicated.
Seishiro finished a particularly difficult problem and stretched, looking over
at his door as though expecting it to tell him news, even though he knew it was
stupid. He sighed heavily, closed his textbook and put his things away. His
high school was much more rigorous, but Seishiro liked it. It kept his mind
busy and killed more time.
It was late by the time he finished his work, and he ended up going straight to
bed. He fell asleep almost at once and started dreaming just as quickly. It was
only a series of disjointed, strange images, but then, "Ah!" His mother's
voice? "Ah!" And she was screaming, was she in trouble? Was this real life or
just his dream? That old terrifying vision of a powerful hand reaching forward
to grasp his throat- "Ah!"
Seishiro sat bolt upright, eyes wide and breath shallow. On the other side of
his bedroom door, he heard his mother cry out again. He sprang out of bed,
sprinted across the room and wrenched his door open.
He found her on the couch, arms around the neck of some man he didn't know.
They were kissing passionately, and he had his hand up her skirt. Seishiro felt
a visceral spasm of rage and disgust and clenched his fists. "What the fuck…"
They didn't seem to hear him. "Excuse me?" He persisted, in a tone of
profoundly sarcastic politeness. Setsuka and her boyfriend broke apart, looked
around, and their surprise turned to mortification when they saw Seishiro. They
were clearly both wasted. "I have school tomorrow, could you please keep it
down?" Setsuka opened her mouth to reply, but- "Thanks." He turned to her
boyfriend. "I'm Seishiro, by the way, Setsuka's son, in case she forgot to
mention me."
He returned to his room and slammed the door behind him. His blood was boiling
and his stomach was twisting sickeningly. In that moment, he hated her. He
wanted to punish her for scaring him that way, for bringing more men into the
house, for lying to him about where she'd been going, for continually doing
stupid dangerous shit and shoving it in his face. He hated her.
He leaned against his door and breathed deeply through his nose, though his
heart refused to slow down. He heard Setsuka and her boyfriend talking quietly
and screwed up his eyes in disgust. However, as they headed down the hall to
her bedroom and the living room fell silent once again, Seishiro found a sudden
comfort. This was all familiar. A worthless boyfriend to be gotten rid of? That
was easy. He was out of practice, sure, but he wasn't worried. How many times
had he done it before? He crossed the room and climbed back into bed, knowing
another surge of vindictive pleasure at how angry it would make Setsuka. She
deserved it though. Without question.
The next morning, Seishiro was up, dressed and off to school before either
adult had woken up. When he got home, he stared about with narrowed eyes, but
the apartment seemed empty. He wondered where Setsuka and her boyfriend were,
or if he'd even see him again. Obviously, if he had any decency, he'd never
show his face here again, but Setsuka's boyfriends never had any shame.
Seishiro made a contemptuous noise in his throat as he slammed his schoolbag on
the dining table and sat down. He did homework in silence for a few hours,
solving geometric proof after proof, until he heard a key in the door. He
turned and saw Setsuka enter the apartment carrying a bag of groceries.
Seishiro raised his eyebrows, but said nothing as she crossed the room and
placed it on the counter. She hesitated a moment. "Seishiro?"
"What?" He asked, returning his gaze to his work. He knew she had rolled her
eyes at his tone.
"I bought some roach traps, will you help me put them around?"
"When I finish my homework, yeah," he replied, grudgingly. 'Trying to reconnect
over insecticide. Good shit, Setsuka.' She began unpacking the groceries, and a
few minutes passed in silence.
"My new boyfriend will be here later," Setsuka said, when she'd gathered enough
courage. Seishiro paused, staring at his textbook.
"The one I saw you with last night?" He asked, delicately.
"Yes!" She snapped, defensively. He could tell she was embarrassed.
'Good, you should be,' he thought, rolling his eyes. Out loud, he said,
"Whatever, I'm glad you're getting laid."
"For fuck's sake, Seishiro!" She cried, slamming her palms on the counter
before turning around. Seishiro looked her in the face, impassive stare firmly
in place. He hadn't been lying though: he did appreciate that she was open
about only being out for herself rather than spouting bullshit about bringing
these guys around for his sake. Setsuka just closed her eyes and sighed before
starting to prepare dinner. Seishiro went back to his homework. A few more
silent minutes passed before she tried again. "What are you working on?"
"Geometry. I have history to do too."
"What?" Seishiro often had the impression that Setsuka had no idea how old he
was. She knew she could leave him by himself overnight, but couldn't be
bothered with specifics.
"New York State mandates I learn them even though I'll never use them," He told
her, patiently.
"Oh, right." Seishiro rolled his eyes. "But you like math, don't you?" She was
digging through her memories, trying to find something about him she had once
known to be true.
"Yes," he replied, indifferently. She was clearly trying to get them back on
civil terms before her boyfriend arrived, but Seishiro wasn't going to help. He
remained silent, finishing his last proof with a mounting resentment. He
wondered if Setsuka was still holding onto that fantasy of being a real
housewife with a real husband despite it inevitably crashing down around her.
At least she hadn't yet said some iteration of "This one is different!"
Seishiro put all his math stuff away, then reached into his bag for his history
textbook to begin reading the assigned, desperately boring and irrelevant
chapter. After another silent twenty minutes, their buzzer sounded, making
Seishiro jump. He watched Setsuka hurry to the door, surprised she hadn't yet
given this person a set of keys. However, this was probably because he hadn't
asked for them rather than her learning from past mistakes.
Seishiro folded his arms on the table in front of him, staring unseeingly at
his textbook and listening with all his might. After a few seconds, Setsuka let
her boyfriend in. "Hey," Seishiro heard him say. Setsuka shut the door and
kissed him hello.
"How was work?" She asked.
"It was fine." Seishiro could tell he was being watched. He considered just
ignoring them, waiting for one of them to approach or try to get his attention,
but decided against it. He stood up and turned to face Setsuka and her
boyfriend, his arms folded in front of his chest. He locked eyes with her
boyfriend, and something shifted in his expression as he looked Seishiro up and
down. "Hey, nice to meet you. Seishiro, right?" Seishiro's lip curled.
"You remembered. That's impressive." Her boyfriend had the grace to blush, but
he extended his hand anyway. Seishiro looked incredulously down at his hand,
then back up at his face. Her boyfriend cleared his throat and withdrew his
hand, but stared determinedly back at Seishiro. He had to give Setsuka credit
this time; this one was at least good looking.
"Dinner's basically ready, if you guys are hungry," Setsuka offered,
tentatively. Seishiro shrugged, broke their gaze and cleared his books and
supplies off the table. Her boyfriend sat down, and Setsuka looked hesitantly
relieved as she served dinner. Seishiro took the seat opposite her boyfriend
and watched her grab a bottle of liquor out of the freezer and pour herself and
her boyfriend drinks. She then took the seat between them and engaged her
boyfriend in some unimportant conversation. Seishiro just observed in vaguely
contemptuous silence.
He hadn't felt the immediate rush of revulsion that typically came with meeting
these people, though he wasn't sure if that was because this boyfriend was
actually a good one or because he'd just stopped caring. He'd been slightly
discomposed by the way they'd locked eyes and the way her boyfriend had looked
him up and down. No one had ever looked at him that way before.
"What were you working on?"
"Huh?" Setsuka's boyfriend sipped his drink.
"When I got here, were you doing schoolwork?" Seishiro gazed at him coldly, but
deigned to reply.
"Just reading for a history class, earlier I had some geometry to do."
"Seishiro likes math," Setsuka interjected. How was she already drunk? Seishiro
just sighed, but resisted rolling his eyes.
"Yeah? Are you good at math and science?"
"Sure," Seishiro replied, shrugging. He pushed his food around on his plate
with his fork, then looked sideways at Setsuka. "I might study physics or
something when I go away to college." Setsuka's boyfriend nodded thoughtfully,
but she turned sharply to stare at Seishiro.
"Go away to college?" She asked, her eyes wide. Seishiro's lip curled.
"Yeah, remember? I told you I wanted to go to NYU or Columbia after I
graduate." Truthfully, he hadn't ever expressed this ambition to her, and even
though she'd filled out the paperwork for him to go to his college prep school
and listened to the principal talk about college acceptance rates, she hadn't
retained the information. That was her problem. Seishiro felt suddenly powerful
as he stared at her, watching her panic at the thought of him leaving.
"But you'd still live at home, right?" She asked. Seishiro let out a soft,
contemptuous noise.
"No, I'll dorm, that makes way more sense." Setsuka clearly wanted to press the
issue, but surprisingly was able to restrain herself. Instead, she just
finished her drink and poured herself another.
"NYU or Columbia? You're ambitious," her boyfriend said, his eyes all on
Seishiro, who just stared back.
"Yeah, well, I want better for myself." Seishiro wasn't sure how true that was,
but it sounded impressive. He wondered if Setsuka or her boyfriend picked up on
what he actually meant by the words: that he wanted out of this, out from under
his mother's roof and life choices. If they did, they didn't say so, and the
rest of dinner passed without incident. When Seishiro was finally able to
retreat into his room, he could feel Setsuka's boyfriend's eyes on his back.
Over the next week, Setsuka's boyfriend came around a few more times. He and
Seishiro mostly stayed out of each other's way, only saying hello or
interacting over small things. He seemed content to just stare at Seishiro from
afar or look him up and down when they spoke rather than actively involve
himself. This worked well, especially because he and Setsuka spent most of
their time out of the house anyway. They'd still come home at all hours of the
night, loud and intoxicated, but Seishiro had gotten better at sleeping through
it. Unfortunately, just like all the others, Seishiro could remember exactly
when things had shifted.
A few weeks after this boyfriend had appeared, Seishiro banged on the bathroom
door. "How long are you going to be? I need to brush my teeth!" He called
impatiently. Setsuka's boyfriend had stayed over the night before, then jumped
in the shower the second Setsuka had left for work. Seishiro wouldn't have
cared except that he was taking forever and he needed to get to school.
"My bad, just come in!" Seishiro glared at the closed door suspiciously for a
moment, but he didn't have time to wait.
"Fine!" He opened the door and the steam immediately fogged up his glasses. He
took them off impatiently and set them on the edge of the sink, then reached
for his toothbrush.
"Sorry about this," Setsuka's boyfriend said from behind the shower curtain.
Seishiro made an indistinct noise, his mouth full of toothpaste. He looked at
the shower curtain out of the corner of his eye. Setsuka's boyfriend was behind
there, under the hot water, completely naked. Very suddenly, he became aware of
his heartbeat, which was rather fast considering all he was doing was brushing
his teeth.
Feeling rather hot in the face, Seishiro spat toothpaste into the sink just as
the shower shut off. Seishiro watched Setsuka's boyfriend's arm extend from
behind the shower curtain to grab hold of a towel. He snapped his gaze to the
mirror above the sink again, gripping his toothbrush. Setsuka's boyfriend
pulled back the shower curtain and climbed out of the tub, the towel wrapped
around his waist. Even though his vision was blurry, Seishiro could still see
his smooth chest, his hipbones. He came to stand behind Seishiro, and they
looked at each other in the mirror as the condensation faded. Setsuka's
boyfriend was staring at him the same way he had when they'd first been
introduced, and Seishiro just stared back, his toothbrush still in his mouth,
heart beating confusedly. Setsuka's boyfriend hesitated a moment.
"Sorry to keep you," he said, and he left the bathroom. Seishiro stood there as
though paralyzed until he heard Setsuka's bedroom door slam. He rinsed out his
mouth, grabbed his things and headed off to school.
Seishiro spent the rest of the day in a weird state of nerves he didn't
understand. He couldn't seem to shake the encounter with Setsuka's boyfriend,
which he'd relive in his mind and body whenever he wasn't occupied with
something. He remembered the feeling of her boyfriend's chest so close to his
back, almost as if they had been touching, and it would always make him blush.
Was it possible that he… No, of course not. The only person Seishiro had really
liked was his friend who had moved away. Besides, this was his mother's
boyfriend, what the fuck was he thinking? He shook himself as he unlocked his
locker to collect the books he'd need that night, then slammed it shut. He had
to stay focused; he couldn't be distracted from his plan to get rid of this
boyfriend. He had to go, just like the others.
Seishiro walked home, staring at the ground, while his schoolmates rushed past
in groups. He had to admit, this boyfriend was different from the others. He
seemed to respect Seishiro, and he wasn't easily discomposed by a bad attitude
or idle threats; he was too smart. However, Seishiro was still smarter.
He entered his building and climbed the stairs to his apartment to find
Setsuka's boyfriend on the couch with the TV on, though he looked up as
Seishiro walked into the kitchen. "What are you doing here?" Seishiro asked,
his eyes narrowing.
"I had the day off, Setsuka said I could stay."
"Setsuka says a lot of shit," Seishiro reminded him, dropping his bag onto the
dining table. Her boyfriend laughed and returned his gaze to the TV. Seishiro
debated just going into his room, but changed his mind as he eyed the back of
her boyfriend's head. One on one time, even if they were both doing other
things, was informative. Seishiro sat down and extracted the assigned book for
his English class and began to read. He didn't like it, and immediately found
his attention slipping. He kept glancing at Setsuka's boyfriend, at his arm
stretched along the back of the couch. He looked around suddenly and Seishiro
returned to his book at once, an uncomfortable heat rushing up his neck. Her
boyfriend looked away again, and Seishiro managed to read the entire chapter
before he actually said anything.
"Do you have a girlfriend, Seishiro?" He asked. Seishiro looked up.
"What?" Setsuka's boyfriend hesitated for a moment, then got up to join him at
the dining table, leaving the TV on. He retrieved his pack of cigarettes and
reached for the lighter on the table.
"Do you have a girlfriend?" Seishiro eyed him suspiciously.
"No." Her boyfriend lit a cigarette and took a deep inhale.
"Do you have someone you like?" He asked on his exhale. Seishiro's heart seemed
to skip.
"No."
"Why not?" Seishiro met his gaze with raised eyebrows. What kind of question
was that? And why was he asking? The TV went to a commercial, and an obnoxious
jingle blared across the room.
"Because I don't like anyone," Seishiro replied, pointedly, reaching into his
schoolbag for a notebook so he could begin to answer the questions assigned.
"That's fair," Setsuka's boyfriend replied, exhaling more smoke. Seishiro said
nothing, though on some level he appreciated the words. They fell back into
silence, Seishiro finishing his homework and Setsuka's boyfriend finishing
several cigarettes, until they heard her key in the door. She entered the
apartment looking tired and irritable, but when she caught sight of Seishiro
and her boyfriend sitting together, she smiled. Her boyfriend stood up and went
to kiss her hello and ask her how work was. Seishiro just finished answering
his last question, his heart still beating rather quickly.
"Seishiro?"
"What?" Setsuka sighed.
"Is Chinese okay for dinner?" Seishiro rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, whatever, I don't care."
"I'll go pick it up, you stay here and relax," Setsuka's boyfriend said. "Just
tell me what you want."
"You're the best, thank you," Setsuka cooed, and again Seishiro rolled his
eyes. Her boyfriend walked over to stand behind him and placed his hand on his
shoulder. Seishiro started, feeling the touch rush outwards through his body as
he looked up.
"Do you want to come with me?" Seishiro narrowed his eyes, but her boyfriend
just smiled. Seishiro didn't trust him, but agreed anyway. He got up, put his
homework away and followed him out the door. He knew this made Setsuka happy,
which meant he should have refused on principle, and yet… Well, either way,
alone time was informative and valuable.
They didn't talk much as they picked up their take out and headed back to the
apartment, for which Seishiro was grateful. Setsuka was in the kitchen waiting
for them, changed out of her work clothes and smiling with a drink in her hand.
She approached Seishiro as he placed the bag he was carrying on the counter.
"You see how much easier it is when you act normal?" She asked, quietly and
pointedly. Seishiro shot her a furious look but she became absorbed in her
boyfriend again before she could see it. Yes, he definitely still hated her.
"Is there soy sauce in here?" Her boyfriend had come to stand behind Seishiro
again without him even noticing. He turned to look him in the face, then
flushed at how close they were.
"There's some in the cabinet," he replied, grateful his voice was steady.
"Thanks."
===============================================================================
Seishiro rubbed his upper arms with his hands, feeling cold all of a sudden. He
shivered, remembering with a welcome rush of contempt all the cheap ploys that
man had used to get close to him, all the while pretending he wasn't attracted
to him. Seishiro hadn't had any idea how to handle it at first. It wasn't as
though he liked or disliked the attention; it was mostly just weird. However,
as her boyfriend continued the soft, discreet touches, brushing his teeth or
shaving while Seishiro was in the shower and whatever else, it occurred to him
that this was how he'd get rid of him.
If Seishiro actually reciprocated, if they started… Whatever, and Setsuka found
out, she'd be furious. If she wasn't, Seishiro could pull, "See this other
dangerous person you brought into our house? See who you let come between us?"
Either way, being fifteen, Seishiro himself would be completely blameless, even
if he instigated everything. The one flaw in this plan was that he had no idea
what to do. He'd never even kissed anyone before, let alone seduced someone
older. However, he'd figure it out just as he always did, even if working up
the nerve took a while.
His opportunity came one Saturday night. Setsuka and her boyfriend had gone out
to some bar to drink, then returned to sit on the couch and drink more.
Seishiro lay on his bed, his door closed, staring up at the ceiling. Rays of
light from neighbors' windows fell across his bed, but otherwise the room was
dark. The only sounds were the news on in the living room and Setsuka's loud,
inappropriate commentary. Seishiro could tell she was trashed, and wondered if
her boyfriend was too. Would that make it easier for him to do what he had to
do? He wasn't even sure what that was; it's not like he could research or ask
anyone.
Seishiro just listened as hard as he could, waiting for, he didn't even know
what, but he'd know when he heard it. At last, Setsuka said, "I'll be right
back," and Seishiro's heart skipped. He got out of bed at once, then stood
still, his hand on his doorknob, listening to Setsuka get off the couch and
walk down the hall.
Seishiro opened the door. It was dark out here too; the only light came from
the TV screen. Setsuka's boyfriend sat in the middle of the couch with his legs
spread and a drink in his hand. Seishiro swallowed, feeling his vision hone in
on him as he looked up. "Can I watch with you?" He asked, tilting his head to
the side and smiling.
"Uh, sure." Her boyfriend shifted awkwardly to make room and Seishiro took the
seat beside him. He took another sip of his drink, and Seishiro watched his
lips kiss the glass, watched his Adam's apple move up and down as he swallowed.
"Can I have a sip?" Seishiro asked, delicately. Setsuka's boyfriend's
expression was blearily suspicious.
"What?" Seishiro made an impatient noise and took the drink from him, taking
care to touch his hands as much as possible. Her boyfriend made a soft noise in
his throat as he watched Seishiro bring the glass to his lips and drink from
it. Seishiro managed to suppress his shudder. He didn't like the taste, and it
made his face flush uncomfortably, but her boyfriend's expression was worth it.
No one had ever looked at Seishiro that way before, and he didn't understand
what he was seeing, but he felt powerful and excited.
They heard Setsuka come back down the hall and Seishiro handed her boyfriend
back his drink at once. They both turned to face the TV as Setsuka entered the
room, smiling at the pair of them together. Seishiro's heart was racing, but he
was feeling much more confident. Setsuka took her seat on her boyfriend's other
side and rested her head against him. Her boyfriend looked at Seishiro almost
guiltily as he put his arm around her, but Seishiro just smiled.
None of them were paying attention to what was on the TV. Setsuka seemed to be
falling asleep, and her boyfriend was sipping almost constantly on his drink,
his knuckles white around the glass. Seishiro spread his legs so their thighs
touched, and her boyfriend sighed softly. "Setsuka," he said, quietly,
apparently when he could stand it no longer.
"Mmm?" He gave her a gentle shake.
"You're falling asleep, babe," he told her, and she looked up at him with
glazed eyes. "Go get in bed, I'll be there soon." Setsuka nodded, got up and
shuffled down the hall. Seishiro's lip curled as he watched her go. He reached
for the liquor bottle that was on the coffee table, unscrewed it and took a
sip. It burned and he pulled a disgusted face, but immediately felt more heat,
and confidence, rise up inside him. At the same time, he could almost feel
himself disengaging, as though he were withdrawing deeper into his body. He
liked that.
He replaced the bottle just as Setsuka's bedroom door closed, and her boyfriend
turned to look at him. Seishiro moved even closer, staring at her boyfriend's
lips. "Um," her boyfriend said, rather breathlessly. Seishiro hesitated a
moment longer, than leaned in and kissed him. His first kiss ever, and it
barely even registered. "Fuck…" Her boyfriend breathed, against his lips. "I,
we can't tell anyone, do you understand?"
"I understand," Seishiro assured him. His mother's boyfriend groaned softly,
grabbed the back of Seishiro's head and pulled him into another kiss. Seishiro
closed his eyes and let him take the lead, feeling a weird rush of excitement
even through his disconnection. Her boyfriend shoved his tongue into his mouth,
and Seishiro stiffened awkwardly, but went with it. Kissing was weird, and he
didn't really see the appeal, but he seemed to know intuitively what to do. He
climbed into her boyfriend's lap and straddled him, making him groan softly
again. Seishiro shivered slightly. Was he really causing him to make such
noises?
Setsuka's boyfriend grabbed onto Seishiro's hips and began moving him back and
forth, and he gasped softly as he realized he was hard, and… Her boyfriend was
hard too? Seishiro's heart sped up sharply. He could make him hard, he could
make him desirous and lustful, he could make him overlook the fact that he was
fifteen and his girlfriend's son. Seishiro had done these things. He felt a
sudden, surge of power and excitement and began grinding his hips back and
forth with much more enthusiasm. He liked that better than kissing anyway, the
friction and pressure felt good.
"Fuck…" Her boyfriend moaned, pulling out of their kiss again. He looked up at
Seishiro, and his expression was needy. He wanted Seishiro, and Seishiro liked
it. He seized the front of her boyfriend's shirt and pulled him into a kiss,
feeling another rush of power. Her boyfriend let out another soft groan before
pulling away. Seishiro's eyes narrowed in frustration, but then her boyfriend
wrapped his arms around him and buried his face in his neck. "We shouldn't be
doing this," he murmured. Seishiro was about to reply, but then her boyfriend
started to kiss his neck and all that came out was a shaky exhale. He threw his
head back in a soft gasp, fresh heat rushing between his legs. This definitely
felt good.
Seishiro rocked his hips backwards and forwards. "Fuck," her boyfriend groaned
right in his ear. Seishiro gasped softly again. He knew what it felt like to be
turned on, to please himself, to come, but this was… It felt good, better than
he'd expected, though he hadn't really known what to expect. Was this really
what this all felt like? Was this really what people were so desperate for all
the time? What-
"Ah!"
"Shh…" Her boyfriend had undone Seishiro's pants and taken hold of his
erection. Seishiro went very red; no one had ever touched him there before, and
it was completely different when it was someone else's hand. He shivered and
wondered if this was actually a terrible idea, if they should stop, if they
could stop. A sudden door slamming outside and a brief argument in a language
neither of them understood brought them sharply back to Earth.
Seishiro and Setsuka's boyfriend looked at each other, and seemed for a moment
to come back to themselves through their disconnection and drunkenness. "We-
" her boyfriend started to say, but Seishiro swallowed his words in a kiss.
This time, he tried thrusting his tongue into his mouth and received a needy
moan in response.
'Yes we can,' Seishiro thought. 'You know you want it even though it's fucked,
give it to me.' Yes. This was a good idea. This was what had to happen. They
broke apart. "Let's go to my room," Seishiro whispered. Her boyfriend tightened
his grip around Seishiro's erection and exhaled forcefully, but then swallowed
and nodded.
Seishiro climbed off of him and waited for him to get to his feet before
heading into his bedroom. Setsuka's boyfriend followed him and shut the door.
Seishiro turned, and immediately her boyfriend pushed him down onto his bed.
Seishiro was still feeling disconnected, but his heart was also racing and his
stomach was twisting as her boyfriend climbed on top of him. He hovered above
him, their lips millimeters apart, but didn't kiss him. Instead, he moved down,
settling between Seishiro's legs.
Seishiro propped himself up on his elbows, watching apprehensively. His mouth
went dry as her boyfriend undid his pants, and his breath caught in his throat
as he pulled them and his underwear halfway down his thighs, exposing his
erection. Seishiro's blush deepened as he watched her boyfriend stare between
his legs, a desperate look on his face. Seishiro didn't understand and felt
totally exposed and had no idea what to do, but then her boyfriend pressed his
lips against the base of his erection, inhaled deeply and exhaled in a soft,
desirous groan.
Seishiro was shaking now. This was weird, and he didn't get it, but then her
boyfriend licked up to the tip of his erection and he had to bite back a cry.
He'd never felt anything like this before, and it only got more intense as her
boyfriend took all of his erection into his mouth and began to move up and
down. Seishiro screwed up his eyes and fell back onto his bed, his mouth open
and chest heaving with a series of low, guttural moans. He was hot all over and
his thighs were shaking as the tight, wet heat moved up and down. Oh god it
felt good, but he had to keep his voice down and his head was spinning and he
was already so close. Should he say something? Could he say something? He
blushed furiously and couldn't look as he said, in a small voice, "I'm, I'm
gonna-"
Her boyfriend just moved faster, and Seishiro let out a soft cry, his eyes
screwed up. His entire body stiffened just as it always did, then released as
he came into her boyfriend's mouth. It felt way better than it usually did, and
he just lay back, eyes closed, breathing heavily as he slowly came down. He
felt rather weak and shaky.
Her boyfriend took his mouth away, swallowed and crawled back on top of him.
For one horrifying second, Seishiro was afraid he'd try to kiss him, but he
just whispered in his ear, "You liked that, didn't you?" Seishiro nodded before
he could stop himself. Her boyfriend placed his first two fingers under
Seishiro's chin and turned him so they were looking at each other. Seishiro
blushed. He didn't want to see. Not that he was embarrassed, why should he feel
that way? "I got so hard doing that to you," he breathed, and Seishiro's heart
pounded and eyes widened. Her boyfriend took hold of Seishiro's hand and
brought it carefully between his legs. Seishiro gasped softly. "Will you help
me out?" Seishiro shivered, but he said nothing. "Do the same for me?" Seishiro
looked up at him, feeling paralyzed and exposed, but not unwilling. He squeezed
his erection through his pants.
"Yes," he replied. Setsuka's boyfriend exhaled forcefully and lay on his back,
looking expectant. Seishiro swallowed, his stomach clenching nervously, but
again his vision seemed to hone in on Setsuka's boyfriend, spread out on his
bed before him. 'At least he's attractive,' Seishiro thought, grudgingly. He
zipped up his own pants before getting into position between her boyfriend's
spread legs, just as he'd seen him do. His hands shook slightly as he undid her
boyfriend's pants and pulled them down, revealing his erection. Seishiro
swallowed and his stomach twisted again. He wasn't afraid, though. He could do
it. He was ready. He was grown up.
Tentatively, Seishiro reached out and took hold of her boyfriend's erection,
and he made a soft, appreciative noise. Seishiro flushed, but found it
heartening. He began to move his hand up and down, receiving more encouraging
noises. Seishiro understood this, at least; it was the same as when he did it
himself. However, he also knew what he'd agreed to. He took one last breath in
and sighed it out before leaning forward and wrapping his lips around the tip
of her boyfriend's erection.
Her boyfriend exhaled sharply and Seishiro felt him shudder as he moved his
head up and down, taking more and more into his mouth each time. It wasn't as
bad as it might have been; it just tasted like skin. He tried to take it all
into his mouth, but it hit the back of his throat and he gagged. Blushing and
praying her boyfriend hadn't noticed, Seishiro took his mouth away. He
swallowed, then went back for more, careful not to go down as far. He breathed
deeply through his nose, smelling sweat, but still, it wasn't awful. He had no
idea if he was doing a good job, not that it really mattered, but her boyfriend
began to groan softly, over and over, which Seishiro found encouraging.
He moved faster, up and down his erection, still holding tight to the base to
keep it in place and being careful not to gag on it. As he got used to it, he
found it bizarrely gratifying to please him, way more than he thought he would.
Her boyfriend reached down and grabbed a fistful of Seishiro's hair. Seishiro
stiffened, but her boyfriend just moved his head up and down, finding a rhythm
he liked. It didn't bother Seishiro, necessarily, he supposed it was easier
this way, but- "Uh!" He cried out softly as her boyfriend's erection hit the
back of his throat again. Her boyfriend didn't seem to notice as he continued
to move Seishiro's head up and down, over and over again.
He didn't like this. It wasn't gratifying anymore. He wanted it to be over.
"Fuck, I'm-" Her boyfriend's voice was low and constricted, and Seishiro felt
his erection stiffen in his mouth. "Yes!" Warm, bleachy bitterness rushed
outwards into Seishiro's mouth. He swallowed at once, because he couldn't think
what else to do, and he wanted the weird, off-putting taste out of his mouth.
Seishiro sat up the moment her boyfriend took his hand away and perched himself
on the edge of his bed. He stared straight ahead, waiting, but her boyfriend
just lay still, breathing deeply. Eventually, he seemed to recover himself. He
reached down to do up his pants again, then came to sit beside Seishiro. A few
moments passed in silence. "You okay?" Setsuka's boyfriend asked, rather
awkwardly.
"Yeah," Seishiro replied at once, even as his stomach twisted uncomfortably.
"Cool." More silence. "This is just between us, right? No one else can know."
Seishiro heard the fear simmering just below his cool, still drunk tone. He
chanced a glance at him out of the corner of his eye, and saw the shame in his
expression as he looked down at his hands folded in his lap.
"I know," Seishiro assured him. Even more silence, and the unasked questions
seemed to hang in the air between them. Was Seishiro telling the truth? Would
Setsuka find out? Would they do this again? Her boyfriend hesitated a moment
longer.
"Um, good night."
"Good night." Setsuka's boyfriend got to his feet, left the room and shut the
door behind him without looking back. Seishiro sat there a while, feeling
strange and disconnected. He heard Setsuka's boyfriend shut off the TV, which
he hadn't even realized was still on, then walk down the hall to her bedroom.
He was just going to sleep next to her now, like it was no big deal. Like
nothing had happened.
Seishiro wrapped his arms around himself and stared at the floor, his stomach
twisting. Did this really not bother her boyfriend as much as it seemed? Or did
Seishiro just have to wait for the shame to really set in? He had seemed
regretful, hadn't he? But if he wasn't, this was all a huge, not mistake, but
definitely a waste of effort…
Seishiro swallowed, that taste still in his mouth, feeling suddenly unclean.
Out of nowhere, he remembered that news report he'd seen all those years ago
about those men sick and dying in St. Vincent's Hospital. Panic rose up
shockingly inside him, but he fought it. 'No! No. No no no.' He wouldn't end up
that way. He wouldn't! He held himself more tightly and breathed deeply through
his nose, trying valiantly to stay calm. He reflected bitterly that if he did
get sick and die that way, it'd be an awesome way to spite Setsuka, and, would
it really be such a loss?
Another wave of panic crashed inside Seishiro's chest and he sprang to his
feet, unable to stand it. He strode across his room, wrenched his door open and
sprinted into the living room. He seized the liquor bottle they had left on the
coffee table, unscrewed it and took as big a sip as he could manage. He gasped
as it burned his throat, but it made him feel better: now all he could taste
was the alcohol, and he felt again that immediate disconnection, withdrawing
from the surface.
He replaced the top and set the bottle back on the coffee table. Then, still
breathing heavily, he returned to his room. He got undressed, feeling more
disconnected by the second, and lay down in bed. He pulled his covers up to his
chin, listening to the distant sounds of an argument in some neighbor's
apartment, and fell asleep almost at once.
===============================================================================
Seishiro still felt shivery. He rubbed his upper arms more vigorously with his
palms, but it was no good. He narrowed his eyes, glaring across the kitchen. It
was bad enough he'd… Was he getting a fever or something else, now? Was this
all just from the stress of what had happened with Subaru? It had to be, what
else could it be? He hardly ever got sick.
Seishiro sighed and walked to the thermostat in his living room. He turned up
the heat and put the fan on. That should take care of it. He sighed again and
stared around his living room, wishing he could return to feeling as
disconnected as he had felt in his memories. Pulling away and withdrawing into
himself used to come easily. However, that, like so many other things, had
become all the more difficult recently. Subaru was always able to keep Seishiro
present. At first he hadn't minded, especially during sex. However, as their
relationship progressed, it became more and more tiresome.
Subaru was needy. He wanted Seishiro there all the time, only to ask for more.
He was never satisfied. Seishiro felt a rush of resentment and ill usage as he
crossed the room and sat down on his couch. He wrapped his arms around himself
again, waiting for his apartment to warm up so he'd stop shivering. Subaru got
cold easily too. He was always shivering, asking to be held, to cuddle. Of
course, "asking" had meant cautiously approaching and hinting, because Subaru
never explicitly asked for anything.
'Until he met Kamui,' Seishiro thought, bitterly. Not that they would last,
though. Subaru wasn't meant to be that assertive. He needed someone like
Seishiro. Someone who could guide him, keep him in line and give him direction.
Seishiro leaned back against the couch.
He remembered feeling shivery the morning after he and Setsuka's boyfriend had
traded blowjobs, too. Maybe this was just a side effect of the memories?
Probably. He thought, rather spitefully, of maybe telling Subaru all of this
when he came back. He had wanted to know so badly; there he'd have it. That's
what he'd get for asking such invasive questions. Seishiro rubbed his upper
arms all the more vigorously, willing himself to stop shivering.
The morning after, Setsuka and her boyfriend had woken up late. Seishiro heard
them emerging from her bedroom, tired and hung over, and pulled his covers up
over his head. He didn't want to see them, not when he'd relive the night
before every time he closed his eyes. Not when he had no idea how her boyfriend
was feeling or if he'd even remember. He swallowed and rolled over under his
blankets to face away from the door. He was feeling shivery and had a headache
and he couldn't stop blushing. Not that he had any reason to feel embarrassed
or whatever. Last night had been fine; it was just new. Besides, he'd really
liked getting his dick sucked; he could definitely do that again.
Reciprocating, though… It had been empowering at first to please someone else,
to make him shiver and groan, but it was physically so uncomfortable. Seishiro
wondered if it'd be different with someone else, then just as quickly if he'd
ever find out. It wasn't like guys to fuck around with were plentiful.
===============================================================================
Seishiro shifted awkwardly on the couch. He had never gotten to like it, even
with someone he wasn't fucking out of spite. His chest constricted painfully as
he had a sudden flash of memory to some early day with Subaru in some hotel
room in Tokyo. Seishiro had stripped him naked and was on top of him, kissing,
licking and biting all the way down his chest, belly and hips, leaving marks
all over his body, which seemed to get more and more beautiful as he looked at
it-
"Ah, wait!" Seishiro looked up. Subaru pressed himself up to sit and flushed as
he looked down at Seishiro.
"What?" Subaru's flush deepened.
"I, um, with your mouth, you don't have to," he said in a rush. Seishiro stared
up at him, not understanding.
"I wasn't going to." Subaru's flush deepened still further.
"Sorry! I, I just don't really like it." Seishiro paused, aware of just how
fast his heart had started to beat.
"No?" Seishiro had always been met with attitude when he refused to do this.
Subaru shook his head. Again, he was different, and Seishiro was intrigued. He
smiled and climbed back on top of him, laying him down and putting his face
very close to his. "I'm going to fuck you now," he breathed before kissing him.
Subaru made a soft, excited noise and wrapped his arms around him.
===============================================================================
Another unusual and special thing about Subaru was that he would almost always
let Seishiro fuck him, except for those rare occasions when he'd insist on just
giving head. Seishiro didn't mind those times. It wasn't as desirable, but it
was certainly an acceptable substitute. At least, it was with Subaru. Of
course, most of Seishiro's experience had been one-night stands or weekend
affairs, so he very rarely got to know anyone sexually. The only real
exceptions were Subaru, Setsuka's boyfriend and that one married man who…
Seishiro eyed his cigarettes on the coffee table for a moment, but didn't light
one. He still felt sick and shivery, especially as more memories began to play.
At first he'd been unsure if he and Setsuka's boyfriend would do anything else,
or if it really would just been a one-time thing. They didn't mention it,
obviously, but Seishiro could tell he was thinking about it. He'd completely
stopped touching him, standing close to him and whatever else, plus he wouldn't
allow them to be alone in the apartment. However, Seishiro would still catch
him staring, so it was all a wasted effort. He didn't need to worry, anyway;
the only way Setsuka would find out would be if she caught them doing it again.
If Seishiro tried to tell her what had happened, she wouldn't believe him and
would probably get angry at him for suggesting it.
Her boyfriend, however, didn't know this, and it was obvious. Whenever Seishiro
was in the room with them, he'd go out of his way to be affectionate towards
her, to touch her and kiss her. Kiss her with the same lips that had wrapped so
longingly around Seishiro's erection. Seishiro liked to catch his eye whenever
he was doing this and smile, or lick his lips. Her boyfriend would always look
away at once, discomposed, and Seishiro's lip would curl. He'd like to do it
again, or at least get his dick sucked again. He'd find a way not to return the
favor.
A few weeks later, Seishiro was in his room some weeknight, finishing his
homework. Setsuka and her boyfriend were in the living room with the TV on,
sharing a bottle of liquor and a carton of cigarettes. The phone rang. "Hello?"
Came Setsuka's voice. "What? Oh for god's sake…" A pause, and Seishiro looked
up, listening. "Will I get overtime?" Another pause. "All right I'll be there
in twenty minutes." She sighed and hung up the phone.
"What's up?" Her boyfriend asked.
"I have to go into work, the new girl they have working nights is an idiot,"
Setsuka replied, furiously. "I love how they just forget I have a man and son
at home!" Seishiro snorted contemptuously as he heard her gather her things.
"I'll probably be back late, don't wait up for me!"
"Wait, I-" The door slammed shut, cutting him off. Seizing his chance, Seishiro
shoved his schoolwork off his bed and hurried into the living room. Setsuka's
boyfriend was on his feet, staring at the closed door.
"Are you leaving?" Seishiro asked. Her boyfriend jumped and whirled around. His
eyes roved up and down Seishiro's body before fixing upon his face. Seishiro
smiled.
"Yes," her boyfriend replied, though he remained where he was.
"Really?" Seishiro asked, taking a step towards him. Her boyfriend rolled his
eyes and made to turn away, but Seishiro caught him by the wrist. "Wait," he
said, quietly. He tried to imitate the needy, hungry expression her boyfriend
had worn while staring at his erection. "Give me some time?" Her boyfriend
shivered and something in his face seemed to darken. "You know I won't tell
anyone," Seishiro continued, lowering his voice still further. He had no idea
if he was doing this right, but it certainly seemed to be working. Her
boyfriend's eyes darted from Seishiro's hand around his wrist, then back up to
his face, and he took a step forward. "Stay," Seishiro breathed, and her
boyfriend grabbed the back of his head and pulled him into a kiss. 'Yes,'
Seishiro thought, wrapping his arms around him.
Her boyfriend reached down and gabbed onto Seishiro's ass to pull him closer,
making him gasp softly. He still didn't like kissing much, but his body always
responded to being touched, even as he felt himself disconnecting and
withdrawing farther and farther away from the surface. Her boyfriend pulled
away, his breath heavy. "I want to fuck you," he breathed, and Seishiro
shivered in spite of himself.
"Okay," he whispered back, without even thinking about what he was agreeing to.
Her boyfriend groaned and kissed Seishiro again, digging his fingers into his
ass. 'I'm going to lose my virginity,' he thought. His heart sped up very
suddenly, but he suppressed it, trying to stay disconnected. He'd be fine; it
was to spite Setsuka, he was ready, it would be okay. Her boyfriend pulled out
of their kiss and Seishiro took his arm and pulled him into his bedroom. Her
boyfriend smiled at his eagerness. 'Yes, but you want it more than me,'
Seishiro reminded him, mentally.
Her boyfriend closed the door, shut off the light and stood behind Seishiro,
shoving his hands up his shirt and dragging them down his chest. Seishiro
gasped softly, feeling himself get completely hard. Her boyfriend undid
Seishiro's pants and slipped his hand inside, taking hold of his erection and
stroking it. "Fuck…" He whispered, and Seishiro threw his head back in another
soft gasp. Her boyfriend then took his hand away and pulled Seishiro's pants
roughly to his knees.
Seishiro flushed, staring down at his erection before Setsuka's boyfriend bent
him over. Seishiro's forearms came to rest on his bed, and his eyes widened and
breath sped up sharply. He didn't like this position, and he felt goose bumps
rise up all over his newly exposed skin.
Setsuka's boyfriend grabbed onto Seishiro's ass again, this time spreading him
apart. Seishiro let out a soft cry and flushed deeper. He tried to stay
disconnected but uncertainty forced him to stay present. Not that he was
afraid, but… He looked apprehensively over his shoulder and saw her boyfriend
suck on his first two fingers, then press them up against him.
Seishiro snapped his gaze forward again, mouth dry and face burning. Was he
really going to- "Ah!" He cried out, tensing up around the intrusion. He didn't
like it. He didn't like it at all. He wanted to stop, but he couldn't stop! Not
when he'd instigated this. After all, it would be worth it to spite Setsuka,
even though in some part of his brain he knew she'd never be home in time to
catch them. "Ah!" Another finger was inside him.
"You gotta relax," Setsuka's boyfriend told him, stretching him open. Seishiro
buried his face in his blankets. Who was this guy to tell him anything?!
"I'm fine, just do it!" Seishiro said, impatiently, his face still in the
blankets. Her boyfriend took his fingers away and Seishiro knew a moment's
relief before he heard her boyfriend undo his pants, spit into his palm and rub
it up and down his erection. He took hold of Seishiro's hip with one hand and
guided his erection into place with the other. Seishiro was shaking. Surely
this couldn't work, it wouldn't feel good, it would-
"Relax."
"I'm fine!" He could feel her boyfriend's erection pressing into him. He
screwed up his eyes, trying his best to stay calm, to disconnect, but he
couldn't stop shaking. Why did his body refuse to cooperate? Why did it betray
him this way?
Seishiro bit down on his forearm to stifle his cry as Setsuka's boyfriend
pushed all the way inside. Tears leaked out of his eyes, but he wiped them away
before her boyfriend could see. It hurt. It felt like he was being split in
half, like the pain inside him was radiating outwards from all points of
contact. He gasped for breath, but he wouldn't cry out, if only he could stop
shaking!
Setsuka's boyfriend collapsed forward, digging his fingernails into Seishiro's
hips, his breathing harsh and shallow in his ear. "Fuck!" He gasped. "You're
so, so tight!" More tears. Seishiro gripped the blankets and buried his face in
his forearms. He couldn't tell if the words were intended as praise, but that's
how Seishiro took them. Her boyfriend's desire for him, even now, made him feel
powerful, in control, wanted.
Her boyfriend pressed his lips between Seishiro's shoulder blades and inhaled
sharply before straightening up again. Seishiro tried desperately to slow his
breath and his heartbeat, but he was still in pain, he still wanted to stop,
but, now he definitely couldn't. Her boyfriend pulled out and thrust back in.
The friction burned, and Seishiro let out a soft cry, then hated himself for
it. It was a shameful noise, frightened and small.
Setsuka's boyfriend kept going, and gradually, Seishiro was able to disconnect
again. Did people really get off on this? How?! He just wanted it to end… Even
more tears. Setsuka's boyfriend paused to reach around, and Seishiro gasped as
he revived the erection he'd lost. Her boyfriend kept thrusting in and out, at
the same time pumping Seishiro faster and faster. Seishiro moaned a little, but
he hated it.
"Come… together…!" Setsuka's boyfriend whispered, his voice constricted.
Seishiro just moaned more in reply. He came shortly after, and his face burned
in humiliation. Her boyfriend must have come too, because he let out a deep,
guttural moan and collapsed onto Seishiro again, once more pressing his lips
between his shoulder blades. "Fuck…"
It was a while before he straightened up and pulled out. Seishiro let out
another soft, shameful noise at the friction and stood up straight too, then
immediately felt light headed. He took a few deep breaths, but he was still
shaking as he pulled his pants up. He felt sick and there was a burning pain
inside him, but his mind was oddly blank. He stared straight ahead, but said
nothing. Behind him, Setsuka's boyfriend reached for tissues from the box on
his desk. Seishiro wrapped his arms around himself, an unpleasant prickling on
the back of his neck. "Hey…" Her boyfriend said, reaching out and placing his
hand on Seishiro's shoulder. Seishiro shuddered, but was able to turn around.
Their eyes met, and Seishiro could see his face fall slightly under the weight
of the same questions as last time. Her boyfriend swallowed and took his hand
away awkwardly, looking deeply ashamed. 'Good,' Seishiro thought.
"I'm uh, I'm gonna go," he said, looking away. Seishiro just shrugged. "Tell
your-" he sighed, and Seishiro felt a rush of vindictive pleasure. "Tell her
something came up?" Seishiro clenched his teeth.
"Sure, whatever." Her boyfriend opened his bedroom door and moved about the
living room, gathering his things. Seishiro leaned against the doorframe, anger
bubbling suddenly in his chest. This guy had some nerve asking for his help.
"Do you fuck her like that?" He asked, spitefully. Her boyfriend straightened
up, but he couldn't look at Seishiro.
"Fuck you," he muttered, before crossing the room and leaving the apartment,
slamming the door behind him. Seishiro knew a moment of vengeful satisfaction.
"You fucking did," he told the silence. "You fucking did, and-" his throat
constricted sharply. He swallowed, but unnamable and painful emotions had
suddenly risen up in his chest. He wrapped his arms around himself again,
shivering, the vengeful satisfaction draining out of him as though someone had
pulled a plug in his stomach. He couldn't disconnect now. He was in his body,
and it hurt. His insides were still burning, and it was… No, it wasn't
embarrassing! He wasn't ashamed; Setsuka's boyfriend was the one who should be
ashamed!
"You're so, so tight!"
Seishiro dug his fingernails into his upper arms and shuddered as his insides
gave an especially painful throb. "Ow…" He said, softly, and tears came before
he could stop them. He wiped them away impatiently, feeling unclean,
contaminated and so, so alone. His head swam sickeningly as he walked down the
hall to his bathroom, wincing at the friction and feeling disgusting for it. He
shut the door but didn't bother turning on the light. He undressed carelessly
and placed his glasses on the sink, refusing to look at himself in the mirror.
He turned on the shower and a cockroach run up the cracked tile wall. Seishiro
ignored it and gasped softly as he stepped under the hot water. It burned his
skin, momentarily taking his mind off the pain inside him.
He reached for the soap and rubbed it, hard, up and down his arms, shoulders
and chest, occasionally scratching himself with his fingernails. His skin
became raw, red and shiny, but he didn't care. He wanted to see blood, to tear
himself to pieces. He wanted Setsuka to come in and find him that way. He
gasped suddenly, fresh tears pouring down his face. Why couldn't he stop
crying?!
As he rinsed off, the heat and steam suddenly made him feel light headed. He
sank down to the bottom of the bath, letting go of the soap and allowing it to
slide towards the drain. He lay against the cold, porcelain side of the tub and
rested his head on the edge, still crying. The shower continued to pour over
him. Hot water ran down his chest, belly and hips and crept between his legs.
Seishiro shut his eyes, again becoming aware of the pain inside him. He knew
with girls the first time was supposed to hurt, apparently it was the same
here. He opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. Through the steam and
his blurry vision, he could make out cracks and a few more scurrying
cockroaches. His mind seemed to hone in on them, at last allowing him to
disconnect. He seemed to be sinking into the porcelain against his back,
pressed down by the water. Hopefully soon he'd slip away into the blackness at
the edges of his brain. He imagined himself as the young man he'd seen on TV
all those years ago. Weak, sick, breathing through a mask.
Seishiro lay there for hours, or maybe years, or decades, before he was aware
of any sound other than the shower. "Who left the TV on?" Setsuka. "Seishiro?"
His name seemed to reach him, somehow, but he didn't move. He heard her walking
around the apartment, calling for him and her boyfriend. Eventually, she came
down the hall and banged on the bathroom door. "Seishiro?!"
"Yes?" He called, dragging the words up from deep inside himself. She opened
the door without asking to be let in.
"SEISHIRO!" He tilted his head further back over the edge of the tub, feeling
his throat stretch. She switched on the light and Seishiro shut his eyes
against the sudden brightness. She rushed over, kneeled down beside the tub and
shut off the water. "Oh my god what have you done?! What happened?!" The words
seemed to reach Seishiro through a haze. "You're freezing! Get up!" Her face
was chalk white and her eyes were wide. Seishiro had thought she was furious,
but maybe it was something else?
She threw a towel over him and the crisp, dry texture seemed to jumpstart him
back into his body. He really was freezing. When had the water started running
cold? He bent his knees and sat up, cringing at the residual soreness between
his legs and shivering uncontrollably. "Get up!" Setsuka snapped again.
Seishiro took hold of the sides of the tub and pushed and pulled himself into a
standing position, his muscles stiff and unresponsive. "What the fuck were you
doing?!" Setsuka demanded, seizing the towel and drying him off rather
aggressively. Seishiro said nothing. He just stood there, shivering. He was
aware Setsuka was berating him, but had no idea what she was actually saying
until she demanded to know where her boyfriend was.
"He left," Seishiro replied, simply, again dragging up the words from deep
inside.
"What did you do?!" Setsuka demanded, grabbing his upper arms and shaking him.
"I let him fuck me." Setsuka's eyes widened even further and she slapped
Seishiro hard across the face.
"Don't be disgusting, Seishiro, what the fuck is wrong with you?!" She
screamed, her face twisting in fury; just the reaction he'd expected.
"You tell me," he replied without meaning to, as though someone else were using
his mouth, lungs and voice.
"GO TO YOUR ROOM!" She snapped, shoving him away from her as though he were
contaminated. Seishiro slipped, but steadied himself by grabbing the tile wall.
"GO TO YOUR ROOM AND STAY THERE!" Seishiro stared at her blankly for a moment,
then stepped out of the tub, still shivering violently. He picked up his
glasses from the edge of the sink and put them on before returning to his
bedroom.
He shut his door tightly behind him, finished drying himself off and got
dressed again. The dry roughness of his nightclothes felt strange against his
cold, clammy skin, but it did seem to be helping him warm up. He got into bed,
still shivering, and wrapped his blankets tightly around himself. In the living
room, he heard Setsuka sit down on the couch, heard the liquor bottle open,
heard her start to cry.
===============================================================================
Seishiro was still shivering as the memory faded away to blackness. The old
feeling of being unclean was upon him again, as though he'd caught it from his
fifteen-year-old self. He stood up very suddenly and walked through his bedroom
into the en suite. He turned on the shower, making the water as hot as he could
stand it, then began to get undressed. Goosebumps rose on all his exposed skin
despite the heat and steam that filled the room. He folded and hung up his
clothes neatly before taking off his glasses and stepping into the shower.
Heat flushed the surface of his skin and he stopped shivering almost at once.
However, the feeling of being unclean and contaminated persisted, or perhaps
that was just more memories crawling to the surface of his mind.
Seishiro and Setsuka's boyfriend had had sex four more times after that,
whenever he could ignore all the moral objections that came with his sobriety.
It had been pretty much the same each time: a moment of weakness, then pleasure
and self-disgust for him and pain and power for Seishiro. Seishiro got better
at spotting those times he was most vulnerable, at moving in at just the right
moment, at being seductive. Each time it gave him an immensely pleasurable rush
of power, which felt way better than anything Setsuka's boyfriend did for him.
He always made him come, but Seishiro almost wished he wouldn't. It never felt
especially good, and it made his stomach twist uncomfortably. He didn't need to
enjoy sex; he wasn't looking for pleasure.
Seishiro reflected that this was a pattern that had persisted into his future
relationships. He didn't like getting fucked, but he liked the power it gave
him. His favorite part would always be the looks on their faces afterwards: the
self-disgust, the shame, the relief that they'd given into these baser desires.
Seishiro had brought all that out of them, and they both loved and hated him
for it.
He'd seen it with Setsuka's boyfriend first, then seen it start to become way
too much. Seishiro would stay in the background, watching him push Setsuka
away, withdraw from her, only to come into his room after she'd gone to sleep.
Eventually, though, like all of Setsuka's other boyfriends, he left, never to
be seen again. Seishiro felt more vengeful satisfaction as he watched her cry
about it on their couch. At least this one had the decency to break it off to
her face, to make up some excuse about why it wasn't working, rather than just
stop answering her calls or getting led away in handcuffs.
Seishiro had gone to sit beside her and allowed her hold onto him and cry for a
while. She wasn't angry at him this time, she didn't know he had broken up this
relationship just like all the others. He felt no guilt whatsoever, but the
aftermath was certainly easier to deal with when his hand was undetectable.
Chapter End Notes
     Well, that's that I guess. See you next week?
     I think of reviews when I summon my kekkai, leave me some!
***** 04 *****
Chapter Notes
     Happy Thursday!
     How are you all doing today? Good, I hope! I'm exhausted. I saw
     Moonlight with my boyfriend last night and it just... It blew my
     mind. I don't really like movies but this was extraordinary. If you
     can see it, absolutely do!
     So this chapter. I cried a lot over it (as if I don't say that about
     every chapter LOL) because again, I can't say if it's better or
     worse, but it's definitely a different flavor of awful. Either way,
     I'll be excited to hear what you all think! Just one more after this
     one, can you believe it?!
     Anyway, chapter 4!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Seishiro let out a heavy sigh, the steamy air pressing on his mouth and nose,
and reached for the soap. He began to scrub his body clean, trying to eliminate
the crawling contamination he'd caught from the memories, even as they
continued to play.
Setsuka had essentially fallen apart after that boyfriend had left. Though,
truthfully, there hadn't been much holding her together as long as he could
remember. She kept working, she had to, but when she'd come home she'd just lie
on the couch or in her bed for hours at a time, drunk or just in a stupor under
a cloud of cigarette smoke. As she let herself go, the house followed, becoming
dirtier and darker than Seishiro had ever seen it, full of empty liquor
bottles, cigarette ash and cockroaches.
Seishiro felt no sympathy for her. That was what she deserved. He began
spending more and more time out of the house, usually at the library or school
to work and study, and the rest of high school was another blur. Before he knew
it he was taking the Regents and the SAT and filling out college and
scholarship applications.
Seishiro's next clear memory was his senior year of high school, shortly after
his eighteenth birthday. He was expecting acceptance or rejection letters from
colleges any day now, and every check of his mailbox brought a fresh wave of
anxiety. Not that he was actually worried. He knew he'd get in somewhere. His
first choice was Columbia, though of course, he wouldn't say no to NYU or Pace
or Cornell. His teachers had told him to apply to Eugene Lang too, though he
had no idea why, there would be nothing for him there.
Seishiro entered his building one Thursday after school to find the lobby light
completely out rather than just flickering. He rolled his eyes, distracted from
his stomach clenching and twisting as he stuck his key in his mailbox and
opened it. There was a large, thick envelope there, folded and stuffed in
impatiently. Seishiro felt the familiar rush of disappointment and relief,
thinking it was probably something about their rent going up. However, as he
retrieved the envelope, he saw the crown emblem. His heart began to pound and
his hands shook as he shut the mailbox and locked it. He sprinted back
upstairs, clutching the envelope to his chest.
He wrenched his apartment door open and dropped his school bag as he rushed
into his kitchen. He swallowed and tore open the envelope with trembling hands.
At last he was able to extract the crisp sheet of white paper lying on top.
Dear Student,
Congratulations! You have been selected for admission to Columbia University-
Seishiro experienced a head rush and swayed on the spot before sinking into the
nearest kitchen chair. He swallowed and breathed hard through his open mouth as
he stared at the letter.
You have been selected for admission to Columbia University… You have been
selected for admission to Columbia University… You have been selected for
admission to Columbia University…
He lay back in his chair, covered his eyes with his hands and cried out in
genuine, pure joy as relief flooded his body. He had done it. He looked around
his grimy kitchen, but no, soon it wouldn't be his anymore. He'd be leaving.
After dreaming about it and fantasizing about it and working so hard, he would
actually be leaving. He knew another powerful surge of joy and wanted to
scream, or cry, or, he didn't even know. He couldn't remember ever feeling this
happy in his life and had no idea what to do about it. When he finally regained
control of himself, he picked up the letter again and read all of it, over and
over, the words uplifting him so much it was almost frightening.
Seishiro then reached for his acceptance package and looked at everything else
in it. He found a smaller envelope in which he could send his reply as well as
a booklet full of information and photographs. He scanned the pages eagerly,
looking at the photos of where he'd be living come August. It was like another
world; all the beautiful buildings sequestered away from the rest of the city
in a sanitary, affluent bubble. For a moment, Seishiro's old worry about
assimilating or remaining invisible resurfaced, but he ignored it. He'd worry
about that once he got there, once he'd moved into his dorm and started taking
classes. He clutched the booklet to his chest and lay back against the chair
again, staring up at the cracks in his ceiling. The ceiling.
A sudden scraping at the door announced Setsuka's early return from work.
Seishiro whirled around to face her, and her eyes narrowed. "What's all that?"
She asked, her voice low from cigarettes and tiredness. Seishiro swallowed.
He'd imagined telling her about getting into school for years. He'd imagined
her shock and fear, plus his own satisfaction. Now that the time had come,
however, he felt apprehensive, like the happy feelings were all draining slowly
away. "Seishiro?" He looked back at her determinedly.
"Do you want to sit down?" He asked her, cautiously. She rolled her eyes, but
did so anyway, extracting a cigarette from the pack in her purse and lighting
it.
"So?" She prompted, exhaling smoke. Seishiro took a deep breath in.
"I've been accepted to Columbia." He knew a ripple of pleasure as he said it
out loud, then waited as patiently as he could for the words to penetrate. She
narrowed her eyes and stared at him across the table.
"What?" Seishiro couldn't help but sigh.
"I've been accepted to Columbia for the fall semester. I'm going to go."
Setsuka stared at him.
"Congratulations…" She replied, slowly.
"Thank you." She took another drag from her cigarette.
"So you're… You'll start school there in the fall?"
"Yeah."
"And… But you'll still live at home?" Seishiro sighed.
"No. I told you before, I'll dorm." He'd expected this, but it wasn't nearly as
satisfying as he'd hoped. Setsuka's eyes widened.
"But you'll come back for the summer, right?" Seishiro felt himself withdraw
and disconnect. He stared into his mother's face, more lined and tired looking
than ever, yet still child like.
"No. I'll do summer housing or get an apartment."
"You're leaving me?" Setsuka asked. Her voice was small and frightened all of a
sudden, and it seemed to ignite something inside Seishiro: an angry, resentful
fuse that had been waiting for a spark.
"Yes, Mother, I'm leaving you," he snapped, his heart pounding and hands
shaking again. He stood up, and she withdrew, her eyes wide and fearful, the
smoke from her cigarette still curling around her. "I'm getting out of this
house and I'm never coming back! That's what you wanted, isn't it?! To get rid
of me so you can go off with whichever guy?!" Her eyes filled with tears.
"Don't talk to me like that!" She cried. "I love you more than anything,
Seishiro, how dare you-" Seishiro let out a harsh, utterly contemptuous laugh.
"Love me?! You never even wanted me! You never wanted me and now I'm leaving to
do better for myself, so I don't end up like you!"
"I can't believe you'd do this to me!" Setsuka sobbed. "I can't believe you'd
treat me this way!"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Seishiro yelled, right in her face, taking himself by
surprise. Her eyes widened, alive with terror. "YOU NEVER CARED! NEVER! I'm
done with you, do you understand?! I can't wait to be out of this disgusting
fucking place, away from you and all the worthless men you bring around, that's
all you ever cared about!"
"STOP IT!" Setsuka screamed, covering her eyes with a shaking hand. "GET AWAY
FROM ME IF YOU HATE ME SO MUCH! YOU CAN LEAVE TONIGHT FOR ALL I CARE!" Seishiro
gathered his acceptance letter and everything that had come with it and held it
to his chest.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Then when all those guys use you up you'll
realize how FUCKED YOU ARE WITHOUT ME!" He stormed across the living room to
his bedroom and slammed the door. He leaned his back against it, breathing hard
through his nose, trying to regain control of himself. This should have been a
happy moment, a moment of freedom, of new beginnings, and she was just angry he
was leaving. Now, after all these years, she finally wanted to put him first.
Fucking typical. Hatred burned so strongly in Seishiro's chest it almost hurt,
but he didn't care. He was leaving. He was leaving. He was leaving.
Seishiro turned right around, opened the door and strode back across the living
room to gather his things. Setsuka was still crying, and she called out to him,
but it didn't even register as he left the apartment. He'd mail out his reply
right now, and then he'd figure out his financial aid, and then he'd be gone.
It wasn't until he was halfway down his street that he even realized he'd
started crying.
===============================================================================
Seishiro replaced the soap and rinsed off, his skin clean and flushed and heart
pounding in righteous anger. As he thought about it, those few minutes alone
with his acceptance letter had been the happiest of his life. He'd never known
such utter, all-consuming joy before, and he hadn't known it since. He could
recall times when he'd been happy, certainly: getting promotions at work,
buying this apartment, the splash of ocean waves, Subaru hurrying towards him
in a hotel lobby…
Seishiro's eyes narrowed. Those things had brought him joy, but they had also
brought him new responsibilities and challenges. Naturally, he'd met them head
on, but… Well, it wasn't like happiness ever came without strings attached,
anyway.
With his college acceptance, those strings had been Setsuka's devastation and
fury. Rather than making Seishiro regretful or sympathetic, it just pushed him
further away. It was her fault he was so desperate to leave, where did she get
off begging him to stay?
They barely spoke the summer after Seishiro's high school graduation. He spent
as much time as possible out of the house, making preparations and counting
down the seconds until his move-in date.
His father still sent them money, either because he didn't know how old
Seishiro was or because he was still scared of Setsuka outing him. Either way,
Seishiro began stealing the checks each month and used the money and the ID
he'd gotten from the DMV to open a bank account. It wasn't much of a start, but
it was something. He might have been worried about Setsuka bringing it up, but
that would have involved talking to him, which she still refused to do.
The night before he was to move into his dorm, Seishiro bought himself a
suitcase. It was a hot, sultry August night, and the air hung heavy and sticky
all around him, but he barely even noticed as he pulled the suitcase home. All
he could think of was the following morning, when he'd be dragging it to the
train to go uptown to school. He heaved the suitcase up to his room and laid it
on his bed, then looked around rather awkwardly. He wasn't sure what exactly
he'd need; he'd never traveled before, much less moved away, but he'd figure it
out.
He began emptying his chest of drawers, folding his clothes and putting them
into the open suitcase. It suddenly occurred to him just how little he could
really call his own. Setsuka bought him clothes, but would complain about the
dire straits they were in financially if he ever needed anything else. Seishiro
made a soft, contemptuous noise, then imagined making his own money and
spending it how he saw fit.
"He'll be a good provider for his wife someday, he's so enterprising!" His
teacher had said, a million years ago. Well, that ship had certainly sailed,
though he doubted he'd find anyone worthy of his spending money anyway.
Seishiro cleaned out his top drawer last, and paused a moment. He found the two
pieces of Blue, his favorite childhood toy, and the figure of the assassin
character his old friend had given him in middle school. Seishiro exhaled
softly and held them tenderly in his hands: two gifts, two relics of other
brief, happy moments in his life. His chest constricted and his throat burned.
Should he take them? He had no idea what he'd do with them, but he hated to
think of leaving them here. He exhaled softly again and tucked them into a side
pocket of his suitcase. He knew it was ridiculous, but he didn't care.
He finished packing the rest of his things, zipped up his suitcase and lay on
his bed, staring out of his window at the pink and orange sunset. This would be
his last night falling asleep to this view, in this bed.
He heard Setsuka enter the apartment, but he didn't move. The door slammed, and
he expected her to head straight down the hall, but she crossed the living room
and came to stand in his doorway instead. She saw the suitcase beside the bed,
and her eyes filled with tears. "Yes?" Seishiro asked, coldly. Without saying
anything, she turned away and headed to her own room. Seishiro rolled his eyes
and glared up at his ceiling, his heart pounding against his ribs.
The next morning, Seishiro woke up early to find Setsuka already at the kitchen
table, smoking and looking lost. He ignored her, washing and dressing before
doing one last check around to make sure he'd packed everything.
He stood in his room for the last time, then took hold of his suitcase and
dragged it through his living room. At last, Setsuka spoke. "You're really
leaving me, Seishiro?" She asked. Seishiro just pulled his suitcase to the
door. "Seishiro!" He stopped, but didn't turn around.
"What?" He heard her get up and approach him, then felt her arms around him. He
stiffened and knew a wave of revulsion as she began to cry. "Let go of me," he
told her, his throat tight. She cried harder and rubbed her face into the back
of his shirt. "Let go of me!" He repeated, more firmly.
"I'll always love you, you know!" She cried in a choked voice. Seishiro closed
his eyes. "Even though you hate me now!" Seishiro made a disgusted noise and
extricated himself from her embrace.
"Fuck you!" He wrenched the door open, but paused for one last look at her,
crumpled, grieving and desperate, and felt absolutely nothing. He pulled his
suitcase over the threshold and slammed the door in her face. He then stormed
down the stairs, the crashing of his suitcase echoing off the dirty walls and
inside his chest.
===============================================================================
Seishiro could still hear the sound clearly. Or was that just the shower? Or
Subaru slamming the door that very morning? He took a deep breath in and sighed
it out, the steamy air heavy in his lungs.
He shuddered as he turned up the temperature of the water, rinsed off one last
time and shut it off. He opened the glass door, intending to step into the tub,
only to find it empty. "What the fuck…?" Hadn't he filled it before he'd gotten
into the shower? Seishiro let out an impatient sigh and turned on the bath,
then straightened up, his arms around himself and water sliding down his body.
"Why the…" He started to say, but then remembered it was usually Subaru who
drew baths for them. Subaru had always liked taking baths together.
Seishiro glared at the steadily filling tub, remembering the first time it had
happened. It was after they'd met at the opera, after they'd had dinner the
next night, after they'd spent the night after that fucking for hours, then
lying next to each other, spent and satisfied. "Do you want to clean up?"
Seishiro asked, and Subaru nodded, a slightly dazed look on his face in the
soft light. He sat up, and Seishiro was about to add, "So I can call you a
cab." However, Subaru kissed him before he could say anything, then withdrew,
staring him hard in the face.
"Come with me," he breathed, blushing. Seishiro considered him, confused, but…
"Is that what you want?" Subaru nodded.
===============================================================================
Seishiro turned off the water and slid into the bath. The heat seeped through
his skin and into his beating heart and expanding and contracting lungs. He
leaned against the back of the tub, staring straight ahead. He'd do this with
Subaru too. Subaru would lie in between his legs with his back against his
chest. It had been strange at first, just relaxing together in the hot water,
but over time Seishiro had grown to appreciate it, just like falling asleep
spooning him after fucking him senseless.
He'd also liked punishing Subaru by taking all that away.
Seishiro wondered what would happen when Subaru came back. Would he ask to be
touched? Held and comforted? Fucked? Seishiro's lip curled. Of course he would,
and he would deny him, just as he always did.
Very suddenly, he remembered Subaru coming back here drunk on Saturday night
and swallowed a fresh rush of disgust. That had been so unlike him, where had
it even come from? 'Kamui,' he thought at once, answering his own question.
Kamui had led Subaru away, into this life that didn't suit him: coming home all
hours of the night, drunk and needy. It was pathetic, but at least Subaru was
aware he'd done wrong.
Seishiro had stayed up reading and smoking, waiting for Subaru to return from
wherever he'd been with Kamui. He had no idea how long he'd be; he didn't
bother to give him a return time. However, just before midnight, Subaru had
burst into the apartment, then run down the hallway to stand in the bedroom
doorway. He was still wearing his coat and looked fearful, out of breath and
desperate. "There you are," Seishiro said. "Did you have a good night?" Subaru
didn't answer, and Seishiro narrowed his eyes at his book. "How was your
night?" He asked again, feeling a ripple of anger. Still Subaru said nothing,
and it made Seishiro angrier. He turned a page, and the sound echoed in the
tense silence. Subaru had some nerve.
"F-fine," came his shaky reply.
'I'm sure,' Seishiro thought, spitefully, though out loud he said, "I'm glad."
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Subaru take off his coat and hang it
on the back of the door. He finished his cigarette and wondered what Subaru
would do next, how he'd apologize. Subaru climbed into bed and approached him
on his hands and knees.
"Seishiro?"
"What?" He saw Subaru wince and knew a rush of cold satisfaction. Subaru
reached out and touched his arm.
"Seishiro, I-" Seishiro snapped his gaze to Subaru, feeling the touch up his
arm like a crawling insect. Subaru shuddered in fear, and it only made Seishiro
angrier. "Can, can we…?" Seishiro knew a fresh surge of disgust. How dare he
ask for this now?! Seishiro shut his book with a snap and placed it on the
bedside table. Then, quick as a flash, he grabbed Subaru by the shoulders,
slammed him down onto the bed and climbed on top of him. Subaru cried out,
clearly terrified, but it did nothing to soften Seishiro.
"Is this what you want?" He asked, putting his face very close to Subaru's and
inhaling the alcohol on his breath with a surge of fury.
"Y-yes!" Subaru gasped, and Seishiro tightened his grip on his shoulders.
"No," he spat, utterly contemptuous. He rolled off of Subaru and picked up his
book again. He was angry, but he was in control of it; he'd meant to do all of
that. Of course, it all could have been avoided if Subaru hadn't been out all
night, hadn't let someone else intrude and lead him astray. "You're drunk, go
eat something." Subaru lay flat on his back, seemingly paralyzed, until he
finally got up and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Seishiro
listened to him moving about the living room, then, very faintly, heard him
start to cry. Anger continued to course through Seishiro, though it was
righteous and satisfying. He finished the chapter he'd been reading, placed his
book and glasses on the bedside table and turned out the light.
He'd woken up hours later to find Subaru standing beside the bed, looking down
at him, frightened and longing. "Subaru? Get in bed." Subaru obeyed at once,
and Seishiro rolled over and spooned him. He'd come back, just as he'd known he
would. 'Yes,' Seishiro told him mentally. 'You're mine. Don't do that again.'
Subaru began to cry again as Seishiro was falling asleep, but he still felt no
sympathy. Subaru should feel bad. He should cry.
And then the next morning he'd tried to end their relationship.
"Because I'm unhappy," he'd said.
===============================================================================
Seishiro's heart rate spiked very suddenly. He gripped his knees and pulled
himself up into a sitting position, causing the bathwater to lap up and down
the sides of the tub.
Ridiculous.
He had done everything for Subaru, how could he be unhappy? What else did he
want? Why had he been led astray? A weird gnawing began in Seishiro's chest.
You just couldn't count on people. He'd known that since before he was even
born, when his father had rejected him. He'd then had the point illustrated
further by all of Setsuka's boyfriends leaving. Then, once he'd grown up, there
had been countless coworkers, guys he'd fucked and random others.
It suddenly occurred to Seishiro that the only person he'd been the one to
leave was Setsuka. He had escaped her, cut her adrift, even if it had taken him
twenty-two years to do it.
Subaru didn't really count because he was coming back, but what about…?
Seishiro shuddered and gripped his knees. Would his mind really force him to
relive all that? Why wouldn't it cooperate? When was Subaru coming back?!
Seishiro covered his face with his hands and pressed his palms into his eyes.
Immediately, he saw the ugly, orange inside of the 1 train he'd caught at
Columbus Circle, the grandeur of his new home on the Upper West Side, his small
but bright dorm and classrooms… He remembered it all like an overwhelming,
embarrassing cyclone. He'd felt desperately out of place, surrounded by such
history, affluence and elitism. At first, he tried to see it all as a new
beginning: he didn't know anyone, and no one knew him, he could be and do what
he wanted. However, he hated his fellow students.
He felt like he was watching them through a sheet of glass, like a mindless
school of fish in an aquarium. They all had the same background, the same
story, the same skills, and Seishiro was once again isolated by his
strangeness, his inescapable otherness. Not that it bothered him; to his
immense relief, he could still remain invisible.
The only person who seemed even slightly aware of him was his roommate, though
they didn't talk much. He was out of the room most of the time, but he was
never loud or disruptive when he came back. Seishiro didn't know where he went,
but he was quite popular, and understandably so: he was very good looking and
deeply charismatic. He had an aura about him, a pull.
===============================================================================
Seishiro kept his hands over his eyes and felt his heart throb in his chest.
His college roommate was one of very few people from his past he didn't hate
thinking about occasionally, who he was almost sad about losing track of.
"Hey, did you finish that econ assignment?" Seishiro was in his dorm room, at
his desk working on stats homework. Fuuma had come back from class a moment ago
and thrown himself onto his desk chair to work too. He placed his foot up on
the desk and leaned back so the chair was on two legs, looking charismatic as
ever.
"Yeah, last night," Seishiro replied. Fuuma stretched his arms above his head,
pulling up his shirt and revealing his hipbones. Seishiro swallowed.
"What did you get for this question?" Fuuma asked, bringing the chair upright
again with a dull crash.
"Which one?" Seishiro asked, rather apprehensively. Fuuma smiled and held out
his textbook. "Um, never mind let me just check." Seishiro reached for his own
textbook, extracted the assignment he'd stuck in there and handed it over.
"Fuck me, I completely screwed this up," Fuuma said, wearily, handing the
assignment back. Seishiro smiled in spite of himself. "Thanks."
"Sure." A moment's silence passed.
"Your major's financial engineering, right?"
"Yes," Seishiro replied, though he couldn't remember ever telling him this.
Fuuma smiled, and his heart sped up.
"Do you know what you want to do?" Seishiro thought for a second.
"Not really." They looked at each other, and Seishiro knew a moment of
uncharacteristic curiosity. "What about you?" Fuuma smiled an almost knowing
smile that slightly discomposed Seishiro, though he couldn't look away.
"I just want to make money. If this doesn't get me anywhere I'll sell drugs or
something." Seishiro had no idea if he was joking. However, Fuuma didn't have
that air of wanting to shock and horrify that Seishiro found so tedious. He
meant to return to his stats homework, but- "What are you doing Friday night?"
Seishiro looked up at him incredulously; sure he'd misheard.
"What?" Fuuma smiled his enigmatic smile.
"What are you doing Friday night?"
"Um, work?"
"You wanna come to a party off campus instead?" Seishiro's eyes widened.
"N-no, that's fine," he replied at once, before he could even think about it.
Fuuma tilted his head to the side.
"Next time, then."
However, it wasn't until the very end of the semester that Seishiro finally
said yes.
Fuuma was leaving for Christmas break the following morning, and Seishiro was
lying in bed watching him pack over the top of a book. "I won't see you for
what, a month? Come on, just one drink and then I swear I'll leave you alone."
Seishiro sighed, still discomforted by someone so insistent on spending time
with him. He locked eyes with Fuuma, fully intending to say no, but faltered
under his gaze and his pull. A moment's silence passed.
"Fine." Fuuma smiled, obviously pleased. Seishiro got up, put on his coat and
followed him out the door. People called out to Fuuma as they headed down the
hall and out of their dorm, and Seishiro felt like he was under a spotlight.
However, Fuuma waved everyone away, for which he was grateful. "Where exactly
is this party?" Seishiro asked, shivering in the December chill as they walked
across campus.
"My friend's place. Her parents are out of town." They proceeded down Broadway,
past more groups of students. Everyone looked exhausted, but seemed to be
talking excitedly about the upcoming break. More people called out to Fuuma,
but he ignored them. After a few minutes, they were buzzed up into a very nice
building on 112th Street. Seishiro looked around curiously as they climbed the
stairs. The paint on the lobby walls was fresh, the floors were clean and the
overhead light actually worked. "Here," Fuuma said, indicating a door on the
fifth floor. He knocked, and immediately they were greeted by a young woman
Seishiro recognized from school. She had long black hair and wore a tight dress
that revealed yards of cleavage. She threw her arms around Fuuma and kissed him
on the lips.
"I was waiting forever," she whined, when they broke apart.
"You say that like it's my fucking problem," he replied. She rolled her eyes
and let go of him, then spotted Seishiro. "This is my roommate. Keep your hands
to yourself you horny fucking bitch." She gave Fuuma a very nasty look, and
Seishiro wasn't sure whether to laugh or not.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Kanoe," she said, looking Seishiro up and down. "Come
in, come in."
"Stay close to me," Fuuma muttered to Seishiro, and he felt a rush of gratitude
as they entered Kanoe's living room. It was dimly lit with Christmas lights all
over the walls, though Seishiro had the impression it was her parents who had
picked out the old fashioned furniture and ugly, austere art. Everyone greeted
Fuuma as they made their way over to the drinks table, and he gave them
gracious smiles or rude hand gestures, but said nothing. Seishiro could still
feel his pull even as he was brushing them off. "What are you drinking?"
"What? Oh…" Seishiro had no idea what to say; his last drink had been what he'd
stolen from Setsuka and her boyfriend all those years ago. Fuuma just smiled in
that knowing way that both discomposed Seishiro and made his heart pound.
"Here," he said, mixing something and handing it to him.
"Thanks." Seishiro took a sip. It was way better than he'd expected and he felt
a flush run up his face and neck. He and Fuuma sat down on the couch and
immediately were swarmed by people. Seishiro shrank away, withdrawing into
himself and sipping his drink nervously. However, it was much easier to stay
invisible with Fuuma next to him, smiling and conversing and laughing. It was
rather mesmerizing, and with no one to notice him, Seishiro could just watch
quietly. He didn't feel nearly as awkward as he might have done.
Finally, the crowd of people dissipated, either distracted by Kanoe or put off
when Fuuma made it clear he didn't want to talk to them anymore. Fuuma reached
into his pocket and pulled out a carton of cigarettes. "I didn't know you
smoked," Seishiro blurted out, then felt his face burn. Fuuma just smiled at
him.
"Only in certain situations. You want one?" Seishiro hesitated, thinking of
Setsuka, but he swallowed as he watched Fuuma light one for himself and inhale.
"Um, sure, thank you." Fuuma handed him a cigarette and lit it for him.
Seishiro inhaled, the scent and taste familiar and the effect soothing. Around
him, party guests chattered and music played, but it was all meaningless noise.
He felt strangely grounded next to Fuuma, this stable, fearless, person.
"This totally isn't your thing, is it?" Fuuma asked, and Seishiro felt hot in
the face again.
"No," he replied, taking a hasty drag from his cigarette. Fuuma smiled, and
Seishiro's heart leapt.
"I don't blame you, I fucking hate all these people." Seishiro narrowed his
eyes.
"What?" Fuuma cast a contemptuous look around the room.
"They're worthless, don't you think? But somehow they believe they got here
because they're special. Like they didn't have it fucking easy." Seishiro kept
smoking, the words stirring something inside him. He stared at Fuuma, who
stared back, and they seemed to understand each other. However, Seishiro was
still suspicious.
"You talk to them like it's nothing, though," he said, bluntly, feeling
expansive under Fuuma's pull, the nicotine and the alcohol. Fuuma just smiled
and took deep drag from his cigarette. He exhaled smoke rings, then leaned
close to Seishiro and spoke right in his ear.
"You get farther if you keep your hate to yourself." Seishiro shivered, but the
words seemed to click into place in his brain.
"Fair enough," he replied, quietly. In the center of the room, Kanoe had turned
up the music and people were taking shots and dancing. Instantly, Seishiro had
had enough. "Um, I'm gonna go I think," he said, finishing his cigarette and
putting it out in the ashtray on the coffee table.
"I'll come with you."
"What? No, I'm fine-"
"I just came here to make an appearance," Fuuma cut in, staring Seishiro hard
in the face. "They've seen me. We can leave." His tone was impossible to
contradict, and Seishiro just nodded, feeling grateful in spite of himself.
They gathered their things and slipped out of the apartment without saying
goodbye to anyone. Seishiro wondered if this would have been socially
acceptable with anyone besides Fuuma, then wondered if that was stupid.
They emerged onto a freezing 112th Street, a cold wind skinning their hands and
faces. Seishiro folded his arms across his chest, shivering as he walked side
by side with Fuuma, watching him but not speaking. Two older men in suits
passed them in the opposite direction, and Fuuma sneered and blew them a kiss
over his shoulder. Seishiro raised his eyebrows, then flushed as Fuuma turned
to look at him. However, Fuuma just shrugged. "I picked up the one in black
downtown on 10th Avenue when I was bored last month," he said, easily. "I just
wondered if he remembered." Seishiro's eyes widened, but he said nothing.
Really, what could he even say to that? Why had Fuuma brought it up at all?
They walked back across campus towards their dorm, and Seishiro felt suddenly
nervous. Was this all a ploy? Did he care?
However, they didn't say anything else to each other as they got ready for bed.
Seishiro lay down and faced the wall, his drunk mind spinning, showing him half
formed images of Fuuma crawling into bed beside him as he fell asleep. However,
when Seishiro woke up the next morning, Fuuma was already gone.
===============================================================================
Seishiro slid down the side of the tub so the hot water came to just below his
chin. He swallowed, the same confusing feelings churning inside him as they had
done all those years ago. In retrospect, considering how they'd said goodbye,
maybe he and Fuuma…
Seishiro swallowed again. They had respected each other and stayed out of each
other's way, and Seishiro had enjoyed what time they did spend together. Plus,
Fuuma was so good with people even through his contempt; it was helpful to
watch.
Seishiro held work-study jobs his entire time at college, which forced him to
participate as much as he wanted to remain invisible. However, he took Fuuma's
advice from the party deeply to heart and found it really did make things
easier.
"You seemed really cold at first," one of his coworkers told him during the
spring semester of his freshman year. "But you're actually really cool to talk
to." Seishiro smiled and seethed with contempt.
"I'm just shy," he replied. She smiled back, and they fell silent.
"Um, Seishiro?" She asked, after a moment.
"Yes?"
"Would you maybe want to go out sometime?" Seishiro met her gaze, feeling
utterly perplexed, but managed to keep his composure.
"I'm sorry?" His coworker blushed.
"Would you want to go out sometime, like, for dinner maybe?" She asked,
hopefully. Seishiro organized his face into something regretful.
"Oh, I'm really sorry," he told her, convincingly sincere. "I'm seeing
someone." Her face fell, but she recovered herself.
"It's okay, I just figured it was worth a shot."
"I'm sorry," he said again, and she just smiled rather sadly.
Of course, it wasn't a total lie.
During winter break, Seishiro had started hanging around downtown by the river,
just like Fuuma did. He remembered taking the train down to 14th Street some
night in December and how cold it had been as he'd walked further and further
west. However, he kept his head up, looking around and trying to ignore the way
his stomach was twisting and lurching. He got checked out immediately and
stared back, keeping his contempt inside for warmth.
===============================================================================
Seishiro exhaled through his nose, his breath forming ripples on the surface of
the bathwater. Was that the night he'd gotten into that guy's car and blown him
over the gearshift? No, that first time he'd been fucked up against the side of
an old meatpacking plant. Seishiro shuddered as he remembered how cold it had
been.
Picking up guys like that was both easier and more addictive than he thought
it'd be, and he got better at it each night. "You want to fuck me, don't you?"
He'd ask, and they'd say yes, or kiss him, or just moan softly. It always made
Seishiro feel powerful, playing seductive even in a submissive role, forcing
these weak, pathetic men to act on their desires. They wanted him, or least,
they wanted what he could give them, which came to the same thing, really.
Seishiro's stomach squirmed uncomfortably as more and more of these encounters
floated up to the surface of his memory. The unselfish of these men would
always make him come, though truthfully he wished they wouldn't. He didn't need
them to; they weren't there for his pleasure, and acting like they cared was
rather insulting.
As Seishiro sifted through the sea of business suits, excuses and night air,
one encounter in particular stood out. Yet another shiver began at the back of
his neck and radiated outwards through his body, making him wonder if he'd be
sick again. He sat up straight, hugged his knees to his chest and rested his
chin upon him, apparently unable to resist.
It was the summer after his freshman year, and Seishiro was living in a sublet
by school. Tonight, he'd made one of his regular trips downtown and was picked
up by a good looking older man in a nice car. On some level, Seishiro was aware
of how dangerous this all was, but he didn't care. As they drove up towards
Central Park, Seishiro was already disconnecting, withdrawing into himself. The
only real things were the cigarette he was sucking on and the smoke he was
exhaling out of the car window.
Seishiro's pick up checked them into a very nice hotel room, and their time
together started off as usual: Seishiro whispered, "Are you going to fuck me?"
in a soft, needy voice. His pick up smiled and pressed him up against the wall.
His stomach muscles pulled in as his pick up shoved his hands up his shirt and
pressed his lips against his neck, inhaling deeply through his nose.
"Do you like getting fucked?" Seishiro groaned theatrically, wanting to hurry
this along.
"Yes…" His pick up withdrew and kissed him on the lips. It took Seishiro by
surprise, but at least it didn't last long. His pick up withdrew and stared at
him hard in the face.
"God you're beautiful," he whispered, and Seishiro's heart seemed to skip.
"Strip, I want to see all of you." Seishiro's heart skipped again, then beat
faster as his pick up pulled away. He undressed, feeling self-conscious for the
first time; sex always happened at least partially clothed. He stood there,
feeling his pick up's eyes all over him, drinking him in. "So perfect."
Seishiro flushed in spite of himself.
"Aren't I?" He asked, his lip curling, trying to regain control. His pick up
laughed and rolled his hips forward.
"Hands and knees." Seishiro got into bed and obeyed. His heart beat faster than
ever as he heard his pick up undress and get into position behind him. He
swallowed. He knew it was supposed to hurt; it didn't bother him, he was used
to it by now. His pick up grabbed onto his ass and spread him apart. He felt
suddenly shaky, though he had no idea why, he wasn't-
"A-ah!" Seishiro cried out completely by accident. Instead of his fingers or
erection, his pick up had pressed his tongue up against him, then swirled it
around. Seishiro shivered and went veryred, feeling himself get completely
hard.
"You like that, don't you?" His pick up asked, and Seishiro knew a sudden surge
of anger. He didn't like it or his reaction to it. He wanted to get up, but his
pick up held him in place and was back for more. Seishiro bit down on his
forearm to keep from making any noise. His entire body seized up as though
fighting the pleasure that was making his erection throb. He felt exposed,
vulnerable as he'd never been before and he hated it. He wanted to stop, but of
course he couldn't say so. His pick up pressed his tongue inside, and Seishiro
bit back another cry. He wanted to disengage, retreat into his body, but the
sensations forced him to stay present. His toes curled and he felt hot all over
as he gripped the bed sheets so hard his knuckles were white.
"Mm!" He cried out through tightly pressed lips, screwing up his eyes and
throwing his head back. Anger, disgust and pleasure churned his mind, forced
him to surrender even as he was fighting it as hard as he could. He hated the
noises he was making, so small and needy and shameful.
"It's good, isn't it?" His pick up asked, finally pulling away and giving
Seishiro's ass a squeeze. Seishiro gasped for breath, trying desperately to
regain control of himself even as he was flushed and shivery and his erection
begged to be touched.
"Do you do that to your wife too?" He asked, the spite in his voice tempered by
his obvious arousal. His pick up just laughed and rolled Seishiro onto his
back. Seishiro stared up at him defiantly, trying his best to look disdainful.
"Of course," he replied, retrieving a bottle of lube from the pocket of his
discarded pants. He lubed himself up and threw Seishiro's legs over his
shoulders. Seishiro shut his eyes, turned away and gripped the bed sheets on
either side of him, anticipating. "She doesn't taste as good as you, though."
He thrust inside and threw his head back, digging his fingernails into
Seishiro's thighs and waiting a moment. "God you're so perfect!" He pulled out
and thrust back in.
"Ah! F-fuck…!" Seishiro screwed up his eyes; this was different-
"It feels good, doesn't it?" Seishiro knew it was pointless to contradict him,
not when his actions were making him moan and sweat and shiver. However,
Seishiro wouldn't answer, he wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "It's okay to
like it," his pick up said, reaching between them to take hold of Seishiro's
erection and making his toes curl. Before he knew what was happening, Seishiro
came harder than he had done in a long time, and it was like nothing he'd ever
felt before. His pick up came soon after with a low, guttural moan and
collapsed on top of Seishiro without pulling out, breathing in his ear. "So
good…" He whispered, and Seishiro swallowed, stiff under his weight. He allowed
his pick up a few seconds to recover, then,
"Could you pull out?" His pick up laughed softly, straightened up and did so.
Seishiro sat up at once, wincing and swallowing a fresh wave of disgust. His
pick up reclined against the headboard and Seishiro could feel his eyes on the
back of his neck as he walked into the bathroom. He wiped away the river of cum
on his belly with a wad of toilet paper, then returned to the other room to get
dressed.
"Where are you going?" His pick up asked, but Seishiro kept his eyes averted.
"Home. I have work in the morning." He made sure he had his wallet, keys and
cigarettes.
"Could I see you again?" Seishiro looked around in confusion.
"What?" His pick up was smiling at him.
"Could we meet up another time?" Still, Seishiro didn't understand. "For more
of this?" Seishiro shuddered.
"No thank you." And he was out the door.
He emerged onto a dark, hazy 57th Street, then walked as fast as he dared back
across town. He felt strangely in his body: in the residual pleasure, in the
uncomfortable sting, in his pounding heart, though at the same time he was
totally disconnected. He just wanted to be back in his apartment, away from
that man and what he had done to him.
"Do you like getting fucked?"
Seishiro's stomach clenched as he remembered. It had all felt so much better
than usual, but without the power high afterwards he felt, not ashamed, but…
He flushed and felt his throat constrict painfully. He couldn't go back
downtown anymore, not when he might see that man again. He'd make due without
sex, it wasn't like he enjoyed it much anyway, and he was used to being alone.
Seishiro paused on 6th Avenue and 59th Street to light a cigarette. To his
right, Central Park looked dark and forbidding, even as people still walked
along the perimeter. They all moved in happy, chattering groups and Seishiro's
throat constricted painfully again. He sucked defiantly on his cigarette, his
heart throbbing and eyes burning as he continued west. He knew he was strange,
and he was used to feeling alone in his strangeness, yet…
He finished his cigarette and entered the train station at Columbus Circle. He
had to wait fifteen minutes for the 1 train, but was home quickly after that.
He fell into bed, fully clothed, listening to the night sounds outside,
unfamiliar and unpleasant emotions crashing inside him.
===============================================================================
Seishiro squeezed his knees more tightly. Why had that man reached out? What
had he thought would happen? How could he think Seishiro would have agreed? He
shifted uncomfortably and placed his forehead on his knees. Subaru had been the
one to reach out too.
"Come with me."
"I'm yours, Seishiro, if you'll have me."
"I want to go back with you."
Seishiro's chest constricted. Subaru had insisted on staying over, inserting
himself into Seishiro's life and coming here, only to leave him like everyone
else. Anger flared in Seishiro's chest, but it had no room to burn in the
constriction. He breathed deeply through his nose, trying to regain control of
himself.
"Hokuto doesn't think I should, but I don't care! I love you, Seishiro, there's
no one else for me!" Subaru had burst into Seishiro's hotel room and said they
needed to talk, and Seishiro hadn't really known what to do except lead him out
to the balcony to calm down. Subaru clutched the railing and Seishiro stood
with his hand on his lower back, both of them staring out over Tokyo. Under the
sea of lights swam the mass of unhappy people, just like New York.
"Are you sure?" Seishiro asked, looking perplexedly at Subaru, who turned to
face him. "I didn't ask you for that," he reminded him.
"I know that, this is my choice!" Subaru replied, rather fiercely, but then
flushed, looking like he might cry. Seishiro sighed and pulled him into an
embrace, his heart pounding all of a sudden.
"I'll fly you over in January."
===============================================================================
Seishiro's anger burned itself out, or was suffocated, leaving the inside of
his chest charred and hollow, it- It didn't hurt. He was angry with Subaru.
Subaru had made promises, then gone back on them. Had Seishiro been stupid to
believe him? No, definitely not, because Subaru was coming back! Besides,
Seishiro had learned…
He dug his fingernails into his legs and held himself more tightly. He'd
learned in his final semester of college not to take actions like that
seriously, even though supposedly they spoke louder than words.
"Do you wanna go to the opera?"
"What?" Fuuma smiled.
"Do you wanna go to the opera? I have tickets and no one to go with." Seishiro
rolled his eyes and reclined in his desk chair.
"Wouldn't you rather bring Kanoe?" He asked, testily.
"You know I like you better than her. Come to the opera with me."
"So romantic," Seishiro replied, his lip curling, and Fuuma laughed.
"You think Madame Butterfly's romantic?"
"Madame Butterfly?" Seishiro met Fuuma's gaze at last, and he smiled his
enigmatic smile.
"Yeah, why?" Seishiro looked away, though he still felt Fuuma's pull.
"Nothing, I just saw it when I was in middle school." Fuuma strode across the
room to lean against the edge of Seishiro's desk.
"So you know how good it is." Seishiro looked up at him, more aware of his pull
than ever.
"Fine."
That Friday night, Fuuma and Seishiro got dressed up and took the 1 train down
to 66th Street. Seishiro hadn't been there since middle school, and though it
had always been a nice area, it seemed to have gotten richer. Fortunately,
Seishiro didn't feel nearly as out of place this time, not in his nice suit
with the degree from Columbia he'd be receiving soon. He was also with Fuuma,
who was a chameleon, able to fit in anywhere and bring Seishiro with him
despite his strangeness.
They picked up their tickets from the box office and took their seats in the
orchestra. "These are really good seats," Seishiro said, appreciatively,
wondering how Fuuma had gotten them, but he just smiled a satisfied smile.
"I got a new job, figured I'd treat myself." Before Seishiro could ask for
details, Fuuma reached across him and pressed a button on the screen set into
the back of the seat in front of him. "Subtitles."
"Oh…" The lights overhead flashed, and the show began shortly after. Seishiro
remembered the songs and characters, though the cast and production were
different. He watched again the American soldier move in on Butterfly, seduce
her with words and promises, then use her for one night. His stomach twisted
uncomfortably, but he ignored it, listening to the music that was even more
beautiful than he remembered.
The first act ended, and the applause and cheers were deafening. "You wanna go
back to the lobby?" Fuuma asked. Seishiro just shrugged, but got up and
followed him. They stood beside one of the bars, but didn't order anything,
exchanging a few words about the show. Seishiro looked around, feeling a weird
ache in his chest. Things had certainly changed since the last time he'd been
here.
Completely by accident, he caught the eye of a handsome older man across the
room, who gave him an intrigued and knowing look. Seishiro looked away at once,
though he could still feel the man's eyes on him. It had been a long time since
he'd been checked out like that. He looked up again, and the man smiled.
Seishiro hesitated a moment, then told Fuuma, as if on reflex, "I'm gonna go
smoke, I'll be back," though his gaze was still across the room. Fuuma smirked,
but all he said was,
"Cool." Keeping his eyes locked on the older man, Seishiro tilted his head in
the direction of the front doors and headed back outside. He walked to the
fountain and lit up.
"Can I bum one of those?" Seishiro turned, and found the handsome older man
standing beside him.
"Sure." Seishiro offered him a cigarette from his pack and lit it for him.
"What's your name?"
"Seishiro."
"That's pretty." Seishiro resisted rolling his eyes and shook the man's hand as
he introduced himself, noticing his eyes were green. "Is this your first time
here?" He asked, giving Seishiro's hand a squeeze.
"First time in a long time," he replied. The man nodded, smoking.
"Are you here alone?"
"Do you want me to be?" The man smiled.
"Not tonight, I have company, but maybe tomorrow?" Seishiro's lip curled and he
tilted his head to the side.
"Where?" They made plans to meet as they finished their cigarettes.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Seishiro." Seishiro watched him go, then wondered if
this was a massive error in judgment. All the feelings brought on by previous
encounters seemed to be creeping into his body, and yet… He knew he'd go
tomorrow. It had been a long time; his body might be more cooperative after
getting denied for so long.
He threw the butt of his cigarette onto the ground and stepped on it before
going back inside and locating Fuuma. He was still smirking, but Seishiro
ignored him as they returned to their seats for the second act.
Again, Seishiro saw Butterfly realize she'd been had, apologize to her son and
take her own life. He applauded hard with everyone else, thinking, not for the
first time, that she'd made the better choice than he had.
The next night, Seishiro made his way to the hotel where he and his pick up had
agreed to meet. He knocked on the door and was immediately let inside, then
pushed up against a wall. "Hi," his pick up said, kissing him hard on the lips.
Seishiro stiffened slightly as memories of previous encounters flooded his mind
and body. However, he suppressed them and forced himself to kiss back. Soon
enough, it did start to feel good, especially considering how long it had been
since he'd done anything. They broke apart, breathing heavily.
"Are you going to fuck me?" Seishiro asked, tilting his head to the side. His
pick up gave him a furtive look.
"Actually," he began, slowly, and Seishiro wondered what was coming. "Do you
top, by any chance?" Seishiro's eyes widened, but he recovered himself at once.
"Excuse me?" He asked, just to make sure he'd heard correctly. His pick up
kissed him.
"Do you top?" Yes, that had in fact been what he'd said. Seishiro swallowed.
He'd never done it before, he'd never known he could, but it wasn't like he
didn't know how…
"Of course I do," he breathed, making his voice low and commanding. "You want
me to fuck you?" His pick up nodded, breathing faster now. He tried to kiss
Seishiro, but he pressed his first two fingers to the man's lips. It was all
instinct, but they both seemed to like it. Seishiro wondered how far he could
push him, what all he could do. "Get undressed," he tried. His pick up gasped
and obeyed at once, and Seishiro felt a surge of power in both his chest and
his erection. He liked this.
His pick up lay back on the bed, legs spread and exposed, and Seishiro drank
him in, starting to understand where all those men who had fucked him were
coming from. "I have condoms and lube here," his pick up said, his voice heavy
with arousal even though Seishiro had barely touched him. "I don't fuck raw."
Seishiro nodded, picked up the bottle of lube and climbed into bed between the
man's legs. He squeezed some of the liquid onto his fingers and pressed them up
against him. He hesitated for a moment.
"Do you need a lot of prep? Or do you like taking dick so much you're stretched
out?" His pick up threw his head back with a soft moan and Seishiro knew
another surge of power as he pressed his fingers inside. "You let people speak
to you that way? How shameful." Again, his pick up just moaned and thrust his
hips up, looking for more friction. "Is this what you want?" Seishiro asked,
finding his sweet spot. His pick up cried out and tightened around his fingers.
Seishiro swallowed, imagining these sensations around his erection and feeling
it twitch. "Answer me." Seishiro had no idea when he would cross a line, or
even if he'd cross a line, but he didn't care. He was more turned on than he'd
ever been in his life and was at last beginning to understand why people did
all of this.
"Yes!" His pick up cried. "I want you inside me!" Seishiro bit back a gasp.
"How bad do you want it?"
"So bad!"
"Shameful…" Seishiro removed his fingers, undid his pants with his other hand
and reached for a condom. He slid it on, lubed himself up, then got into
position. "I'm going to fuck you now," he breathed, and his pick up pressed the
soles of his feet into the bed to lift his hips up. Seishiro's lip curled.
It was harder getting in than he thought it'd be, but once he managed it he had
to fight with his body not to come on the spot. The hot, tight pressure around
his erection was like nothing he'd ever felt before and he loved it. He moved
his hips in and out, barely registering that his pick up was moaning. All he
could think of was his own pleasure and how absolutely amazing he was feeling.
"Harder!" The word seemed to reach Seishiro and he sneered down at his pick up
as he moved even faster. He panted and gasped, pleasure coursing through his
body.
"Take it," Seishiro said through clenched teeth. "Take it."
"Give it to me! Give it to me hard!" His pick up moaned, stroking his own
erection.
"Fuck!" Seishiro managed to stop right at the edge. He pulled out, ripped off
the condom and came all over his pick up's erection and belly. His pick up
screwed up his eyes and shuddered as he came a split second later with a deep,
hard moan. Seishiro sat back on his heels, watching through his haze of
satisfaction, taking in all that he'd done.
Yes. This he understood. This he'd do again. This he'd seek out. His pick up
swallowed, then slowly pressed himself to a sitting position. "Fuck," he said,
softly, green eyes glazed. Seishiro's lip curled as they looked at each other.
"Do you want a cigarette?"
===============================================================================
Seishiro let go of his legs and lay his back against the tub, stretching out as
best he could. He'd stayed the night in the hotel room with that pick up, which
he'd never done before, and they'd had sex three more times before falling
asleep next to each other. He stared up at his bathroom ceiling, remembering
saying goodbye the next morning.
"Um, thanks," he said, rather awkwardly.
"Thank you," his pick up replied. "Do you want to meet up here next weekend?
Same time?" Seishiro hesitated, but then smiled knowingly.
"Is that what you want?"
"Yes." Seishiro kissed him.
"So shameful." The phrase was almost affectionate.
===============================================================================
Seishiro rolled over onto his side, finding an almost fetal position in the
tub. He remembered feeling satisfied and strangely light on the train ride back
to school, reliving the night before over and over.
He returned to his dorm and found Fuuma there waiting for him, though they said
nothing to each other. Not that Seishiro would have given him details if he'd
asked, anyway. Although Seishiro had become better at talking to people and
feigning openness, he still kept his guard up at all times, even around Fuuma.
However, over the next few months, he found it was easier to be secretive when
you actually had a secret worth keeping.
He started meeting with that pick up, who he always thought of as his married
man, almost weekly, and those few hours sustained him through his final
semester of college. He had so much schoolwork as well as his work study job,
but he always carved out time. He could vent all of his stress and tension into
their time together, and it was more gratifying than he ever could have
imagined.
"Don't come when you fuck your wife," Seishiro breathed, right in his ear. He
had him bent over the bathroom sink in yet another hotel room, one hand at his
throat, the other around his erection. He pulled out, then thrust deep inside
again. "Come only for me, do you understand?"
"Yes!" Seishiro's lip curled. The commands, threats and humiliation seemed to
fill a need for both of them. Seishiro didn't have feelings for this man,
necessarily, but he liked what he got out of their time together, which he
supposed was the same thing, but- "When is your graduation, Seishiro?" His
married man asked, thoughtfully, as they lay side by side in a hotel room by
Times Square. The bright lights outside the windows illuminated the smooth
lines of the modern furniture and the soft angles of their bodies.
"Next month," Seishiro replied indifferently, taking a drag from his cigarette.
"I'm not walking though, it's a waste of time." His married man laughed and
placed a gentle kiss on his shoulder.
"Do you have time after? Or are you going straight to work?" Seishiro exhaled
smoke, confused.
"I got a job through my work study, but I don't start until the end of June,"
he replied, narrowing his eyes. "Why?" His married man ran his fingertips up
and down Seishiro's chest a few times.
"Do you want to go somewhere together before you get too busy?"
"What?" Seishiro asked, positive he'd misheard. His married man smiled.
"Do you want to go away for a weekend or something, just the two of us?" He
kissed Seishiro's breastbone before he could protest. "Somewhere quiet and
warm." He kissed Seishiro's belly. "Where we don't have to sneak around." He
kissed the top of Seishiro's thigh. "And we can just do this…" He kissed the
base of Seishiro's rapidly forming erection and Seishiro looked down at him
incredulously.
"Are you serious?" His married man looked him in the face.
"Completely." Seishiro grabbed him by the hair and forced his erection into his
mouth.
"I'll think about it."
And so he did, way more than he'd expected to. He'd go back and forth, one
second thinking it was a crazy, ridiculous idea, then the next planning all the
things he'd like to do to his married man once they didn't have to be quiet.
Seishiro had never travelled anywhere, but was this the way to do it? Weren't
they crossing some line? Would it even happen at all? Or was this just an empty
promise? However, his married man seemed weirdly sincere; his eyes would shine,
green and hopeful, whenever he'd bring it up. "We could go upstate, or to South
Jersey, I've got a house there. It isn't much, but once you get your passport
I'll take you to the Caribbean or something…" Seishiro flushed in spite of
himself. He couldn't help but find the words seductive. Finally, after weeks of
talking, he agreed.
"Let's go." His married man smiled a disconcertingly genuine smile and kissed
him on the lips.
A week later, Seishiro was cleaning out his dorm room, packing everything into
his suitcase for the last time. "I'm going to miss you, Seishiro," Fuuma said,
lying in bed and watching him. He wouldn't move out until the following week.
Seishiro rolled his eyes.
"I'm sure you'll keep busy." Fuuma laughed, heaved himself out of bed and came
to stand in front of him.
"Obviously, but still." They looked at each other.
"You're going travelling, right?" Seishiro asked, closing his suitcase and
zipping it up.
"Yeah, doing some field research," Fuuma replied, his lip curling. Seishiro
looked up at him and felt his power, his pull. He thought about asking for
details, but resisted. "What about you, going straight to work?" Seishiro
nodded.
"I'm going on a trip first, though," he said, without meaning to. Fuuma looked
rather impressed.
"He's a lucky guy." Seishiro's heart sped up sharply, but he ignored it along
with the comment. He did one last check around to make sure he wasn't leaving
anything, then faced Fuuma again.
"I'm uh, I'm gonna go." He held out his hand. Fuuma looked down at it,
apparently amused, then stared Seishiro hard in the face. Seishiro felt a surge
of Fuuma's power as he leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. He stiffened,
feeling a slight head rush, but Fuuma pulled away almost at once.
"Take care, Seishiro."
===============================================================================
Seishiro rolled over onto his other side, listening to the water lapping
against the sides of the tub. In retrospect, it was rather sad that they hadn't
stayed in touch. Fuuma hadn't really been a friend, but he had been a steady,
reassuring presence in Seishiro's otherwise incredibly chaotic life. He was
always so present and had a way of making you feel like you weren't carrying
everything alone, even if you never told him what "everything" was. Maybe they
really could have…
Seishiro curled into a tighter ball, staring at the smooth porcelain side of
the tub. He wondered, not for the first time, if they had stayed in contact,
would he have reached out to Setsuka after everything that had happened? His
stomach clenched. What had he been thinking?
Seishiro and his married man had actually taken their trip together. They'd
rented a car and driven out to his beach house in South Jersey. Though Seishiro
had tried to remain composed, he stared eagerly out the window the entire drive
down. New York City was all he'd ever known, and the new, totally different
views amazed him. He watched the skyscrapers and George Washington Bridge
change to real, tree lined highways, then narrow, beachy streets. "So this is
what the rest of the country looks like?" Seishiro asked, genuinely astonished.
His married man laughed and took his hand.
After about three hours, they pulled into the driveway of an old fashioned
house on the edge of the ocean. Seishiro got out of the car at once and stared
around with wide eyes. It was much colder here than in the city, but the sun
shown brightly overhead in the blue, cloudless sky. He inhaled deeply, smelling
and hearing the ocean for the first time. His married man came to stand beside
him and placed his hand on his lower back. "Thank you for bringing me here,"
Seishiro said, very seriously, then felt his stomach contract. However, his
married man kissed him on the cheek, looking pleased.
"Come on, I'll show you around." Seishiro followed him into the house and
looked around with great interest. It was decorated with old fashioned, but
very expensive, furniture, and there were photographs and personal effects
everywhere. It looked so lived in, even though his married man said no one had
been here since the previous summer. It was especially strange because they
usually met in hotels, neutral places, but this was so obviously full of his
married man and his family it was almost intimidating. Seishiro felt like a
ghost, haunting a life that was beyond him.
Setsuka's apartment never had any of this homey clutter around, even when
Seishiro was a kid. He wondered, very suddenly, if there had been any
photographs of him, what Setsuka had done with them. Probably thrown them away,
so they, like the very person he'd been, would vanish. His heart pounded as he
noticed one photo in particular, of who must be his married man's son, grinning
up at the camera. Seishiro felt his stomach lurch. He was keeping this man from
his family by doing this. He was intruding… But no! Seishiro hadn't instigated
this or asked for more.
His married man called out to him before he could debate if that made it worse
or not.
===============================================================================
Seishiro watched his hand floating like that of a corpse in the bathwater in
front of him and sighed heavily. That weekend had been another brief blip of
happiness that would of course dissolve just like that others. He remembered it
as a blur of sea air, amazing sex and starlight.
However, he had one distinct memory of walking down to the ocean with his
married man, the sand strange under his bare feet. He gasped and shivered
slightly as he watched the waves crashing powerfully. He'd never learned to
swim, but he rolled up his pants legs and stepped into the shallows, crying out
at how cold the water was. However, he smiled as the waves rushed up over his
feet. He kicked out, splashing and sending water flying. The tiny droplets
caught the light, and Seishiro's smile widened. He then stood still, up to his
ankles in the water and staring out at the horizon. He liked the way the waves
seemed to suck his feet down into the sand as they receded. He imagined letting
the ocean just sweep him away, out towards the horizon, wherever it chose…
He started when he felt his married man's hand on his shoulder, but turned to
look at him. He had a strange expression on his face. It was a smile, but there
was something more, and the green of his eyes sparkled in the sunlight.
===============================================================================
Seishiro rolled over onto his back, then onto his other side. He could still
feel the salt sticky on his skin, the sea breeze in his hair and nose. He
hadn't been to the beach in years. Maybe once Subaru came back they could go,
when it was warm enough, if he behaved himself. Seishiro wondered if his
married man still had that house, if he still remembered the weekend they'd
spent there together, or if he even thought about him at all.
They'd driven back to the city on Sunday afternoon, holding hands the entire
time and looking at each other more often than was necessary. They'd parked
outside Seishiro's building on 104th Street and kissed across the front seat of
the car for a good fifteen minutes before Seishiro was able to disentangle
himself. He went back upstairs with a promise to meet up the following week.
His heart throbbed as he entered his new apartment, a tiny studio with only a
mattress on the floor for furniture. He lay down on it, staring up and out his
window.
Happy memories swirled around inside Seishiro's head for the rest of the week,
up until he met his married man again. He entered that same Times Square hotel
and took an elevator full of green light upstairs, his heart pounding as he
knocked on the door. His married man let him in and kissed him hello, and
immediately he knew something was wrong. His married man shut the door and
looked at Seishiro, an intense pain in his green eyes. They stared at each
other, and Seishiro's stomach began to twist uncomfortably. "I, um-"
"What?" Seishiro asked, rather more aggressively than he'd intended. His
married man winced.
"I, I can't keep doing this." The words hung in the air between them.
"Excuse me?" Seishiro asked, though he'd heard correctly the first time. His
married man closed his eyes for a moment.
"My wife is getting suspicious, I, I need to take a break." Seishiro's chest
constricted painfully around his throbbing heart and his mind seemed to have
gone temporarily blank.
"Oh…" He said, slowly, because he had no idea what else to say.
"Do, I mean, do you mind just… I'll be in touch when things have calmed down."
Something about that sentence clicked into place for Seishiro, reached him
through his blank disbelief. He stared at his married man with raised eyebrows
and a cold expression.
"So what, I'm just supposed to wait by the phone?" He asked. His voice was
even, though his married man's eyes widened in what might have been fear.
"I-"
"Put all of my shit on hold just in case you want me to come over and fuck
you?" Anger blazed suddenly inside Seishiro, though his voice remained
composed. He wouldn't lash out. He wouldn't lose control.
"That's not what I said!" His married man cried, flushing.
"Oh?" Seishiro said, his voice vicious. "Because that's what the fuck I heard.
My wife might find out I like taking dick up my ass, gotta keep that a secret!"
"What do you want me to do, Seishiro?!" He demanded, taking a step forward. "I
don't want to end this, but it is what it is, okay?! I thought you understood
that! It's not my fault you want more!" Seishiro balled his hands into fists,
but he refused to raise his voice.
"No, don't fucking put this on me! I always knew you were fucking weak!"
"Don't you-"
"No, fuck you!" Seishiro snapped. "I don't ever want to see you again! Have a
nice fucking life!"
"Seishiro, wait!"
But Seishiro turned right around and left the hotel room, slamming the door
behind him. Anger coursed through his body like hot, caustic poison. He stormed
back to the elevator and jabbed the down button with his finger. How dare this
man try to use him this way?! After spending all those nights together and
taking that trip, he'd just leave Seishiro to wait for him? Please! This was
just sex, there weren't feelings! Besides, Seishiro wouldn't wait for anyone,
what he gave was far too good, what he got from that man wasn't-
The elevator chimed its arrival and Seishiro stepped into it. The doors closed,
plunging him into purple semi-darkness. His heart was still pounding and he was
digging his fingernails into his palms, but he closed his eyes and breathed
deeply, trying valiantly to calm down. However, as he stepped out onto a dirty,
steamy 46th Street, Seishiro paused, feeling like his heart was trying to rip
his torso open with every beat. He clutched his chest, feeling suddenly dizzy,
and leaned against the side of the building to steady himself. He gasped, his
vision blurry, and for a moment he thought he might pass out, but then he
blinked, and the tears slid down his face.
Disgust rose sickeningly up his throat and he wiped his eyes impatiently,
hating himself and his married man. He remained where he was for a long time,
the pain in his chest getting worse and a sense of utter hopelessness settling
over him.
Seishiro began to walk, though he had no idea where he was going. All he could
think of was trying to get away from this pain, hopelessness and everything
else he shouldn't have been feeling. He walked for hours in what he assumed was
the direction of his apartment, at last beginning to feel numb, disconnect,
withdraw deep inside the body that just kept moving.
It was only when he passed Sara Delano Roosevelt Park that he seemed to come
back to himself. He blinked and wiped his eyes impatiently. He was in his old
neighborhood, where he'd grown up, by his mother's house. His heart throbbed
painfully and his eyes burned. How had he ended up back here? He didn't want to
be back here. He'd gotten out! No good would come of him being here!
He shuddered and saw, for the first time in years, his mother's face, clearly
in his minds eye, pleading with him to stay. He had rejected her and left, just
like countless men before him, and she'd deserved it, and she'd understand…
Nausea and longing clenched Seishiro's insides and he felt suddenly exhausted,
more than ready to do the thing he swore he'd never do. It wasn't like he had
anyone else, now…
Seishiro's body made the decision for him: his feet began to carry him further
and further southeast. The neighborhood was much nicer than it had been all
those years ago. There were luxurious looking restaurants and expensive
boutique shops on his old streets. Could Setsuka even still afford to live
here?
Seishiro arrived outside his old building on Clinton Street and stared at the
door, remembering so much, yet feeling totally numb to it. He dug his keys out
of his pocket and tried the one that used to open this door. It still worked.
Seishiro stepped inside and peered around cautiously. The hallway had been
painted, and the light was no longer flickering. His eyes fell upon the
mailboxes and he hurried over, his mouth dry as he looked for 3F. "Sakurazuka."
He wanted to cry out in relief. He sprinted up the stairs and found himself
outside the door he thought he'd locked forever. He paused, terrified of what
he might find, then unlocked the door and stepped inside.
"AH! WHO THE FUCK-"
"Relax! Setsuka, it's me!"
"What?!" Seishiro shut the door and walked into the kitchen to stand under the
only light that was on. "S-seishiro?!" He nodded. Setsuka was standing beside
the dining table with her hand at her chest, looking just as he remembered even
through her shock. "Oh my god… Where have you been?!" Her voice was lower and
raspier now. She moved to stand in front of him, her hands over her mouth.
"I," he began, but he had no idea what to say.
"I was so worried, what the fuck is wrong with you?! You could have called, at
least!" The words, the tone, it was so familiar, so comforting.
"I'm fucked up, Mother," he told her, softly. "I'm so fucked up…"
"Stop crying!" Was he crying? When had that happened? "Stop crying!" She
snapped again, though she was crying way harder than he was. She threw her arms
around his neck and pulled him close, her chest heaving with the force of her
sobs. Seishiro stiffened in her arms, but didn't try to push her away. "Stop
crying…" She breathed. "Stop crying. I love you, I love you more than anyone
else in the world…"
Chapter End Notes
     Goodness that was exhausting. Fuuma, though... What do you guys
     think?
     I think of reviews when I summon my kekkai, leave me some!
***** 05 *****
Chapter Notes
     Happy Thursday, everybody!
     We're already at the last chapter, can you believe it?! Honestly I'm
     not sure I can. It still all feels rather surreal to me and I have
     way too many emotions and thoughts about it to peel separate ones
     apart, you feel me?
     I will say, I am thrilled to have this finally done and posted and
     off my chest. As proud as I am of this story and what I've
     accomplished, I am absolutely exhausted. As I said in the beginning,
     this story challenged me in many ways, but it also helped me grow and
     learn a lot, as a writer and as a person. It's been a sprint and it's
     been an odyssey, and I can't wait to take some time off!
     More importantly though, a huge thank you to every single person
     who's read this story. Whether you loved it or hated it, left me
     feedback or not, if you read even one sentence, thank you SO so much.
     This story wouldn't be what it is without you.
     Anything else? No? I don't think so!
     Enjoy the final chapter!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Seishiro hugged his knees into his chest, his guts twisting sickeningly. Why
had he gone back there? What did he think was going to happen? What had he been
looking for?
He rolled over onto his back, breathing deeply through his nose and swallowing
a sudden wave of nausea. He pressed his fingers to his lips and realized how
cold they were. He stared at his hand, pale and shriveled from the bathwater,
then stretched his arm up over his head. The air was so much warmer… How long
had he been lying here?
Seishiro sat up straight, reached for the switch under the faucet and flipped
it. The tub began to empty, and Seishiro wrapped his arms around himself,
staring blankly at the tiny cyclone above the drain.
He remembered waking up in his old bedroom and sitting bolt upright, heart
racing and breath shallow. He looked wildly around, sure he was having a
nightmare, but then the previous night came back to him in sharp, disjointed
images and sensations. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying
to block it out even as prickles of shame and disgust crawled sickeningly down
his back. He took a deep breath in and sighed it out, trying to stay focused,
letting his hands fall back into his lap.
'Glasses…' He squinted about, found them on the bedside table and put them on,
bringing everything into focus. He stared across the room at his doorway, where
Setsuka was slumped in a kitchen chair she'd dragged in here, fast asleep. Had
she really spent the night that way? Seishiro found it both disgusting and
strangely comforting. "Setsuka." She stirred at once, looking around
confusedly, but her expression softened when she focused on Seishiro. In the
gentle morning light, he realized how much older she'd gotten.
"Did you sleep well?" She asked, eagerly, her voice gummy from tar and sleep.
"I suppose so." She smiled.
"I sat up here all night to make sure you were okay," she informed him.
Seishiro just nodded. "Do you want breakfast?" He shook his head. "Coffee?" Her
expression was almost pleading. He sighed softly.
"Sure." She smiled, crossed the room and hugged him.
"I knew you'd come back to me," she breathed, before letting him go and heading
into the kitchen. Seishiro ran his fingers through his hair, feeling sick, then
got to his feet and followed her.
Everything was exactly as he'd left it, though perhaps dirtier, less lived in.
He sat down at the dining table while Setsuka moved about, reaching for the
kettle and sending cockroaches scurrying as she shifted a stack of papers on
the counter. Seishiro sighed and noticed her pack of cigarettes on the table.
He took one without asking, and the room became full of the smell of smoke and
instant coffee. "You're smoking now?" Setsuka asked, setting a mug down in
front of him. He put out the cigarette in the ashtray on the table as he'd
watched her do for years and picked up the mug in both hands. "It's not good
for you, you know," she continued, reaching for the cigarette pack and lighting
one herself. "So," she said, slowly, turning to stare intently at Seishiro.
"Are you going to tell me what you've been up to?" Her tone wasn't as
accusatory as it might have been. Seishiro sipped coffee and shuddered.
"I can if you want." She raised her eyebrows, clearly expectant, and Seishiro
sighed. "I graduated."
"Congratulations!"
"Thank you." He sipped more coffee.
"I told everyone at work that you went to Columbia for school, but they'd ask
what you studied and I didn't know…" Seishiro noted the self-pity in her voice
and felt his stomach contract.
"I studied financial engineering," he said, simply. He could tell she didn't
understand, but was impressed anyway.
"You always liked math," she said, conclusively. Seishiro's hands tightened
around his mug. How could she speak to him this way? As though she knew him
well when they'd had no contact in four years? As though she had ever known him
at all? They fell into silence, and anger began to simmer inside Seishiro. He
should leave. He should definitely leave. "I've been so lonely," Setsuka said,
reaching out and squeezing Seishiro's wrist with her cold, bony hand. Seishiro
screwed up his eyes and felt a wave of revulsion all the way up his arm. "I've
missed you!" Seishiro opened his eyes to find Setsuka's full of tears, and the
anger inside him simmered a little faster. "Why didn't you call?! You could
have been killed last year, for all I knew!" Her hand shook slightly around
Seishiro's wrist. "Why did you leave?!" She demanded, and the tears poured down
her face.
Seishiro stared at her, impassive and silent, and through his anger and disgust
knew a moment of clarity. He'd never come back here again: this would be his
one chance to say everything. He pulled his arm out of her grip and inhaled
slowly through his nose. "Why did I leave?" He asked, his tone casual, though
Setsuka flinched at the bitterness just beneath. "I left because my entire life
in this house was hell." Setsuka's eyes widened.
"What?" She sounded utterly confused, which ignited the anger inside Seishiro.
"You fucking know!" He cried, his voice rising alarmingly. "You never even
wanted me in the first place, you just kept me around to get back at my father
like what the fuck-"
"How dare you!" Setsuka cried, her face white and horrified through her tears.
"And then you bring all those guys around for 'my' sake, like I asked for that!
Why couldn't you just be happy with me?! Why wasn't I enough?!"
"STOP! WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO-" But the pustule of resentment and hatred
inside Seishiro was suppurating the bitter feelings everywhere and he could do
nothing to stop it.
"Like I fucking asked for one of your boyfriends to try and strangle me! Or to
lose my virginity to another-"
"WHAT?!" Seishiro's lip curled and he stood up, slamming his palms onto the
table and leaning over Setsuka, who stared back with terrified eyes.
"Oh yeah," Seishiro said, his tone low and furious. "The one I caught fingering
you? He'd fuck me and then go sleep next to you, how do I taste, Mother?"
"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" Setsuka screamed. "HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT? HOW
CAN YOU TREAT ME THIS WAY?!" Seishiro felt his anger begin to ebb and cold,
bitter disgust begin to flow. Setsuka would never take responsibility for what
she had done. She would never acknowledge his pain, or perhaps she wasn't even
aware of it.
They glared at each other a moment longer before Seishiro straightened up and
dug into his pocket for his key ring. Setsuka inhaled sharply as he removed the
keys needed to get into this apartment. "Really?!" She demanded, furiously.
"Yes, really!" Seishiro threw the keys down, and they hit the table with a
loud, metallic smack and skittered away rather sadly. Setsuka's eyes followed
them, then snapped back to Seishiro's face. She looked disgusted. "Fuck you!"
Seishiro told her, his voice shaking. "I hope the next time I see you it's when
I have to identify your fucking body!"
"SEISHIRO!" But he turned, stormed out of the apartment and slammed the door
behind him, molten, caustic anger coursing through him.
===============================================================================
The bathwater had completely drained away, but Seishiro remained still a moment
longer, his arms around his knees. At least that had been the last time he'd
seen Setsuka. His whole life she had been like a parasite; sucking away at him,
demanding everything but remaining convinced she gave everything to everyone
else. He couldn't believe he'd ever thought she was worth protecting.
Seishiro gripped the sides of the tub and heaved himself into a standing
position, then reached for a towel. The dry scratchy texture was strange
against his cold, waterlogged skin as he dried himself off. He was dimly aware
he was shivering as he stepped out of the tub, reached for his glasses and put
them on. His bathroom came back into focus, though everything still seemed
hazy. Everything was always hazy those few times he thought about Setsuka,
about all the catastrophically bad decisions she'd made and all the fall out
that was his responsibility afterwards.
His own birth, of course, was the most obvious example.
Seishiro returned to his bedroom, which was completely dark now. Was it really
that late? He strode into his living room to retrieve his cellphone from the
coffee table. Yes, it was late, and there were no missed calls or texts. None
yet, anyway. How long would it take Subaru to return to him? A few days? A few
weeks? It didn't matter. Seishiro would wait, welcome him back and then punish
him for all the trouble he'd caused.
Seishiro picked up his cigarettes and returned to his bedroom. He should try
and get some sleep so he'd be able to function at work tomorrow. He threw his
cigarettes and cellphone onto his bed, hung his towel on the back of the
bathroom door and got into his nightclothes. He turned on his bedside table
light, plugged in his cellphone and lit a cigarette before getting into bed,
just as he always did. Then Subaru would climb up beside him, on his phone or
reading.
The sheets felt icy as Seishiro exhaled smoke, and his eyes strayed
irresistibly to the empty space beside him. He found himself wishing Subaru was
there again, then wondering where he was, what he was doing. Rather spitefully,
he thought again of him and Kamui, trying to fuck and being unfulfilled.
Seishiro took a deep pull on his cigarette. It would never work between them;
he knew that for a fact. He knew Subaru so well. Subaru would come back to him.
He remembered, suddenly, the night they met, when he'd ventured out of his
Tokyo hotel room to go see Madame Butterfly, after finding out it was playing
from the hotel staff. He made his way to the New National Theater and took his
seat in the dress circle, the best he could get, and looked around with polite
interest. He wondered vaguely how this production would differ from those he'd
seen in New York and in Europe the other times he'd travelled for work.
A young man and woman, siblings, by the look of them, sat down next to him. The
young man was looking around eagerly, bright green eyes shining in excitement.
He turned, and caught Seishiro's eye. Seishiro smiled, noticing just how
beautiful his face was. "First time here?" He asked. The young man blushed, and
Seishiro was immediately intrigued. He hadn't planned on this, but…
"Um, yes."
"I just saw this production in New York, I thought it'd be interesting to
compare." That wasn't true. The last time he'd seen this was a good three years
ago, but the young man nodded eagerly, which was exactly the effect he'd
wanted. "I'm Seishiro Sakurazuka."
"Subaru Sumeragi, very nice to meet you!" They shook hands.
"And I'm Subaru's sister, Hokuto!" The young woman interjected, reaching across
Subaru to shake Seishiro's hand too. He knew instinctively that they were
close, that getting Subaru away from her would be difficult, though essential.
The first act began, and Seishiro watched the American soldier seduce
Butterfly. She fell for his words so easily, and he wondered if Subaru would be
this pliable. It certainly seemed so, but he'd probably need more time with him
to find out. Before Seishiro even realized what had happened, the first act was
over and everyone was applauding.
"That American soldier's a punk!" Hokuto said, emphatically. Seishiro rolled
his eyes behind Subaru's back.
"Really?" Subaru asked, and Seishiro listened with rapt attention.
"Obviously! He wasn't in love with her, he was just using her!" Yes, Hokuto was
inconveniently sharp.
"Do you think so? That seems unfair," Seishiro said, his tone light, and Subaru
turned and gave him a hesitant smile.
"Unfair or not, it's true," Hokuto said, dismissively, and Subaru and Seishiro
laughed.
"Can I buy you a drink before the second act starts?" Seishiro asked Subaru
before either he or his sister could say anything. Subaru looked at Hokuto. She
raised her eyebrows at Seishiro, but nodded. Seishiro led Subaru to the bar in
the lobby, then bought both of them drinks. "Cheers," Seishiro said, smiling at
how pleased Subaru looked. "So, Subaru Sumeragi," he said, slowly, his lip
curling. "What do you do?"
"Nothing," Subaru said at once, apparently without thinking, before taking a
hasty sip of his drink. He really was beautiful… Seishiro played soft and
encouraging the rest of intermission and Subaru began to open up. He never
asked Seishiro anything about himself, though he was clearly curious. Yes,
Seishiro definitely wanted him, but it would take time. They finished their
drinks and returned to their seats for the second act.
When it was all over, Seishiro, Subaru and Hokuto left together, and she
actually gave them some privacy to say goodbye.
"Can I see you again?"
"Yes!"
They exchanged numbers and met up the very next night for dinner. Once again,
Seishiro played quiet, supportive and curious, and Subaru became more and more
giving and forthcoming under the influence of fine food, alcohol and kind
words. "Do you want to come back to my hotel room?" Seishiro asked as he handed
their server his credit card. Subaru's eyes widened for a moment, but he
nodded, blushing.
Seishiro had debated just going for it then, but as he looked at Subaru,
perched on the end of the bed, twisting his hands in his lap and blushing in
the soft light, he knew it'd be way more satisfying if he waited just one more
night. Instead, he sat down beside him and they talked quietly for another hour
or so.
"It's late," Seishiro said, softly. "You should get home or your sister will
worry." Subaru nodded, looking both disappointed and relieved. However, before
he could stand up, Seishiro tenderly cupped the side of his face and pulled him
into a kiss. Subaru let out a soft cry and kissed him back, simultaneously
hesitant and desirous. It felt good; Subaru was special. "I leave for New York
the day after tomorrow," Seishiro breathed against his lips when they broke
apart. "Come see me one more time."
"Yes!" Subaru cried out, quietly desperate.
===============================================================================
Seishiro put out his cigarette and reclined against his pillows. The memories
of the following night flooded him, shocking and visceral, and yet again he
wondered if he would throw up.
He spent the day in his job's Tokyo office, finishing all the work he had to do
and making plans for his next visit. However, his mind kept straying to what
was to come, to seeing Subaru again. For the first time in a long time, he felt
curious and excited. What would Subaru be like? What all would they do? He
returned to his hotel room and lay in bed, smoking and waiting, his heart
pounding.
At last, he heard the knock on the door and jumped up to open it. Subaru stood
on the threshold, looking both nervous and needy. "Come in." Subaru stepped
inside and Seishiro shut the door.
Immediately he pressed Subaru up against the wall and kissed him fiercely. They
broke apart for a split second, then went back for more. Subaru wrapped his
arms tight around Seishiro and groaned hard into his mouth, but they broke
apart again quickly. Seishiro stared into Subaru's face, so wanting, so eager,
so pliable. "Put your arms above your head," he breathed, and Subaru obeyed at
once. "Spread your legs." He did that immediately too, and Seishiro was loving
it. He held Subaru's wrists together above his head with one hand and undid his
pants with the other. Subaru cried out as Seishiro took hold of his erection,
he was already so hard… "You want me, don't you?" Seishiro breathed, right in
his ear, and Subaru moaned softly, thrusting his hips into his hand.
"Yes!"
"You want me to fuck you?" Subaru went very red and let out another soft cry.
Seishiro's lip curled. He'd usually make him answer, but his painfully obvious
desire for him was enough, at least for now. "Undress and get into bed," he
said, withdrawing and taking his hands away. Subaru obeyed, his blush flooding
his neck and chest, and Seishiro's eyes roved over him hungrily. "God you're
beautiful," he said, getting undressed as Subaru lay down on his back, naked,
exposed and ready.
Seishiro grabbed the lube he'd bought at the drug store the night before and
squeezed it over Subaru's erection. He cried out softly and shifted his hips
back and forth as it slid down and over his lower belly and between his legs.
"God you're beautiful," Seishiro said again, running his first two fingers
through the stream of lube before shoving them inside.
Subaru clapped his hand to his mouth and thrust his hips forward, his toes
curling. Seishiro used his free hand to seize Subaru's and hold it above his
head. "No," he hissed. "I want to hear you scream for me, Subaru…" He moved his
fingers inside him in just the right way and Subaru moaned hard, struggling
half-heartedly against the restraint. Seishiro's lip curled as he removed his
fingers, leaving Subaru gasping and shivering. He then reached for a condom,
slid it on and got into position. "You want it?" He whispered, rubbing his
erection in the pool of lube and pressing it teasingly up against Subaru, who
moaned softly, but opened his eyes and stared Seishiro hard in the face.
"Take me," he said, very seriously, and it was probably the hottest thing
Seishiro had ever heard.
'Yes, you're mine!' He thought, thrusting inside.
It didn't last long, but Seishiro didn't care, it all felt way too good. He
thrust hard and deep into Subaru, over and over again, the friction and
pressure, his moans, his skin… "Fuck!" Seishiro cried in a choked voice,
finishing deep inside him. Subaru moaned appreciatively and tightened his legs
around his waist. Seishiro allowed himself a moment to recover, then swallowed
and reached between them to take hold of Subaru's erection. He wanted to make
him come, watch it, feel it and hear it. Subaru cried out and threw his head
back as Seishiro got him off with his hand, watching him writhe and shiver and
cry out with profound satisfaction.
Seishiro pulled out with a heavy sigh and peeled off the condom. He lay down
beside Subaru, who took his hand, still gasping and shivering. They stayed that
way for a long time, gently aware of each other, their heavy breathing the only
sound breaking their satisfied silence. "Seishiro?" Subaru asked softly.
Seishiro turned to look at him.
"Yes?" Subaru bit his lip, then kissed Seishiro tenderly on the lips and
squeezed his hand.
"Can, can we go again?"
===============================================================================
Seishiro lit another cigarette, waiting for the memories to drain out of his
mind and for the erection they'd given him to go away. He exhaled smoke and
looked over at the space in bed next to him, though obviously Subaru wasn't
there.
He felt a strange gnawing in his chest and pressed his hand against his
breastbone. Subaru had called him the best sex of his life, so many of his
firsts. They both knew everything Seishiro had done for him. No wonder Subaru
had been so desperate to follow him back to New York, but then…
However, before any bitter or resentful feelings could arise, Seishiro wondered
for the first time what all he'd gotten from their time together. Seishiro
never expected anything from anyone, although, if relationships were just about
what you got from the other person, what did he get from Subaru? What made him
stick around despite the distance, the inconvenience and his interfering
sister?
Seishiro took another drag from his cigarette. The sexual gratification was
obvious, but there was more. He supposed he liked having Subaru around when he
was behaving himself. He made Seishiro look good, so young and beautiful on his
arm. He was also attentive, always listening and ready to do whatever Seishiro
wanted. However, it went beyond even that.
Subaru always wanted to do things for Seishiro, to devote himself to him while
asking for nothing in return. He… He always wanted Seishiro. Even when someone
had come between them, usually Hokuto, Subaru would put him first. Was this
because Subaru actually saw him for himself, rather than just how he related to
him? Even before Subaru had called him "my boyfriend," he was devoted. Devoted
to Seishiro, independently of the title, regardless of his strangeness and
inescapable otherness. Seishiro was enough.
The gnawing in Seishiro's chest was painful now. He kept breathing deeply,
wishing it would go away. He took a final, fierce drag from his cigarette and
exhaled.
Yes, Subaru always put him first, unlike anyone else he'd ever been involved
with. Subaru hadn't been lying when he said he loved him, and Seishiro
realized, with another stabbing pain in his chest, that he hadn't been lying
either. He loved Subaru, because Subaru loved him as no one else had.
He shuddered, wondering yet again if he'd be sick as he put out his cigarette,
took off his glasses and shut off the bedside table light. He lay down in the
darkness, facing the side of the bed where Subaru usually slept, where he'd be
sleeping again once he came back. Even though Subaru had been led astray, he'd
return, because they loved each other, because they were the best people for
each other.
Seishiro closed his eyes and willed himself to fall asleep quickly. He
shuddered, the pain in his chest worse than ever, his stomach twisting and
throat burning. Subaru had better come back. He was the only person who had
ever done these things for Seishiro, and who probably ever would. Subaru was
special, and even if there was another like him, Seishiro already knew he
couldn't be bothered to find him.
Seishiro rolled over, facing away from Subaru's side of the bed and curling
around himself under the blankets as if trying to suffocate the pain and
unpleasant feelings inside him. Subaru would come back. Subaru would come back.
Subaru would come back…
A shiver began at the back of his neck, but as it radiated outwards, the pain
inside him seemed to ease very slightly. He repeated the words to himself over
and over like the lullabies no one ever sang him.
Subaru would come back… Subaru would come back… Subaru would come back…
Eventually, Seishiro was able to drift off to sleep, and he heard the words in
his dreams, spoken softly, warmly, lovingly.
Subaru will come back.
You won't be alone.
You aren't so unlovable.
Chapter End Notes
     Again, thank you all SO much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it even
     though it was painful. Believe me, I'm right there with you. I'll be
     spending some time mourning this fic, but I'll be back with some OC
     in the near future, so please don't forget me too soon!
     I think of reviews when I summon my kekkai, leave me some!
End Notes
     I'll be updating this every Thursday morning, see you next week!
     I think about reviews when I summon my kekkai, leave me some!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!