[ Not close? Seishirou normally lies so perfectly well that Caelus is usually easily swayed by his words. But not for that particular line. There's no way he's believing that one. But he doesn't protest yet, allowing the older man to scold him. He quietly lowers his head.
After all, it's true that he's meddling. He promised himself he wouldn't, but here he is anyway. However, this is the one thing he knows he can't turn away from. If it were an ordinary day, he wouldn't be here.
But something happened, after all. ]
Please, won't you… visit him? He's…
[ "Not that close." That can't be. Caelus still remembers the sincere request from Seishirou, the way he said it…
"… the loneliest person in the world. Please look after him."
There was so much soundless emotion from that request, even if Seishirou maintained his usual calm demeanor at every word. The emotion might've been muted, so silent, but it's ironically one of the loudest Caelus has ever seen from this man. ]
I'm… I'm sure… that he'll recover much better if you go and see him, too!
( Recover. Sickness. No, for all the ongoing disservice of Sumeragi Subaru's woefully crippled immunity, the everyday mundanity of the common cold wouldn't visit a veteran practitioner. There's a certain invulnerability to the chosen one of righteous onmyoudo.
But this isn't the time or the place to discuss the unwarranted privileges of the Sumeragi bloodline with a happenstance tourist who seems increasingly on the verge of a lachrymal eruption. Seishirou's fingers court the counter's line, drum it shallow and cold. He waits. Holds a beat. Waits again.
Then, finally, he produces the best friend of his cigarette pack from his breast pocket, presumably for (un)emotional support. A stick's pulled out. He considers, faintly, whether the resurgence of electricity will damn him before the fire alarms.
Risks it, calling on his lighter. Then, between the all too familiar click and the satisfying swirl of starting smoke from his cigarette, just before the first inhalation: )
I can assure you this isn't the first time in twenty-five years of life that young master Sumeragi has survived grazing his knee and a migraine without a veterinarian on call. ( Or the fundamentals of medical assistance. Really, so much for the benefits of an ascetic lifestyle. ) It will shock you, but he's a grown boy.
This is so strange. Something isn't adding up. Seishirou's wording appears to hint at the fact that he's actually entirely unaware. Are these two possibly so strained to the point of not speaking at all? And it seems no one informed him, either. If so, then this man doesn't realize what happened.
Doesn't know that his most beloved nearly died. Caelus's large eyes widen, tears welling within, but he doesn't shed them. He takes a deep breath to help himself calm, and tries once more. This time, with full context.
The one who will be most shocked today won't be Caelus in the end. ]
But it's not either of those. He went down to fight along with his own group… And he suffered very serious injuries! A newly-arrived doctor fortunately happened to be nearby…
S— still! I… I was so frightened when I felt his pain! I wanted to find him right away, even when I was still fighting, too! But he stopped me. With his little remaining consciousness, he tried to reassure me through our tether… After some time, his condition stabilized thanks to the doctor…
[ He raises his head now, trying to plead with all he can. This isn't the time to turn away, especially not from someone who was that horribly hurt. If he were in Subaru's place, he has no doubt about it at all; he would so dearly wish to see Seishirou. ]
The wan whirlwind of puzzle pieces assembles with clinical precision in a military formation before his mind's eye, blinking sharply wakeful out of lethargy stupor. There is a world in which this creature, this fool of a man, this glass-blown Sumeragi weapon of mass destruction — shatters. Strange, to think the reality of his prey can whisk itself into being without Sakurazuka Seishirou's intimate awareness. A private, vivisecting betrayal. And he deals a blow further, testing the tremors of energy that traverse the age-old, lingering connecting between the Sakurazukamori and his mark's singeing hands.
He should never have to wonder if his target lives; he does. But Caelus is... indisposed to the artifice of such a vast theatrical performance. Incompetent, Seishirou suspects, of delivering it — unless he has miscalculated far more deeply in his assessment of the young man's character. And what would the gain of a lie be? To lure Seishirou, certainly, but to what end? What immediate, concrete advantage?
— Sumeragi Subaru, on the cusp of a death the Sakurazukamori hasn't inflicted. Seishirou remembers it, twice over, intimately: how his eyes round and clear like cuts of gilded peridot, the simmered catch of his breath, the wisping, spidery snatch of his fingertips. Purposeless, powerless. No. Was that him, or the sister — ? He greets disaster beautifully. Death becomes him.
In Seishirou's broad, pale hands, burning alive with the call to have, hold, claim, choke him, to burn with —
...ashes. The slip-slide snow of his cigarette, long halved. He watches it, in silent mortification, the volcanic spread of red irritation where his skin's gone singed for presumably long, pained moments of arrested meditation. Shakes his head.
And at long last, he rasps absently: )
...sit down. ( A nod, to where the waiting reception benches sprawl, half torn and cluttered with the foamy eruption of their synthetic innards. ) You're hysterical. ( No heat, no judgement, no rippling echo chamber. A fever of sentiment he can recognise, diagnose, but not treat. )
He's alive. ( He says it in words divine, with the certainty of a man who can utter truth into being. ) Who was the doctor?
[ When pointed out his current state, Caelus falls quiet and takes a few steps back. He stays there for a while longer, too powered by his adrenaline to actually sit down, but eventually catches himself enough to let that tension go. So, he moves over to do so. He eases right when Seishirou mentions the word "alive."
It's a word of hope for someone like Caelus. Alive. Able to recover. Able to stand back up.
That's what Subaru is going through right now. He might've touched death a little too closely, but death didn't manage to hold onto him. Caelus moves his large eyes to continue observing Seishirou's reactions. Merely seconds ago, he saw him frozen in place, those sharp eyes unreadable, as the lit cigarette burned the man's fingers.
Certainly, despite this man's composure, there is a rising storm within him. ]
Dr. Julian Bashir… I met him before the major fight occurred. He was suffering from malnutrition, so I did what I could to help him…
( Julian. Julian Bashir. A novelty specimen, due further interrogation. Some manner or the other of a professional. Good. Opportune. (Lucky. A lucky stroke.)
His skin feels taut, slack, ill lived. Cold. Unbroken in. As if he has worn it too scantly, and now tries it on too long, and it itches and snags and clings at the corners. As if there is too much alive in himself to fit in the stitches of his human body.
His cigarette's gone too long abandoned. But, waste nothing, want nothing. He inhales in short, perfunctory, efficient drags, less for the typical syrupy leisure of willing his death a stereotypical necrosis — more to automate his drug intake.
It's a wide room, cold. Clinic reception areas always are, to avoid contamination, brawling. Among animals, the comingling of scents. He covers the span in steps long, shallow, barely there. Feline. Then, all at once, he's sinking to Caelus' left, where Seishirou's good left eye can trace along sudden movements. A hunter's instinct can't be helped. These grotesquely squeaky bench cushions should be.
And beside him? A young man, in the end. Some manner of strange, supernatural genius. A bleeding heart. And he supposes, if there was ever a hue, this is the colour of Seishirou's kindness: )
You're infatuated with him, is that it? ( And he laughs, mild and slow. ) Not with Julian Bashir.
( Few and far between, the reasons for such a feverish meltdown. Trauma, perhaps. There is that possibility. But, knowing Sumeragi Subaru's seemingly magnetic personality — ...well. )
[ Infatuated? Is this how that feels? To be perfectly honest, Caelus has no idea about romantic feelings. The way he voices that question is to no one in particular. Not to him, not to Seishirou. He allows the cold air to carry the question into the rest of the breeze around them, left unanswered. ]
I don't know. But what I do know is I don't want to lose anyone… or anything anymore…
[ Closing his eyes, Caelus lowers his head as he thinks about his overall being. As an amnesiac who lost every precious memory he had, he's extremely sensitive about losing anything else. Memories are what define a person, after all. Their experiences, their emotions… Something to look back on and remember who they are. And who they love.
But he's forgotten all of that. He's been doing his best to fill in new memories in place. Even before arriving here, that's what he's been doing. His journeys to meet new faces across so many new planets he's never seen before. Or rather, can't recall due to his past memories lost somewhere among the faraway stars. ]
Back in my universe… I lost too many already…
[ Past memories aside, he's also seen too many friends die right in front of him. This journey of his isn't always a happy one. To continue traveling, he must face the dangers of the universe. Witnessing, feeling all of these saddening trials that await him.
Just like this one now. ]
Subaru is one of the people who accepted me, no matter who or what I am. I don't know what that means for me, but I don't care. All I care about is making sure that he finds happiness.
( And is he? How long has it been, since Seishirou maligned himself with speculation over dissected love affairs? He lacks the natural instinct and the studied repetition to investigate at length. Maybe it's love. Maybe it's habit. Maybe it's simply Caelus' overwhelming, solar radiance. He shrugs and — no hard feelings. You must be special to him. After all, everyone is.
The reception room might as well be an arena, a hazy pit where the beasts of their darker thoughts circle them, lone. There is too much vast, unending space, an excess of antiseptic. Caelus surrenders to melancholy, and the words he speaks — logged now, for study later — are less important than their cadence. A tale of hurt and friendship and loss and disaster. Everyday Tokyo.
Now and then, Seishirou nods along, between drags, less to encourage or call to an end, than simply to mark — he too is alive. Somehow, on borrowed time. So Sumeragi Subaru could have this world he'd rather slip between his fingertips. All I care about is making sure that he finds happiness. )
I don't know if there is a such a thing. It seems to me, happiness is that fleeting moment before you realise now you're stuck with everything you've ever wanted.
( But that's neither here, nor — a moment, to stub his cigarette violently underfoot, charcoal smear across pristine tile — there. )
I'm afraid you've walked a very long way for a short answer. I'm not for house visits today.
[ Slowly, gently, Caelus reopens his eyes and forms another soft smile. The clinic might be a little chilly and a little too silent, but there are clear signs of life here. Here in the reception area, two people… who are still figuring out their standing in life. Alive, together, speaking about what they both believe in. What they possibly feel…
Seishirou's measured movements are comforting. The man is here, right next to him, hearing him out so patiently. Even though the man probably wasn't ready to face Subaru again, he's still willing to sit here and talk about it. Such a small thing, but it means so much. Caelus knows this is something significant, and he'll never take the moment for granted.
This, too, will become a precious new memory for him. Especially hearing such beautiful words.
"… to me, happiness is that fleeting moment before you realise now you're stuck with everything you've ever wanted." ]
Mr. Sakurazuka…
[ That's true, isn't it? Sometimes, when chasing after something, people tend to overlook what they've already had all along. Or what they might've gained as they chase said thing.
Caelus's smile brightens, then reaches over to touch the man's hand. Is this okay to do? Will he let him hold it? ]
No, I don't want to push you if that's what you truly wish to do.
[ That is, if Seishirou thinks he's not ready to speak to Subaru yet, then that's fine. After all, it doesn't have to be immediate. Subaru is alive, just like the two of them are, and another chance will come in the future. Caelus still thinks it might be better for Subaru to see Seishirou as soon as possible, but what's the point if they'll just get hurt and further strained from doing it? It's better to wait if so. At least today, Caelus managed to fill in Seishirou on what happened. ]
But don't keep him waiting too long. You need to remind him too, that he has more than he thinks he has!
( His hand, broad and callused from a sophisticated variety of modern-day arsenals and the friction of surgical utensils and the stripping of heavy-duty chemical antiseptics. His hand, a dam holding the tidal wave of this unhinged little creature and his overflowing affection and his small teeth.
His fingers curl, more for the exercise of comfort, than its instinct. People, he knows, trade physical reassurance without question, without waver. He learns in such heavy, measured increments, thumb crawling up the side of Caelus' hand to perch it.
What was he doing, earlier? There was a life before the seismic reminder of Sumeragi Subaru's flirtations with assisted suicide. A routine. A purpose. There is always a desaturated, tepid life around the violence of the thirteenth head's rapid-fire interventions.
He's slow to speak, uncomplicated. )
...does he? He has a sullen temper, and no taste in clothes or men. He can't cook. He prefers cold showers and comes with an overbearing family. He's uneducated and a consummate workaholic. He leads everyone on.
( A cold, calculate enumeration. Behind the pretty porcelain veneer of Sumeragi Subaru has always been a dysfunctional infant weapon raised in the lap of onymodo luxury. )
If not for the acceptance he gave you, would you even think twice about whether such a person lives or dies?
[ So the man allows it. Caelus feels that single thumb on his palm, and he encloses it gently with two hands of his, like a prayer. He stays like that for a while, staring down, sharing whatever warmth he can manage. He remembers seeing these exact fingers within Subaru's memories. Much larger than Subaru's… much larger than Caelus's, as well, even in this moment.
The memories flash in Caelus's mind once more. This large hand had already let Subaru go once before. To find the answers to what he truly feels for him… The trailblazer can't help but wonder, did Seishirou ever manage to find the answers? How much did he have to sacrifice to reach the answers, if so? And today, has anything changed from knowing them?
While Caelus doesn't know the side of the story coming from this man, he does know Subaru's. Unwavering and unchanged for so long, so deeply in affection, so surrounded by those fleeting sakura petals that he could only watch flutter in the winds. He tries to reach out, but is unable to do so… Caelus can't help but wonder why. These two must love each other so much, so why can't they reach each other?
It's frustrating, coming from a trialblazer who is always so quick to action. Because he doesn't want to regret not taking action at all… If there's a chance to make a decision that he won't regret, he will always take it without hesitation. So he tightens his hold on this hand, lifting it until he can press it against his chest. ]
But that's what makes him Subaru. No matter how many bad sides he may have, he also has so many good sides to him. Isn't that true for you and me as well, Mr. Sakurazuka?
[ Caelus is far from a perfect being. While he has a strong will and is brave, he has his own insecurities hidden within his heart. Seishirou must also acknowledge his own set of weaknesses, even if he doesn't show any of them.
This man must be aware that Subaru loves him, and yet he just insulted Subaru's taste in men. ]
Hehe… besides, together, we can make each other better. How about teaching him how to cook? Cooking together sounds fun, don't you think? And he's been teaching me some English and Japanese, you know. I can hardly talk about someone's lack of education…
( He understands with distinct with awing clarity, that Caelus' good side right now is an unexpectedly and tragically bold clutch of Seishirou's hand, dragged to his chest. He blinks, tugs, tips his head.
In the end, with a sudden lack of finesse — he wrenches his fingers back, gaze owlish and dark as he wriggles them to restore his bloodline's circuitry. Now, now. They can't get too ahead of themselves in this convoluted business of abrupt intimacy.
This, after all, is more Sumeragi Subaru's fare, and he's not that creature. Not a man anyone but green eyes would grieve. )
I don't appreciate this. ( The meddling. The persistence. The abrupt and sudden monopoly Caelus the trailblazer is exerting on his private life. ) The notice, yes. But not the... advocacy? The persuasion? Whatever this is. Whatever you want it to be. I don't appreciate it.
[ Tragic, indeed. Faintly, Caelus tries not to let the small loneliness show, but he did his best. There's no regretting anything. He would rather try than not at all. Because inaction means… having no chances at all. If there's at least the smallest chance to make a good change, then he will always take it. If this is how it will be, then he will have to accept it.
So, he still smiles regardless. ]
You don't have to appreciate it.
[ It's enough that it was said, and… hopefully considered, even for the smallest second. Just like how Seishirou extended his hand to him, even for… just the smallest second. Once the man starts closing himself again, Caelus knows he can't force it further than he already has. So he slowly stands up from his seat and gives one last soft smile.
I just don't want you to regret anything, if you continue to turn away.
Words left unsaid. ]
But I also… really did wish to see you again. [ To see the man with his own eyes, and witness that he is all right. ] I'll visit again soon.
[ With a polite bow of his head, Caelus then dismisses himself as he allows Seishirou the time to breathe and reflect. ]
( ...tidal, isn't he? Like waves, like spumes. Ebb and flow and the strange, dull-bruise ache of Caelus' absence. Later, he will pretend he didn't watch the boy leave, didn't sneak a glance to ascertain whether his shadow will snag on hard tile.
An elegant answer to an inelegant dismissal. The closest to an outburst Seishirou would have permitted himself, at the peak of pseudo-maturity. In his mouth, the aftertaste of stale tobacco, held too long. He wasted a cigarette, the experience, the moment. Wasted sixteen long years on Sumeragi Subaru and this syrupy, careless play.
His head bleats its aches. His fingers drum the bench's rim. Caelus, some despicable form of airy plague's herald, here and gone — disperses.
He opens his mouth to bid him to stop. Doesn't. Waits and waits and waits until the young man's silhouette is a smear, a distant trickle, a dot gone — and blinks, once more wrenched from bone-gripping inertia, when pain screams through his hand's bones, burning.
Crinkling, crackling tears and shards and shatters, where he's punched through the clinic's bench-side window. Blood, red wet, dripping down.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ Not close? Seishirou normally lies so perfectly well that Caelus is usually easily swayed by his words. But not for that particular line. There's no way he's believing that one. But he doesn't protest yet, allowing the older man to scold him. He quietly lowers his head.
After all, it's true that he's meddling. He promised himself he wouldn't, but here he is anyway. However, this is the one thing he knows he can't turn away from. If it were an ordinary day, he wouldn't be here.
But something happened, after all. ]
Please, won't you… visit him? He's…
[ "Not that close." That can't be. Caelus still remembers the sincere request from Seishirou, the way he said it…
"… the loneliest person in the world. Please look after him."
There was so much soundless emotion from that request, even if Seishirou maintained his usual calm demeanor at every word. The emotion might've been muted, so silent, but it's ironically one of the loudest Caelus has ever seen from this man. ]
I'm… I'm sure… that he'll recover much better if you go and see him, too!
no subject
But this isn't the time or the place to discuss the unwarranted privileges of the Sumeragi bloodline with a happenstance tourist who seems increasingly on the verge of a lachrymal eruption. Seishirou's fingers court the counter's line, drum it shallow and cold. He waits. Holds a beat. Waits again.
Then, finally, he produces the best friend of his cigarette pack from his breast pocket, presumably for (un)emotional support. A stick's pulled out. He considers, faintly, whether the resurgence of electricity will damn him before the fire alarms.
Risks it, calling on his lighter. Then, between the all too familiar click and the satisfying swirl of starting smoke from his cigarette, just before the first inhalation: )
I can assure you this isn't the first time in twenty-five years of life that young master Sumeragi has survived grazing his knee and a migraine without a veterinarian on call. ( Or the fundamentals of medical assistance. Really, so much for the benefits of an ascetic lifestyle. ) It will shock you, but he's a grown boy.
no subject
[ Wait a minute…
This is so strange. Something isn't adding up. Seishirou's wording appears to hint at the fact that he's actually entirely unaware. Are these two possibly so strained to the point of not speaking at all? And it seems no one informed him, either. If so, then this man doesn't realize what happened.
Doesn't know that his most beloved nearly died. Caelus's large eyes widen, tears welling within, but he doesn't shed them. He takes a deep breath to help himself calm, and tries once more. This time, with full context.
The one who will be most shocked today won't be Caelus in the end. ]
But it's not either of those. He went down to fight along with his own group… And he suffered very serious injuries! A newly-arrived doctor fortunately happened to be nearby…
S— still! I… I was so frightened when I felt his pain! I wanted to find him right away, even when I was still fighting, too! But he stopped me. With his little remaining consciousness, he tried to reassure me through our tether… After some time, his condition stabilized thanks to the doctor…
[ He raises his head now, trying to plead with all he can. This isn't the time to turn away, especially not from someone who was that horribly hurt. If he were in Subaru's place, he has no doubt about it at all; he would so dearly wish to see Seishirou. ]
Please…! Please don't leave him like this…
no subject
The wan whirlwind of puzzle pieces assembles with clinical precision in a military formation before his mind's eye, blinking sharply wakeful out of lethargy stupor. There is a world in which this creature, this fool of a man, this glass-blown Sumeragi weapon of mass destruction — shatters. Strange, to think the reality of his prey can whisk itself into being without Sakurazuka Seishirou's intimate awareness. A private, vivisecting betrayal. And he deals a blow further, testing the tremors of energy that traverse the age-old, lingering connecting between the Sakurazukamori and his mark's singeing hands.
He should never have to wonder if his target lives; he does. But Caelus is... indisposed to the artifice of such a vast theatrical performance. Incompetent, Seishirou suspects, of delivering it — unless he has miscalculated far more deeply in his assessment of the young man's character. And what would the gain of a lie be? To lure Seishirou, certainly, but to what end? What immediate, concrete advantage?
— Sumeragi Subaru, on the cusp of a death the Sakurazukamori hasn't inflicted. Seishirou remembers it, twice over, intimately: how his eyes round and clear like cuts of gilded peridot, the simmered catch of his breath, the wisping, spidery snatch of his fingertips. Purposeless, powerless. No. Was that him, or the sister — ? He greets disaster beautifully. Death becomes him.
In Seishirou's broad, pale hands, burning alive with the call to have, hold, claim, choke him, to burn with —
...ashes. The slip-slide snow of his cigarette, long halved. He watches it, in silent mortification, the volcanic spread of red irritation where his skin's gone singed for presumably long, pained moments of arrested meditation. Shakes his head.
And at long last, he rasps absently: )
...sit down. ( A nod, to where the waiting reception benches sprawl, half torn and cluttered with the foamy eruption of their synthetic innards. ) You're hysterical. ( No heat, no judgement, no rippling echo chamber. A fever of sentiment he can recognise, diagnose, but not treat. )
He's alive. ( He says it in words divine, with the certainty of a man who can utter truth into being. ) Who was the doctor?
no subject
It's a word of hope for someone like Caelus. Alive. Able to recover. Able to stand back up.
That's what Subaru is going through right now. He might've touched death a little too closely, but death didn't manage to hold onto him. Caelus moves his large eyes to continue observing Seishirou's reactions. Merely seconds ago, he saw him frozen in place, those sharp eyes unreadable, as the lit cigarette burned the man's fingers.
Certainly, despite this man's composure, there is a rising storm within him. ]
Dr. Julian Bashir… I met him before the major fight occurred. He was suffering from malnutrition, so I did what I could to help him…
no subject
His skin feels taut, slack, ill lived. Cold. Unbroken in. As if he has worn it too scantly, and now tries it on too long, and it itches and snags and clings at the corners. As if there is too much alive in himself to fit in the stitches of his human body.
His cigarette's gone too long abandoned. But, waste nothing, want nothing. He inhales in short, perfunctory, efficient drags, less for the typical syrupy leisure of willing his death a stereotypical necrosis — more to automate his drug intake.
It's a wide room, cold. Clinic reception areas always are, to avoid contamination, brawling. Among animals, the comingling of scents. He covers the span in steps long, shallow, barely there. Feline. Then, all at once, he's sinking to Caelus' left, where Seishirou's good left eye can trace along sudden movements. A hunter's instinct can't be helped. These grotesquely squeaky bench cushions should be.
And beside him? A young man, in the end. Some manner of strange, supernatural genius. A bleeding heart. And he supposes, if there was ever a hue, this is the colour of Seishirou's kindness: )
You're infatuated with him, is that it? ( And he laughs, mild and slow. ) Not with Julian Bashir.
( Few and far between, the reasons for such a feverish meltdown. Trauma, perhaps. There is that possibility. But, knowing Sumeragi Subaru's seemingly magnetic personality — ...well. )
no subject
[ Infatuated? Is this how that feels? To be perfectly honest, Caelus has no idea about romantic feelings. The way he voices that question is to no one in particular. Not to him, not to Seishirou. He allows the cold air to carry the question into the rest of the breeze around them, left unanswered. ]
I don't know. But what I do know is I don't want to lose anyone… or anything anymore…
[ Closing his eyes, Caelus lowers his head as he thinks about his overall being. As an amnesiac who lost every precious memory he had, he's extremely sensitive about losing anything else. Memories are what define a person, after all. Their experiences, their emotions… Something to look back on and remember who they are. And who they love.
But he's forgotten all of that. He's been doing his best to fill in new memories in place. Even before arriving here, that's what he's been doing. His journeys to meet new faces across so many new planets he's never seen before. Or rather, can't recall due to his past memories lost somewhere among the faraway stars. ]
Back in my universe… I lost too many already…
[ Past memories aside, he's also seen too many friends die right in front of him. This journey of his isn't always a happy one. To continue traveling, he must face the dangers of the universe. Witnessing, feeling all of these saddening trials that await him.
Just like this one now. ]
Subaru is one of the people who accepted me, no matter who or what I am. I don't know what that means for me, but I don't care. All I care about is making sure that he finds happiness.
no subject
The reception room might as well be an arena, a hazy pit where the beasts of their darker thoughts circle them, lone. There is too much vast, unending space, an excess of antiseptic. Caelus surrenders to melancholy, and the words he speaks — logged now, for study later — are less important than their cadence. A tale of hurt and friendship and loss and disaster. Everyday Tokyo.
Now and then, Seishirou nods along, between drags, less to encourage or call to an end, than simply to mark — he too is alive. Somehow, on borrowed time. So Sumeragi Subaru could have this world he'd rather slip between his fingertips. All I care about is making sure that he finds happiness. )
I don't know if there is a such a thing. It seems to me, happiness is that fleeting moment before you realise now you're stuck with everything you've ever wanted.
( But that's neither here, nor — a moment, to stub his cigarette violently underfoot, charcoal smear across pristine tile — there. )
I'm afraid you've walked a very long way for a short answer. I'm not for house visits today.
no subject
Seishirou's measured movements are comforting. The man is here, right next to him, hearing him out so patiently. Even though the man probably wasn't ready to face Subaru again, he's still willing to sit here and talk about it. Such a small thing, but it means so much. Caelus knows this is something significant, and he'll never take the moment for granted.
This, too, will become a precious new memory for him. Especially hearing such beautiful words.
"… to me, happiness is that fleeting moment before you realise now you're stuck with everything you've ever wanted." ]
Mr. Sakurazuka…
[ That's true, isn't it? Sometimes, when chasing after something, people tend to overlook what they've already had all along. Or what they might've gained as they chase said thing.
Caelus's smile brightens, then reaches over to touch the man's hand. Is this okay to do? Will he let him hold it? ]
No, I don't want to push you if that's what you truly wish to do.
[ That is, if Seishirou thinks he's not ready to speak to Subaru yet, then that's fine. After all, it doesn't have to be immediate. Subaru is alive, just like the two of them are, and another chance will come in the future. Caelus still thinks it might be better for Subaru to see Seishirou as soon as possible, but what's the point if they'll just get hurt and further strained from doing it? It's better to wait if so. At least today, Caelus managed to fill in Seishirou on what happened. ]
But don't keep him waiting too long. You need to remind him too, that he has more than he thinks he has!
no subject
His fingers curl, more for the exercise of comfort, than its instinct. People, he knows, trade physical reassurance without question, without waver. He learns in such heavy, measured increments, thumb crawling up the side of Caelus' hand to perch it.
What was he doing, earlier? There was a life before the seismic reminder of Sumeragi Subaru's flirtations with assisted suicide. A routine. A purpose. There is always a desaturated, tepid life around the violence of the thirteenth head's rapid-fire interventions.
He's slow to speak, uncomplicated. )
...does he? He has a sullen temper, and no taste in clothes or men. He can't cook. He prefers cold showers and comes with an overbearing family. He's uneducated and a consummate workaholic. He leads everyone on.
( A cold, calculate enumeration. Behind the pretty porcelain veneer of Sumeragi Subaru has always been a dysfunctional infant weapon raised in the lap of onymodo luxury. )
If not for the acceptance he gave you, would you even think twice about whether such a person lives or dies?
no subject
The memories flash in Caelus's mind once more. This large hand had already let Subaru go once before. To find the answers to what he truly feels for him… The trailblazer can't help but wonder, did Seishirou ever manage to find the answers? How much did he have to sacrifice to reach the answers, if so? And today, has anything changed from knowing them?
While Caelus doesn't know the side of the story coming from this man, he does know Subaru's. Unwavering and unchanged for so long, so deeply in affection, so surrounded by those fleeting sakura petals that he could only watch flutter in the winds. He tries to reach out, but is unable to do so… Caelus can't help but wonder why. These two must love each other so much, so why can't they reach each other?
It's frustrating, coming from a trialblazer who is always so quick to action. Because he doesn't want to regret not taking action at all… If there's a chance to make a decision that he won't regret, he will always take it without hesitation. So he tightens his hold on this hand, lifting it until he can press it against his chest. ]
But that's what makes him Subaru. No matter how many bad sides he may have, he also has so many good sides to him. Isn't that true for you and me as well, Mr. Sakurazuka?
[ Caelus is far from a perfect being. While he has a strong will and is brave, he has his own insecurities hidden within his heart. Seishirou must also acknowledge his own set of weaknesses, even if he doesn't show any of them.
This man must be aware that Subaru loves him, and yet he just insulted Subaru's taste in men. ]
Hehe… besides, together, we can make each other better. How about teaching him how to cook? Cooking together sounds fun, don't you think? And he's been teaching me some English and Japanese, you know. I can hardly talk about someone's lack of education…
no subject
In the end, with a sudden lack of finesse — he wrenches his fingers back, gaze owlish and dark as he wriggles them to restore his bloodline's circuitry. Now, now. They can't get too ahead of themselves in this convoluted business of abrupt intimacy.
This, after all, is more Sumeragi Subaru's fare, and he's not that creature. Not a man anyone but green eyes would grieve. )
I don't appreciate this. ( The meddling. The persistence. The abrupt and sudden monopoly Caelus the trailblazer is exerting on his private life. ) The notice, yes. But not the... advocacy? The persuasion? Whatever this is. Whatever you want it to be. I don't appreciate it.
no subject
So, he still smiles regardless. ]
You don't have to appreciate it.
[ It's enough that it was said, and… hopefully considered, even for the smallest second. Just like how Seishirou extended his hand to him, even for… just the smallest second. Once the man starts closing himself again, Caelus knows he can't force it further than he already has. So he slowly stands up from his seat and gives one last soft smile.
I just don't want you to regret anything, if you continue to turn away.
Words left unsaid. ]
But I also… really did wish to see you again. [ To see the man with his own eyes, and witness that he is all right. ] I'll visit again soon.
[ With a polite bow of his head, Caelus then dismisses himself as he allows Seishirou the time to breathe and reflect. ]
no subject
An elegant answer to an inelegant dismissal. The closest to an outburst Seishirou would have permitted himself, at the peak of pseudo-maturity. In his mouth, the aftertaste of stale tobacco, held too long. He wasted a cigarette, the experience, the moment. Wasted sixteen long years on Sumeragi Subaru and this syrupy, careless play.
His head bleats its aches. His fingers drum the bench's rim. Caelus, some despicable form of airy plague's herald, here and gone — disperses.
He opens his mouth to bid him to stop. Doesn't. Waits and waits and waits until the young man's silhouette is a smear, a distant trickle, a dot gone — and blinks, once more wrenched from bone-gripping inertia, when pain screams through his hand's bones, burning.
Crinkling, crackling tears and shards and shatters, where he's punched through the clinic's bench-side window. Blood, red wet, dripping down.
Strange.
This entire day, strange. )