title: end of a knife.Somewhere in between Hizumi holding a knife to his throat and a hand groping at his thigh, Kiyotaka laughs. No, not at Hizumi, not at himself (definitely not at himself, but he's sure the humor is appreciated either way), but at the situation itself: the composition alone is somewhat dry but well-thought out and put together, and it's just so, so silly.
summary: ( prompt ) hizumi --> kiyotaka. living with him, crushing on him, attempting to kill him. "Haa, Hizumi-kun, I know it's in the genes, but seriously, just wait until you meet Ayumu...".
pairings: hizumi --> kiyotaka, hizumi/ayumu, implied kiyotaka/yaiba.
warnings: uh, angst, very light violence-that-doesn't-count-as-violence-p
He even has enough in the way of humor to wonder if Yaiba would have been this way, too. But, ah, that's only one, small regret for the big half-peace he obtained in return. (An inane thought: if Yaiba was his Adam, they would have been close.)
Hizumi doesn't have his humor.
He is playing his own tragedy on a harmonica, awaiting the day he will die like a good boy, Kiyotaka thinks. Knows, that is, for a fact. And, Ayumu will kill him indefinitely- he doesn't want to suffer, no one does, but no one can veer off their chosen path. So, he laughs. And laughs, and laughs, until the boy who dared hold a knife to his throat gives him an agitated, but inquiring look, caught between killing someone he cannot kill right now and leaning forward to seal something he cannot seal by himself. Ah, so this is how Yaiba once was.
(Yaiba looked at him with wide eyes, more gold than any daisy Kiyotaka has ever seen, and for just one moment he can feel that tug that tells him he's met his other half.
He did not hesitate to kill him, despite this.)
So, a God who can only destroy opens his mouth (his treacherous, smiling mouth) and says, "Haa, Hizumi-kun, I know it's in the genes, but seriously, just wait until you meet Ayumu..."
Because, for one, Ayumu (in one way or another) belongs with Hizumi. They are two pieces of a dysfunctional puzzle; a black king and a white king interchangeably pawing for one another across the board and heading straight for a cryptic, but meaningful meeting.
The boy in front of him turns up his nose in something that looks deceptively like distaste before removing his presence from in front of Kiyotaka. It's almost -- that's the key word, isn't it -- ironic, in a way: there are obvious parallels, obvious tell-tale signs, and there's even a more obvious end. Hizumi has done this before, of course, but he's always unable to decide whether he wants to seduce Kiyotaka or kill him where his almighty being stands.
He'll be like that with Ayumu, the elder of the two knows. Redundancy aside, this is the twenty-second time that Hizumi had put dangerously sharp objects near his person, and only the fifteenth time he's actually touched him in a way meant to rouse him.
The first time it happens, he understands that it was an accident: a clumsy slip of able hands, and a cut on his left cheek- right under the eye, too. Kiyotaka remembers pouting a furious pout to match the tiny devil's own, before watching Hizumi stick out his tongue at him -- the nerve of that child -- before scurrying off in a hurry to hide his more-than-obvious embarrassment.
That- well, that was a month ago.
Now, as Kiyotaka turns away and takes a wild guess at the time it would take for Hizumi to try again (to kill him: tonight, to make him react how he wants him to: around lunch time tomorrow), he contemplates when he'll send Hizumi away to meet his Eve. After all, if everything is going according to plan, then it shouldn't be too long.
He knows that Hizumi is getting anxious to a fault, so maybe it should be sooner than he originally thought.
In the end, only time would tell.
For now, all Kiyotaka wants is a nice, long bath, and a way to make his cute little brother's other half calm down enough for him to actually get a good night's rest.
However, the moment he walks into the bathroom he is greeted by a slippery bar of soap and realizes that this peaceful sleep is only going to be obtained after he trips on that soap and knocks his tailbone against the sink.
He's sure his yelp is enough to make Hizumi skitter away from the door in poorly masked glee.
"You know, I didn't expect you to clam up on me like that," he says suddenly, gold eyes boring holes into the back of Ayumu's thick skull. "If I knew you were going to react like that, I wouldn't have said anything! I don't want you to hate me, after all."
This doesn't get much of a reaction out of the other, however; the most his other half does is pause in step to look at him over his shoulder. The look on his face clearly paints his incredulity, and it's only when Hizumi bats his eyelashes that Ayumu sighs and indulges him. (Really, why should he care?)
"I'm not clamming up- and, seriously, what about me makes it look like I hate you?"
He has a point. Even so, "Just making sure. You've been quiet since I told you about Kiyotaka."
"How is that proof that I hate you? I don't hate anyone," Ayumu says as he turns away and starts walking again, extending his arms upwards in a stretch to work his sore muscles out. Not surprisingly, he's tired again, but only in a little bit of pain this time.
Raising an eyebrow, the other boy trots closer instead of trailing a little ways behind and set a hand on Ayumu's shoulder. The raised arms fall and Hizumi smiles when Ayumu lets him touch him; it's something that happens more and more lately. Knowing that all is forgiven his spirits raise and he squeezes the shoulder he's holding.
Still, he can't help but wonder if Eve is holding any hard feelings. Despite being quick to forgive and (mostly) forget, he knows that some things stick.
It's easy to tell how Ayumu feels about his older brother; his shoulder seize and tense, and his eyebrows draw together. He becomes a brooding mess of self-deprecation and has a nearly unapproachable aura about him if he's left alone to his thoughts long enough. Granted, he has gotten better at controlling those things lately whenever Kiyotaka is mentioned -- at least, he doesn't look like he's staring despair in the face anymore. These days, he's more mellow and noticeably calm when his brother is brought up.
Hizumi is reluctant to admit that he's a little happy about that. The sooner Ayumu gets over Kiyotaka's overbearing existence and his issues with him, the better it'll be for him when he learns the truth. After all, Hizumi reckons that it's hard to hate someone who is you.
"Not even Yaiba?" Is his question when he finally finds his voice and the courage to ask it. (He and Kanon are both cowards in a way.)
Ayumu doesn't pause this time; he closes his eyes and smiles as they reach home. He feels Hizumi drop his hand from his shoulder and actually lets out a small chuckle when Hizumi opens the door for him.
For a moment, all Ayumu can think is, No, I don't hate Yaiba Mizushiro. That devil of a man gave the world the Blade Children, but gave Ayumu individuals that he considers important to him on one level or another.
Honestly, he doesn't think that he can. Sure enough, he knows better than to pity him passed the lump in his throat, but on some level he can't help but sympathize a little, perhaps. His brother, if the stories are correct, had been born for Yaiba. For that person to so brutally come up and kill him... it must have been hard to go through beyond the initial shock.
In that same train of thought, the salvation God can't fathom ever actually putting a bullet into Hizumi's head.
And, on that same level, Hizumi can't fathom life without Ayumu there. Kiyotaka had been right in telling him to wait for Ayumu.
He's nothing like what Hizumi imagined him to be: assertive and ready to gun him down at the drop of a pin. On the contrary, his counterpart makes him sincerely believe that he could spend all day in bed with him and just let time pass them by (exaggerating a bit he knows, but still). His drive is lacking and, at times, Hizumi can't help but worry about him. Sometimes, he gets so anxious that he can't stop himself from escaping to Ayumu's room where a warm presence is.
It's something that Kiyotaka could never really give to him: comfort by just being there. (Kiyotaka's comfort -- his reassurance, his happiness, his entire being -- belongs to a dead man.) When he crawls into Ayumu's bed and lays there next to him after he's begrudgingly accepted, reaching out on particularly bad nights and holding his hand, he feels safe and reassured. At least, as much as he can with buzzing nerves.
The door closes abruptly on Ayumu, hazel eyes turning to Hizumi inquisitively. He feels himself being taken apart and put back together while eyes try to find what they're looking for. Then, his slacker of an Eve sighs through his nose and steps forward, opening the door that Hizumi shut.
"If you have something to say, then say it. There's no point in keeping it to yourself," the brunet drawls lazily, kicking his shoes off and shrugging out of his jacket.
Hizumi watches the other for a moment, before stepping in after him and closing the door behind him. "You didn't answer my question," You're making me think again, "do you hate Yaiba?"
Repeating it doesn't seem to get anything other than a shrug from Ayumu as he mumbles, "Didn't really know him so I can't say for sure."
That is just the matter of the fact.