by Rina K. Fenderson
8. Protection
Hisoka’s fingers gripped around the gun again about the same time that Muraki disappeared around the threshold of the door. Spinning as quickly has he was capable of he darted for the gaping entrance of the room. He made it into the light of the hallway when something stopped him. A voice so small and meek that he was not sure at first if he really had heard it.
"Hisoka..." He looked behind him and what he saw make his throat close. Tsuzuki was staring at him, wrists bound above him, skin there raw from chafing, his body was trembling, covered only by a thin white sheet of satin. The amethyst depths that stared at him, were dull, not holding the same bright illumination as they usually did. Hisoka’s heart wrenched in his chest, and felt his knees going weak as those violet depths stared into his. All his fury left him, Muraki was gone anyway, vanished into some trick he had waiting for him. Hisoka’s gun dropped to his side, his arm limp, then to the floor, slipping out of his fingers near Tsuzuki’s bed. For a moment they just stared at each other; Hisoka standing over the bed, his shadow casting over Tsuzuki. His green eyes glowed brightly, sad and protective. Tsuzuki looked shattered, his mouth opened slightly, his eyes soft violet, his brow pulled down over them in fear and some relief. He tried to move forward, tried to lean forward in touch Hisoka, embrace him, but the rope dug into his wrist and he sucked in a pained breath recoiling back onto the bed. Hisoka’s hands press his arms back by his wrist, giving the rope as much slack as possible. He sliced through the rope with his pocket knife, the head bar creaked with the loss of pressure upon it and Tsuzuki jumped at the sudden release. His arms pulled into his chest slowly, his eyes never leaving Hisoka’s beautiful face. "Are you really here?" The blond boy offered him a small smile as he sat down on the bed, Tsuzuki marveled at how the bed sagged under his weight proving his existence. Slender finger brushed over Tsuzuki brow, warm and gentle; he sighed. "Hisoka." Watching Tsuzuki closely with concern and fury for what had been done to him, Hisoka’s hand trailed over his neck, then touched his fisted hands pulled in close to his body now, although still tied together with the rope. He asked with his touch for Tsuzuki to extend his arms, and the older male complied to his silent command watching him as if he were some sort of angel. Hisoka glanced up at Tsuzuki a few times as he sawed through the thick ropes, not worried that Muraki would return. He won, Muraki admitted such, and though he threatened further the fact that he lost this battle still stood and he would respect that. Hisoka could take his time and by the trembling in Tsuzuki’s bare body he knew to keep his touch soft, slow, and gentle. "It’s all right, now, Tsuzuki. It’s over," Hisoka whispered, leaning back as the knife snapped through the last of the tether. Hisoka flipped the blade back into the handle and pulling one of his legs onto the bed the other leg dangling off the bed. Tsuzuki pulled his hands in, his violet eyes remaining on Hisoka, even as he rubbed them with pain. "Lets go home now." He reached out and tried to help Tsuzuki sit up, but as soon as he leaned over the taller man, Tsuzuki collapsed, his arms wrapped around Hisoka’s waist, burying his face in the fabric of his orange shirt. Startled Hisoka’s hands pulled up hovering over the wracking body against him. He felt his heart ache in his chest, watching the tortured body before him shake violently with painful sobs. His hand touched Tsuzuki’s back, running light fingers down his spine, the other playing, breeze-like, over his partner’s crown of dark tresses. The hitching breaths of crying, faded slowly as he lulled to sleep within the embrace of his angel and without a second thought Hisoka leaned over him kissed the nape of his neck. Their bodies shimmered silver, then vanished in the air.