h a l v e s [2]

The apartment was shrouded in darkness, something that had become a normality since the day he'd moved in. Only a shaft of light from the hallway illuminated the linoleum, but that too vanished when he shut the door. Cloaked once more from public eyes, he leaned heavily against the wood, head bowed with weariness.

A sigh.

And he crumpled into himself, swiftly clapping a hand over his mouth to stop the sound of his pained sobs from filling the room.

/Blood�.so much blood�/

No matter how many times he killed, he would never get used to the crimson river that would gush out from that single wound, staining his skin and soaking his garments. He would never forget his victim's gaze as it glazed over in death, the slackening grip, the fading warmth from skin --

He shook his head violently, forcing the sensations and memories out of his mind. Trembling, he sank to his knees.

/The Sakurazukamori shouldn't be feeling this way./

/But for me, an assassin with a heart�/

/It's a slow, painful death./

"Seishirou-san," he whispered brokenly, "why?"

~~~

Dearest Subaru-kun,

Enjoy the apartment and the cash. I know I did. I doubt you have a
penchant for timeless suits, so do put the money to good use and buy yourself
a new wardrobe. No offense, but you do look a little drab these days. I still find
you cute though.

Your Seishirou-san.

Subaru's gaze lingered on the name signed at the bottom of the message. Closing his eyes, he brought the cream-coloured card to his cheek and gently rubbed it against his skin. And for one moment -- he imagined it to be the other's touch.

/He knew, all along what the outcome would be./

/Bastard,/ he thought bitterly, /You selfish bastard.../

He opened his eyes and brushed the card against his lips, then carefully slipped it back into its envelope. Placing the card on the bedside table, he curled deeper into Seishirou's shirt and reclined onto the mountain of pillows.

It had been the day after Seishirou's death when the lawyer had contacted him. He'd been surprised, initially, and had asked how the lawyer managed to find him. The fellow had shrugged and informed Subaru that his client had, in fact, given him the exact location where to find Subaru. Hardly surprising.

Subaru had been loitering outside Seishirou's animal clinic, now boarded up and gone to dust.

The lawyer had been thorough when he explained the situation. Sakurazuka-san had handed over his apartment and wealth to Sumeragi-san, so would he please put his signature on the dotted line? Here are the keys to the apartment, thank you and have a nice day.

At first Subaru had been seething with fury. How dare you, Seishirou-san, he'd thought. Leaving the stupid apartment and wealth which I've got no use for, not to mention that tree of yours. Above all that, dying without me.

He'd relented, more out of weariness than anything else. He'd gone over to the apartment, found that he actually liked the place, and had moved in shortly afterwards. He found the envelope nestled among the pillows, addressed simply to 'Subaru-kun'.

Since then, it had become the most important thing to him.

Nothing else in the apartment had been shifted, save for the bed, wardrobe and bathroom. Subaru preferred it to stay that way, the furnishings arranged in Seishirou's sedulous manner. At times he would sit in a corner, dragging absently on a cigarette, and visualize Seishirou moving around the apartment, replacing a lamp or two whilst humming to himself.

What he incorporated in the bedroom was an entirely different matter, of course.

He was lonely, these days. /Not to mention delusional,/ he added, when the shirt slipped off his shoulder.

/Not tonight,/ he decided firmly, lying flat on his back. /How much longer can I last, living day to day in a dream?/

He knew his grandmother was trying to contact him. He'd received her calls on his cell phone, but each time he saw the familiar number flash on the tiny screen, he'd always leave it unanswered. But she was persistent, so much so he was forced to change his phone number. He wasn't inclined to hear whatever she wanted to say, not when he was struggling just to live another day. He knew he was running away from the inevitable confrontation, but if that meant being able to stay balanced, however thin and fragile the line was, he wasn't complaining. So he ignored his conscience, ignored the deaths and ignored the world in general.

He hadn't been eating well; an occasional glass of water would suffice to last him through the day. Because of that, he hadn't looked into the mirror lately, afraid of his own reflection, afraid of what he'd become.

/Afraid the walls I've built will crumble when I see *him* in the mirror./

His mind blacked out for a moment. In that brief lapse, he felt the acute desperation threatening to engulf him and drag him down to the murky depths of his concealed guilt and fear. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to claw his way back to that safe haven he'd constructed in himself, but the more he tried, the further his goal seemed.