Entry tags:
Never Let Me Go (3/3)
Title: Never Let Me Go
Series: Holitsuba Gakuen
Rating: R-18 (NSFW)
Warnings: Twincest, sexual abuse
Summary: Everything in the compound is an imitation of something, Fai and Yuui (and Kurogane) included. KFY AU.
Part three of three. For![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
reikah, for being awesome, and cos it is still birthday week ok. <3
The world, when Fai wakes, is blue and gold. It’s a nice world, he thinks – the air is warm and the ground is soft, and he lies there, blinking, breathing, letting his eyes adjust. Gradually, he becomes aware that warm is blanket and soft is pillow, blue is shadow and gold is lamp.
Yes, it’s a nice world. He just hasn’t a clue whose it is.
But the answer isn’t to be found on the indigo ceiling, and so he stirs, wiggles his toes. His limbs feel loose now, not the kitten-weak of before; he hauls himself upright and feels his head swim with the shifting of blood. This is not his (their) bed, but Fai might have known that, because they left theirs in a place they can never go back to.
It’s not his bed, so whose is it? Fai looks around.
In a chair at his side dozes a man with messy blond hair and long skinny legs. Fai has never met this man, but he recognises him anyway; he sees that face in his bed (in the mirror) every morning.
He shifts, the bed creaks, and the man in the chair opens his (identical) blue eyes.
‘You’re awake,’ the man says, and smiles.
And that’s all, but it’s enough. Fai feels the cold sock to the stomach that is seeing his brother’s face (his own) on a stranger’s body. The man’s smile is all Yuui: softly curved lips and smooth white brow – and Fai could lean across and kiss that mouth, knows the way it would soften against him, the shape of its tongue, the angle of its teeth – but why would he want to kiss anyone that isn’t Yuui (Kurogane)?
There is something in the stranger’s eyes, though, that Fai has never seen in his brother’s. Something dark and far, far too familiar.
He smiles and says, ‘Where’s Yuui?’
And for a second, the man’s smile slips, leaves him pale and broken in the gold of the lamplight. Just for a second, but it’s enough. More than enough.
(Fai knows that face too.)
Then the smile returns. Soft, gentle: (Yuui). ‘I sent him with your tall, dark and grumpy to get food,’ the man says. ‘Don’t worry, they’ll be back soon.’
Your tall, dark and grumpy. Well, that’s fair. Fai nods. ‘And your tall, dark and grumpy?’ he asks.
Something fond slips into the man’s expression then. ‘I sent him along as well.’
Warm, gentle, fond (Yuui).
Fai lets the warmth of that smile wrap around him for a moment – Yuui’s smile with not-Yuui’s eyes – but then he frowns slightly. The man is watching him, too close. Something amazed (sorrowful) edging into his face.
Which is fine, except it’s rather rude to stare. Fai pulls the blanket high about him, lowers his head. The man catches the gesture at once.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says quickly. His voice is sincere, but like his expression, there’s something strange mixed up in it: wonder, perhaps. A touch of longing. Fai smiles and shakes his head, and it seems the stranger can’t help himself because he continues his study of Fai’s face. He says, ‘I’m sorry, you just look so much like...’
The man falls silent. Fai wonders what the end of that sentence should be.
He says, ‘Are you Client F-01278?’
The stranger blinks in surprise. Then his brow creases slightly, and there’s Yuui again. ‘I don’t know about that,’ the man replies slowly, ‘but you can call me Fay.’
Oh. Fai opens his mouth, and then shuts it again. Oh.
‘Your name is Fai too, isn’t it?’ The man – Fay – goes on, and he’s watching carefully now. Fai nods, and the man hesitates a moment before he says, quietly, ‘I’m sorry.’
Fai doesn’t know what to make of that. What’s there to be sorry about? It’s not Fay’s fault that Fai’s face belongs to someone else, that Fai’s name belongs to someone else too. It’s not his fault and it doesn’t matter, so why say sorry?
‘It’s fine,’ Fai says. The easy smile slips back, and it’s such a comfort, this smile. It reminds him what to do, who to be (makes him forget himself completely).
(Please be free.)
But Fay doesn’t say anything to that, just looks at Fai thoughtfully. It’s still odd, seeing his brother’s face wrapped around this stranger’s head, but Fai grins anyway. ‘You look like my brother,’ he says cheerfully, and then, ‘So, where’s yours?’
Fay’s smile fades again. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out at once. Then, ‘He died,’ he says. Just that, ‘he died’, and Fai feels something sink down heavy inside him.
Well, Fai shouldn’t feel sorry, he reminds himself. Fai shouldn’t feel sorry at all. Yuui’s heart belongs to Fai (to Kurogane), and it never belonged to a dying man with a brother who loved him (needed him, would do anything for him). It never belonged to him, because Fai paid the price, and so everything’s fine.
Everything’s fine. Fai’s fingers curl tight around the edge of the blanket.
But, ‘He died a long time ago,’ Fay says. ‘Before you were even born.’ There’s no anger in him, no accusation lurking. Fay’s face is soft, even with the moisture gathering at the edge of his eyes. ‘It’s a bit hard to explain, but we’re not from your world,’ he explains gently. ‘Me and Tsubasa, and Tall, Dark and Grumpy. My brother…’ Fay swallows. ‘Well, he’s at peace now. I hope. I’d like to believe that he is.’
Fai blinks slowly. Doesn’t say anything, because there’s still that heaviness sinking into his stomach, and too many things don’t make sense right now. Well, Fai didn’t know there were other worlds, for a start. He wonders if Yuui (Kurogane) does.
(Before you were even born isn’t possible.)
Yuui’s original was dying. Yuui’s original (Client Y-01279) was dying, and they were going to take his heart, and Fai…
Fai paid.
Fay is watching him closely again now. The amazement is gone, replaced with dark-eyed concern. He says, ‘I know it must seem very strange, all this. I don’t know what you were told…’ and Fai thinks of a hundred different things, ‘but we only just found out about you. About this. We came back to this world and we found out about you, all of you, how you’d been…’ Fay trails off, makes a little gesture with his hand: helpless, disgusted. There’s no need to go on. How you’d been made and grown and born in that place.
Fai’s always been good at filling in the blanks.
But, ‘What about your heart?’ Fai asks, abruptly (desperately). Fay looks at him, unsure. ‘There’s something wrong with it, right? That’s why we…’
Fay shakes his head: small, sorrowful. The cold is sinking deeper into Fai’s stomach, and making him shiver. Fay says, ‘I’m sorry,’ again, as if it’s somehow his fault. Well, how could it be his fault when he didn’t know a thing?
(Fai always knew that Client F-01278 could never love his brother as much as Fai loves Yuui.)
None of that was real – Fai sees it now. He’s not sure what is real, but he knows – is suddenly, brilliantly aware – that there is no small percentage and no probability. No select few who merit (afford) their own donor. Fai wonders what happens to all the bits of the people who disappear from Celes deck: the ones that never return or spend weeks on rehab deck. Their bodies pale and awkward and weak.
Fai wonders, because he can’t think about other things now.
He says, brightly, ‘You sent that note, didn’t you?’ Fay nods, and Fai’s smile feels too tight for his face. ‘How did you do it? Get in there, I mean.’
Fay gives him another considered look. He says, ‘There’s a group, out here, that’s involved in trying to free people like you. We sort of… knew some of them, if you like. There’s a young lady they got out in a raid some time ago: she recognised our Tall, Dark and Grumpy and thought he was yours, and when we heard…’ Fay’s face goes tight at the memory, lips pulling thin. ‘When we heard,’ he says, quiet and firm, ‘we wanted to do something about it.’
Well, Fai can understand that. Fai wanted to do something too, once.
Then, ‘You didn’t know about the group?’ Fay asks. He’s frowning a bit now. ‘We thought you must. I’m surprised you actually came.’
Fai shrugs. ‘I thought the note was from someone else,’ he says. Fay looks surprised, and Fai smiles. ‘I made a deal, for Yuui,’ he explains. Easily, defiantly. ‘So I thought…’ And then he shrugs again.
Fay stares at him with a very strange expression now. He looks like he doesn’t want to ask this at all, but, ‘What kind of deal?’ he asks, quieter still.
Fai’s eyes crinkle with his smile. He says, blithely (hollowly), ‘Nothing much.’
(Nothing.)
Yuui is the world, and no price will ever be too heavy to bear because he’s Yuui, he’s Yuui, and there’s no-one else like him. Fai could not - cannot - live without Yuui, and the price he paid doesn’t matter at all. It’s just one of those things. It’s just one of those things, and it was only Fai and it doesn’t matter. He made his choice (it was never a choice) and now Fai will never think about it again.
(Yuui (Kurogane) doesn’t need to know.)
It’s fine, because Yuui is free and Yuui will be happy now. It doesn’t matter what happened in grubby little rooms behind locked doors: that’s over, forgotten, and it just doesn’t matter. There’s no reason why Fai’s throat is aching, why tears are spilling hot over his cheeks.
(It matters terribly.)
A noise escapes him then, high and thin. Fai startles, horrified; he moves a hand to his mouth to stop himself, to force the sound back inside. But another comes out, just as horrible, and so he curls into himself, tries to pull tight all the seams that have suddenly torn.
But he can’t.
It’s years since Fai has cried, truly cried: it was a different room in a different place, and he was a very different boy then. He doesn’t know what happened to that Fai, whether he’s still there beneath the lies and the smiles – but he doesn’t think so, really. That boy is gone and there is only Fai left now, standing in his skin and trying to forget.
There is only Fai, and it doesn’t matter.
Fai pulls the blanket tight about him, digs his nails into his flesh, and sobs out his heart (what’s left of it).
And then there are arms, warm, familiar (identical). Fai panics for a second – Yuui mustn’t know about this! – but then he realises that the person wrapped around him is not his brother. Fay’s arms are smooth and strong, and he holds Fai close, not like Yuui, not like Kurogane, but kindly, all the same. Fay murmurs something into Fai’s hair that he cannot make out, but somehow he finds himself returning the embrace, running his fingers over a back that is so warm and familiar (different).
It takes him a moment to realise he is not the only one crying.
‘Looks like your brother’s for the chop.’
Fai froze where he was, half in and half out of the door to the medical station. He knew that voice. It wasn’t one he liked much, but he turned towards it anyway.
‘What?’ he said dumbly.
The owner of the voice leaned forward. His glasses slipped down his nose a bit; he reached to push them back. ‘I said, looks like your brother’s for the chop,’ he said again. There was an air of regret to his voice that time, like he was saying something he wished he didn’t have to.
Fai just blinked at him. The words didn’t make any more sense the second time than they had the first, but the grey-coat seemed to expect some response. And Fai knew he ought to walk away then, because Yuui always warned him about talking to Kyle, but, ‘What do you mean?’ he said instead.
It seemed like an important question to ask. Kyle was talking about Yuui, and ‘chop’ wasn’t a good word.
The grey-coat shrugged, and his expression arranged into something closer to sympathy then. ‘Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed all the tests,’ he said. ‘The rumour mill’s running. You must be worried.’
Again, there was that hint of regret. Kyle’s words knocked around inside Fai’s head. Yuui had been having a lot of tests lately. What did that mean?
‘I probably shouldn’t be telling you this,’ Kyle went on, confidentially, ‘but I think you deserve to know. Those twins, out there,’ and Fai nodded very slowly, because he’d never thought too much about those twins out there, ‘they’ve got heart defects, both of them.’
Fai thought about this. ‘Then don’t we have it too?’ he asked.
Kyle shook his head. ‘They developed that way. You didn’t.’ And then he sighed heavily and began sorting through the stack of files in his arms. ‘It’s only a matter of time, I’m afraid.’
(Until what?)
Fai stared at Kyle, not quite able to remember what his feet or hands or tongue were for. His brain started to tick. Donors disappeared now and then – everybody noticed and nobody talked about it. Some went off to rehab deck and came back, careful and frail, and others didn’t, but none of those people were Yuui.
It had never mattered to Fai before. It was just the way things were.
Then, ‘Fai?’
He turned to see Yuui exiting the door to the examination room, heard the snick of the metal as it clicked shut. One of Yuui’s hands was pressed against the opposite arm, holding something down – they’d taken more blood, Fai realised, and the horror of it was like something dulled; each layer peeling back until he could see the sharp edge and picture it at his brother’s throat.
Yuui looked at Kyle and smiled pleasantly. If Fai didn’t know Yuui as well as he did, he might’ve been fooled by that smile.
Yuui said, ‘That’s it for now.’ His hand dropped away from his arm, reached out and took Fai’s instead. ‘Let’s go.’
Kyle smiled at the pair of them as they went. Fai didn’t know Kyle well enough to say whether his smile was real or not, but he didn’t have anything to gain from lying (did he?), and besides, he was a grey-coat. What he said must be true.
Fai made sure not to jostle his brother’s arm on the way back to their room.
They can’t have him.
Later, Fay says, ‘We took the liberty of finding a place for you to stay.’ He’s not crying any more, and neither is Fai, but his hand is still warm where it cradles Fai’s own. ‘It’s not far away, but perhaps you’d prefer to stay here for tonight.’
Fai has never slept in his (their) own place before. Now seems like a good time to start. He shakes his head, and Fay’s expression says he isn’t surprised. ‘Thank you,’ Fai says, ‘but I’d like to see home.’
Fay smiles. He has Yuui’s lips and Fai’s eyes, and it doesn’t matter who he is, because he’s Fay. He doesn’t need to be anybody else.
‘I thought you might say that,’ Fay says. He uses his spare hand to brush back Fai’s hair, and then he sits back, moves away (draws a line). He gives a rueful little smile. ‘I’m afraid there are only two bedrooms, though.’
Fai grins. ‘That’s fine,’ he says, and Fay looks surprised at the sudden mischief creeping into his voice. ‘We really only need the one.’
And it turns out that look on Fay’s face is delicious as well.
Fai finds out that the sky, the real sky, is orange and pink in the early muted hours of each day. Or some days, anyway. Others it’s mauve and others it’s blue and others it is indeed unerringly grey.
Today it’s deepest red.
It might be becoming a habit, watching the sun as it creeps up over the skyline, a mug warming his hands and paint flecking his shirt. On these mornings, dawn is not a prelude but an epilogue (a reward). The easel by the window bears witness to his night of labour, to the hours that slipped past as he hardly noticed them, and now he’s tired. It’s time for bed.
Almost time, anyway. Fai stands at the window and watches the sun rise over the city buildings, sees it bathe the world (Yuui and Kurogane and Fai) in new light.
In the next room, two people are curled in a futon, and Fai knows there is space for a third. He tips the last of his tea down the drain, runs the tap briefly to rinse the dregs, and casts one last look at this world that is nothing he ever imagined.
Yuui is the world and Kurogane is Kurogane – and Fai is learning what it means to be Fai.
He wipes his damp hands against his pants. Kurogane would scowl at that, but Kurogane isn’t here, and the tea towel seems to have disappeared. Although… Ah. He stops, eyes tracking back to a bundled mess by his stool. So that’s what he used to wipe the paint spill at quarter to four. Well, it doesn’t really matter. His pants will be coming off in a minute. Fai pads into the bedroom, quieter than he’d care for either of the people sleeping there to ever see, fingers busy with buttons and sleeves. His clothes drop to the floor unheeded – it’s Yuui’s turn to do laundry – and then Fai turns his attention to the figures in the bed.
A smile, slow and sweet, pulls at his mouth (and he doesn’t want them to see that, either).
Kurogane is on his side, silent, unmoving (like a cat) and Yuui is curled into his back; he has an arm slung about the other man’s waist. They make a pretty picture, and it’s almost a shame to disturb them – but only almost. Fai is sleepy now and it’s far too cold to stand around out of bed with nothing on. He slips in beside Yuui, wraps himself in that familiar warmth, and grins at the tiny moan that escapes his brother’s lips.
The world is warm and dark, has sleep-tangled hair and too many feet – and then, quite suddenly, it shifts.
Fai feels hands (strong, slim) slide over his chest and pull him close. Yuui murmurs something into his hair – which might equally be addressed to Fai or some figure in his dreams – and then one (massive) arm closes over both of them, holds them tight. It’s almost stifling, this closeness – the press of bodies against him, the weight of the quilt – but Fai doesn’t care right now. Not now. Everything he needs is here, in this dark and this warmth, everything that matters bound by these arms, this bed, and he’s not letting anything go any more (never let me go).
Yuui is the world and Kurogane is Kurogane – and this morning Fai is glad to be Fai.
END
Series: Holitsuba Gakuen
Rating: R-18 (NSFW)
Warnings: Twincest, sexual abuse
Summary: Everything in the compound is an imitation of something, Fai and Yuui (and Kurogane) included. KFY AU.
Part three of three. For
reikah, for being awesome, and cos it is still birthday week ok. <3The world, when Fai wakes, is blue and gold. It’s a nice world, he thinks – the air is warm and the ground is soft, and he lies there, blinking, breathing, letting his eyes adjust. Gradually, he becomes aware that warm is blanket and soft is pillow, blue is shadow and gold is lamp.
Yes, it’s a nice world. He just hasn’t a clue whose it is.
But the answer isn’t to be found on the indigo ceiling, and so he stirs, wiggles his toes. His limbs feel loose now, not the kitten-weak of before; he hauls himself upright and feels his head swim with the shifting of blood. This is not his (their) bed, but Fai might have known that, because they left theirs in a place they can never go back to.
It’s not his bed, so whose is it? Fai looks around.
In a chair at his side dozes a man with messy blond hair and long skinny legs. Fai has never met this man, but he recognises him anyway; he sees that face in his bed (in the mirror) every morning.
He shifts, the bed creaks, and the man in the chair opens his (identical) blue eyes.
‘You’re awake,’ the man says, and smiles.
And that’s all, but it’s enough. Fai feels the cold sock to the stomach that is seeing his brother’s face (his own) on a stranger’s body. The man’s smile is all Yuui: softly curved lips and smooth white brow – and Fai could lean across and kiss that mouth, knows the way it would soften against him, the shape of its tongue, the angle of its teeth – but why would he want to kiss anyone that isn’t Yuui (Kurogane)?
There is something in the stranger’s eyes, though, that Fai has never seen in his brother’s. Something dark and far, far too familiar.
He smiles and says, ‘Where’s Yuui?’
And for a second, the man’s smile slips, leaves him pale and broken in the gold of the lamplight. Just for a second, but it’s enough. More than enough.
(Fai knows that face too.)
Then the smile returns. Soft, gentle: (Yuui). ‘I sent him with your tall, dark and grumpy to get food,’ the man says. ‘Don’t worry, they’ll be back soon.’
Your tall, dark and grumpy. Well, that’s fair. Fai nods. ‘And your tall, dark and grumpy?’ he asks.
Something fond slips into the man’s expression then. ‘I sent him along as well.’
Warm, gentle, fond (Yuui).
Fai lets the warmth of that smile wrap around him for a moment – Yuui’s smile with not-Yuui’s eyes – but then he frowns slightly. The man is watching him, too close. Something amazed (sorrowful) edging into his face.
Which is fine, except it’s rather rude to stare. Fai pulls the blanket high about him, lowers his head. The man catches the gesture at once.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says quickly. His voice is sincere, but like his expression, there’s something strange mixed up in it: wonder, perhaps. A touch of longing. Fai smiles and shakes his head, and it seems the stranger can’t help himself because he continues his study of Fai’s face. He says, ‘I’m sorry, you just look so much like...’
The man falls silent. Fai wonders what the end of that sentence should be.
He says, ‘Are you Client F-01278?’
The stranger blinks in surprise. Then his brow creases slightly, and there’s Yuui again. ‘I don’t know about that,’ the man replies slowly, ‘but you can call me Fay.’
Oh. Fai opens his mouth, and then shuts it again. Oh.
‘Your name is Fai too, isn’t it?’ The man – Fay – goes on, and he’s watching carefully now. Fai nods, and the man hesitates a moment before he says, quietly, ‘I’m sorry.’
Fai doesn’t know what to make of that. What’s there to be sorry about? It’s not Fay’s fault that Fai’s face belongs to someone else, that Fai’s name belongs to someone else too. It’s not his fault and it doesn’t matter, so why say sorry?
‘It’s fine,’ Fai says. The easy smile slips back, and it’s such a comfort, this smile. It reminds him what to do, who to be (makes him forget himself completely).
(Please be free.)
But Fay doesn’t say anything to that, just looks at Fai thoughtfully. It’s still odd, seeing his brother’s face wrapped around this stranger’s head, but Fai grins anyway. ‘You look like my brother,’ he says cheerfully, and then, ‘So, where’s yours?’
Fay’s smile fades again. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out at once. Then, ‘He died,’ he says. Just that, ‘he died’, and Fai feels something sink down heavy inside him.
Well, Fai shouldn’t feel sorry, he reminds himself. Fai shouldn’t feel sorry at all. Yuui’s heart belongs to Fai (to Kurogane), and it never belonged to a dying man with a brother who loved him (needed him, would do anything for him). It never belonged to him, because Fai paid the price, and so everything’s fine.
Everything’s fine. Fai’s fingers curl tight around the edge of the blanket.
But, ‘He died a long time ago,’ Fay says. ‘Before you were even born.’ There’s no anger in him, no accusation lurking. Fay’s face is soft, even with the moisture gathering at the edge of his eyes. ‘It’s a bit hard to explain, but we’re not from your world,’ he explains gently. ‘Me and Tsubasa, and Tall, Dark and Grumpy. My brother…’ Fay swallows. ‘Well, he’s at peace now. I hope. I’d like to believe that he is.’
Fai blinks slowly. Doesn’t say anything, because there’s still that heaviness sinking into his stomach, and too many things don’t make sense right now. Well, Fai didn’t know there were other worlds, for a start. He wonders if Yuui (Kurogane) does.
(Before you were even born isn’t possible.)
Yuui’s original was dying. Yuui’s original (Client Y-01279) was dying, and they were going to take his heart, and Fai…
Fai paid.
Fay is watching him closely again now. The amazement is gone, replaced with dark-eyed concern. He says, ‘I know it must seem very strange, all this. I don’t know what you were told…’ and Fai thinks of a hundred different things, ‘but we only just found out about you. About this. We came back to this world and we found out about you, all of you, how you’d been…’ Fay trails off, makes a little gesture with his hand: helpless, disgusted. There’s no need to go on. How you’d been made and grown and born in that place.
Fai’s always been good at filling in the blanks.
But, ‘What about your heart?’ Fai asks, abruptly (desperately). Fay looks at him, unsure. ‘There’s something wrong with it, right? That’s why we…’
Fay shakes his head: small, sorrowful. The cold is sinking deeper into Fai’s stomach, and making him shiver. Fay says, ‘I’m sorry,’ again, as if it’s somehow his fault. Well, how could it be his fault when he didn’t know a thing?
(Fai always knew that Client F-01278 could never love his brother as much as Fai loves Yuui.)
None of that was real – Fai sees it now. He’s not sure what is real, but he knows – is suddenly, brilliantly aware – that there is no small percentage and no probability. No select few who merit (afford) their own donor. Fai wonders what happens to all the bits of the people who disappear from Celes deck: the ones that never return or spend weeks on rehab deck. Their bodies pale and awkward and weak.
Fai wonders, because he can’t think about other things now.
He says, brightly, ‘You sent that note, didn’t you?’ Fay nods, and Fai’s smile feels too tight for his face. ‘How did you do it? Get in there, I mean.’
Fay gives him another considered look. He says, ‘There’s a group, out here, that’s involved in trying to free people like you. We sort of… knew some of them, if you like. There’s a young lady they got out in a raid some time ago: she recognised our Tall, Dark and Grumpy and thought he was yours, and when we heard…’ Fay’s face goes tight at the memory, lips pulling thin. ‘When we heard,’ he says, quiet and firm, ‘we wanted to do something about it.’
Well, Fai can understand that. Fai wanted to do something too, once.
Then, ‘You didn’t know about the group?’ Fay asks. He’s frowning a bit now. ‘We thought you must. I’m surprised you actually came.’
Fai shrugs. ‘I thought the note was from someone else,’ he says. Fay looks surprised, and Fai smiles. ‘I made a deal, for Yuui,’ he explains. Easily, defiantly. ‘So I thought…’ And then he shrugs again.
Fay stares at him with a very strange expression now. He looks like he doesn’t want to ask this at all, but, ‘What kind of deal?’ he asks, quieter still.
Fai’s eyes crinkle with his smile. He says, blithely (hollowly), ‘Nothing much.’
(Nothing.)
Yuui is the world, and no price will ever be too heavy to bear because he’s Yuui, he’s Yuui, and there’s no-one else like him. Fai could not - cannot - live without Yuui, and the price he paid doesn’t matter at all. It’s just one of those things. It’s just one of those things, and it was only Fai and it doesn’t matter. He made his choice (it was never a choice) and now Fai will never think about it again.
(Yuui (Kurogane) doesn’t need to know.)
It’s fine, because Yuui is free and Yuui will be happy now. It doesn’t matter what happened in grubby little rooms behind locked doors: that’s over, forgotten, and it just doesn’t matter. There’s no reason why Fai’s throat is aching, why tears are spilling hot over his cheeks.
(It matters terribly.)
A noise escapes him then, high and thin. Fai startles, horrified; he moves a hand to his mouth to stop himself, to force the sound back inside. But another comes out, just as horrible, and so he curls into himself, tries to pull tight all the seams that have suddenly torn.
But he can’t.
It’s years since Fai has cried, truly cried: it was a different room in a different place, and he was a very different boy then. He doesn’t know what happened to that Fai, whether he’s still there beneath the lies and the smiles – but he doesn’t think so, really. That boy is gone and there is only Fai left now, standing in his skin and trying to forget.
There is only Fai, and it doesn’t matter.
Fai pulls the blanket tight about him, digs his nails into his flesh, and sobs out his heart (what’s left of it).
And then there are arms, warm, familiar (identical). Fai panics for a second – Yuui mustn’t know about this! – but then he realises that the person wrapped around him is not his brother. Fay’s arms are smooth and strong, and he holds Fai close, not like Yuui, not like Kurogane, but kindly, all the same. Fay murmurs something into Fai’s hair that he cannot make out, but somehow he finds himself returning the embrace, running his fingers over a back that is so warm and familiar (different).
It takes him a moment to realise he is not the only one crying.
‘Looks like your brother’s for the chop.’
Fai froze where he was, half in and half out of the door to the medical station. He knew that voice. It wasn’t one he liked much, but he turned towards it anyway.
‘What?’ he said dumbly.
The owner of the voice leaned forward. His glasses slipped down his nose a bit; he reached to push them back. ‘I said, looks like your brother’s for the chop,’ he said again. There was an air of regret to his voice that time, like he was saying something he wished he didn’t have to.
Fai just blinked at him. The words didn’t make any more sense the second time than they had the first, but the grey-coat seemed to expect some response. And Fai knew he ought to walk away then, because Yuui always warned him about talking to Kyle, but, ‘What do you mean?’ he said instead.
It seemed like an important question to ask. Kyle was talking about Yuui, and ‘chop’ wasn’t a good word.
The grey-coat shrugged, and his expression arranged into something closer to sympathy then. ‘Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed all the tests,’ he said. ‘The rumour mill’s running. You must be worried.’
Again, there was that hint of regret. Kyle’s words knocked around inside Fai’s head. Yuui had been having a lot of tests lately. What did that mean?
‘I probably shouldn’t be telling you this,’ Kyle went on, confidentially, ‘but I think you deserve to know. Those twins, out there,’ and Fai nodded very slowly, because he’d never thought too much about those twins out there, ‘they’ve got heart defects, both of them.’
Fai thought about this. ‘Then don’t we have it too?’ he asked.
Kyle shook his head. ‘They developed that way. You didn’t.’ And then he sighed heavily and began sorting through the stack of files in his arms. ‘It’s only a matter of time, I’m afraid.’
(Until what?)
Fai stared at Kyle, not quite able to remember what his feet or hands or tongue were for. His brain started to tick. Donors disappeared now and then – everybody noticed and nobody talked about it. Some went off to rehab deck and came back, careful and frail, and others didn’t, but none of those people were Yuui.
It had never mattered to Fai before. It was just the way things were.
Then, ‘Fai?’
He turned to see Yuui exiting the door to the examination room, heard the snick of the metal as it clicked shut. One of Yuui’s hands was pressed against the opposite arm, holding something down – they’d taken more blood, Fai realised, and the horror of it was like something dulled; each layer peeling back until he could see the sharp edge and picture it at his brother’s throat.
Yuui looked at Kyle and smiled pleasantly. If Fai didn’t know Yuui as well as he did, he might’ve been fooled by that smile.
Yuui said, ‘That’s it for now.’ His hand dropped away from his arm, reached out and took Fai’s instead. ‘Let’s go.’
Kyle smiled at the pair of them as they went. Fai didn’t know Kyle well enough to say whether his smile was real or not, but he didn’t have anything to gain from lying (did he?), and besides, he was a grey-coat. What he said must be true.
Fai made sure not to jostle his brother’s arm on the way back to their room.
They can’t have him.
Later, Fay says, ‘We took the liberty of finding a place for you to stay.’ He’s not crying any more, and neither is Fai, but his hand is still warm where it cradles Fai’s own. ‘It’s not far away, but perhaps you’d prefer to stay here for tonight.’
Fai has never slept in his (their) own place before. Now seems like a good time to start. He shakes his head, and Fay’s expression says he isn’t surprised. ‘Thank you,’ Fai says, ‘but I’d like to see home.’
Fay smiles. He has Yuui’s lips and Fai’s eyes, and it doesn’t matter who he is, because he’s Fay. He doesn’t need to be anybody else.
‘I thought you might say that,’ Fay says. He uses his spare hand to brush back Fai’s hair, and then he sits back, moves away (draws a line). He gives a rueful little smile. ‘I’m afraid there are only two bedrooms, though.’
Fai grins. ‘That’s fine,’ he says, and Fay looks surprised at the sudden mischief creeping into his voice. ‘We really only need the one.’
And it turns out that look on Fay’s face is delicious as well.
Fai finds out that the sky, the real sky, is orange and pink in the early muted hours of each day. Or some days, anyway. Others it’s mauve and others it’s blue and others it is indeed unerringly grey.
Today it’s deepest red.
It might be becoming a habit, watching the sun as it creeps up over the skyline, a mug warming his hands and paint flecking his shirt. On these mornings, dawn is not a prelude but an epilogue (a reward). The easel by the window bears witness to his night of labour, to the hours that slipped past as he hardly noticed them, and now he’s tired. It’s time for bed.
Almost time, anyway. Fai stands at the window and watches the sun rise over the city buildings, sees it bathe the world (Yuui and Kurogane and Fai) in new light.
In the next room, two people are curled in a futon, and Fai knows there is space for a third. He tips the last of his tea down the drain, runs the tap briefly to rinse the dregs, and casts one last look at this world that is nothing he ever imagined.
Yuui is the world and Kurogane is Kurogane – and Fai is learning what it means to be Fai.
He wipes his damp hands against his pants. Kurogane would scowl at that, but Kurogane isn’t here, and the tea towel seems to have disappeared. Although… Ah. He stops, eyes tracking back to a bundled mess by his stool. So that’s what he used to wipe the paint spill at quarter to four. Well, it doesn’t really matter. His pants will be coming off in a minute. Fai pads into the bedroom, quieter than he’d care for either of the people sleeping there to ever see, fingers busy with buttons and sleeves. His clothes drop to the floor unheeded – it’s Yuui’s turn to do laundry – and then Fai turns his attention to the figures in the bed.
A smile, slow and sweet, pulls at his mouth (and he doesn’t want them to see that, either).
Kurogane is on his side, silent, unmoving (like a cat) and Yuui is curled into his back; he has an arm slung about the other man’s waist. They make a pretty picture, and it’s almost a shame to disturb them – but only almost. Fai is sleepy now and it’s far too cold to stand around out of bed with nothing on. He slips in beside Yuui, wraps himself in that familiar warmth, and grins at the tiny moan that escapes his brother’s lips.
The world is warm and dark, has sleep-tangled hair and too many feet – and then, quite suddenly, it shifts.
Fai feels hands (strong, slim) slide over his chest and pull him close. Yuui murmurs something into his hair – which might equally be addressed to Fai or some figure in his dreams – and then one (massive) arm closes over both of them, holds them tight. It’s almost stifling, this closeness – the press of bodies against him, the weight of the quilt – but Fai doesn’t care right now. Not now. Everything he needs is here, in this dark and this warmth, everything that matters bound by these arms, this bed, and he’s not letting anything go any more (never let me go).
Yuui is the world and Kurogane is Kurogane – and this morning Fai is glad to be Fai.
END
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I AM SO HAPPY YOU FINISHED IT AND IT WAS TOTALLY WORTH THE WAIT AND FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAI, ALL THE FAIS, THEY ALL NEED TO BE SNUGGLED ;_;
ALL OF THEM
BUT THEY HAVE A KUROGANE AND HE KEEPS IT ALL TOGETHER SO <3333
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KUROGANES KEEP IT TOGETHER LIKE NOBODY ELSE CAN OK!
THEY ARE ALSO AWESOME AT SNUGGLING. RATHER LIKE HUSKIES.
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FAI-PUPPY CAN TOTALLY ANNOY HIS BROTHER AND KUROGANE AT THE SAME TIME OK! XD
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I /loved/ it. *w* asdfghjkl;
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Gosh, I'm so glad you liked it! Thank you so much! :D
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*A*
OH FAI. OH FAIIII. OH ALL THE FAIS AND ALL THE KUROGANES. ;____________;
/sobs forever, but in the good way
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no sobbing, chloe! ;__; THINK OF ALL THE KURO-SNUGGLING! :DDD
/GLOMPS FOREVER!
/ALSO IN THE GOOD WAY! <333
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(And I lurved the surprise ending. I DIDN'T SEE THAT COMING, SERIOUSLY! :DDDD /ALL THE EXCITE)
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/SNUGS!
/LOVES YOU RIGHT BACK ACROSS THAT OCEAN! <333
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I adore how Fai's love for Kurogane keeps bubbling up while he focuses on Yuui. <3 I welled up and bawled for Fai at this part: "...and Fai is learning what it means to be Fai."
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Gosh, thank you sooo much for reading and lovely comments! <3