Drip. Drip. Drip.
Touga Kiryuu knelt over the bathtub, breathing hard, knuckles white.
He was tired, lethargic, and rested his forehead on the cool ceramic, arms dangling in the warm water. Everything had gone wrong when She had left. They. Whatever. He hadn't expected it to hurt. But he'd lived with pain. Still...
There had been an aspect of purity that had vanished with her. He was exposed to the darkness. It even affected Akio, who drove out frantically every night and didn't return until the early hours. Everything was bitter. He had no controll. He was useless.
He could no longer keep his eyes open and watch the red staining the water spread from his wrists. He let his eyes drift shut.
"Onii-sama?" Nanami tried the door. "Onii-sama, you've been in there a long time. Is everything okay? Onii-sama?"
Touga let himself fall into darkness.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Gilbert didn't waste time thinking about what he was doing. Serge would be back soon and the chair under the doorknob wouldn't stop him for long. Kneeling shirtless over the wash tub, he gritted his teeth and slashed the razor across his wrists.
It didn't hurt as much as he had expected, but then again, he was used to pain. He was raised on pain. The water stung more than he'd had reason to believe, but no pain was enough to deter him.
"Augu..." he murmured, a tear slipping from his eye. He didn't wipe it away. He didn't have the time.
The door rattled. "Gilbert? Gilbert!" Another rattle. "Let me in! Gilbert!"
As darkness took him, Gilbert prayed to God that the door stayed closed.
It was cold, and Touga opened his eyes. Nearby, a young boy was crying.
Even here, he wasn't free.
"Augu," the boy sobbed, curling into a smaller ball.
Slowly, Touga walked over, shook the boy's shoulder. "Hey."
"Do not touch me!" The boy lashed out, fingers curved into hooks, nails tearing blood from Touga's hand. The Seitokaichou stumbled backwards as the boy actually hissed at him, all signs of tears gone. "What are you doing here?!" The shattered blue eyes were furious. "I was supposed to be alone!"
Touga didn't answer, instead raising his hand and looking at the lines of red there. It didn't hurt. Suddenly curious, Touga turned his hand over, looking at his wrist. A thin line of red ran verticle along the vein. "Ah." He looked back at the boy, taking in his dishevelled appearance. "Let me see your wrists."
"Hmm!" A mocking smile twisted bruised lips into a parody of what they should have been. "I do not take orders from anybody!"
Wordlessly, Touga held out his own wrists and the boy, eyes shattering further in startlement, galnced down at his own. Soft blond hair floated down to cover his right eye as he turned his head away. "There are many persons who killed themselves in that manner. If that is all this is, then why are they not here as well?"
Sighing, feeling too tired for words, Touga sat himself beside the boy. "I'm Kiryuu Touga."
Silence. Then, "Gilbert Cocteau."
French, Touga decided, placing Gilbert's accent when he said his name. Probably not as young as he'd first guessed, either. Early teens, probably thirteen or maybe even fourteen.
The silence stretched on. Eventually, Gilbert glanced back through his bangs. "Why did YOU do it?"
Blunt. At one time, Touga would have liked that. Now he couldn't feel anything. "I was tired of living pointlessly. Every hope is gone. Even the sex is a bitter desire for someone else."
He wondered briefly if Gilbert was offended by this and if he should even care. Gilbert was laughing, a sound like bells ringing.
Slightly affronted, Touga lifted a brow. "And you?"
Still laughing, Gilbert tossed his hair back. "No reason."
Touga looked at him. For a moment, he recalled his own past. There was power there, in a painful way. Gilbert gasped, and looked away. His shoulders were shaking. "I have lived for pleasure and it is not enough." He laughed again, but it was a harsh sound. "There is no such thing as love, and the person I have always wanted while getting pleasures from others... I am nothing to him. Augu..." he took a deep breath, then tossed hair out of angry eyes. "Well, now you know." All emotion swept away with that gesture, leaving a mask of amused superiority. "You know, and I hope you enjoy the knowing."
Letting his eyes drift shut, Touga smiled bitterly. He understood. "Yes, I know. I--"
"Onii-sama!"
Touga opened his eyes and the room swam back into focus. He felt sick. Akio was there, and behind him, Nanami.
"Oh, Onii-sama! How could you?!" Nanami was crying and he felt a brief pang of regret for her pain. Akio's eyes were narrow and cold. Nausea washed over him, and slowly, wrists burning under their wrappings, he raised a hand to his mouth.
"We must talk," Akio said.
Touga let his hand fall, smiled, nodded, and closed his eyes to the sound of Nanami's crying.
There would always be another chance to do it.
Gilbert came awake fuzzily, sick to his stomach, pain rushing through his body, unimportant. Pascal smiled down nervously, rising almost at once. "Well, I'm done here. He'll probably be sick to his stomach but he should eat anyway. He has to get his strength back, all right, Serge?"
"Hmm."
Their makeshift doctor was gone. Gilbert turned his head away from Serge's disappointed, worried eyes.
"Oh, Gilbert."
"It was an accident."
A long pause. When he spoke again, Serge's voice was completely grief-stricken. "How can you expect me to believe that, Gilbert?!" Serge was crying, and Gilbert scowled. There were times the other boy seemed to mock him. It was as if Serge thought he knew grief; Gilbert knew Serge was no different from the rest of the boys.
"Gilbert..." Serge was still crying, but his voice had softened somewhat. "Please, Gilbert, please promise me you won't do it again."
A laugh ripped free from Gilbert's throat. "You have no write to make me promise anything to you!"
Serge's small hands touched Gilbert's shoulder. "Please, Gilbert."
He felt his muscles tighten and forced them to relax. "Hold me tonight."
It had happened once before, that request, after Augu's initial betrayal. Gilbert had been close to death that night too, although Serge hadn't known it. There were many things Serge didn't know, for his own good. Part of Gilbert didn't want to be touched. It was the only thing he knew.
Slowly, he heard Serge sigh and glanced over at the other boy. The half-gypsy's eyes had drifted shut. "All right. Move over, Gilbert."
He did so and felt the bed shift as Serge got in. Suddenly, Gilbert was fighting tears and didn't know why, rolling over to bury his face in Serge's chest. He felt Serge tense and ignored it. This wasn't about him.
"Shh, Gilbert." Serge awkwardly patted Gilbert's hair. "It's all right. It's all right now."
It wasn't all right. It would probably never be all right. Gilbert debated trying to get more out of Serge tonight and decided against it. Serge seemed determined to be pure against all desires. And besides, Gilbert himself wasn't feeling too well.
Moving closer to Serge, he closed his eyes. Serge always denied him things: touch, freedom, death. Oh well.
There would always be another chance to do it.