X/1999 Fan Fiction ❯ Moths ❯ Chapter 1

Moths

By Megan

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Kamui was being monumentally stupid.

Usually, he wasn't aware of how stupid he was being until after the fact when Arashi gave him one of her looks or Sorata managed to cheerfully announce it to the world at large. Usually he didn't care that they were reminding him of the fact because his stupidity had gotten someone else hurt in a way he had managed not to anticipate and he was too busy feeling guilty.

Tonight he didn't care because . . . well, because he just didn't care. He was tired of being surrounded by concerned people who ultimately couldn't do a damn thing to help him. He was tired of being reminded of who he was just by their presence.

He was really tired of looking at Keiichi and feeling guilty for not being able to prevent the deaths of his parents, and eventually himself with the way things were going. The pain of Subaru's disappearance was too fresh to have worn on him, but he didn't want to deal with that, either.

Tonight he just wanted to be left alone.

That had been the plan, anyway, when he'd left the Clamp campus. It hadn't quite worked out that way. When he'd left the protective wards of the campus, the sense of his twin star's presence had been almost suffocating. When he'd gotten over being nearly knocked off his feet by the unexpected feeling, though, it had been plain that Fuuma was nowhere in the vicinity or was hiding very well if he actually was.

Kamui couldn't think of any reason for Fuuma to suddenly take up playing hide and seek. He had always been a very straightforward person, and though he was different in certain ways now, the basic tenets of his personality hadn't changed. Everything he'd done since becoming Kamui's opposite number amongst the Angels had been done very openly. Games like this were more the style of the late Sakurazukamori.

Shying away from that thought, as it reminded him of Subaru in a context he'd much rather forget, Kamui had come to the conclusion that Fuuma either had no idea he was calling attention to himself that way or . . . or he wanted attention and was too lazy to go looking for it. Or maybe he just didn't care. Whatever the reason, Kamui knew that he wouldn't be able to ignore it. Even if he wound up fighting Fuuma again, he had to go see what was going on.

It didn't take long to find Fuuma, who was standing on the roof a building near Tokyo Tower. The dark kamui was studying the structure with the expression of one not quite aware of what exactly he was looking at, hands shoved into the pockets of his latest ridiculously elaborate coat.

Seeing the other so close to the site of what they all knew would be the final battle jarred Kamui. When he spoke, his voice was harsher than it had been in quite some time.

"What are you doing here?"

Fuuma turned his head slightly, glancing at him over the rims of his sunglasses. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You're like a moth to the flame, aren't you?"

"... what does that mean?"

Turning to face him more fully, Fuuma smiled. "You know."

Kamui hated that smile. It was far too gentle to be coming from someone who'd made a hobby out of shoving sharp things through his limbs. It made Kamui want to still like Fuuma, and he knew that if he liked Fuuma -- still thought of Fuuma as his friend, even after everything that had happened -- he'd never be able to do what he had to.

He couldn't hate Fuuma, though. God, he couldn't hate Fuuma.

". . . . I guess I do." He'd come here for no other reason than that Fuuma was here, after all, hadn't he? He rubbed his forehead, not liking this discovery at all. "But . . . why?"

A hand ruffled his hair, fingers sliding through the strands with alarming familiarity. Startled, Kamui tried to jerk away. Fingers caught his chin in a grip that wasn't painful, but firm enough to hold him -- forcing his face up to meet Fuuma's gaze, unfathomable and blank.

How long they stood like that, Kamui had no idea. As usual, when this close to Fuuma, he froze. He didn't want to hurt Fuuma -- not even in self-defense and as close as they were now that would be the only way to get away from him.

Odd, though . . . he didn't feel threatened tonight. Fuuma was no longer smiling and though the intensity of his gaze was unnerving, there was no danger behind it. He seemed to be looking for something.

Finally, he seemed to sigh and bent down, brushing his lips first against Kamui's forehead and then lower, murmuring as he did so, "Maybe it's for the same reason I can't ignore you . . ."

The kiss was quick -- done almost before Kamui realized it had happened, and then Fuuma was on the other side of the roof, perched on the edge with a small smirk. "Ja, Kamui. I'll see you again."

He stepped back and was gone.