Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction ❯ Tears From Heaven ❯ Chapter Five ( Chapter 5 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Saphira112 
Tears From Heaven
Chapter Five
Tsuzuki blinked as his partner went slack from his empathy fainting. Asato? Is that what he had said? He looked down at the sleeping form of Hisoka. He did say it, didn’t he? This surprised Tsuzuki a great deal. No one ever used his first name and the last time someone did, he was more alive then, than he currently was now.
He cradled Hisoka gently in his arms and laid him back down on the empath’s bed. As soon as Hisoka hit the bed, he curled up on his side, making the gold pieces matching the gypsy outfit jingle again. Thinking about it now, Tsuzuki knew that the jewelry may bother the boy’s sleep, so, carefully, he lifted the empath’s wrist, taking off he remaining two manacles. He placed them on the nightstand before moving Hisoka on his back to get to his other wrist, his right one. That’s when he saw it.
As he slipped away the thick gold manacle, he saw a small scar tracing his wrist, not so deep to hit his blood artery, but deep enough to cause pain. It wasn’t healing and it looked quite old. But how? Shinigami healing power could heal even the fatalists of wounds. But this one wasn’t healing. And why was it here? Why did Hisoka cut himself?
Tsuzuki mentally kicked himself. Duh! It was because of what had happened. Hisoka was really hurt… he thought Tsuzuki would leave him again… He looked back down at the boy, a tear forming in his amethyst eye and trailing slowly down his cheek as his barriers were let down for a moment, revealing his sadness to the world. It was a grave reminder of Kyoto. Hisoka had jumped into Touda’s flames in attempt to show Tsuzuki that he was cared for, begging him to stay with him and never leave. Tsuzuki never did after that, until now, when it was opposite. Hisoka had left him. Left him in the dark.
But it was now starting to clear and make sense. Everything the boy had done, everything he had and everything he was… It made him real. It made him here. Tsuzuki didn’t release the scarred wrist, but instead brought it to his lips in a feather-light butterfly kiss, feeling the slight marred skin compared to the rest of the pale complexion of the wrist. Tsuzuki would never forgive himself for allowing this to happen. As he lowered the boy’s wrist, he felt another tear trickle down his cheek.
Hisoka didn’t even know the effect which he had on Tsuzuki. For the elder shinigami, Hisoka was like an addictive drug that he would hate to have to withdraw from. But Tsuzuki didn’t know exactly what the empath thought of him as. He knew know that the younger seemed to love him back, but to what lengths? How far would Hisoka go? To love him? To hurt him? To escape him? To break him? Tsuzuki honestly didn’t know. Part of him didn’t want to know. The other, however, would die to find out.
Tsuzuki blinked as he spotted a teardrop on Hisoka’s cheek. He realized it was his own. And yet, as Tsuzuki wiped it away, a small drop of water formed in the corner of Hisoka’s closed eye and gently slid down, disappearing behind his ashen blonde hair. He still was alone. Even as Tsuzuki stood there, right next to the bed, Hisoka was alone. He remembered a while back when Gushoshin had told him a little about Hisoka, how he had been locked in a cell at a young age and neglected all affection. And then enter Muraki, the psychopathic bastard he was. No one could imagine what Hisoka had been through in his life.
And finally, enter Tsuzuki’s own past, hidden behind a wall of fake happiness and happy-go-lucky attitude. He had also been tortured in his childhood, thought of as a demon because of his eyes. He hated them. Hated the color and everyone else, he was sure, would agree, and that was more than reason enough to not share his past, his burden with anyone else, not even to the one he loved.
Tsuzuki sat down on the end of the bed, gazing at the sleeping angel, whose scarred wrist still hadn’t healed. What was wrong? Was he so neglected in his empathy and shinigami status that even his healing powers weren’t working? He looked at Hisoka’s face, surprised by another tear falling down his creamy cheek and hiding behind his flaxen hair. Tsuzuki felt pain grab his heart again. His feeling of need rose within him and he tried to fight it off, for Hisoka’s sake if not his own, but soon gave in to the urges and reached down, snaking his arms around Hisoka’s tiny frame and pulling him up, close to his chest, holding Hisoka’s head in the crook of his neck.
The said boy murmured something in his sleep and curled up closer, gripping onto Tsuzuki’s sleeve as if it were a lifeline. He mumbled something again in his sleep and this time Tsuzuki caught it.
“As…Asa… to… don’t leave me alone……”
Tsuzuki blinked, then hugged Hisoka tighter to himself, burying his face in his ashen blonde hair, breathing in the scent of honeysuckle. Since when did Hisoka use his surname? Why use his surname? Sure, the chief and Tatsumi used it, but Hisoka never did, at least, not when he was around to hear it.
Hisoka.
He had never once called Hisoka, “Kurosaki”. Why was that? His age, his attitude, his personality? There was certainly no reason to do so, since being partners meant formalities, but to be honest, there was certainly no need. Tsuzuki blinked again as the body in his arms moved again, curling up even closer. It was like Hisoka was trying to escape the world in Tsuzuki’s arms, just escape everything, everything that had hurt him, everything said to him, everything that had been done to him, just everything…
It was like holding a fallen angel whose wings were stripped of him. An angel who had suffered so much, not deserving any punishment, and had been tortured since first seen by human eyes. It was wrong. To Tsuzuki, Hisoka was an angelic being, one who shouldn’t ever have to suffer nor clip his wings. He should be able to spread out his wings and soar high into the sky, away from human eyes, be free from the world.
He looked down at the said angel in his arms, brushing a few bangs away from his closed eyes. ‘Oh, Hisoka… I wish I could erase all of your fears and take away your pain, and comfort you properly when you’re scared, and even… possibly… hold you in more than one way… If you would allow me…’
Tsuzuki buried his face in the blonde mop. ‘I’d give anything just to hold you, even once… Hold you properly and with care, the way it should be, the way you deserve…’
The boy in his arms stirred and Tsuzuki snapped his head up quickly, eyes widening slightly as he remembered his partner’s ability. Had he heard him? Had he heard the same thing Tsuzuki could not put into words for him? The boy relaxed again and moved slightly, leaning more into Tsuzuki, as though he were a pillow. The elder shinigami found it ironic that, even in the tight situation, it was cute to see Hisoka like this, like the innocent angel he refused to become when plagued with his horrors and fears.
‘Oh, Gods, Hisoka… I’ve missed you so much… I wish I could have caught you earlier and undone this whole mess, before it got out of hand. I should‘ve told you that day in the library… but I was such a coward… I’m so sorry…’
Anime/Manga: Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 08.26.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.4K | Visits: 402 | Status: Work In Progress
Tears From Heaven
Chapter Five
Tsuzuki blinked as his partner went slack from his empathy fainting. Asato? Is that what he had said? He looked down at the sleeping form of Hisoka. He did say it, didn’t he? This surprised Tsuzuki a great deal. No one ever used his first name and the last time someone did, he was more alive then, than he currently was now.
He cradled Hisoka gently in his arms and laid him back down on the empath’s bed. As soon as Hisoka hit the bed, he curled up on his side, making the gold pieces matching the gypsy outfit jingle again. Thinking about it now, Tsuzuki knew that the jewelry may bother the boy’s sleep, so, carefully, he lifted the empath’s wrist, taking off he remaining two manacles. He placed them on the nightstand before moving Hisoka on his back to get to his other wrist, his right one. That’s when he saw it.
As he slipped away the thick gold manacle, he saw a small scar tracing his wrist, not so deep to hit his blood artery, but deep enough to cause pain. It wasn’t healing and it looked quite old. But how? Shinigami healing power could heal even the fatalists of wounds. But this one wasn’t healing. And why was it here? Why did Hisoka cut himself?
Tsuzuki mentally kicked himself. Duh! It was because of what had happened. Hisoka was really hurt… he thought Tsuzuki would leave him again… He looked back down at the boy, a tear forming in his amethyst eye and trailing slowly down his cheek as his barriers were let down for a moment, revealing his sadness to the world. It was a grave reminder of Kyoto. Hisoka had jumped into Touda’s flames in attempt to show Tsuzuki that he was cared for, begging him to stay with him and never leave. Tsuzuki never did after that, until now, when it was opposite. Hisoka had left him. Left him in the dark.
But it was now starting to clear and make sense. Everything the boy had done, everything he had and everything he was… It made him real. It made him here. Tsuzuki didn’t release the scarred wrist, but instead brought it to his lips in a feather-light butterfly kiss, feeling the slight marred skin compared to the rest of the pale complexion of the wrist. Tsuzuki would never forgive himself for allowing this to happen. As he lowered the boy’s wrist, he felt another tear trickle down his cheek.
Hisoka didn’t even know the effect which he had on Tsuzuki. For the elder shinigami, Hisoka was like an addictive drug that he would hate to have to withdraw from. But Tsuzuki didn’t know exactly what the empath thought of him as. He knew know that the younger seemed to love him back, but to what lengths? How far would Hisoka go? To love him? To hurt him? To escape him? To break him? Tsuzuki honestly didn’t know. Part of him didn’t want to know. The other, however, would die to find out.
Tsuzuki blinked as he spotted a teardrop on Hisoka’s cheek. He realized it was his own. And yet, as Tsuzuki wiped it away, a small drop of water formed in the corner of Hisoka’s closed eye and gently slid down, disappearing behind his ashen blonde hair. He still was alone. Even as Tsuzuki stood there, right next to the bed, Hisoka was alone. He remembered a while back when Gushoshin had told him a little about Hisoka, how he had been locked in a cell at a young age and neglected all affection. And then enter Muraki, the psychopathic bastard he was. No one could imagine what Hisoka had been through in his life.
And finally, enter Tsuzuki’s own past, hidden behind a wall of fake happiness and happy-go-lucky attitude. He had also been tortured in his childhood, thought of as a demon because of his eyes. He hated them. Hated the color and everyone else, he was sure, would agree, and that was more than reason enough to not share his past, his burden with anyone else, not even to the one he loved.
Tsuzuki sat down on the end of the bed, gazing at the sleeping angel, whose scarred wrist still hadn’t healed. What was wrong? Was he so neglected in his empathy and shinigami status that even his healing powers weren’t working? He looked at Hisoka’s face, surprised by another tear falling down his creamy cheek and hiding behind his flaxen hair. Tsuzuki felt pain grab his heart again. His feeling of need rose within him and he tried to fight it off, for Hisoka’s sake if not his own, but soon gave in to the urges and reached down, snaking his arms around Hisoka’s tiny frame and pulling him up, close to his chest, holding Hisoka’s head in the crook of his neck.
The said boy murmured something in his sleep and curled up closer, gripping onto Tsuzuki’s sleeve as if it were a lifeline. He mumbled something again in his sleep and this time Tsuzuki caught it.
“As…Asa… to… don’t leave me alone……”
Tsuzuki blinked, then hugged Hisoka tighter to himself, burying his face in his ashen blonde hair, breathing in the scent of honeysuckle. Since when did Hisoka use his surname? Why use his surname? Sure, the chief and Tatsumi used it, but Hisoka never did, at least, not when he was around to hear it.
Hisoka.
He had never once called Hisoka, “Kurosaki”. Why was that? His age, his attitude, his personality? There was certainly no reason to do so, since being partners meant formalities, but to be honest, there was certainly no need. Tsuzuki blinked again as the body in his arms moved again, curling up even closer. It was like Hisoka was trying to escape the world in Tsuzuki’s arms, just escape everything, everything that had hurt him, everything said to him, everything that had been done to him, just everything…
It was like holding a fallen angel whose wings were stripped of him. An angel who had suffered so much, not deserving any punishment, and had been tortured since first seen by human eyes. It was wrong. To Tsuzuki, Hisoka was an angelic being, one who shouldn’t ever have to suffer nor clip his wings. He should be able to spread out his wings and soar high into the sky, away from human eyes, be free from the world.
He looked down at the said angel in his arms, brushing a few bangs away from his closed eyes. ‘Oh, Hisoka… I wish I could erase all of your fears and take away your pain, and comfort you properly when you’re scared, and even… possibly… hold you in more than one way… If you would allow me…’
Tsuzuki buried his face in the blonde mop. ‘I’d give anything just to hold you, even once… Hold you properly and with care, the way it should be, the way you deserve…’
The boy in his arms stirred and Tsuzuki snapped his head up quickly, eyes widening slightly as he remembered his partner’s ability. Had he heard him? Had he heard the same thing Tsuzuki could not put into words for him? The boy relaxed again and moved slightly, leaning more into Tsuzuki, as though he were a pillow. The elder shinigami found it ironic that, even in the tight situation, it was cute to see Hisoka like this, like the innocent angel he refused to become when plagued with his horrors and fears.
‘Oh, Gods, Hisoka… I’ve missed you so much… I wish I could have caught you earlier and undone this whole mess, before it got out of hand. I should‘ve told you that day in the library… but I was such a coward… I’m so sorry…’
Anime/Manga: Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 08.26.2006 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.4K | Visits: 402 | Status: Work In Progress
Tears From Heaven
Chapter Five
Tsuzuki blinked as his partner went slack from his empathy fainting. Asato? Is that what he had said? He looked down at the sleeping form of Hisoka. He did say it, didn’t he? This surprised Tsuzuki a great deal. No one ever used his first name and the last time someone did, he was more alive then, than he currently was now.
He cradled Hisoka gently in his arms and laid him back down on the empath’s bed. As soon as Hisoka hit the bed, he curled up on his side, making the gold pieces matching the gypsy outfit jingle again. Thinking about it now, Tsuzuki knew that the jewelry may bother the boy’s sleep, so, carefully, he lifted the empath’s wrist, taking off he remaining two manacles. He placed them on the nightstand before moving Hisoka on his back to get to his other wrist, his right one. That’s when he saw it.
As he slipped away the thick gold manacle, he saw a small scar tracing his wrist, not so deep to hit his blood artery, but deep enough to cause pain. It wasn’t healing and it looked quite old. But how? Shinigami healing power could heal even the fatalists of wounds. But this one wasn’t healing. And why was it here? Why did Hisoka cut himself?
Tsuzuki mentally kicked himself. Duh! It was because of what had happened. Hisoka was really hurt… he thought Tsuzuki would leave him again… He looked back down at the boy, a tear forming in his amethyst eye and trailing slowly down his cheek as his barriers were let down for a moment, revealing his sadness to the world. It was a grave reminder of Kyoto. Hisoka had jumped into Touda’s flames in attempt to show Tsuzuki that he was cared for, begging him to stay with him and never leave. Tsuzuki never did after that, until now, when it was opposite. Hisoka had left him. Left him in the dark.
But it was now starting to clear and make sense. Everything the boy had done, everything he had and everything he was… It made him real. It made him here. Tsuzuki didn’t release the scarred wrist, but instead brought it to his lips in a feather-light butterfly kiss, feeling the slight marred skin compared to the rest of the pale complexion of the wrist. Tsuzuki would never forgive himself for allowing this to happen. As he lowered the boy’s wrist, he felt another tear trickle down his cheek.
Hisoka didn’t even know the effect which he had on Tsuzuki. For the elder shinigami, Hisoka was like an addictive drug that he would hate to have to withdraw from. But Tsuzuki didn’t know exactly what the empath thought of him as. He knew know that the younger seemed to love him back, but to what lengths? How far would Hisoka go? To love him? To hurt him? To escape him? To break him? Tsuzuki honestly didn’t know. Part of him didn’t want to know. The other, however, would die to find out.
Tsuzuki blinked as he spotted a teardrop on Hisoka’s cheek. He realized it was his own. And yet, as Tsuzuki wiped it away, a small drop of water formed in the corner of Hisoka’s closed eye and gently slid down, disappearing behind his ashen blonde hair. He still was alone. Even as Tsuzuki stood there, right next to the bed, Hisoka was alone. He remembered a while back when Gushoshin had told him a little about Hisoka, how he had been locked in a cell at a young age and neglected all affection. And then enter Muraki, the psychopathic bastard he was. No one could imagine what Hisoka had been through in his life.
And finally, enter Tsuzuki’s own past, hidden behind a wall of fake happiness and happy-go-lucky attitude. He had also been tortured in his childhood, thought of as a demon because of his eyes. He hated them. Hated the color and everyone else, he was sure, would agree, and that was more than reason enough to not share his past, his burden with anyone else, not even to the one he loved.
Tsuzuki sat down on the end of the bed, gazing at the sleeping angel, whose scarred wrist still hadn’t healed. What was wrong? Was he so neglected in his empathy and shinigami status that even his healing powers weren’t working? He looked at Hisoka’s face, surprised by another tear falling down his creamy cheek and hiding behind his flaxen hair. Tsuzuki felt pain grab his heart again. His feeling of need rose within him and he tried to fight it off, for Hisoka’s sake if not his own, but soon gave in to the urges and reached down, snaking his arms around Hisoka’s tiny frame and pulling him up, close to his chest, holding Hisoka’s head in the crook of his neck.
The said boy murmured something in his sleep and curled up closer, gripping onto Tsuzuki’s sleeve as if it were a lifeline. He mumbled something again in his sleep and this time Tsuzuki caught it.
“As…Asa… to… don’t leave me alone……”
Tsuzuki blinked, then hugged Hisoka tighter to himself, burying his face in his ashen blonde hair, breathing in the scent of honeysuckle. Since when did Hisoka use his surname? Why use his surname? Sure, the chief and Tatsumi used it, but Hisoka never did, at least, not when he was around to hear it.
Hisoka.
He had never once called Hisoka, “Kurosaki”. Why was that? His age, his attitude, his personality? There was certainly no reason to do so, since being partners meant formalities, but to be honest, there was certainly no need. Tsuzuki blinked again as the body in his arms moved again, curling up even closer. It was like Hisoka was trying to escape the world in Tsuzuki’s arms, just escape everything, everything that had hurt him, everything said to him, everything that had been done to him, just everything…
It was like holding a fallen angel whose wings were stripped of him. An angel who had suffered so much, not deserving any punishment, and had been tortured since first seen by human eyes. It was wrong. To Tsuzuki, Hisoka was an angelic being, one who shouldn’t ever have to suffer nor clip his wings. He should be able to spread out his wings and soar high into the sky, away from human eyes, be free from the world.
He looked down at the said angel in his arms, brushing a few bangs away from his closed eyes. ‘Oh, Hisoka… I wish I could erase all of your fears and take away your pain, and comfort you properly when you’re scared, and even… possibly… hold you in more than one way… If you would allow me…’
Tsuzuki buried his face in the blonde mop. ‘I’d give anything just to hold you, even once… Hold you properly and with care, the way it should be, the way you deserve…’
The boy in his arms stirred and Tsuzuki snapped his head up quickly, eyes widening slightly as he remembered his partner’s ability. Had he heard him? Had he heard the same thing Tsuzuki could not put into words for him? The boy relaxed again and moved slightly, leaning more into Tsuzuki, as though he were a pillow. The elder shinigami found it ironic that, even in the tight situation, it was cute to see Hisoka like this, like the innocent angel he refused to become when plagued with his horrors and fears.
‘Oh, Gods, Hisoka… I’ve missed you so much… I wish I could have caught you earlier and undone this whole mess, before it got out of hand. I should‘ve told you that day in the library… but I was such a coward… I’m so sorry…’
Chapter Five
Tsuzuki blinked as his partner went slack from his empathy fainting. Asato? Is that what he had said? He looked down at the sleeping form of Hisoka. He did say it, didn’t he? This surprised Tsuzuki a great deal. No one ever used his first name and the last time someone did, he was more alive then, than he currently was now.
He cradled Hisoka gently in his arms and laid him back down on the empath’s bed. As soon as Hisoka hit the bed, he curled up on his side, making the gold pieces matching the gypsy outfit jingle again. Thinking about it now, Tsuzuki knew that the jewelry may bother the boy’s sleep, so, carefully, he lifted the empath’s wrist, taking off he remaining two manacles. He placed them on the nightstand before moving Hisoka on his back to get to his other wrist, his right one. That’s when he saw it.
As he slipped away the thick gold manacle, he saw a small scar tracing his wrist, not so deep to hit his blood artery, but deep enough to cause pain. It wasn’t healing and it looked quite old. But how? Shinigami healing power could heal even the fatalists of wounds. But this one wasn’t healing. And why was it here? Why did Hisoka cut himself?
Tsuzuki mentally kicked himself. Duh! It was because of what had happened. Hisoka was really hurt… he thought Tsuzuki would leave him again… He looked back down at the boy, a tear forming in his amethyst eye and trailing slowly down his cheek as his barriers were let down for a moment, revealing his sadness to the world. It was a grave reminder of Kyoto. Hisoka had jumped into Touda’s flames in attempt to show Tsuzuki that he was cared for, begging him to stay with him and never leave. Tsuzuki never did after that, until now, when it was opposite. Hisoka had left him. Left him in the dark.
But it was now starting to clear and make sense. Everything the boy had done, everything he had and everything he was… It made him real. It made him here. Tsuzuki didn’t release the scarred wrist, but instead brought it to his lips in a feather-light butterfly kiss, feeling the slight marred skin compared to the rest of the pale complexion of the wrist. Tsuzuki would never forgive himself for allowing this to happen. As he lowered the boy’s wrist, he felt another tear trickle down his cheek.
Hisoka didn’t even know the effect which he had on Tsuzuki. For the elder shinigami, Hisoka was like an addictive drug that he would hate to have to withdraw from. But Tsuzuki didn’t know exactly what the empath thought of him as. He knew know that the younger seemed to love him back, but to what lengths? How far would Hisoka go? To love him? To hurt him? To escape him? To break him? Tsuzuki honestly didn’t know. Part of him didn’t want to know. The other, however, would die to find out.
Tsuzuki blinked as he spotted a teardrop on Hisoka’s cheek. He realized it was his own. And yet, as Tsuzuki wiped it away, a small drop of water formed in the corner of Hisoka’s closed eye and gently slid down, disappearing behind his ashen blonde hair. He still was alone. Even as Tsuzuki stood there, right next to the bed, Hisoka was alone. He remembered a while back when Gushoshin had told him a little about Hisoka, how he had been locked in a cell at a young age and neglected all affection. And then enter Muraki, the psychopathic bastard he was. No one could imagine what Hisoka had been through in his life.
And finally, enter Tsuzuki’s own past, hidden behind a wall of fake happiness and happy-go-lucky attitude. He had also been tortured in his childhood, thought of as a demon because of his eyes. He hated them. Hated the color and everyone else, he was sure, would agree, and that was more than reason enough to not share his past, his burden with anyone else, not even to the one he loved.
Tsuzuki sat down on the end of the bed, gazing at the sleeping angel, whose scarred wrist still hadn’t healed. What was wrong? Was he so neglected in his empathy and shinigami status that even his healing powers weren’t working? He looked at Hisoka’s face, surprised by another tear falling down his creamy cheek and hiding behind his flaxen hair. Tsuzuki felt pain grab his heart again. His feeling of need rose within him and he tried to fight it off, for Hisoka’s sake if not his own, but soon gave in to the urges and reached down, snaking his arms around Hisoka’s tiny frame and pulling him up, close to his chest, holding Hisoka’s head in the crook of his neck.
The said boy murmured something in his sleep and curled up closer, gripping onto Tsuzuki’s sleeve as if it were a lifeline. He mumbled something again in his sleep and this time Tsuzuki caught it.
“As…Asa… to… don’t leave me alone……”
Tsuzuki blinked, then hugged Hisoka tighter to himself, burying his face in his ashen blonde hair, breathing in the scent of honeysuckle. Since when did Hisoka use his surname? Why use his surname? Sure, the chief and Tatsumi used it, but Hisoka never did, at least, not when he was around to hear it.
Hisoka.
He had never once called Hisoka, “Kurosaki”. Why was that? His age, his attitude, his personality? There was certainly no reason to do so, since being partners meant formalities, but to be honest, there was certainly no need. Tsuzuki blinked again as the body in his arms moved again, curling up even closer. It was like Hisoka was trying to escape the world in Tsuzuki’s arms, just escape everything, everything that had hurt him, everything said to him, everything that had been done to him, just everything…
It was like holding a fallen angel whose wings were stripped of him. An angel who had suffered so much, not deserving any punishment, and had been tortured since first seen by human eyes. It was wrong. To Tsuzuki, Hisoka was an angelic being, one who shouldn’t ever have to suffer nor clip his wings. He should be able to spread out his wings and soar high into the sky, away from human eyes, be free from the world.
He looked down at the said angel in his arms, brushing a few bangs away from his closed eyes. ‘Oh, Hisoka… I wish I could erase all of your fears and take away your pain, and comfort you properly when you’re scared, and even… possibly… hold you in more than one way… If you would allow me…’
Tsuzuki buried his face in the blonde mop. ‘I’d give anything just to hold you, even once… Hold you properly and with care, the way it should be, the way you deserve…’
The boy in his arms stirred and Tsuzuki snapped his head up quickly, eyes widening slightly as he remembered his partner’s ability. Had he heard him? Had he heard the same thing Tsuzuki could not put into words for him? The boy relaxed again and moved slightly, leaning more into Tsuzuki, as though he were a pillow. The elder shinigami found it ironic that, even in the tight situation, it was cute to see Hisoka like this, like the innocent angel he refused to become when plagued with his horrors and fears.
‘Oh, Gods, Hisoka… I’ve missed you so much… I wish I could have caught you earlier and undone this whole mess, before it got out of hand. I should‘ve told you that day in the library… but I was such a coward… I’m so sorry…’