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The apartment is small.There’s the living room. The balcony. Their parents’ room. And this. A tiny bedroom, for the both of them. There’s not even a proper bed. Just a futon, made for a single person.Nee-san doesn’t mind it. Sharing this space with him. He doesn’t mind it either. It’s not a lot. But they’ve got each other. That’s the only thing they really need, right? A little lamp. A little light. A little space. A little world, where he can curl up away from their father who drinks. And their mother who smokes. And the both of them who gamble. And—“Sakuya. Don’t ever forget… I love you.”Nee-san’s warmth… And her pretty ponytail. Disappear. Over the small railing.A small scream. Lodges in his small throat.He speaks in a small voice.And tells a big lie.“We were playing, and… Nee-san. She…”It was an accident. It was an accident.Nee-san’s small, gentle, smile… Haunts him more than anything else. More than his small. Insignificant. Death. Or the not so small sound. Of meat hitting hot pavement.Ah. Ahh…That small light…Is it bad of him. To want to chase it?Is it bad of him… To not want this?This small… Impossible. Second chance.Is it bad of him. To not be sure. If he can live? Not even for her sake…He can’t… Keep doing this.The small sound of geta. Clacking against the asphalt. Follow him. Wherever he goes.***Sakuya doesn’t wake with a scream, nor does he come to covered in sweat. He doesn’t jolt, doesn’t have tears staining his soft pillow. Instead he claws his way to the surface of the world slowly, like a lotus rising above muddy waters.No sign of what he’s fought through.He rolls over and stares at the high ceilings of a room that’s all his own, and as big as that small living room at that. It’s been a few months now. He’s thinking of finally decorating it, just a little. He’s been thinking of that for a while now, actually, but every time he thinks to ask…The words get stuck.“.....”Kind of like now. Well, it’s different, right now. When he thinks to ask for things… It’s terrible. He can’t even open his mouth, instead standing there dumbly, wide eyed and pleading, his jaw aching with the non-action as his internal voice gets louder and louder. It’s as if it’s stealing all the volume he could muster and directing it inside himself to berate. It’s just a question. Can’t you ask a single question? What’s wrong with you, are you stupider than you look?That voice sounds a lot like a dead man’s, and not at all like his own.Now. Now is different from that. Now, alone in his own bedroom (did he mention he has his own bedroom? His own bed! His own bathroom, even!) there’s no one here but him, and the sheer effort to speak, to make even a single noise, seems like such a waste.He manages to move his eyes and doesn’t flinch when they’re reflected in the alarm clock radio. Score one for him.4:34A breath escapes his nose, one of those almost but not quite laughs you make when something is almost but not quite funny.Ten more minutes and it would have been dead or dead or dead, as Belkia liked to put it. Ten more minutes and he would have taken it as a sign.He bats the thought away and instead focuses on the time itself. This late at night (early in the morning?) it’s all very quiet. Despite being vampires, most everyone kept to a human schedule. Not because they had to. Nobody really did anything they didn’t want to around here. Which was kind of amazing. Before, he wouldn’t have been able to fathom it.Which meant that, if he wanted to. He could get up and walk around. He could go down to the business level and grab something to eat from the twenty-four hour complimentary continental breakfast. He could even go out and walk around, outside! And no one would stop him, or scold him. He might get asked where he was planning on going, but that was unlikely. You were trusted to manage yourself.Yet again. This was novel to him. There was no warden hovering over your shoulder, waiting for you to screw up. But it wasn’t like nobody cared, either… Once, he stayed out for a full day and a half, just kind of… Looking around. Tokyo was a big place, with lots of areas for tourists, and lots of dark corridors that led to so many little shops, to so many less safe places. He’d gone wherever he wanted. Arcades. Music shops. Internet cafes. Bookstores. Clothing shops. Window shopping. He hadn’t bought anything, just… Looked. Marveled. Watched a group of middle school friends hanging out for too long, and crushed down the yearning in his chest.The point was. He didn’t go home.And Tsubaki-san had called him. Not to make demands or shout, just. Ask. If he was okay, because no one had seen him for a while, and he had gotten worried. Did he have what he needed. Did he want help.Sakuya, numb from it all, had woodenly replied he was kind of hungry.For some reason, that had made Tsubaki-san laugh, and through it, he was told to come home. There was plenty to eat. He remembers smiling. It had been a fragile thing, but he'd done it sincerely. He didn't understand what was so funny, but he must have done something right. He really... Liked that sound. The one Tsubaki-san had made because of him.When Tsubaki-san said that he cared about him… When he said he wouldn’t betray anyone. Wouldn’t lie to him.He’d meant it. He’d meant every word, and had since kept his promise.Maybe that’s why, seemingly without permission, and that strange, chest tightening memory in his head, his feet were carrying him down richly carpeted halls, towards an elevator with a gaudy looking emergency button hidden behind a panel.
Like some kind of spy movie…
Maybe that was why he found himself going to the top floor, where the penthouse was perpetually unlocked.“Sakuya?”Before he knew it, he was standing barefoot on cold tile, blinking in surprise that someone other than him was awake. That Tsubaki-san was awake, looking at him with such a strange expression, somewhere between surprise and worry.“Are you alright? You’re crying.”Ah. He hadn’t noticed.Tsubaki-san’s mouth pinched, and a chair was pulled out at the table beside him. It didn’t make a sound, sliding easily with felt along the bottom.“I… I dreamt about it again.”“... I see.”He couldn’t help it. Tsubaki-san’s hand on his head… Was the same as back then.
“I wish you’d found her instead of me…”
Words he hadn’t dared give voice to before now broke past the yelling in his mind, and with them, a flood of emotion. He was crying in earnest now, and he couldn’t stop. He couldn't stop. Why couldn't he stop?Tsubaki-san was a small person, but he was still more than strong enough to pick him up, scrawny kid that he was, and carry him off.He didn’t fight it.Instead he sobbed weakly into his shoulder, ruining the fine silk of Tsubaki-san’s kimono and feeling with deep certainty that it was fine. Whatever he needed, it was fine.***Dawn breaks, and his consciousness with it, to a body beside his own, and a hand in his hair.It’s not hers.He knows he’s loved regardless.It’s a funny feeling.