sodomhipped | dream and memory [tokyo babylon; seishirou/subaru; gen]

Title: dream and memory [or read on Ao3]

Fandom: Tokyo Babylon

Pairing: Sakurazuka Seishirou /Sumeragi Subaru

Rating: Gen

Warning: None

Tags: Post-Canon, Grief/Mourning, Angst

Summary:

Sometimes dreaming of Seishirou does not feel like dreaming at all.

『Or, Subaru is still learning about guilt and grief.』

Years ago, Subaru had returned home crying. Hokuto embraced him, wiping away his tears with her own small hands.

“What’s wrong?”

“I saw a kitty get hurt,” he explained, between each heaving sob.

“Is it okay?”

The cat, too slow on a busy road, suffered a crushed paw. When he went to help, it looked at him fearfully and ran away as best it could on three legs.

‘Why wouldn’t it let me help?’ he wants to ask Hokuto. But he cannot bring himself to tell the story, so he buries his face into the crook of her neck instead.

ii.

“We do not need to speak of what happened,” his grandmother says, though the displeased curl of her mouth says otherwise. “Hokuto is missing.”

Subaru barely notices. He’s within himself and has not spoken in many days. He would prefer to never speak again.

“I knew the Sakurazukamori was coming. I should have protected you both better,” she continues, and he has never heard her sound so human, so sad. He thinks Hokuto would have been stunned to see this side of her.

Still, he says nothing.

“You must come back. Please do not let him steal you from us.”

iii.

The day Hokuto left, her soft, sad words barely reached him. Even then, he stayed within, buffered from the pain and waiting to die.

However, the anguish he felt at Seishirou’s betrayal is nothing compared to the agony that rips through his soul at Hokuto’s murder.

At once, without a doubt in his heart, he knows it’s his fault. So he forces himself awake and makes two resolutions.

The resolutions: First, he will not cry for Seishirou or himself anymore. If he must cry, it will be for Hokuto. Second, he will avenge her death.

They are, of course, lies.

iv.

Subaru pretends not to see the concern in his grandmother’s expression when she gives him an assignment for the first time after Hokuto’s death.

It is a simple task—an exorcism—and he knows it for the test it is.

They are assessing how much damage the Sakurazukamori dealt to the Sumeragi legacy.

He dons his ceremonial robes. It should make him feel more professional; it does not.

As he begins the incantation, he remembers there is no sister or friend tagging along with him. There never will be again.

By the time he finishes the ritual, he is crying.

Hokuto once asked if he ever dreamed of Seishirou.

Subaru had blushed and stammered, which was response enough for her. He sometimes wanted to dream of Seishirou—that kind face, those gentle hands. But the real answer was that he never did. There was a hole in his dreams the shape of Seishirou, tantalizing in the notable absence.

“You know what that means,” Hokuto said, sagely.

He couldn’t help his curiosity. He asked, “What does it mean?”

“You’re fated to be together!”

The blushing worsened, heating his cheeks uncomfortably, and Hokuto laughed and laughed.

He dreams of Seishirou now constantly.

vi.

The dreams start bad and grow stranger.

At first, he dreamt of the obvious things: Seishirou’s cruel voice; Hokuto’s pierced heart; blood and cherry blossoms.

Tonight he dreams of two Seishirous.

They face each other like a fractured mirror. He can see one Seishirou has two gentle eyes. The other has only a single cold eye. The cold Seishirou reaches forward to touch the cheek of the gentle Seishirou, fingertips placed below the eye that would later be lost on Subaru’s behalf.

He turns to Subaru.

“How much of what happened is your fault?” he asks, mildly.

Subaru wakes sweating.

vii.

Subaru buys his first pack of cigarettes for himself the morning after the dream.

The shop clerk asks which brand he wants. Subaru surveys the brightly-colored boxes, each wrapped in pristine celophane.

“It doesn’t matter,” he answers.

The clerk turns and fear grips Subaru.

“Not Mild Seven,” he says, too loudly. “Anything but those. And a lighter, please.”

He lights one up as soon as he’s outside. The first puffs cause him to cough, but he becomes accustomed quickly.

They are not the same brand, but the toxic smoke curls around his lungs, tasting just like how Seishirou smelled.

viii.

In his waking hours, Subaru hunts for Seishirou.

He devotes himself to the pursuit, foregoing everything else. But he only finds hints—always a trail that is already turning cold.

As the years pass steadily, his apartment becomes nearly empty, cleared of anything that might evoke memory. The walls are bare, his closet full of plain clothing Hokuto would hate.

He cannot remember the last time he had a visitor.

Too often, he feels as if he is waiting for Seishirou. Subaru has never had the upper hand between them.

He still cries often. And at night, he still dreams.

ix.

Sometimes dreaming of Seishirou does not feel like dreaming at all.

In one such dream, Seishirou approaches him. And, because it is a dream, Subaru allows it. Seishirou brings a hand to Subaru’s face, palm warm and solid against Subaru’s cheek.

“What a shame,” Seishirou says, idly.

Subaru doesn’t know what he’s referring to—there are so many things he himself regrets.

But because it’s a dream—and only because it’s a dream—Subaru doesn’t ask what he means. Instead, he kisses the palm of the hand that killed his twin.

Seishirou’s thumb catches the first tear as it falls.

Neither crying nor dreaming changes anything. Neither does memory. Subaru would avoid them all, but as surely as he follows Seishirou, they chase after him.

One day, after another job, he remembers the cat. He thinks that if he had shared the story with Hokuto, she might have understood the cat’s feelings better than he had.

He imagines her saying: ‘Some hurts cannot be shared. But I’ll always be there to share yours.’

It would’ve been a lie, but his younger self would never have realized that there was a world in which he would carry such a hurt himself.