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Tsukishiro Yukito grimaced, genuinely chagrined, as he came to another unrecognizable turn. And to think, he was only walking home from his best friend Kinomoto Touya's house, a trip that he had made hundreds of times! A trek that mere months ago he could have done backwards, blindfolded and hopping on one leg. And besides that, Tomoeda was a very small town, its streets artfully and clearly mapped by its forebears. Everyone would no doubt agree -- it took a special kind of stupid to get lost here. But there was no denying it. He, Tsukishiro Yukito, was lost.
Why was it so dark anyway? he wondered. True, there was no moon, and business hours had ended some time ago so the shops and buildings were already closed. But why were the streets themselves so dimly lit? And why didn't he recognize this part of the town? He wasn't frightened, but he wanted very badly to go home, collapse on his bed and sleep for the next twelve or so hours. He was so tired. He had been wandering around for quite a while now and his already diminished energy was failing.
Lost. Perhaps it shouldn't have surprised him. That's what he'd been like the last few weeks anyway. Always confused, always finding himself in places he couldn't quite remember going to. Once, he'd even found himself sitting on a bench in Penguin Park, exhausted, with no idea of how he got there or where he was going. And it had been happening with increasing frequency lately.
It had happened again tonight, in Touya's house, in front of Sakura-chan. He had gone there to drop off the book Touya had left at school. He remembered Sakura-chan opening the door and handing her the book, and after that -- nothing. The next thing he knew he was standing in the middle of their living room, Sakura-chan holding out a tea tray as if they had been talking for hours.
Sakura had made light of his subsequent bewilderment -- making up some semi-hysterical convoluted explanation mixed with some really inspired misdirection -- but he known what had happened. He had blacked out again. Sakura-chan had insisted he stay for a cup of tea, brushing off any weirdness that may have hovered in the air. She had acted almost apologetically, as if she was at fault, when he knew the truth was he must have frightened her so badly. He couldn't help but smile at her sweetness. Sakura really was very special. She was going to make some boy very happy someday.
Sakura-chan, he thought, fondly. I'd do anything to make you happy, you must know that. But you will find someone else, you must. Because... Even if... Even if I wasn't... It could never be.
He had known that for a very very long time.
He had also known, for a very long time, that he wasn't exactly like normal people. He knew he was different, even if he didn't exactly know how or why. This, perhaps -- the reason he could never return Sakura's feelings -- was the least of those differences, but no less real, no less valid.
For the most part, the knowledge that he was different hadn't mattered to Yukito. He was content, even happy, with his life. He lived normally, like any teenage boy, doing things a normal high school student would be busy with. Going to school, joining clubs, the odd part-time job, falling in love, studying... And of course, hanging out with his best friend Kinomoto Touya.
Touya wasn't quite ordinary, either, Yukito knew, and perhaps that was what had drawn him to the dark-haired boy in the first place. Touya was unique, singular. Touya was so logical, so practical, and yet, there was undoubtedly something quite magical about him. His music, his warm humor, his all-too-seeing eyes. Eyes that could find you instantly in a crowd of thousands. Eyes that could dissect a person or warm him with a single glance. Eyes that saw what no one did.
Yukito had often wondered, what it was that Touya saw was when his friend looked at him. Did he know? Each time he lied by omission, each time he sidestepped the truth, did Touya know? Was that why he looked at him so strangely, why there always seemed to be messages in his eyes that Yukito could never quite read?
Surely not, he thought. He had always been so careful. And surely, Touya, always so truthful himself, would have called him out on it long ago if that were the case. Besides, it wasn't so much lying to Touya so much as he lied to himself, he admitted. Because he wanted it so much. And it wasn't such a lie when he was with Touya.
Touya was so solid. So warm. So alive.
He made Yukito feel the same.
Touya was everything that Yukito wasn't. Vibrant, earthy, possessing of an undeniable presence. If the Japanese nobility still existed, thought Yukito, there would be no better example than Kinomoto Touya. He was strong, honorable, and virtuous. In fact, it was his only his own reticence that kept Touya from being the natural leader that he was undoubtedly born to be. Touya went through life with such intensity, such deliberate purpose, that everyone around him was caught up in his energy field.
For example, Yukito knew for a fact that Touya had been the perpetrator of the Kinomoto Household Schedule. Touya, a child then himself, had instigated the now-legendary Kinomoto Schedule Board right after his Mother's death, not only to assure that the necessary chores got done but that everyone, even the then three year-old Sakura (who was given the all-important chores of keeping her toys neat and watering the house plants,) had something to focus on beyond the loss of the lovely Nadeshico. As loving and as responsible as Kinomoto-sensei was, the death of his beloved wife had left him shattered, lost, and Touya had willingly sublimated his own grief to keep his family together.
He had commented on it once, gently teasing his friend about how mature and responsible he was.
"Mom told me to take care of Dad and Sakura," Touya had told him, simply, as if that explained it all.
Yukito wondered idly what the ten year-old Touya had been like, before his beloved mother's death. Had he already been this intense, this serious? Or had he been like Sakura -- cheerful, effervescent, upbeat?
Yukito blinked, then grinned. Touya, upbeat? He couldn't quite see it. It wasn't that his friend was dark and gloomy -- he had seen his friend quite happy at times, especially at home, or when he was torturing his little sister -- but cheery simply didn't quite cut it for Touya. Intense, Yukito thought again. That was the only word to describe Touya. And Yukito didn't mind, it only made Touya's smile, his laugh, all the more precious.
Touya hadn't been smiling today, when his friend had caught him napping against that tree. He'd looked concerned and worried, and just the slightest bit sad.
Yukito sighed. He truly didn't know what was wrong with him lately. He'd always been so energetic in the past. This exhaustion, this constant emptiness, it was so unlike him. True, he'd always had a voracious appetite, but as Li-kun so vehemently put it, it had always been proof of a health and vitality belied by his too-thin frame. Now the hunger was incessant, insatiable. And yet, despite that, his energy was almost non-existent, sheer will alone getting him through the day. Today, for instance, it had been only noon, and he'd just eaten, but already he'd been so tired, for no reason at all, that he had actually fallen asleep standing up.
I learn to do that with my eyes open and I've got it made, he thought wryly.
He probably would still be there, asleep, if he hadn't heard someone gently call out his name.
Touya.
For a moment, waking up to the sight of Touya's face like that, he'd been utterly happy, and his smile had broken out despite his weariness. He always smiled around Touya, he couldn't help it. Touya was like... sunshine.
Touya had kept staring at him with those intense eyes and he felt his heart beating faster. When Touya had walked up to him and then placed a hand on the tree, leaning over him, he had felt his throat go dry. "What is it, To-ya?" he had asked, curious about the question in his friend's eyes.
"Yuki," Touya had said, softly, seriously. "I've been pretending not to notice, but I know everything that's been happening."
His confusion must've shown on his face because Touya had grimaced.
"Agh, what am I saying? You don't know anything yet, do you?"
Yukito could only hold his breath as Touya had leaned even closer, his eyes locking with his, no longer asking but somehow almost revealing. Or trying to, because Yukito still couldn't quite read the message in those eyes. He thought, for a moment, that Touya was going to touch him, but Touya had only continued to look at him.
"Yuki," he said next, the softness of his voice belying the intensity of his eyes, "whatever happens, don't leave me. Please."
Yukito still didn't know how he managed not to break down then and there. Touya knew, he'd thought then, terrified. His eyes, those eyes that saw everything, they knew.
Touya knew.
They had stared at each other for endless moments, Touya simply gazing at him intently while he struggled to keep the rising panic in his chest from showing on his face.
Don't forget me.
Those words. For a moment he'd thought he'd said them out loud. They sounded so real, so loud, echoing in his head, and crowding his throat. He saw himself grabbing his friend and losing control, uttering those words over and over.
I'm so afraid, To-ya.
Don't fo rget me.
It had taken all of what little strength he still had to stand unmoving against the tree, his hands at his back, clutching at its rough bark to keep from reaching towards Touya. He had mastered himself and managed a smile. "Wait a minute, To-ya," he had managed to say, lightly. "I don't understand what you're saying."
"Just listen," Touya had interrupted, more abrupt than he usually was with his friend. "I know you're ---"
But then Akizuki Nakuru, ever-present and irrepressible, had interrupted and the moment was lost.
It was just as well, thought Yukito. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear what Touya had been about to say.
What did Touya, with his strangely seeing eyes, know? And could he, Tsukishiro Yukito, survive knowing?
His foot hit a bump on the pavement and he stumbled, recovering his balance at the last moment. Looking up from the pavement, he frowned, annoyed with himself. He was already lost, he thought, what was the point of getting into an accident on top of it? Why couldn't he pay attention? Why couldn't he think?
He'd been doing a lot of that as well, lately. The fainting spells and sleepiness were bad enough, but this lack of concentration, this constantly getting lost in his thoughts... He'd had to take a break from the soccer team because of it. As it was he'd narrowly avoided quite a few blows to the head with a speeding soccer ball.
On the other hand, he thought, wryly, who was to say that wasn't exactly what he needed right now?
He perked up as he saw a figure coming up the street, towards him. He'd ask directions, he thought, and be home in no time. Before he could call out, however, the figure called out to him first.
"Yuki? What're you doing here this time of night?"
He almost laughed. Trust Touya to come to his rescue.
"To-ya. Am I glad to see you!"
Touya insisted on walking him home. Yukito had protested, insisting that Touya was tired himself and really, he could find his way fine now that they were back on Tomoeda's main road. But Touya, the town poster boy for concern and conscientiousness, had been adamant.
"I'm not going to sleep anyway if I wasn't sure you were safe at home," he'd answered, with just the slightest edge of exasperation in his voice, and Yukito could only concede.
He reflected again on how fortunate it was that Touya's part-time job today was in this part of town, and that his friend had been on his way home just as he'd made that turn. Truly, Touya's timing bordered on the uncanny.
As Touya's best friend, Yukito had come to appreciate the strange workings of coincidence. Touya would say, perhaps, that there was no such thing as coincidence, that everything was fated, destined. But then, Touya had the strength to believe such things. Perhaps he, born with such purpose, found it easy to find purpose in other things, in Life itself.
I am the one who keeps floundering, thought Yukito wistfully. I am the one who needs his strength to find my own.
I wonder if he ever gets tired of it. Of being so strong for everyone else.
It was a quiet walk. Yukito was too embarrassed about getting lost and wasn't quite sure what to say to Touya. Touya, on the other hand, seemed to be deep in thought. Despite this, Touya's every step was sure, his direction certain. And Yukito noted idly that now he knew exactly where he was, and that the fog that he had been in the last few hours had dissipated. Now everything was sharp, clear, the streets brightly lit, the stars shining.
It's him, he thought. It's always been him.
"Yuki?"
He turned to meet his friend's intense gaze. "Yes, To-ya?"
"Do you remember our last overnight study session? The day of Sakura's play?"
He smiled. That had been months ago, during the first term. "We've been so much busier this term, haven't we?" he replied. "We haven't had a chance to do that in a while."
Touya nodded. "I've been meaning to talk to you about that."
Yukito had to laugh. "Don't say that out too loud or Akizuki's going to pop out from behind that next tree," he teased.
Touya grimaced. "That girl does have incredible timing," he agreed, dryly. "She must have magical powers or something."
What Yukito remembered most about that night was waking up being held, comforted by Touya, after a nightmare.
He wondered if Touya knew how much that had meant to him. That was his most treasured memory, one of the hundreds Touya had already given him.
Don't forget me.
They finally came to his house and Yukito turned to his friend. "To-ya, would you like to come in for a cup of tea?" he invited. "It would warm you up."
Touya thought about it before shaking his head. "I should go home. Dad's working tonight and Sakura's alone."
"Oh." Yukito remembered that, suddenly, that Sakura-chan was alone. He should have used that as his argument that Touya go straight home instead of accompanying him. "Okay." Why didn't he remember? "I was there earlier," he told Touya belatedly. "I dropped your book off."
Touya's head spun around to look at him. "Yuki, was that where you came from?" he asked. "Did you get lost walking back from my house?"
He felt the blush creeping into his face, the feeling of utter stupidity returning. "Uh..." He hung his head. "Yes," he admitted, softly. "I wasn't paying attention. I... I'm sorry."
He was astonished when Touya grabbed him, almost violently hauling him into his embrace, though the arms that held him were gentle, as were the hands that pressed his head into Touya's chest.
"Yuki," Touya said huskily, into his hair. "You have to be more careful."
For a moment he was too surprised, then he relaxed and nodded, mumbling a muffled 'I will' into Touya's shirt.
"Promise me," Touya demanded.
Eyes closed, his cheek resting against Touya's shoulder, he nodded again.
He still felt stupid for getting lost in the first place, still felt pathetic at how weak he was, but somehow, being held like this, by Touya, breathing in Touya's scent, absorbing his warmth, he felt just a little bit better, a little bit stronger. He let himself be held, wishing they could stay like that forever.
It was just like this, he thought, that night all those months ago. Touya had held him just like this.
That night, safe in those arms, he had never been happier. And Touya had smiled at him so sweetly that morning that if Sakura-chan and Kinomoto-sensei hadn't been scheduled to return any moment he would have happily stayed there for the rest of the day. He had believed then, with every fiber of his being, that everything would be alright. That soon, he would have the courage to tell Touya everything that was in his heart.
But that was before all this had begun -- the strange lapses of consciousness, the gnawing emptiness, the fear.
Don't forget me.
How could he tell him now? Yukito thought. What purpose would confessing serve now?
He felt tears start in his eyes, gathering strength even as he steeled himself for the loss of that warmth.
How long could he keep doing this? he wondered. How long could he last?
And more importantly, how long could Touya?
Touya set him back, finally, smiling wryly at him, touching gentle fingers to his cheek. "You should go inside," he instructed softly. "You're tired."
"Okay."
"And Yuki?"
"Hmmm?"
"One of these days," Touya said, softly, seriously, "when you're not so tired, and Akizuki isn't around, we are going to have that talk."
By then, fortified by Touya's sun, he was strong enough to smile. "Okay."
But something must have shown on his face, or barring that, Touya's too-seeing eyes still must have seen through the smile.
"Yuki?"
"Yes, To-ya?"
Touya held Yukito's face in his hands, forcing him to look meet his gaze. "If you ever need anything," he instructed him gently, firmly, "and I mean anything, I want you to tell me, okay? I want you to come to me."
And for the first time ever, Tsukishiro Yukito, not by evasion or omission, but flat-out to-his-face lied to his best friend. "Of course I will, To-ya," he said, still smiling. "You know I always do."
He watched Touya walk away, his smile disintegrating with each step that took the taller boy further away.
Why is it, To-ya, that everything looks so dark, so fuzzy, that I can't breathe, or hear my heart beat, when you're not around?
Why do I only feel real when I'm with you?
/Don't leave me. Please./
And Touya, did he know? Did he know what he was, what was happening? Did Touya look at him at him and see --
What did Touya see?
But he supposed it didn't matter now.
The constantly empty feeling inside of him. The hunger he couldn't satisfy no matter how much he ate. The recurring, increasing loss of consciousness. The exhaustion. They were all symptomatic of a growing realization that all the rationalizations in the world couldn't change.
Yukito knew it. He could no longer deny it.
He was fading away.
He had never felt quite real. From the beginning, there had always been too many gaps in his being, too many lapses in his memory. There were too many questions -- what was he, anyway? Was he even human? Did he even belong here? Did he have the right to fall --?
Touya.
/If you need anything, come to me./
Don't you know, To-ya?* he asked silently. You already give me everything.
The thought of him, the sound of his name, the memory of his smile -- they were his talismans against the encroaching darkness. Fading, but not quite empty yet, not quite spent. Inside him there was still a small undeniable light, burning, keeping that darkness, the fear away.
I know in my heart you are why I am here. You are why I am. The one thing that makes me feel alive, the only thing that makes me real.
But if this continues, if the darkness grows...
For a while, he had been able to deny it. He had been able to ignore those gaps in his being, the lack of a past.
Because he thought he'd at least have the future.
Now he knew better. He now knew he didn't, had never, belonged.
The rifts were getting bigger, wider, the emptiness a chasm, an abyss, stretching out inside him. He felt as if tiny pieces of himself were disappearing, the way a tree shed leaves in the face of winter. The darkness yawned before him and it was so hard to focus, so hard to hold on.
/Don't leave me./
But Yukito knew he had no choice.
When I go, To-ya, will you still be able to see me? Like one of your spirits, like your mother?
You would weep for me, I know, because you are kind.
Knowing what I am, knowing I never truly was, you would still weep for me.
/Don't leave me. Please./
Your mother. Mizuki-san. You, of all people deserve to be happy. Deserve to know that you will never be hurt, never be left behind again.
And I would endure any pain, face any trial, fight any enemy, rather than cause you one moment of sorrow.
But...
/Don't leave me./
I have to.
He entered his house, the 'home' that was just as false and as empty as he was, heading for his bedroom.
He was so tired. All he wanted was to fall on his bed and sleep for a hundred years.
Sometimes, he was so weary he thought he would have gladly gone into that darkness. Except... he already knew...
Touya wouldn't be there.
He stopped, suddenly, that thought ringing through him like a bell, slicing like a knife.
Touya.
It would happen, he knew. He wasn't strong enough to stop it. Maybe he was never meant to. The day would come and he would have to let go.
And he would never see Touya again.
/Don't leave me./
I have to.
/Please./
I have to!
/Please./
He sobbed, suddenly, collapsing against his bedroom door. The tears rushed past his eyes, falling finally. He could no longer hold them back -- he was too tired, too weak, and he had been holding them in for too long. He could only lean against the door and weep, wishing he could call Touya back, seek refuge in those arms again, have him whisper assurances into his hair, make him believe them.
I'm so afraid, To-ya.
Of that darkness. Of how weak I am in the face of it.
/Come to me./
I can't.
If I keep depending on you, feeding off your strength, your warmth...
How many of us do that, To-ya? How many of us need you so?
I can't keep doing it, To-ya. I can't.
Because the only thing I fear more than leaving you, more than going into that darkness alone...
Is that I might take you with me.
He didn't know how long he wept, aware only of when the tears finally slowed, finding himself on the floor, his face tucked into his knees, his breath still punctuated by the occasional sniffle and shudder.
Exhausted, he laid down on the floor, too weary to even stand up and go into his bedroom. Curled into a fetal position he closed his eyes, willing sleep to come, seeking its promised reprieve.
But even with his eyes closed, he could still see the light in Touya's eyes, burning away the darkness.
/Come to me./
Yukito felt tears rising up his throat once more.
/Don't leave me./
How many nights had he done this? How many times had he accepted, resolved, only to falter again?
Why was he so weak?
To-ya, I'm so afraid.
Don't let me do it.
Don't let me hurt you.
Using what little remained of his strength, he stood up. Ignoring his bedroom, the bed that still called to him, he turned and walked to the kitchen. Once there he opened the refrigerator, took out two loaves of bread, an entire ham, two whole roasted chickens, a huge bowlful of noodles, half a blueberry cheesecake and a box of doughnuts and set them all down on the kitchen counter.
Just one more day, he thought. Just let me have one more day.
He pulled up a chair and sat down.
Just one more day with Touya.
Resolutely, he began to eat.
The End
copyright JCSA 2001
07 October 2001