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A soft sigh escaped his lips as distant grey eyes stared at the great black expanse above.
There was not a cloud in sight, allowing the midnight sky to display its splendor. The stars shone bright; their luminous forms twinkling as they dangled in the vast blanket of darkness. Amongst the sparkling lights, the moon curved, much like a Cheshire cat smiling down on him. Watching him. Mocking him.
His eyes narrowed in distaste.
It was one of those nights, again.
Throughout the course of his life, there were many times he had trouble sleeping; tormented by the ghosts of his pasts even in his dreams. Especially in his dreams.
Being a secret agent can be quite taxing on one’s psyche. It was a thought he’d surmised a few years into joining the Organization. Yet by the time he realized it, he was already in too deep without a chance to escape.
With another sigh, he shifted his gaze to the rabbit ornament in his grasp; absentmindedly tracing its features as its round, soulless eyes stared back at him.
Lately, he was doing better; able to regularly get a few hours of shut-eye these past few months and get a full night’s sleep every now and then. He’d even dream on occasion—of the troupe; of their plays; of hazel eyes and radiant smiles.
Some nights though, bouts of memories would course through his mind the moment he closed his eyes and he’d be forced awake, lest he relive his worst moments over and over again.
And for tonight, it seemed that his demons were more than ecstatic to accompany him once more.
So there he stood—by the window, lost in thought, fiddling with the small rabbit ornament in his hands.
“Hey,” a soothing voice broke through his reverie, “what’s the matter?”
A pair of slender arms wrapped themselves around his waist, making his shoulders relax as tension eased from his body. He was thankful that Izumi knew better than to surprise him with sudden physical contact. Not because he did not welcome contact with her. He simply couldn’t control the reflexes ingrained into his system.
“Chikage?”
Snapping out of his thoughts, Chikage placed the ornament on the window sill and turned to face her.
“It’s nothing,” he whispered as he returned her embrace, “just mulling over things.”
“You mean moping?”
He rolled his eyes and flicked her on the forehead. The action earned him an adorable pout, and Chikage was half tempted to do it again just to tease her.
“I was kidding, sheesh.” Izumi grumbled as she rubbed the sore spot. She was honestly such a child sometimes, he noted humorously.
Chikage chuckled as he gently removed her hand and kissed the afflicted area. “I’m sorry.”
“You better be,” she huffed as she moved closer and rested her head on his chest, “penny for your thoughts?”
He hummed in contemplation, taking his time to answer. She didn’t seem to mind though, seemingly content within his arms; listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as she randomly traced shapes on his back.
Izumi was one of the most patient people he’d had the pleasure of meeting. And for that, he was grateful.
“You know,” she drawled as her fingers leisurely traced the kanji for his name, “we should be asleep by now.”
“I can’t.” Chikage was fully aware that it was already an ungodly hour in the morning, and he felt a bit guilty for making her stay up so late. She probably woke up after sensing his absence. “You should head to bed first.”
Izumi seemed to mull over his response before her eyes lit up and a grin spread on her lips. Honestly, this woman had such animated reactions and it entertained him to no end.
“I know just the thing,” she said, pulling him to their bed with all her might.
“Never thought you’d ask,” Chikage teased as he willingly let himself be dragged by the short woman.
“Perv.” Izumi glared at him as she settled on the bed. She rested her back against the headboard and patted the space next to her. “Come here.”
Complying with her wish, Chikage sat beside her and awaited her next command. A devious smirk graced his lips. He always liked a woman in charge.
Seeing his expression, Izumi rolled her eyes and smacked him on the shoulder. “Lie down and place your head here,” she stated, patting her lap as his designated pillow. He looked at her in hesitation, but once he saw her no-nonsense gaze Chikage shrugged and complied.
Comfortable, was the first thing he thought. No wonder December loved to use her lap as his pillow. At the thought of the silver haired man, Chikage found his mind wandering once more.
How long had it been since he’d joined under a pseudo-interest in theater? Never had he imagined himself genuinely enjoying the craft, nor had he pictured himself being involved with their director of all people.
But here he was. Even after deceiving them they’d given him a chance. She gave him a chance.
Although, what could he give her in return?
“Izumi, would it— you—” he cut himself short, struggling to grasp the right words.
His cool façade cracked as his demons came crashing down on him; like cascading ocean waves that dragged him deeper and deeper into the harshest, murkiest depths of his mind.
Memories flashed like lightning.
Endless, withered nights. Dark, dark nights spent curled on his bed, wracking his brain for answers; where he’d gone wrong, what he could’ve done better. Long, long nights as he endured the anxiety gnawing his throat, the monsters haunting his door, the skeletons hiding in his closet. Lonely, lonely nights that bear witness to his weary soul waking up mid-scream from a nightmare; remembering the way he cradled August’s cold, lifeless body that horrible, wretched day.
A soft brush of his hair drew him back, calming his frantic nerves as his pulse eased to a steady beat. His breathing was labored and his vision was blurry, but he could see the faint outline of her smile as her soft hazel eyes glistened in the moonlight.
She always managed to bring him peace. And that realization struck him much more than his demons.
“I can never give it to you.” The words left his lips before he was fully aware, and he almost smacked himself for being a sentimental sap. But Izumi’s kind gaze assured him she didn’t mind.
“Hm?” she murmured, gingerly running her fingers through his soft, green hair, “what is it you can’t give?”
“Peace.”
Izumi kept silent; hazel eyes glimmered with curiosity, urging him to continue.
“I’m not a good man. I’ve told you that before,” he sighed as he stared at the ceiling, refusing to meet her gaze as he spoke, “I’ve done things I’m not proud of.”
“I know,” she said quietly, “but you don’t have to give me anything.”
He knew that—of course he knew. When had she ever asked anything of them? The others even have to force her into accepting their assistance.
But even so, something compelled him to give her something. He never liked being indebted to anyone.
And for Izumi, for the person who gave him another chance at life, he’d lay the world at her feet. He would give her his life if he had to.
But he just couldn’t bring her peace. Not when he's still involved in the Organization. Not when he still hasn't found the traitor that caused August's death.
Not when he’s still drowning in his own chaos.
Another soft brush of his hair made him pause. He gently grasped her hand and stared at it in pure wonder. “Your hands,” he murmured, brushing his thumb across her palm, “they’re soft and tender.”
Izumi’s hands were definitely much smaller than his. They were a bit rough from doing chores and had callouses from writing too much, but they were still softer—pure and innocent, his demons cackled—than his own coarse, blood-stained hands.
In a jolt, he released his grasp and sat up; burying his face in his hands.
“Chikage?” her gentle, loving voice called out to him. But he couldn’t face her.
What was he thinking? Getting involved with the troupe, getting involved with her. Had he not learned his lesson?
“Hey,”
Had he no shame? How could someone like her possibly deserve a filthy scum of the earth like him?
He almost let out a bitter laugh. How foolish was he to hope?
He could never be enough.
“Chikage.”
The firm tone of her voice pierced through his doubts, and he was surprised to see her in front of him; brows furrowed as concern flooded her mesmerizing hazel eyes. Was he so lost in thought that he didn’t even feel the bed creak when she moved?
“Look,” she said, settling herself between his outstretched legs.
“I won’t promise to fix you. That’s something you have to do yourself,” she stated, her faced schooled into a firm expression as she stared straight into his eyes, “but I’ll be here. No matter what.” A small smile blossomed on her lips as she clasped both her hands around his.
“As long as I have the troupe; as long as I have you,” she whispered, placing a tender hand on his cheek and Chikage couldn’t help but lean into her warmth, “I’m already at peace.”
His brows furrowed in uncertainty as he opened his mouth to retort, but Izumi chuckled and shook her head. “Seriously, I’m not going anywhere.”
"I'll wait, no matter how long it takes."
And with that beautiful smile on her face, Chikage found it hard not to believe her.
His eyes began to sting as his vision became blurry, so he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her with him as he laid down. Izumi’s laugh echoed through the room, eliciting a soft chuckle from the green-haired male.
“It may not be soon, but someday,” she paused and brushed her thumb across his cheek, before she snuggled into his chest and released a satisfied sigh, “someday it’ll be okay.”
And as they lay side by side, entangled in each other’s embrace, listening as Izumi’s breathing evened out as sleep eventually claimed her, Chikage found himself slowly being lulled to sleep.
Strangely enough, he did not resist.
Half-lidded eyes gazed at the slumbering woman in his arms, and he knew — a soft voice inside him whispered.
They’ll be alright.
Ad Meliora
Onwards, to better things.