Work Text:
Ares is dragged out of his cell in the middle of the night, the door shutting with a bang behind him. He doesn’t utter a peep before he is face to face with the head of his family.
“What is this?” The man asks, throwing papers on the ground in front of Ares. It seemed to be a report on his latest mission. He inwardly winces, remembering fully well how bad his performance was. “This quality of work is not befitting of someone in our family. Now let me ask you again,” the man gestures to the papers again, “what is this?”
“...I’m afraid I have no answer to that. I’d like to blame it on my incompetence. There’s no excuse for sloppy work,” Ares says, taking tremendous effort for his voice to remain even.
It’s dark, but Ares can see the scowl on the man’s face clearly as he steps over the papers, having no use for them anymore. “Such words won’t make up for the damage that’s been done.” He crouches down, and Ares tries not to flinch. “What were you thinking? Did you figure out that, after everything, you have a soulmate?”
The word echoes in Ares’ head. “Soulmate?” The question leaves his mouth before he can think, and he immediately regrets it by the way the man frowns in thought.
“...Yes, a soulmate.” He pats Ares’ shoulder. “You know, everyone all over the world has a soulmate, someone who can feel the same pain as their other half.” He then squeezes his shoulder with a force that can make anyone other than Ares kneel. “You might not feel this well, but your soulmate will.”
Ares can feel the color drain from his face, his blood running cold. “What?” He can barely breathe. The hand on his shoulder suddenly feels like a brand, searing his skin in a way that he can’t feel.
“Everyone you’ve killed has another half that has felt a pain worse than death. The moment they die, it is said they’ve experienced death twice.” The man sighs as he grabs Ares by the arm and drags him back to his cell, the metal door creaking to a close. “Think wisely, Ares, or else your soulmate will suffer from your choices.” The man then leaves, his footsteps echoing in the dark.
Ares presses gently onto his shoulder, his fist clenched at his side. What was the point of shouldering this burden all on his own when there was someone out there who felt the same pain as him? “I’m sorry,” he whispers to no one in particular, his words never leaving this dark prison cell.
It doesn’t take a while until Ares is out on another mission, the knife in his hand gripped tight. Getting hurt was not an option today. Even though he might not feel the pain of getting stab wounds or poison, the other half of this strange connection will, and that was something he did not want to risk. He does not want an innocent person taking on the pain he barely feels.
The mission takes longer than usual because he takes deliberate steps and unnecessary movements to get out of harm’s way. He grimaces as he stabs at a man that was aiming for his back. This was inefficient, and he’s likely to get dragged out of his cell again in the middle of the night once he returns to base. He sighs, shaking his head. That kind of thing was nothing to him, so long as his soulmate was safe.
It should’ve been nothing.
Ares wakes with a start, his head submerged in water. He thrashes around, trying to lift his head, but he realizes his wrists are tied behind his back and someone is deliberately pushing his head down into the water. He unwillingly gulps down water, and finally his head is lifted by his hair. He hacks and coughs, water escaping his lungs as he tries to breathe in as much air as he can.
It’s dark, he’s still in his cell, but holding him captive was the family head who looks displeased. “Ares,” he whispers, and Ares involuntarily shivers. “When I told you about soulmates, I didn’t mean for you to continue giving us poor job results.”
Ares grits his teeth, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration. “...What else was I supposed to do?”
“Every time your work is far from satisfactory, I will visit you when you least expect it and do this.” The man gestures at the setup. It’s very crude and not reminiscent of the quality Ares has seen of their family’s torture methods. “Punishment awaits you. I know you’re used to this, but think about the other person behind your bond that feels like they’re drowning in their sleep if you decide not to cooperate.”
Ares freezes, as though he’s been dunked by the very water he was drowning in. Every night, his soulmate would have to put up with the punishments Ares has grown used to ever since he was a child. The very thought makes him sick to his stomach, and that finally shuts him up.
It seems that the family head has taken Ares’ horrified silence as acceptance. “I think we’ve come to an agreement.” He finally removes his hand from Ares’ head and takes away the bucket of water. “You’ll have a collaborative mission tomorrow, so do your best. As for your restraints, I think you can handle that on your own.”
The metal door to his cell closes with a creak, and Ares is once again all by himself. His eyebrows are still furrowed as his hands ball up into fists in their restraints. There was nothing he could do to protect the other half of his bond. No matter what he did, it will still end up in pain. He feels the violent urge to laugh, and he does. He tries to let it all go as his laughter turns shallower and shallower.
It takes a long time for him to calm down, and a longer time to get out of his restraints. By the time tomorrow comes, Ares goes back to “normal,” and his family does not bother him again.
(In the solace of the dark, Ares aches and traces the scars littering his body, touch lingering in wounds and bruises that were still fresh. He doesn’t know when it happened, but it seems he’s gotten a rather odd habit. He whispers a multitude of apologies no one but himself can hear, and he drifts off to sleep, dreaming of what could have been.)
“Nagi-chan, have you met your soulmate yet?” Seraph says one day as they hang out on the rooftops of Erfolg, a sandwich in hand as they look up at the sky.
“How incredibly sentimental of you,” Akira comments, and Seraph lightly punches his shoulder. He laughs a bit. “What about you?”
Seraph gives him a look, knowing that he’s shifting the topic to him, but Akira looks away as though he’s unaware. “Haven’t yet.” He finally relents as he looks back up at the sky. “...I don’t think I can face them.”
Akira hums as he nods. “Yeah. I think I’m the same,” he admits, absentmindedly folding up his food.
“I don’t think they’ll forgive me, if I met them.” Seraph smiles wryly as he takes a bite out of his sandwich. “I’ve hurt a lot of people. I took on a lot of pain. They must have felt the pain I couldn’t feel for myself. There are so many things they’ll scorn me for, is what I think.”
Akira is silent as he turns to face Seraph. “And if your soulmate forgives you anyway?”
Seraph sighs. It’s a small, vulnerable sound. “...I wish they’d stay, then.”
“Nothing else?” Akira asks, even though he knows that asking for anything more in this line of work is impossible.
“Nothing else,” Seraph lies, just like always. He’d wish for his soulmate to stay closer, but perhaps those are just the thoughts of a sentimental fool. No one would want to get close to someone whose hands are stained with blood, after all.
Seraph stands corrected the moment Kanato slaps him out of his misery, with that same pain reflected back onto his own cheek. He freezes in place as the realization hits him like a lightning bolt: Kanato is his soulmate—
“—Ow!” That certainly snaps Seraph out of it. He finds himself looking up at Kanato who is currently nursing his cheek with his hand. “Okay, I really slapped you hard, didn’t I?” Impossibly blue eyes meet his own, and the smile Kanato directs at him shakes off the tension a bit from his body.
Akira and Hibari were still in the room, a little wide eyed at their exchange. “Uh,” Hibari starts, looking back and forth between the two of them. “So, like, do you guys need some privacy? Because… you know…”
“...Please.” It’s a quiet request coming from Seraph, and immediately Hibari nods as he drags an equally concerned Akira away with him, going up the steps and exiting the Laundry.
“You know, you’re not off the hook just because we’re soulmates.” Kanato is the one that speaks first, the smile from earlier now a frown. His eyebrows are furrowed from worry as he reaches his hand out palm up for Seraph to take. “You almost died, Seraph, and if you did…”
“...You would’ve experienced pain that’s akin to death,” Seraph whispers, horrified, as he stares at the hand Kanato offered him. He hesitates, unsure if he should, but he isn’t given much of a choice as Kanato takes his hand anyway. “I’m so sorry.” It’s a weak sound, one that he barely hears himself.
Kanato sighs as he squeezes their hands together. “So long as you’re more careful next time. Don’t just disregard your life like that, please.” Seraph can only nod as he squeezes their hands back. “We’ll talk about this later,” he firmly says, and Seraph sighs inwardly. Kanato will never let this go. “Uh, well… are you okay? I kinda slapped you pretty hard, and… we’re soulmates. Let’s talk about that?”
“Wait. Let me say something first.” Seraph brings a hand over his mouth, suddenly feeling like cold water was just doused upon him at the abrupt topic change. It’s a nauseating feeling, the realization that the two of them were soulmates. “Kanato, I’m—” he clenches his jaw, looking away as he grips Kanato’s hand a little tighter. “—I’m so sorry.”
Kanato makes a confused sound as he tilts his head. “You already apologized earlier.”
“This—that’s not what I’m apologizing for. This is different,” Seraph whispers, defeated in many ways. “You know how soulmates work. You… endured the pain I was going through. You had no choice, and I barely felt anything at all.” His voice is small. It’s shaky and he feels too vulnerable to be admitting all this out loud. “And I’m sorry for that. I really, truly am.”
“Seraph.” Kanato’s voice is firm. He places a hand over their joined ones in an attempt at reassurance. “There’s no need to apologize for that, really.”
“What are you talking about?” Seraph snaps as he looks up from their hands to Kanato’s face. Those blue eyes are earnest and reaching, which calms him down a bit, but he still furrows his eyebrows in frustration. “Of course I have to apologize. I hurt you. You were in pain because of me, practically your whole life, even. I didn’t—” Seraph swallows nothing, feeling a little faint. “—I didn’t want that.”
Kanato is silent as he frowns a bit. “...So you didn’t want this?”
Seraph’s eyes widen. “No,” he says immediately, frantic. “No, that’s not it. I just—I didn’t want to hurt an innocent person through my actions. I didn’t want to hurt you.” He exhales a shaky breath. “...Of course I wanted this, with you. It’s one of the only things I’ve ever known for sure.”
That felt like he just let Kanato in on a closely guarded secret he’s kept close to his heart all these years, but it’s worth it when Kanato cracks a smile so brilliant and nods. “Got it,” he says with a soft chuckle. “I feel the same way. About wanting this, I mean.” Seraph relaxes a bit at the admission. “But Sera, listen to me. There really is no need to apologize. I’ve never blamed you once in my entire life.”
Seraph frowns at that. “Kanato—”
“—I won’t let you get a word in!” Before Seraph can even retort, Kanato presses his hand over Seraph’s mouth. “Let me finish first, okay?” With a squint of his eyes, Seraph reluctantly nods. Kanato sighs. “Considering your line of work, it was only natural for you to get hurt. Besides, considering who I am, it’s only natural for me to expect some pain, too.” Kanato frowns, but his expression is determined. “I don’t know what your exact situation is like—that’s fine by the way, you can tell me about it when you’re ready, or you don’t have to, it’s all up to you—but the pain we share is not your fault. It has never been.”
Seraph feels the great urge to cry. He holds back a sniffle as he nods, and Kanato finally takes his hand back. “I just…” He starts, put out. Everything is being laid bare now, but he thinks it should be okay, because it’s Kanato. “I wanted to protect someone else for once. Especially my soulmate… but no matter what I did, it just ended up with the both of us hurting.” He clenches his free hand into a fist. “Of all things to reflect such a beautiful bond, why did it have to be pain?”
Kanato stretches his arms out without a word, offering Seraph a hug. He takes the offer immediately, his prior hesitation nowhere to be found, and wraps his arms around Kanato’s waist. They say nothing for a while as Kanato’s hand rubs his back, while the other one rests on Seraph’s head. “It’s because we grow from it,” Kanato finally says, his voice close to a whisper. “Even if it’s ugly. Even if it’s something we’re running away from.” He rests his forehead on the crook of Seraph’s neck. “You don’t have to carry it all by yourself anymore. You have us, you have me. We’re going to shoulder this pain together from now on.”
Seraph’s hands immediately find themselves grasping tightly at Kanato’s back. He laughs this time. It’s a wet sound, considering that he’s practically on the verge of tears. “...Okay,” he says, tired but finally relieved.