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tampered2007-05-14 11:51 pm
lying-obedience.livejournal.com) wrote in tampered2007-05-14 11:51 pm
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When; May 14th, Afternoon
Rating; PG-12
Characters; Cain Hargreaves [![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
misterblackbird] and Agatsuma Soubi [lying_obedience]
Summary; Soubi agrees to show Cain what he "hides" under his bandages. Oh noez. D:
Log;
Cain was not excited about meeting with Soubi again, especially when every conversation between them seemed to end in his confusion. He'd questioned Soubi about the wounds on his throat that night they'd first met, and Soubi had dodged. Why hadn't he dodged the same way today? Cain did want to know what he kept hidden under the bandages that covered his throat. A wound? Soubi had called it nothing. Scars?
He touched his shoulder reflexively. If scars, then why bandage them, except to keep them hidden? It was a riddle, unimportant in the scheme of things, but he couldn't bear to leave it unanswered.
The day was warm and the sun streamed bright gold between the leaves as he walked through Xanadu to find him. Soubi had said he thought butterflies were ugly, and yet he always talked about them. 'So,' Cain decided, 'the butterflies will lead me to him.'
--
Some would have called it picturesque – the way the light filtered through secluded trees to highlight the pallor of skin and dark hair slowly making its way towards him. Offset, Soubi smiled to himself, running fingers through the blond trailing over his shoulders, ends a little uneven and offering an almost impish reflection. However untrue, he didn’t acknowledge it as he watched the other approach.
Cain. Something in him was unsure of the name, the very boy himself. It was a little intriguing, to say the least. There was something there that distantly reminded him of Ritsu-sensei, Seimei too. And that face spoke so much of the younger one he had grown fond of seeing on a daily basis, the pain seemed unbearable at times. An aching in his chest, at his throat.
The very thing capturing the other’s curiosity for the moment. It wouldn’t be the first time – the bandages were a reminder of what forever remained, owning him thoroughly and completely. How tragic it had come to this, the seclusion of the City’s park. Xanadu, with its brilliant colors and happy atmosphere.
Soubi’s fingers skimmed the base of his throat, mouth turned up in an attempt to mimic the euphoric scenery. And waved rather nonchalantly in Cain’s direction.
--
The movement caught Cain's eye: the tall man with the tense smile waving at him slowly from the shade. Cain stepped off the path to cross to him, slipping his hands in his pockets, trying to feign a similar nonchalance.
He cocked his head to the side and smiled a half smile to himself. He seemed nervous, Cain thought. Fine, let him be. It was his decision--his confession, so to speak.
"I'm here, like I promised, so now you have to keep up your half," Cain said, flashing his golden eyes up into Soubi's blue ones.
--
How outright of him, Soubi idly thought, covering his tension by sliding a hand into his jacket and removing a pack of cigarettes. Remembering the how and when of smoking wasn’t a particularly strong memory – perhaps before Seimei had died, right after. The blond didn’t care to recollect it, pulling one from the half-smashed box, slipping it between his lips, and lighting the end in one fluid movement. He sucked at it rather creatively, an artist’s gaze consuming a potential artist’s canvas.
He loved the brilliance of those eyes that stared so demandingly up at him. A candescent yellow, savoring gold. Soubi liked that color the most, aside from the occasional shade of red.
“So it seems,” he muttered in response, blowing smoke from his mouth and carelessly allowing the hand holding the cigarette to drop to his side. He ran a finger along the seams of the bandages, tilting his head back to show off the otherwise bare column of his neck. It was a trifle to unbind them, but his skin seemed to anticipate this almost as much as he did. Strange, the emotion settling in the pit of his stomach as he returned the look given him.
“After you.” And Soubi grinned, sapphire eyes smirking from beneath the frames of his glasses.
--
Cain took a halfstep backwards, blinking in surprise.
The smoke from Soubi's cigarette drifted between them in grey spirals before the wind broke them. The blue eyes glinted at him behind their glass shields. For a moment, he felt a flash of recognition, and the fear tied so tightly to it. He shook it off: another time, another place: not here.
"You don't...you don't honestly expect me to..." he laughed in disbelief, but he couldn't hide the faint blush of embarrassment that was beginning to creep up his face. "What nonsense."
--
How cute it was to catch something so breathtaking off-guard.
Soubi paused for a moment, intrigued by the stain of color working through Cain’s cheeks, over the bridge of his nose and complimenting the shade of his eyes. He’d painted something so similar, what seemed, a life time ago, but the memory was backwashed and faded into the foreground of present living conditions. Though the cigarette was unfinished, the blond allowed it to drop from his fingers, crushing the burning end out with the edge of his shoe.
“Hardly,” he answered, partially allowing his amusement to show as he slipped his thumb between the bandages, pulling it just a fraction open. The freed edge hung there, tempting those that dared to fall to its blatant seduction. “You wanted to see.” Now, he was just being smug, also knowing the familiar expression of curiosity written beneath the skin.
Soubi reached for Cain’s hand, grasping slender digits in his own and drawing them slowly to teasing white there. He pressed it flat, wondering if he could already feel the outline of scars beneath it. Probably not. “Don’t be afraid.”
--
Cain set his jaw, the determined glint returning to his eyes. He fought against the rosy heat rising in his face and nearly growled with frustration. He twisted it into an arrogant smile instead. Soubi was baiting him again: that much was clear. It was becoming a regular pattern; clearly it was his method of choice for throwing others off their guard. Fine then.
"I've suffered worse for less," he said, reaching for the loose end of the bandage. He pulled at it experimentally. "I've seen real horrors before in my life: I doubt you can surprise me."
--
Perhaps if he took the time to tell him the story, Cain would have thought otherwise. Still, it was in Soubi’s best interest to humor the other, humming a little in the back of his throat as fingers scraped at the cloth, slowly peeling it away. There would be no real surprise here – maybe, he thought, if there was nothing under them in the first place. If his flesh wasn’t as scarred as it had been since he was younger and newly free of his ears. That particular pain remained fresh…
And throbbed to the rhythm of his heart with each round of gauze that loosened from his neck.
Not many had seen the shapes adorning his flesh, the outline of Beloved present and pulsing every time he initiated a battle. Surely not many would have cared either, only violet eyes finding it somewhat of a horror to witness, darker eyes amused by its presence. His name, his only name because he could not have two no matter how much he desired it.
“We’ll see.” Soubi murmured it with an unusual thickness to his voice, hand squeezing at Cain’s and guiding it to move faster. The sooner the other had it all figured out, the better. So he believed.
--
Cain hoped Soubi couldn't feel his fingers tremble or his heart beat so loud: he was close, so close, to finally understanding even one piece of this infuriatingly mysterious person. It made him anxious, which made him angry.
"I knew a girl who poisoned children to make them into dolls," Cain whispered as each layer of gauze fell away. "I knew a woman who would kill to become beautiful. I knew a man who cut off his daughter's head." The loose end dangled longer, trailing almost to the ground. Only one layer remained. He held it in place with both hands, turning bright tourmaline eyes up to catch and hold Soubi's again. "And I knew a man who cut out the eyes of young girls. They tell me he's my brother. And he looks like you."
Slowly, very slowly, he let the end of the bandage fall, his eyes still locked with Soubi's. Then slowly, very slowly, he let them drift down to see what he had uncovered.
--
Despite the warmth of the sun lingering across his skin, despite the heat of the breeze brushing hair back from his face, Soubi shivered the moment air caressed the swirls and lines of barbed scars. Shivered to the point it brought a deeper shudder than first intended. Yes, they were still sensitive after all these years, capable of breaking open and pouring blood as freely as the words sliding from Cain’s mouth in an archaic dance. Surely he had the makings of a beautiful Fighter himself, the sounds a practiced sway intended to startle, mar, and provoke question.
Soubi did none of those things, simply standing and gazing into eyes watching him, deciphering the puzzle carved into him by God’s hands. He breathed a word, something indistinguishable, and turned his head to stretch the lines a little. What difference did it make if Cain told him those things? He hadn’t the capacity to care, having known worse things, done worse things, been worse things. The only acknowledgement he gave was that waning smile of his, half-formed in the delicacy of the moment.
Brother…? How lucky a memory it was. And how pleasant for Cain to hate him for it.
“Happy?” he inquired in a lower tone, leaning towards him in such a way sheets of yellow silk slid to hide the butterfly earrings in the lobes of his ears. Soubi reached for Cain’s hand again -punishment most likely- and forced the boy’s fingers over the lettering. B-E-L- To the end, over the D twice and offered a faint frown when he was finished. “This is my labyrinth.” And for that moment, Soubi didn’t care how Cain interpreted his words. It simply was.
--
Cain swallowed hard and shivered as his fingers were dragged over the marks. They seemed to be neither cuts nor scars, but some other kind of half-healed wounds, fragile, liable to break and bleed under his fingers. Scars in their permanency, yes, but not like the tight, raised, shiny scars Cain carried in a delicate latticework on his back. These were deep cuts, carved, literally carved, into the skin, into the flesh beneath it, maybe even into the very bone.
"If you were really their 'Beloved,'" he began quietly, "Why would they hurt--?" he stopped himself, dropping his eyes. He'd been asked much the same thing many years ago: a voice pitched with the same note of horror, the same shock. What had he said? 'No, it's not what you think: father really loves me.' Had he? Never. And the one who asked?
He brought both hands up to the scars, touching only lightly, afraid of reopening the wound. He turned his eyes up again. "It is your labyrinth. It's so much like mine."
He pulled his hands back but his eyes, now glittering hard again, never left the marks. "Did you love the one who did that to you?"
--
If Cain stared any harder, surely it would have been engraved just as delicately on the opposite side.
Soubi ignored it, however, turning his face a little to show there was no malice there. Had one found it, the body would no longer have been his own, the look different and his personality washed away. The blond enjoyed the wavering expression on the younger boy’s face, such a torment leaking free of the maturity Cain swathed himself in. Where were the biting words now? The sarcasm and his estranged sense of humor?
Ah, old recollections chasing the inner demons perhaps …And love?
Did he love he who was responsible for this, his owner, Master, and Sacrifice? Adoration he understood. And the unquestioned worship following it. But none of those things had existed at first, Soubi far too angry and upset with Ritsu-sensei to be pleased he now had someone to follow, give his very breath for. Despite the word “Beloved” present and cool across his throat and touching the edge of his collarbone, there really was nothing resembling love in his blood for Seimei. Absolute respect, yes. A mild sense of infatuation at the most, but other than that, no.
So he answered as simply as he could, smiling through the pain washing freely along the scars and reaching out to skim Cain’s cheek, cup it for the briefest moment and thumb over the cheekbone.
“I don’t know.” For those reasons, Soubi had always hated telling the truth.
--
Soubi was so quiet, Cain thought. His features betrayed nothing that moved through his mind: nothing escaped its confines. He was placid, calm; any gesture, any expression careful and certain, almost as though it were a ritual or a dance, and not a spontaneous expression.
But that phrase: 'I don't know,' that was perhaps the most direct statement Soubi had ever made to him. Not the uncertainty of "perhaps," nor the near-playfulness of "maybe," but something genuinely unknown to him. That one phrase betrayed more than a blush or glaring eyes.
"Perhaps it isn't like mine, then," Cain said, pulling away from his touch and smiling almost sadly to himself. He eyed Soubi sidelong, trying to smile, but he could only drop his eyes again and breathe a small laugh.
"You must have been devoted to him, though," he said, as he found his proud smile again. "It's like lovers carving their initials on a tree together. Devotion. That's a different kind of labyrinth: I know that one too, but only from the outside."
He coughed a little, recovering himself.
"I suppose I had ought to thank you, really. I don't understand a bit more about you, but this is one thing I won't wonder about anymore."
--
The touch burned a little, but not nearly as much as the words.
Had Soubi been any different at that point in time, he would have lashed out at Cain for such a ridiculous assumption, perhaps growled a little. But that wasn’t how the blond operated. In fact, he found it quite amusing the concepts falling from Cain’s mouth and radiating through his expressions. Those eyes… He’d like to paint them one day, drowsy and wide, hinted with drained passion--
Eventually, he smiled – a true, careful smile.
“So you think,” was the response, a soft chuckle breaking the silence of the park’s quiet overtone. It wasn’t as if he hid so much about himself; deflection and avoidance seemed simpler than bothering with the formalities. And Cain was so terribly cute watching him that way, curious but not. It reminded him of things best left forgotten.
Then, “Is that all you came for, Cain?” A means to an end, perhaps, but Soubi couldn’t help teasing. Or saying his name.
--
"Quite." Cain answered tersely.
Swiftly he caught up the bandage where it trailed white on the green grass and wound it around his fingers.
"I suppose you'll want to cover up again," he said, holding it out to the older man. "I did mean it when I thanked you, you know. I never let go once I want to know something."
Scars, lash marks, burns all told simple enough stories, but words cut into flesh? That told a different story entirely, and Cain wanted to know it: how--why!--does one cut words into another? He hesitated a moment, wondering if he would regret asking next what he wanted most to ask.
"Will I see you again sometime?"
--
At first, he barely acknowledged the gauze around Cain’s fingers, partially offered to him as if to say forgive me. Soubi didn’t like the assumption on either part, shaking his head softly in indication that he did not want the bandages returned to him. Carefully, he reached out to take the other’s hands, folding his fingers over the cloth with a gentle squeeze before releasing them.
A gift. It was much more than he’d ever given anyone.
“If you’d like,” he whispered softly, giving that brilliant smile of his that somehow seemed to reflect the sun with just a pull of lips. Blond hair burned a brilliant halo as he turned, brushing the strands over his shoulder as if in silent good-bye.
Soubi had allowed him partially in, after all. Either way, they’d see each other…whether Cain wanted it or not.
Rating; PG-12
Characters; Cain Hargreaves [
misterblackbird] and Agatsuma Soubi [lying_obedience]Summary; Soubi agrees to show Cain what he "hides" under his bandages. Oh noez. D:
Log;
Cain was not excited about meeting with Soubi again, especially when every conversation between them seemed to end in his confusion. He'd questioned Soubi about the wounds on his throat that night they'd first met, and Soubi had dodged. Why hadn't he dodged the same way today? Cain did want to know what he kept hidden under the bandages that covered his throat. A wound? Soubi had called it nothing. Scars?
He touched his shoulder reflexively. If scars, then why bandage them, except to keep them hidden? It was a riddle, unimportant in the scheme of things, but he couldn't bear to leave it unanswered.
The day was warm and the sun streamed bright gold between the leaves as he walked through Xanadu to find him. Soubi had said he thought butterflies were ugly, and yet he always talked about them. 'So,' Cain decided, 'the butterflies will lead me to him.'
Some would have called it picturesque – the way the light filtered through secluded trees to highlight the pallor of skin and dark hair slowly making its way towards him. Offset, Soubi smiled to himself, running fingers through the blond trailing over his shoulders, ends a little uneven and offering an almost impish reflection. However untrue, he didn’t acknowledge it as he watched the other approach.
Cain. Something in him was unsure of the name, the very boy himself. It was a little intriguing, to say the least. There was something there that distantly reminded him of Ritsu-sensei, Seimei too. And that face spoke so much of the younger one he had grown fond of seeing on a daily basis, the pain seemed unbearable at times. An aching in his chest, at his throat.
The very thing capturing the other’s curiosity for the moment. It wouldn’t be the first time – the bandages were a reminder of what forever remained, owning him thoroughly and completely. How tragic it had come to this, the seclusion of the City’s park. Xanadu, with its brilliant colors and happy atmosphere.
Soubi’s fingers skimmed the base of his throat, mouth turned up in an attempt to mimic the euphoric scenery. And waved rather nonchalantly in Cain’s direction.
The movement caught Cain's eye: the tall man with the tense smile waving at him slowly from the shade. Cain stepped off the path to cross to him, slipping his hands in his pockets, trying to feign a similar nonchalance.
He cocked his head to the side and smiled a half smile to himself. He seemed nervous, Cain thought. Fine, let him be. It was his decision--his confession, so to speak.
"I'm here, like I promised, so now you have to keep up your half," Cain said, flashing his golden eyes up into Soubi's blue ones.
How outright of him, Soubi idly thought, covering his tension by sliding a hand into his jacket and removing a pack of cigarettes. Remembering the how and when of smoking wasn’t a particularly strong memory – perhaps before Seimei had died, right after. The blond didn’t care to recollect it, pulling one from the half-smashed box, slipping it between his lips, and lighting the end in one fluid movement. He sucked at it rather creatively, an artist’s gaze consuming a potential artist’s canvas.
He loved the brilliance of those eyes that stared so demandingly up at him. A candescent yellow, savoring gold. Soubi liked that color the most, aside from the occasional shade of red.
“So it seems,” he muttered in response, blowing smoke from his mouth and carelessly allowing the hand holding the cigarette to drop to his side. He ran a finger along the seams of the bandages, tilting his head back to show off the otherwise bare column of his neck. It was a trifle to unbind them, but his skin seemed to anticipate this almost as much as he did. Strange, the emotion settling in the pit of his stomach as he returned the look given him.
“After you.” And Soubi grinned, sapphire eyes smirking from beneath the frames of his glasses.
Cain took a halfstep backwards, blinking in surprise.
The smoke from Soubi's cigarette drifted between them in grey spirals before the wind broke them. The blue eyes glinted at him behind their glass shields. For a moment, he felt a flash of recognition, and the fear tied so tightly to it. He shook it off: another time, another place: not here.
"You don't...you don't honestly expect me to..." he laughed in disbelief, but he couldn't hide the faint blush of embarrassment that was beginning to creep up his face. "What nonsense."
How cute it was to catch something so breathtaking off-guard.
Soubi paused for a moment, intrigued by the stain of color working through Cain’s cheeks, over the bridge of his nose and complimenting the shade of his eyes. He’d painted something so similar, what seemed, a life time ago, but the memory was backwashed and faded into the foreground of present living conditions. Though the cigarette was unfinished, the blond allowed it to drop from his fingers, crushing the burning end out with the edge of his shoe.
“Hardly,” he answered, partially allowing his amusement to show as he slipped his thumb between the bandages, pulling it just a fraction open. The freed edge hung there, tempting those that dared to fall to its blatant seduction. “You wanted to see.” Now, he was just being smug, also knowing the familiar expression of curiosity written beneath the skin.
Soubi reached for Cain’s hand, grasping slender digits in his own and drawing them slowly to teasing white there. He pressed it flat, wondering if he could already feel the outline of scars beneath it. Probably not. “Don’t be afraid.”
Cain set his jaw, the determined glint returning to his eyes. He fought against the rosy heat rising in his face and nearly growled with frustration. He twisted it into an arrogant smile instead. Soubi was baiting him again: that much was clear. It was becoming a regular pattern; clearly it was his method of choice for throwing others off their guard. Fine then.
"I've suffered worse for less," he said, reaching for the loose end of the bandage. He pulled at it experimentally. "I've seen real horrors before in my life: I doubt you can surprise me."
Perhaps if he took the time to tell him the story, Cain would have thought otherwise. Still, it was in Soubi’s best interest to humor the other, humming a little in the back of his throat as fingers scraped at the cloth, slowly peeling it away. There would be no real surprise here – maybe, he thought, if there was nothing under them in the first place. If his flesh wasn’t as scarred as it had been since he was younger and newly free of his ears. That particular pain remained fresh…
And throbbed to the rhythm of his heart with each round of gauze that loosened from his neck.
Not many had seen the shapes adorning his flesh, the outline of Beloved present and pulsing every time he initiated a battle. Surely not many would have cared either, only violet eyes finding it somewhat of a horror to witness, darker eyes amused by its presence. His name, his only name because he could not have two no matter how much he desired it.
“We’ll see.” Soubi murmured it with an unusual thickness to his voice, hand squeezing at Cain’s and guiding it to move faster. The sooner the other had it all figured out, the better. So he believed.
Cain hoped Soubi couldn't feel his fingers tremble or his heart beat so loud: he was close, so close, to finally understanding even one piece of this infuriatingly mysterious person. It made him anxious, which made him angry.
"I knew a girl who poisoned children to make them into dolls," Cain whispered as each layer of gauze fell away. "I knew a woman who would kill to become beautiful. I knew a man who cut off his daughter's head." The loose end dangled longer, trailing almost to the ground. Only one layer remained. He held it in place with both hands, turning bright tourmaline eyes up to catch and hold Soubi's again. "And I knew a man who cut out the eyes of young girls. They tell me he's my brother. And he looks like you."
Slowly, very slowly, he let the end of the bandage fall, his eyes still locked with Soubi's. Then slowly, very slowly, he let them drift down to see what he had uncovered.
Despite the warmth of the sun lingering across his skin, despite the heat of the breeze brushing hair back from his face, Soubi shivered the moment air caressed the swirls and lines of barbed scars. Shivered to the point it brought a deeper shudder than first intended. Yes, they were still sensitive after all these years, capable of breaking open and pouring blood as freely as the words sliding from Cain’s mouth in an archaic dance. Surely he had the makings of a beautiful Fighter himself, the sounds a practiced sway intended to startle, mar, and provoke question.
Soubi did none of those things, simply standing and gazing into eyes watching him, deciphering the puzzle carved into him by God’s hands. He breathed a word, something indistinguishable, and turned his head to stretch the lines a little. What difference did it make if Cain told him those things? He hadn’t the capacity to care, having known worse things, done worse things, been worse things. The only acknowledgement he gave was that waning smile of his, half-formed in the delicacy of the moment.
Brother…? How lucky a memory it was. And how pleasant for Cain to hate him for it.
“Happy?” he inquired in a lower tone, leaning towards him in such a way sheets of yellow silk slid to hide the butterfly earrings in the lobes of his ears. Soubi reached for Cain’s hand again -punishment most likely- and forced the boy’s fingers over the lettering. B-E-L- To the end, over the D twice and offered a faint frown when he was finished. “This is my labyrinth.” And for that moment, Soubi didn’t care how Cain interpreted his words. It simply was.
Cain swallowed hard and shivered as his fingers were dragged over the marks. They seemed to be neither cuts nor scars, but some other kind of half-healed wounds, fragile, liable to break and bleed under his fingers. Scars in their permanency, yes, but not like the tight, raised, shiny scars Cain carried in a delicate latticework on his back. These were deep cuts, carved, literally carved, into the skin, into the flesh beneath it, maybe even into the very bone.
"If you were really their 'Beloved,'" he began quietly, "Why would they hurt--?" he stopped himself, dropping his eyes. He'd been asked much the same thing many years ago: a voice pitched with the same note of horror, the same shock. What had he said? 'No, it's not what you think: father really loves me.' Had he? Never. And the one who asked?
He brought both hands up to the scars, touching only lightly, afraid of reopening the wound. He turned his eyes up again. "It is your labyrinth. It's so much like mine."
He pulled his hands back but his eyes, now glittering hard again, never left the marks. "Did you love the one who did that to you?"
If Cain stared any harder, surely it would have been engraved just as delicately on the opposite side.
Soubi ignored it, however, turning his face a little to show there was no malice there. Had one found it, the body would no longer have been his own, the look different and his personality washed away. The blond enjoyed the wavering expression on the younger boy’s face, such a torment leaking free of the maturity Cain swathed himself in. Where were the biting words now? The sarcasm and his estranged sense of humor?
Ah, old recollections chasing the inner demons perhaps …And love?
Did he love he who was responsible for this, his owner, Master, and Sacrifice? Adoration he understood. And the unquestioned worship following it. But none of those things had existed at first, Soubi far too angry and upset with Ritsu-sensei to be pleased he now had someone to follow, give his very breath for. Despite the word “Beloved” present and cool across his throat and touching the edge of his collarbone, there really was nothing resembling love in his blood for Seimei. Absolute respect, yes. A mild sense of infatuation at the most, but other than that, no.
So he answered as simply as he could, smiling through the pain washing freely along the scars and reaching out to skim Cain’s cheek, cup it for the briefest moment and thumb over the cheekbone.
“I don’t know.” For those reasons, Soubi had always hated telling the truth.
Soubi was so quiet, Cain thought. His features betrayed nothing that moved through his mind: nothing escaped its confines. He was placid, calm; any gesture, any expression careful and certain, almost as though it were a ritual or a dance, and not a spontaneous expression.
But that phrase: 'I don't know,' that was perhaps the most direct statement Soubi had ever made to him. Not the uncertainty of "perhaps," nor the near-playfulness of "maybe," but something genuinely unknown to him. That one phrase betrayed more than a blush or glaring eyes.
"Perhaps it isn't like mine, then," Cain said, pulling away from his touch and smiling almost sadly to himself. He eyed Soubi sidelong, trying to smile, but he could only drop his eyes again and breathe a small laugh.
"You must have been devoted to him, though," he said, as he found his proud smile again. "It's like lovers carving their initials on a tree together. Devotion. That's a different kind of labyrinth: I know that one too, but only from the outside."
He coughed a little, recovering himself.
"I suppose I had ought to thank you, really. I don't understand a bit more about you, but this is one thing I won't wonder about anymore."
The touch burned a little, but not nearly as much as the words.
Had Soubi been any different at that point in time, he would have lashed out at Cain for such a ridiculous assumption, perhaps growled a little. But that wasn’t how the blond operated. In fact, he found it quite amusing the concepts falling from Cain’s mouth and radiating through his expressions. Those eyes… He’d like to paint them one day, drowsy and wide, hinted with drained passion--
Eventually, he smiled – a true, careful smile.
“So you think,” was the response, a soft chuckle breaking the silence of the park’s quiet overtone. It wasn’t as if he hid so much about himself; deflection and avoidance seemed simpler than bothering with the formalities. And Cain was so terribly cute watching him that way, curious but not. It reminded him of things best left forgotten.
Then, “Is that all you came for, Cain?” A means to an end, perhaps, but Soubi couldn’t help teasing. Or saying his name.
"Quite." Cain answered tersely.
Swiftly he caught up the bandage where it trailed white on the green grass and wound it around his fingers.
"I suppose you'll want to cover up again," he said, holding it out to the older man. "I did mean it when I thanked you, you know. I never let go once I want to know something."
Scars, lash marks, burns all told simple enough stories, but words cut into flesh? That told a different story entirely, and Cain wanted to know it: how--why!--does one cut words into another? He hesitated a moment, wondering if he would regret asking next what he wanted most to ask.
"Will I see you again sometime?"
At first, he barely acknowledged the gauze around Cain’s fingers, partially offered to him as if to say forgive me. Soubi didn’t like the assumption on either part, shaking his head softly in indication that he did not want the bandages returned to him. Carefully, he reached out to take the other’s hands, folding his fingers over the cloth with a gentle squeeze before releasing them.
A gift. It was much more than he’d ever given anyone.
“If you’d like,” he whispered softly, giving that brilliant smile of his that somehow seemed to reflect the sun with just a pull of lips. Blond hair burned a brilliant halo as he turned, brushing the strands over his shoulder as if in silent good-bye.
Soubi had allowed him partially in, after all. Either way, they’d see each other…whether Cain wanted it or not.