[Yami no Matsuei] Three Months and Counting

[atalan_fic]

(crossposted to yamifics, tatsuki)

Summary: Tatsumi tells Tsuzuki their partnership is over. Tsuzuki says he understands. Tatsumi reaches for Tsuzuki's hand, and Tsuzuki... doesn't quite get away.

Notes: A oneshot "what if". The dialogue at the beginning is taken directly from the flashback in volume 5. This has nothing at all to do with "Fade to Black". :) Beware angsty boykissing and vague philosophizing on Tsuzuki's part.

*

"I'm sorry, Tsuzuki-san. I will not be accompanying you on this case."

"Ah... okay, sure, it's an easy case. Next time we'll..."

"Not the next time." Tatsumi's voice was quiet in the empty corridor, but the words were like the tolling of a bell that signalled the close of day. "Nor the time after that."

"Oh."

Tsuzuki thought distantly that he could feel some small part of himself, only recently bared to light, curling back up like charred paper. He tried to smile.

"I understand."

The uncertainty in Tatsumi's eyes was worse than the words, a hint that maybe, maybe Tatsumi was not as distant as he wanted Tsuzuki to think, that if Tsuzuki was clever enough or brave enough or strong enough, he could reach through that barrier and fix this even as it fell apart around them.

"Tsuzuki-sa--"

"It's fine."

Tsuzuki cut him off with a wave of his hand, because he wasn't strong enough or clever enough for Tatsumi and never would be, but at least he could get out of this before he started crying. That would make Tatsumi feel bad, and he didn't want Tatsumi to feel bad. Not on his account. The man had every reason to leave him, after all.

"I understand, you know. I'm okay with it."

He made himself meet Tatsumi's eyes, smiled, drew back further into himself.

"I'm used to this sort of thing."

Now Tatsumi's eyes were narrowed and disbelieving, the way they got when Tsuzuki denied that he'd spent the last of his money on sweets. Tsuzuki turned away quickly.

"I'm sorry, Tatsumi... if I was any trouble." He swallowed hard and began to walk away. "Thank you."

"Tsuzuki-san..."

Tatsumi's hand brushed his, and Tsuzuki drew his own away, but Tatsumi's followed and closed firmly around his fingers. He halted, tethered by that grip and willing himself to hold on to his control, for just a while longer, just until he was out of Tatsumi's sight.

"You're lying."

That was almost enough to break him, the faintly accusing note in the words. Almost enough to make him turn in tears and ask Tatsumi why. But he kept himself still, tried to pretend his arm wasn't stretched out behind him, his hand wasn't warm in Tatsumi's.

"No I'm not."

Tatsumi pulled. Tsuzuki stumbled a couple of steps before he caught his balance, just barely avoiding a collision with the other man. He usually liked standing close to Tatsumi: it let him see how startlingly blue his eyes really were, and the faint lines at the corners which betrayed a capacity for depths of emotion he tried to conceal. This time it was awkward - he felt like every breath hid a sob and every blink gave away his incipient tears - but Tatsumi still held his hand, at chest height now, and he couldn't move away.

"Tsuzuki-san."

And that was too much, and he closed his eyes so he didn't have to see the world waver through a watery lens, and the question was out before he could choke it off:

"Why?"

Tatsumi's fingers tightened on his. Tsuzuki concentrated on breathing. He knew the tears would leak past his lashes soon, no matter how hard he willed them back, and he wondered wistfully if Tatsumi would brush them away with the same tender irritation as when Tsuzuki had rice on his face or leaves in his hair. But Tatsumi had never treated tears the same as rice or leaves, and Tsuzuki thought that probably he'd walk away instead.

"Because I..." The words faltered and then surged back with a rebuke as sharp and defensive as a sword stroke. "I cannot work with someone as irresponsible as you, Tsuzuki-san."

Tsuzuki nodded. He'd expected as much. He didn't speak.

"You need to take your cases more seriously. To distance yourself from what we do." Tatsumi had said this before, but Tsuzuki kept nodding anyway. "We can't afford to... care. You'll need to remember that for... for your next partner."

He jumped when the pad of a thumb smoothed across his cheekbone, catching the tear that had finally spilled free, with none of the quick efficiency used on rice or leaves and all the hesitancy of an unspoken question.

"Don't cry."

"I'm sorry."

"Please."

"I'm sorry."

Fingers cupped his face, Tatsumi's other hand tightened on his, Tsuzuki finally opened his eyes even though he knew that it would allow the tears to fall unchecked. There was something in the twist of Tatsumi's mouth that he'd never seen there, something trapped and unhappy and guilty, and he wondered if it had always been there when he cried, but he'd never seen it because Tatsumi had always turned away. Perhaps Tatsumi wanted to turn away now, but Tsuzuki became aware then that he was gripping Tatsumi's hand as tightly as Tatsumi held his, keeping him in place, as if by standing like this he could somehow heal the breach that had suddenly widened between them.

"Tsuzuki-san..."

"Sorry. I. I'd better go."

Tsuzuki didn't move, and he couldn't seem to look away, and he wondered if it was only looking through his own tears that had darkened Tatsumi's eyes to a blue like midnight instead of that of a summer sky. The building was quiet around them, much too quiet: almost no-one else was here yet. Tsuzuki had come in early, since they were starting a new case today, and Tatsumi hated it when he was late. He supposed now Tatsumi would request a partner who arrived on time. Tsuzuki wondered why he hadn't done so sooner, and why he hadn't yet turned away.

"I did not... mean to make you cry."

Tsuzuki almost smiled at that, turning his face the tiniest fraction so that he could feel Tatsumi's hand move against his skin.

"It's not your fault. You know me. I'll get over it."

Tatsumi leaned in.

"You're lying."

Fingers slid along his jaw and into his hair, and for some reason he didn't think about the fact that he was being kissed, but about the way Tatsumi's hair brushed his cheek and the cool touch of his glasses on Tsuzuki's skin, the soft intake of breath and the rough feel of Tatsumi's suit against his hand. When had he laid his hand on Tatsumi's shoulder? He closed his eyes against a flood of miserable euphoria, why oh why did you wait so long?

He'd leaned into the kiss, he realised, and Tatsumi had finally released his hand, but only so that he could wrap his arms around him, and almost without meaning to Tsuzuki let himself feel the mouth on his and the heat prickling under his skin. I suppose it's a goodbye, he thought, and pressed closer, fisting a handful of Tatsumi's jacket as if it would stop the other man from slipping away. That would be like him. He hadn't kissed anyone for a while, certainly not since their partnership had begun, and no-one he cared about as much as Tatsumi, not for a long time. He didn't remember it being this intense, but then, Tatsumi was often intense about things that surprised you, and it really wasn't something he wanted to complain about right now, not when his bones were quietly melting and he was getting light-headed and weak at the knees. I didn't know he even knew how to kiss.

What started as a laugh turned into a soft, unidentified sound, caught in his throat and barely audible, but Tatsumi's fingers clutched at his back and what had been gently cautious became suddenly demanding and urgent. Tsuzuki didn't want it to stop - never wanted it to stop - but nevertheless it was him who drew away, bringing Tatsumi up short with a hand on his chest when the other man tried to follow for another kiss.

"I can't." He expected his voice to break, but he only sounded breathless in his own ears. "Not... like this."

"Like what?"

"When you're leaving."

Tatsumi released him and Tsuzuki shook with the effort of not throwing himself back into those arms. Tatsumi tugged at the cuffs of his sleeves, raised a hand to straighten his collar, avoided Tsuzuki's eyes. His glasses were smudged, but he hadn't noticed yet.

"I cannot be your partner if I can't even stop you from crying," he said finally, as if the words had been weighing him down for weeks and speaking them was a release.

Tsuzuki found himself smiling sadly. His face felt hot and his eyes dry and itchy.

"I'm not crying now."

"But it's not enough," Tatsumi said. "Is it."

He sounded tired and resigned. He'd always looked older to Tsuzuki - older, wiser and stronger - but now Tsuzuki wondered if there were some things Tatsumi just didn't know. He wondered if it was too late to try and teach them to him.

"It doesn't have to be."

Tatsumi frowned. He seemed at last to see the smudge on his glasses and pulled them off, fumbling in his pocket for a handkerchief.

"It doesn't have to be enough. You don't have to fix me. That's not what partners are for."

The fingers polishing the lens stilled.

"What are they for, then, Tsuzuki-san?"

He reached out and touched Tatsumi's hand, and he didn't know why, but this time smiling didn't hurt him.

"To keep each other standing until we learn to fix ourselves."

It took a superhuman effort to turn away, but he did, and he was surprised to find that his step was steady and the tears did not return. He managed three paces down the corridor before Tatsumi spoke.

"Tsuzuki-san."

Tsuzuki paused. "Yes?"

"I... have not yet informed the Chief that I intend-- that I intended to break our partnership."

Footsteps behind him, but Tatsumi didn't touch him this time, only stopped just where Tsuzuki could catch him on the edge of his vision.

"Perhaps I need not inform him."

Tsuzuki blinked, blinked again, turned around. Tatsumi was not smiling, but his eyes were warm, and perhaps there was a tinge of apology or relief in them.

"You don't have to..."

"I want to."

Tatsumi's hand landed on his shoulder. Lips brushed his forehead, barely lingering but full of promise. Tsuzuki shivered.

"Wait," Tatsumi commanded, stepping back. "I'll fetch my briefcase. We'll go together."

- owari -

Feedback, as always, appreciated. :)

Comments

[lady-yaoi.livejournal.com]

Aw... very sweet and touching. Nice job.