title: erased
fandom: Yami no Matseui
characters/pairings: Hisoka/Tsuzuki
rating: Teen
warnings: references to rape, cutting
summary: Hisoka's not sure why he doesn't move on
notes: for veleda_k for this request on fic on demand.

He stilled checked; in fact, he checked more often than ever. He would slip away from the desk while Tsuzuki was cajoling Tatsumi for more money, and go to the bathroom. He would pull his shirt up, and look at his back. Checking.

But the marks were well and truly gone.

He would touch his skin, reaching around to his back... it wasn't like he could feel them before. So he wasn't sure what he was feeling for.

Tsuzuki knew. He watched Hisoka sometimes. Of course, his behavior was becoming downright obsessive compulsive. It would be hard for a partner not to notice.

It was impossible for a friend. For...

And there was the other problem. Perhaps this was why he didn't move on. He wasn't sure. Because he couldn't explain it to himself. But he and Tsuzuki... they were getting closer. Somehow... it was happening, even though Hisoka couldn't remember giving permission, or wanting it precisely. It was happening.

He didn't really know why.

They were on assignment in Tokyo, and Tsuzuki kissed him. He didn't know why Tsuzuki did it, and he didn't know why he allowed it. He enjoyed it. He wanted to do it again, maybe. But he didn't say anything. He didn't do anything.

Two weeks later, he was in the bathroom at the office. He had taken off his shirt, and he pulled down his jeans, looking... searching. Making sure. Tsuzuki came in, and looked at Hisoka's ass sadly. But surely, he knew. He knew that Muraki's marks went... everywhere. He reached out, and touched Hisoka's skin. Hisoka flinched.

A month later, they were working on assignment in Hokkaido, a special interdepartmental arrangement. They were sharing an apartment, and one thing happened, and then another. They were naked and touching each other. He didn't know how it happened, or why, but it felt so good at the time, he wanted more. He let Tsuzuki touch him all over, and Tsuzuki let him come inside of him.

The next day, Hisoka still felt good, but that night, he started to feel a bit dejected, at odds with himself. He started to distance himself from Tsuzuki.

By the next week, back at home, they were hardly speaking.

Actually, it was Hisoka who was hardly speaking. Tsuzuki was trying. They had a weekend off, and Hisoka turned off his phone. He spent most of the weekend naked, searching for anything, any kind of mark at all.

Anything.

It was just... after so long. After... everything. He thought Muraki being dead was what he wanted. But.

Even with him gone, even with the marks gone, he still had his memories. He still had dreams. He could still feel Muraki's cold, cruel fingers. How could the marks be erased when Muraki was still inside of him?

He went to Tsuzuki's house late one night, after a particularly bad day. Tsuzuki made cocoa, and tried to cheer Hisoka up. He made up the couch for Hisoka, but as soon as everything was quiet, Hisoka snuck into Tsuzuki's bedroom, and slipped into bed with him. At first, they were just going to sleep, but a few stray touches led to some conversation led to purposeful touching... They were stroking each other, and then Tsuzuki slipped down, and put his mouth on Hisoka. Hisoka gasped.

Even that pleasure... it wouldn't leave a mark, either.

They fell into an irregular pattern of something that slipped between the defined boundaries of friendship and love. They sometimes talked, but Hisoka found that it was hard to speak about anything meaningful. He wanted to ask Tsuzuki why he was still here, why he didn't move on. He wanted to ask if Tsuzuki knew why Hisoka wasn't moving on.

After two years, they moved in together. It was just economical. It just happened. There wasn't a reason. They slept in the same bed every night, and more often than not, they ended up sleeping wrapped up in each other's arms.

And still, Hisoka kept looking for the mark that would explain why. Why he wasn't passing on. Why he was bound to the earth, still.

Sometimes, he thought, perhaps it was Tsuzuki that bound him, and sometimes, it was a hopeful thought, and sometimes, it wasn't.

They were at an inter-department picnic, and he overhead Tsuzuki referring to him as 'my lover.' He found that he couldn't breathe. It was true, perhaps. Tsuzuki even said 'I love you' often. Hisoka might even have said it, too. But it was so concrete, said out loud, to a stranger.

Hisoka left the picnic early.

Tsuzuki was sent to Okinawa to work with someone there for a month. Hisoka kept insisting before he left that there was nothing to worry about. Of course Hisoka didn't need to be with Tsuzuki all the time. It would probably be good for them to have some space.

Tsuzuki left, looking crestfallen.

After a week, Hisoka was too anxious to sleep. He worried about stupid things, and longed for Tsuzuki. After three weeks, he came home one night, and calmly went to the kitchen, stripped, took the carving knife, and put a mark on his skin. The blood flowed, it spilled on the linoleum, and his flesh burned with beautiful pain. He kept cutting, until he fell over and passed out. Tatsumi found him the next morning, because he hadn't shown up for work. He had to go to the hospital, but he threw a fit when they suggested plastic surgery to repair the scars.

Tsuzuki came home, and there was terror in his eyes, like Hisoka had never seen.

Truthfully, just seeing Tsuzuki made Hisoka feel calmer, more at ease, but the reverse didn't seem to be true. Tsuzuki got more and more upset as he looked Hisoka over. He whimpered when he saw his name carved into Hisoka's arms, over his wrists, and he pulled Hisoka into his arms, and clung to him.

Hisoka didn't think he could explain. Not to the doctors, not to his friends, and not to Tsuzuki. But.

There had to be a mark.

He whispered into Tsuzuki's ear that he didn't think either of them were going to pass on. Tsuzuki started to cry. Hisoka could feel things. Too many things from Tsuzuki. It made his chest and his head hurt, and he wanted to pull away, but he held onto Tsuzuki tighter.

He knew... Tsuzuki wanted him to pass on. He knew that Tsuzuki couldn't pass on, because he would never think of himself as worthy.

Maybe. Maybe not everyone was made to pass on. Maybe.

Maybe they could find a heaven on this earth, or at least, a tolerable purgatory.

Hisoka brushed Tsuzuki's tears away, and kissed him, and he promised he would never cut again, as long as he could keep his scars.








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