Current mood:	lazy
Current music:	Kesenai Tsumi - Nana Kitade
Entry tags:	loveless

another loveless fic
4th drabble for drabblefish, theme #16, flowers. For nishiki28, the sacrifice to my fighter, who ordered me to write this.

Title: Meaningless
Fandom: Loveless
Genre: Angst
Rating: PG
Summary: When Soubi gives Ritsuka flowers, Ritsuka thinks of its meaning far more than he should.
Notes: yeah, I know the whole “something-less” title is so overused, but all the other titles I could think of were crummy, so deal with it XP


He supposed he should have been used to it by now. Even so, couldn’t the man be a little more discreet? He really didn’t need to show up at the gates of the school at the end of the day, armed with a ridiculously extravagant bouquet of flowers and that fox-like smile. He really didn’t need to keep on standing there, attracting the attention of every person within a twenty-foot radius, which in this case consisted of curious elementary school students and suspicious elementary school teachers. And he really didn’t need to stride forward as soon as he saw Ritsuka approaching and thrust the flowers into the boy’s face like a man about to proclaim his undying devotion to his lover.

Ritsuka didn’t really need all the stares that the other students were openly giving them, but he was resigned to think that with Soubi, unnecessary things were always to be expected. That didn’t stop his right cat ear from twitching, though. “What,” he hissed at the blonde, “are you doing?!”

“Waiting for you, of course,” Soubi answered conversationally, still holding out the flowers. Ritsuka snatched the bouquet rather roughly from his fighter’s hands, reddening as several onlookers erupted into speculative whispers. “Do you like them?” he asked, referring to the flowers.

“Stupid! What man gives another guy flowers for, anyway?!” Ritsuka’s voice was barely above a whisper, but somehow that only served to emphasize his irritation even more.

Soubi’s smile never wavered. “You’re welcome,” he said, merrily ignoring Ritsuka’s seething protests. “I still have a class this evening, so I can’t walk you home today.”

“Then why bother coming here in the first place?” Ritsuka scowled at him. The blonde lifted his hand to caress Ritsuka’s bandaged cheek gently, leaning towards the boy’s furiously blushing face, so close that Ritsuka thought he was going to kiss him. Instead, Soubi diverted his course slightly to the left, whispering into his sacrifice’s ear the words Ritsuka had grown used to hearing. “I love you, Ritsuka.”

He then left, and Ritsuka let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Ritsuka-kuuuuuuuun!!! Wait up!”

The boy turned at the sound of his name. Yuiko slowed to a stop beside him, glancing around them quizzically. “Eh? Why is everyone staring at us? OH! Ritsuka-kun! Where did you get those flowers??”

Ritsuka winced. Sometimes he wished Yuiko wasn’t so loud, and was it too much to ask of her to cut down on all those exclamation points sometimes? He said nothing, keeping his pink face down as he grabbed his friend’s wrist and walked hurriedly out of the school premises.

“Slow down, Ritsuka-kun!” Yuiko exclaimed, stumbling as he dragged her along. Ritsuka let go of her once he was satisfied that there were no other students in the nearby vicinity. “Who gave you those? Was it Soubi-san?”

Ritsuka’s pink cheeks became even pinker. “Sh-shut up! It’s none of your business.”

Yuiko looked hurt, causing Ritsuka to feel immediately guilty. After all, it wasn’t her fault that Soubi was being an idiot again.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“That’s okay, Ritsuka-kun!” Yuiko said, cheering up as soon as the apology left her friend’s mouth. “Can I have a look at those flowers? They’re so beautiful!”

Ritsuka handed her the bouquet disinterestedly. “You can keep them if you want. I don’t need them.”

Yuiko gasped. “You shouldn’t say that! When someone gives you flowers, it means that you’re important to them so you can’t just give it away!”

Important? That definitely wasn’t the right word to describe how Soubi thought of him. Always making him worry, never answering his calls, purposely hiding information from him, making promises he couldn’t keep… “It doesn’t matter. I don’t like flowers, anyway.” That was a lie. He was quite fond of looking at flowers, admiring their ephemeral beauty, but right now anything that had to do with Soubi was starting to make his head hurt. He was tired of Soubi’s games, of always wondering whether Soubi’s actions meant anything or not.

“Even so! Ritsuka-kun!”

“If you don’t want them, I’ll just throw them away.”

“Don’t!” The upset girl clutched at the bouquet defensively. “That’s too mean! Whoever gave these to you must have wanted to give you a message!”

“A message?”

“Yes! Don’t you know about flower language, Ritsuka-kun?”

Ritsuka stared at her skeptically. “Why would anyone bother to make a language using flowers?”

“Ritsuka-kun! You’re not romantic at all!”

“That kind of thing sounds really stupid, if you ask me.”

Yuiko’s cheeks puffed up exasperatedly as she glared at Ritsuka. “Mou, you’re hopeless! I’ll just have to explain it all to you.”

Ritsuka watched as the taller girl touched the petals of one of the flowers. “You see this lily? It means purity and innocence.” Yuiko glanced sidelong at Ritsuka’s cat ears. “Ah, the person must mean that—”

“I get it,” Ritsuka interjected, blushing slightly. “What else?”

The pink-haired girl smiled, happy that Ritsuka was starting to show some interest in what she was saying. “There are many kinds of lilies. So just as their colors and appearances are different, so are their various meanings. This type of lily gets its meaning from its color, which is white. But there is another meaning for lilies in general. That is ‘to keep unwanted visitors away.’”

When Yuiko looked back at Ritsuka, she noticed that he seemed to be deep in thought after what she just said. “…I see…” he said, and Yuiko took it as a sign to continue.

“Next! These purple irises. See, Ritsuka-kun! They’re the same color as your eyes! Don’t you think they’re pretty?”

“I guess,” Ritsuka replied. Soubi always tells him that his eyes were beautiful. But Soubi always tells him things he doesn’t really mean, so Ritsuka never takes it to heart.

“Irises… They mean faith and hope. And I almost forgot…ummm…oh right! A promise.”

…Why did Ritsuka suddenly feel like he wanted to cry?

“Haha… It’s been a long time since I’ve read that flower language book my cousin lent me. Don’t worry, there’s only one other kind of flower left in this bouquet, and everyone knows what this one means. Ne, Ritsuka-kun?” Yuiko held out the bouquet to Ritsuka, her fingers brushing against the velvety petals of one particular bloom.

A red rose. Ritsuka was silent.

“You know it too, right? It means…”

Ritsuka took the flowers from her, a sick feeling welling up in his stomach. He felt hope and despair, relief and pain, tenderness and loathing, all at the same time. It was a feeling he knew all too well.

It was the feeling he always had whenever Soubi told him…

“…I love you.”

**********

Ritsuka was lying down on his bed with his back flat against the mattress, alternately staring up at the ceiling and at the cellular phone in his hand. He flipped open his phone and glared at the glowing screen. No new messages, just like in the ten seconds he last checked. The phone’s clock told him that it was a little past eight.

He sighed. Soubi hadn’t sent him a text message yet, and it was starting to grate on his nerves. He hated it when Soubi was like this – doing something without giving any explanation at all. He hated it, not so much because it meant there was something he couldn’t understand, but because Soubi probably never cared enough to let Ritsuka know of his true intentions, never letting Ritsuka know if he was serious or just playing around. He didn’t seem to have a problem with juggling Ritsuka’s feelings around as if they were just toys to amuse himself with.

The flowers that Soubi had given him were on his study desk, haphazardly stuck into a vase. Seeing them only made him feel even more depressed. As the open window admitted a light breeze into the room, several petals fell and scattered over his books, as if silently mocking him of his fighter’s absence and his own neglect.

“it means purity and innocence.”

Ritsuka still remembers the day he and Soubi first met. Soubi had told him that he had no interest in kids, but he had gone and kissed Ritsuka anyway. At that moment when their lips touched, Ritsuka momentarily forgot about all the things that troubled him – being different from the Ritsuka of two years ago, putting up a front in school, and coping with his mother’s disappointment and abuse. All that was left in his mind was the softness of Soubi’s lips on his, the gentleness of the kiss and the feeling of being loved.

He still gets that feeling whenever Soubi kisses him, and it makes him wonder if Soubi ever felt the way he does. It occurs to him that Soubi is an adult who must have encountered better kisses from people much older than an inexperienced twelve-year-old.

It also occurs to him that because he is still a child, Soubi might not have felt anything for him at all. When Soubi kisses him, he does it so casually that Ritsuka is starting to doubt whether or not the fighter was ever serious about it.

“to keep unwanted visitors away.”

Ritsuka recalls the numerous occasions that Soubi had battled people connected to Nanatsu no Tsuki in order to protect him. He hasn’t forgotten that half those times, Soubi had fought alone. In his mind’s eye he sees, once again, Soubi lying motionless, stained with blood and pain and Ritsuka’s tears. In those moments, Ritsuka doesn’t know which hurts more, seeing Soubi’s body injured because of him, or knowing that Soubi intentionally left him out because he would only be a burden.

Deep down, he knew it was the latter. But that was something too painful to admit, even to himself.

“they mean faith…”

Ritsuka hates how he has grown dependent on Soubi for every little thing. He recalls all the times he was in trouble, all the trivial incidents that he felt alone and needed someone’s company badly – and realizes that it was always Soubi’s name that he called out. Ritsuka doesn’t want to admit to himself that he needs Soubi that much, now that Seimei is gone. He always counts on Soubi to come to his aid whenever it’s needed, but Soubi never seems to need his help, nor want it – Soubi would rather ask help from Kio or the Zeroes, than placate Ritsuka by giving him the call he was always waiting for.

It wasn’t fair, the way he put all his faith in Soubi, when the man had rarely given him faith in return.

“…and hope.”

He waits for Soubi, even though there is always no guarantee that Soubi will come. Yet another thing he loathed about himself – how he pined for Soubi as if the blonde were his only life source. A day to him was never complete without seeing Soubi’s face, or hearing his amused voice, or receiving a text message composed by his graceful, tapering fingers.

He would never tell Soubi that, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling so completely pathetic. Perhaps Soubi knew it all along, the way he smiles whenever Ritsuka attempts to fight down a blush to no avail, or casually shifts his gaze from the other’s piercing blue eyes.

What Ritsuka cannot live down is how Soubi can make him feel angry, simply by ignoring his phone calls or deviating from Ritsuka’s expectations of a visit after dinner.

How ironic that the person who gave Ritsuka hope was the same one who could so easily crush it completely.

“…a promise.”

Ritsuka was aware of the fact that Soubi was a master of speech, an expert at weaving words into half-truths and lies, all for the sake of lulling Ritsuka into a false sense of security.

He has learned things from Soubi that he wouldn’t have been able to pick up anywhere else – how to extract sense from vague answers, how to separate the facts from untruths. How to expect promises to be broken, especially when it comes from a mouth trained to deceive.

“I love you.”

The words rang clearly in his ears, and Ritsuka heard them, not in Yuiko’s cheerful tone, but in a deep voice touched with an emotion Ritsuka couldn’t quite grasp.

He has forgotten how many times Soubi has said those three words to him. He realizes now what he feels whenever he hears it.

It is hope that gives him a reason to believe that he is not alone.

It is despair, knowing that there are dreams too good to be true, wishes too demanding to come into being, and this may be one of them.

It is relief that there is a possibility that fate has nothing to do with his real name, something that has been plaguing his mind ever since the day it was revealed to him.

It is pain, because if names bound by fate can lose their meaning, then it is entirely possible for words to mean nothing as well.

It is tenderness that he has never known from anyone else.

It is loathing the fact that none of it may be real, couldn’t be real, because it is only a spell that is necessary to bind them, a ritual that needs to be done.

It is emptiness…that cancels out everything else and leaves him lost in a void as hollow as the words spoken to him.

Three words that promise so much, three words that mean nothing at all.

**********

Soubi slid the window further open, stepping into the room just in time to see Ritsuka sit up quickly, rubbing at his eyes with the cuffs of his sleeves.

“…Soubi?” Ritsuka called tiredly.

He stood at the foot of Ritsuka’s bed, a concerned expression on his normally calm face. “Are you crying, Ritsuka?”

Ritsuka flushed, averting his gaze. “Of course not. Why would I be?”

Soubi peered at him through his glasses, starting to smile as his eyes fell on the cell phone tightly clutched in Ritsuka’s right hand. “Ah…could it be that you missed me?”

Ritsuka’s head jerked sharply back to glare at Soubi. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he replied hotly, before leaning against the headboard, hugging his knees to his chest and reverting to a forlorn mood.

Soubi inwardly wondered what caused Ritsuka to be in such a state, but didn’t comment. Instead, he glanced at the vase of flowers on the study desk. “I see you’ve been taking care of the flowers I gave you.”

“You shouldn’t waste money on such things,” Ritsuka answered, lowering his head until his forehead touched his knees. His cat ears drooped slightly, a clear indication of Ritsuka’s sad mood.

Soubi sighed, unable to resist asking when Ritsuka looked so despondent. He sat on the edge of the bed beside Ritsuka. “Why are you so upset?” He guessed that it had something to do with the flowers he gave Ritsuka that afternoon. Ritsuka usually overanalyzed things, and Soubi knew that Ritsuka was capable of depressing himself without even trying. It was times like this that the fighter wanted to mourn the past two years that had forced Ritsuka to live through the emotional pain that he didn’t deserve.

The boy lifted his head but didn’t respond. After a long silence, he asked, in a timid tone, “Did you use to give Seimei flowers too?”

Soubi looked surprised for a moment. He scrutinized Ritsuka’s serious expression, his keen perception telling him that this was one of those questions with a deeper meaning, the kind where his answer had to be just right or else Ritsuka would sink further into despair. “No.”

Ritsuka didn’t look satisfied with that answer, as if he had another question in mind but was either too shy or stubborn to ask. And Soubi realized that Ritsuka probably wanted to confirm if he was simply Seimei’s replacement, just as he had thought when he first found out that Soubi had come to him on his brother’s orders.

A smile started to curve onto Soubi’s lips. “Seimei is Seimei,” he spoke as if in explanation, thinking of the way Seimei was always certain about everything. It was because of that certainty that he expected Soubi to be completely devoted to him, and he was, of course, right. He never once doubted that Soubi would love him. “…and Ritsuka is Ritsuka.” On the other hand, Ritsuka was the complete opposite of his brother, forever wary of other people, always wanting to trust and to love, but never having a reason to believe that anybody would do the same in return.

Ritsuka blinked, registering the words and appearing to go over the real meaning behind them as Soubi held out his arms in a wordless invitation for a hug. Ritsuka obliged, crawling onto Soubi’s lap and nestling his head against his fighter’s chest, focusing on Soubi’s warmth and his comforting scent.

When Ritsuka looked up, feeling a little better, Soubi looked straight into his eyes with the intensity that only absolute certainty could give. “I love you, Ritsuka.”

And somehow, when he said it this time, Ritsuka didn’t feel as empty as before.