I do not own Loveless, Soubi or Ritsuka. They belong to one lucky lady: Yun Kouga.

Warning... Fluff?

Chapter 5 - Friends Forever

"His mouth is most sweet: yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend."

- Song of Solomon 5:16

"I wonder what it would have been like to have a spell battle against a pair called Timeless," Ritsuka wondered aloud one day to his partner while snuggling on their picnic blanket one bright summers day.

"Timeless?" Soubi mused. "Why would you want something like that?"

"I don't know..." Ritsuka floundered. "I guess... I wanted to see what you would do with that kind of promise."

"Ritsuka," the artist gazed at his boyfriend fondly. "You aren't making sense."

"That is because you aren't listening!" The young man retorted, sitting up with a cute huff.

Even though his ears and tail were gone, Soubi could still visualize the annoying twitches they would have been making about now. His lips quirked up in an amused smile as Ritsuka pouted.

"Timelessness..." Soubi said after a moment, drawing his friend into his arms.

They sat there for a while on the checkered blanket, the picnic basket beside them still opened under the bright sun and the dappled shadows of the tree.

"You see it as a promise of some kind of future?"

"Don't you ever want things to stay the same? Forever?" asked Ritsuka softly, his fingers clutching the soft material of Soubi's pullover. "Just here in this moment?"

"If it's a good moment."

"If?"

"What if it were a nightmare? Like that dream you had - of Seimei returning and destroying all we had?"

Ritsuka sighed. Then:

"I guess you're right."

"Hm... but it's cute that Ritsuka wants us to be together forever."

"It is an idiotic thought. I'm suprised you hadn't thought it up before," laughed Ritsuka, nudging Soubi gently in the ribs.

The artist smiled.

"Who's to say that I've not dreamt it before? Or wished it?"

"Hm..." Ritsuka looked suspiciously at the artist. "Is that what you wished at the sunrise on New Years? 'Cause that's too sappy..."

"You're the one who started the conversation," replied Soubi smugly. "I think your little heart is full of cute emotions - and -"

Soubi ducked as Ritsuka turned to idly swat him. That afternoon began with a hearty meal - but ended with a lot of snuggling and tussling for the two. Ritsuka, ever the pragmatist, forgot the discussion. But the artist's mind's eye captured that moment there on the blanket and filed it away for further thought...

-

Several months later, for their third anniversary together, Soubi put up another picture in the small apartment. After returning from the store with more nails and some wiring, the artist propped the covered painting against the sofa in preparation for the operation. Ritsuka popped his head out of the small kitchen, where he was struggling with some sticky pasta, and sighed.

"Not another one, Soubi!"

He left the pasta unwatched on the strainer running under hot water and folded his arms with mock fury as his older partner smiled serenely.

"It's not so bad. Just a small one."

"Five feet isn't small, last time I checked," Ritsuka shook his head. "And what if it clashes with the furniture?"

"You don't think it's a good idea?" Soubi cocked his head.

Ritsuka fumed. Soubi's violet eyes dimmed. Ritsuka hesitated. Soubi's eyes begged. Ritsuka gave in with a heavy sigh.

"Fine. I guess it's the present you were babbling about last week."

"One of many," Soubi reminded. "I'm sure you're tired of having..." He was now busy, hammering in the nails. "... all my paintings... around..."

"Now, that's not true -"

"Hmmmm.... I'm sure..." Soubi agreed absentmindedly as he rigged up the back of the painting.

"Can I at least see the thing?"

"Soon, soon, Ritsuka..."

"What if it doesn't match?"

"If it doesn't suit Ritsuka's taste, then, it will be removed," Soubi replied simply.

The younger man sighed.

Damn. And I was just teaching him about getting some back bone and the first thing I do when he shows some sign of independent action is to question his judgment.

"Well... If it matters alot to Soubi, then..."

"We'll see..."

After a few moments of fiddling, the artist drew away the cloth to reveal his creation. Yet another pastel piece - but with so little flowers and butterflies, that Ritsuka was rather taken aback. But then he realized that Soubi's third favorite thing to paint was the main subject for the artwork.

It was himself on a picnic blanket. The lighting was indeterminate - neither dark nor light - so it was rather hard to tell the time. He was dressed in his favorite outdoor clothes - which he knew Soubi was rather familiar with - and even more interesting was the fact that he seemed to be looking beyond the viewer.

"It's like the other ones..." Ritsuka noted, feeling a little let down.

Soubi hummed non-concomitantly.

'Is that a watch?" Ritsuka asked, his sharp eyes already noting the details of the piece. "Why am I older?"

"One day, you'll understand..." Soubi replied softly.

Ritsuka wondered if the Fighter was being obtuse on purpose.

-

For a few months, the painting hung there - rather forlorn - and as time went on, Ritsuka began to think it had gained an air of injury. The young editor had, up until then, been able to unlock the secrets of Soubi's heart - so, his art. Every now and then, the Sacrifice knew that there were still things and secrets to be had. That Soubi would always be a little bit of an enigma.

One night, Soubi, after standing too long outside in the cold, while completing a comissioned piece caught something worse than a cold. Watching his beloved, weak and frail-looking in a hospital bed, Ritsuka bit his lip, trying to hold back tears.

"Stop it," Soubi whispered.

"What?" Ritsuka asked softly.

"Stop blaming yourself," Soubi replied, his now dark cornflower blue eyes seemed as sharp as steel.

Seeing everything - and nothing... Ritsuka sighed.

"I'm not... much..." protested the younger man. "I just..."

"You are worrying about the inevitable," Soubi replied softly. "Like a man trying to hold up the sun from setting."

"That's..."

"It's foolish, of course," Soubi sighed. "You must remember that all sickness is inevitable - as is death. So go home and rest. Is not tomorrow a large deadline? You should be thinking about the magazine."

"Soubi!" Ritsuka erupted. "You're an idiot. After all this time - and you think I'd abandon you to a hospital?"

The Fighter's eyes widened a little. Then he smiled.

"No," he replied calmly. "I was hoping for sense."

"I'll go home to get some stuff and bed down here for the night."

"It's just a cough -"

"It's pneumonia!"

Watching the slight shoulders of his Sacrifice straighten before disappearing into the hallway, Soubi smiled.

One who fights to the end... yes...

-

Four days later, Soubi was installed in their bed at home. Ritsuka waited on him hand and foot, cheerfully. It was the best kind of sickroom really - lots of cuddling and comfort. But underneath Ritsuka's cheer, Soubi could sense a fine tension.

That night, against doctor's orders, Soubi made it to the couch and sat with Ritsuka while gazing at the TV. A cute show was on. Overhead was the painting.

"I'm alone," Ritsuka said abruptly.

Soubi turned the volume down before turning to his partner.

"Why do you feel like that?" he asked in concern.

"No. I mean the painting," Ritsuka huffed a little. Then, he sighed. "In your pictures, you are always there... a flower, butterfly..." The young man hesitated. "But this time... I'm alone... You aren't there..."

Soubi raised an eyebrow, then smiled.

"It is a more thoughtful piece than my usual..."

"Hm... perhaps... and it's very complex. I mean, you drew me as older - but there are pale white lines overlapping it giving it a ghostly air - but the lines are a memory of a younger me...." Ritsuka's voice gained confidence. "So I'm older, you're gone... and.... there is no time."

"A good reading of an incomplete piece," Soubi smiled softly. "But then, Ritsukahas the power to see into my heart. It is always ready for his wishes."

"Silly," Ritsuka snorted. "As if. There are... some things even you and your words cannot change. You know it. You drew it."

"Yes..."

"But I knew that already!" Ritsuka glared indignantly at his lover. "Everyone knows." Here, he subsided. "That death is... inevitable..."

"Hmm... but one of the things I've learned over the years is that knowing isn't..." Soubi trailed off in thought.

"Knowing... to experience it... when you were sick..." Ritsuka admitted slowly. "I couldn't leave you... I felt that if I turned my back or closed my eyes, you would disappear. I couldn't bear the thought of it..."

"It meakes me feel a little happy to be missed..."

"You're mean!" Ritsuka pouted.

"Ah! I'm sorry!"

"Just kidding."

"So was I," Soubi added quickly.

"No, you weren't," Ritsuka shook his head.

"I was!"

"Uh-huh."

"No, really!"

"You keep saying that."

Another month passed by without event. Soubi couldn't leave the apartment without being wrapped until he looked more like a ball than a human. Ritsuka bought a whole new rack of stylish warm wear for the damp winter months. While Soubi painted spring, Ritsuka and his magazine celebrated Christmas festive seasons - and the New Year's mania.

As the two watched the sun rise on the New Year (together on their balcony), Soubi and Ritsuka made silent promises to be together forever.

Mid-January, Soub finished a sketch. He set it aside for thought. And so it was never painted. Ritsuka asked him why - but Soubi merely smiled and replied softly:

"I know our future will be what we want it to be - and it will be together. Death is a door... I think..." Soubi looked pensive. "A new journey. And we'll face it together."

-

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