A/N: Written for 10 whores Livejournal writing challenge community using the prompt #10 – paranoia. The main idea behind this community is to pick one character and pair him/her up with ten others. This completes my Sumeragi Subaru set.

Disclaimer: X/1999 is the property of CLAMP and all associated companies. No copyright infringement intended and no money is being made from this. Please support the amazing mangaka by buying their original works.

Warnings: Hinted-at yaoi.


Everything was over now. Seishirou was dead, Subaru lived. The Rainbow Bridge had been the scene for their last showdown, the one which Subaru would have liked to put off for as long as possible; at least a few decades more. But even at the time when that thought had first entered his mind he had known that it wasn't to be. One could not stall fate forever, and there was just no way that that man would have allowed Subaru to even attempt at an escape. He never had allowed him to do that. They had agreed on this, hadn't they? Though Subaru hadn't been able to really remember the promise they had made under that demonic cherry tree for quite some time, he now knew that there would be no escape. And he welcomed that. He had gone in expecting to die, but had been the one to deal the death's hand to his opponent. To the man he loved more than life. The Sakurazukamori died. The Sakurazukamori was born. Only life could be this cruel.

Seishirou was dead, there was no mistake. And along with him, a part of Subaru had died as well. Still, there were nights when Subaru would feel the cigarette smoke of a brand that wasn't his, hear the laughter of someone else from empty rooms, and feel the weight of a gaze whose owner no longer had the eyes to see. And sometimes… Sometimes Seishirou was right there, sitting at the foot of his bed much in the same way he'd done it while being alive, and the smoke from a cigarette held loosely in slender fingers would wind its way up toward the ceiling. He always had the black sunglasses on.

Subaru knew that he was dreaming. Now he truly was possessed by a ghost.

Seishirou put out the cigarette; snubbed it out carelessly against the surface of the table and got up. He discarded his coat, letting it fall onto the chair in a heap; undid the buttons of his shirt, and climbed on top of Subaru without saying a word. He never spoke now; not even a snide remark or a taunting comment. And he never took off the sunglasses. Subaru lie in his bed, his hands down at his sides and the blankets pulled up to his chest carelessly; he only watched him move. Speaking, he found, wasn't necessary. Not after that night on the Rainbow Bridge when they had spoken to each other through the battle, aiming each hit to kill. Not after Seishirou's dying words. Subaru couldn't hate anymore. He couldn't love either. And he didn't want to move, lest this nightmarish dream disappear and leave him empty in the dead of the night. He would still feel empty, come morning, but that was still hours away, and he was still sleeping.

Seishirou moved above him languidly, pulling the covers aside and settling above the younger man, his precious little prey with the incredibly green eyes and the asinine will to exorcise his family's heirloom. Those eyes had paled out over the years, had become weary, and one of them – even blind and now replaced with a differently-coloured one. Seishirou smiled. The will had left him as well, giving way to grave acceptance. It was his eye in that face and it was the first thing he always touched, fingertips lightly running over dark lashes, outlining the corners of the eye, before sliding down a cheek and twining in dark hair. His eye. His prey. His successor. Seishirou laughed on the inside and leaned in.

Subaru didn't move, couldn't. Hands explored his body, hands did away with his clothes; such familiar hands… They had treated him when he had been ill. They had carried him when he had been injured. They had left the marks on the backs of his hands when he had been just a curious child. They had stripped him and exposed him, and attacked him, and soothed him. And now they were back through this nightmare, or maybe through memory, or his own summon. His chest heaved for breath which he didn't know he'd been holding and he glanced up at the face above him. Carelessly tousled dark hair, a familiar cruel mouth, and his own reflection on black glass. Did he really… Did he really look that needy, that desperate? Subaru turned his mismatched eyes away from that sight, feeling weak and disgusted with himself. That cruel mouth only smiled. It didn't laugh; it didn't speak. It descended on top of Subaru's mouth and claimed it fiercely. Never giving. Only taking. Subaru let it do as it pleased. This was, after all, the only thing he could do after having killed him. This was the only way he could ever pay for that night; the night when his sister died for him, and the night when this man died for him, died by his hand. He didn't need to hear that mouth speaking because he knew it would only laugh at his idea of repentance.

He had never known Seishirou; he had never had the chance to get to know him, had never been allowed to. He had studied Seishirou's ways of killing, had tried to find out the possible reasons behind it, hoping that it would bring him closer to that man, but he had never been able to understand the drive behind his actions. Had never accepted his words, the few of them which he'd carelessly thrown his way, but which had been specifically sought out for him. And now no words were being spent on him. He was only worth the silence and a rare thin-lipped or predatory smile.

Yet Subaru didn't mind. He didn't mind it for as long as those hands touched him, marked him all over again. He didn't mind for as long as that man took him: mind, body, and soul. He didn't mind it for as long as that cherry tree bloomed above them, its scent – poison and death. The touch of that hand was decay and his own passion burnt him worse than the flames of hell ever could. Come morning, he would wake an empty shell, but right now it didn't matter. Right now he was still here; he was still caught within the cruel touch, within the presence of a ghost. Within his own reflection in those black sunglasses. No matter how many times he tried to turn away from that sight, he couldn't escape it. Seishirou was here, but all Subaru could see was his own eyes in black glass. He groaned, arching under the relentless touch, and wanted to touch that man in return, but his hands wouldn't move. Subaru closed his eyes briefly and moaned. He'd tried touching him once; the first time when he had appeared after his death. Subaru had fought for dominance, had managed to break free from the trance and had reached out only to touch… nothing. His hand had glided through air, the shadow above him disappearing. He'd never tried fighting it afterwards.

His body trembled and writhed under Seishirou's touch. His hips moved in time with Seishirou's strokes, and his legs parted for him, allowing him to take what he wanted. Always take, never give. Because the image of the broken and desperate young man reflected on the black glass was only a gift of insanity. Cruel lips smiled and formed words he could never hear.

He was possessed, Subaru said to himself, leaning heavily on the sink and staring into the bathroom mirror, staring right into his own eyes. One of them was pale green, the other – brown. Which one should he get rid of, he wondered out loud, as he reached for the razor on the nearby shelf. The green one? Or the brown one? But his hand returned to leaning on the sink before his fingers could touch it. He laughed instead. The mouth was his, the voice was his, but the laughter wasn't.

He was possessed, yes, but he couldn't exorcise what was, in essence, a part of him. The only thing he could do was to learn to accept it and live with it until he either plunged over the edge or somebody else rose to plunge him over it. Somebody else… Subaru saw the petals of sakura swirl with nonexistent wind and a child walking through this eerie blizzard. A child… Subaru's lips curled up in a desperate smile. What was he seeing now? Seishirou's memories? Or maybe his own future?

The sound of a doorbell ringing startled him from his thoughts and he hastily left the bathroom. There were only a few people who still came to visit him; only a few people were left after those battles and sometimes they visited each other, even if they had nothing much to talk about. They had been fighting together, they had been on the same side, and he was still a Sumeragi, he still belonged with them; or so they insisted.

The faint scent of sakura followed him.