Flowers…

The flowers between them on the table are innocent enough… bright yellow marigolds (Soubi has always believed roses are overdone), each with a face like a tiny sun, shining their light brightly from the glass of water… lilacs, soft and lavender with their tiny delicate blossoms lifting a graceful scent of spring into the air.

Flowers…

Flowers that can mean as much or as little as either of them likes, but Soubi knows better than to think they mean little. He handpicked them from that huge clump beside the road on the way to that spot he loves to sit and think. He chose each one carefully, taking only the brightest, the most beautiful, the most perfect. The ones most worthy of his Ritsuka.

And here his Ritsuka sits, across from him, his arms at his sides and his eyes fixed on the bright petals, his expression unreadable. His ears twitch. Once. Twice. Soubi can’t tell if it’s from irritation or happiness, but he smiles anyway, watching the delicate way the muscles of Ritsuka’s face move in their subtle shifting of expressions. Everything about his Ritsuka is splendid, even if he has no idea what the Sacrifice’s reaction to the flowers will be. He loves to watch him anyway, every tiny shift of his body making Soubi more aware of how much he loves him, showing him a slightly different angle for him to memorize in that endless gallery in his mind, memories of his Ritsuka, reserved for Soubi alone.

Flowers…

Flowers that can decide the very fate of this day, the very fate of the future, if used as a proper tool for his intentions. And Ritsuka looks like he’s debating on how to use them, how to take what receiving them meant. Soubi has to stifle a chuckle as he watches the young boy. Ritsuka is nearly fourteen now. He is growing up, and Soubi knows that he is aware of the ulterior motives behind many of his Sentouki’s actions now, such as this. He knows that Ritsuka will probably sense that they are bait, and he likes it that way.

Things are going better at home for Ritsuka now, and today is a good day. Soubi can tell by the pink tint in Ritsuka’s smooth cheeks, the way his eyes have a fierce glitter rather than a detached loneliness that they have on days when his mother’s problems flare up again.

Soubi loves the way those eyes sparkle when he sees Soubi coming in the door every morning to visit him, and he loves those magical smiles Ritsuka reserves for him alone, and the look of love that he has come to allow to shine through when Soubi holds him close. He treasures the way that soft black hair curves delicately down Ritsuka’s cheeks and brushes the collar of that blue jacket he’s liked to wear since he was twelve or earlier. He cherishes everything about this boy who has shown him things he never imagined someone would care enough to show him… things like his secrets, his hopes and fears, and that soft look he gets when Soubi whispers those three little words to him now.

Soubi loves everything about this boy.

Flowers…

Flowers with delicate green stems like fragile bodies, so easily snapped but so lovely. Flowers with tiny, bright emerald leaves laced with patterns of tiny, barely even visible veins. Flowers that came from the bright spring morning and into this room, into Ritsuka’s house, in Soubi’s warm hand.

Flowers…

Those flowers there, they can mean whatever Ritsuka likes. Soubi made this clear by the look in his eyes when he handed them to him in that tender little bouquet, tied together by a lilac-colored ribbon that now sits before them on the table. He is leaving the deciding of their significance up to Ritsuka, and Ritsuka is both grateful and irritated. Wanting to throw his arms around the older man and hold him or glare at him and snap “Make up your mind!”

But he does neither. He sits and stares at his Sentouki, who gives him a warm smile. Soubi’s hands rest on the tabletop, and he inches one toward the pale ribbon and catches hold of it, winding it gracefully around his long, slender fingers. Artist’s fingers. Beautiful fingers. Ritsuka watches impartially before his eyes move up to Soubi’s delicate face, those impossibly deep blue eyes, that mouth that is curved very slightly upward at the corners in the very subtlest of smiles. But as always, Soubi’s smiles are the most sincere in the world. Soubi is incapable of faking a smile, so when he is happy, it’s always genuine. Ritsuka loves to see him happy.

Flowers…

“These are for you,” Soubi had declared when he handed them to him upon entering his house this morning. Ritsuka had been left speechless by the gesture… the spontaneity and raw emotion that someone like Soubi giving him such a thing entailed. To many people, it was a simple gift. But for the Sentouki and his Sacrifice, it was something more. A deeper promise. A silent question. Almost a tease.

Ritsuka will not allow himself to be the first to crack, and gives his companion a determined look across the table, which Soubi counters with a sunny smile. His mood today is impossibly good, and as always when he’s happy, Soubi is radiant. His hair is tied back in that loose ponytail he favors, the hair at the front spilling out and curling past his pale cheeks, and his eyes are full of dancing blue light that he saves only for Ritsuka. It seems now that Soubi saves everything for Ritsuka… smiles, time, secrets; everything the artist possesses. Everything for Ritsuka. At first, it scared him, but now it’s starting to feel good, starting to make him smile when Soubi tells him he loves him, when he sees the things Soubi has done to make him the center of his world.

Flowers…

Before, in those first months he had known Soubi, he had reminded Ritsuka of a butterfly… so free and hard to catch, elusive, but unspeakably beautiful in all his mystery. But as time has passed and their worlds have become more closely intertwined, Ritsuka had realized his mistake. Soubi was nothing like a butterfly. Soubi, in truth, was more like a flower, delicate and beautiful, it was still true. But Soubi was not elusive. Soubi was selective in who he allowed to possess him, and when Ritsuka was presented with his flower, Soubi, he was Ritsuka’s to do what he wished with. Not pressed and dried between the pages of a book, but out for the world to see. And Soubi bloomed only for him.

And there his flower is, giving him a slightly amused smile from across the table. His elbow is on the table, his chin leaning on his hand, the ribbon sliding smoothly around the fingers of his other hand. His eyes are narrowed slightly, fixed on Ritsuka’s face, and Soubi, as usual, makes no attempt to hide the look of pure adoration.

“Soubi?” Ritsuka asks finally, his voice meeker than usual in the presence of such a day.

“Yes, Ritsuka?”

“Aren’t you going to say it?”

“Say what?” the smile on Soubi’s face is almost devious now, and Ritsuka wants to get angry with him, but he can’t. His open admiration is too obvious, even with the sly grin on his face, and the effect is still beautiful. Everything is beautiful on Soubi.

“You know what I’m talking about.” Ritsuka gets up and moves across the table, leaning over his flower and looking him in the eye. “I know what those flowers meant, and you know I know!”

“Oh?” Soubi’s surprise is feigned, and his eyes are half closed as he smiles up at the boy above him.

“Yes! Aren’t you going to ask me to be yours, Soubi?” Ritsuka leans in closer, and the tip of his nose brushes Soubi’s. A light blush creeps over Soubi’s cheeks, barely noticeable, but this close it’s just visible. He loves it when Soubi blushes. “Aren’t you going to say that I’m the only one you want, and you want to really be with me… be more than just a servant and master?”

Soubi’s eyes slide closed even further, and he leans up a bit so he and Ritsuka’s lips are only a fiber apart, brushing lightly and making Ritsuka’s face heat up, his breathing becoming subtly more shallow. “Is that what you want me to say, Ritsuka?”

“Isn’t it obvious, Soubi?” Ritsuka closes his eyes and brushes their lips together slightly, just enough for a ghost of contact. “You idiot.”

Soubi smiles and his eyes close as well, feeling the soft breath of his Sacrifice against the sensitive flesh of his lips, breathing in his smell. “Be mine, Ritsuka. All of you. Belong wholly to me, and I will belong to you. Not as your Sentouki, but as your lover.”

Ritsuka’s smile is subtle, but Soubi can sense it, feel it in the air even without opening his eyes. “Always, Soubi. Always.” and then he blissfully closes the gap between their lips, glad for the warm pressure of Soubi kissing him back and taking him into his arms with the tenderness only Soubi can give him. Soubi is the only one who can give him many things… courage, comfort, and most of all love.

“I love you, Soubi.” the words finally escape against Soubi’s mouth, and he holds him closer instinctively, cradling him against his chest and running his hands in gentle, loving trails down his back.

“And I will always love you, Ritsuka.” he holds Ritsuka as close as he can, hoping to disintegrate the flesh between them and simply melt into his Sacrifice, becoming one and leaving no need for ever ending this embrace that makes him feel whole as nothing; not Seimei, not any victory, not any other lover has ever made him feel.

And Ritsuka’s flower blooms for him once again.

Fin.