Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ Understanding ❯ Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Fruits Basket isn’t mine.

Authors Notes: This is a drabble that I wrote late at night, so be warned. It would’ve worked better with Black Haru, but it was Hatori when I wrote it, so it stays Hatori now. I don’t even understand this, since it doesn’t make any sense whatsoever. Also, I should mention Dalene (or indigokaze) here, since she inspired this slightly.

Warnings: Slightly psychotic Hatori, and slightly psychotic Ayame, now that you mention it, OOCness. This could or couldn’t be shonen ai, since that’s what I thought it was going to be when I started writing, but it’s practically nonexistent now. So, think whatever you want about it.

“Let’s try that again.”

Hand outstretched, hopeful innocent eyes looking up at him. Two sparkling pools of yellow sunlight, reflected in the slight rose that colors his ivory cheeks and the glow of his long silken hair, pooling down loosely over his face and back. He is smiling.

“I’m Ayame Sohma.”

He reaches his hand out further, and Hatori watches him, unknowingly jerking his own arm away from Ayame rigidly.

Ayame is still smiling, albeit a forced smile, since there are tears forming beneath his begging eyes. His smile only wavers a second before falling back into masked ebullience.

“I like you, Tori-san. I’m sorry.”

The words force Hatori’s whole body backwards, and he finds himself coughing, unable to bring his eyes from Ayame’s face, his betrayed yet continued smile.

Ayame wishes he could scream, wishes he could chatter away at Hatori with seemingly innocent nonsense, wishes he could pour his heart out to him. Wishes he could tell Hatori everything. Sometimes, he wishes he could kill Hatori for not trying to understand him.

But he smiles, still, bowing his head slightly. “I’m sorry.”

Hatori can’t take it anymore, eyes staring, cruel and unkind, into Ayame’s own. Maybe it’s that he’s just been talking to Akito, he doesn’t know. But somehow, now he is Akito. He feels the other’s hatred flowing into his veins and chokes, wanting to stop the knowing smirk that draws itself onto his face. Hatori knows he’s turning into Akito, knows that the next words he speaks will be in an imitation of his voice. Knows that if he could, he would break down and scream. He’s tired, and Ayame’s logic is unfathomable. Couldn’t he wait for a better time to confront him about this? His hands are shaking.

“You’re sorry? You didn’t do anything. Why are you apologizing to me?”

Somehow, the harsh words that are Akito’s and his comfort him, and the smirk grows in his mind. Akito’s terrible smirk is the only thing left of Hatori anymore. He starts to laugh, and then Ayame speaks softly, eyes still downcast.

“I was disturbing you, talking too much. You said it yourself, didn’t you? You told me to save my vocal cords and give your ears a rest. I was talking too much,” he repeats.

Cold rage erupts in Hatori and he clenches his fists, opening his mouth as if to scream, to ask Ayame why he’s apologizing when he knows he didn’t do anything wrong.

Then it passes, like melting snow. He envisions a captive bird fluttering from his freeing fingers, flying into the sky, the way Akito sometimes calms his anger. It’s gone, and he breathes a sigh of relief.

“It’s okay, Ayame.” Weak words, but still a little bit warm. “You weren’t talking too much.”

Why does Hatori feel a surge of defeat? This is what he wanted all along, to convince Ayame that he did nothing wrong.

The hand is still outstretched, and he takes it, pulling it’s owner into a hesitant embrace.

“No, Hatori!” Ayame protests strongly, and then he stutters as the arms envelop him, and changes his mind. Hatori is always right. “I’ll try not to do it again.”

Hatori sighs, turning away. You still don’t understand that it wasn’t your fault.

Hatori doesn’t understand why Ayame looks up to him. There are some things, he believes, that no one will ever understand.