Love Lies Bleeding

Memories are just where you laid them,

dragging waters 'til the depths give up their dead.

What did you expect to find?

Was it something you left behind?

Don't you remember everything I said when I said:

Don't fall away, and leave me to myself.

Don't fall away, and leave love bleeding in my hands,

in my hands again;

leave love bleeding in my hands.

In my hands,

love lies bleeding.

'Hemorrhage (Love Lies Bleeding)', Fuel

Dripping. Plip, plop. The repetitive suicide of droplets of water, plunging from the jagged teeth of the cavern's roof to dive to their deaths below, little droplets gathering in pools in the floor of the cave. The sound of their unkind landing in a good number of small puddles, throughout the large cavern, was the first noise Houjun was aware of.

The next thing that penetrated his senses was the cold. He was in a bed-a mat of straw, covered by a sheet. It was a simple enough thing; he'd slept on one before as a novice, studying at his temple before his vows were formalized. But the sheet and blanket tossed over him couldn't keep the damp chill from his skin.

That was the third realization; that he was bare. His arms, his chest; both stripped and bandaged. He checked the splint, and then tried to sit up slowly. He stopped, grunting in pain as he realized that yes, his ribs were still healing; but at least he wasn't in agony anymore. He could breathe without pain, which made him wonder just how long he had been senseless. Long enough for his ribs to partially heal.

But he was alive. And taken care of. His recollections were dim; did he dream the hands that soothed his fever and calmed his delusions? He knew that he could not be alone, as he was alive and taken care of, but could Hikou have really brought him here?

But then, he mused, who else but a river-spirit would chose to live in a cold, wet, limestone cavern?

"Hikou?" he called, his voice rough from disuse. His single eye tracked the shadows; his injury ruined his depth perception, so the shadows concealed all, hiding the walls and the exact dimensions of the room from his gaze. And so, he was unsurprised when he heard the demon finally speak from a corner he had already peered at intently.

"You're awake. I thought you'd never come around."

Hikou rose from a crouch; he had hidden himself purposely, taking pleasure in the monk's inability to truly see him. Even now, he was unnoticed. Just as the truth, then, had been unseen. The demon cherished the irony-but now stepped forward, slippered feet standing atop the water as easily as one might've stood on good, firm stone.

Houjun moved to rise; but to his dismay, he found he had been disrobed. The blanket was abruptly clutched tighter to his hips, his eye widening and a flush crossing his face. "I-I'm not even sure how long I've been out," he admitted after he found the use of his voice again. The demon's wry chuckle at his discomfort only made him feel worse.

"Two weeks, perhaps," the demon offered as he moved quietly forward, till there was only ten feet between his body at the bed that Houjun rested on. "Time has no meaning in places like this." Even as Houjun's face fell, the demon added insult to injury. "You were quite delirious, and fairly amusing in your madness. Oh, and… your clothes were ruined, so I stripped you down, and disposed of them for you," he smirked, then, and added, "Hope you don't mind."

Ignoring the comment from the demon, Houjun moved away from the topic of his clothing-or his nudity-and instead began to run over the possibilities of what could have happened while he was mad with fever. Weeks had passed; Ryuu Kouran would likely be worrying now. But Hikou would hardly allow him to fall into his thoughts, and instead interrupted his brooding with a simple suggestion.

"You're probably hungry, aren't you?"

A rumble answered the question for Houjun. The monk scowled, irritated at his body's betrayal of his state, and sighed. "Hai," he answered, until a dark thought passed behind his eyes. "Unless you intend to starve me now."

Cruel mirth danced in Hikou's eyes as he laughed at the suggestion. "I don't think I'd mind the entertainment that could be wrought from watching you waste away until there was nothing left of you but skin and bones, so brittle that you'd fall apart with a single touch." His eyes widened, as is a new suggestion had crossed his mind. "Or perhaps you might even be driven to extremes by the want of your own belly... I wonder, Houjun," Hikou turned then to the enjoy the look of horror that had crossed Houjun's maimed face, "if you would actually gnaw on your own limbs if left to such a demise."

Hikou moved toward one of the shadow-coated walls and worked something near them, before reaching for something that Houjun could not discern with his faulty vision.

"Of course," Hikou added, as he turned from his work, bearing a pot of soup in his hands, "poison has its merits as well."

The demon closed the distance between the broken shichiseishi, and looked down upon him, his eyes dark, amber depths glittering with the sparks of amusement. "Will you eat it, Houjun? And risk being eaten from the inside out?"

The monk's good hand was offered for the bowl. "I will take my risks," Houjun replied simply.

The bowl changed hands. "I bet you can't even feed yourself. One handed-and with no spoon, either," Hikou remarked, as he watched the injured man attempt to make himself more comfortable upon the bed he had been placed on. There was a grunt of pain, but it did not move the demon's stony, neutral countenance to anything resembling sympathy. Hikou's eyes were merely having trouble finding a place to rest upon the monk; the bare, bandaged chest offered no respite, and the twisted, maimed visage that clenched in pain was not much better. But Houjun's face was easier to deal with than his body and the reaction it had once incited, so the amber orbs found themselves gazing at the pale-faced shichiseishi.

"This is not at all how I imagined it would be," Hikou voiced idly, as Houjun leaned back against his seat, trying to ignore the fire that ran up his limbs. "It's sad, really."

"And how did you expect it to be?" Houjun asked, as he looked down into the bowl of soup now resting in his single, working hand. "I know this is not at all anything I expected, in all my life."

But the errant comment had quite the unexpected affect; Hikou's face was twisted now, bitterness showing plainly upon it. "And you've lived so much longer then I have, haven't you."

Houjun was immediately contrite, his head bowed. He had not meant to cause Hikou further suffering, no matter what he was doing to him. Instead, he turned his attention to his soup. Balancing the small bowl in his hand, be brought it to his lip, and drained the broth like he would a cup of tea. Some escaped the corners of his mouth, dribbling down his chin, and once the cup was emptied he quickly set it aside, bringing up his hand to catch the precious fluid on his fingers and lick it off them. He didn't know when he would eat next, and thus nothing was wasted.

But when he finally turned his eyes to Hikou once more, the cleaning of his fingers finished, he found the demon staring at him. Lips slightly parted, the demon's eyes widened. Had he done something wrong? Had Hikou poisoned the broth, and not expected him to take it? "Hikou?"

The demon turned, and then moved from the bed, not at all acknowledging that he was being spoken to. Instead, he leaned against a nearby stretch of wall, falling silent for a time. Houjun could only stare after him in confusion.

"You spoke while the fever had you," Hikou finally said after a moment, finally breaking the silence that built steadily between them.

Houjun nodded once. "And what did I say?" he asked, his tone carrying the weight of caution.

"You… cried out. You spoke of forgiveness. And you asked… It made me wonder," the demon answered as he turned away from his captive, giving his gaze to the wall and folding his arms tight and tense across his chest, "how could you think, even with a diseased mind, that you had the right to ask such a thing of me."

Hikou waited. Waited for the pleading to begin. For the begging and the sobbing and the apology. For something. Anything.

Instead, he got Houjun's rough voice, answering him plainly. "I have never wanted anything more than your forgiveness. But I..." he swallowed hard, his throat abruptly dry despite the dampness of his surroundings. The monk was unaware that the demon mimicked the gesture, mouth equally parched despite Hikou's watery nature. "I... I had no right to ask these things of you. Gomen. Gomen nasai."

Hikou turned back to him now, still at the wall. The pale face, with the shock of dark blue lashed against one pale cheek-the other lacking the fringe that had once decorated the lid. He finally moved from the wall, to look down at the bowed head; the ridiculous, short blue hair, the jet of bangs that flopped to the side.

The scar.

Suddenly, his hands were no longer fisted at his side, but raised, reaching for Houjun's face. He gripped the monk's chin, tilting his head up and holding him firmly, even as his fingers began to explore the scar once again. It was better now that he was awake, with his other eye wide open, to compare the two sides of his face; one caught in the moment of his youth, the other bearing the weight of his age.

"I cannot forgive you," Hikou whispered to the man who abruptly trembled. The demon's touch was a violation as intimate as any could be. Hikou continued to explore the physical reminder of Houjun's sin as he ignored the man's anguish and continued to trace the ridge and valley of flesh with the most delicate of touches. "If I could forgive you, this would all be over soon. But I cannot pretend that my forgiveness would mean anything, and I indulge in illusions like love and friendship anymore. You don't even know what you did. How can I forgive that?"

His touch deepened; the monk's aura-warm and fiery like the fires of Suzaku on a good day, but woefully depleted now-was his new field for exploration. Like snakes through the reeds, Hikou's energies slithered out to explore the monk's spirit, eliciting a cry of grief from his victim.

"Not know?" Houjun sobbed now, confused and frightened, but unable to defend himself from either the physical or spiritual intrusion. One hand fluttered helplessly, but he knew it was useless to struggle. Could he push away this demon? He could barely manage to feed himself! "How can I not know my own sin?" All he found himself able to do was sob and try and turn his head away.

Finally, Hikou released him, his hands drawing back as he stared down dispassionately at the monk. "You don't know. You still don't know," he intoned flatly, even as Houjun curled protectively inward, as if to prevent another molestation. "And… I don't feel like telling you."

"Tell me," came the ragged request, Houjun's voice thick with fear and pain. "Tell me. If I must stand before the Gods someday with my sins, at least let me know what other wrongs I must be accounted for!"

Silence reigned between them. Hikou stood as unmoving as a statue, and Houjun, shuddering with silent sobs, waited, his burgundy eye silvered with unshed tears. Finally, the demon took a breath.

"You didn't notice," finally escapes the demon's lips as a breathless exhale. Suddenly the formidable Shittenou was gone, leaving behind a heartbroken young man. "You fell in love with her, and forgot all about me... you never noticed that I..." Hikou's voice sank to a whisper, as if even it meant to desert him now. "... I loved you... and you didn't notice... and I... not even... when I kissed her..."

Houjun was silent. Even after Hikou's confession, he could not speak. His mind was ablur. Hikou? Hikou had loved him? Not as a brother, but...

"Suzaku," Houjun finally breathed.

"No," Hikou snapped, his tongue dripping bitterness. "He has no place in this." The demon stared for a time at the monk, as the truth penetrated his mind. He no longer cared about how it might affect the shichiseishi. He was more concerned with getting away from that hollow stare, and the accusation he knew was lurking behind them.

"I'll let that sink in for a while," he finally rasped, turning his back. Water lept up about his form, and before the monk could come around enough to protest, the demon was gone.

Houjun was alone.

And in the safety of solitude, he laid down on the rough bed, and began to weep for all that they had lost.