That Good Night

A/N: That took longer than I thought it would. On the bright side, I have just decided we\'re over half-way done. I really can\'t see this thing being any longer than 10 chapter, and even that\'s iffy. I should also apologize for how this chapter turned out: I did not intend for that to happen, but it did, and there\'s nothing I can do about it. But this should be the last of the "weird" stuff like that. Enjoy, and please review.



Sun in Flight



They were after us, the swarmy little beasts—after us and shouting things I\'d just as soon forget than relate to you. We split up at one point, and they did manage to divert some of the mob, but still. Their numbers tapered further till all that remained was a lone torch flickering amid the darkening forest, its owner still helplessly calling after us. They never stood a chance of catching us, really; it was almost unfair. (Since when is life anything but?)



“I was starting to think we\'d never lose them,” Izuru said.



“They were certainly persistent, I\'ll give them that.”



“And let\'s not even think about what they would\'ve done if they\'d caught us.”



“Agreed.”



Izuru started heading left.



Indicating the complete opposite direction, I said, “I thought it was that way.”



“I\'m sure it\'s this way,” he insisted.



“Do not tell me we\'re lost again.”



“Perhaps we should invest in a map?”



“Assuming we ever get out of here.”



“I propose we wait. It can get dangerous out here at night.”



“We are not that lost. Let\'s just keep heading that way and we\'re bound to end up somewhere.”



“If you insist.”



We started walking, probably a bit closer than necessary, but it was cold out and dark so we both felt it was at least somewhat justified, even if it wasn\'t that cold except I\'ve gone and started in the middle, haven\'t I? Let me start from the beginning:



I was born in the middle of July and I came out screaming, or so I\'m told, until my mother held me, and it took a while for me to kick that habit. The next few years are mostly fuzzy until I started school—wait, no, that\'s not right either. I\'ll try again:



“No, Billy, that\'s not how it works,” he says to the other man. “I\'m what you call a seme, you see.”



“What\'s that?” he says with this obnoxious little blush I can see all the way from back here.



“It means I\'m the only one gets to do the penetrating around here, got it?” He\'s got him pinned against a wall now, except we can\'t really see it; in fact it may not even exist. “Wanna try it out?”



“Here?” he says, looking around anxiously.



“Where else?”



“Somewhere. . . private?”



“What\'s more private than your bedroom?”



“Oh.”



A shirt comes off and they\'re kissing again.



All four of us are becoming visibly nervous, now. “What the hell kind of play is this?” one of us says.



Someone on the next row shushes us.



“Who even wants to watch this crap?”



A collective Shh.



“Oh,” he whimpers, “Claggart, touch me there again.”



“Here?”



It almost makes me want to vomit, but at the same time I\'ve got this bile fascination with their escalating nakedness; they at least know how to pick the hot ones, I\'ll give them that. Izuru\'s looking at me, then, and he\'s got this look in his eye like he wants to try something, but I\'m not too sure I\'ll like it because



The problem was to find something to do.



We woke up in the morning a mess of limbs and aches amidst a sea of sheets and sunlight leaking through the window. Got dressed and tried to plan for once. Thing is, we weren\'t either one of us very skilled in that regard. Blank after blank after blank, with the occasional very bad idea passed between us before one of us—I don\'t even know which—thought maybe more heads would make it easier, and what did the other think the probability of Toshiro and Hisagi being down by the lake again was? So long as we checked they weren\'t “indisposed” beforehand. But that\'s what bushes were for, anyway.



They were there, by the lake, clothed and spread on a blanket on the grass and enjoying the breeze. Alas, they were not so helpful as we had hoped. Might have even been a hindrance. Or I thought that, until Toshiro pointed out the poster stuck on the tree. I can\'t remember the name of the play, but that\'s hardly important. That would be the picture accompanying the title.



But that all wasn\'t until after dark. And even though it\'s the stuff that happened then that\'s more interesting, I\'ll postpone that a bit. To properly build it up, of course. Because, you see, we had, for some reason, each of us brought our swords to the shore that day, and we decided to practice. I do not know why. Perhaps we thought, or pretended to think, or only subconsciously semi-thought, or any other combination of consciousness and thinking or its opposite, we should at least have something to show in the way of progress for our absence from our duties. Toshiro, at least, thought that. Don\'t know that anyone else did, at least not so much, or so directly as to speak of it aloud. Captain Grumpypants, indeed.



Obviously.



So we sparred for a bit, lax enough in the doing for there to be witty banter between the four of us throughout, though that is better left to your imagination than my less than perfect recollection. In a sense, if you\'ll excuse me a moment



He says he wants to put on a show of our own, to kiss me and make a scene. They\'ll like it, he says, cheer us on and everything. I acquiesce, if begrudgingly.



On top, he explains, will be better, but he doesn\'t spell out exactly how or why, nor do I think to ask nor want to.



Just a bit of tongue, at first, partly for show and partly for me. Hands, too, moving all over, but that was pretty much all show.



Aside from the obvious divisions, there are two main types of sex: one meant to be enjoyed, and the other meant to be watched. The latter is usually much more fun to look at than to perform—because perform one must in the case—veering often even into the uncomfortable if not outright painful.



And he\'s got his hands moving, and mine too, but I can\'t say as I know exactly where to put them in this scenario. The crowd watches us intently, the performance on stage forgotten and ignored—actually, they might be watching as well. But I ignore them because what I\'d really like is to be



Alone in the forest, with Izuru only for company, I wandered. The trees grew older, more ancient as we walked, with vines slowly encroaching the path, if you could call it that, until more was green than brown. A firefly passed us by.



“Follow it,” Izuru said, and we did.



Another firefly joined, then another and another, one by one, till we followed a procession of glowing, flickering lights slightly ahead and above us. Vine gave way to stone, old and strong, if cracked, shaped into stairs leading downwards.



“Sometimes, late at night, there are things, places in the forest that usually aren\'t. Even as long as we live, you might only ever see one once or twice, if that. Where most maps don\'t go, where fewer tread, the land is softer in form, more susceptible to change. They are places beyond time, or space. That\'s what I read, anyway.”



“So how do we get out of here?” I asked.



“Just follow them.”



They pooled at the bottom, before what might once have been a stage. I looked around; the place looked like it could be an amphitheater.



“Do we have to leave now?” I said.



“Not if you don\'t want.”



We sat down and watched them dance around.



“Perhaps we could continue where we left off?” he said.



The stone was cool and gritty to the touch, with the occasional vine or weed to soften it.



“You don\'t mind if they watch?”



“The fireflies? I\'m sure they\'ll be nicer than those fangirls.”



A million lights above, at least, or so it seemed, danced, as I may have said before, and maybe even watched, as we kissed. The moon was up in the sky somewhere, above the trees and clouds, but most of the light was from the fireflies. The poet in me is tempted very sorely to blather on and on about them, but I\'ll spare you at least the brunt of it. I will say they were reminiscent in form to a stream, only in the air, and there was something I wanted to say about their resemblance to stars, but I\'ll stay my pen.



Note how I said they watched as we “kissed”: we did not, in fact, go any further than that. Because, you see, as I\'m sure you know, or have known for some time, there\'s more than just sex to be had from a relationship. At least for the less shallow ones. In the end we just lay there and watched the stars for a while—they were strange ones, those stars, the likes of which we\'d never seen before nor since—until we\'d both had enough and we followed them out.



The path ran the opposite course we\'d taken to get there, so far as I could tell, and over time brown returned to prominence and the green faded back into the leaves and the fireflies went away.



We exited the forest by the lake.



“Those girls really didn\'t like it when you did that, did they?” I said.



“No, they didn\'t. Didn\'t really expect them to, either.”



“You mean you wanted them to riot?”



“I didn\'t think they\'d react that badly. I underestimated them, I guess.”



“Well, be sure to never do that again, won\'t you?”



“Oh, tell me you didn\'t have fun.”



“It was exhilarating, maybe, I\'ll give it that. But not fun. Not in the least.”



“Come on,” he said. “That was some funny shit.”



“We\'ll never get that hour and a half we spent watching the play back, though.”



“I still think it was worth it,” he said, and he moved closer to the lake for a moment, only to back away in the direction of the cabin.



Then he tripped over a root—not the same as the previous day, I don\'t think—and I laughed.



Dammit, why are we reusing sight gags already?



No—must think happy thoughts.



Sometimes a mind loses itself in its own hopelessness and insanity. The only cure is time, and maybe some very special pills. Also, sex, but that\'s beside the point. Overattachment to another person leads to codependence, and that\'s when bad things happen. Perhaps you have a brother-figure? Or maybe it\'s Oedipal? I forgot to say the part about the violence, but I forget where that one comes in. Always forget that one. But violence is never the answer—



—except when it is.



The faces would melt you if you saw them, not that you ever will. Fierce, you might call them, or maybe impassioned—note: not passionate. That might better describe Izuru, thought that\'s really probably overkill. But that\'s not the point.



They\'re watching, all of them, with more determination than they ever gave the play to begin with, and Izuru makes his move. Without informing me beforehand, of course.



First, he takes off my shirt—that right there got more than its fair share of squees. Then he starts licking—more squees—and then we disappear.



We end up in front of the theater. We can hear their cries of displeasure.



“That\'s your plan?” I say, more than a little. . . disappointed? Annoyed? Not sure which.



He doesn\'t quite get a chance to answer; Shuuhei and Toshiro run outside and shout we should run too. The fangirls swarm out of the theater, and now we\'ve come full circle. Hooray.



Now back to the good stuff.



When we got back to the cabin (we didn\'t even get lost on the way), we fucked. Now, I could call it all sorts of other things, sex, making love, etc. But it was fucking, plain and simple. Because we felt like it.



See, he had this table right by one of the windows, and what he did was he shoved me down and almost ripped my pants off just to get at my ass. No words, just touch.



Touching my back, my ass, my dick. Pressing himself against me and moving in for the kill.



One hand holding me down and the other keeping me still.



A very retro, macho way to do it. It was fun.



—did leave me more\'n a little sore after, though—



Next morning we had to leave, and Izuru did have to get back to work.



He said he had fun; I agreed. Maybe he\'d come and visit me soon. That was fine by me.



I will skip over whatever the hell I was thinking on my way back, except to say I was very abruptly brought out of my internal monologue when something hard hit me in the stomach.



This time—it was the hollow from before—he wasn\'t alone. The bird-like hollow and his new giraffe looking friend grinned malevolently.



My first strike caught them—or the giraffe one, at least—off guard. I managed to cleave his arm straight off, but it grew right back. Stupid menos.



A well-aimed Getsuga Tenshou to the ground distracted them enough to let me get close to the bird one. He wasn\'t so easy to cut.



He raised his arm-wings over his head and flew back away from me before he fired his ceros. Thousands of crimson beams and more of them every second.



After I dodged was when the giraffe hollow snuck up behind me and nearly broke my back.



Then came the rushing blue lights, the excited shouts. A bright flash, and then darkness.