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whereyoursoulresides · 3 years

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The newest chapter is out! In this one, Izou finds out about Kunzite’s interference regarding his job, and things are about to get a little rocky. You can read it on A03, FF.net, or below the cut!

“I’m really sorry,” the voice over the phone begged again. “I wasn’t sure if I should’ve said anything…”

As Izou listened, his furrowed brow deepened. It was dinner time the next day, the first window of opportunity when he and Kunihiro would be home. A pot of package-made curry was stewing quietly on the stove. The plan had been to share a nice, quaint evening together, but Mi-chan’s news quickly began to distress it.

About an hour ago, Izou had just discovered that his employment at the Dark B-ean Garden had been terminated. “Our circumstances have changed,” the assistant manager had apologetically explained. With no further information, Izou had called the one person he felt might have the details. It took some effort to convince Mi-chan to speak about it, and when she did, her voice was wrought with guilt.

“You’re sure it was Kunihiro-chan?”

Mi-chan sounded like she was about to cry. “It seemed like it was him...he wasn’t wearing the uniform, but he looked a lot like him.”

Unconsciously, Izou began to chew the bottom of his lip. Kunihiro hadn’t mentioned anything about this exchange. Nor had he mentioned even visiting the shop! And then there was this woman, this manager...

The sound of the doorknob wiggling snapped Izou out of his thoughts. “I’m sorry, I have to go,” he said quickly. “But thank you, Mi-chan.”

He managed to hang up just as the door opened. As Kunihiro stepped inside, Izou slowly folded his arms across his chest. The man would have some explaining to do.

“Kunihiro-sama.”

Before the door had even closed behind him, Kunzite could tell something was wrong. Izou was waiting for him, but the look on his face was sharp, and his arms were folded over his chest. As the hair on the back of his neck began to rise every so slightly, Kunzite had a feeling he knew what this was about.

“Yes?” Kunzite asked, tucking away his duffel bag into the closet as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Izou’s expression did not change. “A friend of mine from the new coffee shop was speaking just now...”

“Mn.” Kunzite tried to look disinterested as he put away his coat. “And?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kunzite noticed the grip Izou had on his sleeve tighten marginally.

“Apparently the manager had been fine for me to work, until someone bearing your resemblance came in and spoke to her? Is this true?”

Damn it. Having been so focused on speaking to Beryl, Kunzite hadn’t even considered that he could have been recognized. At this point, he realized there was no value in hiding any longer. Hopefully, he could make Izou understand. Slowly, he turned around to face the boy.

"Izou, I can explain... -”

Izou didn’t even give him any time for that, the boy had flung his arms in disgust as he spun out of the kitchen. Kunzite followed, intent to calm him down. It was fairly rare for Zoisite to ever be angry with him - frustrated, upset, agonizingly exasperated, yes - but rarely angry.

“Izou-”

The redhead was rubbing his forehead and flustering about, as though not even sure where to begin with his anger. But at the sound of his name, he whirled back to face Kunzite.

“No, you listen,” Izou said, uncharacteristically confrontational. “Under no circumstances are you ever allowed to just - unilaterally make a decision like that about my own life! Who do you think you are?!”

“I had intended to tell you,” Kunzite tried to say, even though he had not. “But the opportunity hadn’t arisen.” This was true - it had only been a day since his talk with Beryl.

But somehow Izou could see through this white lie, and even called him out for it.

“To tell me what, exactly?” Izou demanded. “Your concerns as to my employment there - whatever the hell they may be, because you haven’t actually told me yet! - so I could come to that conclusion myself? Or the fact that you’ve already gone ahead and made the decision for me without my consultation?!”

“Both,” Kunzite answered without thinking. Immediately he knew this had been the poorest choice of reply.

Izou’s eyes pinched and bloomed in incredulity multiple times. “I can’t believe this! Do you even hear yourself, Kunihiro-sama?!”

“If you would give me a chance to speak, you would understand!” Kunzite finally rose with a boom. Normally he would have been able to keep a tighter grip on his patience, but Zoisite yelling at him was a foreign and unprecedented experience. Every word rained on him like a round of fire across a warfield, and unthinkingly, the militaristic thunder of his voice rose through his lungs like an old tidal wave. “I did what was necessary, and everything I do is for the betterment of our life, Izou. You would do well to remember that!”

“Don’t you dare use that tone of voice with me!” Izou snapped back dangerously. “I don’t know how you were expecting us to function in this life, but under no circumstances do you ever just make executive decisions without discussing it with your romantic partner! You had absolutely no right to interfere, especially without talking to me first!”

“As your partner I had to do what was necessary to protect you!” Kunzite bellowed back. "My actions were entirely within my bounds, and I would expect you to trust and understand my intentions with your life better than this!"

“You lost all right to my life when you let me die!” Izou shouted.

As though the words had not been his own, Izou’s hands flew to his face and clapped hard over his mouth. But the damage had already been done. Kunihiro’s face was dumbfounded and crinkled, as though Izou had slapped him.

"Kunihiro-sama," Izou breathed, and his voice was small behind his hands. “I'm so sorry..."

In an instant, Kunzite’s breath swept from him like a dam broken open. His blood flooded with a jettison of emotions too quick for him to recognize as they churned through his tightened vessels. Disgust, fear, anger, rage, pain - all spinning through him and cutting him open like rocks whipping against the banks. Unable to speak, Kunzite just shook his head, and turned to make his way to the door. to grab the knob of the door once more.

“Wait, Kunihiro-sama, please!” Izou’s rapid footsteps followed behind him, but Kunzite couldn’t bear to have him near. Grabbing the knob, he swung it open and twisted the door behind him, like a shield.

“I need some space,” was all Kunzite could say. His voice was thick and rough.

“No, Kunihiro-sama, please don’t go-”

Abruptly, Kunzite shut the door behind him.

---

It had been hours since Kunihiro-sama had left the apartment. The silence in the home was both expansive and stifling, and no corner was safe from its permeating discomfort. Though he was sitting on his favourite part of the sofa, Izou’s legs were crossed and his back was straight - it was like sitting on a bed of spikes, and the only way to distract himself was his constant chewing. His bottom lip rolled regularly between his teeth, as well as his thumbnails.

After what seemed like ages, Izou heard the doorknob rattle once more. As soon as the door opened, Izou was on his feet and flying towards it. He only stopped short when he saw that Kunzite hadn’t yet turned to face him, still busying himself with slowly undoing his jacket.

“Welcome home,” Izou said weakly.

Hearing Izou’s little voice made Kunzite’s eyes squeeze, and he let out a deep sigh. His reprieve in the office had given him enough time to settle his adrenaline, but ache in his heart remained heavy, lodged deep under his rib.

“Thank you,” he said, slowly turning around. Izou’s eyes were big and raw, and Kunzite couldn’t help but notice how both strands of curls had been coiled and uncoiled so often that they were now frayed against his cheeks. Unable to remain mad at Izou any longer, especially like this, Kunzite slowly parted his arms.

In a flash, Izou had rushed into his embrace and buried his face in Kunzite’s chest.

“Oh Kunihiro-sama,” Izou whispered in relief, “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

Kunzite could only sigh, wrapping his arms tightly around the bundle below him. Of course he did, and of course he would, but if only everything else could be so simple.

“Think nothing of it.”

“No.” Izou shook his head, pulling up slightly from under Kunzite’s chin. “It was unfair and cruel of me to say what I did. I’m so sorry for what I said.”

Kunzite could only shake his head, slowly resting his chin back on Izou’s head. You were right to say it, he thought, but the words dried up in his throat like dead leaves.

Izou glanced up uncertainly. “Could we talk about this?” he whispered softly. “Please?”

Sighing, Kunzite nodded. Their arms unwinded from one another, but their fingers never broke free. Hands still loosely locked, Izou began to lead them into the living room.

As they approached the sofa, however, Kunzite mildly panicked. With swift command, he plucked Izou up into his arms instead, and directed them both down in his single armchair. While Izou was confused, Kunzite made sure to wrap his arms tightly around the Izou’s waist, and buried his face in his partner’s back. If they must have this conversation, Kunzite would prefer to do it with his face unseen.

Thankfully, Izou did not protest. Instead, he placed his own hands on Kunzite’s arms, squeezing them reassuringly. Leaning into the curve of Kunzite’s bearlike embrace, Izou hesitantly looked over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said again in a small whisper. “I really am.”

Kunzite knew Izou hadn’t meant to hurt him, and that the boy’s apology was genuine. But it alone couldn’t soothe the leaking flesh wound that remained pulsing deep within him. Only time could reseal the crack in his scales.

“I know,” was all Kunzite could say quietly. “I forgive you.” This much was true. Izou had been innocent in his accusation.

But his words did not seem to lift Izou’s anxiety. His fingernails dug marginally into the cotton of Kunziite’s sleeves.

“I swear I never meant to say something like that,” he whispered, biting his lower lip. “That wasn’t me.”

Kunzite took a deep breath to steady himself, and held onto Izou tighter. His heartbeat thumped steadily into Izou’s back.

“It was,” Kunzite finally said quietly, “but you were not wrong.”

Izou’s eyebrows pinched together, and he tried to twist around to face Kunzite once more. But Kunzite’s grip was steadfast, and Izou just had to percolate on this new information in his current position. After some thought, Izou slowly came to understand what had happened.

“It was a me from another time,” he concluded softly. Behind him, he felt Kunzite nod.

“Yes,” was all Kunzite said. Silence followed after that.

Izou tried to fumble with that particular memory in a way that wouldn’t lead him down a rabbit hole. That was something they had mentioned in his clinical sessions - how to only open certain boxes in the mind at a time.

“Do you think we should talk about it?” Izou whispered softly, as if the words were a terrible, forbidden incantation. “The memory, I mean.”

Kunzite readjusted himself so that he was no longer smothering his face into the small of Izou’s back. Instead, he rested his forehead between the boy’s shoulder planes, which fell his bangs forward and shielded his eyes from Izou’s view.

“Do you remember much of it?” Kunzite finally asked. His voice was dark and deathly, like gravel. Izou ran his lip under his teeth again unconsciously.

“A little,” he admitted, his voice still hushed. “Not much…It’s mostly been feelings.” Feelings that leached into his blood like a root in a midnight soil. This flash had been as instant as it had been insidious, whipping from beneath the undergrowth and baring its flesh-eating teeth. But Izou was sure that if he were to delve into the box, the memory would surely consume him in its softly familiar petals.

Kunzite was quiet for a few moments, slowly considering this piece of information.

“Have you spoken about it in your appointments?” Kunzite eventually asked.

Izou thought about it, before shaking his head. This one had been a new sensation; quick and fiery like salt on a branded wound. He couldn’t recall feeling such a white-hot flash of anger and indignation before meeting Kunihiro.

There was another sigh, and Izou held on even tighter, a little scared as to what conclusions Kunihiro would draw from this. There was some silence before Kunihiro finally spoke again.

“You said I let you die,” he finally murmured. “Do you remember who killed you?”

At the thought, Izou’s lungs shrank and his chest tightened. Already he could feel that he was there - a cavernous room, cold to the bone. A woman’s voice, ringing crystal-clear like ice but tearing like a serrated blade. Then his own voice, pleading. I’m sorry, please forgive me, his voice echoed in the empty chamber. Just one more chance…

“Izou.”

As quickly as the sensation had come, Kunihiro saying his name shattered it - for a second, Izou felt displaced, uncertain as to what time or place he was in. Kunzite’s voice was a familiar octave, but the name Izou was crisp and fresh and new, like fresh laundry.

“I don’t think we should talk about this anymore,” Kunihiro said.

As fast as he could, Izou twisted around to face Kunihiro. This time was marginally more successful, finally able to see his partner’s face.

“But we have to,” Izou said helplessly. “How else are we going to move on from this…?”

“We’re going to have to figure that out by ourselves,” Kunzite replied without thinking, still not meeting Izou’s gaze. His face was solemn, as though in prayer or contrition, Izou couldn’t tell. “It’s not my place to tell you how to remember.”

Strangely, these words penetrated deeply within Izou’s heart, and for a moment his chest warmed with unexpected appreciation and respect. But it still didn’t solve the matter at hand - that Kunihiro was still clearly upset, and that this was a knot in their life that needed undoing.

“I think I remember,” Izou finally whispered. He didn’t dare say her name, though. If he thought of her, she might rise again between them.

Kunzite took another deep breath, before readjusting his grip on Izou so that it was looser. So that he could feel the warm planes of the boy’s waist, back and thighs beneath the curve of his hand. So he could remind himself that Zoisite was alive.

“She was the manager at the coffee shop.”

There was a very long pause before Izou finally understood what Kunzite was saying. Eventually when Izou’s expression finally slipped entirely from his face, his voice could only utter a single sound.

“...Oh.”

‘Oh’ indeed. Kunzite simply shook his head, as though ridding himself of the distastefulness that hung in the air. Eventually, Izou readjusted himself so that he was now facing Kunzite properly, straddling across his lap. His hands found themselves gripping the front of Kunihiro’s shirt loosely, like a silk lifeline.

“Were you worried I’d...relapse?” Izou murmured quietly, thinking back to that time they had walked in the garden together after a study session. Izou blinked again, suddenly remembering that night in a new light. Had Kunihiro known about the garden and what it meant? Had they taken that path on purpose?

Kunihiro’s hand was now slowly grazing along Izou’s hip and upper thigh, warm but slightly robotic.

“I was just afraid of how you’d be hurt,” was all Kunzite said.

This new piece of information certainly complicated matters, Izou thought vaguely, as neither man would look the other in the eye. Instead, they partook in each other’s touches, as though reminding themselves that they were still there; they were still wanted. They were still together.

Izou was still trying to figure out how he felt about Kunihiro’s interference, when his partner finally grazed his cheek. It was enough to make Izou raise his eyes and finally meet his lover’s. They were a deep grey-blue, edged with regret but solemn in sincerity.

“I am sorry for the interference,” Kunzite said. His thumb lightly grazed Izou’s cheekbone, and Izou felt himself melt into the touch. “You are right - … I should have spoken to you first.”

Izou shook his head to indicate that he was no longer angry with Kunihiro. “It’s okay, I understand,” he said softly. “You were just - ...looking out for me.” He took a deep breath, bringing up a hand to cup Kunihiro’s. “Just...keep me in the loop in the future, okay?”

Kunzite nodded, but wasn’t entirely sure if he could. How much was necessary to tell? “I’ll try,” was all he could promise.

But the unspoken matter still hung in the air between them; the memory that neither was ready to address. Kunzite wasn’t sure if it would ever be resolved. If anything, the memory was a ticking time bomb...for if Izou were to remember it in its clarity, he might feel that his rage had been truly warranted. That the accusation had the weight of truth behind it. And when that day should come, Kunzite thought hollowly to himself - it was entirely possible Izou might choose to leave.

“Kunihiro-sama?” Izou’s voice filtered into his thoughts. He blinked and saw the boy’s face in his, wide and clear-eyed and beautiful. Izou’s bangs hung above the ridge of his eyes like the curls of grapevines, shrouding him in beauty and love that was truly innocent.

“I’m not mad anymore,” Izou whispered softly. “We’re okay now, right? I forgive you.” Here, his eyebrows knitted again ever so briefly, betraying the hitch in his heart. “Do you forgive me?”

Unable to resist Izou like this, Kunzite gave him the smallest of smiles to reassure him. After Izou’s face lit up in relief, Kunzite wrapped his arms around the boy again, this time bringing him into a crushing hug. In response, Izou’s arms flung tightly around him as well, like a koala holding on for dear life.

“Of course,” Kunzite whispered. “Always.”

As he slowly delved his fingers into his lover’s hair, feeling the sensation of his heartbeat against his, Kunzite ruminated on the word. Forgiveness.

He had let Zoisite die once, this much was true. And no matter how much Izou forgave him for his current human mistakes, Kunzite knew that his worst sin had yet to be washed away, if it ever could. Come high or low tide, Kunzite vowed that he would not fall pretty to the comfort and security of Izou’s love. He would ensure Izou’s safety above all else. It was the only way he could truly redeem himself, for them to truly move on.

And if it was possible that Izou’s love would one day be forfeit, Kunzite thought, it was all the more important that Izou’s life was preserved. No matter what else, Kunzite vowed that he would never let Zoisite’s life slip away again.

He wasn’t going to let that happen again. Not in this life.

Not when Izou was the most important thing.

#kunzite x zoisite #kunzoi #without words #anyo writes #our orbiting paths #third life #civilian au #civilian life #kunzoi fanfiction #sailor moon fanfiction #kunzite #zoisite #Classic BSSM

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