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Kyo Sohma is accustomed to pain
The pain of battle, whether lost or won. The bitter pain of the resentment which lies so heavily on his shoulders. The hollow pain of other’s expectations. The agonizing pain of losing someone that was supposed to be by your side forever.
But looking at Tohru brings a different type of pain. Something that spreads throughout his whole body, leaving him warm and empty at the same time. The ache spreads across his chest, softening him, and it makes a home there. The feeling scares him, this is something he doesn’t recognize, something he’s never experienced before.
He was broken, battered, and she was whole, a little roughed up, but whole. Tohru is full of life, she’s all smiles and sunshine, her heart full of selflessness. And Kyo is the exact opposite, he’s full of decay and resentment, something so horrid bubbling underneath the surface. This is what he’s been told his whole life.
Slowly, time passes by and the ache intensifies. Realization dawns on him as slowly as the rising sun, but he understands now – the pain he hides, is the ache of longing.
This doesn’t surprise him as much as it should. Because it’s Tohru, the one who opened her heart to him when he needed it the most. It never could’ve been anyone but her.
Akito has always told him he was selfish, Kyo thinks he understands now. Its selfish to think he deserves to stay by Tohru’s side in the first place.
But she’s so open with him, smiling at him so sweetly that it makes him feel as if the world is somehow a little bit better. She’s always there, her constant presence becoming a comfort. Kyo doesn’t know how he ever lived without it. He wishes he could make her as happy as she makes him, wants to spend the rest of the time he has making her understand how important she is.
Kyo allows himself to be selfish for a little bit longer, resolves to stay by her side until he’s ultimately forced to let go.
Some days, the ache grows so heavy in his heart and he has to remind himself that she was never meant for him.
“Kyo-kun” she murmurs from beside him, voice soft with concern. Ripples erupt on his skin, soothing the ache embedded so deeply in his heart. Kyo can’t help but turn to look at her, relishing in the brightness of her ever-present smile. He feels warm, much warmer than before.
“Kyo-kun,” she repeats, after the silence has grown too long. He basks in her presence like a cat basks in the sunshine, “are you alright?”
He doesn’t want to answer that, doesn’t know how to answer that without telling her every thought that has afflicted his mind. Instead, he looks forward, guiding them towards home and tells a half-truth.
“Just tired,” he responds, shoving his hands into the pockets of his school uniform. It was true enough.
Her step falters for the tiniest bit, fingers gripping the edge of her uniform as if in thought. The narrow walk way is bustling with students making their way home.
“Oh … I’m sorry,” she murmurs, voice unsure as she regains their normal pace. Kyo resists the urge to glance over, wondering what caused her mood to change so quickly, “I – I’ll stop talking so much.”
He’s sure he gets whiplash from how quickly he turns to look at her. She won’t meet his eyes, a too bright, pained, smile on her face. The warmth in his chest dims with a chill, it still curls around him.
“What?” he asks, voice incredulous and raspy, “what are you talking about?”
Kyo knows what she’s worried about, he just wants to hear her voice the ridiculous thought. She won’t meet his eyes, this gets to him more than anything
“You’re already tired,” she murmurs, offering an explanation, “and I’ve probably been making it worse by talking so much.”
There’s a flash of the anger that he’s so familiar with—but not at her, never at her, he’s angry at himself.
He grabs her wrist gently, careful not to apply enough pressure to hurt her, and pulls them both to stop. A few students step around them, throwing them curious glances, he sends them the harshest glare he can muster until they look away.
Tohru’s dark eyes are blown wide, she stares up at him incredulously. Her wrist is tiny against his hand, skin smooth and unblemished, he would stay here forever if he could.
“I like listening to you talk,” he admits, brash and straight to the point, his fingers squeezing her hand as tightly as he dares. Tohru’s mouth has fallen open ever so slightly, she looks as if she hangs onto every word he speaks. Kyo wants her to believe everything he says, “I don’t think I could ever get tired of you.”
Kyo feels the warmth of a blush rise against his cheeks, he looks away to spare his own embarrassment. His heart is in his throat in a way that it never is when he’s fighting.
He knows, without even looking at her, that she’s on the verge of tears. He’s become well accustomed to her habits, has fined tuned his ability to determine her emotions – she’s easy to read, when you pay attention, her movements betraying whatever emotion she tries to hide.
The hand on her wrist has started rubbing circles on her hand, the pads of his fingers rough against the softness of her skin. She is everything good in the world and he brings ruin to everything he touches.
He pulls away from her, almost immediately missing the warmth of her hand. Kyo feels as if he’s polluting something precious.
The orange-haired boy doesn’t manage to go far, Tohru grabs his arm tightly, pulling him back towards her. If it was anyone else, he would’ve pushed her away, more preoccupied with the risk of a transformation; but this was Tohru, he would trust her with his life. He’s never been able to refuse her anything.
“Please,” she murmurs, almost reverently, her eyes watery but determined, “please, just – just … did you mean it?”
Her hands, small just like the rest of her, fist at his shirt. She leans against his chest, careful to not lean on him completely. It feels right. Feels like it was something meant just for him. His heart swells, familiar warmth settling in his chest.
“Dummy,” he responds, affection dripping from his words. His hand comes to the back of her head, stroking her hair and aching to pull her close, “of course I meant it.”
She lets out a soft sound, anguished and broken. Her hands gripping him with a strength he didn’t know she possessed. The sound startles him, it shakes him to know she’s in pain.
Kyo pushes her away slightly, his hands splayed on her shoulders, just enough to see her face clearly. Tohru’s hold on him is firm, refusing to budge but her eyes are clear, steely and determined as she looks up at him.
“I promise,” she says loudly, voice unwavering, “I’m going to meddle, I’m going to find a way to free you.”
His mouth runs dry, multitudes of questions running through his mind but he doesn’t manage to voice any of them. Kyo’s fingers grip her shoulders tightly, fear druming through his veins.
“Tohru, what are you –”
“I will,” she said resolutely, the promise echoes in his heart. He’s worried, so desperately worried because he knows what she’s referring to, he’s had a suspicion about it for a while now.
“Tohru,” murmurs another voice, rough and gravely, a familiar head of white hair appearing beside them. Haru’s eyes linger on their closeness, lingers on the way Tohru holds on to Kyo and the way he clings to her, unwilling to let go.
Haru’s eyebrows raise ever so slightly but he doesn’t comment on it, Kyo’s face warms as he steps away from her, “Momiji’s been looking for you.”
Kyo wants to tell him to fuck off, wants to figure out exactly what Tohru was planning to do.
But she has always been selfless, even when she should be selfish. She releases her hold on Kyo, her warmth immediately missed.
“Oh, hello,” she responds, voice too cheery as she greets Haru, “I’ll go look for him right now.”
Tohru bounds away before he can even argue against it. She slips through his fingers, like grains of sand, and he’s left desperate, wanting to chase after her.
But he doesn’t. Akito’s promise rings in his head, reminding him of the desolate days to come, days where Tohru will only appear in his memories.
“Did I interrupt?” Haru asks lightly, as if he already knows the answer. Kyo’s irritation swells, he turns back towards the other Zodiac.
“Of course you did,” he grumbles, bristling slightly as he walks away, “you have the worst timing.”
Haru is quiet for a moment, following his footsteps, “you love her.”
He stills for a second, caught off guard by the straight-forward statement. But Kyo doesn’t bother answering, he already knows the answer is written clear on his face at every moment he’s by her side.
It’s a thought that he has hidden as a fugitive in his heart, his love for her could bring nothing but pain to Tohru.
“I understand,” murmurs Haru with a solemnity that surpasses his years, he reaches out, “I understand what it’s like to love someone but not be able to be with them.”
But it’s not the same. Even if he loves someone else, Haru will never have to worry about being imprisoned for the rest of his life – that fate rests on Kyo’s shoulders alone. He deserves it.
He shrugs off Haru’s hand, “it’s not the fucking same.”
Kyo makes his way home in silence, his throat heavy with emotion. He sits on the roof, the blazing sun warming his skin but he’s restless, this warmth isn’t the one he craves.
Hours later, Tohru walks up the steps, carrying her well-worn schoolbag in tow, humming a familiar tune under her breath – the sight of her brings a wave of tranquility over him. A familiar pain settles around him.
He wants to get closer to her; wants to talk to her until she’s tired of talking, wants to hold her hand in his until he memorizes the feeling. He wants to see her smile every day of his life.
“I love you,” he whispers, reverently and quietly, the words lost in the wind. There’s a voice in his head that sounds slightly like Akito, it reminds him that he could never be hers.
But he’s always been selfish. Kyo can’t help but pray to another God, wishing that the wind would carry his words to her heart.
(he knows its hopeless but he cant help but pray nonetheless)