2 Loveless Drabbles

Most of Ritsuka’s memories of kindness were of his brother.  Most of the affection he remembered was Seimei’s teasing embraces.  When he thought of safety, he imagined being snuggled in Seimei’s arms.  For months, Ritsuka had brought white flowers and burned candles on a tiny altar to keep his brother alive in his heart.  This was everything Ritsuka knew of love. 

Now it seemed to Ritsuka that he’d been wrong about everything.   

Seimei wasn’t dead, but, apparently, he wasn’t kind either.  He’d done awful things to Soubi for fun, and, rather than protecting Ritsuka, he’d schemed to kill his little brother.   Seimei was bad, maybe even evil. 

Admitting this made Ritsuka feel like he might throw up.  All his memories felt tainted, like the contaminated food his brother was so wary of.  Was the love and affection Seimei had always shown him a lie?  A twisted game?  Or something worse, something dirty and perverted?

Days before, Ritsuka had carried reverently the memories of Seimei’s kisses, of how they had bathed together and rolled around on the bed, of the reassuring weight of Seimei’s body on top of his.  These memories had been like white flowers to him, like candles burned on a tiny altar.  They had been everything Ritsuka knew of love.  Now, when he remembered them, they made him sick to his stomach.