Don't go

      Trembling legs touch the floor. Gripping the table’s edge, the once formidable Il-Re uses his other hand to keep from falling. His fingers unclench, and Shiki exhales angrily, crumpling to the chair. It creaks with the worn tires and leather seat. That’s probably how his weakness sounds…       Attempting to regain everything lost over two long years, Shiki went against Akira. Akira became worried when his lover took his first steps after waking up and fell. Pride prevented him from squeezing the outstretched hand, and Shiki struck back.       "I warned you," said the former Il-Re with feigned calm. "You knew Nicole-Premier was my target, and I lived to destroy him and everything connected."       The name of a man whose blood served as the drug in Toshima was mentioned again. With less contempt than that day, when Shiki found the second carrier of the filthy blood known as Anti-Nicole. It turned out to be a forcibly taken ‘dog’. It took a while for him to be addressed by his name, Akira.       "I knew you wouldn't kill me," Akira answered stoically. "But I couldn't leave you to rot alive. Your empty sight... I knew what awaited us, and I was prepared."       A smirk twisted the thin lips. Shiki did not deny himself the pleasure: smoothing back his long black hair, falling over his eyes, he gave a challenging look. The unnatural bloody eyes noted how the guy bowed his head low. Ash-blond hair hid his gray-blue eyes.       "For this reason, you broke dishes and threw spoons at the wall when you couldn't feed me, didn’t you? Or slammed the door and cursed the day you were sent to Toshima? No doubt, you were prepared."       Akira frowned. "You couldn't remember".       "I couldn't," the brunette echoed, "but recently I've had some dreams. Too realistic dreams, especially your furious scream... And then I see you putting on a forced smile."       Shiki saw it exactly like that. When his consciousness cleared, Shiki realized how pathetic and monstrously thin he looked in a baggy flesh-colored shirt and brown pants. Only Akira was glad of his awakening. No matter what happened, Akira smiled with the corners of his lips.       Like before, when he returned and laid down exhausted next to lover.       Akira became Shiki's pale shadow, which imitated the habits and black clothes. His leather coat reeked of the blood of assassins, bounty hunters, and those looking to cash in on a generous reward for Il-Re's head.       That day they got out of their house, and Akira slowly pushed the wheelchair. He wanted to show the autumn park and how the burgundy maple leaves fell. A suitable color for Shiki's dull eyes…       Footsteps were heard among the rustling, and then the katana cut the air.       "A familiar forgotten sound... A black shadow among a scarlet color. It's not me, but I know this person. Back then... I didn't understand what he meant to me."       Akira became Shiki's salvation. Only a disgusting feeling of helplessness prevented him from expressing at least a little gratitude that guy deserved. Shiki pushed him away when his own emaciated legs trembled with slow, uncertain steps, but 'dog' lent him the shoulder.       "It's surprising that I still smile next to you," Akira sarcastically remarked. Shiki grinned, shuffling his legs.       Now a bitter smile touches his lips. The chair creaks plaintively again. Black dots dance in his eyes from the sharp jerk. Leaning his hand against the wall, Shiki goes into the bedroom and involuntarily glances at his sleeping lover. His hair, darkened by blood and dirt, reflects a series of sleepless nights. His chest rises rhythmically, and the shadows of eyelashes barely tremble on his relaxed face. Akira sleeps more peacefully than usual and does not grab the katana.       It rests by the window, leaning against the nightstand.       Walking around the bed, the brunette sits on its edge and reaches for his old sword. The sheath gives off a pleasant forgotten weight. His fingers grasp the katana's hilt, and the drawn blade gleams enchanted under the rare rays slipping through the curtains.       "Did you miss it?" A tired voice is heard along with a rustle of the thrown-off blanket.       "I take a look in case you have damaged it," Shiki answers coldly, without turning around. "I shall admit: you took good care of the sword. The blade still smells of clove oil."       Akira clings to his lover's broad back, lowering his head onto Shiki’s shoulder.       "You would have killed me without getting up from the chair if there had been a scratch or a cloudy spot on it. And if you can now walk on your own, I should look for a sword equal to yours. We will fight off together…"       "No."       The chilling tone cuts the air. Akira has no time to come to his senses: Shiki sits up half-turned and squeezes his hand.       "You have enough strength to cope alone," Shiki continues. "Maybe after my leave, you will have a peaceful life, as you wanted."       Akira smiles at the corners of his lips and looks away. The blush pleasantly warms his cheeks.       "You listened to me after all."       Shiki softens briefly, answering, "You said enough to keep it in my mind. But neither Toshima nor this city became my home."       "I know."       Akira looks into the casually indifferent face. Shiki's gaze changes to deep and motionless. His lips tremble, and a quiet, low voice fills in with regret, "I killed my own brother, Akira. To find the absolute power."       "I know."       Akira still remembers that night Shiki brought the stilettos. "A little cat kept nipping at my heels," he said about their owner. Akira heard no more revelations but saw them in the impenetrable, faded gaze. Felt in the first kiss after all the days and nights when Shiki tormented his body.       Since then, he understands how deeply Shiki’s feelings are hidden. Shiki expresses them in actions. Like once he rescued Anti-Nicole and left him alive...       In the rising silence, Akira pulls his hand out of the thin palm and runs it over the belly. A quiet metallic sound attracts the attention of scarlet eyes.       "You have to remove the ‘mark’ before you leave."       Shiki admires the piercing barbell, unable to even touch it.       "This won't stop you, right? You'll look for me."       For the blond-haired, his words sound nothing more than, "I don't want to do this."       "Shiki..." Akira whispers excitedly. "Don't go."       Instead of an answer, he is pulled into a deep but leisurely kiss.