an uninspired heroine

Originally written for one of the prompts for the second fornicari challenge, but I wandered a bit, and there's not even vague smut. Because Juubei isn't pathetically easy.

(I mourn for my lost ability to provide *titles,* even if they were bad ones).



Kazuki left, and Juubei was left behind. Juubei might have followed his heart, and Kazuki. He did not, because Kazuki had made his choice, and Juubei had already given up much for him. Kazuki left Juubei his wounded pride, his confusion, and hurt, and fury. Kazuki had left, and Juubei had not--and now, Kazuki stands before him, hand outstretched.

Kazuki had gone into the world, and he comes to Juubei now, changed by experiences Juubei can not know. Juubei wonders if, beyond the Limitless Fortress, someone sorrows for Kazuki as Juubei once had. It is a thought unworthy of them, and all that they have shared, but: Kazuki is beautiful, and kind, and perhaps he does not love Juubei so deeply as Juubei loves him.

And yet: Kazuki’s hand rests against Juubei’s chest, above his heart. He remembers the feel of Kazuki’s touch, here, everywhere--and he has missed this, missed Kazuki. Kazuki’s lips brush his, briefly, and his breath is hot against Juubei’s skin: “I’ve missed you, Juubei. I’ve missed you terribly.” He leans forward, and Juubei’s arms curl around him, finely-honed instinct.

Kazuki had left--had left *Juubei*--but he is here now, and his body is hot, and hard, and everything and nothing like Juubei remembers. Juubei hesitates only a moment before brushing his fingertips across Kazuki’s jawline, the pad of his thumb across the swell of his lower lip. He does not kiss Kazuki.

Perhaps now is his time to *lead.*

“Not yet,” Juubei says.

--end