[ Soubi does let him go, practically as soon as the words have left Ritsuka's lips. he releases the hold on his wrist, taking a short half-step back, the movement almost mechanical. he tries to meet Ritsuka's eyes, but can't hold them. he wishes, for the very first time since arriving here, that they were home again. they might be constantly under threat, but at least they did not have this divide between them. he immediately chastises himself for these thoughts. how dare he wish to be back in a place where harm was more likely to come to Ritsuka?
he is even worse than he'd thought.
but all he wants in this moment is to take Ritsuka into his arms, lay down with him and stroke his hair and whisper apologies until Ritsuka tires of them, as he inevitably does. he wants to feel Ritsuka's hand slip unprompted into his, and to see one of those rare perfect genuine smiles--the ones that make Soubi feel almost whole, that make him think that perhaps, though he is a jagged piece broken and remade too many times to fit properly now into any puzzle, perhaps with Ritsuka's help he could fit well enough. not all of the edges might line up, but even so much as a brief flash of that smile stirs in him the hope that he has found a place to belong--and someone to belong to.
but Ritsuka runs. ]
Ritsuka--!
[ the name hardly even makes it from his lips before the boy is out the door. for a moment Soubi contemplates rushing after him, but quickly decides against it. this is his punishment. Ritsuka's disapproval, his anger, his sadness. all of these things are Soubi's fault, and he must live with that. Ritsuka's swift departure is far more potent than any physical blow in hurting Soubi; but that's only what he deserves.
he takes another mechanical step back, and then another, until the backs of his knees knock against the edge of the bed. he sits down, palms coming to rest flat on either side of him against the bedspread. Soubi isn't looking at anything in particular; his eyes are unfocused, unseeing, trained on the floor. he's failed. Ritsuka doesn't want to be near him. Ritsuka doesn't even want to look at him. Ritsuka doesn't want him. Soubi had been foolish to think that he ever truly would. no one wants him. he'd been an idiot to think otherwise, given just how many times it has been proven to him.
back bowing, his hands move to cover his face--he's hiding, cowardly--as he all but doubles over on himself, and like this, tall as he is, even he looks small.
Soubi doesn't need friends. he never has. he doesn't require a group of people, or even two or three, in his life. he only needs one. but that's just it. he needs this one person like he needs nothing else in the world. without them, he is worthless. it is Ritsuka who gives his life meaning now. and without him he's reduced to this: a lone piece, broken and remade too many times. and if he does not fit into this puzzle, either, he truly has no purpose. he cannot hope to fit any other. not again. not when he'd fit so perfectly--imperfectly--with Ritsuka.
his throat is tight and his hands are quivering. strange. he'd been conditioned years ago to ignore these reflexes in response to pain. but now they are crippling him. he cannot bring himself to move.
so he doesn't. he stays, and thinks that this is the least he can do for Ritsuka. ]