041 | alaska young's labyrinth and a truly not sadistic author

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you have sadness living in
places sadness shouldn't live

you have sadness living in places sadness shouldn't live

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AUGUST THIRTEENTH,
TWO THOUSAND AND TWELVE

6:04 in the morning

DREAMS FLOODED OVER HIM; Tobio laid weary and hopeless in bed. His swollen eyes shifted to the side, spotting the illusive tusk of brown hair, the cerulean hues, the kind smile. He reached over. Hands met him halfway, fingers lacing together. No warmth came from the skin to air contact. For it was just a dream. And it was a burden his heart could not bear very early in the morning, once the illusion all came to an end.

Tobio knew that. He knew that his eldest soulmate was next door or probably at a friend's house. Terushima-san, he'd guess. The two had always been close. Always had been intimate. He knew the type of gazes they shared; he knew the whispered compliments they once gave to one another on a moon-lit night. No secrets were kept between Sora and himself. At least, not secrets that didn't involve soulmates or detrimental habits. They were selfish, yes. Greedy? Yes.

But cheaters? Never.

At least, the ocean-eyed, raven-haired athlete hoped what he had done wasn't cheating. Surely it wasn't. Surely interacting and listening to his soulmates' apologies were not considered a secret love affair. He forgave themnot entirely. But it was there. Forgiveness. The labyrinth of suffering he situated himself in was opening up, mazes shifting to forge a path to freedom and peace.

So forget stardust Tobio Kageyama was iron. His blood was nothing but a ferrous liquid. When he bled, he reeked of rust. It was the iron that filled his heart and sat in his veins. And what was iron, really, unless it was forged? Tobio was iron. And he was strong.

But he was not quite forged.

He laid in a liquid puddlethis time, it was made of his own salty tears. Bereft of the empyreal being beside him. Deprived of the very being that moulded him into something strong, something courageous and fierce. A loving king rather than a horrid tyrant.

He carved his insides with soft hands. Gently inscribing his name into his skin, into every living inch of his body. As each division of his cells occurred, they were already marked with his presence. Tobio wasn't paying attention. Nothing about Sora Suzuki was soft or gentle. And all the love in the world was useless when there was a lack of total understanding.

But my kind, humble readers, put yourself in Tobio Kageyama's shoes. In the shoes of a sixteen year old boy who lost his soulmates not once, but twice, who finally had the opportunity to reunite and fix the bond he loved and cherished so much. Was he doing this so Sora could simply slip back into their relationship when he was ready? Possibly. Could I, as the wonderful, truly not sadistic narrator of this book, say what he did was cheating? Yes. I can. It's fairly obvious. But did Tobio do all of this on purpose? Or did he do this because he was scared? Because he already knew Sora's answers? Because he knew how manipulative the older boy could get? How he fell for his words like they were a religious prayer and he was forced to submit and obey? Did he do it because he believed Sora would force him to stay away?

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