Authoresses Note: Being sick results in... this it seems.
PS: My mind is mush when sick and therefore I suck at titling things.

what hurts the most

This is the part that hits him the most. Not the constant battles against crazed Order members, nor fighting an old friend given false information. It's even worse than when Kyrie's taken from him again.

The part is this: Athrun lays dying in Nero's arms and he can't do anything to stop it. He can't stop the bleeding, the blood coating his human and demon hands, the shallow breaths the former Coordinator takes. All he can do is hold him close and whisper false hopes in his ear; you'll be okay, this won't take you out 'cause you're stronger than this, stronger than them.

Athrun, at this point, wears a little smile, a painful sounding gasp escaping his lips before he rests his hand on Nero's cheek. It's okay, he whispers, closing his eyes before the demon slayer shakes him awake. I'll be fine. You have to find Kyrie.

No no no, please, don't do this! Nero screams, but his pleas fall on deaf ears. Athrun's head lolls the side, his chest unmoving, coldness beginning to seep into his once warm skin. Nero grips him and buries his head against Athrun's neck, tears cascading down his face and shoulders trembling with the force of his sobs.

Find Kyrie, Athrun told him. Punching the floor, Nero lets out another scream of agony before lifting his dear one in his arms.

I'll find Kyrie, he says between clenched teeth. And avenge you.

-v-

"...ro? Nero!"

"Wha?!" Nero bolts up in bed, nearly sending the one near him tumbling on the floor. Tears hide in the corners of his eyes and he hastily wipes them away, shaking his head at himself. Crying over a nightmare, how stupid can he get?

"Why are you crying?" a familiar voice asks, full of concern. Nero flicks his gaze over, eyes meeting jade ones he's come to love over the years. "Don't tell me; was it the nightmare?"

How does he-... oh. Nero, vaguely, remembers telling Athrun about the dreams that plague him since the former Coordinator's near death. "Something like that," he mutters, scratching his nose in embarrassment.

"It's all right, you know. You don't have to be the strong one all the time," Athrun murmurs, wrapping slim, but strong, arms around the slayer's waist. He rests his head over Nero's heart, a content, lazy smile working its way on his face. "That's what I'm here for."

"You're here to support me, is that it?" Nero asks, his own smile quirking his lips upwards. "You're sweet, Ath."

"Isn't it natural to be there for the one you love?"

To this day, Nero still denies the blush which coated his cheeks at the simple statement. "Yeah, I guess so."

"You guess?" The former Coordinator slides up Nero's body, cupping his face in his hands before nuzzling their noses together. "I suppose I have a few more things to teach you then."

The older grins. "Yep, seems so." Before Athrun can pull away, Nero holds him in place and closes the distance between them. He oft compares kissing his precious one as the sun basking earth in her glow during the summertime, and although it's odd for him to be poetic, something about Athrun sparks it in him.

"You sap," the indigo-haired youth mumbles, his own flush coating his cheeks. "Let's go to sleep, hm?"

"Your wish is my command," Nero replies with a mock salute, causing Athrun to chuckle a little as they lie down. "Ath? Thank you."

"You're welcome," the younger murmurs in response. "Now sleep."

Fin.