Yo! Here I am again, peeps. Here's some lovely Loveless work for you, courtesy of my idle mind and the direct cause of some of those missing hours when I should have been doing homework. It's a follow-up/next-in-series to my previous story "Stars", which focused on Seimei. In the author's note of that fic, I asked for some of the reader's favorite pairings. I got only one response: the Zero Boys. The name and music of this fic continues the theme of t.A.T.u. songs.

So here you go, mankinfan; it's not outright slash, but I'm doing my best to keep all the characters as close to their own personalities as possible (and the boys still have their ears, so, no slashing), but you can infer. This is just a bit of an insight into their relationship (though, admittedly, only a small one). I might do another one, sometime.

I have no claim to Loveless, though I'd love to.

Recommended Listening: "Clowns" by: t.A.T.u. // "Still Alive" by: Lisa Miskovsky

"Clowns"

The connection between Fighter and Sacrifice is supposedly sacred--unbreakable. It's a bond never to be severed, traded away or risked on any matter. It's not love, but something greater, more potent. Something that buries itself in the deepest roots of your being and clings to every fiber of what makes you, you.

And to try to pull it out, to break it in anyway--is like committing suicide from the inside out, hacking at the muscles and tissues of your own body and pummeling your psyche with abuses until you collapse, useless and destroyed.

It was that exact sensation--or as close to it as words could describe--that bound Youji in the fight against the other Zero unit. It was inconceivable that there was any spell--word, realization or hex--that could rip into the bond between Natsuo and himself and take it from them. The taste of sorrow and panic was thick on his tongue; he laid on the sun-warmed concrete of the dirty alleyway and wept behind the blindfold--bled agony beneath the bindings.

How was it possible? What power in the universe had given those hags the right to take Natsuo from him? And even then, how could any person who called themselves "human"--who understood their world and the connection between two people like themselves--do that?

The bond between the Fighter and the Sacrifice was sacred.

The hags called themselves "Zero". How could they be "Zero", too? And this trading of Sacrifices, like some sort of property trade in a board-game; the cruelty of it was unchecked, unheard of.

Maybe it's greedy of him, but Youji has never been so glad to hear the voice of that interfering little know-nothing; Ritsuka's outrage on their behalf is a balm over the still-bleeding wounds that he can't feel.

That upsets him, a little. When all this is happening, shouldn't he be able to comprehend the pain in the normal way others might?

He can't feel physical pain--but, of course, that's not all there is to it. Behind that, there is thought and emotion--and a yawning empty cavernous space where Natsuo used to live inside him.

Emptiness.

His whimpers are echoing in empty darkness between them. In the space between them the green-blue thread of their bond flickered and dimmed to the faintest glimmer. It was in his mind's eye and so painfully vivid that, briefly, he was glad his material eyes were shielded.

He can hear Natsuo beside him on the rank alley floor, his scent in the air and his voice calling out.

His voice is so beautiful.

Youji's teeth bite down so hard on his tongue--in a valiant but vain effort to stop his own trembling lips--that he draws blood. There should be pain--or rather, more pain--but there's nothing touching his nerves and that's typical.

And still, somehow, the pain racked his body from the inside.

Ritsuka and Soubi sent the hags packing with promises of retaliation, but that registers only dimly in his ears. The battle is over and the pain--inflicted by the Restriction--should be over. They lost to those fakes.

It's galling and heartbreaking.

Natsuo's aiding arms around him are thin and shaking with exertion neither of them have ever truly experienced, but he doesn't let go and Youji isn't even a little ashamed by the way he pushes his body into his Fighter's, clinging without the use of his own arms.

He knows Natsuo understands.

The manacles are stripped off, the gag gone and the blindfold tucked away somewhere. Youji blinks his eyes to clear the fog of old-darkness from his gaze. The first thing he sees, in sharp attention, are the tears gathered in the corners of Natsuo's peridot eyes, the liquid emotion turned to crystal-shine by the streetlights.

"Natsuo," his own voice sounds strange to his ears; too thick, too hoarse. Like he's been screaming for hours and crying for days. He reaches up to touch his friend's cheek with his fingertips, tracing the imminent path of those tears. "You're crying..."

Surprise registers on Natsuo's face and Youji gives him a small smile. But then Natsuo reaches up to caress Youji's face and his fingers, when he holds them up before the other's eyes, are wet.

"So are you," he whispers.

In that moment, they stare at each other in abject horror, as they realize that--though they might have wished for it all their lives--they are only now learning that not all pain is of the physical kind.

It seemed, then, that they had been lied to.

They could feel pain...

...and it hurt so badly.

((O0oo0O))

Facing down Aoyagi Seimei is a test in Natsuo's eyes--they are being tested by Fate and whatever force gave them their names. They are Zero and they can't be hurt (well, almost not) and they aren't weak (mostly, never)...

But Seimei is shockingly beautiful and so much like Ritsuka that for a moment, Natsuo drops his guard. He should have known better. There's no such thing as a harmless unit, even when the Sacrifice stands alone.

Seimei's words--those double-edged, smooth as silk syllables--spoken in that honeyed, cultured, damnably friendly tone was disconcerting. Natsuo saw it take Youji; saw his friend bow under the unheralded force in that voice.

Cold, unfriendly, unusual powers...

Natsuo watched it take Youji--and it made him furious.

Fuck Aoyagi Seimei.

He takes Youji's hand in his own and squeezes--gambles on the hope that he hasn't inadvertently broken the delicate little bones in either of their fingers--and pulls Youji up from the floor.

"You're not alone," he says, firmly. "There are two of us."

He pulls harder and forces Youji to stand beside him--because regardless, he would have his Sacrifice by his side, no matter what. They are a pair.

He's aware of Youji's incredulous gaze, but he pays it no attention, focusing his eyes on Seimei and refusing to blink.

"No matter how much pain or pressure you apply, we'll survive it. They are two of us. We'll be okay." He squeezes Youji's hand again, a useless motion but one that is so much a part of them--since time before time--that it's almost routine.

He knows Youji's staring hasn't fallen away and he knows why. The break between them--the Separation--did terrible things to their bond; nearly destroyed them both. But they're past that now, beyond it. There can't be any further continuation of that empty, echoing hollow between their souls--soul, as one in two bodies.

Natsuo has had enough.

"Our hands are clasped. Don't ever let go." The words are part spell, part declaration. He says them fiercely into the invisible wind that ripples around Youji and himself--through them--and sets their bond threads to dancing. Those threads are wrapped around them like marionette strings, but they are not puppets. They are not creations.

They are human, and they are one.

And Natsuo, for one, is ready to fight for that--to prove it to the world.

He squeezes Youji's hand again, for support and to convey a message (unspoken) that belongs between them, always.

And for the first time in a long while, Youji squeezes back.

Smile. Hope ya liked it. I'm still taking requests/recommendations on your favorite pairings/characters. Leave me a reivew and let me know what you think, guys. I love your feedback.

-erena g.t. rose