In Your Misery:
"Naze wa…" The whisper came forward. "Naze wa omai itsumo warette…" A soft sigh, light yet burdened with troubles unknown. "With her. To her. At her."
His empty room gave no answer, and Kyo had hardly expected it to; two months of the same question on the same weary lips, forever unanswered, taught him never to hope.
He heard the women outside the barred window, what a shame, he was such a beautiful toungeter too, still young…What difference did it make, if he was young and beautiful? He still never smiled at him.
In fact, his beauty brought him even more troubles, since Akito wasn't up to leaving him to rot on his own; he held a special interest in his because of his smooth tan skin and burgundy eyes.
A month earlier, he would have spat out the side of his bleeding mouth, cursed some, and vowed to rip Akito limb from limb. Not now. He found it so ironic that once, once he used to crave Akito's attention, longin for the day when he could say he was the Cat, a proper member of the Zodiac.
That day came and went. It had been just a little slip on Yuki's part, a little fluke on Kyo's. But Akito saw it.
He had come to visit their school in another untimely visit, and was in the process of knocking on their classroom door, when Yuki came flying out, head-first, into his arms. How good it had felt to have Yuki shifting in his arms again, Akito had thought, and had taken his time looking up at the stunner victor, breathing heavily in the doorway, fists just unclenching like he had only just realized that the fight had ended. The victor looked overwhelmed with his victory; there was an ominous silence in the classroom., and the defeated lay helpless, limp, in the arms of the man he feared and hated the most.
Honda Tohru…Kyo mused. That girl, the one who he'd disliked for being the one to make Yuki smile, yet couldn't thank enough for making Yuki smile all at once, was gone. She had gone to abroad to visit a far-away relative from her mother's side, and had never come back. Kyou would have snorted if he hadn't been so tired. He ached. So very much.
With Honda safely out of the way, thanks to Akito's arrangement, the cat finally victorious to the mouse, Akito had brought them home.
They had held an awkward celebration, in which Kyo decided he didn't like Akito-- his eyes were too cold, his hands too infuriating with the way they travellled every which way on Yuki's pale skin. His eyes were cold, laden with mocking malice, alight with the painful mischief of a spoiled man sans a conscience.
On that night, he had realized why Yuki's hair always covered his ears. Akito had brushed it aside, and whispered to Yuki, "Ne, do you remember when I marked you here?" And he tugged on the earlobe softly, but it was as if he had slapped Yuki; the boy couldn't move for the terror of the memory haunting him.
Kyo had seen his ears for the first time then. Akito was finger the silky lobe, scarred from being cut away from the side of the skin. "I always thought people with attached lobes looked stupid." Akito sang softly. "So I cut it away."
The orange-haired teen had thrown up.
Akito visited him sometimes. About right after the pervious wounds healed. The oh-so-soft knock on the wooden door never failed to leaved him shattered, every time. He would come inside, smiling darkly, as if he couldn't hear Kyo's terrified heartbeat, see his darting eyes.
Something cold always went through Kyo at the sound of Akito's voice, and he was frozen there, unable to move, fight back at the tracing hands, the blades, the fingernails, and the occasional cut glass he brought along.
The glass was in his hakama pocket. "Ne, ne, Kyo-kun…" He would whisper, hissing the words in his surprisingly soft voice. The ebony haired man would then squeeze the orange haired man's hand viscously, almost crushing it. "Reach into my pocket, will you?" The first time, Kyo had refused to do it. Akito hadn't let this get him; he reached into his own pocket, and by the next morning, the teen's hands were tattooed with his own blood.
"There. Do you like that? Now you're officially mine." Akito's taunting voice haunted him even in his waking time. He could trace the scars on his hand right now, in the darkness, perfectly off by heart, five block letters on the back of right hand. He had been graphitized like public property, tattooed like cattle, a sign of who he belonged to: 'A-K-I-T-O'.
The door opened. Truth to be told, Kyo hadn't been expecting Akito to visit so soon; it had only been two days from the last visits; he never came when he had bandages on--
"K-Kyo." A soft voice whispered, and Kyo's heart skipped a beat, landing one irregularly in his fear. He was here. Again. Him. He couldn't move for the terror was coursing through his every tendon, blood pounding in his ears, a cold sweat beading all over his body.
"A-Akito…" He breathed, struggling not to show his horror.
The other man was still in the shadows. Kyo lowered his head. He didn't have the strength to fight. He didn't have the will to fight. The only thing he hoped for was the pain to subside soon.
A surprisingly soft hand grabbed his hair from behind, and Kyo felt someone sitting directly against his back. Dark hair had fallen over the man's face, obscuring it in a shadow, as he leaned his forehead to touch Kyo's bare shoulder.
"A-Akito-sama?" Kyo whispered, raising his hand to confirm the other's presence, but dropping it in a second. He felt something wet on his shoulder.
It was a curious thing, fear. Kyo's eyesight began to blur, his head spin, breath became heavy, pulse raced in terror, anticipating the pain coming inevitably. He shoulder became wetter and wetter, and Kyo's body grew colder and colder with sweat, but he dared not to raised Akito's head, nor say anything.
"…Baka….Neko…" The whisper echoed, and Kyo jolted back to a memory, countless memories, all from the troubled, yet happy of two months ago.
"Y…Y-Yuki?" A torn murmur from a torn soul.
"Baka Neko." The mauve-haired boy breathed again, pressing his face into Kyo's bare shoulder. His voice was choked, dry, and pitifully remorseful. Resentful, almost, but Kyo couldn't figure why he would be resentful now.
"I tried so hard." He raised his face and put his arms around Kyo's shoulders. "I tried so hard to keep this day from coming. Didn't you see how miserable I was, in the Sohma family? Why did you…" His voice broke down. "Why did you want to join the family that badly?! Didn't you think that…I…" HE hiccupped, voice lowering. "I would have lost on purpose a long time ago if it meant you could come into the family and I could leave. You wanted in, I despised the place. But I didn't." He voice rose shrilly all at once. "Bit I didn't! Because I knew what kind of treatment you'd get…it'd be…it'd be…too much for you bear…" Yuki sighed, and laughed a short, bitter laugh. "And now he got us both."
The pale teen traced his hand down Kyo's bare arm and onto his hand, where the prickling scars were painfully visible. The 'A' of 'Akito' was particularly red today; the man had retraced the letter last time he came to visit his beloved 'Kyo-kun'. The tan teen flinched, recoiling and pulling his hand back. He was still confused-- he had thought that Yuki was happily off somewhere, living his life….no. He had hoped such.
He had hoped that Yuki had gotten away, made it out, yet he couldn't deny the comforting relief of having someone, Yuki understand his pain, what he was going to go through for the rest of his life, what he was going through right now.
"I trained harder than you every day." Yuki whispered. "So you couldn't beat me. I was doing it for you…Baka Neko!" He shouted suddenly, shrilly, and squeezed his arms around Kyo. His voice echoed once though the bare room and then died down to a whisper again. "Baka Neko…Baka Neko…" He murmured, gently tracking the scars on Kyo, gently soothing them. The scars on his body, on his soul.
When his hand reached the newly carved 'A', Kyo let out a sound for the first time since saying Yuki's name. He didn't draw back when Yuki's cold fingers, co like Akito's, and yet, so unlike them, trembled over his hand's scars like a salty, stinging ocean wave on a bloody beach.
Indeed, he didn't draw back, but his lips let forward a mild, muffled gasp. "It…hurts." He gasped, voice dry and raspy with misuse, yet hoarse from screaming.
Yuki chuckled bitterly, again, it sounded strangely like a sob. "He likes doing that."
Kyo's eyes snapped open. For the first time, he was concerned for Yuki; his heart quickened, and he caught the cool hand resting on his arm with his left hand.
"You…" The orange-haired teen rasped, but didn't wait for an answer; the silken cloth of Yuki's sleeve was smooth on his ragged, craggy fingers as he pulled the loose sleeve back.
Yuki's arm's pale skin had an itching red wound, cut through the skin, just like Kyo's hand, in large block letters. 'A-K-I-T-O'.
Something raged inside Kyo. The first time he'd felt energetic, angry in weeks. "He…he…" Kyo struggled for words, and with a wrangled cry, yanked Yuki's light body to in front of him, almost in his lap.
Yuki looked the same he always did, save not so pale, nor thin. His hair, once medium length, had now grown to almost cover his pale, elegant, neck, as milk-white and--Kyo's eyes darkened, the anger of a madman leaping up inside him.
A fire, in the pits of his heart, a black shadow over his chest. Real emotion. Finally, the emptiness of the past two months, the painful emptiness, had been filled--
Yuki's face was as smooth as it always had been, pale, almost mockingly blemish-free. But underneath the long locks of hair, a line of crimson was peeking…a scar, Kyo saw, and gently brushed the hair aside. If he thought he had known anger before, it was trivial coming to the ebony flamed engulfing him, devouring him now.
There was an 'A' on Yuki's neck.
Kyo shrieked wildly, a true monster cat's call, almost hysterical, and grabbed Yuki's pale shoulders roughly. Yuki looked at him blankly, all the emotion, the tears gone and forgotten. He was like a pretty china doll now, unable to talk, think, protest. He calmly sat in front of Kyo as the other boy ripped his shirt off of him, and howled in agony.
"He…He…" Kyo panted, voice venomous, sorrowful, and pitying, all at once. And then, losing all of his ferocity at once, he gently touched Yuki's pale, bare shoulder. The mauve-haired boy gazed at him emptily, much like a person hypnotized. "Yuki…Yuki…Yuki…" Kyo murmured, lowering his face and pulling the paler boy into his arms.
Yuki's chest was tattooed with the same name, all angry, inflamed red, AKITO over his heart, AKITO traveling his left shoulder, AKITO boldly printed on his pale stomach, AKITO hiking up the base of his neck, and finally, a few letters delving down where the waistband of his hakama pants began.
"Yuki…Yuki…Yuki…" Kyo crooned, brokenly. "What has he done to you?" He was hugging him to his own bare chest tenderly, as not to hurt him, but wanting to squeeze him, make him cry out to make confirm he was really there, to make him say something.
Akito had tattooed. He had marked him like livestock, it was as if Akito had pressed a hot poker into Kyo's heart. It simpered at first, stung, hissed and wrenched painfully, before calming down into a dull, yet excruciatingly fresh throb.
"I'm sorry." Kyo whispered. For not realizing, not listening, not caring…beating you when you were only trying to protect me.
Yuki looked up suddenly. He smiled warmly, and Kyo almost balked; Yuki had never…smiled at him…before…
"What are you apologizing for, Honda-san?"
Something broke. With shaking arms, Kyo let of Yuki, and looked down, trembling and shaking.
"You…Why is it…Why do you always smile at her?!" He shouted, the outburst echoed echoing dimly through the silent room.
Yuki blinked again as if yanked out of a dream. "Oh." He said, voice more polite than normal with Kyo.
"It's you, Kyo. What are you doing.?"
His eyes were empty, Kyo realized. He's lost it. He's….finally lost it.
And in the end, the Cat was stronger than the Mouse.
Yuki was gone. This was just Akito's play-doll, an empty shell.
He couldn't' help himself. Kyo lowered his head and let the tears flow, streaming down his tan face, dripping off meticulously off of his nose and chin. He had thought …for…one moment…that Yuki…was here with him, the real Yuki…safe, if only for a few minutes. Someone who understood him. Someone who he loved.
"Oi." Yuki's voice was more annoyed now. "Baka Neko, why the heck are you crying?" Kyo paused in his tears, astonished, Yuki had called him 'Baka Neko' like he…always…
The door opened. "Maa, ma, Yuki-kun, that's right." Kyo froze. "Why don't we just let the Baka Neko cry on his own?"
A choked, terrified hiccup escaped Kyo's cracked lips. "Why hello there, Kyo-kun. I'm here to take Yuki-kun back."
For the second time, Kyo defied Akito; he grabbed Yuki's hand as the ebony-haired man was pulling him up. "No." He whisper-growled.
Akito looked genuinely surprised for a moment, before the look was replaced with threatening maliciousness.
With a violent wrench, he pulled Yuki's face just inches next to his own, and then he shot Kyo a mischievous glance. He grinned, a horrible dark upturn of lips. He captured Yuki's bloodless lips with his own in one fluent sweep, and the next think Kyo saw was Yuki quietly submitting to him, in his arms.
"My white sparrow." Akito crooned, gently caressing a pale cheek. "Come. Let the Baka Neko cry alone."
"Hai, Akito-sama."
And that stung, Kyo though, tears coming again. His Yuki was no longer there. It was just a doll, a fake…a…tear dropped out onto the dusty ground.
Yuki turned around and left with Akito quietly, his shirt still lying in Kyo's lap. The orange-haired teen watched Yuki's bare, scarred back leave until the door shut behind them, and the clinking of bolts was heard.
Like the front of his chest, Yuki's back was scarred with a large bloody inscription.
In your misery,
I lose my sanity.
Kyo wept.
THE END
A/N: How was that? My first Kyo/Yuki, my first Fruits Baskets…I felt like doing some angst. I hope it was understandable in the least. Please review and tell me what you thought of it!
The couplet-type thing in the end could possible mean two things: Because of the misery of losing one, the other loses his sanity, OR because one person can't stand seeing the misery, humiliation of the other, he loses his sanity. I think here, it means something in the middle.
…I seriously I can't believe I came up with something that complicated. *sarcasm*
Now review! Please!