Disclaimer: I do not own K-Project.

Coming Undone

Chapter Three: Burn It Down

Fushimi smiled wide, his pale grey eyes alive with a deranged delight. It was a look that always shook Misaki to his core. He hated when Saru looked at him with those crazy eyes, with that disturbing smile. He couldn't hold back a shudder of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. The way Saru was right now was not the Saruhiko he knew, not the Saru he had fallen for.

"Why so quiet Mi-sa-ki~? Cat got your tongue?" he asked his voice low but musical as he took a slow step towards the red head.

Yata felt his breath catch as his old friend stepped out from the shadows provided by the alley way. His heart dropped and fear clutched it in its icy grip as he noted the marks that covered the visible flesh of Saruhiko's forearms. The red spot on his chest, about where the mark of mutilated pride might be located.

Dread filled him, he feared for Fushimi. He may have harbored animosity for the ravenette's betrayal, but he still cared about the man he labeled a traitor. He covered this fear with anger, scoffing at the words that had come out of the other's mouth his gaze shifting to the ground for a moment before coming up to stare the other down. His eyes were vulnerable, but he was being defiant in this expression. It was purposeful. It screamed 'LOOK AT ME' in the silence that hung in the air. Misaki opened his mouth but faltered as he struggled to find words to say.

"What do you want?" His voice was gruff, tight with well contained emotion. Trembling hands clenched into fists only to unclench in a frenetic sort of energy.

Saru choked out a manic chuckle as he stepped forward and the red head took as stumbling step away from him. Fushimi was only escalating, the aura that came from him causing Yata's adrenaline to rush. As much as he loved the fight, it was never something that ended well when Fushimi looked as fragmented as this.

What happened to him? it always frightened Yata, Saruhiko's lows. he saw his friend's father in these moments. And it caused conflict in him. Yata hated Saru's father but loved Saru. He loved how vulnerable the other could be, but that gentleness seemed to die the older they got. It officially died the day Fushimi had betrayed HOMURA for the blue clan. After he left, it was only a decline of self-destruction, but Saru had already fallen and refused any hand offered to him. not that the red head had been too tactful in his attempts to reach out to Fushimi. The other had scarred more that his pride on that day.

"What I want?" he rephrased the question taking another step towards the red head. "It's the same thing I always want…" distress tugged at the edges of his visages as his smile only stretched wider, even though his eyes seemed to darken further. So dark that they both looked like small voids.

Yata widened his stance and raised his arms in a guard with a bat in his hands. "What's it to you. It's not like you actually give a fuck." He sneered; the words were acidic, but the abrasion was tempered by the undertones of fear that remained present in the red head's hazel eyes.

Fushimi laughed but inside those words cut deeper than a knife. It hurt so good. Yes! Get mad, Mi-Sa-Ki~ Manic energy welled within the ravenette, "Tch," the mock hurt was heard with in the single sound, "I'm sad to hear you think that Misaki~." he started taunting the other with his sweet tone and meaningful smirk, "You act like the victim when I gave you a choice…." His tone became cold, and low, "and what did you do?" the question was rhetorical, his voice dripped with sardonicism, "You chose him over me. You betrayed me first" his smile became thin as he pressed his lips together as if in displeasure at the bitterness of the memory. "So, who stopped giving a fuck first!?" he spat out in a flat yet corrosive tone.

Yata's anxiety spiked as the tension intensified as his old friend poised himself to attack, grinning excitedly. There was no time for the red to retort as Fushimi was suddenly in Misaki's space a throwing knife catching the red head in the gut. Yata could feel his heart in his throat. He was surprised he was managing to breathe, it's probably the adrenaline he thought distractedly as pain ripped through is abdomen. He reacted in a muscle memory by grabbing at the others wrist of the hand that held the blade in his gut. Why is he…?

"Please…Saru, stop…" he was fisting the others shirt, trapping him close so he couldn't move around.

The other stilled, expression guarded and dark. Then he tittered at the demand, "Stop? Why should I?~ you don't really care about me, admit it" his eyes narrowed as did the distance between them, Saru had pressed closer the blade penetrating a little further. Despite the seemingly bold move of proximity, the ravenette was trying to slip his wrist from the smaller male's vice like grasp. Misaki was little, but he had always been stronger than Saru, even if it was driven by sheer stubbornness.

Saru had always admired that about Misaki. He felt something shift subtly with in him. He wanted to be looked at too. he wanted Misaki to miss him. he wanted him to follow him, but he hadn't. No, the red head had chosen the smug and pretentious red clan. Misaki abandoned Saruhiko, he turned away from him, he took his warmth and he left Saru to freeze in the hell of his own creation. Saru knew he created his own hell. He knew he was volatile. He knew it would drive Misaki away…yet he still pushed anyways. Here he was trying to get back what he had given up in the only way he knew how.

If I get bad enough, he comes back. Even if it was temporary and filled with hateful words. It's the only way he will look at me…

A soft grunt made it past Misaki's clenched teeth as the blade slid deeper inside him. A sharp breath in that became suspended in a moment of a disoriented amalgamation of emotions at the sudden proximity. The breath on his face, ghosting his nose and his lips, it caused him to shiver a soft growl of frustration and arousal leaking from his lips. The redhead glared, anger at himself as he felt the other manipulated him through his own traitorous desire for the ravenette.

It terrified Misaki that Saru had this effect on him. It hadn't been so bad, … before…. Yeah before Saru left. Misaki did as most lovers do when times are bad, he allowed himself to slip into the past just a bit. Remembering the tenderness that had been displayed in such intimate moments. Naturally, this only made Yatagarasu hurt more after all Saru had left he had initiated the act that would rip their haven apart.

"I care!" the words were uttered in a quiet but harsh and disgruntled tone. "… Okay?" the query was tentative but stiff, Misaki's tone was laden with his conflicting frustrations of the accusation and the pain of reliving the day Fushimi left HOMRA. On his face he wore a scowl despite the way his breaths came stuttering and shallow as he forced his tears into submission. Yata wouldn't let Saru use his weakness against him, he wouldn't let Saru see him cry. I won't…. But it was hard. When really, he wanted to sink into Saru, into the past haven he had been for the redheaded boy. It'll never be the same…

Fushimi's smile fell, his face inscrutable as the two males stood, locked in a stare down. The ravenette scoffed, a derisive chuckle escaping his curled lips. "I don't believe you!" he barked out. Distress showed as the edges of his visage where his mask was starting to erode and crack. His voice pitched on the word 'believe' and he ripped the knife from the wound, but still Misaki clung to his wrists.

A grunt of pain was all that was earned from the redhead. He glared up at him with a pained expression. His hazel eyes, defiantly expressive, said 'I SEE RIGHT THROUGH YOU' but they also whispered 'It pains me to see you this low…" A resignation to the cycle that they were stuck in.

Somehow, the dulled eyes of his old friend only weighed Saru down more. Subtly tightening the vice that compressed his concrete insides. No…that's not right…

Even he felt the weight of the wrongness in the situation. I've come too far already…I doubt there is a remedy…as always…I am a failure…

"Damn monkey…" he growled. How fucking ridiculous! Misaki placed his hands, palms flat against Saru's chest and used his former clan mate as leverage to push himself away. Look at us falling apart! He felt his ire raise higher, heating up into an inferno of frustration as the powerlessness being exuded from the ravenette.

"You don't need to believe me!" he hissed allowing his rising rage to flow, it fueled his red aura as it appeared around him subsequently causing an increase in the surrounding temperature.

Why can't he understand…I fucking CARE…so GOD DAMN MUCH…I would NEVER, ever...

"Don't fuck with me!" He snarled popping up his skateboard as he prepared to charge him. he pushed off, "don't you DARE pin this on me!" he embraced the pain, he let it fuel him becoming apathetic to the pain so obviously worn on Saru's skin. He knows what he is doing

He poised his bat, ready to swing when in range, "how could you fucking force me to choose, and expect me to choose between the two most important things in my life!"

Saru felt his chest constrict as his breath was stolen by the immense burden in his chest. He smiled regardless. Adrenaline spiked in his system as he saw the red aura appear and an excitement only Misaki could give him as he charged, letting the anger fuel him. the thrill, the proximity, the way his numbness was destroyed by the feeling his oldest friend evoked within him. please…break me!? A desperate prayer to his redheaded savior.

Saru felt hollow, numb to the world most of the time. He usually was fine with this; apathy made his job as a blue easier. He could complete missions without being hindered by fear of consequences. Although his blue king kept a closer eye on him that the red king had ever done. To a certain extent, Munakata always seemed to be around when he was fracturing, but the break was never as clean as it was when it was evoked by the raw emotion from the hot headed HOMRA clansman. He eyed the incoming red head hungrily his lips twisted into a smile of manic delight while his eyes were dark with numb self-loathing. Fushimi dropped his fighting stance and opened his arms as if to embrace the other.

The disarming action caught Misaki off guard, and he faltered for a moment; just one moment before he firmed his resolve. He wouldn't be deceived. "Fucking Monkey! Your actions ripped me in two! You left and you knew I couldn't follow you! you know how loyal I am!" he snarled as he swung his bat in blind rage, just wanting to break something, anything!

"You left me first!" the words were as visceral as the resounding 'crack!' of the bat as it hit its mark.

Well, many seasons later I finally have a third chapter. I hope anyone who is still with me on this journey through Saruhiko and Misaki's headspaces, enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it!

~CGreyson~