Title: With Every Breath (I) Fruits Basket

Disclaimer: I don't own Fruits Basket, or any of it's characters. I do, however, own a Kyou keychain! It is quite adorable and sometimes late and night I set it on my pillow and stare and stare and dream. I'm a poor college student. Suing me will not get any of us anywhere.

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Hate. Kyou knew it and tasted it, lived and breathed it. He walked around most days with hate in his back pocket, an old friend and familiar. The only emotion he was confident he knew how to feel. He hated a lot of things in this world: the Curse, noise, leeks, rainy days, being indoors, pity...

But most of all, he hated that god. Damned. Rat.

Kyou hated so much that sometimes in the middle of the night he'd wake up hissing and spitting curses, his knuckles split and bleeding from punching the wall in his sleep. Sometimes he'd just have to see that rat for the hate to swell inside his chest so strong he couldn't breathe-- and sometimes he'd just run, vision blurring, running through the forest and faster, through the trees and branches whipping at his face and hair, eyes stinging. He'd run till he was utterly spent, till he collapsed to his knees, shivering from head to toe and fingers sore from clenching into fists.

It got worse every day. There was a constant bitterness in the back of his throat, his voice clipped and tight from the words that were waiting to be said; but what always came out instead was so wrong– just stupid insults and exclamations of outrage and that was wrong, dammit, because that damned rat didn't know, didn't see how Kyou's hate filled him up, right to the brim– drops of water that either froze into ice or burned. And it wasn't just because of the Zodiac, the legend of the rat's treachery towards the cat– it was everything, all of it– even the little things.

Kyou hated how everything came to Yuki so easily. He barely had to lift a finger for the world to be at his feet, fawning away– because wasn't Yuki the best, the favorite, the flawless, the first? One toss of his head to send them all to their knees, that's all it took– and one blink of his eye to shower them with contempt and disdain.

No. Not them. Kyou. The contempt was saved for the foolish, stupid cat. And oh, but Kyou hated that.

Every time their eyes met in a furious glance, he wanted to summon all his rage and kick it past Yuki's perfect teeth-- past that fake, perfect smile that was worn for everyone else in the fucking world except for him-- to make Yuki choke on his rage and KNOW, know without doubt that Kyou's hate was real, that it was tangible and alive and it wasn't just some rivalry, some game of playing opposing sides of the same coin: Yuki the polite, perfect Prince; and Kyou the obnoxious, unwanted Freak.

And Kyou hated more than anything else that he was the better fighter– better trained but because he couldn't find a way to let go of his hate during a fight (not even for a second, dammit, and why?) His challenges always ended up with him in the dirt, tasting blood in his mouth and Yuki standing over him, his face always the very fucking picture of serenity.

Just like today. The sun was rising behind Yuki-- showing just barely above the tops of the trees and turning his hair silver and gold-- and Kyou's ears were still ringing from that roundhouse kick and he turned his head, spat blood, and hated. He nursed the familiar ache of it in his chest, the fingers of one hand clenching in the dirt as he levered himself up, and the other hand dashing away a trickle of saliva and blood from his chin. Yuki was still standing there, calmly, long after he normally would have stalked off; this only made the ache swell, till it felt like there was an iron band around his torso, constricting his lungs. The usual string of insults sprang to his mouth– but today his lips just wouldn't release them. They weren't the right words. The sun was tinting the sky pink and orange, reminding Kyou of another sunrise from not too long ago– one where Yuki had pinned his true self down into the rocks and the mud and let someone else call him home.

For once, Kyou held his tongue. He leveled a glare at the rat with eyes that smoldered like two coals, fingers still digging into the earth and the scent of soil, sweat, and grass filling his nostrils. But it seemed Yuki had words to fill Kyou's void, today.

"When are you going to give up, cat?"

And there it was, along with the words– that glint in the lavender eyes, that poison lacing of veiled disdain.

When you know. When you see how much I hate. When you see me– his thoughts ran together in a tangle of fierce but directionless hopes. "When I beat you." Kyou finally answered, his voice just as low, just as cold.

"That's not going to happen. So stop wasting my time."

"I'll waste whatever I fucking feel like!"

"Why don't you wake up and get a clue, you stupid cat!"

"Why don't you just make me, dumb rat!"

"I thought I already had. Every damn day. You're just too stupid to see it!"

Yuki's hands were fisted tight in the collar of Kyou's shirt, and they were standing eye-to-eye and toe-to-toe as they screamed at each other– so close that Kyou could count individual eyelashes and see the slight twitch in Yuki's cheek from clenching his jaw too hard– and Kyou couldn't really remember how he'd gotten from the ground to here, but it didn't matter because his own hands snatched up the collar of Yuki's shirt and jerked– and now was the moment, the right words were going to come and then that fucking rat would see.

His own teeth were clenched together so it was difficult, and it was awkward, to force out the words that had become his private mantra, sung a thousand times in his own head but rarely out loud-- but he had to, so he did it:

"I hate you. With every fucking breath, I hate you." The words were growled, just barely above a whisper– but they were finally out, sharp and clear as a cut from a blade of ice.

Yuki's eyes only narrowed to slits of shadowed purple and black; his narrow hands fisting tighter in the material of Kyou's shirt, now winding taut enough to bruise. "I hate you more. For every minute you've hated me, I've hated you twice as much."

Kyou felt almost sick now with the strength of the anger that was twisting his stomach into knots. He simultaneously let go of Yuki's collar and shoved, breaking the other boy's own grip– and shoved again, hard, forcing him right up against the trunk of the nearest tree, hands pushing at Yuki's thins shoulders as if he could force him through to the other side. "You fucking bastard. This is just another way to beat me, just another way for you to win-"

Yuki shoved back, but Kyou had planted his feet and didn't budge. "No! I hate you– I hate everything about you– your stupid temper tantrums, your stupid loud voice– you don't care about anyone else but yourself, your whole fucking world revolves around the problems of Kyou Sohma!"

"Shut up! What the hell do you know about it, anyway?" Kyou spat back, panting and glaring and still struggling. There was a cut above his eye that was bleeding sluggishly, and sweat from his brow was stinging his eyes. "You're everyone's favorite– Akito's pet--"

"Akito was the one who taught me how to hate," Yuki snapped, and any control the normally composed boy usually possessed had long since been burned up in the heat of rage. "And he taught me well. And I hate how you want my place in this family when I'd do anything to be able to give it up– and I hate that you hated me first, without even knowing me– and I hate that I hate you, Kyou! With every fucking breath, I hate this!"

It took exactly three heartbeats for Yuki's words to sink into Kyou's mind and register– three heartbeats to hear Yuki's soft gasp and look of horror– three heartbeats and then Kyou was frozen, arms still pinning Yuki to the tree but not moving. No. . . that wasn't right. It wasn't. . . it wasn't supposed to go like this. He was lying. . . he had to be. . . it was just a manipulation, a lie.

And as soon as Kyou thought that, he could move. The flush of anger returned to his face, a scratchy growl in the back of his throat. "You're lying!" he snarled, jerking the rat slightly forward only to shove him back, hard enough to make the branches rattle and dead leaves to float down around them like dirty snow.

Yuki's glare could have melted steel. But his eyes broke away first, and he shoved only half-heartedly against Kyou's arms once more. "No. I'm not."

For the next few moments, Kyou could only stare– eyes wild and panicked– but suddenly he broke away and stepped back as if touching Yuki burned his hands. Hate was giving way to shock and surprise, and that wasn't right at all– everything was unexpected, he didn't know what to even think– he tried to keep hating but it was trickling out of his grasp like sand through a clenched fist and he was lost. Utterly lost.

They stood that way for a minute– silent except as they caught their breath, neither one meeting the other's eyes. The sun had continued to climb in the sky throughout all this, and dawn's soft pastels had been replaced with vibrant shades of blue. It hadn't been a lie.

In spite of the turmoil and confusion that swamped his thoughts like an oppressive fog, Kyou recognized one emotion in the midst of it all. He wasn't sure how, as he'd never felt such a thing before in his life– but he was sure, all the same.

He felt defeated.

Maybe Yuki hadn't planned on it, or even wanted it. Kyou looked at the other boy– the pale face smudged with streaks of dirt, silver hair in tangles and a dried leaf clinging to his bangs– and dammit-- he still looked perfect. And untouchable. And unreachable.

Kyou relinquished to him, anyway.