© 2002 Copyright Original Storyline created by Gold

Disclaimer: Not related to CLAMP.

Dedicated to Mikuro-san, for sheer intensity of F/K moments. Also for his providing a gorgeous F/K memory in the zip file he sent of an F/K hugging scene beneath a tree.

Does Fuuma have gold eyes? W-ell...

After The Fact (Version 3.0)
Part 11: Fragile

Shirou Kamui forced his eyes open. Ye gods above, his head hurt. It took him a little while to get used to the fact that there were a couple of hammers splitting apart his skull from the inside. Very slowly, he registered other sensations. There was softness beneath him and all around him. Carefully, he raised himself on one elbow, teetering sideways, and groaned as the hammers concentrated their pounding on one side of his head. He manoeuvred his other elbow into position and was relieved when the hammers began to strike symmetrically again. Then he looked around, wincing in time to the pounding in his head. The place was vaguely familiar…he knew he had seen that slightly battered-looking desk before, with the bag hanging neatly from the chair…and the vari-coloured e-posters on the walls switching from one image to another as he stared…and the pattern of the cream-and-dark-brown bedsheets that he was nestled in—cream-and-dark-brown bedsheets?!

He was in Fuuma's room—in Fuuma's bed!

Kamui blinked and frantically racked his brains, trying to remember what, if anything, had happened the night before—

"Ohayo, Kamui-chan!"

Kamui jumped.

Monou Kotori was smiling broadly at him from just inside the entrance of the room. She was carrying a large tray, heaped high with food, and it smelt rather good to Kamui, whose stomach suddenly growled.

Kotori giggled at the sound. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Terrible," admitted Kamui, with several groans. He wondered when his head would finally split apart. Surely it would have done so by n-o-o-wwwwww…

Kotori placed the tray on the desk nearby and brought a steaming mug towards Kamui. "Here, drink this."

Kamui stared at it suspiciously, then peered at Kotori. "Is this some sort of a dream…?"

Kotori laughed. "Of course not, Kamui-chan! Don't you remember what happened last night? You were drunk." She shook her head. "You have a very low tolerance of alcohol…you shouldn't have tried to drink last night, after the dance."

The dance!

Kamui's eyes widened. He remembered all right. He remembered too many things…

"But how did I get here?" he murmured. "I don't understand…" This was Fuuma's room, and the last he remembered was being…elsewhere.

Kotori regarded him gravely. "Hokuto-chan called onii-chan at 3 am this morning. She said that you were drunk and so was Subaru-san, and she couldn't take care of both of you. Onii-chan drove down to pick you up. You were already asleep by then. Here, don't think about it anymore," she added. "Drink this. 'kaa-san says it's good for people with hangovers."

Obediently, Kamui swallowed the contents of the mug. Almost immediately, his headache lessened from hammers to that of a more ordinary headache. And he could now think more clearly. He looked down at himself. He was clad in a dark blue shirt a little too big and too loose for him—evidently Fuuma's—but he still had his dress pants on from the night before. Kamui immediately blushed. Presumably whoever had undressed him had carefully chosen not to go into questionable areas.

"Gomen ne. And—and arigatou gozaimasu," he said, ashamed of himself. "I'm so sorry I bothered everyone—"

Kotori smiled brightly at him. "It's all right. We don't mind! Now that you're here, it's a good thing. –Will you talk to my brother later?"

At the mention of Fuuma, Kamui blushed even more deeply. After all, he had woken in the other boy's room, in the other boy's bed—wearing the other boy's shirt…

Kotori's eyes were soft. "He let you sleep here last night, because he knew the sofa would be too uncomfortable for you. He won't say that, of course, but you know him." She waved her hand at the tray of food on the desk. "There's breakfast. I made it for you; it's your favourite. Try to eat as much as you can. I have to go now, but I'll ask my brother to look in on you."

Kamui cleared his throat. "It's all right. I'll—I'll go and see him myself. I want to—to thank him. On my own."

Kotori nodded. "I'll tell you where he is as soon as I find him. I'll keep him here, don't worry!" She tipped him a quick smile and left.

It wasn't the fact that Fuuma might not be there that worried him, Kamui thought as he struggled out of bed after Kotori had left. It was the fact that Fuuma would be there that terrified Kamui. He wasn't sure of himself around the older boy anymore. They were no longer best friends after that stupid argument—he couldn't even remember what they had argued about, although he clearly remembered saying some particularly nasty things in the face of Fuuma's silence, which had finally roused the older boy's temper.

Kamui ate some breakfast half-heartedly. He was not feeling particularly hungry despite his stomach's vocal protests, and besides, the mug of what's-it-called had been quite a heavy mixture. He had just pushed away the tray, wondering what to do next, when the door to the room slid open, and Fuuma stepped in. He did not shut the door, nor did he look directly at Kamui, fixing his eyes instead on the half-full tray.

"Gomen ne, I didn't know you hadn't finished." His voice was polite.

Kamui flushed. "No, I'm—I'm done. I'm full."

"Oh. Ah," mumbled Fuuma intelligently, still addressing the tray. "So, uh, I can take that away?"

Kamui nodded slightly.

Fuuma stepped forward and managed to get to his desk and to lay hands on the tray, all without looking once at the boy sitting on his chair at his desk. But then a small hand closed lightly, unexpectedly, around his wrist, and he froze, involuntarily darting a quick look at Kamui.

"Domo arigatou, Fuuma," whispered Kamui, bravely meeting Fuuma's startled gaze. "For everything. Kotori-chan said that you drove down early this morning to help me. I'm sorry I caused you so much trouble."

Fuuma, who had stiffened at first, seemed to relax a little, and he turned his face back to the tray, carefully pulling away from Kamui. "It's nothing."

Kamui bit his lip. "Fuuma… gomen nasai," he mumbled, swallowing hard. "For everything I've said and done—I'm so sorry. I—I want us to be best friends again, like we were before, please..."

It was only then that Fuuma looked at him, with eyes that were both kind and grave. Without a word, he briefly touched Kamui's cheek with one finger. It was a gentle touch, and no more than a slight caress, one that might have meant no more than a brotherly gentleness, but the colour in Kamui's face instantly deepened by several more shades. If Fuuma noticed it, he made no comment.

Instead he picked up the tray. "We'll talk about this later," he said quietly, sounding more like the Fuuma Kamui knew. "Kotori says that you still have a headache. You had better rest."

Kamui nodded and watched Fuuma with yearning eyes and half-parted, wistful lips. But his best friend, and the one person he liked best in the world, did not notice…

Monou Fuuma stood by the trees just inside the walls of the memorial shrine to those who had fallen in the devastation of Tokyo a thousand years ago. He had gone into the shrine several times when he was younger, together with his family and Kamui's family, to honour those who had died, so they would always remember. It was very important to not forget those who had gone before you. Nearly everyone in Japan had lost some family member in Tokyo in those days. The Monou and Shirou families were lucky to be two families who did not have tablets set up to members of their families who had died, but the wives in the families had had relatives who had died, and they had come to remember them. And even if the two families had escaped completely unscathed, they would still have come.

Except that Fuuma now knew that the reason why there had been no tablets set up for those of the Dragons who had died, was because there had been nobody to left to remember them. It wasn't so much the fact that he wanted tablets set up to honour all of them. After all, a good number of them seemed to have been reincarnated and Fuuma was ready to bet that he'd run into the rest of the Dragons sooner or later. It would be very odd to set up tablets to living people. Rather, it felt the height of utter injustice that humanity should remain completely impervious to the massive sacrifices that had been made for them. Perhaps he could ask Seishirou about that. They could buy space for one simple tablet and dedicate it to all the Dragons who had died…people would just think that the Ten no Ryu and Chi no Ryu were the names of yakuza gangs or something…

A little way off, Shirou Kamui stood, watching his best friend.

When he hadn't been able to find Fuuma after waking from a nap, Kotori had suggested that he look for her older brother here. Of late, Kotori said, her onii-chan had been taking special interest in the shrine, although she did not know why.

For Kamui, it was rare that he had a chance to simply stand still and watch Fuuma, so that was what he did instead of calling out. In Kamui's eyes, the older boy was perfection personified, and it wasn't merely the physical either, that captured Kamui's heart. True, Fuuma cut a lithe, darkly handsome figure, with skin that had been tanned to a golden-brown, a remarkably sculpted profile that spoke volumes about his straight nose and determined chin, and beautiful eyes that could only be described as a smouldering dark gold. But Fuuma was also reserved and quiet, cloaked with a cool dignity that often seemed to clash with the promise of passion in those eyes. And the icing on the cake was the fact that he had a character at least as beautiful as his looks. That was what had really claimed Kamui's heart, if Fuuma had but known!

—Because Fuuma had a heart. That was all Kamui could say about it, if asked to describe it. It was a gentle heart that understood without words, and comforted with sheer strength; it was a kind heart that led Fuuma to do things without even considering the amount of inconvenience it would put him to; it was a beauty-seeking heart that could cut into the heart of things, and uncover loveliness unseen; it was a loving heart that had taken Kamui in unasked and without fear, and protected him. It was a heart that made Fuuma glow with the brightness of several galaxies in Kamui's eyes, and it was that heart that had convinced Kamui to give his own heart into its keeping.

And even as Kamui watched, Fuuma sensed his presence and turned with a startled look that evaporated quickly into a smile. It was not a guarded smile and Kamui's relief drew him close to the older boy.

"You should be resting."

Fuuma's voice was as cool as ever, his manner reserved, but the dark gold of the eyes was soft and it warmed Kamui. Then he remembered what he was here for and his face fell.

"Fuuma… I—I need to tell you something…" Kamui scuffed the shoe of one foot against the ground beneath the trees. "I—it's about last night…" His untidy dark hair swept over his eyes and he bent his head, so that the taller boy could not see his face.

Fuuma remained silent, waiting.

"I—I—" Kamui's voice nearly died to a whisper, and Fuuma had to strain to catch the soft words. "I… kissed Subaru last night…"

The silence was almost deafening.

Kamui licked his suddenly dry lips. "Sakurazaka-san…saw us…we were at his apartment…" He bit his lip. "Fuuma, I—I'm so sorry…I think—I think he's in love with Subaru…" Kamui lifted his head and was immediately stunned.

Fuuma looked as if he had just been struck in the face, and the expression he wore was nearly as ghastly as Sakurazaka Seishirou's last night. He was as white as a sheet and his eyes were a wild, stormy gold. He could barely speak. "… you… what…?"

Kamui caught hold of Fuuma's hands, barely noticing that they had been clenched into tight, white fists. With a jerk, Fuuma pulled away from him and stumbled back, falling against a tree.

Kamui lifted his chin and swallowed a sob. "I didn't know Sakurazaka-san—I didn't mean, I, I mean, I know you like him—"

Fuuma shuddered a little and the wildness flickered out of his eyes as he looked at the tearful Kamui. "Seishirou… he's been in love with Subaru for longer than anyone knows," he murmured in anguished tones. "Oh, Kami-sama…"

Whatever Fuuma was expecting, it certainly hadn't been Kamui suddenly hurling himself at him, hugging him fiercely and babbling apologies.

"Fuuma, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you, but I couldn't not tell you, I know you like Sakurazaka-sempai, and I never wanted to hurt you, but—"

"Shh." Fuuma's eyes were kind, but there was unmistakeable heartbreak in the depths of the dark gold, and it wrung Kamui's heart. "Shh, it's all right."

"No, it's not all right! I—"

Kamui was silenced by the firm yet gentle touch of the fingers on his mouth, silencing him. Then strong arms drew him closer.

"No, it's not all right, Kamui. I know you love Subaru—"

"No. Not Subaru, not like—not like Sakurazaka-san loves him…" It's you I like, a lot… I think I may even love you the way Subaru loves Sakurazaka-sempai… Fuuma… I wish you knew that, without my having to tell you...

The arms around Kamui tightened subconsciously, but neither said any more, each fearing to reveal what was inside the deepest, most precious corner of his heart, for fear that it might be shattered for its fragility.