** Disclaimers: Don't even start singing that Celene Dion song. I ~know~ what movie this fic is similar to. It's only slightly intentional. This story sprang from that one scene at the end, only I imagined different people in their places. And boy, did it take a while to come out. It went through about five separate incarnations, playing with both timeline and characters involved, before it finally came to me!

This one's for Shimmercat-san for being so kind as to beta and to point out the parts that just didn't make sense (I think I made the confusing bits better...), for Starsnake-san to keep her company while she's away from home, and for Musouka-san -- this probably isn't what you expected when you read the teaser, is it? *glomps all*

Ohyah! Yaoi, character death, angst angst angst. I think that's all the warnings... Enjoy! o.o **

After nearly a year abroad in England, I find myself close to returning home, and yet my English still hasn't improved much beyond simple greetings and necessities. "Good evening." "Where do I find the train?" "I feel like I'm going to vomit." The English look down upon me, treating me like a handicapped child rather than the intelligent Japanese student that I am. I know full well the look they get in their eye, and I've gotten used to the way they raise their voice as they enunciate, as if yelling will make me understand them better. It's frustrating, not being able to say what you want, unable to speak what's on your mind because you just can't find the words.

~Of course, if I were truly intelligent, I wouldn't be struggling with the language in the first place, would I?~

I've kept to myself for the majority of the cruise to America, with the exception of a couple conversations with Kenji, another Japanese person from my University. We seem to be the only two Japanese citizens aboard, which is hardly surprising, but Kenji is more interested in finding an English-speaking girlfriend than he is in making conversation with a lonely student.

Kenji's tried two times already to set me up on a date with the close friend or sister of a girl he's picked up, and both times I've had to decline the advances. It's not that they weren't nice girls -- they seemed pleasant enough. However, it would most likely become a major issue if they found out I'd rather be going out with Kenji than any of his dates. In my experience with Japanese women, they either hate me on sight, or they think I'm insufferably "cute" and ask me all sorts of
dumb questions -- like whether their dress makes them look fat, or which eyeliner looks best with their complexion. As if that makes me the expert, just because I'm gay...

The wind just cuts right through me as I stand at the rail of the ship, overlooking the black water and wondering what's beneath. Perhaps for some, it might have been romantic, cuddling with a loved one against the cold wind that bites right through even the heaviest of jackets, but for me it just reinforces how lonely I'm feeling. I try to imagine a school of colorful fish beneath the waves, and at the center of it all a small white creature with laughing green eyes and a tuft of orange hair atop his head. No, the only image that comes to me is a morose young man, dark eyes hidden behind thick-lensed glasses and long hair whipped into a frenzy by the ocean wind.

I'm about to walk away, sighing, when I feel a hand touch my shoulder. Turning, I find myself staring into a pair of glittering blue eyes, hauntingly familiar.

"I can see how this would remind you of Gomamon," he says easily, his words in Japanese, "but you look so down."

"How -- did you know?" I ask, raising a brow. The boy, no more than seventeen or eighteen years of age, lets out a light laugh, and that's when recognition hits. "Takeru?"

"I haven't changed that much since we last talked, have we?"

I smile and stick my hands deep into my coat pockets, the frigid air making my fingers nearly numb. "I just wasn't expecting to see you, that's all. It's a strange place to be meeting."

"Yamato had said you were in England. We tried to look you up while we were visiting, but neither of us could find your address." Takeru begins walking, and, not having anything better to do for the moment, I follow him.

"You and Yamato were in England?" I ask as we mount a set of stairs to the next deck up.

Takeru nods, a grin on his youthful face. No, he really hasn't changed all that much -- still handsome, in a boy-band sort of way, still innocent. "It was something of a pre-college vacation. My brother and I had hoped to get out for a good time before I go back to school."

"How is Yamato doing?" I pause as Takeru stops at the first cabin out from the steps, taking out his keys and unlocking the door.

"Why not ask him yourself?" Takeru grins. As he swings open the door, he calls in, "Hey, wake up! Look who I just found! He followed me home, can we keep him?"

"As long as he doesn't make a mess on the carpet. I don't want to lose the security deposit." From within, I hear the familiar near-whisper of Yamato's voice, sleepy, and I can't help but smile.

"Ah..." I try to say something witty, but nothing comes to me. "Hey."

The figure on the bed stirs, rubs his eyes, and before I know it I'm face-to-face with a faintly smirking, blond-haired man with sparkling eyes. "You," he says accusingly. "Where the ~hell~ have you been staying?"

It's been too long since I'd seen him, and I'm vaguely surprised to find myself standing eye level with my old friend Yamato. He's grown his hair long like I have, the bleached tips softly fanning his shoulders. He also sports a handsome, light goatee, and as he talks I can see the flash of a silver bar through his tongue. I blush faintly, wondering momentarily what reason he'd have for piercing his tongue.

"Oh. The University in Reading."

"You weren't in London?"

"No. Reading's a half hour train ride from the city. I've visited London, sure, but I wasn't living there."

"Hmm." Yamato claps a hand against my shoulder. "Koushiro said you were in London. Remind me to strangle him when I get back. Well, don't just stand there. You can come in."

Feeling a little awkward, I follow him inside the small cabin and sink into a nearby chair beside the two beds. As Yamato and I talk, Takeru rushes to the bathroom and immediately plants himself before the mirror, running his fingers through his hair.

"He's getting worse than I used to be," Yamato laughs. "I think we need to start buying him hair gel by the truckload."

I smile faintly, stuffing my hands into my pants pockets and slouching a little in the chair. "He must have a big date tonight."

"You don't know the half of it."

Takeru's voice floats out from the bathroom, "There's a club on deck four, Jou. You should join us tonight."

I blink, shaking my head. "I'm not much of a dancer."

Yamato shrugs, settling down upon the rumpled bed where he'd been napping just minutes previously. His hair is a faint jumble, but it only adds to that air of ruggedness about him. "You don't have to be."

"I guess."

"It'll be fun, Jou!" Takeru says, grinning as he exits the bathroom. He doesn't seem to care that the icy wind out on the deck will only just muss his perfect hair again.

"Yeah. How often do we get the chance to see each other?" Yamato asks. "Besides, do you really think I want to spend the entire evening with my brother?"

"Well, I suppose I could, for a little--"

"Good," Yamato replies, leaning his arms against his knees as he sits forward. As we catch up on old times, I find my eyes trailing all too frequently to the hollow of his chest, exposed by the part in his shirt.

~What have I gotten myself into?~

---
I stand before the mirror, my fingers twitching involuntarily. I'm trying to relax, really I am. I know I can do this. I've done it a couple times before, although each time never gets easier. It's just a tiny sliver of clear plastic; I shouldn't be as intimidated as I am by it. Of course, the prospect of sticking this thing in my eye doesn't make me at all happy.

I hold one eyelid up with a finger, like I'd practiced at the eye doctor's, and draw the quivering lens to my iris. I try not to flinch, but it happens, involuntarily, just as I'm about to slip it into my
eye. I try not to curse aloud as the contact tumbles from my lashes into the sink.

As I'm squinting, my face practically in the sink as I seek out the lost lens, I hear a knock at the door to my room. Sighing, I call out, "Come in, it's open!"

"Jou?" Yamato's voice carries easily through the tiny chamber. "Are you ready yet?"

"No," I mutter darkly, still trying to bring the area surrounding the sink into focus. If it weren't a special occasion, I'd forego this annoyance and stick on the old glasses. ~But it's Yamato...~

Yamato slides into the doorway, leaning his arm across the jamb casually. "What's taking you so long? Still getting pretty?"

With relief, I spot the stray lens near the drain, and I pick it up carefully in my fingers. I give it a good rinse in saline, murmuring, "Something like that, yeah." I can feel my cheeks start to redden, but I ignore it, instead gathering the courage to stick my finger in my eye again.

"Having trouble?" he asks, stepping completely into the small bathroom, so close I can smell the light, musky cologne surrounding him. "Here, give me that."

I lift a brow and carefully slide the contact into Yamato's outstretched hand. He picks it up expertly in his fingers and turns to me, his free hand reaching towards my face. "What are you --" I'd shy away from him if I had the room.

"Hold still," Yamato says softly, and his warm fingers hold my eyelid open while the other finger looms towards my eye. "Look up."

I lift my eyes to the ceiling, forcing myself to relax. A moment later I feel a coldness in my eye as Yamato slips the lens into place.

"Look down. Now close your eye," he instructs.

"Is it in?" I ask, feeling my eyes immediately start to well up from the foreign object.

Yamato takes a tissue from the box on the sink and wipes away the single tear that escapes down my cheek. "It's in," he says easily. "The other?"

I point to the small case, and Yamato unscrews the lid. He repeats the process with the other lens. When my eyes manage to stop watering, I'm finally able to see him in complete focus, and I'm forced to suppress a light gasp. His slender frame is wrapped in a tight-fitting, untucked silvery shirt, the top two buttons undone. Some part of me resists the desire to trace my fingers along his visible collarbones.

"Okay," he says, a faint grin lighting on his perfect lips. "Are you ready now? I told Takeru we'd meet him five minutes ago."

"Y-yeah, I'm ready," I stammer. Clearing my throat, I add, "Thanks. How did you do that so easily?"

Yamato rubs at the back of his head, as if embarrassed, and then closes the distance between us again. Without a word, he tilts his head up towards mine and uses a finger to pull down his lower right eyelid. Over his icy blue eyes I spot the bottom curve of a contact lens.

"You wear contacts?" I ask, blinking in surprise. "How long?"

He shrugs, grinning mysteriously at me, and he turns to escape the confines of my bathroom. "Two years now," he replies. "I started getting headaches at school. Turns out I couldn't see the board."

"I'd never have guessed," I say as I follow him out. I grab my coat from the bed.

"I've never seen you without your glasses before. Except a few times while you were sleeping."

"Oh," I reply, shrugging. "I don't wear my contacts very often. They irritate my eyes too much, especially during hayfever season."

Yamato grins lightly, opening the door to the cold outside, and I fight the urge to offer him a coat. "It's strange to see you without your glasses, I guess. You just don't look yourself."

"I could always take them out," I murmur.

He laughs aloud and shakes his head quickly. "No way! We'll be another hour late as you try to get them out. Come on, let's get going before Takeru thinks we've fallen overboard."

Yamato's hand wraps around my arm to tug me along, and for a moment my breath catches in my throat. I want to twine my fingers between his own and hold on tightly, but a second later his grip slides from my wrist, and I stick close to him as we weave our way to one of the lower decks.

---
Takeru hasn't missed us at all. Through the swirling lights and the throb of the music, we eventually spot him dancing expertly with no less than three girls, all of whom seem taken by his boyish charm. He's a handsome kid, with his brother's eyes and similarly shaded hair -- but that's where the resemblance ends. Where Yamato is rough-edged and moody, Takeru, conversely, is a typical clean-cut, athletic boy. One would think that someone like me would be more attracted to the stability and good nature of Takeru, but eesh, I knew the kid when he was eight and a delicate crybaby -- I can't really see him as anything more than a younger brother, ever.

I lean in towards Yamato's shoulder, straining to raise my voice above the music. "Should we join him?"

"Nah," Yamato says, dizzyingly tilting his head towards mine. "I doubt any of those girls is any older than fifteen. This is an American liner -- they'd likely be considered jailbait to us."

For a moment, I'm confused -- most American laws rarely make sense to me as it is -- but I let the matter drop. Even if I was compelled towards the opposite gender, I'd have left those girls alone anyway. They're all way too young for my tastes.

"So now what?"

Yamato rolls his eyes and pulls at the arm of my shirt. "What do you think? We dance."

The thought of swimming through the packed floor in order to make an attempt to dance mortifies me. But that's what I came here to do, wasn't it? I can't force Yamato to drag me out, kicking and screaming, onto the dance floor, so I tag along at his heels. Silently, I pray that I won't make a complete ass of myself, or Yamato.

He moves with such ease I'm instantly jealous. With almost liquid movements, he skirts every small group of partying youths on the floor, whereas I only manage to bump right into them. I'd apologize, but the floor is so crowded that no one really seems to notice me. Eventually, Yamato stops, finding a free area for the two of us. He grins at me as he moves his body, snakelike, in time with the music.

I glance around me, my cheeks flushing in self-consciousness. No one's watching, but it takes every ounce of strength within me to start dancing as well. At first, I feel decidedly awkward, overly gangly... But something inside me wants to keep up with Yamato, to keep pace with
his own life, even if for a short while.

I close my eyes and let the hypnotic, rhythmic music take over.

After one or two songs, I'm starting to feel winded, but Yamato still seems ready to dance the night away. He's barely broken a sweat, save for a few thin beads glittering temptingly across his brow. I slow my movements to pace myself, as if I'm in the middle of running a long-distance race, and Yamato leans towards me.

"What do you mean you've never danced before?" he asks, jokingly nudging a finger against my chest. "You're putting me to shame here."

"You're crazy," I reply, grinning. "I'm surprised no one's kicked me off the floor yet for looking like such an idiot."

"Come on, Jou," he says. The music begins to slow, but neither of us moves, even as some of the singles crowd begins to dissipate. "You're not giving yourself enough credit."

"I don't know," I say, as close to a murmur as I can manage above the music. "This really isn't something I'd do at any other time."

Yamato lifts a hand to my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. For a brief second, I close my eyes against the feel of his long, warm fingers. "Don't worry so much. Where else but here can you let go of your inhibitions?"

Before I realize I'm doing it, I slide my arm around Yamato's waist, moving my body in time with the slowing music. The music isn't terribly slow, not the type that lovers would curl their arms around each other to sway to, but it's steady enough to suggest at least some degree of
closeness, sensuality. Yamato slips his arm over my shoulder, as if to simply lean against me. I feel his chest brush up against mine, and I shiver involuntarily.

My heart hammers within my chest, but for a few minutes in time, I'm dancing ~with~ Yamato... Two friends sharing a rare, suspended moment of intimacy. Our eyes lock, never leaving each other, even as the last strains of the song reach our ears. As if on cue, the two of us stop
dancing altogether and simply stare into each other's eyes, our faces inches apart. It would take half a second to close that distance for our lips to meet... Half a second to unravel ten years of solid friendship if I've misjudged...

"So there you guys are!" exclaims a voice beside us, causing my reverie to break and Yamato to jump. Flanked by two American girls, Takeru beams a wide grin at us. Immediately, I drop my arm from around Yamato's waist, praying no one's noticed. "I've been looking all over for you two."

Yamato shrugs easily, too easily dismissing the awkward scene. "You looked occupied. If I was in your shoes, I certainly wouldn't want my dumb brother interrupting."

Takeru laughs, speaking to us in Japanese. The American girls simply look on, seemingly mystified at what to them would be foreign babble. You know I'd have saved you one, Yamato. Maybe. Oh! I almost forgot..." He turns to the girls and makes introductions in decidedly broken and heavily accented English. "Janine, Melissa... My friend, Jou. Brother,Yamato." For a second, he switches to Japanese and adds, "'Niichan."

The girls recognize the term, maybe from watching too many subtitled anime movies, and they giggle. "'Niichan!" they repeat, their pronunciation horrible. I can't fault them, really, as my own English pronunciations can't be that much better. I give a quiet, halfhearted wave.

"Hey, why don't you two take a breather and join us for a drink?" Takeru asks Yamato and me.

Yamato chuckles and shrugs. "That's alright, Takeru. You go on. I'll meet you back at the room later tonight."

"Okay. See you later Yamato, Jou." The boy extends both his arms to the American girls, who wrap their hands around them, and he leads them off the dance floor.

When I turn, I see Yamato holding back laughter, his cheeks flushing with the effort. I lift a brow, though I'm grinning myself. "What?"

Yamato shakes his head and bites on his lower lip to bring himself under control, before he manages to reply, "The little bastard."

"I don't understand."

"The way he's leading those girls on. His English is ~flawless.~ He's got a talent for picking up other languages."

"I guess that's one way to pick up girls."

"I suppose," Yamato murmurs, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. "Why don't we get a drink, though?" he asks, suddenly snapping his eyes up to meet mine.

"Well, I'm not much of a drinker, Yama--"

He cuts me off quickly. "You are tonight," he replies, his perfect lips splitting in a wide grin. He claps me on the back, and we start to weave our way through the crowded dance floor. "You look like you could use it."

I laugh nervously, running a hand through my hair. As Yamato had wanted, I've already let go of some inhibitions tonight. I've danced, and even flirted with a long-standing friend... ~One drink wouldn't kill me, I suppose.~

---
It's only one drink, but the rum and coke leaves me giddy for the remainder of the night. I can barely remember the swirl of the lights and the tangle of bodies as Yamato and I danced away the evening. I vaguely recall a wave of jealousy as a blonde girl hit on him, but he must have brushed her off as he's still with me. Everything else was a rhythmic array of euphoria and music that kept rhythm with my heart. I'll have to go out dancing more often.

Back at my room, my head throbs and my hands shake as I try to remove these blasted contacts. It's difficult to see completely straight, but at least the dryness of the lenses helps them eventually squirm out of my eyes. Returning the familiar glasses to my face is a breathless relief.

Yamato lies on atop the covers on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, his arms loosely wrapped behind his head. I can see by the steady rise and fall of his chest and the beginning dark-ringed circles under his eyes that he's almost as exhausted as I am.

~Do I chase him out so I can sleep? ...Or do I invite him to stay?~

"That was some evening, Yamato," I say, falling into a chair beside the bed. "Thanks for twisting my arm."

"Mm. What are friends for, Jou?"

He lapses into silence, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. "What's on your mind?"

"I'm debating whether or not to go back to my room tonight," he says, eyes closing briefly. "Who knows how many girls Takeru's brought back with him?"

"He'll probably want his privacy," I say softly.

Yamato grunts softly, rubbing at his eyes with an arm. "Yeah, and I'll be wandering the decks 'till who knows when?"

I clear my throat and murmur, "You're welcome to stay."

"I couldn't. No offense, but your dad didn't spring for that big a box. Where would I sleep?"

I shrug. "The bed."

"Jou, I couldn't take your bed."

"That's okay."

"Hmm."

For the longest time, neither of us speaks. Yamato simply lies there with his arm slung across his eyes. Eventually, his breathing tapers off to a steady, rasping rhythm, and I realize he's fallen fast asleep. Slowly, I rise from the chair and stare down at the long-limbed figure sprawled atop my bed. I don't want to move him, but he's left enough room for me to fold the covers over him. Awkwardly, I tuck him in, and I can't help but trail my fingers lightly through his fine blond hair.

As I touch him, Yamato twitches and lowers his arm from his eyes, revealing a twin pair of sleepy blue orbs staring half-lidded at me. I break his gaze, my cheeks flushing a little, and he reaches out to take two of my fingers gently in his hand. "Jou," he whispers.

Maybe it's the alcohol that remains in my system that makes me so bold, or maybe it's the rapture of the evening still lingering. Though my heart is beating strong enough to burst, I twine my fingers with his, and I settle upon the bed close beside him, leaning towards him.

"Yama," I murmur through numb lips. "Yama-chan, do you mind?"

He shakes his head wordlessly, lifting his head until my lips meet his in a sweet, tickling kiss. When I finally break the kiss, blushing like a madman, Yamato lifts his hand to my cheek, stroking it lightly with the tips of his fingers.

"Stay," he whispers.

"Oh, Yamato..." I mumble, and I give him a soft kiss on the forehead, shifting away just enough to climb beneath the covers. Moving carefully, as the bed is small, Yamato curls up next to me, snuggling against me warmly.

I wrap my arms around him, breathing in the scent of his hair. His chest rises and falls in time with mine. At first he looks as if he'll fall asleep against me, but after a minute or so he lifts his head and slides up my body, his lips seeking mine. I wrap my fingers within his hair, and I pull him close. His lips meet mine with unexpected firmness, arousing me with startling speed. Yet, as his legs wrap around my own, I realize I have no reason to be embarrassed -- through the thin fabric of his slacks, I can feel that he's as turned on as I am.

Without breaking the kiss, I fumble off my glasses, tossing them against the stand by the bed and not caring if the lenses get scratched. Yamato reaches out to flick off the light, and I moan softly
as he buries his head into my shoulder, beginning the most blissful night of my life.

---
A crack akin to a gunshot causes me to startle, and to jostle Yamato's sleeping body. He makes a grumpy squeak in the back of his throat and rubs at an eye, sitting up and giving me room as I attempt to snatch my glasses from the bedstand.

"What was that?" he mutters, squinting against the sunlight that streams painfully through the round glass window.

"Dunno," I mumble, annoyed to have been awakened so suddenly from my dreams of Yamato. I climb from the bed and grab a robe from the closet to wrap around my bare body.

"Jou, what deck are we on?" His brow furrows slightly, and I follow his gaze to the window. Dark seawater has started to lap up the edge of the round glass. My face pales.

"We're not supposed to be anywhere near sea level," I whisper.

Just as the realization and fear kicks in, a sudden pounding on the door causes me to jump and Yamato to cry out. Someone shouts at us in English outside my room, but I can only understand one word, repeated twice. "... down! ...down!"

Yamato leaps from the bed and nearly falls over as he climbs frantically into his pants. "What did he say?"

"I think we're going down," I mumble, feeling the panic take root through my feet, weaving through the solid deck and anchoring me in place.

~That water's probably cold enough to kill you the second you hit it. Not that it matters. I can't swim, anyway. Where's Gomamon when I need him the most?~

Yamato wraps his fingers around my arm and jerks me sharply, nearly toppling me to the ground. But it's his blazing, angry eyes that manage to release terror's hold of me. "Takeru! If this ship is going down, Jou, we have to find Takeru!"

I nod dumbly, and I twine my fingers within his as he yanks me towards the door, where outside we begin to hear the shouts and thrum of commotion. His bare chest heaving, he turns towards me, his hand on the handle, and brings his lips roughly against mine. I kiss him back fiercely, and he breaks away.

When he opens the door, near-freezing, agonizing water flushes over our feet. I stifle the urge to cry out, and I wrap my arms around myself, as if they'll do anything against the frigid cold of the morning air.

I can't tell what's worse, the ocean water that's flooded the deck or the screams of the terrified passengers that are scrambling over each other towards the lifeboats. Yamato's fingers clutch mine so hard I worry that the bones in my hand might break, and he drags me along, shouting out Takeru's name as we try to avoid being trampled in the panic. Already, I can see several filled lifeboats floating along the water in the distance.

Yamato begins to pull me up the stairs to another deck, and a surge of people against my back cause me to lose my grasp on his hand. "Yamato!" I cry out his name several times, even as I separate myself from the crowd at the top of the stairs.

"Yamato!" My voice joins with another's, and suddenly I spot Takeru, his tall frame standing against the onrush of terrified passengers. For the time being, I forego my quest to rejoin Yamato. I can't lose them both through this whole mess... For a brief moment of time, I imagine Takeru as he had once been when I first met him -- eight years old, wide-eyed and petrified, forced to grow up in the middle of a war none of us had asked to join.

I call out to him, and I see his head turn towards my voice, but he doesn't spot me. It's not until I'm nearly on top of him, shaking his shoulders, when his eyes finally alight in recognition.

"Jou! Where's Yamato? Have you seen my 'niichan?"

I nod, seeing my breath against the frigid morning air, coming in hyperventilating puffs. "He was with me just a second ago."

Takeru's cheeks are flushed from the chill of the air, contrasting starkly against his milk-white skin. "He didn't come home last night! I wasn't worried until this morning. What's happening, Jou? What's happening?" Takeru's voice raises to a hysterical pitch, and I sharply shake his shoulders again.

"Stay calm, Takeru. We'll find your brother."

His lower lip trembling, Takeru begins to cry, the tears pouring in a sudden flood down his cheeks. "The boat didn't sink this fast in that American movie," he whispers. "In the movie, it took hours before it got this bad."

Takeru lifts his swimming blue eyes to me, and, although I know he's eighteen years old, all I can see is the terrified gaze of a child. Once, long ago, he'd turned those scared blue eyes to me moments before he slipped under the waters in Odaiba, Japan. I'd nearly drowned, myself, returning him to the surface.

My jaw firms, and I wrap my fingers tightly around his arms. "You're right. We've got to get to the lifeboats."

"But -- what about Yamato?"

"I'm sure he'll be trying to find one now, as well." I probably haven't convinced him with my lie. I never could mask the truth under pressure.

Takeru swipes at his eyes, but he doesn't resist as I drag him to where a crowd has formed at one of the lifeboats. One of the ship's mates barely keeps order as he ushers the frantic throng of passengers, primarily youths on vacation, onto the small boat.

As we near the front of the line, I grab Takeru's chin and jerk his face towards mine. "I'm going to go find your brother, Takeru. It will be okay. I'll find him, I promise you."

His eyes dilate with fear. "What! Jou, you can't leave me here!"

But it's too late for him. Even though he struggles, the ship's mate nearly manhandles him to get him onto the lifeboat. A few tears spring to my eyes as I break away and push through the group at the platform, leaving Takeru to be lowered into the water, alone and terrified, but safe. He wouldn't drown today.

It takes all my force of will to move, as my bare feet feel like twin blocks of lead. Every step brings searing agony up my legs -- they're nearly frozen from the water and the below-freezing wind-- but at least the pain reminds me that I'm still alive. And I still need to find Yamato. By now, the ship has begun to list painfully, and I grab onto the freezing side railing to keep from falling.

~If I were Yamato, where would I go? Where would I start looking for Takeru?~

I begin to count cabins as I drag myself along, clinging for dear life to the railing. Most of the deck is either evacuated or waiting to be evacuated, so only a few stragglers rush down, with the boat's tilt, towards the remaining lifeboats. It makes it easier for me to pull myself towards Yamato's cabin.

With numb fingers, I cling to the wide open doorway. "Yamato? Yama-chan? Please tell me you're in there!" I cry.

"Jou?" Yamato's frantic voice precedes him from the bathroom, and he staggers against the lean of the ship. "I can't find him! He's not here. Where do you think--"

"He's safe!" I shout. "He's in a lifeboat. Where we should be!"

"Oh, God," he sobs, rushing into my waiting arms. "You saw him?"

"I practically forced him onto a boat. Come on, Yama-chan, we've got to move!"

Yamato's fingers graze my cheek, and he whispers, "You always were so good to my brother. I love you, you know. I've loved you for so long."

I want to weep hysterically, but I keep a lid on the tears. It's only been thirty minutes at most, and too much has happened since I woke up. Instead of crying, I give Yamato a soft peck on the lips. "I love you too. Now come on. We have to get to a boat. I can't swim."

"You're right. Don't let go of me this time, okay?"

"Okay."

Easier said than done. The boat lurches as I reach for his hand, and I see the water spilling rapidly across the deck and into the room. Yamato's hands, like twin blocks of ice, shove my shoulders roughly, and as I move, I feel like I'm walking through molasses. I look down, only to discover that we're knee-deep in water, with the level rising exponentially fast.

~We're going down. We're not going to make it.~

The current yanks at my feet, and I stumble, Yamato's hands swiftly sliding from my grasp. My muscles seem to lock from the shock of immersion into that paralyzingly frigid water, which smothers me like cement as the current sweeps me from the room.

"Jou!" I hear Yamato desperately splashing after me, even as the sudden force of the water ducks him under as well.

Unable to move, unable to hold on, I succumb to the icy prison of oblivion.

---
A stiff wind cuts like a million knives through my body, waking me from unconsciousness. I'm lying on my back, and I think my clothes are frozen to my body. I can't lift my head, or feel my legs at all. When I part my lips to talk, I feel ice on my skin loosen.

~Where are we?~

"Y-Yama? Yama-ch-chan?" My voice is a hoarse croak, unable to rise above a rasping whisper.

A sighing voice: "Jou." He's right beside me, and a million miles away at the same time. I strain my neck against the lead weight of gravity, and I see a blond head of hair against my chest. I'm almost too numb to feel his uncontrollable shivering.

"Wh-wh-wh..." I try to speak, but my words just refuse to come out past my frozen lips.

"Mattress, f-floating in the water," he chokes. "They'll- They'll be b-back for us, w-w-won't they?"

~I'm going to die. In broad daylight, I'm going to die.~

Tears slide down my cheeks and immediately freeze there.

"Th-they'll be back. I love you, Yama-chan."

"I l-love you too, Jou."

"H-hold o-on."

But maybe death won't be so bad. Even though I'm freezing, I'm starting to feel warm again. So warm, and so sleepy. I pull my arms around Yamato, and I hold him as I shut my eyes and drift into the dark again...

---
Someone's moving me, I think. Just when I think I can't get any colder, any hotter, I feel water lap at my legs, stabbing with painful force again. My body won't respond on its own, but there's a dizzy sensation of vertigo inside my head as I'm pulled from the water and onto something solid and rocking.

~Wait, let me off. I get seasick,~ I think I say. Or do I? I hear voices drone in and out around me, but nothing makes sense. Not a word. Even if the words were Japanese, I doubt I'd ever understand them.

But I do understand the wail of agony that breaks the veil. Somehow, I open my eyes, and although it's fuzzy, I make out the figure of a young blond-haired boy, his mouth open in a silent scream. There's something in his lap, a mound wrapped in an itchy woolen blanket... The young
boy's breath catches, and he cries out once again.

Well. Those are the breaks kid. The world gives, the world takes away, I imagine myself saying. Only I know I can't be speaking, because no one seems to hear me.

"'Niichan," the boy gasps in Japanese. "Oh, 'Niichan. 'Niichan..."

~Takeru.~

I close my eyes and pray that death takes me now. Only it just doesn't seem to come. There's only pain, and Takeru's sobs that fill my world now.

---
I don't know how long I've been asleep, or how long my delirium has lasted, but I'm almost lucid when I look up to fuzzy glow that must be the moon in the sky. The rocking of the lifeboat makes me nauseous, and the cold air weighs heavily on my lungs. Coughing weakly, I try to sit up, but a pair of warm hands hold me down.

"How do you feel?" A whisper, unrecognizable. But the words are Japanese.

"Shit," I mumble. "Like shit. Yama-chan?"

"No." An outline of a head moves across my terribly blurred vision. I must have lost my glasses... "It's Takeru."

"Oh. Yamato? Where--"

"He's gone." Takeru's whisper is pained, choking. "We couldn't get back in time..."

"It's not your fault."

Takeru pulls the woolen blanket around me, wrapping it over my shoulders tighter. "I knew he wouldn't leave. Not until he found me. He was crazy like that."

"He loved you, Takeru."

"He loved you too, Jou." Takeru's fingers trail across my cheek, and his arm wraps around my shoulder. I must be lying in his lap. I turn my head, and around me I see some groups of sympathetic eyes, passengers gazing mournfully at me. Others huddle close, wrapped in their own world, on the lifeboat. And, along the floor of the boat, is a mass wrapped in a blanket. No one sits near the huddled bundle of blanket. ~Yamato's body.~

As I watch, the dark, water-stained woolen mass on the boat's floor begins to twitch, to sit up. At another point in time, another Kido Jou would have screamed bloody murder. Another Kido Jou would have carried on, maybe even tried to scramble out of the boat and back into the water. But, somehow, I only feel peace. My breath begins to slow.

"Jou?" Takeru's shaking my shoulders, but I can barely feel it.

Yamato pulls the blanket's cover from his face, runs a hand through his perfectly combed hair. I see pink lips smile at me. Everything's going to be okay now.

"Jou, hold on."

My blond-haired lover, my savior, stands up, even though the boat rocks ferociously. No one takes notice of him. No one cares. All the better.

"We'll be rescued soon, I promise." Takeru's voice, though becoming steadily more fevered in pitch, begins to wane. He's a thousand miles away by now, a whisper in my new reality.

Yamato comes to me, stretching a hand towards me. I push my blanket aside, and I wrap my fingers around his.

"Please, Jou, hold on. Don't leave me again!"

As Takeru breaks into fresh, sudden tears, Yamato leans his free hand against his brother's shoulder. The boy doesn't seem to notice until Yamato places a soft, reassuring kiss on his cheek. His sobs lessen, his shoulders slowing their shaking.

"I--I understand. Go to him, Jou. Go to my 'niichan."

Yamato gently pulls me up, as I let out a last, sighing breath against Takeru's lap. Again, my fingers join with those of my lover, warm hands, and soft. We begin to walk towards the water, and there's nothing but colored lights and rhythmic music as I realize that my feet don't touch the surface. Yamato's lips meet mine in a kiss that stretches across aeons, and together we dance over the icy waters of the Atlantic.