As I thoght; I'm back here sooner than I had expected. For the better or for the worse, I do not know. I wanted to do something slightly darker this time... dunno if I have succeeded or not. Love you for reading.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kyon, nor do I own Itsuki.

Drip

Drop

He stared at his disfigured face in the almost non-existent mirror, that hung over the now broken and leaking sink in his once clean bathroom. Part of the left side of his face, including the whole of his upper body, was missing due to the lack of existing glass to reflect it back.

The right side of his face looked like a faulty puzzle, in which the pieces fit but the motive was off. The mirror had shattered.

The pieces that should've reflected the missing part of his face laid in dangerously razor-sharp and intricate patterns all around his bare feet. The shards of gleaming glass that remained dutifully in its frame had been delicately cracked, forming an exquisitely shaped maze of shards and white, thin lines. It looked like a frozen spider web that the spider had long since abandoned.

Drip

Drop

Once, the tiles on the floor and walls had been white. Not bright, brilliant white, but a more mellow, cream colored white, not all too unpleasant to have in one's bathroom.

But he saw, through the broken mirror, with his haunted brown eye, the color that had been recently splattered upon the walls.

Red. Deep cherry red. Blood. The rich crimson shade sent a shiver down his spine.

His feet were cold. Almost numb.

Drip

Drop

He tore his gaze away from the mirror, not wanting to continue to look at himself like that. He touched the left side of his face hesitantly with a clammy hand. It was still there.

Somewhere, he heard a clock tick slowly, like it was missing half a beat. Like it was sick. Dying.

The feeling of dread that had been present ever since he opened his eyes and only saw one of them looking back, was quickly building up in the pit of his stomach.

He needed to get out of here.

Yet, he had to force his feet to move, to turn around and face away from the mirror and to turn his back to his own misshaped face that seemed to lure him to stay. (Don't go. Don't go out there. You'll end up looking like me if you do.)

It was his own voice, in his own head, that spoke through the glass. He ignored it.

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He felt his naked feet crush the shards of glass and twitched slightly at the feel of the jagged pieces digging in deeply into the soles of his feet. He welcomed the pain because it momentarily overwhelmed his brain and body, shutting the fear and panic out.

The blood was still fresh on the walls, slowly making its way down to the stained floor in small rivers. It collected in dents and cracks (that hadn't been there before, not when his bathroom still had bee white) and sometimes thick droplets broke free and splashed down on the floor.

Drip

Drop

Drip

This was his fault, his fault and he had to get out. His fault.

He made his way over to the bathroom door that stood slightly ajar, ignoring the 'crrsh crish crrush' under his feet. He knew instinctively that the blood he spilt, the blood that came oozing from the wounds on his feet, wasn't the same as the liquid on the walls. That blood was someone else's and he thought he knew whose.

The clock was closer now.

Tick

Tock

Drip

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As he came out in his hallway (it was his hallway. He lived here with his partner, and he was here too but still not and it was all wrong because it was his fault) the lights flickered on and off a couple of times, giving him a view of the short corridor as if he saw it in the light of thunder, in between bolts of electricity.

Finally one lamp gave out and died with a sharp pang and a mini super-nova explosion. The other lamp stayed on, buzzing and humming lazily as it lit the hallway without its twin. With only one light bulb, the shadows became twisted and curved as they stretched out on the floor.

Here too had the pale yellow walls been stained by crimson fluid.

'This must be what the kid in that movie meant. Redrum, redrum. Red room…haha…'

Nervous thoughts fluttered like panic-stricken butterflies in his head, bouncing around in his cranium. His hands were trembling and he felt like throwing up whatever contents he had in his stomach, but kept it down and made his abused feet sluggishly stumble forward towards their living room. He knew, although he didn't know how he knew that he knew, that he was supposed to go there. There was no other way.

(Don't go out there. You'll end up looking like me. You're whole. You'll get broken.) The mirror seemed to whisper, to lull and soothe, with his own voice from the bathroom. He continued to ignore it and proceeded to wobble forward, the glass in his feet catching on the fabric of the soft, strangely damp carpet. He fell forward and caught himself with a hand on the wall and felt the lukewarm, slippery blood coat his fingers and slowly run down his palm and wrist.

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Drop

The tick-tocking of the sick clock was louder, but at the same time it went slower. Like its disease had found its way into the very core of the mechanism, the heart made of screws, wires and gears.

He was breathing way to fast and shallow, and he was shaking badly, like a cell phone stuck on vibrate, and he really didn't want to take another step.

But he had to. Because this was his fault.

As he took a trembling step forward, his breath caught in horror as he felt a juicy substance well up from the carpet and seep in between his toes. He quickly withdrew his foot and looked down. The carpet was drenched in blood. It had sucked it up like a huge sponge, making it feel like he was walking on wet moss.

'Who could lose this much blood?'

Drip

Tick

Drop

Tock

He willed his cold body to move and tried to not pay any attention to the slimy sensation. Instead, he concentrated on the now dulled, but still sharp as frost, pain that spiked up every time he put his feet down.

It was silent in the apartment, beside the monotone ticking of the clock and the sound of blood dripping from the walls and hitting the floor. He had to find Itsuki, because this wasn't a closed space and if something happened… it would be his fault.

He finally entered the living room and-

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Tick

Tock

-stopped dead in his tracks, pain forgotten and fear overtaking his senses wholly. The figure, the thing, in front of him turned to face him and it smiled.

"Finally. What took you so long Kyon?"

That was Itsuki's voice coming from that mouth. He recoiled and took a step back in disgust and terror. The thing in front of him, standing in his and Itsuki's living room, reeked of death, fire smoke and the sickeningly sweet scent of rotting flesh.

He couldn't stop looking at it, he wished he could, desperately so, but found his brown eyes glued to the monstrosity. The face was the worst.

He assumed that what was hanging from its right eye-socket in a thin string of muscles and tissue had once been its eye, now just an unseeing ball of jelly. The mouth was twisted into a psychotic smile, the left cheek almost torn off completely and hanging like a dead piece of meat from the face, exposing the jaw and the row of teeth all the way to the joint. Mucus and half-coagulated blood ran in a slow, steady stream from the empty eye-socket, dripping down its chin. Like it cried.

Drip

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But the light brown hair… and the voice… and the remaining, living eye… was without doubt Itsuki's. His Itsuki's.

"I-Itsuki…? Wh-what happened…why are y-you looking like that?" He noticed that his voice sounded awfully small and frightened. But he couldn't help it. The stuttering was caused by his clattering teeth. When had it become so cold?

The disfigured body took a heavy step towards Kyon, making the dead eye twitch dangerously on its string. Emotion filled the other eye, raging between pained, exhausted, accusing and betrayed.

"Don't you remember?" The-thing-that-was-Itsuki asked, sounding surprised. "You are the one who made me look like this, Kyon. It's your fault." It reached out with a hand that was missing a finger, maybe seeking comfort, maybe trying to strangle.

'My fault.'

Kyon stumbled back, keeping the distance between them. The clock was going murderously slow, each tick-tock could be its last.

He heard the remaining glass under his feet crack, but didn't feel the sting. Only the warm blood bubbling forth once again. "How…how could it b-be my fault?" He asked, horrified because he already knew the answer.

Itsuki blinked and began to drag his feet towards Kyon. "You could've stopped Miss Suzumyia." 'Even now, he calls her Miss Suzumyia.' The thought shot through the humans mind. "I would not have to fight monsters if she did not make them. You could've stopped her. It's your fault." The Esper cocked his head to the side, like a curious child, making viscous saliva pour through the gap between his cheekbone and jaw, and the grin never left his mutilated face. "Don't you understand Kyon?" The dead eye jumped and jiggled on the thin piece of tissue, like a malfunctioning yo-yo, as the male continued the slow progress through the living room.

Kyon was stuck. Literally stuck. An invisible wall, as sturdy and unforgiving as the thickest cement, had appeared behind him and kept him from backing away from the incoming remnants of his boyfriend. He felt empty and light-headed.

Tick

Tock

Itsuki lifted the other butchered hand and pointed accusingly at Kyon with his ring-finger, since all the other digits, except for the thumb, had been ripped off. The white fragments of bone still poked oddly through the pink flesh. "Why did you do this Kyon? I love you. Why did you kill me?"

"I-I haven't… I wouldn't ever… kill you." Kyon breathed, his own eyes still painfully locked on the monsters face. His legs felt like spaghetti and he absentmindedly heard his counterpart in the mirror whisper: (You were whole. You've begun to break. I told you, but you didn't listen heeheehe) No worry or concern. No sympathy. The only thing the voice held now was malice and sadistic glee, and it giggled as Itsuki slowly made his way across the room.

"But you have my blood on your hands."

The statement sent Kyon into an ice-cold shock. He lifted his hand (it felt so heavy) to his eyes and saw the shining red substance coat his fingers. He had Itsuki's blood on his hands.

Drip

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Tick

Tock

"No… no I never meant… you shouldn't…" Kyon grasped in thin air after the words that elusively escaped to be said, the words that never came because it was his fault and he knew it. He felt sick.

In front of him, Itsuki continued to smile as he walked closer. The room seemed to shrink as the reeking figure closed the distance between them faster than Kyon expected.

Suddenly the moving body stopped, only about a meter away from the shaking male. Its breath was raspy and uneven; it sounded almost like the rusty old lawn-mover that the landlord used to trim the grass sometimes.

"I love you." Itsuki continued to grin and his healthy eye held Kyon responsible for his misery.

Tick

-

The clock suddenly (finally) stopped running and died without a sound.

The body in front of Kyon fell to the floor in a heap with a disgusting, wet and heavy sound. The eye snapped off its sliver of flesh and rolled and wobbled over to lie at Kyon's feet, where the hazel iris blindly stared up at him.

"It's your fault." The last dying whisper escaped Itsuki's lips with a sight as he died, still grinning madly.

Kyon fell to his knees as they promptly gave out beneath him, nearly squashing the eyeball, and he felt the uninvited hot tears gather in his eyes. "I didn't… didn't mean to… never thought… it's my fault. I'm sorry. So sorry."

He'd killed the one he loved. Killed him and stood by his side as he died without lifting a finger. Watched him turn into a monstrosity without doing anything to prevent it. (I told you, didn't I? You didn't listen eheeheehe…) The mirrors giggles and jibes cut just as deep as its shards of glass in his feet, and the first tears began to fall.

Drip

Drop

"Sorry, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me; I'm sorry, so sorry…" Kyon sobbed uncontrollably, the sharp intakes of breath wrecked his frame. He couldn't stop his incoherent ramblings, he was lost and overtaken by guilt. "It's my fault (your fault) and I'm sorry…"

(You killed him Kyon, aren't you happy? Killed him and watched him die. I'm happy, and I'm you so you should also be happy. Why don't you smile Kyon? Smile for little old me. Hahahaha!) And like the mirror in his bathroom splattered with blood, Kyon's heart shattered.

The tears wouldn't stop flowing. And he screamed.

"KYON!"

He woke with a start, fighting desperately against the hands that held him still, until he heard a voice in his ear.

"Kyon, it's okay, I'm here. It's okay, you're safe,it was just a dream…just a dream…" It continued to saying soothing words, meaningless drabbles, and eventually Kyon stopped struggling and relaxed somewhat into the firm embrace. He was drenched in sweat, his eyes still leaking hot merciless tears. It was dark all around him.

"Kyon…are you alright?" Itsuki's voice, a familiar tone and the well-know scent of the Esper.

And shaking as a leaf, Kyon turned to see if dream and reality really was two separate entities. After letting the sight sink in, he collapsed with a relived, albeit a bit shaky, sight onto a warm chest.

"Kyon?"

The Esper looked normal. Just as he had this morning, this afternoon and this evening.

He wasn't butchered, he wasn't rotting and both his eyes were still safe in their sockets.

And normal meant that he was fine, and that in turn meant that he was not dead.

'Not dead, not dead, not dead, not…'

"Kyon!" Itsuki sounded worried and he shook the dazed Kyon to wake him properly out of his stupor.

Kyon locked his eyes with a hazelnut colored pair, and frowned. Now that the initial fear and grief, alongside with shock and panic, had subsided, embarrassment and self-loathing took over. How could a dream affect him so badly? It's was just plain stupid. "I'm fine." He muttered, eyes downcast. Stupid Esper, looking at him like that…

Itsuki sighted, and he knew instinctively what went on in Kyon's head. "Tell me what it was about. It'll feel better. I promise." He didn't let go when Kyon tried to pull away, but didn't pull him closer either. It would only cause him pain, he knew from earlier experiences.

In his newly awakened state, feelings got mixed and Kyon suddenly became angry. At himself for acting like a child, and at Itsuki for pressing matters. "Shut up, I just want to sleep. Will you let go already?!" He tried yet again to turn around, but failed. "It was just a stupid dream!"

"You screamed Kyon. I have the right to get worried when your screams aren't caused by me." Itsuki smirked as he felt, rather than saw, the heat radiating off his lovers cheeks at the implication. He shifted back to serious-mode. "Tell me. Please Kyon, you're still shaking."

He didn't want to. Kyon had already dreamt through the horrid fantasy and he didn't want to re-live it again. "It doesn't matter, it-"

"It matters to me."

"… You… you kinda… died. And I was… I couldn't help you…and I…" Kyon stumbled over his tongue, not knowing how to put the still vivid experience into words. He still felt his eyes burn, but willed the tears away, and refused to let his breath hitch. "You died." 'Were butchered' "And I was there…" 'Doing nothing' "In our apartment, here, and it was covered in blood… and you said…" 'And you were right' "And the mirror…you know what? It was just a dream! It's not like it was for real!" 'But it felt like it.'

Itsuki's grip hardened a fraction. "What did I say that was so horrible Kyon? Have I done something wrong?"

"No! Or… whatever, it was just… you said… I-" The human was cut short as he was pressed hard against a warm, firm body. He spluttered and tried to break free, but his mind was split into two parties, waging war against each other. One wanted to get off Itsuki, go to sleep and pretend that this never happened, and the other (the winning party from the looks of it) wanted to do nothing more than to stay right where he was. Before he knew it, he was spilling his guts. "You said…that it was my fault that you died."

Kyon took the shocked silence as a sign to continue.

"And I can't blame you. If I had…y'know… hooked up with Haruhi, you wouldn't be fighting Blue Giants all the time, or so I think, and you wouldn't have to risk you life to save the world from something no-one knows about." Kyon shifted awkwardly. Why did this happen in the first place? He decided that he should shut up now. He found the complete silence from his lover a bit unnerving.

"… So you think I…would rather see you… with Haruhi?" Itsuki glanced down to the face buried in his chest. He smiled affectionately and brought Kyon's blushing and irritated face up to his, nose to nose. "Fighting those Giants is a small price to pay."

"For what?" Kyon knew, felt it in his stomach, that he would regret that question.

"For being with you." The Esper simply said. And allowed himself to fall back to land on the mattress with a small bounce, bringing Kyon down with him. He quickly pulled up the now cool covers and wrapped them around Kyon and himself. He momentarily relished in the slight gasp and the reflexively clinging hands, but didn't push it further. This was not a good night to do so.

Grunting in disapproval, but staying where he was, Kyon settled his head in the crook of Itsuki's neck. "That was so cheesy…"

"But it's true."

"…Whatever."

"Do you feel better now?" A hand with long fingers played in dark brown hair.

"…Yeah. Go to sleep."

"Alright. I love you."

"…I love you too. Now shut up, or I'll give you more to worry about than bad dreams." Kyon said, with a finality in his voice that ended the discussion.

He wouldn't remember much of the dream when he woke up anyway.

Just to make sure: Kyon is a bit OOC because it was a dream folks. Just checking so you know.

I get so happy when people review, and I consider doing one for Itsuki too... or should I keep it as a one-shot? Tell me, and I might obey your commands. Hugs 'n kisses. Review!