Disclaimer: I do not own Yu Yu Hakusho

Writer's Comment: I wrote this story on a weird idea of skimming the line between a deep friendship story and a Yaoi. If I did it right then it can be taken as either or so either you have a dirty little mind (not my fault) or you don't (entirely your fault). So if you want to flame make sure you aren't taking something for what it's not.

Touch.

If asked what the word meant Yusuke Urameshi would have automatically rattled off a list of things involving either the uncomfortable, such as hugs, or perverted. His teenage mind would have immediately associated it with grabbing various girlish body parts and the inevitable smack that would ensue from such behavior. It was not a subject he felt needed to be talked about.

Yusuke did not think of himself as a touchy person, not in the conventional sense. He had an exuberance for life that at times bubbled over. Sure that brand of bubbling could at times include knocking someone's teeth into the back of their throat but it was just a part. Most of the time it was a simple reaffirmation of life, the smacks and blows he traded with his friends. It was a necessary component of every day.

He and Kuwabara understood that without having to actually vocalize it. They did it with an air of affection that only other guys would have understood. Anyone who watched their playing around would've said it was a little to rough, that they were beating on each other. Of course it was rough, that was how things worked between them. It was much easier to just slug each other than bother with saying what did not need to be said.

That they had made a game of including Hiei was only another aspect of their brand of touchy. Getting to actually shove the small demon was a well thought out risk, smacking him on the back completely calculated. So what if Hiei glared at them. There was a fine line they walked between his "I am tolerating you" and his "I will end you" attitudes that they found to be an undeniable challenge.

If he wanted to Hiei was more than capable of moving out of the way. He allowed the occasional score with little more than a glare. Again not necessary to use words because it was something they all got.

The game changed slightly when including Kurama in their horseplay. While there were times the demon fox would allow a slug across the shoulder or even a friendly bump most of the time he came into their space not the other way around. There was a certain sense of inclusion when the red head allowed the interaction, a certain tilt of his lips that spoke volumes of his understanding of the game they were playing that turned it into something even more concrete and appealing. That in itself made it both a common happening but also in an odd way a rare treat.

Of all of them Kurama could be described as the touchiest of their group though his touch was of a variety that brought comfort as well as a sense of affection. His touch was not as limited as their brand, it did not carry with it the violence they seemed to need to express. He was just as deadly as them in a fight but outside of one he carried a strangely magnetic patience and kindness.

They all understood the difference in his interaction with them. They were all fiercely protective of him because of it.

The depths of this protectiveness had been made glaring apparent to Yusuke as recently as a few weeks prior. He was having more trouble coming to terms with this knowledge then with anything else he had ever had to think through in his life.

That he would die for his friends was not a thought he had to be conciously aware of, it was a deeply ingrained fact that defined his being. It was easy for him, that willingness to sacrifice everything. He knew the others of his team felt the same way, that the sacrifice was something they might entertain for the good of the others. If anything certain events such as the Dark Tournament had proven that.

He had never entertained the idea of any other type of sacrifice. It had never occurred to him that there even existed any other concept of it except death. Sacrifice was an absolute, it was the end result and there was no in between.

It was the same with loss. It was an absolute. You had something and in time it slipped away, it vanished. It might hurt but loss just like sacrifice was an absolute. One of those things where it could only be seen in one way or the other, there was no grey to the concepts.

Before three weeks ago that had been his silent truths, an unshakable set of beliefs that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. In knowing those things the world had a solid feel to it, a well grounded fact that allowed him to move through life without the need to question much of anything at all.

Now he knew differently, his world was no longer so solid. Sacrifice, death, loss, among other beliefs had become warped and impossible to fully manage without real effort on his part.

Strangely enough he found himself almost as talented as Kurama in keeping his inner instability to himself. He had to in order to maintain the outward appearance of normal. If the others knew just how messed up he had become they might start to question him and there were definitely things he did not want to discuss. Certain things were to private even to share with Keiko who was shockingly fooled by his performance.

So he managed to shove those disturbing thoughts into the darker corners of his mind. He managed to pretend around the others that nothing phased him. He managed to fool them all, to ignore the fact that he was being eaten away inside bit by bit.

It was a strain he had never bothered with before, this restraining hold on his emotions. Holding back like this was not in his nature. Before he had anger to cover anything that may have touched on this state of mind. A welcome rage that swept away the need for thinking that in its own way was comforting. It sealed him away from the full impact of anything emotional.

That was exactly what he lacked the ability to manifest against this newest storm of basic chaos inside of him. It was entirely emotional and that was something he was the least equipped to deal with. Real rage was no longer so readily available to him. When he did manage it there was no longer that familiar, comforting sense of insulation.

It was no longer singular. Rage mixed with confusion, layered with helplessness. It swirled with desparate needs that forced out insecurities he had never been aware of before to surface. All of it left him in an instant without warning, vulnerable to the nearest source of pressure. He hated that more than anything else, that sense of being defenseless.

It shouldn't matter.

That's what he told himself over and over again.

When those warring emotions slammed into him the moment he ripped himself from the nightmares, soaking with sweat and clenching his teeth against the screams tearing at his throat.

It shouldn't matter.

When he found he was reaching for someone he both needed to be there and wanted more then anything to not feel that need for.

It shouldn't matter.

That he was driven from his bed nightly. One of those new desparate needs propelling him out into the early mornings when the air was at its coldest. It soothed him somewhat, walking the streets at a time that it felt so intensely like he was all that existed. It cleared his head of everything even the thought of where he was heading and why.

Maybe it was because at that point he had given into the need, no longer wondering about what it meant. Only knowing there would be some kind of relief from the churning inside of him once he got to his destination.

Every night for three weeks he had followed this path, let himself give in because in the end it really wasn't a choice. Every night until tonight. A sudden, mind blowing thought stopping him dead in his tracks in the middle of the park.

What if I'm making this worse...for both of us?

It was enough for him to seek out the nearest bench, uncertain if he could remain standing past the thought. He leaned forward, putting his head in his hands and stared at the ground beneath his feet.

What if he was making it worse? What if his nightly visits were unwanted, even resented?

He could see how that was a possibility. His presence even for as brief as he kept it could be seen as a reminder of what had happened.

How would he know?

They had yet to talk about it, never hinted at anything being less than normal between them. Around the others they both seemed dead set on continuing to keep things as they had been. He had to admit around them the signs were small that he picked up on, so small that they could have been easily attributed to something else.

A silence that lasted a little to long. A movement halted before it had fully been realized. An intensity of alertness that was to direct for the situation.

All small signs but he could identify them and it tore at him each time he forced himself not to react to them.

This is insane...

He should go back home. He should go crawl into his bed and suffer through another sleepless night without finishing this usual trek. He should find some way, though it felt entirely impossible, to let this nightmare go.

He remained on the bench, staring at the ground.

The sound of light footsteps approaching did not surprise him. Somehow he had known if he did not show up in a certain time frame the other person would come looking for him, driven by the same undeniable, desparate need for assurance.

"Yusuke?"

It was amazingly deceptive, the soft voice that spoke his name. It was at odds with the person it belonged to though it was a perfect expression of who this person was internally. It was also the most soothing sound for him. It was a steady, real sound. This voice was one that he needed to hear.

He could not help himself.

He dropped his hands, raising his head to look into the dark pools of Kurama's eyes.