20. The road home

This is my first ever chaptered fanfic and, quite frankly, I must say I am slightly proud of myself. I must sincerely thank my sister here as she was the one who told me what I was writing earlier was moving too fast. Along with her help, I then decided to make this a chaptered fic. It's sort of odd though. As it is, I am the first English, chaptered fanfiction author.

Disclaimer: I only own my very own German copy of Kaine, but I am neither the author nor the artist of the series; I bow before Kaori Yuki in that honor. However, I would very much like to present this, neatly wrapped in a bow, of course, as my tribute to one of my absolute favorite couples (Die and Kaine) and one shot (Kaine). I have made no money off this story and that is fine by me.

Do enjoy and, please, leave me a lovely review when you have finished. Without further ado, your story:

Chapter 1: Roads

Roads. They say life is like paths and each one has its different stones to stumble over and its replenishing springs. You could say that I believed there were roads. But none of the roads I believed in were abstract; rather they were built of asphalt so they could withstand the pressures of the metal dragons we drive. I take one home every day I leave school, so I know they exist.

I bet if I looked up, and reached my hand out to part the curtain, then I'd be likely to spot one; not that that's a fair bet, I already know I'm right about that. As it is, right now my hand is preoccupied in my pants, driving my stick shift into an irrevocable pleasure; my thumb running firmly against the drawn back foreskin and my index finger resting on the throbbing head. Biting my lip in frustration, I cannot help but realize that my own saliva hardly would substitute for his mouth. Gently tracing my hand around myself, I squeeze the hardened flesh and gasp at the pressure building in the back.

Sliding my finger to the base, I press upon the area that is causing my stomach to turn and my heart to race. The sensitive skin there takes nicely to the smooth circles that I rub against it. Pulling my hand away, I spit once more into my palm and easily bathe myself again. Tilting my head back as my spine arches and my hair cascades over my shoulders, I cry out at the warm feeling as I push myself into my hand.

It's a bit twisted, yes, but it's absolutely normal (and either way my life has taken an automatic turn for twisted). Most guys would want a woman to stroke him to climax, but I'm dreaming of another man. It's already abnormal realizing I'm pumping myself, but another man!? And it can't possibly be any better that he's my best friend. But my other hand is curled tightly into the jacket he left at my place and I'm wishing he were the one my lips were pressed against.

The whole concept of roads in life seemed silly to me since I had heard it. I didn't quite understand why someone would want to make tangible something as phantom-like as life. It was much better to leave it to interpretation and let it flow, not to unlike water, into a capsule and assume a new shape each day. I'm a lyricist. Of course, I wanted this artistic freedom.

But more recently I've finally come to understand what my teachers meant when they spouted that crap at me (actually, I suppose it's an understanding as new as a freshly cut wound… bleeding from my open heart). I don't know why I chose to get on that bus today from school. Obviously, I had no business there and I was at a lack of reason as to why I felt the need to get on. I just wasn't ready to go home and I had an awful itch that inspired me to explore somewhere new.

So I followed Sin onto that damned bus and surprised him when I plopped down onto the seat next to him. He nearly shrieked when I suddenly rubbed against his arm and in a high voice asked him why he had been avoiding me. I smiled deviously and groped him between the legs. He jumped out of that seat to crawl into a stance upon it, pressing himself to the wall of the bus as far away from me as physically possible.

He relaxed though when he realized that it was me and sunk back down into his seat, waving off concerned comments from others. Smiling at me, he received me well despite my taunts and asked where I was going. I told him I just felt like exploring with a small shrug and turned towards him, my arm on the back of the seat, to ask excitedly if he knew of any music stores around. He shrugged and told me that I already knew the ones he knew.

But it didn't really matter as the bus engine roared to life. I was more interested at the moment in hanging out with Sin as the bus drove him home. We chatted about things of no consequence like physics and how much homework our teachers could dish out. Finally though, he had to go and he told me to have fun with exploring downtown. I waved him off and sank backwards into the seat.

I spaced out and watched the roads pass by as the bus kept driving onward. It wasn't until the driver rudely harassed me to get off his bus at his last stop that I left. The evening air had gotten colder by then and somehow I had been unfortunate enough to idiotically leave my jacket at home just because my mother had hassled me about it earlier. I guess she really won in the end, and I hoped she was fuckin' happy as I rubbed uselessly at my shivering arms.

Observing the area around me, I turned and started to head back from where I had come from when something caught my eye. I stared at the neon stripper on her pole and decided that it wouldn't actually kill me to keep going further. My parents wouldn't much mind if I never came home and I didn't really have anyone to report to, so if I didn't get enough sleep it was my own fault.

Strolling off in the direction of the gentleman's club, I shoved my hands into my pockets and watched as a thin trail of my breath faded on the air. I was letting my gaze sweep across the street, but I wasn't much fascinated in the little, fancy cafés and the business buildings. Although… a café could probably be good for warmth, but I hardly wanted to sit and chat politely. Plus, the only money I had in my pocket would probably be put to better use in a music store anyway.

And due to my lack of concentration, my shoulder collided harshly with another's. I winced at the impact and turned around to apologize.

'Sorry,' I quickly muttered with a nod towards the pedestrian a little shorter than me; after all, my shoulder had clashed against his.

'No, pardon me, sir.' The words oozed like honey from his lips and I turned away from him to continue my trail.

At first it didn't even occur to me who the red-head I ran into was. He never dressed like that before, preferring to even keep his school uniform uptight and clean. Throughout most of high school he kept himself in check— never did drugs, had alcohol but never a hangover, did his work at home and school, and was always well-mannered. His red hair had been cropped shorter and came off straighter for the first two years I knew him. Only last year had he actually started growing it out and had it started taking on its natural wavy feel.

But I hadn't seen him for at least five, going on six, months now. After his mother's death, he visited once before he quit school and then just disappeared, dropping out of existence like the light that vanishes when someone pulls the plug. For a while I thought he was a phantom that I had dreamt up, so I ended up having to know he existed. I went to his house and he wasn't there— nothing was. So he had become an immortalized deity in my mind for all his mysteriousness and his beauty.

I thought about him all the time, but recently it was getting harder and harder to do so— and I wish I didn't mean that statement the way it could be taken. Every fluttering heart beat in my chest at the mere remembrance of his face sent pulses of heat to my pelvic. It made me sick every time I felt myself stiffen in my jeans and I always refrained from actually giving into the thoughts. I would close my eyes and tell myself it was a figment of my imagination, then find something to distract my mind with. Music always seemed to be a good one… except when the particular song made me think of him.

Sure, I had no problems with groping a friend or teasing them as I did Sin. I didn't even have a problem snatching their lips up in a passionate dance of heat as I had done before with Kaine. But it was never anything more than that. The sanctity of sex was something entirely different and I was tired of waking up in a cold sweat as Kaine yet again undressed before my eyes. These days I was getting less sleep than a body should have to handle…

Turning around quickly, I recalled suddenly where I had seen those stunning eyes before. Kaine! Suddenly turning on my heel, I spun around and extended my arm out to catch the other man's arm. If it turned out to not be him, then all it required was another apology for the mistaken identity and then I'd be off on my way. But if it was… I just had to know!

Spinning him around to face me, his hair billowed out like a blossoming flower before falling over those beautiful irises. He shook the wavy, scarlet lengths out of his eyes and smiled a cat-like grin that dazzled my imagination; never before had I seen him smile so sensuously, so deviously. Running a hand to move a thick strand behind his ear, he moved close against me, his fingers running over my temple as his pelvic floated only inches from mine, and spoke in a silky whisper, 'How can I—?'

His hand suddenly stopped its smooth circle against my chest as our eyes connected. A flash of fear ran through his wild eyes as he tried to pull out of my grip. He barely had parted from me for a second before my hand had wrapped around his elbow again. I pulled his cool body, chilled from the night air, against me to keep him from fleeing and he pushed nails sharply against my chest in struggle.

But for all his struggling, I got a better look at him. His tight, leather shorts barely ran under his ass and I was sure if he bent over I would get to see that well. The dark green tank he wore stopped at his chest while black suspenders travelled down to the hips of his shorts. He had thigh-high fishnet stockings ending in a thick, black lace that stood out under tall boots. His left hand was covered in silver bangles and his right had a gold band around his third finger that looked suspiciously like a wedding band. In his pocket, a gold chain peaked out.

'Let… go.' He hissed angrily and the bottom of his shoe slammed over top of my foot. I gasped in pain and pulled my foot away as soon as possible. He smiled spitefully at me, 'You have two feet, Die.'

His boot connected over my other foot and I yelled out as I pushed him against the window of the building behind us. I leaned into him and kept his wrists pinned beside him. He spit on my face and I made a sound of disgust as I rubbed it off on the corner of my sleeve.

'What was that?!'

'My greeting.' He smirked, 'Now let me go and I'll be on my way. I have work to do, you know.'

'In that?'

'Yes, in this,' he spoke sourly. 'Let me go, Die, or I will knee you in a very sensitive place.'

I let his wrists go and moved back about half a step. He looked irked that I hadn't given him much room to move and he hinted for me to move back farther. I shook my head in astonishment at the drastic change in his character, 'Where have you been? I haven't seen you in months! I went to your job at the beautician—'

'I quit. They started paying me better here, so I moved closer in order to get to work better.' He crossed his arms and pressed his back against the window. I wondered if he cared that the people inside the building were probably getting a good shot of his ass.

Pulling him gently away from the window, he jerked his arm away from my slightest touch. I pointed over to a bench and he shook his head as he started to walk away. I followed, 'Why? You live within a forty-five minute walk from me. This place would be out of your way anyway—'

'Die!' He turned around suddenly to face me and I had to stop as his face remained an inch from mine. I could feel the old familiar stir of my stomach, but I refused to budge. He ran a hand through his hair and laughed hollowly as he directed his gaze away from me. Looking back towards me, he placed his hands on my shoulders, 'I have work to do now. I can't have you following me around as I do so. Please. Just go home and act like you haven't seen me.'

An anger rose to my cheeks and I knocked his hands away from me, 'How can I act like I haven't seen you?! I haven't seen you these last five months! It's mind-boggling that you'd even think that I could just pretend I didn't just run into you! You were the one who disappeared from my life, you were the one who vanished without a goodbye, you were—'

His hand connected across my face and curled into a ball beside his body, 'I didn't chose to leave, you bastard! I couldn't afford the stupid place anymore! I'm working two part time jobs right now to just remotely pay for the rent in my new place and it's not even much of one!'

Olive eyes examined the landscape around us and he looked back at me unhappily, 'Look, Die, I really need the money from this job. You need to go home and go to sleep or something. After all, today's a Thursday and you have school tomorrow—'

'I'm not leaving.'

His eyes searched my face warily, and he sighed in disappointment, 'How much do I have to pay you to leave?'

'Pay me… to… leave? How dare you?! You think you can just pay me to get lost, Kaine? Is that it?!'

'Die, hush. I don't have all night to stay with you—'

'I'm not leaving.' My arms crossed over my chest as I stared him straight in the eyes, determination setting into my stomach like a weighed bag of sand; it would explain why my mouth felt dry. Slowly those olive eyes started to soften in sadness and he sighed as he shook his head.

'Come on.' Kaine placed his arm over mine, 'I suppose I could at least give you a few hours. But you owe me for the time your making me miss.'

'Done.' I smiled, content that I had gotten my way with the young man.

'I don't come cheap.' Kaine smirked, deceitfully; something dark underlining that smile.

And that was the start of it all… That was the start of my own private road to life.