Okay, well here is my attempt at getting back into writing Beyblade fanfiction. I'm aware that I still have two stories that I need to finish, but I got this little bout of inspiration while listening to Forever by Papa Roach, so I wrote this one-shot in hopes of getting some more inspiration for my other fics. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade or any of the characters. This was written purely for my entertainment, and I make no profit from it.

One Last Kiss

The room was dark. The only source of light was the glowing end of a cigarette that hung from limp fingers. He was spread out haphazardly on the sofa. His scarlet eyes stared blankly up at the patterned ceiling, while the arm with the cigarette hung over the edge of the couch, and tilted precariously towards the rug. An empty bottle of alcohol was lying on its side atop the deep wooden coffee table. He was absently aware of the water running in the shower just down the hall. He lifted his arm and took a long drag from the cigarette before he tapped it against the ashtray on the table. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to think of her name. He'd met her at the club. He'd brought her home. He'd slept with her… but for the life of him he couldn't remember the woman's name. He tapped the cigarette again as he realized how much he didn't care whether he remembered the name or not. He wasn't planning on seeing her again. She was the same as the woman he'd been with the night before, and the same as the one he'd no doubt be with the next night. They were all nameless, faceless, uninteresting lays. No commitment. Just release.

He wasn't intentionally cold. He just knew it would do no good to ask their names, because only one ever touched his lips. There faces didn't matter, because they were never the one he pictured. They were distractions. His entire life had taken on that job. He moved through life from one distraction to another, just so he wouldn't have to think about him. How many months ago had it been since he'd gone? Too many to forgive him, but not enough to forget him. The water had shut off, and footsteps sounded down the hall. They padded closer until they were in the living room. The steps were light, like his, but not as graceful. He tilted his head disinterestedly as the woman stopped next to the couch. Her hair was shoulder length and straight, like his always was after a shower, but hers' was the wrong shade of red. It was too dark, and had too much brown. Her eyes were green; nowhere close to the precious blue that he imagined. No, she was nothing at all like him.

She leaned over his prone form with what he assumed was supposed to be a seductive smile. He just raised a blue brow. She wasn't dissuaded. The woman leaned down and placed a slow kiss to his neck, and then slowly began working her way up to his lips. As her lips hovered over his she whispered his name. She had a musical voice, but after hearing his name whispered from his lips, everything else might as well have been grating sandpaper. He scowled and pushed her away from him. "Leave."

The woman started at him, dumbstruck. "Excuse me?"

He sent her a bored look. "I said leave."

Her lips moved but no sound escaped. He didn't spare her a second glance as he swung himself into a sitting position. He put out the useless cigarette, stood from the sofa, and sauntered off, out of the room. He could hear her cussing his back all the way down the hallway. He smirked. The bedroom door was already cracked so he just reached out and knocked it the rest of the way open with his knuckles. Once inside he kicked it shut. The room was as dark as the living room had been. He'd always preferred the dark. In the distance he heard his front door being slammed. He fell to the bed with a heavy breath. His thoughts were in more turmoil than usual. Maybe he should have kept her a little longer, for another round, but somehow he didn't think that would have mattered. In the end, none of it matter. He always ended up in the same place with the same thoughts plaguing his restless mind.

He always wondered about him. The thoughts were maddening. That day still haunted him. He thought, with time, that the memories would fade, and that the feelings would diminish. He had been wrong. Everything about that day, every moment, every word, and every touch was as clear in his mind as glass. A bitter smile flittered over his features, but it only lasted for a second. The memories he could live with, but the feelings… the feelings were what suffocated him. They hadn't diminished in time. If anything they'd grown stronger, and more demanding. He couldn't bare the feelings, but he wasn't strong enough to release them either. The thought of living without those emotions was an even more buckling thought than living his life with them.

He groaned and blinked open his eyes. The room was lighter than it had been a moment ago. He turned his head to look for the source of the light so that he could block it out. He was surprised when he saw the thin rays of sunlight creeping through the curtains. He didn't remember falling asleep. Slowly he pushed himself up onto his elbows and scanned the room. It was empty… like it always was. He thought that hope had died already. He wished desperately that it would. It made mornings even more hellish than they usually were. He finally managed to pull himself from the bed. He walked over and grabbed a pair of loose pants. He slid them on over his boxers and then walked from the bedroom. He stopped at the kitchen. He wasn't willing to begin the day if he hadn't had coffee. The dark liquid did little to ease the pain of loss, but was more than adequate to rid the fog of his hangover.

He leaned against the counter and sipped at the drink while his thoughts took over. They inevitably ended up back on him. He sat the empty mug in the sink and walked out of the kitchen. He headed towards the living room, but he stopped cold as he got to the doorway. At first he thought it was the woman from the previous night, but he knew it wasn't true. There was only one person with that relaxed stance that somehow just screamed self-confidence. There was only one person with hair that color, and eyes that blue. There was only one person who could give him that crooked smile that made him burn. "Tala…" his voice sounded hoarse, even to his own ears.

The smile on that perfect face widened ever so slightly as the redhead continued to lean against the couch. "Miss me, Kai?" he taunted.

Words escaped him. He forced his legs to move and took a few hesitant steps towards his best friend, his lover. He didn't know how it was possible. Tala was gone. "How?"

The Russian just continued with his wolfish grin. His lanky body pushed away from the support of the sofa and he moved forward with the ever confident stride. He stopped in front of the shorter male. Tala dipped his head and pressed his cool lips against the heated flesh of his boyfriend. The kiss was intense, passionate, and desperate. Tala held the other close to his cold body and relished in the heat the other put off. His tongue flicked out against his lover's, and his teeth caught Kai's lower lip. It seemed like an eternity, but it ended far too soon for both of them. The shorter Russian looked up at his taller lover and panted out his question again. "How?"

This time Tala's expression was tinted with sadness. His cool hand reached up and cupped the flushed face in his palm. "One last kiss, love."

Kai's eyes shot open. His breathing was rapid and his body had a thin sheet of sweat covering it. He sat up and looked around. His eyes were desperate, but they fell on nothing but emptiness. He shot to his feet and fled the bedroom. He came to a stop in the empty living. His entire body trembled with emotion. Tala wasn't there. Slowly Kai walked over to the bookshelf. He stopped in front of it and felt his heart shatter. The picture was there, as it had been for the past few months. He reached his hand out and brushed it over the image. The flowers had been specifically picked, and lovingly placed, but nothing could soften the cold stone in the picture. Kai read over the words, wishing things were different.

Tala Valkov

Forever Loved

Taken Too Young

1988-2007

Well, I hope you enjoyed that. R&R.