A/N: I have no idea what gave me the idea to do a sequel but hey! Here it is.
Warnings: Angst
Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters.
When All That Matters is December
A sequel to The Room He Won't Leave
Seconds like minutes. Minutes like hours. Hours like days. Days like weeks. Weeks like months. Months like years. And none of that seems to matter when all you care about is December. December 18th, 2000. When all you are about is one month out of the year, every other moment in your life that doesn't occur in that month is like….a waste. A waste of life. A waste of time. When there is no more wine, and there is no more food and though you've shed a million tears you still have more to give…when it's December and you have nothing left to life for but somehow you're still breathing. The seconds like minutes. The minutes like hours. The hours like days. The days like weeks. The weeks like months. And the months like years. It's hell when it's not December. But it was his worst nightmare when it wasn't.
When all that matters is December, January through November can almost kill a person. When one day out of one month out of twelve is all you live for, you know you have nothing left. He knew he had nothing left. But he held on. Because what if he left? Who would be there to care? Who would be left to mourn? Nobody. So with all that was left, he lived. It wasn't much. Lacking in food, human contact 364 days out of the year, and the will to breathe…well…they say it's a wonder he made it so long. We always said that at his funeral, we'd try and joke about his love and hate for December. But jokes are jokes and when you live in an abandoned apartment above the frozen streets of Moscow, Russia who is there to mourn you? All he cared about was December. December 18th, 2001.
His death was fitting. Timely. Perfect. As perfect as a death could get. It happened in December. The only month he cared about. One last go. He had one last chance to sit in that room, to mourn in total silence the loss of the only person who ever was anything to him. And even when after all those years it was finally just him, sitting in that chair in that room, he didn't care. As long as there was one person left on earth to mourn Boris Kuznetsov's death, nobody else mattered. As long as he was alive, maybe not completely but enough to breathe, he would mourn. He would respect. One last time. He knew he was reaching his end. At least, we figured it was the obvious truth. December 18th, 2002.
It was the following day that we found him. Slouched ever so slightly in that chair he never left, dead center in the room he would never leave. Paler that pale, lips blue. His soul long gone. Who needs a soul when your lover is gone and all you have left to care for is December?
Sergei and I undid the tradition. Picking him up from his chair, at that moment I almost thought I saw two shadows standing in the middle of the room, arms around each other. Maybe I've gone crazy, but I think we have no reason to cry. After all these years. After all the tears that would not stop, the mourning that never ended….he could finally leave that chair and that room that had haunted and bound him for so long.
Closing the door to the apartment above the frozen streets of Moscow, Russia, I was left with mixed feelings.
I'm sad that he's gone. That he's left us just as Boris did. But…I'm so very happy that we no longer need to fear. He will be just fine now. In his heaven with Boris. Together forever. It may have took a few years of separation, but separated they would no longer be. Now that he has more to care about that December.
Yuriy Ivanov
1976-2002
Mos.,Russ.
Friend. Lover. Beyblader.
The 26 year old Russian died of starvation and severe mental illness.
Time of death is unknown but his body was discovered at 4:23 PM
Written on his tombstone, only feet from his life mates, was a message to all who had been there. To all who had worried. And to those who had dared to cry for him.
Smile and know that there is no real reason to may be gone, but he is never forgotten.
Back in the arms of his long lost love,
He is happy.
For now he has back the one thing he cared about
More than Decembers.
May Yuriy and Boris rest in peace.
/END\
A/N: well that was a big bucket of suck xP please read and review .
