Rated T for: Implied sex, slight offensive language, implied self-harm

Dim sunlight was just beginning to seep into the cluttered room. The blankets were now hot and uncomfortable, but they were not moved. Akashi laid there, right arm tucked underneath the cool pillow as droopy eyes stared off into the corner. He had been silent for a little while now, as he couldn't fall asleep. Not like this, anyway.

"Was I not good, Aka-chin?" Murasakibara was there next to him, resting on his side; his violet locks falling around his face. His voice was soft, but calm and hinted the smallest bit of worry. He had trouble sleeping as well. Though he tried, he couldn't help but stay silently awake, just intently watching Akashi lie there in his most vulnerable state.

He snapped back to reality, turning his head to look at the boy next to him. He trails his fingers down Murasakibara's arm and interlaces his fingers with his own. Their palms were slick with sweat, but Akashi squeezed his hand nevertheless.

"No, Atsushi, you were fine as always." As Murasakibara gazed into those mismatched eyes, he desperately wanted to believe him. A part of him did, because Akashi wasn't one to lie. There was just something there, something beneath the red and the gold. He knew Akashi was good and he knew Akashi was trying his best.

A weak hand slid out from underneath the pillow and reached over to brush the violet hair from Murasakibara's face. Akashi let his fingers linger, caressing his cheek and jawline. No words needed to be exchanged, as their physical interactions spoke louder than anything they could ever say. Somehow, they just knew and they just understood why things were the way they were.

Akashi sat up, leaning back on both hands pressed into the mattress. He was light headed, sore hips, but he forced himself to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. Elbows dug into pale thighs, hands massaging the crust out of tired eyes. The surface beneath him dipped as the other crawled over to him. Murasakibara left tender kisses on the ashen flesh of Akashi's back, tracing every hard line and poking bone.

"Do you really have to go now, Aka-chin?" The question only made it harder to stand up. Murasakibara watched him get dressed, shaky as he pulled on his underwear and a large tee shirt over his head. It wasn't until he was tying the drawstrings of his sweatpants that he answered.

"I must be home before my father wakes up." He had already stayed for too long this time, and he knew his father was an early riser. The taller laid back against the pillows, stopping himself from being any more intimate, which would cause him to go home even later. Akashi didn't look back before he slung his bag over his shoulder and left the house, making his way on foot.

"The Walk of Shame," most would call it. Akashi was only ashamed of himself for frequently staying at Murasakibara's house on school nights and leaving at an ungodly hour to avoid having to explain to his father. Akashi was ashamed of hiding, even when he knew the outcome telling the truth held.

The back door had been expertly left unlocked for when he snuck back inside, lightly stepping on his toes up to his master bedroom, avoiding every lavish decoration and fragile vase. His belongings were tossed to the floor followed by an exasperated sigh, rubbing his aching temples. He really had to stop doing this. It was not only taking a physical toll on him, but Akashi has never felt so emotionally drained.

Practice has become an uphill battle that he could just barely get through everyday, his grades were beginning to slip from his firm grasp, and even his motivation for playing the violin was diminishing. Despite all of it, he continued to push himself harder and harder to live up to his father's expectations and be the best. Anything less than that was seen as being a loser in his father's eyes; he just wanted to be good enough.

Akashi crawled underneath the silk sheets of his king-sized bed, the pain from his headache seeming to pool into the pillow beneath him. There was too much space, too much room in his bed for just him. Though it was comfortable, it only made him feel empty and lonely, longing for another body to occupy it. Murasakibara's bed was just enough for the both of them, but Akashi would rather fall asleep with him, the lack of space causing the two to lie closer together. It was almost an excuse for them to cuddle, because Akashi wasn't going to go outright and just ask.

The two hours of sleep he had left were not fulfilled with what was intended, because his mind would run and think and he would worry about things. That and the pain from his sore hips was entirely too distracting. Sleeping on his own had gradually become more and more difficult, as he felt truly at rest when in the arms of Murasakibara.

Since it was Saturday, Akashi's father granted him permission to "sleep in" until 8 a.m. That could be considered late for someone who naturally got up at 5:30 everyday, but lately the only rest that Akashi was getting was from brief midday naps and when he actually could at Murasakibara's house, but even then it was cut short. He was exhausted and tired of putting all of his effort into everyday, and it was becoming a challenge just to get up in the morning.

He shut the alarm clock off as soon as it sounded, hardly having the strength to push himself out of bed for the second time. His headache came rushing back to him all at once, making him stagger, but he placed his hand on the wall to brace himself. The broad staircase seemed longer as Akashi trudged down each step, slow but negligent. He found himself plopping down next to his father at the dining room table, posture slouched and an exhausted aura emanating off of him. He knew he should've presented himself much more formally, but his body was aching for a crash.

His father lowered the newspaper, folding it and setting it down on the table next to him. He had a head of striking red hair, similar to Akashi's. He even bore the same gold and crimson eyes, which examined his son and narrowed with suspicion. A cigarette was pulled from a near-empty white box with his teeth, cupping his hand over the butt as he held the flame of the lighter to burn it. With an inhalation, he removed the cigarette from his lips with his index and middle fingers, puffing out a cloud of smoke. Akashi hated when he smoked, that nasty tobacco smell and taste.

"Good morning! What can I get you two for breakfast?" The Akashi household chef stood before them, cheerful and constantly smiling as if she actually liked her job. She had to be given credit, because she made it quite convincing. Akashi's father tapped loose ash into the tray beside him.

"Spinach and feta omelette. I'll also have some bacon on the side, and don't burn it this time." She blinked, then nodded quickly.

"Oatmeal is fine, Rei," Akashi said, trying to get her to relax a little. The chef just hurried back to the kitchen. Intimidation ran in the family, he guessed. Things strangely felt tense as the two sat there in silence, and Akashi was unsure as to why he was anticipating a word from his father. He could tell there was something that needed to be said, but for some reason nothing would come out. His father continued to sit there and smoke, and Akashi realized that it was his attempt at remaining composed and refraining from getting angry. A yawn into the palm of his hand, and the muted moment was broken.

"Seijuro… care to explain why you're so tired this morning?" Akashi didn't say anything. Rather, he really couldn't say anything. Sobs were building up in the back of his throat, preventing proper speech.

"And do you care to explain why you've been sneaking in and out of the house, thinking no one would notice?" Another tap on the cigarette.

"You've been spending nights at that boy's house, haven't you? That freakishly tall, idiot boy?" He waited a moment before speaking again.

"You're having sex with him, aren't you?" Akashi jumped, looking up at his father.

"No, no I'm not." With the unevenness in his voice, he knew his denial wasn't believable.

"Don't you lie to me, Seijuro! I can smell it on you," he slammed his fist on the table, infuriated voice booming through every room of the estate.

"I will not tolerate fags underneath my roof. The Akashi family is highly respected and I will not be humiliated for having a gay son." Without another word from either of them, he leaned back. They sat through breakfast, eating and ultimately ignoring each other. The cigarette in his father's hand was already half of its original length, and it seemed like he would be needing another soon; Akashi refused to break out crying, not here, not now. He held it all back as he forced the warm oatmeal down his throat. He wouldn't show weakness in front of his father, he wouldn't dare. The amount of self-control it took to calmly stand up from the table, excuse himself, and casually walk upstairs was all he had left until he was safe between the walls of his bedroom.

Tears were streaming like a river now, unable to be contained. Turning to slam the door closed with his back, he slid down to the floor with his body pressed to the wood, hand cupped over his mouth to muffle the sound of his pained sobs. Shaky cries wracked through his entire body, eyes blinded by the overflow of water.

The world seemed to fold in on itself, blackness consuming Akashi whole and suffocating him. His father's words rang in his mind, though it wasn't the first time he had expressed his opinion on Akashi and Murasakibara. This time was just so much more anger-driven and intended to have impact. His father took control of many things: his classes, activities in and out of school, pretty much everything in his daily life in which he could be at the top, ahead of everyone else. But Akashi wouldn't let him interfere with his love life and what his heart desired, although that was easier said than done.

Minutes turned to hours, and Akashi was again curled up in the lonely blankets of his cold bed. Still unable to sleep, he just laid there feeling numb. His father was long gone, called out to work to stay long hours. He guessed that someone had heard him, and decided to leave him be. Not a single worker or tutor knocked on his bedroom door. He had been left alone lying there weakly, with just the oatmeal from earlier in the day to keep him from starving. It wasn't like him to throw a fit like that, and he wondered why his father's words had cut so deeply into him. He had cried out every last tear, eyes dry and headache worse with dehydration. The ace bandages were replaced with new ones, wrapped around fresh wounds. There was an emptiness inside that nagged at him, wore him down and desperately called out for something to fill the void.

Akashi reached for his cellphone, doing the only thing he could think of for some solace.

"Atsushi- come over."

It had been down pouring by the time Murasakibara arrived, luckily without getting wet. He was greeted with a firm embrace, the other's arms wrapped around his neck. He leaned down to hold Akashi close to him, closing his eyes as the feeling of their bodies pressed together overtook him. It was a simple hug, but there was so much more behind it. It was obvious that Akashi needed something, or he wouldn't have invited Murasakibara to come over to his house. He knew what his father was like.

He didn't have time to ask before being pulled up to the other's room, Akashi straddling his lap as he sat down on the edge of the bed, immediately taking his lips. The kiss was forced, desperate and sloppy. This was unlike him.

"Aka-chin… what's up with you?" Murasakibara ran his hand lightly along the other boy's cheek, down his neck to his collar bone, soft touches that soothed his racing pulse. He needed to know why Akashi had acted the way he did, and he needed Akashi to know that he was concerned for his wellbeing. Lately it seemed like the redhead thought the entire world was against him; he could see it in his body language, his eyes. The Rakuzan captain constantly held up walls around him, true feelings hidden deep within the darkness of his being. He averted his eyes, but Murasakibara tipped his chin up with a finger.

"Please talk to me." Guttural thunder rumbled above them, the sound of rain pattering the metal roof filled the silence that Akashi refused to break. His face as wet as the outside, he dried his eyes with his bandaged forearm. The taller boy lightly held said arm, looking up at him. He didn't need words to ask, "is this what I think it is?" Fresh tears chased after the old ones, and he felt frail and worth nothing.

Murasakibara's heart fell as he choked out "I couldn't help myself." The taller had enough; seeing the other like this was emotionally damaging him, and it had been this way for too long. He stood up, scooping him in his arms bridal style. Akashi was caught off guard by this, instinctively gripping tightly onto him. Murasakibara walked downstairs and to the back, bringing him outside to sit on the covered patio. He gently placed him down on the outdoor couch, holding him close.

"You're gonna tell me everything." And he did. They sat like that for a while, watching and listening to the rain fall before them, cuddled up together and breathing in the fresh air. Akashi thought he'd never talked so long before, ranting on about the things that were bothering him, the things his father had said. He talked about how everything took all of his effort, how everything exhausted him. And Murasakibara was glad to listen. He liked knowing that the other trusted him enough to tell him all of this, to confide in him. He made him promise not to hide anything from him anymore, he made him promise not to keep his feelings bottled up inside. He made him promise not to hurt himself anymore.

Akashi knew their relationship was viewed as "strange" and even looked down upon, but he knew that this tall, mess of a kid was the one who made him happy, and the one who taught him to slow down sometimes; not everything has to be rushed or fussed over. He was his source of relaxation, comfort. Murasakibara made him feel at ease, and it was times like these, sitting with him as they watched the rain, that he treasured more than a victorious basketball game. It was moments like these that he lived for. As he sat incredibly too close to the other boy, hugging him, talking about everything and nothing, he felt himself genuinely smile, something he honestly thought he'd forgotten how to do.

He wasn't the only one who noticed this, because unbeknownst to either of them, Akashi's father stood in the doorway leading to the patio, leaning against the frame. He was going to interrupt their conversation and kick Murasakibara out, when something had stopped him. That smile that Akashi had on his face, that smile that was strangely familiar to him. Where had he seen that before? And why was it making such an impression on him? He watched them some more, observing the way Akashi was acting, and it came to him.

It was the smile that Akashi gave to his mother. The same bright smile he had when the two were together. That smile that was purely happiness and love.

He couldn't believe his eyes at first, for it had been years since he'd seen his son grin like that. It made him rethink his opinion on the boy next to him, rethink everything he'd said. He made a mental note to invite him for dinner later, turning to give them some privacy as Murasakibara leaned down to kiss him. He didn't feel disgust or disappointment, just a sense of relief that his son was lively and joyful.

This kiss held more meaning, more feeling. Passionate and deep, Akashi melted into his lips, tasting the sweetness of candy on his tongue. He was whole again, patched back up by the love that the other boy gave him. He was grateful to call Murasakibara his, putting his entire heart and soul into him. The soothing sound of the rain put him to sleep in his arms, head resting on his chest, the other's hand rhythmically stroking fiery red locks. He fell into a reparative slumber, escaping his deprivation and finally finding himself. Completely at peace, Akashi was happy once again.