Tourniquet:

He wasn't sure what possessed him to do it, the meaning behind it didn't exist in his mind—all he knew was he did it.

He cut. Cut deep across his wrist, enough that crimson liquid poured out and spilled on the linoleum; staining the white. Before he fell unconscious he thought he heard someone walk in and gasp.

He thought he felt someone wrap warm arms around him, but that had to be a dream, hadn't it? After all, who was there to care for him? Yuki? His love, his lover with an angelic yet cold face whose harshness left only when asleep or flirting with women?

His lover who kept kicking him out every time he somehow annoyed him? Who never had anything kind to say to him?

Yuki? No, it couldn't be.

So the arms around him were an illusion—but then who said the word 'ambulance' just before he passed out?

'Was it you, Yuki? Are you there, Yuki? I really need you now….' He cried in his thoughts searching for the warmth in those arms—so faint, so distant. 'Yuki, where are you? Your arms felt so warm, hold me some more….'

'Damn brat.'

'Yuki! You're there, thank god! I missed you so much! Why did you have to be so cold that last time? More than ever.' He cried again, his lover's face swimming in his unconscious thoughts. "I thought I lost you for good! Yuki! I love you, Yuki!'

The image of his lover smiled wistfully, eyes softening.

'I love you, brat.'

'Yu…ki…?' His eyes widened and he shivered. The image vanished—no, changed to a memory.

That day, in New York.

Yuki sitting in the abandoned apartment room, the gun in Yuki's hand. The gun…put to his lover's temple, his lover's finger on the trigger. A split second before it fired, Yuki noticed him and….

'Said those words… 'I love you, brat.'' His heart ached, crying mental tears. 'Yuki…why did you…?' Images of that day, how cold Yuki got, the blood. "Yuki! If you loved me, why?'

He sobbed, feeling weakness consuming him, pain on his wrist, everything blurring.

"Yuki."

"God, he's awake!" A familiar voice gasped in relief. He felt a hand grab hold of his. "Shuuichi! Are you all right, Shuuichi?"

"Hiro?" He whispered, eyesight blurry. "I want Yuki."

"Yu…god, Shuuichi, it's been almost three months…don't say…."

"I should've joined him."

"Don't say that, Shuu." Hiro's voice broke with sobs. "Please….don't…."

"It's true…I can't live without him."

Hiro held tighter to Shuu's hand, tears streaming down his face.

"Shuuichi, please."

A/N: End.