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Mikoto Suoh could not sleep.
He stared at the plain, white ceiling above him, arms folded beneath his head, acting as a cushion, letting his eyes drift open and closed at his leisure. Every few minutes, he would sigh, or roll on his side to face the wall instead, but no matter what he tried, sleep would not come to him. And no matter what he tried, he couldn't help but think about why that was.
He could try and fool himself into thinking that it was the nightmares. The strain of trying to control his powers even as they grew more and more unstable inside of him. Even if he used these as excuses, though, the ache in his chest reminded him of the truth far, far too often.
Now facing the wall, he growled and turned over, squeezing his eyes shut so that he wouldn't have to see the empty expanse of rumpled sheets on the other half of the bed.
How was he supposed to get any rest like this? How? How?
Mikoto sat up with a start, another growl ripping itself from his throat, and he felt the red heat of his power rising within him. The Red King had never thought of himself as weak. And yet why, why was he not strong enough to sleep alone in this bed that still smelled of Totsuka Tatara? Why was he not strong enough to sleep withoutTotsuka's scent, his warmth, his cool hands running gently through his crimson locks? His body yearned to hold that slim figure in his arms even just one more time. His ears only wanted to hear his voice. His heart and mind wished for that sense of comfort that would never again settle over him like a blanket.
Why?
Because it was wrong. All wrong. He wasn't here anymore. How could he not be here? He shut his eyes and saw the image of Totsuka, pale and lifeless and unmoving after Kusanagi and Yata brought him back that night. He opened his eyes and saw the boxes sitting disheveled on the floor, full of Totsuka's belongings that he had refused to allow Kusanagi to get rid of. It was wrong. Wrong. Wrong!
Once again, Mikoto felt that heat flare up inside of him and his fists clenched at his side, a dangerous red glint in his eyes. He would destroy it. Destroy the Colorless King, the thing that was so wrong in this world. The thing that took Totsuka from him. The thing that took Totsuka from everyone. Burn it. Until there was nothing left. No blood, no bone, and no ash.
Your powers weren't made for destruction. They exist to protect.
Those words echoed clear through Mikoto's memory in a voice that somehow, already, he couldn't quite recall exactly. His powers had already failed to protect the most important thing. He had failed to protect the most important thing. Even with the rest of Homura to protect, Totsuka was special. Totsuka was his. Nothing else mattered.
And now? Now he would just do whatever he wanted.
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