A/N: Hey, hey! Kahne-chan in the house, coming to you with a brand new fic, Your Heaven. I feel like this is going to be a little different from my previous fics; anyway, I'm hoping it will be. It's supposed to just be a simple romantic drama about two lost souls giving each other a leg up in life. The difference is that now we have a human Kaname on his way to the top of the world and a human Zero who can't seem to get his foot on the bottom rung of the ladder, and they are not trying to kill each other. So you can probably tell that personalities are going to be a little, teeny, tiny, infinitesimal speck of OOCness, I guess that's something I should warn about for people who aren't okay with that. Plus, expect some cameos of other canon characters and perhaps even some OCs that appeared in my Takuma/Senri series that I never finished.

Also, as I'm writing this, I just received the first reviews for the last two installments of And Then We Kiss, so thank you Luan Rina, ben4kevin, and kluna. Now some replies to people who really deserve them and haven't gotten them, along with my sincerest apologies for staying in my hidey hole for so long.

LuLu-rin: I love you, and I hope you'll enjoy YH too~ Thank you for your continued support of Kaname-sama and Zerocchi, and keep being my number one fan, because without you I would have very little to look forward to.

Ben-kun: I hope you're reading this fic, too! Thank you for your frequent reviews!

K-chan: I'll be honest and say I'm not entirely certain if you've reviewed before, but thanks for hanging in there and reading those last chapters. Please enjoy this one as well!

Thanks to everyone who loves and supports my writing, and please enjoy this one too!

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Your Heaven
Chapter One – Just My Way

The buzzer on his desk pierced the silence of the spacious office, causing the dark-haired man sitting in the posh leather chair to nearly jump out of his skin. He took a breath to calm his erratic heartbeat then highlighted and erased the jumbled text that had appeared as he'd slammed his hands down on the keyboard with his moment of shock, shaking his head out of shame. At least he was alone; no one would have to know about this.

"What is it, Karen?" he sighed, wiping one eye with the back of his hand and stifling a yawn. How many hours straight had he been up now?

"Sir, I'm sorry to bother you, but your wife is on line seven." He could imagine the perky blonde in that pink button-down that was just a size too small for how well-endowed she was, and the white pencil skirt that hugged her legs in hips in a way that made her rounded backside stand out. He licked his lips. It was the curse of the secretary—there wasn't a bad-looking one in the bunch.

Next time, he thought dully, I'm going to make sure they hire a man. And with that he narrowed his eyes in order to focus his rampant thought process.

"Of course. Thank you Karen."

"It's my job, Mister Kuran."

He released the button and picked up his phone, pressing it in between his head and his shoulder as he fumbled in the dim lighting that his computer screen gave off in the darkened room. Which one was the button for line seven again? He'd meant to upgrade this thing ages ago, to something that would light up when there was a call waiting, but there just never seemed to be enough hours in the day, especially in these past six years since he had made his way to being the State Branch Manager for Ichijou & Sons Shipping Company International.

Kaname Kuran was only twenty-four when he was hired on at Ichijou as a sales associate. With a clean record of Get It Done, he rose quickly to the top of the sales department in his city, and then from there it was a straight shot to becoming State Branch Manager—when it came time for the new one to be chosen, the vote was completely unanimous. Everyone agreed that Kaname Kuran was a young man with ambition and a vision, and he was going somewhere fast. And as it turned out, Ichijou's sons were all long gone and buried next to their parents, except for the youngest who clung to life like a burr, and now it seemed that the eighty-seven-year-old man was finally going to retire and pass his company on to someone who would continue pushing the company in the right direction, as he felt he had since he'd become the company head a few decades ago.

It was no secret that Kaname was one of the top three choices—next to a guy who wanted to merge Ichijou with his father's company, and Ichijou's own grandson Takuma who, the last Kaname had heard, had no interest in doing the job—and having that position would mean total security for himself and his family for the rest of their natural lives. Of course Kaname wanted to be able to give his wife and kids the things that they wanted and needed, and so he was aiming for that spot up there at the top of the world where the air was clear and he didn't have to worry about what the guy above him was scheming. The only thing was that with great power came great responsibility, and also great sacrifice—he had barely seen the inside of his house, or the outside of his office for that matter, in almost a week now and he just knew that Yuuki was getting impatient.

"Kaname, is that you? What in God's name are you doing? The kids are wondering where you are; they think you left us." Her voice sounded metallic, like she was talking into a tin can. Behind her, he could hear his ten-year-old son and eight-year-old daughters fighting over the Xbox controller while the theme music to some game or other jingled happily, unaware of the plight it was causing.

He sighed, stifled that yawn one more time, and wet his lips, rubbing his eyes. "I'm so sorry, honey. It's just… I've got this big thing coming up and I really can't afford to miss the opportunity. This is the difference between the twins having their own rooms while Katsura lives in the basement, and everyone having their own suite with a Jacuzzi bathtub."

"What?" Yuuki was dumbfounded, obviously upset, and Kaname imagined her with her hand on her hip, full lips turned in that adorable frown that she'd always done since he'd met her in high school. "Kaname, we don't need those things. We're doing just fine the way things are, and there's nothing wrong with where we live. Besides, Katsura likes the basement. He gets to have his solitude down there, plus we have someone to restart the furnace when it acts up*. Everything is fine the way it is now; why do you need more?"

He wasn't quite sure, but… something about parking a Hyundai Accent with crayon melted onto the seats and smears of questionable substances all over the back windows next to Karen's impeccable Mercedes-Benz was starting to irritate him. How much did she make anyway? It wouldn't matter; she was single with no kids, living in a high rise condo that her parents bought her. She could afford luxuries, whereas Kaname had three kids and a wife to feed, clothe, and shelter.

"I just do, Yuuki. I feel like this isn't enough the way it is."

There was a pause and he could almost hear her impatience. "Well… you better come home soon, or you'll be sorry!" In that irrational way of hers, Yuuki slammed down the phone while Kaname was thinking of all the other things that his position as CEO could buy them. Like ponies and riding lessons for Yuuko and Kanako, or that guitar that Katsura wanted that used to belong to John Lennon, and maids, a butler, their own private spa…. That would keep Yuuki happy.

It just seemed so far off with the way things were now. And he knew that Yuuki had every right to be angry with him when, yes, he hadn't been home in a week. He was sorry for worrying her and the kids, but he also had a feeling that this was what he needed to do. He was going to get there, no matter what he had to sacrifice.

I'm sorry Yuuki. One day you'll forgive me, but for now, I have something to prove.

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The world was so much darker passing through the city via the skinny alleys in between the buildings that lined the downtown. He looked up, blinking languidly as he wondered just how long it had been since he'd seen blue sky and breathed fresh, clean air. He couldn't say he disliked city life—the way the world moved in such a fast pace around him gave him a reason to want to keep up with it and do something with his life like everyone else. But he also still wanted to keep mostly to himself. He had learned the hard way that having friends usually meant getting mixed up with the wrong crowd sooner or later.

Dressed in a crumpled black button-down with a second hand tie, bright blue and fraying at the edges from all the abuse it had suffered, and brown pinstriped slacks with his mud-stained high-tops peeking out from underneath, Zero knew that he looked as good as he was ever going to get. With a sigh, he disembarked the alley, turned left onto Third Street and stood in front of the local Grab 'N' Go convenience store, smoothing his hair, using the front window—which was blocked off from the inside with cardboard and newspaper, and on the outside with cast iron bars—as a mirror. One strand of silver hair poked out incessantly and he sighed, finally giving up.

Yeah. It didn't get much better than this.

Preparing for disappointment, he walked up to the door and flung it open to step inside the air conditioned room where a young lady lounged on a barstool behind the counter, which was surrounded by protective plexi-glass. He stepped up, clearing his throat, which prompted her to look in his direction almost hostilely, as if he could have possibly made her day any worse. He brushed it off. It wasn't like he hadn't been getting that look a lot the past four years.

"I have a twelve-thirty interview with—"

"Yeah, I know. Kiryuu. Boss said to send you back when you got here."

Zero was silent for a minute, his eyes scanning over the Help Wanted sign written in green Sharpie that was stuck to the glass with probably literally a whole roll of masking tape and sighed. His eyes fell on the back door with a paper sign similar to the Help Wanted one in the window, but this one read Employees Only. Without asking for directions, he simply walked through and made his way down a short hall to the boss' office, stepping with a curt knock on the door frame. "I'm Kiryuu. I'm here for my interview."

The owner of the store looked up. He was a funny little man with a round face and a bald spot on the top of his head, his grey hair whisping out from around it like the feathers of a baby bird. His wire-framed glasses had huge lenses that sat on his red cheeks and were at least an inch thick each. To top it off, he was getting a little tubby from sitting in one place for so long without hardly moving an inch. What a great life he must've had, relaxing and making money while everyone suffered. The only people Zero hated more than that little fat man right now, were those corporate douchebags with the 360 degree panoramic views of the city and the helipads on top of their houses.

People who had it so easy in life; all they had to do was point and they could have whatever they wanted. He didn't believe that most of them had worked to get where they were—most of them were born to money and therefore had a fighting chance in life, unlike people like him who were basically thrown to the wolves by the rich people who considered themselves above the working class—and for that reason alone, he hated them.

"Ahh, Kiryuu-kun! Sit down." The man gestured to a ratty old armchair that looked like it had been pulled out of a dumpster, and Zero bit his lip before he forced himself to sit. Laundromats weren't cheap these days and it was doing to take a miracle to get the smell of vomit and sweat off his clothing after this. "I'd like to start off by asking you something, if you don't mind."

He fought off the frown. Who was conducting this interview again? "Yeah, go ahead."

"Did you know you're over an hour late?"

"What!" Zero look at his watch, shocked when he compared it to the digital clock hung up on the wall. How long ago had his watch died and he hadn't even noticed? The last time he'd looked at it, it had said that it was only eleven and he had plenty of time before he needed to be at his interview, but when had he last checked it before that? Dipping his head, he sighed. "I'm very sorry. There's no excuse for this, sir."

The man waved it off easily. "It would look bad on you if you were consistently late for work," he stated, turning in his swivel chair to pick up a sheet of paper from his desk. It was lined paper with Zero's perfect handwriting scrawled across it evenly. His resume. "I was wondering… you wrote it out by hand?"

His cheeks heated. "I don't own a computer."

"What about the library?"

"…they wouldn't let me in."

"An employment service?"

"No dice."

"Friends? Family?"

"Don't got any."

An awkward silence hung over the room for what seemed like ages and Zero felt his mouth drying out. There was no way he was going to get this. He'd already fudged it by handing in a handwritten resume, right? What was the use in trying? He got to his feet and bowed at a forty-five degree angle. "I'm sorry for wasting your time. Good luck finding an employee." He turned to leave, but the boss' voice stopped him.

"Eh… I admire that you were so determined, handing in a handwritten letter. You seem like a good kid, despite your lack of education and workplace experience. I would hire you on the spot if it weren't for the one thing that's bothering me. Your volunteering as a groom for the police department's mounted unit…. I see that ends abruptly four years ago, followed up by a space of time where you were off the grid." Zero went quiet, hanging his head. This was where it went wrong in the other two interviews. It wasn't like he wasn't a familiar face in this city. He and his brother had been raised in the orphanage on Third after the murder of their parents, and they'd frequented the Grab 'N' Go whenever they could scrounge the money for a treat.

"I was out of town…."

"May enquire about your criminal record?"

Another long silence. Yeah… this was it. Rumours had spread after he'd been put away for getting involved in a fight between his brother and the Yakuza, when his brother was killed. He thought, maybe he shouldn't have gotten into it. Maybe he should have stayed as far away as he could instead of trying to convince Ichiru to run away from it all. But he'd gotten right into the middle, and when his brother had been snuffed, the Yakuza planted the evidence that would shift the blame. There were enough witnesses to attest to the fact that Zero and Ichiru had been at each other's throats in the days leading up to the murder, but they didn't understand that Zero was trying to make Ichiru stop before he got too deep…. And now that he'd been accused of murdering his own brother… well, people didn't quite trust him the way they used to.

Mostly, they wondered how he'd basically gotten off with a slap on the wrist. Four years was laughable. Originally he'd been sentenced to twenty years, but good behaviour was a magical thing; he'd passed all his psych evaluations, even gotten his GED, learned to cook and shoot a hoop backwards with his eyes closed. He'd learned that not every guy in the shower is going to rape you if you pick up the soap, and actually, sex wasn't that bad—especially in the shower—and that convicts had interesting stories to share, senses of humour, real reasons and logical answers for doing what they did, if they did anything at all. Because he also learned that he wasn't the only one who had been shoved in the cooler on false accusation.

He was nineteen when he was arrested and convicted, and it had been four years since then. Being so young, of course people were going to think badly about him. After all, once a killer, always a killer. He understood why people were afraid of him, and it bothered him that there was nothing he could possibly do to change their minds.

"Look, I could tell you the truth about how I got in the middle of something I shouldn't have, and that I was trying to save my brother, but are you really going to believe me?"

The man grunted. He knew the rumours that had been going around, but he also knew the little boy that would hold his little brother's hand and tell him to pick whatever candy he wanted without sparing a single cent for himself. "I can hire you part time, but people might complain if you're in here too frequently. A couple hours a day, three days a week. It isn't much but I'm assuming it's more than what you have now."

Saying it wasn't much was the understatement of the year. That wouldn't even pay for Zero to live in a motel, let alone buy daily meals and wash his clothes. But, survival of the fittest was all part of life, wasn't it? And Zero was in no mood to be selected out quite yet. He had a score to settle with a certain katana-wielding mob wife, and he wasn't planning on giving up until he'd seen her buried.

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Son of A/N: *Parenting 101: Do NOT let your ten-year-old son play with the furnace. Just saying.