Abyss: This is a fic trade. Um, second POV angst with Kyo or Haru as a lover. I don't claim this as my own.


All your life, you have only known war. You've only known hatred and blood. Not once has anyone shown you compassion or kindness. You were alone in this world.

You watched his blood flow out, making sure he was dead. But as you turned away, a hand—warm and definitely not the "dead" man's—touched your shoulder. You looked at the owner, and wished you hadn't.

Her brown eyes held warmth in them that made you want to tell her everything. Her smile was bright, something that made you feel ashamed—you'd never be able to smile like that.

You felt the familiar pain in your chest, and walked away before you cried.

"Wait!" Out of instinct, you stopped in your tracks. "What's wrong?" With that one question, she managed to do what your boss could never do—she made you cry.

After bringing you back with her, she introduced you to her friends; Yuki Sohma, Shigure Sohma and Kyo Sohma. You nodded to show you understood and acknowledged them, but…they didn't see m to notice.

"Come with me," Tohru called from the stairs. She introduced herself as Tohru Honda on the way.

"Do you care about me?" She remained quiet but nodded, so you continued. "Do you care if I held a gun to your head?" She minutely nodded.

"You're like the rest of them! You're just lying to get me to agree to whatever you want! Well, I won't do it!" You turned to run away, but her hand stopped you once again. "Why? Why dammit?" You screamed, crumpling to the ground with your face in your hands.

As long as you lived, you've been called X. You couldn't remember if that was a code name or your real name. The only thing you can vaguely remember is your mother's warmth. Because of that, you never believe him when he would tell you lies about your mother abandoning you—you suspected that she was forced to give you up.

You shuddered as you thought of his horrible voice, tampering with your thought process. Taking a deep breath, you continued on from where you left off.

You hated him for everything he was, everything he did to you. You couldn't let him live any longer; you couldn't let him destroy another person's life the same way he did to yours. So you trained yourself to be able to kill him, training to stop him before he was able to strike again.

Before you were able to put all your training to use, before you could put a bullet in his brain, he died from natural causes.

"Ironic, isn't it? Majority of those in our type of business are killed by the enemy, or are killed for ratting us out, or for leaving our group." You felt like crying again, but you took a calming breath before you said the thing that wanted to be said the most.

"It was all I had." You whispered, afraid to let her hear the truth about you—all she has shown was kindness, and you didn't want to screw up. "So what could I do but to accept her offer?"

She managed to corner you in your "house"—even with all the training you had—and offered you a job. Obviously, you accepted—in exchange for money and information. If you succeeded, she would tell you why she wanted that done.

Over and over, she would send you out to complete more tasks, but she would always hold that one key piece of information over you—the identity of your true parents.

She, after years of coaxing and annoying, told you all she knew about your parents. The only thing that stood out to you, the only thing that actually mattered to you, was that your father sold you to the head of the mafia because he owed them a huge amount of money.

This angered you, and the anger rose and rose until it reached a breaking point—you snapped and went to kill him.

"And I did just that," you said, feeling more elated than you ever did. For once, you managed to do something for yourself instead of for the bosses that would so often find you.

"I killed him right before you found me." You smirked as you thought of what you had to do for yourself. Pulling out your gun and hiding it by your side, you asked, "What will you do? Will you call the cops because I'm responsible for someone's death?"

She shook her head.

"Good."

After being convinced to run from the mafia, you changed your name to keep the mafia from being able to find you. You slowly started to open up to those that you now lived with. You slowly started to become social, and you slowly started to notice one of the Sohmas.

It was a while before you were able to be in the same room with him, and it took even longer for you to be able to talk with him without feeling like you were making a fool of yourself—even then, you still feel like you're making yourself a fool occasionally.

His back was you, but you knew that he was reflecting on that night—the night he (finally) admitted his love to you.

That night, he—out of the blue—said that he loved you, and you felt so shocked that you unintentionally admitted your feelings for him.

"You better prove that I am right to love you," you whispered to no one in particular. "But you better also prove that you're worthy of my love."

You got up from your place on the sea of grass, and joined him.