Insomnia

By The Eternity Dragon

Disclaimer: …..o..0;

Chapter one

Standing Tension

Authors note 1:

Ah-look it's me! What the hell am I doing in the Beyblade section? I usually write Dragonballz angst/romances have I gone mad? Too late! That happened a long time ago…. moving on.

I never thought I would write Beyblade fanfiction, but it turns out there is too much left unsaid in G-revolution.

Who am I kidding?

I love Kai, and I love Tyson, and I adore Kai and Tyson together…hence the fiction (no duh!) So please I invite you to read this oddity I have put together in hope of a plot, characterisation and a good read! Now, on with the show…I mean music…no that's still wrong…whatever…

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"I'm fine," Tyson repeated for what seemed the hundredth time, glaring at Daichi over the top of his rice bowl, his cap pulled low over his face and his deep blue eyes showing signs of exhaustion.

"I'm just saying," the little red head piped up from the other end of the table the volume of his voice causing gooseflesh to erupt all over his companions body, "lately you seem to be all out of energy. You're even blading badly, and you're not eating." Daichi pointed a chopstick accusatorily at Tyson, "I think you're loosing your grip!"

The other occupants at the table, a young slender female with brown hair and inquisitive eyes, a gangly youth wearing thick glasses and an old man with long grey hair, all turned to from the diminutive red head to the world champion who slammed his blue willow pattern rice bowl onto the table top in a storming temper.

"I am not loosing my grip!" he shouted, his cheeks flushing scarlet and his moody blue eyes dancing with anger, "Whatever the hell that means!"

"You know what it means," the other shouted back, his voice rising up through the ceiling, "you can't blade anymore!"

Kenny made a noise of interruption but was immediately stifled from the livid expression Tyson shot him.

"So what I'm loosing my touch. Who gives a damn anymore?" he shouted standing up from the table his fists clenched and shaking, "Tyson," Hillary began on a pacifying note, biting her lower lip, "He doesn't mean it like that-"

But she was interrupted before she could finish however as Daichi sprang up from the table both his fists raised before his face, "I damned well meant it like that!" he hollered, leaping about the room swinging his arms like a monkey, "What's wrong with you? You can't blade, you don't sleep, and you hardly even eat properly half the time!"

"Yeah," snarled Tyson through clenched teeth, his dark blue eyes sparkling dangerously, "so what's it got to do with you?"

"Oh, I'm just wondering when you became such a loser!"

Tyson made a lunge for Daichi who sprang agilely out of the way hurling insults in every direction, "You're so full of s-"

Thwack!

Stars flew thick and fast through the air as an explosion of light erupted before Tyson's eyes and a sharp throbbing pain exploded on the top of his head.

"That is enough from both of you!" his grandfather said looking unusually stern as he set the meter long stick back on the mantle piece again, Tyson heard Daichi whine from somewhere to his left and felt slightly better.

"Dudes you can't go on sorting out your no-no's like this, it's seriously cramping both of your styles, you need to chill out, especially you my little man!"

Tyson snorted derisively and stood up his head swimming, "I am chilled!" he snapped blinking at the little black dots that were wavering before his pupils, "I'm sick of all of this!"

Dimly he saw Hillary walking towards him, her brown eyes large and soft with concern, "Tyson," she said gently, her hands outstretched, "We're all just worried about you." He pushed her away, feeling sick with himself at the hurt expression that twisted about her face as he did so.

"I don't want your pity!" he snapped, taking a step backwards away from all of them, wishing he could stop the flow of unkind, spiteful, wounding words that were tumbling from his mouth.

"For god's sakes leave me alone!"

"Tyson!" Kenny began standing up, his voice full of distress, "We want to help you!"

"I don't need any of your god damned help!"

"Now little dude," his grandfather began, but Tyson had had enough, he turned his back on them, grabbing his jacket from the hallway and slamming the front door behind him on his way out.

"Tyson you jerk!" he heard Daichi call from the hallway, and felt his stomach twist as he discerned the sound of genuine pain in his friends voice, "Take off again why don't you!"

"Let the little man go-" came the reply from the dining room, "he needs to blow of some heavy steam."

Tyson felt his legs break into a run as he stumbled blindly down the gravel path out through the gate and into the darkened street. His heart was thumping madly in his ears and he could hear the sound of his boiling blood rushing through his veins in a mad tempo of delirium.

God he hated himself right now, wholly and utterly, if the earth could have swallowed him up and devoured him then and there he would have been happy.

He slowed down, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets, breathing heavily as he trudged down the boulevard, the dim orange street lamps flickering in the darkness .

"What the hell is wrong with me?" he muttered, staring straight ahead and seeing nothing but a carnivorous obscurity ahead of him. He had had a lot of mood swings lately, suddenly out of the blue, in the middle of a conversation, halfway through a meal, in the hours he spent at night staring listlessly at the cracked paintwork of his ceiling. He couldn't explain it, but it was happening more and more regularly, he found his typically buoyant optimism sinking under what would seem a growing sea of depression. He bit back a sardonic laugh, and felt even sicker with himself for what he had said to his friends, his whole attitude in general was depressing and frankly nauseating, he hated self pity and despised the pity from others even more, even if it was from his friends. Hell yes he understood why they felt like that, half of him, the sane half of him wanted, needed, cried out for their help, whilst the other part of him, the stubborn part pushed them as far away as possible, refusing their help and their worry. He was a glutton it seemed for punishment, neither side was happy.

Tyson turned a street corner and found himself crossing the bridge that arched over the flowing river, slowly he traversed it, kicking a solitary pebble into the dark glutinous waters below. He moved over to the railings and leaned across watching the river flow beneath it, the starlight reflecting in the shadowy surface rippling into strange dazzling shapes that flickered and undulated into twisted light. He found himself thinking the same thing that he had thought countless times over and over and over again, "Are you watching this too Kai?"

His stomach clenched, and a hot lucid pain wrenched through his chest as he felt himself begin to shake with a humourless laughter that hurt the pectoral muscles of his abdomen, making them feel as if they were on fire.

He had had three years, six months and twelve days to think it over, to decide, understand and move on, but he still hadn't. It was amusing really when you thought about it, one person pining whilst the other one really didn't-couldn't give a damn. He had found out the hard way that Kai had never really cared whether or not he was dead or alive. As far as he was concerned, he was just another person taking up space and converting oxygen to carbon dioxide, what did he matter?

He had thought…he had thought differently years ago, when youth had allowed him to be easily lead and easily fooled. It was even easier to fall in love, so easy in fact that he hadn't even realised he was doing it until it was too late-and where exactly had it got him?

Tyson laughed softly, resting his elbows on the cool concrete of the rail and looking down into the turbulent waters below. He was older now, harder in some ways, his hair was still long and framing his heart shaped face, his eyes were large, thick lashed, and a deep bottomless blue that made him seem naïve in an innocent manner. His mouth was full and good natured, naturally turned up at the corners in half a smile. He had grown taller, although his frame was still slender, and his shoulders had remained narrow and high creating an aura of youth about him. There was something very fresh, pure and engaging that seemed to draw people to Tyson, almost an internal glow of something totally untainted by temptation or sullied by sin. It was present tonight as he lent over the side of the bridge gazing down at the dancing starlight, dressed as he was in faded jeans, an old T-shirt and a simple denim jacket. His was still the same Tyson Granger of the blade breakers, the same world champion, the same, young carefree Tyson of three years ago, the one that had taken life by the hand with a blithe smile. Yet now something in his expression had changed, some hurt had caused the sorrow that lingered along the curve of his mouth, the smile was not as untroubled as it had once been, and his eyes almost always seemed to contain an assessing look of distrust.

Tyson rubbed his eyes and bit back a yawn, resting his chin on his hands.

His thoughts drifted, memories spooled up from the back of his mind, falling back into nothingness once again, his lids became heavy and his thinking less coherent.

Why was is out of the countless hours he spent lying on his back staring listlessly up at his ceiling, willing, begging and wishing to fall asleep, only when he thought of him did he finally begin to slip into blissful nothingness?

"Why?" he whispered to the stars that flickered in and out of vision, "Why is it that I can no longer sleep?"

It's because I want to share this night a little longer with you….they whispered back.

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Ahem…well here it is, after much prep work, drafting and re-drafting and madly thrashing idea's around into a (somewhat) solid and consistent state…;...; (I hope anyway).

My eternal undead muse Murray: Let's face it, this is a load of phooey…

Me: How can you say that? ;...;

Murray: Because it is!

Me: But I love Beyblade so much! And I love Kai and Tyson…especially Kai…

Murray: Unhuh…perhaps you should have left well enough alone!

Me: Muses are supposed to be supportive :( (Pulls out muse catalogue)

Murray::::eyes it suspiciously: I thought you got rid of that…

Me: I subscribe…oooh; look they have an offer on the undead crew from Pirates of the Caribbean!

Murray::::::rolls beneath the table: