Kyou kept to the darkest streets. He longed for rain – to feel it drenching him, tiring the demon inside. Anything to take his mind away from that smell – burnt flesh. Don't think of it. Don't breathe in, not yet. Not until you can think of something else. Even now, his hand felt red hot with pain, but there was no mark to justify it. Not a scratch, not on this body. He steered away from the brightly lit town center, heading instead for the back alleys. Perhaps he would be mugged, or knifed. However unlikely, he clung to the idea. Let's see what I still have to lose.
There was a foul taste in his mouth. He imagined Yuki's reaction: "You stupid cat! Don't you realise what could have happened? You idiot!" He brushed the idea away angrily – as if the rat gave a damn. As if anything mattered any more. Even so, the thought haunted him. Even if he was nothing, to Yuki or anyone else, her heart would still be too big. She would still be hurt if she heard of his recklessness. I don't care. I don't care. He followed the alley up until he reached the old railway bridge, the tracks a snake beneath. The stone edge was cold.
The smell of dusk was over him now. Time stretched out: he counted the steps of passers by. Careless shoppers, thugs, lonely girls. They were all the same. All strangers.
He could imagine Tohru's voice: coaxing him, comforting. What would her real reaction be, once she knew that he had wondered so long in this mad city?
What did you expect? He thought, each word a hammer against his skull. He was repulsed and excited by the pain. That I would be the same? That it wouldn't matter what I thought, the crazy, stinking cat? That you could act as if you cared, without destroying me? What did you think?
He tried to feel a different emotion. He tried to be grateful – even if he had been drowning surer than ever before, at least he believed he was carried by an angel. How could he begrudge her that? He had felt so happy. He had thought that perhaps he was was healing – that one day it might have a heart again, might become something brighter and braver. So much more than he deserved. And that was the truth of it: too good to be true. The delusions of a drowning man.
"What's this? A Lost cat?"
Him! The pain was crippling. Kyou's breath was ragged from it; he couldn't speak. How could he look at Yuki now? Even his name was a knife. Kyou felt his face darken with shame and self hate. And what was this? That the rat. . . pitied him. Had come to find him. Of course he did. The rat was perfect. Perfect yuki for perfect, perfect Tohru. How could he ever think that he could be part of that? That there were three of them. How stupid, how pathetic that seemed now. When the two of them were so happy together. He had finally proved Akito right: there was nothing that the cat couldn't ruin. Even the two people that he loved most in the world: he couldn't let them be happy. Couldn't, wouldn't. Useless words for a useless cat.
"Don't. Come back, Kyou."
Ah, so that was what Yuki was afraid of. He thought Kyou was here to jump. He had opened his mouth to reassure him before he properly thought about it. What an idea. To end it: here, now. Was that why he had come here, in truth? Even when consciously the idea hadn't crossed his mind? Leaving, that was his first plan. There was nothing left for him here. But then, why should there be anything anywhere else? Who was he, to go to a new place – to meet new people, to hurt other lives. It would be better if he could go nowhere at all. And so he had wandered, aimlessly. But here was a solution. He pictured it: tumbling through the air, with nothing to stop him, nothing left to tie him back. One crack as the body fell onto the track. Perhaps it would be finished off by a passing train. He smiled at the thought of the pain: at least he would get one thing he deserved. Such a sweet way to die.
"Kyou?"
One hard shove, that was all. He braced his arms and pushed away from the ledge, waiting for the end.
The end never came. One strong arm pulled him backwards in a smooth motion. Kyou tried feebly to fight, but then Yuki was always the strongest. The tears came now, finally. The tears he had longed to cry every day since he proved himself a monster. Shed on the arms of his enemy, of his rival, of the one he had hurt too much to ever be forgiven. Shed on the arms of his best friend.
"Kyou!!! Kyou! Why did you do that? Why did you do that, Kyou?"
The shock of seeing the prince so dishevelled, so wild, rendered him speechless. Yuki reached around to embrace him, or to punch him. He flinched away – he couldn't act like that any more, as if he was worthy of those arms, as if Yuki had to touch someone like him. A monster. He tried to explain that, but it became a mumble.
"Don't do that to me, kyou! Don't ever do that to me!"
What?
Not, "you could make her very unhappy" (lies, she was better off without him) or "I don't want to have to clear up your mess". Don't do that to me. As if. . .
"You actually care," He finished quietly. Yuki drew back, surprised, elegant even though there was dirt on his shirt.
"Yes. I care. We care. Don't leave us."
Kyou felt his heart ready to soar. He wasn't strong enough to lock it away, wasn't smart enough even now to think of the hurt that was coming. You are nothing to them! Nothing to anybody, He reminded himself, but there was a stronger voice. "Don't leave us." Could it be possible? That all along, he had been right. . . that after all, they were his friends – his best friends. That when he had explained everything to her, all of his hurt, all of his experiences – she had really been listening? That she hadn't forgotten him the moment she climbed down from that roof? That she. . .
"But. . . I deserve this! Don't you see, you stupid rat? Don't you remember what I did?"
The memory, this time, was too strong to fight away. He let it overtake him.
The room was too crowded, too full. Yuki lay on the cold floor, lifting his arms tiredly to defend himself. Even that seemed to be too much effort for him.
Get up! He wanted to shout at him. Get up! How can you be beaten like this, how can you be so helpless? Shigure, Kureno, someone. . . but there was no one. No one to save them.
Akito span, snarling at Kyou, shouting.
"You! Kick him! Kick him now!"
He couldn't understand. He couldn't do anything. Akito! How could someone you loved be so cruel?
"Gah!"
He wasn't fast enough for Akito, even if he was brave enough to resist. She snatched his hand and slammed it down in the fireplace, straight onto the embers. He screamed, not from pain but confusion and fear. Akito's face was distorted, crazy. Was there anything Yuki could have done to deserve this rage? He knew the answer even when the curse was clouding his thoughts, denying it.
His hand was on fire now. Its shape was distorted by the smoke that the fireplace coughed up, the skin becoming more liquid – it terrified him. The pain was unbearable, merciless. His throat was too constricted and tear filled to do any more than croak – he did so, an animal keening. Akito shouted more and more, slapping his face with her other hand. He felt desperate from the pain, crazy.
Through the fog of fear, he saw Yuki's lips move. The words were impossible, yet they made perfect sense. They were the only thing that could have saved him.
"Do it."
Even the memory made Kyou cough. He had lashed out in a moment of pain and madness; the worst moment of his life. And Yuki's face haunted him like the black bird of fate. There was no way to escape it, waking of sleeping. That face, clenched in pain, spattered in blood – Yuki's blood? His? What had he done?- was more torment than Akito could ever have planned. Even as Akito rushed to his darling Yuki's side, allowed Kyou to crumple into that helpless heap and cradle his agonising hand, screeching about fault and blame and monsters. Even as he pointed so imperiously down at Kyou's figure - "Look what you've done! Look, you monster! You attacked him!".
"How. . . could you ever accept me. . . after that?"
Yuki knelt down to rest his head against Kyou's shoulder. "You are my friend. I forgive you."
I forgive you.
I forgive you.
I forgive you.
So this was friends. This bittersweet, crazy feeling. This was happinness. After everything, he didn't have to leave at all. Even if none of the zodiac cared for him and his own family rejected him – he was loved. How strange.
I forgive you.