Good day, everyone, this is IncompleteVision, and this probably is the only Fan Fiction I will ever write. I'm not really sure why I joined this infernal site, as I highly disapprove of slash of any kind. Fan girls ruined many features and angles of anime and manga for me. However, I have met a few yaoi fans, and I have to say, they were pretty awesome, so I can't say that I hate all fan girls, just the smut peddling, close minded, drooling ones.

This is LoveLess, the most beautiful, deep, enrapturing manga I have ever read. This is sort of a tribute to that series, as at the time I fond it, it really inspired me and gave me a totally different view on things. What I most enjoy about it is the infinitely deep level of psychology and very human emotions it dealt with.. The story was very relatable, as I was going through relationships (not romantic) between people I was forced by law to be around, whom I could no longer trust, nor love, as I was expected to. It helped me regain my mental health as Ritsuka did, and to Kouga Sensei, I have nothing but deep gratitude, respect, and, dare I say, love.

LoveLess,（ラブレス ）is © Yun Kouga (ゆん高河）but If I did own it, you know what I would change? Not a damn thing.

"Get out! Get out! You're not my Ritsuka! Die! Why won't you just die!" Misaki's words exploded from her mouth, her arm flailing and catching the edge of an unfortunate vase. It hurdled thorugh the air, and shattered against the fridge, sending thousands of deadly fragments through the room. Ritsuka's eyes widened ever so slightly as one grazed the side of his face, slashing open the skin and sending a stream of blood surging forth.

His mother floundered around the room, her voice catching in her throat, hiccupping and screeching with a high pitched, inhuman noise. After another moment, she collapsed to the floor. Eyes glazed over, mouth agate; passed out from the rush of adrenaline and anger.

Struggling to his feet, Ritsuka hauled himself up the stairs and stumbled through the doorway into his room. He looked at himself in the vague reflection of his window. Bruises all over his body, blood trickling down his face, staining his shirt. It was too much for him. He gently fell to his knees, and looked up at his ceiling. His blank, white, ceiling. He could feel his face reddening, the feeling of heat behind his eyes, their sudden straining. Then, he did something he never let anyone else witness.

He let the tears fall.

They felt just like the blood from his wound. Hot, searing drops carving invisible paths in his skin.

You said you loved me the best, mother…but, with this word "love", this undefined feeling of "love", why is there so much pain? I am not "Ritsuka", and I deserved to be punished. But, if you hate me so for it, why do you say you love me as well?

Nothing made sense anymore. But, then again, did anything ever make sense? He couldn't remember the real Ritsuka, could it be true that life was just as hellish Back then, even with Seimei? No…not as bad with Seimei…But could it still have been close to what he was going through now?

His head began to spin, and he wanted nothing more than to run, run away…

but…I have nowhere to run to…

He ran to his window and slammed it open, peering over the edge of his balcony. If Soubi is constantly getting up here without a ladder, it can't be that far down.

He took a breath, and leapt over the edge.

The cool air rushing past his body was an alien feeling, and he enjoyed it's soft feel. That is, until the ground greeted him with a leafy scrub. Soubi, he thought, next time I see you, I'm going to make you tell me how got the bizarre ability to leap ten feet on to people's balconies.

He stood up, spitting out a leaf that had wedged it's way into his mouth. And, he began to run.

He ran a few blocks, until he began to slow. Stopping, he plopped down on the street curve, regaining his breath. He wondered where he would go. Running a thousand miles wouldn't matter, he'd still have to go back home sooner or later. He looked up at the full moon. It turned everything grey, robbing the world of it's color as it ruled the sky, if only for a few hours. Soubi… he thought. He could go to Soubi's apartment. The man was a notorious insomniac, probably working on a painting at this ungodly hour of the night. He rose to his feet, and trotted off towards Soubi's place.

Soubi kneeled in his apartment, bent over a painting, as was the traditional way. He held his brush straight up, and dragged the pigment in the direction of the stroke. bamboo, 1 of 4 of the four gentlemen…he recited the stroke, it helped him concentrate, as Kio was not present. He, unlike himself, actually needed sleep once in a while. Kio had walked home a few hours ago, moderately buzzed and a Chupa (AN:Chupa's are delicious! I can see why Kio likes them so much! (~*^.^*~) ) hanging out of his mouth.

Soubi enjoyed painting; it gave him a chance to express what he truly loved. It was truly the only way he saw any self worth in himself, for Ritsu had whipped and raped it out of him. Seimei only made it worse with his extremely unhealthy controlling nature.

Unlike Sumi-e painting, where the strokes were made only of black ink, this style of ancient painting used pigment mixed with water, to form kind of a watercolor type medium.

He enjoyed all of the colors of the spectrum, but he enjoyed most the reds, purples, and blues. For this painting, a deep ultramarine butterfly dissolving out of a swish of blue to float among a Dioxazine Violet and Alizarin Crimson cloud. Yes, painting made him happy.

But, all the painting in the world couldn't let him escape from his reality. He felt like the colors in his paintings, sitting in a palette, useless without a brush and an artist. He was vessel created to take orders, but…He would be lying if he said he never wished that he could be his own person. But, such thoughts were alien to him, and they never completely manifested. But, how he wished he could spread over the canvas like the colours he loved so much did! how he-

A knock at the door.

He looked up.

"Kio! If you're drunk, you need to go home!" He called.

"No…It's me…" Ritsuka's voice sounded from behind the door.

Ritsuka! What could he be doing here this time of night? Unless…! Soubi felt his blood run cold. He got up and ran to the door, and flung it open. (sigh) Just as I thought… He opened the door to find his poor sacrifice covered in bruises, the cut on his face still weeping fresh blood. Ritsuka looked up. Seeing the look of concern and pity calmed him. Soubi immediately knew what had happened.

"Oh, Ritsuka. Don't say anything, just come in." Soubi took his hand and led him in. He pulled out a chair from under a small dining table, and sat Ritsuka down in it. He grabbed a first aid kit, and began dressing his wounds.

Ritsuka sat there silently, no flinching when the alcohol seared his skin, nor when the bandages pulled taught around his wounds. His beautiful wine colored eyes, stared off, dead. As much as Soubi hated that look, he knew Ritsuka needed to be left alone. After he was cleaned and dressed, Ritsuka walked over to Soubi's balcony, and put his weight on the railing.

The blonde haired elder went back to his painting, slowly dragging the brush over the canvas.

Several hours passed.

Ritsuka had been marinating, if you will, in his solitude and neglect; completely shutting himself out from the world.

"Ritsuka…" The voice jarred him from his state. " I'm going to sleep…" He called, now dressed in sleep attire.

"Okay…" Sleep. The mere thought made him feel vulnerable. There was no way he could sleep…

"Do..do you want to come with me?" He asked. This shocked Ritsuka even more, and he glanced at the other. He saw no mischievousness, no seduction, only genuine worry and…love? Yeah, he could probably sleep with Soubi…I mean!…not like that.

Ritsuka yawned, a sudden wave of fatigue crashing over him. He walked into Soubi's room, he blushed a little. (AN: this is a taking a bit of a trip down memory lane, because my mother would always say "come crawl into bed" when I was very young J ) He walked up to the twin sized bed, and crawled in. The covers settled over his body, and the pain left his mind and spirit as he exhaled. He looked over at Soubi. He was lying on his back, eyes closed, chest rising and falling, Ritsuka wasn't sure if he was asleep. After A few minutes laying on his side, he realized the room getting cold. He looked around, spotting a window open and getting up to remedy it. Fiddling with the latch for a moment, he realized the rusted metal wasn't going to give. The cold sent A horrible feeling through his body, he always felt so cold when his mother got through with him. The pain settled back in his chest, and his head started to hurt. For moment, he was truly concerned that there might be real damage this time.

Shrugging off the thought, he crawled back into the bed. Laying on his back, he looked over at Soubi once more. The man's chest was rising and falling rhythmically, and now he was positive: The man was asleep.

He scooted over in the bed, and crawled up on top of Soubi's stomach. He moved his head carefully, laying it down gently on his chest. He curled in his legs closer, so that they bent at angles at his knees, and rested on Soubi's legs.

For a minute, he lay there, waiting to see whether or not he had crossed a line, or disturbed the sleeping Soubi.

A warm, large hand placed itself on Ritsuka's back, he tensed a little, startled, and looked up at Soubi's face. A gentle smile curved across his face for a moment, before his features fell back into the peaceful expression of sleep.

Ritsuka laid his head on Soubi's chest, He listened to his heartbeat, felt his chest rise and fall, his hand protecting him from all that might harm him. Snuggling into his chest a bit, he let out a soft sigh and closed his eyes. As he grew still, he felt something he's never felt before. He felt safe. He felt worthy enough to be cared for and protected. And, dare I say? Even,

loved.

Remember little ones, as the day draws to an end, all of the wounds have been dealt, the grip of security begins to loosen,

Remember,

Tighten your fist, look towards the sky, and strive for the never fading light, and

there will always

Always,

Be love.

This is what Loveless has taught me, nay, gifted me. I feel so happy for finding this series, and I hope you can all enjoy, respect it, and love it the way I have. If you are looking for smart literature, I very highly recommend it!

(The little poem thing at the end is mine XD)

And, with that, my little ones, I bid you all good day, and safe journey, where ever it may lead you!

Sincerely,

IncompleteVision