Well, it's not really a sequel, but see it as a companion-piece to Nightmares if you will. This time, it didn't get as deep-down-dark-personal....blahblahsomethingsomething... it got more apocalypse and harmageddon to it. Maybe. If I accomplished it so to speak.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you'll enjoy it.

Disclaimer: ....I swear, if the folks who created the Haruhi Suzumyia series read this, they're either cooler than I thought, or desperate to sue someone. It's not gonna' be me, 'cause I'm telling you flat out: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING OF THIS!

The sound of thunder roaring in the distance made the dead silence sound even emptier. So very very silent.

Everything stood still, even the air around him and it was lukewarm and pungent; like a carcass that had been lying outside in the sun. The air was heavy somehow, difficult to breathe and thick with fine, sickly yellow dust that stuck to his lips, tongue and throat. The sky was gray and almost void of clouds, only one or two hung frozen in place high up in the atmosphere, casting thin and obscure shadows over the chaotic landscape.

The wind is not blowing.

He knew this place. He knew this place like it had been before, and he knew this place like it was now. After all, he'd been on both places. Two different places that were one.

Because this was a closed space.

Nothingness.

He stood on a field, overlooking the post-apocalyptic scenery, with a trembling body. All this, he'd seen before. Dulled colours, black and gray with specks of bright white, that contrasted so sharply with everything else that it looked grotesque. The demolished buildings which steel-framework had broken, just as easily as like human bones, and penetrated their bodies of brick and cement. The forsaken streets cracked and damaged beyond repair. Trees lying in splinters, fountains spraying murky water so foul that he'd probably get poisoned if he drank it and the silence. Everything was dead. Everything had lost their souls. Nothing of this mattered to him.

His hazel eyes franticly searched the gray world for colour. His life. The one which mattered the most to him.

But his eyes only saw the black and white world, the world that shouldn't be real and yet it was. Because he knew that too. This had become reality. That which should not have happen had happened. So, technically, this was no longer a closed space.

This was his world. The world.

Endless.

'Was this my fault?'

He should've been able to stop this. He was literally made for preventing this. Everything in his fake life had been concentrated on stopping this. Until he met him. The colour in his black and white world. His world of gray had been brightened.

He easily recognized where he was. The schoolyard in front of the destroyed school, which he had attended to (at least for a while), was familiar enough even though it was littered with oddly bent steel-balks, bricks and other debris. His false existence had suddenly stopped being false there, because it was there he'd met him.

He walked towards the remnants of the gym hall, disturbing the dust (it was strange. It had colour. Yellow.) so that it whirled up around him and made him choke.

He was confused.

'How could this happen? Where was I?'

The forlorn rumbles of thunder accompanied his beating heart and his strained breath as he struggled over the piles of material, trying to make his way behind the school and to the gym hall. That was where he was supposed to go.

He was scared. Fear and hollow panic flared like ice through his chest and clenched his stomach with an iron grip, relentless and cruel.

The fear was not for himself. The sharp light of his otherwise dull and gray world was there. He knew it, although he didn't know why he knew. But it didn't matter. He might be in danger, so he had no time to waste on himself.

Desperation.

He stumbled and fell, but barely felt the glass cut through the flesh on his calf as if it was a knife cutting through a piece of bread. He didn't feel the blood, his own blood, gush from the deep wound and run in rivers down his leg.

But he saw.

He saw the red colour, as clearly as he saw the vile yellow dust.

'My colour.'

And fear once again squeezed his lungs and stomach with wicked malice.

'He has to be fine. He has to be alive.'

He felt dazed, numb to the core, and the still lukewarm air didn't move (although the dust did. Danced in wild patterns around him. Yellow.) and his breaths came in deep, ragged gasps. He didn't want to move, because if he moved (he had to get up, get up so he could continue) he had to face whatever gruesome reality life had decided to throw in his face.

If he sat here, he could still hope, still believe, that he was alive. No.

He got up and continued, mindless of his injury, to wobble towards the back of the school. Windows were broken and the school corridors were long since deserted, nothing moved except for him, the dust and the thunder. The silence was deafening.

He was scared and cold.

Confusion.

He had to rest for a second when he'd finally climbed over the huge slab of concrete that had obstructed his path, and leaned against the rusted railing that separated the football field and the walkway. There was no football field anymore. Just a crater and more debris. A while glint caught his eye and he squinted to see what it was. It looked like one of the two football goals had miraculously survived this… this… this. Whatever it was. It stood on the other side of the field, lonely and solemn.

'You know what it was. A Blue Giant. And you need to hurry and find him!'

Before he continued he threw a nervous glance over his shoulder (if it was to make sure he hadn't missed him or if he wanted to make sure that nothing followed him he didn't know) and saw the trail of smeared blood he'd left.

The ice in his body flared like fire through his mind.

It had started to fade. The dark ruby red blood had started to turn grey. He tore his eyes away and willed his legs to move move faster faster faster faster.

Soon, he would be too late. Soon, he would be too late to stop whatever was going to happen, and he needed to stop it because it would be bad. It would be the end.

Helpless.

It was easier to get through the debris here, although the ground was punctured in two, three places with deep holes as big as classrooms. The bottom wasn't visible in the largest one. Yellow dust rose slowly, lazily up from the unknown depths. For some reason he hated the mustard-toned powder. It unnerved him, made his stomach twist and lurch.

It was eerily empty and silent. For a moment he was blinded with a memory, sharp and precise, of himself and his friends and other people. Here, outside, when the end of the world hadn't happened yet. When it had been an important but still controllable issue.

It disappeared when he almost fell a second time, this time when his foot got stuck in a hidden crack in the pavement, but he caught himself in an instant.

'I don't have time. I might be too late already.'

It seemed like the field of junk and scrap metal would never end and the gym hall wouldn't ever be in his reach, but he pressed on, spurred by panic and fear for a loved one. It was getting harder to walk, though not because of any larger hindrances, but because of his leg. He could honestly not feel much, but when he stopped after almost toppling over a third time and looked at the back of his lower leg, he could see muscle tissue peer out from behind fat and skin soaked with blood. The blood hadn't even started to coagulate, but it had started to run slower and was no longer gushing out, but ran in steady slow streams.

He felt the loss of blood overwhelm his senses but forced it away. He didn't have time.

He set his haunted hazel eyes yet again on the gym hall and continued his painfully slow trek over the yard, deliberately ignoring the knowledge that the trail of gray blood had almost reached him. He pressed on, walking in a coma.

Unchanging.

He could hear his blood pulsate in his ears, his own heartbeat pounding in his head as he made progress. He was so tired.

'Where was I when this happened? Was this my fault?'

Finally, when he thought he couldn't walk any further and was sure he'd faint if he couldn't rest soon, he reached out and touched the withered dull gray wall of the big building that once had had a roof and that they'd played football and basketball in.

He'd made it, but was it in time? He didn't know if he was.

Horror clutched his throat this time and made it harder to breathe in the stale and foul air. The yellow dust clung to his lips and airways, mixing with the saliva and making difficult to swallow.

He found the doors to enter the demolished building, and to his surprise they were functioning without as much as a hitch. The reflection in the cracked glass caught his attention; it was of himself in full colour. He wore his schools outfit but the bright blue clothes had been mudded with yellow, and his light brown hair was dulled and clung to his face. He was sweaty and pale except for the dark rings around his eyes, and even those were wary and bloodshot. They had a haunted look to them, almost fanatic, and he couldn't bear look at them any longer.

'Too slow.'

Yes, he had to keep going. He entered the building without a roof (that made it feel like he was walking into a giant box, and it felt bad) and crushed the small rocks under his brown shoes. He didn't have to think any longer; his feet knew exactly where they were going and they kept a steady, slow pace and the sound of feet hitting the floor bounced off the walls in the silence. It sounded too loud, too intrusive. Like yelling in a crypt.

It seemed like the silence agreed and swallowed the sound fairly quickly, stifled it with the never-moving air and more whirling yellow dust.

Emptiness.

A big indoors field and rows, or what once had been rows, of red and blue plastic chairs on both his left and right side greeted him. The plane, pale gray floor was surprisingly whole and clean and almost no debris obstructed his path to the other side. And it was to the other side he had to go. Because he recognized the dark figure standing there.

But he stopped dead in his tracks as his hazel eyes took in what sat in the chairs on the sides.

People. Dead people. Such a cheesy thing to say, but such a horriable thing to see.

He knew a lot of them, if not everyone. Classmates, Espers, friends, enemies and even his family sat there with unseeing eyes and gray as stone. It was only the chairs that had colour. Close to his right sat a girl, an Esper he'd meet two years ago, but she was barely recognizable. His memory stubbornly told him that she'd had big, chestnut coloured locks that'd had an amazing ability to always stay perfect. A perky, bubbly little girl that'd gotten her Esper-abilities as suddenly as he had. She'd been seven when he'd last seen her.

Now she sat here, still seven years old and would never see her eight birthday, still and unmoving. Her hair hung listlessly down one half of her head, since the other half was… gone. It looked like a huge mouth, something with razor-sharp teeth, had just taken a bite of her skull, leaving the rest of her behind. Black mush leisurely dribbled down her face from the opening in her cranium, and he suddenly realized that that was- no, had been- her brain. The tar-like substance collected in her staring eye like thick dark tears. The air reeked in here, even though "in here" didn't have a roof. It stank of rotten corpses. He'd been right. It was a crypt.

He focused on the dark, tall figure by the opposite wall and clumsily started to jog over the field.

"Kyon! Are you alright?" His voice was hoarse and barely audible.

First now did he notice the three other figures sitting on the floor, close to the standing one. Who where they? He had a hunch.

"Kyon! Please answer me!" Still not strong enough to be heard. But the figure turned its head.

It was him. His colour. His life. His everything. As long as he was okay, it didn't matter that the world stood in ruins. Nothing mattered, as long as he was okay and that he didn't have to go back living a lie.

Abandoned.

But the expression that face held and the hand clutched around something dark and metallic, made him falter. Made him unintentionally catch a glimpse of his aunt and uncle that he hadn't seen for several years. Made him feel bile rise up his throat when he saw what they looked like now, in the aftermath of an apocalypse.

She was middle-aged, he was slightly older and both wore their formal clothes, like they had on his tenth birthday. His aunt was slumped forward somewhat in her bright red chair, but he could clearly see the hole straight through her chest. Just a hole, the size of a big fist, a bit above her breasts and just underneath her collarbone. It didn't even bleed. He could see straight through her, see the long straight hair and the back of the chair. Her spinal chord had been ripped like a cheap necklace and hung limply a bit into the hole and the collarbone, bright white as it was, poked through grey flesh and muscle tissue. He supposed the other bones that peeked through fat and meat was the beginning of the ribcage. Glassy gray eyes stared blindly at the floor.

Her husband was leaned back in his electric blue chair, so much that his head had fallen back and was barely visible. The body needed to be leaned back; otherwise it'd fall off the chair. It had no legs. Nothing below the waist. Granted, the shirt covered up most of the carnage, blood-soaked black and wet as it was. Dark gray gunk had oozed out a bit though, and dripped down on the floorboards.

His stomach lurched again and he felt sick. Cold sweat ran down his back and forehead like on a feverish person.

He tore his eyes away, and locked them on the person he had looked for all along. The one that stood in stark contrast to his surroundings, bleeding colour to the ground and creating an island of valour that almost reached his feet. Brighter than any other star, white as they were in this barren wasteland.

Deceased.

Kyon, for that was who he was, smiled. "Don't take another step. Traitor." And the gun, for that was what it was, was pointed at a familiar face.

Nagato, still in her school uniform, sat on Kyons right side along with the time traveller Asahina-san. None other than Haruhi Suzumyia sat on his right. They were bruised and battered, sobbing uncontrollably (except for Nagato who only looked dazed and lost) and all in colour. It was on Nagato's face the gun was aimed.

"What are you doing Kyon?" He asked. The closed distance between them made his voice audible to the other. "What… what happened?"

His reply was a cruel smirk and a tense finger on the trigger. "Like you don't know Itsuki."

Dread and blood loss made him sway and stagger as he took a step forward. "I-I don't… please, put the gun away. Why do you even have one…?" He stopped immediately when he heard a sharp click emit from the gun. It was some sort of Colt, but he wasn't really an expert on those kinds of things.

Kyon laughed mirthlessly at him, the sound vibrating in the tepid air (the dust seemed to take a liking to him, swirling enthusiastically in circles around him. Yellow.), and made Asahina-san jump nervously. "You don't know?! I'm so fucking tired of this! I'm tired of all of you! Couldn't you just leave me alone?!"

Nagato looked like she'd found focus for a while. "There's a two percent chance-"

"Shut up. I'm tired."

BANG!

Itsuki stood, shocked to silence, and watched as Nagato's forehead suddenly was decorated with a dark red hole. The back of her head exploded like a smashed watermelon, and the floor was painted with chunks of pink brain and crimson blood. Asahina-san screamed as a piece of cranium hit her leg and her skirt was speckled with liquid.

Haruhi, who didn't scream but still looked as nauseas and scared as Asahina-san, closed her teary eyes as Nagato's dead body fell with a soft thump to the floor.

"You… shot her. You killed Nagato." Itsuki couldn't believe it. It wasn't possible.

'You never thought this world was possible. You thought you could prevent it. But it happened. And just because you all expected him to sit tight and accept everything, you overlooked a factor. He's a human. He thinks for himself.'

Kyon looked at him with uninterested dark brown eyes. "Yes, smartass. Stating the obvious?"

"Wh-why?" Itsuki didn't walk forward, not because he didn't want to but because he doubted that he would be able to keep himself upright for much longer. This didn't happen. His love wouldn't… "Why would you… please…Kyon?" He wasn't even talking in coherent sentences anymore.

Morbid.

"Why? Why do you care? You abandon us to fend for ourselves, you abandon me, and you think you have the right to ask why?!" The gun glinted ominously as the brunette swung it around and pointed it at a crying Asahina-san. "I tried and tried to make sense of everything, I tried to ignore the possibilities of a normal life! And then you came and I thought that everything was worth it if I could be with you. And then you did this."

"Did what Kyon? Please put that away, just listen…" Itsuki stumbled over the words, trying to make his brain cope with the absurdity, the confusion, the fear and everything that jumped around in his mind. "Please, what…?"

The yellow dust twirled excitedly around its new friend as Kyon shrugged. "You seriously are something. I loved you, you know that? I even think I told you that, you lying bastard. Because I believed you loved me too. But then you go away, to fight all these fucked up creatures that God-" He spat out the word as if it was something foul. "- makes, and I thought it was okay, because I figured you did it to save the world, to save me and you. And then this comes, and you run away. You left me all alone in this cemetery!"

"No, no I-" He fell to his knees, the loss of blood making his head spin.

"I'm so tired."

Asahina-san mewled in terror as the gun clicked again. "Kyon-kun, please! The future doesn't look…isn't looking like thi-"

"So damned tired."

BANG!

The time traveller looked in disbelief at Itsuki as a dark red flower begun to bloom over her bosom, discolouring the white summer uniform. She tried to say something, but it came out gurgled, distorted beyond recognition, as blood ran down her mouth and stained the ground in small splashes. She weakly clutched her chest with shaking hands, but the grip soon loosened and her eyes glazed over as she fell backwards to the ground. A shallow pool of blood quickly formed around her, reflecting the gray sky.

No, no, no this wasn't happening… "You… Asahina-san… you killed…"

'I was too late.'

Terror.

Kyon flicked his wrist, making a motion with the gun, a gesture of pure arrogance and indifference. "I'm fed up by all of this. I trusted you, so much that I actually could withstand this brats insane ideas." The deadly metal swivelled around and locked on Haruhi, but the chocolate eyes, tinted with rage, never left Itsukis face. "You gave me a reason to stay, to continue that fucking charade, and then you betray me! I waited for you! I always did when you went away, but this time you never came back! And then she thinks it's a good idea to act spoiled and destroys the world!"

Hazel eyes try to find something to hold on to in that angry and hurt face. "I'm sorry… I-I didn't know… I love you…please…" Yellow powder clouds his vision for a second and he coughs to keep his airways free.

"You're bleeding by the way." The tone is cold and lacks any possible hint of sympathy.

He can hear the voice but not see his beloveds face, and he's almost grateful for it because that man with the gun is his Kyon, his colour, his life and he just killed two of their best friends without any trace of regret.

'He grew tired of the chore of always being different and he grew tired of having to cope with everything she threw in his way. And he trusted, he loved, me enough to ignore it. And I let him down.'

He didn't have to look back over his shoulder to know that the gray, dull void that swallowed all shades and nuances of his life was creeping closer. It might even be at the gates of the gym hall now, extracting all life from his ruby red blood and leaving it in a silver hue. But now, now in this arena of the dead, his heart could no longer muster up the strength nor could it find the will to try to stop it. He lost. Kyon had been in danger and he'd lost.

The thunder roared in the distance, the thunder that needed no lightning.

Eternal.

"Don't you have anything to say?" The dust settled again, moving gracefully in sync with Kyon's movements, almost like it danced with him. Yellow.

He tried to get up again, but failed. He couldn't. His whole body felt like led. "I'm sorry… I didn't know…please Kyon…so sorry…" Had his vision always been this blurry?

"Kyon, stop this! Stop blaming him like that! I didn't know, if I did I never would've-" Haruhi's voice cut short as Kyon growled. Not even God herself had the ability to end the madness.

"Hurting him? It's only fair that he suffers. After all, how do you think I've felt? Happy? Don't make me laugh." But Kyon did laugh; a terrifying cold sound that rose from a chuckle to a maniacal cackle that bounced off the walls of the ruin. When the laughter died down and only a cruel grin was left on his face, he turned his eyes to Haruhi and the gun in his hand let out that distinct sharp click. "And then there's you. Do you have any idea of how many times I've wished you were dead? I want this Kyon, do this Kyon, I'm bored Kyon… you're such a pain! I got so tired of everything."

Itsuki's voice wasn't working anymore, it rasped and gurgled with saliva and yellow sand, and he could do nothing but to watch the scene unfold. He felt something cold slither behind him, something bitter lurking in the dark shadows, and he knew that time was quickly running out. His life was catching up with him, brutally erasing the dream he thought he could continue to keep.

Haruhi scrambled backwards, her skirt absorbing the grime and changing from clear blue to dark red and brown. "Kyon, please stop! Stop, please please-"

"So very, very tired."

BANG!

Something wet and warm hit Itsuki's face and he tasted copper on his lips as Haruhi's eye exploded and turned into chunky marmalade on the ground. An airy sight went through the departed audience, a silent sound that almost went unnoticed by the remaining duo, as the bloody body fell to the ground with a soft, heavy thud.

He could only sit there on his knees and watch in terror at the still warm corpses that littered the ground, his mind had careened into an abyss of confusion, shock, fear and helplessness, and his own body had frozen on the spot. His eyes were spellbound by the easy, devil-may-care smirk that played on Kyon's lips (lips that he still remembered that he'd kissed, lips that were soft and tasted like honey, spice and life) and the gun that hung comfortably in his right hand.

Dark brown shoes squished pieces of Nagato's bubblegum pink brain as Kyon moved closer, the soft humming of the corpses on the sidelines picking up and the dust danced with renewed vigour.

'My fault.'

Itsuki didn't flinch as his lover squatted down to his eyelevel, didn't cringe as fingers traced the trails that Haruhi's blood had made down his face and didn't recoil as hot breath hit his ear. He just couldn't. This was Kyon. And his brain couldn't process the fact that his Kyon was a murder. So he was stuck in limbo, and only snapped back to reality as he felt the grin on his boyfriends' lips.

"Do you know how many bullets I put in this gun Itsuki?"

He shook his head mutely. No. But that was a lie. Somehow he thought he knew and he feared the truth. He looked down on himself and a chill ran through his heart as he saw that his blue blazer steadily changed from navy to gray.

Kyon pushed himself back up to his feet and took a few steps backwards, the dust circling him like a cocoon of murky gold and the choir of voices from dead mouths rose to a menacing hymn. The smile that graced the pale face had softened a bit and the dark brown eyes were hurt, exhausted and full of wicked glee. The gun appeared in his hand, the mouth of the gun resting on his own temple. "Four."

And Itsuki understood. "No! N-no Kyon… please I-I love you, don't-"

"I loved you too. But I'm just so tired."

The dead chorus reached its raging crescendo, screamed without voices and without functioning lungs. Time was up.

BANG!

Alone.

Dead.

A sharp pain struck the left side of his face and he let out a strangled gasp as he flailed to keep whatever had hurt him away.

"Itsuki! For the love of- OUCH! What the hell!" That voice.

The back of his hand had collided with something warm and firm and now two hands held him still. "L-let go… don't… I love you…" He mumbled incoherent sentences as his thrashings died down.

"…What? Itsuki, look at me!"

First his eyes only met darkness and he was sure he was still in the closed space, still in the void of the lifeless world, but then he could figure out shapes and contours of objects in the room. His clammy hands gripped the bed sheet tightly, almost shredding it and he couldn't feel his fingertips as his blood circulation had been cut off. Someone was beside him, hovering nervously at his side.

"Are you… are you okay?" Kyon asked, concern and confusion mingled with drowsiness and irritation.

Itsuki ignored the question and let his trembling hand lightly trace Kyon's facial features. The male in question frowned and barely suppressed a yawn, but stayed still as he felt the shaky fingers carefully touch his hair and face.

Itsuki felt relief wash away his fears as Kyon didn't vanish under his touch and collapsed on the worried male's chest. "You're alive…"

Kyon grabbed the Espers shoulders gently, but still firmly, and held him at arms length. "Seriously, what's wrong? You were trashing around and talking in your sleep and I had to actually slap you to pull you out of it. You've even-" He pointed to Itsuki's lower leg that had been dressed with clean white bandage, but now was soaked with blood. "-torn the bandages and it's bleeding again. Nightmare?"

"Yes… you could say that." He was too tired and relived to lie, and if he'd actually ripped his wound open with all his movement, it would've been a pretty transparent lie.

Kyon sighted. "Wait here." He hauled himself off the bed and staggered to the bathroom.

Itsuki stayed in the double bed, watching the lights flicker on and a minute later get turned off, and smiled affectionately as a ruffled and tired Kyon come back into the bedroom with a new roll of bandages. He began to get up and was about to take the white cloth, when the human batted his hands away impatiently.

"Don't. Sit down and I'll do it." Kyon kneeled down on the floor with a huff, and began to undo the moist wrapping.

The Esper sat back, closing his eyes and relaxing, as he felt sure fingers work on his leg. He remembered everything now, the dreams haze lifting fully. Reality chased away the dark and disturbing visions of an alternative universe.

He'd been fighting a particularly vicious Blue Giant last night, and his leg had taken a hit. Not bad, but still bad enough to bleed a little and it was currently pretty sore.

"So…what was it about?" Kyon looked up and added hastily: "You don't have to tell me, I was just…curious."

"What did I say in my sleep?" The more he'd said, the more he guessed he'd have to explain.

Kyon shifted uncomfortably, and Itsuki smiled again. These things had never been Kyon's thing. He was more of an 'either-you-do-or-you-don't' kind of person and that was what Itsuki (or one of the things) loved about him. He himself was a rather dreamy person, romantic as he was, and didn't feel uncomfortable talking about his feelings.

The brunette started to roll up the new gauze. "You ehm… it sounded like you begged me not to do something, I think. You were- does this hurt?" He asked in mid sentence as he applied pressure on the damaged area. He only continued when he got a negative shake of Itsuki's head. "You were mumbling random things mostly so… I'm not really sure."

"I was… lost, you could say, in a closed space. I couldn't find anybody, I couldn't find you, and I was…" He trailed off. He'd been scared. Why was that so hard to say?

Kyon looked up as he finished tying the bandages together. "Yeah?"

He took a deep breath. "Scared." There, he'd said it.

Kyon looked at him with an unreadable expression. Itsuki tried to force a smile but was startled as Kyon growled. "Don't do that. I thought I told you to quit."

"What?" The Esper asked, confused and surprised at the sudden flare of anger.

The human tossed the short piece of leftover cloth to the side and sat down on the bed. "That." He pointed at Itsuki's face. "That fake smile. If you don't feel like smiling, don't. Just don't lie to me. I can see right through it."

Itsuki sighted apologetically and ran a hand through his messy light brown hair. "I'm sorry… I was afraid that I'd lost you forever." He contemplated for a second to tell Kyon the truth, the whole truth about the nightmare, but decided against it. "But I found you just in time. I'll always come back to you after fighting, you know that don't you?"

"Yeah…" Kyon frowned. There was something that his boyfriend wasn't telling him, but he didn't want to ask. If he wasn't told, it probably wasn't something Itsuki wanted to talk about, and if anything, Kyon knew the feeling of getting cornered and pressured well enough. So he didn't ask. "Okay… are you sure you're alright now?" That didn't mean he wasn't a little bit concerned.

This time he smiled for real. "Yes, I'm fine. Go back to sleep now."

Suddenly Kyon leaned forward and placed a quick peck on Itsuki's left cheek. He blushed when he leaned back and didn't meet the startled Espers eyes. "Sorry I hit you." With that he turned to lie with his back to Itsuki, burying his face in the pillow.

Itsuki just sat there for a moment, with a silly grin plastered on his face and hands tangled in the sheets. He spaced out for a moment, eyes staring lazily at the lying figure next to him, and when he came back to the land of the living, Kyon had fallen asleep.

He sighted contently and lied back down, spooning the slightly shorter male and breathed in the scent of his beloved.

"I'll never betray you. I promise I'll always come back, no matter what. Just bear with this life…" He mumbled the promises softly in the nape of the others neck, careful not to wake him.

He would do whatever it took to keep the one he loved from harm. He would not loose the world to the void; he would not allow it to swallow his colour. His life. His Kyon.

Whoops, I made Kyon slightly evil... but he's so awesome when he's evil! Like BAM! you're dead. Anyway, I'm always so grateful when people take the time and review, even if it is a oneshot. If you don't, thank you anyway for reading. Hugs n' kisses!~