Just something I wrote after reading waaaay too much Fruits Basket fan fiction to be healthy. I have a love/hate relationship with Akito and Yuki. I hate how horrible the former is to the latter, but that provides many angsty fan fiction opportunities! I don't own.

Summary: "In the life of a Sohma, there was no room for grey." Yuki ponders while trapped with Akito. Light CatRat. Angst.

While Falling Apart

Chapter One: The Hunter's Kiss

By Heroin Girl

In the dark room, he shifted, drawing his hands up a little closer to his eyes. Maybe if he was a little smaller, or quieter, he could stop being for a little while. Just noiselessly fade in the background, and forget all of the desperately frank hurt that consuming him. The rough feeling his spit made as he swallowed his tears down calmed him. He didn't need to go there. One hurt was more than enough for the day.

--licked the wound, still feeling the burning sensation of the alcohol sliding into his stomach, a red, oozing snake of a vodka, mixed with the blood tasted--

And he knew why he was in here.

And he knew that he deserved much, much more than this for wheat he had done.

He could still recall feeling that had overcome him when he had struck Akito, could still feel the rustle of silk between his fingers as he had pulled the robe closer to him, the whip-lash like feel of the hit. But it had felt so incredible. He had hit the demigod, and had survived. Well, for now. The thought brought fresh tears to his eyes.

Even the narrow strip of light in the space between the door and the floor looked cold, trapped in a macabre battle with the dark, and he wondered for a moment if he would ever live to see the victor. He was closer to the night (the idea of darkness, not the night itself), then when he was he was a child. He was angry. He had learned at a young age never to show fear and anger, because they were the products of human weakness. He could recall waking up countless times to see Ayame watching over him, telling him that he couldn't fail him because Yuki was the only family he had left, and that made him precious in an almost ethereal way. Every small thing that went wrong was carved into his entire existence as a failure to Ayame, to Shigure, to Tohru, even to the Cat. And he couldn't handle that.

He remember fiercely how terrified of the dark he had been because he grew up fearing dark emotions, t, his entire sense of being had been precariously balanced between the two spectrums. Joy and anger. Fright and serenity. Black and white, dark and light. But, as Akito had taught him (beat into him, a little voice corrected), there was no in between for emotions.

In the life of a Sohma, there was no room for grey.

--like fear. He was alone and afraid and he fucking tasted like it.--

The dull echo of footsteps crashed down the corridor, he quickly scrambled away from the door and into a corner. The voices quickly followed, lost in the turmoil of the stone and steel walls. "--long will he be kept in here?" He did not recognize the man who asked of him, only the dry voice that answered.

"Oh, you know. Until Akito's had his fill. No longer than a week left," Hatori finished, and if he closed his eyes, he could see the sharp eyes and white jacket of the doctor.

A whistle of amazement. "How long has he been in there?"

"Three days."

The horrendous sound of walking away, leaving him here, and he tried to open his mouth to shout, but nothing came out. He jumped to his feet and was instantly at the door, pounding at him with his fists. A few moments of struggling and finally a hoarse cry erupted. "No! Please! Don't leave! Don't leave me alone…" the sandpaper throat died quickly, leaving him the silence again. The flesh on his knuckles was raw, shredded from the steel door.

And he hated Hatori.

But it is wrong to hate, a voice tried to reason with him. It's such a strong word; you're just caught up in your emotions. You don't really hate him, do you?

It was Ayame. It was Tohru; it was every gentle, caring person in his life whispering the thoughts to him. He did not want to hate him. He did not want to feel such anger towards another person, albeit Akito. But the black anger felt so good, he couldn't stand it. Roaring and hungry, he could feel it consuming every ounce of him, every fibre of his being. Hatori knew what Akito was doing to him, he knew that he beat and hurt him so damn much, and yet he stood in the shadows, a silent witness to the crimes. And he could remember, for as long as he had been exposed to the wrath of the head of the Sohmas, Hatori had always been there, listening to him plead for mercy.

But he only stopped it on one occasion, and it was after Yuki had already passed out. The tearing, searing hurt and been all around him, and he had seeked solace in the light coming from the open windows, and then… he knew nothing else. But when he had awoke, he had been in the same room, listening to Akito and Hatori argue, too weak to open his eyes, too weak to move. (and in the dizzying aftermath that had followed, he couldn't meet any one's eyes for weeks--)

"Akito, you went too far. He won't be able to walk for weeks! It's a miracle that he's still breathing at all!"

"This does not concern you!"

And then the voices had faded away, to the point where he was all alone again. But he never forgot the ice of Akito voice, dismissing him as easily as he had been a fly on the wall which had just gotten smashed. Even Akito didn't care for you, something had whispered, so long ago, in his head, What makes you think that Kyo will ever?

But those were the days before Tohru, and he knew that at least one person loved him. But it was the type of love that he both wanted and didn't, at the same time. She loved him like a sister would a brother, fierce and caring but not the type of love that he wanted. He wanted some one to care for him like he cared for (Kyo) the Boy. And for an awkward, stumbling moment, he tried to make himself believe that the only thing that pulled him closer to Kyo day by day was the need to feel wanted. Kyo hated him, needed to him in order to secure his future in the Sohma house, the very family that for so long had forsaken him.

And Yuki knew that he could give it to Kyo, if only for a second Kyo would just stop and look at him. No feuds. No anger. He just wanted some one to look at him, to see him and not remark upon how pretty and lovely he was, how smart and caring… He needed Kyo because he was the only honest thing in his life.

And he wished in his heart of heart that Kyo needed him too.

And he knew that it was not so.

And he knew that what he felt for Kyo was wrong. His was his cousin, for chrissakes, and a boy too. But he had stopped trying to convince himself that he was straight long ago. He was the Rat. Kyo was the Cat. Nothing could ever happen. "Fate's up against my will, though the thick and thin(1)," He sighed, drawing his knees closer to his body.

He let himself sleep, pulled into the land of the sandman, and something miraculous happened. He forgot. Every thing that he had ever wept over, every thing that had hurt his waking moments so incredibly much--they fell apart.

And he was happy in his sleep.

End. Of chapter one.

(1) "Fate, up against your will, through the thick and thin..." is a line from the song The Killing Moon by Echo & the Bunnymen. I love that song, and wanted to incorporate a little part of it in the ficlet.

I don't know about this one. I mean, I like it, but it was kind of a pointless drabble, and it didn't really go any where. I think that I was just tired of seeing Kyo portrayed in the Damsel in Distress part. That's Yuki's job! And then Kyo will swoop in and admit his undying, everlasting… Ack. I'm right. Been reading too much fan fiction. You should go and read the next chapter. It's only a two parter, so if you want to see what happens to Yuki, wait about two days and I'll have the next chapter up. I promise, fictions like these don't take very long for me to write. REVIEW!