Warning: I don't care about grammar! OOCness, Male-male relation or slash, AU-ish, some angst and twist. The plot is simple though ^^-

Meanwhile,

ENJOYYYYY!

For all that ever existed, you hate him. Hate his mere presence on your school. The boy with stark pale ashen hair that stand up like a bacon amongst other dark haired students. Even the girls with all their painted hair, painted lips painted nails painted words painted world, would never as bold choose that color for hair color. What the teacher had in mind regarding violation of school rules.

You snorted, as if there is any person born with natural white hair, hair that remind him of spider's thread that woven carefully to trap, to hold to captive its victim, and devour them slowly and oh so painfully.

You didn't expect the other boy to fade into background of high and low that is High School's live. But then, you didn't know what to expect of the boy either. He was just that, another students with name etched on him to mark his identity as Horitsuba's 1st grader.

Then it came to your notice when the both of you crammed up in the same class in second year that he has greyish eyes too, doesn't he wear contact lenses?. Not only that, the boy, Tsukishiro Yukito, was one of the rarely decent boy. He talks politely to almost everybody, he has quite wide spread knowledge for a boy that hadn't participating in any physical activity even the P.E. class.

"I've spent my free time reading," he answered as if stating the obvious when someone asked how he knew so many mundane things. The perfect baby boy, with pretty face, pretty attitude, pretty hair, so pretty he could one of people from paintings of beauty, of lust, of mockery. None born as beauty as him and yet, he is no women.

"My body is in condition that won't allow me to exert in physical labor," you heard him answering one of the nosey fan-girls. His smile so sweetly sick that you wonder whom he wanted to fool. And you hated him more.

The boy that looked girly and frail, so skinny you wont surprised his bone snap, spindly fingers that belongs to princess of fairytale, wondering again if it coated with poison. The way he held his pen, pencil, nibbling at it with sinfully pink lips, is it chapped or as silky as the rest of his body as well because god forbid for him to be anything but perfect, so pink you wanted to bite it to bleed and see if his blood just as red.

You kept tabs on him from distance, from closer investigation –classmates bound to do some things together even when they not emotionally close or hate each other or one sided hate- that it's silly to imagine the boy wearing lenses behind eyeglasses. You felt silly so curiously silly willy nilly, to find out more and hate him a bit more, because surely nobody could be that perfect.

Then on one day so bright, clouds hiding behind the close embrace of mountains none appear on rear view, the sun shines cheerfully, winking out each sweat strolling down from temples, down the long packed column and eventually cleavage of students in the field. White shirt sticking uncomfortably glued by salty drops coming out of skins, semi transparent to tease your sense of rationality, yet you still failed at fault until that time.

One straying ball floating rolling speeding so fast you barely hear the warnings of players, but you dodge them easily and when you look at him which was happen to be beside you, you noticed he saw the ball coming to him, his eyes narrowed in focus and closed as the ball briefly passing in front of him. He dodged without blinking so it surprised you that moment later he fall ungraciously on the ground, sprawled, legs tangled, eyeglasses askew, hair mussed and he had the time to blink owlishly. Peoples rushing toward the both of you afterwards, asking for both of you and him and mostly him, and as he smiled sheepishly with face still ridiculously radiating aloofness you wonder why he fell at all if he managed to dodge?

That boy was complete idiot. You hated idiot. Thus you hate him more..

"You saw it coming," you confront him in the class, empty but for you and him.

He smiled innocently, "I didn't understand," lying trough his teeth so clean so white so neat as if the deity arranged itself for him. And just then you noticed him wearing long sleeved shirt, at odd with blazing sun that screaming summer all over the place.

You wanted to punch him, hit him in the head to plant some senses in that pretty head of him. No one fool enough to risk getting heat burn by over clothing even to avoid skin burn. Did he want to keep his fairy skin so milky so white is it soft to the touch too, so bad?

"What are you hiding behind that long sleeves?" you asked to rile him up and to your excitement he showed the briefest flame burn behind his glasses rim before he settled on half grin half sneer, the ugliest smile you ever saw but also the prettiest things he offered you so far compared to his daily fake bad imitation smile because at least it was genuine.

"Now, what's the point of hiding it only to tell someone later." With that said he departed toward his other so called friends. When you looked up at the sky, it still looked erringly blue.

From that time on, you tried to ignore his presence just like him yours. Sometimes people will engaging both you and him in conversation, though it never lasted long because you would wind him up, he would hurt you verbally, you countered him with nastier attitude, he replied just as bitterly, people around you and him will shared worried glance confused looks or giggling for –god knows what-, and either one of you or him will leave after brutally mutilating each other with words.

But that small confrontation will eventually brings smile after you realized how childishly you and him were, fight over particularly nothing about everything, because at that time he has none of that fake ,fake smile fake politeness fake emotion, etched. The energy spiraling, mounting in him just to oppose you were as real as your hate. Quite unexpectedly, you like that bit of humanity in him. Because like you, he was no deity.

You filled with satisfaction after the routine banter just before leaving school ground that afternoon, riding your bicycle you're saving to buy motorcycle when you heard scream not so far away. The screaming was mixture of angry shouts, pleading, and children's wail. You saw the mother clutching her baby close, protecting her dearest from people, several adults sending kicks and hits toward her body. Your instinct flared up, no sane human should do something barbaric.

Without thinking further, you went into the chaos and take part as the defender for the mother, hits join the kicks, their advantage in number not make you scared. Somehow it was the woman and her child's safety that became focus of your main concern, you ordered her to leave. The woman kept crying, pleading while looking at you pitifully, asking for them to spare you.

You thought that the woman is indeed an idiot, she should take the chance while he distract them to run away with her baby. Another hit landed in your gut, pushed the little air out of your lungs. At this rate it won't be long before you too are doomed. As you begin to slowly cease your struggle, punches in the head made you dizzy, you heard voice calling your name.

"Touya!"

Your opened eyes saw his figure amongst some of the attacker that still up for more, how they fall one by one with each move of your strange classmate. Even stranger because the way he fight made it look like he was dancing with the attacker, as if the fight was choreographed and he had mastered it. So graceful, so beautiful, yet powerful. The short white hair glinting beneath the fading afternoon light gave him that ethereal look of ancient God you wanted to call every night.

Even though he wasn't alone, all you could see is him, his concentrating face, his bare chest as you already guessed, it's pale white. Stench of sweat mingled with blood, when the attacker didn't hesitate using pipes, he kicks the man's jaw so hard that you heard crack and before you realized it, it was over.

"Are you okay?" he crouched down near your lying figure.

"I don't know," you answer as you tried to stand but the dizzy waves sent you lose your balance almost instantly.

"Easy there, you get pretty smashed up," he supports you without asking. You felt it just natural to let him help you, to let him hold you, to let him stand by you.

"How is she?" you asked when you actually remembered your cause.

"She's fine, my man walked her home."

"Your man?" you asked, still confused.

He sighed and gave you amused smile, "My man. Now, can you stand slowly or should I ask them to carry you piggy back style?"

"No!" you shout but regret it immediately, your head aren't so forgiving now, and continuing in softer voice, "I can stand."

When the next time you opened your eyes, you was aware that you woke in totally unrecognized place. The room was the typical traditional with tatami mat and sliding doors. You noticed the mat wasn't your usual mat, just a glance of the room and all of it screaming 'traditional and expensive'. Testing the water, you sat slowly before you manage to stood up with only slight wobble. He remembered the fighting part, and him helping you but not the rest of it, or how you land in this house.

You opened one of the sliding door that lead to the garden where you saw several menacing looking man grouping together, fussing over someone on the center. Then one of them looked at you and announcing your presence, some of them moved aside as the center of their attention looked into you. Somehow it didn't surprise you that even in place like this, he still on the spot.

He waves his hand and the men dissolving, he walked toward you, not awkward at all in his hakama. What kind of teenager wearing hakama in their own house without special occasion at all?

The long flowing clothes has gradation of faintest light blue from bottom with ripple water motives to darkest blue sky it almost black on top with few winking stars, which is nicely contrasting his pale complexion. The clothes loosely tied with moss green band, showing quite much of his chest and parted high showing slender twiggy legs but not high enough to show his thigh.

"You fight better than me," you scoffed at the unfairness of it. The boy never taking any P.E. class.

"Well, my body not in condition to do any sport at school," he stick persistently to his answer. You just rolled your eyes and he looked you straight in the eyes, "No, really. That's only reason I'm allowed to attend school." He then shrugged off one of the sleeve.

You got glimpse of something coiling in his arms, something red and blue twining like secondary veins and from the looks of it, was something permanent. Then the weight of it hit you..

"You have tattoo."

He appeared to think before answering, carefully woven his words, "Yes, very decorative and drawn by the best." It conceals nothing but admitting that he has.

You wanted to see more, the bigger picture, asking more, why did you get it? Since when? How long? How painful? Can I see them? May I touch them? Do you like it? At the same time afraid of what his reaction might be. What more will revealed to him. Some people still gathered in the garden, watching you and him exchanging words at his disposal to get rid of you.

He chuckles, the voice surprisingly warm and tinkling and you wanted to hear more of it and you realize that he's not so bad, without all that fake-ness.

"Actually I feel bad that I can't fully appreciate the picture now that it embedded in me. I'll be honored if you kept this all to yourself for the time being, at least until we graduate."

He made move to leave but your hand shot up and grab his sleeve, he turned to you confusedly, as though the discussion has been called off and no more pressing matter to talk about. Instead of call you on it, he waited patiently like he apparently often did. You looked back at him just uncertain, perhaps the wound in your head more severe than you expected, you let go of the sleeves.

It was addicting, having him close to you. Just once and you already craving for more. That night sleep won't come to you no matter what, everytime you closed you eyes, you saw him standing there in monochromatic color, his skin white, his clothes black, his hair white, his tattoo black, his teeth white, his lips black, bleeding red. Just in a blink you saw that it was you bitten by him ferociously, laid beneath him with half lidded eyes and his naked body felt warm and exciting, and the next thing you opened your eyes, you were there alone in your empty bedroom.

Your breath ragging loudly amidst the silence. The insanity of it pounding loudly on your conscience, the blue and red tendrils extended its sneaky hands toward you, taunting you, leaving you wanting, panting, begging, pleading, anything to put that figure on your cradle so you could hold him, love him, taste him, lick him, being one entity that is you and him. You hoped desperately that everything concerning him was just illusion.

And for all the aching you felt toward him, you hated him more.

The denial brought new boat of depression to you, served in platter so you could stuffed it on your mouth, filling the ache left by nights desiring his presence. It didn't help that the more you helped yourself, the more thought of him latched on your brain, nibbling every important aspect until you were reduced into animal and its primal need. The fact that he is the next in line of unexpectedly powerful yakuza organization by name Hakuzuki, white moon, that he is expected to live different life than the one that you have. Seemed so close yet far from your outstretched hand.

He is no silly boy, you knew it, he's brave, you knew it too, but you didn't know what to say when he confront you for staring at him from time to time, asking if you were bothered now that you knew his hidden identity. Answers on the tip of your lips didn't feel right, no matter what you spill, it was only half of the whole truth. So you choose to kiss him instead to silencing your ranting mind and his restless questions. The joy and relieve that you feel when he didn't object your kiss turned into uneasiness when he didn't act on these either, and you ran before he said anything about it because you can't bear the rejection so ready to crush your reality into pieces.

Before you realize it, your sanity crumble bit by bit as you got the first taste of his lips not perfect, slightly chapped, but supple and so kissable, and the fluttering of his eyelashes made your heart throbbing to live, your stomach filled with angry hummingbird, the scent that filled your sense of old book, of wood, of grass, of coarse sand, of dew, sweeter than honey. The more you willing him away, the more dreaming about him dissatisfy you.

That particular evening darkness casted through your mind, you were so lost, drenched under spilling rain. You fingers numb from cold, it wasn't friendly weather but you needed them to numbing your feeling. Angsting about your recently messed up life, mourning your lovelorn affection.

So it wasn't that big of surprise that fate got them even messier, when he spotted you in front of his gate, because you didn't know where your feet lead you to. It didn't escape your notice that his red yukata compliment his eyes nicely, the umbrella made of bamboo keeping him dry, how he looked like festive spirit. He frowned at your pitiful condition, eyes heavy with black circle and common sign of stress, and you saw slight worry on the way he frown, your sneeze eventually break the chill and he ushered you to come inside.

"What do you want?" he asked once you came out into sitting room, two cups of steaming tea placed on round tray between you and him. Nothing else on the bare room save the opened sliding doors, one of them overlooked the garden, rain drizzling softly, barely visible in dying light, thankfully the lamp provide more than needed.

"You've acting stranger," he carefully sipped the tea, just enough to wet his lips, his pink tongue, his pale slender throat, and the room felt slightly warmer.

"You don't need to worry. My study ends sooner than I've expected," that statement sends unpleasant shiver down your system. What…

"What?" it came as mumbled grunt on your side, you slowly sat beside him.

He looked up and gave you that smirk, the one you hate and he was conscious of it. "Family business."

You got nothing further than that, the chill from before returned tenfold and you stare hard at him, stare that he shrugged easily, so you grabbed his sleeve to get his full attention. His eyes narrowing a fraction but otherwise he said nothing, the spilled tea forgotten. You stared hard, clenched your fist tight, fighting your way to winning your demand, claim, over him, but he was another fighter with eyes piercing sharp, borne hole through your skull, and his fists had winning numerous fight he lost count of.

But it wasn't his fist, his intense gazing that scared you. You afraid of where future will put you, with him no longer around to watch, to admire, to ogle, to kiss randomly.

You moved in front of him in desperation of losing him, and dipped your head to kiss him straight in the mouth, your hand grabbed him close, went frantic when he kissed you back demandingly. Before long, you and he moved together in synchronized harmony, song of love with voices that steadily fading in the night. His sharp nail clawing at your back, as you do him, injecting poison so you just believe that everything were just about you and him, didn't matter as long as he sat in your lap, you could taste his mouth, heart drumming beneath your palm.

Back of your head crushed not so gently when he pushed you down, sending new boats of attack, taking the kiss into whole new different level you haven't reach before, not with anyone, not with him. Taking lead of action, demanding your soul, your body, your dream, to keep him close and closer still until you and him became one. Your feeling dissolved, gave away into warm glow of happiness, of desperation, please let us last forever, couldn't let him go not now not ever, please let him be mine.

The school, the family, the organization, your friends, his underlings, your future, his flushing cheeks, homeworks and upcoming tests, your sweat, the spilled tea, the softly pattering rain, his arousal, the musky scent, cool breeze whispering through the panel, your mounting passions.

"Touya."

And it was your given name, called so intimately, needy, that had you undone. The very picture of descending God when heaven showing their enmity, so they had no choice but falling to earth.

The exertion exhaust both you and him, you insisted to lay still. He didn't mind, just lifting one of his eyebrow in amusement as he crawl to retrieve blanket from planted drawer and went back to you. His chest against you and you've got full view of the dragons dancing in his back, its mouth pulled back in know-it-all grin, laughing at your destiny, the oddity of fate.

You held him close long after that because you weren't sure if you will given chance again as he was never yours to keep, never yours to love. Strangely enough, you laugh because the antithesis of loving him made you hate him more.

~ FIN

a/n: I just thought that Yukito should be ultra macho sometimes, even though his face fit for damsel in stress. He as son of yakuza, rather suit him I think. I dunno how to put end on this except that Touya went from hate-hate-hate Yuki turn into like-hate-like Yuki.. I sincerely hope you like this.

~vallucast