Another one of my strange one-shots. Well, maybe not strange, but... Yeah. I think it's a bit strange. I got the idea while trying to fall asleep after waking up at 5:30 AM for no reason, so make of that what you will. No, I went back to sleep, and THEN I wrote this after waking up again at a more reasonable hour.

Going out on a couple limbs, again. Such is my way, I suppose. Among other things, I put my own little twist on the interaction between White Haru and Black Haru; I know it doesn't work this way in canon, but it serves its purpose, so... CREATIVE LICENSE. Ish.

Yes, I went with third-person present-tense again. It's so much fun. X) And, it was the only way I felt I could tell this story.

Canonically, this is somewhere between Kisa recovering her voice and Yuki accepting the nomination for Student Council President.

Fruits Basket belongs to Natsuki Takaya

Haru wants to hold Yuki; wrap his arms around him and not have to let go. Not because Yuki is struggling, but because he isn't.

He knows this probably won't happen in the way he'd like it to. Yuki's not the touchy-feely type. None of the older Zodiac are, really, but most of them won't object to the occasional caress or hand on their arm.

Yuki doesn't like to be touched at all. He recoils from any hand or body moving too closely in his direction, and tries to pass off his shying away as suddenly remembering there was something he needed to do. An empty smile and he is forgiven immediately, and no one wonders why.

But Haru knows.

After the horrors he endured as a child whenever Akito laid hands on him, Yuki can't bear physical contact for more than a few seconds. It sends him into a panic.

So whether it's instinct or a cruel conditioning to react in such a way... Not even Yuki really knows.

But he will allow extended contact from Haru. Because he knows how deeply Haru cares about him and though he doesn't want to encourage romantic advances, he doesn't want to discourage their friendship; for a long time, it was all he had.

But he still doesn't like being touched. Haru will run up to him and then remember this at the last second, and, hiding his disappointment behind a cheerful, greeting smile, merely grab a loose fold of Yuki's shirt. It stretches the fabric unnecessarily and it's annoying to have Haru's arm drag along whenever he shifts position, but Yuki tolerates it because he knows by now that no harm is meant by it.

Haru wants to hug him, but he knows Yuki won't let him. So he has to settle for an arm thrown casually over Yuki's shoulders – an arm that Yuki immediately tenses under but says nothing about, has learned he doesn't need to shrug off.

It's not what Haru wants; both of them know that. But Yuki isn't after anything more, and as long as Black Haru is kept at bay, he doesn't have to fear anything more.

–

It's not clear right away what has happened. The door rumbles quietly as it slides open just enough to let a slight body through, then closes with a soft thump against the jamb. Haru flicks his eyes from the manga he's reading just enough to know by the glint of silvery hair and white skin that it's Yuki, then returns to the book. Then he notices how the atmosphere of the room has changed. The air is stuffy and the sunlight through the windows feels too warm. Lowering the manga onto his lap, forefinger marking his page, Haru looks more closely at Yuki. His head is down and he hasn't moved from entering the room. Indecision locks his hands on the door behind him, as if he didn't expect anyone else to be here, but he knows that walking right back out would raise too much suspicion. It would.

"Yuki?" Haru asks quietly, and the bowed head edges in the direction of his voice. "You okay?" His hair flutters with the tiniest nod and, with a distinct sense of defeat, Yuki drifts soundlessly toward the tables in the far corner, sitting on the padded benching facing away from Haru. Haru is hurt by this, but he still understands. Yuki doesn't want to talk. He wants to be alone for a while. Haru thinks about staying anyway, but the rising hostility emanating from Yuki makes him think otherwise would be better for their sometimes delicate relationship. Finger still sandwiched in the manga, Haru stands from his seat as quietly as he can manage and carefully treads to the door.

"I'll see you at Sensei's," he informs Yuki, no hint of doubt about it in his voice. He fully intends to talk this out once Yuki's had a chance to process it; because he can't stand to see Yuki anything but happy.

His fingertips curl around the groove in the door the instant a small sound trails through the room. Haru pauses and listens, not turning his head. It comes again and he looks toward Yuki to see wet tracks shining down his face in the late-afternoon sun. And now Haru can't leave, no matter how many times and ways Yuki might try to make him go.

"Yuki..."

Yuki's eyes press shut, squeezing more tears out to fall into his lap, fists clenching as he fights against the emotion that has suddenly become too much. Another sniffle, kept quiet, yet still managing to break Haru's heart just a little bit more. Yuki starts quivering with the effort and Haru is across the room in three strides, kneeling down to his level and watching him with sympathetic brown eyes. He reaches for one of Yuki's hands in his lap and wraps his fingers around a wrist.

"What happened?" Haru pleads, squeezing two fingers into Yuki's palm when he sniffles loudly and bows his head lower. Tears drip onto Haru's knuckles and he moves closer. "Yuki, look at me," he commands, softly inflecting as Black Haru just for that moment because he knows it's the only thing that will make Yuki pay attention. Yuki starts and opens his eyes again; red-rimmed and flooded. Hesitantly he locks his gaze with Haru's, eyes half-closed as if he still wants to hide. "Tell me what happened, please." He hopes Yuki can see how much of his pain is Haru's pain, as Yuki uncomfortably brushes a strand of feathery hair behind his ear. Then Yuki shakes his head and breaks eye contact, tries to pull his arm away; but Haru grips it tighter and stands, wrenching Yuki to his feet with him.

"Haru," Yuki pleads in a broken voice, "Don't-"

"No!" He cuts him off, "You are not running away from this one, Yuki!" And he feels Black Haru beginning to seep into his demeanor; Yuki is wide-eyed as he hears it in his voice and is immediately obedient. Frozen. Trembling. Black Haru smirks and leaves the damage behind. Repentant, White Haru relaxes his hold, shifts his hand to gently close around Yuki's fist, suspended between them. "I'm sorry," he murmurs; Yuki is too fragile right now to withstand anyone yelling at him, especially one of his closest friends. Gradually, the fist relaxes, fingers uncurling as far as Haru's loose grasp will allow. It's not exactly holding hands, but it's the closest Haru's ever gotten. He can think about it later. Yuki finally nods and takes a shaky breath.

"I know," he whispers, an exhale with the words tucked inside it. He pushes his free hand through his hair and leaves it there, looking even more vulnerable with so much of his face exposed, and Haru wants to tell him to stop it because he can't bear the sight of it. But he doesn't. The hand drops and Yuki sighs again. "I know. I'm sorry."

Haru blinks. "For what?"

Yuki's eyes drop closed and his head moves half-heartedly from side to side. "For being so pathetic like this."

"You're not," Haru insists, wishing as he has many times before that Yuki would get past the image of himself that Akito planted in his mind, and start seeing himself the way so many others see him; Tohru, Shigure, Hanajima and Uotani, Kagura, Momiji, and little Kisa, to whom he is as much a big brother as Tohru is her big sister.

"I am." He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and leans forward. Haru catches his forehead on his shoulder and steadies him with hands on his upper arms.

Yuki doesn't say anything; he barely reacts at all. Haru turns his face closer to Yuki's, silver hair brushing against his cheek, and he whispers into his ear, "Tell me why, then."

And Yuki tells him, in staggered mumbles and the occasional two- or three- word outburst that is muffled into his chest. He tells him about the pressures of student council and how fiercely certain members (ahem, Makoto Takei) want him to run for next year's president; about how terrible he feels for Kisa, and how he wishes he could give her more support; how much he wants to tell Honda-san everything... but doesn't have the courage to do so. How all of this and more suddenly became too much today, and Yuki couldn't think of anything to do but hide in an empty classroom that turned out to not be so empty after all.

And Haru holds him, transitions to wrapping his arms firmly across Yuki's back. He doesn't seem to notice at first, still murmuring one last thing that he's run out of the energy to voice louder. At the end of it is silence; then Yuki relaxes, his hands dropping and hanging for a moment before rising to a natural position at Haru's shoulders, and the rest of his body buckling to fit into the embrace. Haru tilts his head further in, experimentally, his lips ghosting the curve of Yuki's jaw; Yuki stiffens and tries to pull away, but Haru brings him closer, whispering, "Sorry." He shouldn't have tried that; he knows Yuki doesn't want that. But he wants this or he would have ended it the instant it started.

Haru doesn't rock, or sway, or rub Yuki's back; he just stands still, arms in place, side of his head pressed against the back of Yuki's. He notices the sniffles lessening to almost nonexistence. The racking sobs are gone, and he doesn't feel any more tears dampening his shirt. And soon Yuki is still but for his only slightly shaky breathing, and even that is calming down. They just stay like that; not uncomfortable, or conscious of the passage of time. It could be practically endless, if they wanted...

Finally, a small, contented sigh rushes past Yuki's lips and will starts returning to his body.

His own sadness eased, Haru takes advantage of the last few seconds of Yuki's stupor to press a kiss to the crown of his head.

"Haru..." Yuki demurs indignantly, stepping away and rubbing his face clear of the last of the tear tracks, "What if someone saw that?" Haru merely shrugs. But he notes that Yuki's cheeks are tinged pink, though he knows it's purely from embarrassment, and not anything related to hormones.

"No one did," he offers, and Yuki glares mildly at him. His eyes are still red, but they're dry. The blush doesn't help the blotchy skin left by all the crying he did, but he doesn't appear to be in any hurry to go home. They can wait for it to even out.

They sit against a bare wall while they wait, Yuki with his arms wrapped around his knees, and Haru with one leg bent.

"None of it's your fault," Haru says suddenly, the first comment he's made on all of the problems Yuki expounded to him that day. Yuki starts and glances at him, but then looks straight ahead again, not looking like he believes it. He doesn't say anything. Haru notes this with a touch of sadness, but he knows he can't expect to heal Yuki by himself all in one day. He's been trying to help Yuki for years already. Deciding to change tracks, Haru asks, "Feel any better?"

Yuki lifts his head as if looking for the answers in the sky out the window; it's a bit more orange now. Then he drops his head again. No real answer yet, but Haru knows better than to rush him if he wants an honest answer. And Yuki knows he can give Haru an honest answer.

"I think so," he says softly, his voice no longer shattered, and once again carrying that quiet authority that draws others to him. The one so many people keep mistaking for confidence as they have been for years. But Haru smiles privately at this thought; since starting high school, he's been able to see how Yuki is gaining confidence to match up with his voice. Soon, it won't be a mask that he puts on in the morning and takes off before going to bed. It will be him. "What are you thinking about?" Yuki cuts into his thoughts, looking suspiciously at him with one eyebrow delicately arched. Haru grins and gets to his feet; Yuki's face is creamy white again. Yuki follows suit and leads the way out the door, glancing back inquisitively at Haru. Still not answering, Haru pauses to reclaim the manga laying at the door; he can't remember dropping it. A mystery...

One hand in his pocket, Haru reaches out the other to take a gentle hold of Yuki's sleeve. The warmth of the fabric reminds him of the embrace they shared, and he smiles. "Nothing much."

~Owari~

This was written pretty much all in one go. I revisited it a couple times afterwards for minor edits and word-swaps, but this is 98.7% similar to where I left it before taking a break for lunch.

There's a point in this somewhere, I'm sure... XD

Anyhoo, you guys know the drill by now! Reviews are always appreciated!