Disclaimer: I do NOT own Kyo, Shigure, or anything else Fruits Basket related. However, I DO own Tyler and everything about her. I made her. I made her past. Everything. And, if you need to know something about her to make this make sense, feel free to ask. The only thing that isn't somewhat explainable, and important, is the angel part. And that's not even incredibly important, except in my crazy day dreams. But still. Ask if you want/must.

This is my first one shot, and my first thing with Fruits Basket. Kyo's a bit of a softie in it, but it is supposed to be slight Kyo/Tyler(my OC), so...yeah. Have fun, and please read and review.

Fallen Angel

There had always been something about her, something that reminded him of himself, except to almost to a greater degree. Something had hurt her, how or who was never certain, but it was obvious, with her long gazes out the window which took in nothing. She danced around the questions about her past, no matter how innocent the person's intentions. Not long ago, she had even taken over his position on the roof, staring at the sky, thinking about something unknown. That was, until she found a good, thick branch in a nearby tree, which she found more suitable for her purposes. However, he had hardly spared her a second glance until that night.

It was late, and Kyo had been on the roof, as per usual. He expected everyone to be asleep, as they always had been whenever he came in late. However, the light was on, and he entered the room soundlessly. There she was, right in front of him. Her hands were clasped loosely around a glass of water and her light brown hair was cascading around her shoulders, instead of being tied up in a ponytail, as it had been during the day. The name she had given them, Tyler, seemed almost fake now, as if it wasn't who she really was. It was then he noticed something. She wasn't wearing a sweater, but instead a t-shirt. And the reason why it was usually vice versa presented itself to his eyes immediately.

Her arms were littered with scars. Presumably from some sort of beating, but he could only hazard a guess at what had happened. This answered so many questions about her, the way she avoided questions like they were a plague. It was at that moment that she felt the eyes of someone on her, and she looked up, startled, and their eyes met for a moment. She had never been seen scared, not until this very second, and it shocked him into silence. The shared gaze didn't last long before she broke it, and her eyes stared down into the still water in her glass, her eyes filled with sadness and pain.

"Promise me you won't tell anyone."

Her voice, which had always been defiant and unruly, much like his own, had become quiet, so quiet, to the point where he almost had to strain his ears to hear it. He walked slowly over to sit down near her. As he did, she glanced over at him out of the corner of her eye. His own, usually so hard and resistant to the rest of the world, had softened. He was about to open his mouth to ask a question when that same shy voice cut into the silence.

"I really don't want to talk about it. Not now."

His mouth closed and he nodded. Their peace made, she pushed the glass away and crossed her arms, placing her chin down on them. The silence was kept, and he found his eyes fastened on the water in the cup for the longest time. When he tore it away to gaze back over at her, he noticed her eyes had closed and her breathing had deepened. She had fallen asleep.

He could have sworn she was an angel then, and he didn't quite know how close to the truth he was when he thought that. But what drove him away from this conclusion was the small frown that lowered the corners of her mouth and slightly furrowed her eyebrows. With a whisper of a sigh, he got up and walked over to her, gently lifting her up, as one would lift a slumbering child.

He had just placed her down in the bed she had been sleeping in when he glanced back down at her. Her noted her hand was shaking slightly, so he reached over and wrapped his hand around hers. He did it subconsciously, though, for if he had thought about it, his normal hate for the world would have sent him out of the room instantly. The worried look upon her face softened slowly, and he found that a smile was coming to his face.

He was about to turn and let his hand slip away when her head moved less then a centimetre, bringing her nose to rest against his hand in a silent, unconscious sliver of trust. A trust that, after the multitude of scars that burdened her, might never have surfaced again. His mouth was slightly open in surprise, but he turned back to the bed, and sat down, his hand tightening around hers. He needed sleep, and Shigure would yell at him in the morning, but he would watch over her tonight, and, should she wake, she wouldn't find herself alone.