This was a fic trade with one of my friends! She wrote Saviorshipping, and I wrote this. I really hope you enjoy, because I had fun. Even without knowing what I was on.

Judai had learnt not to fight against the darkness his mind had created as a prison. It was weird. He no longer minded it. Had he given up hope for a saviour? There was no one to save him, anyway. How could they? He was trapped inside the prison of his own making and, he hated to admit it, but he was sort of enjoying it. There was no one to save, in this state. He would fight for him, and in a way, to protect his friends. And, as Haou had told him, if that meant sending them to another place, to store them away if found, then so be it.

Judai liked Haou. He reminded him so much of himself. Well, they were both the same person, except Haou was his original self. No matter how down he felt, with Haou around, he couldn't help but perk up, even just a little. Someone had to keep cheery. Even if he felt dead inside. They both did. He knew that.

He also knew that, alone in their shared mind, no one would judge. If Haou so happened to visit, he would take him into his arms and hug him so softly. Even though his face looked as blank as it always had, Haou appreciated it, and appreciated him. It felt nice to be appreciated again, without someone berating him along the line. Be it Manjoume, or Chronos, or Asuka, or even as of late, Shou. But, no. In his own mind, someone appreciated him without criticism.

Then again, Haou never spoke much. Judai was the one to do all of the talking, for the most part. He would speak of memories, friends, of important things he would never forget. Silently, the King listened. They were perfect for each other. Judai filled the silence that Haou had left. They both needed that. They both needed each other, whether they admitted it or not.

As Haou's control over the worlds grew, he began to distance himself from sleep, essentially from Judai himself. He had his 'mice' to rule, the Proletariats, the lower monsters. Haou began to barely sleep, and only ate when he was persuaded into it by one of his followers. He stopped listening to Judai. He severed their connection, both in their mind and with their friendship.

Judai had become lonely. There was no longer anyone around. His friends all hated him; he had let them down. Once in a while, in the panes of glass around, he would see a friend of his, and shout at them to notice him, to find him. Not out loud, of course. That was ridiculous. As time went on, it only grew to glances at the panes and one thought; Oh, it's you again.

He hated the prison he had forged. He had trusted Haou, and all he did was use him. Judai wasn't bitter about it. Who had time for bitterness? Who had time for any real emotion? He was thankful for the darkness, it never judged, and it never spoke back to him.

He missed Haou. He missed just having him around. He was going crazy, and he could feel it. Was he having feelings for who was essentially himself? No. That was the dumbest thought since assuming Johan would be alive. Judai just missed having someone to talk to.

In his own plane of existence, Haou struggled to stay awake. He had to stay awake. He would not fall asleep and find himself with that boy again. No, he was better than that. He was King. Kings do not spend their time with teenagers. No matter how good his hugs were, or how nice it was to just have someone talking for hours about things. To him, it was interesting. But it was over. Soon enough, the darkness would consume him. Just as it should have been when Haou took over.

Still, he had felt jealous. Perhaps his friends still received more of Judai's attention than Haou himself did. This would not do. Not that he particularly cared about the boy. He just didn't want him to receive deluded hopes of seeing them again. Because, he wouldn't.

Haou called in one of his close followers; a high-ranking officer, one who could tell the troops what to do and where to go. And Haou knew exactly what he wanted. He always did. Even if it involved breaking a promise.

"If you find a man with a crocodile accompanied by a dark-skinned man, and any blue-haired or silver haired males," he started, his voice flat. "I want them gone. I don't care what you do with them."

It felt good to be king.