Title: Home Is A Person
Author: Pentagramy
Pairings: KaixTakao, other pairings implied
Warnings: Yaoi mentions, neglect.
Disclaimer: As much as I would love to lay claim to Beyblade, I don't have the papers. And I'm kinda scared of working with devils. (lawyers) So I don't own anything.
Note: I wrote this when I was ten. Give me some slack.
Summary: Home is a person, not a place. How? Because home isn't where the heart is—it's where the person that holds your heart is. And that's why their lives were so screwed up. KaixTakao. OCs.

Home isn't where the heart is. Home is where the one that holds your heart is.

To Takao, seventeen, home was somewhere out on the streets, mostly likely feeding cats. At nineteen, it was in Russia at a business college. At twenty five, it was in a conference room in Tokyo. This progressed through the years, with no one taking notice. Everyone couldn't be bothered.

Hiro had sixteen children, a mind-boggling number, and a husband who, oddly enough, could give birth because of a BoiVolt program. They'd stopped having children when Quinlan stopped sleeping in the same bed as Hiro. It didn't last for long, but long enough to get the point across.

Hilary had two kids and a husband. She was a popular writer and columnist in Paris, France. She kept in loose contact, and then gave up. Her husband was visiting Japan on business, and Takao saw him cheating. He looked on, before giving a rude gesture when the man noticed him. A week later he found Hilary had a boyfriend, full children custody, and divorce papers. Oops.

Kenny had a computer company in Australia that was given a wide berth. It was extremely popular with solid numbers. He had a cute, young daughter that talked in an Australian accent whose dog followed her around a lot, a teenaged son who was smart and mind-blazingly good looking compared to Kenny as a child, and a pretty wife with a fat cat. At least that's what the picture showed. Kenny tried to keep contact with Takao, too, but Takao left the ties undone most times.

Rei had a high position in his village with a teenaged son who wanted to live in New York City as a photographer. He had a sporty youngest daughter, about Kenny's daughter's age, who never stayed inside for long. Mariah was a still an evil bitch, Takao knew, and the oldest, another girl, was turning into her mother. They had no contact.

Max had a teenaged daughter who made Takao think she was nineteen or twenty one instead of fifteen. He was a popular scientist with a great income. He had a lovely wife over in America, and a young son who was a little ball of energy. Max swore in his e-mails to Takao him and Takao were so alike it scared him. Takao never answered these, but did read them.

Kai was the most important, though. Takao lived with Kai a while, then moved back into the dojo when Gramps died. But the door was always open, and Kai, whenever on a Japanese business trap, would slip in. He always would smile in a sexy fashion at the open invite.

The bluenette would get up, and Kai would push him back on to the bed. That was the way it was. Then Kai would walk away again. He always walked away. Why wouldn't he? Takao wasn't even worth a cheap blade now.

He worked as a highly paid photographer on occasion. Other times, he did nothing but wander out in the streets, the park, or the canal. Nothing matter where he wandered. Not when Kai wasn't here. Only Kai mattered.

But Kai had a life.

The dual haired man had a wife, two kids, and was the top dog of his world-dominating company. They sold electronics. It didn't seem like much, but they were the most-trusted company in the whole world.

Their headquarters was in New York City. Once, it was in Russia, before Kai inherited it and moved it to Tokyo. He soon moved it to New York City—Tokyo was only temporary—leaving Takao breathless: he'd never told the stormy eyed man he was leaving.

And the children—Alex and Cry… The boys Takao once deemed his.

Alex was the older, attractive in the extreme, and a wicked genius. His pale skin was like soft, fresh snow, he was tall, he was thin to the point of bony, he was muscular, and he knew what he was doing when he said, "Dad… You're a real fucking bastard, you know that?" Teenaged, obviously—but, sometimes, Takao couldn't agree with him more.

His bright white-black hair matched his father's, but his eyes… the eyes on that boy… Kai's eyes were blood red: passionate, strong, brutal, and stinging of awful things. Alex's eyes were wine red: passionate, soft, easy going, and stinging with burning beauty. Kai's eyes scared; Alex's eyes made you drunk in their depths.

Kai and Alex. Alex and Kai.

They were different people—why didn't others regard them as such?

Cry, on the other hand, wasn't as independent as his older brother, and loved his father thoroughly. He also loved his mother very much, and regarded Takao as just another one of his father's business friends. Someone with no place in the house but the guest room, were his exact words. He, unlike Alex, didn't remember Takao taking care of them at every turn when they were young.

His eyes were a deep, dark, electric blue—a shocking change from the rest of his family. It was like looking into black until something caught his attention—then they shot to their color, making the blue clear. It was like lightening, streaking across the sky. He was pale, too, since he grew up in Russian, but not as bad as his father and sibling.

He wasn't too tall, but he definitely wasn't short. He was about awkwardly tall: not short or normal, but tall enough to actually be tall. This bothered him. His bangs different from the rest of his family, too—it was a deep, dark brown shade. This also bothered him. He was exceedingly smart, but not as smart as his father or brother. This bothered him. He was good-looking, handsome, but not hot. This bothered him.

He was in an awkward, puberty stage—something Alex never really had—and that bothered him. Nothing he could do was as good as his brother, or father, but that never really counted. And, though he through all his love and devotions toward his parents—especially his mother—unlike Alex, who gave them nothing, he was still second best.

Father didn't talk to him. He wasn't at all his mother's favorite. It was laid out for everyone to see. One day—one of the rare occasions Alex was with them—and all their parents did was ignore him and, while his father sometimes commented at Alex, his mother fretted all over the first born. People actually stopped to say, "Aw, that poor boy… He looks so neglected next to that family… Oh, dear! Is that his family?! They look so different!"

He didn't talk the whole day or night. Once, when he was younger, he didn't come back home for the night. His parents never noticed.

While Alex never turned or strayed from Takao—regarding him as higher than his birth mother—Cry simply didn't care for Takao. He didn't like the looks he found his older brother or his father shooting the man. And, when he reached puberty, this feeling incandesced. Honestly, he's thinking about his crush—yet he can't get an erection. But as soon as his thoughts turned toward his father's friend and how the man was going to be there tomorrow, in the room next to his… well, let's say he wasn't exactly soft.

And, he also sickened by the fact when the man did, in fact, fall asleep in the room next to his, he got up and walked into the room. Not to curse him out, but to watch him. He sat on the side of the bed. His hand strayed. He messed his pants up with the white stains. And Takao never noticed. It made him flaming mad.

But, through the years, as this weird, disturbing circle of events kept of up, things never changed. So they never got better. But they never got worse. And so, it was what it was.

And that…

Was home.

Pent: Okay, that was bad. But! I wrote this when I was ten—give me some credit! As you can see, I haven't gotten much better since then. XP But I'm trying.