hindrance

Mikuo Hatsune stumbles into Luki Megurine's doorway, battered, bruised and unable to breathe.

Upon seeing this mess of a person, the owner of the house doesn't even say anything, doesn't ask him what's wrong, or what the fuck happened and who the fuck did anything to piss off the tealette and simply stares.

A sentence forms on his lips, and he mumbles out, "You've got a lot of nerve coming here…." But he doesn't finish his sentence properly, the look in the Hatsune's eyes makes him draw back a little, the intensity is kind of scary, even he has to admit. He reluctantly relents, letting the younger teen stumble in with a hand tightly gripping the muscle of his right arm. He pulls out a chair, forcing the former to sit while he stares with concern in his eyes, and the injured person doesn't look at him, simply picking at the blood through his fabrics.

Of course, the elder is the first to give up after seeing his friend in such a pitiful state. "Let me see that." He mutters, holding out his hand. In return, Mikuo begrudgingly lets him analyze the possibly and mostly broken arm, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood when a clean finger applies pressure on the wound behind the cloth. Then, it disappears.

"I'll be back. Wait here." says the homeowner.

And true to his word, he returns soon enough, with disinfectant in long, slim fingers that match his figure, paired by cotton swabs and bandages for the other's hurt arm.

Tea slides towards the Tealette when the check-up finishes. Luki doesn't insist on checking anywhere else for damages, figuring that Mikuo would make them known if he was given some space. Besides, it would be awkward if he did such things while not being a doctor. But, those two reasons aside, there was another reason why his fingers don't linger on skin for any longer than necessary. This is noticed by Mikuo himself, and it was a reason that he was more than happy to feed to continue. It was necessary.

It certainly was strange, how Mikuo chooses to be much more silent than their previous rendezvous, but Luki simply made this a mental note and sips his own tea quietly with elegance. The only noise that passes between them is Mikuo's loud slurping of his warm beverage. His bloody fingers wrap around the porcelain like it's his only lifeline. The panic in his eyes and how he shakes only makes Luki curious to know what happened, if not worried. How did Mikuo even got out of the mess that left him so fearful?

But Luki's lips remained sealed and he stays silent. Repeatedly, the question pokes at his mind. What happened? Who got hurt? Would he have to play arbitrator to another set of arguments his Kuo had gotten into?

Finally, "…I don't know where she is." Mikuo's first words strike hard enough to flay Luki alive. The gentleman grips his own tea cup tightly at the mention of her name out of Mikuo's lips. The hot water burns, scalds, and Luki retreats with a loud hiss escaping his teeth pressed hard against thin lips.

She was their evening star, and the lonely figure that lit their entire lives on fire and Mikuo had lost her. Rage is the only thing on Luki's mind and he struggles to keep the worry, the fear, the frustration he felt towards Mikuo for losing her inside his mind and inside a mask of calm.

But Mikuo knows better than that. Luki's eyes tell him otherwise; Luki's mad. In fact he's furious. He wants Mikuo dead for losing her, and Mikuo feels guilty about it. Not because of Luki's dirty looks but moreover the fact that he wants her back in his life as well. Her disappearance would break him. It would break both of them. Guilt. More guilt, but also the smallest feeling of glee. Only he knows what happened to Kaiko.

"I'll leave." Mikuo suggests, getting up from his chair, "Thanks for treating my arm and my tea. I'll be sure to pay you back in kind."

It takes Luki a moment to react, but once he does he rises from his position quickly and grips his ex-friend's unbroken wrist. The two have a slight stare off, blue mixing with blue, and when Luki realizes what he's done. He clears his throat, a slightly awkward blush on his face as he stumbles out the next words for Mikuo to stay.

"…Don't go. If she's lost...then it would be better for us both to go look for her when you get better…wouldn't it?" The soft whispers of his voice makes Mikuo shiver, shaking slightly as he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, brain frenzied. He sits down, however, and goes back to clinging to the warm cup of tea that's long gone cold in the winter breeze.

Luki sits with him for as long as he can, and then excuses himself. This leaves Mikuo with time on his own to simply think and reflect upon what he had done, and most of all, why he had come to Luki. When Luki calls him again, he doesn't have answers to either of these questions.

"Get in." Luki's voice is calm and gentle, taking Mikuo's unbroken hand and leading him into the bathroom.

The strange place is utterly devoid of all dust and debris and above all else, smells like a strange but pleasant mix of strawberries and various other flowery scents that sends Mikuo's stomach reeling. It wasn't that the smell is bad, in fact it is quite pleasant. But rather, Mikuo is surprised that his brain, his nose, his entire being reacts to this scent, even after three years since the last time he's encountered this mixture..

"I can wash myself." Mikuo's protests go unheard.

"Not with that broken arm you can't. I'll scrub your hair for you; you can do whatever is least painful for yourself. Will that make you happy?"

Mikuo nods his head gently, realizing the best deal he could get. And then he gives himself up to Luki's soft fingers weaving through his scalp. He would be lying through his teeth if he said he didn't like it. It seems that Luki had lost track of time or sense of place, as against his vocal cords, Mikuo hears the soft melodies of a duet they used to sing together.

A duet he was dying to sing with her.

Luki helps him rinse off his hair, lather conditioner, then rinse again before disappearing to his bedroom, presumably to work on his next book, or song, or poem, whatever the patron art felt like calling to him today. Mikuo is once again left alone in a room he had once been so familiar with.

He lost all track of time when Luki massaged his scalp, snapping out of his trance in fact took a few minutes. The able hand drifts to his cleaned hair, and rests there for moments, lingering against the warmth of Luki's hands. A glance at the shampoo tells him this is the exact same shampoo he enjoyed in the past, when he and Luki shared a dorm…and ultimately a bed.

But that had all changed with her arrival. With her introduction came the ruination of a lasting relationship that had been confirmed since the junior years of high school. That isn't to say Mikuo regretted it, he quite enjoys being with her. If that isn't true, he would still be together with Luki, right?

Luki arrives, as if exactly on time after Mikuo had exited with a slight creak of the old door, to help him dry off. A change of clothes is needed, seeing as how the slightly charred hoodie wouldn't do him any good to sleep in. For some reason, Mikuo finds himself in one of Luki's larger shirts. It smells like lemons, cleanliness was a given when it came to Luki, and the fact that it came fresh off the ironing board make the boy care less about the flopping sleeves and dragging hem.

"I'm sorry I can't find a smaller shirt." Luki apologizes, and Mikuo replies with silence. He was too busy remembering how familiar this all seems. The exact same things happened when he was running buck wild in the rain with Luki as his guide.

Mikuo's smaller figure causes the shirt to turn out more like a dress than an actual shirt. Luki wasn't big. The man had a long, slender body shape he worked hard to maintain, but in comparison to Luki, the shirt on Mikuo's back dangles like paper in the wind. What Mikuo cared more about, was not the warmth of the ironing board, but the warmth of the one who had warn it only moments agao, and whose fingertips had sewn across the fabric. Lingering feelings didn't seem to go away so easily.

"You must be tired," It is Luki's gentle voice when they return to the kitchen. Mikuo's teal locks find themselves under Luki's hands again as a towel finds them its home, "I don't know what happened , but it seems dangerous. You should probably take a nap, or sleep. It's getting late, anyway." Luki gestures to the bedroom, which Mikuo doesn't recognize in his tiredness. Another nudge makes Mikuo realize that he was spacing out again, and with light tugs, Luki takes his hand and lead him on to the bedroom and on to the bed.

Mikuo didn't have the thought of anything going wrong until he hears whispers in what might have been Luki's voice. He rolls over in bed, curling over on his side and stares out the nearby window until, perhaps, sleep overtakes him.

His mind drifts between Luki and the girl he was so desperately in love with. She acknowledged him, of course, but there was no doubt in his mind that Luki was the one she preferred. Jealousy dances on his mind, and he grips the sheets tight until his knuckles turn white. Releasing the grip, Mikuo flops on to his back, closes his eyes and settles his breath. All of this painful thinking would end with the coming dawn, perhaps he would be over this now that Kaiko was lost. Perhaps it was time to rekindle old flames with Luki again.

His dreams leave him for the night, and Mikuo is surprised to discover that upon awakening that on the table stood a tall plate ofpancakes and a warm bowl of cereal. A careful glance tells Mikuo it was Lucky Charms, and his stomach churned again with all those memories. His favourite.

He stands there in silence for what seemd like hour but was probably minutes until Luki's voice calls him again.

"Oh, you're awake, 'Kuo? Breakfast's on the table, you should wash up."

He flinches at the nickname. Luki seemed to not notice when he exits the kitchen, pink apron and all, spatula in hand, "Are you awake, Mikuo? You look tired, would you like to return to bed?" The return to formality relaxes Mikuo's shoulders. It must be the sleepiness of the morning getting to him. He thought about the possibility of living with Luki again last night, but shakes it off.

The tealette responds with a careful shake of the head. Luki, however, wouldn't let him sit at the table as he shoves the other towards the bathroom. "Wash up, the dry towel and the unopened toothbrush are yours. I'll wait for you before we begin." Mikuo nods again, his only word being a carefully selected, "Ok," and disappears back into the bathroom to clean himself up and to wipe the muck from his sleepy eyes.

On his return he notices the scattered blankets sprawled about the couch. They are neat, but ultimately still a mess. Oh, of course Mikuo had to have Luki's bedroom. The guestroom must smell too much like her. Her perfume must still linger, mixing with the owner's own flowery scents. There must have been too many memories inside it, and though Mikuo was not one to care for what Luki had done in private, he felt in contact with the green monster the more he thought about now.

Mikuo was someone who didn't exactly have, well, a stable mentality. He seemed perfect on the surface, when in truth he was a loose cannon, ready to burst with insanity if he was prodded hard enough. If As he stalked back towards the kitchen, he pockets a butter knife that sat on the table, practically screaming towards him to pick it up. The insistence of the monster wouldn't let it go.

But Luki seems to pay this no mind. He gives the boy a small smile when he returned, depositing the apron into its compartment in the cabinets. But neither of the two would say anything as they dine in silence and Mikuo knew, sooner or later, Luki would ask. As understanding as the other was, he had a certain limit to his toleration. Mikuo knows well enough that he couldn't hide from this forever, and the pocket knife in his pocket weighed heavy.

He thinks it is wise to stand, much to Luki's surprise.

Retracting the pocket knife from earlier, Mikuo stood ready to stab Luki where he had left unprotected, in the heart. In a swift motion, he dives! And all would be over! The green monster told him so as well, whispering to Mikuo that this was the best way to get rid of the atrocious third wheel.

Or rather, it would have been over had it not been for Luki's hand securing Mikuo's wrist, the other fond itself digging the utensil out of Mikuo's hands. Surprised and to some extent, disappointed, Luki placed the knife back on the table.

"Sit down and eat your breakfast properly, Mikuo." Luki said in a tone of calm fury, this is a tone that Mikuo had been familiar with, and it was better to obey than to defy. After all, he must have already lost Luki's trust in one stabbing accident. It was better, the monster said again, to wait it out before trying again.

And breakfast passes in relative silence after that.

"I must leave," Mikuo insists a day after the breakfast incident, "I can't stay here anymore, not after…"

"You can't go anywhere until your arm's better. I won't keep you here, but you must at least wait till your arm's healed. It didn't look broken to me, it shouldn't take too long." Luki's reply lacks emotion and feeling, but Mikuo knows that it was a sincere offer.

"I don't care." Mikuo states in return, "I have to go. I can't stay here and let them drag you into this."

He doesn't say anything when Luki passes over this obvious drop of them and they. Mikuo does see, however, that Luki seems concerned as his brows knit together occasionally. What is Luki thinking about? Did it concern her? He doesn't need an answer to that; he knows it must concern her in some way or format. She was involved in their lives without them even realizing it.

"You should stay." Luki says again, "Stay for as long as you possibly can and don't you ever thinking about leaving without my permission." His voice rises a bit at the last half of the sentence, and Mikuo knows that Luki must be losing it. His patience must be wearing thin.

He confirms this when he finds Luki frantically dialling the same number and receiving nothing as a response. The panic on Luki's face is…slightly satisfying, and Mikuo doesn't even consider how fucked up he must be to enjoy seeing Luki, his guardian, in such pain. But he closes the door quietly and pretends, when Luki asks, as if he had seen nothing.

A phone call comes a few days after the breakfast incident for Luki. Recognizing the voice on the other line as someone Luki would be interested in speaking to, Mikuo slams the phone shut with anger through his veins. Mikuo realizes that his thoughts come to him in moments of pure frustration, most of it involving Luki's death in some shape or form, and ultimately the one who kills him in cold blood, is the twisted blue-eyed creation formerly known as Hatsune Mikuo.

Recurring visions of blood quelling fire appear in his head, and in his panic , he buries his head in the pillows. The weirdest thing isn't that he imagines these things with such vigour, it is the strangest when he realizes he's been enjoying these visions more and more as time goes by. He knows it's bad to picture your ex-loves in flames, but these images will seemingly never fade.

Even in moments of household chores that he does for Luki in exchange for bed and board, Mikuo is plagued by hallucinations. Looks of concern appear on Luki's face as Mikuo struggles with even the simplest ideas.

"Hey, 'Kuo, are you alright?" He doesn't even flinch when his ex uses his nickname. Genuine worry, it seems, as Mikuo knew better than anyone that nickname was reserved for only special purposes. Only two people use it, his sister, and the man standing in front of him.

"I'm dandy." Mikuo snapps back, "Just fine. None of your business to care about me when you're keeping me cooped up here. My arm was healed ages ago, why are you still keeping me trapped here!"

A demand receieved no answer from Luki, but it sparks rage within the pinkette who only snaps at Mikuo in response.

"I'm only keeping you here because you won't tell me what you did to get so hurt in the first place! Did you get hurt because you got into some kind of trouble? Did you get hurt because some idiot tried to run you over? Whatever it is, you should tell me!"

"It's already been a month, Luki! What the fuck do you think is going to happen if you report it late?" A month. Has it really been that long?

"You won't know until you try! For pete's sake, what the hell is wrong with you? You haven't been yourself at all! Trying to stab me, getting progressively worse until you can't even hold a mop properly!"

"I'm FINE!"

"No, you're NOT!"

The argument only ends with the slam of Mikuo's door as he retreats to the master bedroom to simply sulk in silence. In return, Luki picks up the mop dropped and sets the spilled bucket upright again as he sets out to do the work that Mikuo couldn't.

It's strange, being in the same room as one you used to love in moments of sadness, Mikuo notes in his head as he traces the patterns on the table. He and Luki had long been separated, only talking to each other when she called them out for an adventure or a roadtrip. It wasn't that he didn't love Luki anymore, was it? The feeling must have been mutual as they received the notion to go for her and see if she was theo ne who could answer all their love problems.

He had never once considered that if she hadn't been there, these problems may have never existed, and he had never considered that if he was a little bit more sane, things would have been okay.

But that didn't matter anymore. Luki's look of utter shock surprises Mikuo as well. It inspires, however, a certain wave of glee inside him as the phone received only flabbergasted replies. The news, Mikuo already knows; Mikuo knew that from the start. It was the same news when he told Luki he had lost her, and it was only reinforced when the phone calls didn't go through. Knowing everything made it all the sweeter.

"B-but I don't un-understand, h-how can she—"

Mikuo, from his position on the couch, pulls on his headphones and pretends to the turn the music up within Luki's line of sight. It's bait gobbled up like thanksgiving turkey. Luki's barely held back sobs come back to Mikuo's ears as only the most delightful melodies. It's his entire person to hold back laughter at the pitiful pinkette's state.

So why, was he feeling bad about it?

Mikuo blames it on the barely blasting music in the background. The song must have been a sorrowful one that left even the strong willed in tears. His guilty consciousness must have stemmed from that, he thought, because his consciousness had been lost in the first place. When these visions first appeared, he had sacrificed his mind to feed these images to fuel his anger.

But he still felt…bad about it, even when the music was over and he could still hear Luki's heavy breathing exercises in the background.

It is Luki's fault. Yes yes it must have been entirely Luki's fault.

Perhaps Mikuo feels bad about his ideas, but at this point, his reluctance was all too late.

Against a sky draped in red, his laughter is the only sound for miles. Inside the house Luki must have been busy trying to save himself. Mikuo's laughter, maniacal and fuelled by perhaps more than revenge is the only sound to fill the air. The patheticness in his voice shakes the heart and earns him only scornful claims of insanity from the people below.

The lighter in his hands flickers on and off at a rapid pace as he attempts to coerce the flames into existence. Again, again, repetitions and clicks fill the air. "C'mon, turn on, damn you. Turn on!" And then, he tosses it into the inferno behind him. No matter how beautiful it may be, it is useless if it won't work. The same applies to human.

This fire was rather nice, and who knew cherrywood burnt so well? Feeling the crackling of tree bark peel against the flames spiralling up its feet, Mikuo lets out another, barely contained giggle.

Captivated by the flames, Mikuo's attention is diverted. So he doesn't notice that emerging from the flames is a certain pink haired man who the world only knows as Luki Megurine. When he turns his head back to see what progress the flames have made, only garbled words escape the arsonist's mouth. His eyes widen to the size of saucers and

He runs he runs he runs he has to get out of here he can't be caught like this Luki must be a ghost breathe Mikuo breathe.

So he breathes, deep breaths that choke him as the fumes pour into his body. He leans backwards against the outstretched porch of the home, what little had not been consumed being his sanctuary and takes in what little oxygen that comes towards him.

That leaves the problem in front of his eyes.

"Hey, Kuo." Luki is okay, it seems. The circumstances leave his face perfect porcelain. "You're okay, thank god. I don't know what happened, I think it's the stove but you're alright." And then there is a brief hug, for Luki it means the world, the panic of perhaps his ex-love being in complete and utter danger terrifying him and he finally shows his true colours.

But nothing remains happy forever.

Suddenly, Luki's eyes widen as pain enters his stomach area. Was it something he ate? This is worst time to be having a stomach ache. He can only glance at the smaller being in his arms as he releases the hug, scrambling for a way to close the wound that had been left in his stomach. His questions are answered when he looks up to find steel in Kuo's hands and the singed smell of Mikuo's hands and burnt fabrics on his back.

And then everything makes sense.

"So-" He begins.

"Save your breath," Mikuo cuts him off in return, "Yes, it was me, I killed Kaiko." Admittedly, ths confrontation sounds much better in his head, less pathetic, and less of a pain in his heart, "I set your house on fire." And above all else, he shouldn't sound so reluctant to say these things. He was supposed to be happy, wasn't he?

Luki takes this in contemplation, saying nothing and letting him continue. There is more to be said.

Tentatively, the words come. "Are you mad?" asks the Hatsune, who's suddenly so worried by the crimson staining the tiles he's practically jittering, teeth clanking, knees shaking. The knife in his hands hits the tiled floor with a loud clink. How did he lose control so quickly?

"Yes." Luki's response as he slowly settles himself to hug Mikuo again, grinding his teeth to overcome the immense pain.

"!" Mikuo's reaction to the hug is surprise. Perhaps he was sad at the mention of Luki's anger, but all of that dissipates when Luki's warm hugs take him.

"No, of course I'm not mad, stupid. I'm just …surprised that you would…do…all this." His breathing becomes gradually heavy, or had it always been this heavy? Mikuo doesn't know. Perhaps he had been too stupid in his revenge to notice. "If…you loved her that much…I would have…backed…off."

"Why would you do that? Don't you love her too?" Mikuo doesn't dare move from his spot, only holding Luki tightly in his arms, not caring about the bloodstaining his clothes when it didn't seem like the firefighters cared. This can't be happening, this wasn't how it went down in his plans. Luki was supposed to die, but he wasn't supposed to be crying.

"Yes…I do, but as long as you're…happy…so am I."

Luki's embrace loosens, and his limpness only means one thing. Mikuo leans in, towards the dying man, and brushes his own lips against Luki's. Was this the end? He had killed Kaiko, and now he had killed Luki too? The consciousness that had returned was better off gone. His widened eyes soften, as if accepting the fact that the firefighters weren't coming and

He leans against the unconsumed wall, holding Luki in his arms, and closes his eyes as well. Inside the house, teal and pink mix together with black and red. Against the crashing noises of the furniture in the background, Mikuo finally realizes that it was not Kaiko who he loves.

But rather, caught up in the intense need for her attention, he lost track of who truly loved him.

"—Thus concludes our leading story of the wildfire. We wish you a pleasant evening."

"It's a shame, isn't it?" The speaker is a young woman dressed in black and yellow, "So young, so desperate to be in love."

"I think it's more screwed up than a shame." Replies one dressed impeccably like a carrot, "What about you, Li? Li?"

The one called Li says nothing when his name is called, then jerks when he hears it for a second time. "Huh? I guess you both have a point."

In his hands sits a pair of scissors, the tips tinted red.

a/n: oh man i wrote this ages ago. The story reads terrible AND MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE WHATSOEVER but I've already beta'd it like three times I don't even care anymore sobs. Anyway. This is based off ACute Reverse and the ending is heavily borrowed from Trapface's "Let the Blood Spill" which I admit I need to read. Badly.

The time for this fanfic is about between when Mikuo kills Kaiko instead of Kaiko and Luki. Luki and Mikuo were lovers in high school and when Kaiko showed up that just kind of died. Ughhh I don't even care anymore it's like 6am already so good night!