AN: A KHR fic I wrote a little while back for a bet with a friend, and I've decided to upload it now. Enjoy and please comment! ^^

Disclaimer: I don't own KHR or Squalo or Bel no matter how much I want to.

"Bang." One single, solitary shot in the dark that went off, unheard by anyone. The .45 caliber bullet rang out into the night. The cold glisten of blood in contrast to pale, wispy blond hair almost glowed on the white laminate flooring. A silver tiara rested on the floor, thrown haphazardly on the ground, far from its usual perch, as the body of its former residence now lay spattered in crimson of the ground, a tear-soaked note in its hand. This outcome had always been rather inevitable, it would have happened no matter how the actions leading up to it managed to occur. Their dreadful fate had been set in stone from the first day they had miserably met.

~Three Months Prior~

"God, you asinine 'prince' could you hurry it up already?" such was spoken in a voice of total annoyance by the impatient man leaning against the doorframe. His white hair gleaming in the dimly lit room of white as his foot tapped against the eerily white laminate floor creating a resounding 'clack' that echoed throughout the room. This man's name was Squalo, and he was waiting for his latest case to be sufficiently ready. Decked out in black Squalo certainly fit the part of a stereotypical bodyguard. Admittedly, he wasn't the most muscular guy around, but his fighting skills and his desperate need for cash were well known enough.

"Whatever. You work for me, the prince, remember?" called out the self-proclaimed 'prince' as he quickly got ready for the hectic day to come.

"Sadly, I remember that quite well, you stupid spoiled brat," murmured Squalo angrily under his breath. He just wanted to get this damn day over and done with; the first day on a new job was always the worst, though he had a feeling this job would be slightly more troublesome than most. This job involved being the bodyguard to one, Belphegor—who would seriously name their kid that?—who happened to be the extremely wealthy son of a powerful mafia boss who happened to piss off all the wrong people.

"And if you recall, the last one of your kind couldn't last for more than an hour. The outstanding record is currently at a week. Think you can beat that, Sharky-poo?" so said the 'insufferable brat' Belphegor as he waltzed over to Squalo and pointing an offending finger at his chest. "Anyways, I'm ready for now," he proclaimed with a devilish grin before bouncing out of the room and down the dismal hallway adjacent to it.

According to Squalo's research files Belphegor or 'Bel' for short was a seventeen year old adolescent with way too much time on his hands. He was a little on the short side for a kid his age only rising to a height of five feet and six inches, meaning he didn't even come up to Squalo's shoulder. His icy, crystallized blue eyes hid unobtrusively beneath a veil of platinum blond hair. One of the strangest things about the kid though was his insistence on being a 'prince' to the point that he was never seen without his shiny silver tiara. Realizing that he had let his charge slip away, Squalo briskly walked in the direction that he was certain he had witnessed Bel go.

"Boo! You're not doing very well at this whole, watching me thing you know." Bel said as he popped up from behind Squalo. "You're going to have to try harder than that you kno~w!" and with that the boy was off again. By now Squalo was certain this job wasn't going to be easy by any means, and so it continued for the next few weeks; Bel running away and causing as much trouble as he could and Squalo being the ever-faithful guard dog, or shark as it may be, and chasing after him.

~Two Months Prior~

Bel had quickly grown sick of Squalo; he didn't understand why the man wouldn't quit already. Squalo had been his loyal bodyguard, more like baby-sitter, for about a month now, and what a treacherous month it had been. That month had consisted of thirty-seven fights, eighty-one pranks, seven stolen items, a mangy cat named Shela, and a mandatory name-calling session at least once every hour. Just as he had been plotting more sinister machinations, there came a hollow knock on his door, that single knock would end up changing everything forever. "What is it?" he snapped from his bed while eyeing Squalo who was sitting contently in a chair reading some cheesy novel.

"Prince, sir, well you see, it's like this, there wasn't anything they could do, I-we just watched as-as he well-" Bel cut off his father's flunky, rapidly growing impatient with him.

"Spit. It. Out." As an after thought he vehemently added the word, "NOW!" Belphegor never did like to be kept waiting.

"We-Well, sir, Its about your father…"It was clear that the man had the unfortunate task of being the bearer of bad news, and the even more unfortunate task of being the one who had to tell it to Bel.

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrow at this. His father finding a way to get himself into trouble wasn't anything new; just last week he had gotten involved in a turf war with another rivaling mafia clan." What has he done this time?"

The man took a long pause, simply staring at Bel, his eyes brimming with regret and remorse. "He's dead." This man, who had formerly been his Dad's flunky and was now standing before him, factually informed Bel. Bel froze, before breaking into hysterics. There was no way that this could be true; it had to be a lie. His father wasn't dead. He couldn't be. It was impossible, unfathomable even. He was. Not. Dead. Belphegor threw anything he could find in a desperate attempt to help reason with himself. Glass shattered, feathers floated in an explosion to the ground, and perhaps most importantly a heart had been broken irreparably. The man intrusively spoke up again, "It was over pretty fast if that's of any comfort."

Driven insane by grief, Bel couldn't help but manically laugh at this. "Oh yes that's very God damn comforting. Now get the fuck out of my room, and leave me the hell alone!" He screamed at the man, his voice hoarse from crying and laughing. As the bearer of bad news hurriedly left the room Squalo finally arose from his chair and crouched down beside Bel. Bel had dropped to floor on his knees in a flurry of feathers, laughter, and tears. No words were spoken, and no words were needed. Squalo wrapped his arms around his charge, concerned for the poor boy, and tried his best to comfort him. Out of all the blurred snapshots of that horrific night one would forever stay ingrained in his mind; Squalo holding him tightly while he cried, and laughed, and beat his frustration out until at last exhausted, he passed out. After that night nothing would be the same again. Nothing at all.

~One Month Prior~

Shortly after his father's death Bel had become the new head the family, and in his shadow stood Squalo, his ever dependable bodyguard. Squalo had watched as the kid, man really, had managed to shake away his raining cloud of grief in order to keep his father's 'business' alive and kicking. He had gained a new-found respect for him. The two still fought occasionally, but Bel had long ago given up on chasing Squalo away, instead confiding in him as his most trusted advisor. The family itself was still in catastrophic ruin and no one knew who could be trusted. A week after his father's gruesome murder, Bel was informed that it had been an inside job, and while he had compiled a list of note worthy suspects, he was still overly cautious of prematurely ruling anyone out.

Casting a brief blue-eyed glance at Squalo, Bel asked him, "Do you think I'll ever be able to turn the family around? I mean, I'm running a freak show where everyone is haunted by paranoia!" The prince's confidante was well aware of how often Bel had been meticulously questioning his job at turning the mafia around, and at frantically trying to make his deceased father proud.

"Will you be able to make it like it was? No. But maybe that's for the better." Squalo gave his answer blunt and honest, like usual, it was one of the things that Bel valued him for.

Bel laughed slightly as this, "Yeah, well I hope you're right. God, I'm sick of this, why can't the asshole that shot my dad just come out and be all 'Yo, it was me! I'm the culprit!' while wearing a nice flashing sign with arrows?"

"Because that would be far too easy, my Prince, and it would take the thrill out of the hunt," Squalo said the last part while giving Bel a cheesy, conspiratorial wink. Little did either of them know that the culprit would indeed soon be brought to light and coincidently punished.

~Three Weeks Prior~

Almost an exact week later the culprit of Bel's father's murder was unearthed from the hole he had been hiding in. The traitor had been a man on the fringes of the family who had happened to get lucky, after three prior attempts at killing the former head of the family. Appearently the poison he had slipped into his drink had been lethal and of a high concentration, thus killing Bel's Dad within minutes of consumption and with little to no pain. Following normal procedure the villain was brought before the family and 'taken care of.' Needless to say he wasn't ever seen in their midst again.

"Do you ever get sick of it?" It had become almost habitual for Bel and Squalo to have these sorts of conversations by now.

"Sick of…?" Despite his now vast understanding of Bel, Squalo still didn't always comprehend what he was getting at.

"Life? Everything? Being in the mafia? Always being by my side?" His voice softened as he asked this last question, Bel had been wondering for awhile now if the only reason Squalo had staid by his side for so long was because of an obligation to his father or pity. Neither of these prospects pleased him, he wanted Squalo beside him because of an allegiance to him, out of caring for him.

"Life? No, not really, sure it can be a bitch but there are still some things worth living for, right?" He paused, waiting patiently for a response from Bel, but when it was clear the best he would get out of Bel was a sideways glance he continued on. "Everything? Well, everything's a whole lot to get tired of I don't think it is possible to get tired or sick of everything…The mafia? It isn't exactly a bed of roses, but it spices up life a little." Again another extensive awkward pause without a reply. At last Squalo answered Bel's final question, and probably the one with the most weight lying on his response. "Being by your side? Never. When I first met you I'll admit you were an annoying insufferable brat..." Squalo laughed at the look of horror that flashed across Bel's face like liquid lightening. "..But after getting to know you better it's an honor to stand by your side…" trailing off Squalo gazed deeply into the depths of Bel's partially hidden eyes. They slowly inched closer to each other, comfortable with their close proximity. Eyes flickered from waiting mouths to hungry eyes and back to quivering lips before lingering there, a question matured with tension evident in the air. So slowly it was almost painful their lips moved closer centimeter by centimeter until at last… "SIR!" they were interrupted. Frantically they moved away from each other, not wanting to be caught in a compromising position.

With a sigh Bel spoke up, "Yes?" And so their days continued on, mundane as ever.

~Two Weeks Prior~

Family life had finally calmed down; well it was as calm as could be expected for the mafia. Caught up in being the demanding boss, Bel hadn't had a lot of time to speak with Squalo. Their daily conversations had grinded to a halt and they rarely spoke, tension strongly rang out with a stable zing in the air anytime they were in the vicinity of one another. Both of them knew that something had to be done, but neither of them was brave enough—perhaps they were just too stubborn—to admit to it. At long last Bel broke down and spoke the disastrous word's that can send any relationship stumbling and spiraling downhill, "We need to talk." However, it would be over a week before they could. Squalo had disappeared.

~Six days Prior~

Squalo still had yet to return or to turn up dead, and Bel was livid, furious, and terribly worried with him for it. He was lashing out at all of his apprehensive subordinates. Bel was sinking progressively into the iron grip of depression that rivaled the grief and pain he felt when he heard the news of his father's death. The family began to worry for his sanity and safety.

~Five Days Prior~

A pathway had been ingrained into the white laminate floor as Bel paced continuously, back and forth, while he anxiously waited. He waited to no avail as his friend, who he felt a little more than friendship for, still had not returned.

~Four Days Prior~

No word from Squalo and rumor's began to surface of his grotesque death. Bel was becoming more and more frantic. Why hadn't Squalo come home yet?

~Three Days Prior~

Still nothing, Bel was growing frenzied and on the verge of being suicidal, no one knew if he could feasibly hold out any longer.

~Two Days Prior~

Anything sharp or potentially harmful had to be kept away from Bel, by force.

~One Day Prior~

"WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?" Sharp objects had to be taken away from Bel for a totally different reason now; Squalo had finally returned. "H-How could you just leave me like that? How could you be like the rest of THEM?" Bel had been left, betrayed even, many times over in his life, but it had never hurt him like this past week without Squalo had. Weakly, Bel beat his hands against Squalo's chest.

Squalo held him like he had when his father had died all those months before. "I'm sorry... I wasn't supposed to be gone for that long, things just sort of happened," he said while pulling Bel closer to him. "I swear I'm not like the rest. I'll always be here for you. Always." With that he lightly pressed his lips to Bel's forehead. Squalo gently pulled Bel over to the bed, and Bel mutely complied. Bel spent that last fateful night safely asleep in Squalo's warm arms.

~Earlier That Day~

The day went by in a blurry haze. Bel spent most of his time with Squalo, and the other family member's seemed happy to have their old Bel, maybe a little broken but better than he had been a few short days ago, back. No one noticed how beyond repair their prince really was though. He was just too far gone to be fixed. Reflecting on the past he remembered his days spent with Squalo, some good, some bad. He remembered the hellish first month spent trying to get rid of his bodyguard. He remembered His Father's death and how Squalo and supported him. He remembered their first almost, but not quite, kiss. But mostly he remembered the torture he had to endure during the time Squalo was gone. He remembered the days of listless waiting. He remembered all the failed suicide attempts.

Sure Bel was glad that Squalo had returned but it was just too late, it was all too damn late. He wasn't certain if he could ever trust Squalo again. Bel was SICK of it ALL, every last God forsaken thing. He remembered his conversation with Squalo, only three diminutive weeks earlier. At that time he had completely agreed with Squalo, now he wasn't so confident. Life had lost its draw to him. He was sick and tired of life, of everything, of the mafia, and of the heartbreaking pain that Squalo caused him. He had made his final choice, for better or worse. Quickly he started scribbling away at a small piece of paper.

~That Night~

It was simple enough, right? Put a gun to the head, pull the trigger, and bang he'd be dead. Bel tip-toed over to where Squalo laid, now fast asleep and gently kissed his lips. Rising he murmured a simple, "I won't say I'm sorry." The plan had now been set in motion. Belphegor grabbed his father's old gun, placing in it a single .45 caliber bullet. "Here goes nothing," he said before pulling the devastating trigger.

"Bang."

Squalo awoke the next day knowing that something wasn't quite right. Darting out of bed he looked to his left to check on Bel, only to find his spot undisturbed on the bed and without Bel in its comfy confines. "Shit." Squalo had figured someone must have taken Bel for ransom, what he got was something totally different. His eyes were drawn to the bright red blood splatters that created a dreary work of art on the white linoleum floor. What he saw next shocked him, even if it perhaps shouldn't have.

There in a halo of sunlight lay Bel's body, cold and unmoving. Bel's pale blond hair was soaked with blood, his tiara thrown onto the ground a few feet away. In his right hand a gun, which he surely must've fired himself. His latest suicide attempt had finally succeeded. In his left hand was a tearstained and blood covered note. Squalo fell to his knees after reading the note, but maybe they had been to this fate from the start. A couple of star-crossed lovers who were never meant to be, unlike Romeo, Squalo would try to live on, if for no other reason than to keep Bel alive in his memories.

~The Note~

My Dear Squalo,

I won't say I'm sorry, because I'm not, and well, you should know

I'm not the type to apologize for anything. I finally got sick of it all. Life. Everything. The mafia. Love. Us. I guess I took the easy way out, huh?

You know how I said you left me like all of them? Well, I guess now I'm

one of them. I've left you. But I hope you'll take over in my stead, and

transform the family into something great. I know you have it in you; you

were always way better than me. Always stronger. There's a lot I never

really got the chance to tell you, but trust me its better off this way. We

are better off this way. I will tell you this though, I loved you. No lies or

jokes Sharky-Poo, I truly did, to the point that it hurt like hell. I'll always

love you. But this is the real me flushed out in color, no glamour, no gold.

I've never really been the black and white type, but I suppose I've usually

hidden in the shadows, huh? I'm a coward, I admit it. But please, consider

this my final request: remember me as I had been when I was standing

before you, still alive and breathing. In many ways I wish we could've worked out, but clearly we can't, huh? I can't deal with the pain I know you'll cause

me, call me selfish or whatever you please. Consider this my final goodbye,

our own warped love note, probably not the best confession ever, but it gets

the point across. I intended for this to be a short note, but it didn't end up

the way I had planned, nothing ever does, does it? It always ends up better

or worse than you ever expected. We were a little bit of both. Remember me.

I love you. Goodbye.

Love Forever (even in death) Your Prince,

Belphegor