Author's Note: Hi! This is my first post in this fandom. So I have really mixed feelings about this anime. I waited for this anime to come out for months, but didn't have terribly high expectations for it. The first few episodes actually did nothing to help that, because everything seemed either very clichéd or had no importance to the plot. But THEN EPISODE 6 HAPPENED.

And I was absolutely torn, and all of a sudden this anime became really beautiful to me because of this one character. Who had parts of one episode. To me, Totsuka Tatara is the most important/endearing character in K. And I am astounded there are not more Mikoto/Tatara fics. They are the most realistic 'pairing' in K! To me anyways. So here's my contribution to the lack of Mikoto/Tatara fics. I haven't decided if there will be more chapters in a sort of collection of AUs kind of thing, or this will be it. If it is a collection of fics, then certainly there will be happier ones too. Depends on my mood. But hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction written for fun, not for profit. No copyright infringement or slandering of characters, actors or any related persons is intended.

Somnio

It wasn't fair.

"King!"

A bright dazzling smile peeked out from underneath the white patches of gauze on the boy's cheeks.

It was never fair.

"Doesn't that child creep you out a bit? To be smiling like that so soon after his father died…how cold-hearted."

They were born into a world where the only things that could be counted on were pain and suffering.

"Hey don't sweat it! It'll all work out."

It was Mikoto's fortune to have met him.

"That guy's going to become someone great. He might become like a real king, don't you think?"

It was Tatara's misfortune to have met him.

"You're one reckless kid. Don't blame me if he kills you."

He's the Red King. He's the guiding flame, the leader of HOMRA…the king. But people don't realize…it was all Tatara. Mikoto may have been the guiding light for HOMRA, but Tatara was the one who enflamed him, the one who sheltered him and helped him weather the elements when his flame was low and the one who, like the wind, helped him spread his wings and soar when his flame was growing. Mikoto may have been the leader of HOMRA, but Tatara was the support, the backbone. His smile and free spirit were what held everyone together, closer than family, and it was only with Tatara's support that Mikoto was able to lead and they were able to follow.

Mikoto was the king.

An empty title for an empty being. After all, what use is a king with no country to defend?

Mikoto was the king, but Tatara was their homeland. He's what kept them rooted, kept them happy. He represented what they stood for, what they believed in. He stayed when they left, waited when they returned. He was the one thing that didn't change, their constant.

They may have rallied to Mikoto's call, but it was Tatara and the feeling of home that they fought for.

And now their home lay broken, lifeless, gone.

"…sorry…"

He couldn't even cry.

It wasn't fair.

"…king…King! Wake up…" a voice sang.

"Mou…king!"

Blearily, he pushed open his eyes, staring up dazedly onto a face with a soft smile.

"Morning, sleepyhead," the other man teased, his voice gentle and smooth. His soft brown hair fell forward, a few strands tickling Mikoto's face as the other loomed over him on all fours.

"…sorry…"

A fragile whisper, reminiscent of the dream.

Their positions were reversed. Mikoto was straddling Tatara, shaking him with all his might. He was shouting. He was screaming. It was completely unlike him, and he had no doubt the horrific image he was serving his men right now. "Damn it, you idiot. You're not allowed to die!"

A frown marred his features, and he hid a shiver by taking in a deep breath and sighing. "Was it really necessary for you to wake me up like that?" he muttered, attempting to inject some annoyance into his tone, lest the other realizes.

Tatara pouted. "Hey…that's not nice. And here I thought you would have loved to see my charming face this fine morning—" he started off dramatically, but cut off when Mikoto sat up and hugged—or more like squeezed—him fiercely. "O-oi, King! I'm not a tree and you're not a koala!"

The Red King didn't let go. He held on tighter and breathed in the younger man's scent, taking it in and dissecting it and memorizing the smell of cinnamon, of familiarity, of everything he'd lost and found again and—

"—hey, hey…it's ok. I'm here, King," Tatara soothed the shaking man. If anyone looked, they wouldn't be able to discern the faint tremors that racked his body. But Tatara felt them, and made no complaints as the other crushed him hard enough to leave red marks on his skin. He just sat there, an understanding and sad smile on his features, embracing his king just as tightly but gentler, petting the other's crimson hair and whispering calming words into his ear.

For a while they remained that way, the only sounds coming from Tatara's words and humming and Mikoto's gradually slowing breaths.

When the older man's grasp finally loosened, Tatara pulled away slowly and offered a supporting smile. "Care to talk about it?" He wasn't surprised at the lack of response. He sighed and shifted so that he was leaning against the bed, sitting behind the red-haired man. He then quietly guided the back of Mikoto's shoulders to his chest, wrapped his arms around the other and tucked the other's head under his chin. "Why don't you sleep a little more. We've got a bit of time before the others are expecting us."

Mikoto didn't argue. He felt himself relaxing slowly and started dozing off again, surrounded by the faint spice of cinnamon…

"Mikoto."

He woke up to the gaunt and exhausted face of one Kusanagi Izumo. The latter's hair was clumped and frizzled and lackluster in appearance. His eyes had distinct rings underneath them and were bare of the purple shades he usually wore. His lips were set tightly and his eyes couldn't quite meet Mikoto's own.

The aroma of cinnamon was gone. So were the gentle touches and feather-light whispers. Mikoto looked down at his hands. For a second he thought he saw faint traces of blood, but they were clean.

"…give me five minutes," he let out, staring intently at his now balled up fists.

The bartender nodded once in understanding and quietly exited the room. He paused at the door, one hand on the knob and said, "The funeral starts at five."

The door closed with a soft click and Mikoto was left once more to his thoughts.

"…hey, it's ok. I'm here, King."

It wasn't fair.

And for the first time since Totsuka Tatara's death, he cried.

~End

End notes: Well that's that. Hope you all enjoyed! And by the way, somnio means 'to dream foolishly' in Latin.