A/N: Okay, a short chapter this time, to balance out the long one before it. :)

Chapter Four

(Flashback: eight months ago)

It was always quiet in graveyards. No matter how many people you could see kneeling over other tombstones, talking to each other or the earth or the sky, an isolation existed between each group that flooded the air with a profound silence. Even the noise of birds and squirrels was subdued.

Kurama didn't seem upset, but neither did he seem to be experiencing any other emotion. Just the same introversion, the slightly pained withdrawal, that was always present in his eyes. It hadn't been his idea to come here, but neither had he objected. This complacence--it was new, and at first it had been a relief after the fierce, pained battles over life and death. But Yusuke was starting to dread it more than the battles. There were more kinds of death than just one, and the gaping holes where choice and response and reaction should have been told Yusuke that they were still fighting, and he was losing.

So he'd asked Kurama to come up here, to visit the grave, for the first time. Thinking it would provoke a response. Instead, Kurama stood there as listless as ever, blinking slightly and saying nothing, no sign of emotion in his face and eyes. Was it really gone, or could Yusuke just not see it?

He didn't know until Kurama turned, suddenly, and without speaking walked into the woods. Yusuke followed; Kurama made no attempt to speed up and escape him, or to slow down and let him catch up. So Yusuke remained four paces behind him as they walked, downhill away from the temple, all the way down to the beach where Kurama sat down facing the ocean, knees pulled up to his chest, staring silently at the waves. Yusuke sat down next to him. And there they stayed, silent, until the tide began to nip at their toes--and even then, it was Yusuke who spoke, suggested that they go. Kurama stood as soon as Yusuke asked him to, but Yusuke had the strong impression that if no one had told him to get up he would have sat there, unmoving, until he drowned.

(Present)

"Keiko and I broke up," Yusuke said softly. It was only as he said the words that he realized the were true--that they had been true for the moment Keiko told him to choose.

Kurama's face took on an expression indicating this news was just slightly short of the end of the world. "You what?"

"We broke up," Yusuke repeated. "It's okay." He added the second part just to reassure Kurama, who still looked alarmed, but again found himself realizing as he spoke that it was true. It was, or would be, okay. "We've been growing apart. This was a long time coming." And another thing that was true--apparently, if Kurama had been awake for him to explain things to when he first arrived he could have spared himself a lot of soul-searching.

"But--you love her." Kurama's expression was slightly guarded as he spoke, something rare between them these days.

"Yeah, I did, once. I still do in a way. But not the way she wants me to. She deserves someone who can put her first," he added, echoing her words.

"You can do that." Kurama's voice was stern.

Yusuke shook his head, realizing where this was heading. "No."

"Yusuke, I--"

"No, Kurama." Guilt, an emotion Yusuke was finely tuned to in Kurama, was forming in his eyes. "No. I know what you're thinking and I won't let you think it. This was about me."

"About how much time you spend with me, you mean."

"About how I've changed and she's changed since it happened. I guess it was pretty stupid of us to think everything would stay the same--that is, I guess she doesn't like the person I've become."

For a moment Kurama looked like he was going to keep arguing, but he didn't. He just looked at Yusuke with an unreadable expression for a long moment, and finally spoke quietly. "Well, in that case, I don't know what she's looking at. It can't be you."

Yusuke appreciated the vote of confidence, but what he appreciated much more was that this time, when Kurama lay back down, he did it facing Yusuke and with one hand extended slightly, palm up. It was an invitation that Yusuke immediately and gratefully accepted, lying down next to him and almost seizing the proffered hand. After ithad happened Yusuke had developed the need, sometimes crippling, to be in physical contact with Kurama--like the only way to reassure himself that Kurama was still there, still alright, was to touch him. They had gotten into physical fights those first, bad months--Yusuke in the grip of panic attacks, blind to protest, wanting to anchor Kurama physically to this world; Kurama still detached from his body in wanting death so badly, wanting nothing more than to be left alone; and then Yusuke terrified that the fox was suicidal, not allowing him to leave, physically pinning him sometimes. The memories tasted sour, but the need had never gone away. Yusuke had learned to control it, learned that sometimes Kurama just didn't want to be touched, but he was always grateful when Kurama gave him some indication it was alright. He held Kurama's hand in both of his.

After a moment or two Kurama shifted onto his back and guided Yusuke's head to rest against his shoulder. Yusuke knew Kurama thought he was upset, horribly upset, about Keiko, and he felt a little guilty for taking advantage of that. But not guilty enough to speak up. It wasn't unusual for them to lie like this, anyway; another part oftheir world that was different from the world, formed during those months. Yusuke was well aware that most straight guys wouldn't be caught dead lying this close to a male friend--knew, even, that Keiko would have been upset had she known--but none of that had mattered when he was still afraid for Kurama's life. And then it had never really started to matter again.

So Yusuke lay there, content and slightly guilty at his contentment. He should feel terrible. But he felt... relieved. Guilty, yes, but mostly the giddy liberation that came with the removal of a dead weight. Yusuke had learned over the years to trust his emotional reactions, so while he did indulge in the guilt, he knew this was a sign he'd done the right thing.

He lay there for a full five or ten minutes, relaxed, before realizing something wasn't right. "Did I put on weight or something?"

"Hm?"

"You're not breathing very well. And I know it's not because I'm too heavy for you. Are you sick?"

"I'm fine."

The listless tone Kurama used was a red alert to Yusuke, and without further ado he propped himself with one elbow to lay a hand on Kurama's forehead. He frowned. "Damn--fox, you're burning up." This happened frequently these days. "When are you going to start taking care of yourself?"

Kurama smiled that rueful, unapologetic smile again. "Why should I? You seem to do a pretty good job of it."

"So when were you planning on calling me? Who's going to make you chicken soup, those bums next door?"

Kurama smiled faintly. "I don't think I need chicken soup."

"Everybody needs chicken soup," Yusuke insisted. "And you need chicken soup and plenty to drink and maybe an aspirin. And your rest, so go back to sleep."

"I'm not tired anymore."

"Well, that really sucks for you. Because I am lying on top of you and have a stranglehold to keep you here in bed, away from your books. And furthermore I'm done talking to you. So unless you want to stare at the ceiling, I suggest you sleep."

"Yusuke, has anyone ever told you how impossible you are?"

"This one fox I know. Repeatedly."

"He's right about that."

"Goodnight, Kurama."

Kurama shoved him, lightly. "Goodnight."

Yusuke used the momentum of the shove to roll off the bed, and then prowled around the room looking for some of his own clothes--there were always some scattered around Kurama's place--that would serve as pajamas. Unselfconsciously he changed clothes where he stood, then crawled back into bed and wrestled his share of the covers away from Kurama--who would invariably have them all back by daybreak, wrapped securely around himself, no matter what Yusuke did. True to his word, Yusuke did not make any further conversation, but he waited until Kurama fell asleep and he could see for himself that the kitsune was breathing evenly and easily before allowing himself to close his eyes.