Ooookay. Due to unforeseen *ahem* developments, I'm updating earlier than originally intended. But not again until SOMEONE gets her butt in gear. D: You know who you are.

Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: Again. I do not own Beyblade. Evidence: Current bank account balance = $0.00. Yeah.

Broken Valentine

Kevin let the knife fall, cutting the wedge of carrot on the cutting board in half. Blankly regarding the severed piece of orange flesh, he shook his head to clear the cobwebs from it and dumped the chunks into the pot boiling on the stove.

He sighed heavily and turned around to find the tomato he had purchased earlier that afternoon. Since Michael steadfastly refused to let him get a job, and often voiced his objections to Kevin being far away from their house on his own, he really had nothing better to do than cook meals, and run small errands in the neighborhood.

Now that he was thinking about it, it seemed like a horribly depressing existence. Kevin wondered why it had never occurred to him before.

"There you are," he muttered to the tomato sitting innocently on teh counter across the kitchen. Grabbing the fruit, he tossed it in the air before returning to the cutting board.

Glancing at the clock on the stove, Kevin's eyebrows edged together. Michael should've been home hours ago. It took him a while to get home, usually, but he tried to be home before dark.

Distracted by his boyfriend's absence, Kevin neglected to watch where the knife was headed. His mind jerked back to reality as Kevin hissed in pain.

"Just great," he muttered, inspecting the gash just above the knuckle on his index finger. The wound burned from tomato juice, and blood was seeping from it in slightly alarming quantities, but it didn't seem to be too bad, otherwise.

Flipping the burner on low, Kevin walked out of the kitchen and climbed the stairs, still inspecting the cut. He squinted and ran his uninjured hand along the wall when he got to the top of the stairs to find the light switch in the dark. Light flooded the hallway, making him blink involuntarily several times to clear the spots from his vision.

Able to see again, Kevin padded to the bathroom, his bare feet making no noise on the carpet.

A small sound caught his ears as he was turning on the sink to rinse the cut. He paused with his hand on the knob, ears twitching. It sounded like keys in the lock on the front door--that must be Michael. Kevin breathed a sigh of relief. Being home alone always unnerved him.

Grabbing a Band-Aid from the cabinet behind the mirror, Kevin trekked back down the stairs to welcome his boyfriend home, and perhaps throw in a question or two regarding his whereabouts.

"Michael?"

The door didn't open after the scratching stopped. Kevin wrinkled his nose and muttered, "Stupid door...always sticks..." He reached for the door knob and pulled it open with annoyed force. "Hey, Michael--"

Michael wasn't on the other side of the door.

Instead, a jumpy-looking young man scrabbled away from him, a piece of wire in one hand. Eyes wide and surprised, he shoved his hand into the back pocket of his baggy jeans and pulled something out, holding it at the ready like a weapon.

"Hey, what--"

The would-be burglar lunged forward, extending the box cutter as he closed in. The light from the inside of the house glinted off the panicked glaze in his eyes.

A bony shoulder knocked the wind out of Kevin as the burglar's weapon pierced between his ribs. A small scream, more from surprise than pain, escaped him. He pushed the twitchy teenager away from him and clutched the wound, leaning heavily on the door frame.

He watched the foiled thief scrabble away from the house before pulling his hand away from the wound to inspect the damage. Kevin felt his pupils dilate at the sight of his fingers coated in a thick layer of his own blood. His head spun and tilted like a carnival ride. Air suddenly became hard to come by.

The ground tilted underneath him, throwing Kevin into gravity's pull.

His head met the concrete with an audible smack, and the faint light spilling onto the side walk faded to nothing.

Bryan shuffled down the sidewalk, his hands deep in his pockets as he retraced his steps to Kevin's place. He scowled at a street sign and turned to follow the course of the concrete canal under his boots.

Flashing lights and the whine of a siren caught his attention, drawing his eyes up from the pavement. An ambulance was pulling away from Kevin's house.

A neighbor was standing in the doorway, watching the vehicle tear down the street. Bryan sauntered over and allowed his eyes to follow the vehicle hers were chasing. "What's going on?"

The woman, an elderly woman enrobed in a house dress carpeted in cat hair, eyed him for a minute before deciding that gossip would override caution. "The boy who lives in this house was just stabbed. Very exciting, yes," she said, a slight Lithuanian accent slurring her speech.

"Stabbed?" Bryan's thoughts raced through several different scenarios, none of which he was particularly comfortable with. "What happened?"

"Someone tried to break in to the house, and he was home alone. He opened the door right as the burglar was trying to get in." She grinned childishly. "Very exciting. Nothing ever happens in this part of town."

"Do you know what hospital they're taking him to?"

"San Francisco General Hospital. At least, that's what I think they said."

Bryan took off running in the direction the ambulance had disappeared, leaving a very confused old woman in his wake.

BUT WAIT. There's more. D:

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