And here comes the drama. Everyone got an umbrella handy?

Enjoy!

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

Broken Valentine

Bryan walked up the front steps of Kevin's house and tried the doorknob before knocking.

The door swung open a crack before opening all the way. A tired-looking Kevin smiled and stepped aside to let him in. "Hey, Bryan. Checking up on me again?"

"Rei asked," he offered in explanation.

Kevin walked into the kitchen, unconcerned with his semi-familiar house guest. "You want anything? I was just making myself lunch."

Bryan noted the crunchy peanut butter and raspberry jam spread out on the counter. "Huh, never pegged you as the peanut butter and jelly type."

"Michael got me hooked. He likes them."

Behind Kevin's back, Bryan scowled. "How's he been since you got home?"

Kevin laughed, a slightly hollow sound that held very little humor. "Gone a lot. I guess he needs to catch up at work from when he was at the hospital with me."

"He wasn't at the hospital with you hardly at all, remember?"

Looking over his shoulder from his sandwich, the Chinese boy shrugged. "Maybe it was enough to get him in trouble. I don't know."

"Seems to me that he'd tell you what happens at work."

"He doesn't have to."

"You're seriously that laid back about how he treats you?"

Kevin turned around fully. "And how does Michael treat me? He provides for me, and makes sure I have a place to live, which is more than I can say for everyone back in the village."

Bryan leaned on the counter. "Is that the only reason you're staying with him? Convenience?"

"No, of course not." Kevin didn't sound convinced of himself.

"Then why do you stay with him."

Kevin studied his socks with interest.

"You don't know, do you?"

"No, I don't!"

Bryan was startled by the outburst--he didn't think Kevin would react this badly to a little probing.

"I don't know why I stay with him, and I don't know why I feel like I need him like I do, and I don't know why I feel this confused, and I just want it to stop!" Frustrated tears spilled over from the pools at the corners of his eyes, tracing lines down the boy's cheek bones and along his jawline. "It's all your fault--I didn't feel anything like this before you came here! I wish you'd never found me in the grocery store, or talked to Rei, or even met any of them! I wish I'd never met you--you're more trouble than you're worth!" Kevin bit his lip, cutting off the tirade, and crossed his arms over his small chest, looking past Bryan out the bay window behind the kitchen table.

"Kevin--"

"You should go."

"I'm not leaving this time."

"You should leave San Francisco."

"No."

"Just leave me the hell alone."

"I refuse to do that."

"Why."

"Because I can't."

Kevin glared at him weakly. "Rei can't keep you here."

Bryan sighed heavily, longing for something alcoholic to dull the sharp nerves tensing up the muscles in his shoulders. "I don't get you, Kevin. Michael clearly neglects you, clearly you need better, you've had opportunity after opportunity to get out, and you're still here." Bryan made a vague motion to the kitchen and the rest of the house. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Violet eyes regarded the Russian blankly for a minute before lowering to the tile. Kevin's back met the cabinet behind him and he slid to the ground, looking exhausted. His eyes screwed shut as a sob pulled his head downwards onto his knees. "Everything," he choked out, arms snaking around his legs. "Everything's wrong..."

Kevin yawned and blinked sleepily, waking up from a satisfying nap. Sitting up, he looked around the room, his eyes drifting to a piece of paper on the dresser. "What're you," he mumbled to the scrap, folding the blankets off of his knees and standing up unsteadily.

Unfamiliar, spiky handwriting was scrawled across the piece of paper, drifting in and out of straight lines like unruly soldiers.

Kevin-

Spencer called, needs me back at the apartment. I'll come back in the morning. Here's my phone number--call if you need anything. I mean it.

-Bryan

Kevin smiled at the sequence of numbers under the note. He'd probably never need to call the number, but having it settled the small "what if" portion of his brain somewhat.

Downstairs, the front door slammed. That must be Michael, Kevin thought, the "what if" piece of brain stirring to uneasiness again. "Mike," he called hesitantly, walking barefoot down the stairs.

The entry way was empty. Kevin frowned.

A crash issued from the living room, making the Chinese boy flinch. "Michael?"


He edged into the room and looked, terrified, at his boyfriend standing over a shattered lamp on the carpet. Michael turned to look over his shoulder and snarled. "You," he growled, his voice thick with alcohol. "You ruined everything!"

Kevin squeaked and tried to flee. Michael lunged at him and curled a hand around his shoulder. An audible pop burst from the joint, and Kevin stifled a scream as fire burned through his shoulder blade.

"I lost my job because of you! And the hospital's gonna come after me because I can't pay your damn bills!" His eyes held the wild, feral glint that Lee's had always held when he got drunk. Kevin's eyes widened in fear as he struggled to get away.

"Mike, you're drunk, you don't know what you're doing!"

A fist made contact with his cheekbone, knocking him to the ground.

"Shut up! You don't talk back to me--not after everything I've done for you!"

A foot made contact with his ribs, flattening the air out of his lungs. Pain burned through his chest.

"You're more trouble than you're worth!"

The same foot made contact with Kevin's head, slamming it into the floor and bringing spots dancing before his eyes.

Haaaahahahaha. Sorry, couldn't resist a Lee reference in violent context. xD

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