OUR HEARTS GO OUT TO:

Alatarielf: No, don't get destroyed! –huggles you safely- We love Milly very much, but many other things are secret for now~ Don't worry, we'll know what happened real soon, so please bear with us, ne? WE LOVE YOU, TOO so very very much :) Oh, and maa, thanks for liking the flashback~ If it really was such a commodity, we'd give it to you for free~ ;)

fujiyuki: We love angst~ Wahaha~ And ou won't have to wonder, because this is a Yuuta-chapter~ Weee~ We're kind of sorry for Tezu-chan, too, but it's the muse's fault. Bad muse! We're sorry it's a little late, though :(

Trees of leaves: Maa, thanks for pointing it out! There's actually a funny story for that, but we can't tell you because Lia's hands are tied and she can't do anything~ (Clary: Bwahaha) Rest assured, she acted all smug around Clary when you pointed it out, though. –hearts- Oh, and damn, you're good. :))

Seishirou Hitsugaya: AH! We love that song~~ We could spend entire afternoons just listening to it~ Thank you so much, we're glad you like it! This update's a little late, but we hope you enjoy it!

:)

Clary: Umm. There is a reason why this chapter is late. And it's a good reason, too. PROMISE. Uhh... Lia, you tell them.

Lia: Okay. We were moving to our dorms, yeah? And we luckily dropped nothing, but of course that is just me speaking too soon, because just when I thought all was right with the world, little miss clumsy over there decided to HOP down the stairs when I told her NOT TO, and THUS, she lost her balance and FELL.

Clary: Ehehe... Don't worry guys, I'm okay (sort of). I only have a few days of unconsciousness, a concussion, some stitches(?) and a twisted ankle to show for it :) The only problem was I was only able to write the first part of this chapter before the move so... it's late :)

Lia: AND YOU'RE HAPPY? Do you know how panicked I was? I THOUGHT YOU DIED! Damn it, Issa, I hate it when you do these things to me.

Clary: HEEEYYY. Why am I Issa again?

Lia: Because you don't deserve to be Clary. I'll call you Clary when I feel like you earned it again. For now, you're Issa.

Clary: BUT~~~~~ LIA~~~~~~ That's unfair~~~~~~~~

Lia: Try being me when I found you at the bottom of the steps with blood on your head. Then we'll see if it's unfair.

And even though it's late, please do enjoy :)

When Yuuta turned ten, he decided his older brother had ruined his entire life.

And Fuji Syusuke didn't have a hard time of doing it, too. All he (frankly) had to do was exist. A genius tennis player with drop-dead model looks and an impressive IQ that Yuuta thought could have even put Einstein to shame, he'd been the perfect son, the perfect student, the perfect everything. Not to mention his innocent, disarming, look-at-me-don't-I-look-pretty god-awful smile that threw everyone off and had all the adults practically stumbling over themselves to have the right to coo at his feet about how particularly angelic he was.

Girls in school fell in line (they had a waitlist!) just to be able to talk to him, and dare he say it, so did most (all) of the boys, but that didn't really matter since angelic, perfect Syusuke was nice (and was friends with) everybody. Teachers had nothing but praise for him, and the principal called his mother frequently to tell her how much of a genius her son was (Yuuta suspected he probably just didn't want their mother enrolling her son somewhere else, so they could continue to brag about their darling little perfect student). Even people who passed by him on the street had to stop and tell him how cute he looked and 'Wasn't that his picture they saw on the newspaper in the sports section today? Congratulations!'

In comparison, Yuuta had stumbled through his first tennis lessons and had lost his first match in his first tournament horribly (6-0, and a love game to boot).

In comparison, Yuuta came home toting red-marked papers and homeworks graded with Bs.

In comparison, Yuuta got into fights, nasty ones that had the principal calling his mother for a completely different reason apart from Syusuke's continued academic prowess.

In comparison, Yuuta had painfully normal, average, common Japanese brown hair and average, common Japanese brown eyes.

In comparison, Yuuta had a scowl that had people muttering behind his back about how they just didn't understand how Yuuta became like that when his brother was just the most perfect little thing in the world.

In comparison, when Yuuta walked beside his brother and people passed by them on the street, he was mostly ignored (forgotten) because people didn't want to tell his parents about how, when Yuuta stood beside Syusuke, in comparison, he was positively brutish.

In comparison, Yuuta was easily nobody.

It was more than a little unfair because it (clearly) wasn't Yuuta's fault that when dear kami-sama decided to give away blessings, Syusuke had been sitting at the front row seat.

Yuuta hadn't even asked to be his brother.

Like Yuuta would want a life where the only time he was noticed by anyone was when they snidely said his name, telling his parents in polite terms about how big a gap there was, and always will be between precious Syusuke and precious Syusuke's little brother.

Not Yuuta, not even Fuji-kun, but Syusuke's little brother.

Fucking damn them, they had no right to talk about him when they couldn't even get his own damn name right.

What was worse was that Syusuke actually reached out to him, as if Yuuta's suffering hadn't been brought about by Syusuke himself. Syusuke actually acted like he cared for Yuuta and Yuuta's feelings when Yuuta's feelings were shit because everyone was too busy looking at Syusuke to give Yuuta even the smallest of glances. Syusuke had always smiled and acted like the victim when he was the one killing Yuuta every day without even trying.

It made Yuuta sick.

So when he turned twelve and old enough, he left, because he couldn't stand another day of perfect Syusuke-victim and 'don't you see how sad you make him, pushing him away?' at home and another day of fake-friends who were only trying to get at his brother and 'hey, you're tensai Fuji Syusuke's little brother, aren't you?' at school.

Yumiko had told him, every time she got to insert in into the conversation somewhere, that she knew he loved his older brother despite whatever he said, and that his older brother loved him, too, and they'd both be happier if they both just man up, sit down and talk and work out their differences.

Yuuta hadn't believed her then, because Yuuta was so much happier in St. Rudolph and frankly, the differences between perfect Syusuke and plain Yuuta were too great to work out.

Yuuta was thirteen when he started believing her. When Syusuke had, for the first time, appeared like a human in his eyes and not the perfect, angel-doll that he had led himself to see. When it actually sounded nice in his ears to have the Fuji Syusuke as his older brother.

It took Yuuta three years.

And it took Yuuta three years, and only heaven knew how many hours pacing before the operating room, praying to whatever diety in existence to please not let his brother die, so he could finally fully believe that he geniunely cared for his brother and that he couldn't imagine a life without him.

Three years, a transfer to another country, and a week (more or less, he hadn't really been counting) spent in the hospital eating (or pretending to) out of the awful cafeteria and sleeping (or pretending to) on the awful chair.

The hospital had been one of the best in the state, and the doctors one of the best in the country. But the smiles of the nurses were empty, the walls were too white...

...and the entire place smelled of disinfectant. The atmosphere was awful, because those who resided in the hospital were the sick, the worried relatives of the sick, or those who took care of the sick.

His mother had spent the entire time crying because she believed it was her fault, so his father had spent the entire time comforting her. Yumiko was the only one who was old and coherent enough to listen to the doctors, and the rest of the time, she spent by Syusuke's bed, chatting amicably like everything had been the way it was before shit happened.

Syusuke hardly said anything.

Actually, throughout everything, Syusuke barely even moved, let alone talked. Their parents thought it was... normal (which led to Mother blaming herself even more), Yumiko suspected, but only Yuuta knew the truth.

The truth about the bastard Tezuka, Syusuke's misguided love, Yuuta's misguided trust and pretty much just how Tezuka added more shit into the already huge pile.

So it was little wonder why Yuuta spent the entire time hating him.

And when Yuuta woke up in the middle of the night to hear Syusuke trying to stifle his sobs so he wouldn't have to wake anyone up, his anger reached a peak so high he swore to himself that he would never trust anyone with his brother ever again.

"Aniki," he called, straightening out from his slump, trying to rub the sleep away from his eyes. "You crying?"

His eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to see Syusuke hastily wiping away his tears and snapping his smile back on.

"No, I..." It was the first time Syusuke had spoken ever since they got here, and his voice was more than a little hoarse. As Yuuta walked towards his bedside, Syusuke sighed and dropped the mask.

"I'm tired, Yuuta."

He was more than tired. Yuuta knew. Yuuta knew because only he had been there after Tezuka had finished breaking him over and over into pieces so tiny, Yuuta could hardly bear to see them. Yuuta knew, and he desperately wished there was something he could do. But there wasn't.

Like usual.

He'd gone to Tezuka, wishing Tezuka could save his brother, but the only thing Tezuka did was push him further towards death.

He reached out and clasped his aniki's thin, cold hand and squeezed. "Yeah, well, in a little while, you'll be released from this place and we'd go home."

Home, as in, the new house they'd bought on the suburbs, that looked too airy, too bright and too American to ever be anything other than 'the house in the suburbs.' It didn't have the memories they had growing up. It didn't have a gate with kanji marking it as the Fuji household, or the low coffee table and cushions in the living room. It didn't have Mother's specifically designed kitchen and the small counter where they used to sit and (try to) help Mom with the cooking. It didn't have the small dent on the staircase where Yuuta had fallen down and bumped his face on, that had Syusuke panicking, running around the house for the first-aid kit and the phone, calling their mother even as he frantically tried to apply first aid with hands so small, but so gentle.

But it was home now. "You can rest all you want there," he added helpfully.

Syusuke just stared at him with blank, blank eyes as he leaned back on his pillows and made himself comfortable on the bed. It was funny, actually. How, only a short time ago, Yuuta would have given anything to be stronger than Syusuke, and now that he had it, he'd give anything to have the other Syusuke back.

"Yuuta, does this make me a bad person?" Syusuke asked weakly, closing his eyes as a stray tear made its way down his cheek again. "Does it make me a bad person if I want it to be all over so I wouldn't have to live with this pain anymore?"

Yuuta's grip on his brother's hand tightened. In his mind's eye, he could see it now, a wake and then a funeral, and hours spent in the cemetery, in front of a grave marked by his brother's name, hearing people whispering about how they didn't understand, he should have been...

Yeah. He should have been fine.

But they didn't know about Tezuka.

"Aniki, don't say that!" He suppressed the urge to shake him. "Okay? I'm waiting for you, and so is Mom and Dad and Yumiko. And... And..."

Fuck, why was he crying?

"And I haven't even beaten you at tennis yet so..."

Syusuke opened his blank eyes and regarded him with a gaze that was as close to curious as he could make.

Yuuta brought his face closer and practically snarled, "So stay alive until then."

Yuuta woke up with a grunt.

Great. Just great. So, after he had to wait through three flights (because all of them were booked, how many people go to Japan this time of year anyway?), he had to fall asleep on the plane and dream about memories better left forgotten.

But perhaps it was for the best that he remembered, so he knew exactly what it was he was up against. He couldn't bring himself to be careless, because the last time he had believed too much, he'd almost lost his brother.

It had taken him a full thirteen years to finally start the right sort of connection with his brother, one that was not based on envy or anger or hate. He'd spent the rest of his days after the hospital-week trying to keep it.

And he'd continue to do it.

He looked at note his secretary had sent him about where his aniki was staying with Milly, along with the location of the event. Most likely, they'd be there, and it'd take under an hour to get there, from the airport, if he remembered correctly.

"Sir?"

He looked up to see the flight attendant smiling at him. "Please turn it off," she said, gesturing expansively, still with the killer smile. "We'll begin landing shortly."

Yuuta gave a curt nod. First the venue, then the hotel, then their old house. Their parents didn't sell it, for whatever reason, and they've hired a caretaker to look into it once in a while. His mother visited with his father often, and so did Yumiko, but Syusuke and Yuuta never did.

This would be Yuuta's first.

Hopefully, his brother wouldn't have to know. It would take a week, tops.

One week.

Yuuta was going to save his brother from himself, from Tezuka and from anyone else who had potential to ruin what peace his brother had worked so hard to create for himself, what peace Yuuta had worked so hard to protect.

And this time, he wasn't going to fail.

THE MELODY OF TWO HEARTS

Verse 06

I try not to say the words that might just scare you away

How did this sound?

Tezuka,

Thank you for the flowers. I don't really like roses, but I guess I have no control over the preferences of my client. This is the first time a client has ever gifted me with such and I am as surprised as I am grateful. They were quite thoughtful.

However, I would like to remind you to please stop being so informal. I might have lived in America for the past few years, but I am still, in essence, Japanese. Please respect that.

Your PR,

Fuji

It sounded like crap is what it sounded like. He might as well put in You're just the client. You have no right.

It was almost as bad as putting in And by the way, did you know I still loved you?

Actually, now that he thought about it, he did put that in somewhere, in one of the thirty-something notes he had crumpled and thrown in the trash can. (Thirty-four, but who's counting? Not Fuji, that's for sure.)

He crumpled this one and made it number thirty-five.

Milly had insisted he should stay. His head had been aching in the morning and he may have sneezed once in a while, but it was nothing Fuji couldn't have handled. Setting up the location was so much better than sitting here, feeling sick and sorry for himself, writing a note he knew he couldn't bear to write to Tezuka.

He could hardly go three sentences without wanting to scribble down Why?

Why did you send me flowers? Why did you send me roses? Why now? Why did you have to come back in my life just when I decided I could finally move on again? Why did you have to be nice, and talk and... Why did you have to give me hope?

Why did you leave?

He'd told Fuji he never loved him.

"I never loved you," that's what he said. Fuji's heart had been breaking, but Tezuka hadn't cared. Tezuka just went on to tell him he wasn't useful anymore, that they were done, because Tezuka had more important things to do.

He'd even called Fuji a slut.

All Fuji had ever been was in love.

But Tezuka... Well, Tezuka had been the tennis captain, student council president, and a teenager with raging hormones. And Fuji, or more particularly, Fuji's body had been there, open for use.

...It wasn't Tezuka's fault, really. It had been Fuji who had been stupid, after all. It had been Fuji who confessed, and stupidly believed it was all okay when Tezuka said he loved Fuji, too. It had been Fuji who kissed him, Fuji who straddled him, Fuji who pushed all the buttons he could have pushed to make Tezuka lose control.

It was all Fuji's fault.

But that just made it hurt even more.

Because Tezuka had used him, hurt him, left him alone, and yet... and yet, Fuji was still horribly in love with him.

The teardrop that fell into the paper blotted out whatever word Fuji had been absentmindedly writing. He watched it trail down the paper, a mixture of ink and tears and felt something inside of him disappear, leaving a big black hole on the place it used to occupy.

He reached for his phone, and waited as it rang.

./.

From arranging the stupid bouquet around a vase to finally fixing up the location after a long and tedious compromise between the two birthday boys, it was all in a day's work for Milly Ashford. It might have gone better if Syusuke was around, but he'd made himself a little sick, sitting on a bathtub chock full of freezing cold water, and there was nothing she could do about that.

He'd be around for the party, though, with Milly so obviously in his arms, and both of them looking like the perfect pretty couple together. She fingered the invite Atobe-san had sent her one last time before she stuffed it into her bag.

Her phone was ringing.

"Syusuke," she greeted. "I thought my chicken soup knocked you dead."

Syusuke gave a breathy, mostly empty laugh. "Fortunately, I have a cast-iron stomach." He paused as she heard a sound suspiciously like crumpling paper. "Nice try, though."

"Why, thank you." She giggled, fingering the sample table arrangements. Then she sobered up. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm..." Another pause. And then Syusuke sighed. "As fine as I can be, I suppose."

"How fine is that?" she asked, pressing the phone close to her ear. "You're not trying to slit your wrists, are you?"

"I think I would have noticed if I did." The tone was wry.

She let out a breath. "Just making sure."

"Milly..."

"Hmm?"

"...Nothing. Uh, can you..." The tone, this time, was hesitant, and her worry spiked back up again. "Help me with the note, please?"

"I'd be happy to, Syusuke." A slow smile she really couldn't help made its way to her face. "Very happy to."

It was only when the phone call ended that she noticed another presence in the room apart from her own.

"I thought I said to leave me alone until you have..." She turned around, reverting back to boss-mode.

"Yuuta."

The younger Fuji brother in the flesh. It had been quite a while since she last saw him, but nothing had really changed. His hair was still cropped short and the same brown several shades darker than his brother's. Same fierce eyes, upright posture and lean body.

Where Syusuke was effeminate, Yuuta was all man and muscle, and had a certain rougish air and charm that drew the opposite gender's eyes towards his imposing form. He was handsome in ways different from his brother.

And right now, he was standing in front of her in casual clothes, his arms crossed at his chest. His eyebrows were raised.

"How much should I worry?" he asked, not angrily, but not very nicely either.

"Scale of one to ten?" She looked at her phone, remembered last night and sighed. "Twelve."

Yuuta's entire body stiffened.

"I'm sorry, Yuuta," she said, slumping down on one of the many chairs around the room. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know about him and Tezuka-san and I thought-"

"Tezuka-san?" Yuuta repeated, cutting her off. Which was just as well, because she didn't know what to say, anyway. What could she say, when she didn't know anything? What was she supposed to say, when she wasn't told anything at all? When she went into the situation clueless? You'd think, after more than half of their lives spent together, Syusuke could have found the time to tell her.

Obviously not.

"You mean they met?"

"Yes," she closed her eyes and shook her head to clear away the images. "He gave your brother flowers, and Syusuke probably spent the entire day yesterday soaked in ice cold water because of it."

Yuuta's expression only became stonier. "What flowers?"

Milly opened her eyes and met his gaze. "Like I-love-you flowers." Like roses. Does that mean anything to you, Yuuta, because to your brother, it meant a lot.

Enough for him to cry over it, anyway. Had Milly ever done anything that meant as much to Syusuke? That meant more?

...Yes. She had.

She said yes.

And she couldn't help feeling just the least bit proud and satisfied.

But Yuuta... Well, Milly couldn't have described Yuuta's face if she tried. Yuuta didn't even say anything else, he just turned around and started stomping out of the room.

"Yuuta," she called and waited as he turned back to her, almost unwillingly. "Here." She tossed him Syusuke's key card.

Yuuta caught it without even looking. "Thanks."

He started walking away again, pausing by the grand double doors long enough to raise a hand in goodbye. "Oh, and Rivalz told me."

Milly cocked her head to the side, humming questioningly.

"Congratulations."

And even though there was something in the tone that Milly can't quite place, she couldn't hold back yet another smile. "Why, thank you, Yuuta," she replied. "I appreciate your blessing."

./.

Yuuta had tried to imagine the worst.

Opening the door to see Syusuke sitting around a pile of crumpled papers certainly wasn't it, but he supposed that was just the bright side of pessimism.

Expect the worst, and everything will always turn out better in comparison. Unless the worst happened, of course, because then, you'd just find yourself in deep shit. Deep shit you had been expecting, so that was good, in a way. At least you were prepared for it, right?

His gaze automatically locked onto the vase full of bright red roses, even as Syusuke gave a surprised little sound and got to his feet.

He was wearing pajamas still, Yuuta noticed, and a robe over that, but that was all. And as he met his brother's gaze, Yuuta realized that he'd been too late.

His eyes were back to being haunted and empty and even though he smiled, and his lids fluttered close, there was just something in the way he handled himself that said just how close he was to drifting back down to-

"Why can't you all just let me die?"

A part of Yuuta, and a rather large part, too, if he was honest with himself, wanted to leave, track down Tezuka and tear him apart limb from limb with his own hands, spill the same amount of blood (maybe more) that Tezuka had forced Syusuke into spilling, make him understand just how much he had ruined Yuuta's brother beyond repair. Another part wanted him to do it in front of Syusuke, so his brother would finally see the coward for who he was and stop destroying himself over a love that wasn't even worth it.

But Yuuta never listened to those parts. Instead, he shifted uncomfortably in the entryway and said, "Hi aniki."

His brother blinked. "You're supposed to be in America."

"So are you," he shot back, closing the door and moving further inside the room.

"I'm working."

Syusuke settled on the usual smiling mask again. It was bland, and quite well-done, and had Yuuta been anyone else, it would have made for a convincing pretense. However, he was Yuuta, and he'd spent many, many months under the same roof with Syusuke as he lugged it around like some sort of security blanket.

It was a familiar and depressingly heartbreaking smile.

It was, Don't worry, Yuuta. I'm fine, all over again, as if Yuuta still needed to be protected from the truth. Yuuta felt something ache within him as he realized, once again, how much his aniki cared. All those years Yuuta had pushed him away, all those years Yuuta had told him he hated him, and his brother still found it in himself to care for Yuuta, and worry over Yuuta when it was his condition that was worrisome.

Yuuta didn't know what good thing in his previous life he had done to deserve a brother like Syusuke, but he'd do it a thousand times over again, because there was nothing else in the world that he wanted more.

He rushed forwards and (almost awkwardly) wrapped his arms around his brother. He had long outgrown Syusuke, and now he stood at almost a head taller than his delicate older brother.

"And I'm taking care of you," he said in reply, tightening the hug when his aniki just stood there in surprise, hands at his sides, looking supremely unsure and shell-shocked. Any other time, Yuuta might have laughed.

But that was before his aniki's expression morphed from depressed and hopeless to utterly, joyfully ecstatic. Yuuta never let himself notice before, he was too busy being jealous, but his aniki had a wonderful smile. When it wasn't fake or pretense, it was filled by a sort of raw happiness that warmed the heart of any who saw it.

His aniki returned the hug. "Ne, Yuuta," he said, his small head nuzzling against Yuuta's chest like a small kitten. "You were worried?"

Despite the blush that was halfway between mildly embarrassed and utterly embarrassed, he answered, "Yes, because you are an idiot."

Syusuke's returning smile was nostalgic and wise, making him look several centuries older than he really was. He didn't say anything, he just disentangled himself from Yuuta's embrace and moved towards the kitchen, gesturing for Yuuta to make himself comfortable.

Yuuta settled down on the place his brother had previously occupied, brushing away several crumpled papers. His brother was talking now, but Yuuta had learned long ago to just drown out his insensible, trying-for-casual-I'm-okay-don't-you-see chatter long ago. He picked up the nearest ball of paper beside him and carefully opened it.

Tezuka,

Why do you do this to me? Can't you see

And then it broke off abrubtly, and, Yuuta guessed, that was the time the paper was crumpled.

His fists clenched as he crumpled the paper again and reached for another one.

Tezuka,

I don't know why, but I still love you, and you're only

And another one.

Tezuka,

Why are you making me hope for

And another one.

Tezuka,

Thank you for the flowers. The roses are beautiful, and thoughtful. I am pleased and flattered by your gift. Maybe we could

And another, until he had opened almost all the papers that were scattered on the floor. Judging from the trash can, there were more of them. Yuuta opened the last one.

This time, unlike all the others that Yuuta had opened before it, the note had actually been finished. The writing was not very neat, and it was unlike his brother's elegant script, but he could tell that it had still been written by Syusuke.

He read the first sentence, and felt the warmth Syusuke's smile had brought draining away.

Kunimitsu,

I love you.

And he only got colder and colder with each passing line.

I never stopped. If you want to, if you'll have me, you can use me again. It's okay. As long as I still have a place in your life, it's okay. Just... keep me by your side, please, Kunimitsu. That's all I ask.

I can't... I can't live without you, please understand. I've tried, and I can't. It's like my only purpose in the world is to stand by your side. It doesn't matter that you don't love me. As long as you still see me, as long as I get to look at you and be with you, I'm happy.

Live your life, but please let me stay. All I ask is for you to allow this selfishness. I promise I won't ever be selfish ever again.

My heart belongs to you, Kunimitsu. It has always belonged to you.

I love you forever,

Syusuke

...This was even worse than what he had imagined.

At some points, there were blotches where the ink of the pen his brother must have been using had run.

Teardrops.

Yuuta was going to break one of Tezuka's bones for every one. And he was going to double the number for every fucking sentence in the fucking note. And he was going to double it again for ever single fucking word that implied about how Tezuka thought his brother was some common whore.

The next time he saw that bastard again, he was a dead man.

His gaze once again gravitated to the vase of flowers standing tall and proud. It was the only thing out of place in the life Yuuta had carefully made sure Syusuke never strayed from.

These flowers were at fault. These flowers, and the person who had given them.

When Syusuke walked back towards the table, Yuuta was fingering them angrily. He stalked towards his brother and pulled the cups out of his hand setting them down with a clatter.

"Yuuta, that's-"

"Those flowers," he raged, not letting his brother finish, and pointing an accusatory finger towards the offending objects. "Those were the flowers he gave you?"

Syusuke didn't have to ask who he was. They both knew, it was kind of glaringly obvious.

His brother sighed, and pulled up the damned smile again. "Yuuta," he said, and when it became clear that he was actually going to defend the bastard, Yuuta did not let him finish.

"Burn them," he demanded furiously, Syusuke's words in the note repeating themselves over and over in his head.

(You can use me again. It's okay.)

(Just keep me by your side, please, Kunimitsu. That's all I ask.)

(It doesn't matter that you don't love me.)

Goddamnit, his brother deserved so much better! What the hell did Syusuke think he was saying? It's okay to be used? It's okay as long as he stayed by his side?

Of course it mattered that he didn't love Syusuke! It mattered a lot. Hell, it was what mattered the most!

Why couldn't his brother see that?

"Yuuta-"

"Burn them." He jerked his hand towards them again. "Then pack your things and we're getting the first flight home. I'll talk to Lelouch for you about sending someone else or whatever, I don't care, as long as I get you out of here."

But Syusuke only smiled placatingly. "It's okay, Yuuta. It's just for a few more days. I can handle it."

"Oh, like the way you handled it before?"

It was a cruel thing to say. In fact, Yuuta couldn't have said anything worse even if he tried. Syusuke flinched away from him almost automatically, hurt taking up every inch of his face. Yuuta would never have said it, and he didn't really intend to. But it popped out, and he was too angry to feel anything other than vindicated.

That was, until Syusuke's face hardened. "I'll handle it, Yuuta." He brushed Yuuta's hands away, walking towards the table, gathering his pile of crumpled papers.

"Don't worry," Syusuke went on, his smile almost, but not quite, wry. "I'm not suicidal, and I don't suppose I'll get any worse. Wasn't that what the doctors said?"

"They don't know about that bastard," Yuuta insisted, knowing almost instinctively that he was losing this argument. "I don't want you to die, aniki."

Syusuke's smile became softer, his eyes fluttering open. They were as haunted and empty as they had been before, but the affection and a sort of fondness shone through as he eyed Yuuta.

"I won't, Yuuta," he said gently. "I promise."

...Right. Hell if Yuuta believed him. But... he knew he'd lost this round.

"Fine," he ground out, stomping towards the door in a far fouler mood than he had been when he got here. "But if something happens, if anything happened to you at all, I'll gouge out a chunk of his heart myself."

He met Syusuke's broken blue eyes steadily as he opened the door.

"We'll see how he likes it."

He slammed the door shut with a satisfying bang.

Clary: Um. Yes. We should have warned for cheesiness, but... Yes. Ohmygosh, I'm sorry this chapter sucked so much, falling down the stairs has a way of killing your creativity~~ Nooo~~~~~

Lia: -is still mad at Issa-

Clary: -ignoring Lia- The Yuuta falling bit was in honor of my own fall~ Yey~

Lia: Though it probably wasn't because he HOPPED down the stairs when people told him NOT to.

Clary: -still ignoring Lia- So, please do leave me a note and review~ I love to hear from you guys, it makes my day~ Remember: A review a day keeps the doctor (and writer's block) away~ Yey~

(PS: I'm excited for next chapter, even though I can't tell you guys why~ Look forward to it ne? –squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-)