Totsuka's Revenge weeks are here! :C

When Totsuka drew his last breath, Mikoto had felt him go like a flickering candle. It had taken him a moment to process what had happened, and before he could draw a gasp his phone had rang and he answered it with numb fingers.

"I have some bad news Mikoto..."

He hung up the phone before Kusanagi could finish his sentence, and dropped the phone to floor with a careless clatter. Long strides and heaving breaths took him to the mantle in the living room of his sparse apartment. He rarely slept there, almost had no need for it, except it was where he kept the things that were sentimental to him. His mother's ashes, a journal of notes from high school, shelves upon shelves of photographs that Totsuka had taken. He stood at his mantle and stared into honey brown eyes and felt hollow.

He felt a chilling determination and a swallowing sorrow.

A part of him thought it was for the best, as he had always known it to be coming. At the very least, Totsuka died besides his friends, so at least he was not alone in death.

He knew what would come of this, what fate dictated him to do.

His only regret was that he was going to leave sad blue eyes alone in this hollow world.

Yes, that was his only regret.

For the next four days the Clan mourned and Mikoto distanced himself from all of them. Only Anna managed to break through his sorrow and clung to him at night as he fell asleep to nightmares.

Saruhiko had been on a business trip and wouldn't be back for another three days. He saw the boy had called his cellphone and lit the appliance on fire, burning it to less than ash. He didn't want to face his boyfriend, didn't want to tell him of what he was planning, though it was likely the boy had figured it out on his own. His duty would garner the best of him, and would take all he had left. He hadn't' really cared about his life until he realized Saruhiko's was dependent on it. Sure, his Clan all depended on him, but more in that they depended on the protection and sanctity of family he had provided, but Saruhiko was dependent on him.

Totuska had been his ball and chain, his reason for being a King was gone and now all that left was to dispose of loose strings. When Saruhiko came back into town Mikoto made his move immediately, storming into the hotel suite where an infamous gang was that had purchased the gun responsible for killing their friend. Downstairs the Blue Clan was waiting for them, and he was not surprised to not see Saruhiko amongst the men and woman clad in blue. He was probably outside in that van that monitored Weissman levels. Either that or not there at all, but no-he could feel the flicker of red that was distinctly Saruhiko's just outside the building.

He let himself to be taken into custody without a fuss, putting out his hands to be cuffed by glowing blue, not caring that most of his less perceptive clansmen were frantic behind him. Kusanagi knew what he was doing, Anna too, and though he knew they were sad and upset at the path he was walking, he knew they would be okay in the end.

After all, they lived in Homra.

And wasn't Homra a home for troubled souls?

His cell was nice, hard stone and no pillow, but he could sleep instantly anywhere, and quickly fell into a light nap. The Red Aura was back to trying to eat him alive, and with his resignation to his fate it was hungrier than usual. A part of him was worried that when he died it would consume his soul, like a cheesy cartoon devil, but the other half didn't believe in an afterlife so what did he care if he was used as an energy source in the end?

He dreamed of a decimated city, of burning blazes and blackened hands burned by flame, the air smelled of death and decay, and he heard Anna crying somewhere. Yes, he thought aloud in his dreamscape, I will die so this won't happen...this is for the best. But then the scenery swelled and melted away to a series of endless brick back alleys and squeaking hotel beds wrought with mold and bodily fluids. Saruhiko drowning himself in carnal and subservient pleasures, soothing his brokenness with the rough hands of strangers and the cloying scent of sex and self hatred.

Mikoto's was forced to watch as Saruhiko was taken harshly in a dim hotel room, dark hair spread out over stained sheets and creamy skin drenched in sweat and other fluids. A hand snaked from the tangle of jerking flesh, reaching out to Mikoto with glassy eyes and bruised lips.

"Don't go!" the word sounded so feeble and scared from those purple and red lips slick with saliva and other.

Mikoto woke with start, jarring his head into the cement wall behind him, and the sight of the bars of his cell blurred as he winced in the aftershock of his blunder. When his eyesight cleared and his ears stopped ringing, he was met with the sight of Saruhiko standing in front of those bars with a dark face and eyes that could kill.

"So that's it then, not even a note? For someone not new to suicide you sure lack preparation." His words were icy but Mikoto didn't blame him. He sat up with creaking shoulders, his arms as stiff as the board they were entrapped in. Mikoto watched him with soft eyes, and wasn't surprised when Saruhiko unlocked his cell and slipped through, locking it behind him. "I shut off the cameras and everyone's out." Saruhiko whispered, "So please get out of here…go and do something else but not this…please not this…"

Mikoto remained silent as the boy straddled his hips and buried his face in red tresses. Mikoto could see over the boy's shoulder and took in the scent of fear and sadness. A hand came down and unlocked his cuffs, something that did surprise him, but Saruhiko shushed his unspoken question with a suffocating kiss.

He threaded his tongue back in a passionate kiss full of sorrow that tasted of the tears that were trailing down the boy's cheeks like an endless cascade of grief. He lifted his now free hands that were sore and bruised but he couldn't care less as he pulled the boy impossibly closer. This person understood his brokenness, his helplessness, this person cared more than anyone and needed him more than even Anna did. This person loved him for his faults and his shortcomings, loved him despite his clear abandonment in his upcoming death.

"Don't go," the boy whimpered, near to a sob as he drew back just a hair's breath, so reminiscent of the dream he had just witnessed.

"I can't," he whispered back, rubbing circles in the boy's lower back over that long coat of his, and his heart broke at the small wail that left the boy's lips before they collided once more in teeth and tongue.

"You promised."

"I know."

"That's so cruel."

"I know, you don't deserve this."

"…"

"Don't you dare break your promise, you're better than that."

"A bit hypocritical, don't you think?"

"I know."

"…"

"…"

Saruhiko sobbed into their sad kisses and Mikoto just responded in the only way he knew how, he tried to be kind even though he was doing this boy who loved him such a cruelty he did not deserve. They had never said they loved each other out loud, but it was clear in the taste of his tears and the pitch of his cries that this boy loved him more than anyone had ever loved Mikoto.

Mikoto hoped he could say the same and it would ring true for this boy, because Mikoto had never liked to share.

I'm shitty and I know it :)