Disclaimer: I don't own…you don't sue.

Author's Note I was kind of depressed when I wrote this and it's not quite as long as the other chapters, but yeah. I still hope you enjoy it though. I mean, just think! The next chapter will be the morning that Yuki and Kyo wake up together! That should be interesting!

Warning: Meh, there aren't any real warnings for this pairing. They don't come across, to me, as the type that would take things pretty fast in the beginning.

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Chapstick, Chapped Lips, and Things Like Chemistry
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13th Tube
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He looked at the calendar again. The date hadn't changed. The words scribbled angrily across the square hadn't either. They never did. The boy grabbed his jacket and headed quietly out of his room, the door clicking lightly as it closed behind him. Three steps…two steps…one step…the front door. He turned the outside light off. He didn't want to be able to see his reflection in the glass of the door when he came back home. He didn't want to see the tear tracks that showed up that one night every year.

He walked and walked, and soon, the roads became darker and neon lights hung where family ice cream parlor signs should have been. The heels of his boots scuffed the pavement of the well-known path in front of him. The building he approached looked the same. The stoop had the same broken steps, the same graffiti still marred the painted front door, and he jiggled the doorknob knowing that it would open the same way. The stairs on the left still squeaked beneath his feet as he traveled up to the second floor landing, and he knew that she would still be waiting in the same room on the right.

The threadbare carpet never changed, and the sheets, with all of their stains, didn't either. There were meager furnishings for the room, and the place appeared to be filthy, but there was a familiarity there that couldn't be replaced. He knew that she would turn the lights off before pulling him over to sit on the bed beside her. He had asked her to too many times before. She would start to pull her clothes off then, and he didn't want to see the jagged outline of cheekbones or papery-thin, ashen skin pulled tightly over her skeleton and leaving her tinted blue from veins too near the surface.

A deal made years ago should have taken care of her and any earthly needs, but the small scars on the inside of her arm and the various syringes shoved haphazardly around the room were tell-tale signs of where addictions took over. He let out the breath that he didn't know he'd been holding when her bony fingers trailed along his face and tugged at his shirt until it came loose from his jeans. He wasn't one for small intimacies, and she knew this. When he suddenly grabbed her and forced her onto her back on the bed, she made no sound. She never did.

The movements were jerky and rough and familiar. And when his fingers dug into her bony hips, her flesh still felt the same. The same noises, the same motions, the same feelings, and the same tears…they're all the same. It's therapy, he tells himself. In these moments, it's just him and the room and this girl. And that's all he needs. There are no memories. Soon he reaches completion, and he feels so sentimental value when she does, as well. It's just another trip to forget, and that's all he needs for now.

The sheet is scratchy when he cleans himself up, and he's pulling his clothes back on before she has even moved. He drops a wad of cash on the bed, an added bonus to the already set bonus, and heads for the door. It's not a safe arrangement, and he knows it, but he tells himself that he has no concerns for self-preservation. Besides, she whispers in his ear every time, "You're the only one that gets it like this," and for now, that's reassurance enough. "I'll see you again the same time next year?"

Ruby eyes flicker over to the worn bed in the corner, and he frowns as he answers. "Unfortunately."

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She lies in bed and waits for the front door to open and close again. It's been nearly three hours, so she knows that he'll be home soon. Every year it's the same. The times never change, and she never wonders where he goes. He wouldn't tell her if she asked, and if she followed him, he'd know in an instant. She remembers when these nights first began, when his looks became so cold, and he stopped smiling altogether. She remembers the first time he yelled at her, and the first time he hurt himself for something that wasn't his fault. She remembers being so afraid when she saw that ruby liquid seeping between his fingers and the awkward way he was holding his arm.

He scares her so much, but she doesn't think he realizes it. She watches him when he isn't looking, and she started hanging out with those girls because they know all of the gossip, and if he got into any sort of trouble, she would hear about it. She was doing it for his protection, she told herself. She just wants to protect him like he's been protecting her for so long. That's what siblings do, isn't it? They watch out for each other and protect each other. That's what she wants them to be like. Always there for each other. But he's pulling away from her.

He always thinks that she's sleeping these nights, but if she sleeps, she dreams. And when she dreams, she remembers. She'll happily curl herself inside of her fabricated reality every year on this day if it will make it hurt less. The real world is full of harsh truths and sharp honesty, but she can't get cut inside of her fluffy world of make believe. There are only clouds and woven lies for her to live in, and it's a life she needs right now.

She thinks about her friends at school, the ones that only know part of the truth and leak sympathy for her stories. She thinks about the boy sleeping on the sofa in her den downstairs. There's so much that he doesn't know and so much that she needs Hiei to tell him. This boy is strange, and if given the chance, she thinks that he could free him. Bound by a history of pain, abandonment, guilt, blame, and death, her brother only needs a friend, a real friend, not just an acquaintance that he sees everyday. Her own needs can wait because she believes that he is more broken than he sees.

The front door closes softly and she hears light footsteps stop outside of her bedroom door. Her eyes shut quickly, and she struggles to regulate her breathing. In…out…in…out…nice and slow. He comes in quietly, his breathing is ragged, unlike her own, and she knows that this is the only time she'll hear it this way. She's only ever heard him cry, never seen him. The light familiar wetness falls on her face as he bends over to press a quick kiss to her forehead. It's the same as every year as he whispers his apologies and promises to make things better.

He leaves again and she cries silently into her pillow for the rest of the night. She knows that they will both be crying tonight. Like always. Her broken laugh echoes through the silence of her room as she thinks about how twisted they are. It's almost like a messed up family tradition. When she wakes in the morning, she knows that he'll act as if nothing has ever happened, that nothing is different from any other day. And she will act the same and wait patiently for the next year.
"I'm so sorry. It's all my fault…everything's all my fault."

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The house had been silent all afternoon. Yusuke struggled to get Hiei to watch a movie with him or play a game, but his efforts were mostly in vain. The boy wouldn't talk, wouldn't eat, wouldn't do anything. He padded through the house, silent as death and bothering no one. Eventually he went to his room and closed and locked the door. Yusuke tried to ask Yukina about what was going on with her brother, but she only laughed nervously and ran up to her own room, muttering some excuse as she left.

He was alone again in a house that didn't belong to him. He felt out of place, unwanted, and deserted. It was awkward when the others weren't around and he self-consciously turned the volume of the t.v. down. The silence bearing in around him seemed almost too eerie to be disturbed. He yearns for it to be broken, for something or someone loud to invade his senses and drag him away from the oppressive feeling of the house. He remembers nights like these spent in his own house waiting for his mom to come stumbling home at some odd hour of the night, too drunk and too high to care that he was still awake at the time. More often than not, he was the one tucking her into bed beneath sheets that were washed by him.

Some time later, he manages to fall asleep on the overstuffed couch, his body all wrapped up in a thick woven blanket courtesy of Yukina. Yusuke is awoken when the front door shuts a little more loudly than intended, and he hears someone's head fall against it. From his position on the couch, he can just make out Hiei's lithe form as he stands there with his eyes clenched shut and his chest heaving. His face is contorted with pain, and Yusuke hopes that it's physical because the emotional pain never heals quite as quickly, if at all. The boy is crying to himself, and Yusuke pretends to still be asleep out of privacy. He hasn't seen the boy show so much as a flicker of emotion for the past week, and he thinks the boy has finally broken down.

Eventually, Hiei heads up the steps without casting a single glance at Yusuke on the couch. The sound of feet padding overhead fills Yusuke's ears as he lies awake. They pause for a bit, but then continue their journey to what he knows is Hiei's bedroom. It's hard to for Yusuke to lie there and do nothing when he knows that the boy is probably still crying upstairs. He remembers nights where he would curl inside himself and merely wait for the pain to stop, the tears to stop falling. The feeling of loneliness that overtakes a person when they cry themselves to sleep is a feeling that he knows all too well. He feels broken when he realizes that someone else carries that burden too, someone that he cares for. He wants to wipe away the tears and make everything alright again, even though he doesn't know what went wrong in the first place.

His feet carry him to the boy's bedroom door before his mind catches up with them, but all the same, he enters slowly and closes the door tightly behind him. The boy is still crying, as he suspected, and he's curled up tightly, still wearing his clothes from before. Too broken to care and too tired to change, Yusuke knows. He slips quietly into bed behind Hiei and wraps his arms around the boy's waist. Hiei doesn't say anything, but his breath hitches for a moment. The tears are still coming, and Yusuke knows that they won't stop anytime soon. Hiei relaxes back into the embrace, and Yusuke hopes that things will be okay in the morning. He only wants to comfort him, understanding can come later.

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Chapter 13 title: Ruled By Secrecy by Muse

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