Chapter Seventeen: Dirty

"Damn," Kurogane stared at the white house that towered before them. "So this was your hellhole?"

Fai laughed bitterly. "You could say that. Doesn't look so terrifying, does it? The inside's even better." Even though his voice was lighthearted and flirtatious, his fingers resisted the urge to ball into fists. He was more relieved than shocked when Ashura and Yuui presented what they were to the Sacreds—the only audible reaction in the room was Tomoyo jumping up and congratulating them, as the others simply shrugged and went on with whatever they'd been doing; at this point, nothing could really shock anyone.

However, when Fai came clean with Kurogane…the atmosphere in the room was a bit stiff, and Fai didn't know if it was because they thought Kurogane would hurt Fai—one way or another—or if they just disapproved with him in general.

But it was too late for regrets now. Fai ran a hand through his still-slightly-damp-from-a-shower hair, careful not to accidentally untie the silk ribbon that held the mask to his face. Tomoyo said that instead of her designing Fai's, she'd had it imported from Venice. It was a mask older than Akamizu, Sabakurein, and Kuriakiri put together; and therefore, they had to send it back to Venice once Fai was done using it. It really was a thing of the Renaissance, angelic and crowned with sapphires. Although it made Fai's head feel a few pounds heavier than usual.

Kurogane had it much easier, what with Tomoyo basing his mask's design from an arctic wolf. She assured him that it wasn't real fur—or a real nose spouting on the tip of the muzzle. It'd taken a ten-minute staring/glaring contest between Kamui and Kurogane, before the martial artist had actually consented to wearing it.

And then it'd taken another five minutes to convince Kurogane that he wouldn't look like "a fucking fucked-up dork" in a tailed tuxedo—especially one that'd been modernized in cut by Tomoyo herself. Of course, Kurogane nearly "shit a brick" when he found out that the rest of the male Sacreds would be wearing a similar version of the aforementioned modernized tailed tux—to be recognizably signature, Tomoyo had said.

"Might as well get this pain in the ass over with," Kurogane sighed, glancing at Fai. "You ready?"

They were standing at the side of the grand porch, leaning against the series of columns. Fai shivered with the cold, banging the back of his skull against the edge of the column. "I'm suicidal to have thought I could do this."

"You know that he's not going to touch you, right?" Kurogane held out a silk-gloved hand toward Fai.

Fai snorted derisively, smiling. "Really, now, Kuro-tan?"

"At least if he wants to keep his limbs intact."

"He doesn't just use his limbs."

"Fine. It'll be more fun to rip that thing off, while I'm at it." Kurogane brandished the hand. "Now c'mon, Fluorite. Before you get a fucking cold."

If only Kurogane knew how Fai's temperature shot up the moment the musician accepted his hand. Fai's terrors and his desires were at war with one another, and if this kept on, Fai would just combust out of pure frustration. But for the time being, they had a masked ball to attend.

Stepping through the doors was like stepping a hundred years back. One of the things Fai remembered most about living with Kyle was that his talent for throwing the most extravagant—almost to the point of ridiculous—benefits for "medical" reasons was extraordinary.

Fortunately, no matter how crowded, the Sacreds never blended in with the crowd. Fai instantly caught sight of Amaterasu's risqué blue and gold silk gown—and the half-foot tall peacock feathers of her mask—whirling around the dance floor. Seishiro and Subaru were also not difficult to spot—Fai could only hope that neither was angry with him.

Tomoyo was also easily recognizable in her swan's mask and snowy gown—with enough embedded diamonds to make twelve bride's happy—chatting and laughing on the sidelines with a girl who's mask was adorned with cherry blossoms, and Fai knew her to be the gymnast Divine.

There was a slight lowering of voices and ghosting of whispers and murmurs as Fai and Kurogane neared the center of the enormous foyer and open hall that led to the other rooms. The chandelier was alit above their heads, and the twirling staircases were filled with students conversing and flirting and drinking.

Fai knew better than to fall at ease with the atmosphere—it was a false allure that someone who played in this society often had learned to distrust. The irony of a masquerade—and its host being Kyle—hadn't escaped Fai in the least.

He spotted his brother and Ashura, their heads leaning closely as their lips moved in soft murmurs. Fai wondered for how long Yuui had had to watch Ashura and Fai together, unable to act because he couldn't deny his brother anything at all, even the one he loved.

Kurogane touched Fai's forearm, bringing him away from his thoughts. "Oy, Fluorite. You'd better get your head back down to your body," he whispered, his breath hot against Fai's ear, "Here comes Satan's spawn."

Fai's breathing immediately hastened, and the feeling of being cornered against the wall spread from his heart to his fingertips. He couldn't tell which one was Kyle—there were tons of people approaching them, surrounding them…which one? "C'mon," Kurogane took Fai's hand and led him straight through the foyer and toward the first end of the staircase.

Kyle's gentle, deceiving eyes glinted behind a dark green dragon mask, and beside him, Mioru's copper skin was unmistakable, even with the simple black mask he sported. He was draped over Kyle shamelessly. His eyes took in Kurogane incredulously and then glared at Fai. "Stick anything up your ass lately, Fluorite? A blue pill or two?"

Fai merely looked at him. There was no way for him to rearrange his features into an expression hurt enough to convey what those words did to him. None at all. And it was better that Mioru just believed whatever version of the story Kyle had told him.

Kurogane, however, wasn't as lenient. His face fell into a scowl and he took Mioru by the collar, lunging forward. "Listen, shit-brat, you're coming with me." Kurogane gave Fai a concerned glare, before dragging an unresisting Mioru away.

Kyle stepped down from the staircase's last stair, and took Fai's gloved hand, brushing his lips across the back. "Miss Daidoji outdid herself on you tonight," he smiled at Fai.

"Thank you." Fai's teeth dug into his lower lip. His body felt flamed and the clothes suddenly seemed to be choking into his skin. He needed them off—he needed everything off, and he needed Kyle inside of him. He didn't want it to be like this every time Kyle touched him. It felt disgusting. Humiliating. But this response had been ingrained into him and he didn't know how to get rid of it. No matter how many times he scrubbed his skin, he couldn't get the taint out.

"I'm sure you remember our special room?" Kyle's smile widened as he gestured upwards. "Would you like to join me up there for a quick round? I assure you that your new little…friend won't find out." He laughed. "As if he hasn't seen you for what you really are before."

Fai smiled robotically. "Shouldn't you be returning to Mioru?"

"I think I'll let Kurogane have his way with him tonight. Mioru's been wanting to speak to him, so we'll just have a little fun while we wait it out, hm?" Kyle stroked Fai's cheek—the cold fingers feeling like utter ice against Fai's heated skin.

No. "Yes." The faint word came out before Fai could stop it. His lips had formed "no", and his mind and heart had screamed the exact same, but his body had proven stronger than the three teamed together. Every single time…it was his trained body that won—the body that'd been beaten into submission could never forget, no matter how much Fai wished it would.

Kurogane threw Mioru against the wall and slammed the door of the room shut. Mioru recognized it even in the dark—it was Kyle's bedroom. The lights flicked on, and Mioru was able to drink in more of Kurogane's incomparable appearance. "How're we going to do it this time? Is your favorite still on the stairs?"

Kurogane leaned against the opposing wall, a far length from where Mioru sat on the bed. "It doesn't matter where my favorite is—not to you anyway. I don't wanna do it with you anymore. What part of that can't you get through your thick head, kid?"

Mioru stood up, his eyes glaring so hard at the martial artist it almost hurt. "Kid? How can you call me kid? Two years ago you were screwing me into the dining table of my house. A year ago you told me you told me you'd stay with me forever—even when I left for Kuriakiri. A year ago you told me you love me."

Kurogane sighed. "Loved. Past tense, Mioru."

Something stuck in Mioru's esophagus—words or oxygen, he couldn't tell. He just knew that Kurogane had called him Mioru. Kurogane had just called him fucking Mioru. And yet, he'd heard Kurogane calling that dumb-blond-fuck Fluorite tens of millions of times. But for him, now, there was no more "Hey, Aoi". No. Now he was just shitting, fucking Mioru.

Mioru shook his head, eyes closed. He opened them heavily, slowly approaching the freshman. It hurt. It hurt so much. Kurogane was acting like everything they'd been through had never happened. "Why? Why'd you have to do it? I love you. We had everything. Why did you…? And we're nearer now! I didn't know you were coming to Akamizu—if I'd known, then—"

"It doesn't change anything." Kurogane folded his arms. "And if you love me, how come you're hanging around with the pedophilic creepy?"

"You know nothing about Kyle," Mioru growled. "It's your precious little violinist that's the slut. Look at him. He can't keep his eyes off of Kyle. Those twins are full of shit, you do know, right?" The next time he laid eyes on Fai, Mioru swore that he would murder the junior even if he had to use a kitchen knife.

"No, I don't know. All I can hear is the shit you're spouting. You don't know crap about Fai and you definitely don't know crap about the pervert doctor. You're going to get ripped in half by him, kid." Kurogane snorted. "If you knew what was good for you, you'd stay away."

"What's so great about that broken piece of white trash?" Mioru spat. "What does that pretty blond ass have that I don't? You've fucked him, right? Is he honestly better?"

Kurogane's jaw tightened. "You sound like a jealous whore. You're the one that's the slut—throwing yourself all over Rondart."

"At least Kyle doesn't screw me into a wall first chance he gets." Mioru was inches away from Kurogane now.

"You were as drunk as I—"

Mioru's lips covered Kurogane's, their masks touching. It felt so good after so long. What wouldn't Mioru give to just stay like this forever—why couldn't Kurogane see Mioru? It didn't make any sense. Why would Kurogane just leave him? Why didn't Kurogane just stay with Mioru forever? Why did Kurogane have to fall in love with Fai? Why did Fai have to…? Why didn't Kurogane…just…why?

The door beside them burst open and Fai fell through the doorway landing on the floor on his back, his mask askew and his clothes thrown open, pants unzipped. Kyle's shirt was also unbuttoned; but unlike the musician, he stood relaxed with his hands in his pockets. "This is nice."

"Fuck," Kurogane said.

A/N: There's no song for this one. Well...actually for the part with the descriptions, the song would be Buy You A Drink by T-Pain feat. T.I.

Hmm......I don't like it that my chapters are getting shorter and shorter, but I really can't lump anything else with them.......

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