LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC

Title: Sanguine

Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)

CHAPTER 4

Stillness like the silent angle of darkness obscured his vision, and the soft beams of a lamp broke it, scattering it with light and sound. A deliberate shuffling of paper as a sheet of white came into focus. It reflected off the glossiness of a plastic alarm clock, snow-white upon red numbers, as if each contrasted the other for effect. With the darkness dispelled, it became clear that the paper lay on a desk, with its owner evidently still nearby. A quick glance around brought an image of a somber-faced youth with flat green eyes, walking reluctantly towards the table. A pencil shifted in his hands, sliding down long unbroken fingers.

Malachite glass set into a face that tightened to the sheen of marble, they stared hollowly at the empty page before those fingers nudged the pencil in place. Black characters, scripted by a nervous hand, cluttered tightly along the lines, uneven and slanted. They were barely legible. Yet, a few words stood out, particularly two names that he knew. One was his; the other belonged to a missing girl. And the writer of them was none other than his roommate, Rikuo. The only other time he'd ever seen Rikuo so flustered was during that chocolate incident, but this ran deeper. This had something to do with Tsukiko and him, and Kazahaya damned the fact that Rikuo's penmanship for once was sloppy.

The pencil stopped midway through its progression down the page, its tip splintering off in a spray of graphite. Rikuo's fingers clenched, heightening the whiteness of his knuckles. Those pale eyes closed, followed by the light clatter of the pencil hitting the floor. Something in the boy's posture and expression broke as he reached out, took the paper in hand, and methodically began to rip it to pieces. The shreds drifted down, light and soft and forgotten. Rikuo disappeared and the lamp went dim. He watched as the faint shadow of his partner brushed against the wall, jacket in hand. And then, Rikuo was gone, melded into midnight and lost into dawn.

Kazahaya blinked as the first glow of the morning sank in through his eyelids. Beneath his crossed arms, he felt something thick and warm, and upon opening his eyes, realized that he was using Rikuo's blanket as a pillow. Shaking himself awake, he ran his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair. Obviously, he didn't need to be in contact with Rikuo in order to pick up on memories and the like. The two times he'd read cravings and painful yearnings from the formerly stolid male, it was through a shoe and holding hands. Direct contact was more powerful, but Kazahaya knew that the knowledge gleaned could also affect him.

So what was that sliver of memory? Was it the evening Rikuo abandoned them? The emptiness and pain that permeated the imaging bore into him, sharp and unmerciful. It was a different kind of agony compared to the one he felt two nights ago – that had simply been horrid. It was physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual. It was a fourfold rip across all that he knew held a person together, and as his gaze rested on Rikuo's pale face, he understood. Even after requesting his presence last night, Rikuo hadn't slept well.

He felt distraught at seeing how Rikuo slept. Usually, the big lug was all limbs and body, his muscular frame sprawled out from headboard to end. He normally made quite a mess, with his gangly arms and legs, not to mention a pillow or two. But now – now, his arms and legs were pulled into a fetal position, as his back gripped the wall, widening the gap between them. He had screamed last night, Kazahaya mournfully remembered. Screamed without a voice, while his body strained against tortures that he could not see. Whenever the nightmares came, it left both of them wrung out. The worst was seeing those eyes intensify with horror, filling with tears, and being unable to comfort him.

He had never wanted to see Rikuo like that.

"Rikuo, what happened?" he whispered, knowing that it was going to be an eternal question simply because Rikuo would never tell him everything. It was like Rikuo to do that, to hold something back until he found out why. But by that time, he would end up being a fool, things would go out of hand, and danger would escalate. For Rikuo's sake – Kazahaya wasn't sure he was safe, yet – he hoped that his partner would talk. The vision disturbed him, for it was a side of Rikuo Himura that he'd scarcely seen. Even before they found him broken and traumatized, severely damaged and highly hysterical, Rikuo was already falling apart.

Apparently, part of it was over Tsukiko and him. What about it, though?

Kazahaya pursed his lips, uncertain where to take that train of thought. It was worth thinking about, but the answers weren't his for the taking. What he'd seen was given to him by chance, having fallen asleep on top of Rikuo's blanket while watching over him the night before. It was a start – a small one. There had to be a key there, and he wondered if Kakei-san knew about it. It wouldn't hurt to ask, unless he somehow wound up awakening his boss's creepy side.

That, unfortunately, was a risk Kazahaya knew he'd have to hazard. Add to that an extra groping from Saiga-san, and it was the start of a normal day – if anyone could look at his friend and the circumstances and call it "normal." To this day, he considered their unconventional family one of the craziest out there. Truly, though, he had no better, or else why would he run from Kei and his sheltered upbringing, nearly killing himself during a snowstorm? On the heels of that question followed another. If their strange relations were so familiar, why did Rikuo – usually the one with his feet earthbound instead of having his head in the clouds – bolt? It made no sense.

No. Of course it did. Tsukiko. Always Tsukiko.

Allowing himself a feline yawn, Kazahaya slowly removed himself from Rikuo's coverlet. He ached to touch the soft slope of the older-looking boy's shoulder, to cling to the hope that as long as Rikuo lived, there was a chance. To remind himself that Rikuo was warm, still breathed, and had time to heal.

Nonetheless, the haunting vision lingered. Kazahaya reluctantly withdrew from the room, dragging his feet, unable to keep from glancing back at the pathetic figure on the bed.

He could not.

"Kakei-san, I saw something this morning." He had an easier time saying that after the initial shock of finding his boss tangled in the sheets with his brawny lover. If only Rikuo could see him at that moment, cheeks flushed upon stumbling into what appeared to be an intimate scene. No wonder one of the common rules of courtesy was to always knock. He had forgotten that in this madcap place. Fortunately, it was nothing of the sort, and after a hearty chuckle from Saiga, joined by Kakei's amused smile, business turned serious.

Glass gleamed as Green Drugstore's owner tilted his head. "Didn't I warn you in explicit terms not to touch Rikuo no matter the circumstances? You should have told one of us."

"It wasn't intended," he explained, fidgeting beneath Kakei's stern gaze. "I had fallen asleep on top of one of Rikuo's blankets while sitting in his chair. I couldn't have touched him anyways," he said, bitterly aware of the misery in his voice. "He had plastered himself against the wall, curled up like a baby. He screamed during his sleep, and I couldn't even comfort him. I don't know how to."

"Kakei –"

"Not yet, Saiga." Although Kakei's tone was mild, Kazahaya could sense the trepidation beneath it. "Tell me exactly what you saw, Kudou-kun. Leave nothing out."

"Well, I saw a dark empty room. There was no one there at first, but suddenly the light turned on and I heard some paper being shuffled. One of them landed on a desk near an alarm clock. The paper was blank. Then, after looking around, I saw someone in there with me. It was Rikuo." Taking a breather, he continued. "He had a pencil in his hand, and he started writing some messy characters down on the page. I saw my name and Tsukiko's name show up time and time again, as if he couldn't get us out of his head. He looked unhappy, conflicted. Then, he stopped writing and tore up what he wrote. After that, he left."

"What time was it in that vision, Kudou-kun?"

"Around midnight, I suppose. But it was hard to tell, with the light and all."

A sagely nod. "It sounds like the night he left us several weeks ago, doesn't it, Saiga?" Chestnut eyes turned upwards, haloed by elegant spectacles as they met with black shades. "From what Kudou-kun said, it seems like Rikuo was torn between Tsukiko and Kazahaya. I wonder if he had trouble deciding who was more important to him. After all, he had taken to both, and hasn't denied it."

The break room couch suddenly felt impossibly hard. "What do you mean by that, Kakei-san?" He was sure he was blushing – goddamn his fair complexion to hell. "Why should he have any difficulty with that?"

"How do I put this lightly, Kudou-kun?" A beat of silence. "Rikuo has loved Tsukiko for most of his life, having stayed with her and protected her at all costs. When she disappeared and he came back to find her place a room of blood, he couldn't take it. That's why we took him in – he had become a danger to himself. He was so obsessed with finding her that nothing else mattered. When Saiga found him, Rikuo was living on the streets, supporting himself in any way possible. It was not a safe lifestyle, but you should understand why he lived that way. He was sure she was kidnapped by street thugs, or someone powerful and linked to the criminal underworld. So he thought by becoming a degenerate, he could get closer to her whereabouts."

"Why are you telling me all of this? Wouldn't Rikuo kill us if he found out you told me about him?"

"There's good reason for you to know this because Rikuo has given you the same consideration. For all of the bickering you two do, he's really concerned about you. It took Saiga a long time to talk Rikuo out of his self-destructive behavior, and the only inkling we have left of that is his overwhelming urge to find Tsukiko. Now that he's seeing you in the same way, he's terribly afraid of losing you as well. Remember, Kudou-kun – with all of the jobs and experiences you two have been through, he's been the one with the most to lose. If any of those tasks had gone awry and left you for dead, I don't know how he'll react."

In that instant, Kazahaya's world dwindled to an extreme focus, leaving him baffled and stunned. There was simply too much information to process, and too much of it was about the enigma upstairs. Instead of answering his questions, it merely gave him more to think about. "What was Rikuo doing when Saiga-san found him, Kakei-san?"

"Saiga?" It wasn't a hint but a command.

"He had come very close to bartering himself away for food and shelter. I found him with blood on his hands after someone tried to 'persuade' him to do so. If I hadn't shown up, I believe he would've sold himself a few days later, or been taken by others. He was like you, boy – close to death, and dying on the inside."

"Like now."

An uncertain pause. "Yes, Kudou-kun – like now."

Returning to the laughter, the happiness, the mockery, and the way life used to be was impossible. Not after what he'd learned. Not after last night, or the evening before, when he'd held the trembling boy's hands, and seen flashes of what had been. Not after all of that. There was no way back for him now.

There was no way back for Rikuo, or if there was, it was going to be brutally unfair.

Kazahaya cried then, out of frustration and despair. Green Drugstore was opening its doors today, and he couldn't bring himself to don on his work clothes and join Kakei-san and Saiga-san downstairs. He was in no mood to stock shelves, to sweep the floors, or to watch giggling girls inquire about Rikuo's absence. He had finished preparing breakfast and brought it over to Rikuo's room, where the sight of the curled figure brought him to tears. Then, he'd noticed the desk lamp and alarm clock nearby, and completely lost it.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Lifting his head, trying to avoid staring at the vulnerable form of his friend lying unconscious across from where he sat, Kazahaya turned towards the sound. It was coming from outside. Slipping out of the metal-backed chair, he moved towards the door, unaware that he slinked forward like a cat.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Opening the door delivered a freshly-taped note on the other side. Curious, and positively sure that it was the work of Kakei-san, he lifted it off, deciding to read its contents inside. The door closed silently; a small click the only noise made as the lock did its work. The paper crinkled in his hand, reminding him of the vision he had.

His heart skipped a beat.

"Kudou-kun," he read, "I know you're feeling miserable, especially since you've gotten close to Rikuo despite all of your protests. Telling you all of that wasn't easy for us, but we decided it had to be told. You'll be carrying Rikuo in your arms from now on; in this, we believe both of you can heal. What you saw was a gift, and I think that as the days go by, you'll start piecing things together. I know you want to cry over Rikuo. I know you very well, Kudou-kun. Believe me when I say that."

Kazahaya believed it. How would he not?

"Therefore, if you don't want to come to work today, or for the rest of the week, it's okay. There will be no more side jobs, as I know Rikuo and you need to work as a team. Since he's unable to work, and you're not feeling well yourself, consider it an extended holiday. Let me know if there are any problems. Kakei."

It was a blessing. It truly was. He could almost pray.

Thank you.