Summary: Yukio finds a sanctuary, while Rin's is invaded by an uninvited guest.

Notes: U know what's not great for writing productivity? Critically acclaimed MMO FFXIV that is free until Heavensward game of the year :| LUCKILY I still have 8 chs written and waiting to be posted thanks to fixating during nano, but the last two chs are taking their sweet sweet time bc my need to play viddy game is a constant urge in the back of my brain :D

Not that u guys will have to worry about that for another 8 chs and by then I should be done with the last 2 ahahaha

I'm also resisting the urge to fix all the little errors I'm seeing in this one too bc I know I'm gonna be doing an overhaul when it comes time to actually modify this into a novel :`)

Song of the chapter: Wait by The Dear Hunter


They were worse that day.

Yukio determinedly kept his eyes from the crevasses in the world around him and the spaces over people's shoulders.

Still, sweat prickled at his collar every time someone shifted and their shadow lagged moments too long behind them, moving like a separate entity. Each flicker on his peripherals tensed him further, and he spent the ride to campus in growing discomfort.

In his mind, a scream echoed, and ash caked his mouth and lungs. After coughing too many times to pass off in a crowded public space, he forced himself to be silent.

He only passingly registered getting off the bus–away from the suffocating crowd–and onto campus, moving by memory to his first class as he released a thick exhale, half-expecting it to come out blackened by ash.

It wasn't, but Yukio's breathing didn't get any easier.

His vision tunneled on the path he took, hemmed in on all sides by darkening shadows until the scream and ash were joined by other things. Things like blood and desperation, intricate Gordian knots made of scales carved into his skin, fear.

An open seat in front of Yukio prompted him to sit, hoping no one had seen how heavy he'd fallen as he stared at his knuckles placed on the notebook in front of him he'd pulled out on habit. They trembled, the minute shivers driving hatred like a spear through his heart, and his pulse throbbed with the acid that bled free at the signs of his weakness.

Weak. He was so weak. He'd had a handle on things, had almost been able to pretend he was normal for months now that he'd started distancing himself from the source.

A student he'd begun to recognize by the way he always slept through class and had that childish plush tied to his bag sat in front of him and Yukio couldn't hide the stricken way his body froze. His hands had become a rictus curl over the white paper they lay on, and in the shadows of his palms, ash spread in cracked patterns like burnt skin.

Sweat dropped from his chin and absorbed into the paper as a black stain on the once pristine surface. Control, he needed to control himself before someone noticed! But it hurt, his concentration torn from him by the unceasing attention pressurizing his skull until it would burst.

The screams in his ears reached a crescendo–then stopped.

They'd stopped, oh god, they'd stopped.

Yukio's vision cleared as the door closed, showing him the room had somehow filled with the rest of his classmates without his notice and the professor…

Him?

"Hello, everyone," the soft greeting still calmed the little bit of conversation that had been going, confusion over where their usual professor had gone trailing off. "I'm your substitute while your professor is out with an illness. They're not sure how long it'll be so it could be awhile."

"My name is Taneda Santoka–no relation to the poet," the man smiled, and it reached his eyes that met Yukio's from across the room. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

He could breathe. The ease of it all so sudden he didn't realize at first, still caught up in the shock of seeing the person he'd run into the day before and unable to help but remember the quiet that had accompanied his presence both times now. He snapped a quick glance to his paper, no signs of the ash, only a slight water mark from his sweat drop.

Flicking his tongue to his teeth let him taste the lack of ash there too. Yukio inhaled and smelled nothing out of the ordinary.

The urge to take his pencil and stab it straight through his hand flashed through his mind, a hysterical need to understand if what he felt was real.

Was what he'd felt before real? His eyes burned, he hadn't blinked, knowing it was crazy, but what if he closed his eyes and the screams came back? What if it all came back? The brief respite was the facade to the ash-coated reality and-

"So, with that out of the way, why don't we begin this lecture?" Santoka's calming voice snapped at the panic, chasing it away like dogs baying for blood, except in this case Yukio gladly took the hounds.

Despite Yukio waiting, despite the tension that would tighten his limbs and send his pulse racing without any cause besides his own nerves, the screams never returned. The lecture continued and he breathed deeply, participating without pretending there wasn't a shadow behind his professor's shoulder, because there wasn't.

There weren't any shadows in the room besides the ones that should exist.

Yukio glanced at the clock and dread dropped his heart into his stomach, as heavy as the ash except so much worse because with each movement of the hand, his time in the lecture hall drew closer to ending. He'd have to leave for his next class. He'd have to leave the strange sanctuary he'd found himself in.

Some piece of Yukio screamed that it wasn't fair, how could he go back to his living hell when he'd had a taste of what it meant to be free of it?

The rest of himself packed up his notes and moved towards the door. He could have been a man walking to his death at the gallows and he thought it would feel the same.

"Ah, excuse me, Okumura, right?" Yukio's gaze snapped to see Santoka smiling at him, waving when he saw he'd gotten his attention. "I thought I recognized a familiar face. I didn't realize when we crossed paths the other day."

"Y-yes, yes sir," Yukio said in a stutter of surprise.

"I look forward to teaching you, then," Santoka said, gathering his own things. "It's been a little while, so I'm afraid I'm rusty, but judging from the notes left by your usual professor, this should be a pleasant experience."

Soft brown eyes turned to Yukio. "You had glowing praise from him, his best student, actually."

Technically, Yukio had known that, his grades making him top of his class in his year. He'd given the opening speech at the start for the other students, even. His parents and Rin had been in the crowd cheering louder than everyone else and uncaring about who heard their pride in Yukio. The screams had been loud that day.

"Thank you, sir," Yukio said, warmth in his chest he stifled to nod and begin walking away.

"Sorry, I don't mean to keep bothering you–well, I'm headed to my office, you see," Santoka said as he shut the door behind him and gestured the direction Yukio had been headed. "It's this way so I suppose we'll be walking together."

"Of course, sir," Yukio said without any reason why he should reject the offer.

It was strange. And nice. And still, Yukio waited for the return of the shadows, but they refused to show all the way to the office.

"Enjoy the rest of your day, Mr. Okumura," Santoka said when they reached his destination.

"Feel free to stop in any time, my office is always open," he continued with another wave.

While Yukio had heard that from many teachers, the way Santoka said it sounded genuine.

The door closed behind Santoka and Yukio turned to go, reaching the end of the hallway. He rounded the corner, next class in the other building-

Screaming rattled at the inside of his skull all at once, so, so unbearably loud after his period of silence he couldn't stop the gasp, couldn't stop from hunching to the wall with tears in his eyes and ash back in his mouth like it had never left.

No, please nopleasenopleaseno. Why? Yukio brought his fingers to his forehead and rubbed to soothe the pain rapidly reaching a fever point as he clenched his teeth until the enamel squeaked. The litany of pleas repeated themselves as Yukio realized he'd let himself get comfortable, vulnerable.

At the first sign of peace, he'd dropped every mental barrier he'd built up over his life.

He should have known better.

He knew better.

Yukio exhaled a long breath and raised his head, fingers swiping the wetness from his eyes and correcting the slight skew of his clothes until he'd swept his moment of weakness under the mask he'd built for himself every moment of his life. It shouldn't matter that they'd never been this insistent before, letting himself relax like that as if he could trust the abnormality to remain was stupid.

Ringing from his phone had him blinking reddened eyes to see Rin calling. He answered.

"Hey, uh, hey, Yukio!" Rin sounded anxious about something, but cheerful, always cheerful.

"Yes, Rin?" he asked, patient as he didn't acknowledge the shadow in the hallway that looked like it was on fire.

"Nothing big, just got a call from the old man, said you're watching Kuro for him? You went home?"

It came out rushed, disbelieving, but Yukio could hear what sounded like hope from Rin. He'd never been anything but an open book. Rin existed with his heart on his sleeves and his raw emotions for all to see, both good and bad, as honest as a person could be.

Rin lived without any barriers. He lived free.

"I am," Yukio said, "since you didn't pick up. Sleeping, hm?"

"Yeah, yeah," Rin said and laughed. "So, I was thinking, it would be cool to hang out there, whenever you're by, you know?"

No!

"Oh, no I wouldn't bother, Rin," Yukio hurried to say. His hand clenched around the phone in it and he smiled, wide, a baring of teeth he knew looked horrible, wrong. "I'm not there long enough, and it's out of the way for both of us."

He could hear the start of an argument, something desperate from Rin, something that failed to cover the hurt and desire to spend time with Yukio. Failed to hide anything. He stopped it. "Why don't we get lunch soon?"

"Lunch? Yeah, I'd love that! I'll make you something good, ok?" The hope was back in Rin's voice, and Yukio felt like the worst kind of human for his next lie.

"I'll let you know when I have a day free, ok, Rin?"

"Ok, Yukio. How are you do-"

"Sorry, Rin," Yukio cut him off, "I'm about to head into my next class. I have to let you go."

"Sure, sure, bye, Yukio. I'll see you soon."

When their next lunch would come was up to Yukio, now.

With his walls back up, his reality had returned to its stasis. The shadows behind people couldn't hurt him if he kept them at bay. Being at home, the burning man stood at every corner and hovered over each member of his family. Sometimes, it hovered over him, and he would feel its heat at his spine and taste ash.

Being around Rin, the cries and voices of the shadows covered any pride-filled cheers he might have heard and left him cold.

He'd never known until he'd left home, and left Rin.

They'd never been apart before then.


Rin woke more tired than when he'd gone to bed.

The way he'd had his night interrupted rattled him more than he wanted to think about, and he'd had to scrub more blood from a few places he'd missed during the night.

In the light of the day, though, he was able to put it behind him and even got to work on time.

Although–Rin frowned, hand going to his pocket–he'd had to scramble around the house looking for his phone. It had wound up next to the small collection of family photos in the living room, and he'd stared for a long moment.

"Sleepwalking, or something." He shrugged when Shiemi gave a questioning sound at the explanation of his morning.

"I didn't know you sleepwalked," she said.

He scratched at his hair. "I don't, never have. First time for everything, I guess."

His shift went normally, even though he kept waiting for something, on edge despite his usual ability to ignore things. A persistent chill pressed Rin to stay moving, avoiding taking breaks like he would have otherwise.

Was he getting sick or something? It wasn't that cold out, and the kitchens were always so hot, even in the middle of the winter…

Tomorrow he'd wear long sleeves, pull out his fall jacket early.

Rin tugged at his sleeves like they would magically extend before moving to wash his hands. He scrubbed at his hands in the sink of the bathroom, the water steaming in his attempts to heat himself up. It had fogged up a bit of the mirror above it in the small stall. His hands had reddened, some heat returned to them, which only made the chill in the rest of his body more obvious.

Another minute and Rin gave up, sighing and shutting the water off. Almost as soon as his hands had dried, ice crept down his arms.

"What is wrong with me?" Rin stared at his rapidly numbing limbs, shivering from the cold and what might be causing it. "This is weird, right?"

No one answered him, his breath puffed in front of his face. Visible.

Wait.

He snapped his gaze up.

"O-oh." The word left on a stuttered exhale.

Oh god.

Blood filled the sink, vomited out in higher volumes than he'd ever seen outside of movies. It kept rising, his pulse following it even as terror colder than the ice sank his heart into his stomach. It dragged each breath further from his lips, Rin struggling to breathe past the tight squeeze of his chest the longer the blood continued to exist.

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

What was happening?

In the mirror, perched over his shoulder, a gaping mouth seeping blood beneath gold flares screamed.

"Hey!" Rin jolted, his body stumbling outside of his control as he tried to both get away from what was at his spine and the image in front of him and ended up slamming against the door to the bathroom.

"Did you die in there, kid? I don't pay you to shit!"

Fuck. "Sorry! I'm sorry!"

The blood had vanished, the figure disappeared, when his wild gaze caught the mirror over the sink before he could stop himself, but–Rin apologized to a stern face and edged past his boss–the chill remained.

Through his shift, the chill dogged his steps. Rin cracked an egg in his hand and cursed, having crushed the whole thing after a spasm shook through his body. He threw it out as if it would attack, trying not to pant and shake and scream like he wanted to.

What was happening?

His fingers couldn't grip the spatula right, Rin fumbling it until a worried glance from Godaiin steadied him and he tried to act like he wasn't having a panic attack in the middle of work.

At his spine, the chill spread. Rin stilled, barely breathing, and waiting for the blood to return. He waited for it to fill the pans in front of him, to spill over on the plates he put on the counter for the waiters to take, for the golden flares to stare back from the stainless-steel surfaces he ran a towel over to clean.

Nothing, just his own dilated pupils stared back from eyes he'd widened enough to hurt the longer he didn't blink.

"Bye!" He escaped from the restaurant at the end of the day, hearing the questioning responses follow him as he quickened his pace. His shoes on the pavement echoed the slam of his heart to his ribs.

Something kept him from running, though. Rin strode with his head up through the tension tightening his shoulders until they ached, focused entirely on making it to the bus and making it home.

He had to get home.

The window of the seat he'd grabbed on the bus remained empty of anything but his own reflection. His leg bounced in a desperate attempt to release the jitters that had joined the intermittent shivering he couldn't stop.

Around him, he could sense the wariness his strange behavior put in the others on the bus, but Rin refused to take his eyes from the window. If he did, the image would return. If he blinked–his eyes burned with tears–blood would flow over the hands he'd clenched to the cheap seat fabric threatening to tear at the force.

His breath made clouds against the window, and his fingers had gone numb in their curled grip. He could taste metal on his tongue, but if he opened his mouth to look-

Ice pressed to his shoulders. The burn in his eyes became too much and Rin blinked.

A watery picture showed him the reflection in the window had changed and the ice stinging on his shoulders belonged to fingers spreading frost to his shirt the longer they held on.

Throbbing began in his skull where a scream thrummed.

Rin's lips drew back over his teeth he saw were stained red, baring them to the two gold flares in a snarl, held back because he would not be losing it in public over a hallucination, or whatever was going on–mental breakdown, his adhd medication had gotten seriously skewed, he was being hau-

Go the hell away, he hissed soundlessly, hoping his eyes got it across where words wouldn't.

Ice dug harder to his skin. It didn't go away, instead screamed louder.

He wouldn't react. He wouldn't. Rin didn't know what was happening, but he knew enough to know not to let it work.

As if breaking through layers of ice, Rin unclenched his fingers one by one, defiance in the smile his lips twisted into as he turned his back to the window.

The scream became a howl, fury even he could hear from the inhuman creature, and the ice on his shoulders pierced him to the bone. He'd grown too cold to shake at that point, but knowing his actions had had an effect let him stay in place until his stop appeared.

In a force of sheer will he didn't realize he possessed, Rin unbent from the frozen lock his legs had been in, half-expecting them to snap, or frostbite to have set in and make him crawl from the bus on numbed arms.

His hands shook, his body shook, the key he held to his door shook.

Rin stumbled inside, collapsing to the floor beneath a howling storm in his head as he crawled to the kitchen.

"Ha-ah." Rin's voice left him on breaths that punched from his aching lungs as he heaved himself up to the cabinet he kept his spices in. He scrabbled against the handle, unable to get a hold on it and crying out, back arching as ice raked down his shoulders in burning trails.

"Ah!" He flung the cabinet open and grabbed the salt, falling to the floor like all the tendons in his body had failed as one, unstrung and weakened and just able to crack the tab of the salt open.

Hand out, he spread the salt in a line that wasted half of it, crystals scattering over his floor in something vaguely circular around his sprawled body.

Before his eyes, the line completed, and he crowed his victory in the middle of his kitchen, surrounded by table salt, as the howling storm cut off with it.

"Hah!" Rin gagged around a cough, laughing and clinging to the salt container as the ice fled from his limbs and left him overheated like he'd caught a fever. A weakness sent him dropping on arms that refused to hold him for more than a second, falling the rest of the way to the floor and trembling there while he recovered.

"Ahhh," he moaned against the floor he was just now realizing he hadn't been cleaning nearly deeply enough. His eyes had closed at some point and Rin lay with his ears ringing in the silence.

But, he was alone, finally.

The thought was enough to crack his eyes open, and Rin rolled to his back, wincing when a hard edge bit into his aching body.

Oh. His phone.

His phone.

"Yukio," Rin muttered. His thoughts felt slow, but the sight of the phone reminded him he'd wanted to call Yukio today. He'd meant to after work.

It was either focus on that or the unexplainable attack he'd just experienced, and Rin didn't have the energy to do that. He did have the energy to call Yukio, though

Mustering up said energy took another few moments where his eyes fought to close again and he fought back twice as hard.

His phone rang and Rin let his hand flop to his ear, giving up the battle with his eyes. Now that he'd gotten some of his awareness back, his body ached in time with his pulse, each place the ice had touched throbbed like a fresh bruise. Rin wondered if he had actual bruises like the bloody nose he'd gotten, or if there wouldn't be any signs at all to mark the attack.

It clicked, startling him from drifting and he answered on automatic. "Hey, uh, hey, Yukio."

Why had he called again?

Yukio.

Something like a conversation passed his lips. The longer he spoke, the more he returned to an equilibrium.

'Hey, Yukio, hope you've been taking it easy. Me? Oh, nothing much, yeah. I'm being haunted, a ghost is puking blood all over the place but only I can see it and it won't stop screaming in my ears. Can you believe it? Mom wasn't lying or scamming all those people after all! Dad'll be thrilled to know.'

Yeah. Rin glanced around at his kitchen with the lightbulb he hadn't destroyed and the salt all over the floor. He wouldn't be telling Yukio until he knew for sure he wasn't insane.

"Nothing big, just got a call from the old man, said you're watching Kuro for him?" he asked in between thoughts of how a stay in an asylum would go when they definitely wouldn't let him steal that many salt packets, glad his voice stayed even despite the way his hand had begun to hurt holding the phone up.

Easier to focus on other issues in his life. Like, "You went home?"

If Yukio had gone home on his own, that meant he might start going more often. It might mean he'd stay.

Gentle teasing came through from the other end, Rin's deep sleeping habits something he'd heard plenty about from his family.

"Yeah, yeah," Rin laughed and tried not to let it sound as strained as it felt coming out. "So, I was thinking, it would be cool to hang out there, whenever you're by, you know?"

He would just deal with the ghost problem before then. No big deal. Making sure Yukio had something to eat was more important, anyway.

"Oh, no I wouldn't bother, Rin." And Rin's heart squeezed, fighting a harsher laugh because it was probably for the better that he didn't bring his problem around Yukio. What had he been thinking? "I'm not there long enough, and it's out of the way for both of us."

Sure, not that he wouldn't travel whatever the distance happened to be if Yukio had a free hour. He began to suggest it–

"Why don't we get lunch soon?"

Rin's eyes snapped open. Had he-?

Lunch?

"Lunch?" he repeated, other hand coming to his phone and rolling over. Forget his ghost problem, he'd exorcise the damn thing himself if that was what it took. "Yeah, I'd love that! I'll make you something good, ok?"

"I'll let you know when I have a day free, ok, Rin?" He would let Rin know. He would let Rin know.

"Ok, Yukio." Rin just had to find out when he was free. This week? The next? He had to get groceries so he could make something, he'd been running low recently…

"How are you do-"

"Sorry, Rin," Yukio cut him off, sounding distracted. I'm about to head into my next class. I have to let you go."

"Sure, sure, bye, Yukio," Rin said, knowing how many classes Yukio liked to pile on himself, always taking more than he should. Yukio was smart though, the smartest person Rin knew, and if he thought he could handle it, then Rin would support him however he could.

"I'll see you soon."

The line clicked and Rin lost the battle with gravity, hand falling to the floor. His cheek pressed to the salt crystals and he thought about getting up for the good few seconds it took to process the thought. A glance showed him the kitchen growing dark. He hadn't turned on any lights when he'd stumbled in earlier. His door was closed, at least. Though, had he locked it?

A snort left his nose, soft and barely moving the salt. If anyone tried to kill him, they'd have to get in line behind his ghost.

Maybe…maybe he'd just sleep where he was. It was safer than getting up and dealing with whatever waited for him outside his circle.

Tomorrow. He'd deal with it tomorrow.

Rin slept.


"Hon', you ready?"

Yuri straightened from her laptop at Shiro's voice and nodded. A quick tightening of her hair into a low pony-tail later and she strode besides Shiro down the hall of the hotel they'd chosen. Coffee found its way to her hand without her asking and she smiled at one of the many little ways Shiro showed he cared.

They didn't have much time for larger displays. Wouldn't, actually, until they either closed the current case or lost the trail and that was always the larger of the headaches.

This particular case was off to a rocky start, and not for reasons she had voiced to Shiro yet.

At the direction of her thoughts, Yuri concentrated, listening for voices that spoke on a level few ever really listened for. A blanket of muffled silence echoed back at her, though, as they passed more people in the lobby, she caught the occasional murmur.

It was rare that they ever rose above that level, many times, she needed the things in her large, beaten, black bag that she kept meaning to replace one of these days. There was character to the bag though, and every time she saw a new one, she couldn't bring herself to swap it out.

Though, the contents were what really made it singular, things helping her listen to voices that wanted to be heard, even if so few ever were.

She had a feeling she'd need every trick in her bag. Not because she'd had anything concrete telling her things, but because there'd been a lack of a familiar warmth nearby. The strangeness of the chill where usually soft fire trailed after her had her concerned.

On a hunch–the kind Shiro liked to believe was just her gut, not her tricks–she'd asked Shiro to reach out to Yukio, and been assured things were business as usual, though she thought she would call to check on both her boys sooner than later, just to be sure. Her Shiro was many things, but emotionally intuitive, he was not.

The abrupt departure of her gentle flame made her decidedly uncomfortable, no explanation she could see, just a cold sweat and a nightmare that had woken her in the middle of the night and made it difficult to return to it after, that day they'd left.

A nightmare of something stalking her and another she couldn't see, the sense of terror the most distinct thing, and a wave of heat so powerful she'd thought she was burning alive.

Why it had made her think to call the boys didn't quite make sense, but, half-awake and staring at a sleeping Shiro, it was the only thing that came through.

"Shiro Fujimoto, Chief Inspector arriving on scene," Shiro said, his voice taking Yuri from her dreams as she focused on the present.

Police tape greeted her eyes, a simple lab cordoned off by the local law enforcement. The man who'd asked for their identification glanced at her and she hurried to pull her badge. "And Yuri Egin, consultant."

It made for fewer questions to use her maiden name on cases, too many times they'd had to deal with people focused on their marital status and not on what they needed them to.

"Morningstar Labs," Shiro muttered to her as they followed the man. "I think this means we got him, huh?"

Wouldn't that be nice. Her smile twisted into something wry. "It's always a step closer, right?"

Shiro snorted. "Yeah, or just another lackey for the blame to get pinned on."

Well, that was the case for the last few they'd managed to close, but Yuri was an optimist, they'd find the head snake one of these days.

She would have time to focus on personal worries later.


End Notes:

Man these short chs kill me lmao Like 12 pages? That's it? XD They get longer tho, so it's not forever lololol