[language, shounen ai, and shameless sap. ^_~.]

~*~

They were clustered around the kitchen table, Saihitei sipping coffee and reading the newspaper, Miaka shoving spoonfuls of Corn Pops into her mouth, Taka and Houjun sharing words over their orange juice.  Genrou, surprisingly enough, was standing before the stove with a pan in his hand, nodding his head to some inner melody and sprinkling salt over the eggs. 

For a moment, none of them noticed him, and so he just stood there, watching his friends with something akin to fascination. 

It seemed so...unbelievable, that he'd managed to find himself with these people who made him so happy--these people who felt more like family to him than his own did; and yet, somehow, he had.  The moment itself was fuzzy in his mind, but he remembered, first, meeting Miaka--she'd crashed into him in the hallway at school, sent both of their books crashing down onto the floor.  And, somehow, as they'd ducked and dived beneath the feet and arms and book bags of the passing students to retrieve all that'd been dropped, a friendship had been formed.  Through Miaka, he'd met Houjun and Taka, through Houjun and Taka...Saihitei. 

His eyes shifted, then, to that mane of sun-washed chestnut, those broad, muscular shoulders, those gold-tinged eyes that were, even now, smoothing over the lines of the newspaper.  It had always fascinated him, watching others--particularly the people he loved.  He remembered spending hours perched on the edge of his mattress when he couldn't sleep, gazing down at Kourin's lightly-snoring form in the next bed and just watching her as she slept.  She'd woken to it a few times, found him sitting there watching her, but she'd never seemed to mind--it was as if she understood, somehow, his need to make sure that she was there, alive, and real.

Like these people.  They seemed too perfect to be real, too exactly-tailored to what he was and what he needed for them to be anything but phantoms of his truest dreams--but, so far, the dream went on, and he was quite sure, at this point, that he would rather die than wake up.

"RYUU-CHAN!"

He snapped out of his thoughts, was just in time to see the flash of brown and smiling pink that was Miaka bounding towards him...and then, she was in his arms, clinging to him tightly and resting her chin on his shoulder.  "Ryuu-chan, I'm so glad you're awake!" 

Smiling softly, he brought his arms up around Miaka's back, held her close for a moment.  "Ohayoo, Miaka," he murmured.  "Sorry I missed seeing you last night."

After another gentle squeeze, Miaka released him, straightened...and, then, swatted him on the shoulder with the flat of her hand.  "Don't apologize," she said sternly.  "You needed to rest."  And then, abruptly, the smile was back on her lips.  "How do you feel?  Do you want something to eat?  Gen-chan made eggs!"

Genrou muttered something, drawing the pan deftly over the stove in small, rhythmic circles.  Ryuuen smiled.  "Morning, Gen-chan."  He raised a slim eyebrow, arms folding over his chest as he approached the table.  "Since when have you known how to cook?"

Genrou glanced at him over one shoulder, glaring.  "Since fuckin' always," he said, sounding vaguely offended.  "Just 'cause I never do it in front of you doesn't mean I can't."

Miaka giggled, having already slid back into her seat.  "Don't listen to him," she whispered loudly.  "I overheard him asking Houjun what temperature he was supposed to cook them at."

"It's a fuckin' unfamiliar stove!  How am I s'pose'ta know what fuckin' temperature to set it on?"

Ryuuen turned his eyes to Houjun, but the blue-haired man was taking a long drink from his orange juice; from the curve to his lips, it was fairly obvious that he was hiding a smile. 

"So, how're you feeling?"  Taka.

He turned, found his friend's eyes on him and narrowed in worry.

They're all so worried about me.  And...and, what're they all doing here now, anyway?  Genrou has to get to the garage, Houjun and Taka have work, and Miaka has school.  Why're they missing out on what's important to them just for me?  They...they shouldn't have to.

He gave a wide smile, dropped into the high-backed wood of his chair and flattened his palms out on the table.  "Great," he answered cheerily. "I'm feeling great.  I think maybe that doctor's visit was all that weird pain thing needed to chase it away."

Taka relaxed slightly, sinking back into his chair...but, Ryuuen was suddenly aware of Saihitei's eyes on him, and even more aware of the fact that he seemed to have been unconsciously avoiding glancing in Sai's direction this morning, afraid that those knowing eyes would look straight through this façade, see what he was hiding...  Before he had much chance to sort through those feelings, though, Miaka had gripped his hand and was speaking again.

"I'm glad," she said earnestly.  "But, you're still going in on Tuesday to see that cardiologist, right, Ryuu-chan?"

A lump formed in his throat; it took all the effort and saliva he had to swallow it back down.  "I...of course!  Then at least she can tell me that nothing's wrong with me and life can go on, ne?"

He was suddenly aware of the rustle of clothing and newspaper; a moment later, a shadow had fallen onto him, even as a warm hand touched against his shoulder.  "Ryuuen."  It was Saihitei.  "Could I see you in the other room, please?"

Stay calm.  Stay normal.

He rose to his feet.  "Sure.  Be right back for some of those eggs, Gen-chan."

The taller man had already turned and was striding towards the bedroom; it was only as he followed that Ryuuen noticed that Sai was still wearing the silky blue button-down he'd worn the day before, that he apparently hadn't changed his pants, either, from the wrinkled, slept-in khakis that adorned his legs now.  Saihitei's hair, too, was tangled and unkempt, thrown back into a loose ponytail that hung in twisted ribbons down the center of his back.

S...Saihitei?  Not showered?  Not dressed in clean clothes?  Not...not having brushed his hair??

God, what've I done to him?  He must be miserable... A pang of guilt lanced into him, settled on his heart like a weight.  It's because of me.  He's miserable and hurting...because of me.

And then, the two of them were in the bedroom, Sai swinging the door carefully shut behind them, and there was no more time for such thoughts.

After the door had been closed, Saihitei turned, leaned his back against it, and regarded his boyfriend with narrowed eyes.  "Tell me," he said flatly.

Ryuuen blinked.  "T...Tell you?"

The taller man ducked his head into a nod; the movement sent a frizzy piece of hair fluttering down past his cheek.  "Yes.  Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Tell me--"  Saihitei took a long step forward, placed his hands gently on Ryuuen's shoulders.  "--what happened.  Something must have, or you wouldn't be acting like this."

Something cold settled in his stomach.  "A-Acting like what?"

"Like...like nothing is wrong.  Like today's just any other day."

"Today is just any other day.  Nothing's wrong with me, Sai.  There's a good chance the cardiologist is going to do an x-ray on Tuesday and find out that there's nothing at all the matter with me, that I'm just feeling what I'm feeling because...I don't know, just because.  People get pain all the time that doesn't mean anything."

"No."  Sai's face had gone suddenly pale; his words were unnaturally-quiet.  "No.  Ryuuen...I was there when it happened to you the last time, remember?  I was there.  You couldn't...you couldn't breathe.  That's not just something that happens to people; that's something serious.  Please don't try to pretend nothing is wrong with you for our sakes.  We're here because we want to be, and because we love you, and no amount of pretending is going to make us leave you alone until this has been sorted out."

He took a long, angry step backwards, shrugging away from the hands on his shoulders.  "Well, what if it never gets sorted out?" he demanded.  "What if they never know what's wrong with me?  What if every damned doctor I go to says that they don't know what it is, and I just keep going from one to the next to the next until finally one of these attack things kills me?  What then?"

"Then, we'll stay with you until that happens.  But, we are not leaving you, Ryuuen.  I am not leaving you.  If it takes five days or five years or five decades, I'm not leaving.  We made a promise to each other, remember?"  He lifted his hand into the air, palm towards his face; the sunlight glinted from the simple golden band that rested on his ring finger, seemed to echo against the matching band on Ryuuen's own. 

The violet-haired man ducked his head; his voice sounded oddly muffled.  "It wasn't legal, you know."

Something warm slid into his hand; he heard the metallic clink of the two rings hitting into each other.  "Legal or not," Saihitei said softly, " a promise is a promise.  Until death do us part, right?"

The way things are going, that might not be a very long time.

Ryuuen let out a heavy breath, squeezed his eyes shut in anguish.  "I'm just so tired of causing people so much trouble," he managed.  "I-I know it's not my fault, but I'm tired of hurting people like this.  I just want everything to be normal again."

Without hesitation, Saihitei lifted his arms, wrapped them around Ryuuen's shoulders, and pulled the smaller man close.  "Sweetheart," he whispered, "it's never been normal.  Not the way we met, not the way we fell in love, not anything.  But, you can't keep trying to shoulder every burden on your own.  We're only eighteen years old, Ryuuen.  Eighteen.  Do you know anyone else who's eighteen and is living like we are?  Eighteen is nothing.  We're children.  And, yet, we live more like adults than most twenty-five-year-olds I know.  My point is, that no matter how old we might feel and act, we're still like children in that we need to be comforted once in awhile, and we need to share our burdens with the people who love us.  That's what being human is about--depending on the people you love and letting them depend on you."  He released the violet-haired man from his embrace, cupped one of those pale cheeks beneath his palm.  "How can I let myself depend on you if you won't do the same thing for me?"

And then, for the first time, it hit him.

He needs me.  He.  Needs.  Me. 

When he holds me...it's not just to comfort me, it's to comfort -him-.  And right now, when he's taking about not shouldering burdens on my own and letting myself depend on other people, he's talking about himself, too, isn't he? 

Have I -ever- known Sai to let someone else be strong for him?  Have I -ever- seen him go to someone for comfort?  Have I ever even seen him -cry?-

He needs me.  Blessed holy bloody God...he needs me.

The tears came to his eyes without his permission; all he could do was blink them away, let them fall.  "Sai, I'm so sorry," he whispered.  "I...I didn't realize."  He took a few shaky steps backwards, ended up sitting on the edge of the bed with hands pressed up over his face.  "I'm sorry..."

The mattress shifted beside him; a moment later, he felt a strong arm around his shoulders, let himself fall to the side until his head was cradled by the warmth of Saihitei's chest.  "Shh.  Shh, it's all right."  A hand smoothed at his hair, swept the sweat-sticky strands back from his forehead.  "It's all right."

"OI!" came a cry from the next room, jarring into the moment.  "Fuckin' eggs're ready!"

Ryuuen smiled slightly, voice still wavering from the tears.  "The fuckin' eggs are ready," he murmured.

"Are you hungry?"

His smile softened.  "I could eat."

Careful to keep his arm solidly around Ryuuen's shoulders, Saihitei rose to his feet, pulling the smaller man up with him.  Then, still clinging to each other with the remnants of tears on their cheeks, they moved to the door, pulled it open, and stepped out.

It wasn't until they sat down that Ryuuen realized he hadn't told Sai of the attack this morning...but, as he saw the healing smile stretching at the man's lips, he couldn't bring himself to bring it up.  And, after all, it had happened before, and he'd always been fine...right? 

Next time, he promised silently, sliding into his chair and watching Genrou slam a plate of scrambled eggs down in front of him. Next time, I'll tell him.  Next time...next time, I'll go the hospital.

As he brought the fork to his lips, let a large, fluffy bite of eggs drop onto his tongue, a dark part of his mind reminded him that next time, if it ever came, might not be kind enough to give him the chance to tell someone. 

He tried his hardest not to listen.

~*~