Yamato felt his heart scream as Tai jumped through the window, to his 'rescue'. It had been the last part of him whole, his body so hurt, his mind tortured by what he could only sense, but his heart had been whole because Tai had been safe. Now he didn't even have that to sustain him, and he fell limply on the ground, not caring anymore. Why should he care?
He dimly heard Tai yelling at Masaheru, words like "police" and "bastard". Something in him wanted to sob in relief that SOMEONE was standing up for him, but at the same time, he knew it wouldn't make a difference. Masaheru would continue on as he did. For some reason, there was pleasure in beating up your son. And this was the way Masaheru found his release for his anger.
Better me than some random person on the street, Yamato thought to himself. But was that necessarily true? At least on the street there were other people to see, to know, to TELL. Yama himself was too weak to do something like that.
Wasn't he?
He didn't have a reason to live. Hell, if Masaheru had ever TRIED to kill him, Yama probably would've helped. He would've been GLAD to leave this fucked up place where people could hurt each other and not give a damn. Where they could form words into arrows piercing your soul and bringing even the strongest, the coldest person to their knees.
Just because people don't see them, doesn't mean the tears aren't there.
But now he had a reason to live. Damnit, after all this time... he wanted to live. He wanted to be near Taichi, to share with him more than the quick exchange of words they'd held. He wanted to heal things with Takeru, even though the process had begun already. He wanted to help Taichi find his parents, and bite into them for leaving such a fantastic person alone.
He couldn't do any of those things if he was dead.
If he could've, he would've laughed at the irony. For the first time in so many years, he wanted to live, and yet, this was the closest he'd gotten to dying!
"He's not yours, damn you fucking bastard, you don't deserve him!" Tai raged above him, and Yamato focused on his voice, so smooth, so strong. He couldn't die yet. "He's no one's but his OWN! What right do you have to even be NEAR him?!"
If only that were true...
Koushirou ran. Never had anything depended on him so much before, never had this weight settled in his chest. Jyou was going to kill himself BECAUSE OF KOUSHIROU. Before anything could be solved, before he had a chance to tell Jyou... something. Anything.
A hand reached out and grabbed him. "Koushirou?" Sora's voice asked, disbelieving.
Eyes narrowing in frustration and fear for Jyou, Koushirou broke away from her grip, not caring that she was probably hurt in more than one respect by that action. It didn't matter. JYOU mattered, and JYOU was going to go KILL himself if someone didn't stop him.
"Koushirou!" Sora called from behind him, yelling after him.
There was no time! It had taken him too long to trace Jyou through his computer. It was taking him too long to get there. It was taking--
Hiroshi's car.
Parked in front of Jyou's apartment building, was Hiroshi's car. The sparkling, new, black as death sports car he'd gotten. Hiroshi's pride and joy.
And if anything Jyou had said was true--which it probably was--that meant Hiroshi was inside. WITH Jyou. Probably driving him further into the insanity, further into this darkness that Koushirou had spawned through his actions.
Koushirou couldn't allow that to happen. Not after all this, not after he was finally beginning to accept that maybe, just maybe, they could be more than friends.
No, he thought to himself, I never loved you, Hiroshi. I loved the image you represented. When I was with you, I could pretend to be with Jyou, and it would be all right. It was fine as long as no one knew. But you hurt him, and I hurt him. We're both to blame for whatever happens tonight, but at least I never meant to hurt him. I'll never forgive you for that.
Because if Koushirou got inside the apartment and found Jyou dead... he didn't think he'd forgive himself either.
The Lady and her Guardian arrived at their castle as the clock began to strike midnight. It would've been perfect, had lightning flashed to greet them, had the thunder been rolling without cease. It would've been perfect, had they been astride twin black stallions.
Instead, the sky was clear, and the stars shone down on them disapprovingly. The only sound came from the bell tolling out the hour, and that too ceased within moments. Beside them, walked a pair of Angels, as if in a trance, unhearing, unseeing of what was going on before them.
"Takeru," the Lady's voice cut through the air, splitting the fabric of silence that had drawn up between them as they'd crossed into this world.
"Yes, Lady?" he whispered back, voice subdued.
"You serve me, don't you?"
"Yes, Lady."
"Forever, Takeru?" Her words were velvet claws; a gently caressing warning.
"Of course, Lady."
"Are you sure, Takeru? Forever is such a long time."
"I'm sure, Lady."
A smile crossed her face. Then it was time to begin.
Turning to her Guardian, and soon to be her Consort, she kissed him softly. He merely held out his wrist delicately, waiting for her to seal him to her, to bind them together. Or rather, to bind him to her, so that she couldn't die without him perishing as well. This would destroy their worst enemies.
Licking the vein once, she whipped out a small dagger, and instead nicked his neck, drinking deeply before healing it. "Mine then, Takeru. Forever."
"Forever."
Short and not so sweet. I know, this one sucks.