Champagne Satin

Description (Chapter Four!) Two weeks is a very short time. Shuiichi spends his days in a hell of indecision, in pain because the one who claimed him is not present.

Warnings Very angsty chapter, with a cliffhanger ending.

"Damnit Kurama," came the irritable voice of the black-haired tantei. "Aren't you listening to me?"

"Yes," came Shuiichi's weary, hoarse reply as he refocused his attention on Yuusuke's face, making his eyes clear, drawing another breath. He had spent nine nights awake -- or half-awake -- counseling his body on the art of breathing, keeping his food down, and other things that should have been second nature to him, but hadn't been, since Youko wasn't there. "Go on."

However, Yuusuke's brown eyes studied Shuiichi's white face, noting the bruised blue shadows beneath his hazy green eyes. "No. You look like hell warmed slightly over. The hell's wrong with you, Kurama?"

Shuiichi felt worry in Yuusuke's stern tone, and he shook his head slightly, watching brilliant stars dance in front of his eyes. He was about to respond to the tantei's command, but his stomach rebelled, and he doubled over, whimpering softly. "Kurama!" He could vaguely hear Yuusuke shout his name, and then he felt as if from a distance the thump that was meant to force breath into his lungs.

It worked, and Shuiichi began to gasp, eyes tightly shut, relieved. Yuusuke watched him, wide-eyed, worried. "You're in somethin' deep," he said, and Shuiichi nodded, weary. "I want you to tell me what's going on," said the tantei leader, slouching onto the couch. "Don't you feed me any stupid excuse. I want the truth."

Shuiichi gave a deep, quiet sigh, and then set about explaining.

Yuusuke's olive-skinned face went first white, then pink, and then crimson. Shuiichi unfastened his collar, then tugged it down to show the proof.

The place where Kurama's sharp fangs had broken the skin was bruised, the outline of the even straight teeth a silvery scar against the blue. Yuusuke's eyes widened, and he lifted a hand to touch the sore. A shudder and a faint mumbled oath escaped Shuiichi, and he said fiercely, "Don't." Yuusuke looked chastened.

"Look, Kurama -- Shuiichi -- whatever. Go home. Go to sleep, or call Kurama -- Youko -- WHATEVER! -- or Hiei or whoever you need to call, but rest. Don't show your face around here until you can do so without practically dying on my couch, wouldja?" Yuusuke knew that if he didn't sound stern, the redhead would fight him, so he injected all the irritation of the past few days into his voice, hoping it would wound Shuiichi just enough to make him listen.

Shuiichi lowered his face into his hands, and rubbed it briskly, his tense muscles aching. Yuusuke had spoken cruelly. "Yes. Okay, Yuusuke. Whatever you say." He stood, and Yuusuke watched him walk away, his strides long with his hands tucked in his pockets, the silky length of his crimson locks swaying against his back, the collar of his uniform still open.

The soft fabric shifted and pressed against the wound as he strode out of Yuusuke's house, pushing shivers of silvery pleasure through his body. Shuiichi didn't care.

Out into the rain, disowned and uncaring, Shuiichi went.

It was cold. That much registered in the back of his mind, and Shuiichi just shrugged it off, letting the water saturate his uniform. He closed his eyes. How well did Shuiichi know this stretch of sidewalk? He'd been down it time and time again, and he would swear that someday his shoeprint would be worn permanently into the concrete -- if things ever were normal again, and Shuiichi was beginning to doubt they ever would be again.

Two weeks.

And they were almost up, and Shuiichi still hadn't come to a decision. What if Kurama came back, wanting him just like Shuiichi lusted after the touch of Kurama's hands. He needed the possessiveness, the sadistic wonders of pleasure Kurama knew, the way the fox could prop Shuiichi onto a rack of pleasure and keep the slender redhead writhing there until it suited him to let him down.

Another faint shiver ran through Shuiichi as a runnel of cold water ran down his spine. He was keeping his mind to himself, and though he felt Hiei shadowing him, felt the dark youkai like a spark of anti-light, he couldn't bring himself to reach out for either him or the Youko.

So Shuiichi kept walking numbly, even when his home loomed in view, continued walking, forcing himself to stay awake, to continue breathing even as he passed home and kept walking, the seedy part of town beginning.

Shuiichi walked without cease, until he could walk no more, and ended up collapsed on his couch in a tangled mess of limbs and red hair.

"Wake up, Shuiichi." The soft voice called from the depths of Shuiichi's dreams, low and velvety. It was like water to Shuiichi's starved senses. "Listen to me, pet. You are killing us both."

'You're here?' Shuiichi thought, his mind hazily alert. 'You're here. Stay with me, Kurama. Please.' He mentally reached out through the link, seeking the youko's familiar mind pattern, feeling his physical body relax. 'Don't leave me.'

With a deep, wistful sigh, Kurama settled himself into Shuiichi's mind. "Little one, we are in pain. It is foolish to stay apart because of your obstinacy. We cannot spend five more days this way. Please, for both of our sakes, drop your pride and let me end this pain. Let me be your world, little one. I will promise to see your point of view in things, pet, if you can try to understand mine."

Shuiichi's body gave a violent heaving shudder. 'Kurama...' His crimson lashes fluttered, his mind a flurry of stress and activity. 'Kurama. Don't leave. Kurama, I need you here. Come back to me...'

The youko was just about to reply, when Shuiichi's body gave a second shudder, and he jerked into wakefulness, involuntarily closing off his mind.

A pair of frightened brown eyes met Shuiichi's slightly glazed green ones. "Shuiichi, sweetheart?" Her voice was soft and low, and Shuiichi could feel a soft wet cloth brushing against his forehead. "You have a fever, and you're nothing but skin and bones! What's happened to you while I was gone? You're a mess, love!" Shiori had gotten Shuiichi to his bed somehow, and the redhead lay prone under the blankets, which were damp with his own perspiration. Shuiichi dimly noticed he was freezing, even under his blankets. He started to speak, but found that his throat was half-closed and even so, raspy and painful. "Don't talk, precious one..." The cool rim of a teacup pressed against his lips, and Shuiichi gratefully drank, feeling the cooled tea soothe his throat, tasting of sweet berries and herbs.

"Thank you, 'kaasan," Shuiichi whispered, smiling even though it hurt. "Got caught in the rain and couldn't get inside in time. Sorry." He felt like the lowest form of life for lying to his mother, to Shiori.

"You just rest, sweetheart. Sleep. I'll be back with more tea."