Amor Fictus

Written by Sakki

Anything you haven't heard of belongs to me.

Anything you have heard of, doesn't.

A quick author's note.

I want to apologize for the lack of updates for so many months. I fell into a massive writer's block and did nothing to try and get out of it. Now that school is starting up again, I felt that I should probably finish this story to keep from getting mauled by various readers – and hey, since I'll be a junior, I'll know what Ran's talking about.

I want to thank everybody who reads this story and especially those who have left reviews. You all make me very very happy and I feel so loved every time I read the reviews.

I also apologize for the shortness of this chapter. I promise that the next chapter will be longer.

"Hey…"

"Hmm?"

"…could you move? You're hurting me."

"Hmm." Ken felt the pressure on his arm lift, and he shifted it closer to his chest. "That better?"

"Yeah, tha…" he trailed off suddenly as a pair of arms encircled his waist.

His bare waist.

A warm presence suddenly pressed against his chest – which was also bare – and cool lips pressed against his forehead momentarily. His eyes opened slowly and he found himself gazing into somebody else's eyes.

Amethyst eyes.

A smile crossed the face of the person next to him.

"So…did you like it, too?"

Holy motherfucking shit!

Ken shot up out of his bed, heart beating wildly and looking around.

This wasn't his room. He wasn't naked.

And most apparent of all, there was nobody lying naked next to him, least of all Ran.

When his breathing had slowed down enough that he no longer feared death by hyperventilation, Ken took in the room around him. It was white, stark, and clean. He looked down at his clothes; they were…hospital pajamas.

So he was in a hospital. But…why? The last thing he remembered was talking to Ran in the park, and then Ran told him that –

"Schuldig, the German teacher. They don't know why he – "

why did he die of all people why? why did they kill him? what could have caused someone to hate him more than ken did, to hate him so much as to kill him, to end his life? he was the only one who ever thought there was something in Ken, and now he was dead. gone and gone forever wasn't he

Breathe in, breathe out, he reminded himself when his chest started hurting. Breathe in, breathe out. It was bad to forget to breathe, breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out, breathe in thick heavy air, so hot it started to choke him, filling up his lungs until there was nothing left but a heavy solid block in his chest, crushing him, hurting him, why was he so scared and sad now that the man who'd tormented him was dead? why why why why why?

He gripped the metal rim of the bed with both hands only to encounter something warm on his left. Jerking his hand away, Ken whirled to see what was over there – who was over there.

A chair, with a person in it. A person, who was using their folded arms as a pillow. A pillow, that was on the edge of his bed.

Red hair shadowed pale skin from the dim lights above.

Ran.

Ken stared at the sleeping form – or at least, he thought it was sleeping – of the redhead he'd come to trust. He found himself checking to make sure Ran was still dressed out of instinctive memory of whatever the hell had gone on a few minutes earlier. Aside from that, the only thing Ken did to Ran was stare, trying to find a feasible explanation as to why Ran would be sleeping at his bedside in a hospital.

The last thing he remembered was the dizziness as he stood up and the words Ran had said. After that, there was nothing.

Although wouldn't you remember being taken to the hospital?

Whether minutes or hours passed that he sat under the starchy sheets and stared at Ran didn't matter. Little thoughts drifted across his mind, but he ignored them. Right now they weren't important. The only thing that mattered was the fact that there was someone here for him. Someone cared about him enough to bring him to the hospital (although he wasn't sure for what reasons).

Someone…cared.

A soft groan reached his ears, causing him to jump slightly. Ken looked down to see Ran's head and shoulders lifting off the rim of the bed. Ran looked up, eyes blinking wearily from the ascent of asleep to awake. Then he noticed that Ken was sitting up.

"Ken!" Ran looked both shocked and ecstatic.

"Uh, hi?"

"How are you feeling? Are you ok? Do you hurt?" Questions about Ken's well-being poured forth like a suddenly undammed stream. After a few moments he held up his hands to stop Ran from talking.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. What am I doing here?"

"What are you…" Ran's expression resumed its usual stoic look. "You passed out when we were in the park…and I couldn't wake you up. So I brought you here."

"And where's 'here'?"

"A hospital."

"I realized that. Which hospital?"

"It doesn't matter." Ran hesitated, then suddenly reached forward and pulled Ken into a momentary crushing hug. "I'm just…glad you're ok."

Ken was silent.

He reached up with one hand, tentatively letting it rest on Ran's back. What was he supposed to say? Thank you? Me too? Eventually he settled for silence, breaking it only when Ran pulled out of the embrace.

"Did they say why I passed out?" he asked.

Ran looked at Ken, his expression blank, before turning his gaze to the wall.

"You have an infection."

"What?"

"An infection. On your leg. It…could have killed you."

Ken stared, completely taken aback. An infection on his leg? He always took care of the injuries he got! There was no way he could have gotten a wound down there contaminated.

"Are you serious?" he asked, already knowing the answer. "That's not possible. I've never had any serious cuts on my legs, soccer or…otherwise."

"Like hell I know how it got there?" Ran said, rather heatedly. Ken blanched. "I mean…sorry. But I don't know why it's there. They just said it was there."

Ken fell silent.

"…there was also the shock of hearing about…"

He looked at one of the walls, trying to seem unaffected for once.

Then:

"…I told them about your guardian."

The silence suddenly hardened.

"They sent over some units based on what I'd said, but – "

"You promised you wouldn't tell anybody."

"I had to, Ken. Otherwise they would have called him after you fainted."

"You swore you wouldn't say anything, Ran."

"Aren't you listening? If I hadn't told them, then you – "

"What would the difference be?! Life would have gone on like before! He's going to want to kill me now!" Ken shot.

"Do you think I didn't consider that?!" Ran shot back, gripping the steel side of Ken's bed so hard his knuckles turned white. "I knew he'd want to kill you if you told, but what if I hadn't?! What if you'd woken up now, in your own bed, with him standing over you, ready to kill you because you were with me?!He'd take any excuse to hurt you! At the very least you'll be safe from for a few years him if he's locked up! Besides, do you think you'd be the only one he'd go after?!"

Both boys glared at each other. Ran felt his fingers go numb.

"…you're saying he would have killed you…"

"…because we were together."

Ken felt his anger fade and worry take its place. Then there was a rush of relief at being safe – even temporarily – followed by a wave of gratitude to Ran. More emotions swirled into the mix and suddenly he couldn't hold himself up anymore. He leaned into Ran's arms and sobbed silently against his shirt.

Much Later, after Time has passed.

Ran stood, his eyes on the school, his face set with a look of icy determination. Behind him, Yohji sat in the driver's seat of the car. Ken was in the back seat.

"Are you sure about this?" asked Yohji, fingering a cigarette.

Ran nodded.

"Let me go with you," Ken said, reaching for the handle. "You two hate each other. If I'm there, he won't try anything."

"No. I'll be fine." Flits of concern bit at his mind, but he ignored them. "Go park. I'll be back in twenty minutes."

Silence followed his statement. Eventually, Yohji sighed and put the car in drive.

"Be careful, Ran."

I will.

Autumn was fading into winter. Most of the leaves had fallen off the trees, leaving the branches bare and dead. This made it easier for the wind to cut through the thin jackets of people on the street.

He ignored the chills.

He had a determination inside him that bit back any outward emotions.

Slowly, he took one step towards the school.

Then he began to walk.

Up the stairs, through the doors, through the halls, down the halls, past lockers, past doors, up stairs, down stairs, though doors, until he reached his one final goal.

One final door.

Ran raised his hand to knock on the door. It passed the nameplate next to the doorframe.

Pre-Calculus

Crawford, B.

"Come in," he heard. A busy, unhurried voice that didn't want to deal with anyone at the moment and thus did not look up to see who had knocked until after they entered. Ran closed the door behind him and waited.

Crawford paused in his writing and looked up.

"Do you need something?"

Ran bristled internally. How could he be so calm, so casual? He'd half expected the man to tell him to get out.

"Answers."

"If you're talking about the test, you already know."

"Why did you kill him?"

It was odd, Ran thought, how the room suddenly turned into a vacuum of space. There were no sounds, not even breathing, to interrupt the silence.

Crawford's eyebrows were raised in a look of mild surprise.

"Pardon?"

"Why did you kill him?" Ran asked again, his eyes shooting daggers.

"Are you accusing me of murdering Schuldig?" was the response.

"I know you did it." Ran glared right into his teacher's eyes. "I did research. Only one camera was turned off. You left your room just before it was turned off. You weren't in your room at the time of the killing. Your car was still in the parking lot."

"I went down to the coffee bar for lunch." Still calm, still collected.

"You didn't," Ran hissed. "I went down to see who had been there that day."

"And they provided you with an exact list of customers from a week ago?"

There!

"How do you know I went looking a week afterwards?"

Silence. Crawford's eyes hardened.

"I could have gone yesterday." Ran felt triumph starting to rise in him. "But you're right, I did go a week afterwards. I know a girl there. She worked on that day, at the register. During the lunch hours. You had her in a class, once. She remembered you. And she remembered that you were never there."

Silence prevailed. Crawford had shifted so he was facing Ran now. The pen he was holding was shaking slightly.

"If you didn't go down for lunch, you were still here. If you weren't in your room, and you weren't anywhere else, then where were you?"

An absolute deathly quiet fell over both of them. Ran didn't need to say anything else. He had Crawford trapped. There was a hole in his alibi, and Ran had gone through it and smashed up everything around it.

"Well?"

Crawford said nothing.

"I'm going to the police. And you'll never get out of jail." Ran turned around and prepared to open the door.

"Stop." Crawford's voice cut through the air.

Against his will, Ran obeyed.

"Why?" he asked, gritting his teeth. "I have proof. I don't need to listen to you."

Suddenly, he heard a click.

"Because if you don't, I will kill you."

Slowly, with the blood draining from his face as he moved, Ran turned around.

There was a handgun aimed directly at his heart, and Crawford was the one holding it.