AN This was quite difficult to write. I wrote it while sitting in the train, traveling between home and university. It turned out very dark, I think. Very angsty. Hope it's okay. Well, I know it's not. I mean, what was I thinking, putting those boys through all that. Poor Tyson. Poor Kai.

Please give your opinion on this.

The room was immaculately clean and tidy, books aligned on their shelves, one small stack of paper on the desk, the carpet vacuumed, the bed made.

That alone was a sign that something was amiss. Tyson was not what you'd call a tidy person. Indeed, he seemed to thrive on chaos, acting on impulse, going with the flow. It was also known to the figure blocking the doorway what had happened to the boy curled up on the far corner of the bed. He just hadn't realized to what extend it had effected him. He was now made painfully aware of it.

Kai entered and softly closed the door behind him. Too long had he allowed the boy to wallow in self-pity and depression. He couldn't hide form the world forever. Three weeks of staying up in his room was enough time.

"What do you want, Kai?"

Startled, and slightly annoyed the opening had been taken away from him, he sat down at the deskchair, straddling it so he could keep his hands from fidgeting. Truth be told, he was a bit frightened about the upcoming confrontation. He wasn't sure he was capable of dredging up the past, even for Tyson. Yet he needed to do something or the bluenette would only tumble deeper into depression.

"Tyson..."

"Don't!" the curled figure exploded, cutting him off. Blue eyes bored into his, their usual twinkle lost. "I don't need to be told that it's okay. I don't wanna hear the pain will fade, because I won't believe it anyway. It hurts like hell en it doesn't feel like it'll ever go away. But most of all, I don't need your pity!" Tyson turned back wildly, facing the wall again.

Kai stared at the rigged spine for a long time. He knew their teammates ad come by as well, trying to offer comfort and support. They had all been rebuked. Max had been in tears the last time he had tried. It had taken Rei three hours to calm his boyfriend down. And even then Kai had had to promise to try the next day.

"You've always been the only one he listens to, Kai. Maybe you can do something, but I can't stand it anymore." And the genki bond had buried his face in Rei's chest again with a fresh set of tears.

Frankly, Kai had no idea where Max had gotten the notion from that Tyson listened to him. But maybe he was the only one that could help the boy. That or he would join him in his depression.

"Tyson, believe it or not, I know how you feel."

"Do you?" came the harsh answer. "Do you know the pain? The humiliation? That feeling of helplessness when he pins you down, over and over again in your dreams?"

"The filth," Kai added. "That feeling of never being clean again, no matter how hard you scrub. The total worthlessness of a discarded toy. The feeling of not belonging in the world anymore, of being undeserving of life. Yes, Tyson, I know. God, I wish I didn't." He hid his face in his hands, a coward's position, afraid to fight, afraid to even look.

Why had he come? Why had he allowed himself to dragged back into the darkness he had fought so hard to escape by the exact same person who had inspired him to fight in the first place? Everything had returned to him, so easily, so readily, like it had never been away.

The cold floor, the heavy breathing, the sweaty hands. So many of them, tearing at his clothes, holding him down. Harsh whispers in hsi ears, words no child should ever hear. He tried to claw his way out of the memories, his body stiffening out of stress.

Words ghosted along his earshell.

"Stop struggling, brat..."

"...aren't you wonderful..."

"Kai..."

"...don't want to be punished, then you shouldn't have..."

"...such a little..."

"...annoying, brat, you..."

"Kai..."

"...stop it, please no..."

"...so tight..."

"...thanks for the..."

"...it hurts! No..."

"Kai..."

"...uselss little..."

"...good for nothing..."

"...just a toy..."

"...waste of space..."

"Stop it!"

"...filthy little..."

"Kai!"

Hands gripped his shoulders, shaking him, tearing at him. With a strangled cry he wrenched himself away from them. He fell off a chair, hit the ground. Carpet. There had never been carpet. Or blue walls. Or Tyson half curled up on the edge of the bed, looking at him with fear and at the same time concern.

"Kai?" The normally confident voice of Dragoon's blader was now small and shaky. "What's wrong, Kai?"

What was wring, he asked. A lot, now the barriers were down. They had been up for so long, he had forgotten their presence. And what they'd been hiding.

"Kai?"

Shuddering he took a breath and settled in a more comfortable position. Against the wall so he couldn't be surprised. "Multiply what you're feeling with about five childhood years. Does that answer your question?"

Dark blue eyes stared at him. "Fiver years? Wait! Do you mean... the abbey?"

"Where else?" Wearily he leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. "Perfect way to discipline, don't you think? And when you're younger then eight, seven years maybe, you don't even know what they're doing. It's just pain. And words. Words you don't understand." He shuddered, curling up in a ball, resting his forehead on his knees.

How'd he gotten himself into this mess. He didn't want this. He wanted out. Fresh air. He couldn't breath.

"Kai? Kai?!" Fingers brushed his scalp, running through his hair. Part of him knew it could only be Tyson doing that. Part of him anticipated the moment those fingers would clench into a fist and yank his head up by his hair.

That moment never came, of course. He felt Tyson's fingers leaving his hair and coming to rest on his forearm. They were trembling.

"Kai? Come on, Kai, you're scaring me. Look at me. Please?"

How could he look anyone in the eye after such a breakdown? Especially Tyson. Kai had come to drag his teammate out of the despondency his mind was trapped in. Instead he had fallen back into his own darkness, unable to crawl out of it again. He didn't think he could go through that for a second time.

Trembling fingers touched his temple, trailed down his cheek, reached for his chin to lift his head. He let it happen. Just like he had let everything happen. He left a few dark stains on the fabric covering his knees. Face paint, his eyes were dry.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

Such a simple question. Only five words. "I didn't remember. After that disaster with Black Dranzer, I ran away and suppressed every memory of the Abbey. It was only after the World Cup that all of it returned." He took a deep breath. This was difficult. Almost as difficult as facing those particular memories. "I had betrayed you, violated your trust. I didn't feel like I could ask for help, burden you with my past. It had already brought you so much grief." Rei hospitalized. Max losing Draziel. And that haunted look in Tyson's eyes when he realized his teamcaptain was now his opponent. "I just couldn't." He hid his face again. "But maybe I should have," he whispered brokenly. "Maybe telling you, would have made you more wary. You would have recognized what he wanted. You would have avoided this. If only I had told you..."

"Don't!" Tyson cut in heatedly. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. It's not your fault. I'm having a really hard time thinking about what happened, let alone tell anyone. I can only imagine what it must have be like for you." Trembling hands touched his shoulder. "Just don't okay?"

The touch was warm, so very warm. And he was so cold. His mind reasoned he couldn't very well find solace and support with someone as wounded as he, but he couldn't quench the cry his soul emitted, begging for him to just take the offered warmth and bury himself in it.

And so he slightly leaned to his right. Slowly, every so slowly, the hands on his shoulder inched apart, opening in an embrace he sank into. His muscles relaxed at the steady heartbeat that came to rest under his ear.

This was something he had never had. He couldn't remember much of his parents, and the Abbey obviously didn't do cuddling. And so now, he could immerse himself in a sensation he had always craved for, but never even knew. There, his face hidden in the creases of Tyson's shirt, he shed silent tears for the life he had been denied.

Tyson rested his cheek on dual toned hair. Never once had he suspected something of this caliber to be hidden underneath Kai's facade. When he knew Kai to be standing in the doorway to his room, he thought the older teen was there to say the same things his other friends had.

He couldn't have been more wrong, he realized as he felt Kai's tears slowly soak through his shirt. And, holding the other so close to him, it finally seemed to sink in, that touch didn't equal pain. He'd been so wary of human contact, these past three weeks, he had barely tolerated his grandfather's presence, the man who raised him.

His arms tightening minutely around the calming human in their embrace, he finally understood why Kai always held people at bay. For the same reason Tyson had secluded himself. Thy suddenly had more in common then just stubbornness.

He closed his eyes and allowed the last tension to drip out of his body. It was strange, but it felt good to hold someone like this. As much as he regretted everything Kai had had to go through and hated the people at the abbey for doing that to him, Tyson realized he needed for someone to need him.

And when he felt Kai settling more comfortably against his shoulder, he felt the first glimmer of joy in three weeks.

AN Should I continue? It was supposed to be a one-shot, but it doesn't feel quite finished. What do you think?