There are little people who live in my locker and eat my homework. Really, there are. I think there are little people whole live in my brain, too, and they eat my inspiration. (falls over, breaking several bones in the process) Anyveh, friendly friends, thanky-thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter.
This chapter is ick. Icky, icky, ick. (pulls blankets over head) Sorry. Um, contained herein is some guy/guy vagueness of the Tyson-is-cute-and-Kai-is-distant variety, proving just how original the plot bunnies have been recently (note to self: damn plot bunnies need their steroids). Oh, and believe it or not, I don't own Beyblade.
Yummy yum, I be using GRev eye colours. Gotta keep up with the guys' contact lens preferences, you know…
Three
After the first few minutes, Tyson's eyelids slid closed, and he slumped against Kai with a soft grunt. Kai kept walking, slowly, dragging each foot forward with meticulous concentration. The sharp, glistening pain from before had spread out to become a dry ache that filled his entire body with sleepy heaviness. He kept himself going with the knowledge that he had only to walk a few more blocks, and then they would be at the dojo, and Tyson would be safe, and he could rest.
The thin, harsh sunlight of early autumn was making him sweat, even after having walked for so short a time. He was worn out, he acknowledged, grudgingly. His vision seemed overlaid with a corrosive film of grey liquid, staining all the colours with dullness, draining them away. He was beginning to be afraid – this was what it had been like after that first time that Brooklyn had defeated him, when he had drifted through the world like a ghost, feeling nothing and seeing nothing, caught up in a flat, unchanging landscape of shallow sights and purposeless noises.
He shook away the dread, and focused instead on the soft, solid body that leaned against him, so close and heavy and hot that it was as though Tyson had melted into him. Kai listened carefully to Tyson's breathing – it was erratic, catching hoarsely with each step.
He kept walking, ignoring the formless, unreal world around him, focusing only on his feet and Tyson's, making sure that they both kept walking. If he stopped, he wasn't sure he would have the energy to start again. Gravity seemed to be stronger than usual, pulling him down towards the earth more insistently than ever before. Red, muted pain was pooling in his arms, stabbing at his lungs with blunt knives.
On and on they walked. Kai's field of vision had narrowed to include only the sidewalk. The sky seemed to have blurred away. Every now and then the swoosh of a car shooting past would register; once, he heard the sound of an ambulance's sirens in the distance. Tyson wasn't the only person Brooklyn had hurt that day, it seemed.
"Kai? Hey, hold up, bud," Tyson whispered, almost imperceptibly. Kai stopped, and turned to look at him. Frowning, Tyson lifted his head and looked around blearily, blowing hair out of his eyes. "What are we doing here?" he asked, glancing up at Kai quizzically. "The dojo's back there."
"Oh," Kai said, through cold lips. Looking around, he realised that they'd walked several metres too far. "Sorry."
"Hey, you were trying to kidnap me, weren't you?" Tyson accused him, in a bright but wobbly voice, steering them back towards the dojo. "Yeah, well, the gig is up, Secret Agent Kai! I know your secret! Hah!"
"Remind me again why anyone would want to kidnap you?" Kai enquired, tetchily, as they passed through the high walls of the gate to Tyson's home.
"Because I have top secret access codes that can shut down the enemy base, and we've only got twenty-four hours before the entire world is brainwashed! I will not give in! You'll never take me alive!"
"Somebody's had too many martinis," Kai muttered caustically as he helped Tyson up the steps, his own legs feeling numb and clumsy.
"The name's Granger. Tyson Granger - yikes!"
As they reached the top step, Kai's foot twisted over, and, pulling Tyson down with him, he crashed to the ground, his knees striking the wooden planks hard, sending a thick, jangling pain jolting through him. The grey shadow that had been hanging around him like an old, musty curtain closed in, obscuring his vision, smothering his face with soft, velvety folds. White sparks showered down around him, and he was coughing uncontrollably, his lungs feeling as though they'd been filled with tiny pieces of glass.
Gradually, the coughing subsided, and Kai looked up weakly. Tyson was sitting curled up against a pillar, his eyes closed, whimpering slightly with each breath. Furious with himself for his own stupid weakness, Kai scrambled over to him as quickly as he could, determinedly ignoring the pain that was steadily filling him again.
"Tyson?" he croaked out, his eyes burning, his throat raw. Tyson suddenly seemed very young and soft, huddled up into himself, his face pained and tight, his brow furrowed, the absence of his hat only highlighting his defencelessness. "Tyson, please look at me!" he snapped, angrily.
"Mmph," Tyson said, his eyes flickering open. "Ouch. Geez, Kai, what was all that for?"
"Clam it and get up," Kai ordered, shaky relief settling in his stomach as he moved away and began getting gingerly to his feet.
"Did you trip?" Tyson asked, his bangs falling into his face as he gazed up at Kai. "Are you alright?"
"I take it you have a key?" Kai enquired, steadily ignoring Tyson and glowering instead at the door.
"Kai!" Tyson pressed. "Dude, answer me! Are you sure you're OK?"
"Do you have the key?"
"Yeah, yeah, I've got the dumb old key," he grumbled, shifting to one side where he sat so that he could fish around in the pocket of his jacket. "Er…well, I had the key…"
"Tyson…"
"…don't worry, it's got to be here somewhere…"
"This is pathetic."
"…promise you, I know I had it…oh, found it!" Tyson sang out triumphantly, holding the small, gold key up to Kai and beaming, the plastic tag attached to it fluttering in the wind.
"Congratulations." Kai snatched the key from Tyson's warm fingertips and jabbed it into the lock, desperate to get Tyson inside and somewhere where he could rest. He didn't want Tyson to be hurt anymore than he already was. It was scaring him, fear and concern eating away at him from the inside, making him feel almost sick with worry. He couldn't let Tyson suffer anymore – not Tyson. Not like this.
The door swung open, and he almost fell inside. For a moment he clung to the door, pressing his cheek against the cold, painted surface to try and wake himself up. Then he turned to help Tyson, who had let his eyes close again. Kneeling down beside him, he put his mouth to his ear and murmured, "Wake up."
"Don't wanna," Tyson informed him, yawning. "'M asleep." Then, as Kai took his arm and pulled him up roughly, "Hey, muscle man, chill, will you?"
"Get inside," Kai said, frustrated, and more than slightly frightened. He knew he was overreacting, not something he often did, but he was having difficulty justifying the idea of acting as though nothing had happened. He could not get the image of Tyson lying battered in the rubble out of his head; it had seeped into his mind, making him come close to panic when he thought about what could have happened. "You're going to kill yourself like this."
"I am not!" Tyson said as he pried his shoes from his feet and slouched lazily through the door. "Is that what's been eating you?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Kai snapped, setting the spare key down on a small table and stooping down to remove his own shoes.
Tyson grinned slyly, nudging Kai in the arm with an elbow, almost unbalancing him. "Oh, you know what it means," he taunted. "You're all worried about me, aren't you?"
"No."
"Hah, you are! You were worried I was going to die! Aw, Kai, that's so sweet of you!" Tyson crooned, gleefully. "My hero!"
"Very funny," Kai said, stalking off through the airy, light-filled halls of the dojo.
"Oh, Kai, come rescue me, I'm a beautiful damsel in distress…" Tyson cooed, trotting after him. "You can be my knight in shining armour! That'd be cool!"
"Maybe next time I won't waste my time showing up," Kai suggested.
"Nah, we need to have someone around to spoil all our fun," Tyson told him, comfortably, catching up to him, steadying himself on Kai's arm for a brief moment. "Hey, you want anything to drink? We've still got loads of stuff left over from when everyone was staying over here. I think there's some orange juice in the kitchen."
"No thanks."
"Have it your own way. Hey, I just got the best idea! Come on, come on, come on!" He darted off into the TV room. "I bet there's all kinds of stuff on the news about us," he explained, sinking down on to the sofa and fumbling around behind the cushions for the remote. "Maybe they'll show that interview with me! I hope they show bits of the battle, it was awesome, seriously…"
Kai sat down in the corner of the sofa, folding his arms carefully across his chest and sticking his legs out in front of him. The heaviness of his exhaustion seemed to come crashing down on him in an instant, so that he let a trembling sigh as he looked over at Tyson, who had located the remote and was now flicking through channels.
Tyson seemed to be feeling stronger, probably having gathered some strength from his short rest outside. It was amazing what he could bounce back from, Kai thought, feeling a strange mixture of grateful and jealous. A little thread of sadness inside him tightened, sending a flow of longing and resent through his stomach. Even now, he was bitterly, unceasingly envious of Tyson; but stronger than that, far, far stronger than that, was the friendship that Tyson had tried to give him.
"Here we go!" Tyson yelled, finding a sporting news programme. "Look, look, that's Daichi! Oh, and there's Max! Yay!"
Max's face was on the screen, lit up occasionally with bright, white light as a camera flashed, talking excitedly into several microphones. "…just a matter of time, and I think that what was important was that we did it together!" Was that all anyone could say? Kai wondered. Didn't they have anything better to say?
"Look, it's you!" Tyson enthused, waving a hand in front of Kai's face and gesturing wildly at the TV before turning to gaze excitedly at the picture. "Oh, hey, it's me, too!" He drank in the few seconds' footage of the conversation the two of them had had earlier, practically bouncing off the sofa in excitement, Kai noticed fondly. "Cool, huh? We're heroes!"
As the programme cut to a commercial break, Tyson eased himself off the sofa and wandered off in the direction of the kitchen, whistling absently to himself – loudly, and very off-key. Kai stared after him, gazing at the empty air. He felt very light, almost boneless, and completely disorientated. He'd had one thing on his mind: to get Tyson to safety. Now that they were far away from the rest of the world, now that he knew Tyson would be alright, it all felt very pointless. He had the vague sense of being on the edge of things, of having come to the end of a very long road, and finding that it led off into dim nothingness.
"Look what I found!" Tyson called out, popping his head around the door and waving a large packet of crisps around, along with a cardboard carton of orange juice and mismatched pair of cups. He plopped back down onto the sofa and ripped open the bag, stuffing a handful of crisps into his mouth and crunching happily. "Have some!" he said to Kai, indistinctly, shoving the packet in his face.
Kai pushed the packet away.
"You've got to eat, you know!" Tyson reprimanded him. "You need to build up your strength!"
"With junk food?"
"Orange juice isn't junk food!" Tyson said, pouring some into a glass, sloshing a large amount of it onto the table top. "Here, drink up! It's full of minerals and things! Like…like calcium and all that stuff."
"I take it you mean vitamin C," Kai said, raising an eyebrow as he took the cup and began sipping at it slowly, his hands shaking slightly with tiredness.
"Hah, I knew it began with a C!"
Kai leaned back as Tyson, growing bored with the news reports, began channel-surfing. He was suddenly lost for words, his mind wiped blank even of thought. He had fought Brooklyn as though it was the last battle he would ever fight; and he'd known, somehow, in the back of his mind, that it would cost him his life. It felt like he'd been preparing for that, almost subconsciously; he'd been preparing himself to let go of everything, to accept death calmly.
There had been only one problem with that.
He hadn't been able to let go of Tyson – and so he hadn't died.
The rest of his life didn't have a shape anymore; it was just a grey shadow, a cold blankness. There wouldn't be anymore Beybattles. Dranzer was gone. There wouldn't be anymore adventures, any stories, any memories. He knew that he was being ridiculous, but he couldn't fight it. He couldn't find anything else to do.
Tyson had just saved the sport of Beyblading, and now they were sitting in the dojo drinking orange juice as though none of it had happened.
It didn't make sense; it didn't fit. He was battling to understand it all, unable to take everything in. It was over. He could never blade again. Dranzer was gone.
Numbly, he leaned forward to set the empty glass down on the table, and felt as he did so the thing in the pocket of his long, heavy coat brush against his leg. A small trickle of warmth darted through him, filling him with a sharp and unexpected longing. Slowly, he glanced up at Tyson, who was now deeply involved in some movie or other, sitting cross-legged on the sofa, his chin cupped in his hand as he munched away.
Kai slouched even lower down on the sofa, leaning his head on the armrest so that he could watch Tyson, studying everything about him: his hair, mussed up and rumpled, his jacket, ripped and spattered with blood in some places, his eyes, golden and dark, fixed on the TV. He wanted to know Tyson, completely and perfectly; he wanted to have this memory, this moment, to last him for a long time. He wanted Tyson's warm, unwavering arms to hold him again. He wanted to touch Tyson, to be touched by him. For a long time now, Tyson had been all that had motivated him; for a long time, Tyson had been the only thing he'd considered worth fighting for.
Maybe Tyson was still worth fighting for.
Tyson turned, suddenly, as though he had felt Kai's gaze, and looked over at him curiously, their gaze meeting and holding. "What're you up to, huh?" Tyson asked, narrowing his eyes at him. "Looking at me all sneaky like that…"
Kai shrugged, raising one shoulder and letting it drop. Tyson stuck his tongue out at him, and Kai responded by giving a little sigh of scorn and looking away.
"Feels kind of weird, doesn't it?" Tyson asked, thoughtfully, after a little while. "It's like the end of the road, or whatever."
"I guess," Kai said. Suddenly feeling weirdly frightened, as though Tyson were going to slip away and leave him alone right at that moment, he added, keeping his voice carefully calm, "Tyson…I'm glad that you're alright."
Tyson looked as though the best thing in the world had just happened. There was one moment of confusion in which his mouth was just a little, surprised 'o', and then his entire face lit up. Kai, almost overwhelmed by Tyson's smile, grinned back crookedly, feeling himself melt, the tight, suppressed loneliness and pain dissolving into a shivering flood of unearthly warmth that saturated him with content.
"You weirdo," Tyson said, flapping a hand. "You always get so mushy when we save the world."
"We didn't save the world," Kai said, still lost in a rush of affection. "We beat up a bunch of nobodies who actually thought they stood a chance against us. Same old story."
"No one stood a chance against you, man," Tyson said, breathlessly, his cheeks flushed, his eyes bright. "You were…unbelievable. I knew you'd take 'em down. I knew you could. You can do anything."
"Get a grip."
"You can," Tyson persisted, earnestly.
"You're the one who defeated me," Kai reminded him, almost resentfully. Even now, he wanted desperately to have one last rematch – just one more chance. It wasn't fair. He knew he wasn't better than Tyson - but he wanted to be. He would have given almost anything to be able to call himself World Champion.
"Aw, that doesn't mean anything," Tyson said, peaceably. "It was just one battle, dude. There'll be others."
"Maybe."
"Don't give me that, man! There will be more! There have to be! I want another battle, OK? As soon as you're feeling better. Promise me! You've got to promise me!"
Kai knew that he couldn't. Dranzer had come home to him, but he no longer had a blade. He had been so sure that everything was going to end, that he was going to fight his last battle – and more than anything else, he had regretted the fact that that last battle hadn't been with Tyson…
"Kai? Hellooooo in there? Promise!"
All Kai could do was shake his head wordlessly, and reach up and push the bangs out of Tyson's face. He tucked away the strands of hair with steady, dreamlike care, before remembering something else. He reached into the pocket of his coat, and tugged out the hat.
"Dude, what're you…how'd you…hey, you stole my hat!" Tyson spluttered. "Wow, I thought I'd lost it!"
Kai said nothing. His fingers stiff, pain and sorrow shooting through him, he gently settled the hat on Tyson's head, feeling as he did so a terrible sense of loss. It was like setting Tyson free – it was his life, now. Kai no longer had a place in it. Those days were over.
"Hey, thanks!" Tyson burbled. "I got my hat back! Man, this is, like, the best day ever!"
"I hope you enjoy it," Kai told him, bleakly. "I hope…I hope you enjoy everything, Tyson…"
"Hey," Tyson said, putting a hand on Kai's shoulder and pushing him gently backwards so that his head was cushioned on the armrest of the sofa. "You quit stressing, alright? Come on. Take a breather for once."
"I'm fine," Kai said, habitually, trying to sit back up.
"No, you're not," Tyson insisted, and his voice almost broke, his eyes closing up.
"Tyson, get off – "
"Stop it!" Tyson shouted. "Stop acting all noble, you big dork! You're hurt, alright?"
Kai lay back, feeling a confusing mixture of far too many things: annoyance, guilt, concern, and above all gratitude that Tyson should be so concerned – but then he shouldn't have been surprised about that. Tyson was worried about everyone. He'd even tried to help Brooklyn – even in the middle of Beybattle, he wanted to make sure that his opponent was alright.
Idiot.
"Don't worry about me," he said, quietly. "Don't complicate things, Tyson."
"I'm not complicating things!" Tyson snapped. "I thought you were going to die, OK? I was watching you in that battle, and I thought I was going to have to watch you die! Now just take it easy, alright?"
Kai looked up at him, into his golden, heart-shaped face, into the dark, tear-filled eyes, and suddenly couldn't keep it together anymore. He gave up, and let his eyes drift closed, so that he felt himself sinking into layered satin, into the green waters of a cool, starry ocean, the glittering light of rest filling him up from the inside with peace.
"…worry us to death!"
"Sorry, Hil, I didn't mean to freak you guys out."
"Well, you did!"
"I said I was sorry!"
"You're completely irresponsible! You just run off like that and expect us to know where you are?"
"…no."
"I'm going to get you back for this, just you wait."
"Gah! You're…you're going to torture me! With chick flicks and cooking lessons!"
"I was thinking more along the lines of…oh, I don't know…sewing lessons?" Sweetly.
"Hilary! I'm a man! I'm tough and strong and…manly! I don't sew!"
"You will sew when I tell you to sew, whether you like it or not!"
Kai opened his eyes slowly to the sounds of the argument, realising that he'd been rearranged during his sleep so that he was lying on his back on the sofa, a blanket, heavy and warm and scratchy, tucked up under his chin. The walls and ceiling were stained a pale rose colour, coppery and soft, so Kai knew that it was late. He must have been sleeping for a few hours at least.
"…I would have thought Kai would have made you a little more responsible by now, but no…"
"Hey, don't blame Kai, alright? It was my fault. And can you at least keep it down? I don't want him to wake up - he gets all grouchy after he's been sleeping…"
"Oh, like he'd ever get mad at you, Tyson. The guy adores you."
"He does not!"
"And you adore him."
"I do not! What are you trying to…? Hilary! What are you on about?"
A snicker. "Oh, nothing, nothing…"
Closing his eyes, Kai tuned out the sounds of their argument, and let himself drift away again, back into sleep.
…waah, me no likey. (pouts)
Why do they sell Easter eggs in January? No, really? Not that I'm complaining, or anything…
I'm back at school, it still sucks, and on Monday I have to hand in a thousand words (that I have yet to write) on why studying History now will be useful to me in my future career. Which would be great, except that I only chose it because it was the subject I was least likely to fail. Hee, what fun. Time to ramble…and I have no idea when I'll next be able to update this. Not for a while, anyway.
Review? You'll get Easter eggs if you do! (Unless I eat them all first, suckas. Nyaha XD)