Reviews would be much appreciated, just to let me know if you like this and whether I should carry on with it, thanks :)

Eiri didn't know when he had decided to visit Kyo, but the day after meeting him he found himself walking past the block of flats that he had mentioned living in. He stopped, looked around, and considered going in; before realising Kyo hadn't given him a flat number.

Clearly Kyo had only given out the address to get Eiri off his back, never imagining he would actually visit.

Eiri looked up at the building; a typical block of flats, it was built from faded yellow concrete, each apartment with a small section of the balcony which spanned the face of the building. Some of the balconies had towels and sheets hung out to dry in the glaring sunlight, others stored kids toys and bikes, but none were deep enough to house a table or chairs. It was a shabby, tired looking building, the sunlight glinting off dirty windows and rusted balcony railings. Yuki made up his mind and walked purposefully towards the security code unit outside the door. He tried a code, then another, his fingers moving with certainty as if he was one of the residents, before noticing a young woman walking towards him. Perfect.

She frowned "have you forgotten the code?" He made no reply, simply taking off his glasses. She gasped, her mouth forming a perfect 'O' of surprise. "E- Eiri Yuki." She breathed. "I love your work, I –"

"I'm looking for someone." He cut her off, slipping the glasses back on to avoid causing a stir. She took the hint and fell obediently silent, although her fingers were clutched so tight around the handle of her bag that her knuckles had turned white. "Kagasaki Kyousuke. He lives in this building. Just a little shorter than I am, brown eyes, orange hair –"

"Oh yes!" She broke in. "He lives just across from me. I –" she blushed fiercely, "I could show you where..." She looked at the floor, embarrassed.

"that would be very helpful, thank you." Eiri replied, his face as emotionless as ever.

"Really?" She squealed, "I mean, uh... sure." He granted her a small, courteous smile her as she led him into the building.

"I think this is him." Eiri's guide mumbled, stopping in front of door number 23. He turned to her, "thank you –"

"Nami." She informed him, blushing again. Pulling a notepad and pen from the inside of his jacket, Eiri scrawled a looping signature alongside her name and handed it to her. She suppressed a squeal and bowed reverently. "I hope you find your friend okay."

He watched, bemused, as she scuttled into her own flat, then turned and knocked on the door in front of him. There was a pause as he waited for Kyo to answer, and he was beginning to think there was no one home when the door slowly opened.

Kyo looked like he'd just woken up, dressed in a plain white sleeveless t shirt and jeans, his feet were bare, his hair tousled into his eyes; which were dull with exhaustion. There was a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth and he removed it slowly, exhaling the smoke to the left of Yuki's face. He did not look happy to see him.

"You never gave me a flat number. I'm assuming you didn't expect me to turn up." Kyo took another drag of the cigarette, this time making to effort to prevent exhaling into Yuki's face.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Yuki took off the dark glasses and slipped them into his pocket. "Can I come in?"

"I just want to talk," he added when Kyo remained unmoving. There was a moment of hesitation, before Kyo slowly stepped back, opening the door far enough for Yuki to enter. He stepped neatly into the flat and removed his shoes, facing them in the direction of the door as a gesture of politeness. He also removed his hat and jacket, hanging up the latter on a rail to his right, and placing the hat beside his shoes.

Kyo had already moved into the tiny kitchen, and was boiling water for coffee, Yuki mounted the small step and crossed to the centre of the living room, surveying the view from the row of windows along the far wall; there was a set of double doors to the balcony but beyond them there was nothing much to see, Kyo had little in the way of possessions, and the balcony was empty.

Yuki turned to the flat itself for guidance; the main room was almost entirely bare, but for the low table and two floor cushions, as would be used on tatami mat flooring. However, the building was modern enough to have floorboards, suggesting that the cushions were simply cheaper than chairs. There was a glass ashtray in the centre of the table, and an old, boxy TV pushed against the wall opposite the balcony, the only other object in the room besides the small table and cushions.

Standing with his back to the balcony, Yuki could see through to the kitchen on his right, a small, grubby looking room housing only counters, a sink and drainer, a fridge and an oven, with dry food stored in overhead cupboards or those beneath the countertops. Windows continued along the balcony wall into the kitchen, letting light spill into the room. The flooring in the kitchen was a cheap linoleum, posing as tile, and the walls were painted the same yellowed cream as the rest of the flat.

To Yuki's right was simply a sliding screen, but it was easy enough to guess that behind it lay Kyo's bedroom and the bathroom.

Yuki noticed Kyo scowling at him from the entrance to the kitchen, a small cup of coffee in each hand; and he crossed to the cushion closest to the screen and sat. Kyo followed, silently moving to sit opposite. He placed Yuki's coffee in front of him; black and without sugar, but didn't ask him if he would like it any other way. Yuki remained silent; fortunately he usually drank it that way.

Kyo raised his own cup to his lips and blew on it, stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray whilst deliberately avoiding eye contact; but after Yuki mimicked him, it was he who broke the silence.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Kyo's voice was bitter and challenging, as usual, but Yuki could sense his initial anger had faded, replaced instead by curiosity.

"Well, we never really spoke yesterday, I just..." He thought a moment, what exactly had he wanted to talk about? He realised that, actually, he had just wanted to talk. To see if talking to Kyo would help him make sense of this mess of feelings inside him as he remembered the past. But suddenly the words just felt out of place.

"What brought you here?" He asked, taking a sip of the scorching coffee. Kyo said nothing for a moment, then, out of the blue, Yuki noticed the corner of his mouth twitch upwards into a smile. Something that sounded like a laugh escaped his lips. Yuki's coffee cup sank slowly back to the table as Kyo let out a definite snigger; he clasped a hand over his mouth, his own face looking almost as stunned as his guest's. The snigger turned into a laugh, his eyes screwing shut as his head tipped back; he clutched his ribs. Yuki stared, wide eyed, only making Kyo laugh harder, he slumped forward, tears rolling down his face, before looking back up and wiping his eyes.

"Sorry," he mumbled. Yuki looked wholly confused as Kyo struggled to control himself.

"Why are you laughing?"

Kyo wiped fresh tears from his eyes, "you're just..." He hastily suppressed another fit of laughter, "you're so different." He explained, serious now. Yuki was silent; it was true. He was different to the Eiri Kyo had known so well. Very different. "I feel like I'm at a job interview, you're so damn serious," Kyo added, collapsing into hysterics again. Yuki found himself smiling too, even laughing along. And suddenly he understood Kyo's change of heart; it felt so good, such a relief just to laugh it off, all of the anger between them simply evaporating. It brought back memories.

When they fell silent again, Kyo spoke, "my mother died."

"I'm sorry," Yuki replied. Kyo looked up at him, his eyelashes still wet.

"That's why I came here, I mean. I had to get out of Kyoto, you know?" Yuki nodded; he did know. He knew what it felt like, to have so many bad memories associated with a place that the only solution was simply to leave; he knew more than anyone what that felt like.

"Akira; he hadn't let me see her for years. I didn't go to the funeral, I just left."

Kyo fell silent, hoping Yuki wouldn't ask him why he had come here, because what would he say? Because I knew you were here, because I wanted to see you. No. This man was not the boy he had hoped to find.

"I'm sorry." Yuki repeated.

"It's not your problem," was Kyo's reply.

Yuki saw the stiffness return, Kyo's eyes clouding over. He searched for something to say, grappling not to lose that familiar ground they had found just minutes ago. "Kyousuke..." he breathed, and saw Kyo tense. "Why did you come here?"

There was silence. Then Kyo stood. "I have to go to work," he stated flatly, "you should leave." Yuki didn't move, simply looking up at him. "Kyousuke..." he pushed. Kyo's fists clenched. Yuki stood slowly, pushing himself up from the floor with typical grace.

"I'm sorry I never came to find you."

Kyo's eyes didn't rise from the floor. "It doesn't matter," he replied. But the lie was painfully obvious.

Yuki said nothing, unable to explain further just how guilty he felt. He sensed that Kyo was done talking and moved toward his things. Kyo remained motionless as he slipped his shoes and jacket back on, placing the hat back over his shaggy blonde hair. "Thanks for the coffee." He called over his shoulder as he opened the door to the flat.

"No problem."

Eiri pushed his hands into his pockets as he started back home, his hat tipped low over his face and his head bowed. He glanced back up at Kyo's window; a flash of orange hair told him that Kyo had watched him leave. He tore his gaze away.

It was with a mix of feelings that he left the main street; every time he saw Kyo he felt a strange warmth, a blissful wave of nostalgia, a strange, fluttering in his stomach. But these butterflies had razor tipped wings. They flew into his throat, filling his mouth so that he found it impossible to say how he felt. His guilt was a physical pain, like a knife behind his eyes, filling his head when he thought about how he had betrayed Kyo. How he had been the only person the boy had left, and he had tossed him aside just like everybody else just as soon as he'd met Kitazawa. As a boy he'd thought nothing of it, too distracted by foolish adoration and childish naivety.

But he'd forgotten Kyo just as readily as the boy's mother, something he should never have done.

He could still remember with aching clarity the day of the accident, the way Eiri's own mother had received the phone call from Miyako, telling her that Kyo was in a critical condition in hospital.

Kyo's father had been driving the car, his brother Kenta asleep in the back seat. Both Kenta and Kyo's father Satsuki were killed almost instantly.

Ten year old Kyousuke was the only survivor, lying semiconscious in unbearable pain among the wreckage, his ribs having collapsed in, puncturing a lung and rendering him almost unable to breathe. He had undergone emergency surgery to realign his ribs, and was given a lung transplant.

However, the physical damage to Kyo's body was not what worried his family, but the mental strain he would suffer as soon as he woke up to find his father and brother gone.

Eiri was two years Kyo's senior, and could remember well the multiple times they had visited him in the hospital, Eiri's father having been close friends with Satsuki and Miyako since University. Kyo had not said one word in the ten or more times they visited, seeming barely even to notice their presence. Eiri's mother had been incredibly sweet, bringing the boy sweets, books and games that she thought might interest him in an effort to take his mind off the gaping hole in the family. They noticed after a while how Kyo began to look up as they entered; his eyes wide with hope.

He was waiting for his mother; but Miyako did not come.

Eventually Kyo had come out of hospital, but did not go back to school for another two months; Miyako found him a strain to look after, finding his silence unbearable, and blaming him for the loss of her husband and youngest son. Eiri would visit once, sometimes twice a week, having been closest to Kyo out of the three Uesegi children before the accident. He took Kyo schoolwork sometimes, other times he simply sat with him, sometimes reading to him, sometimes simply trying to coax him into conversation. Gradually Kyo began to speak again, small words at first; but Eiri was patient, he built up sentences, started to speak spontaneously rather than simply when asked a direct question.

Until one day, when Eiri turned up at the Kagasaki household to find Kyo utterly silent again. There was a bruise on the side of his face, the kind of mark that would be left by a fierce slap. Eiri understood instantly.

The next time Kyo spoke, it was a different kind of speech; everything about him became angry and aggressive, pushing away anyone who tried to help him. But Eiri kept trying.

It was difficult, but Eiri kept pushing even when Kyo yelled at him to leave him alone, giving him nothing but kindness until he grew used to Kyo's anger, it no longer bothered him. Because Kyo's anger towards Eiri was different to that with other people, it was a defensive kind of anger that was designed only to keep Eiri at a distance, they both knew he didn't mean what he said, and Eiri remained nothing but a friend to him. He knew that Kyo needed him, nobody else understood him the way that Eiri did. Nobody else.

Then, when Kyo turned thirteen, Miyako remarried. Akira had no attachment to Kyo, and didn't bother trying to forge one. The boy was deliberately difficult, hating Akira for replacing Satsuki in Miyako's eyes and trying only to push them apart. Kyo wanted Miyako all to himself, wanting nothing more than to prove to her that he could be just as good as Kenta, no matter how much hatred she showed him. Eventually everything became too much for Miyako, and she sent Kyo to a boarding school as far away from home as possible.

By this time Eiri had just turned sixteen, and had met Kitazawa. When Kyo first disappeared, he vowed to write to him every week. And at first, he did. It was only gradually that his desire to impress Kitazawa overcame all thoughts of Kyo, his letters remaining unwritten as his friend faded from him mind.

That was the last time he had heard anything from Kyo, until now. And it was all his fault. He reached the apartment he shared with Shuichi; naive, innocent Shuichi, who, he realised reminded him so much of himself, before he had killed Kitazawa. And before he had deserted the boy who needed him most in the world.