Wow. I forgot how much fun this story was to write. Much funner than Teaching Patience, I must say. Perhaps it's the subject matter? Nonetheless, this one's quite a bit more difficult to write, for various reasons. Most of which include not having any idea where the plot's going... you can thank Terra, my lovely beta, for all the help. Really, she's fricken amazing. She's got ideas, plot twists, character development, and a mean knowledge of how to properly kick my butt at grammer. So this chapter's dedicated to her.

Karē is a type of Japanese curry, imported in the 19th century (1800-1900) by way UK and adapted by Japanese Navy chefs. [Wikipedia]

I only mention it because it's kind of important... and is what they're eating. Kind of.

SECOND AN: [un-edited by Terra – just so y'all can see how horrid my regular writing is...]

We had a crazy time updating this thang, folks. Seriously. Terra was all like, "this is sposed to be two words, this one word, this... isn't EVEN a word ("'swively', noooo!")," and it was awesome. There was a point when she went Medieval [I'm going to go with that one, because I can't say "Samurai" without sounding racist] on a sentence and took nearly five minutes for me to understand her. Then again, we had an issue with subtly [lolz, suddlety] and how it apparently doesn't work for me. Not the word... but the act. No one catches any of them. -____-

I'd suggest going back and re-reading the last section of the prologue before starting. Unless you have a super memory, of course.

Chapter 1:

Parable Prelude

The hot water had held out for a good twenty minutes this time. Not a world record by anyone's standards, but a personal record – for Shigure's household, at least. Shigure had had the water heater replaced a few months back ("it's getting old, Yuki. You gotta get on these things before they shut down completely!") and had gotten a reasonable deal on the updated version. It wasn't until Yuki had used the new and improved shower that night that they had found out where the price cuts came from. Apparently it saved you nearly a hundred bucks when you used ex-cons as repairmen who got their plumbing license over a month-long internet course.

Needless to say, Yuki was put in charge of coordinating repairs from then on.

Yuki stepped out of the muggy shower carefully, wrapping a new fluffy green towel around his waist in the process. A drop of watery conditioner fell from somewhere above his eyeline and landed with a light plop on his chest. He wiped it away with a slight frown, momentarily considering stepping back under the spray to properly clean the area. He settled for scrubbing at the offending grayish locks with another towel, stopping only once he was sure the leave-in conditioner was thoroughly soaked in this time. Contrary to popular belief (which probably wasn't an accurate name for it, as he'd only been complimented four or five times), Yuki's hair wasn't naturally the beautiful silken mane he tried to pretend it was. Shigure's words, not his.

He frowned again before leaving the bathroom, as he heard Shigure's distinct tones conversing with the quiter, rougher ones of their newest house guest. Of course, Shigure would just have to get home while he was in the shower. It always seemed that whenever he tried to do something mean or rude to others – like using up all the hot water – something bad would happen to him just as fast. Yuki wasn't superstitious enough to believe in karma, but that might've had more to do with the absence of good fortune coming from his good deeds. Damn it. Whoever said karma went two ways?

He got dressed in record time – gray silk pajama pants and gray cotton t-shirt – and made sure his door was firmy shut and locked before wandering down the stairs to the suede-upholstered living room. Shigure was bent over double, grimmace plastered across his face as he attempted vainly to get one of the logs in the fireplace to catch flame. Knowing the idiotic man, he had probably plucked them from the wood pile on the side of the house. The wood pile that was most likely thoroughly soaked from the heavy rain outside.

The person of Yuki's distain – Kyo no-last-name-anymore – lay sprawled out across the matching suede armchair now, bare mud-splattered feet hanging limply in the air beyond the fat arm supporting his dirty jean-clad calves. His tan face was propped up by a bent arm, and crimson eyes lazily watched Shigure's attempts at being a proper host. Yuki eyed the teen's smirk with distaste.

Sure, he thought Shigure was an idiot, but that didn't mean he had to like it when others looked down on his uncle.

Shigure stood from the fireplace with a tisk, rubbing at his lower back in that perfected move that always managed to end up with Shigure relaxing while he was forced into whatever the idiot had been trying to do. "My, my," he began dramatically, peeking out of the corner of his eye to ensure that Yuki was indeed watching his pathetic display. "My back just isn't what it used to be," punctuated with a quick stretch. "Now if only I had a young and able-bodied–"

"Quit wasting words."

"Now Yuki," he pouted, "is that any way to talk to your kind and loving uncle? The one who took you in all those years ago when–"

"You just like to hear yourself talk, don't you?" Yuki stepped down off the last step, feeling slightly comforted by the plush white carpet beneath his feet. One would think that white would be the worst possible choice with Shigure around, but Tohru always did such a good job cleaning. "Idiot."

"You just like to interrupt me," Shigure whined, truthfully.

A movement from the corner of Yuki's eye distracted him, and he turned back to Kyo who was rolling back his shoulders a few feet away from the older man. The bones in his shoulders seemed to cave in on themselves somewhere in the motion, but after he was done, Yuki couldn't pinpoint what exactly about the stretch seemed so off to him. Maybe he was one of those people who were double-jointed. But then, he had never met someone who was double-jointed in their shoulders.

Kyo stepped up to Shigure, who was standing back and eyeing both teens. Wordlessly, Shigure handed over the half-used pack of matches, and both Sohmas watched somewhat skeptically as their houseguest kneeled on the smooth granite before the built-in fireplace. The match lit with a swoosh, and Kyo lowered the match to the very center of log.

The log caught fire instantly.

"Look here, Yuki!" Shigure exclaimed, as though the teen hadn't just watched everything he was about to gush about. "We have a boyscout in the house. Oh, Aya would be so thrilled!" He punctuated his excitement by reaching out to ruffle his hair. Kyo seemed to have been expecting it though, for he stepped away smoothly, body sliding out of the direct glow of the fire until only part of his face was visible in the crackling light. Crimson eyes caught the light like stained glass. "Yuki, why didn't you tell me you had met another Sohma?"

Sohma? What did that old man just...?

"Oh, forgive Yuki," the redhead interceded, waving a hand in a placating way as though Yuki had actually done something that needed to be forgiven. "He's probably just being modest. I mean," he said, tilting his head in a way that subtly showed off the ghost of the bruise Yuki was sure had been a vivid purple half an hour earlier, "it's not everyday you save someone's life."

Shigure's face lit up just as Yuki's world came to a grinding halt. This boy was actually trying to convince Yuki's uncle that he was from the same family, right in front of the one person who knew he was lying? What had happened to the rough around the edges kid from earlier with the gruff voice and devil-may-care attitude?

"Yuki saved your life?!" Shigure squealed, grabbing and shaking Kyo by the hands. "It's just like something out of a romance novel – two young lovers, brought together through the heroic actions of our protagonist – oh, Aya will be so excited when he hears of this newest development! Although I fear for poor Tohru's feelings on the loss of his love..."

Of course he'd go into the fated romance ploy again. It had been the same when he had brought Tohru home too, except back then it hadn't been quite as embarassing. Back then Shigure hadn't been trying to proclaim his adopted nephew as gay.

"Listen here, you ignorant fool—"

"...but all will be well, because she will always have me here to care and protect her! Now tell me, Kyo, how'd the heroic deed play out? I have to know."

"Well," Kyo drawled out, leaning back to sit on the arm of the soft suede couch, "I was just walking along the road..."

"At night? In this weather?!"

"I know, right?" Kyo was only encouraged by the older man's over-played enthusiasm. Yuki nearly gagged. "Anyway, I was minding my own business when these gangsters came out and jumped me!"

The term, "gangster" generally implied an intelligent backing and organization. Apparently Kyo thought the more apt "hillbilly" just didn't have the same ring to it.

"Oh you poor thing!" It would seem Shigure agreed.

Yuki realized his mouth was hanging open (once the thin line of drool had extended to nearly his chin) and snapped it shut with a jerk. "It was just your brothers, and—"

Crimson eyes glared silently in his direction, but his tone was still the overly emotional 'damsel in distress' tone that had Shigure hanging on his every word. "And what a horrible cult it was! I tried to tell them that I didn't want anything to do with it, but they just wouldn't take no for an answer. Now I'm out of my house and my home," Weren't they the same thing? "and I've got nowhere to turn. I was just so thankful that Yuki was here to save me..." I'd like to thank the Academy...

Yuki sighed, sinking into the chair closest to the stairs. It had been a good fight – hardly – but if there was anything that could be called Shigure's weakness, it was a good cliché. And the idea of romance, chocolate, porn... Still, he felt like a jealous child as the other teen was smothered by one of the smothering embraces Shigure favored when he was really more excited than usual at the prospect of writing someone's hardships into his 'novels'. From over Shigure's shoulder, those red eyes glinted as Kyo openly smirked at him. Apparently Yuki wasn't the only one feeling particularly childish. The smirk was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and Kyo stepped back, every bit as sweet and unassuming as Shigure believed him to be.

"You're welcome to stay as long as you want – in fact, I insist."

Yuki snapped up again, the disbelief at Kyo's audacity being enough to distract him from seeing his plan until just then. The heavy armchair made a loud creaking sound as the three legs and the phonebook (acting as a makeshift fourth leg) slid backward a couple inches from the force of his outburst. "This isn't a hotel, idiot," he snapped. "With Miss Honda here, we don't have any more extra rooms. Where do you expect to put him – on the roof?"

Kyo stared at him blankly. "It's raining."

Was raining. Past tense. Yuki saw no issue with kicking him out now.

Shigure continued uninhibited. "He can stay in your room, Yuki! But be good up there, boys. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." Research of the academic kind? Be respectable citizens? "I've just got to tell Aya! I– oh..." The older man debated pathetically between the cooling take-out bags drooping off the back of the couch and the hallway (where, like in a seventies sitcom, their only phone – on a cord, even! – sat beside a note pad and pen on a narrow table), looking forlornly first at one, then at the other.

When it became obvious that he wouldn't be able to make the decision by himself – about four head-turning cycles in – Yuki groaned, having to play the adult as usual. "Food first, then you can call the cretin. The curry's getting cold." Not that that was a bad thing, necessarily. Curry was disgusting.

Shigure pouted, but gingerly picked up the corner of the bag not soaked in the spilled blood of some kind of orange sauce, and shuffled through the white-stucco archway into the kitchen. He capsized the bag over the plate that Yuki was holding out with disdain. "You shouldn't speak so ill of Ayame, Yuki. Brothers are supposed to—"

"He's not my brother – he just likes to pretend he is." The clink of the durable plastic plate on the fake marble countertop was nearly as sharp as his words and acknowledged by the look of saddened surrender on his uncle's face.

"At least he cares enough to pretend," the older man sighed, truthfully.

Ayame was a lot of things – obnoxious, loud-mouthed, flamboyantly gay – but he was incontestably the most passionate person Yuki had ever met. And even though he hated the fact that it was he himself the other man was obsessing about, he had to give the man credit for trying.

Even if that trying were usually unsuccessful attempts to dress Yuki up like various anime characters he hadn't thought of since his manga days back in middle school.

Honestly, Inuyasha? He was unusual enough with the way his dirty brown hair would appear a mauve in certain lighting – but add a flowing white wig and dog ears? Recipe for disaster.

"Whatever," Yuki countered dully, no longer in any mood to fight Shigure on the matter. Shigure would just win, anyway. "I'll stop calling him a moron when he stops acting like one."

His uncle grinned at him. "You mean, cretin."

"What—"

"Is that Karē?"

The two true Sohmas jumped and turned towards the entryway. Kyo's upper half was peering into the archway, feet firmly planted around the corner and out of sight. The untrimmed fingernails on his visible hand drummed a nervous pattern against the textured white surface of the doorway. The sight reminded Yuki immediately of a child shy in entering someone else's home, but the effect was ruined by his height (which was still a good couple inches shorter than himself) and the unnaturally crimson eyes that he was beginning to doubt was created with contacts.

"Karē... " Shigure pondered over the unusual term for a moment, before clapping his hands together with a wide grin. "Oh! Yes, karē. This is the Indian version though, just warning you. Might find some weird ingredients in this one."

Yuki groaned. Curry was bad enough as it was plain. He couldn't understand people like his uncle – and Kyo now, it seemed – who could actually like the stuff, let alone be able to tell what kind it was by sight alone. He glanced down to the dreaded plate, only to discover that it had been safely tucked into the microwave quite some time ago.

Smell alone, then. That's dedication. Yuck.

The strange teen hesitated at the doorway still, and Yuki scowled, feeling irrational frustration fill him. "What, do you not like this kind of curry or something?" He didn't really understand why he was giving the other teen such a hard time – he didn't even like curry, himself – but the way the other teen had practically invited himself into their home was making his skin crawl and temper rise against his will.

Kyo jumped slightly at the caustic remark, but was saved from answering as Shigure draped an arm over his shoulder and pulled him into the cheery yellow-walled kitchen. "Ignore Yuki, Kyo. He tends to get cranky when he's hungry." The older man paused, an amused look passing over his face. "When you borrow his lotion, too. But I did buy him a new bottle, so I don't know why he's still so angry about it..."

"You bought me lubricant," the teen hissed back. Then he seemed to remember they had (rather unwelcome, in his case) company, and blushed twenty shades of red. "And besides, it was aftershave, not lotion."

"I always did wonder how you'd been able to—"

"Oh!"

All three males – one full grown everywhere but mind – turned toward the source of the outburst. Tohru hovered awkwardly in the doorway to the kitchen, two translucent yellow plastic bags clutched tight to her chest as she spotted the light on in the microwave behind them. As if on cue, the electronic ding of a dinner well-nuked sounded, and the unnatural off-white glow went out. Her wide blue eyes took in the newcomer, and she nearly dropped the bags as she hastily bowed to the boy who had moved to half-sit on the spindly metal arm of one of the swiveling kitchen stools.

"Ano... ko– hello, my name is Tohru Honda. I..." she glanced down at her bags again, before feverishly pulling out what seemed to be the ingredients to another one of her amazing traditional Japanese dishes. "I'm so sorry that I'm back so late! I can cook dinner now if you'd like – I don't want Sohma-senpai to have to eat food he doesn't like!"

"No– It's fine, Miss Honda," Yuki found himself denying immediately – an effect of having Tohru so near to him. He hardly noted Shigure wandering off to the hall telephone to make that call to Ayame that he had been whining about. "Shigure brought home curry, yes, but a little change is good every once in a while."

"Oh no!" she lamented, delicate hands flying up before her mouth as her eyes began glistening suspiciously. "Of course you both would get tired of Japanese food if I made it so often—stupid, stupid, stupid!"

"Miss Honda—"

"Oi!" Kyo interrupted with a scowl, sharp tones easily slicing through the rough waters of Tohru's distress like a deadly shark. "If Yuki here says it's fine, it's fine, okay?"

'So now he's on my side?' Yuki frowned at the abrupt change of attitude – one that he'd bet was a product of the only adult being out of the room – and pulled the steaming plate out of the microwave with a napkin buffering the heat from each side. A placemat slid under the plate half a second before it touched the counter, and he sent Tohru a grateful smile. She probably would've returned it if she hadn't had still been overly concerned with what her boys would eat for dinner.

The "her" boys part being a stipulation only found lurking in Yuki's mind, of course.

Yuki took down three smaller plates from an overhead cabinet and set them down next to the steaming pile of chicken guts (disguised as curry). Crimson eyes tracked his steps across the room lazily. He sighed heavily, returning to the cupboard for yet another plate. Of course they couldn't be stuck with the city anorexic at their house – by the way the roughed-up teen was eyeing the spicy meat, Shigure would likely have quite the fight over the last piece of curry. With any luck, he'd eat enough that the old man would kick him out all the sooner. But that was unlikely, and he knew it. Tohru would have more food cooked up before either of them could say 'please'.

And apparently the girl had the same thought – or at least a more sweet and innocent version – because she pulled out a frying pan from beside the sink and deposited a generous portion of soba noodles in the center. She turned to Yuki, nervously tucking a strand of flyaway hair behind her ear. "I'll just make a little extra, just in case. We can't have you starving – maybe I should make some rice too? Is there anything else you would like, Sohma-senpai?"

'Besides you?'

"I think this should be plenty, thank you."

Shigure breezed back in through the doorway, fiddling with a torn-off sheet of memo paper. As Yuki watched, the square was folded into a triangle, then a diamond, then the older man's words became significant enough distraction to ignore the early steps of some origami process. "Well, I just called Aya," as though they didn't know, "and he's very happy for you, Yuki. You'll have to take Kyo to meet him at his shop after school tomorrow – he's already getting started on an outfit for him!"

If Kyo's outfit turned out to be any manlier than the one Ayame had made for him, he would stuff it down the redhead's throat. Horrendous lace and all.

"How long do you intend for him to hang around?" (Glance behind, and Kyo was straightening a wayward edge of Shigure's discarded origami moose. Elephant? Rock? Either way – no hear, no foul.)

Shigure ignored him and moved to his side to dredge a partially squashed clear plastic container from out of the debris of the take-out bags. The lid eventually gave way with a schnnk and bits of sticky rice shrapnel landed with little plops across the man's forearms. Yuki shot him a look (can't even open a container without making a mess) that Shigure returned with a wry grin of his own, piece of rice on his nose and all.

"It doesn't seem like he has anywhere else to go, does it? Besides, something tells me that there's more to this Kyo than meets the eye." Occasionally his uncle could form coherent thought – sometimes even reasonably accurate inferences from the briefest of meetings. These times were celebrated, for they came few and far between. "It can't hurt to keep the kid for a week or so. We kept Tohru, afterall..."

Emotional blackmail. Dirty old man...

"Kyo," Shigure called gaily to the redhead (who had progressed to a full sprawl in the stool, legs slung over the arm), "why don't you go ahead and take a shower while we get dinner ready – maybe a bath? Yuki..." ...continued to determinedly wipe up the fallen rice soldiers with a damp paper towel.

"I can find the bathroom on my own."

"Up the stairs and it's the second-to-last door on the right. Towels in the closet across the hall."

With a 'yeah, thanks' thrown over his shoulder he was gone, and the three beings in the kitchen paused unconsciously for the click of the bathroom door.

"Um... Shigure-san? Who was that boy...?"

"That's Kyo; he's a new friend of Yuki's. Isn't that right?" Home invader would be a more apt title, but he didn't want to give Tohru the wrong (right!) impression. He nodded resignedly and that seemed to be enough for the girl. She was always so trusting. That was probably why he couldn't help but feel so protective over her.

Together they made short work of the last-minute dinner preparations. Dinner at the misfit Sohma household was typically a quick and efficient affair – Tohru cooking, everyone eating, the males at least dumping the scraps before leaving her to the dishes – but they found themselves unconsciously slowing in each task the delay the eating part as long as possible. When the water finally shut off upstairs (ten minutes of cold shower, sucker!), Yuki followed his uncle's unspoken directive to assist the redhead by way of a nod in the general 'up that-a way' direction.

The last thing he saw as he glanced over his shoulder out of the kitchen was the folded square of paper Kyo had adopted from Shigure. It was folded in the shape of a cat's head.

Somehow, Shigure didn't think the two boys got along very well.

They were both freshly showered (Kyo more freshly than Yuki, of course) and were being offered not only amazingly delicious curry but Tohru's home-cooking as well. And yet, both were throwing near-identical scowls at each other, which was causing his sweet-flower to fret in her seat by his side. He didn't mind at all that she was sitting next to him. Usually she would sit next to his nephew, but she suggested warmly that the two friends should be able to sit next to eachother. What a caring and thoughtful dainty-heart.

The girl glanced nervously between Yuki and Kyo, who were both so focused on not blinking that they remained oblivious to the attention they were attracting. While Yuki's eyes were showing the warning signs of shininess in the corners, Kyo's blank glare-stare hybrid was unyielding. Given, it was only Tohru and himself (who Yuki ignored for the most part anyway) watching, but it was unlike his usually finicky nephew to not have some semblance of awareness of his surroundings at all times.

He had been teasing when he had proclaimed the two boys as potential lovers – with the way Yuki fawned over the fragile Tohru, he'd be blind to not realize his obvious feelings for the girl. But the more he watched their interactions, the more he reconsidered his initial theory. Both were handsome enough, were even complements of eachother's completely opposing versions of beauty. He'd be biased in favor of his nephew's icy countenance, of course, but there was the lingering suspicion that a clandestine charm hid behind the shell of the boy in need of a hot meal and a good nights' sleep. They'd make a good pair... supposing of course that they weren't actually related. Hardly any Sohma really was.

Besides, they already couldn't take their eyes from the other's.

"Itadakimasu!" Tohru passed the delicious plate of curry across the table to Yuki, breaking the impromptu staring contest. None too soon, if Yuki's suddenly watering eyes had anything to say about it. The teen scowled at the plate ("Waa- what'd the curry ever do to you, Yuki?") before handing it off wordlessly to the crimson-eyed boy lounging cross-legged in the chair beside him. The sleeve of the thin red sweatshirt – which had been pulled from the color-coordinated neatness of Yuki's closet and therefore was purchased with Yuki's measurements in mind – flopped over the thin tanned fingers as he reached out to take the plate. He pushed it up his arm with a faint growl, for probably the tenth time.

This would ordinarily be the part where Shigure burst in with some vaguely perverted remark about how cute the boy looked in Yuki's clothes, which he was definitely thinking, but he was just as distracted by the unnerving fact that his curry dish had halted in its trip around the table. There it sat, getting cold as Kyo struggled with the clothes Yuki had grudgingly offered up after the slightly shorter teen's shower.

The curry had already been reheated once. Hell be damned if he'd let it enter the microwave once again.

"Kyo," he pressed, concern for his dish making the statement sharply intent, "let me see your arms. I'm sure I can help."

The shorter teen eyed him distrustfully for a moment, before holding out the too-long sleeves like a scolded schoolchild. He gathered the edges of the sweatshirt easily in his larger hands, rolling the material upwards over itself until the rather bulky new sleeve-end rested heavy against the boy's wrists. With the sleeves no longer covering all but the skinny fingertips, he noticed for the first time just how thin the teen before him was., how his collarbone stood sharp from where the neckline swooped to the base of his shoulder, and how his cheekbones and jaw white against the tanner skin of his face.

What hell had he been through up until now?

Perhaps Kyo had heard his thoughts, or maybe he was becoming uncomfortable under the older man's worrying gaze, because he jerked his wrists out of the man's flax grip, something dark red and white jingled in the corners of his vision. Kyo held his arms close to his chest as though he thought Shigure would try to grab them again. From their new position, the small beaded bracelet was clearly visible. It seemed a rather feminine thing for a boy to be wearing, and yet, it somehow suited him.

Besides, Shigure (with his best friend being Ayame) was probably the last person to try to tell somebody what they should or should not wear.

"Go ahead. The curry won't bite you... although you'll definitely bite it."

Across the table, Yuki snorted disbelievingly at the crude joke; he was already reaching for Tohru's udon noodles. However crude though, the joke did its part to lessen the stress in the thin shoulders, and Kyo helped himself to a good-sized serving of the chicken curry. He kept up the polite facade long enough to pass the plate halfway to Shigures seat at the table. And that was all the boy had time for – because he was turning his attention elsewhere, already scooping up hunks of chicken and vegetable and rice with an urgency that left Shigure a bit unsettled.

'This,' Shigure thought, disquieted, 'is the ways strays act when presented with a well-needed dish of milk.'

But this wasn't an animal that the animal-loving Tohru had snuck home. This was a human being – albeit one that Yuki had snuck home – and was obviously in need of their help. For a moment he was proud of his nephew's compassionate spirit.

"Quit eating like an animal. It's disgusting." But of course, he had to go and ruin it with his usual cynical nature.

"Who're you calling an animal, you arrogant prick?!" Apparently, having found a place to stay and a plate of warm food, Kyo was content to drop the innocent act around him finally. He hadn't bought the sweet and pathetic boy act when they had first been introduced, and he found that he liked this spunky version quite a bit more.

"A word like 'arrogant', huh? Awfully big word for someone with manners befitting a barnyard."

The chair screeched back, and Shigure winced at the damage being done to his precious dining room. "Why you—!"

"Just shut up and eat, idiot."

And to probably everyone's surprise, Kyo's mouth clicked shut with a scowl, murderous intent tinted crimson eyes with a dangerous light. But Yuki got what he'd intended for – Kyo didn't speak for the rest of dinner, too focused on his food to pay any other attention.

"I don't know what your intentions are, but I'm on to you."

The steadily annoying tapping of the bare foot against the windowframe ceased for a moment in thought. "You would think that to be 'on to someone' you'd need to know something about them."

Settling both hands composedly in his lap – fingers determinedly straight to prevent them from unconsciously twitching – Yuki made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and glanced away from the boy perched on the open windowsill to the cracking white paint of a ceiling that hadn't seen new paint in nearly ten years. If only the house itself would age as gracefully as its owner, they wouldn't have to worry about such nuisances. "Look – I said I don't know what you want from us. I get that you're secretive and whatnot. Fine. I don't need, or want, to hear your life story. Just..." he exhaled deeply, letting his head roll back to the other teen. As much as he looked like he was moments from spitting rage again, he had his attention. That was definitely a start. "As long as you're living with us, we should try to be on better terms. Otherwise it might make Shigure suspicious."

"Hn."

It wasn't quite the heartfelt apology and birth of a new friendship that he had optimistically hoped for. Hell, he could only judge it as a term of acquiesce because teen hadn't lunged to attack him. Maybe he was being too naïve about the situation, but he couldn't see why the damned redhead needed to be so defensive about everything. It was getting old rather quick.

Kyo stiffened suddenly, and a glossy look came over his eyes as though he was hearing something that Yuki couldn't. The look was gone almost as soon as it came, and Kyo stood to a crouch, looking out into the dark and foggy forest intently.

"I'm going out for a while. Don't wait up."

"But it's going to rain again!" Yuki hissed exasperatedly. But Kyo was already through the window, and was out of view by the time Yuki had lurched to his feet. He barely caught the red ghost of his sweatshirt disappearing between two pale trees before all that was left was the night, damp and cold.

He didn't wait up, and that night he dreamed of the dark, the rain, and a pair of blood red eyes watching him from the trees.

Third Un-edited AN: sorry for the long wait. It's been forever, I know. Also, Teaching Patience [my Avatar fic] is in process as we speak, so the chapter should be up within a month if not a few weeks. Yup. So.

Chyea. This is fun.

I think I like these little random AN's.

Except of course when they're in the middle of the chapter [because that's really distracting and annoying].

So yeah.

Review!!