A/N: Sorry for the wait on this! This is part 2 of what I anticipate to be 4. I will mention that this chapter does contain mature content. Anyway, enjoy!

**********November 30, 2009**********

"Does it hurt?" Saruhiko asked as Misaki admired the new mark below his collarbone in the mirror. He had done it; he'd shaken hands with Mikoto with his right hand engulfed with his Aura. He'd been accepted into the Red Clan, and no sooner had the HOMRA insignia appeared on his chest, indicating that he and Saruhiko were now bonded as partners.

"Nope," Misaki lied. It did sting a bit, since it was after all, a burn. But he wasn't about to admit it.

He had decided after his first day that he would no longer allow anyone else to see his pain, whether physical or emotional. He was part of HOMRA now, and if it was to be accepted, he needed to be strong. Part of that strength would be leaving his past behind. During his second night here, he had cried himself to sleep. He felt the sting of his mother's words and her abandonment. He'd woken up and concluded that he couldn't worry about it anymore, and he did everything in his power to lock it deep away inside himself, far from prying eyes and out of mind. It was done, over, and time to leave it where it belonged: in the past. His new life had begun the moment Mikoto had congratulated him on becoming a member of HOMRA. He would not let these people realize the old Misaki, the weak Misaki. He was a new person now; he had to be.

He stared at his appearance in the mirror. His black eye had nearly receded, and the cut had healed significantly. He glared into his own eyes and willed every ounce of pain displayed to disappear. Even if it were there, he would never again show it. This was the way it had to be. He could not be the weak little kid again if he ever hoped to find a place to belong. Nobody wanted anything to do with a frail, pathetic child.

"What's up?" Saruhiko asked as he continued to stare into the mirror.

"Nothing, let's go downstairs," he said boldly. Taking one last excited peek at his insignia.

"Yata-chan, where's your sling?" Izumo questioned as the pair entered the bar.

"I ditched it," he said, hopping up onto one of the bar stools. Saruhiko shook his head at his new partner. "It's funny that you guys worry so much," Misaki said, brushing Izumo off.

"You know what's not funny? Shoulder instability, Yata-kun. You want to be part of this group and play with the big boys, you need to learn how to take care of yourself, now go get it." Izumo ordered, igniting his Aura from his left hand.

Misaki decided that he was not to be tested, since Mikoto had recently put a hole in one of the bedroom walls. He had learned quite quickly that Izumo was very protective of this place, and any sort of destruction to it made him angrier than a pack of bulls in a red room. "Fine, fine," he muttered, jumping down from his stool and heading back upstairs.

It had already been five days since the injury had occurred, and besides, he wanted to display his new insignia below is collarbone. He wrapped the sling around his neck and for good measure, pulled his sweater over his head and let his left sleeve hanging empty. He would not appear weak.

"No need to show off, Yata-chan, we've all got it," Izumo said to the red head as he returned to the bar with a scowl on his face.

"Quit calling me that," Misaki protested, slamming his fist into the bar top.

"But you're oh-so-adorable with that unhinged attitude of yours. And don't hit my bar! It was imported –"

"I know, all the way from England. I'm sorry, alright?"

Saruhiko was chuckling beside him.

"You need to take better care of yourself, Yata-chan, you know part of what we do here is fighting." Izumo continued on the subject.

"I know! I put the stupid sling on, what else do you want?" He yelled irritably.

"What I meant was that you need to look after yourself in general, for example eating more," Izumo said, grinning. He picked up two plates, each containing a massive burger and fries and put them in front of the two teens. "You two Fushimi-kun. You disappear from view when you turn sideways."

Saruhiko clicked his tongue and turned his head away, sighing.

"Take it easy on them, Kusanagi-san, they're still kids," Totsuka said with his usual kind smile.

"Who are you calling kids," Misaki shot back.

"Hey now, Totsuka-kun is standing up for you! Calm yourself, Yata-chan," Izumo said.

Misaki glared at Izumo, but gave up, and as his expression returned to neutral, he picked up his burger and began stuffing his face.

**********December 29, 2009**********

Misaki awoke early that morning, much earlier than he would have liked. Light poured in through the blinds, and after glancing at the time, which read 7:37, he rolled onto his left side to face the wall, only to be greeted by a dull ache in his shoulder. Silently cursing the aging injury, he rolled back onto his back, laying his right forearm across his eyes to block the light. He glanced to his right to ensure that Saruhiko was still sound asleep in the bed across the room before massaging his shoulder in attempt to ease the discomfort. Izumo was probably right, he did need to be more wary of it. But that meant admitting he was weak, even to himself.

Moments later, his full bladder lured him out of bed and he headed for the washroom, knowing that if he didn't get up now, there was no way he'd get back to sleep. The halls were completely dark, and upon returning to his room, he found it to be very bright. How annoying.

He shut the door quietly, and glanced down at Saruhiko to ensure he was still asleep. He looked quite different without his glasses, or perhaps it was the fact that his hair, which usually hung into his eyes, was pulled off of his forehead. Then he noticed something worthy of much greater concern. It took him a second to realize what he was seeing, but as he comprehended it, he stared dumbfounded, grateful that Saruhiko was asleep. His friend's left wrist was covered with angry red cuts, some scabbed, and some rather fresh looking. The sight made him sick to his stomach, and he now realized why Saruhiko always wore wristbands or long sleeved shirts.

Misaki climbed back into his bed, and despite the throbbing in his shoulder, rolled onto it and stared straight at the wall. He had heard of self-injury before, but never witnessed it first hand and he definitely did not understand it. He realized then that despite Saruhiko's initial concern for him, he had never asked his partner about himself, granted they had only known each other for a short time.

But why would he want to hurt himself? Why would anyone do such a thing? It seemed so stupid to him.

But there was so much he didn't understand…

**********October 18th 2010**********

"Mikoto-san, can I try a cigarette?" Misaki asked bravely after watching in awe as Mikoto lit his cigarette with his Aura. He had seen his King do it a thousand times, but it just looked so damn cool on the man. He wanted to try it himself.

"No you may not, Yata-chan," Izumo said, butting in. "Mikoto, you shouldn't smoke around the kids. Not only are you a bad influence on them, but second hand smoke kills."

Misaki watched Izumo with extreme contempt. It wasn't very often that Misaki got to talk alone with Mikoto, and here Izumo was, ruining it for him.

"Fine, I'll go outside," Mikoto said, getting up off his stool.

"I don't mind!" Misaki insisted, silently pleading with Mikoto to stay.

"Uh?" Anna said quietly from across the room. Everyone fell silent to watch her. She was obviously seeing something. "He's in trouble," she said indecisively.

"Who is it, Anna?" Izumo asked.

But Misaki knew; there was only one person not present in the bar at the moment.

"Saruhiko!" Misaki yelled, dumping his stool on the ground.

"Mm," Anna confirmed.

"Where?" Misaki demanded.

She closed her eyes, deep in thought.

"COME ON!" He commanded.

"Relax, Yata-chan," Izumo said with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"We don't have all day!"

"Will you shut up!?" Izumo yelled at Misaki, his eyes still on Anna.

"Quiet, both of you," Mikoto said calmly, silencing the room. Misaki stared dumbfounded, but obeyed.

"The old warehouse," she finally said.

Misaki lead the way on his skateboard, closely followed by Izumo, Mikoto, Chitose, Fujishima, Kamamoto, and Bando as he wound through the side streets. His position as HOMRA's vanguard had made him an expert at seeking out the enemy; it had become second nature to him. But this time was different. His heart raced. What had Saruhiko done? And why hadn't he called? Had he gone out to accomplish a mission alone? Or had he been ambushed? Why would anyone want to hurt Saruhiko? He didn't have any enemies, at least not to Misaki's knowledge.

As they approached the door to the warehouse, Misaki could hear voices coming from inside.

"Shh," he said, hushing his comrades as they followed behind him. He pressed his body against the wall. The door was open, and he moved closer to hear what was going on.

"You really did a number on him. What should we do with him?" The voice sounded young but raspy.

"Should we leave him here?" A second, older sounding man asked.

"Nah, we should dump him on HOMRA's doorstep in the middle of the night. Teach them to mess with us," A third man said, laughing.

Misaki's blood seethed with anger. There were at least three of them, and they all sounded like adults. How dare they attack Saruhiko with those odds; he was just a kid, after all.

"We should take him back with us and keep him as a prisoner, ordering HOMRA to disband. We could cut off his fingers and mail them to them each week they don't obey," a fourth, more sadistic sounding man said.

"We'd be screwed if they found us. I don't mind taking them down one at a time, but together they're a scary bunch. Especially that Mikoto guy."

"Maybe we should just kill him then. It will get the point across."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

"But where's the fun in that?" The sadistic man asked callously.

"Shut up. Let's just kill him and dump the body," the oldest sounding man said.

"LIKE HELL!" Misaki yelled, wailing the door open and throwing himself at the closest man. The others were close behind him, and soon the warehouse was ignited with red.

"Be careful! These look like gun powder barrels!" Izumo cried. "Misaki, find Fushimi!"

"Right," Misaki said, but he wasn't about to let the bastards who did this off that easily. He launched his ignited baseball bat straight at the youngest looking man, nailing him in the back of the head as he tried to make his escape. He found Fushimi lying on his stomach on the ground.

As he knelt down, he felt something warm and sticky on his knees and quickly concluded that it was blood. He grasped his friend's shoulder and rolled him over into his lap. He gasped at what he saw and felt his stomach turn. Saruhiko's glasses were broken and both of his eyes were swollen and blackened. His right eye looked as though it had shards of glass in it and was bleeding along with his nose, his lip and his temple. Misaki looked down his body and saw blood seeping from his midsection. He looked as though he had been stabbed at least twice. Instinctively, Misaki placed his fingers on Saruhiko's neck to check for a pulse, and held his ear over his friend's face. He was relieved to hear shallow breathing.

"KUSANAGI-SAN!" Misaki bellowed.

"A little busy, Yata-chan," he replied, knocking a man out with an elbow to the face. There were more men present now, but the Red Clan seemed to have things under control.

"Saru!" He cried, hoping to wake his friend up. There was no response.

Mikoto looked over to where Misaki was holding his friend, close to tears. He looped his arm in a circle around his head, and the men in the warehouse all came crashing to the ground, defeated.

"You could have tried that a little sooner, Mikoto," Izumo said. "How's Fushimi?"

"He's breathing, but he won't wake up," Yata said frantically. "I think he's been stabbed."

Izumo and Mikoto kneeled beside Misaki, then the pair exchanged glances, and Izumo nodded.

"Go back to the bar, Yata-chan," he said, lifting Saruhiko easily off the ground.

"What! No I –"

But a hand clamped down on his shoulder, and he turned to see Mikoto standing over him. "This will look suspicious enough. Our clan can't simply gather in the waiting room at the hospital. Izumo will take care of him."

Misaki looked up at Mikoto, and simply nodded. If anyone else had told him he couldn't go with Saruhiko, he would have lost it. But being that it was Mikoto, he obediently followed his King back to their headquarters. Totsuka had been left in charge of the bar, and was half way through his lively greeting when he saw the looks on their faces.

Misaki took a seat towards the end of the bar and rested his head on his folded arms in front of him. He would not break down and he would not cry. His clan knew he was worried, but that was as far as he would allow it to go. With a practiced hardened expression, he stared straight ahead of him, glaring at his reflection in the mirror behind the stack of wine glasses. He should never have let Saruhiko leave alone that morning. If only he had gone with him.

He looked up as someone took the seat next to him, and realized it was Mikoto. Something about being in this man's presence puzzled him. He felt relaxed and yet anxious at the same time. It made him nervous, but in a totally different way. Perhaps he felt safe around him. No, it was more than that, but Misaki couldn't quite put his finger on it. He stared in amazement and awe at every word that escaped Mikoto's mouth. He admired him deeply, and perhaps it was that he wanted nothing more than to be like him. His aura of self-confidence radiated like no other. He wished more than anything that he could be that strong. He knew after all, it was his strength that ultimately defined him. Mikoto had said it himself.

"He'll be ok," Mikoto said simply.

"Yeah, stupid Saru," Misaki said brashly.

Mikoto turned his head quickly, but then looked away. It was though he had set out to say something, but then thought better of it. Likely because he knew the state of mind that Misaki was in.

"Totsuka, can I have a drink?" Mikoto asked the replacement bartender.

"Sure, what'll it be? You know I don't mix as well as Kusanagi-san," he smiled, but managed to keep his manner serious.

"Shots. You can't screw those up."

"Sure."

Misaki watched with his head in his arms as Totsuka poured 3 shots of brown liquid. He was surprised when Mikoto slid one to him, picked up his own, and held it out to him.

"What?" Misaki said, lifting his head and staring at the shot in confusion.

"Cheers," Mikoto said.

Misaki continued to stare at Mikoto, who only waited seconds before downing the shot on his own. He picked up the second one and again held it out to Misaki, who caught on this time. He tapped the small glass against Mikoto's, and raised it to his lips and swallowed like he'd seen the older members do so many times. The liquid burned his mouth and throat and wasn't even remotely appealing. He realized that the expression on his face probably said it all. But as the burning continued, the pain lessened, and the pressure in his head loosened.

"Here," Totsuka said, placing a glass in front of him and filling it with Cola from the hose. "Giving the kid tequila shots," he muttered, shaking his head.

Misaki drank from the glass, chasing the awful tasting liquid down. The burning decreased, but the feeling in his head swelled. He lay his head back down in his arms and glanced forward again. The thrill of the shot was gone, and the reality of the situation returned. He turned his head away from Mikoto and Totsuka, staring out the window and wondering how long it would be till Izumo returned.

Second later, Totsuka piped up. "Ahhh Mikoto! You're hopeless! Fine!" He turned away and poured two more shots, placing them in front of Mikoto. "But if Izumo finds out, it's your problem, not mine." Even when angry, Totsuka still seemed so kind and gentle. It was a mark that he alone possessed among the HOMRA members. Mikoto slid one of the shots to Misaki and held his out again.

"What are we toasting to?" Misaki asked. It didn't seem appropriate, despite the fact that he wanted the shot.

"Fushimi's safe return," Mikoto said boringly.

Misaki forced a half smile, then tapped the glass against Mikoto's once more and poured the shot down his throat. The burning ensued again, though with the expectation and anticipation, it wasn't nearly as painful, and he welcomed the fiery drink. He put the glass down and let out a deep sigh as though he'd been holding it in for days.

"Relax," Mikoto said, placing a hand on Misaki's shoulder. He remained there only briefly before getting up and taking his seat on his usual couch where Anna quickly joined him.

"Anna, you should be in bed," Totsuka said.

"Not until Kusanagi-san returns," she insisted.

"I'm not sure when that'll be…" Totsuka replied, giving her a sympathetic smile.

"Then I'm staying up!" She said defiantly.

"So am I," Misaki grunted, his head now feeling slightly fuzzy from the alcohol.

Totsuka sighed, "I guess I better make a pot of coffee."

The sky had just begun to turn an indigo blue when the lock finally clicked at the front door. Misaki, who had been dozing with his head on the bar sat bolt upright and jumped off of his seat. He was relieved when he saw two silhouettes instead of just one, but Totsuka beat him to the door to help Izumo get Saruhiko to the couch, which Mikoto quickly lifted a sleeping Anna off of. Misaki stared wide-eyed at his friend as he was lifted onto the couch. He looked absolutely terrible.

Both his eyes were black and swollen almost shut and he had a bandage wrapped around his head holding a large piece of gauze to his right temple, making a mess of his normally pristine dark hair. Though he wore a long sleeved shirt, Misaki could see bandages extending down his right arm and also wrapped around his abdomen. Finally, his right leg was held in a long leg brace covering most of the limb, which he assumed meant it was broken.

"Fushimi-kun, are you alright?" Totsuka asked, tucking a pillow under Saruhiko's head.

"Mmmm," Saruhiko mumbled incoherently.

"He's in pretty rough shape right now, but he escaped what could have much more serious injury," Izumo said, pulling a blanket over Saruhiko's body. "Broken leg, four stab wounds, two to the abdomen and two to the right arm, and a pretty severe concussion. None of the stab wounds hit vital organs, but the one to his shoulder could be potentially problematic. He's got lots of cuts and bruises. I'm surprised they let him leave so quickly." Izumo made eye contact with Mikoto and held his glance for a moment. They always seemed to know what the other was thinking.

Misaki knelt down on the floor at his friend's side, scared stiff. He had no idea what to do or how to treat Saruhiko. He settled for just watching the rise and fall of his chest.

"Have you guys been up all this time?" Izumo asked.

"Yep," Totsuka said, smiling. He leaned over and pulled the blanket up to Saruhiko's chin and tucked him in like a child. "You should get some sleep, Kusanagi-san."

"So should you. We all should," Izumo said. "I'm going to let Fushimi sleep here since I don't want to drag him up the stairs."

"I don't mind staying up to watch him," Totsuka offered.

"I'll sleep down here," Misaki cut in. "I can sleep on the floor."

Izumo exchanged worried glances with Totsuka, but finally agreed.

Misaki darted upstairs and dragged all of his bedding downstairs and laid it out on a mat that Izumo had set down for him. All of the others had gone upstairs.

"Here, I'll leave these with you for now," Izumo said, handing Misaki a bottle of pills. "If he wakes up in the next little while, have him take one."

"Are you hungry? Can I get you anything, Yata-chan?"

"No thanks," he said quietly. He had no appetite whatsoever.

"There's a pitcher of water on the bar. You know where to find everything else. Come wake me if you need me."

"Thanks," he said. He realized he probably should have been more grateful, but he was too worried to think straight.

"Goodnight," Izumo said, heading towards the stairs.

"Night," Misaki mumbled.

Izumo turned the light off as he left, but there was enough light now drifting in from outside for Misaki to see outlines around the room, and as his vision began to adjust, he could see quite well. As the shifting around upstairs ceased, he could hear only the sound of Saruhiko's pained breathing.

"Misaki?" A weak voice whispered.

"Saru? Are you awake?" He whispered.

"Ye-ah," he said faintly.

"How do you feel?" He sat up and looked at his friend.

"Kind of… like I… got hit… by a bus," he said painfully but good naturedly. His words were accompanied with sharp gasps and an unsteady breathing pattern.

"Kusanagi-san gave me these pills for you, do you want one?" Misaki offered.

"No," he said stubbornly. Even the one simple word sounded very forced. Misaki wasn't sure what to do. He hated the feeling of weakness, but it made this even harder to witness.

"Did I wake you up? I'm sorry."

"No… I was awake… the whole time. Didn't want… to talk… to anyone."

"You sound awful Saru," Misaki said nervously. "You shouldn't be talking."

"I'm… ok," he said, but the last word came out very painfully, and Misaki's heart wrenched for his friend.

"No you're not," he finally burst out. "You need to rest. Now quit talking."

"Misaki…"

"And don't call me that!" He said, frustrated. He wasn't angry with his friend; he was upset because he could hardly bear to see him like this, knowing that he couldn't do anything for him.

Misaki could see Saruhiko's face in the dark, and noted that he wore his old mischievous grin that was usually present on his face while hassling his partner. Misaki let out a soft, relieved sigh. It was still Saru.

"My glasses…" Saruhiko muttered.

"They're broken, Saru," Misaki said regrettably.

"I thought so," he said quietly.

As far as Misaki knew, Saruhiko couldn't see well at all without them. He always went straight for them the minute he woke up.

"We can get you new ones," Misaki said in a comforting manner.

"I have… another pair… upstairs," he said. His voice was so frail. It was difficult to listen to.

"Where? I'll go get them," Misaki offered.

"In my… top drawer. Wait – "

"It's fine," Misaki cut him off, jumping off the ground and running up the stairs. Part of him wanted to get as far from Saruhiko as he possibly could, but the rest of him knew he couldn't leave him alone. It was so hard to see him like this.

He turned the light on in their room and opened Saruhiko's top drawer. He had to shift around some clothing before he found the black glasses case. Under the case he noticed something else of interest. A small white box sat on the very bottom of the drawer and Misaki battled the urge to open it. What caught his attention further however, was the smear of red on the side of the box. It looked like blood. A part of him knew what this box held before he even opened it. A silver bloodstained razor blade sat atop a pile of white tissue. Misaki sighed, closing the box. He was reminded of the morning he had first seen the cuts on Saruhiko's arm. He hadn't thought about it much since then, but he couldn't help feeling curious about it now. Was he still doing it? Had he been doing it since then? When had it started? And most of all, why?

But he knew that tonight was not the night.

He laid the clothing back over the box so it appeared as it had before he'd disturbed it, then closed the drawer and turned the light off. He hurried back down the stairs and sat on his makeshift bed.

"Here," he said, taking the glasses out of their case and holding them out to his friend.

"Thanks," Saruhiko said, pushing them up his nose with his left hand. His eyes were so swollen that Misaki doubted that he could see much anyway.

Misaki simply watched his friend's pained expression. He wanted to ask him so many questions right now. He wanted to tell him he was an idiot for leaving the bar alone. He wanted to destroy the people who had hurt him. And yet, he wanted to comfort Saru, but he had no idea how. He wanted to take all the pain away. He'd never felt so close to someone before, and so he'd never cared enough to have these feelings. He'd never known much in the way of sympathy, and so far, he hated it. He felt his chest tighten anxiously.

"Misaki… quit worrying… so much… It doesn't… suit you," Saruhiko said, forcing each word out.

Misaki stared for a moment longer, and then turned away. "You're an idiot, you know that?" He said rudely.

"That's more… like it…" Saru said, smiling.

"Here, take this and go to sleep," Misaki ordered, forcing open the childproof lock on the bottle and putting one of the pills in Saruhiko's hand. "And quit looking at me like that. Give me those!" Misaki pulled Saruhiko's glasses off before he could do anything about it. "You're supposed to be sleeping."

Saruhiko took the pill as ordered, but continued to grin at Misaki until his eyes closed. Misaki watched his breathing pattern even out and concluded that he was asleep.

Stupid Saru, he thought to himself as he lay down and pulled his blankets over his shoulders. He kept himself awake listening to Saruhiko's breathing. It was a constant reminder that his best friend was still with him, and he desperately needed it right now. He hadn't realized just how close they were and how much he needed him until he'd almost lost him. He was the first real friend that he had ever had, and the first person he'd ever really trusted. He wasn't sure where he would have been without him.

**********October 21, 2010**********

It was two days before Saruhiko fully regained consciousness again. It turned out the analgesic he was given was unprecedentedly strong. Izumo kept the bar closed under the pretense of renovations, but the members of HOMRA knew it was solely for their benefit. Nobody had slept much the day after the warehouse raid, and Saruhiko was still confined to the couch for the most part. Misaki hadn't left Saruhiko's side and had literally worried himself sick, though he refused to admit just how worried he really was. He was coughing and sniffling ceaselessly, and despite Izumo's insistence that he would make Saruhiko sick as well, he stubbornly refused to relocate, and continued to lie on the floor next to his box of tissues and bottle of expired cough syrup.

"I'm running out to the store," Izumo informed him, pulling his jacket on and wedging a cigarette between his lips, "want anything?"

"No," he grumbled, rolling over to face away from Izumo.

"K well, no one else is here so call me if you need anything."

Misaki simply grunted, impatiently awaiting Izumo's departure. He was extremely irritable in his ill state, and simply wanted to be left alone. He heard the lock on the door click and sighed to himself. The quiet, only interrupted by Saruhiko's ragged breathing, was soothing. Lying down however, only made his nose feel more congested. He tried lying on his back, on his side, even on his stomach, but nothing helped. Frustrated, he sat up and blew his nose, tossing the tissue onto the mountain beside him.

"Not feeling so hot, Misaki?"

The voice came from above him.

"Saru?" He exclaimed, turning to face his friend. His eyes were no longer swollen, but they remained very blackened. The stillness of his friend's body bothered him, as obviously Saruhiko was taking great care not to move. His stomach wrenched for his partner.

"Hey," he said, still sounding very weak, but his sentences weren't painfully broken anymore.

"Why are you awake? You've been out of it for two days!"

"I assume because someone forgot my afternoon dose of meds," he smiled.

Misaki realized he was right. He was supposed to wake Saruhiko and have him take the drugs over two hours ago. He leaned over and dug out the bottle from beneath his pillow.

"Here, I better not touch it. You don't want this cold."

"I'm ok for now, as long as I don't move. I don't wanna be stoned again just yet."

"…ok then," Misaki said worriedly. "You ok? Kusanagi-san just left, but he'll make something for dinner later."

"Quit worrying so much, Misaki," Saruhiko teased.

"Stop calling me that." He said, but there wasn't much fight left in him. He was utterly exhausted. He hadn't slept much, and this cold was definitely getting the better of him. "Saru, what happened to you?" He'd wanted to ask him that since he returned from the hospital, but he didn't have it in him the first night, and he'd been essentially unconscious since then.

Saruhiko was silent. Perhaps he didn't remember. "I'm not really sure," he finally said. Misaki watched him, but Saruhiko averted his gaze and stared at the ceiling. "From what I remember, they grabbed me and dragged me in there. They knew I was with HOMRA for some reason. You saw the result of what happened after that."

"You don't know who they were?" Misaki asked curiously. He'd been wanting to ask for so long, yet now he was disappointed by the lack of answers, despite the fact that he had known Saruhiko might not have known anything.

"No," he said quietly. He sounded like the subject had killed his mood, not that Misaki blamed him for it.

"Can I ask you something else?" Misaki began.

"Uh, sure," Saruhiko said hesitantly. He seemed almost nervous, which was very unlike him. Misaki dismissed this and pressed on.

"What brought you to HOMRA?"

Saruhiko stared at Misaki, looking quite surprised. In the time they'd known each other, they had never discussed their pasts. Misaki had never even really thought about it. If he was completely honest with himself, Misaki never did much in the way of thinking until he was forced to, like now, for example. He had decided long ago that he would do what he could to distance himself from his feelings, because feelings made you a weak person.

"I didn't really have anywhere else to go," Saruhiko said, once again, looking away from Misaki.

Misaki stared at him. "Care to elaborate?" He said insensitively.

Saruhiko stared at Misaki in slight disbelief, like he was surprised that he was bringing this subject up now.

"Are you getting sentimental, Misaki?" Saruhiko said, smiling.

"Just answer the damn question," he replied impatiently.

"I grew up in an orphanage," Saruhiko finally said with a completely straight face.

"Really?" Misaki said, sniffling and reaching for a tissue.

"Come on, its not that sad," Saruhiko teased.

"Shut up," he said, blowing his nose and adding to the pile. "So you left? Kusanagi-san didn't adopt you did he?"

"No," Saruhiko laughed. "I left the day I turned sixteen. Kusanagi-san saw me sitting on the same street corner day after day and invited me in. Mikoto was reluctant at first, but eventually he agreed to let me stay."

Misaki wasn't sure what to say. He was curious, but unprepared for the answer. How had he never asked this before? Sure, he'd been kicked out of his house, but Saruhiko had never had a real home.

"What about you? What really happened that night Kusanagi-san brought you in?" Saruhiko asked seriously.

"What? You don't know?" Misaki said, caught off guard. He assumed everyone knew.

"Mikoto-san forbade us from asking you questions about that night," Saruhiko said, a hint of dislike in his voice.

"Oh," Misaki said in disbelief. He never really thought about the fact that no one had asked him about that night, he just assumed that Mikoto had told everyone. He felt an overwhelming sense of respect for Mikoto beyond the admiration he already held for the man. He found himself smiling.

"So? Spill it!" Saruhiko said.

"I got in a fight with my dad. Then my mom threw me out," Misaki admitted. It felt weird hearing the words out of his own mouth for the first time. The last person he'd told was Mikoto, and he had more or less guessed what had happened.

"I see. What did you fight about?" Saruhiko asked.

"I don't know. Something stupid." It was Misaki's turn to look away. He felt uncomfortable talking about this. The discomfort didn't have anything to do with Saruhiko; he'd just never come out and told anyone like this before.

"Did you fight with him often?"

"You could say that," Misaki said, now twirling a loose thread from his blanket around his finger.

Saruhiko continued to stare at him, studying him knowingly. They were both silent for what felt like far too long for a normal conversation.

Finally Saruhiko spoke again. "What made you stay?"

"Do you really want to know?" Misaki asked with a now overwhelming urge to tell Saruhiko his reasons now that the topic of his parents was past.

Saruhiko stared at him questioningly.

"I wanted a fresh start somewhere I didn't have to feel so pathetic."

"Kind of contradictory considering the manner they found you in," Saruhiko blatantly pointed out.

"I know. And I still felt it at first, but I wanted to prove to everyone that I wasn't weak. I wanted to prove to myself that I was stronger than…" Misaki almost spoke of his parents again, but he decided against it.

"Than what?" Saruhiko asked.

"Than I looked," he said stupidly. Saruhiko's eyes lingered on him for a moment, but then looked away. Misaki was thankful that he didn't pursue.

"There's more though," Misaki said, feeling quite generous with his thoughts at the moment, beyond what he'd ever expected of himself. "I wanted somewhere –"

"You could belong?" Saruhiko cut in.

"Yeah," Misaki said, puzzled, looking Saruhiko in the eye.

"Me too," Saruhiko said.

They both smiled in an understanding manner. They had shared a bond since Misaki had arrived, but it was more than just an assigned partnership; it was a bond of friendship.

Misaki grinned to himself, but despite the warmth he felt in his gut at the moment, there was still something unsettling, and it was embodied in a little white box hidden in Saruhiko's top drawer.

"Well, you're here now, and you have people who care about you," Saruhiko said, rolling onto his back with a disgruntled cry.

Misaki was instantly distracted from his thoughts. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Saruhiko said. "Are you?" The two made eye contact.

"Yeah."

"Hey," Misaki began, feeling rather awkward; "you know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

Saruhiko looked up at his friend. "Thanks, Misaki. You too."

Misaki's eyes glanced briefly over Saruhiko's left wrist, only to find that it was indeed covered. He wanted to bring it up so badly, but he didn't know how. Something in his chest sank as the lock clicked in the front door, and Izumo and Totsuka clambered inside, soaking wet. He'd missed his chance… again.

"It's disgusting out there!" Izumo exclaimed.

"Fushimi-kun, you're awake. How are you?" Totsuka asked, pulling his jacket off and hanging it over the back of the chair.

"I've been better," he said quietly. His voice had resumed its weak tone, and the expression on his face displayed his pain.

"Here kids, I come bearing provisions," Izumo said, dropping a paper bag into Misaki's lap. "And mom's making you guys soup," handing his other bag off to Totsuka who smiled at them.

"Am I now?" Totsuka laughed.

Misaki dug into the bag and found new cold medicine, over the counter painkillers, various sizes of bandages, and to his disbelief, chocolate bars. Was the man out of his mind? Did he think they were women or something? Nevertheless, he appreciated the act of kindness. He'd never felt so much like part of a family before. For the first time in what felt like forever, he knew everything would be ok.

Thanks for reading! Please review and let me know what you thought! Reviews encourage me to write faster ;)