Disclaimer: I do not own Air Gear nor any of the characters. This is a work of not for profit fanfiction.

Chapter 2

When did all the years melt away?

I remember this emotion as though I never lost it. A swelling of lust and love in my chest so powerful I feel like it will choke me, burst out of my body and consume the entire world. I push him harder into the wall, knee between his slender thighs out of instinct. His hands grip my lower back, pulling me closer to him as our lips lock, his hot mouth open to my breath and tongue. Just to hold him again, to let my hands push up the back of his shirt, run up the soft, heated skin of his back... it pulls my whole torn world back together.

This was always how it was between us, this passion, this heat. Not even the years and all this torment has sullied it. It's so much stronger, both Agito and Akito here with me, the patch hanging limply in my hand from where I had slipped it off. I feel it in the kiss, the tenderness of Akito, the violent passion of Agito. It's a heady mix and it intoxicates me, makes my head spin and my body light. I broke my own heart walking away from them, but I was too pathetic to stay and fight by their side. And now so much time has passed, the years lost and irretrievable, all because I was too much of a fucking coward to look for him. I feared rejection, hatred; the unbridled anger of the Fang King tearing me apart.

I was a fool. I needed him, and was too stubborn and shamed to admit it. I struggled by for years, blocking out both the nightmarish memories of that day and the happiness of what came before it. All this time, in all those countries... I was never really living. I realise that now I remember what it feels like to be alive. I remember this energy in my veins, so aware of the beating of my heart. All it took was to have him in my arms the way I do now, pressing him back to the wall, feeling him gasp in desire at my bodily strength. I can't stop kissing him, don't want to. Don't want to forget, once again, what it feels like to live. I listen to him; every noise, delight in every touch. A hand to his cheek it's all I can do to hold myself back from taking him right here, from bursting into tears, from holding him so hard I'd be scared of crushing him...

My hand is quick over his mouth as there is a heavy banging on the door, fading lust pounding in my ears as I reach back for the flick knife in my back pocket. I feel his breath on my fingers as he exhales through his nose, and I realise as I bring the blade free that I'm pressing too hard in my worry, his head into the wall. My lips tingle from the lust-rough contact and brings me back to the reality of who's here with me. This is no defenceless pawn. I pull my hand back from his mouth regretfully, having acted on survival instinct alone. As a kid alone in a foreign country I had quickly learned the importance of a well handled blade, for intimidation if nothing else. People have sought me out; asked too many questions, threatened my anonymity. It'd be a lie to say I haven't had blood on my hands since I left this place. I've grown up... too much. I've changed more than I ever thought I could, seen so many things, terrible things, that I wonder if I can ever be the carefree boy with the big heart I once was.

'Akito, are you in there? Are you okay? I heard something.'

He stands there still frozen against the wall even though my hand now rests softly on his chest, mouth free. Looking to him I see both his eyes staring out into the room, dazed. He hadn't expected it to end so quickly, and with the moment lost his body is stuck waiting for someone to take control.

I make the move for him, covering his right eye, the sharks eye, with the tips of my fingers, pressing the delicate lid closed. A moment later and Akito looks at me with a soft smile, reaching down with both hands, one over the knife as he pushes it down with the shake of his head, the other taking the eyepatch from my hand, shoving it haphazardly onto his head, over his hair, making it stick up awkwardly.

'Akito? I saw you come in with someone, I'm going to call the police...' The male voice continues, strong and definite.

Akito quickens his pace to the front door, unlocking it and pulling it open. The last thing we need here is the police. I don't doubt that Agito has kept them both off the radar; Kaito is dead, Akira gone, and who knows how far the Storm King's reach now extends.

'Mr Takihara, there's really no need for that. I'm only here with a friend.' Akito says brightly, slightly breathless as he leans on the open door, blocking most of the room from view.

I lean back against the wall, knife still in my hands but behind me back, legs shaky as the buzz of desire continues to tremble and die within my blood. Reality is cruel and I was brought back to it too sharply. My reactions had been enough to confirm it, the blade so quick into my hand. It never used to be like this. But this is what it is, I am here, in this tiny apartment which looks nothing like my old teenage bedroom. The back I'm looking back is one of a young man, not the tiny teenager I remember.

This can't happen like this. I left him. I walked out and this is not he way to make it up to him, by taking advantage of his feelings at the first opportunity. He, they, would give me anything I wanted. I know what it's like to feel lonely, probably more than they as they've always got each other, and I know how easy it would be to cling to what we had, pretend like what happened doesn't matter. But it does. Mistakes can't be willed away. I click the knife shut one handed, pushing it back into my jeans pocket. When I look up I find a grey haired man sneaking a look around the open door, sceptical eyes fixing on me. He probably thinks I look older than I am, and Akito younger than he is.

'Are you sure everything's okay?' He asks, looking back down to Akito, who I know my the plumpness of his cheek is smiling wide. That'll be enough to disarm the old man. I don't know a person alive who couldn't be bought by that sweet smile. 'You're a good boy and there's so much trouble around...'

'I'm fine,' he says, reaching out, touching the man's arm, keeping his attention on him and not me, 'really, my... friend... and I haven't seen each other for a while.'

'Oh... oh...' the old man says, looking at me in a new light, no less distrustful, but with a more humorous glint in knowing what he's walked into. 'Well, I'm interrupting then. I do apologise.'

'There's no need,' Akito replies, slowly closing the door on the man, the smile having worked it's usual charm, 'thank you for your concern.'

He shuts the door, leaning both his hands flat on it, head bowing. I see his shoulders sag. I can only watch, still leaning up against the wall, too scared to breathe let alone move. Yes I was kissing him less then five minutes ago, but I can feel it in the air that everything has changed now the passion has faded. I look at him, at how small and fragile he looks leaning up against the door this way, inked arms slender, whole body almost painfully slight. Dark hair falls over his face until I can see only the pink plumpness of his bottom lip. I want to gather him up in my arms, hold him close, safe, and promise him that I wont ever leave again. How can I leave him so alone in this cold, unforgiving city? He sighs, and I watch his mouth move as whispered words slip past them.

'I don't have the strength for this Kazu, I'm sorry,' he says to the ground, a hand seeming too heavy as it reaches up slowly to twist the patch.

Agito rests still a moment, in the same forlornly submissive stance before straightening up, ordering the hastily replaced eyepatch.

'So, it looks like we could pick things up where we left off.' He offers warily.

'It does,' I say, watching him move through the apartment, wanting to touch him but knowing that despite it all I don't have the right. If I pulled him to me and kissed him now, he would let me take whatever I wanted. But I don't want to take. What do I gain in the submission of this man so broken by the past? I want the hard earned love I had before, the temper tantrums, the anger, the passion... I want.. I want...

'But I think it's best that we leave things here for now. I... don't want Akito to be hurt again and I...' he looks down, so lost, 'I couldn't... couldn't... fuck. I've got to be strong... for the both of us.'

'If anyone can be strong then it's you,' I reply honestly, having always admired that about him.

'Fuck, I think the past is playing tricks on you. There's nothing strong about me now. I hide up here watching... only watching. What kind of King is that?' He asks quietly, walking to the window, looking out of it with his arms folded, back to me.

I move to stand behind him, both hands on his shoulders as I look out over his head. All I see is concrete, grey and dismal blocks of the stuff whose many windows reflect the dim light of a cloudy sky. It looks dead, lifeless... a storm lashed landscape with all the old vibrant colour sapped out of it. We used to play in the sky here, the tops of these buildings were our roads. We were untouchable, the wind pulling at our clothes as we skipped over the rooftops, so high above the people in the streets below. I remember how carefree I was, how happy to feel the breeze in my hair and the sun on my face. I was never alone here, always the people I loved at my side... and then... then...my jaw clenches in bitterness.

I rub a thumb over his sagging shoulders, sense the tiredness in him. Does he even have strength to fight this battle?

'If you can't see the plan clearly then you're a fool to rush in, I remember someone once telling me that,' I say, a glimmer of a smile tugging my lips as I remember him standing on the desk yelling it at us as we lay exhausted and sweaty on the floor from practice, when HE had asked why we didn't just head straight to battle.

'I don't think that person exists anymore, I used up too much strength then, since... it took everything I had, we had, to take control of this body.'

'You do... I know you do.'

'You always had too much faith in other people.' He says, and it hits hard, like a kick to the guts.

'I may have misplaced my faith in him, but I never once got you wrong.'

He snorts, shaking his had, but not pulling away from me. My hand tingles as his right hand raises up and presses over my left, crossing over his chest.

We stand in silence, both looking out of the window high above the street as the clouds gather angrily in the sky above. I don't know what he's thinking, and I don't think I want to. There's so much defeat there. How can the man I once saw stand so proud look so worn? I came here with ideas of fighting the Storm King, of righting all the wrongs I so stupidly and so cowardly committed. Just looking at him I know it's going to be a bigger task than I thought. I didn't plan on finding him here, but now I have I know I'm going to need him by my side, as well as anyone else we can prise out of the woodwork.

'Agito...' I breathe, raising my thumb up, stroking over the softness of his fingers.

'Huh?' He replies, barely even moving to breathe.

'Do you trust me?'

'Haven't I always?' He replies, although without conviction.

I unlatch the windows and push them open, bringing us both forward, bending his body over with mine until his thighs touch the sill, heads and upper bodies out free in the breeze. I look over his shoulder, down at the dirty concrete as the wind tears at our hair, nearly gusts through us in the gathering storm. I feel him take a deep breath of the fresh, invigorating air.

'Close your eyes,' I whisper, mouth close to his ear, brushing the shell. I close my eyes too, concentrate only on the sensations washing over me; the heat of his body, the cool, chapping of the wind as seemingly storms through my bones. 'Do you feel that?' I ask as the rain starts to fall, a deluge torrenting deafeningly into the streets, washing away the dirt, the grime, to leave it fresh and clean. The hair plasters to my face, shirt sticking to me with the warm pattering of heavy rain over my shoulders. He shivers, but I know it's not from cold. I feel it too. The wind raises high again, tearing at his damp, lank hair, pulling it back off his face into my neck. Slowly, so very slowly he raises his arms out, either side as the wind pulls at his shirt. This is what we are. This is what we know. We'll take back what we lost. The sky is calling us.