So I guess I'm continuing this story. \o/;; Chapters will be short since I can't help it; my writing process comes in breaks. OTL Enjoy~

"Kufufu, are you really this weak, Hibari Kyouya?" The man stepped rather harshly onto his chest, breaking a couple ribs or more in the process. "If that's the case, then perhaps you're just a waste of my time, hmm?" His response came in the form of a spitball that landed on the man's cheek. "Oya? You still have enough energy to do meaningless things?"

He lowered his face dangerously to the disciplinary committee member, almost close enough to kiss him less either of them moved. Eyes dancing in amusement as his victim moved to squirm away from him, Mukuro resisted laughing, his eyes flashed as he dared to move into the biting range of the prefect.

"Perhaps we can channel that energy into something more pleasurable?"

Kyouya jolted up from his sleeping position, sweat covering his entire body as chills made its way into the room. The same memories had reappeared as dreams for the lat two weeks, as if warning or trying to tell him something. Wryly thinking to himself, he wondered if those memories merely served as a reminder to how much he should hate Mukuro Rokudo. The mere thought of his name brought his blood-thirst back to life, but he managed to suppress the feeling, if only barely.

It irritated him to know that the man could still instill such a strong reaction out of him.

Even if it was for all the wrong reasons.

Rather than the chill of ten years ago where nightmares of the man made him destroy everything in sight, it only created desire, passion, want in its wake, and it absolutely disgusted him. How low have you gone, Hibari Kyouya? he bitterly thought. How much more of your pride will you sacrifice to sate this man's hunger, none of which is what you want in return?

He honestly wished he could answer that question...and it was at that very moment that the presence of another entered the room.

"Get out," hissed Kyouya, ready to bite the man to death regardless of whether or not he was illusion.

"Kufufu~ What a cruel way to welcome back your lover, Kyouya." His eyes danced with the same mirth from ten years earlier, and it killed a small part of him on the inside. Kyouya knew he was only a toy in the eyes of the illusionist; there was no way into the man's heart. No way, except one.

He took advantage of the man's lust.

For over a year, the two of them have been playing this game - an illusion in itself he could hear Mukuro say - and though it had worked to begin with...Hibari knew it could only last for so long.

"Don't flatter yourself. You and I are nothing close to what lovers would be." A sigh was heard before the usual laugh filled the air again, shredding his hearts to bits.

"Hibari Kyouya, you haven't forgotten our deal, have you?"

Glaring sharply at him, Kyouya could have sworn he saw the smallest hint of what seemed to be regret. If it was ever there to begin with, it had disappeared, leaving the last piece of hope he had for something to come out of all of this.

"I was the one who proposed it in the first place, Mukuro, and you're asking me if I forgot it?" Pausing, he gave himself one last chance to look at the man who would never leave his thoughts. He gave it one last chance, demeaning himself to hope that Mukuro would finally look at him and- the other had immediately glanced away from the emotional wreck he knew his face had become.

Kyouya was done; this had gone on for far too long. He had known his heart was the only one risked in this game, but he was glad that at least for some time...he could love the mist, even if it would eventually pass through his fingers. From the beginning, he knew this was never real.

But he allowed himself to hope, and that was his downfall.

"The deal is off."

Silence filled the room, leaving the longest gap between noises until-

"Oya? Is that so? I'll just have to find another toy then."

Kyouya was glad he was sitting. Standing at that moment meant he would have collapsed to his knees or even worse, faint from exhaustion at Mukuro's feet. He allowed a few minutes, waiting for the other's footsteps to reach the door before speaking, his voice barely audible.

"Don't bother coming back again. I won't be here any longer."

A distinct kufufu reached his ears.

"Why would I even bother coming back?"

Why does writing something happy always seem to be difficult?