Chapter Eighty-One

Kurogane heard the door open.

His eyes, closed a moment ago, opened to slits. His fingers curled and uncurled, though the tension in his hands never eased. He wanted to hit something. If he was being completely honest with himself, he wanted to hit someone. But he could still feel the faint throbbing in his knuckles from punching the mage a few minutes ago—he'd probably have to apologize.

Syaoran slipped through the doorway, waiting for the metal door to close behind him before advancing further. His eyes, ringed with shadows, remained focused on the floor. His shoulders curled inward—not enough to be considered cringing, but enough to suggest resignation, worry. Pain.

He'd almost forgotten how badly the kid had hurt himself during his solo chess match. The reminder softened the jagged edges of his anger. "Hey."

The kid flinched.

"Sit down," Kurogane said, patting the bench. The boy shuffled over and sat down, still not meeting his eyes. He thinks he knows what's coming, Kurogane thought. Well, fine. He can think whatever he wants. "Take off your shirt."

Kurogane got the mixed satisfaction of seeing the shock on the boy's face before he complied. He peeled away his tournament shirt, wincing as the fabric pulled at the scabs on his back. In places, the shirt clung to his skin as if glued there. Several times, the kid drew in a sharp breath, responding to the pain as if reminded of his injuries.

"Turn around. Let me see your back."

The kid obeyed, shoulders tensing as if in expectation of a blow. He flinched when Kurogane ran his fingertips down his spine. Kurogane let his hand linger there until the last of his anger seeped away.

"Do you remember what I said to you the first time I took you to bed?"

The boy went still for a moment. "Which part do you mean?"

"The part when I told you not to be afraid. When I told you I wouldn't hurt you."

Syaoran hesitated, his hands tightening into fists. "I remember."

"I wonder how many times I've broken that promise since then. How many times I've hurt you without realizing it." He let one hand trace the boy's arm, flattening the fine hairs there. "I don't have a good estimate. Even if I did, the number is much higher than I want to admit. And I think that what I'm doing . . . what I'm saying . . . is going to hurt you."

"You don't have to worry about hurting me. I knew this was coming."

"I love you."

The kid shot to his feet as if he'd been struck. His shirt fluttered to the floor, his eyes zeroing in on Kurogane's face. The boy skittered back several steps, until his shoulders hit the opposite wall. His chest heaved. "You . . . what?"

Kurogane stood and approached, every step measured. "I never thought I'd need to say it. I never thought I'd want to. And if you're going to ask me when it happened, I don't have an answer. But I'll tell you when I realized it." He reached forward, taking the kid's face between his hands. Part of him knew how little effort it would take to snap his neck. The rest of him knew he'd never be able to. "You almost died today. We all came close." And one of us is gone because of it. "You could have fallen off the edge of the arena. You could've been torn apart by the idiot's magic. You could have died trying to get between the princess and the mage. And I wouldn't have been able to stop you. You would have died, and I would've been left holding your corpse, or we both would have died . . ." His throat started to ache, and he abandoned the string of words before his control could crumble. "And then, when you said what you did, I couldn't push it aside anymore."

"I . . ." Tears rolled down the kid's cheeks, catching the light. He swallowed thickly. "I love you, too."

"Good." Kurogane pulled him close, letting the kid press his face against his shirt. Two trembling arms encircled him. He rested his chin atop the boy's head, closing his eyes. And for a moment, he just held him.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Goddamn it." Growling, Kurogane pulled back. "What?"

Fai's voice pierced through the door. "Are you two having a moment, or can we go?"

Kurogane started for the door, then stopped as a hand coiled around his. "Don't hit him," Syaoran said, sounding more weary than worried. "I don't want to see anyone else get hurt."

The sentiment gave him pause; his voice wasn't as harsh as he'd expected it to be. "Some of us have wounds to tend to," Kurogane called. "We don't all have enhanced healing abilities."

"All right. When you're done, come out. I've got good winter gear."

When did he have time to grab winter clothes? Kurogane wondered. And how cold is Ceres, anyway? "We'll be out in ten minutes." He turned back to the kid, laying a hand on his cheek. "We have to patch up the wounds on your back. You're scraped up pretty bad."

Syaoran nodded, taking a seat. Kurogane picked through the bags they'd left during the chess match and produced a cylinder of salve. He unscrewed the cap and started dabbing the medicine on the kid's abraded skin. Syaoran moaned in relief even as he clutched the bench. Kurogane made sure to cover every scrape and slice, knowing that, though the wounds would take a few days to heal completely, the treatment would soothe the sting.

"Kurogane-san . . . I've been thinking. . ."

"Yeah?"

The kid hesitated. "You and I . . . We don't have the most conventional relationship."

"I know." He rubbed the paste over a particularly nasty-looking scrape.

"People aren't going to approve of us being together. Not that that's such a big deal, but . . . I was thinking that, once we get through this and save Sakura . . . maybe we should tell her."

His heart quickened. He dabbed another patch of salve onto the kid's back, wrinkling his nose at the bitter, medicinal smell. "You think so?"

"I . . . wanted your permission first. Since we're . . . you know . . ."

"Lovers?"

Syaoran stiffened, then glanced over his shoulder, cheeks glowing. "Yes. Wow." He blew out a surprised breath. "I've never been able to find a word that fit what we were."

"Maybe because until now, there hasn't been a word for it." Impulsively, he leaned forward, touching his lips to the back of Syaoran's neck. "If you want to tell the princess, I won't stop you. Hell, the mage already knows—we can't keep this a secret forever."

The boy considered that for a moment, then nodded. "Then that's what we'll do." He looked off to the side. "There's . . . one more thing. About Sakura."

"You're in love with her, too."

Syaoran flinched. "I—well, it's . . . Yes."

"I can live with that." Finished applying the medicine, he placed a hand on each of the kid's shoulders and pulled him back so Syaoran's head was cradled in the hollow of his throat.

"You're not . . . upset?"

"No." And that, he realized with surprise, was the truth. He'd thought acknowledging it would make it harder to accept. But then, he knew love seldom worked in convenient ways. "I figured it would come up eventually."

"I . . ." The redness on his cheeks had traveled to the rest of his face. "I can set that aside. It's probably better if I don't love her like that. Better for her. Better for you and me. I can—"

"Syaoran."

The kid went rigid in his arms. "Yes?"

"I didn't ask you to stop loving her. That's not a solution—you couldn't do it if you tried."

"But I want you to be happy."

Kurogane rolled his eyes. "You don't get it at all, do you?" He turned the kid to face him. "I love you. You love me. You also love her. I'm not . . ." He cleared his throat. "I'm not asking you to give her up for me."

Syaoran gave him a blank look, then raised an eyebrow. "You're not?"

He shook his head. "Look, whatever else happens, you're always welcome in my bed. In my life," he amended when the boy blushed. "I don't know how the princess is going to react to that." Probably not well, he thought. "Maybe the three of us can work something out, or maybe not. Either way, we can deal with that when it comes."

Syaoran said nothing for a few seconds. Then, without warning, he raised one hand, letting his fingers trace Kurogane's cheek. An odd tingle shot down the back of his neck, sparking sensations in the rest of his body. So this is what it's like to be in love, he thought, breath catching. No wonder he wanted me to say it so badly.

A pair of dark brown eyes settled on his face, overflowing with emotion. He leaned forward, framing the kid's face between his hands. Syaoran chuckled softly, face breaking out in a smile.

"What's so funny?" Kurogane demanded.

"Nothing. Nothing, it's just . . ." He chuckled again, pressing a hand to his mouth to stifle the sound. "I've never seen you look so . . . gooey."

"Gooey?"

Syaoran nodded. "In love," he clarified. Then, eyes twinkling with wonder, he added, "With me."

"If you keep calling me 'gooey,' I might change my mind," he threatened, unable to keep a smile from rising to his lips.

"Sorry. First word that came to mind." Syaoran stood and pulled a clean shirt from the bag he'd left in here before the match, switching it with the bloody one. "We should probably get ready to go."

Impulsively, Kurogane spoke. "One more thing."

"Hmm?" Syaoran glanced back. Kurogane planted a hand on each of his shoulders, pulling him forward. Surprise flickered across the kid's face as their lips met, then melted away as he sank into the kiss. His bag slid out of his hands, dropping to the floor. His arms coiled around Kurogane's neck, closing the last spaces between them.

"I just wanted to do that one more time," Kurogane said, pulling away. "Just in case."

Syaoran nodded, not saying a word as he gathered up his things and started for the door.

"One more thing," Kurogane added, shifting his weight between his feet. "I love you. You know, figured I should say that again, too. Just in case."

Syaoran's smile made his heart ache. "I love you, too."