#and Fushimi's able to think that yes Misaki is still here beside him

[ridiasfangirlings]

elementary school sarumi put together a time capsule and post reconciliation sarumi find it

Aw this would actually be pretty adorable?  Maybe as a school assignment their class is chosen to make stuff to put in a time capsule, Fushimi obviously isn’t interested and Yata thinks it’s stupid because they’re just putting in boring stuff like newspaper clippings. Then he gets this great idea though, that how about if he and Saruhiko make their own time capsule of stuff they like and then when they’re old they can open it up again and look back on all the cool memories of their friendship. I imagine this being a bit of a foreign concept to Fushimi and little frightening in a way, like just the very idea that he would have something precious that would last long enough for them to dig it up again. Yata’s really into it though and Fushimi finds himself relenting, for a moment even letting himself think that maybe they really would still be together long enough to dig it back up.

They bury it in the corner of the yard by Yata’s place and basically forget all about it until years later post-ROK, maybe there’s some lawn work being done and it ends up getting dug up. Yata and Fushimi wrote their names on it so the lawn guys give it to Yata’s mom, who calls Yata to let him know. Yata’s really surprised when he hears, like wait really because he’d totally forgotten about it. The whole thing gives him a nostalgic feeling though, especially now that he and Fushimi have reconciled — in a way it almost feels like fate, like now that he was able to get Fushimi back they’ve found this thing that was a sign of their friendship. Yata tells his mom that he’ll be over to pick it up but he doesn’t open it, instead he takes it to his place and texts Fushimi to come over because Yata has something cool to show him.

Say this is just shortly after ROK so they’re both still kinda getting back into things and Fushimi feels a little awkward and hesitant as he shows up at Yata’s place. Yata grins when he sees Fushimi at the door though and drags him inside, proudly showing him the time capsule. Fushimi’s eyes widen as Yata says the lawn guys dug it up and didn’t we say we were going to open this one day together in the future. Fushimi gives this little ‘Together…’ and Yata blushes a bit as he adds that he was really glad to see it, because it reminded him of when they were kids and how happy he is that the two of them can still talk like this, that they’re here together and alive and can open this. Yata quickly recovers and is like okay so I’m gonna open it, I don’t even remember what we put in there. 

He opens the box and imagine inside are all these small reminders of their friendship, maybe there’s even like a cola bottle in there and Fushimi teases Yata about how I told you it was stupid to put this in I bet there are all kinds of bacteria in this. There are a few pictures of them in middle school and Yata’s like you still look just as gloomy, Fushimi counters that aren’t you the same height still Misaki. They put in a flier for some game they both liked and small odds and ends of stuff Yata was cool, Fushimi rolls his eyes like why did we even think these were worth putting in. There’s also notes to their future selves, Yata gets a little emotional reading ‘Future me you better still be with Saruhiko, we’re gonna be friends forever’ while Fushimi reads his in silence and then pockets it without a word, a small smile on his face.

[scepterofstardust]

sever and mend.

Hi everybody, it’s me again! It’s been so long since I’ve posted any substantial writing, but I’m back for Sarumi Fest because how could I resist the opportunity to write more of Saruhiko and Misaki? I really adore writing them because their dynamic is so interesting, so I was excited to write these prompts for you guys. Anyways, I’ll stop talking, this is for Day 1. Enjoy :)

External: AO3

Saruhiko had never really thought that he would have to watch Misaki from afar.

After all, they spent years attached at the hip. Years of spending more time at Misaki's house than his, and then sleeping in the bottom bunk, only having to walk into the kitchen to see Misaki standing at the stove making dinner. He had taken that for granted, maybe, a little too much. 

It was all gone, now. And yes, it was Saruhiko's fault; he wasn't ignorant to that fact. But he missed it anyhow.

And he wished, with all of his mangled and confused heart, that he could be close to him again. Just for a day, even.

He beat himself up for making that wish, as he leaned against Reisi's car, looking down from the top of the hill. His coat was hardly warm enough for the January weather, and he could hear Misaki's voice in his head, lamenting the fact that he never took care of his health. Saruhiko shook his head and ground his jaw.

He hadn't wanted to come anywhere near this place. But the Blue King, with his dark circles and watery eyes, had looked like he would collapse any second, and so Fushimi had gotten in the car with him. He had been unwilling to go any closer than this, than the top of the graveyard far from the burial site. He could see the funeral procession in the distance, figures in black like a murder of crows against the snow on the ground. He could see Misaki right away, of course. He could tell it was him, shivering in his black coat, head bowed, holding Anna in his arms as they both cried. Saruhiko swallowed against the lump in his throat, and he wanted to be there, he wanted to stand next to Misaki and be able to help him. But he knew he couldn't.

Knew that Misaki would probably shove him away, now. For all that he had done. 

Knew that he had lost that right.

Saruhiko tore his gaze away from Misaki and turned towards the driver's seat as his King got out. Reisi walked around and paused beside Saruhiko.

"Are you sure?" Saruhiko didn't have to clarify what he was asking. He lifted his chin, beckoning Reisi to get on with it. It earned him a thin, amused smile. The Blue King began the long walk towards the burial site, down winding roads and lots of steps. Saruhiko watched him go, noting that the funeral procession was dissipating. He couldn't blame Reisi for not wanting to face them. He certainly would never fault him for it. 

Saruhiko blew out a breath and opened the passenger's side door, unable to stand in the cold anymore. He settled in and closed his eyes to wait.

"I'd make a comment about sleeping on the job," Reisi said when he got into the car, "but we aren't." Saruhiko jolted in his seat, raising his head.

"Sorry," he muttered. He hadn't realized how tired he was. Reisi started the car and glanced in the rearview mirror.

"I didn't say I didn't approve," Reisi amended. "I'm afraid that would be the pot calling the kettle black." Saruhiko didn't bother protesting. He knew how observant the Blue King was. Even when he himself had seen better days, he wouldn't fail to notice Saruhiko stumbling into doors and frequently having lapses in memory. He wasn't an insomniac, rather, he was just worried. He was worried for Misaki, and if he felt like admitting it for Reisi as well, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't dream about the Red King, dream about his hand being engulfed in flame and the pain. Even though he was gone.

He had a lot of demons chasing him, it seemed. But that wasn't anything new.  Reisi pulled away from the curb, staying silent the rest of the drive.

When Saruhiko saw Misaki next, it was spring. He'd been coerced into going to get more coffee and sandwiches for the others, as they were all working late shifts and beyond exhausted from a busy week. He ordered from the scrawled list in his hand and moved out of the way, leaning on the wall to wait. He looked around the small shop, noting its occupants. Lots of students with their laptops and headphones, probably studying. A few adults with their newspapers. His eyes landed on a booth by the window, and his breath hitched. 

Misaki had an empty plate in front of him, his head resting against the wall. He was staring numbly out the window, his headphones in his ears. 

Saruhiko tensed up, an old habit, wanting to run or start a fight. But Misaki didn't see him, of course. He was relieved that he hadn't. Misaki looked peaceful, with the setting sun casting a golden glow across his face and illuminating amber eyes. A half empty soda was at his elbow. It reminded Saruhiko of their middle school days. They used to hang out in cafes just like this one. He found himself wishing that he could just stride over, could just sit down across from Misaki and have a conversation. He wished it could happen just like that. He could imagine Misaki grinning at him, snickering because Saruhiko had been roped into running errands again.

Saruhiko tilted his head, paying closer attention. Misaki looked better than when he had last seen him. Less breakable. Less grief-stricken. More like himself. Saruhiko caught himself smiling, just a little bit. It was good, that Misaki was healing. Even if he couldn't be there.

The girl behind the counter called out his order number, and he sobered, taking it from her and exiting the shop quickly. He went back to Scepter Four headquarters, back to the dark offices, but he remembered the sight of Misaki alone, the spring sun making him a living flame. 

It was summer when Saruhiko walked past the HOMRA bar. He was sweaty, and sticky, and grumpy. He loathed the heat. It made him miserable, and he always felt like he was about to spontaneously melt into a puddle. Hence, the reason why he stayed indoors. 

Usually, he turned to take a detour around the bar, not wanting an awkward encounter with any of its occupants. But he had been too distracted to do so. So he walked fast, head down. He had almost made it when the door flew open behind him, bell jangling. He heard a voice from inside the bar yell something about troublesome kids, and Saruhiko fought a smirk. Kusanagi didn't seem to have changed one bit. He heard footsteps, and a shout of pain.

"Alright, I get it!" Misaki groaned as he stepped outside. "I'm going!" Saruhiko stiffened and picked up his pace.

"Damn right you are!"

"Ah, fuck off," Misaki muttered under his breath. Saruhiko snorted.

"What was that?!" Kusanagi's voice went up another octave, if that was even possible.

"Nothing. Going." There was the flat thud of a skateboard hitting the cement, and Saruhiko ducked his head, praying he wouldn't be seen. He didn't have the energy to put up a front right now.

"Saru?" Misaki called out hesitantly. Saruhiko cursed quietly and turned, head lulling sideways. He allowed his stare to turn icy, a small smirk to play on his mouth.

"Just passing through, Misaki. No need to burn down the whole block just yet." 

Misaki rolled his eyes, and Saruhiko couldn't help noticing how different he looked. Older. Stronger than the uncontrollable wildfire Saruhiko had left behind. But yet, some things hadn't changed. He still wore the same tank top and shorts ensemble as always, still had the same skateboard underneath his foot. Still had the same tousled red hair, headphones around his neck.

"Wasn't planning on it," Misaki retorted, snapping his foot down and grabbing his skateboard, hugging it against his side. "Were you?"

"No, too much paperwork," Saruhiko replied, doing his best to hide his trepidation as Misaki strode up to him, squinting in the sunlight.

"I thought I was imagining things," Misaki admitted. "I've never seen you here."

"I must've taken a wrong turn."

"Must've." Misaki shifted his weight awkwardly.

"You know...you don't have to avoid us like the plague," he said quietly. "You don't have to avoid...me."

"Since when?" Saruhiko questioned incredulously. 

"Since...now." Misaki said, certainty in his eyes.

"And you're had this touching revelation because?" Saruhiko didn't believe what he was hearing. Misaki looked down at his shoes before he met Saruhiko's gaze again.

"I just, um..." The inky haired boy stared at him expectantly. "It's just that, after we lost Mikoto, um..." Misaki sighed, rubbing at his temple. "I've been thinking."

"Oh dear," Saruhiko commented flatly.

"Shut up, Saru, I'm serious."

"As you always are." Saruhiko's smirk was a little more real this time.

"Aish, you're annoying. All I'm saying, is that people aren't around forever, you know." Saruhiko's amused expression dissipated.

Of that, he was very aware.

"No, they're not."

"Right, so..." Misaki trailed off, scratching the back of his neck, and was his face getting red? "So, we lose people and I..." The redhead visibly gulped. "I don't want to lose you, too."

Saruhiko didn't anticipate the sudden stinging behind his eyes, the unbearable tightness in his throat. He tried his best to harden his expression, to hide.

Haven't you already?

"What?" It came out more shocked than he meant it to.

"Look, Saru, just..." Misaki shook his head with a small smile. "Maybe stop in sometime, is all I'm saying. If you want to. Okay?" Saruhiko could do nothing but stare dumbfounded as Misaki walked past him and continued down the street.

 He was frozen in place, and he stood there for several moments, wondering if the heat had caused him to hallucinate.

It took him five minutes to remember where he had been going. It took a week to decide he hadn't imagined it. It took a month before he walked by the bar again, and timidly waved to a little girl with scarlet eyes sitting in the window. It took a vicious fight, his knuckles sliced open and a cut from a blade on his cheekbone, before he opened the door, bell jingling above his head, and sat down wearily across from his best friend. And even as he took the soda Misaki slid across the table, it felt unreal. That he was this close.

That maybe, things were changing.

(Misaki's smile was real enough for him, though. For now.) 

[its-love-u-asshole]

I’ll See You Soon [fic]

Pairing: Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki

Rating: T

Summary: Written as an epilogue for Shaking in My Skull. 

It's always said that good things never last, but for them, the statement couldn't be more untrue.

Note: 2nd day entry! I had the sudden inspiration for this verse again, so yay for random epilogues lmao. Thank you to @emeraldwaves for checking this over!

AO3

"This is a rather big favor you're doing for them you know. I'm surprised."

Are you truly?

Despite the words, the tone was calm and pleasant, much like the room around them as they waited. Waited for the next step of a journey, one which Munakata knew wouldn't end, and shouldn't. Maybe that was why he felt the corners of his mouth lift softly, his eyes fixating on the clear depths of water below as the overseer of change sat beside him. Yet Nagare's voice held no criticism, no objections, as Munakata had predicted.

All was as it should be.

Munakata chuckled, his bones and eyes finally feeling the weight of exhaustion brought upon by several centuries at his post. He would rest soon.

Somehow, he'd never dreamed of being okay with this, with retirement, but the knowledge his throne would be well cared for dulled his worry. Perhaps, he thought, a permanent vacation was just what he needed. He closed his misty eyes for a minute, letting the resolve settle slowly into his being, the yoke of hell's guardian falling off his shoulders as if it had fully served its purpose.

Munakata opened his eyes again, though the mistiness was still there, and couldn't help but thank Mikoto for dragging him along to the afterlife by his side. Munakata guessed things did work out how they were supposed to in the end.

Which brings me back to this...

"Favor you say?" He asked with fondness, knowing the truth deep down, just as much as he had that first day, when two determined youths had ventured out on the Return together. "That's where you're wrong."

Nagare said nothing, only pulled away from the pool with a nod of amusement. Yes, he already knew the answer as well, and Munakata gave a fuller laugh this time, letting it echo off the meeting room's walls to blend with Mikoto's heavy breathing behind him as the angel snoozed.

Exactly as thing should be...

After all, favors were kindnesses given beyond the usual.

No, what he was doing...this was precisely what he owed.

--

The sounds of his heart monitor beeping were becoming normal by now, fading into the rolling of stretchers and medicine carts, drowning into the chatter of nurses and doctors alike. For most people it would probably be annoying, maybe ominous or sinister. Not for Yata.

He smiled slowly, his eyes managing to blink without succumbing to tiredness. It was hard, but he wouldn't leave without--

"Misaki..." The voice came from the bed right beside his, weak and barely there, but to him it was as calming as ever, capturing his attention in an instant. Misaki smiled wider, turning his head, though his muscles protested. Whatever, it was worth it.

Despite all the years he'd spent looking and thinking about Saruhiko, seeing his face never got old, no matter how old they actually got.

Misaki chuckled at his own joke, eyes sweeping over the body in the other bed. Saruhiko's hands were still at his side, toil worn and wrinkled, curled in on themselves from a life full of paperwork and overtime. Yata knew if the other stood, his posture would be god awful too, after his countless hours hunched over his computer. Dumbass.

As if sensing his thoughts, Saruhiko squinted at him, the crows feet under his eyes being accentuated by the expression, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose. Yata laughed, and while it quickly turned into a cough, it didn't make it any less pleasurable. Saruhiko's eyes flashed in amusement, the bright blue hues as vibrant as ever. Beautiful, analytical, piercing. So very Saruhiko.

Yeah, totally worth it.

"Yes?" Yata's voice was hoarse, struggling, and at that moment he figured he must look the same as Saruhiko. Saruhiko, with his rough, sagging skin and white hair, the perfect picture of old age. Funny, Yata never considered his appearance as he grew older, how far they'd come, until now, sitting right on his deathbed.

No doubt he had receding hair just the same, aching joints and bad posture to go with them. He laughed again, feeling unbelievably alive from the realization alone.

Ninety-two years, not bad huh, Saru?

Yata felt his eyes water, and he doubted it was from his body aches. Not bad at all.

Saruhiko licked his dry lips, shaking his head as he glanced up at the ceiling. "Do you think they planned this?"

It took a second for Yata to realize who he was referring to, but when he did, he couldn't help but feel a weird surge of gratefulness. "Probably, knowing them."

"How cheesy."

"Are you complaining?"

Yata felt his heart stutter when Saruhiko smiled at him, probably both from the emotions it elicited, and the fact his time was almost up. His eyelids felt heavy, his thoughts scattered, but when he finally passed, he wanted Saruhiko to be the last thing he saw.

The last face he saw before he died, the first when he opened his eyes.

He didn't doubt Munakata and Mikoto putting this together, not letting Yata spend even a day without Saruhiko. Not to mention the date...

Perfect.

Saruhiko reached a quivering hand across the small space which separated their beds, as if sensing the impending fate as well. Yata gripped it as tightly as he could, keeping it against his chest as his heart pounded and skull shook from the effort of keeping himself alive. Just a bit more...

Saruhiko finally answered him, his voice cracking and fading slowly. "No...I'm..n-not. Misaki..."

The tone was as scolding as it could be, and Yata could nearly hear the implied meaning there. "Idiot, you'll see me soon. Sleep."

Sleep huh...you too Saruhiko...you should sleep...

Yata felt his grip on the other's hand slacken, and he fought against the urge to drop it, using the last of his energy to keep it close to him. As if he'd let Saruhiko pass through a door alone ever again.

Sleep...and I'll be here when you wake up. 

Yata smiled, feeling his vision spin out of use, his lungs giving up as the two monitors in the room went haywire, and the last thing he could make out was Saruhiko's eyes closing, the grip on his hand tightening.

And then there was nothing.

There was silence.

A complete absence of noise.

Still and steady...

.

.

.

Yata Misaki. Age ninety-two, born on July 20th, died on the night of August 14th.

Fushimi Saruhiko. Age ninety-one, born on November 7th, died on the night of August 14th.

.

.

.

Saruhiko opened his eyes, seeing nothing but the blurred edges of walls around him, shining white. Blinding white, giving off the illusion of a never ending hallway. Same as always, he thought.

He was lying on the floor, his limbs frozen like in ice, and he slowly began twitching each finger, working to his arms and legs with practiced ease. The room remained hazy, and without faltering, he reached up, removing his glasses until the room bloomed into clarity. His skin felt smooth, his muscles strong, his body able, as if he hadn't aged a day since he was twenty years old.

The thought made something nostalgic inside him stir, and he wondered why he was surprised in the slightest. He gave an amused smile at the ceiling, reaching up to thread his fingers through his long dark hair, feeling the lack of a receding hairline, basking in the mobility of his joints.

He wondered if this was a gift too, being given back his youth, though he didn't care to question it. He had more important things on his mind, and he turned his head to the side calmly, ignoring the distant paranoia beating in his heart, telling him he'd woken up here alone.

No, he knew better these days.

Misaki's eyes were bright and glowing, as they'd always been. That had never changed, even with age. The amber color warmed Saruhiko to his toes, the love and fierceness he associated with those eyes threatening to melt him on the spot.

Misaki...

The other was staring at him in wonder too, his face youthful, his hair back to the same fiery color as before he hit sixty, and Saruhiko reached forward to run his hands over it, down Misaki's cheeks and lips, like he held the universe in his hands. Well, he sort of did. Misaki was his universe, had helped him build and strengthen his world until it was big enough for them to share.

Saruhiko's fingers settled on the redhead's lips, feeling them lift up into a huge smile, and it was probably that which made Saruhiko lose his control. He surged forward, catching Misaki's lips with his own, the kiss firm and all he'd ever wanted. Somehow, he'd never gotten tired of it.

Misaki pulled away with a snort, but his watery eyes gave his real emotions away. Saruhiko, for once, didn't feel the need to comment, probably because his eyes stung too. "I look that good huh, Saru? No more wrinkles..."

Please...

Their foreheads bumped together as Saruhiko shook his head, reveling in the silence around them, something which had once unsettled him to no end. Now it was a reminder, telling him his time with Misaki would never truly end. "No. You always looked good to me."

Misaki's eyes widened for a brief second, the tears in both their eyes building, before the redhead pushed back on Saruhiko's head with his own. It was all they could think of to deal with the emotions raging between them, and eventually, Saruhiko's tears spilled first. Both of them laughed regardless, no unhappiness or discontent to be found, and they clung onto each other a moment after.

The force of the hug had them falling to the floor again from where they'd sat up, but they didn't mind. Nothing would ruin this.

"I missed you Saruhiko."

"We were apart for a few minutes, tops."

"Doesn't matter," Misaki sniffled. "You idiot."

Saruhiko couldn't feel pain anymore, but he swore he felt his skin sting from how hard Misaki gripped him, and he wouldn't give it up for anything.

I missed you too. I love you.

How silly it was, given how long he'd been apart from Misaki in the past, for months, maybe even years as he faced the unthinkable. Saruhiko shook his head, smiling to himself. Guess it doesn't matter now.

For that point on, they'd get through everything somehow, like they'd always had.

Together.

"Hey Saru," Misaki said, pulling away with a laugh. The redhead reached up to wipe his tears away, a small smirk settling on his face. Saruhiko hummed in response, returning it. "I think we're late."

The statement actually managed to catch Saruhiko off guard for a second, but soon he was rolling his eyes, taking in the plain white room once more. Once late arrivals, always late arrivals, that much was true.

Saruhiko leaned forward, capturing Misaki's lips again in a quick kiss before he heard a door open behind him as if beckoned, and he heard the familiar sound of a cane clicking on the floor.

Saruhiko smiled at Misaki as the redhead offered him his hand, and Saruhiko took it gratefully, ready to face fate's next endeavor.

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

[emeraldwaves]

Title: Don’t Look Down DJ AU Chapter 11 (Read from beginning Here or Here) Pairing: Sarumi Rating: M Word Count:  7,016 AO3 Summary: When Fushimi Saruhiko is dragged to a club by some of his co-workers, he refuses to dance, earning him the attention of the lively, up-and-coming DJ, Yata Misaki. After a heated argument, the boys go their separate ways, never expecting to meet again. Little do they know their first meeting is only the beginning of their now intertwined lives.

Full Fic Under Cut. Thank you to @its-love-u-asshole for betaing!

Misaki tapped at the soundboard, his fingers twitching against the knobs. He still hadn't quite decided how he wanted to add to Mikoto's song, though they had a meeting tomorrow. After Saruhiko had left, they had decided Totsuka would sing the entire song, and while Misaki was ecstatic to be working with him and Mikoto, he was feeling a bit lost without Saruhiko. Stupid idiot.

He had tried to plan out the way he was going to execute his ideas for the song, but every time he thought about anything, it was Saruhiko's voice he heard buried in the track. It was frustrating, especially since he and Saruhiko hadn't talked since the fight in the office.

A week had gone by, and Misaki wasn't sure how to go about texting him. It was usually him who initiated things, which currently was adding to his frustrations. Saruhiko liked him, right? Misaki figured that was a fair assumption based on the activities they had participated in together. Hell, Saruhiko had initiated a few kisses, and he'd been the one to ask Misaki back to his place the other night after the concert.

He let out a large groan, and leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling. Idiot Saruhiko. Picking up his phone, Misaki twirled it around in his palm. He probably wouldn't answer even if Misaki did text him.

The fight hadn't made much sense. Saruhiko said he didn't want to sing, but then he got angry when Misaki had agreed to produce a song with Mikoto. He knew how long Misaki had been waiting for an opportunity like this, how much it meant to him. Saruhiko, once again, was the most confusing person Misaki had ever dealt with.

The worst part was how much it was actually affecting him. This moment should've been perfect, everything Misaki wanted and more. Even if Saruhiko didn't want to sing, he could've at least been supportive, or helped or...

Running his hand down his face, Misaki trilled his lips. He supposed Saruhiko didn't owe him anything. If anyone owed, it was Misaki. Saruhiko had done so much for him, and Misaki knew he hadn't done much but bug the guy. Still, he had somehow gotten the impression Saruhiko enjoyed the time they had spent together. Maybe he hadn't.

"Yata-san?" Kamamoto asked, peering inside of Misaki's room.

"Eh? Kamamoto?" he replied, whipping his head around to stare at his roommate.

"You okay? You were making all sorts of weird groaning noises..." Kamamoto muttered.

"Was I?" Misaki blushed, twisting the cord of his headphones around his fingertip.

"Are you stuck on the song again?" he asked, placing the mug full of tea down in front of him.

Misaki nodded. "I am. I feel like it should be easy! I mean I should be freaking thrilled to be writing a song with Mikoto, and it should feel amazing!" Misaki paused, staring at the tea in the mug in front of him.

"But..." Kamamoto asked, urging him to continue.

"But...I feel really stuck. I wish Saruhiko was..." he trailed off, blushing even harder.

"The one singing for you?" Kamamoto finished, deciding to piece things through himself.

"No! I mean, yes! I mean, Totsuka is amazing, and of course I'm so excited to be working with both of them."

"But it doesn't feel the same as when you and Fushimi worked together?" Kamamoto asked, and Misaki shook his head.

Letting out a frustrated groan, he stood up angrily. "I mean who the hell needs that asshole! He was such a fuckin' pain you know?!" Misaki snapped and plopped back down in the chair.

Kamamoto raised an eyebrow at Misaki who rolled his eyes. He hated when Kamamoto somehow knew everything about everything. He normally kept to himself, but when he did have something to say, it always seemed to be...stupidly intuitive. It was worse that the idiot wasn't actually saying anything now.

He ran his finger along the edge of the cup as he puffed out his cheeks. "I have my meeting with Mikoto tomorrow, and we're going to work on tweaking the song," Misaki shrugged. "I know it's going to sound awesome. I mean it's Mikoto-san...and Totsuka. It's just...Saruhiko and I have such a connection."

"Hm. Do you feel like what you're working on has something missing or somethin'?" Kamamoto asked.

Misaki bit his lip. "I guess." He groaned loudly again, and ruffled his hair. "I wish he could've just...said yes or whatever."

"I'm sure whatever you come up with will be awesome! You're always awesome!" he smiled. "Maybe you're thinking about it too much?" Kamamoto suggested.

"Yeah, yeah," Misaki grunted, waving him away. "I gotta get back to it," he mumbled, placing the headphones over his ears. Kamamoto was always stupidly positive about stuff. It was nice sometimes, but occasionally Misaki had nothing to say in response, especially when he had too much to think about.

"Okay, Yata-san," Kamamoto said quietly, closing the door behind him, though Misaki wasn't paying anymore attention to him.

Pursing his lips, he listened to the track once more, and began to make some tweaks and additions. Maybe he was thinking about it too much. Normally when he wrote music he had fun with it, or was inspired by something. However, even though Mikoto was the one who had gotten him so hype about music in general, he was struggling. Maybe he was too nervous? If Saruhiko had been here, it would've been a hell of a lot easier to write something with his voice.

He paused, tapping his keyboard as he went back and listened to their first, and now only, track together. Saruhiko's voice was so smooth, sexy even, though that thought did make Misaki blush. Misaki sighed. It had been perfect.

Pausing the track, he moved back to the new one, once again imagining how Saruhiko would sound on it. Though he supposed that wasn't all that bad. If he could hear Saruhiko on it, he could write it as though he had Saruhiko in mind, and then someone else would sing it. Nodding once to himself, he felt determination flow through his veins as he began to listen once again. He didn't need Saruhiko to be good. If Saruhiko really hated doing music so much, Misaki would move on without him.

~~

"We're thrilled to have you here." Hisui Nagare's smile was unnerving for a reason Saruhiko couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Mmm Nagare-san couldn't stop speaking of you after he saw you perform." An older man spoke up, and Saruhiko quirked his eyebrow, confused by who this man was supposed to be.

"Ah, meet my manager, Iwafune-san," Nagare said, nodding his head towards the older man.

"Yes, nice to meet you, Fushimi Saruhiko," he said, bowing his head. "I am looking forward to seeing what you can do. Of course, Yukari-san is not going to be very happy to find out you've replaced him," Iwafune chided, though Nagare simply shrugged, wheeling himself to the mixing board.

"Yukari-san will survive just fine. Plenty of DJs work with different vocalists," Nagare scoffed. "You know I'm always looking to change my sound. I want my sound to mold and change with the times and myself. I've grown as a musician, and I will still be using Yukari-san for this upcoming album. However, Fushimi-san is incredibly talented, and I would like to use him for this song," he scoffed.

"Of course, of course," Iwafune chuckled, waving his hand back and forth. "We're always looking for new talent, but Yukari does get quite defensive," he said. Both men laughed this time, and Saruhiko rolled his eyes.

He was anxious to get on with the recording. Saruhiko still wasn't completely comfortable with singing in front of others, and as much as he hated to admit it, this was the first time he'd be doing something like this without Misaki.

Perhaps in his anger he had been far too hasty. He'd called Nagare on a whim, wanting to frustrate Misaki, and what better way to do so than to record with a rival DJ. His plan had been genius, until he realized he'd actually have to record in front of someone else. He could barely sing in front of Misaki, and he'd only been able to perform at that concert because he'd felt Misaki's radiating energy behind him. Could he really do something like this without him?

Saruhiko wasn't a musician, and had never wanted to do all the things Misaki had made him do, but the truth was he'd enjoyed it. Enjoyed everything he'd done with Misaki, no matter how reluctant he had been about it. But part of the reason he had come to enjoy the experience was because Misaki had always been there. The whole journey Misaki had been there. He'd held his hand, leading him through the confusing emotions singing had brought up for him. He'd pushed Saruhiko's back, even when he had dug his heels in, and Misaki had always loved what Saruhiko did.

But then Misaki had ruined it. Saruhiko should've expected something like this to happen. As amazing as Misaki had been for him these past few months, Saruhiko knew he should never have expected it to stick around. Happiness, contentment, they were emotions which often were fleeting around Saruhiko. That's what Saruhiko should've expected, Misaki never would've lasted.

Though Saruhiko supposed Misaki hadn't exactly tossed him aside completely. He had asked him to help with that shitty song, something Saruhiko wanted nothing to do with. Beside, it had been smarter to leave now, before Misaki kicked him to the curb. It would only be a matter of time. Mikoto had noticed Misaki, which in the end, was all Misaki had wanted, Saruhiko decided.

Misaki had dreams, and he wanted nothing more than to be famous for his music. He was so hungry for success, he was willing to give up the sound which had made him so unique. A sound which Saruhiko had fallen in love with, a sound which had brought him and Misaki together. That was the kind of music Saruhiko wanted to sing—Misaki's, the sound which had made him feel confident and happy, if only for a moment.

How could Misaki have thrown all that away? Just for the chance to sing with his stupid idol? Saruhiko couldn't comprehend it, no other person had mattered so much to him. The only person who had even come close was Misaki himself, and Saruhiko couldn't watch as Misaki threw away everything Saruhiko had loved about him, simply to please that idiot Suoh Mikoto.

Frowning, Saruhiko folded his arms, trying to focus on the conversation happening between Nagare and Iwafune. They were still going on about this Yukari guy, and Saruhiko had no desire to insert himself into the talk. However, he wanted to stop thinking about Misaki. The whole point of this was to forget Misaki, move on without him, and possibly get back at him a little in the process.

"Alright," Nagare said, smiling Saruhiko's way. "I'm sure we've bored you enough with this talk of people you nothing of. Let's get you in the booth and get you set up?"

"Right," Saruhiko said, pushing himself out of the chair.

Iwafune held the door open, following Saruhiko inside as he began to adjust the mic to Saruhiko's height. He handed Saruhiko a pair of headphones, and stepped out of the booth, closing the door behind him.

Saruhiko took a deep breath, the padded walls feeling as though they were constricting around him. The booth was tiny, but it felt as though it was getting smaller and smaller the longer he let his thoughts race. Why had he done this? He should've stuck with his original plan, and never sang again. Never before had he so desperately wished to be at his stupid desk at his stupid computer job. He even missed some of the idiots who bugged him on a regular basis.

The truth was, he'd wanted to sing again, but he also hadn't wanted to do so without Misaki, and glancing at Nagare through the tiny glass window only made him more anxious.

And yet, that fact made him angry, and a battle began to rage in his thoughts. Misaki had no problem making music without him. He could imagine Misaki was probably sitting around right now, working on the song with Mikoto excitedly, being all proud of working with his idol, even if it was a shit song. So really, Saruhiko should have no problem doing this. He'd done it before, he'd moved past his fear. Even without Misaki, he could do this, even if it felt so damn wrong.

"Alright Fushimi-san!" Nagare's voice boomed in the headphones, and Saruhiko's body twitched, shocked out of his thoughts. "We're going to play you the song, and you can listen to it a few times. I've got my voice in there right now temporarily, so sing along with me, and when you feel you're ready we'll play with things. You can change whatever you like, complete musical freedom is yours," Nagare smiled.

Saruhiko simply nodded, listening as the song began to play in his headphones. Nagare wasn't a terrible singer himself, and the song was interesting. Saruhiko could recall Misaki talking about Nagare's music style, saying it was a more intense style of dance music, closer to dubstep. At the time, Saruhiko hadn't really understood what Misaki had meant, but listening now, he could get an idea. The sound was completely different from Misaki's. It was heavy, and full of a mesh of beats and tempos. There were moments where the song picked up, as though it was building to something, but instead slowed down. The electronic sounds were almost overwhelming, and it was certainly...unique, and Saruhiko wasn't sure if it was a song he would listen to, or even like.

But he wasn't doing this because he liked Nagare's music.

The song played on repeat a few more times, Saruhiko awkwardly working to pick up the changing rhythms.

"Do you have any thoughts, Fushimi-san?" Nagare asked, after Saruhiko asked to listen to the track once more.

"...It has a lot of unique...rhythms," Saruhiko muttered into the mic, not wanting to insult Nagare. His plan wouldn't work if the man kicked him out of the booth before he even sang a note.

"Good," he said. "Does it feel uncomfortable?" he asked, and Saruhiko met his gaze. His eyes held a playfulness Saruhiko didn't quite understand, must be some sort of musician quirk. He'd seen something similar in Misaki's gaze many times, but Misaki had always seemed more pure, and excited. Nagare on the other hand, looked positively pleased by his discovery of this 'unique' music style.

"...Yes," Saruhiko said bluntly.

"Good!" Nagare repeated. "As I mentioned before, I want to shape and mold the music world. Bring us into a new era of music, and I believe these kinds of tracks will do that. Art isn't supposed to be repetitive and comfortable," he explained.

Saruhiko couldn't exactly argue with that, thinking back on how much he'd hated Mikoto's repetitive, boring song.

"Do you want to try something?" Nagare asked. "No rush, you can have as much time as you please."

Staring at the lyrics in front of him, Saruhiko pursed his lips. The moment he started to sing, there was no going back from this plan. Misaki would eventually hear this song, and he'd know what Saruhiko had done.

He thought momentarily about Mikoto's song again, and he knew he'd be hearing that too, just as much as Misaki would hear this one.

"I'll try," Saruhiko replied.

"Marvelous," Nagare said. "I'll be cutting out my vocals and you can do as you please."

Saruhiko heard the music start up again, and he waited for his cue, knowing he'd have to start. Nagare had already heard him sing at the concert, which is why he was here in the first place, so Saruhiko knew he'd have to get over his fear.

He opened his mouth, letting his mind go blank as Nagare's strange lyrics flowed from his voice. Singing through the song became almost a trance as he added runs and improvisations Nagare hadn't included. He didn't love how he sounded, but he kept going, wanting to push through the track. He kept his mind focused, staring at the page in front of him, and when the song ended, Saruhiko blinked, forgetting he had been singing at all.

Clapping came from the other side of the booth, snapping Saruhiko from his daze. Glancing out the window, he saw both Iwafune and Nagare clapping their hands excitedly. "That was absolutely perfect, Fushimi-san. I knew you'd be the best pick for this song," he smirked.

"...Thanks..." Saruhiko replied.

"It was brilliant! I want to do a few pick ups, maybe have you sing through it a few more times so we have different takes to work with. How does that sound?" Nagare asked.

"Right. Sure," Saruhiko said. It certainly hadn't felt brilliant. When he had sang with Misaki it had ignited a flame inside his blood, a rush he couldn't replicate with this type of song even if he had wanted to. His singing felt flat, emotionless, as though he were singing above the track, not in it, letting the sound wash over his body completely.

He wasn't sure why he had expected it to be the same. Nagare was nothing like Misaki, nothing at all, and it wasn't as though Saruhiko had actually agreed to this because he wanted to sing. His actions had been completely spiteful.

"Let's continue, we'll start from the top," Nagare said, turning the music on once again.

Even as regret began to settle into his chest, Saruhiko knew there was no turning back now.

~~

"Alright team, tell me you've got something," Kusanagi stated. "I'm bumping up this single's release date by a week."

A week? Misaki felt his face pale. His part of the song was finished, or so he thought. He had yet to play it for the Homra group, but Kamamoto had said it felt finished to him, and Misaki was happy with the final product. However, he had no idea if Mikoto and the others would approve what he had done.

"A week?" Totsuka said, speaking Misaki's thoughts out loud. He tilted his head in confusion, tapping his fingers on the table. "But we haven't even recorded the song yet Izumo~" Totsuka whined.

"Mm why?" Mikoto grunted, his expression staying the same, though Misaki felt a hint of annoyance coming from his aura.

"I heard Nagare plans on releasing a new track, something unique and crazy."

"Nothing new..." Mikoto grumbled.

"That's the thing though, if it is something new that gains traction with fans...it could be a problem for our track. Right now, more relaxed dance music is in style thanks to you Mikoto," Kusanagi explained. "The last thing we want is Nagare's erupting electrical style to take over. I doubt you want to make music like that, Mikoto."

The red haired male let out a long sigh, closing his eyes.

"Exactly. So, Yata-san, show us what you got."

Misaki swallowed, and quickly nodded, placing his laptop on the table. "I had...a few ideas to add to the track, as well as the lines where Totsuka-san would sing," Misaki said. "I hope you guys uh...like it."

"Stop being so nervous," Mikoto said, placing a hand on Misaki's shoulder. "We wouldn't have given it to ya' if we thought you'd suck."

Blushing, Misaki glanced at Mikoto's hand on his shoulder. "R-Right.." he nodded his head quickly, his hat falling down over his eyes. Clearing his throat, he pushed it back and opened his laptop, pushing play on the track.

He kept his eyes down, staring at the specks on the table, trying his best to focus on anything but their faces. He couldn't look at their reactions, he was far too terrified.

"Hm," Mikoto grunted, and Misaki jerked his head around to stare at the noise. He was nodding his head up and down ever so slightly.

"Wow..." Totsuka whispered as the end of the track faded out. "That...was awesome!" he cheered.

"You made it better," Mikoto said flatly.

"R-Really?!" Misaki said, standing up as he slammed his hands on the desk. Blushing, he slowly lowered himself back into the chair. "S-Sorry...I'm just happy you like it. I, uh, spent a lot of time perfecting it, I didn't want to ruin what you already had."

"You made it better," Mikoto repeated, nodding his head again.

"You did!" Totsuka said leaning forward. "I am so excited to be singing this song! Your friend is really missing out," he teased.

Misaki froze. "R-Right..." he chuckled awkwardly.

Saruhiko was missing out. This was supposed to be an amazing experience for both of them, for all of them. As much as he had struggled through the song thinking about Saruhiko, Misaki was still a little shocked Saruhiko had completely abandoned him like that. He could imagine Saruhiko sitting at his computer desk, looking grouchy, working on new tech stuff Misaki didn't understand at all. He could've been here, they should've both been here together, but Saruhiko was so damn stubborn. Misaki really had hoped Saruhiko would change his mind and sing with him. He'd come so far, overcoming all the frustrations he'd felt with music, but in the end, he'd gone back to his boring old job. Swallowing, he let the air empty out of his lungs, he'd promised himself he wouldn't waste anymore time worrying about Saruhiko. He'd been the ass, not Misaki...it was Saruhiko's fault he wasn't here.

"Fantastic! Let's get you guys over to the studio then!" Kusanagi said, clapping his hands together.

"Eh? Right now?" Misaki asked, glancing at Totsuka and Mikoto, both looking completely un-phased.

"Yes, right now. Do you have other plans?" Kusanagi asked, raising his eyebrow, as he turned to head out of the office, quickly followed by Mikoto.

Misaki quickly shook his head, standing up immediately to follow after them. "Don't worry," Totsuka chuckled, placing his hand on Misaki's shoulder. "They do this," he said. "Kusanagi is very...prepared. He usually likes what King does, so he sets up recording sessions early. And King just goes with the flow."

"Yeah, I'm...slowly catching on," Misaki chuckled.

They arrived at the studio barely 15 minutes later, and Totsuka was quick to hop in the booth. It was such a contrast to Saruhiko who Misaki had to practically pushed into the booth, desperate for him to just sing.

"So...how do you guys go about doing this?" Misaki asked, taking his seat next to Mikoto in front of the soundboard.

"Just leave it to Tatara," Mikoto said waving his hand. "I make the music, he makes the vocals. Don't worry."

Winking, Totsuka leaned over, giving them a thumbs up through the glass window which peered into the booth.

"Yeah, okay," Misaki nodded.

"He's...excited," Mikoto said, a small chuckle escaping his lips for a moment. "He usually gets like this about recording new shit," Mikoto snorted.

"That's...cool he's so passionate about your music though," Misaki said quietly.

"Mmm..." Mikoto glanced towards him. "Yeah. It's good to find a singer who can bring your music to life, and is excited about it."

Biting down on his lip, Misaki nodded. "Yeah, it always feels really good to have a singer who fits your stuff really well."

"Yeah. Don't worry Tatara is gonna sound great," Mikoto said, keeping his gaze fixated on the excited blond in the booth.

"O-Oh! I know...Uh...sorry, I wasn't trying to make it seem like Totsuka-san would do a bad job! He's incredible...one of the best singers I know! I'm...I'm so lucky to get to collab with him!"

"Yata...I know," Mikoto snorted, raising an eyebrow at him. "But I can tell you miss your friend. Talk to him again."

"What?! No way! This is the best opportunity I've had and Saruhiko gave it up! He's the one who walked away from me. If anyone is going to talk to anyone, he's gotta talk to me!" Misaki snapped.

"Alright," Mikoto shrugged.

Slouching down in his chair, Misaki sighed. He was such an idiot, getting all worked up about Saruhiko like that in front of Mikoto. How uncool! Though, looking at Mikoto, he didn't look too upset, actually he didn't look like he cared at all.

They had Totsuka listen to the track a few times, only two, before he was ready to try something. Totsuka's voice was pure, clean and bubbly, sounding excited and smooth over the track. It was a nice sound, and it was actually better than Misaki had expected it to be. He loved Totsuka's voice, but no matter how hard he had tried, he'd imagined Saruhiko's voice when he had been working on the lyrics. Still, listening to Totsuka now, Misaki did like how he sounded. It added to the meshing of both his and Mikoto's styles.

"That was great Tatara," Mikoto said. "Let's go again."

"Amazing!" Misaki cheered, giving him the thumbs up. It was incredible watching how fast Totsuka worked, and Misaki assumed this was how actual professional singers did things. Totsuka was so comfortable behind the mic, it looked as though everything in the booth, everything in the song belonged to him and only him. Admittedly, it was nice not having to push and fight with his singer to actual sing.

And yet...

Misaki stared into the booth, watching Totsuka sing with such beautiful passion over the track. It should've been perfect, it should've been everything he'd dreamed of. Misaki had been waiting for this moment for so long, collaborating with the two people he respected the most in this industry.

And yet...

The ghost of Saruhiko's voice in the track haunted Misaki. It had never been there of course, but Misaki felt like it had, and though Totsuka's voice was beautiful and full of emotion, Misaki missed how raw Saruhiko's vocals were, how unpolished everything was about him.

"Perfect," Kusanagi says. "You guys are going to blow Nagare's track out of the water," he chuckled, listening to a rough playback of Totsuka's vocals over the song.

"Of course we are!" Misaki cheered. Kusanagi was right. Totsuka sounded amazing, and the song sounded amazing. Yata Misaki had collaborated with Totsuka Tatara and Suoh Mikoto, and it was a dream come true. Actually he was kind of tempted to pinch himself to make sure this had actually happened. There was no point in focusing on stupid Saruhiko, not when he was experiencing one of the greatest moments of his life!

~~

Saruhiko had never felt so damn relieved to sit at his desk that Monday. He'd been gone for a few days due to the recording and the concert, and he was so happy that finally, finally things were back to normal.

Quiet. But normal.

And really...wasn't quiet what he wanted?

He glanced at his phone, the screen black and unchanging. He tapped the button on the screen, making it light up with the time. No new messages. He wasn't sure why he expected anything. Nagare had no reason to contact him, and Misaki sure as hell wasn't going to after the damn fight they'd had.

Minus Munakata, none of his coworkers had come to the concert either, so none of them were bugging him about it, or trying to get details, and it was...nice. He didn't want attention from them or anyone for that matter.

"Ah, good morning Fushimi-kun!" Of course his silence was extremely short lived.

"Mmm..." he grunted, keeping his face glued to the screen. Since Munakata had been quiet about going to the concert, Saruhiko could only hope he'd stay that way, especially around the others at work. There was a tiny itch Saruhiko had, wanting to ask Munakata how exactly he knew Suoh Mikoto, but he didn't want to talk about that guy, nor did he want to bring up stuff with the concert.

"Do you think you could join me in my office for a moment? I have something I'd like to discuss with you," Munakata said with a smile.

"...can it wait?" Saruhiko grunted. "I'm kind of in the middle of something."

"Are you?" Munakata smiled, peering over the cubicle. "It looks to me as if you're simply staring at your home screen currently."

Flaring his nostrils, Saruhiko let out a huff of breath. "Fine," he growled. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Marvelous!" Munakata said, and left him there.

Saruhiko groaned. What the hell could Munakata possibly want to talk about? Sure, he'd taken a few more days off than normal recently, but he rarely took days off, and it wasn't as though he was behind in his work. Everything he'd been doing recently had been on time, and well done, which was more than he could say for people like Hidaka and Doumyouji.

Flicking his computer screen off, he made his way to Munakata's office, knocking once before he entered.

"Good to see you today, Fushimi-kun. The office misses you when you're not here," Munakata said, leaning forward in his chair to rest his head on his hands.

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. He was certain they didn't miss him so much as they missed him picking up their slack and getting extra work done when he stayed later than all of them. "I'm sure," he mumbled.

"I am being serious," Munakata said. "Doumyouji-kun and Hidaka-kun are quite lost without you, and Akiyama-kun, my most proficient worker besides you seems to be slacking without you around as much."

"Sir," Saruhiko began, his eyebrow twitching. "Frankly, I don't see how this is my problem."

"Oh, it is not, I assure you. I simply wanted you to know how...well-liked you are here. This being said, I wanted to speak to you about your future at this company."

"My future?" Saruhiko retorted quickly.

"Yes, your future. As you now know, I am...somewhat close with Suoh Mikoto. A story for another day perhaps," Munakata began, and Saruhiko was damn grateful Munakata had decided to save his breath. "Anyway, I was told you turned down the chance to collaborate with him and your friend, Yata Misaki was it?" Munakata inquired. "I was...curious as to why."

Saruhiko's eyebrow twitched again. How the hell did Munakata find this shit out? Sure, he was friends with Suoh Mikoto, but then again, this was so like him, sticking his nose into Saruhiko's business when it didn't actually belong there.

"What does this have to do with my future here at this company?" Saruhiko grunted.

Munakata chuckled. "I suppose it doesn't affect much if you keep rejecting these opportunities. But I was surprised to hear you had. With your singing voice, Fushimi-kun, I'm sure collaborating with Yata-kun more would be quite good for you."

Clicking his tongue louder, it took every restraint Saruhiko had to not snap at Munakata for not minding his own business.

"I thought perhaps you'd prefer to pursue singing as a career, instead of working here. You're very intelligent, and losing you as an employee would be a blow to us of course. However, Fushimi-kun...I do know you quite well at this point, and I don't wish for you to feel obligated to stay."

Blinking, Saruhiko stared at Munakata for a moment, trying to process his thoughts. Munakata wasn't exactly wrong. Saruhiko did owe his adult life to Munakata. Without this job, without Munakata, he never would've been able to afford living on his own. And admittedly, he didn't hate the job. The people were frustrating sure, but fixing computers was interesting, and challenging every so often. He'd never really thought about how his life would be if he wasn't doing this. He'd never thought he would ever consider leaving. He liked where he was, and before Misaki came and threw off all of his plans, he'd never imagine doing anything else.

None of it mattered however. Munakata was wrong. He didn't imagine himself as a singer, and he'd said no to any further collaborations with Misaki, and he wasn't ever going to work with Nagare again either. He was done with singing, it was over.

"Mmm," Saruhiko grunted. "I won't be doing anymore singing anytime soon. I didn't reject the opportunity because of this job," he mumbled.

"I didn't think so," Munakata chuckled. "It's not my business to ask any more details, but I know you and Yata-kun had a fight." Munakata paused, but Saruhiko said nothing in response, staying silent. There was no point in talking about this anymore, Saruhiko decided. He wasn't going to sing, Misaki was off enjoying his new life as signed DJ, and Saruhiko simply wanted to fade into an unknown existence again.

"Well," Munakata sighed. "I won't keep you from your work," he said, and Saruhiko bowed his head, turning to leave. "But one more thing, Fushimi-kun," Munakata began, freezing Saruhiko at the entrance to the door. "Seeing you perform the other night...it was as though I finally saw you truly living. With Yata-kun, it seems you can do anything, or that was the sense I got from your singing," he said. "I would hate to see you lose that look in your eyes because of a silly fight."

Clenching his fist around the door handle, Saruhiko swung the door open and stormed away. What the hell did Munakata know anyway? He'd only known him for a few years, he didn't know how singing with Misaki made Saruhiko feel, he didn't know how Saruhiko felt about Misaki in general, how frustrating the idiot was. So what if he looked amazing and 'alive' while singing. It was a fluke, a one time thing...it wasn't going to happen ever again, especially not while Misaki was off following Mikoto like a lovesick puppy.

No, Saruhiko had made his choice.

~~

It wasn't long before blogs and radio stations had begun talking Nagare's announcement for his new track. It hadn't come long after Misaki and Mikoto had recorded theirs, but Kusanagi had made the final decision to hold off on posting their new single until around when Nagare's came out. The plan was to release it before however, and Misaki was anxious to hear the final product, and crowd reaction. Most people loved what Mikoto did, but who knew if they'd like the addition of him.

For now, Misaki was focusing on his other songs for his upcoming album. He had recorded a second with Totsuka, and though it had turned out amazingly, Misaki would occasionally feel the slight pang of longing for Saruhiko's amazing voice.

He'd made a promise with himself to stop being down about it after the recording session with Mikoto and Totsuka. Ultimately Misaki was happy. Sometimes his brain would be filled with thoughts of how things were with Saruhiko. It would've been better with Saruhiko, he often would think, but would quickly try and shake the idea from his head.

This was his dream, being signed with Homra was going to be amazing, and he could only hope to continue collaborating with Mikoto in the future. There had already been discussion of a tour with him once both of their new albums were released, then they could play their duet together as well. As long as the sales were up, it was basically guaranteed. Touring with Mikoto was a dream come true, actually everything lately had felt like a dream come true.

Still, Saruhiko missing was a hard slap of reality. Misaki was too stubborn to call him or text him, but he kept checking his phone to see if Saruhiko maybe would, even though he knew damn well Saruhiko would never. It sucked. They had been so close...to something. He'd just started to think that maybe...he loved the asshole. What a fool he'd been. One stupid fight had ruined it all, why the hell had Saruhiko not been more understanding!? Misaki groaned every time he thought about it. It was growing more and more frustrating and Misaki hated how often he felt down thinking about it.

The real problem was, Misaki missed Saruhiko. Missed his voice, missed collaborating with him. And more than his voice, Misaki missed Saruhiko. He missed Saruhiko's grouchy attitude, and he missed getting to bug him through texts all the time, and he missed getting to kiss him, and touch him...even though they had only done that a few times, Misaki had really really wanted to do it more. Usually, it was too much to even think about it.

"How did it go?" Kamamoto asked, when Misaki walked in from his session with Totsuka.

"It was good," Misaki said, tossing his backpack on the floor and plopping on the couch next to Kamamoto.

"Just good? You were recording with Totsuka today right?" he said.

"Yeah it was awesome!" he chuckled, leaning back with his arms against the couch.

"That sounds more like the Misaki I know," Kamamoto said, nudging his side.

"Shaddup! I'm still not used to this."

"What? Getting to work with your music heroes?" Kamamoto teased.

"Yeah! Exactly! It's just a little surreal you know?" Misaki said. "Plus...I'm still having that problem where I hear dumbass Saruhiko's voice on everything I do! It...kind of throws me off when I hear Totsuka sing them."

"Really?" Kamamoto said, looking shocked. "Isn't Totsuka really good though?"

"Yeah..." Misaki muttered. "I mean he's amazing! I love his voice, especially on Mikoto's stuff, they just...mesh so well you know?!"

"Well, they're dating right? I know there's been rumors about it..." Kamamoto said.

"WHAT?!" Misaki yelled. "They are!?"

"Eh!?" Kamamoto blinked. "I figured for sure you'd know since you've been around them in person unlike most of the tabloid writers..."

"I had...no idea..." Misaki blinked. "But I guess that does make sense...As to why they mesh so well." Blushing, Misaki thought of how good Saruhiko sounded on his song, and how it had led to other things between them.

"So you feel like Totsuka isn't right for your songs then?" Kamamoto asked.

Misaki shook his head. "No, he's still amazing. His voice is incredible, and I actually can't believe the Totsuka Tatara is singing on one of my songs. But you know when you have a certain sound in your head...and you just...can't get it out. That keeps happening..." Misaki muttered, standing up to head to the kitchen for water.

"Hmm. You gotta do something to forget about that guy," Kamamoto said, leaning on the arm of the couch. "Maybe imagine Totsuka singing your stuff when you're working on it."

"I've been trying that!" Misaki moaned. "It's just...not working so well."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out. You always do!" Kamamoto cheered.

"I gotta!" Misaki said, filling up a cup with some water. "I mean I gotta make this album good you know? It's my first one!"

"Yata-san, no matter what you do, your album is gonna be freaking awesome!" Kamamoto chuckled.

"Maybe..." he sighed, sitting back down on the couch, and kicking his legs onto the table in front of them.

"Oh! You know what I heard, Nagare's single is going to be previewed tonight on the radio in...5 minutes!" Kamamoto said glancing at his watch.

"WHAT?!" Misaki said, slamming the cup on the table. "We wanted to release our single first! Shit! Kusanagi is going to be mad."

"Well it's just a preview...not everyone will hear it," Kamamoto said. "It's not like it's going online."

"Argh! Still!" Misaki growled, dashing into his room. He dug through his drawers looking for his old portable radio. Frantically tossing clothes and trash around, he finally found it on a shelf near his closet.

He ran back to the living room, placing it on the table as he tuned it to the 'Hits' station.

"Dammit!" Misaki cursed again. "I can't believe this!"

"You can still release it first," Kamamoto said. "Sorry I didn't realize this was such a big deal."

"Of course it is!" Misaki snapped. "We don't wanna be competing with Nagare's new sound. Whatever it is..." he grumbled.

His heart pounded as he heard the radio announcer talk about Nagare's new single, and how unique and interesting it was. Misaki normally loved his music, and any other time he probably would've been thrilled to hear a new track by him, but for now he was a complete ball of anxiety. What would it sound like? Would it be good? Would it be better than his and Mikoto's song?! Would their song flop which would cause Misaki's album to flop, and then he wouldn't get to go on tour and lose his signing?!

"And now! We're happy to bring you a preview of Nagare's new song, featuring up and coming singer, Fushimi Saruhiko."

Misaki froze, all thoughts of failure slipping from his mind. "..." Picking up the tiny radio, he turned to Kamamoto, whose face looked confused, his brow furrowed. "What the hell did it just say?!"

"I-I dunno!" Kamamoto choked out.

"Did it...did it say...did it...Saruhiko?" Misaki felt his mouth run dry, and he stared at the device in front of him. There was no way to rewind, so as the song began, all he could do was wait and listen. The song seemed to play in slow motion, each beat felt painful as his head began to throb. He couldn't focus on what the song sounded like.

Had Saruhiko sang with someone else? There was no way. Saruhiko could barely sing for him...let alone anyone else...

The first line came in, and Misaki felt his heart flutter, and then immediately sink. He knew that tone so well.

Saruhiko was singing on a song Hisui Nagare had written.

[ridiasfangirlings]

Lifeline 1 - You are basically the 'lifeline' of your soulmate. You're able to sense the health state of your other half. When they're healthy, you don't feel any different than normal. However, if they're not taking proper care of themselves (not eating/sleeping enough) something inside you prompts you to go help. When they're mildly to moderately injured you're compelled to be beside them, but you could resist if you try hard enough. If they are fatally injured, you are forced to their side.

I admit my first thought reading the part about how you can sense the health state and all was 'Yata's probably getting constantly barraged with soulmate bulletins telling him Saruhiko isn't taking care of himself again.' I feel like this could get interesting in regards to Fushimi and Yata post-betrayal in particular, even the soulmate bond is a 'lifeline' it still presumably doesn't give you psychic powers and so Yata would have no real idea about Fushimi's feelings (and even if Fushimi was aware that he and Yata were soulmates that might not be enough to get him to stay, Fushimi being the sort of person who could easily assume that if someone in the world is going to get an 'incorrect' soulmate of course it would be him). Also assuming the bond doesn't kick in until you've met your soulmate just imagine the very first day of middle school and the class are all introducing themselves and maybe Yata just like bumps Fushimi while going past his desk or runs into him in the doorway or something. Their eyes meet and there's no real fireworks or anything, the lifeline bond is a quiet bond, but later that day Yata has this really weird feeling like somewhere there's a person who doesn't feel well and he wants to help them.

So then when Yata eventually realizes that Fushimi's his soulmate there's still some hesitation om Fushimi's part, like imagine Yata tells Fushimi 'hey, I think we're soulmates because I can just feel it when you're being an unhealthy little shit' and maybe Fushimi wants to believe it but he's never felt that bond at all (because Yata actually does take care of himself). And in Homra Fushimi never feels the bond because even when Yata's injured it's either never serious enough to trigger the bond or they're together already. In those cases Yata says see, we both healed fast because we're soulmates but Fushimi doesn't trust that. Of course then when he burns his tattoo just imagine how much the bond is pulling on Yata, wanting to reach out and touch it and make it better, and Fushimi has to actively pull away from him in order to keep the mark fresh. I could see in this AU him even occasionally burning the tattoo multiple times, even if it pains him, because sometimes after he fights Misaki the burn starts to heal and Fushimi doesn't intend to let that happen. While they're apart Yata can't help but be constantly worried because he can feel how awfully Fushimi is handling himself, every long night working and every inadequate meal, and even though his very soul is just crying out to help he can't (and then imagine Fushimi finally gets to feel the bond himself – right after Totsuka dies, and Fushimi suddenly realizes that he knows Misaki isn't eating well or sleeping, and despite himself he wants to go find him and help him).

On the Mikoto side of things, my question here would probably be how does the fatality thing work, like does the soulmate have to be near their other half to stop them from dying or do they just linger on in horrible pain until the wounds finally heal. In the former scenario I'm just imagining Totsuka, who has always told Mikoto that they're safe as long as they stay by each other's side, getting shot on the rooftop and realizing that there's no way Mikoto can get here fast enough and thinking ah, I'm sorry King, I really did go too far out this time. Kusanagi has Mikoto come with him to the roof but they're too late after all, running through the streets and suddenly Mikoto just stops dead. Kusanagi's like what are you doing we need to get to Totsuka and Mikoto just leans against a building and stares up at the sky as he says it's too late, because he just felt that unbreakable bond finally tear.

Mikorei version, this gets complicated because yes Munakata can save Mikoto but should he – he can heal Mikoto's body, sure, but if he can't destroy the Sword of Damocles I'm not sure that this would be a good thing. In fact in this AU I wonder if Mikoto would be actively trying to find someone else to kill him, like he's planning that when he kills Colorless he'll be killed at the same time and thus solve the problem of his Damocles Down. Or maybe when Shiro shows up Mikoto decides to use him, or Kokujouji even actually gets up off his butt and decides to do the deed because everyone knows Munakata can't. Munakata meanwhile is trying to find another route, a way to heal Mikoto's Damocles or to somehow bring him to the point of death enough that the Sword dissipates and then Munakata can drag him back and complain about him being a stubborn idiot. Homra though is actively trying to keep Munakata away at Mikoto's request and it's like a race for Munakata to get near Mikoto fast enough to save his life while also finding a way to save the lives of everyone around them by preventing a Damocles Down.

[ridiasfangirlings]

Aww... I know it's late but imagine Fushimi trying to make Yata a birthday cake and asking for help since he doesn't know how (like maybe Kuro since he did teach them how to bake in the school au and he was the one who taught Anna and Neko how to make valentine's choco).

Fushimi interacting with the Silvers to bake Yata a cake would be super adorable actually, he doesn't get to spend time with them very often. Maybe he's decided he really wants to make Yata a cake, like now that they've made up and become friends again Fushimi wants to do something nice for Yata. He knows Yata always used to make him a cake for his birthday and he always complained about it being too sweet or too moist but really he treasured those cakes because it was the only time anyone actually cared about his birthday. So he decides that he'll make Misaki a cake, sure he's never baked before but Fushimi knows how to watch Youtube tutorials so how hard can it be really.

Two hours later he's surrounded by mess in the Scepter 4 kitchen and the cake is a smoldering black rock. Fushimi clicks his tongue in irritation, he tried to follow the recipe exactly but still it turned out like this and why did he think he would be able to manage any different really. At first he figures screw it he just won't make a cake but there's all this little low key guilt eating at him, like after everything he's put Yata through the least he can do is make a stupid cake for Misaki's stupid birthday. Finally Fushimi decides to swallow his pride and ask Kamo for help, but as it happens Kamo's out of the office on his once a year visit to his daughter and won't be back until after Yata's birthday. Fushimi's at a loss, not sure who else to ask, and maybe he risks a call to Bar Homra, figuring maybe Kusanagi will know how to bake. Kusanagi's out but Anna answers the phone, when she asks what he needs he initially says 'nothing' but Anna's just sitting there silently on the other end and finally Fushimi grudgingly admits that he wanted Kusanagi's help baking a cake for Misaki. Anna says Kusanagi's out for the day but she can help him and asks him to meet her at the train to the school island.

So Fushimi goes to meet Anna, imagine her telling Kamamoto and Yata as she leaves that she's going to see Neko and when they offer to accompany her she shakes her head and says someone else is meeting her (and now they're all wondering if Anna has a secret boyfriend). Fushimi's waiting by the train trying to look as if he isn't actually waiting for someone, Anna walks over dressed in a cute walking outfit and takes his hand as she leads him onto the train. Fushimi clicks his tongue but doesn't pull away as he wonders what the point of all this is, Anna smiles at him and says she wants to help Saruhiko bake a cake. Fushimi looks away and mumbles that it isn't a big deal but Anna's just very serene about the whole thing, telling him not to worry and Fushimi's giving her a look because isn't she supposed to be the kid here.

When they get to the school Neko and Kuroh are waiting just outside Ashinaka, Neko waves to Anna and runs over to meet her while Kuroh gives Fushimi this appraising look. Fushimi gives an annoyed 'what?' and then Kuroh nods seriously, smiling as he says that yes, Fushimi will be a promising student. Fushimi's like what now and Anna says that Kuroh is going to help him bake a cake. Fushimi's not particularly thrilled at being Kuroh's new culinary student but this is for Misaki so he agrees and they all head back to Shiro's room to get started.

The actual baking part ends up being pretty lively, Neko and Shiro keep hanging out by the kitchen door wanting to taste cake batter while Kuroh very seriously attempts to tutor Fushimi in the art of cake baking. Kuroh's mildly appalled by Fushimi's complete ignorance of all things cooking, like he tells Fushimi to separate eggs and finds Fushimi very carefully setting them on opposite sides of the counter. Kuroh suggests Fushimi set up a double boiler for chocolate and Fushimi just starts boiling water until it almost boils over, figuring that's like 'doubling' it right. Then Neko tries to steal some chocolate and Fushimi throws a knife to stop her, Kuroh has to scold him about tossing knives in the kitchen while Anna coaxes Neko back out away from the kitchen with a can of tuna.

Fushimi's feeling very out of place in this little family atmosphere and wonders why Kuroh's even helping him, it's not as if they're close or anything. Kuroh says it was a request from Anna and besides, Fushimi's trying to do a good deed for a friend's birthday, how can Kuroh not support such a noble cause. Fushimi rolls his eyes a little and says it's just a cake, Kuroh gives him a serious look and says the cake is for someone who he's rekindling a friendship with isn't it, and so it's important that Fushimi's feelings are able to come across in his food. Fushimi looks down at the cake batter all 'feelings, huh...' and Kuroh decides this is the time to play an inspiring Ichigen Miwa quote. Fushimi calls him creepy but laughs a little too and Kuroh supposes he can let that go as he's like let's get back to work on this cake for your precious friend, so that it turns out well (and in the end they do get a lovely cake that Fushimi gifts to Yata the next day, Yata's thrilled that Fushimi actually made him a cake and it's even edible, he's really glad Fushimi went so far as to do this for him though he's also having a bit of a 'who are you and what did you do with Saruhiko' moment).

[ridiasfangirlings]

Post-reconciliation sarumi just finish fighting a strain when saruhiko notices that theres mildly deep injury on Yata. When he says as much, Yata says hes fine, and when saru keeps pushing him about it, he offhandedly comments "cmon, saru, not like you havent done worse to me before". And he really just means to be reassuring, but of course fushimi spirals and begins worrying that misaki hasnt truly forgiven him, when yata really just meant that he was f i n e

Hello Fushimi self loathing shame spiral, yes, can totally see this. Yata doesn't even mean it badly, I feel like once they've reconciled Yata would be able to put most of that past him (especially injuries, when none of his were permanent but he can always see that burn scar on Fushimi's chest as a reminder of how far Fushimi was willing to go to hurt himself as much as Yata) but Fushimi would worry over it. Like imagine post-ROK the two of them are chasing after some Strain together and it's not too difficult a fight, they're back to working as a team and most Strains don't stand a chance when they're really in sync. This Strain does manage to get a cut in though, like maybe they can manipulate glass or something and end up breaking a large window and Yata gets caught in it. Yata ends up getting fairly cut up, though it largely looks worse than it actually is. In the aftermath Fushimi's kinda fussing in his own way, not really letting it show how worried he is but Yata can tell from the way he keeps hovering nearby and telling Yata to bandage himself up. Yata says he's fine and he needs to finish calling Kusanagi first to let him know the situation's been handled. Fushimi gets a little more insistent, clicking his tongue all 'get yourself taken care of first idiot.' Yata gives him this wry look like he knows full well Fushimi's only being this way because he's truly worried and Yata kinda waves his hand all 'it's fine, it's fine, I've had worse before from you.'

For Yata that's the end of it, going to call Kusanagi and thinking that he just reassured Saruhiko that he's okay so everything's good now. Fushimi on the other hand is standing there stock still, fingers twitching slightly and staring as Yata walks off a bit to the side to make his call. Fushimi's mind is already going a mile a minute, trying to figure out if Yata was mad at him, is this Yata's way of saying that he hasn't forgiven Fushimi yet for all those times, is this some kind of reminder to Fushimi not to overstep himself. And Fushimi probably stews about this for hours, even as Yata comes back like all right let's go home and I'll get cleaned up. Yata's acting fine the whole way back to their apartment, smiling and chatting like everything's normal and Fushimi's just having his silent self loathing hate spiral, not sure how to react or what to say and even Yata can tell that Fushimi's being oddly reserved. Once they get back Yata goes to clean himself up and Fushimi just sits there on the couch, thinking about all those times he punched or stabbed or injured Misaki and maybe he really doesn't deserve to be with Yata after all, like isn't it clear how messed up he is that he could hurt Yata that way and then still expect to be forgiven.

He's still sitting there when Yata shows up, all worried because he thought Fushimi would come to help bandage him up. He could tell that Fushimi was being distant on the way back too and now he's even more worried, putting a hand on Fushimi's shoulder and asking if Fushimi's okay, probably worried that Fushimi got hurt somehow and isn't telling him. Fushimi mumbles that he's fine and Yata's like don't give me that I can see you aren't did you get hurt somewhere and Fushimi snaps at Yata to worry about himself, isn't Yata the one who's hurt. Yata blinks for a moment and says didn't we go over this already I told you I'm fine I've had worse and Fushimi's like '...because of me.' Yata looks at him in surprise like wait is that what this is about and Fushimi suddenly pulls away from him all I know I hurt you badly before and I should go before I do it again. Yata suddenly realizes exactly what the problem is and he runs forward to grab Fushimi by the wrist, like wait a second Saruhiko that's not how I meant it.

Fushimi starts to pull away a bit defensive like how did you mean it then and Yata says I was trying to tell you that I was fine. Fushimi's voice gets a little bitter as he's like right, because I've hurt you worse. Yata says he was trying to reassure Fushimi and Fushimi's like sure you were, to remind me that no one can hurt you more than I have, apologies not fitting in his mouth any better than gratitude so he's falling back on bad habits and trying to destroy what he thinks is crumbling. Yata knows better this time though and imagine him just like tackle-hugging Fushimi back on the couch as he's like you idiot, the worst you ever hurt me we already talked about so stop thinking so badly of yourself. Fushimi stumbles on his words a little, caught by Yata's honesty as always, burying his face in Yata's shoulder a little as he repeats that he hurt Yata and Yata's like I know but it's okay now, just holding him and maybe apologizing himself for saying what he did so easily without thinking about how it would affect Fushimi. Fushimi sulkily tells him not to apologize and Yata's like no really, I'm sorry Saruhiko, just holding him for a while until Fushimi feels better, letting Fushimi feel Yata there close beside him as a reminder that they're not going to break apart again and Yata's always going to be here with him.

[ridiasfangirlings]

There's this Filipino song called "Araw-Araw" that has a line, "Pipiliin ka sa araw-araw." This roughly translates to, "I'd choose you every day." And just??? Soft Sarumi with Yata reassuring Fushimi that, yes, he would choose him every day?

Aw, Fushimi needs that sentiment I bet. Like even after they've made up and gotten together I'm sure Fushimi has days where he just feels like he's not good enough for Yata, where he remembers how royally he screwed everything up and how he's just not meant to be with anyone and he thinks that Yata would be way better off if he'd just choose someone else. Plus Fushimi's not good at vocalizing his feelings while Yata's always so openly affectionate and it makes Fushimi feel like he isn't doing enough but he doesn't know how to be any different, like this whole idea of loving someone and being loved back is so completely foreign to him and Fushimi feels like this is some reminder that he's just really not like other people – where Misaki can give love so easily and Fushimi doesn't know how to and maybe if he did he'd be a better partner for Yata.

Yata can always tell when Fushimi's feeling gloomy though, imagine him making breakfast in the morning one day when Fushimi finally has a day off and Yata peeks into the room and sees that Fushimi's still lying in bed. He has this look on his face that makes Yata feel as if that old wall is coming up again, the one with the small door that's only slightly unlocked, Fushimi still not able to open it from the inside. Yata turns off the stove and walks back into the bedroom, lying down beside Fushimi as he asks what Fushimi's thinking about. Fushimi shrugs and Yata sighs a little and then he gives this sudden grin and wraps his arms around Fushimi all 'got you.' Fushimi huffs and buries his head in Yata's chest a bit, Yata asks him if he's feeling sick or something and Fushimi just shakes his head. Yata doesn't press him, knowing that with Fushimi sometimes you have to wait a little for him to get to the point of honesty, and finally after they've been sitting that way for a while Fushimi wonders why Yata's still here. Yata says the bed's comfy and Fushimi clicks his tongue like no I meant here, with me. Yata gives Fushimi a light bonk on the head and he's like why wouldn't I be here with you dummy I love you. Fushimi quietly says that Yata should be with someone who can love him like a normal person and Yata's like nah that doesn't sound like any fun. Yata tilts Fushimi's head up a little to look at him and now his face is serious as he says he's with Fushimi because he wants to be, because Fushimi is the guy he fell in love with, Sure maybe he could have someone else but if it came down to a choice Yata's going to choose Fushimi every time, they didn't go through so much together just for Yata to give up that easily. Fushimi's face gets a little red and he mumbles that Yata's an idiot, Yata's like yeah well so are you, so they'll just have to stay together like this, because there's no one else he'd rather be beside.

[ridiasfangirlings]

hi! ask with homra going to the zoo and saruhiko getting upset at the monkey exhibit so sad :( poor baby... but imagine how much happier in bug section! some sarumi fluff in zoo?

I dunno, would he be okay with the bug section, what if there's an anthill o_O Oh, though maybe imagine this as being post-ROK and Fushimi and Yata go back to the zoo and now that Fushimi's begun moving on from his past a little he's able to enjoy more things without the memory of Niki ruining them. Like say Homra's planning on going to the zoo again with Anna like in the first ask, like as kind of a way to wind down after all the mess of the last couple years and also for Homra to finally do something enjoyable together as a clan to help heal from the loss of Mikoto and Totsuka. Yata wonders if it would be okay to invite Saruhiko, he knows Fushimi might not say yes because he won't want to go anywhere with Homra but Yata remembers the last time when the two of them spent that entire afternoon on the bench together and he thinks it might be good for Saruhiko too, learning to move on a little. Fushimi's initial response when Yata brings it up is 'hell no' but then Yata gets this noticeably crestfallen look even as he's trying to be positive like 'yeah, I thought you'd say that' and Fushimi gets this little twinge of guilt because for all he's been trying to change it seems like he's still hurting Yata even when he doesn't intend to. Fushimi clicks his tongue and says fine, he'll come, but he's not hanging around with Homra the whole time. Yata immediately brightens and assures him that they can go off on their own after walking around a bit and that he's gonna make sure Fushimi has a good time this time.

The day arrives and Fushimi meets Yata and Homra at the zoo, Kusanagi and Anna greet him and Fushimi's a bit standoffish but he does say hello. Yata elbows him a little and tells him to smile, they're going to have a good time today. Fushimi complains because it's too hot outside to be wandering around and Yata's like sorry princess it's summer what did you expect. They do hang out with Homra for a while and poor Fushimi is all awkward, hanging back behind everyone and for him it feels like suddenly nothing's changed and he's still the odd one out with Homra there. But then Yata walks over to him and starts smiling and talking to him and telling him to drink his water and checking his temperature because Fushimi looks like he's getting a little overheated. This seems like a good time to get some alone tome together so Yata tells the rest of the guys that he's going to take Saruhiko to look at some indoor exhibits and they'll meet back up for lunch.

Fushimi complains that he's fine even though secretly he's happy to have gotten rid of everyone else so that now he can just spend time with Misaki alone. Yata says his face looks pale and they should go inside for now because he knows how Fushimi gets in the summer and it's like they're kids again now, just hanging out together and walking around talking about whatever comes to mind and Fushimi can't help this small little smile. Yata spots the bug house nearby and figures well, bugs are kinda gross but it should be cooler in there and he grabs Fushimi by the wrist to drag him inside, Fushimi's face maybe suddenly a little redder than before. Inside the place is full of creepy crawly bugs and Yata shivers a little like maybe we should go somewhere else, only to glance back and see Fushimi watching some beetles with rapt fascination.

Yata didn't know Fushimi liked bugs so much and Fushimi shrugs and says he doesn’t mind them, even as he keeps looking at all the exhibits with obvious interest. Yata can't help but feel a bit surprised that after all the time they've known each other he never knew Fushimi was into bugs and Fushimi hesitates for a moment before quietly saying that he used to like them...when he was younger. There's something in his tone that makes Yata stand up a little straighter and look at him with worry as Fushimi walks over to this huge anthill exhibit. Fushimi's breath catches for a moment and Yata sees his hands shaking as he leans in to watch. Yata walks up beside him and asks if it's interesting, Fushimi says that it's a perfect system isn't it...everyone has a job, no one's forgotten or useless. Yata smiles and shrugs, saying he doesn't think not having a job makes you useless though. Fushimi looks over at him and Yata just grins back, finally Fushimi gives this small smile as he's like of course an idiot like you would say that. Yata's like hey I've had lots of jobs and Fushimi snorts, looking back at the ants with this kinda nostalgic look. Yata decides that it's probably fine if they stay right here a little longer then, moving closer to Fushimi as they watch the ants together.

[ridiasfangirlings]

Concept: Fushimi is the first to say 'I love you.' Yata's reaction?

Slight apologies to the anon who asked this, I was deliberately saving this one for Sarumi Fest. Hope the small fic makes up for it ^^

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“….This is boring,” Fushimi clicked his tongue, leaning back in his seat as he glanced over at Yata. The movie theater was nearly empty save for the two of them, side by side in the very back row. It was a hot day even for July and they’d taken refuge inside the theater just to enjoy the air conditioning, grabbing tickets for whatever happened to be playing.

That ‘whatever happened to be playing’ was a sappy romance movie had presumably not been intentional, judging from the way Yata had spent the last half an hour or so with his hands over his eyes and his face bright red even in the dim light of the theater.

“D-did she put her clothes back on yet?” Yata had shrunk back in the chair, popcorn stuck to his shirt, still in the same position he’d been in ever since the sex scene had started.

“Yes,” Fushimi said, even though the actress hadn’t. Yata carefully removed one hand and then gave a small scream as the movie screen filled with a close up of the actress’s naked breasts.

“S-Saruhiko!”

“Don’t be such a virgin, Misaki.” Fushimi clicked his tongue again, crossing his arms and staring down at his PDA. “You chose this movie, right?”

“I didn’t know it was a—a–” Yata groaned and threw his head back. “What the hell was that guy at the front counter thinking anyway? We’re kids, we shouldn’t be watching this kind of stuff! Right?”

Fushimi just shrugged in reply, focused on his PDA. The couple onscreen cuddled in bed and Fushimi rolled his eyes.

“This is stupid.”

“Let’s go then.” Yata risked opening an eye to reach out and tug on his sleeve. “We can go back to my place and play video games, okay?”

“It’s too hot for that.” Fushimi didn’t even look up.

“I’m sure Mom’s got the fan going.” There was a slight pause. “Or we could go back to your place–”

“No.” Flat and final,enough that even an idiot like Misaki couldn’t miss the undertone. “This is fine.”

“But–”

“The movie’s almost over, right?” Fushimi said curtly. “At least it’s cool in here.”

“You really don’t like hot weather, huh?” Yata sighed, looking back at the movie screen now that everyone was fully clothed again. “Hey, I bet if we hide in here they won’t even notice if we stick around for the next movie. Maybe it’ll cool down outside by then and we can go back to my place.”

“We.” Fushimi said the word softly under his breath, as if testing it. Yata was looking at him with a bright open smile and Fushimi’s gaze traveled back to the movie screen. “Your mom doesn’t like you having people sleep over when there’s school tomorrow, I thought.”

“She won’t mind if it’s you.” Yata leaned on the arm rest and if Fushimi turned his head there would be only inches of space between them. “Saruhiko….it’s too hot to spend the night by yourself, right? We could stop by the convenience store on the way home and look for another fan, then we’ll have two in my room and it’ll be cool enough for both of us.”

“….Fine.” Fushimi’s eyes slid back down to his PDA, but he could hear Yata’s smile without even seeing it. Yata had begun to feel that way for him, lately – bright like a sun he couldn’t quite grasp, wild emotions that Fushimi could almost feel as if they were rays of heat pressing against his skin.

“All right! What movie do you think’ll be playing next? There’s gotta be an action movie playing some time, they can’t play this sappy stuff again and again all day.”

“I love you.” The actress on screen was speaking again and Fushimi felt a small spike of annoyance, that her voice was drowning out Misaki’s.

It was too too hot out, and Misaki was right there next to him. Later they’d go back to Misaki’s house and Fushimi would be able to sleep for the night. Then they could walk to school together, or skip if Fushimi didn’t feel like going. If he was feeling under the weather Misaki would argue with his mother about staying home to keep an eye on him, and make an ice pack and porridge with pineapples for him to eat.

Lazy, unconcerned days that went on and on, and had been for what seemed like a long time now. Sometimes Fushimi could almost forget it, that big empty house and those wide empty rooms, and laughter that froze his blood and echoed from wall to wall. As long as Misaki was here, it felt like these days could go on forever and Fushimi wouldn’t mind at all.

“I’ve always loved you. Without you….I haven’t got anyone!” Tears were falling from the actress’s eyes, fake and melodramatic, and Fushimi saw Yata shifting beside him with an irritated face. The words sounded flat to Fushimi’s ears, and foreign – what did that kind of thing mean anyway, confessions of love? It was a stupid thing to get so worked up over. The characters onscreen embraced, and Fushimi clicked his tongue and watched Yata from the corner of his eye.

Yata smiled back at him and Fushimi’s heart fluttered, just a bit.

                            –

The room was dark and quiet, the only sounds the soft insistent hum of the fans and Yata’s steady breathing.

It was too hot to sleep on the floor, Yata had decided. Fushimi always took the bed – even though it was Yata’s, but Yata never complained after the first time – so there was really only one choice.

Fushimi stared at Yata’s back in front of him, Yata’s hair that was tousled against the pillow, and one hand started to reach up to touch the edge of those strands for just a moment before Fushimi forced it back down.

They’d hid in the theater for three different movies, and it had been the same romance each time. The second time a group of teenagers had filled the theater in front of them and Yata had spent the majority of the movie hiding behind his seat and complaining that they should go to another theater. Fushimi had refused just because it felt like too much effort, and because it was fun watching Misaki squirm and blush like a little kid.

Hazy images flashed through his mind, of an actor and actress tangled in bedsheets, foreign words on perfectly made-up lips.

Fushimi didn’t really know what those words meant. No one had ever said them to him, even from the very start. He’d assumed that emotion was something meant for other people, not for him. It was a weak thing, anyway. The movies always acted like it was an amazing thing but really, all it did was open you up to being torn apart from the inside. All it did was build up a garden that wouldn’t even grow, that would burn down before a single flower could take root.

Yata murmured something in his sleep and rolled over. His bangs were covering his eyes, and this time Fushimi couldn’t stop himself from brushing them aside. Yata stirred a little in his sleep, and smiled, but didn’t wake up.

Fushimi felt the fluttering in his chest again, the longing he hadn’t thought existed inside of him. Of course it was stupid. Of course it would all burn into ash. This wasn’t a movie, and he wasn’t the type of person who could ever be a romantic hero.

Fushimi inched himself a little closer to Misaki, head inclined, and if he moved just a little bit more their foreheads would have touched.

“I love you.” He mouthed the words, but he didn’t say it.

                            –

“Seriously, Saruhiko, why don’t you guys have a summer uniform or something? Is your King an idiot?”

“Shut up.” Fushimi’s voice was only a dry croak, eyes closed as Yata pressed a cool palm against his forehead. Fushimi tried to bat him away but his limbs didn’t seem to want to obey, weak and clammy as if they weren’t his own, and he lay there limp against the couch.

“Did you drink anything today? Hey, Saruhiko, are you listening?” Yata pressed another hand against his cheek and Fushimi could feel the heat gathering there like a small burning fire. Really, it was bad enough that he’d fainted on patrol, he had no idea why Akiyama and Benzai had decided the best course of action was to call Misaki of all people.

“I’ll take care of him.” Misaki had shown up too, like a parent picking up a sickly child early from school. He’d half-carried Fushimi back to their apartment and laid him on the couch and fussed over him for at least ten minutes now.

It….maybe wasn’t so bad. Fushimi clicked his tongue and tried to turn his head from Yata’s gaze, only to be stopped by Yata’s palms on his cheeks. Yata was looking straight down at him and for a moment Fushimi’s eyes met Yata’s straight on, cold blue and warm amber, and suddenly Fushimi’s face felt even hotter than before.

“I-I’ll get you some water, okay?” Yata coughed, abruptly sitting up. Fushimi let out a soft breath from between clenched teeth and closed his eyes, letting his head rest on the arm of the couch as he heard Yata get up and walk towards the kitchen.

They’d been living together for two months now. It had been Misaki’s idea and Fushimi had agreed because his mouth had spoken the words before his brain could catch up. Maybe he’d just needed a change of scenery, he decided. Maybe he’d just gotten bored of Scepter 4’s dorms, of his plain room without a single important item in it, the room where only the uniform hanging on the closet door suggested that it belonged to anyone at all.

This apartment was fully painted in Yata’s colors. The moment Fushimi had stepped inside, shoulders hunched and a backpack on his back, he’d been able to feel it in his bones, those warm sun rays of Misaki’s smile splashed across the walls. There was a skateboard in the corner, posters haphazardly taped to the walls. The kitchen was fully stocked – vegetables in the fridge, and pineapples – and there were extra towels in the bathroom, brand new blue ones next to the well used red.

It shouldn’t have felt like home, stepping into the apartment. But it had.

Fushimi’s hands fumbled for the remote on the table in front of the couch. His head was pounding and he could still feel the ghost of Misaki’s fingers on his cheeks, he needed a distraction. There was the soft static sound of the television being turned on and then he let the remote fall to the floor as Fushimi curled his body up on the couch.

“Here, drink.” Familiar footfalls and Fushimi didn’t even need to look up to know that Misaki was standing over him. In the background Fushimi could make out the faint noise from the TV.

“I love you.”

“Hey, Saruhiko, come on! You need to drink. You didn’t faint on me again, right?” Yata bent down, half his body casting a shadow over Fushimi’s, and Fushimi blinked up stupidly at him. It was strange to be the one feeling small under Misaki, and dimly Fushimi realized that he’d lost his glasses at some point.

It felt a little like standing in the shadow of a statue, the kind you would see in museums, Greek gods stolen from their temple. The thought was so ridiculous it made Fushimi feel giddy and he let a wide twisted smile split his face as he reached up towards the water bottle and batted at it with his fingers.

“H-hey, careful!” Yata pulled the water back and there was that hand on his forehead again.

“I’ve always loved you.”

Words didn’t seem to be fitting right in his head, and Fushimi wondered why Yata’s face seemed red too. Come to think, that had been happening a lot lately too. Yata had invited him to coffee and stumbled over a word that he never had fully spoken: “It’ll be like a da—like a– never mind, just get coffee with me!”

Fushimi wasn’t stupid, he knew what Yata had been trying to say. But what his mind knew and his heart knew were always at cross purposes, and no matter how much his mind insisted on the logical answer his heart knew better. Words weren’t meant for him. His heart was a walled garden that didn’t grow, that twisted over all in vines and weeds. That sort of place would only serve to choke someone like Misaki, until neither of them could breathe.

“Saruhiko…” Yata’s voice was there again, at the edges of his mind, cutting through the fog and the darkness. Fushimi looked up at him and past him, towards the fuzzy figures on the TV screen.

“Forever…you’ve always been the only one for me. The only one I would ever choose…”

Yata held the bottle in one hand, the other twisting off the cap and setting it aside. The world seemed to move in slow motion as Yata brought the bottle to his lips, water dripping down his chin, and suddenly Fushimi’s own lips parted, parched.

Yata’s mouth pressed over his, cool water down his throat. It slid from the corner of his mouth, tongue brushing against Yata’s all on its own, and Fushimi heard Yata’s breath stop for just a moment, felt his own heart skip a beat.

Yata stepped back, wiping off his mouth with the back of his hand. His face was burning.

“S-Saruhiko….” Yata seemed to be arguing with himself for a moment, before his whole body straightened. “L-look, I know this isn’t really – it’s not a good time to say it or anything, but I’ve been wanting to – just hear me out for a sec, okay? I–”

“I love you.” Fushimi wasn’t sure if he’d meant to say it. Maybe he’d only been planning to mouth the words that had sprung forth, water shifting aside tangled vines and the sun pouring in without him noticing. But his whole body was still on fire, burning down his spine, beating blood through his heart. He’d known it from the start, really. It wasn’t meant for him, but he’d still known it.

“What….did you say?” Yata’s voice was a hollow shadow, thin like a reed, and Fushimi could have laughed if he’d had the breath for it. Well, he’d made the mistake. He always read the signs wrong, because a human body wasn’t math and couldn’t be quantified. Maybe Yata had meant to say something else all along. Maybe Yata had only been forcing water down a parched throat, and nothing more. Maybe there was an anthill burning in the sun and here he was, placing his hands in the fire like a moron, like a Misaki with emotions swinging wild.

“I love you.” It was stupid, saying it again. What did those words mean anyway. What did someone like him know about love, when he’d never spoken the word aloud in his entire life. It was the stupidest thing, but his mouth still formed the words. “I’ve always….”

Always, always loved you.

Yata took a step forward, took a breath, and Fushimi braced himself.

And then Misaki’s mouth was over his again, wet and warm, burning his breath away and Fushimi could only reach up for him, grasp uselessly at skin and clothing and Misaki was mumbling something between the workings of his mouth, words that escaped with his breath and were caught in Fushimi’s throat, carried through blood vessels to make his heart beat, faster and faster.

“I love you….Saruhiko, I—I’ve really….I’ve always loved you, you know…it’s always been – even when I hated you I loved you, so…”

Such unfamiliar words, etched on his bones, and Fushimi pulled Yata closer, desperate, grasping, and Misaki didn’t pull away.

I love you.

He’d never said it before and now he wanted to say it a hundred times, over and over, until even he himself couldn’t deny it. The words echoed back, Misaki’s music in his ears, and Fushimi could hear the soft chime of Misaki’s laughter as Misaki’s arms wrapped around him.

It was warm, and it was comforting, and it felt like a weight being lifted off with every syllable, something he hadn’t known he’d been carrying until now.

I love you, and he let Misaki’s lips swallow up the rest of the words.

[scepterofstardust]

violet.

He really had underestimated how much he loved Yata Misaki.

Yes, that’s right. It’s Day 4. I’m here to deliver you more angst, shipping is free, everybody gets one on their doorstep. I’d say don’t @ me, but really, please do. I love the influx of messages from people threatening to fight me in the street :)

External: AO3

When the news reached Saruhiko, he didn't know what to think. He had sat in his chair, frozen, for far too long, mind rushing a mile a minute. 

 -One of the members of HOMRA was targeted by the strain cluster we've been tracking. They finally made their move but we couldn't see them coming. They're dispatching everyone.

 -Who?

-I'm sorry?

-Who is it?

-The vanguard. Yata Misaki.

Saruhiko didn't know what to think.

So he didn't.

With words like we'll arrive first and critical condition and we lost sight of him an hour ago swimming in the back of his throat and threatening to make him sick, he stopped thinking. He stopped being the cold logic he was so well known for. Because, when it came to the vanguard of HOMRA, he had never been logical. That, among everything else, had not changed.

So he ran down the steps as fast as he could, ignoring the way his heart was beating too fast, ignoring the cold sweat that was creeping over him. In the transport vehicle, he flipped a knife from hand to hand, trying anything to quell the feeling of the ground being ripped out from under him. He felt Awashima watching him from her seat up front. He avoided her gaze in favor of observing the deadly sharp edge of his blade. Imagining what it was capable of.

It had been so long, so long since he let the fire pass his fingers for the last time, let that sickly sweetness coat his voice. Since he left Misaki behind in that alley, head clouded with twisted accomplishment.

And still he had not let go. Oh, he had wanted to, had wanted to stop forcing that cold expression on his face when he saw his best friend and begin feeling it truly. Some part of him knew he would never be that lucky. He would never be who he wanted to be, would never be that detached. At the heart of his betrayal, of all the pain he had caused, was that little boy he hated. The foolish child who clung fiercely to the only one who ever looked at him with something besides disdain. He wished he could take one of his knives and carve him out, leave behind a gaping hole. It hurt too much to be that boy. To still think like him. 

But like it or not, he was that boy, still. He couldn't deny it, not when he had felt his veins turn to ice when he was told that Yata Misaki was isolated from his family, and severely injured, and there were vast amounts of strains that wanted him dead. 

A bang on the back of the van announced their arrival, and Saruhiko was the first one out when the door opened. He stopped, stunned, when he saw the damage.

Beyond the gates, there were buildings in ruins, some of them exposed down to their skeletons. Metal and concrete made an urban graveyard, and a thick smoke obscured all of it. They could see nothing at all. All they had were the heat sensors that told them Yata Misaki was somewhere in the miles of destruction.

And that an ever-increasing number of strains were closing in on him.

The Blue King strode towards the damage as more Scepter Four vehicles pulled up to the scene, lights flashing. Awashima and Saruhiko followed him closely.

"How are we going to do this?" Awashima asked aloud as Reisi scanned the ever-expanding fog. "Sending men in with this low of visibility would be a mistake. We could lose a lot of people if we don't know what we're facing here."

"You are right," Reisi said slowly. "We're going to have to form a strategy-"

"No," Saruhiko interrupted, more panic in his voice than he would have liked. 

Awashima's head jerked towards him, along with several other soldiers surrounding them. 

"Fushimi," she scolded incredulously. "What are you-"

"I said, no." He repeated firmly, and he didn't know where this certainty had come from, didn't understand the way he pinned his King with a demanding stare, but he didn't back down, even when Reisi turned to look at him, amused.

"Well, then, what do you propose?" He didn't look angry that Saruhiko had cut him off, not even offended. Although, he wasn't exactly the sort to care, even when everyone else seemed to. 

And he did trust Saruhiko's judgment, if the amount of risky (but brilliant) plans he had allowed him to carry out were any sort of indicator. Saruhiko was counting on it.

"Me." Saruhiko said matter-of-factly, flipping a knife through his fingers as nonchalantly as he could muster. He knew this was not the most sound plan, as he'd never tested his power's limits, nor his limits in a large scale battle like this one, but he didn't care. Not at all. He knew that Misaki was out there, bleeding and alone. And he knew he had to get to him before the strains killed him. By any means necessary. A strategy would take too long, and he would not stake Misaki's life on Scepter Four, as much as he respected their strength. He would not stake Misaki's life on anyone, except perhaps HOMRA. But they weren't here. And sending in Reisi, while a valid option, wasn't smart given that he had an even higher price on his head than Misaki did.

So he staked it on himself.

"Care to elaborate?" Reisi was intrigued, just slightly, and Saruhiko knew that he could sway him.

"Let me go in," Saruhiko replied fiercely. "Let me level them all."

"And Yata Misaki?"

"I will not let them kill him." Saruhiko met his King's eyes, and put all of his rage, all of his anxiety, all of his conviction into his words. He let him see what he was capable of. Reisi knew full well that he would not fail, not when it was important. This was no different.

"What?"Awashima looked at Reisi for backup. "You can't, there's so many of them and there's too many variables-"

"What makes you so certain?" Reisi questioned curiously.

"This sword is not all that makes me, Captain. The flames do too. You know that." Saruhiko tapped his lapel to indicate his HOMRA mark. Reisi raised his eyebrows.

"I'm pleasantly surprised at your creativity. But are you sure that you will be able to balance both of them?"

"I have before. But I'm not worried about balance, quite frankly. I'm more concerned with how heavy a punch it can throw." Awashima gawked at him.

"You're...going to use all of your power?"

"Quite recklessly, I'm afraid," Reisi remarked. "But, I have faith in you. All of it deserved. And you have a rather strong motivation to drive you." Saruhiko's eyes narrowed, and he lifted his chin, ignoring the implication. Reisi was clever enough to realize that he did not truly hate HOMRA's vanguard, not in the way he was supposed to, that something behind it was falsified. But like many things, he never said it outright.

"You'll let me go, then?" Reisi sighed.

"I trust you are aware of the consequences that you might face." He meant the wrath of the Red clan, of course, if the Blues failed to save a member of their family, but Saruhiko saw Misaki, so small but so unstoppable, standing at his side. He saw all the days in classrooms, the bullies slammed into lockers, the days with sun and rain. The top bunk in the apartment creaking. The smell of food and the warmth of a home, not his but theirs. A fist resting on his collarbone reminding him of his power. Of his burden.

"I am," he agreed, placing his hand on his sword's hilt to hide the fact it was shaking.

"Then go," Reisi allowed, earning him a horrified look from his second in command. "If it does go wrong, I will send people in. Until then, it's up to you." Saruhiko nodded and his lips slid into a lopsided smirk.

"Thank you, sir." Awashima glanced between them and put her head in her hands. Reisi didn't bother saying be careful or anything of that nature. Saruhiko always was a bit too reckless in battle, but in the end, he kept his promises. So he would return. With Yata Misaki in tow. Reisi gave him a nod of acknowledgement and stepped out of the way without another word. Saruhiko drew his sword at once, but before he crossed through the barricade, he turned back to look at Reisi.

"Captain?"

"Yes?"

"When HOMRA gets here, tell Anna that I'm bringing him back. She will keep them from interfering."

"Very well." Saruhiko blew out a breath and rolled his shoulders back before he advanced across the gate. 

"Why did you let him go?" Awashima hissed as she watched Saruhiko disappear. "It's too dangerous!"

"He won't allow himself to fail," Reisi assured her calmly. "I know he won't." She threw up her hands and walked away to coordinate the other soldiers.

Once Saruhiko crossed the barricade, as he expected, the smoke made it near impossible to see anything. However, he'd seen Misaki's location on the map. Enough to tell where he should be heading.

He knew it would not be long before he ran into a strain, so Saruhiko reached down into the well of his power. Well, it was more like fumbling in the dark; he'd only done it once or twice. But this time was different. He wasn't looking to control the release. He was looking to unleash it all. His power from the Blue King was easier; he used it a lot and it was already dancing at his fingertips, across his saber. So he unraveled it all slowly, thread by thread, coaxing it out where he could reach it. When his power thrummed and then stung against his skin in warning, he patiently held his ground. He closed his eyes and concentrated on being calm, on convincing it that it was okay to lose control, that it was alright to release it from its constraints. It wasn't, of course, but Saruhiko could make it believe. He could twist it to an extension of himself, to someone who had their own idea of order.

But the fire that he had long since left behind was not so patient, not so easy. It was a power that made him grit his teeth, made him hesitate. He could sense how restless it was from being locked up, sense its endless desire to burn through anything and everything. He could feel it glaring at him through the bars of its cage, pacing back and forth. The red power was not willing, not malleable. It couldn't be coaxed, reasoned with. It burned with passion, not logic. It was a trigger for a loaded gun.

So he pulled the trigger and ran.

The surge of power that ripped into him had him gasping, and he stopped for a moment to catch his breath. His body was buzzing with energy, maybe too much, and he had to get rid of it, had to move but everything ached. He stared in fascination as flames flickered along his sword, as heat swarmed through his muscles to clash with the cool blue. He lifted his head and straightened his blade, as the first strain lunged at him from the fog. 

And he got to work.

Saruhiko knew that the other soldiers in Scepter Four, other than the ones he had become grudgingly close with, thought him a monster. He heard the whispers that followed him in the halls, about how he must be heartless to have done all those things, about how he was scarier than the King. About how he probably had killed, even though it was heavily discouraged. About how he couldn't be trusted.

He was willing to be that monster, when the urgent anxiety in his chest was driving him to be. When what was left of his heart was telling him he had to get to Misaki, had to find him whole, or it was going to hurt. 

So it didn't cause him much discomfort, really, when he swung his blade directly into the strain's chest. He had to, because even though they had a huge red gash across their body, they clung onto him and snarled, hoping to impede his path. If the fire licking his sword made it hurt more, good, because no matter what happened, he could not stop until he completed his mission.

Twenty strains tried to stop him. Then thirty. Then he lost count.

He kept going, letting his power clear the way. He let the flames crack the cement, let it melt tar until strains got stuck, let it engulf strains whole. He let the blue shield him, let the knives he threw inflict the deepest wounds. The screams of pain were distant to him, and he filtered them out in favor of searching for the one thing he did care about. He looked for Misaki's red hair, for that stupid white t-shirt that he always wore, for anything at all, but so far, nothing. He'd be lying if he said the distress in him wasn't growing with each second that went by, making his hands tremble.

He really had underestimated how much he loved Yata Misaki. 

He pulled another strain in close, in a headlock, and forced unbearable heat into their body, ignoring the way they gasped for air and thrashed. He removed his grip on their neck as soon as they went limp.

Oh, he hated them. He hated every single strain that he saw. Regardless of their idiotic intentions, they had taken Misaki from his family, had caused him harm. And they had forced him into this situation, in the middle of a battle against an unknown number with his heart thudding in his chest from fear. Not for himself, no, he was practically unscathed, but for his best friend that he had tried so very hard to forget.

He couldn't remember being this out of control, this lost. All he wanted was Misaki, all he wanted was to find him and shield him. And maybe, although he wouldn't dare to hope, Misaki wouldn't see a monster, maybe he could see that he had meant well because he hadn't left him, not when it mattered, not this time. Even if he couldn't, he would be alright. Misaki would still be alive, hating him and sitting in that bar. That was enough.

So he didn't care if his blade slit their throats, if the fire burned their skin to the bone. He didn't care if they died of blood loss or from the fumes. If his sword through their chests turned their bodies to ash, then so be it. If he destroyed the ground he walked on, fine. If the icy blue was so potent that his lips were turning purple, that was alright. This was his battlefield, and he was fighting for the boy he called his best friend (quietly, into the night because it wasn't that way anymore.) If he left this storm, this haze of power, he did not care if he stepped over corpses on the way out. After all, it was them who had signed their death warrant.

The pure, unfiltered power rushing through his veins was making him lightheaded now. His whole body was on fire, and the pain got worse with each minute that he fought. He was drenched in cold sweat, and even though the flames were burning him from the inside out, his teeth chattered. The smoke he'd created by using the red power was making it hard to breathe, and he was fairly sure that he was not walking in a straight line anymore. It was clearly a sign to stop.

But he had never been one to do what he was supposed to, of course.

So when another strain jumped on him from behind, he stumbled, but he used their momentum to roll forward, and the resulting crack of their unbalanced landing on their spine was admittedly satisfying. Out of patience, he pinned the strain to the ground, grip burning the fabric on their clothes. The resulting smell was horrendous.

"Where. Is. He." Saruhiko hissed, trying not to let on the fact that his legs were wobbling.

Someone behind him let out an appreciative whistle, and Saruhiko froze, eyes on the strain below him that was now smirking. Disgusted, he used his grip to slam them into the ground, hard enough to knock them out. He turned then, hand braced on the hilt of his sword. 

His eyes settled on the sight of two strains, a young man and a middle aged woman, standing in the smoke. He registered next the boy dumped on the ground between them, a bloodied heap of tan limbs and white t-shirt. It took only a moment for Saruhiko to notice everything, the red staining his clothes, the way his body was limp and motionless. 

"We thought the Reds would come, but you'll do just fine," the woman said in a false sweet tone. "I can't wait to-" 

Too fast for them to see, Saruhiko had a knife in each hand and he struck with as much force as he could muster. His arms were a bit slow in obeying him, but his aim didn't fail; both knives, charged with heat, sunk into his targets, deep enough in their midsections that they wouldn't survive. Before they had even hit the ground he had staggered to Misaki's side, dropping to his knees. It was much worse up close - Misaki had a split lip, and Saruhiko could see bruises blooming on his face and arms. There were blood stains across his abdomen, signs that he was cut underneath his shirt. His hands had scraped up knuckles, flesh tinted red.

Saruhiko fought to keep his balance as he leaned over and shook Misaki by his shoulder, careful not to squeeze too hard.

"Misaki," he rasped, hoping to wake him up. He wasn't sure that he'd be able to manage carrying dead weight in this state. Misaki groaned distantly, and his face tensed up in pain. His eyes opened the smallest fraction. Saruhiko pulled his hand back, unsure of how his presence would be received. However, Misaki seemed too tired, or too near unconsciousness, to care very much.

"Saru?" he murmured, blinking sluggishly. He seemed more relieved than angry, which Saruhiko took as a good sign.

"Yeah, it's me," he bit out, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment as his head spun. He had to contain his power soon, he was barely conscious himself. 

"You look like shit," Misaki informed him weakly. Saruhiko managed a drunken laugh. There was a dull ringing in his ears.

"Yeah, so do you, Misaki." The other boy scowled at him, or maybe it was just a wince as he experimentally curled his fingers inwards. Saruhiko sat on the ground next to him. 

"Besides, if I look like shit, it's your fault," Saruhiko said airily, letting his head drop to one side. 

"Really?" Misaki squinted at him in slight confusion.  "Of course, it's so messy, I wouldn't have come here if I didn't have to."

"Why did you, then?"

"...I had to." Misaki stared blankly at him. 

"They were gonna kill you," Saruhiko amended quietly.

"Right..." Saruhiko watched him struggle to keep his eyes open.

"I don't suppose I could get you to limp the several miles back out of here."

"Hell no."

"I figured." Saruhiko tasted metal in his mouth as he pulled his PDA out of his coat to activate the flare signal. Someone would track him and they'd send paramedics. He had promised he'd bring Misaki back, but this would have to do. He was in no state for it. He shut his eyes and breathed deeply. It took more effort to cut off the power than it had to get it out, and once he shut both powers away again, the remaining energy drained out of him. He felt more tired than he'd been in months, and he slumped to the ground, lying flat on his back next to Misaki, who looked at him drowsily.

"Weren't you supposed to...I don't know, let me die? Since I'm your enemy now and all that bullshit?" Misaki questioned faintly. Saruhiko scoffed and pointed at the other boy threateningly.

"This is the last time I fight for you," Saruhiko warned him, ignoring the warm blood he felt on his lips. (He didn't mean that. Of course he didn't. He'd fight for Yata Misaki with his dying breath. Until he had nothing. Because even when he had nothing, Misaki was still out there. Somewhere. Burning bright. He hated him, sure. But if Misaki still burned, Saruhiko could never truly lose him.)

Misaki shook his head, eyes slipping closed. 

"Yeah, whatever." There was a small smile on his lips, and Saruhiko didn't understand it, but he sat back and waited. The silence after the battle was deafening. The smoke was clearing a little now, drifting aimlessly above their heads and past their legs. 

"Really...why did you?" Misaki kept his eyes closed but leaned slightly in Saruhiko's direction. "Why did you come get me? I'm sure no one wanted you to." Saruhiko frowned at him.

"Wow, your confidence in me is astounding."

"Yeah, I know. Tell me." So, he wasn't going to give up, then. Saruhiko shrugged as carelessly as he could.

"Well, yeah. No one wanted me to, really. I made the decision myself."

"What? What does that mean?"

"It means I walked up to the Captain and told him his plans were useless."

"Oh my God."

"Not in those words, of course."

"Yeah, that makes it better," Misaki snorted. "So, what, I'm supposed to believe you ignored your superiors out of the goodness of your heart and just ran in here?" Saruhiko fixed his gaze on the gray sky that was becoming visible. 

"Believe whatever you want," he said flatly. He saw the movement out of the corner of his eye as Misaki rolled onto his side with a grimace.

"Whatever I want?"

"Mm." There was a beat of silence, so Saruhiko glanced at him, eyebrows raised in question.

"What if..." Misaki swallowed, rubbing at a cut on his arm. "What if that is what I want to think?" Saruhiko's eyes widened, and he stared at the other boy in confusion. "What if I...what if I believe that?"

"Believe what?"

"I...don't know, that...maybe..." Misaki bit his lip as he stuttered. "You didn't, um, want me to die..." 

"It's foolish to believe the best in people," Saruhiko answered around the lump in his throat. "Surely you know that."

"Of...of course I do," Misaki said defensively. "You think after how many times we've fought I don't know that?"

"I suppose you're right." Saruhiko's head was pounding from fatigue, but he narrowed his eyes at the other boy suspiciously. "But what are you trying to say, anyways?"

"I'm just...trying to say that, I don't, um..." Misaki was searching his face for some sort of clue. Saruhiko wouldn't give him one. "You act like you hate me. But I don't know if I believe you." Saruhiko's face twisted in disgust.

"You should," he replied tightly.

"But I don't," Misaki insisted quietly. "I don't believe it, Saru. You can't hate me, you..." There were tears in those amber eyes, and Saruhiko clenched his fists at his sides. "We were best friends, and-and no matter what happened, no matter what I did, no matter what we did, that doesn't just...stop, does it?" 

"I can't hate you?" Saruhiko heard the tremble in his voice and loathed himself more than ever.

"No," Misaki whispered.

"But I do," Saruhiko said weakly. "I do."

"Really?" Misaki questioned softly. "Then why did you save me?" Saruhiko's vision was going blurry now, and he couldn't lie. He didn't have the strength, not when his chest still hurt from the panic of not knowing if Misaki was safe.

"Maybe not," he admitted. "Maybe not always. Maybe just sometimes." Misaki looked relieved, and he gave Saruhiko a small smile.

"Sometimes?"

"Yes." Saruhiko felt exposed, felt like he wanted to run as far away as possible. He always lied. Always. But he'd just told Misaki the truth for the first time in years. It was uncomfortable and dangerous.

"Good," Misaki said happily. "That's good."

"I think you must have gotten hit over the head," Saruhiko mumbled. It felt better, to be sarcastic. Less vulnerable.

"Ah, shut up." Misaki smacked his arm, only succeeding in hurting himself as the cuts on his arm stretched. He hissed quietly, and Saruhiko held in a laugh.

"You really can't be trusted by yourself, can you?"

"Yeah, yeah." Misaki stopped fussing and glanced up at him. "You should talk. What the hell did you do to get in here? You got to me and then you practically collapsed."

"It doesn't concern you," Saruhiko sighed. "I'm fine."

"Oh, right, I haven't heard that one before." Saruhiko was on the verge of rolling his eyes, but Misaki paused at the sound of approaching voices and footsteps. He pointed.

"Those yours?" Saruhiko looked up and caught sight of the Scepter Four soldiers and paramedics coming towards them.

"Yeah." The small group finally reached them, and the paramedics first came to him, inspecting his condition. He threw one of their arms off his shoulder.

"Not me," he snapped. "Help him."

"But-" The medic was a young woman, and she looked terrified of him.

"Don't argue with me." She backed off quickly and went to help Misaki get up. It took two people to support him, and they started to walk back towards the gate. Misaki seemed a little dazed when he got upright, but he looked over his shoulder at Saruhiko worriedly. Saruhiko gave him a brief wave to let him know he'd be alright. It appeared to satisfy him, and he let the medics walk him away. Saruhiko grudgingly allowed himself to be led out, leaning heavily on a medic and trying to hide the fact that he was extremely nauseous. With the strain-created smoke almost cleared, it was much easier to leave quickly, and Saruhiko avoided looking too long at the bodies they passed. When the flashing lights of the Scepter Four vehicles were finally in sight, he breathed a sigh of relief. It was over, and as he'd predicted, he'd succeeded. Everything was going to be fine, once he slept off the illness he'd brought on by overworking himself. 

"Saruhiko," he heard Misaki say. Saruhiko tried to focus and looked towards him slowly.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," Misaki said earnestly, a bit of a smile in his exhausted eyes. "I didn't say it before." Saruhiko managed a surprised nod as Misaki limped towards the medic's van. Saruhiko was distracted from him by Reisi and Awashima striding in his direction.

"I was worried when you called for help!" Awashima told him anxiously. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," he replied, exasperated.

"You did well," Reisi said with an approving tilt of his head. "Not that I expected anything else."

"Thank you, sir." Saruhiko dipped his head the smallest bit.

"Apologies, I'll let them have a look at you," Reisi said, moving out of the way. "Awashima, won't you help me with something over here?" She paused, eyes sweeping over Saruhiko's demeanor before she followed the King. The medics had just sat Saruhiko down in the back of their vehicle when a white haired little girl climbed up into the car. 

"Saruhiko," Anna called, approaching him without hesitation. Her heels made a clacking noise on the floor of the van, and he watched her come closer, motionless.

"Anna," he said, startled. "I brought him back."

"I saw," she answered with a beaming smile. "Thank you."

"Uh, y-yeah, of course."

"I knew you would," she said, patting his knee. "Saruhiko would do anything to help Misaki, right?" He stared at her.

She was always too smart for him.

"Are you hurt too badly?" She asked, eyes searching him for injuries.

"Not really," he assured her. "Just need some rest, is all."

"Good," she said, still smiling at him. "I'd better get back, then. Take care of yourself, Saruhiko. Don't make Misaki worry after you." He opened his mouth to tell her that he wasn't exactly in a position to have Misaki fussing after him, but she was already climbing down and waving at him as she walked away. He blew out a long breath. Anna hurried back over to where Kusanagi and the others were gathered around Misaki like a restless flock of birds. He felt, like always, a million miles away from them. So disconnected that he may as well not know them at all. 

He was definitely still that little boy, he thought as he watched Misaki smile sheepishly at them, waving off their concern and trying to act tough. Still so unlike them, despite being undeniably fascinated with their source of energy, their bright light. Still so unable to find where he was meant to be.

But when Anna turned around to smile at him again, and Misaki waved to him shyly, he thought that maybe, he still had a chance. Maybe, if he just stood on the sidelines some more, he could find it. Maybe he could finally love Misaki freely, maybe his best friend would walk with him, fight with him again.

If he just kept waiting.