Disclaimer: I do not own beyblade, or the Killer's song 'Exitlude', I used for the title.

Note: I don't know where this came from, but a quick one, so probably a few mistakes. Read and enjoy.

Exitlude

He sighed, flattening a crinkle that had managed to make its presence known on his pitch black suit. He reached for the matching skinny tie on the Victorian themed single seated chair in front of him. He grabbed it, and slid the smooth material through his matured hands. He tossed it back on to the antique. He would never wear a tie, not even for this.

He swallowed, looking at himself in the mirror. He had definitely changed since they had last seen him. His face had thinned, creating defined cheek bones. The familiar shark fins no longer paid homage on his strong jaw. His two toned hair was now shorter, much shorter. It also lost its natural volume and shape. It was now shaggy, but still thick, and still managed to create those same perfect shadows over his eyes.

He had grown taller, standing fully at height of exactly 6 foot. His body still slender and was still graced with perfectly toned and defined muscles. Although the only feature that had matured immensely, yet still looked the same, were his crimson eyes. They were so much more serious now. Those who could read people easily could tell those burning orbs had seen way too much for his young age of twenty. Pain, deceit, guilt…

He blinked, cutting the emotions, and burying them within. "Too deep, Kai," he whispered to himself, "way too deep."

He took one last look at himself and slipped out of his large wardrobe. He was greeted with his large four poster bed, both sides tussled and unmade. Sighing again, he stepped into the large hall, made with marble floors and dark beige walls.

Heading for the stairs, he put his hand out to grip the rail. He snatched his hand back suddenly, questioning that moves' motive. He never ever touched the hand rail. Call it weird if you will, but it was deep habit the Russian couldn't break. His soft footsteps echoed in the silent vestibule, sounding heavier than they should.

To the left of the entrance hall a large antique wooden door stood. His swift hand moved over the metallic pad placed next to the door. An eerie blue light flashed, and he pushed against the heavy door. Many eyes would be bewildered by the sight in front of them, but the young Hiwatari heir had grow up with this at his feet. Despite Kai not caring too much for his fortune, his garage was pretty important to him.

Twenty nine different cars decorated the garage, ranging from classic to new. He took a look at his options. He didn't want to make a statement or scene, or an impression at all really. But, as much as he tried, he couldn't avoid it. He slipped a key off a hook that hung on the wall with 29 others. He clicked the button in the middle of the key. A black 2010 V8 mustang flashed its lights.

Swiftly opening the sleek door, he slipped in and onto the beautiful leather seat. He pulled the door shut and chucked the keys into a compartment built in under the all the gadgets in the main panel. He pressed the button next to the steering wheel, detecting the key, the V8 engine came to life, sending the right amount of air and petrol through the cylinders to create the perfect rumble.

The touch screen came to life as the heat from his finger activated it. He clicked the 'garage door' option and a series of loud clunks began. Natural light flooded into the dark room as the garage door flipped upwards to the roof. He put his foot to the pedal and lightly pressed downwards. The car rolled forward. He guided the car to the exit. He added more pressure to the accelerator, and car sped down his long, paved drive way. Looking in the rear view mirror, the garage door shut automatically, and front gates did the exact opposite. His gut dropped. This felt so wrong.

-

He swallowed hard, slamming his car door shut and sprinting across the car park. He pressed the button on his key and heard his car beep. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath. How the fuck was he late? He left on time… but it didn't matter now. He sprinted up the stairs and into the beautiful church.

This is the last thing he wanted to happen. To be noticed. Luckily, everyone was standing. He slinked into the aisle and quietly made his way to the off centre front. He spotted the majority of the beyblade world where he had been directed to sit. No one seemed to be in 'teams', everyone sat with everyone, all jumbled and higgledy piggledy.

Keeping to his plan, he slid into one of the pews a few rows back from his past. His eyes wondered, noticing the White Tiger X team, as they were known back then, sat across the aisle from the rest of the 'beyblade section'. Burning incense and a white candle stood at the foot of the coffin along with a bountiful amount of food. His favourites. His gut dropped again as the gongs sounded. Reality had hit him. He never thought he would ever attend a Chinese funeral.

-

The gongs sounded again, symbolising the ending of the ceremony. The church erupted into small, quietened conversations. The Russian's eyes couldn't escape the tears that bombarded every face he looked at. Shivering slightly, he had never felt so… out of place. This wasn't his world anymore, and would never be again. As soon as people began to stand, he slipped into the sombre crowd, leaking into the outer rooms of the church. He kept his eyes on the ground, avoiding familiar faces. He felt compelled to look up, and he did. He came face to face with a traditional Chinese engraved donation box.

The guilt instantly washed over him like a giant salty wave. He broke away from the crowd, and gripped the dark oak bench that stuck to the wall like a life line. His eyes wondered to the box as a stranger slipped a hundred dollar note into the wooden box. He slid an unsteady hand into his suit pocket. He gripped the textured paper and pulled it out swiftly. He set it on the bench and stared at it.

"Kai, I can't believe it…"

He snapped his eyes shut, trying to suppress the memory. "Fuck Ray," he whispered to himself, slowing opening his eyes. His eyes were now a bright ruby. He snatched the pen placed on the bench and scribbled ten thousand dollars onto the cheque. He filled in the details, and quickly signed his name. Before he could even think, he gripped the donation box, and hurriedly tried to squish the slim piece of paper in through the slot. It wouldn't go through. He frowned. He tried again; it kept getting caught on the corner, crinkling the paper as he squished it accidentally. Twice, three times, another several times. His lip curled in frustration.

He stopped and took a deep breath, calming himself. Carefully and calmly, he slipped the piece of paper through the hole. He swallowed, mentally relieved.

He turned and merged with the slowly dispersing crowd exiting the church. He stepped down the stairs and onto the pavers. Head straight for the car, he told himself keeping his eyes on the pavers, but he made a mistake. He looked up and scanned the crowd. Ocean blue eyes caught his. Familiar blonde hair…

"Kai!" His voice was deeper than he remembered. Must've hit puberty. The Russian smiled briefly.

"Fuck," he muttered as he watched the blonde pushing his way through the crowd.

His eyes snapped to the car park in front of him. He picked up his pace, and ignored the calls from the blonde behind.

"Kai!" he heard the American call again. "Kai!"

He broke into a jog as he met the car park. Instinctively, he pressed the key's button in his suit pocket. The mustang flashed. He gripped the car door handle and ripped the door open. He threw himself in and slammed the door shut. His shaky hand pressed the ignition and the familiar rumble of the V8 made him feel safer. He put his foot to the accelerator and the engine was right with him. It roared as he turned the wheel, heading for the exit. He could see the blonde's face fall in disappointment as he pulled onto the main road. It was like a stab in the stomach. Shaking off the guilt, he pressed harder on the accelerator.

-

The young teen flopped onto the bed, his toothy grin almost taking up his whole face. The Russian rolled his ruby eyes and smiled, something the Chinese teen rarely saw.

The raven haired boy motioned for the older teen to come to him. Kai wiped the last bits of his blue shark fins off with a tissue. He turned, standing before the other teen awkwardly. Ray smiled again. The dual haired boy sighed before taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. Ray sat up, looking intently at the face before him.

"You have a beautiful face Kai," he said, cupping the Russian's jaw with both hands.

He felt the cold soft hands grip his face. His breathing quickened and he snapped back to reality. His eyes widened as his beautiful machine was heading straight for a silver SUV BMW, whose horn was blaring loudly. His grip the wheel tightened and he swerved from the cars path and off onto the side of the road. His right foot slammed on the brake pedal. The back tires fishtailed out of control. He used all of his strength to keep the wheel straight. The car finally came to rest, a few metres from a large pine tree.

Uneven breaths flew in and out of his lungs. His eyes were unfocused on the bonnet. He swallowed; taking a look at what could've been a serious accident. He took a deep breath and his eyes slipped back into focus. Suddenly both hands gripped his jaw, trying to decipher what happened. Was that real? He slid a hand through his soft locks and his face fell into his hands.

He shook his head, gripping the steering wheel tightly. He flicked on his blinker and lightly put his foot to the pedal. What the fuck was happening?

-

He rested his head on the covered steering wheel. His mind ran over the memory again. He shuddered when he remember the surreal feeling of the teen's cold hands on his face. Kai suddenly frowned.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Kai?" he questioned himself, sliding out of the car. He slammed the door shut and leaned against the door. He took another deep breath, trying to forget it all. In a fit of frustration he pressed the button on his key down hard. Why was this affecting him so much?

His feet crunched under the loose gravel. He gazed at his shoes, which were now dirty. He wasn't sure why he felt he should watch his old friends' burial. He hated funerals, and vowed to never to watch the casket enter the ground. He was going against all his unwritten laws and he didn't know why. He had a complex plan, well thought out, that allowed him to observe from a distance without interacting with the past. And he was fucking it all up.

"Don't be shy," the Chinese teen cooed in his ear.

Ray's soft hand brushed through his locks, moving it all backwards. His whole face was now visible, no shadows.. nothing that would take away the attention that was now drawn to his face.

The hand moved to his cheek, stroking it slowly. The Russian's eyes slid shut. His face slipped from blank to content. There was a sudden glow about him, making his face look angelic. He let out a slow breath. "I can't believe I'm letting you do this," Kai spoke softly, opening his eyes.

Ray laughed light heartedly. "It's amazing how those fins hide your face," he traced, with his finger, where the fins would've been painted, "Like a barrier."

That's what they were to Kai. Something to keep distance between him and everyone else. It definitely worked, until now. How was this calm neko-jin taming the phoenix?

Suddenly, breaking the Kai from his thoughts, Ray's bare chest touched his.

He felt the skin brush past his. He slumped over, gripping the skin around his left side. His breaths were short and ragged. He slipped back into reality. Another blast from the past. He really needed to stop doing that. How could he? These weren't little flashbacks, or bits of déjà vu. He felt the flesh against his. Not against the suit that clothed him. The bare, naked skin beneath.

Trying to compose himself again, he continued his walk. "Ray," he whispered, looking up to the clouded sun. His gut churned, suddenly noting all the grave stones. He swallowed. The familiar sound of Chinese gongs could be heard. He looked ahead, noticing a large crowd dispersed over a large portion of land, but creating a loose circle around a certain tomb stone.

Slowly making his way to the depressed crowd, he stood on the very outer of the crowd, hoping not to be seen. A flash of blonde hair made his heart skip a beat, not wishing for a repeat of a few hours prior. His expression changed, instantly relieved. Completely different eyes, crystal blue, belonging to none other than the Spaniard. Those eyes stared intently at the coffin before meeting his ruby ones. His face also melted into relief. The right side of his mouth rose slightly, in a small smile.

The Russian's eyes broke the gaze and continued their search through the tight knit crowd. A sight he was surprised to see, yet expecting, Tyson and Hilary. Holding hands. He scoffed, Finally. He had grown, a lot. He stood next to his brother, Hiro, making it easy to compare. Tyson stood at the same height and was slender like Hiro too. His face had thinned, but he still managed to look the same. The cap didn't feature in his look this time, letting his long blue hair fall naturally. He was dressed smartly in a pinstripe suit, something Hilary had picked no doubt.

She had matured, that's for sure. Kai noted that she looked like a woman now. She had perfect womanly curves, long hair and beautiful green eyes that were sparkled with tears. Her cheek bones had been defined and simple make up highlighted her features. Tyson's hand gripped hers tighter. They looked at each other sadly.

An older set of blue eyes met his own, now, crimson orbs. Hiro. His eyes dropped to the uninteresting grass below his feet. He raised a hand to his locks and tousled them slightly. An awkward, and wrong, move to pull, but it was all he could think of. Mistakenly thinking it was safe, he looked up. He met the younger pair of blue eyes. He sighed. The blue eyes looked surprised, taking in the loner's appearance.

Hilary had now joined the party. This is what he was trying to avoid.

"And we now call fourth anyone who would like to place a gift for the afterlife upon the coffin," the priest called, his voice rung through the crowd. No one moved.

Those blue eyes still on him, the young teen stepped forward. He had driger within his right hand. Tyson's eyes dropped to the coffin. He placed the blade upon the darkly engraved coffin as a smile grew on his lips. His whispered something that Kai couldn't decipher, before returning to Hilary.

Tyson had gotten the ball rolling. Speckles of people within the crowd stepped forward, leaving something heartfelt on the coffin with their own silent messages and prayers. The Russian zoned out, becoming lost within his own thoughts. Nostalgia haunted his mind. Why was all of this calling for him? This is what he ran from. He didn't want this. But, why did he long for those long summer.. No. He remembered why this life was him. Oh so Guilty.

"Was there anyone else bearing gifts for the afterlife of Ray Kon?" The sentence pulled him from his thoughts. He dug his hand into his suit pocket. His hand felt the plastic tub and it's trusty partner. Without thinking, he pulled the tub from his pocket, along with the carefully crafted paint brush.

"Excuse me," he spoke quietly, making his way through the crowd. He didn't know what he was doing, only that he was doing it and he couldn't stop it.

His gut churned again, reaching the edge of the crowd. He stepped into the empty space before the coffin. A few gasps came from the crowd. All eyes on Kai. As he placed the tub of blue paint on the coffin, along with the soft brush, he could see his plan falling into pieces.

"Don't ever wear them again,'" he quoted, speaking allowed before scoffing. "So I didn't."

The Russian, turned, facing the silent crowd. His eyes seemed to glare at them all. He didn't mean to, but it was a habit he reactivated when he fell out of the loop. The crowd parted instinctively. Silently, he walked through the small aisle and instead of heading back to his spot. He continued walking.

Despite his plan failing, he wasn't planning on watching it enter the ground.

-

A hand gripped his arm. He turned, alarmed. He smiled in relief. Miguel. The Spaniard stroked his arm. "You look so uncomfortable," he stated simply.

The Russian shrugged. "It didn't go according to plan," he sighed heavily.

Miguel chuckled slightly. "I guessed, when you did everything you said you wouldn't."

"Not everything," Kai defended himself and Miguel rolled his eyes.

The Spaniard changed his position to stand in front of him. He gripped both of the Russian's hands. He leaned in, closing his lids and pursing his lips. Their lips met.

The crook of Ray's neck rested on Kai's developed shoulder. "You don't realise at all, do you?" Ray questioned, a smile on his face.

"I look at it every day Ray," he sighed.

Ray moved slightly, changing his position. "Why?"

The dual haired teen licked his lips. "I was taught to keep people away, Ray. It's just another way to keep everyone else out and afraid."

Ray nodded, understanding. "Don't ever wear them again," he stated simply.

Kai frowned, looking at the raven haired teen. "What?" He was generally confused.

"Don't ever paint those on your face ever again," Ray spoke slower.

Kai looked at Ray. The Chinese bladers face was serious. Kai didn't know what to say, which was evident by his blank expression. Ray's left hand carefully pressed down on Kai's chest. He leaned in and pressed his lips to the Russian's.

Kai recoiled back in fear. With two firm hands he pushed the blonde off him and onto the ground. Miguel spewed on to the gravel with a loud grunt. His brow knitted together in confusion, looking up at the dual haired man.

"Kai!" He was breathing heavy as he snapped his head around to look at his chaser. Tyson, Hilary and Hiro. Chasers "Kai, are you okay?" Tyson called from a distance, noting Miguel's position.

He panicked. He turned on his heel and headed for his car. "Kai! Where are you going?" He heard Hilary call.

He could hear the gravel crunch, and it became more frequent. Someone was running. He took off, breaking into a sprint. He turned his head to look back. Hiro and Hilary were helping Miguel up. Tyson was running after him.

It all went so quick. Suddenly he was reaching for his keys, the next minute he was sliding along the smooth leather seat. He hit the ignition button with the palm of his hand and he already had his foot on the pedal. He pulled out of the park and heard the thud from the back of his car. He looked in his rear vision mirror and saw Tyson standing where he had parked.

He planted his foot to the floor.

-

He stared at the kettle. Boil. Boil. Come on. Boil.

"MOTHERFUCKING BOIL!" He yelled, hitting the bench with his fist.

He heard the fridge door open behind him. He slowly turned to look. The blonde stood at the fridge with a carton of milk in his hand. "Milk?" he asked, holding it out with one hand.

The Russian's eyes noticed Miguel's other hand. It hung loosely by his side, bandaged. The Spaniard followed his gaze and raised his injured hand. "There was glass amongst the gravel," he smiled.

Kai's head dropped, ashamed. "Sorry," he mumbled, turning back to the, still, boiling kettle.

Miguel dropped the carton on the bench beside Kai. His eyes widened in surprise he had never seen Kai like this. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. His eyes were sliding in and out of focus. He was fidgeting nervously. So far from the cool, calm and collection Russian he knew.

"What's on your mind?" Miguel whispered the question, staring at the Russian intently.

"Guilt," he stated simply, snapping back to reality. "Now he's dead, I suddenly have a conscience."

Kai turned away from Miguel, leaving his mug with a quarter full of coffee and the kettle still boiling. Miguel reached for the back panel of his suit, but the fabric slipped through his fingers. Kai slipped into the next room, leaving Miguel alone in the kitchen.