Title: Fate's Flaws

Summary: What if fate got it wrong and the other twin had been the one to survive.

Warning: The point of view switches around a lot and so does the chronology. This is a slightly more experimental piece, so it might be confusing. Sorry in advance. The "ooo" indicate a break. I'm using them because this site always eats up the other lines.

Other notes: To everyone waiting for the next chapter of "Through Barred Eyes"….I am really sorry. I am working on it. It's just taking longer than I thought it would. It should be out soon though. :)

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And without further ado: Enjoy!

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Fate's Flaws:

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They say that there is such a thing as soul mates. That people can find partners that will forever be by their side. Lovers engineered to compliment and complete them.

But what if fate made a mistake and the one your soul was destined to find, never really made it through. What if after all that, you'd been left with a copy, a twin let's say. What of the twin? Would he suffice?

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As you touch a glass to your lips and tip the fiery fluid in, as you tilt your head and savor the taste in your mouth before letting it continue along its well-learned path. As you sigh and gaze out the window… you finally allow yourself to sink into it.

An unknown source of loss and pain, always lurking in the recess of your mind. Your system, pumped stock-full of alcohol, can't make it go away. That feeling that you find yourself constantly drowning in.

At times it feels like you've developed gills or some similar mechanism, a method of living underneath the pressure of that liquid-like feeling.

At times it feels like you've adapted to the perpetual ache and loneliness that dominates your existence.

But just because you've adapted, doesn't make it any better. Doesn't make it go away.

You've learned to survive under this weight.

But, not to live. Never to live.

You look over at the small metalloid ring left stranded at the center of the coffee table, the dust long since gathering. That silver shine that catches your eye at random intervals these past few weeks, glints red as it reflects the shimmering butt of your cigarette. That glint captures you now, more so at times like these when liquor is high.

He's gone. And you never know which one is it that you are mourning.

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Our first meeting at the graveyard. His blonde hair capturing the yellow of the sun, sweeps across his face and hides that mournful blue gaze. He smiles at me as I step closer. No hint of recognition in his eyes, so I don't mention it. Looking back at it now, I guess I should have. But in that instant I only rejoiced at what I thought was a reunion long overdue. I thought that it must have been fate that put my parents' graves right across from his twin's.

It's funny how fate seems to have a mean sense of humor.

After all, it was at his grave that we met.

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I wish we hadn't brought that wine with us. Of course it's always fun to drink on holidays, and going to your future in-laws' without any sort of present is just plain rude. Alcohol was the easiest to bring and the most enjoyable, Fai had suggested. This indeed proved to be true, until the night drags on and the numbing after-effects begin to finally sink in. Fai had told me about the family situation, how the past seemed to haunt them particularly during the holidays, which was understandable.

"Too young to have… He was sick…. The poor baby, right from the get-go… never could leave the house for more than a few minutes. Such a fragile little thing..." Mrs. Flowright says with a breaking voice that seems to blossom right out of nowhere.

"Stop this talk, sweetheart. Please." Yet even as he says this, the man seems to give up, already walking away towards the windowsill. Staring out.

"Always with that cherub's smile on his face… my lovely little Yuui. I wish we'd called him Fai. He'd always been envious of his brother's… name. At least he would have had that. Oh here they are…Christmas Tapes. The day in the park…" The rest of the mumbling is impossible to decipher, as the woman temporarily disappears behind black doors. She emerges, clutching within her trembling hand a tattered-looking video cassette. They say that drink washes away your concrete thinking, but no one ever said anything about emotions. I really feel sorry for this woman and it strikes me that Fai, her own flesh and blood, didn't even look up.

I was in the middle of contemplating what this strange family tradition was all about, when that voice… that voice caught me. As it had so many years ago.

"Hyuuuu!" says the blurred little boy with the long ponytail and chipped tooth. So sweet as he waved from the behind the screen. That same ridiculous expression. Just thinking about it brings a smile to my lips. I curl my arm around the now grownup Fai and smile down at him. The laughter from the TV still tickling at my senses.

"You were so cute at that age!" I whisper gently into his ear, but my fond remark takes on a sinister life of its own as it clouds his eyes with confusion and pain.

"But, Kurogane…that's not me. That's him, my twin."

What?

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He'd told you that there had been a twin. He must have! How could he not? But you were too stupid, you never made the connection! They were twins…twins twins! Actual identical-exact-copy-same-same twins. It's all been staring at you in the face so obnoxiously it hurts. How could you have been so blinded? You chose to ignore the signs, the minute differences. In the glint of the eye and that infamous grin. The slightly less animated movements, the downcast looks, the lack of confidence, the insecurity. So unlike the brilliant smile you'd fallen in love with as that lonely little kid in the park. That single day that seemed to change everything about you. One strange pretty boy dared talk to you when in all your life no one had. You were so desperate to believe that he was back; you didn't see that it wasn't him. It just wasn't him!

You drown down another gulp and sigh up at the ceiling. This feeling is all you have.

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A park at the edge of the town was silenced by the early coming of winter. No parents would bring their children out here to play in this cold. But a lone child sill sits stubbornly in the middle of the sandpit, digging a hole that is already too deep. The plastic shovel scrapes slowly at the sand, grinding against it. A sound harsh enough for the winter, but foreign in a children's play-area. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. The soft skin of the child tenses as he clutches the shovel with a force that should be beyond his small limbs. His eyebrows furrow. Not in child-like curiosity as they should, but in deep concentration.

The child, alone in the playground, shovels up the sand. The repeated motion giving him some release from the anger and sadness plaguing his heart.

Just then, the soft patter of another child's feet is heard by the angry boy, who instinctively stops his incessant scraping.

Silence. Only the wind blows.

"Hyuuu! That's a real big whole, Kuro-chan, are you trying to make a tunnel back to Japan?" says the newcomer, a small blond boy with clothing so mismatched that he'd obviously been the one to pick them out. The other boy freezes, his eyebrows rise up into his forehead, a nice change considering the face that they'd been furrowed together for way too long now. But that only lasts as long as the shock, which is quickly gets replaced by suspicion.

"How did you know my name? And how did you know I'm Japanese?"

"Silly, everyone knows your name. You're Kurogane Suwa, my mom says that you're a very angry boy. But I think you're just lonely." The boy named Kurogane can only stare in wonder, the blonde boy had not mentioned his parent's deaths, or the accident that Kurogane had miraculously survived. The boy hadn't mentioned any of that. A surprising fact, considering how people never seemed to shut up about it in Kurogane's presence.

"What's your name?" asks the Asian boy hesitantly, never before having been remotely curious about a fellow child before.

But the blond one hesitates. It's not that he doesn't like his name, it's just that he hates what it stands for. He hates the weak limbs and failing heart beneath that name. He hates how his parents announce the name in trembling whispers, as though it was going to suddenly slip away along with his life. He hates how his name is a constant reminder of his impending death. So he does not give his own name.

"I'm Fai." He says finally after too long of a pause. The Asian boy worries. But that it soon forgotten as the boy who calls himself Fai jumps into the sand pit and lands on feet with dirtied socks. No shoes. But that doesn't seem to be a problem or a hindrance to the boy's erratic energy.

"Hey, if you tunnel your way to Japan, can I come too?"

"Not if you don't help!" replied the other boy as he handed the blond his shovel.

Fai smiled at the hidden promise, and together the boys shifted through the sand. Neither of them really wanting to go anywhere.

For now, here was just fine.

The End