Sitting on the corner of the destroyed bed, Yata held his head in his hands. His cellphone was vibrating once again but he didn't spare it a glance. He already knew who was calling and he couldn't dare face them right now.

He wouldn't dare speak to any of the Homra members. He was weak. He knew it and so did they. The calls were no doubt them telling him that he was no longer a member.

Just the thought of being kicked out of Homra had him rubbing his bandaged wrists in worry. Homra was his pride, and he would never join another clan. He'd rather die than follow another king.

Placing a head on his chest he wondered if he continued how he was going, if death wasn't too far off. He hadn't changed his bandages since he left Homra and with what he did when he first arrived at the apartment some of the bandages were now spotted with blood.

His apartment was wrecked with walls filled with holes, strips of cloth scattered throughout the floor, and everything that the traitor left behind lay in pieces on the floor. The bed that he and the other slept together in was currently ripped open down the middle with its stuffing hanging out of the rips.

And all this damage was done in less than five minutes. He couldn't imagine this power of reaction since before he had stepped into the apartment, he had been numb. But the moment he stepped into the one room apartment, all he saw was the times he and Fushimi spent there. Just remembering him caused him to go into rampage. Powered by anger and hurt Yata blacked out and when he returned he stood in the middle of a broken down apartment.

Now that he couldn't damage anything else, he was forced to think back of what happened that caused all this. Digging his palms into his forehead he tried to suppress his emotions before they made him do something fucking stupid.

That fucking traitor. That stupid fucking bastard left him laying in the alley after he- A violent shudder overcame his body and he gripped his head harder as he tried to avoid thinking about that day.

It had only been six days. Six days since that fucking traitor left Homra.

The first two days were a blur to him.

He knew from the others that he spent one full day unconscious in the Homra base. He didn't remember much but he did recall being briefly woken up several times throughout the day while someone touched his head. Each time woken, he was asked a question about some obvious trivia, which he either answered or cursed at the person asking, and then he was allowed to go back to blissful unconsciousness.

When he had finally gained consciousness to the point of having lucid thoughts, he looked at his surroundings and tried to remember where he was. It was night and he was covered in bandages. From what he could see his wrists and torso were wrapped, and the familiar tight feeling in his knees and head made he believe they were wrapped as well. He only held his eyes open for a few moments before he clenched them closed when his stomach dangerously rolled.

Clenching his teeth he tried to get up but the moment he sat up, his stomach rejected all its content onto the bed he was on. He couldn't even try to run to the bathroom since his felt like he wasn't even connected to his body. An out of body experience he could only watch himself throw up and shake on the bed.

When somebody finally entered the room and saw the disgusting scene, Yata winced at how weak he must have looked at the moment. He just knew Eric was never going to let this go. He would later tease him for the weak sight he was; leaning against the headboard unable to move while being sick on the bed.

Fucking pathetic.

Eric yelled for someone and Yata mentally groaned at the thought of more people seeing him like this. He watched as others ran to the room and each stared in horror at the sight of him. He closed his eyes to avoid looking at them.

He heard feet running into the room and he felt himself being lifted up so he was sitting straight up on the headboard. He felt a hand on his forehead and he tried to swat the offensive limb away. He barely lifted his arm before the hand roughly grabbed his eye lid and pried it open.

Upon seeing the now brightly lit room, he recoiled and tried to lose the hold the hand had on his head. The hand let go of his eye but held fast to his head. The hand raked through his hair and stopped at the back of his head. The bandages were unfastened and Yata couldn't enjoy the relief of the hold as the person began to curse. It sounded like Izumo-san.

"Fucking idiotic doctor." He heard Izumo-san growl. He tried to listen more but when he was picked up from the bed, pain flared in his chest and he quickly fell into unconsciousness.

He woke up to hands on his body. Hands that were causing pain, as they rubbed something cold on his torso. His mind reeled back to the alley and before he could stop himself he swung his arm while kicking his leg to where he believed the owner of the hands was.

"Don't!" He screamed in pure fear. His attacks didn't meet their target and more hands came to pin down his limbs. The feeling of being pinned cause him to panic and his breathing quickened as he futilely tried to fight the hands. He heard someone begging for them to stop along with other pathetic sounds of weakness, and it took him a moment to recognize the voice.

It was him. He felt his stomach drop at the sound of his pathetic voice.

All attention on his discovery, he didn't realize the hand on his neck. Too late he felt, a sharp object his neck, and before he could fight, a needle went through his skin. He took a shuddering breath as whatever was in the needle was pushed through the needle and into his bloodstream.

He fell back into a forced sleep before the needle was pulled out.

When he woke to the familiar pain in his stomach, he stumbled his way to the bathroom. Barely making it, he dry heaved and tried to get rid of whatever that was hurting him in his stomach. After dry heaving for five minutes and feeling a little bit better, he finally gave up.

Going to the sink, he cupped his hands and filled them with cold water and washed his face. The cold rush made him feel a little bit more alive but it bothered him that he couldn't wait wet his forehead due to the bandages. With a curse he tore the bandage off so he could properly wash his face. Before he could wash his face his attention was brought to something on his forehead.

Leaning closer towards the mirror he looked at the colorful bruise on his forehead. The memory of a hand grabbing his forehead and slamming his head into a wall ran through his mind. His eyes wide with fear he reached to the back of his head. He gasped when he felt something in the back of his head.

Stiches ran across the back of his head and when he brought his hand down, he saw that his fingertips were coated with blood.

Now needing to know how the other injuries looked, he ripped off the bandages on his head, wrists and knees. His body ran cold when he looked at his reflection in the mirror.

Weak. That's all he saw. Just a fucking weakling that didn't deserve to be in Homra.

A pale and bruised face stared back at him. Bringing his wrists up he saw the rawness of them from trying to escape the rope. He looked down to inspect his knees and saw that they too were in the same state as his wrists.

He looked back at his reflection and with shaking fingers he tore the bandages on his torso. His mouth fell in horror when he finally saw his chest.

His torso was littered with burns. Red angry hand shaped burns.

Staring at his reflection he felt his throat tighten and eyes water. With a shaky arm he brought his hand to his chest and brought it close to the burns. The moment he lightly touched the wound, he flinched away.

If somebody asked why he flinched away he would say it was because of the pain of the burn. But the truth was far from that. He was used to physical pain. He would prefer physical pain than the emotional pain he was being overwhelmed with right now.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to kill the fucking traitor. The person who he trusted his life with was now the person who single handily ruined it.

Body now fully shaking, he lifted his fist to punch the mirror but Rikio knocked on the door at that moment.

"Yata-san you in there? Are you alright?" He asked carefully through the locked door. Yata bit the inside of his cheek at the tone. They were all being so careful around him. Interacting around him as if he was about to break. It was like they knew what had happened to him in the alley.

But they didn't. They couldn't.

Only the king, Izumo-san Totsuka-san, and Anna did. They wouldn't tell the others.

And they could never find out what happened to him. And so he had to act like nothing happened to him. He had to just act like his usual self.

"Stop bothering me you asshole, I'm fine!" After a couple moments he added. "Oi Rikio find me a shirt!" He heard the hesitation in the others steps but he soon left. He avoided looking at the mirror as he waited for the shirt. When Rikio returned he opened the door a crack and stuck his hand out.

The other stared at the injured wrist with pitiful eyes and gave him the cloth. He waited outside for the other who without a word quickly slipped the cloth on.

Before he came out he fussed with the cloth to be sure it hid all the burns. Constantly worried about the burns, his thoughts started to stray towards the traitor.

And how Fushimi burned him with his own hands in the alley.

Thinking about his ex-partner was like opening the flood gates to memories he did not want. With a growl of frustration he turned and slammed the door open. Rikio thankfully managed to step out of the door's path and avoided getting knocked out. He looked at the red head and nervously said. " Yata-san your bandages?!" He spluttered over his words before he managed to finally say. "Well Totsuka-san wanted to redo them anyways so-"

Yata scoffed and looked at the other with annoyance written all over his face. "Well get your fatass up and go call him! Tell him I'll be in the room." With that said he walked to the guest room and closed the door.

Taking a deep shaky breath, he congratulated himself on a performance well done. Though he was feeling good at the mask he was perfecting, a small voice told him that this would end badly.

But as always his hot headed temper shut that voice out.

Just to clarify after the first linebreaker we went to a flashback. I personally hate using italic so that's why i didn't use it.

It was like the world was against me to update this fic. The next day after I uploaded this all my teachers gave my projects and papers. It's like they knew I wanted to write an angst filled Yata fic and the bastards did everything in their power to stop me. Hahaha!But yes here it is and yes there will be a flashback of the alley scene and there is so much more to this fic! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and I will see you next time.

Thank you to Mayuko-chan, Hana1225, otaku chan sama, tiger2213, Tatsukichi2010, Guest, Rokuro006, and 940427 for reviewing. I appreciated every one of your thoughts and thank you so much for taking time to leave a review.

If you guys can review with any thoughts or criticism, that would be great.