"Saru, Saru, Saru," the name came out rushed. His voice was tripping over the hiccups brought about from his crying. He stood only a foot away. The former friend showed respect even though he probably already knew he didn't have to. Honestly, when did these two actually care about the concept of personal space?

This was just twelve inches.

A distance that could easily be closed.

Easily, if he actually felt bad.

Which he didn't.

At least, not necessarily all that bad.

Oops.

But this was a special case. He didn't necessarily understand why Misaki had pulled away from his friends to come to him. Of all people, didn't Misaki know that coming to him was the worst thing he could do. He knew better than that, didn't he?

Fushimi himself couldn't help himself as he slowly closed the distance between them by reaching forward; he would only show the slightest bit of sympathy. Wipe those tears off of his face. They didn't belong there. No man was worth shedding tears over. Not even his King.

He hated these feelings he had for this boy.

He fell for his face…and if he had to be honest with himself, he would fall for it every time.

That stupid face would override how he wanted to feel. No matter how hard he would force himself to feel hatred if not apathy, it would melt away almost immediately at the sight of him.

Fushimi despised himself.

He could say something, he could be cruel, chide Misaki for not realising what he did.

'Misaki, you hurt me, coming to me only when something bad happens to you.'

'Misaki, why can't you see me for the sake of seeing me.'

'Misaki…you don't realise that I hate him and you're crying for him in front of me.'

But, of course, he would say nothing.

He could've said all of that in the few seconds it took for his thumb to reach Misaki's cheek and wipe away the tears.

But he couldn't.

Not when Misaki moved quicker than he in that moment and pulled him closer by the clothing.

Fushimi looked down; christ, it looked like Misaki was gripping onto his clothes for dear life. He was sobbing so hard at this point there was no sound leaving him anymore. All he could hear was the sound of Misaki's tears hitting the leather of his boots.

"Misaki." What was there to say at this point to him though? 'I'm sorry for your loss'? Because he wasn't. There was no way he could just say that. Idol or not, there was a bitterness to him.

He didn't get anything in response. Misaki just closed the remaining gap by pressing his face against Fushimi's chest. He let go of the fabric and wrapped his arms around his former friend. It wasn't that long before he could feel the quick heat and dull cool of Misaki's tears.

Fushimi's own arms were slack at his sides.

A choice.

Show compassion, or show cruelty?

How badly he wanted to show cruelty, kick him while he was already down…

But he was notoriously stupid.

He couldn't help it as his arms brought themselves upward, one holding the boy's head to his chest while the other wrapped around his shoulders. He was effectively holding Misaki to himself. He lifted his head and rested his chin on Misaki's beanie. Nothing was said, not even when Misaki increased his grip on Fushimi's back. His eyes lazily watched each snowflake as it fell.

I can be his replacement for now. Take me back, if even for a moment.