It's so loud.

More than ever the silence is deafening. The void blares through his ears, momentarily causing them to throb, his fingers quickly rising to soothe the ache. He's staring ahead, but there's nothing to gaze upon. He wishes there was.

Two men sit beside him, two guests, and yet, through all the years, they've never been just that. It's the acidic words they speak now that have soured the companionship that was once a stable bond. Their words he knows to be true, but he childishly refuses to accept the honesty. Maybe if he doesn't welcome their presence, those mocking words will lose their meaning.

Tell them to leave.

But as he stares down at the phone, the same phrases are uttered multiple times. How he wishes it would be something else. That they would change their tune, but that never happens. He knows he should listen; it's been too long, but he's going to continue to turn a blind eye. If he does, then he no longer has to acknowledge the pain.

They're not helping. Tell them. Tell them to stop.

"You know he's not going to call, Furi," one of his guests states. He's stirring the tea that has chilled before them. Their discussion has been prolonged far too much for his sanity. "He never does."

But he's waiting. He'll continue to wait, because there's no better option.

"He hasn't for so long."

Stop.

"He hasn't for months."

They're not listening.

"He's not coming back."

Stop.

"You need to face the fact that he's forgotten about you."

Stop!

Kouki can hear the roaring in his head, causing his eyes to temporarily water at the soreness vibrating like a maelstrom within him. He's screaming, screaming in agony. Screaming for so long, and yet no one answers. There are many others around him that could, but they're not him, the one he yearns forisn't there.

"He will." Kouki isn't surprised at how low his voice sounds, how brittle. "He promised."

For eternity.

That was what he once had uttered, when they were trapped in each other's embrace, and Akashi had stared at him with those warm, mismatched orbs. Promised that they would be together until then, that they would never be apart, and he had believed those words.

He still did.

His friends are silent, and he casts their doubtful glances aside. Their uncertainty is the last stress he needs, the last he wants. But they continue to press at him with the same lamentable stare.

It isn't until the phone rings that he's rushing across the room, hoping for a resolution. Hoping Seijuro has finally answered his plea.

But it isn't him. Kouki holds the phone and listens as the words nettle his heart, preventing his jaw from closing. Someone is squeezing him, and he's slowly beginning to lose the will to breathe properly.

Let go.

The call is brief, but it's enough to upset his insides. Kouki barely has the strength to whisper.

"I'll be right in."

Disconnecting the call, he turns to the two pairs of awaiting eyes, and offers them a weak smile. They know; he doesn't have to explain. They've known all along.

Kouki gathers his things and bids them farewell. He's not sure for how long, but he knows it will for be for a while. At least now he can get out from under their doubtful stares, their pessimistic words that nearly shaken his resolve.

He's drowning, but there is no sign of salvation, no one to pull him aboard.

So he continues to suffocate.

Because it's all he can do.

Waiting rooms have never been anything pleasant, with their pallid wallpaper and fading magazines. With each page he flips, some of the ink smudges the pads of his fingers, but he pays it no mind and continues to flip through.

Kouki's sure he's read all of them at least four times. That's how many times he's been here, sitting in the same chair and breathing in the same stale air. The music above hisses out an unsettling melody, the speakers dusty and producing a crackling sound as opposed to what should be a soothing tune for their patients.

It's anything but that, and he sincerely wishes they would just turn it off.

A hand reaches over to clasp his, and Kouki can't help but squeeze it in return. His mother's hands have always been warm, ever since he first got to know them when he was small.

And they're precisely the comfort he needs right now - even if it's not him. Something to anchor him as the nurse comes through the door, familiar chart in hand. Her smile is pleasant, but Kouki suspects that's her obligation. To keep the patient at ease, even if the news they're about to receive will send their world spiraling down.

But he walks on, employing short, reluctant steps.

The examination room is also how he remembers. Nothing about it is inviting, and Kouki finds himself wanting to escape. To be miles from this place and far from the truth. He watches as a man in a white lab coat joins them, and then he's fighting to shut his ears to the impending evaluation.

The physician's tone is sincere, but his words hit him like a freezing rain, chilling his blood instantly. Isn't that how all assessments proceed though? Delivering the worst of news, but in the warmest of tones?

Nonetheless, Kouki is taken aback. Why?

That this would be the outcome was obvious, but he had refused to accept it. Still refused to. His fingers shuffle through his pocket and he retrieves his cell phone. The same blank screen stares back as though mocking him, and he can feel another rift in his heart form. Another to add to the numerous wounds he has endured over the past months.

He doesn't hear you.

Kouki's eyes water slightly, and then a sob resounds throughout the hollow room. But it's not his. Glancing to one side, his mother is still conversing with the doctor, and Kouki reaches for her hand. He smiles; he knows he has to be strong, strong for her, even if he can't be for himself.

He can't see you scream.

Deteriorating as he already is, he swallows the malicious taunts, reeling that portion of his mind back into the cage it belongs in. But it's relentless, and won't be restrained before it's once more provoking the feeble parts of him.

He can't feel your pain.

Wearily, he glances over at the lit screen, the black shadows easily exposing his forthcoming. His stomach churns, the acidic tides bubbling until they're surging up his throat, causing him to slap a hand over his mouth at the overwhelming queasiness. It quickly passes - as it always does - the same dull ache he's carried for a while, lingering behind.

But nothing can compare to the pain orbiting in his heart.

He's not coming.

Clenching his fist, Kouki's heavy lids slide closed. He should listen, to let go of any hope he's been holding onto. It's been months, after all.

But he'll continue to wait.

Because that's all he can do.

Hours later find him home, his bag carelessly tossed to the side, the thick packet peeking out from one of the flaps. The place is a wreck – exactly how he last left it as – but he makes no movement to return it to order. Had it been any other day, he might have tidied up, but not now. Company has been offered, mostly from those who he's so close to, but he'd requested to be alone.

But that isn't what he wants.

There's a train tunneling through his mind and making a stop at his heart before permanently lodging in his stomach. He's pretty sure it's an express with how quick it's going. His stomach gurgles in protest, and he's almost certain he's about to endure the spasms of nausea that he has reluctantly become accustomed to.

Rather than allowing it victory, he drags himself to the sofa, placing his face in his hands to cease the horrid sensations. In he breathes, and then slowly releases it until he's able to persuade his breaths to flow at an adequate pace. His eyes are burning, but no water trickles downwards. Barren, a complete portrayal of how he feels on the inside. There are no more tears to cry; he's done that plenty of times now that he's exhausted his duct.

He's used them up from the last three visits.

Discarding his troubling musings, he fishes his cell phone out of his pocket. Kouki stares at it, as though willing it to grant him an answer, but he has to be the one to move. What he's doing is pointless – the same routine he has done for months now – but each effort he hopes he's closer to his goal.

Closer to reaching him.

As difficult as it's been for him, as long as he's had to bear the heartache, he can't worry his lover. If by some miracle they're able to connect, he'll keep his usual cheery posture, hoping his true emotions aren't leaking through the many cracks he knows he has gained, still gaining with each passing second.

But to his disappointment, he's once more greeted by the same voicemail. Though he's heard it a thousand times before, he listens carefully, visualizing the way Seijuro's lips moved as he illustrated every single word on the recording. Because it's all he has, all he has left.

Wholly absorbed in the nostalgia, he nearly jumps when the beep resounds through his ears. Quickly he collects his bearings, and begins his usual response. It's methodical – practically robotic – but there's really no reason to alter his words.

"Umm… Hi, Sei. It's me again. I know I've called a lot already… sorry if you're busy. I'm just wondering where you are, if you're okay." Kouki pauses to catch his breath. "… I really miss you, and wish you'd come home, or at least let me know you're okay. I'm fine, everything is okay." He tries not to cringe at the flat out lie. The truth cannot be spoken. "But I hope I get to see you soon. Umm, I guess… call me… when you get this? If you're not too busy. I miss you… bye…."

You need him.

That part he agreed entirely with. He did need Akashi, had needed him for months, and now it was absolutely critical. No one – not even his family – could fill the void he was enduring. No one could ease the pain of the illness, no one but him.

But he doesn't need you.

Kouki sniffs. No. That wasn't true. Akashi wasn't one to conceal his genuine feelings, especially in regards to him. If Kouki was being a bother, he would have known by now. Despite how everything was transpiring, Kouki was almost certain that was far from the truth. Akashi did need him, just as much as he needed him.

For as long as they've been together – since age seventeen – Kouki could never recall a time they had been apart for such a lengthy period of time. Considering how varied they were in personality, frankly, he was surprised how well they clicked. Of course there were a few slipups in the beginning, but what relationship was pristine? Akashi was the strength he needed, and he was the carefree spirit the other needed.

They harmonized like ying and yang, ignoring those around them who found their relationship bizarre. Perhaps they couldn't understand the meaning of opposites attract, but Kouki paid them no mind. Up until their college debut they had been together, had even spoken of moving in with each other, but then Seijuro had been dragged off to take over an executive role in his father's company, and would travel for days in and days out. Sometimes weeks at a time.

But he always returned.

Then why isn't he here now?

Kouki scowls as once more that skeptical part of his mind materialized. How was he supposed to know that? It was the number one question that had been killing him – aside from his other surface issues- but that made it all none the worse.

Because it didn't make any sense. Even on the long nights he was gone, Akashi always communicated with him. Something was amiss, and he was terrified to discover what it could be.

Theories overwhelm his frazzled mind and his stomach does another double take. Thinking about this wasn't aiding his situation, and he really should rest after the hectic morning. But he needed something that would shut down his mind for the time being so he could finally find peace, if even for a few fleeting hours.

Against his better judgement he advances, as Kouki knew this wasn't the wisest of decisions, but right now it was the only one in reach. His fingers toy with his phone, tapping until he reaches the box with all the messages he had saved. Sorting through the dates, he selects one from April.

"Kouki." He holds his breath, listening to the weary, yet smoky tone of his lover. "I apologize for not calling you back as soon as I promised, but it became rather busy here. I'll probably be delayed another few days, and I'm sorry for that. I know you wanted to go to the festival, but I'll make it up to you. I promise. I'll be home soon, though. I love you."

He smiles wistfully at the message, and then moves on to another. On the nights they were apart, Akashi would stay on the phone with him, luring him to sleep with his soft and silken melody. And if they couldn't reach each other during that period, he would leave him countless voicemails that had always assured him everything was going to be okay.

"Kouki." He could practically recall the dismay as he played the next one. "I've been trying to reach you for hours now. Is everything okay? I haven't heard from you for the past day, so I'm a bit concerned. Please call me back when you get this. I love you. Please let me know where you are."

Frowning down at the screen, Kouki curls into a ball, holding his pillow close as the messages continued to play, each one showcasing Seijuro's deep feelings for him. He sniffled, for the first time in he couldn't remember, allowing tears to slide from his eyes.

I'm right here. It's you who's not.

Autumn has always been one of the favored seasons, and Kouki can't argue that preference.

Maybe at one point in his life he enjoyed the radiance of summer, soaking in the rays at the beach or even out on the courts when there was a game. How he would walk the town with friends, hoping to catch the ice cream truck before their favorites ran out, or have water fights to cool down from the blazing heat.

But that had all altered with time. He now preferred the period of harvest, where the air was brisk, but retained some tepid warmth. A more tranquil stage, rather than the liveliness of summer.

Perhaps it was for one reason, perhaps for many, but the season brought him a sense of relief. Something he scarcely had anymore.

Lately, he's been more fatigued than usual, but being inside all the time only makes him feel trapped. A prisoner in his own home. The whole matter was worth a weak laugh. He's been instructed to rest, but how much can someone do of that?

Kouki has never been someone who lounged about - who stayed inside unless indulging in a good book - but his condition decreed otherwise. He was able to muster the energy to attend his classes, but they had to be shortened due to the fact he couldn't stand for long periods of time.

The park was quiet, lacking any children running amok, given the hour. Seated on his usual bench, Kouki peers up at the sun through the multicolored trees. Red and golden, a sure signal that autumn had come.

And coincidentally the same colors as his eyes.

Chuckling softly to himself, Kouki leans back and lets his gaze shutter close. He can recall the first autumn he had shared with Seijuro. Being how the other had grown up in a different lifestyle than his, Kouki had known their habits wouldn't be too alike. But he was willing to show him his traditions. Show Akashi that even though they were no longer children, they could indulge in the carefree spirit together.

That trait was the piece of him Seijuro had always claimed he adored the most.

Ah, mid-October. The time when the piles of leaves were stacked to their fullest and highest. Kouki continued to roll around in them, nose wiggling when a crumbling leaf touched upon it.

He knew it was juvenile, but it was hard for him to resist jumping into a pile when he saw it. It was simply something to entertain himself when Akashi insisted they sit in the park for a few hours and there were no other festivities going on.

"Kouki."

He flinched at the crossed tone and peered over his mound to the figure seated on the bench. Seijuro had placed the book he was reading aside, staring at him with cool, mismatched orbs.

To be entirely honest, Kouki wasn't surprised by the reaction, as his new lover had always been strict when it came to keeping up a certain level of decorum. And he was almost sure his conduct was something Akashi didn't approve of.

"Come out of there. You look ridiculous."

Kouki wasn't alarmed. After all, he had been expecting that. It was completely consistent with his lover's character to react in a bitter way, but it didn't mean he couldn't change his opinion.

Which was exactly what he did. Rolling to gather a clearer angle of the annoyed teen, he offered him one of his broadest smiles, ignoring the debris that was tangled in his dark tresses.

"But it's so much fun!" He paid no mind to how childish he must have appeared right now to the person he admired the most. "You should really try it, Akashi-san! Then you'll see!"

Only Akashi refused to "see" anything.

"I have better things to occupy my time with than playing in… foliage." Seijuro was frowning, seeming displeased in knowing he had been denied. "Now come out of there before someone notices."

Kouki withheld what he yearned to retort. Such a blunt reprimand would have perturbed anyone else, but not him. For he knew the reason behind why his lover acted in his usual disciplined fashion. He knew Akashi had his childhood taken away by a tragic event, and that was something he knew was forever lost.

Or so he may have thought.

Kouki heavily debated on his next course of action, weighing out the consequences. What would be the worst thing that could happen? Seijuro would be vexed at him, but that wasn't something that couldn't easily be fixed. Decided, he wiggled inside the pile, laughing faintly when he tried to stand up.

"Er, I think I'm stuck. "

Restraining his breath momentarily, he watched as Seijuro heaved an aggravated sigh before rising from his settled position. His lover then held out his hand, assuring Kouki was able to latch on without an issue.

"How someone gets stuck in leaves is beyond me. You-"

The Rakuzan captain's lecture was curbed as he was yanked forward, Kouki having secured a tight grip while trying to wriggle himself free. Was that what he wanted Akashi to believe? Closing his eyes to the scene, Kouki listened as the pile crackled as Akashi's weight crashed down on top of it. He rushed to assist him, nearly tripping over the other male in the process.

"I'm so sorry, Akashi-san! I-I didn't mean to!"

A sense of concern surged through him when Akashi remained suspended in his rumpled state. Panicking, Kouki bit his lip, trying to conjure a solution, when something caused him to pause.

Akashi was laughing. His lover had rose to a kneeled position, head tilted slightly back in a pose of soft amusement. He was… Kouki's eyes beaded with emotion. Even though they had only started to date, he had always yearned to see Seijuro in such a state, but he never imagined it would play out this way.

The display caused his heart to swell. As foolish as the plan had been, it had worked the way he had wished, if not better. He peered over at the other male, and all trace of concern melted when he saw the luminous look there.

He could never forget that smile on his face. As though someone had-

His reminiscing is interrupted by a sudden buzz. As much as he yearned for it to be the one he had waited for so long, hope was slowly dwindling. It pained him to accept reality, but he was slowly beginning to understand that maybe everyone had been right all along. And he was the only fool left believing an illusion.

Staring at the screen, a light surprise filters through his eyes. It wasn't Akashi, no, but also not someone he had been expecting.

About a week ago, he had contacted a close friend of Akashi. Mibuchi Reo. Someone who known of their relationship from the outset.

Honestly, he should have done so months ago, but he hadn't seen the raven around for some time, and only Akashi had his number. Finally, by some little miracle on his side, he had recovered it in stacks of old papers, and gave him a ring.

But another round of disappointment followed, Reo not answering.

So when Reo's cheery voice pierced the line, Kouki had a difficult time in containing himself. Could this finally be his answer to Akashi's whereabouts? The fading hope revived, trembling at the surface as it awaited the answer it had been yearning for.

"Kou-chan! How are you doing? I hope well!" Reo pauses, as though to catch his breath. "How is Sei-chan?"

He could feel his heart plummet at the inquiry. Mibuchi had no idea where his lover was either. Any hope he had regained in knowing he had contact with someone close to Seijuro had took a complete nosedive.

"Sei… he…." Kouki swallows hard; the thick obstruction preventing him from speaking more clearly. "I don't know how he is. I haven't seen or heard from him for months now."

He hears the sharp intake of the other male. Kouki is used to this; it's Reo's usual reply when he's caught off guard. And there's a valid reason. That was probably the last thing Mibuchi ever thought he'd hear about his long-time companion.

"Well, that's strange." Reo's tone is oddly relaxed, but Kouki could detect the slight waver. "If you're having no luck in reaching him, I could try to contact him? I was sent away for a class to enhance my icing skills, so I haven't had much time to socialize. Then after that, everything just got so busy."

Kouki pushed it aside, even though every fiber in him in was leaping forward at the suggestion. "It's okay. I don't want to be a bother. Knowing Sei, he's probably extremely busy." He coughs, struggling to conceal his frail condition. "It would only put more stress on him."

So you want to suffer alone?

He quickly reels the malicious portion of his mind back into its cage. And yet, he knows. It's right, it's always been right. But he's more concerned about Seijuro's well being, more than his own. After all, the man was always stressed, and taking on this role only multiplied those complications.

"I'm almost positive, Kou-chan, if anything happened, we'd know for sure. Don't worry about that." Reo laughs gingerly to dissipate the tense atmosphere. "Enough about Sei-chan. Are you all right?"

The abrupt question shook him slightly. "Ah, yeah!" He was quick to answer. "I'm fine."

"But you sound horribly tired."

He could practically see Mibuchi frowning down the line. A trait he and Seijuro shared to the extreme.

Kouki clears his throat, ridding it of its hoarseness. "I have a bit of a cold, but I'm okay." He laughs softly, hoping it would conceal everything. "It's been a long past few months."

Without him.

Forcing it aside, Kouki altered the topic, wanting nothing more than to hear about something else. Anything other than the voice that consistently badgered him day in and day out.

"So, Mibuchi-san… How's the opening of your bakery going?"

Doctor's visits were something he had grudgingly become accustomed to. But this particular one was pointless. What more could they tell him than what he already knew? Fate was inevitable, time was scarce, and the sands in the hourglass were diminishing with each successive breath he took. What could they perform that they hadn't attempted already? Other than reminding him of that damnable impasse.

The only good part about dragging himself in, however, was they had given him a remedy to ease the cough he had developed. Probably caught from somewhere on campus, or in the streets; anywhere was possible. But the impact was far greater with how quickly his immune system was declining, if his defenses even existed anymore.

Curling up on the couch, a smile twitches onto Kouki's lips. He could recall the time both him and Seijuro had caught a cold at the same time and had to take care of each other.

It was the second year of their relationship, and they had been on a ski trip with some of their close friends. Kouki had failed to see the thin ice sign, and plummeted into the frozen depths of a lake. His lover had rushed to his aid, but by offering that, he too was pulled in only seconds after Kouki latched onto him in a desperate grip.

Oh, sure it was humorous to think of now, but back then, they were completely miserable.

Achoo!

Kouki glanced wearily over at the male beside him. He was in the same pitiful condition as he- with a warm compress on his head, blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and feet soaking in a tub of hot water.

He repressed the urge to giggle, having never thought he'd see Akashi Seijuro of all people looking so disheveled. But this wasn't a laughing matter. They were lucky they had managed to get pulled out quickly before hypothermia or frostbite set in.

Still, it was nice to finally be alone together, despite the events that had won them their seclusion. It seemed ever since they began the trip, it was always group activities, up until it was time to turn in, which didn't leave much time for them as a couple.

Sniffling as his nose once more became congested, he offered his lover a sheepish smile, hoping to appease the tense atmosphere.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, "This is all my fault."

Akashi sniffled, raising his arms mechanically to press another tissue to his nose.

"Not paying attention, yes. That was all on you." His voice was hoarse, squeaking with every other word. "Everything else that followed, no."

Training his heavily-lidded view toward the other, Kouki graced Akashi with a bewildered expression. He was pretty certain the reason they ended up like this was all because of him, so why was he saying otherwise?

"I'd leap into a frozen ocean, Kouki." He paused to cough, clearing his throat before continuing. "As long as I knew it would be to save you. I don't think I could forgive myself if anything happened to you." Seijuro paused, as though reconstructing his words. "No, I know I couldn't stand if anything did, and I took no action to stop it."

Struck by the loving sentiment, Kouki could feel his eyes begin to water. Sniffling once more, now both from the cold and his cresting emotions, he reached across to grip onto one of Seijuro's hands.

"Me too, Sei," he croaked, "I would for you, too."

He felt his lover flinch seconds after. Kouki frowned. Did he say something he shouldn't have?

"Your hand is freezing," Seijuro groused.

Furihata laughed lightly, gripping onto it tighter. "Yours isn't any better," he argued back.

They then sat in silence. A few sniffles passed through the air, one of them sneezing, the other coughing, but no words were exchanged. Kouki didn't mind. It was more than enough to just sit there and enjoy each other's company, especially after the mutual proclamation they made. If he wasn't shivering and the back of the chair wasn't digging into his spine, he would have fallen asleep with how peaceful and quiet the room became.

But as soon as sleep began to tempt him, Akashi disconnected their link to each other.

"Sitting like this is not going to speed up the healing process." He then rose from his position, nearly tripping over the covers pooled around him. "I have a better idea."

Reaching over to where the other was, he detangled the blanket from his shoulders. Kouki whined in protest, shivering at the loss of the warmth, and peered over to try to understand this stupendous new brainwave. That was, until Akashi pushed the chairs together, plopping back down before throwing his own blanket over him. He slid closer until their shoulders were aligned, their frozen skin brushing against each other.

But no sooner had that happened, their combined warmth then began to encase them.

"That's much better, yes?"

Kouki hummed in approval, snuggling into Seijuro's embrace. They should have thought of this before sitting there like fools for the past hour. This method was much more practical, and he had no intention of moving anytime soon. His skin was beginning to warm, giving him a wonderful satisfaction when it pressed against the other's each time he moved.

That's how they were found hours later, when they were joined by their other companions. Kouki's eyes creaked open, vaguely realizing what was occurring, his ears incorporating the sound of Akashi's low breathing. Normally he would have protested about their closeness within the public eye, but all that mattered right now was staying ensnared in this warmth.

A warmth only Seijuro could provide him with.

Snapping free from the memory, Kouki groans. All he's doing is torturing himself. But the recollections did bring a sense of comfort.

For a whole month, he hadn't attempted to contact his lover. He didn't see the point, and Kouki was certain if Akashi had received the countless messages he'd sent, when he had some time… he would return them.

Then why wasn't he?

The only positive aspect about the prescribed medicine was that it hushed the badgering, negative portion of his mind. Now that he didn't have to deal with the nagging, maybe he could find peace and nap for a few hours.

But even in a rested state, far away from reality, his mind would still be swept through misery. Because all he ever did, all he ever dreamt about ...

Was him.

The snow. In years past it had brought him countless moments of joy, but lately, it only made him miserable, piling onto the endless accumulation that life provided.

Laced amongst that light and feathery snowfall were memories. Each built into a glittering flake, a time he had shared only with Seijuro. He had already reminisced last month about their joint ski-trip, but this particular one was far more special, and had occurred a year before that trip.

They had been dating for almost a year then, but Akashi had seemed as reserved as ever. To put it bluntly, his conduct irked Kouki. Not that his lover wasn't slowly opening up – they had many personal discussions, after all – but more so it was how Akashi still kept to himself physically.

Not even once had he tried to kiss him.

Kouki was perfectly eager for it to happen – okay, maybe he was a tiny bit impatient. But more pressingly, he was beginning to wonder if there was something Seijuro didn't find attractive about him. That there was a reason for how long he was holding back, and if he was the cause of that hesitance.

His concerns swirled through his head as they walked across the snow-laden fields. Off to the side, a few kids were building a snowman while others were tossing snow at one another. Of course, his lover walked on, paying them no mind, and completely discarding the fact he was walking through a winter wonderland.

Pausing a few steps behind, Kouki leaned down to scoop some of the snow into his hands. He rolled it into a small ball, chancing a glimpse to see if Seijuro had taken notice, before tossing it at the male walking in front of him.

Akashi stopped dead in his tracks, quickly revolving around, his heterochromatic orbs blazing with annoyance. But they instantly morphed into confusion when he viewed the culprit. He frowned, shaking the snow off his shoulder, staring at Kouki as though he had done the vilest thing in the world to him.

"Kouki!" He continued to stare at him in horror. "What was that for?"

"Haven't you heard of a snowball fight?" Kouki's eyebrows furrowed. He had to have. That much of his childhood couldn't have been taken away. Every kid had to have experienced one in their life. It was just impossible not to.

Akashi scoffed at the question. "Of course I've heard of a snowball fight, but I'm certain the opponent is supposed to be informed so they could launch a counterattack."

"Not always," Kouki sighed, "Catching someone off guard is much more fun."

"Oh, is it now?" Seijuro's brow was raised, the tone of his voice shifting into something Kouki couldn't exactly place. Mischief, perhaps? It couldn't be. "Then I suppose I should return the favor."

Before he could even understand the situation, his lover had begun to run toward him. Kouki snapped from his daze, instantly running the other direction and into the vacant space of the field. He jumped over the fences in the way, nearly tripping on one as he continued to sprint through the icy wonderland. How had a simple tossing of a snowball come to this?

Unfortunately for him, he forgot who he was dealing with, and seconds after that thought passed through his mind, he was tackled to the ground. He gasped, clawing at the snowy ground in attempt to wrench himself free from his lover, who refused to budge from his position over top of him.

"Sei, get off. You're heavy!"

Akashi did move, but it was only enough to flip the other onto his back so he was staring down at him with those gleaming amber and crimson eyes. Shuddering at the intensity of the gaze, Kouki swallowed the lump in his throat. Perhaps this whole antic had been a bad choice on his part. Akashi did have a short temper at times, so pulling this stunt probably had provoked him, and now he was lying in a position that left him entirely vulnerable.

But just as soon as it began, that fear melted along with the frigidness between them. Kouki's eyes widened as the other's lips touched upon his own, lightly, but enough to cause his face to heat up. After a few lingering seconds, he slowly reciprocated, relishing in the warmth that was Seijuro's mouth, ignoring the frozen snow that was caked under his head.

Reality began to weigh down on him, hinting to him at their location, and causing him to snap their connection apart. Scrambling into a sitting position, Kouki's cheeks were flushed, his heart thumping loudly, and his hazel eyes widened in both surprise and embarrassment.

"You're the one who started it." Akashi shrugged.

Kouki appeared dumbfounded. "All I did was throw a snowball! That's what I thought you were going to do when you started to chase me! Not… this!"

His lover rolled his eyes. "You were the one who said it was more fun to catch someone off guard." He ignored the sputtering to the side of him. "And besides, haven't you been hinting at that for a while now?"

The rose hue on his cheeks became scarlet, trailing up until it covered the tip of his nose. Kouki searched for the words, but was rendered speechless. He stared at Akashi, though he found himself quickly looking away. Had he really been that obvious? He didn't think he was!

Seijuro sighed, the sound of disappointment echoing behind. "I was trying to find the precise moment. The right one, to make our first special, but I never could." He offered Kouki a crooked grin. "I suppose this will have to do… for now."

Kouki laughs weakly at the recollection, pulling the blanket closer to him. His health seems to have taken a turn for the worse, even quicker than what the doctors had informed him of. Perhaps he wasn't following their precautions, or perhaps he was just one of the unlucky ones. It was always possible, but in his heart he was almost certain he knew why. And that was something he couldn't correct, no matter how much he had been trying to.

The memories served their purpose, nourishing him with pieces of Seijuro in his prolonged absence. But now that was no longer enough. Try as he might, each passing day he grew weaker. If the sickness plaguing him truly was inescapable, then the least he wanted was for Seijuro to be there. To be there beside him when it all began to unwind.

Was he being selfish? He knew his lover was busy, but wasn't he a large part of his life as well? Akashi had demonstrated that – even declared it – throughout the years, so why would that change now? He wasn't being greedy, he was informing him that even if their lives were on different paths now, that he was still here. That he still loved him, and that right now he needed him more than ever.

Shakily collecting his phone from the end table, Kouki ignores the many text messages and voicemails from missed calls from others, and scrolls to find Akashi's name. His fingers tremble as they press in the keys, constantly having to retrace his steps with the many typos he was making.

But at last he finally succeeds.

Please. I need you.

He should have been there – his mother had begged him countless times now, but he couldn't force himself to go. Hospitals were frightening to him. Kouki knew they were there to care for the afflicted, but he would never benefit from them. He would never heal.

So when his parents, his friends, everyone who knew of his condition, told him it would be for the better to stay there- ever since he was diagnosed- he declined. If these truly were the last of his days, why did he want to be surrounded by fading people who only reminded him of what his fate was?

He was there practically every other morning, anyway, escorted there by his mother, but in the end, he always returned home. She would stay for all the time she could before she had to leave for work, insisting that if he wasn't going to stay in the hospital to come back with her.

But he declined. After her visit, another person would arrive to take her place. He was never alone, and as much as he wanted to be months back, he wasn't allowed to. Not when it was difficult just for him to reach across and grab something on the table, or walk into the kitchen to try to stomach something, which he usually ended up miserably failing at, anyway.

Reality frustrated him, and he yearned to be able to do the things he was once able to. But time was of the essence, and it was slowly taking him down with it. No longer could he sit in the park, or on a field to relax beneath the caress of a warm breeze, or be caught in a storm, an abrupt snowfall. All of those were off limits.

And soon, time would be his enemy as well.

Despite all that was transpiring, this afternoon had been a rather pleasant one. The last one to care for him had left moments ago, and the next wasn't due for a few hours from now.

Kouki relished in the spare periods he had to himself, as he rarely had them anymore. No one was forcing him to eat, or prodding him to do something he wasn't capable of. Though he knew they meant well, their generosity didn't stop him from becoming more frustrated.

So when a series of taps against his front door lures him from his slumber, Kouki is bewildered.

Glancing at the clock, his lips purse, wondering who it could be at this hour. Aside from no one being due for a visit at this point of the day, they all had a key for their own access. Perhaps it was a passing salesman. They did have a tendency to come through the apartment building during this time – as annoying and disruptive as it was.

When it ceases, he curls back up in the many blankets he was huddled in, using their false warmth to lure himself back to slumber. But no sooner does he, the knocking recommences.

He groans, raising his head from the pillows. Was he going to have to travel all the way out of his bedroom to stop them? With how persistent the knocking was, Kouki knew that was going to be the only resolution. No matter how much pain he was in.

Gathering what little strength he has for the day, Kouki shuffles toward the disturbance, pausing a moment to undo the lock. Why bother looking to see who it was? That took time, time he could be spending back in bed when he discovered who was so determined on obtaining his attention.

So when he yanks open the door, ready to question the intruder, he doesn't expect to see a pair of dichromatic orbs gazing back at him.

Kouki blinks and inches a step in reverse. One hand raises to rub as his eyes as though to clear them, to inform him he's witnessing a mirage. Or perhaps he's still asleep and he doesn't realize it. For he's waited so long for this day to finally come that he has given up hope of ever seeing his lover once again.

But when the image before him doesn't vanish, he's certain this is happening. That Akashi is standing on his doorstep.

Yet, at the same time, it isn't Akashi.

The man he adored was forever meticulous, suits pressed to perfection and hair combed to where not a strand was out of place. His aura shone of someone with complete confidence, someone who didn't know the meaning of failure, and yet wasn't afraid to show affection to those he cherished.

This was not that Akashi.

His attire was rumbled, as though he had slept in it and suffered through endless nights of disturbed sleep, and his hair was disheveled as though he had only ran his fingers through it to keep it in place. Seijuro's eyes, which had always glittered brightly, filled with hope and alert to the world, glowing with the eagerness to take on new challenges, were dull, and Kouki could see the sunken lids, making his features appear more paler than usual. He looked worn down, exhausted, as though he had reached the end of his rope.

What happened?

"Hello, Kouki." Even his tone was haggard, worn to a point Kouki wasn't sure if this was really Seijuro. "It's been a while, has it not?"

There are words swirling in his mind – ready to leap from the tip of his tongue, but they refuse to expel from his lips. Oh, there's so much he wants to say, to ask. He's ready to be overjoyed, to be angry, to be hurt.

But right now, all that matters is he's here. Akashi is back, has come back to him. It didn't matter if he ignored every message he sent, every voicemail he left him, requesting, pleading, hoping for his return. All that matters is he's standing in front of him, here and now.

Seijuro whisks a step backward. It's obvious the silence is overwhelming, and making him feel uncomfortable, but Kouki is truly at a loss. How can he possibly respond?

His lover must have read his mind, because he decides to shatter their awkward silence.

"May I come in?"

Kouki hesitates for a moment, before moving to one side. The blanket is wrapped around him firmly, concealing his frail condition from the other. He invites Akashi in before slowly closing the door, careful not to trip over the flowing cloak.

His vision is growing wobbly, his strength draining to an end. Quickly thinking, he rushes to the sofa as quick as his body will permit. It's not the sanctuary of his bedroom, but it will have to do for the time being. At least he's not standing, and is able to relax to some extent.

Through a hooded view, he watches Akashi scout the apartment, as though he was trying to match it to his memories. Kouki is fine with that, so long as he doesn't inch toward the counter where a large manila folder sits. That was the last fact he wants his lover informed about. Although he knows it's impossible to conceal entirely, he can at least prolong the reveal.

"The place looks cleaner than usual," Akashi laughs softly, thoroughly amused.

Kouki chooses not to comment, and continues to observe from his huddled place on the couch. The floor is a more interesting object to stare at, the wall, the legs of the table, anywhere other than Seijuro's gaze. For what lays behind those gleaming eyes is a mystery, and to be entirely honest, one he doesn't wish to solve.

Pausing in his sightseeing, Akashi returns his gaze to Kouki, whose attention is ensnared by the floor. He sighs heavily, the frustration and weariness ringing out from just that one noise.

"I know you're angry with me, Kouki. You have every right to be."

Kouki's gaze remains static.

"What I did was wrong, and I can never forgive myself for it."

He appraises Akashi oddly. How can he toss that out so easily when he's the culprit who caused him this heartache? Even more frustrating is that during the period Akashi had been missing, he had practiced what he wanted to say to him numerous times. But now, the words are impossible to form.

His mouth is bone dry, his throat stinging when he finally pushes himself to retort.

"Then why… why…." He cringes at how hoarse, how weak his voice sounds. "Why did you ignore me for so long? You stopped contacting me somewhere toward the end of May. It's December now…."

Kouki can feel the tears escaping his battered ducts, and rushes to swipe them clean before his lover notices. But he should know nothing ever escapes Seijuro, and in an instant he is inching closer to him, right before he stops, choosing to respect a certain distance.

"Was it something I did?" he whimpers, "Did I do something to upset you?"

Akashi's features animate with shock, and for a brief minute he shakes his head. His shoulders slump, and then he stares at the bundle on the sofa, regret shimmering in his mismatched depths.

"No," is the simple reply, "It was something I did."

Silence resumes after that. Kouki waits for an explanation - if there is any. Akashi is being far too secretive for his liking, something he hasn't dealt with in a while. He's used to him being direct, unloading his concerns without a second thought. But that was the old Akashi. This one... he doesn't know how he'll react.

It's then that Seijuro decides. His lips are pursed, gaze still submissive, and posture slackened. He then drops down onto the sofa, taking up residence on the opposite end. This move only enhances Kouki's amplifying suspicions.

"You deserve to know the truth about my absence."

His voice is marred by guilt, and neither of them are quite able to look each other straight on. Akashi because of that, and Kouki because he's already on the verge of tears, and if he does, he knows he won't be able to stem the flow. Despite that, he yearns to hear the tale, even though it will mean living the pain a second time. Perhaps it will be even more vicious, knowing why Seijuro shut him out so unforgivingly.

"I have betrayed my loyalty to you, Kouki, and I can assure you, the error is mine alone. If anything, I stayed away because I felt I could build something even better for our life together. I always intended to come back."

His nose scrunches in confusion. Build?

Akashi is unsettled, that much is clear as day. Opposite to his typical behavior, he toys with the sleeve of his shirt, trying to smooth the ruffled fabric while he compiles his next statement. Kouki watches him with his gaze tilted down, avoiding the heir's face as ever.

"I became consumed by my work, and that is what I have been focusing on all this time. My promotion led to countless meetings, new responsibilities, and projects... all of which I didn't need to shoulder alone. But something in me wouldn't allow me to assign those tasks to my co-workers. I felt obliged to perform them all myself. Eventually I was spending my days and nights both at the company, and not with you."

Seijuro's words wrap around him, but unlike his coverings, they leave him frigid. Kouki's mind stirs restlessly, striving to understand the story even as it fills him with questions. Why did he enter such a tailspin to start with?

Why didn't he reach out to him? They had countered many problems together over the years; Seijuro knew he wouldn't judge anything he was feeling. All he wanted is for the man he loved to be happy. Why wouldn't he consult him about this issue, too?

"I was rushing to climb the ladder there. I felt as though if I kept advancing forward, kept doing what I was, it was worth it. The more of myself I poured into the job, the sooner I would reap the rewards. And when that happened, I could go home, I could give more to you, Kouki."

Akashi's voice is rich with sorrow, melancholic and eerily lyrical. It wafts through the other male's ears smoothly, and in bursts, he is able to picture everything as if he had been there to see it firsthand. It's nearly heartbreaking how unnecessary it all is. He's never cared what Seijuro has, about his rank, about his connections. He doesn't need to prove anything to him. All he wants is the man himself.

That's what he's missed this whole time.

"That's principally why I wasn't able to stay in contact. If I'd heard your voice, whether you asked for me to come home or not, I would have wanted to leave at once. I wouldn't have been able to stay away."

Akashi then pauses to edge closer to him. Paired crimson and gold orbs widen slightly, as though he's studying something carefully, and Kouki has a lingering hunch he knows exactly what that is.

"Are you ill?" His lover touches a hand to his forehead. "You do seem a bit warm."

Kouki hesitates, but the persisting glance is all he needs to know he's cornered.

"I've been sick, yeah." He laughs gingerly, trying not to cringe at how unconvincing he sounds. "That's why I'm dressed like this."

Akashi frowns. "You've been to a doctor?" Kouki nods. "Good. Then I assume this will be over within a week?"

How is he supposed to answer that? Sure it has a possibility of being through within a week, but certainly not in the way his lover is thinking. Not even close. But he can't lie to Seijuro, not with him right here and able to analyze every facial expression he makes.

"…Not exactly," he settles on remarking.

Seijuro is then confused, and Kouki is at a loss for words. He can see the dark brows knitting together, mismatched irises examining every aspect of him. Will he figure out the origin behind everything himself, or is Kouki going to be forced to explain?

The hand that rests on his temples descends until cool, deft fingertips are brushing delightfully against his cheek. But it's only seconds after that Akashi freezes, stopping on one of the hollowed parts of his face.

"Kouki?"

"I've been sick for a while, Akashi-san." He's as direct as he can manage, knowing the next portion is going to be the most difficult of all. "Months."

Seijuro's expression jumps from bewildered to horrified. "… Months? And they haven't given you any treatment?!" The fury reflecting in his voice causes Kouki to flinch. It's so rare to ever see this behavior, ever hear his tone that savage. "Get up right now, Kouki. I'm taking you to-"

"It's not that simple."

He releases Akashi's hand, gliding back into the blanket's cocoon. The warmth is false, the one he yearns for only inches away, but he can't bring himself to ask for that comfort. Not yet. Not until he reveals what is truly transpiring within him.

"There's a folder… over there." Kouki points across the room. "… It will explain everything."

He looks on as Akashi hesitates, posture radiating of confusion, concern, and slight anger from before. Slowly he rises from the sofa, and then he's crossing the room to where he was told. Knowing the results ahead of time, Kouki burrows himself in the layers, pulling the fabric over his face but only high enough to where his eyes can peek out when needed.

Watching from a distance is fine to him. He has exceeded his strength for the day, has even topped that fickle limit. Quite frankly, Kouki is surprised he's still awake with how much he has fatigued himself.

The sound of papers flipping echoes through his ear, and Kouki is certain that has to be one of the most grueling sounds he's ever heard. He listens as Akashi pauses, before he flips yet another page. And then he's going at such a quick speed that Kouki can no longer keep up.

Akashi frees a sound, but he's not sure if it's him choking, or if he's trying to say something. Either way, the thick packet in his hands goes crashing to the floor, the loud sound vibrating throughout the small apartment.

And then he finally communicates.

"You have…." He's unable to finish, the words stalling in his throat as another choke resounds. "Why didn't you tell me?!"

The raw emotion in his lover's voice causes his eyes once more to water. Akashi is staring at him from across the room, entirely lost, while the many papers are now scattered across the floor.

"I tried…." Kouki can hear the defeat in his voice, the weariness settling in once again. "… but you never came…."

"I would have come home instantly if you told me about this!" The anger is back, but Kouki can hear the wavering resolve behind it. The fear, the…. "Kouki! You…."

And then he's there, long arms wrapping around him and securing him in their warmth. The succor he has craved for months. He feels a wetness dripping down his face, and Kouki startles, realizing it's not stemming from him.

His lover- who takes such pride in repressing his emotions – is crying. The sight tugs at his heartstrings and enhances his own waterworks, and before Kouki's aware of it, they're both sobbing, clinging to each other as reality sets in. Yet it's some small relief to him, to finally be able to share the burden. To indulge in the comfort that only his lover's presence can soothe him with, and let it distract him from the horror that lay ahead of him.

Despite all that is transpiring, Kouki can't help but softly smile. Akashi's tears are ones of despair and grief, but his are more the remnants of his discarded calm outer facade. With Seijuro he doesn't have to pretend to be strong. There are no words that can ever hope to express the relief he feels now that they are reunited.

You've been gone for so long….

"Sei-chan."

He doesn't take notice to the palm that wraps around his shoulder, barely hears the tender name from his companion standing behind him. Perhaps it's the blaring in his ears that hinders that, even though there's no sound echoing throughout the vacant and peaceful cemetery.

Or perhaps he prefers to stay trapped in his own dimension. A world where Kouki still exists, alive, and appears the same as when they first met. Yes, staying there seems like the superior choice.

The row of graves are dreary, the atmosphere monotonous, despite the numerous bouquets of flowers arranged so neatly on some. But this is where he wants to be, where he has been, where he will always be.

"Sei-chan, it's been weeks now. You've come here every day and stay here until nightfall." Reo's hand remains on his shoulder, as if trying to aid their connection. "Everyone is worried about you. I am very worried about you."

Had so little time passed? Seijuro is almost certain it's been longer since he watched his lover's hand go limp, watched his eyes close forever.

The day he learned of Kouki's condition, Akashi's world had crumbled, and he was absolutely certain he wouldn't be able to recover the pieces. Even if he somehow managed to take those minuscule glass fragments and connect them to form one shard of what had shattered, to restore one tiny portion of his life, it would never be the same.

Kouki had lasted only a few months after that. Shortly after his return, he was rushing Kouki to the hospital as his condition grew unstable. He'd wanted to respect his lover's wishes and allow him to stay home, but he couldn't stand watching him convulse. Couldn't stand to see the pain in his teary, sunken eyes.

He'd stayed by his side throughout it all. If he had failed him all those months that were behind, the least he could do was be his support until the end.

But even that wouldn't be enough. Nothing could mend his misdeeds, nor restore the time that had been selfishly stolen between them.

"It's all my fault, Reo." Akashi's tone is low, barely the ghost of a whisper. "If I had been there, this wouldn't have happened."

Another squeeze, and Mibuchi is firmly planted behind him.

"You couldn't prevent him from getting sick, Sei-chan."

"That's not what I was referring to." Seijuro lowers his head, gaze shuttering as he once more wallows in tragic shame. "I abandoned him. I let him suffer alone. And all this time, he-" His voice cracks, losing its usual composure. "… He was reaching out for me, and I ignored him because I was too caught up in the world I had fallen into."

If I could have one wish, it would be to show him.

"I could have been there to ease him, to soothe some of his fear as he went through it."

Even if time was scarce.…

"Before I left, there was so much I wanted to do with him, so many places I wanted to take him. And I could have then, but I choose the wrong path…" Akashi trails off, breathing in slowly before shakily releasing the gasp. He isn't one to display his emotions to others, but that shield be damned now. "… And now I lost that chance. I'll never get it back."

Even if we somehow only had a few minutes together….

"I'll never get that back, Reo. Don't you understand?"

He turns to face Mibuchi, ignoring the other's horrified expression. Seijuro doesn't need a mirror to know what his appearance looks like, nor does he care. Kouki had cried over him for months to come back to him, and what had he done? Left him to suffer, left him to keep pushing forward in hopes he would relent and return.

If I could show him what he meant to me, still means to me.

"I can never forgive myself, and if it means staying here day in and day out until who the hell knows when… then I will do so."

That's all I would ask for.

April showers are an omen of hope, their rains nourishing the youthful blossoms that were reviving from their winter hibernation. Spring is supposed to be an era of renewal, a second chance to repair everything that had been done wrong the past year. That was what most would think, if most had that chance still in front of them. But there were others who had the opportunity snatched from them in the cruelest of ways with no way of it ever returning.

And that is the cruelest punishment anyone could ask for. But he was willing to redeem himself, no matter how painful the journey proved to be. He was deprived of the chance – which could have been saved by his own actions, but he chose to ignore the happiness he'd built for something more corrupt. And it had been the path he had chosen that had demolished the euphoric life he had once led.

Keeping his face pressed against the glass pane, Akashi sighs. The beating of the rain is pleasant to listen to, but it does nothing to diminish the turmoil in his heart. Nothing would be able to cease that, or fill the hollowed void that he knew would linger for the rest of his life.

Aside from refusing contact with any of the outside world, the career he worked so hard to achieve was coming to a crashing end. After all, the determination, the greed – to sate his perfectionism - had been the cause of his neglect toward his ailing lover.

Musing on his errors makes him sick to his stomach.

Weeks ago, he moved into the apartment Kouki had rented for the final period of his life. The place he had sat day in and day out waiting….

For his return.

It brought him a strange sense of relief to be close to Kouki again. Even if it wasn't much, it was all he had left. Memories were bittersweet, the lingering ones only taunting him. He could cling to the ones of the past, but that wasn't going to bring Kouki back.

Nothing was going to.

Seijuro rubs at his bloodshot eyes. When's the last time he had a decent round of sleep? In the past month, he's been lucky to get half an hour with how violently his mind is whirling. The visions haunt him during the day, and the phantasms behind his closed lids don't decrease any at nightfall.

Still, the thought of obtaining rest sounds appealing, as a method of muzzling his melancholy thoughts.

Normally he lounges in Kouki's bedroom, fooling himself the sheets will smell like his departed lover. Lately he's finding that act depresses him more than anything. It isn't comfortable, but the sofa is where he prefers to stay now.

Seijuro's eyes are heavy from dealing with a lack of sleep and the burden of the countless tears he has shed to date. His head pounds, granting him another reason why he knows he needs to sleep. What's going on in the world doesn't matter, it doesn't matter who is worried about him. There's nothing out there worth getting up and facing the day, so why does he fight his exhaustion?

His body concurs with his jaded inner rant, slowly beginning to lure him into a somewhat relaxed state. And then before he realizes it, the scene before him fades.

Whatever pitiful peace he had managed to obtain is disrupted by someone shaking him. Groaning, he rolls over, launching his face into the wall of the couch. Why was it when he finally finds tranquility, he has to be yanked from it? He is far too exhausted to uncover what the disturbance is, and couldn't give a damn if someone has somehow broken into the house.

Maybe they will do him a favor and end the misery he is enduring. If only he was that lucky.

So when a soft voice, the most angelic one he has ever heard, filters through his ears, Akashi's exhausted and water logged eyes snap open.

"Sei! Sei! Are you okay? Please, answer me. You're starting to really scare me!"

It couldn't be, could it?

Not bothering to question it a second time, he scrambles from his position, nearly tumbling off the sofa in an attempt to reach the one standing beside him. He rubs at his eyes, clearing the sleep-sand and trying to gain a clear image.

When all is adjusted, there's no mistaking who is in front of him. So it truly had been a horrible, horrible nightmare.

Shakily, he reaches out a hand to cup at the other's chin, fingers quivering even when they find their mark. The callused pads dig into the silky skin, and he finds it impossible to release his grip.

"Kouki," he croaks, utterly disbelieving, "Is it really you?"

His lover echoes a surprised noise. "Who else would I be?" His own hand closes over Seijuro's trembling one, soothingly rubbing it. "You look terrible. Are you okay? I didn't mean to wake you up, but you were really scaring me."

"I had the worst nightmare." Akashi continues to shiver, and knows he won't be able to stop for the near future. "Oh, Kouki. It was terrible. I… I can't even put it into words, it's that bad."

Kouki resolutely comforts him, squeezing his hand to assure him he's there. "It must have been," he sighs wearily, "I've been trying to wake you up for hours. You kept talking in your sleep, but then when you started to cry, I got really scared. You-"

Ignoring the squeak from being pulled forward abruptly, Seijuro presses his lover's face into his chest. He's shaking again – it's impossible to cease that completely – but it's proof that he's alive. That Kouki is alive, and that all is right in the world.

"Kouki." His voice is so hoarse, the quivering echoing within. "I-I'm sorry that I've been neglecting you." Akashi pulls away slightly to stare into those bright eyes. "But everything is going to change. Starting today. I'll fix everything. I swear. It'll be like how the first few years of our relationship were. It'll always be like that, from now on."

He grins widely, causing Seijuro's heart to thump at the sight.

"We can go wherever, do whatever you want." Seijuro raises one hand to plant a light kiss on his knuckles. "Just name it, and I'll follow."

Kouki lifts his head, his glittering orbs encountering the Akashi's weary ones. It doesn't matter how exhausted he feels. Staring into those eyes gives him all the strength he needs.

"Can we go to the ocean? And on the boardwalk? And ride the Ferris wheel to the top to overlook everything?"

Akashi smiles at the childish mirth brewing within those hazel depths, and nods, outstretching a hand to brush a loose chestnut strand from his view.

"We can do all of that." He leans forward to press a kiss to Kouki's temple. "In fact, let's get started right now."

Given it was only the birth of spring, the ocean was somewhat vacant. Most of the occupants are most likely waiting for the fullness of the season to settle in, or perhaps they are off on other parts of the beach. The air is still a bit chilly, but the warmth of the sun beating down quickly cloaks that from them. With the temperatures still below mild, walking on the sand barefoot isn't an option, so they opt for keeping their shoes on.

This foolish decision leaves them stumbling and tripping along the way, but not a moment passes where it doesn't make them laugh at how silly they know they look.

Having enough of tripping, Kouki plops down on the grainy surface, instantly pulled into his lover's embrace when he joins him. He giggles at the lips peppering light kisses all over his face, swatting Akashi away playfully. As though to retaliate, Akashi brushes against the shell of his ear, tickling him with the wafting of his breath before he ascends to bury his nose in the soft chestnut tresses.

Seijuro's eyes slide closed, allowing himself to become lost in the tranquility. Behind them, the crashing of waves against the surface echo pleasantly in his ears, the breeze blowing through Kouki's hair and gracing him with the alluring scent he adores so. It's almost too perfect, but he isn't going to complain. He wants to stay as they are, never letting go and never moving from their spot.

After that heart-wrenching nightmare, this is exactly what he needs. He can feel his nerves beginning to slowly settle from their frazzled state, his heart beginning to seal up the rooted cracks it had received during the whole horrible ordeal. Everything will finally return to how it once was, and he is determined to assure it will stay that way.

He seeks for Kouki, locating one of his hands and entwining their fingers. But as Seijuro brushes a caress along the soft skin, something causes his eyes to snap open and jerk away to glance downward.

Strange. Had that mark been there before?

Shrugging off the concern, he returns to his position and pulls his lover closer to him. He wasn't going to let something as minor as a blemish he's never seen ruin this day. If anything, he will take Kouki to the doctor later on if it becomes an issue.

They continue their journey along the boardwalk, crossing paths with a few others before reaching where the giant Ferris wheel is stationed. The wait isn't long, and soon they're on their way into the sky.

Kouki leans over, grasping onto one of the bars and peering out the window. The sight only fills Akashi with another wave of warmth. He sometimes forgets what a childish spirit his lover has – has always had – even at the age he is now. That he himself had been taught by him that it's fine to indulge in that mirth every now and then.

But once more Seijuro finds himself pausing in mid-thought while examining his lover's profile. The same mark that was on his hand has reappeared, and his skin doesn't seem as glowing as before.

Now might be a good time for panic. But he doesn't want to ruin Kouki's experience by startling him. Not after he had promised him he was going to make everything up to him.

Again, he'll patiently wait until they are back home.

With each step they take, Kouki gradually worsens. He's changing right before his eyes, and Seijuro can't for the life of him comprehend why. Something about it is eerie, and it's only causing the fear that had recently diminished to come back with a vengeance.

No, this is supposed to be their special day! The day where he'll begin to make up for everything he has done wrong, for all the neglect he's heaped on his lover.

But why is this happening?

Deciding on their next stop, an old-fashioned train station – one of Kouki's top interests - they board an empty carriage.

Once again, Kouki's childish wonder filters through, but it isn't as radiant as it was when they commenced their journey. It too is dimming, and the more it flees, the more his condition becomes frailer.

Akashi wants to scream. Is he the only one noticing this? Does Kouki even feel what is happening to him?

As the ride stretches longer, his state grows even further deteriorated. The last time Seijuro saw him look like this was when….

Almost as if though….

"I'm getting tired." Kouki suddenly speaks, voice low and wispy. "It's been really fun, Sei, it really has, but I think it's time."

Time for what? What is he talking about?

"What do you mean, Kouki?" He can feel the bile crawling up his throat. "What is it time for?"

"I'm really tired," he repeats, "It's time for me to go back home. I'm sorry. I wish I could have given you more time, but I'm really sleepy."

Seijuro represses the magnifying nausea. "Home?" He reaches to collect the now trembling male in his arms. "Kouki, by the looks of it, I need to take you to the doctor. We'll go there right now."

"You don't understand." Kouki's voice is now but a whisper, the skin around his eyes beginning to sag. "Please take me back home."

Abiding his wishes, they return back to Kouki's apartment, and Akashi has a difficult time concealing his horror. The condition of his lover was exactly how he looked before he took his last breath. Why is that terrible nightmare replaying right before his eyes?

"Kouki, please let me take you somewhere. I can't let you stay like this. I-"

The other's hand is what curbs his rambling. Kouki smiles softly, despite how awful he must feel, and graces his lover with watery hazel eyes.

"It's okay, Sei. I'll be okay. I've been okay."

"I don't understand." The room is beginning to spin as he feels himself getting sicker. "How are you okay when you look like that? You look like how you do in the nightmare I had!"

But when Kouki's lips move once again, the words that come from them are what sets his heart plummeting.

"You asked for one more day, didn't you?"

Reality hits him like a rock, and he can feel his mended world once more beginning to implode. No, this can't be. Everything beforehand had been a dream, a horrible, horrible dream. Kouki is still alive, here with him, and not fatally ill.

There has to be some mistake.

Tears prick at the corner of his eyes, and before he knows it, the dam has been broken. Seijuro falls to his knees, covering his face in his hand and allows all his pent up emotions to be unleashed.

"I can't, K-Kouki. I don't know what to do without you. I've been…" He pauses to shakily inhale, but it does nothing to center him. "… so lost, and I know it's always going to be that way."

His lover kneels before him and guides him into his embrace. Soothing back his crimson locks, Kouki rocks his crumpled form in hope of somehow pacifying him.

"You'll be okay, Sei. I know you will. You're strong, you've always been. That's something of you I've always admired."

Akashi shakes his head stubbornly. "No, I'm not. I can't do this, Kouki. I can't go on knowing I'll never see you again."

He recalls when he first began to neglect his lover, when he was more concerned on climbing to the top of the industry. Back then, he had given Kouki the sense that he would never see him again, and now he's being tortured in the same unthinkable fashion.

Only, there's no way Kouki can return to him.

"I'm sorry for everything, Kouki." He can feel the tears dripping down his face, the soreness of his throat turning his voice hoarse. "I will never be able to forgive myself… and I can't take anything back. I wish I could. I wish I could go back to when I first became lost in that world and pushed you aside. Where I could have stood by your side as you suffered. Where I could eliminate any doubt you had about us. But I can't, and if you never forgive me, I'll more than understand that."

"I already have." Kouki smiles at the surprised glance. "Everyone makes mistakes, Sei. Some worse than others, but that's what makes no one perfect."

Leave it to his lover to see the pureness in everyone, even those with tainted hearts. Even he, who had fallen victim to the power of greed and corruption.

"You shouldn't."

Kouki raises a thumb to mop at the tears. "But I do. You may have made some bad decisions, but you came back in the end, right?"

Lowering his head, Seijuro presses his face once more into the other's chest. His hand clutches at the fabric of his shirt, gripping the material until he's sure it's about to tear from how tightly he's holding on.

"This isn't the ending I was expecting, though…."

He's trembling like a leaf; he's numb. Seijuro can't even feel the shirt he's holding onto so dearly. Never in his life, aside from when he lost his mother, had he experienced such emptiness, such hopelessness. To know something he wanted more than anything, he could no longer have. That within moments it would be slipping through his fingers once again.

Gathering his bearings to a point, he seeks Kouki's chin and connects their lips together one last time. Kouki responds in kind, placing all his warmth into the kiss, all the love he had, everything that he was made of.

His tears mingle with Akashi's, but it doesn't sever their bond. Time is of the essence, and he knows it's only seconds before he has to say those words he knows will crush his lover.

Reluctantly he disconnects their embrace, smiling sadly at Seijuro through a misty view.

"I have to go now," he remarks, "I'll be seeing you around, huh?"

But instead of releasing him from his grasp, Akashi lurches forward to prevent him from disappearing from his view. Even as his solid form begins to dissipate.

"I love you, Kouki." He dances his fingers along the glowing and revived skin. "I'll never stop, no matter what happens."

Kouki grips the fingers grazing along his face and clenches them tightly. His eyes are brewing with new tears, but his condition has reverted back to what he looked like when they first met. He lives again, but not here. Not with him.

"For eternity?" he whispers.

Akashi nods at the fading image, water logged eyes blurring his vision.

"For eternity."