A/N: Sorry about this story. I'm just going to give it a quick ending since I'm absolutely mesmerised by Jalex these days. Apologies. I just want people who've read it to you know, have some ending.

Flashback

Tyson decided to go for a walk. The sun was so bright, after all. Nothing bad could possibly go wrong.

He loved this kind of day.

The flowers smelt especially fragrant. He could see some drops of dew on them. An ant padded on one of the flower petals. Under his foot, some bugs scurried here and there. He shifted his foot and stared at them for what seemed like forever.

He glanced at his watch. Less than five seconds had passed. Oh well.

For no reason at all, the song that Max liked so much was stuck in his head. He shrugged and started to whistle to tune, turning sharply and walking down a path he had never been on before. This path would probably save him five minutes. As the saying went, time saved was time earned… or something. This was especially so since he was that much closer to the ice-cream shop. His stomach grumbled at the thought. He was getting hungry again.

Suddenly, a grey building filled with cracks appeared in front of him. Or maybe he was just too busy thinking about his ice-cream to notice the surroundings.

Say, where was he?

"Help,"he heard someone say.

He shuddered and resolved to walk more quickly. Was there a ghost in there?

"Help."

There was no panic in the voice, just a kind of weariness. Tyson began to wonder if it was someone's lame idea of a joke.

He decided to walk in and confront the person, brushing off all thoughts of ghosts. It was bright daylight, after all.

To his surprise, Brooklyn was seated on the floor, his hands beside him. His head was tilted upwards. He did not take his eyes off the crack-infested ceiling. Tyson wondered if Brooklyn was drunk.

Everything was red.

"Brooklyn?" he had asked uncertainly. He was still a little unconvinced about the state of his friend's (Could Brooklyn be considered his friend?) sanity.

The head slowly turned to meet his gaze. Nothing else moved. Nothing at all. The eyes did not meet his, though.

Brooklyn's eyes were vacant. They were so creepy that Tyson wondered if they were starring in some B-grade horror movie which Mr. Dickenson had conveniently forgotten to tell him about. Brooklyn did not seem to care if he died.

Brooklyn moved his mouth, but no sound came out. Finally coming to his senses, Tyson rushed towards his friend.

"Tenshi?" Brooklyn asked.

The voice could not have come from Brooklyn. Brooklyn might be a little crazy, but he wasn't that empty.

But it must have come from him.

Brooklyn placed a hand on Tyson's arm. His eyes were empty.

"Tenshi?" he asked again.

His eyes were still blank, and he had started to sound eerily like a broken tape recorder.

"Brooklyn," Tyson murmured, shaking his friend's arm gently.

Brooklyn finally focused his gaze on Tyson. However, he did not appear to be aware of his surroundings.

At that moment, Tyson knew that he'd never be the same again. Never.

"Had a nightmare again, Tyson?"

Tyson reached out to hold onto the person. It wasn't a nightmare, he wanted to shout. It wasn't. If only it were a nightmare, a nightmare that could be chased away by the light of the rising sun. But no, it wasn't. It was reality and there was nothing he could do about it because it wouldn't go away.

"Yes," he answered instead. "I had a nightmare."

"Is that so?"

With those words, the person enveloped Tyson in a warm hug.

"Maybe…" the person started to say, then shut their mouth.

"Maybe?" Tyson prompted, still holding onto the shirt, the arm, everything he could hold on to.

"It's nothing."

There was a long pause. Tyson wanted to ask for more answers, but he knew from experience that asking for them would not give any result, not if this person did not want to answer. If he wanted to answer, or if it didn't matter too much, Tyson would probably be able to tell. This was not one of those times.

"How do you get in here, anyway? You have to be careful: someday grandpa is going to mistake you for a burglar or something," Tyson mumbled.

"I took your keys," came the reply.

"So that's where they went," the world champion mumbled. "Wait. What?!"

"I took your keys." The person repeated.

"I heard that!"

Laughter.

"So why did you make me repeat myself?"

"Shut up," Tyson groused.

There was more laughter as smooth, pale fingers brushed his cheek gently. Funny, Tyson always expected those hands to be calloused from beyblading. He took the hand, examining it for signs of moisturiser.

"What are you doing?"

"You remind me of Hiro, sometimes," Tyson answered instead.

"Which part?"

"You."

"That doesn't make even sense."

"Does it?" Tyson asked. "Why are you around me all the time, anyhow? You're not even in my team."

A shrug. "Hell if I know."

"Liar."

"Am I?"

"Garland," Tyson whined.

"Because," Garland murmured. "Remember the day you saw Brooklyn?"

Tyson flinched. "You knew?"

"I knew," Garland confirmed. "I saw you running around like a chicken without a head," Garland said, smiling sadly. "I was actually following you. I thought I'd ask you for a battle. That's why. I saw him too. And you… your face… I just couldn't leave you alone. Not when you had that look on your face."

Tyson smiled. "Thanks. I guess I needed that."

"So did I."

"Too much blood," Tyson murmured, finally thinking about the one thing he refused to let himself even dream about.

"Yeah."

"Do you think Brooklyn wrote the letter?"

"Nah. I did."

"Huh?" Tyson asked, confused. "But you…"

Garland laughed as Tyson spluttered. "Well, the first version anyway."

"There were two versions?" Tyson asked.

"See, I wrote the first one for someone else, so that person's love would finally understand his feelings, but that person caught me and told me that he'd write a proper one."

"So who's the person?" Tyson asked. "Is it Brooklyn?"

Garland smiled. "Oh, no. Let's just say Kenny is not the only member in your team who has the hots for MingMing."

"Huh?"

"Just go to sleep, Tyson," Garland murmured, planting a small kiss on Tyson's forehead.

"How am I supposed to sleep when you tell me that?" Tyson asked, irritated.

Garland shrugged.

"It's Ray, isn't it?" Tyson asked. His eyes held all the horror that he could muster.

"Go to sleep."

"It is, isn't it?"

"Go to sleep."

"But I need to know! Please…"

"Fine. I'll tell you in the morning. Go to sleep."

"I can't," Tyson complained.

"It's Kai. Go to sleep."

"Kai?! Are you sure?"

A vein twitched in Garland's forehead as he nodded. "Go to sleep already."

"But he doesn't do that kind of thing. He's Kai!"

Garland sighed. He should just have spiked Tyson's food with sleeping pills.

In fact, he was definitely going to do that tomorrow.

"Do you think we'll be okay?" Kai asked.

"I don't know," Ming Ming murmured. "We're best friends. Sort of."

"Tyson's the closest thing I have to a best friend. You're… not. You're Ming Ming."

"Yes. I am, aren't I?"

A long pause.

"Kai. We'll fix this someday. It's just that I'm in love with Garland right now, and it's hard."

"Min…"

"I'm sorry."

"Min... Could we ever...?"

Ming Ming nodded slowly.

"Just not right now. I have to…sing… but I guess we're alright. Someday we can be together, I think"

"I'll wait," Kai answers, a small smile on his lips.

A/N: Okay, that's it. Thanks for reading this thing.