Gothix, Lesson Twenty-One: Small Steps

Since you left, she's a mess
She regrets all the things that she could've said
But we fall asleep, never think of anything
We wake to the sound of a phone as it hits the ground

The world continued. It was cruel, the way it kept turning. It infuriated him; it made him so angry that he could barely keep his hands from shaking against the table. It made him wish his parents had screamed and shouted at him at his return, locked him away from this horrible gray world that kept on and on, sun shining brightly through the November air.

A cool hand came to rest over his own trembling ones, slim pianist fingers curling around his own. His anger ebbed slightly as he clenched his jaw in an effort to keep himself in control. It was a fight to remind himself that the world was not entirely indifferent to the emptiness that now resided where his brother used to be. Had he had to endure this new emptiness without Sakura by his side, Shaoran thought he would have gone crazy within the first five seconds of being away from her—the fact that neither his parents nor hers blamed either of them for disappearing was something to be grateful for.

This was their first outing since returning to Koryo. Shaoran was not particularly looking forward to seeing Fai or Kurogane, but Sakura had insisted. He didn't feel like dealing with the blonde's own melodramas, even though he ached to ask Fai if dying hurt. Kurogane… he was too close of a friend to Syaoron for Shaoran to bear meeting with. He closed his eyes tightly and inhaled deeply.

"…You don't have to stay," Sakura said quietly. She peered upwards at her boyfriend, frowning in worry. "If it's hard for you to see people right now, you don't have to."

"Watanuki said that blondie wanted to talk to us both," Shaoran muttered, "And you—they're your friends."

Sakura frowned slightly, but gently squeezed the brunet's hand after a few second's pause. "They're your friends too, Shaoran-kun."

He could barely bear hearing her quiet admonishment; he didn't want to make her mad, but didn't she understand? He couldn't… he didn't want to be close to anyone anymore. Sakura, at least, had promised that she would not leave him. Fai, however, wanted to go somewhere where friendship could not follow, and if he went, Kurogane would as well. What good were friends that left you all alone?

"I guess," he sighed.

Sakura looked from Shaoran to the window, choosing her words carefully. "It won't make it better to do the same thing he did, you know, to wall yourself off… To be like Fuuka was." She watched the people milling past the café, lives untouched by tragedy and the small, secular life they led. Out there, just inches away from her, was a world that knew briefly of sorrow, knew it in passing, but had managed to keep its innocence. These people were preoccupied with thoughts of holidays and cold, family and friends; each breath wasn't a struggle. Each passing second wasn't a fight to keep what was precious. They were naïve to this… and yet the line that separated her world from theirs was just as fragile and transparent as the pane of glass between them. Anyone could easily become them, and she would not let herself fall into the trap of thinking that this pain made them special—different—like she'd watched Syoaron and Fai do to themselves. She wouldn't sit and watch Shaoran do it, either.

"I know," came Shaoran's resigned answer. "It's just that… I don't know. I've never known what to think about Fai's… you know… thing. I trusted him because you did. I… respect him, but… I—he's not very dependable. …Everything we do all seems stupid now, doesn't it?"

"It's not stupid," Sakura replied evenly. She turned her gaze away from the window, hands moving to grasp her drink. The glass was damp and cool against her touch, easing the desire to fidget. "I mean, what sort of teenager doesn't dream of being in a band? I mean, yes, I suppose it's rather silly in the long run… But it isn't as if we're wasting time. You know that. You know that there are things out there that Fai-san is serious about."

"Kurogane." The answer was prompt and begrudged, the elder boy's name breathed out in a sigh of almost-irritation.

"Yes," the girl answered. "But even more than that, I think that Fai-san's serious about the band, and what it means to him. Because we're his friends."

Shaoran paused at Sakura's pointed and almost chilly tone, then laughed, "Ouch, low blow." He shook his head and sighed, reaching up to tap his straw against the bottom of his glass in thought. "…It isn't as if I'm distancing myself," he said finally, "I just..."

It was incredibly hard to voice the melancholy weight that had settled on him; his anger and sorrow and doubt all mixed to form this feeling in the bottom of his chest, making him unsure of everything he had ever known. "I can't trust him… You know—I don't want to go through this feeling again," he said finally.

"You don't have to," came the answer.

Shaoran looked up from the table, scowling as his eyes met Fai's. He was only slightly embarrassed that they'd overheard the conversation, knowing that Fai had always been well aware of what people thought of him and that other than Sakura and himself, the blonde knew exactly what he'd meant. He knew it had to hurt the blonde teen, though. It had to—knowing people you liked couldn't trust you, and didn't want to, either. "You could, you know, cough or something next time," he grumbled, flushing. "Just to ease the mortifying realization that you were eavesdropping."

Fai shrugged, sliding into the empty bench across from where Sakura and Shaoran sat. "It seemed a bit counter-productive at the moment. Hello Sakura-chan," he greeted, smiling warmly at his former girlfriend.

"Fai-san! What happened to you?" Sakura gasped, ignoring Shaoran and Fai's exchange in her shock.

Fai blinked, then looked down at his sling. "You mean all this? I um… sort of was on the losing end of a car crash? It's fine, really."

"You didn't tell me!" Sakura cried, her voice going shrill at the news.

"Because we figured you had other things to worry about," Kurogane interjected, collapsing into the booth next to Fai. "Oh, and by the way, I just had a chat with your brother; his shift is ending and he has to go to class, so Tsukishiro's coming to watch us," he told Sakura, "And in the meantime, he told me to let you know that if you even think about going anywhere that isn't the restroom he'd kill you personally and don't think that because it's Yukito, that he won't tell your brother."

Sakura rolled her eyes, "I seriously doubt it, but thanks."

Kurogane shrugged, picking up a menu curiously, "I don't know; just passing it on."

Sakura waved her hand dismissively, turning her attention to Fai.

Shaoran watched as Fai and Sakura began to bicker about the blonde's apparent accident, noting the way that the blonde had slid slightly closer to Kurogane. It should have cheered him up, to see them back to what they all could call normal. If anything, it should have amused him—after all, Fai and Kurogane's on-and-off relationship always had given him some entertainment, and Sakura had been so upset that they couldn't settle down; to see her calm down should have relieved him. Instead it made him slightly sick—once, when he was young, he'd been told that twins shared the same soul. However, looking at Fai and Kurogane together, it was obvious that the other half of Fai's soul did not belong with his deceased twin, but with Kurogane.

It hurt, seeing it. It made him wonder if Syaoron had seen the same thing, thought the same thing. It made him squirm with guilt, filling his gut with white-hot shame. It also made him incredibly lonely. It made him ache not only for Syaoron, who had been without the other half of his soul for years, but for Fai and Kurogane as well. He hadn't understood until that moment how utterly alone they probably felt when they were apart.

As much as he didn't want to, he forgave them for being as sickeningly close as they were.

"Blondie," Shaoran said suddenly, tapping the table. "I want to ask you something."

Fai looked at Shaoran curiously, "What?"

"I—you… You want to die, right?"

The blonde flinched at the blunt question, cheeks reddening. "I—" He gaped, unable to form a coherent answer. Beside him, Kurogane tensed, hand clamping tightly down around Fai's.

"Shaoran!" Sakura shrieked, face also red. "I can't believe you—! How could you even—"

"No—no, Sakura-chan, it's okay," Fai said faintly, looking sick. He shook his head once, then again to clear it. "Shaoran-kun… I… I don't. Not… Not right now—I mean—ugh. .." He sighed, looking up at Kurogane, who was looking at him in something that resembled horror. "No! It's not even that—I don't," Fai repeated helplessly. "I did, once, and I don't know, I may want to again… one day. It's not that simple, Shaoran. It's not that you want to die—I mean, you do, but you're not thinking like that… You're thinking that death is… well, it's not as painful as living."

"But why?" Shaoran prodded, leaning forward, brow furrowed.

Fai shook his head, looking away from the other boy's gaze. "It's… I—It hurts. You just want it to stop."

"Do you think he wanted it to stop hurting?"

The blonde swallowed heavily, hand shaking within Kurogane's. His mouth was dry, his jaw heavy as he struggled to open his mouth. This was the moment he was afraid of, the moment he dreaded since the moment he'd found out that Syaoron had died, the moment he'd realized that there had been something he could have done to stop his friends from hurting like they were. "Yeah… I think so," he whispered. "He… the other night… he came to see the show, remember?"

"Fai, what does that have to do with anything at all?" Sakura asked quietly, looking back and forth between the blonde and Shaoran, whose face had frozen. It felt like the room had gone cold, like all the air had been sucked away. She had a horrible feeling about what was about to come next, and wondered if it was the reason why Watanuki had taken her aside and told her to brace herself when he'd delivered the message that Fai wanted to see them.

"…He wanted to talk to me," Fai said flatly. "He asked me what it felt like when I was dying. When I…. you know."

Sakura felt Shaoran stiffen beside her, and glanced at his face. She shivered; she had never seen the boy look so positively murderous. Everything human had left his features in what she could only assume was shock, or even possibly rage.

"I told him that I felt free, like I was flying," the blonde singer continued, his voice even and matter-of-fact. "I said it hurt much less than being alive, for me. I didn't think about why he asked, or what I was saying. I just—I answered him. Honestly. I told him… that when I woke up in the hospital after, I didn't want to. And he… He got mad."

Kurogane's hand tightened around Fai's so hard that the younger could feel his knuckles pop against the pressure. But he did not falter; "He said that he didn't have anything left while I had it all."

"And you let him go?" Shaoran asked. His voice was just as devoid of emotion as his face.

Sakura trembled slightly at the implications of the conversation that was taking place before her. She looked desperately across the table at Kurogane, desperately trying to make sense of what was happening. The elder boy wouldn't meet her eyes, his shoulders shaking, knuckles white where he'd grabbed onto Fai's hand; it felt like that hand was not only around her friend's hand, but around her heart too. She had expected Kurogane to look just as confused as she felt, but she should have known better. Kurogane would be the first person Fai would have told, because Kurogane was always the first person to Fai's side.

"I let him go," Fai agreed.

"Even though—even though it was obvious—?"

"Yes. I knew why he asked me," the blonde said quietly, his stoicism finally fading. He hung his head, tears slowly beginning to well up and slide down his cheeks, "I knew something wasn't right, but I was angry with him. I let him go because I was too busy hating myself, because he was right. But I let him go, without thinking. Without seriously thinking 'what if'. What if he really did it? But I was angry. I didn't want to hear him, I didn't want someone asking me for help. I didn't want that burden."

"So you mean to say that you let someone you knew was going to kill themselves because you were being a petty little fuck?" Shaoran snarled, reaching out to grab Fai by the collar. He pulled the blonde up from the seat with a surprising amount of strength, gained from years of lugging his drums back and forth and sheer anger.

"I'm sorry," Fai whispered, "I should have stopped him—I know I should have—but—"

"I don't want to hear it!" Shaoran shouted, shaking Fai roughly despite Sakura's desperate tugging on his sleeves and the quiet murmuring that was growing around them. "I don't want to hear your damned excuses! It's too late for that!"

"I know, but I am sorry—"

"I said shut up! It's your fault! I don't want to hear you talk anymore! It's your fault he's dead! You could have saved him! If you had really tried, you could have saved him! You could have saved him if you tried!"

"Shaoran!" Sakura squeaked, her hands shaking as she reached out to try to free Shaoran's grasp on Fai; "Stop it! Shaoran!"

"No! Didn't you hear him!? He basically killed him! His blood is on you, you pathetic piece of shit—he trusted you to help him! He went to you and you wrote him off because you're too busy practicing your self-depreciating, 'woe-is-me' attention-seeking act to give a shit about the people around you! You don't really care about us, just yourself and how miserable you can be in your little corner of self-depreciation and I'm sick of it! You should have tried harder!"

"Don't you hear him!?" Kurogane shouted, Fai's quiet, answering whimper breaking his momentary shock at Shaoran's sudden surge of anger. "Don't you hear him saying he's sorry?!"

Fai turned his gaze towards Kurogane, shaking his head slightly; "Kuro-sama, calm down."

"Me? He's sitting there, giving you hell for something you've already apologized for, something that you already feel like you have to atone for, and you're telling me—"

"—Oh give me a break! He's not sorry at all, he's just sitting there with that poor, pitiful me outlook, the 'I'm sick, I've been hurt, you have to forgive me' thing he does, like he can't be responsible for his own actions!"

"And you're doing the exact same thing!" Kurogane bellowed over Shaoran's rant. "Don't you hear yourself?! You're so desperate to blame someone, anyone, that you're forgetting that he chose this! Your brother chose to die! He chose to!"

Shaoran's hands recoiled from Fai's shirt in shock as Kurogane's words rang out through the quiet diner, the growing murmuring of the crowd stifled by the gravity and rage of the argument.

Shaoran stared at Kurogane, mouth falling open slightly, cheeks pink with anger. His face twisted slightly as if he was going to continue his diatribe, but instead he shook his head, grabbing his jacket; "You know what, forget it," he snarled before stalking off.

Sakura gasped, then crumpled forwards, burying her head into her arms, shoulders shaking. She couldn't even go after him this time. A hand fell to her head softly, gently mussing her hair in an awkward gesture of comfort; she looked up in surprise to find it was Kurogane, face twisted.

He retracted his hand and fell back into his seat, rubbing his temples with a sigh. "Sorry," he muttered, "We made things worse, didn't we?"

Sakura shook her head, glancing at Fai, who looked rather shell-shocked. "Well… no… okay, yes," she amended with a teary laugh after both Fai and Kurogane had given her nearly identical reproachful looks. "…Fai, I'm so sorry for what he said," she whispered, "I thought he felt a little bit better about it, as much as he could, anyway… He just—"

"He wants to blame someone," Fai said softly, "To neatly package it up. It's okay, Sakura-chan. What he said was true, though. I should have at least called you and told you what happened. I didn't try. I just went on like nothing had happened."

The girl shook her head again, reaching out to take Fai's uninjured hand in her own. "Fai, no. No. There's a lot more to this than you think," she said tenderly, "Things that happened a long time before we even met you. There's no way this is your fault, no way at all. One day, I hope you can understand… but please… In the meantime, will you do us a favor?"

Fai squeezed Sakura's hand gently, smiling softly at her, "Yeah?"

"I want—well… Shaoran-kun decided this too, with me, so we want… We want you to write a song for Syaoron. In his memory, and play it the next time we have a concert."

The blonde blinked in surprise but said nothing, silently contemplating the request. Finally, he sighed; "Is there even a band anymore, now? I would think Shaoran would be shot of me, judging by… you know… what just happened."

Sakura shrugged, "He'll come around, Fai. He always does."

"…There won't be any concerts for some time, you know," Fai reminded Sakura gently, "With my arm like this. And even after the cast comes off, the doctor said that I may have to go to physical therapy to get the strength and dexterity back."

"Well… You've taught Kurogane-san how to play the guitar, right?"

Kurogane shook his head, "I couldn't," he broke in, "I don't know all the stuff that Fai does during concerts…"

Fai chewed his lip as he thought, "You know," he said slowly, "Watanuki could teach you about the pedals and I could simplify whatever piece I wrote…"

"Please?" Sakura asked Kurogane, "You were close to Syaoron-kun, too, Kurogane-san. It would mean a lot, I think, to Shaoran-kun…"

Kurogane sighed, knowing a lost battle when he saw it.

XxXxXxX

With a sigh, Doumeki turned off his car, closing his phone with a final snap. He stared out at the back of house, where he normally came in at and decided to simply walk around to the front and enter through the store. The chances were high that Watanuki was working and couldn't answer, but they were even higher that the boy was simply ignoring him. He slipped out of the car and tossed his school bag over his shoulder and made his way up to the shop.

He slipped through the front door, past an older woman looking down at her watch as she left.

"Hello there, Shizuka-kun," Yuuko greeted calmly, giving her secretive smile as she lounged on one of the chaises that they were supposedly selling yet never actually did. "It's not like you to come through the front unless Kimihiro's working."

"I thought he was," Doumeki said with a shrug. "He didn't answer his phone."

"Ah, I see. Well, go on through, he's in the kitchen. Be gentle with him," Yuuko said dismissively, pointing towards the door before returning to her glass of wine and novel. "There are some things that I don't think he really understands, so do treat him accordingly. And for god's sake, get him to stop cooking; we're running out of pans."

"Will do," the teen said simply, pushing through the beaded curtain that separated the house's main living quarters from the shop's space. Perhaps it was the fact that he lived in a shrine, but he'd never found it strange that Yuuko and Clow lived in the same space they carried out their business in. The shop was opened on a whim of theirs anyway, he recalled. He'd been in and out of this house as much as his own. He remembered when they'd made over the sitting area and living room into the shop, even. Watanuki had threatened to nail him to the wall, but had ended up tripping over a paint can instead. If he squinted, he could still see the stain on the polished wooden floors, a spot just a bit lighter than the rest.

The kitchen was just off of the store's entrance, just across the hallway. He was used to the smell of Watanuki's cooking, as well as the sight of bowls and dishes piled high in the sink. Over the years, this place had become a second home, no matter how begrudgingly it was opened up to him by Watanuki himself. He stepped into the normally-neat area, suppressing a sigh as he found Watanuki slaving away at some concoction on the stove. It looked like chocolate; he couldn't quite be sure just yet. "Oi. What are you doing?"

Watanuki started slightly, then sighed, shoulders slumping. "What does it look like?" he snapped tersely.

Doumeki wasn't unused to this sort of treatment, so he replied just as blithely; "Being an idiot." He walked up to the stove and stuck his finger into the pan despite the younger boy's screeches of protest. Yeah. It was chocolate. He finished licking it off of his finger, rolling his eyes as Watanuki brandished a wooden spoon at him, speckling the counter with melted chocolate. It wasn't particularly threatening, really, with the boy in his normal apron, one that he had received for his birthday the year before with a cat on it, carefully picked out in a joint shopping trip between himself and Kunogi. However, Doumeki knew from experience that when his cooking was threatened, Watanuki could in fact be known to get a good smack or two in with whatever utensil he was brandishing at the moment. It was all well and fine to be smacked with a silicon spatula, but Doumeki knew from experience that the wooden ones rather hurt.

"—You're lucky too, moron, that it's been cooling! If you'd stuck your stupid finger in any earlier, it'd be burned and I wouldn't do a thing about it either—!" Watanuki continued on, waving the spoon irately. "I wish you would have, too! Would have served you right for being a complete moron!"

The archer sighed. Changing the subject was really the best and only tactic to head off Watanuki when he was like this; "Oi. Where's your phone?"

"Wha-?"

"Your phone. The thing I've been calling and you've not been answering," Doumeki answered shortly, scowling as he watched his boyfriend squirm in discomfort. "Don't give me the crap about you dislike texting on the new phone, either. It's been a week since you changed over, and you'll have to get used to it eventually." He rolled up his sleeves and deftly set to work at washing the humongous pile of dishes as Watanuki sighed and leaned against the kitchen counter.

The boy twirled his spoon between his palms, looking up at the ceiling, "…say, Shizuka…How did I feel when I found out my parents died?" he asked quietly.

Doumeki looked up from the sink, brow furrowed. While someone else may have accused Watanuki of avoiding the subject, Doumeki knew the boy well enough that if Watanuki was avoiding anything, he would just not answer. No, this was the root of the problem, or rather, a bit of the root—he suspected that the reason ran deeper, and ended with the death of Syaoron Li. OR maybe it was Fai; Doumeki couldn't be entirely sure, but he knew that between the dramas of either boy, Watanuki had ended up deeply troubled. "You don't remember?"

"No, not really," Watanuki confessed, highly discomfited by this admission. He turned, grabbing the pot off of the stove before making his way to the kitchen island where a tray and a bag of pretzels waited for him. "…Maybe it's just the nature of growing older, but… I barely remember their faces, if not for Yuuko-san's pictures of them… I can't… really remember what it felt like."

"Well, you were only five; that's over ten years ago. I barely remember things from when I was five."

Watanuki made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, dutifully dunking the pretzels, one by one, into the chocolate before he laid them out on the tray. "But was I sad? Did it hurt so much?"

Doumeki turned the sink off, dried his hands, and stepped up behind Watanuki. "Oi. Don't go there," he said sternly. He covered Watanuki's hands with his own. "Don't do what he did, and shut yourself away from everyone because you're afraid."

The boy trembled, "And what am I afraid of?" he snapped, "Tell me!"

With a sigh, the archer ducked his head forward, lips skimming against Watanuki's ear; "Of being hurt," he said quietly; "Of feeling; of thinking that you're feeling the wrong way."

"I—I'm not—" Watanuki protested softly, hands shaking against Doumeki's. The spoon rattled against the bowl with this movement, so he dropped it without a second thought. "…I turned my phone off. I didn't want any more bad news."

Doumeki regarded the younger teen carefully, stepping back slightly so Watanuki could look up at him. The teen's hands tightened around his with the movement, the trembling press of fingers revealing what Watanuki would not admit—that he was afraid Doumeki would let him go and leave him. Like his parents or his friends. Dammit. "What happened."

"Sakura-chan called me earlier and told me about what happened when they met up with Fai-san and Kurogane-san," Watanuki muttered. "She said that I should probably know, but that Fai-san wouldn't tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"He and Shaoran-kun got into an argument in the diner, and he stormed off. He's threatening to quit the band, and he refuses to back down. He blames Fai-san."

Doumeki was silent for a long moment. He squeezed Watanuki's hands before letting go, picking up the bag of discarded pretzels. He held it open without a word, knowing that Watanuki would understand.

With a sigh, Watanuki dipped his hand into the bag and fished out a handful of pretzels, wordlessly dunking them. They worked mechanically for a long while, Doumeki holding ingredients, passing bowls and spoons and boxes of waxed paper and Tupperware while Watanuki worked his magic.

"I don't blame him," Watanuki said as he pushed the last tray of chocolate covered pretzels into the fridge to set. He turned to Doumeki, mouth set into a hard line, "Neither of them… Shizuka, I don't blame either of them."

"You thought otherwise a few days ago," Doumeki pointed out, waiting for Watanuki's next instructions.

"…That was before I thought about it," Watanuki agreed, handing his boyfriend a new thing of Tupperware. He went back to the fridge, and pulled out a couple of bowls full of food. He set them down on the center island, unsealing them. The aroma of cooled food cut over the sweet scent of the mountains of desserts they had finished dividing and packaging, nostalgic in shades of shared lunches and simpler times.

"Kurogane got to you."

"…Shizuka, I'd never truly thought of him as real to me before. I never thought that he could be capable of seeing things so clearly," Watanuki said sadly, seeking the familiar task of packaging up the food into manageable bentos, something he didn't have to contemplate so seriously.

"Because of how he was."

"Because of how he was," the boy repeated in assent; "How could someone so angry and selfish see the truth like that? How could he be so human? I knew that there was more to him than I had seen because Fai-san loved him."

"And you love Fai," Doumeki continued, "So by association, you cared for him too."

"Sometimes, I would think I could see it, when I spoke with him or saw Fai-san talk to him. Something that I recognized. I could see past the little window that we can open up to let people in. And it made me wonder, if maybe… Syaoron was like that too. If there were things that we couldn't see, even if we looked hard enough. If there wasn't anything we could have done, after all."

Watanuki sighed, handing Doumeki a finished bento, allowing the elder to seal it away and add it to the pile. He'd made enough food to feed an army. It didn't worry him, though, it would be eaten soon enough anyway. "The more I thought about it," he continued, "The less sad I felt. Maybe it was always going to end up this way, regardless of what happened. Maybe the room behind the window had been cleared out years ago, but only the things we wanted to see, the things we needed to see, were pushed into our line of sight to hide how hollow and empty he was inside."

A single tear slid down Watanuki's cheek, "It's awful of me, isn't it? To think that, to be resigned to the fact that he killed himself, to think that despite all we did, all that Sakura-chan and Shaoran-kun sacrificed, and even if they did more, that it still would have happened."

Doumeki reached out and brushed his thumb against Watanuki's cheek, "No, it's not. How you feel is yours."

"Maybe it's like what Yuuko-san says, that things happen for a reason."

"It's up to you to decide what the reason is, you know," Doumeki pointed out, "Haven't you said that yourself?"

Watanuki laughed softly, rewarding Doumeki with a wavering smile. Doumeki smirked in return, and looked towards the stack of prepared food, "So, are we going to eat those or what?"

Watanuki rolled his eyes and smacked the elder on the shoulder, relieved that, if nothing else, Doumeki always knew how to change the mood. "Why don't we go visit Fai-san and Kurogane-san?"

XxXxXxX

Fai was surprised to learn that people couldn't just come and visit in the complex. Kurogane had looked rather amused as Watanuki fussed up and down about the call system and the gate and how utterly impossible it was to work it. Fai simply just blinked in confusion until Kurogane had tossed him an odd looking key, explaining that only residents could key into the gate system, while visitors had to call the tenants they were visiting.

"Why all the security?"

Kurogane shrugged, taking the stack of Tupperware from Doumeki, "Well, Sonomi found the place, I guess she thought it was better? After what happened in August. She said that she insisted, and well, honestly, I think Clow told her to make sure the place had better security. If I reject the call in, the person has to wait until someone else comes through. So it's not fool-proof, but the people working in the clubhouse in the front are pretty sharp."

Watanuki frowned, pausing as he helped Fai bring down plates from the cabinets. "But why? What happened in August was… well rather isolated, wasn't it? It's not like Clow-san to be fussy like that."

Fai remained silent for a moment as he shot Kurogane a meaningful look, shaking his head slightly.

"Well, there's also the fact that Piffle's become a very big business, with lots of rivals," Kurogane said awkwardly, "So. Maybe that's why? Either way, what's done is done. You got in eventually."

Watanuki shrugged, "Sakura-chan called me, by the way."

Fai flushed, teeth worrying his lip before murmuring a tentative, "Did she now?"

"I'm sorry it turned out that way, Fai-san."

"I am too," Fai mumbled. "But I don't really want to talk about it…"

And so, the subject was dropped.

"How did it come to this?" Fai murmured a few hours later, once Watanuki and Doumeki had left. The dishwater was warm against his hand as he reached in for the dishes that Kurogane had rinsed, setting them one by one into the dishwasher.

"What do you mean?"

Fai looked over at Kurogane, shrugging. Kurogane seemed to accept this as an answer, allowing the blonde to finish loading the dishwasher. "So, what did you mean?" he asked again, unable to bear the silence any longer.

"…Everything, I guess," Fai murmured. "It's just that… I'm not entirely sure if this was the life I had imagined for myself as a child." He slipped through the kitchen into the living area, settling down on the sofa, watching Kurogane carefully as he followed.

The blonde leaned easily into Kurogane as the elder sank into the cushions, the TV chattering softly over their silence. It was nice, to sit like this.

Kurogane wrapped his arm around Fai's shoulders, frowning. "You mean living with me?"

"No," Fai answered promptly, firmly. "This… This is all I ever dared to dream of. I never wanted to be alone; I always wanted to find someone to care about. But, this life… I wonder sometimes, having all this pain and darkness and guilt… I wonder what I would think of me now, if I was a child again."

"I think maybe, it's like that for everyone," Kurogane said hesitantly, "When I was a kid, I wanted to be just like my dad."

"Do you now?"

"Well, yeah. He was a good man," the elder said, face contorting in grief, "But I never wanted to grow up the way I did."

Fai nodded quietly. He'd longed for light, for freedom, as a child. But he was still fettered in guilt and grief and fear. "…Do you think that's why? Why he… why I did it?"

Kurogane frowned, looking down at Fai; he thought, of anyone, Fai would understand it the most, why Syaoron had killed himself, why scars webbed their way across Fai's arms like cracks in an old piece of china. He'd heard Fai talk about it so rarely, but when he did, he was so precise about it, like he could map every emotion that had gone haywire deep in his soul that made him so dangerously volatile. "You mean, you don't know why you… why you want—"

"I know exactly why," Fai said quietly, "I can tell you the exact second I wished I had never been born. But it's a different feeling, wondering if you've gone wrong somewhere. They're not equal feelings… Maybe one leads to another, I don't know. I just… I want to make sense of it. I feel guilty, Kuro-sama. I have so much blood on my hands."

"It's not your fault," Kurogane said sharply, hand squeezing the blonde's shoulder.

Fai shook his head, "You say that, but… I hurt you," he whispered. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes and he pressed his face to Kurogane's chest. "I hurt all of you and I was too selfish to care."

Kurogane kissed him then, warm and sweet and careful of everything that was broken and bruised within him. Fai turned away before it got too deep, before his carefully constructed walls fell once again. He could not let Kurogane inside of him before he could sort this out inside of him; the guilt of knowing that everything Shaoran had said was true, of knowing that he was too weak to overcome the darkness on his own, and the fear that he had finally gone far too deep to pull away without leaving scars behind.

The elder paused, watching Fai's expression carefully, before gently pressing another kiss to the blonde's forehead in understanding. There was no need to push Fai anymore. "I'm not going to lie and say that it doesn't matter," he said quietly, "Because it does. But, you know, I stand firm in saying that the past is something better left behind."

"What do you mean? It can't not matter and matter at the same time," Fai muttered in frustration, scowling up at Kurogane. He didn't understand.

Kurogane laughed, pulling Fai closer to him. He felt Fai stiffen slightly, then slowly relax into him, the blonde's customary wiggling telling him that Fai was comfortable. "It only matters when you drag it into the present. If it's something that you feel guilt over, then do what you can to stop it."

Fai bit his lip in thought, worrying the flesh between his teeth. "What if I can't make it stop?" he whispered quietly, "What if I can't control it? …Shuichiro-san said that…that I would never be cured of this…" It scared him, the idea of a future he couldn't control and a past that had expected better of him. The idea that no matter what he did, he would inevitably hurt the people he loved. Because the past wasn't something that he was dragging like some weight attached to his feet, but it was something that was chasing him, faster than he could run.

Kurogane slid his hands up Fai's uninjured arm, gently rolling up the boy's sleeve. He ran his finger down the soft, ridged flesh of the inside of the musician's forearm as Fai looked at him in question. "Already, it's better," Kurogane said softly. "I know it was hard, Fai; I know that it had to be hard for you to stop. Maybe it hurt just as much to cut as it did for you to stop—I don't know. I know it had to be hard, though."

Fai stared at him in surprise, then watched as Kurogane threaded their fingers together. He shook his head softly; "You always surprise me, Kuro-sama." He laid his head against Kurogane's chest, listening to the steady beat of the elder's heart. "It was hard. Harder than you could imagine—I didn't want to accept it, not at all."

Kurogane tucked his chin against the top of Fai's head, squeezing Fai's hand. The position was awkward because of Fai's cast and the fact that Kurogane refused to let go of Fai's hand, but he would deal with it. "Accept what?"

"T…that I was wrong," the blonde answered, breath hitching. His shoulders trembled as he fought back tears; "That it wasn't okay for—for me to do that. T-th-that I—I h-had people wh-who didn't want me to disappear. Th—that b-being afraid was okay—"

Kurogane slipped his hand up to Fai's head, quietly stroking the younger teen's hair. He didn't know what to say; anything that he could have thought of would have sounded cold and selfish. Saying things like, 'you should have known that all along' or, 'why didn't you believe me before' would do nothing. He had learned when to be quiet, it seemed. "Good for you," he said finally, once Fai had calmed down. He squeezed the blonde's hand, "I'm happy."

Fai looked up at Kurogane and gave a soft smile. But even as he snuggled himself close to the elder, he wondered if Kurogane would have been happier if he'd somehow manage to impress those things on Syaoron.

XxXxXxX

"How are you?"

Fai folded himself into his customary seat on one of the couches in Shuichiro's office, looking away from the man to gaze out of the window. "I guess I'm doing okay," he answered.

"It's been hard for you these past few weeks," the doctor replied. "And now, only after you get back up on your feet after hitting the bottom again, someone you know commits suicide."

"And I get plowed by a car," Fai muttered, lifting his sling slightly. "Not very fun."

"I would imagine not," Shuichiro chuckled. He fell silent for a moment before pressing the teen a bit more. "Tell me about Syaoron Li."

Fai shook his head, "I didn't know him that well," he admitted quietly. "Even though our friends overlapped, I didn't really make an effort to know him."

"Do you regret that?"

The blonde nodded; "He was really nice. We spoke a few times and he came to some of our shows to support Shaoran-kun, Sakura-chan, and Watanuki. But I… I didn't want any more friends. I thought my world was big enough."

"Does this bother you?"

Fai paused in thought, then shook his head; "I can't really do anything about it now. It makes me sad, but I already have enough 'what ifs' to keep me awake at night."

Shuichiro nodded, "That's a wise decision, Fai. There will always be things, no matter what, that we will look back on and think that we should have done differently. Those who dwell on that waste their lives away."

"If that's the right thing to do," Fai said after a long moment; "Why do I feel so guilty, like it's my fault anyway? ...I barely knew him, Shuichiro-san," Fai whispered, "But he came to me. We'd barely ever spoken, but he came to me to stop him, and I let him go."

The doctor sat silently as Fai covered his face with his hand in shame. He picked up the tissue box and made his way to the chair next to Fai. "Perhaps he came to you not to stop him, but to speak to someone who would not judge him for what he was about to do," he said quietly. "There's no way to tell, now."

"Why do I feel guilty? Everyone keeps saying that it's not my fault, but I… I feel guilty. Why?"

"It's part of being human," Shuichiro answered; "You are close to those who knew him best, and who are most impacted by his death, and that impacts you. It's okay to be upset. Even if you didn't know him well, it's okay to cry about it. It's normal to have some feelings of regret when an acquaintance dies, especially in such a way that Li did. You can't, however, forego your own life to dwell in this regret."

"What do I do—I—Shaoran blames me, he thinks I as good as killed him. How do I go to the wake tomorrow knowing that—how can I ever move on? I feel guilty—I feel like I agree with Shaoran."

Shuichiro studied Fai for a moment, then shook his head, "I cannot say what Syaoron was thinking, or even if you could have stopped him. But supposing you could have, supposing you did speak with him further, yet he still chose to die, your guilt would not be lessened. It's part of grieving. For both you and Shaoran Li. And that is okay. It's okay to grieve, to wonder what else could have been done, if there could have been a way to save him. You are not alone in feeling guilty, Fai."

He paused, then continued, "It's so common, Fai. To feel so guilty after someone dies, that you drive yourself into a corner. It is okay to grieve, but not to allow yourself to be caught in that feeling. Do not fall into the trap so many others have fallen into, that you have fallen into. It is not your fault," he said quietly. "You did not kill Syaoron Li. You did not kill him, nor did you kill your brother. You will not be the death of your friends; he is not one of many. This is not your fault, no matter what you feel. You are allowed to feel bad about this, but you should not forget to live. You may have to force yourself at first, to push aside these feelings so you can do something small, like read or sing or dwell on something that made you happy. But after a while, you won't have to force it, and then, gradually, you can move on."

Fai gave a hollow sounding laugh, dropping his head into his hand. "I want to believe you, I do. I do. But I can't feel like I have no blame in this, because I played a part in it. He came to me. Why did he come to me?"

"I can't answer that. Neither can you, nor can any other living person. If there is a note to be found, perhaps that can shed some light on the situation… But: Do not allow yourself to be caught in the endless cycle of blame; you can only be responsible for what you choose, and what you can do is take responsibility for these choices you've made—good and bad—and continue with your life, bearing these responsibilities."

"How is that different from being blameless?"

"Actions come with reactions. What you do will affect first and foremost, your own life. But what may be the best choice for your life may come with burdens. These burdens are yours. Say, for instance, there is someone in your life who is causing you pain and stress beyond what you can handle. You can choose to remove that person from your life, in order to remove an unhealthy influence. This can be the best choice that you can make, but in return for lessening that burden, you may receive another: your other friends may not understand, and call you petty. They may blame you."

"I don't understand," Fai replied, shaking his head. "Then why even bother?"

"Because you have made a choice," Shuichiro answered. "You have chosen to remove an unhealthy situation from your life. You know what's best for you, but in order to achieve that, you may have to trade one burden for another. And that is the nature of life: Life is a constant balancing act between our own comfort and our duties; our choices and our obligations. But in this struggle, only you can choose what is the best for yourself. Grieving a loss is much the same. You must grieve, but in a way that is only your own. That is why you cannot accept guilt that is not yours."

"And if I feel guilty on my own?"

"Then you must work through it. But don't let yourself dwell on that feeling. Don't forget to live."

Fai chewed on his lip, averting his eyes from Shuichiro's gaze. He didn't really know how to not dwell on this feeling; he'd been feeling guilty for so long, for all sorts of things. But he wondered if maybe he could get past it now, and what would happen if he could. "…I… I want to tell Kurogane," he said eventually. "About everything… how this… this isn't the first time I've felt like I've had a hand in killing someone. I want him to know."

Shuichiro looked genuinely surprised at this, which, honestly, Fai couldn't blame him for: it had taken a long time, and a lot of anger, for him to tell Shuichiro even the littlest detail, and even then, he hadn't been very good at it. His tongue had still frozen, his voice still had dissipated, just like he was a child again. He could never truly speak about it; the words would just die. But Shuichiro had been briefed beforehand by Ohjiro, told the barest details without blowing the whole operation, so the man had known some of what would not leave Fai's mouth.

"That's very brave of you," the doctor replied warmly.

"It's not bravery," Fai whispered, "I just… I need to tell him why I can't always… be with him. But I'm scared. I'm very scared, but I know I need to, I know that I… I want to."

"That's the very definition of bravery, Fai," Shuichiro reassured the boy; "To want to do something even though the prospect is terrifying."

"Why, though? Why is it so frightening? I… I know that—well, I think that it won't change anything, that maybe… he's already guessed some of it… He told me that—he told me the past didn't matter you know," Fai said haltingly, eyes darting around the room nervously; "But I'm still afraid of telling him. I don't know why. I… I don't know if I can even tell him. I just… I've never been… right."

"It's trust," Shuichiro said, "Words are living things that act as a binding entity. To accept someone's words is to bind yourself to them in that moment, and to trust them unconsciously. If you lack trust, for whatever reason, you can find yourself second guessing someone's intentions. By speaking, you are packaging up a part of yourself in that moment; you trust that person to believe you. You are not defective for not being able to trust, Fai. I fear that is why you cannot say the words when you need to; you are afraid of that trust, and what would happen if someone would deny that part of you. Do you think that Kurogane would believe you, if you were to tell him—even the parts you were unable to say?"

"Yes, I… I think he would believe me. Even though I've lied to him so much."

"It's alright then. Just let him know that it's frightening for you to tell him, and reassure him that if you can't say something, it's not because you won't. From what you've told me about him, if you tell him that, even if you struggle later on, as long as you keep your communication open and clear and calm, he will come to understand. I advise to do this in an environment you feel the safest in," Shuichiro added. "If you would like to bring him to our next session, you may."

Fai swallowed heavily, nodding, "Thank you."

"…Our time is up, but Fai, please… if after the wake, you need to call me, please do not hesitate. Do not forget to forge a support system in your grief, okay? And it's okay to feel sad or frustrated; your feelings aren't something to be ashamed of even though you should remember to be careful."

Fai rose from his chair, pulling his bag back over his shoulders from where it sat at his feet. "Yes. …Yes, I will—I mean, I'll call if I need to…"

Shuichiro laughed and stood, escorting Fai out to the lobby, to where Kurogane was waiting. "I understand."

XxXxXxX

The wake was absolutely horrible. Absolutely. There were too many people, all crushed in on each other in the small funeral home with the casket carrying someone far too young to be dead. It was suffocating and terrifying; no air seemed to move in the room at all, which far too warm from the press of people and spotlights, yet Fai could swear he was slowly freezing to death.

He hated funerals. He hated memorials. He hated this so much. The quiet air reeked of misery and its cloying floral scent was dragging him down into the pit of memories he didn't want or need. He shouldn't even be there, he felt, but he had come all the same.

He'd pushed himself up small in a corner, far away from the adjoining room where the family, the casket, and his friends were. He knew the fake-tasteful pottery and palm fronds couldn't hide him for long, but for the moment, it would do. He just couldn't do it alone. So he waited for Kurogane to return from speaking with his coach and teammates, morbidly wondering if Kurogane would handle his own impending (fake) funeral with the same tight-jawed stoicism, fists clenched at his sides to keep them from shaking, and crooked tie, standing upright and alone even though he had quietly wept when he was alone—Fai had heard him through the crack in the door, and he did not want Kurogane to endure that sort of sadness alone anymore, not again.

He slid from his safe corner and made his way to Kurogane, gently taking one of the elder's hands in his own. Kurogane simply continued to speak to his teammates in his rough, uneven voice, but the pressure of his fingers reassured Fai that he appreciated the action, so Fai focused on that for the rest of the night rather than just how unsettling the entire thing was.

"That was absolutely awful," Fai finally murmured, once they had reached the safety and warmth of Kurogane's home, trembling.

Kurogane nodded mutely, gently pushing Fai over the threshold. "These things are," he replied gently; "Have you never been to one before?"

Fai shook his head; "No. No… I… I've never." He followed Kurogane as the teen made his way upstairs, hovering in the door of Kurogane's bedroom.

Kurogane undid his tie, tossing it somewhere near the vicinity of his closet; "What about the rest of your family's?" he asked after a long moment. "Your mom?"

The blonde was silent for a long moment, face pale; "I… they buried them without me there," he whispered. "I wasn't awake."

Kurogane studied Fai quietly then nodded, "I've only ever been to my parent's," he admitted, voice low. "Then too… I… I remember thinking, 'this shouldn't be happening'." He sat heavily on his bed. "And it shouldn't have. I half-thought I'd see him in school, or at practice… until tonight."

Fai swallowed, feeling tears begin to well in his eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Kurogane. It shouldn't have happened, and I…"

Kurogane looked up and made a motion for Fai to join him there. Fai went without a second thought; he sat beside Kurogane and leaned into the teen, quietly crying. He wished he could magic away the guilt and the sorrow and Kurogane's grief, but he couldn't. There was nothing he could do to fix this—he could only ever make it worse.

Kurogane pressed a soft kiss to Fai's forehead, smoothing his hand over the blonde's hair protectively. "I know," he said hoarsely.

Fai looked up at him, fingers trembling against his legs, "It hurts."

"I know," the elder replied again as he reached out, hands covering Fai's chilled and shaking fingers. "You never get used to the feeling."

"No," Fai whispered. "You don't." He paused and clenched his fists under Kurogane's palms. "I'm horrible. I wasn't even that close to him, and I feel like this. I'm horrible."

Kurogane moved his hands from Fai's, reaching out to gently wrap his arms around the younger. "Hey. Don't think like that."

"Why not?" Fai whispered bitterly; "I'm just a fake. Being like this now, well, it's too late. I wasn't close to him, and I can't anymore. I'm not like someone like Kuro-sama…"

Kurogane shook his head, hands sliding to Fai's shoulders. He leaned back and looked into Fai's eyes as he frowned, "Fai, you're close to Shaoran and Sakura. You're close to me. You knew the best parts of him, and it was you who he went to. You were important enough for his last words," he murmured as he held Fai closer as the blonde shivered violently.

"A guilt like that—a reason like that—I don't want it—"

"That's part of living, Fai."

Fai pressed his face tightly to Kurogane's chest, tears soaking into the fabric of the elder's shirt. "I can't—I can't bear that—"

"You're not alone." Kurogane slipped his fingers through Fai's long hair, gently tugging it free from its tie. "Every one of us has a part in it. The parts are different, but the whole—all the grief, all of the burden, and all of the blame we want to cast, we all feel it. No one could bear something like that by themselves, but that's why we can't be alone. Because we can't live bearing guilt and sorrow like that. It's part of being human, and so we all share it. So don't forget that you're not alone anymore; you don't have to break."

Fai sniffed softly, his uninjured fingers curled tight into Kurogane's shirt. "Why is it that Kuro-sama is suddenly so eloquent?" he murmured softly.

Kurogane chuckled, rolling his eyes. "You ask that like you think I'm dumb or something."

The blonde leaned back onto the pillows, smiling softly as he raised his hand to scrub at his eyes. "Well, you're normally so blunt."

"I keep telling you, I don't like pretty words," Kurogane growled with a shrug.

Fai looked up thoughtfully, chewing his lip as he did so. "Mmm, but I think that you say quite a bit of beautiful things."

Kurogane snorted as he reached up, smoothing his thumb across Fai's lips, gently pressing them away from the blonde's teeth. "The truth and pretty words are quite different."

"Maybe I've just been in the dark so long, lying, that the truth is something beautiful for me," Fai whispered.

"I don't think you've been lying," Kurogane shot back, "Not really."

"There's no in between, I'm either telling the truth or I'm lying," the blonde retorted, leaning forward against Kurogane. He looked up at the man, feeling himself tremble as he met Kurogane's gaze. He held it even past the point where he would normally look away, the small shake that started at the base of his neck flushed down through his entire body, making his face hot and his head light. It pushed him forward like a tide, back straightening and curving inward as he leaned up as Kurogane leaned forward, drawn to Fai in a similar ebb and flow of pressure and longing; their lips met softly at first, a quiet and chaste brush against each other.

"Can't you do both at the same time?" Kurogane murmured, kissing Fai again as one of his hands slid to the small of the blonde's back. He pressed Fai closer, other hand cupped against the unbruised side of the younger's face.

The soft pressure of Kurogane's fingertips and the quiet reasoning in the elder's voice made Fai linger, and before he answered, he allowed Kurogane to steal a few more kisses from him, each growing longer and deeper than the last. He reached out and wrapped his arms around Kurogane's shoulders, holding tightly to the elder, allowing Kurogane's broad chest and the faint feel of his heartbeat to be his anchor. "Mnn, you seem to have the answers tonight," Fai finally gasped around Kurogane's kisses. He shivered and gave a soft groan as the elder pulled him up into his lap, never pausing their kiss.

"You can lie to protect the truth," Kurogane answered after pulling away to let Fai breathe. He took advantage of Fai's soft pants to dip his tongue into the blonde's mouth, tasting him thoroughly. The feel of Fai pressed into his body, of their tongues intermingling was unreal; it was something that he thought he'd only ever dream of for the rest of this life. He pulled Fai flush against himself, bodies fitting together easily.

Fai trembled as his heart skipped a beat, fluttering frantically inside of his chest as if he'd just fallen off of a ledge. His fingers curled into Kurogane's shirt, weakly lifting himself closer. "I'm not that strong," he whispered, "I can't protect anything. Not even you." He shifted in Kurogane's lap, sinking to rest his entire weight in the elder's lap so that he could wrap his legs around the athlete's hips.

Kurogane slid his hands against Fai's sides as the blonde adjusted himself, holding him tenderly as they kissed and shifted against each other. His thumbs slid under the hem of the younger's shirt, slowly soothing circles against the warm, soft skin there. He'd never truly given Fai credit for just how strong he was. The blonde was frail in many ways: in body and mind and emotion, but his will was always steadfast. This was something that Kurogane knew that, if he hadn't met Fai, hadn't become closer to the others, he would never have discovered for himself. It was just one of those things that had to be found through other people. "You are," he assured Fai, rewarding him with yet another, long, deep kiss.

"Mnghh, I can't be, I can't be—" Fai retorted, his entire body trembling as Kurogane's hands swept further up his shirt. "I just lie. I just run away. All I'm able to do is hurt people; all I can do is hurt you, Kurogane… and hurt myself, when all I want to do is protect us. I'm weak. I'm just weak," he whimpered, clinging to Kurogane with all his strength. The elder's slow touches were enough to spark warmth in his chilly limbs and drive out every last bit of oxygen in his lungs until he was gasping, trying to desperately ignite the fire between their two hearts.

"You're alive," Kurogane whispered, letting Fai cling tightly to him. He crushed his mouth to the smaller teen's, their tongues mingling. He slipped away from Fai after a moment and guided their entwined bodies to the sheets. The athlete moved back down to kiss Fai, hands returning to their earlier ministrations.

"Is that even enough?" Fai finally moaned, sliding his arms over his head to let Kurogane strip him of his shirt with ease. He trembled at the cold air hitting his now sensitive body, cuing Kurogane to pull the comforter over their heads.

"It's more than enough," Kurogane murmured as he traced the curves of Fai's neck with his lips, fingers threading through Fai's. The words not strong enough to not blow out the fire completely, but gentle enough to turn that small flicker into an inferno, consuming them both.

"I was cold," Fai gasped, body arching into Kurogane's with a familiar ease. His head was spinning and he was gasping, every touch completely new and absolutely nostalgic and it was overpowering him. It sapped him of every ounce of strength and self control he had; all he could do was cling tightly to Kurogane as their bodies moved together. If he had been cold before, he was melting now—every inch of him was melting and turning molten as his muscles strained against his skin and bones, aching to stretch and constrict to the point that they would just fuse in this heat into one person. More than anything, he wanted to melt into Kurogane and blend into him, past even this mingling of sweat and mouths and breath and body.

"I'll keep you warm." More and more and more; he needed this, wanted this, longed for this. He wanted to be the source of Fai's everything, breath and life and strength and warmth. He would smother Fai in this love if he was not careful, but if Fai sunk to the depths in this, then he too, would die. He braced himself over Fai, their fingers still tightly entwined as they joined and writhed and simply drowned in each other. He was almost certain that the pressure he was exerting on the thin digits was enough to make anyone else cry out in pain, but Fai simply grasped back, neck straining as his cheek pressed even deeper into the sheets, mouth contorted beautifully into a moan of pleasure. If his hand was tight enough to cause the blonde pain, then in return, Fai was tight enough to make him groan and gasp: Already he was shaking and seeped in sweat, will weak to the heat surrounding him and the mewls of his love. But it wasn't enough, never enough. He wanted to sink deeper, be a part of every inch of Fai's body, beautiful even now, bruised and stitched and battered over the webs of interweaving scars.

Kurogane dipped his head forward, pressing his face against Fai's neck, the erratic gasps and puffs of hot breath driving him even further up the wall as they coupled with the fast and hard pulse of their bodies pushing closer and closer together. The noise they were making was unreal, loud and visceral and plaintively needy. Fai was crying against his ear, words distorted by panting gasps and moans. Kurogane could feel Fai's neck strain against his mouth as the blonde arched further up; he knew from the sounds and the feel of Fai shaking against him that there wasn't much more time left for them. He pushed forward with more strength and pressure, back arching and stretching forward as he craned his neck to press his cheek to Fai's.

Fai gasped at the shift of posture, their bodies so tightly interlocked that the feel of Kurogane's heartbeat throbbed against his own in the pace of their arching rhythm. He was holding onto the elder's hand so tightly that he could barely feel anything but the returning pressure that surged with each thrust of Kurogane's hips. His lungs ached as they filled to the brim with his gasping breaths, body burning so hotly that no amount of oxygen could ever be enough. He needed more: more air, more blood, more time, more of Kurogane. Nothing was enough. He could faintly hear his own voice, rough and modulating between low half-babbling pleadings for things that Kurogane easily complied to and loud, hitching cries—but more than that, he could hear Kurogane: The elder was simply moaning his name over and over and over, each time bringing a new wave of need crashing over Fai's already over-stimulated body.

Even though it would never be enough for his heart, his body could no longer handle the ever-hightening passion between them. With an almost-mournful cry, Fai felt his body arch and seize, fingers digging grooves into Kurogane's hand where his nails met the elder's skin And with a similar cry and press of fingers, it was over for Kurogane as well, the climax of their bodies in synch with the almost-shared pulse of their hearts.

Overwhelmed, Fai simply cried. Tears mingled with sweat and Kurogane's kisses. He cried because the elder loved him; he cried because he loved Kurogane; because it hurt, losing Syaoron; because he knew the time was near to tell Kurogane everything; because he wanted to spend eternity with this man; because he felt, and was real. He cried because he was alive and well and happy and warm in Kurogane's arms. He cried until he fell asleep, exhausted, the elder's gentle hands soothing him into a calm stupor.

XxXxXxX

It felt like it was November. That was the first thing he thought when he woke up, blinking in the morning light with his body warm and face chilled. He simply lay in bed, staring out at the sky through the cracks in the blinds as he wiggled underneath the comforter, leaving just his nose uncovered. He thought of nothing and everything at the same time, forcing himself to race through his thoughts without singling them out. It was the morning of the funeral. He was in Kurogane's bed. They had slept together again. His arm hurt and his cheek was sore and itchy under the stitches. He could hear the shower running. Syaoron was dead. He would be buried today. Shaoran and Sakura had asked for him to write something for Syaoron's memory. He just couldn't process any of it anymore. He simply closed his eyes, letting himself drift back off into sleep, ignoring how uncomfortable it was to lay on his back and not his stomach.

He awoke to the bed shifting underneath him, a soft weight settling against his shoulder. Something warm was close to him, the air fragrant with the scent of hot water and soap and damp skin, rousing him from his dozing. "Mmhnn…" he closed his eyes a bit tighter, trying to ignore the fluttering in his stomach.

"Oi, wake up," Kurogane murmured, gently shaking Fai. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the blonde's, smirking. "I know you're awake."

Fai tipped his head up, and without thinking, stole a quick kiss from Kurogane. "Let me sleep a little longer," he murmured.

Kurogane shook his head, nuzzling Fai carefully. "I've already let you sleep as late as you can," he replied softly. "You need to get up now."

The blonde sighed and sat up, letting himself slump against Kurogane's chest. The elder's arms went tightly around him, keeping him warm against the cool morning air. "I don't want to," Fai whispered, reaching out with his uninjured arm. He could feel the tears begin to well, the helpless feeling of overwhelming grief and guilt threatening to swallow him whole.

Kurogane slid a hand up Fai's back, fingers tangling into blonde locks. He rubbed the slighter boy's back, rocking them softly back and forth. "I know," he said gently, "I know." He pressed his face into Fai's hair, holding onto him as the blonde shook. It was all he seemed to say, but each word held a different understanding. He knew. It was that simple. Kurogane knew, and that's all that Fai had ever wanted; for him to know. For him to understand what it was like, what it was that he felt.

Fai cried against Kurogane, face tucked tightly against the elder's still damp skin, the warm scent of the man slowly calming him better than any drug ever could. He clenched his fingers into Kurogane's wrinkled shirt and sighed softly. "I don't want to face them again. I don't want to hurt them anymore, I… I can't stand seeing Shaoran-kun—"

Kurogane pulled back, frowning. He released Fai and brought his hands up to cup the younger teen's face. "Oi, no," he said sternly. "No. Don't think that this is your fault."

Fai turned his face into the curve of Kurogane's palm, his face hidden in the elder's large hand. "Everyone keeps saying that, and I… I don't know how to distance myself from the fact that I was the last one to see him before he—before—he asked for my help, Kurogane," he whispered, voice cracking in anguish. "And I was too selfish to help him. How do I get away from knowing that?"

Kurogane gently rubbed Fai's cheek with his thumb, brushing away the tears as they came. His heart, already heavy with grief, twisted for the blonde before him, still bare from their lovemaking, body wrapped with sheets and scars and trembling. He needed Fai, even like this, broken and scared, so badly it hurt him. His whole body ached with the overflowing need and want he had for the boy; this was what he wanted more than anything. Even more than the happiness and warmth they had together, he wanted to be there when Fai was upset and crying, to be there to hold him. He knew that this was what he was there for—at the very least, he had been born to bring Fai some solace. And so he did.

He gathered Fai into his arms again, clutching him tightly. "Fai, please, think about it. Think about when you wanted to die so badly," he whispered, "You must have asked for help. You asked me, you know. Every time you breathed and looked at me, but… did you listen to me?"

"No," Fai breathed. "No…"

"He wouldn't have listened even if you had helped him; there was nothing you could have done."

"I could have called Shuichiro-san, or Clow-san—"

"It wouldn't have done anything," Kurogane said sternly. "They don't blame you. It doesn't matter what Shaoran said; I know he doesn't really blame you. They're too busy blaming themselves, just like you are. And they need you." He stood, continuing; "So, you need to bathe. I ran the water for you, and I'll help you so you don't have to bother with the plastic bags for the cast."

And with that, he scooped Fai into his arms and carted him off to the bathroom. "So," Kurogane muttered conversationally, flushing brightly, "Um… how's your body?" he asked with a cough, looking highly abashed. It was very strangely endearing.

Fai turned pink and mumbled a soft "Fine", before looking away. "Um… Kuro-sama. I want… I want to talk to you about… that…"

Kurogane looked at him curiously as he set Fai down on the edge of the tub, pulling off his shirt before sticking his hand into the water to make sure it was still warm. "Get in," he said, nodding. He watched as Fai slid into the frothy water, the scent of vanilla body soap exploding into the air as the water splashed around the blonde's pale skin.

"This tub's bigger," Fai remarked offhandedly, stirring the water with his free hand, cast resting on a towel on the edge of the bath tub.

"Yup. Now, what do you want to talk about?" Kurogane asked, gently running his fingers through Fai's long hair.

Fai pursed his lips, reaching up to take Kurogane's hand in his own, resting their entwined fingers under the water against his knees. "Um… I… want to… to talk about what we are," he said softly, "So… I want to know."

Kurogane gently rubbed his thumb against Fai's palm. "I love you," he said, altogether too straight forward. Fai flushed a deep red and lowered his head, hiding behind his bangs. The elder chuckled softly, "And I want to be with you, even if you are an idiot who's too troublesome sometimes."

"Hey!" Fai spluttered, looking rather offended until he saw the tender smile on Kurogane's face. He shivered roughly, rising to his knees to pull the elder into a kiss. "Hey," he mumbled again once he pulled away, "I try not to be… you know. An idiot."

"Yeah?" Kurogane snorted, rolling his eyes. "You're too much of a handful, but… I think it's worth the fight."

Fai squeezed Kurogane's hand tightly, holding it to his chest. "It… it seems a bit redundant to say this now, but… Kuro-sama, I want to start us over. Properly this time…" He sunk back down into the soapy water, flushing softly as he squeezed Kurogane's hand. "I won't… I won't keep secrets from you anymore… so for now, I want us to start over. Go back out on dates and hold hands… Get to know each other again… You know. Slowly, properly. Without me falling apart. …I… Shuichiro says I'll always be fighting against myself, maybe, that somedays I'll wake up too tired to move like I used to be. But I'm learning how to manage that, and… I—I want you to know that," Fai said quietly, leaning back forward, so he was braced against the edge of the tub. "So I… I'll still need your help sometimes, but I… I want to help you too. I understand that now, I don't want to leave you alone like I did before, and I'm sorry, and I want you to know the things I didn't tell you last time…. So… I want to know if we can start again."

Kurogane gently tugged his hand away, ignoring the hurt expression on Fai's face. He knew what Fai was thinking—his face was fixed in terror and guilt and an unbearable sorrow—but it wasn't like that. He just needed both hands for what he was going to do. "I'll be right back," he promised softly, pressing a gentle kiss to Fai's forehead. "So don't be afraid, idiot."

"Ah—but Kuro-sama—what are you going to do?"

Kurogane stood, dusting off his sweatpants. "You'll see," he promised, striding out of the bathroom straight to his dresser. It took a bit of rummaging around, but he'd found what he'd been looking for. It was still wrapped, having never been pulled out to actually give to Fai before. He wondered if the blonde even still remembered it. He pulled the paper off of the packaged, pouring its content out into his cupped palm. The fancy wrapping wasn't necessary.

"Close your eyes."

"Are you going to do something?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe I should keep them open instead," Fai laughed, raising an eyebrow. "Kuro-sama could be planning something mean."

Kurogane couldn't help but smile at the sound, glad to hear Fai's laughter even on a day like today, a day set aside for grief and sorrow. "Don't be a turkey, Fai," he snorted, "Close 'em."

"I think Kuro-sama's a bit of a hopeless romantic," Fai retorted, but obediently closed his eyes.

Kurogane knelt beside the tub, reaching out to fasten the thin chain around the blonde's neck. "There you go. Remember how the store didn't have it in your ring size this summer? I bought a chain for it," he murmured into Fai's ear, hands sliding under the water to the blonde's waist, tugging him up out of the tub into his arms. "I don't mind, you know, starting over," he murmured into the blonde's ear. It was more of a chance than he ever thought he would have again. "Just don't push yourself, if there are things you don't want to talk about just yet."

Fai shivered as he left the warm water and leaned into Kurogane, rolling the ring between his fingers; he knew, automatically, what it meant. It was something to share between them, a new token. It was a bit of Kurogane's thoughts that he could take with him anywhere, and he would even though he hoped that he would never be without the elder now. "Want and need are separate things, Kuro-sama," he said softly, tipping his head up to reward the man with a soft kiss. "I know that now. There are things that I need to say to you, if I'm going to continue to be with you. I may not want to say them, but they have to be said."

"And they are?"

"Well, first," Fai whispered, brushing his lips against Kurogane's ear. "I love you. More than anything. I feel that I was born just to love you; I always did, from the second we spoke for the first time. I needed you even before I met you, so please don't give up on me."

Kurogane nuzzled Fai's damp hair softly, pulling him closer. He reached out and wrapped a towel around the blonde so he wouldn't freeze. "It took you this long to say it," he murmured; "And I've stuck around. I'm too stubborn to give up."

Fai shook his head and laid his cheek against Kurogane's collar. "You never know, though… It took that long because I knew I loved you, and I shouldn't have. There's so much about me that you need to know… how I came to be here, and what it means to be with me… You need to know it, and I want for you to be the type of person who's strong enough to hear it, and be able to bear the burden…"

"I'll take it, willingly, Fai. Know that. I don't want you to hold everything yourself," Kurogane said softly.

Fai gave him a warm smile, pulling away. "I'll finish my bath then," he said; "If you'll fix us breakfast?"

Kurogane nodded, "I can do that for you. Your clothes are in the top drawer, by the way. I put them away while you were sleeping yesterday."

"Thanks." Fai's smile broadened as he slipped back into the bathtub, flushing as he watched Kurogane shuck his sweatpants off, now soaked from where they had cuddled together, and toss them into his hamper. He gave a fake wolf-whistle and laughed as he watched Kurogane's ears turn bright red as the elder boy flippantly shot him a bird before closing the door.

As he sunk back into the soapy water, he knew then what Shuichiro meant by not forgetting to live just because he was sad.

A/N: ...happy new year? Ahhh...
"At the Wake", The Format