Disclaimer : I don't own the Get Backers. I only own the plot.

Warning : This is a slash story, mostly centered around the odd pairing of Akabane and Ban. If you don't like, then don't read.

Author's Note : Review! I want to know what you think. Are they OOC? Does the plot suck? Any loopholes I left out? Hehehe…. I am an annoying bitch ain't I?


If you could only see

The way she loves me

Then maybe you would understand

Why I feel this way about our love

And what I must do

If you could only see how blue her eyes can be when she says

When she says she loves me

-If You Could Only See by Tonic


Part One

"What are you looking for, Mido…Ban?"

Again, he sees through the illusion I have wrapped around myself. With him, there is no escape, and by now I should know that there is no truth I can hide from his silken and piercing voice.

It's like trying to hide a shadow from blinding light. Or with him, trying to hide a flickering flame from an all encompassing darkness.

I smirk to myself. Whatever.

But I pretend I don't hear him, and continue gazing out the window and exhaling artless white clouds of smoke from my barely open mouth. To respond to him would mean acknowledging that he is right, and to recognize that he is right would mean I have admitted to the fact that he knows at least some part of me.

I would rather bite my hand off than give him that satisfaction, not because of the current situation I have dug myself in to, but because I am myself and he is who he is.

So simple and complicated, our personal identities. Mine was buried somewhere I didn't want to extricate, and his was lost either by his own doing or by forces even he could not control.

The sheets don't rustle as he gets up from the bed, his smooth limbs sliding across the blankets with the controlled grace of a panther on the hunt. I watch him from the corner of my eye, watch him watch me as he moves like silent death across the room and comes to my side in a flash of glittering darkness.

Glittering darkness. Those two words fit him exactly, didn't they? A paradox that refused to be explained, that could not be explained, by any language known to man. I hated and abhorred him to the depths of my damned soul, and yet there was something about him that drew me, like a reaction that couldn't be ignored.

He confuses me to hell and back, and I detest him for it.

Gloved hands splay themselves delicately on my jaw and force me to look up into eyes so very much like my own, glazed and striking in their hollow emptiness. Himiko once told me that his expression unnerved her, reminded her of a mask that would just not fall off. In the beginning I thought so too, but as events progressed, I started to doubt my own assumptions.

His smile, no matter how empty, is more real than most things.

"I never thought you'd be the sentimental type."

I growl out my response.

"I am not being sentimental, you asshole."

Whether because he chooses not to anger me at the moment or because he is thinks himself above such petty conversation is beyond my understanding, but he doesn't reply to the insult I throw his way. Instead, he just cocks his head to the side and laughs good naturedly, brushing off my anger as if it were a speck of dust on his coat.

He doesn't treat me like the bringer of death I view myself to be.

"Your defensiveness amuses me, Mido-kun. It's as if you're guilty of something and trying to hide it."

I snort in response. I am guilty of a lot of things and so is he. He has no right to ask me these questions when I don't interrogate him about his past and all his little psychopathic pleasures.

Stupid git.

His face is so close I can smell the mint on his breath, can see the blue swirls of gray in his irises. His proximity overpowers me for a moment, startles me to paralysis and I forget to breathe in. I glare angrily at him when I recover and bat his hand away from my chin.

"It's none of your business."

His hands don't give up though, and once more I feel his fingers ghosting over my skin and tracing patterns onto my forearm. I shiver at the thought that he's got blades under his skin and could cut me up any time he wished.

The masochist in me is enjoying everything very much.

"Well then I'm making it my business." Lips descend to a spot over my main artery, sucking intensely on the pulse, insistent on leaving some sort of mark. Bastard knows how much I hate those things. I snarl deep in my throat and turn to face him, fangs slightly barred and eyes flashing in lust and want. I don't know how he does it, how he makes me cringe and tingle at the same time. He answers by covering my mouth with his and pulling me deftly back to the bed we slept in. There is a mild taste of coldness in his mouth, as if he's been breathing in ice and the coolness never really left him. I find it a little addicting, so different from the sweet and flowery taste of the many women I've had that it was refreshing.

The measly amount of clothes I've managed to put on is once more discarded and thrown haphazardly across the room, torn in a few places where Akabane's impatience had gotten the better of him and he just sliced at whatever was blocking his path.

He's not as calm as most people think he is. In fact sometimes, he's not calm at all.

I hear his breath hitch as my fingernails rake across his alabaster back, leaving angry red marks in their wake. He regards me with his eyes narrowed into slits, and his mouth in a slight frown.

"That was uncalled for, Mido-kun."

"So is the purple mark on my neck. I'd say we're even."

The frown disappears, and in its place a small smile stretches on his face.


And I see the loophole he immediately creates; understand instantly that he never really admitted that we were even. Cunning bastard just made a meaningless noise that sounded like an affirmative.

But who cares? Surely not me. Surely not Mido Ban. Just as long as he gives me what I want.

But that's the hitch isn't it?

A muted gasp escapes from my lips as he bites my shoulder, telling me in no certain words to get with the program and start paying attention to what I was doing.

What do I want?


Hours later….

The flicker of my lighter announces to my bedmate that I am about to pollute the air he is going to breathe, causing him to turn and take the thing from my hand before it has the chance to light my cigarette.

I feel my fingers twitching with the urge to strangle him to death, but the contented feeling in the pit of my stomach and the tired exhaustion of my body prevents me from being a real threat to him.

I can only create a muffled grunt of annoyance to tell him that I am pissed.

"Don't even think about it. I want you alive for a lot longer than that things going to allow."

"And why's that?" I can't help but lift an eyebrow in question.

"Because you're interesting. And because I have great sex with you."

This time, my hand restrains the urge to slap my forehead.

"Tch. Selfish asshole."

"Watch your mouth Mido-kun. It's not nice to say bad things about other people."

To hell with you. I'm getting my lighter back the moment you fall asleep.

And as if he hears what I am thinking, the sound of breaking glass and the steady drip of lighter fluid reaches my ears.

"Good night Mido-kun." In the inky darkness, I think I can actually hear him smile.

Grrr….I am definitely killing him in the morning.


Again…review, review, review! J Should I continue?