Pairing: Ren/Ichi (or maybe that's only how I want it to be read)

Disclaimer: well duh. I owns nothing.

Warning: shounen-ai, grammar, rushed ending, OOC-ness

A/N: so… I know, it just begs to be a twoshot at least, but as you can see I'm unable to even write over 1,000 words without A/N or the likes. Besides, I didn't really know how to end it. So yeah… it sucks. What can I do? Oh, and the grammar again… bleh.

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He knew well the state he was in right now. Too well. He felt as if his insides had been torn out of him thorough a giant hole in his abdomen and as if had been tripping on his guts every time he tried to get up and look for help. He was unable to face people, even those loved the most. He hadn't had the strength to answer their worried looks, to fake a smile, to act as if he was alright.

He felt heartbroken. Devastated. And without a particular reason.

The empty void in his heart made him feel like he had nothing. As if nothing belonged to him anymore. Neither his life nor his body. It was all like a colorless dream, where he could just observe the reality, which stayed out of reach.

There was no strength left in him.

Like a robot he went to school everyday, ate meals his sister made, even talked to people. But there were no emotions attached. No feelings left.

So empty…

Day after day after day… A machine. A corpse. Was he even still alive?

He felt colorblind all of a sudden – as if the world hid all colors from him. Grey. Everything was grey. Not black or white, but grey. No vivid colors left for him to see. He didn't even mind anymore. He didn't have the strength to care.

And the silence. The eerie silence ringing in his ears, splitting his mind in half, making his heart twist and choke on blood. Was this death?

But then, one day, everything changed.

A bright red broke thorough the walls of grey. Standing out so much, like blood – as if the world had been slaughtered to ease the dull color. The red seemed so extreme. So full of life. It made his eyes hurt, but that didn't stop him from looking.

And there was a voice attached. A voice full of energy, of emotions. Loud laughter hurting his ears. But oh how sweet that pain was.

Life. There's a spark of life in him. A red spark. Awoken by pain the man brought.

It's not like all the colors and sounds came back. No. Only that red, only that voice. A sign for him.

Maybe that someone would save him. Heal his heart. Make the pain go away and bring him back to life. Maybe.

But how to approach him? How to make him stay by his side? How to make him his? Words:

'You brought life back to me, you make ma want to stay alive'

were not only cliché and not in his style, they could also scare him away.

So he started slowly (and just like they do it in movies), from bumping into him and sending a charming smile with 'sorry' attached. A laugh, a short introduction, a little chat about everything and nothing and that voice receives a name.

From now on there were 'hi''s when they saw each other, chats filling his heart with life. Smiles filling him with warmth and emotions. Oh, he could feel again.

But the closer he got, the more full of life he became – the stronger hunger for something more was. For something permanent. Lasting. Fulfilling. Touch – he needed to touch, to be touched. To know how soft that tanned sink was, how hard those muscles were, how strong the embrace could be. How good that body felt, how it would react, when touched by his fingers. Oh, it was maddening.

Too soon. All those feelings came to soon. He couldn't grasp them. Tame them. Hide them anymore.

Gods, they weren't even friends yet. Schoolmates only. It all felt as if he hadn't had much time left. As if either one of them would soon disappear.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't rush things. Not now. He just knew that it would, most probably, tear everything they built up until now apart. So he just gave up.

There was no point in waiting for something that, for what he knew, would never happen. Also he didn't know if he could restrain his feelings much longer. He had no experience. It just… all his body and heart were telling him… it all felt so new. So foreign.

He stepped back. Leaving a void between them without a word of explanation. There were no more smiles, chats or 'hi''s. He left him with his hand waving, mouth open to tell him something and a questioning look burning holes in the back of his head.

The silence, the grey, the dull throbbing of his heart – all came back but twice as strong. It was now that he really felt dead – when he tried to kill his feelings.

Nothing would save him now.

At least not until color red and that voice pushed themselves back into his life on their own with a loud:

'What the fuck is your problem?

and

'Don't go all emo on me!'

ringing in his ears as he stood there, in the middle of the school's corridor, with his mouth agape and massaging the back of his head. Oh, how he needed that hit.

But a painful look was the only answer he could give.

That and a clumsy and rushed, but passionate kiss with all his feelings attached, before pushing himself away and turning around to run without looking back.

'Now get back here, damn Strawberry, and finish what you've started.'

was something that might have saved his life. That stopped him and made him look back, shocked. That and the Redhead's lips pressing themselves against his.

Either way, he has been saved. By a vibrant red and a cheerful laugh. By color and sound. By life personalized. His symbol of resurrection. Of being brought back to life again.

Of a wonderful feeling filling him with warmth.

Of touch, taste, scent, movement. Of everything that from that moment on had become his. Only his.

And may it never end.