Disclaimer: K Project and all of its characters are not mine. If they were, there would be a whole lot more gay going on than what we already have, especially with all the totally and completely gay merchandise and official art.
Misaki, Misaki, Misaki.
It'd been a month since Fushimi Saruhiko had been able to seen the former vanguard of the Red Clan. It'd been a month since the world had been finally rid of that blot named Suoh Mikoto. It'd been a month since the captain became increasingly reserved, locking himself up in the office for days at a time. It'd been a month since the defeat of the colorless king – not that he cared. He was irritated that the lieutenant ordered him to stay away from the former Red Clan – and Misaki specifically. Saruhiko wasn't one to allow the lieutenant boss him around, not since she was hypocritically visiting the bartender off duty. But ever since Homra disbanded, the workload piled up staggeringly, and he seldom had the chance to look for Misaki like usual.
The rumors he heard were boring, but not of any surprise. Many never visited the stupid bar again – how does it feel, having your precious clan crumble, Misaki? – but only the most faithful came back to see Kusanagi Izumo, who became more and more listless, even to the point where he would forget to tend to his beloved bar at times. All of Scepter4 knew that Awashima-kun went to see him nearly every week now, but no one had the heart to stop her. As if they could succeed anyway.
For whatever pathetic reason, the pudgy Kamamoto – how dare he constantly trail after my Misaki – and Anna disappeared from Shizume city. So had the Black Dog and the strain, but such things were not of any interest to him.
The only thing Saruhiko cared about was seeing Misaki, yet every day, even with all the resources at his fingertips, he was unable to find him. But oh the rumors! Apparently the hot-headed, lovely Misaki refused to give up on Homra. The former vanguard would skateboard all over Shizume and attempt to convince the other deserters to come back to the bar – ne, Misaki ~ why haven't you come to me? –but to no avail. He continued to pick fights with gangs, and many a time he won, though he sustained far more injuries than before.
So he still burns brightly, that idiot.
"Tch," Saruhiko scratched the mess of scars under his collarbone that once covered up Homra's symbol of pride. The symbol had long since disappeared with the rest of Homra's, and it strangely unsettled him. He knew Misaki no longer had a mark on the same place on his body as Saruhiko's; no one had Homra's symbol any longer.
"How does it feel, Misaki~? Where has your pride gone to now?" Saruhiko whispered to himself, a sneer gracing his face. He called in sick today, ignoring his subordinates' panicked voices when he refused to show. It'd been a month. Where had Misaki gone?
And so he searched Shizume city carefully, refusing to give up before he found his Misaki. He even went to their old haunts, in the slightest hope – oh how he loathed himself for even thinking that way – that Misaki might be thinking of Saruhiko now that the bastard Mikoto was gone. But Misaki was nowhere to be found. Desperate now, he decided to try the bar, but even then, with Kusanagi-san and Awashima-kun shaking their heads sympathetically, he could not find Misaki.
"Misaki. Misaki, Misaki, MISAKI," Saruhiko called, as he ran down alleys and busy streets, not caring when the passerby's stared at him strangely. "MISAKI!"
Panting slightly, Saruhiko leaned against a wall of an alleyway. Never before had that tactic failed to work.
Where is he?!
By now, the sun was beginning to set, and still he had not even caught a glimpse of the fiery red. His instability was unable to take any more of the withdrawal from his Misaki.
He wouldn't have left Shizume, would he - ?
But knowing him, he would not have even thought of leaving Homra, even after its crumble. It was too precious to him, and how Saruhiko hated it.
It's all because of that "Mikoto-san"!
He lost everything. And so he left, with his lovely Misaki staring at him as if he was the one at fault.
Give me your hate, Mi-sa-ki~. Only look at me. At me!
But where was he now? Saruhiko slid down and sat in the dirty alley, pondering the few other places the former vanguard might have gone.
"Where are you?" Saruhiko whispered, scratching himself again.
Suddenly, a streak of red caught his eye, and Saruhiko shot upright. He looked to his right, and there, behind a pile of old boxes and crates was Misaki's tell-tale red sweater poking out by the edge. He cautiously walked towards the sweater.
Could it be?
Misaki lay there, curled up and shivering on the ground, dried blood and bruises marring his sleeping face.
"I found you, Mi-sa-ki~," Saruhiko smirked. He gathered the idiot – finally, finally I see you again –and headed for his apartment.
Oh, how he looked forward to Misaki's face when he woke up in the home of his worst enemy.
So this is the first time I've ever written a fic ever, so thank you for reading! Feel free to give me constructive criticism on how I might improve.