AN: Hi, so, first off, I'm pretty excited about writing this. It's my first proper fanfic (I've only written tiny drabbles in my spare time), and I'm overjoyed that its a SaruMi. This ship has literally destroyed my life. It's my only OTP that wasn't savagely ripped apart by the merciless icy hands of death. *gross sobs* So please enjoy! Oh, and I'm sorry for any OOCness
Warnings for chapter: Language
Disclaimer: K and its characters belong to their respective owners. If I owned K, there would be a lot less death and a lot more sexy-time~
It had only been a few weeks after the huge conflict between Kings and clansmen. With the destruction of three Swords of Damocles, it had left many quiet in reflection, and others in mourning of their king.
"I heard some members of Homra are still pretty torn up over Suoh."
"Yeah, I think the vanguard is having a difficult time recovering."
"Is that so? But I thought he–"
"Akiyama, Benzai, quit gossiping like housewives. It's irritating," Saruhiko Fushimi hissed, gripping tightly to the handle of his umbrella. He had heard the same rumors his subordinates had been whispering about. Though Saruhiko was never one to pay mind to such childish games, he found himself contemplating the possibility of the things he heard. He did believe that some might still be grieving the loss of the Red King, but he debated the idea of Misaki Yata –the brash, impatient teenager– reduced to a blubbering mess without being able to pick himself back up again. As much as the thought amused him, deep within, he winced at the idea of Misaki being caught in a state such as that, causing a major blow to the crow's pride. Curiosity had seeded and grown, itching at the back of Saruhiko's mind, desperate to know the truth.
Scanning the wet streets through the pouring rain one last time as the group walked, Saruhiko slowed to a stop. He couldn't stand the buzz of his own thoughts against the hiss of the rain anymore. "Finish up this sweep of the area then return to head quarters. I have business that needs attending to." Without another word, Saruhiko separated from his subordinates to allow them to finish the mission they had been assigned to.
Pushing open the familiar doors to the Homra headquarters, Saruhiko was suddenly filled with regret and shame for actually giving into his pitiful curiosity.
"Well. Look what the cat dragged in." Saruhiko clicked his tongue shaking off his umbrella and setting it aside before stepping fully inside the bar.
"Hello to you too, Izumo. Long time no see."
"What are you doing here?"
"I'm just another thirsty, paying customer~"
"You're not of age to drink yet." Saruhiko scowled, and looked around, assessing the empty bar. Noting the familiar figure slumped over the bar, Saruhiko's lips tempted to curl up in a devious grin just being in the presence of the crow.
"Aren't you going to say hello, Mi~sa~ki~?" The vanguard pulled himself up into a sitting position enough to twist around where he could glare at the ex-Homra member. Misaki's lip merely twitched into a snarl in agitation of his first name.
Saruhiko eyed the smaller male. Purple rings had formed beneath his strained reddened eyes, pairing with his noticeably thinning frame. Misaki turned his face from the man, returning to his slumped position back over the bar counter top.
"My, don't you look ravishing this evening."
"Piss off, monkey," Misaki mumbled into his folded arms. Saruhiko smirked and seated himself on the stool next to his former clansman. He kept his eyes focused on the auburn haired male before shifting his gaze to Kusanagi, who was watching the pair intently whilst polishing a small shot glass.
"Water," Saruhiko murmured monotonously, propping an elbow up and resting his head into his hand. Kusanagi lifted a brow at the Scepter 4 member, but prepared Saruhiko a glass as requested. Once it had been placed before him, Saruhiko took a small sip before gazing back down at his friend. "Misaki–"
"Just leave." Saruhiko sighed and poked at the floating ice cubes with his straw. He was truly worried about Misaki. He would never tell him that – at least, not at the moment. Only when he had made Misaki his would he be able to take down his protective barriers and tell him how he really felt. Oh, how he longed to hold the man in his arms, whispering sweet nothings in his ear; to have him pinned, writhing beneath him in pure ecstasy; to be tantalized again by his crude remarks and dazzling grin. Misaki had always been his one true desire, and to see his precious crow in pain made his stomach twist uncomfortably. But nothing could made him display such feelings – he wouldn't dare. To appear weak... he wouldn't stand by it in the slightest.
Once possessing the power of two kings, he privately swore to use his strength to watch over his Misaki. Though every now and then the two had fought –even wounding the crow at one point– Saruhiko vowed to himself never to inflict a serious amount of damage to the man. He would never forgive himself if he stood by and watched Misaki burden a pain he couldn't bear. And now, seeing him in such a state, still struggling with the death of Mikoto Suoh, made his heart constrict in both sympathy and anger.
He had left Homra because he couldn't watch the way his Misaki had grown so fond of their King – though, that had been his own private secret. The crow had drifted away from Saruhiko in admiration of Mikoto. It was to torturous to stand by while Misaki's attention was drawn away from him. Leaving Homra and joining Scepter 4 had definitely snapped the crow's attention back to Saruhiko, but Misaki had still remained as attached as ever to Mikoto. And now, it irked Saruhiko that this attachment was causing his Misaki such grief.
Saruhiko glanced back at Misaki, worry rising in his throat seeing the vanguard trembling, trapped in his own thoughts.
"Look, Misaki," he started, inwardly fighting to keep his tone steady.
"Go a-away, Saru. Now." Misaki's threat fell apart as his voice barely managed to carry past his throat in his now fully shaking form.
"I think its time that you realize–"
"You have to accept that he's gone–"
"–and move on."
"SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU DAMNED TRAITOR!" Misaki suddenly pushed off the bar and sprang from the stool, barely managing to stand as his body heaved wracking sobs. Stumbling to find his footing, the smaller male dashed out of Homra, escaping into the streets of freezing rain.
Saruhiko clicked his tongue and took one last sip from his glass before grabbing his umbrella and stepping out into the street. Following the direction of a few turning heads, he spotted a glimpse of Misaki's drenched white sweat shirt before his figure ducked into an alley way. Sighing, Saruhiko kept a steady pace, reminding himself not to get carried away before stopping at the opening of the alley. Misaki stood at the end with his head hung and his palm to the dead end brick wall, his body shaking from the overflow of emotion and the icy water. He turned to flee but stopped mid rotation spotting the taller man at the entrance, trapping Misaki in the alley. Furious at his defeat, Misaki growled and screamed out, spinning and driving his fist into the wall. Saruhiko cringed as he heard the crunch of Misaki's knuckles against the brick, loud enough to echo through the loud spitting of rain surrounding them.
"You can't keep running from this," he spoke lowly, for once fearing to angry the crow, possibly causing him to inflict more damage to himself. The auburn haired man's chest rose and fell quickly as he wheezed, his lungs begging for more air. Saruhiko approached him cautiously, his free hand out in a innocuous gesture. Bleak eyes snapped up to give warning to the figure closing in on Misaki, his arm coiling back to strike Saruhiko, but winced as he attempted to close his hand into a fist. Misaki whimpered in discomfort, staring at his bloodied knuckles.
"S-Saru..." Pressing his lips into a thin line, Saruhiko carefully placed his hand on Misaki's shoulder, shifting the umbrella's protection over the two of them. The shorter male looked up at the other in pain and exhaustion, his face completely drained of colour, contrasting the dark bags. "S-Sa...Saru...I...he..." Misaki desperately fought for words, but his strength and adrenaline had dissolved into nothing from the gentle touch.
Dropping his injured hand to his side, Misaki reached up with his other, clutching onto the cobalt blue jacket Saruhiko sported. The shorter male shivered and swayed, giving the other the chance to hook his arm around his waist before his knees wobbled and gave out.
"I'm sorry," Saruhiko whispered as bleary eyes slipped shut, and Misaki collapsed his weight fully into Saruhiko.
AN: Feel free to tell me what you think! Give me a heads up if I'm on the right track or I've botched this whole thing completely.