Disclaimer: I do not own K Project, or any of the characters in the following story. This is a work of fiction.

"It was curious how that predestined horror moved in and out of one's consciousness. There it lay, fixed in future times, preceding death as surely as 99 precedes 100. One could not avoid it, but one could perhaps postpone it: and yet instead, every now and again, by a conscious, willful act, one chose to shorten the interval before it happened."

- 1984, George Orwell-

In the darkness of an alley, a kiss was shared. A secret promise.

A promise born in love, but that was the opposite in itself. After all, did love hurt you at all times? Did it make you look over your shoulder while walking on your own? Was it possible that a love that ran so deep within, like he claimed, could actually exist?

"Saruhiko... I am the Red King's vanguard. You know this. You know its meaning."

"Silly Misaki. I know."

"I am loyal to my King, but I am also loyal to you. I don't want to fight you." The shorter man said quietly, hiding his face in the azure uniform of his lover, wrapping his arms around his waist and cursing the gods internally for this situation. Their relationship was meant to be full of despair. It had been this way since the day he said hello to Fushimi for the first time. Years had passed, and they only became more and more dependant on each other. If together, they'd hurt each other endlessly, more often than not without any real reason or spite, and if apart, they'd both become emotional wrecks, unable to live without one another.

Saruhiko, upon hearing these words, went silent. He returned the hug Misaki was giving him, holding his head against his chest and squeezing him tightly, hiding his own face in the crook of the redhead's shoulder. That scent... It was a combination of many things. A whimsical combination, just like its owner and his actions.

"I love you, Saru." Yata whispered. The words ran out of his mouth before he could analyze them, but htere was no need. He loved him, this man who had given him his friendship, his hate and his love. It wasn't his first time saying it, and still...

"I know. Me too." Fushimi replied in a hurried murmur, like it had always been. Their relationship was based on secrets, a rushed lot of them, their love affair being the biggest of them all. No one knew. No one had to.

...Misaki's heart broke a little more.

It always did. Scepter 4's third in command, Fushimi Saruhiko, had never said 'I love you' back. They had been one-sided promises of tenderness and care, of which none had been returned in the same manner. Yata supposed it was more difficult for the other man to accept such feelings, or to accept the fact that he was capable of such a delicate emotion as love. Frankly speaking, he had never thought he'd fall in love, either. But time changes people.

Just like that, in that cold winter night, HOMRA's vanguard Yata Misaki's heart was broken again. For once, he wished his powers weren't related to fire; he would have been content with the frigid snow numbing his fingers and his own feelings, but one could only wish so much. Saruhiko's body heat was almost burning him – strangely so, in this weather – and yet, he couldn't pull away. He didn't want to. He wished the heat could consume him, and make the ache in his chest go away. It was almost too much to bear on his own.

"I will try to avoid you as much as I can on the battlefield, Misaki. I promise you this."

The fight against Scepter 4 had been a long and tedious matter. All students had been evacuated from the school grounds, as the meeting of two kings was to happen soon.

With Mikoto's arrival, all of HOMRA's members seemed to gain strenght and energy. Throats screamed louder, feet stomped harder, and red auras burned more fiercely. Just like Misaki's. The boy had been fighting for a while now, having arrived before anyone else. Upon spotting his King, however, he skated over to him, barely being able to contain his joy. He was like a giddy little kid whose favourite hero had suddenly become real. But was Suoh Mikoto really a hero?

"Yatagarasu." The man said simply, and it was all Misaki needed to know that he wanted him to be by his side. To fight with him! At his side! The smile that appeared on the vanguard's face threatened to split it, but he didn't care. He skated around Mikoto, sometimes falling behind, riding in front of him at others, but never too far.

His King stopped when he was kicking some blue's ass into oblivion with his baseball bat, so when he turned around, his heart stopped and sank, his breath leaving him as if he had received a punch to the stomach.

It was the blue King, Munakata Reishi. And by his side was none other than his third in command, Fushimi Saruhiko.

Moments after, he recovered from the initial shock and his blood started to boil, spurred on by the cries of war resonating all around them. The old hate he used to feel towards Saruhiko had been placed upon Munakata, and this made his aura start to appear, circling his skateboard. With a scowl on his face, he swung his baseball bat around, pointing at Munakata, and opened his mouth to talk. But his target, who had little interest in him, adressed his King instead.

"I was hoping to meet you here today. It does take an awful lot of manpower to summon the great Red King, don't you think?"

"Give me a break, Munakata." Mikoto simply replied, leaning his head to the side and smirking lopsidedly.

"Will you fight?" Reishi asked. The other man just finished the cigarrete he had been smoking and threw it to the ground, stepping on it.


"That's not the answer I wanted to hear." The other King replied, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword. His face held no emotion, and one could even see some fire in his eyes – as ironic as that was.

Yata reacted to the evident threat, swinging his bat again and speaking up. "Hey! You bastard! Don't you even dare threaten my King like that!" He shouted in that rough voice of his, his red aura growing.

"Oi, Yatagarasu, watch your words." Fushimi spoke up, his hand moving to rest on the hilt of his sword as well. They had to keep up the image that their hate was strong. Fushimi hadn't told a living sould about his affair with Misaki, and he intended to keep it that way.

"Shut up, you damned monkey!" He shot back, though not with the same venom he had directed at Munakata. Never with the same venom. His hate towards Saruhiko had been born from betrayal, but the one towards the blue King was pure aversion.

Munakata only spared them a brief glance, as if pitying them. "Let us settle this in another way, since your subordinate seems to be so energetic today." He turned to Fushimi and pointed at Yata with his head. "Draw your sword and attack him."

Time seemed to stop. For a moment, Fushimi hesitated to obey his King. His gaze dropped to his sword, and without looking up –because if he did, and happened to meet Misaki's eyes, he would crumble– unsheated his sword and attacked.

After the first blow, a pair of familiar hands grabbed onto his forearm, trying miserably to tear him away. He didn't look up, not even when bright red blood started to stain Yata's white shirt. He pulled it back and the boy fell to his knees, gasping and clutching his abdomen. With shaking hands, Saruhiko sheated his sword again and stepped back, his head hanging low. He didn't dare look up, for he knew that he'd crumble if he did. His head was buzzing, and he couldn't understand what his King was saying. The man's words seemed to mix together, and he decided he couldn't do this anymore. He turned around and left the place as quickly as he could, not looking back.

That night, when he got home, sleep evaded him. Only after an unhealthy amount of alcohol, –really, raiding the beer stash in his fridge had seemed like such a good idea at the time-, he was able to fall unconscious on his couch, in a shivering, crying mess.

Everything hurt.

Moving, breathing... Even thinking had become nearly impossible for the red head. A raging headache was the first thing he had become truly aware of, after regaining consciousness. The pain in his body had come inmediately after, making him groan silently and take short, shuddering breaths, feeling a sharp pain in his abdomen.

And then, the memories came back to him.

He snapped his eyes open, widening them as much as he could, the clutches of a panic attack wanting to take him. As he remembered, an order, impossibly long seconds, and then Fushimi's blade –

The door to his room opened then, making Misaki take in his surroundings. He was in a sterile white hospital room, a slow beeping in the background putting him on edge, and something attached to his hand.

He tried to sit up, but failed, and groaned as he laid back down, closing his eyes. He was now dizzy, and couldn't focus his eyesight. Whoever had opened the door came rushing to his bed, his –or her? He had the distinct feeling it was a he - hand barely grazing one of his own.

"Misaki..." It was a quiet, strained whisper, and the scent of cigarettes and alcohol drifted over to him.

He opened his eyes and snapped his head to the side, frowning and trying to sit up, doing his best to keep the tears at bay. It was Saruhiko. He felt a terrible longing then, a desire to embrace him and never let him go, overpowering him. He felt the other man caress his face softly, mumbling apologies through choked sobs.

"I'm so sorry... So sorry, I didn't want to... I thought you'd block it! I – I broke my promise... As always... I'm no good for you, M-Misaki...!" Fushimi said, letting the tears fall freely down his face as he spoke.

"It wasn't your fault. You had no other option, Saru..." Yata replied, shakily, as he leaned forward and rested his feverish forehead against Fushimi's, a hand coming up to cup his cheek. "You obeyed your King. There's... nothing wrong with that."

"...You're not angry?" The other man replied, opening his blue eyes to stare into Yata's, disbelief lacing his tone. His lover shook his head and chuckled, closing his eyes. Tears slid down the redhead's face and in that moment, Fushimi Saruhiko thought he had never seen such a beautiful human being before. He hid his face in the crook of Misaki's neck, abandoning himself to the sobs and tears he had suppresed until now. Misaki forgave him, and that was all he needed.

"I love you, Yata Misaki..." He finally said, in the boy's ear, hugging him carefully to his chest.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Please, if you spot any spelling/grammar mistake, let me know in a review :x My first language is not English ;o;