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Kaito had always expected his heart to break at some point.
A heated argument with one of the few people he trusted implicitly, or some silly lovesickness perhaps – being left out in the rain with nothing but harsh words and tears and the right weather for the right mood. Things normal teenagers his age experienced.
He hadn't expected to see Haruto die.
A tremor ran through his body and Kaito straightened his back, trying to contain the shudder that probably couldn't be contained. The memories of that day still chased him through the streets, more relentless, more desperate than Academia ever could. No textbook, no guide, no conversation with family or friends, not even the vague nightmares that flickered at the edge of his consciousness could have prepared him for this experience. And none of the usual phrases for all the other, normal catastrophes that should have happened in his life would comfort him now.
He wouldn't get back with a friend after a few days of mutual sulking.
He wasn't going to simply find someone else to love just as much.
There was no suitable weather for this mood.
No rain. No words. No tears.
Just the sharp pang of pain in his chest and the unmistakable feeling that something had been broken beyond repair.
Anger was a poor substitute for all the things he had lost with Haruto's death.
The good memories and the bad, and the full spectrum of subtle nuances in between. Haruto's reproachful 'Nii-san!' whenever he had caught him swearing, or the furtive rustling of the bedsheets on a stormy night. Bruised knees and the tense anticipation before a bedtime story. Those things would never be part of his reality again.
Kaito pursed his lips, bitterly. No one would be waiting under the covers to snuggle up to him, not during those dreadful thunderstorms, nor on any other terrifying night the war provided them with. There was no more reason to tell stories, no more childish curiosity in the eyes around him, and the only wounds left to tend were merely his own, and somehow it had always been easier to do those things for someone other than himself.
No, anger wasn't even nearly enough to fill the void left by Haruto's loss, but it was all he had, so Kaito embraced whatever emotion he could still muster with sheer ferocity.
The tactic worked well until he encountered the damned commander of the invasion force.
A destroyed street in the middle of the destroyed city. Washed out colors, debris and shards. The right mood for a situation like this.
He had dueled with the same boiling mixture of anger and ruthlessness he'd used all the times before, spurred on by the mere sight of the torn card the guy had waved in front of his nose like a damned trophy. Only the result wasn't what he had expected.
In hindsight, Kaito wasn't sure what exactly had happened.
One moment he still had the commander by the collar - harsh words and a rough pull on that abhorrent uniform - the next his back was shoved against a wall and Edo Phoenix's hands were brushing at his neck with the unmistakable intention of doing more than holding him down.
By the time Kaito managed to catch his breath again – managed to come to his senses - they had traded the open street for the devastated interior of a nearby building, and his heart pounded in the telltale beat of a past climax.
He gasped. Exhausted. Confused. Horrified.
Then the rain came. Gray and desolate like the city, the relentless cold of wet clothes and burning self-doubt, and suddenly Kaito realized he had completely lost himself in his anger.
They could have stopped at any time.
They should have stopped whatever it was they were doing.
It would have been the right decision to end these ominous meetings before they could do the irreparable harm they were destined to do.
But for some reason none of them made the decision to do the right thing.
And sometimes, in the secret twilight between atonement and betrayal, Kaito wondered if they were both broken in their own way.
"Kaito?"
The voice was trustfully close to his body, just above his bare chest. Warm breath and a soft sound.
As far as Kaito could remember, Edo had been irritatingly soft to him from the start. Far too soft for the commanding officer of an invasion force. Way too soft for him.
"Are you still with me?"
"Yeah."
The syllable broke in his throat, a choked gasp, part desire and partly that crushing kind of grief that never really left him since Haruto was gone.
Worried, Edo paused. "If it hurts-"
"It doesn’t."
It had, the first few times, when his body hadn't adjusted to the intrusion yet and he had welcomed the pain willingly.
A memorial to what Haruto had to suffer.
A suitable punishment for letting him down.
By now, the feeling in his abdomen was familiar, and so benevolently comfortable that Kaito had to remind himself not to enjoy it.
Edo carefully shifted his weight over him, gently brushing the insides of his thighs, and suddenly tears scratched in Kaito's throat. He swallowed, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Bare plaster and a broken lamp. Water dripping somewhere he couldn't see. No rain. But close. Way too close.
"Haruto would have liked you," he whispered suddenly. Not quite a croak. Not yet.
Edo stared at him, probably aware that they had just reached a point far beyond the intimacy their bodies could share. He wasn't pushing, just sharing a quiet form of understanding, and Kaito blinked hard against the pressure that was still stinging his eyes.
"He-...he was soft and gentle and full of kindness, just like..."
Just like you.
The words weren't really there, just the silent echo of a thought somewhere between them, but Kaito could feel his heartbeat speeding up and suddenly the burning in his throat was obvious. He clutched his fingers in the fabric of the coat he was lying on, still refusing to take his eyes off the ceiling. Edo leaned over him, ghostly breath at his collarbone and a compassionate pair of eyes that had seen him in more vulnerable situations than Kaito could have ever imagined.
"Do you want me to stop?," he asked softly.
Kaito shook his head, trusting the movement more than his voice. "No. No, it's okay. I want -"
He didn't have to finish the thought. With purposeful determination, Edo released his hand from the cloak, instead pushing it up the back of his neck while bending lower over him and brushing his lips over his throat as if that would ease the pain raging inside.
Kaito closed his eyes and buried his nose in Edo’s hair. A spark of comfort and a whole rush of affection that shouldn't have been there.
"You remind me a lot of him."
Maybe that was why he had agreed to this unreasonable alliance in the first place. An unconscious resemblance. The shadow of a longing that would never be fulfilled again.
Maybe...that was part of his punishment, too.
Edo gently pressed his lips against his jaw. "We'll find a way to bring him back. I promised you."
"I know," Kaito murmured under his breath.
It wasn't the first time Edo had given him his word on the matter. A firm, unshakable promise in the strange togetherness they shared that inspired so much more hope than Kaito could bear. He wrapped his other arm around Edo's neck to pull him even closer, feeling the weight on his body and the warm breath on his wet cheek.
Hoping that everything would be okay would probably devastate him sooner or later. But this time Kaito wanted desperately to believe in it.