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The concept of reality as most people knew it was lost on Yoru.  For one who resided deep within the recesses of a young man’s mind, an entity born of fear and suffering and the need to survive, his reality was a place that did not technically exist. 

He did not technically exist.

But yet there he was, tucked away in Sora’s subconscious, biding his time in a world where he was a little bit taller than his other half, his hair a little bit darker, and his left eye burning gold like the evening sun. 

He had served his purpose.  Sora didn’t need him anymore, having finally managed to find his own courage in the face of the horror that was the reason behind Yoru’s creation.  Now the teen was at peace.  He was happy.  And Yoru would have been content to leave him be and wait out whatever fate there was for one such as himself.  If not for Ran.

He missed Ran.  Very, very much.

Seeing Sora and Sunao together again, watching them live their lives through Sora’s eyes… it was both a blessing and a curse for Yoru, to be so close to his beloved yet still so far away, bound by the hindrance of their dual identities.  For almost a year now, he had waited for Ran to break free from the prison of Sunao’s psyche, but he never did.  So Yoru took it upon himself to make the first move.  He needed to see Ran, to touch him and hold him.  Among other things.  And he refused to wait any longer.

He waited until Sora was asleep.  It didn’t take much effort at all; after an entire day of being the unwilling pawn in another one of Matsuri’s convoluted schemes, he had all but passed out the second his head hit the pillow.  Taking over Sora’s body was like breaking the surface of water, bursting through the murky depths of nothingness into being.  It was like… becoming

The bed was as cozy as he remembered, by dorm room standards at least.  Yoru was tempted to stay there for a little while, to enjoy the few spoils of tangibility that he could while he had the chance to do so.  But he also knew that he could ill afford to waste the time.  He opened his eyes and found that ridiculous pink elephant staring back at him.  Shaking his head, he tossed it aside.  What an idiot.  Only Sora would choose to share a bed with a stuffed animal instead of his own boyfriend.

Yoru got up and made his way to the other side of the room.  He carefully sat down on the edge of Sunao’s bed and gazed down at his sleeping face.  Oh, how he had missed that face.  Seeing it in his mind was nothing compared to this.  He reached out and gently swept back a lock of pink, and just that brief touch was enough to make him ache in a great number of ways. 

“Ran,” he whispered, letting his fingers trail down Sunao’s cheek.  “Wake up, Ran.”

Sunao frowned, his agitation at being disturbed apparent.  “Go to bed, Hashiba,” he growled before turning onto his side, away from Yoru.

Clearly a little force was going to be necessary.

Yoru grabbed Sunao by the shoulder and rolled him onto his back.  Before the young man could react, he was on top of him, straddling him and pinning his arms over his head. 

Sunao struggled beneath him, to no avail.  “What are you doing, Hashi-?”

Now that he was wide awake, he got his first good look at his captor.  Realization filled his face.

“Yoru.”  The name was spoken like an accusation.

“Long time, no see, Sunao,” Yoru replied.  Not exactly accurate for his part, but it seemed like the thing to say.

“Get off of me.”

“I want to see Ran.”

Sunao tried to free himself again, but he was no match for Yoru’s strength.  He began shuddering when warm breath and soft lips touched upon his neck, his face contorted in disgust and the faintest hint of pleasure. 

“S-Stop it,” he moaned.

Yoru could hardly blame him; although he was the one currently in control, for all Sunao’s body could tell, Sora was the one doing those things to him.

“Come out, Ran,” he whispered into Sunao’s ear, following up his command with a teasing lick.  “If you don’t, I’m going to have sex with him instead.”

Pink eyes opened wide with horror… and turned red with rage.


There.  Finally.

Yoru released Ran’s arms and waited patiently as tiny fists beat against his chest like the fluttering of wings.  When the theatrics and the name-calling died down, he took Ran’s face into his hands.

“I only said that to get your attention,” he said as he stroked the smooth skin beneath his thumbs.  He then weaved his fingers through the length of Ran’s hair, delighting in its softness.  Sora could do that every single day, if he so chose.  Lucky bastard.

“Yoru…” Ran blinked up at him with eyes that were big and wet and full of all kinds of need. 

Talking could wait.

He grabbed Yoru by the shirt and pulled him down into an eager kiss, a desperate clashing of lips and tongues.  Their borrowed bodies immediately responded in kind and they rolled around in the small bed, clawing and clinging and clutching at one another until neither of them could stand it any longer.    

“Touch me, Yoru,” Ran whimpered, arching and grinding against him.  “Please.”

Yoru smiled at him. 

And then he did.

It was worth the wait.


“Fujimori’s going to be mad at me.”

Without releasing the sleeping body in his arms, Yoru peered at the cross teen standing over Sunao’s bed, a physical manifestation of the conversation that was presently taking place in Sora’s mind.  It was a conversation that Sora would not remember having upon waking.

“He’ll get over it,” Yoru replied.  “He always does.”

“You know, if you’re going to do… that… you could at least put my clothes back on when you’re done,” a blushing Sora tried to argue.

Yoru considered the request. 


Sora sighed in exasperation.  He knew better than anyone that there was no reasoning with his stubborn counterpart.  “Fine,” he said.  “Can I go to sleep now?  I have to be up in…” He glanced at the digital clock.  “Two hours.”

It was hard for Yoru to believe that most of the night had already passed. 

Time.  There was never enough of it.  Never.

He burrowed his face in Ran’s hair and inhaled deeply, committing the smell of it to memory.  It would serve him well during his solitude. 

“Go on then,” he muttered. 

Yoru closed his eyes and tightened his hold on Ran.  No… Sunao.  Ran was gone.  Their moment had passed. 

He was back in his own world now, back to being the figment of an imagination. 

Until the next time.


The morning did bring with it one small consolation.

Yoru was able to witness the insane dramatics of the two boys when they woke up and found themselves naked and cuddling.  He was wickedly amused by the chaos of his own doing, smiling to himself when Sunao punched Sora and kicked him out of the bed. 

Somewhere, behind Sunao’s eyes, he was certain that Ran was smiling, too.