Naked. Everything about Him was naked.
People like Him just didn't exist anymore. Everything was hard and bitter, because in the end, who wants to be so full of hopes and dreams that could be crushed and taken away without a second thought?
Yuki hated Him sometimes. Hated everything about Him in a way that burned his very soul. Wanted to beat Him until he bled, just to show Him that the world wasn't a wonderful perfect place. He'd probably bleed stars and rainbows, but Yuki was willing to try.
He would dance around the apartment in socks and a t-shirt to the craptastic music He loved so much. Yuki would mildly tolerate it before retreating to his office and locking out the world. He would try and cook but manage to cut every exposed bit of skin on His hands and burn water. Yuki would bandage his fingers and think about kissing them, just to lap at His blood and see if it tasted of sunbeams like he had always imagined.
His unfailing belief that He would make it to the top, that He would surpass everything, that Yuki would one day love Him, that Sakuma would one day respect Him, made him sick sometimes in the middle of his chest. Yuki hated that he was changing. He hated that he was starting to think ahead to lazy Sunday mornings when the pink haired brat would cuddle into his side and trace patterns across his chest with fingertips so skilled from years of imitating Tohma on the keyboards.
His consistent determination that everything would work out, that everything was going to be fine was starting to spill over Yuki's carefully constructed walls, and he awoke in the morning thinking about bright violet eyes and cotton candy hair and of his dreams.
Shuichi was truly a god.
A/N: Only... Like, 3 months late. ;_; I fail, darling. I changed a little bit from when I sent it to you before. I hope you like the improvements. wonders if you'll even notice Comments are love, constructive criticism is appreciated, and if you find a typo for the love of god let me know.