Andrew Moritaki perched on the bench, legs folded, fingering the red tip of his hair. His green eyes were thoughtful as he watched the street. The sun was setting in the distance, painting the darkening sky a watercolor of reds and purples. A light smile appeared on the Japanese-American's face: I hope that baka hurries up, he thought. He'll want to see this.

He had been dating the boy for close to a year now. It had been hard at first, hiding everything. His parents were frustratingly conservative, stuck in their own narrow definitions of right and wrong. Though Andrew had argued the point time and time again, his boyfriend had adamantly refused to ever back down on the topic. He was stubborn that way, always worried about what other people thought of him. Andrew, on the other hand, couldn't care in the slightest about such things. He was terrible on the subject of equality and individuality, and the pair had launched into many a vehement argument over it.

It almost drove them apart.

It had taken Andrew a long time to realize he was in love. Aa, Kami-sama! I'm only sixteen! His black hair, its ends dyed a bright red in contrast, fell over his emerald gaze, making it seem darker than it really was.

Tonight would be the deciding point for their relationship. Tonight, the boy had promised, he would tell his parents. Tonight Andrew would know whether it was destined to go any farther. Would his parents approve and give their blessing... or would they condemn and ruin their lives forever?

"K'so!" Andrew swore outloud, his singer's voice shattering the evening silence. "It's a damned soap opera."

He glanced briefly at his watch, then sighed. He's late. How strange for him too. Andrew couldn't count how many times he had been berated for being late... His gray-eyed love was definitely one for punctuality. A brief frown was soon replaced with a fond smile: He's so kawaii when he's angry, too...

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Andrew crossed his arms and watched the last remnants of the sun fade from the sky. Soon the stars would be out. To amuse him, he started to sing softly, his tenor's voice recalling the words and tune without much effort. It was an old song, old Japanese pop music from the 20th century -- "Iruyouni Aishiteru".

Loving as if Praying.

Andrew paused briefly in the song, savoring the words. Kami-sama, iitoshii. Where the hell are you?

As if on cue, something tickled the back of his mind. Andrew turned instantly, knowing what it was. God know how, but he felt it every time the boy was near. It was something... "Kia-chan?" he called out to the dark street hopefully.

It was a few moments more before he saw anything. A dark figure - charcoal black against the inky background - came into view, walking slowly towards him with gaze lowered and shoulders slightly hunched forward. There was no response, but Andrew knew it was him. He felt his chest tighten.

The first thing Kiador Parker felt was Andrew's hand on his arm. Instinctively, the youth pulled away, jaw tightening. It was getting harder and harder nowadays to protect himself from the things that happened with a touch. Gods, if he ever found out....

"Kia-chan?" Andrew's almond-shaped eyes were wide and bright with worry. "Kia-chan, are you-?"

His voice cracked: "No."

The surge of concern was impossible to block out entirely. "Kiador, what did they..." Andrew's voice trailed off as his slender fingers found what he already suspected. "Kami-sama, you're bleeding. Kiador, we have to--"

"I said, no!" Roughly, the younger boy pulled away, his head snapping up to reveal the sharp cut across one cheek and the liquefied depths of his gray eyes. The pair stared at each other in stunned silence, both of them nearing tears, then Kiador started to talk rapidly in a rasping voice.

"Frekking bastards, stuck in the dark ages... Can't understand anything... think they're so high and mighty, stuck on some high pillar, looking down on everyone.. Don't even listen... oh God... Never talking, don't care a damn about..."

Frightened, Andrew pulled him into an embrace, silencing the rant temporarily. "It's okay," he whispered into his ear, feeling his heart grow cold. "It's okay, don't... don't..."

As if he hadn't heard him, Kiador's eyes closed and moisture leaked out, mingling with the crimson rivulets dashing down his cheek. "I'm sorry," he rasped. "I'm sorry, I tried to.. I tried to..."

"Don't." The Asian youth silenced him with a look. "It's okay. It's gonna be okay. I promise. We'll figure something out."

But Kiador shook his head and pulled away, strands of black hair falling over his eyes. "No! You don't understand. They don't! They're stuck.. stuck.. Reactionary twits, they're stuck. They won't accept us... me... they're stuck..."

"Stop it! Why do you care what they think? For Kami-sama's sake, Kiador, look! They're idiots! You're right - they're reactionary twits stuck in some godforsaken dark age. Why do you care?"

For a moment, there was only stunned silence. Then he whispered harshly, "They're my parents, Moritaki. You'd feel the same if you knew."

Knew? Knew what? Andrew winced slightly at the use of his family name, then wrinkled his nose. "My parents don't pretend to be like the ancients," he muttered sourly, then looked up. Ignoring his companion's protest and the flash of fear in his eyes, he lifted a hand to touch the cut on Kiador's cheek. "Christ! What did they do to you..."

His response was unnecessarily cold: "Three guesses."

Andrew winced again. "Stop it," he commanded. "We have to think about this rationally. We have to..."

He stopped as he watched the color slowly drain from Kiador's face.

"Na-? What's wrong?" No response. "Kiador?"

When the youth continued to answer in silence, Andrew turned, following his gaze behind him. At first he saw nothing. Then there was a shift of movement and he made out a glint of metal. What the hell...

"No.." Kiador's soft cry drew his attention. Andrew looked to him sharply and felt his own face pale as he saw the fear and recognition in his boyfriend's eyes. Before he could ask, he felt a pressure against his mind. Like a hand closing into a fist, trying to drive him to sleep... Horror overwhelmed him as he realized what was happening.

He felt Kiador's fingers close around his hand and tug sharply. Suddenly his feet were slapping against the ground as he struggled to keep up the pace. Adrenaline propelled him forward, as did dread and fright. What were they doing here? What did they want? Was Kiador-?

A thousand questions screamed in his head, none of them answered. He could hear them, feel them, pursuing. Andrew wanted to scream, but he couldn't - every breath was precious.

That was when he heard the PPG go off.

Time seemed to slow. Everything was in slow motion. Kiador's midnight hair seemed to float, individual strands haloing the back of his head. His legs moved as if through thick syrup, pulling forward with the speed of a snail. Andrew felt something rise up in him - anger, perhaps, or hatred. He didn't know what. But he felt himself moving forward, felt his fingers slip out of Kiador's hand, felt his hands slam into the taller youth's back.

"Kiador, get DOWN!"

There was a flash of black and gray as Kiador was pushed to the ground with a startled cry. Then Andrew felt something explode against his back and he was thrust forward as well, feet flying out from under him, his face smashing into the pavement. The saltiness of his tears stung the corners of his mouth as he gasped raggedly and closed his eyes, the pain a tsunami of fire that spread across his shoulders and back.

"K-Kami..."

The photographs on a nearby table seemed to watch him all the while.