left my heart in camelot. ♕ (choseri) wrote in starry_ink,
left my heart in camelot. ♕

As You Fade to Black (Fruits Basket, Yuki/Kyo, #24)

Title: As You Fade to Black 
Author/Artist: arizaki_shisaku 
Pairing: Sohma Yuki x Sohma Kyo
Fandom: Fruits Basket
Theme: #24 - Good night
Disclaimer: I don't own Fruits Basket.

written for 30_kisses 

Prompt 24 - Good Night

Kyo would never forget Yuki.

Kyo had never imagined a world without Yuki; had never deigned to even think about a world that didn’t have his Yuki in there with his bright smile that lit everything up, his sparkling violet eyes that never dulled, and his soft voice that swelled up with mirth as he spoke to Kyo.

Yuki was first in his class in every subject. He was the student government president, and girls and boys alike adored him for his soft, subtle leadership. As for Kyo, he was content to stand off to the side and watch as Yuki efficiently warded off fangirls (at the same time, ironically making them fall even more for him) and organized an event the student government was orchestrating with his usual smooth demeanor and fluid, graceful movements.

That was why Kyo could never picture Yuki falling victim to anything. Nothing could keep Yuki from his goal, even though his curse as the Rat in the Sohma family zodiac curse still prevented him from being in contact with a girl, and Kyo saw a huge bright shining future laid out for Yuki.

Kyo would be there every step of the way for his Yuki.

When Yuki fainted one day at school, Kyo thought perhaps it was because he had overexerted himself too much and has overstressed his bronchial tubes. Kyo had cradled the unconscious Yuki’s head in his arms and yelled at the people milling around Yuki’s still form to get away until Hatori finally rushed in and took Yuki from Kyo.

Kyo knew that something was very very amiss when even Hatori couldn’t cure what Yuki had and after hearing some whispers passed around the adults, Kyo heard that it was decided that Yuki would have to go to the hospital to be diagnosed, and he would have to be under very close surveillance lest a female nurse touch him and instead of the patient, a sleeping rat would be there.

Ayame cried at the pale, sickly face of his little brother and Kyo bit his lip and balled his hands into fists, and willed himself not to say anything.

A few weeks (or was it days?) later, the hospital came back with a report on one Sohma Yuki.

He had leukemia.

Kyo’s mouth immediately went dry when the stiff, dry-voiced doctor told Kyo, Tohru, Shigure, Hatori, and Ayame that one afternoon in the dimly-lit hospital waiting room after the doctors had finished running another barrage of tests on Yuki, and they had discovered leukemia.

The first thing that came out of Kyo’s mouth, though, was “How long?” He knew leukemia was fatal, but sometimes, after treatment, patients would live for a great many years…

The doctor cleared his throat painfully, and made sure to make eye contact with them all. “Yuki-kun’s leukemia is very advanced, and I’m surprised another hospital didn’t catch it. It seems like he has a history of fainting suddenly, which might point to leukemia. He has, at most, three to four months.”

The words sunk in like a heavy anvil on Kyo’s stomach, pressing the air out of him. Only three months, four if lucky. Three or four months to spend all of the time in the world left with Yuki before the soft-spoken rat was whisked away from them all.

The doctor was continuing to blabber on about how chemotherapy was an option, but it wasn’t recommended in such an advanced case like Yuki-kun’s, etc, etc.

Kyo couldn’t believe this. It was some kind of human error, because Yuki was too strong, too high-spirited to have leukemia—the fainting was only due to the weakness in his bronchial tubes, when sometimes Yuki couldn’t get enough air—

The doctor told the little group that they could come in to see Yuki-kun now, and Kyo stood up on shaky legs and was the last one to enter the room. All of his words of denial were thrown out of the window when he saw Yuki lying terribly still on the bed, his face too pale to be healthy, his breath labored in his throat. The only way Kyo could be sure that Yuki was even alive was the solid beeping of the EKG machine hooked up to his heart and the slight rise and fall of his chest.

Kyo wanted to rush over to the bed with its sterile, glaringly white sheets and shake Yuki’s shoulders on his thin frame and yell at the rat. He wanted to yell at the rat, and then Yuki would open fiery violet eyes and retort, and they would end up fighting again, and Yuki would win, but Kyo didn’t mind if it meant seeing Yuki up and the spark of life radiating within him.

Kyo was distinctly aware of Hatori and Shigure standing gravely in a corner of the small room, Tohru sitting by Yuki’s bed and looking utterly lost, and Ayame slumped into a chair opposite from the bed and bawling into his arms.

They all needed Yuki – the whole world needed Yuki.

The only thing Kyo could think of was what were they going to do?


“You’re awake.”

Kyo’s bland voice cut through the tense air in the hospital room with their horribly painted walls that Kyo had analyzed for hours and decided that whoever had painted them had no artistic ability at all.

Yuki smiled up at Kyo, almost dreamily, and Kyo’s heart fluttered for just a second to see familiar violet eyes crinkling into a smile, and if Yuki wasn’t hooked up to an assortment of machines and they weren’t in this hospital, Kyo might have believed that everything was okay.

Yuki tried to talk, but no sound came out of his throat. He feebly cleared his throat, before he began again. “What’s the final diagnosis? I was kind of awake, but I didn’t really hear much…”

The words lodged in Kyo’s throat but he forced them out into the open anyways, before wincing at the look on Yuki’s face and wishing that he hadn’t been so blunt. “Leukemia.”

Yuki’s face fell and he looked to the side, deliberately avoiding Kyo’s eyes.


“The doctor said three to four months.” Kyo felt like he sounded like a machine, simply spitting out the answers. Perhaps his explained why he shifted his chair closer to Yuki’s bed and clasped Yuki’s cold, pale hand with its long elegant fingers in his own tanned, calloused hands. Yuki’s hand unconsciously squeezed Kyo’s, and Kyo squeezed back. “But I have faith in you, rat. You’ll live this out.”

Yuki smiled up at Kyo again, and Kyo saw that weariness clouded the violet irises. Yuki had never been one to get tired so easily, and Kyo tried to tell himself it was because of the medication Yuki was on.

“I’ll keep that in mind, baka neko.”

Maybe, maybe, things could be back to normal.


Two months had passed and Kyo still held on to his belief, even if every day Yuki was slipping through the hands that held him tight and willed him to stay.

It was a chilly December afternoon, when Tohru was working and Kyo had rushed straight to the hospital from school. Yuki had never since returned to school since he had collapsed, but he still dutifully did the work Kyo gave him and returned it to Kyo for turning in to the teachers. Sohma Yuki might be in the hospital, but he still did his work.

The doctors milled around, talking in hushed tones about Yuki-kun’s treatment, and Kyo didn’t want to hear such disparaging thoughts. They thought that the treatment wasn’t working, but Kyo liked to believe it did. Yuki still laughed, even though he was bedridden and his face was always deathly pale.

“Kyo,” Yuki said that afternoon, and Kyo looked up from the math homework he had been doing, folded up into the one armchair next to Yuki’s bed. Yuki’s papers were scattered on the bed, and a pencil was gripped loosely in Yuki’s bony hand, but the rat wasn’t looking at the papers; instead, he was looking out the window, at the perfectly blue sky and the busy road with the rush of traffic.

“Have you ever given much thought to ‘us’?”

Kyo slowly set down the math homework and looked at Yuki. “Yes,” he admitted.

Yuki gazed dreamily off into the distance, his pale lavender hair a burst of color against the stark white pillow that his head lay on. Slowly, his eyes flicked from the window to Kyo’s face.

“Could there have ever been a ‘us’?” Yuki asked sadly. “We were…we’re still…the Cat, and the Rat. Akito would have deemed it impossible—”

Kyo’s angry voice cut him off. “There could have been, and there still can be, Yuki, you stupid nezumi. You’ll get better and beat the leukemia and then…and then, we can think about ‘us’ and not just you and me.”

Yuki laughed softly and slumped back against his pillows again. “But what if I don’t get better?”

Kyo couldn’t believe that Yuki even dared to think about that. “What are you talking about?” he demanded gruffly. “Of course you’ll get better, you’re Sohma freaking Yuki—”

Right around this time, Kyo had stood at Yuki’s bedside and he was talking, but his face was so close to Yuki’s that their noses almost bumped, and Kyo could feel Yuki’s cool breath on his skin. Right around when Kyo had been in mid-rant, Yuki had reached up with one fragile arm and dragged Kyo’s head down with surprising strength, forcing their lips to meet.

Kyo had sucked in a sharp breath at the contact of cool, but soft, lips against his own. His instincts told him to pull away, pull away, but his body didn’t respond to what his mind screamed at him to do. His fingers unconsciously reached to Yuki’s head and threaded through silky strands, at the same time pressing the rat towards him as Kyo kissed him back.

Kyo withdrew with one last nip at Yuki’s lower lip and pressed their foreheads together. Yuki’s eyes shone with happiness, and mirth, but deep down in their endless violet depths, Kyo saw a touch of hopelessness and then, deeper than that, acceptance.

“I think,” Kyo rasped, “We just crossed the border between ‘us’ and ‘you and me’,” before he leaned down and captured Yuki’s lips in his again.


The doctors had been optimistic that Yuki-kun was getting better before suddenly, too suddenly, Yuki took a turn for the worse and continued to spiral downwards. Kyo watched with frantic eyes as once, Yuki couldn’t breathe, and Kyo was shoved out of the way as Hatori and the doctors raced for him, and it was frightening experience.

The doctors shoved a breathing tube down the rapidly growing blue Yuki and Kyo could do nothing but watch from outside the glass window as doctors yelled and Yuki looked so pale and helpless on the bed.

Today had been the day Kyo planned to tell Yuki he loved him. But looking in as Yuki finally stopped twitching on the bed and fell into a fitful sleep, Kyo turned away and walked off down the hallway. Perhaps today wasn’t the day after all.


The doctors told the Sohmas (and Tohru) that Yuki was dying, which Kyo supposed wasn’t exactly a surprise since ever since Yuki had contracted leukemia, they had known it was fatal. But now, this was real, and the doctors said in a grave voice that Yuki could leave them at any time.

Ayame wobbled over to a chair and fell into it, and cried.

Kyo stood with numb legs. Yuki was supposed to be strong and fight this, but instead, the cancer had taken over, and the doctors said that it had now spread to his lungs.

Fight, Yuki, fight…


It was a cold, too-cold, January afternoon, and the rain was gently drizzling down the windowpanes of the hospital. In room 202C, Kyo sat with his head bowed over Yuki, who looked so small compared to the vast machines that bombarded him with various last-ditch treatments that Kyo figured wouldn’t work anyways, knowing these doctors.

Was it time to finally lose hope?


Yuki blinked open tired eyes and looked sadly at Kyo. The breathing tube was in his throat, restricting him from talking, but Kyo needed to talk to him; he needed to know the answers.

“Yuki,” Kyo murmured, taking the pale boy’s hand in his. “Blink once for yes, and twice for no, okay?”

Yuki blinked, and squeezed Kyo’s hand tighter.

And so time passed like this, Kyo asking simple questions, like about the great Christmas incidence a year ago, and Yuki’s favorite color (grey). Kyo felt like he didn’t know Yuki too well, and this, he declared, was his excuse to get to know Yuki better.

Kyo felt tears welling up at his eyes as Yuki gazed up at him adoringly, and Kyo wanted to memorize every soft curve of Yuki’s face, every angle, every shadow.

His lips brushed Yuki’s skin, as smooth as ever, and when Kyo pulled back, he felt Yuki gently caress the tips of his fingers.

“I love you, Yuki,” Kyo choked out, trying to read the reaction on Yuki’s face.

Rather, there was no reaction. Yuki simply looked up at him, almost serene except for the tears that were gathering in Yuki’s own eyes, and Yuki blinked.

Four times.

Kyo stared at Yuki’s face. “Was that ‘I love you too’?” he asked.

Yuki blinked once.



Later that night, it had just passed ten o’clock. The TVs were blaring on in the other rooms down the hallway, but in room 202C, the shades were drawn and a pale-faced Honda Tohru had just silently walked out and Kyo had taken his customary place by Yuki’s side.

He held up a stuffed animal, a small orange cat that a young Sohma Kyo had given to Yuki when they were six, and didn’t know better. Kyo had thought that after all of these years, Akito must’ve taken it from Yuki, but it was a pleasant, albeit bittersweet, surprise when Kyo had rummaged through Yuki’s drawers looking for clothes to take to the hospital and had instead found the neko stuffed between two pairs of neatly pressed trousers.

“I thought this had been thrown out a long time ago,” Kyo said. “I’m touched that you still have it.”

Yuki’s eyes were dulled in pain, but the corners of his lips still turned up in a recognizing smile before he winced again.

Kyo securely tucked the neko under the sheets next to Yuki’s trembling body. He placed cool fingers on either side of Yuki’s face, and kissed Yuki’s hot forehead.

“It’s time to go to sleep, Yuki,” Kyo said. It didn’t matter how much the words pained him inside, but for Yuki, it was the best (and only) way to go.

Yuki stared up at Kyo, tried to search Kyo, but when he found nothing, his body went limp and he labored to breathe through gasping, rattling breaths.

“I’ll miss you, Yuki,” Kyo murmured.

The rain stopped outside, and the clouds cleared to display a startlingly beautiful crescent moon, luminous and dipped low in the sky.

“Good night, Yuki.”

One last shuddering breath, one last soulful look, and then Yuki was abnormally still, and the heart monitor beeped out a sorrowful, flat cry as Yuki’s heart rate died.

Kyo pressed his head against Yuki’s warm, lifeless body, and cried for the first time since Yuki had gotten sick.

The doctor came in and started to unhook all of the contraptions that had sustained Yuki, just long enough for everybody to pay their respects.

But for Kyo, it hadn’t been long enough.

“Time of death, 10:32 PM,” the doctor said.


Kyo will never forget Yuki, his Yuki.


Well. That was some angst going on there. *coughs*
Tags: 30_kisses, angst, fruits basket, yukikyo
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