Just like old times (Saruhiko x Yata)

The Rioting Storm (p1)

Heyyo hoomans! So, this was my very first fanfic and I left it unfinished. I'm working on trying to get my motivation back, so I hope you enjoy:)

(I drew the photo above when I was 12.)

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The heavy storm quickly brewed into a riot, clashing against the city buildings and circling Shizume's dense population. The sound of the furious clashes and booms, flew throughout the city, reaching every nook and cranny possible. Light from the violent bolts, blindingly shown through the thin blinds of Yata Misaki's room. Each light was flashing brighter than the last and dispersed large shadows amongst the walls and ceilings of his tiny room. As Yata tried to close his eyes with every clash, he only found himself more awake. Rain pounded hard on the rooftop, producing a caged-like feeling in Yata's heart. His pulse, picking up its pace every time a wave of rain would hit the roof. He felt as if the ceiling would fall at any moment, crushing his small frame with ease. 

He curled himself up into a tight ball, blankets surrounding him everywhere you looked. This was the only logical way he could think of calming his heart rate. He began to sweat out of a cold fear as he shivered in place. 

Why was he like this? He was never like this. I'm a grown fucking man! he thought. I won't let a little thunder and lightning bother me! he convinced himself. Every inch of self-confidence he had built up, shot out of him in a flash as the thunder made it's loudest bang yet.

Yata shuddered underneath the blankets. What's going on with him? He could never feel calm when a storm arose - not anymore at least. He tossed and turned, desperately trying to find a second of sleep, but to no avail. He was too worked up. As Yata exhaled a long sigh of disappointment, he sat up, giving in to the thoughts of an endless night awaiting him.

 In the past he would easily sleep through these nights... but how? Yata dove into the deepest depths of his mind, trying to recall what the magic was, that helped him sleep.

As he tried to remember, his eyes wandered around the room. The numerous shadows of the wall only seem to make the room smaller. Following the on of the shadows, Yata eyes had been lead to a small picture frame sitting on his nightstand. As his eyes fixated in the darkness, he noticed the frame had been placed face down. Had he done that?

 As he reached for the frame, he paused, remembering what picture the frame held on the inside. Yata sighed as he reluctantly grabbed the frame to glance at the photo within it. The small picture frame held and picture of Yata Misaki and Saruhiko Fushimi. It was their first day being the red king's clansmen and the group took a picture as a memory.

Saruhiko.

When they used to live together, Saru would be there to comfort him. He would grab a blanket and curl up around Yata, cuddling with him to help keep warm, to calm him...

and to feel safe.

Yata always felt protected in his arms. Though they were never in a relationship, Yata yearned for his presence. He wanted to be able to drift off to sleep in Saru's embrace. He wanted Saru to be there when he woke up and when he went to bed. He wanted to make sure that Saru would never truly leave and that he would always come back...

but why?

Why did he have a desire to be within his grasp? Why did he want to be around such a putrid being?