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𝟏𝟐 || 𝐑𝐄𝐃, 𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄, 𝐘𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖, 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 ||

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    It was just like any other day in December; the sky was blue, the weather chilly and cold, the sun high in the sky, people walking on the sidewalk with winter coats wrapped around their body's.

    But, if there's one thing Takemichi's learned since befriending Keisuke, it's that 'any other day' can quickly turn into a day full of adventures and excitement.

    Keisuke and Mikey never failed to rope the curly haired boy into their antics and borderline dangerous activities; it's not like Takemichi ever had the chance to resist or protest when they forcefully drag the boy by the shoulder or arm to wherever their interests lie. Their little adventures have also gotten the three of them in trouble numerous times, but that never seemed to hinder the two from coming up with more unique ideas to spend their day together.

    Today though, there was no Mikey—just Keisuke and that feral toothy grin of his.

    From his spot curled up on the couch, Takemichi startles at the sound of Keisuke throwing the apartment door open, entering Takemichi's home as if he owned the place.

    (A few days ago, Takemichi and his mother left the Baji's apartment to return to their own. Keisuke's mom offered to let them stay longer, but—to Takemichi's disappointment—his mama declined the offer.)

    It's strange; no matter how many times Takemichi locks the door, Keisuke always finds a way to enter his apartment without breaking the doorknob or punching a hole through the hard wood. Maybe he has a key or something? It would be even more strange if that turns out to be the case, but who cares? It's not like Keisuke's an intruder or anything, so he has nothing to worry about.

    Absolutely nothing at all.

    "MICHI! LOOK WHAT I FOUND!" Keisuke exclaims excitedly, his smile bright and face rosy pink from the cold weather. It's only when Keisuke reaches the small boy does he finally realize that he's holding something behind his back.

    "Hm?" Takemichi hums curiously, a spark of interest igniting his chest as he observes Keisuke rock on the balls and heels of his feet. Takemichi's small sound of acknowledgement causes the boy to grin ear to ear. Keisuke wastes no time in extending his hand—that was closed around a mysterious object—out to Takemichi's face. Then, very slowly, Keisuke exposes his palm, revealing a small, familiar, cardboard box.

    MATCHES?! WHAT?!

    Takemichi can feel the color draining from his face at the sight of those dangerous, man killing weapons.

    And Keisuke brought those man killing weapons into his home.

    Wait, no, that was the least of his concerns.

    Keisuke, his best friend who fights random kids out of boredom, the kid who constantly drags Takemichi to dangerous places, the boy who once happily confessed to nailing some random woman in the forehead with a stapler...

    He was in possession of hazardous matches.

    "Pretty cool, huh?!" Keisuke's voice snaps Takemichi out of his thoughts, the vision of a small kid rampaging around the town setting things ablaze keeps the curly haired boy's shoulders tense. "I found em' in the trash behind the convenient store when I was chasing this white cat," the boy explains with copper irises burning with triumph.

    Takemichi gulps nervously. "Those are dangerous Keisuke—They can kill people!" Takemichi stammers out. "You need to put them back-"

    "No way!" Keisuke interrupts, a frown making its way to settle on his lips. "I'm not gonna hurt or kill anyone with em'. I just wanna play with them for a bit—with you!!!" A brief sensation of warmth crawls up Takemichi's neck and face at the kind words, but vanishes the second he remembers the context behind those 'kind words'.

    "But Keisuke-"

    "We could use these to warm up!"

    "Listen-"

    "We won't even light anything on fire!"

    "I-"

    "We'll be careful—No one will get hurt!" Takemichi is unable to get a single sentence out of his mouth without Keisuke quickly turning his words to ashes with a hot searing fire.

    With a huff, Keisuke pockets the box of matches and reaches forward to grab ahold of Takemichi. The curly haired boy instantly leans away from his touch; Keisuke's face turns sour at the reaction.

    Before Takemichi could feel bad about avoiding Keisuke's wandering hands, something cold and clammy wraps around Takemichi's ankle and pulls. With a surprised yelp and pain blossoming from behind his head, the curly haired boy is brought to the floor. Tears begin to appear in the small boy's vision, making him sniffle and reach up to wipe away the salty substance.

    A tight grip around the boy's wrist stops him from doing so.

    Forcing himself to open his eyes (since when did he close them?)Takemichi meets Keisuke's amused gaze.

    Then, adding onto the amount of dread piling up in his stomach, Keisuke flashes Takemichi a fanged smile.

    (Even after being friends with Keisuke for about three months, the boy's attitude never fails to surprise him.)

    "What's the matter? Scared of a little fire?" Keisuke taunts menacingly and Takemichi fights the part of himself that desperately wants to shake his head 'yes'. "Cmon, you crybaby," Takemichi feels himself being pulled up by the wrist and, with trembling legs, he stumbles onto his feet. Takemichi blatantly frowns at the nickname Keisuke threw at him and tries to retreat his wrist from Keisuke's grip.

    He's, of course, unsuccessful.

    "...this is dangerous kei-chan," Takemichi mutters under his breath, barely loud enough to reach Keisuke's ears.

    Takemichi has seen too many fires; in his old neighborhood, there were plenty of trash bins kids would use as fuel for their matches, lighting the pile of rubbish into an intimidating flame.

    The feeling of Keisuke's cold hand is suddenly removed from his wrist. Icy fingers then lace themselves with warm ones.

    Peering up with tears rolling down his cheeks, Takemichi meets Keisuke's copper eyes, observing the fanged smile on his lips.

    "So? We're dangerous-er!" Keisuke exclaims with overwhelming enthusiasm as he tightens his grip around Takemichi's hand.

     Against his better judgement, Takemichi allows himself to be reassured by Keisuke's words. He wipes his tears away with his free arm and attempts to return Keisuke's smile with his own; it feels a little shaky, but it's the most he could manage at the moment.

    "...ok fine."

    With those words leaving Takemichi's lips, Keisuke cheers in triumph.

    Once Takemichi throws on a jacket that's two sizes too big for his small body, he follows Keisuke out the door.

    (After they stepped through the door, Takemichi somehow missed the shiny key that was latched in Keisuke's hand. Strange, isn't it?)

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Keisuke guides Takemichi through the sidewalks covered in snow to a secured location he and Mikey accidentally stumbled across while trying to look for spare change to play arcade games with.

It was a narrow alleyway etched between two rundown buildings; a large trash bin was placed at the entrance, successfully hiding the area from homeless people and random adults. In the bottom corner of the trash bin is a space big enough for a child or animal to crawl through, but small enough to stop teens and adults from entering.

Keisuke excitedly urges Takemichi to crawl in first, practically throwing the smaller boy towards the small space. Once Takemichi makes it through to the other side, Keisuke follows shortly after—wasting no time to comment or mention the horrible stench the trash bags were emitting from around him.

"Me and Mikey found this place the other day," Keisuke explains once he meets up with Takemichi again, settling down on the snow covered concrete beside the curly haired boy. Without looking at his companion, Keisuke rummages through his pocket for the box of matches.

"It's stinky," Takemichi comments offhandedly with a bit of a grimace to his voice. Keisuke can already picture the expression his friend was probably making; face scrunched up, brow furrowed, lips pursed together—y'know, something very cartoonish.

Keisuke finally catches the feeling of cardboard run across his fingers and heaves out a sigh, grabbing hold of the small box in his pocket. "I know, right?" He pulls out the box of matches. "It almost smells as bad as the music room!" Keisuke exclaims humorously, earning a giggle from Takemichi.

Without waiting for his friend's giggle fit to die down, Keisuke opens the box and scans the sticks that lay unused inside the package. He picks up a stick with two fingers, taking note of the red tip that sat on top of the matches.

Keisuke doesn't bother to comment on the small pitiful noise Takemichi makes from beside him. With the gracefulness of an elephant, Keisuke whips the red part of the match across the rough patch of material on the side of the box.

Then there was warmth.

A small flame sits at the top of the stick, a mixture of red, orange, and yellow dance slowly and elegantly together, hypnotizing the starstruck boy with its beauty.

Keisuke feels Takemichi shift in his spot next to him; the curly haired boy leans his body against Keisuke, causing the fanged boy to catch sight of his companion's awed expression.

And to think that Takemichi was against this idea in the first place.

"...it's so small..." Takemichi whispers, as if he was afraid his voice would cause the flame to disappear. Keisuke watches with amusement as Takemichi leans his face closer to the ignited stick; blue eyes glisten with fascination upon closer inspection and a soft smile works its way onto his lips.

Keisuke openly scoffs at the boy clinging to his side; bringing his free arm up and over Takemichi's shoulder, Keisuke's able to pull the boy in closer, and closer, and closer.

"You're so dramatic, Michi," Keisuke teases, making sure to drag 'dramatic' out a little longer to embarrass the smaller boy. It works, but Keisuke couldn't really tell if the redness of his cheeks were caused by Keisuke's words or the cold weather nipping their skin. "Nobody's hurt, you idiot. You need to trust me more," his reprimanding tone causes a childish pout to form on Michi's lips.

"I do trust you..." a feeling of satisfaction blossoms within Keisuke's chest at the confession. Takemichi suddenly perks up and exclaims excitedly, "look—there's blue in the fire!"

Turning back towards the flame, Keisuke barely spots the tint of blue that appears at the top of the burning stick. It was light blue one second, dark the next, and would momentarily vanish before repeating itself.

"Woah!" Keisuke's eyes light up in amazement at the unnatural hue and then turns to meet Takemichi's gaze. A thought crosses his mind upon making eye contact with his friend and he's unable to stop the flow of words that exit his mouth.

"Y'know, the blue in the flame kinda matches—" your eyes "—my mom's blanket! T-The one in the living room!" Keisuke utters out, thankful for the soft material that appeared in his mind at the last second. The last thing he needs is Takemichi laughing at him for saying something so embarrassing.

Blissfully unaware of Keisuke's stuttering, Takemichi nods his head in agreement. "Yeah, it kinda does!" His voice strangely relaxes the tension in his shoulders, causing him to heave out a tired sigh.

Then the flame went out.

Shit.

"What did you do?!" Takemichi all but screams into his ear, momentarily causing Keisuke to hear the sound of high pitched ringing. "You blew out the flame!"

A vein forms on Keisuke's forehead from the accusation while grinding his teeth together angrily. Why the hell was Michi getting mad at him?! He didn't even do anything!

"No I didn't!" Keisuke screams back. "It was the wind, you idiot!"

"No it wasn't! You were breathing too hard!"

"Breathing too hard?! No, you were breathing too hard!"

"No I wasn't, you liar!"

"I'm not a liar, you are!"

Takemichi's face is red and puffy from shouting and Keisuke assumes he looks the same way to the curly haired boy. Then, as slowly as a wave of water, Takemichi's body relaxes; the constipated look on his face gradually washing away. Keisuke observes the way those blue eyes gaze longingly at the small box in Keisuke's hands and the feral boy has half the mind to pocket them away, just to be petty.

"...you have more matches though, right?" Takemichi asks cautiously, his face uncertain and hesitant as he inches back towards Keisuke.

Keisuke, on the other hand, smirks.

"Yeah...but we should set something small on fire so the flame lasts longer."

Keisuke expects the small boy to protest and fix him with that nervous expression plastered on his face—saying something pathetic and stupid. What he gets instead is a look of stubborn determination.

"...we can use the trash bags."

The feral boy perks up excitedly, immediately throwing his arm around Takemichi's shoulders with a boisterous laugh.

Now that's a great idea!

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This was a terrible idea.

Takemichi gapes at the flashing red and blue lights from the other side of the dumpster; the sound of radios and walkie talkies going off every five seconds sends jolts of panic through the smaller boy's body.

Looking back over at the huge flaming pile of rubbish that stands out in the narrow alleyway, Takemichi's face pales at the sight of Keisuke throwing more bags of trash into the fire, sending sparks flying with a wild grin on his lips. Keisuke doesn't seem to notice the chaos happening on the street, too entranced by the dancing colors and swaying smoke.

Oh god, why didn't Takemichi keep his mouth shut when he had the chance?! He should've just kept his thoughts to himself!

Takemichi runs up to Keisuke and throws his arms around the boy, averting his attention away from the fire.

"KEI-CHAN WE GOTTA GO!" Takemichi exclaims frantically. "THE COPS ARE HERE!"

For the first time in three months, Takemichi witnesses Keisuke's face turn pale and sweaty; the feral look in his eyes completely disappears from existence and is replaced with something else: fear.

"E-Eh?! Why the hell are they here?!"

He can't ACTUALLY be serious right now...

Right?!

Takemichi throws his hands up in exasperation, gesturing to the huge ass bonfire the two of them created. "THE FIRE YOU IDIOT! THE FIRE!!!"

"Oh."

Keisuke's deadpanned response ignites the anxiety in Takemichi's chest, bringing tears to his big blue eyes.

They're doomed. What on earth is he gonna tell his mother?! Will she hate him?! And prison—Takemichi can't go to prison!!! He'll get jumped or worse!!!

Takemichi starts running around like a chicken with its head cut off, wailing pitifully into the warm air.

"WHAT DO WE DO, WHAT DO WE DO, WHAT DO WE—OWW!!!" A hard punch to his stomach stops Takemichi in his tracks. Takemichi collapses to the floor with his arms wrapped around his stomach, groaning in pain. Keisuke, his attacker, crouches down next to Takemichi—his sweaty hand patting the injured boy's back comfortingly. Takemichi tries not to think too hard about the fact that it was working despite initially being punched in the gut.

"L-Listen, ok?" Did Keisuke just stutter?!

Takemichi gulps and nods his head, completely put off by the feral boy's nervousness.

"They might not even be here for the fire! We can't just assume that—"

"Bzzt—yeah, a huge fire erupted behind this disgusting dumpster—Bzzt—but I'm already here! Why should I leave this to those lazy ass firefighters!—Bzzt—"

The loud imposing voice, from the other side of the dumpster, causes Takemichi to curl into himself—a whimper escaping from his lips.

"H-Hey! Who cares if it's about the fire!" Keisuke starts back up again, his tone shaky and gentle as he tries to reassure the trembling boy. "It'll be impossible for them to get around the dumpster! They're too big to crawl through that tiny space over there—"

"Bzzt—there's a small opening from the side to get past the dumpster—Bzzt—sure, yeah, of course I'll be able to move it aside!"

Now Takemichi's full on crying his eyes out as he presses his head into the cold concrete.

Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh—

"W-Wait!" Takemichi doesn't want to listen to anyone right now, he just wants to go back home into the comfort of soft blankets and his mother's warm embrace. "Michi—SHH—SHUT UP FOR A SECOND!" Takemichi cries harder and harder and harder into the ground; he doesn't know if he's doing it to spite Keisuke or because his eyes have no control over themselves. Probably the latter.

Takemichi doesn't react to the clammy hands forcing him upright by the shoulders, doesn't react to the words spilling from Keisuke's lips, and doesn't react to Keisuke's glassy eyes as he fights his own tears away.

What does he do, what does he do, what...

A sharp pain springs from the side of Takemichi's face, earning a gasp from the small boy.

Now he was reacting.

"Now are you gonna listen to me?!"

(Was he gonna slap Michi again if he didn't?)

Takemichi nods his head rapidly, wiping his snot and tears away with his oversized coat.

"Great, cause I got a plan...a good one."

...oh boy...

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Takemichi didn't actually expect Keisuke's plan to work.

But it did.

The plan was actually pretty simple: with Takemichi's oversized coat covering the two boys, they'd crawl through the small space when the man wasn't looking and Keisuke would throw an ignited match at the car's wheels, drawing the police officer's attention away long enough for the two boys to make a run for it.

And it worked!

Keisuke tells him as such from behind him, urging the boy to pick up his feet so they could get as far away from the burning fire as fast as they could.

With Keisuke's warm body pressed against Takemichi's back, the black