☆Wish Upon A Star☆

☆~Chapter 13~☆

Kiku stayed awake all night, sitting cross-legged on his bed and staring blankly at a wall in front of him.

The news had shattered him. He could compose himself during the day, but the shadowy veil of the night made the worry rise in his chest.

He was relieved to know that he didn't need to carry on torturing himself over his sexual desires towards his brothers, for Yao had never shared blood with him. But now the worrying deal was about telling Yao.

He had to throw a wrecking ball against the gentle pile of crystal lies Yao had built over the years; he had to destroy the story Yao had kept up to protect Kiku's childhood.

And it was everything but easy to do it. Specially because there was still a string of his heart keeping him attached to the hope for it to be Alfred's invention, a lie to humiliate him in front of Yao.

Kiku sighed, wiping his teary eyes and downing his socked feet to the cold marble floor. He had to tell Yao.

He hugged himself to keep both his strength and the thick blanket over his shoulders clutched close.

He paddled his way up the long corridors, staring at the gold and red that decorated the walls and the picture frames. Feeling the circles and seven-pointed stars that tiled the ceiling hovering over him. Waiting for a chance to crush him.

He felt his heart hammering against his ribs, the loud beats clouding his ears and numbing his senses. He took in a sharp breath when he noticed how much he needed the oxygen, not even daring to hold onto a wall for comfort. He knew that he wasn't welcomed in the Braginski's household. He knew that a stray rat would never be a pure breed cat's guest. At least not with good intentions.

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the transparent and translucent glasses that formed the windows, bathing the floor and showing Kiku all the beauty of a place which would never match him, the wicked perfection of a mansion he didn't belong to.

Just a few more steps. He watched the imponently tall doors of the now youngest Braginski's room stand proudly in front of him, almost mocking him and daring him to knock his knuckles on the rich wood and to lay his fingers on the gold handle.

And so he did.

With a gulp, he cracked a shakey knock against the door and took the handle to open the door.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

'We'll strike tomorrow at dawn. We'll lock Ekaterina in her room, just to make sure she doesn't mess our plans up, and Yao will keep Ivan distracted between his thighs, right, Yao? The power will go off and while Raivis distracts Sergey, the rest of us will get him and start the fun part of all this.'

Yao gulped, feeling the thick tears running down his face. His elbows resting on his knees, he sat on the edge on the bed, staring aimlessly at the floor. He clamped a trembling hand around his forehead to keep the sweat from getting in his eyes, trying to get a glass of water from the night table without dropping it in his shakey, sweaty hold.

He couldn't do this.

He didn't want to cooperate to kill a man. He knew that it'd be dangerous. He knew that Ivan would be a bloodthirsty leader after his father's death, but nobody listened to him.

He couldn't even listen himself, behind the muffled throbbing of blood in his ears. He sobbed and whimpered under his breath, as soon as the effect of the calming drugs that had helped him sleep faded, uncovering the anxiety and the panic building into his body.

He stared at Ivan's cold and empty side of the bed, thinking about how little time he had to think of a way to get out of the mansion after he destroyed the life of the man he once loved.