Here is Greenwood and all related characters are the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made. This story is the property of the author. Shounen-ai themes abound, folks. If that doesn't appeal to you, please return to the story page and find a gen story. Rated PG or PG-13. This is a direct sequel to "Taking Care." I recommend reading that before this one. ________ Validation Mitsuru didn't know how to describe the feeling that burned in his chest. It was like having something that was precious only to you, and then realizing that there was someone else who cherished it every bit as much. It was validation. Confirmation. Maybe just really good sex. Either way, it left him physically exhausted and emotionally high. He couldn't sleep. His mind raced at a hundred miles an hour, running the same few moments, the same few words, through his head over and over again until he knew them by heart, until they were permanently engraved in his memory. Eleven small words that had touched the inside of his heart. He yawned and blinked at the bottom of the bunk above him. It was 'his' bunk, but he rarely used it. When one was sick, or during one of their massively infrequent arguments, they would usually use separate bunks, but that accounted for only a few nights out of the school year. Before that mess with Misako, Mitsuru couldn't remember the last time he'd slept in his own bed. Although, he'd slept in it for a few nights afterward. He'd never have pegged Shinobu as the jealous type. Mitsuru smirked. Himself, definitely, but not Shinobu. Shinobu... His lover lay beside him, one leg hooked across Mitsuru's, his head cushioned on Mitsuru's shoulder. Soft violet hair tickled the side of his throat and a hand rested heavily against his lower stomach. Shinobu's warmth covered the entire side of his body, and left him wishing for more. That was the least of what Shinobu did to him. He moved his left hand down, until it covered Shinobu's where it lay across his stomach. It had been only a day since he'd been grabbed off the street by a couple of well-dressed thugs and hauled against his will across town to be dumped at the feet of a psychotic bitch whose grasp of reality had been somewhat skewed. She had treated him like a new toy, a useful tool, and when he'd refused to cooperate she hadn't hesitated to use every means at her disposal to force him to do as she said. Psychological intimidation had turned to threats of physical violence, which led to threat of... force... He ducked his head, burying his face in Shinobu's hair. He hadn't lied when he told Shi that he was unharmed, but it had been too close. What Nagisa had threatened to do, what she'd almost done... God, if the thought of it left him this shaky he'd never have made it through the real thing. Somehow he'd kept himself calm, had refused to tell her anything. Then the others had come and gotten him out of there. He remembered the furious look on Shinobu's face as he untied him, which had melted away into tender concern the instant their eyes met. He'd never felt more relief in his life than he had in that moment. And then Shi had helped him dress, tended the abrasions on his wrists and taken him home. He'd bathed him, calmed him, soothed his nerves, then loved him late into the night, until the last of the pain left his body and the fear seeped away. Mitsuru had been only too willing to lose himself in Shinobu, to warm his soul with Shinobu's presence, to ease his soul with Shinobu's touch, to comfort his body with Shinobu's own. To cleanse his mind and memory with their shared passion. He'd taken his lover in his arms, held him close. Shi had let Mitsuru take the lead in their lovemaking, reclaiming the control Nagisa had stolen from him, banishing the helplessness he'd felt. Shi had known exactly what he'd needed, and hadn't hesitated to give it to him. "Shinobu," he sighed, his lips brushing against his love's hair. Eleven words. So little, but enough to change his entire world. He still remembered their first months together, when they were both new students. He'd been an arrogant, argumentative troublemaker, afraid of being left behind and ashamed for the mistakes he'd made in junior high. Ryokuto Academy had been an attempt to make up for the mistakes of his youth, his chance at self-redemption. He'd come there angry at himself, and unable to accept the fact that no one else was. Then his roommate, a quiet, intense boy, a few months older than himself, had suddenly stopped being so quiet and quite happily began dragging Mitsuru into one batch of trouble after another. In the two months they'd been at the school Shinobu had somehow managed to gain a near total control over the student body. Mitsuru had been involuntarily impressed. They'd become friends, best friends, slowly learning to trust each other. Mitsuru had started to fall in love. He was still surprised at how well it had turned out. They were both stubborn and proud, Shinobu had an aversion to showing his feelings and Mitsuru had faced an almost desperate fear of rejection. It was the perfect setting for hurt feelings at best, total antagonism at worst. But Shinobu hadn't rejected him, and Mitsuru had found in his best friend an acceptance he'd never felt before. In the face of Shi's unconditional and absolute friendship and his gentle affection Mitsuru had slowly left behind his insecurity - well, most of it, he admitted - and had forgiven himself for the mistakes he'd made. But they'd never spoken of anything beyond that. They were friends - dear friends and both would do anything it took to protect that friendship. They were lovers, taking and giving comfort during their times together. They shared their strength and filled the empty places in each other. That was as far as it had gone. Love - romantic love - had never been mentioned. He'd felt it, of course, and every night they were together he made love to the beautiful, wonderful boy who had given him so much, but he'd never said it. Neither had Shinobu. Until, maybe, tonight. Eleven words, and a fierce depth of emotion that had filled Shinobu's voice and eyes and touch with the love he'd never spoken of. Last night, for the first time, Mitsuru had *known* without doubt that he'd made love *with* Shinobu, not *to* him. That knowledge, the feeling of ecstatic joy and pure love that filled him now was worth anything he had to go through. He'd willingly place himself back in Nagisa's control if that was the price the fates decreed he must pay for Shinobu's love. Oh, God, he'd do anything except let him go. He tightened his hand over Shinobu's and pressed his lips firmly against the top of Shinobu's head. "Ai shiteiru," he murmured softly, voicing the words he'd never been able to say to his lover's face. "Ai shiteiru, shi-chan." **** Shinobu held himself still, kept his breathing steady and even until he felt Mitsuru go limp with sleep, and the breath stirring his hair had slowed. He opened his eyes, staring down at their two joined hands, his chest heavy with the emotion that had flooded through him with those two whispered words. "Suru," he whispered hoarsely. It was about time *one* of them had the guts to say it. end