A memory so fleeting it passed by before his eyes and felt it was a dream.

The carousel goes round and round and round...

A smile and a touch.

Omi Tsukiyono bowed his head and sighed.

* * *

"It's all circles," Omi said suddenly.

Ken Hidaka looked up from his morning coffee and blinked sleepily at him. Omi was staring out the window, chewing his toast slowly. He had a thoughtful expression. "Huh?"

"Circles," Omi said quietly, "like a carousel."

Suddenly, Ken was awake, his brain working somberly at the sad tone of Omi's voice. He reached out a hand to touch Omi's. "Some people break away from the circle, Omi. Not everything will remain as it is."

"I hate being in a circle," Omi murmured. "Waking up everyday and dying every night. I hate going around."

"But, Omi," Ken replied quietly, "you like carousels."

Omi looked up and Ken saw that his blue eyes were clouded with...tears? But Omi blinked and they were gone. And his voice had turned mournful again.

"Please, Ken, give me time," he said, and he pulled his hand away from Ken's grasp and left the kitchen.

* * *

The toy carousel tinkled a song as the little figurine horses went up and down and round and round. If Omi closed his eyes, he could see the lights again, the people, the noise, the hands that grabbed his clothes and pulled him, the palm that clamped over his mouth and stifled his scream.

He shuddered.

The carousel slowed to a stop.

Omi took another bite of the chocolate bar and chewed slowly.

* * *

"It was a long time ago, I guess," came the whisper in the darkened room. "I shouldn't remember."

"That's not true," came the quiet reply. "It's a part of you."

The pale body shuddered and huddled closer. Tanned arms welcomed him and he sighed, feeling content and restless at the same time. He wanted these arms. "Just like we're part of a circle?"

"I love you," Ken whispered, staring at the ceiling. "I love your everything."

Omi smiled, feeling tears prick his eyes. "Would you love a broken person?"

Ken's arms tightened. "I would love everything that you are."

* * *

"Where's the carousel?" Omi demanded.

The whole shop froze at the sound of livid rage in the younger boy's voice. There was complete silence as they all turned to each other uneasily. "Uh--" Yoji said, looking guilty. "Um--"

"Where's my carousel?!" Omi shouted.

"Omi," Aya said sharply, glancing at Yoji.

But Yoji stepped forward. "I broke it," he admitted, looking sheepish. "I was looking for some books in your room and I saw it. It fell on the floor and the tone wouldn't work anymore, so I threw it away."

"Omi..." Ken said, but he was not able to finish it.

Omi took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he turned to Yoji. His eyes were expressionless. "It's okay."

"I'm sorry," the older man fumbled but Omi waved his apology away.

"I said it's okay." He turned and went back to the greenhouse.

Ken stared at him.

* * *

Yoji entered the kitchen and found Omi behind the counter, a newspaper laid before him. But the boy was staring out the window. However, he broke his gaze and turned to smile at him when he came in. "Morning, Yoji-kun."

"Morning." Yoji went to the refrigerator and opened it, pulling out a day-old apple. "Got a good night's sleep?"

"Yeah." Omi was staring out of the window again.

Yoji closed the ref door and leaned on it uneasily. "Sorry about the carousel," he said again.

Omi smiled at him. "Don't worry. I just had it for sentimental reasons."

"Want to talk about it?"

The blond boy shook his head. "No, thanks. They aren't important. Even...even Ken doesn't know about it." He blushed when he spoke the name but he looked at Yoji's eyes.

Yoji turned the apple around his hand. It was red and smooth and luscious. Ready to eat. But he went to the sink and turned the faucet on, letting the fruit be washed by the running water. "Maybe you should tell him, Omi."

Omi gave a sad laugh. "And then what? Have him pity me? I hate it."

"Not everything is a circle." Yoji bit into the apple. The sweet juice ran down his chin and he wiped it away.

Omi looked at him sharply, but he visibly relaxed. "I know." He paused, then went on, "Aya told me...once. That memories are made of chocolate. Why?" He looked puzzled.

Yoji took another bite and munched thoughtfully. "Well, I'm not really about to partake into Aya's weird philosophies, but I can see his point." He absently scratched his chin. "Chocolate is just a big blob of brown coated with flavor. You either eat it or leave it there. But either way, you have nothing left, only a memory of a very nice and sweet taste in your mouth that only comes back when you eat another one." He shrugged. "That's why memories are nice to remember, but not to live. Because, at the end, you'll end up with one big nothing. Just a sticky brown blob that you have to clean up." He grinned.

Omi smiled back. "He's right, you know."

"I guess the guy can be right sometimes," Yoji returned, laughing. He raised his apple. "And, Omi?"

"What?" the boy asked.

Yoji nodded at the forgotten newspaper trapped by Omi's elbows. "Don't keep Ken in the dark, okay? Give him the benefit of the doubt. He wouldn't want to read it from a newspaper someday."

Omi gave a crooked smile. "I know." He paused. "Thanks, Yoji."

"Anytime, kid."

* * *

He watched the smooth figures of the solid horses slide up and down as the whole carousel went around. He heard the music, going on and on without stopping, the same notes playing over and over again.

"Why are you so important?" he whispered at the figure. "Why are you always so remembered?"

His fingers clenched inside his jacket pockets until he felt his fingernails dig painfully into his palms.

"I'm not your enemy," Ken said aloud.

But he didn't know if he was telling it to the carousel or to the figure of Omi who wasn't there.

* * *

It was raining.

Omi sat at the flower shop, reading. Aya was at the greenhouse while Yoji out delivering. And Ken...Ken had stepped out an hour ago and hadn't returned. Omi stared at the glass door again and sighed. He didn't even bring an umbrella. Where was he?

Then, as if on cue, the door opened and the chimes sounded. Omi instinctively stood, lips forming a welcome. But it died quickly.

Ken stood before him, dripping wet and holding the carousel.

"Ken," Omi uttered.

Ken gave him a small smile. "I thought this was important to you so I fixed it."

Omi blinked and, without realizing it, tears coursed down his cheeks. He began to cry softly. He stood before Ken and took the carousel from his outstretched arm and, with his free hand, held Ken's wet hand and pressed his lips on his palm. He heard Ken's sharp breath. The rain water mingled with his tears. It felt right.

"Thank you," Omi whispered. He didn't know why he was crying. Then, he stepped into Ken's arms and embraced him.

Ken closed his eyes and smiled.

* * *

Omi woke when he realized that his lover wasn't at the bed. He opened his eyes and turned slightly, and saw Ken's silhouette sitting at the edge of the bed beside him, playing with the carousel, winding it so it would play it's music and have the horses go up and down.

"You like it, too?" Omi asked, blinking sleepily.

Ken turned to him and smiled, running a hand over the lying boy's hair. "Yeah."

Omi let his lips brush at his palm and closed his eyes. "I was thinking...it's sometimes nice to be part of a circle."

"It's nice to be part of something." Ken cupped his face.

Omi grasped his wrist. "I love you."

Ken looked surprised, then pleased. He was blinking rapidly. "I love you, too."

"Come to bed," the boy purred.

"Just a sec." Ken turned to the carousel and wound it up again. Then, he returned to the waiting arms of his lover.

The carousel music tinkled on.

end