Warnings: TyBrln. Implied TyKa and TyHil. Shounen-ai / boyxboy / slash. Slight spoilers of season 1 and 3.

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. I am not making any money from this.

Author's Notes: This deals with certain points (about homosexuality, life and relationships) that are based on a very good friend of mine. It does ramble on a bit and explains one way in which a guy can discover their sexuality – what's noted for Tyson's perspective is all based on experience – but is not meant to be taken too seriously. It just flowed onto the page. It is not written to mean anything in particular, is not dedicated to us (me and my friend) nor is it supposed to be some kind of enlightening piece…its just a story (or rather a pairing) that begged my fingers to type. Enjoy.

Brooklyn's POV

It had been less than 3 months since that life changing battle with him. 3 months and my whole world feels like its crashing down around me knowing he isn't here.

I haven't got his undying attention.

He is no longer looking my way…

Pfft. Why would he? After all that hotshot talking, the truth is I lost…and I deserved to lose after hurting him so. And his friends. And from causing so much mess.


No no no that's not right.

Winning, losing…that's not important. He's not obsessed like I was. He wouldn't sell his soul to win….not like me.

What did he say again?

/Its how you play that counts as long as you give it your all no one loses/

I know a few years – scratch that – a few months ago I would have said that was the most pathetic thing ever! Well...probably would have just shrugged with a 'whatever' anyway. …but…now it makes sense. More than that I want to believe it.


I was distraught when Hiwatari beat me, why didn't I much mind when he beat me? And after I had completely given to Zeus as well…I shouldn't have lost…but I did…ah! There I go again!

This is how it's been for the past 3 months. I can't get that match out of my mind. No not the match…my opponent. Maybe, maybe if I'd accepted his challenge all those years ago things could have been different; he could have taught me how to really beyblade and then I wouldn't have had to have been so alone. We could have been friends, close even, instead of this nothing we – there is no we only me! – have now.

Damn it, what's wrong with me! Why do I feel like like—

Battling him those last few moments was the best most invigorating experience I've ever had. It was so different to anytime before. Even when his Dragoon swirled in that final time and knocked mine up and down to a dead stop; the force of collision wafting a breeze that blew his hat off and more than ruffled my feathers I couldn't help but feel…relieved, happy. I remember Garland said it really showed, and Crusher too…in my smile. They said they were surprised. They didn't think I could smile like that. I'm not sure I understand what they meant by 'like that' but I didn't care then, because right then he looked at me and nothing else mattered. With that one look and I swear proud beautiful smile I could feel my heart flying eve as it thumped against my ribcage. I understood then, everything he had said. He won, sure, but that look told me that he thought I had won. Oh not the match…no, against myself and Zeus…I had won the fight that really mattered that day.

"Good one dude, you did great!"

That means more than any title. I can't explain it really. Just knowing I made him pleased is the best feeling ever.

And the worst…?

…when he allowed his friends to lead him away. Then watching how he stumbled and collapsed from injuries I had given him, knowing as Kai caught him, as that girl fussed over everything…I didn't have the right to interfere.

But do you know what is even more unpleasant? It will probably make no sense (and I know he is all right, was in and out of the hospital apparently), but I have not seen one single inch of him in all this time…

I sort of feel, like my own attack is swallowing me whole while ripping my body to pieces in the process.

It hurts. I hurt. Yet I don't much understand why! It has got something to do with Tyson that much is obvious. Yet does this mean I like him, well of course I like him, who wouldn't but...Does it mean…I don't know...I've never been interested in anyone like this before. Until that match I had never really had a true friend to speak of before either; Mystel, surprisingly Crusher and even his sister have begun to show me what that is like, though I have not put as much effort into socialising as I perhaps could have. My mind has been too occupied with…other…things.

Lately I keep coming here to this spot where we first met. Just a little swing set that from the past has become a part of a small clearing all of its own. It has definitely matured since those times, with sakura reaching over the top bars and surrounded all by lush green in primetime summer. It really is quite serene. Plus not many seem to know of its presence within the park or if they deem it too far from the main drag; it would not surprise me if most just forgot there were two perfectly kept plastic-seats on chain-silver steel located in the midst of a little forest wonderland right here in their neighbourhood.

So calming.

It is nice to be alone and have something that is all mine – with him – now if only it was actually shared with him instead of simply imagined.


Tyson's POV

It has been awhile now, I haven't forgotten; just these things cannot be helped. It kind of did not register that all this time he has probably lived here, and I have simply never bumped into or noticed him again since that first fateful day. – fateful?! Nyah whatever whatever –

I've been thinking about this far too much – Oi!Don't sound so surprised! I get enough flack from those brunette friends of mine. Though I know Chief knows me better than he normally lets on. He would have to, or he would not have known what I was going to do to give Kai his second chance against Brooklyn!

Anyway, I really just forgot about it all until recently. I honestly had not remembered until after I had glanced at him in town the other day, as bad as that sounds. The dude was gone before I could catch up and that really sucks because he looked in desperate need of a hug. Oh and that's another thing; Hil happened to be with me that day and now she is all over it! She keeps teasing that the trees out back look 'sooo lonely' that I should give them some comfort or that I would 'cuddle' anything that moved if I thought it would make things okay. Which is so not true and totally stupid – trees don't move – I mean where does she get this stuff?! 'How-to-annoy-your-mates' magazines? Geesh…Oh and like I would hug just anyone! Come on!

-sigh – I'm getting far too worked up over this aren't I?

…Don't answer that.

But you know really, Brooklyn looked worse then when he was obsessed over winning, like the complete other end of the scale dude!

I was supposed to seek him out after BEGA was all over just to, you know, keep him company or whatever. To make sure he knew he wasn't alone anymore, but that didn't happen now did it? Idiot.

So now I bet you are wondering what am I doing?

Searching all over town to find him that's what!

…Probably going to apologise for just leaving him hanging like that too, though I have no idea what else should happen if and when I find that spiky orange head of his.

-why should anything happen? – Huh…there he is…and so still and…sad?


Brooklyn, for that was the lad swinging gently with the cool breeze, had gone unaware that someone had invaded his – their – personal spot. A young man of red, blues and stormy eyes without the inner turmoil to match, quietly brushing between the foliage that surrounded his haven. Orange haired and clothed in lonely white and blue, the former BEGA beyblader sat vaguely reminiscent of times long past; his head bowed, shoulders slumped with only one hand bothering to keep bodily balance upon the ever rocking swing.

Tyson, after long moments of staring, finally walked towards his friend hoping to discover what ailed him, while longing to bring the misunderstood angel close, hold him tight and safe and secure in the hopes the bad would all seep away.

It wasn't fair by any rights and he, the bluenette, had not felt such a…a thing since Kai on Lake Baikal 2 years ago. He had wanted to hold the lost teen then, to squeeze all the bad – or perceived bad – out of him. But Kai, his friend – and yeah he could finally say that and know for certain it was true – would never have allowed it then.

Would probably not allow him now.

That guy was far too headstrong to let anyone help him in such a way, unless unwittingly. But Tyson (and subsequently most others too) knew that if Kai ever happened to need a hand or a shoulder or an ear, likely out of all else he would go to him; his younger rival, team-mate, friend.

In a way the Japanese lad had waited on him, constantly trying to keep his attention – and succeeding, he didn't have to try so hard really, but then he didn't know that – in the hopes that something would happen.

But that feeling stopped pinning for the older blader ages ago. This time it wasn't about his strong former captain. This time it was about the misled almost abused young man in front of him.

He wasn't even sure when it had happened or if there was even a plausible reason…it just did.

He could not deny, especially upon seeing Brooklyn like this here, or back there in the street, how he was attracted to the lad or by how much. Oh he is not sure he would or you could call him gay, he had never really thought about it before, and then there was always Hilary. Everyone always made out how they were always fighting and getting on one another's nerves that that made them 'like' each other, or a 'couple', or even just a potential couple. That was all fine and dandy but, Tyson knew, while he knew he liked her as a friend and the thought of sleeping with her was not disgusting and he did have an interest in her…it wasn't enough. He knew he probably on some level loved the girl – might even have worked out if he had only realised this sooner – but to give up on his other feelings? He couldn't do that…and especially not when he had been harbouring those same feelings for longer than it had really registered.

Some whacked psychoanalyst or counsellor would probably say it was down to the lack of a strong female figure in his life, which the bluenette might grudgingly concede to, but at the same time this wasn't something you could just explain away. Pretty much like the highly cynical notion that love was a farce and in the end it was all down to the instinct of survival. Then again that didn't explain why the general population was so damn picky on whom they made love to, liked or even married, so maybe not.

Another thing was that it was well known in their society, many other societies and in a lot of religions that homosexuality and the act of sodomy itself was greatly looked down upon. It was – is – not an easy or seemingly straightforward 'temptation' to get into, yet…the blue-haired lad could not help it. He knew if he was to stay true to himself his other feelings would have to be accepted, even if they were never realised.

But then that would be a shame…


"Hey there."

"I've been looking for you."


"All day you know. Guess I should have come here first huh."

"Oh…yeah guess so." Brooklyn whispered. The two teens stared at each other, neither really knowing what to say.

Never one to stay silent for long though, Tyson tried to begin a sentence with 'so' only to trail off without purpose.

Brooklyn's head slumped to his chest; he wasn't sure why he was upset still. Here was the one he had been thinking of; fervently wishing to see again and now that the blader was stood not 5 feet in front of him he had become tongue tied and solemn. "S-So?"

Perhaps if Brooklyn had been looking he would have seen the expression of sadness and almost pain mar his companion's features just from looking and listening to his own melancholic state. Perhaps that sight would have spurred his own confidence into being…or perhaps merely caused a bigger withdrawal into himself.

The area was quiet. Too quiet. Yet what did either expect? What did they expect when one had only encountered the other in the dish, or on these very swings, and only once at that. In all reality it was only by some magnetic, compelling force (of compassion and hope? And not a little bit of the physical and spiritual) that drew these two together; to want to know the other.

The pair was largely strangers after all.

"Are you alright?"

Brooklyn's head snapped up like a robin's would in wary curiosity "What?"

"Sorry but you look…well unhappy" Tyson replied shrugging.

His companion shifted blue eyes to the floor as Tyson fingered the next swing, gently pushing it into motion.

"I-I'm sorry!" Brooklyn suddenly blurted out.

"Huh? Dude what for?!"

"For having no control and hurting you and –"

"Mate it doesn't matter. Seriously dude its fine, your forgiven. Okay?"

"…Good….You going to sit down or what?"

Laughing and grinning in a kind of breathy joy Tyson did just that. For several minutes (though it could have been longer), neither did anything except sit; pumping legs, their hair flapping in the light breeze as they swung back and forth in opposite oscillations.

"It's so calm here."

"Hmm. That's why I like it."

"Tyson…Would you have gotten mad at me?"

"Huh what do you mean?"

"If-If I had accepted you that first time. I would have kept beating you and then you would…"

"Would you have though?"


"We don't know do we? That you would have definitely won. Yeah you might have won each and every round, but I bet I could have given you real go. We could have learnt from each other…"

"I wish I had. B-because then maybe you, that is, w-we could have known each other…better" Brooklyn's voice teetered to a quiet stop as his agitation reached a peak.

Immediately Tyson stopped swinging, comprehension dawning on his tanned features "That's why you are so depressed isn't it." It was a statement not a question. "Because we didn't become friends sooner?"

"We're not friends…" he whispered in an almost hopeless voice.

"Sure we are."

"No we're not," Brooklyn continued in a firmer tone "I barely know you and vice versa and we have only ever met twice and –"

"Brooklyn. Do you want to be friends?" /Though I would love to be so much more than that/ Tyson contemplated.

"-yeah I – I would…if that's what you want?" he said in a rush. The orangey haired teen had also stopped swinging, head down again and eyes turned to look almost pleadingly at the other, unknowingly contemplating the same thing.

"Of course it's alright! I want to too."

"You – you do? Really?"

….and that was all it took. As the spiky orange headed teen poured out his ache in a voice which spoke volumes of insecurity, even as it broke in disbelief and hope, Tyson found himself unable to hold back anymore. Ignoring the niggling teasing that sounded suspiciously like Hilary, he pushed off and wrapped his sitting friend in an all encompassing hug.

"Yes. Definitely." He fiercely exclaimed all the while thinking he was an idiot for leaving his friend alone for so long. /And now he's all hurting and…stuff?/

/Stuff? Very eloquent./ a sarcastic voice which sounded strangely like Kai chastised in his head. The bluenette was beginning to think he was going crazy hearing all these voices inside his mind.


Neither could say how long Tyson stood there holding Brooklyn still sitting, nor who moved first. Perhaps it was the impatient push of the wind and the sudden noticeable shift of the recently vacated swing that caused the darker skinned teen's left hand to suddenly thread itself into reddy-orange locks.

The effect of which was instantaneous.

Like a cat purring in calmed satisfaction, Brooklyn relaxed almost limp like into the other's embrace while leaning, ever so slightly, into the pure affection being given.

It was soft, thick and tickling on Tyson's palm and fingers; strands displacing as his fingers splayed through, over and under his head of hair. Just as the genius young man got that vague sense of an itchy scalp he lifted his head, half hoping his caresser would increase the scope of stroking and half to see the soft-eyed expression he somehow knew would be on the other's face.

Tyson's other hand joined the left with longer pets moving from fringe to nape, generally mussing the redheads multiple strands up. Anyone walking by might have got lost in the tranquillity the two silent males radiated; their eyes connected without words or purpose, arms barely moving in their little sunlight haven compared to the wider world around just beyond them.

But like any perfect moment it had to end. There would be no reason for tomorrow or tonight if all their doubts were to fade and their universe to be utterly complete – if that screeching seagull overhead had not disturbed them.

There was no rush though. Both would freely admit to loving each others touch while wishing for said touch to linger for as long and as often as possible.

Faintly though happily smiling; a caress to a face, a squeeze to that arm there or that little expanse of skin there was like some silent code communication of reassurance and beginning only they understood with clarity. In that moment something had begun that neither thought possible yet had not dared not to hope for, for the sake of their hearts and their sanity.

Not that any words were necessary. Not even the small, terribly gentle kiss was required, although the misleadingly cold shiver visibly running through both probably helped set things in mind.

With the world as it was it was unlikely they would last forever, yet the two knew they would be an experience and healing remedy to remember long into the future, particularly when Brooklyn forewent his inherent shyness to grasp Tyson's hand, drawing him away to the cliff top. Tyson subsequently dragging him down by a wind battered boulder for a long – still too short – night under the stars. A night enveloped in body warmth, cold shivers of touch and tingling hot lingers of mouths.

The swing set in the distance still swinging in memory, silently begging for another pair to play.

The End.

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