Participants: IC Zero.
Rating: NC-17 aka NOT WORKSAFE~! RAPE UNDER THE CUT! DAH! ...And also, it's not edited...well, not that much anyway.
Comments: Para-style RP; Uh, Tori don't hurt me. Please. I just figured I should post it, well because.....uh, I've started a log with Sora~ And everyone knows about it already, and...*wibbles before walking away*
Tugging on his hair gently, Natsuo looked up and a little sideways at his companion. It was windy tonight; no clue why. It'd been clear skies for the past two days or so, and it still was. Just... biting wind, swirling around the fighter’s legs, tugging the thin boy this way and that. His jacket's collar nuzzled up against his jaw-line, the red-head slipped his arm into the crook of Youji’s.
And as though the wind had pulled the red-head away, Natsuo’s hands left Youjis arm without a sound. Any small sounds were covered by the howl of the wind, confirming that a rustle of clothing would not give away the the fighter’s whereabouts.
A loud crack and a thud from the alleyway. Struggling against the grasp of two larger men, Natsuo managed to get one of their companions in the jaw with pretty powerful kick. Arms pulled back hard, another one yanked back his hair. "Huh, you're a looker aren't cha, little girl? Pretty tough, too." The guy laughed and yanked hard on Natsuo’s hair, exposing his throat to the slightly sheltered elements in the alleyway. "She got a purse on 'er?"
Lewdly pressing in too close, bloodied lip dribbling over the fighter’s white neck, the one with a crooked nose remarked, "Boss, doesn't feel like a she from where I'm standing..."
It all happened too fast.
One minute he was quietly listening to the shrill wind, absently taking note as each gust struck his form. Pretty strong... It was him and his fighter, simply taking a stroll, forsaking the empty apartment that was their home. A simple stroll in some random area on a rather windy day.
Long strands of pale, turqoise hair were slicing across faintly flushed cheeks, then warmth, which he promptly succumbed to.
And then, the warmth was gone.
Youji blinked, but before he could completely turn around to see where Natsuo had gone something large latched onto him, clamping onto his mouth. Instinctly he bit whatever it was on his mouth, and was rewarded a loud, startled yelp, followed by a blow to the face. Befuddled, the boy teetered a bit, spitting out a bit of blood before eventually managing to focus on something clearly.
There was his fighter. And two men. Grabbing at him.
The boy started, however once again subdued by that force again, another guy, locking him in a choke hold. "Hey!!"
Green eyes flared at the sound of his sacrfice’s voice, the red-head’s hopes that Youji had managed to get away were thrashed. However, the pair had the advantage in the situation: they could use spells. Everything would be alright.
“BREAK!” Came the strangled cry from the fighters lips. And then everything froze, split seconds after the word was uttered.
Nothing happened. Not one of the men faltered.
“It looks like we got ourselves a crazy one fellas.”
It should have worked, it was a simple spell, it wasn’t constricted to battle-only use. Why the hell didn’t it work?
“BREAK! BREAK! BREAK - GODDAMMIT BREAK!”
Still, no result.
Breathing a little ragged, the thin boy continued to struggle against his captors, what else could he do? He and Youji were just children. And they were facing four grown men. Natsuo felt disgusting with the hand in his hair and the bodily fluids that were, no doubt, trailing and staining his shirt.
A sickening chill sliced down Youji's spine as he witnissed his fighter endeavor yet fail to cast a spell.
What the hell was going on?
"Urrgh!" the youth suddenly started when he felt clammy, calloused fingers up his shirt and against his stomach, and he began to flail and buck against his prisoner, clawing fiercely at burly arms. "Fucking faggot! Get your fucking hands off me!!"
This doesn't happen to them. They were always the tormentors, this doesn't--
"Maaa~" yet another walked up to him, nodding to the man who held him captive. "This 'un's mighty fiesty, too. And a bad mouth, too." He grinned at Youji. "What're two little kids doing out in place like this, eh?"
Youji growled and spat at the man, to which he received another blow to the face. He had to bite his lip to keep from crying out, it.... hurt.
Great time to actually start feeling shit; he didn't want these stupid thugs groping him up like this!
Keep cool, stay at the top of your game, stay at the top..
Shock settled in, and an attempt to mutter Youji's name died even before it formed in his mouth. It was fear mixed with contemplation, what to do? what to do? what - to - do ?
A hand up his jacket, running along his side, to his stomach. Stay calm, Natsuo. Stay calm. Just wait for one of them to loosen up and you'll be just fine. The guy with the crooked nose was leering right in his face. He smelled like refrigerated cigarettes. Grabbing Natsuo, the thug made an attempt to kiss him, his crooked nose brushing against the fighter's cheek. Turning away sharply, the man yanked him back. Hissing inwardly, raised a knee, getting him right where the work was going down. The thug backed down momentarily but backhanded the red-head like no one's business. To the point where Natsuo very well could've been ripped from the grasps of the other man if he hadn't had him so tight.
Letting his head drop, the fighter worked his jaw a little. He felt the hand in his hair trail down his spine. Jerking against his captors again, he was greeted with another slap, just as hard. Head dropping forward, Natsuo winced, and managed to lift his head a bit, Youji came into focus. Blood was staining the corner of his sacrifice’s mouth. Natsuo seethed, these fuckers were so dead.
Natsuo realized he had to at least open his mouth. At least he hoped that would start the process. "As you can see..." He began in bitter words, "My companion would much rather...not be in your presence..." A wicked grin, brain begging to work. A step closer to the mayhem. "So perhaps we could begin to putting and end to this sad show? It'd be much appreciated."
"Eh, what th' hell are ya talkin' about, huh?" The guy who had struck Youji eariler, a short one, turned around to face Natsuo. He leered lustfully at the young boy. "No way we're lettin' you gems go without some entertainment~"
Youji stirred, he was getting dizzy from the rough hold on his neck, and staying calm was really, really becoming less of an option. These punks were apparently scum; no way they'd compromise with some kids.
For the moment he was mostly still, save for the occasional writhe caused by rage and digust. Scaly hands brushed against his smooth skin and he bit his lip harder, a smoldering glare staining his usually delicate face. "Kill" repeatedly flashed through his brain, they were definately gonna pay. And they definately were not going to make "entertainment" out of them.
The boy turned to his partner, noticed the blood on his face. He wriggled against the man at the sight, huffing. Then the short guy did something.... like make a signal or something, whatever it didn't look good. "Nnngh!" He jerked again when the man had approached Natsuo, taking the boy's face in his dirtyunworthydon'tyoudaretouchhimyoubast
A shudder at the feel of thick digits tangling themselves in his hair. He felt sick to his stomach. "Ugh... get your... stupid hands... off me!!" A rough jerk to the face. Wet, slimey, repulsive lips pressing themselves behind his ear. Damnitdamnitdamnitdamnitdamnit...
Natsuo yanked particularly hard and managed to free an arm before immediately railing one of the gangsters in the face, pulling himself out of the grasp. But there really were too many of them; and though they weren't much for speed, they were too strong. Far too strong. The fighter found himself flung against a wall, hard. Slumping over a bit, he clutched his stomach, one of the thugs had punched him there, he felt like he was going to be sick.
The two men that were holding Natsuo then moved, they were going to join their buddies, Natsuo, it seemed, was forgotten. It seemed that it didn't really matter if Youji was a girl or a boy. These gangsters apparently hadn't gotten any violent rape in a long time and were particularly desperate for it.
He wanted to be sarcastic and snarky, wanted to say something that would probably get his face cut right off. Instead, he stood up slowly, using the brick wall for balance, “Leave him the fuck alone!” lunging out he twisted the one of the thug’s arms, the same hand that had punched him.
The thug was bulky Strong. But not much speed. Too much muscle and not enough elasticity. The twisting of his arm hurt like fuck because of his lack of flexibility, but it didn't really seem to matter. Pulling out a knife, the thug spun to face Natsuo again.
Youji's eyes widened at the sight of his fighter being assaulted, and began thrashing wildly. Eventually another guy had to hold him down, but the boy kicked and flailed so much he could barely close in.
"Hey, kid, calm down, why don't'cha, don't wanna get hurt...." The man tried to latch onto his feet, but only manage to receive a direct kick in the jaw. He swore and stumbled back, then reeled around to return the gesture. The youth winced, teeth digging into already bloody lips, and shut his eyes tight, but opened them.
He could just hear Natsuo's voice, shrill, pained. He was used to the boy being calm and passive. Not this. This was fucked up. This was very, very fucked up.
With a new surge of energy, Youji screeched and resumed his struggles, then dropped his head forward to slam it back full force into the other guy's head. The monstrosity luckily let go, groaning and clutching his crown, and the lavendar-eyed boy tried to scramble off to rescue his partner.
Unfortunately, by then, his other subduer had a hold on his feet.
Small body tipped forward, thudding against the ground with no means to break the fall. He did his best not to make any sound of weakness, but it didn't help with a heavy foot crushed against his skull, as if trying to grind him into the ground. More weight held his legs down, straddling his back. Lavendar eyes flickered with tiredness and pain, the fire ready to go out, and he exherted some strange noise, breathing was hard.
Suddenly a hand clutched his scratched and dirty chin, lifting his head up for him to see Natsuo. "Come on, you gotta be a good little boy. Or girl. Whatever." A low, thunderous voice chuckled from behind, and he felt hands groping his body and pockets. After a short pause the man who held his face shook him a little. "Oi, don't you wanna watch your friend get fucked 'til kingdom come? I bet you'll enjoy that. Won't you?"
The knife. That's what Natsuo wanted, the man's knife. If speed was the case then the fighter decided he should try to kick the man. Kick the man, twist his arm, daze - confuse and pull the knife away. Which was what he attempted. He hoped thick soled boots did the trick.
All that mattered though was the shiny blade and the writhing boy on the ground. Those were the only two things he needed in life at that point.
A kick to the shin sent the thug to his knees. "Hey man, what the f--" And the knife was gone. "...Fuck."
Natsuo felt the dead weight. Knife. Beautiful. For good measure he stabbed the thug in the leg, just to see what the knife felt like. Light-Heavy, Cold-Warm. With it in hand he turned to the others, the ones atop Youji
"Excuse me, but I don’t think I’d mind if I got a try." A grin as he held up the knife. He wasn't the type to come in unanounced, that was definatly not his job. Of course it meant he would probably get stabbed in the face - but he liked the thrill of that. Swaying slightly, he tightened his grip on the knife, bracing himself for what was to come.
Only one of them even pretended to hear Natsuo; the one that had been holding up Youji’s chin. "Don't worry guys, I'll take care of this shit and we'll be back to having fun..." Not noticing the blade, not noticing his wounded comrade, the thug lunged at the red-head empty-handed, launching all his weight in one direction.
A barely audible whimper.
He was glad that he wasn't completely aware of feeling, it was sure to be a hundred times worse.
Of course, nothing hurt worse than his insides.
Youji gasped when that excruciatitng pressure was finally gone from his head, squirming with all his might and gulping desperately for air, only to get slammed back onto the gritty asphalt. He grunted, ribs aching, this fucking whale was killing him. "Uuu... uu..." Chest painfully endeavored to heave in and out, quickly growing dizzy. His eyes fluttered, barely seeing the shorter thugh approaching Natsuo along with the other man.
Another fit of squirms.
Another airy gasp.
Hands had found the fly of his pants.
Natsuo held the blade out from his stomach as the other man lunged into him. Pity, he thought, Pity you'll never get to feel Youji’s warm insides. He hoped at the very least the thug would land into the knife and he could shift it through his belly, eliminating somewhat another one. Of course he didn't expect to fall somewhere in that equation, which was what happened when the thug threw himself against him. There was a sickening crack when he hit the floor, low moans and all. Still, he hoped he had at least done some damage.
The thug barely twitched after he fell on top of Natsuo, his face a mask of confusion. What the fuck was that sharp pain in his stomach...? The thug lay heavily atop Natsuo, the knife still deeply lodged in his stomach. The thug coughed. The first who'd gotten stabbed in the leg was beginning to get up. Natsuo knew he better hurry if he wanted to get out, but his body it seemed, wouldn’t function properly.
Flexing his fingers, the fighter made an attempt to get out from under the hulking weight of the man atop him. He only succeeded in moving the body an inch, before his arms gave, and it fell ontop of him again, the knife’s hilt digging into his side. Disgusting.
"What the...." the burly man pinning Youji murmured. The only standing one rushed towards the heap on the ground, stepping on Natsuo's chest to keep him on the ground, and sat the wounded man up to see the knife lodged in his abdomen.
"..... Well, shit..." He shoved the writhing hunk off the boy, yanking the blade out in the process, then motioned for the crooked-nosed man towards him. The other rolled their boss away as the short one slid his foot to the boy's neck, pressing down all his weight and making sure to be out of range of any unruly attacks.
Oh, he was short, smaller than the rest, but definitely strong, cut, agile. He had these kids in a bag. And no more mercy for them.
"Naaa, I guess you don't value your life much. We woulda left ya unhurt maybe if you been good, but trying to kill us is a very naughty thing. Very naughty." He wiped the blood off the knife on his soiled shirt, then made another gesture and his partner straddled Natsuo's hips, pinning him down by the shoulders "Ya gotta be taught a lesson."
Youji groaned weakly, feeling his energy depleting. He wasn't getting enough air and he was almost certain some bones were crushed from the enormous weight on his back and head. Suddenly he felt his head snap up, wincing at the roughness. "Oi, look what your buddy did. He's about to get it real good. The little fucker." A thick, horrid laugh.
The boy paled, huffing in unveiled panic. He couldn't move. He couldn't do anything.
It was suddenly very hard to breath, Natsuo had barely enough time to register what was happening to him. Green eyes frantically looked around and spotted Youji, eyes half relieved that he had gotten some of the attenion off his sacrifice, and half pleading for the other boy to help him somehow.
The fighter thrashed, trying to get a hand free so he could tear the fuck on top of him apart. He was getting his dick out, wanking it like he was gonna stick it somewhere. Not in Natsuo’s mouth. Nuh-uh. That shit was getting bitten off if it came anywhere near him. The red-head almost smiled. THAT would cause a distraction. The inner smile faltered as he felt the gangster rubbing up and down his thighs.
Screaming. Yeah. That's what he wanted. Natsuo wanted, to fucking scream his lungs out to the sky but all he could do was let out that half scared, helpless, blue-tinted whimper of his. "Please... no..." Overpowered; slightly hurt; completely helpless. This wasn't a situation Natsuo was used to. Control. He was used to controlling reds and the state of everything in disestablishment.
He hated it.
Foreign, repulsive hands were stroking his inner thighs, body crushed to the ground, and head forced to face the direction where his fighter was being taken advantage of.
He could barely utter the other's name.
The word weak plagued his mind continuously, and he hated being weak. Absolutely abhorred it.
But here he was, subdued and helpless and overthrown and useless and weak.
It was driving him so mad he felt he could scream.
A loud, broken one at that, followed by a renewed fit of struggle.
"GET THE FUCK OFF HIM!" the youth bellowed at the top of his lungs. No way was he gonna let this happen. No way nowaynoway. The large man stirred at his antics, trying to pin him completely on the ground again, but Youji fought back with all his might. Futilely, of course, but nonetheless.
"GET YOUR FUCKING DIRTY HANDS OFF OF HIM, YOU FUCKING FAGGOTS!" His voice was giving out. He expended too much of what little energy he had. "I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU IF YOU DON'T!" Spit was flying out with each thick accent. His head was slammed back against the pavement, and he released another frustrated scream. "FUCK ME!! FUCK ME, YOU STUPID FUCKING BASTARDS!!"
.... Silence. The words sunk in. He was panting harshly.
“Goddamn, why s’everyone so fucking self sacrificial these days?” A deafening pause, then the shortest gangster started again. “Well, I s’ppose if y’want it that much, we can’t deny you.” With a wave of his hand, he called off the thug that was assaulting Natsuo. “Hear that punk? You’re ladyboy friend is going to be fucked senseless, and y’gonna be watchin’ the whole damn thing.” Increasing the pressure on the red-head’s neck, he turned Natsuo’s face so the boy would have a clear view of the happenings. Arms that were now free snaked up, trying to get rid of the force that was holding him down. The boot pressed down harder. “It’d be a shame if I had ta break your pretty neck, so be still and watch.”
God no, YOUJI!
Terror slowly seeped into the fighter’s body. This could not be happening. It shouldn’t be happening. He wanted to so badly to close his eyes, and pretend that it wasn’t, but he couldn’t. Natsuo froze completely, finding himself unable to even blink.
A low hum rumbled from behind him, followed by some slight shifting. "Wow, so kid's an eager fairy, after all..." Footsteps steadily approached him, and a soiled foot nudged at his face.
"Hey, man, let me do it."
"Nah, man, you gonna have t'wait your turn. He's 'prolly a cherry, too."
"Heheh, you should check."
Youji groaned lowly as he felt the man's great weight leave his back, only to feel his shoulders pinned against the ground and his pants slipping down to his ankles. Instinct screamed for him to fight, bite, thrash, whatever it took to get away, but he didn't want the risk of them turning back to Natsuo. Taking the fall wasn't so bad, as long as Natsuo was okay…
"Now he's playin' nice," the large thug remarked as he lifted up the boy's slender hips, somewhat amazed that he was complying so readily. "I guess he really does want it. No problem~" Two rough fingers ran along Youji's bare bottom, searching and finding, and, with little warning, digging inside.
The youth flinched horribly, releasing some strangled noise, and reflexively shied away. It hurt, it felt and it was disgusting. And it hurt. So fucking bad. He didn't know how to place it but he wanted it to go away, wanted to at least be unaware that this guy's fucking finger was inside him.
He then felt his face being lifted up, writhing and squirming at the intensifying ministrations, eyes shut tight. "Yeah, s'a cherry, all right…" The crooked-nose man chuckled. "Y'like that, you lil' punk?" Suddenly, the guy crushed his lips against Youji's, thrusting a thick, slimy tongue in his mouth.
No. No no no, this wasn't right-- FUCK--! Natsuo was disgusted. At himself, he was allowing himself to sit back, and watch this happen to his sacrifice. It was pitiful. At Youji, since when was his partner allowed to take the fall for him? They were supposed to go through everything together. And at the gansters most of all, those bastards didn’t deserve to live.
"YOUJI!" Natsuo cried out, voice hoarse, and breathing growing more labored. Unintelligible hysteria follwed the name, it bounced across the brick and plaster of the alleyway, echoing back to the overflowing dumpsters, howling from effect of the wind. Too many unformed tears cried to the inside.
At the sound of his name-and at the fingers suddenly slipping out-,Youji winced, teeth sinking into the other male's tongue. The thug screamed, pulling away quickly, then spat out a chunk of blood before punching the boy.
Blood dribbled from his own mouth, along with a bit of bile, he felt so sick. Arms gave out, and he almost dropped back to the ground, but the man before him clutched onto his chin, shaking the boy violently.
"Hey, what th' hell are ya tryin' ta pull?" he growled, still nursing his tongue. He spat again, giving Youji another smack just for good measure. "Don't think ta pull somethin' like that again." He nodded to the larger man, "Hey, show 'im a lesson."
The other grinned. "Tight as a straw~" he sing-songed, giving no preparation except towards himself, granting Youji a small squeeze on the hips before shoving his length inside the boy, letting out a thick, loud, lust-laden moan.
Youji quite nearly blacked out.
Natsuo had smiled wryly at his sacrifice’s actions, the stupid fuck should have known better than to try and stick his tongue down Youji’s throat. Roughly ten seconds later, another man was atop Youji, thrusting and shifting. His friend, his partner, his...lover was being hurt and it was worsening by the moment.
"Get--" A huff. "--off..." Nimble fingers once again sought out the boot that was pinning him down to the ground, this time, apparently, the short ganster was paying more attention the spetical before him, than to the boy under his foot. The red-head had managed to free himself, and rolled away, he hadn’t gotten far though, before he felt a hand pull on his hair. Hard.
“And where do y’think yer goin’?” The thug yanked his hair upward, and Natsuo’s body followed, pain searing through his scalp. “Yer friend here made a pretty big sacrifice for ya, y’should be grateful, y’little brat.” Tears were now flowing freely down the fighter’s face, he didn’t know who he was crying for. Himself, or Youji.
"Uu…. Uuh… unnh…."
The boy was surprised he was still alive, much less conscious. Each strong thrust sent a wave of sheer and utter pain that sliced up his spine and through his skull, certain he was being ripped apart. He was honestly thankful the other thug had let him go, head thudding onto the hard, solid ground; thankful for the long locks of pale-turquoise hair that spilled over his face like a veil; thankful he couldn't see Natsuo, he couldn't bear to look at the other, not like this.
But inborn pride-what little was left-refused to let him scream anymore or cry. So he simply subjected himself to strangled grunts, his lip busted from being hit and biting on it too hard, a small amount of blood pooling by his face. Tears welled in his eyes, threatened to spill down his dirty cheeks, but he persisted, waiting for this bastard to fucking have his fill and be done already.
"Hey~" the crooked-nose one nodded over to his smaller companion. "How is it over there? Sure you don't wanna try? Looks like a mighty good ride~~" He gave the man a toothy grin.
The larger man was still moaning loudly, driver harder and deeper into the boy. Youji's body began to quake, panting harshly and cringing, his ribs still aching from the pressure earlier. The other thug then bent over him, pushing his shirt up and running his hands along the smooth, perspired skin, dipping under his belly. He then gives a few teasing tugs and strokes at the other's boyhood, grunting in mock-displeasure. "Aw, he's only slightly hard~~ Too bad. Y'sure you doin'im good?"
Youji then felt his head being lifted once more, eyes half-lidded and overcast. By then they had drained out his spirit and will to resist. He only vaguely realized that the man's penis was in his face, and when the other tried to stick it in his mouth he turned away, cowering behind his hair. However, sudden piercing pain caused him to cry out, and the thug took the opportunity, clutching onto the boy's hair tightly. He coughed and gagged in protest, but to little avail.
Natsuo couldn’t remember the last time he had cried, he had always wanted to be strong for his sacrifice, through the tests and trials of growing up he never spilled any tears. Maybe that was why the liquid staining his face felt so foreign. So wrong.
Where was the will power, that had helped him get through the ordeals that Nagisa-sensei had thrown at them? He shouldn’t be crying, not now, not at this scene, what would Youji think of it?
Natsuo’s job was to protect his sacrifice, and he had failed. Without spells, he was rendered useless, to himself, and to his sacrifice.
Another rough pull on his hair.
Sobbing and halfbroken coos.
Natsuo bit his lip so hard it burned. Scorched. Someone... save him.... save us.
.This was going to kill them, wasn't it? He could feel it. He could FUCKING FEEL IT raging on the insides of his neurons. Despair. Anguish. Pain. Pain he didn't know that body cells could feel on their own, especially with the electric compulsion of the synapse responses that were flash flash flashing away at this VERY SECOND.
Why us? Why can't we be happy ever? Are we not allowed? BLISS, not for you, not for you...We've done our time in hell, what can we do.
"Hey, c'mon, why don't'cha suck it, eh?" the grisly man teased, tightening his hold on silky locks. Youji was still hacking, trying to back away and force the repulsive thing out of his mouth, it was choking him, but another sharp thrust sent him doubling over, and he whimpered pathetically. "Aw, s'not that bad~"
The thug then began thrusting into the boy's mouth, creating some jumbled mix alongside the fucked up, disjointed rhythm from behind. Desperate, half-panicky attempts for air made the youth dizzier than before, limbs rubbery and useless, the two men had to hold him up. Each slam within his body intensified, and he shut his eyes as tight as he could, sniveling. No crying no crying nocryingdamnitnocrying!
"Oi~," the short gangster beckoned, tugging Natsuo closer to him, toying with the knife in his hand a bit, "this really is some great shit, no kiddin', but hurry it up, why don'tcha. People'll start comin' 'round here after a while."
"Mmm… no worries about that, 'kid's a mighty good fuck~" the one with the crooked nose groaned huskily, clutching Youji's head with both his hands, and started thrusting faster. The large man followed suit, sharp, unkempt nails digging into the boy's flesh.
Youji wondered if Natsuo was still all right, if they did anything else to him, he couldn't hear him. But he was too afraid to open his eyes, too afraid for the other to see his face, see him like this. Part of him hoped his partner was long gone by now, somewhere far away from here, safe, oblivious.
Warm, thin fluid trickled down his thighs, and he was positive it was blood.
He was unsure why his face was wet.
Biting fingernails, fumbling over his body, ruthless slamming, clutching, groping, but nothing hurt worse than his chest, his pounding heart.
Natsuo was barely aware as he was pulled closer to his captor, in some sort of bizarre hug.
"Le...leave....us." Weak at first, followed by a yell, a clenched first, an angry glare blazing with hatred -- although who the hatred was for was entirely unclear. "LEAVE HIM THE FUCK ALONE." A pause, the fighter had exerted too much energy, there wasn’t much left to spend. “Please, just go...” Natsuo’s voice was much quieter this time, more defeated. “Like you said....someone is bound to find you. Ha....haven’t you done enough?”
The short gangster toyed with his knife for a few more, before releasing his hold on the fighter. Natsuo fell to his knees, and rested there, eyes never leaving his sacrifice.
My life is pointless if you are in pain.
It hurt. On the inside again. Glass shards fluttered to the inner workings of his chest, tearing him inside out. Acceptance was always the most painful part of life.
Suddenly a thick stream of fluid accompanied the rivulets of blood as they trailed down lithe thighs; it was warm, as well, if not warmer, and disgusting.
Shortly afterwards something shot down his throat, eyelids shutting tighter, and finally the man pulled himself out of the boy's mouth, moaning loudly at the release.
Youji immediately vomited, but not much, afterwards retching and gasping for long-awaited breath. He sank closer to the ground once the thugs backed off, but the crooked-nosed man paid him a service and nudged him away from the mess. Their short companion joined them.
And just like that, it was over. The gangsters walked off, as if nothing ever happened. Natsuo began to crawl to his sacrifice, wobbling precariously on unsteady hands and feet.
It was a tentative touch when Natsuo put his hand on Youji’s shoulder. "Help?" He questioned softly, letting his hand run down his partner's sensitive arm. He wanted to be of use, wanted to make the other boy somehow feel a bit better, but he couldn’t find the words.
Green eyes alone could not see all the damage that was done, fingertips had to take the journey as well. Light little pinpricks of touch, reminding them both of the pain.
A sickening feeling rose up, inside of Natsuo. It started at his toes, like a small exacto blade cutting holes into his feet. Go walk thirty miles, shoeless, in pain. It’s just the beginning of what your lover felt. The fighter closed his eyes, for a moment, and swallowed.
A red-thick-oozy line up his sacrifice’s thighs. Bearclaws at his hips. Bruises already starting to form everywhere else.
The long stretch of silence that followed the thug's departure convinced him that he was indeed alone. So of course the first thing he did when he felt something on his arm was flinch rather badly, curling up even more.
But then Youji heard-or so he thought- a faint yet familiar voice near his ear. He stirred, trying not to grimace at any other touch against inflamed skin. Lips parted, but words failed to form, voice failed to utter. Part of him wanted to open his eyes, to make sure who it was beside him, but he couldn't. So he granted whoever this was a small, shallow sigh, further concealing his face in his shroud of turquoise hair.
… His head felt funny.
“We need to get you someplace where you can lie down..." Hands smoothed away Youji’s hair. "Clean you up and put you to bed...If you can make it anywhere at the very least." He tried to smile but it wasn't good enough. "Youji." He sighed, looking away, "Somehow they’ll have to pay..." but vegance was not his mission now, not just yet. "...Can I...? Is it wrong if I... .is it okay for me to be touching you?"
His eyes fluttered as the other spoke. Yeah, it was definitely Natsuo... Had he been there the whole time? Did he see?
Youji himself was unsure what he wanted at this point: to as far away from Natsuo as he could, or as close to the boy as possible. Either way he couldn't move on his own, didn't want to, at least. Whatever flimsy gesture he'd be able to make was sure to promise a new wave of unbearable pain and a refreshing of memories much too young. He hoped the other would make that decision for him.
Another sigh, but more shaky this time. Tears pricked at his eyes once more.
This was really fucked up. Mulling back on his fighter's words he noted things he never imagined he had to hear about himself. Weak. He wasn't worthy of Natsuo, not anymore, lying here helplessly and writhing. But he had protected the boy, hadn't he? Natsuo was all right, wasn't he? Youji huffed, wanting to hide from this humiliation, but wanting to hide under his partner's wing.
Natsuo’s hands moved from stroking turquoise hair, to petting the other boy’s ears. Was it just him, or were Youji’s ears a bit cold? Shaking his head he dismissed the thought, and did his best to move to a crouching position. "Can you get up? You can lean on me, I’ll help you.." The fighter ignored the fact that he could barely walk himself.
A pause. No answer came from the boy lying on the ground, although Natsuo was sure that his sacrifice was awake. Dry laughter escaped from the fighter’s lips, “Maybe...you can’t even hear me...”
Failure. It was written all over Youji’s body, and most frighteningly, it had settled under the fighter’s skin, boiling up to an ache in Natsuo’s head that would not go away. Youji was always the one getting hurt, and Natsuo would always escape, relatively unscathed. The question “why?” raced through the fighter’s mind, but that could wait for later. He had to get Youji out of here, and it had to be soon, he wasn’t going to last much longer.
Tears were finally quelled, and green eyes looked over his sacrifice’s body again, the fighter winced slightly. Yeah. Wince and cry. That's probably what the fuckers wanted, Natsuo.
As gently as he could manage, Natsuo pulled up the pants that still rested at his sacrifice’s ankles. Once the other boy was adequately covered, he carefully pulled Youji into a siting positon.
Youji quietly listened as Natsuo spoke, slightly panicked that the boy deemed him unable to hear him. He was awake, if not barely, he just couldn't look up at him, not yet.
As kind and comforting as his fighter's words were, they were also unsettling. He would almost peg them as pitying…. but knew better. Nevertheless, it was clear his pathetic state was being acknowledged-he could practically feel Natsuo's eyes poring over his broken body- and that he couldn't conceal it. So he opted to focus on the sound of the other's voice, not so much the words, even though the redhead's usual placid tone was now shaky, timid, almost.
Soon he felt fabric snaking up his legs, and shivered, eyes still shut tight. A low, airy groan followed when he was lifted from the ground, promptly collapsing against Natsuo, the pain returning full-force and in piercing waves. "Nnnhh…"
Another shudder. He would get used to this again. This was Natsuo, after all, his fighter, his lifelong partner, it was his soft skin and small, warm body he was sinking into, not calloused, large, unforgiving hands. Never that. Never confuse that.
The fighter tighted his grip on his partner, he didn’t want to increase the pain that Youji was obviously experiencing, but had no choice if he wanted to keep the other boy from toppling over. Mentally bracing himself Natsuo made an attempt to bring both and himself and his sacrifice to a standing position.
First try: failed. Trying again, using the wall and for support, he managed to pull himself and Youji to their feet.. "We can do it, we can make it to Soubi’s flat." Natsuo gave his sacrifice a weak smile. "We'll make it."
The boy was sure the world was spinning as he was hefted to his feet, at first tumbling back down, then up again. Blood still dribbled down his chin, down his legs.
It hurt a lot.
Groaning once more, Youji clutched onto Natsuo as tight as weak limbs could, endeavoring to prove at least a little useful by standing on his own, but to little avail. For the most part he rested heavily against the other boy, panting shallowly, braving heavy eyes open, if just a bit, eyeing the ground as clearly as he could. He buried his head in the crook of his fighter's neck, giving it his all to stay awake and biting a well-bloodied lip.
Natsuo cooed to his sacrifice as he began to lead the other boy away from the wreckage and carnage. He couldn’t do anything at the moment to help ease Youji’s suffering, except to keep on moving forward. "We'll get to Soubi’s, and we'll get you into the shower and clean off this filth and put you to sleep..." He took a step forward, and repeated the process as they made it down the road towards the apartment, standing close in case his friend wanted to fall. He hid his own pain, filthy face and bruised cheek. It could be dealt with later.