Author's Notes: As some of you may already know, X is my favorite CLAMP manga, and is one of my favorite mangas, period. I have recently become familiar with its precursor manga, Tokyo Babylon. Of course, being the angst-monger I am, I just had to write a fic for it (at least one—I may write more TB fics in the future). This fic takes place between one and two years after the end of the main storyline (meaning I'm not counting the annexes, one of which probably takes place closer to X than the rest of TB), making Subaru between seventeen and eighteen, and Seishirô between twenty-six and twenty-seven, if anybody cares how old they are. Be warned, this has yaoi/shônen ai themes, and is quite dark, considering the huge rift between Subaru and Seishirô. It'll be a two-parter, the first part being Subaru's POV, and the second part Seishirô's POV.
Tokyo Babylon, Subaru, Seishirô, Hokuto, and everything else in here do not belong to me, but to CLAMP, the very best artistic group in Japan (and one of the very best in the world, in my opinion).
Bleeding Love By Annie-chan Chapter One: Sumeragi Subaru"Ho…ku…to…chan…Ho…kuto…chan…Hokuto…chan…Hokuto-chan…Hokuto-chan…Hokuto-chan…HOKUTO-CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
I wake up to my own screams, bolting upright in bed, my skin, hair, and nightclothes soaked with cold sweat. I am breathing so deeply, my head is feeling faint. My heart is beating so quickly and so hard in my chest, I feel as if it will burst out into the air, pulsing and steaming. I am trembling violently, my teeth chattering with the force of the spasms.
Seconds after I manage to calm myself a bit, I burst into tears, wailing for my sister, my twin, my companion since birth. It came again. The nightmare. That same thrice-damned dream that has plagued my sleep nearly every night since she died. It's barely a minute long…I'm lost in a great darkness, the only thing around being millions of falling sakura petals…and then, I see them: my almost mirror image lying motionless and bloodied on the ground, the man I hold most dear standing over her, his hand covered in her blood, his face serene. I can only watch as he picks her up, a stinging, sadistic smile sliding across his face as they dissolve into the endless shower of sakura petals. The nightmare comes almost as soon as I close my eyes, and plays over and over and over again, until my tortured mind can stand no more and I wake up shrieking as if mortally wounded. It's horrible…horrible…
I crumple into a quivering, weak, helpless mass of human flesh, sobbing pathetically, my heart and soul screaming their rage and grief into the night. I haven't had a good night's sleep since she died, the nightmare coming back nearly every time I fall asleep, keeping the almost unbearable pain fresh, the massive wound in my soul open and vulnerable to further damage. I lost them…I lost both of them, the two I held most precious in my heart. One dead, the other a monster of the worst type. In a single day, my life had been turned into a living hell, and I've been writhing in the flames ever since.
"Seishirô-san…Seishirô-san…dô shite?!" I moan, my throat choked with tears. I loved him. I loved him from the moment I saw him sitting up in the Sakura Tree's branches, the freshly-killed body of a little girl still impaled on his right arm. My nine-year-old heart had been too young to understand love, real love, the kind of love you wish to hold close and never let go, no matter what comes to pass. Nevertheless, though I didn't remember our first meeting, except in dreams, I felt an emptiness inside me, aching endlessly in my soul, begging to be filled. I had no idea that the shadowy stranger was Sakurazuka Seishirô, the kindhearted veterinarian who seemed to take an instant liking to my sister and me when we met in the picnic area of a recreation park. No sooner had I realized just what Seishirô-san meant to me, I found myself trapped in his maboroshi, his illusion, faced with a side of him I never even guessed existed until then. I had been helpless as he showed me that fateful first meeting between us, surfaced the marks on my hands that claimed me as his, and told me that I was only a pawn in some sick-minded game he had been playing from the moment we met underneath the Sakura Tree…all the while, taking his time in beating me nearly senseless, that demonic smirk never leaving his devastatingly handsome face.
My hands suddenly ball up into fists, and I begin pounding on the mattress, screaming so loud, I probably woke people up in the apartments below and above me, as well as on either side. "I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, you mother-fucking bastard!" It hurts. Oh, God above, it hurts to say that. Love as strong as mine had been makes even stronger hate when raped and betrayed like mine had been. He played with me, he used me, the sunny-faced puppy love he had always shown me a complete and utter lie. I doubt I would feel more wounded and dirty if he had raped me physically. The violation is no less.
I lay there for I don't know how long before I feel strong enough to sit up. My tears are slowing, though still flowing freely, and I look at the clock through my blurred vision. One-thirty in the morning. I had gone to sleep only two and a half hours ago, and an uneasy sleep at that. I feel almost as—no, more—exhausted as I had been when I collapsed into bed late last night. I am perpetually exhausted anymore. I find it harder and harder to focus on even the most mundane everyday tasks, and I look terrible, not only from lack of sleep, but lack of adequate nutrition as well. I eat properly about as often as I sleep properly. I'm beginning to get bony, and I was skinny to begin with.
I won't get any more sleep tonight. I get up, shivering as I am still coated with chilled sweat. I strip myself naked, walk into the bathroom, and take a quick shower before I dress myself in the same clothes I wore yesterday. I had just thrown them on the floor, too tired to put them with the rest of the dirty laundry. I live alone. I have lived alone since she died. I don't want company. All company would do is remind me of the many days the three of us had spent together, enjoying each other's company, nothing in the world able to break our good moods.
I had left my wallet in the back pocket of my pants. I pull it out and fold it open, my fingers automatically searching out and finding a single, slightly battered photograph. It was a candid shot that Hokuto-chan had taken, trimmed to fit into the picture flap of my wallet. All that hadn't been cut out of the picture was Seishirô-san and me, talking and laughing with each other like we hadn't a care in the world.
I fall to my knees, fat tears again streaming from my emerald eyes. I cry bitterly into the picture, new tear marks added to those already there. I would do anything to have those too-brief days back, anything short of outright selling my soul. I would lie, cheat, steal…even prostitute myself or commit cold-blooded murder. I would let anything and everything happen to me if it would only somehow stop my sister from finding her death and my beloved from finding reason to treat me as some kind of playing piece. It's unhealthy, I know, to think that, but I just can't stop myself.
"Kamisama…Kamisama, tasukete…" I sob. He seems to have forsaken me, but I can't help but plead for mercy. It seems nothing on Earth will give me solace, anyway. Only revenge will bestow some quiet in my viciously uprooted soul, though not even that will give me complete peace. Life is a plague. Love is a curse. Christ, help me!
After several minutes, I place the picture back in my wallet and my wallet back in my pocket. The apartment I solely inhabit now seems almost stifling, and I need fresh air. I find myself on the sidewalk in front of the complex a minute later. It's a warm night, though chilly when the wind is blowing. I begin walking, no destination in mind. I keep to streets I am familiar with, almost automatically walking the routes to places I frequent often, but bypassing them and heading on to something else, only to bypass it, too. Familiar or not, I still run the risk of being attacked by the sick people who stalk the streets at night, just looking for someone to corner and play with. Nevertheless, I don't pay much attention to my surroundings.
Big mistake.
I'm passing a large warehouse used by some company I can't recall in my almost zombie-like state of mind. Out of nowhere, two strong arms snake around my waist and pull me up against a sleek, lithe body that could overpower a puny weakling like myself in a heartbeat, even if I was on my highest level of alertness, which I haven't been in a long time. I am about to struggle when a familiar scent hits my nostrils, making me freeze in surprise and dread. Only one man I've ever known always, always smelled like sakura. And, blood…I look down. The right hand, the one fingering the buttons on my shirt, is stained red. He's killed again.
"Tempting young men like yourself shouldn't be out this early in the morning on an isolated street such as this," a low, silk-smooth voice whispers seductively in my ear. His left hand ceases exploring my front and drifts back behind. I can hear it sliding into a pocket for something. "You never know who you might encounter." His left hand suddenly comes back around, a cloth folded semi-neatly in it, and covers my mouth and nose. The cloth smells sickly sweet, and I almost instantly feel an irresistible urge to lie down and go to sleep. I try weakly to get away, knowing I may never wake up again, but it's too late almost before I know what's going on. I fall, the arms letting go of me, and I am out before I even hit the pavement.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
I come around slowly, a moan escaping my lips. I am lying on a Western-style mattress, which is probably on the floor. It is neither cold nor warm in the room I am in, and I wonder vaguely where I am. I remember who caught me unawares, and my eyes fly open. A hand is caressing my cheek, and it turns my head to the right as soon as I open my eyes. I encounter one honey-brown eye and one stark white eye, both looking at me with an amused sparkle, the mouth below them quirked up in a painfully familiar smirk.
"Se…Seishi…Seishirô-san," I whisper, struggling even to talk. I feel so overwhelmingly weak that I am amazed I don't just fall right back to sleep. Some kind of drug had been on that cloth…
"I was wondering when you would come around," he answered smoothly. He is lying on his side next to me, his right hand gently stroking my left cheek. "You've been out for almost two days now. You were so still, I could have sworn you dead."
"Hnn…do…doko…?" I manage. I feel oddly like I'm slowly gaining strength as the seconds tick by.
"In that warehouse you were passing when I got you," he answers. "A large part of it is unused, and I find it a fitting place to go when I want to be alone." His smirk changes somewhat, though I can't describe how. "It also seems to be the perfect place to hide someone. I doubt anyone even came near this half of the warehouse in years."
I struggle to move. "Weak…" I murmur.
"It should wear off in a few minutes," he explains. "It never lasts long after you wake up. Although, I was surprised you stayed out as long as you did. You must have been as exhausted as you looked. And, if you're wondering where I got the stuff and why, that's my business."
I don't respond. I merely lay there for several minutes, feeling myself grow more and more normal-feeling. Those two days I have been out were actually a blessing, as I don't feel nearly as sleep-deprived as I have been for months. I am about to say something again, feeling almost strong enough to sit up, when he sits up himself. He takes my right hand and seems to examine it, that smirk never fully leaving his face. It is bare; I haven't worn gloves since she died. The marks aren't visible all the time anymore like they were at first, anyway. In fact, they haven't been visible at all since a few days after she died.
A shock runs through me and my half-closed eyes widen considerably as he gently presses his lips to the back of my hand, caressing softly. A warm sensation flares up suddenly in my hand, and the Sakurazuka Pentagram glows a whitish-blue against my pale skin. A matching sensation springs to life in my left hand as well, and I know the accursed star is just as visible there, too.
His eyes burn into mine, the smirk growing to an almost-grin against my hand, and a sudden realization hits me with such force that I would have fallen, had I not already been flat. I still love him. Sweet Jesus, I still love this cold-hearted murderer! I begin to tremble, and my eyes must have been so wide as to have visible white all around the irises.
"You want something from me, don't you?" he asks, his voice saturated with a predator's thirst. I barely suppress a moan as his tongue flicks out against his mark. "Tell me what you want, Subaru-kun."
"I…I…Se-Seishirô-san…" I stutter.
"Oh, come now," he chides almost playfully, taking hold of me and easily pulling me into a standing position. He brings my right hand to his lips again, his own right hand fondly petting my cheek, then sliding up into my hair. "I can't give you anything until you ask for it."
A fearful sob escapes me, and I try to back away. He follows, never letting an inch more of space between us. I feel my back hit a nearby wall, and I almost cry out in panic as he presses himself firmly against me, trapping me. I look up into his eyes, helpless. I almost die of shame and fear when I realize my pants are terribly confining to a growing erection, and feel tears threatening to spill as he grinds his matching arousal against me.
"Ung…Se-Seishirô-san…" I pant, my skin already coated with a thin film of sweat.
"Hai?" he asks, and I almost scream in frustration at the impossible calmness in his voice. His lips are so very, very close to mine, his warm breath sending shivers through my entire body.
"Ohh…ki-kiss me…onegai…oh, please…Seishirô-san…"
I feel his thumb slide softly over my lips. "You've never been kissed by anyone before, have you?"
"N-no," I answer truthfully. The word is barely spoken before I feel my mouth enveloped in his, my quivering lips parting readily as his questing tongue sweeps over and between them, sliding deep, exploring. I moan and shudder at the intoxicating sensation of my lips being laid claim to in such a delightful way, and my arms wind around his neck, pulling me even closer to his perfectly built figure. His hands are in my hair, massaging and kneading, sending tingles down my neck and throughout my body. I am helpless, and willingly so, under his complete control, his overwhelming sexual attractiveness, his thoroughly dominating presence…my utter and undeniable love for his entire being.
The kiss is almost brutal at first, as if he is having a hard time restraining himself, but it gradually gets softer, gentler, until the pressure is so sweet, tears are streaming down my cheeks, my whole body feeling as if it will melt at any moment. I almost sob in disappointment as he slowly pulls away, his tongue almost hesitatingly withdrawing, his lips leaving mine. My own are moist and swollen from the kiss, and I slowly lick them, savoring every last bit of his beloved taste. So, that's what a deep, passionate kiss is like…God, I want more!
I sigh softly, satisfied, yet hungrier at the same time. He has stepped back a bit, allowing a few inches between us. I look up into his eyes, just in time to see him smile nastily, and then…
…the soft smile on my lips disappears, and my eyes bulge suddenly as a rock-hard fist drives full force into my slender middle.
I double over, struggling for breath, unable to inhale even once for the first few seconds. My eyes are wide, and I clutch at his arm, his fist still grinding mercilessly against me.
"You little whore," he growls into my ear as he withdraws his fist, letting me fall to the floor in a ball. I am in an automatic protective position, and I wouldn't be able to uncurl myself if I even tried. He kneels down and grabs my hair, yanking hard. "You little fucking whore. I just knew you'd do that." He leans down, speaking directly into my ear again. "You would just love me to take you right here, wouldn't you?"
I barely stop myself from begging him to strip me naked and fuck me long and hard right here on the floor, knowing that was exactly what he wanted me to do. My virgin body has no experience in resisting sexual urges, and I am acutely aware of the need screaming for attention between my legs. I can only cry, wanting him inside me so badly, yet so frightened of him to even touch me at the same time.
He chuckles and runs his tongue down my neck, earning a moan from me. He closes his teeth over the soft flesh in the juncture between my shoulder and neck, nibbling seductively, his lips caressing my skin maddeningly. I am trembling and almost writhing on the floor under his touch, but scream loudly as his teeth bite sharply into my skin, drawing blood. He closes his lips over the wound and sucks softly, drinking my blood as it flows. I cry out as the sensation gets almost too hot to handle, and I reach up and bury my hands in his thick, soft hair.
He brings his head up and kisses me hard, driving his tongue possessively between my lips, giving me a taste of my own blood. Oh, he must know how arousing that is! He withdraws suddenly and quickly stands up. My eyes have barely opened when his foot suddenly and brutally connects with my side. I scream at the kick, pain shooting through me, mingling with the lingering pleasure. I scramble back, trying to get away. He chuckles darkly and follows.
"Little bitch," he hisses, bringing his foot down hard on my wrist, grinding it mercilessly into the cement floor. I scream and try to pull away. He kicks me again, then steps on my neck, nearly crushing my windpipe, a good part of his substantial weight pressing down on me. "You are mine to do with as I please," he grins cruelly. "My toy, my slut, my slave. You do as I want you to, or you'll pay in a most painful way." He presses down with his foot, and I begin choking outright, no air reaching my lungs. I suck in breath gratefully when he takes his foot away. "Remember that," he warns, punctuating himself with a swift kick to the side of my head. The world spins crazily, and I almost pass out again.
He is gone.
I lay curled up on the ground, weeping brokenly, both my body and my soul in agony. An insistent need is still making itself known in my lower belly and between my legs, but it gradually subsides. I lay there for a long time, all I can think of being how much I long for the days before my life fell into total ruin. One part of me condemns Seishirô-san to Hell's mercy for what he is, for how he lives, for his sick and twisted mind, but the other part of me quails from the idea, silently pleading God to have mercy on him, to somehow show him a way to change for the better, if only because I love him with all my heart.
I slowly get to my feet at least forty-five minutes later, and I stumble outside, finding that it is night again. I am grateful for that. I don't want people to see the state I am in. I lurch along, almost drunkenly, and I eventually reach my apartment building. I almost run up the stairs to my door, fumbling for my key and almost breaking it off in the lock as I jam it into the doorknob. I slam the door behind me, locking it again, and I almost trip at least three times as I make my way to my bedroom, not even noticing that I'm starving and should stop by the kitchen nook to grab something to eat. I throw myself down on the bed, shrieking and crying like a five-year-old, pounding and clawing at my goose-down pillow until I find myself crying into nothing but a mess of cloth shreds and feathers. No doubt the people in neighboring apartments can hear me, but after calls to the police during the first few screaming fits like this, they've apparently come to accept that the young man in this apartment is extremely disturbed, but refuses all help from them, the police, or doctors (I'm partly surprised that no one has taken me for a loony and tried to have me institutionalized). They probably try to ignore me as best they can when I get like this.
I cry far into the night, soaking the remains of the pillow and the bed sheets with my tears. "Seishirô-san! Seishirô-san! I love you!" I scream over and over again into the feathers, my voice muffled by the soft down, and I almost choke repeatedly as I inhale the fluffy stuff.
Finally, and I never look at the clock to see what time it is, I slip into a deep, almost comatose, sleep, for once mercifully free of dreams of any kind. I do not wake until late afternoon the next day.
To be continued…Author's Notes: Yeesh, I never intended to be so brutal on poor Subaru, or to have Seishirô so evil. O_o Anyway, next up is Seishirô's POV, starting when he leaves Subaru crying on the floor. I don't think it will be as long as this chapter, as this chapter got a lot longer than I expected. Ah, well…I hope I don't disappoint you guys. So, how did this turn out? Please let me know either in a review or an email to mangareader@hotmail.com, onegai shimasu!