A/N: Happy New Years! Well, this is something I wrote at 2 AM. Was randomly typing, and this is my only fanfiction I can write until I have to study. Sorry for grammatical errors.

Reborn! and its characters © Amano Akira.


I hear my heartbeat,

my unsteady breaths

and wonder if I'll see tomorrow's sunrise.

. . .

It's late in the evening, and he is tired. He smells the odor of alcohol on his breath, mixed with the bitter taste of aphrodisiac on his displeased palette. Svelte fingers lazily wrap around the metal handle of the bathtub, turning the lever to his left. The pattering, cooling water sprays down, soaking his wild, chocolate-colored spikes of hair. The blast of coldness sends a bolt of electricity through his nerves, but he does not respond. Fatigue dampens his lively personality, to the extent that he cannot force a smile, or even mutter a word. He clumsily steps into the shower and stands still, pale, bare skin with flushed shades of red on his joints now soaked to the bone. The bits and pieces of what's left of his consciousness is grateful for the gradual warming of the pouring liquid, lukewarm temperatures heating his shivering frame. He leans against the tiled wall and slips down to his knees, legs finally giving out on his body. Crimson dripping from his backside mingles with the water, rushing to the drain, imitating gushing rivers at the brink of a waterfall.

He breathes in as eyes flutter shut, recollecting his thoughts and memories— "Don't you touch him," Kyouya says threateningly, holding out his weapon centimeters away from his companion's cracked cheekbone. Gokudera shouts vulgarly, slapping the raven away, claiming him like he was some sort of property. Unknown lips ravish the brunette's bruised ones, hands harassing and grabbing his flesh —and then opens his eyes again. His body rattles at the memory as he gropes around for support, but his hands could only grab onto the shower curtains desperately. He tugs forcefully, pulling it towards him until it comes off the metal bar and covers his head. Hooks from the curtain nail him in the temple, and he winces. A sharp sound rang through his ears at impact, and he pictures that bleeding, too. He could feel his entire self bleeding, deteriorating, being eaten from the inside-out until he is an empty shell. He begins to cry, and begs for someone, anyone, to save him.

But he realizes, now, that he is alone.

He realizes that only hours ago, only moments ago in his life, that someone fed from his body hungrily, uninvitingly, like flocks of crows devouring rotting meat.

He is tired, from the laughs, the tears, the rape and the screams. He's a tool, just a goddamn tool.

It's late in the evening, and he is tired, and he just wants it all to go away.