A/N: To be honest, this is a completely self indulgent fic. After seeing Virus and Trip's ending I needed to write some fluff of Koujaku saving Aoba. Realistically it would probably be a lot harder to save him, but like I said, I just wanted the fluff. ^^; Oh, and if anyone's wondering why Beni isn't with him it's because he's waiting at the hotel. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!
Heavy eyelids, weighed down by months of constant exhaustion and crushing hopelessness, snapped open at the sound of the bedroom door rattling. Aoba's body instinctively tensed, causing him to inwardly groan as the aggravated and fatigued muscles seized. Lethargy still lingered deep in his bones; his only indication that he had been awoken earlier than usual.
Fighting the instinctive urge to curl up tighter on the bed, he slammed his eyes closed. He didn't want to acknowledge that Virus or Trip must have returned early, ready for another round when his body was still aching from the previous night. Sleep was his only mercy, the one thing that could relieve him of his awful life, if only temporarily.
Aoba was just so, so tired. Tired of aching, tired of fearing, tired of living. He couldn't remember the last time that he hadn't wished he could just fall asleep and never wake up. No matter how hard he had tried, however, reality always cruelly yanked him back by the throat for another vicious day.
And so he waited, breath catching in a dry sob. His sore eyes had already used up the water needed for tears last night.
He had no idea why his emotions remained so stubbornly intact. It would be so much easier to be nothing more than a shell that couldn't feel or understand. Each thread of sentiment had been stretched to its utmost limit, but just when Aoba thought it would snap, a fond memory would always stop that final tug.
The doorknob continued to jiggle. The oddness of that slightly decreased Aoba's anxious anticipation in favor of confusion. He knew that Virus and Trip used keys to lock their bedrooms, but they had never seemed to have a problem getting it to unlock before. If he wasn't so tired he would have been tempted to roll over to face the door.
Indistinguishable cursing, muffled by the door, suddenly reached his ears. Aoba's thoughts immediately skidded to a stop. It wasn't just the rushed annoyance that raised a flag—Virus and Trip very rarely expressed frustration—but also the distinctively deep male voice that was as familiar to him as Granny's.
A click resounded throughout the room. His mind still in shock, he didn't even realize that the door had swung open until the voice spoke again.
"Aoba…?" The tentative syllables sounded almost breathless in disbelief, but hardly a second passed before it was repeated more loudly. "Aoba!"
His name, spoken with overwhelming relief and genuine tenderness, finally jerked him out of his stupor. A thousand emotions bubbled up at once in Aoba's heart, but skepticism swooped in to stifle them.
It was impossible. It must be some sort of illusion or trick created to rile him up. Maybe he was hallucinating. Or it could be a good dream that he would eventually be forced to wake up from.
It wasn't him.
It couldn't be.
Clearly worried about the lack of a response, Koujaku rushed to the side of the bed. He reached out as if to touch Aoba, but then paused as he thought better of it. Out of the corner of his eye Aoba saw the hovering hand but didn't dare to look directly at it, as if that alone might break the illusion.
Modesty suddenly came back in a rush, causing him to feel a rush of embarrassment. He became very aware of his lack of clothing and the disgusting stickiness clinging to his abdomen and thighs. His neck and collarbones were littered with telltale bite marks and bruises darkened the pale skin of his hips. Aoba turned his gaze down to the floor in shame. Even if this Koujaku was nothing more than a fake image, he still hated the mortification of being seen in such a terrible state by someone he cared for.
Koujaku pulled back his hand and let it fall to his side. It curled into a tight, shaking fist. "Those bastards…they're going to pay for what they've done to you." His voice gained a guttural edge filled with such intense rage and hatred that it practically became a growl.
Anger rolled off of the young man in waves. While Aoba still felt a sense of wariness at the anger, he found the pure emotion more refreshing than anything. He was so used to his captors' fake expressions that this kind of raw, true sentiment nearly had him reeling.
Movement near the corner of the bed caught Aoba's attention. Smooth black scales glinted in the light from the doorway as a snake AllMate slithered up the bed post. Koujaku, battling with fury and the searing heat crawling across his back, hadn't seemed to notice.
Taking advantage of the swordsman's internal struggle, Hersha leaned back in preparation to strike at the intruder.
"Watch out!"
Koujaku jumped at Aoba's raspy outburst and, with reflexes born from years of training, swiftly reached for his sword. In one quick motion, Koujaku unsheathed his sword and slashed at the lunging Hersha. The next thing Aoba knew, Hersha lay on the floor in two pieces. Sparks flickered from the twitching mechanical being.
Koujaku glared at the defeated snake and pointedly returned his weapon to its sheath. Although wrath still simmered in his eyes, the action had seemed to sate him enough to get back to the task at hand. He turned to look back at Aoba, who had sat up in his desperation to warn him.
"Aoba." He called out. Aoba blinked before shifting his gaze to the young man in front of him, as if called out of a daze. He became vaguely aware that Koujaku was moving closer and leaning forward, arms beginning to rise toward Aoba, but after a glance at the dark marks marring Aoba's throat he reluctantly stopped. Watching in confusion, the blue haired male looked into the dark red depths of the other's eyes. In them, among the softness of relief and fondness, swam commiseration and a touch of concerned wariness.
A moment passed before Koujaku held out his hand with a reassuring smile.
The meaning behind the actions directly struck Aoba's heart and filled it with a warmth he had long forgotten.
Koujaku had been about to embrace him, but upon remembering what Aoba must have experienced, had pulled back his own desire in order to give Aoba the choice to accept his touch.
It was so considerate, so loving, so Koujaku that it instantly banished any doubt of falseness from his scarred mind. Before he had even realized he was moving Aoba had made it to the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms around Koujaku's torso. Although taken off guard by the sudden action, the swordsman immediately returned the hug.
"Kou…Koujaku…" Aoba whispered, his voice muffled in the other's chest.
"I'm here, Aoba." Koujaku murmured. "I'm here."
As Aoba's shoulders shook from dry sobs, Koujaku rubbed soothing circles into his back. Aoba felt the strange impulse to laugh at how similar this situation was to their childhood. In their youth he had been comforted several times like this; encircled by strong yet gentle arms, head buried into a toned chest.
But this was far different from being consoled after some playground bully's teasing, and any childish innocence he may have had had been stolen from him.
Aoba wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, clinging to each other like a lifeline, but it was much too short. When he felt Koujaku slowly pulling back his hands automatically gripped the fabric of his kimono in a panic. He didn't want the moment to end. He didn't want to leave the safety of the other's arms.
He didn't want to return to that hell.
"It's alright." Koujaku assured. He placed his hands over Aoba's and gently coaxed him into releasing the fabric of his clothing. "But we need to leave here before they come back. Do you know where your clothes are?"
At the mention of his nudity and realizing how close they were, Aoba's face flushed with embarrassment. He had been hugging Koujaku naked, and he hadn't even had a bath after last night's events. Quickly looking away, he shook his head.
Koujaku awkwardly averted his gaze in an attempt to be polite, despite the fact that he had already seen. He picked up one corner of the blanket. "Let's use this for now. I have some clothes for you at the hotel."
With the other's assistance, the blanket was pulled off of the bed and wrapped around Aoba's thin frame. Once that was done the swordsman sat down on the edge of the bed and hunched forward slightly. Aoba just stared at him dumbly for a few moments before speaking.
"A piggy back ride…?" He questioned.
"It'll be faster if I carry you." Koujaku insisted.
With a nod of assent, Aoba carefully climbed onto his back and wrapped his arms around his neck.
"Ready?" Koujaku asked.
Aoba opened his mouth to confirm, but then paused, the finality of the circumstances finally hitting him. He was finally leaving the bedrooms that had become his hellish home for nearly a year. He had no idea of exactly what country he was in or the people that dwelled in it. But that didn't matter. Anything was better than this place.
"Yeah." He replied. Koujaku carefully straightened and started walking. They left through the open door and continued down the hall, not even bothering to close it. As they headed down the stairs Aoba finally got to see what the rest of the place looked like. It seemed to be a two story house, and although it had all the normal furniture and necessities, it felt oddly bare. There were no picture frames, decorative plants, or colorful trinkets to be seen. Even the bland color scheme had no personality to speak of.
As they neared the front door, Aoba's heartbeat started to race with worry. Every way the situation could possibly go wrong erupted all at once, leaving him breathless. What if Virus and Trip were just outside the door? What if they already knew of Koujaku and had a trap waiting? What if—
The door opened uneventfully. Only once Koujaku had hurried through it and onto the street did Aoba let out a relieved sigh. The bright sunlight burned into Aoba's sensitive eyes, forcing him to squint. There were several people walking along the same street, and although there were a few curious glances sent their way, no one walked up to them.
A few minutes passed before Aoba was forced to close his eyes and tilt down his head. He had never realized how busy the world was until now. The bright colors on clothing and street signs, constant chatter of conversations, and the light of the sun were almost nauseating. After so long locked in quiet rooms composed of sleek monochrome colors, it was just too much stimulation. Instead he focused on the movement of Koujaku's muscles as he walked and the warmth radiating from his body.
"Are you alright?" Koujaku asked, but then winced at his bad wording. "…sorry, that was a bad question."
That was a loaded inquiry. Was Aoba alright? He still ached in unmentionable places and was in desperate need of a shower. His senses felt overloaded from being in the outside world. Every moment that passed he became more terrified of the thought that someone might see them and take him back to that terrible place. He never so much as wanted to look at a bedroom again, and he had no doubt that nightmares would plague him for years to come. It would be difficult not to flinch at another person's unexpected touch, and that wasn't counting sexual contact. Just the mention of that made him nauseous. He would have to learn how to live a normal life again, which would be undoubtedly difficult.
But Koujaku was here, supporting him, and would be for however long he needed it. Aoba didn't even have to ask about that; he just knew. Koujaku was his pillar of strength and hope, keeping his battered and crumbling self from collapsing into darkness. For the first time in a great while, Aoba dared to let himself believe that there was light at the end of the tunnel. His next few words were quiet, but there was no mistaking the stirring positivity fueling them.
"I will be."