You see, I love to read angst, it's pretty much the only thing I'm reading here on and I'm desperately trying to teach myself how to write angst as well. This is my first angst one-shot and I'll write more when I get the ideas. Feedback and comments are very welcome.
I think this is the first Kai/Ian fanfic because I haven't come across one yet. I don't remember how I came up with the pairing but since I hadn't seen it before did I challenge myself to write a one-shot with it.
Warning: This is one-sided shonen-ai and contains suicide.
Written in Blood
A single drop of blood fell. Crimson eyes watched it hit the floor. The bloodstained knife grazed the ivory skin once again. Another drop of blood hit the floor, joining the first. A sigh of relief was heard as the knife dug deeper into the forearm, leaving a shallow ravine filled with crimson liquid behind. A few more ravines had to be made before crimson eyes closed, content.
It was getting worse. Slowly eating him from the inside, the pain never deceased. Consuming all his thoughts, the longing kept him awake.
They say love is so wonderful, that you'll be wandering the cloud nine in complete bliss. Then why am I so depressed? So pathetically weak that I can't even look at him without being thrown even deeper into the darkness? Why does everything good and beautiful has to reverse into darkness and pain as soon as I set my eyes on it, set my mind on it? So many questions and absolutely no answers. That's why I'm doing this, escaping the pain by causing more pain. But it's another kind of pain, a sharp, relieving pain that overshadows the pain within, the complete darkness.
A knock on the door interrupted the dark yet peaceful silence of the small room. Crimson eyes opens slowly, unwillingly.
"It's lunchtime" a deep voice says.
"Coming" is the usual short reply that is given anyone who has any kind of reason to knock on the sturdy brown door.
A weary sigh is heard as the mere thought of going out to the others, to him, makes the darkness return with full strength as if it never left. Using the bedpost as support to pick himself off the floor where he sat so comfortably leaned to the dark wooden bed with black sheets, the bloodstained knife is returned to its safe hideout in the bedside table. Picking up a few days old bandages, they are once again wrapped around his forearms, preventing the crimson liquid to escape. Reaching for the dark trench coat that hid his slow decay so well, he gathered courage and strength to face the others, and him, and eat the little food he could force down. He wasn't really hungry anymore, hadn't been for several weeks now and his body was slowly withering away.
In the beginning he had tried to reach out to the centre of his love and affection but to no avail, he's probably not even laid that way. When the darkness began to consume him he considered leaving the team and move somewhere far, far away. But then he didn't know if he could live on when the flame that kept him alive yet burnt and tormented him every day, was so far away, out of reach. He loved him so deeply it hurt and yet he hated him as deeply for all the pain he caused, yet he couldn't imagine a life without him.
What have I done to deserve this?
Every mighty power in the whole world seemed to gang up on him to make his life as miserable as possible, call them whatever you want. God, Fate, Destiny…
Thinking of it, his life had been miserable already from the beginning so why should be treated better now? Boris and Voltaire had been powerful enough to make his life a hell but then he didn't really care because he didn't knew anything else. And back then he never felt anything, all feelings being locked away at the bottom of his heart. He believed feelings was weakness and now he could tell they were quite right – it is better not to feel, especially not if it's eating you alive from the inside.
The plate before him was filled with fish, potatoes and sauce, once a very delicious dish he had favoured, but now it only tasted like ash. Bit by bit he forced down the food, more for nutrition than hunger or taste. His stomach wrenched and protested with every piece that was forced down into it but he ignored the vengeance his body threatened him with and continued to eat as normally as he could. Not even half of the meal could be forced down before he gave in.
A shrug. The simple answer to questions he didn't wanted to answer with words. "Are you okay?", "You don't seem to eat much lately… You sure you're okay?" and "Do you got problems with anything? You know you always can speak with me" his trustworthy captain could be a bit persistent if he wants to and can be entrusted most things. But not this.
The world darkens as the others plan a small trip somewhere. He has already decided to be with someone else and do something they've planned out. Yet again had he been rejected by his love and sank deeper into the all-consuming darkness than he thought was possible. The shadows gnawed on the last strings of hope, the flame that kept him alive flickered as the darkness tried to suffocate it.
Yes, I'll stay behind. Don't let my weakness spoil your fun.
The others are gone now and he has the whole day for himself, alone in the depression he causes. The only one that could possibly save him from the inevitable suffocation from the darkness within is he, but like mentioned before – he's not laid that way and he sees nothing special in him. Just a training mate to look up to sometimes because of strength and skill. A strength slowly fading away, a skill few others achieve and now are withering with the depression.
Already back? Where did the day go? Oh, I've sutten here all day without noticing it...
No response is given to the questions of how the day has been. They are barely heard at all. Not a muscle has been moved, he is still perched on the arm rest of the couch as the sun sets and the night takes hold of the world. Not a piece of food has been eaten, the stomach has no need for it as the end is near. Beyond salvation and resurrection he retired to his little room, ignoring the others wonders.
Crimson eyes watched once muscular ivory limbs. Pale hands on an even paler chest, counting the ribs. How many pounds have gone out the window over the past few weeks? A weary sigh is the only answer there is. Pale hands finds the bloodstained knife once again.
But this time it's different. He's standing on the edge. He doesn't want him, it's clear as a cloudless day. The flame within dies and leaves a hollow empty shell of a human behind and the darkness is finally the unopposed ruler. There is no hope left, there's no chance in Hell he ever will want him, he is far beyond reach, a hopeless dream of a condemned soul.
The clothes is left in a bunch on the floor, the bandages thrown in a corner. Words appear before his inner eye as crimson eyes watches the ivory skin of his bared arms and legs, the lack of muscles obvious. The bloodstained knife digs deep into his left thigh as he begins to write, welcoming the physical pain.
The letters are deep without loosing shape or sharpness, three lines are written before he proceeds to the lower shin where two more lines are carefully carved. Next on is the right lower shin with two lines followed by the thigh with three lines. The blood is creating a small puddle around him as he sits on the floor, leaned to the bed, like always.
A line is carved onto his left upper arm and is shortly followed by one on the forearm, ignoring the already existing red lines. Last to be written is a single line on the right forearm.
Studying his work with calm crimson eyes a content sigh escapes his lips. Light and tired from the blood loss, he closes his eyes and allows the darkness to claim his soul once and for all.
Bryan walked up to the sturdy brown door which leads to Kai's room and knocks.
"We're gonna watch a movie, you wanna join?" he asks. No reply. He waits a minute, still nothing. He knocks again.
"Kai, did you hear me?" Another minute in complete silence. Strange, he's always responding in some way... A third knock and a third minute of silence.
"Kai?" Bryan took the risk of opening the door since Kai never responded.
A sharp inhale drew the others attention.
"Wassup Bry?" Tala grew concerned when he saw his pale teammate's horrified expression.
"Look" was all Bryan could manage to say. Running to his side, the others stopped dead in their tracks when the sight of the room hit them.
Sitting on the floor in just boxers, leaned to the bed, legs sprawled out, head leaned back with crimson eyes firmly shut and a faint smile on his calm face, blood was still gently pouring from the deep wounds on Kai's arms and legs. The puddle around him had already begun to dry and the heavy scent of blood filled the small room to the brim.
Tala was the first to snap out of the paralysed state they all had gone into. Kneeling beside the limp body of Kai he searched the neck for a pulse and found a very weak one.
"Bry, call the ambulance, Spence, Ian, get bandages!" The orders were quickly carried into action. Tala caught sight of the used bandages thrown into a corner and quickly wrapped them around Kai's legs as more bandages arrived.
When they lifted his left arm a bloodstained knife was revealed.
How could this have gone unnoticed? Why didn't we see anything before? He was withering away right before our eyes and we never saw it...
"It's too late. I'm sorry." The medics that came with the ambulance did what they could but Kai's life could not be saved. He looked so peaceful where he laid on the floor.
Tala touched Kai's blue-painted face one last time as Spencer sat in a corner and Bryan leaned his forehead to the doorframe with his arms over his head, breathing heavily. The medics began to take off the bandages as they no longer were needed and Ian spotted something where he stood beside Tala.
"Huh? He's written something?" Everybody gathered around the cold body and examined the once bleeding wounds.
Reading the gross carvings of Russian letters they put together the lines to Kai's suicide note:
I thought you could make me happy
But all that came out of it
Was pain
You've tormented me every day
For so fucking long now
I was taught that feelings was bad
Now I know it is true
I cannot eat, I cannot sleep
Because I can't stop thinking of you
I'm not strong enough to live without you
But you never wanted me
I love you Ian
Yet you only make me wanna die
There you are, I hope you liked it. Nag me enough and I MIGHT continue this with what the others in the Demolition/Blitzkrieg Boys thinks of Kai's suicide and his note. But only if I get about ten reviews ordering me to write it. Then I'll consider it.
Vicious-Loner