Heeeey theeeere. Welcome to my first ever story on and the interwebs as a whole!

It's inspired by another fanfiction I have read recently, and still am. named ''recovery road'' by Ozlice101 on

I will take this story to a totally different direction than Recovery Road. I don't plan on stealing anything besides inspiration :p

The cover image was drawn by my good friend ECZ! You can't find her online (yet).

Just so you know, this story is not meant for the fast readers, and it will most definitely bore them.

If you wish to enjoy this, take your time, read between the lines, not to toot my own horn.

All characters and practically anything else are owned by Jun Mochizuki.

\-=_=moo=_=-/

Dark crimson taints the hardwood flooring, as drops of blood splatter onto the ground.

The boy doesn't fight back, knowing he has no right to do so. He is pulled off his feet as a punch lands straight on his stomach and the force pushes him back.
He slips on his own blood and falls backwards onto the ground. Even his body hates him. his head slams against the hard floor, sending a pulse of pain through his skull.

''Get up!''

his father snaps at him. The boy obeys and slowly stands up. Only to be slapped across the face and slammed against the wall. several more punches connect with his head and chest, breaking a few ribs in the progress.
The boy makes no sound, no shriek, no cry, not even a sob as red tainted fluid pours out his nose and tears out of his eyes, all of which he would hold back if he physically could. He has learnt to keep silent, he has learnt not to fight back, to sit still and take it all, knowing from experience that it would be far worse if he doesn't, but when he gets a knee to his lower organs his natural reflexes get the better of him. A short shriek escapes his mouth as he quickly cuts it off and clenches his teeth. His knees give in and he falls to the floor, pulling his legs together to ease the thumping pain as subtle as possible. But his father notices and a crooked grin grows on his face.

''Did that hurt? What did I tell you? You don't deserve that! A useless little brat doesn't deserve to feel pain! You're just a puppet I found on the side of the street! YOU HAVE NO SOUL! I WOULD'VE KILLED YOU IF YOUR PURPOSE WAS ANYTHING BUT TO ENTERTAIN ME!''

The man slaps him on his forehead. The sound and impact are loud and hard enough to make his ears beep. His vision goes hazy and the new mark on his forehead throbs as he falls to the floor onto his side. The mark colors red as blood pumps through. His father mumbles something incomprehensible to him and walks to the middle of the room where lays a small plush black rabbit on the floor. Consciousness seeps out of Oz's muscles as his head slouches down to the floor and the last thing he sees before blacking out entirely is his father ripping off the head of the toy. Something indescribable inside of him ruptures and for the first time in a long time does a sincere tear trickle down his face, unaware to him of course.

When Oz wakes up he finds himself in an entirely different place than inside the pool of blood on a floor. He's in a soft bed covered in warm cotton blankets and his head is burrowed in a pillow filled with wool. His eyes are sticky, making blinking a tad harder than normal, and when he raises a hand to his face to feel it he realizes he had been crying. Not really understanding his current situation he sits up in his bed and tries to look around, but it is too dark to make out any of it.

He gets out of bed and instinctively walks towards the switch for the light. Once he turns it on he finally realizes he had been dreaming again. He tries to remember what exactly he had been dreaming about. Not the smartest idea. Memories of that day and more flood his mind. Tears start running down his cheeks at the remembrance of it. He tries to calm himself down with what he believes to be soothing words.

''It's ok! It's ok! Nothing bad happened! It wasn't bad at all!'',

but it isn't working, in fact it seems to make it worse. Teary snivels turns into weeps and he falls to the floor. weeps turn into sobs as he burrows his face in between his knees. It gets worse and worse as he continues trying to convince his body that nothing is wrong. Why can't it stop shaking? Why won't it listen to him? Why is he sad? Why is his body reacting this way? He doesn't understand. He puts his hands over his head and unintentionally starts wobbling as shrieks of fear and sadness escape him. He pulls his head back and hugs his legs tight so that he can sway faster. A few minutes pass until he starts screaming and the door to his room slams open. Oz doesn't notice it in his current state and yells ''GIIIIIL!'' loud and violently with a raspy tone, causing his voice to crack midway. The 19 year old Gil hurries to Oz's side and holds him in an affectionate embrace. Oz burrows his face into Gil's chest in between clenched fists, holding on for life Gil's black T-shirt as he continues to sob.

''Did you have a bad dream again?'' Gil asks with a sympathetic frown on his face.

''Y-yes?.'' the boy manages to crack through his sobs.

''It's ok, Oz, he won't hurt you anymore.'' Gil tries to console him. It doesn't help whatsoever. Oz bursts into another fit of shrieking. Though he knows he shouldn't, he can't control his body.

Half an hour passes and the crying dies down. He has no more tears to shed and has calmed down to a relatively silent weeping. Gil asks him if he wants to sleep with him tonight, it is only 2:30 in the middle of night after all. Oz just nods and mumbles affirmingly, unable to control the urge to say yes.

''Come'' Gil mutters in a soft voice and pulls him to his feet as he gets back on his feet, ''let's drink a cup of tea before going to bed, we're both wide awake now anyway.'' Gil smiles.

Oz knows that isn't true. He can clearly see that Gil is tired but he decides not to mention it.

Oz is a bit ashamed that he woke Gil up and bothered him again with his petty nightmares. And if he Tells Gil to take care of himself he would insist until he got his way anyway, so there's no point bothering, is his excuse, while somewhere inside he's just happy to drink tea together with Gil and doesn't want to let that feeling go. This same happiness angers him.

Oz changes out of his pajamas which are soaked in tears to another pair, washes his face in the bathroom and follows Gil, who had been waiting on him, to the kitchen at the end of the hallway for a hot cup of tea.

The next morning he wakes up peacefully, cuddling into Gil who is covering him with an arm. He silently squirms his way out of his grip, not wanting to wake him. He deserves to rest, since Oz is the reason he is tired anyway. He feels a small sense of guilt, thinking that he is just being a bother to Gil. This quickly fades away as he hears rumbling from the bed and Gil pops up from the hill of blankets, asking: ''What are you doing just standing there?'' with a smile on his face.

Oz just blinks and tilts his head to the side, not understanding what he means with that.

''Never mind…'' Gil sighs as he gets out of bed. ''Go get ready for breakfast.''

Oz obliges and walks out of the room towards his own. After he takes a shower he puts on the clothes he took from his wardrobe. He wears short black jeans and a simple grey T-shirt. Gil has bought most of his clothing for him. Oz noticed that Gil really likes dark colors, which he didn't understand at first. But he has to admit it looks kind of good on him. Another worthless thought of him.

He walks out of his room, past Gil's and the bathroom, down the hallway to the kitchen/living room. To his left he sees Gil, in front of the stove, looking down at the frying pan. He is making pancakes. And as the delicious scent of it reaches his nose a wide smile grows on his face, one he'd like to hide but doesn't seem to be able to. Gil looks up from the pancake to Oz and chuckles at the sight of his joyful expression, happy that he is feeling better.

''Pancakes!'' Oz cheers overjoyed, and jumps onto Gil, hugging his torso tightly. ''w-ho there!'' Gil tries to keep his balance.

''Calm down, will you? It's only pancakes!''

''But your pancakes are awesome!'' Oz exclaims excitedly. He's trying to calm himself down but it isn't really working.

''Get off of me, else you won't get any.''

Oz pouts and murmurs something on the lines of ''Be glad I want to hug you, ya loner.''

Gil's eye twitches but he decides to let that comment slide.

Not really though. He decides to put some salt in Oz's orange juice before taking a seat at the table.

''BUEGH! What is this!?'' Oz shrieks after taking a sip.

''Tastes normal to me.'' Gil replies with a playful smile on his face as he drinks from his own glass, after which a pancake droops down his face, leaving behind a trail of honey and an audibly laughing Oz. ''You little- !'' Gil screams as he gets out of his chair and starts tickling him right then and there, getting some half-hearted slaps and punches flinging his way in return.

And like that they start what was supposed to be a lazy Saturday, but part of Oz doesn't want to enjoy any of it.

\-=moo=-/