Disclaimer: Dont own the characters
Warnings: OOCness, future yaoi, swearing (in abundance), and violence,
Caught
Chapter 1
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A cold metal tube was placed to his lips, effectively cutting him off from saying anything. Not like he was going to anyways. After every weekly sessions it always left him somewhat exhausted. And the fact that his mother was still working and he had to wait over 40 minutes in the waiting room didn't help either. It was the usual. He would be driven to his psychologist by his grandparents, before waiting 10 minutes to see his psychologist. She would greet him with a friendly smile, they would talk and he would tell her how his week went and smile politely when leaving, the session over.
Then he would leave the office after the hour was up with his usual impassive, and indifferent mask, sit on the chairs in the waiting room. The hard chairs he might add. Very hard and plastic, chairs and wait for his mother to get off work and come pick him up. All in all he had possibly sat seven different positions in the chair, while still looking somewhat decent, because the chairs...really were uncomfortable. He had his music in his ears as usual, loud, but only loud enough for the other people in the room, if they were close enough to hear the occasional static of the rock music playing out the guitar and drums.
As it was, he was distracted, letting his mind flow to another world. He felt oddly relaxed, calm, and distant. In that blissful state between consciousness and unconsciousness. As if he didn't care if a man were to barge in right now and start shooting...
And that's when he realized that there really was a man who had charged into the building and had actually began shooting. He glanced up to the man with a beautiful crafted, porcelain mask that ended just above his mouth. The mask was dark grey, almost black and had silver vines crawling out of the edges of the mask, swirling around different parts of the mask. Sharp etched out thorns, poked out of the vines like tiny silver knives. In the center of the mask was an odd symbol. One he had seen a few times in the alleyways of the bad side of town (which so conveniently happens to be where his school was built in) and thought he had also seen it a few times on the news.
Looking around, he realized that the patients had seemed to be slumped over their chair with an interesting flow of dark red pooling through their clothing. While others were just flat out on the ground, sleeping into that blissful slumber he had been so close to achieving just minutes ago.
And that's when he looked up to the man, who was now standing in front of him...
He seemed to be staring intently into his eyes at the moment, as if trying to read him. Like a text you read over and over, trying to get a better understanding of it. Itachi parted his dry lips slightly, about to lick them shut, but was stopped when the gunman pressed the weapon right between his lips. Still looking at him with an indifferent face, Itachi realized that the gunman probably thought he was going to speak.
Heh, yeah right good luck with that. Part of the reasons he was here was because of him never showing emotion, always quiet, never having a social life what so ever. Thinking their poor child had gone insane, Mikoto and Fugaku decided to get Itachi...what was it they said? Oh right. 'The help he needed'.
He didn't need any help. He was fine with his silent serenity. It was lulling him like his songs lulled the pain in his chest every time he thought about... how alone he really was.
No one dared to talk with him. They would whisper behind his back,gawk at him like a zoo animal, and treat him a like a rare piece of jewelery. Treated like a rare species of animal. Something everyone was fascinated about, something everyone spoke about in praise or envy, but something everyone would stay cautious and stay clear of. Even his own family treated him that way...
In retaliation Itachi stopped with trying to get close to people. He had giving up. Let them be and act as they want. It no longer had anything to do with him. He simply didn't care anymore. And that's why when the gunman, pressed the metal tube under his chin, effectively lifting his face up towards his, he didn't squint his eyes shut, nor did he beg for his life. Let the man do what he wanted. He didn't care...
"Lets go" he said in a baritone voice that made him shiver. It was deep and purely masculine. He looked up to see if he heard right and saw for the first time that the mans eyes were an odd color. A beautiful color...
A wonderful shade of pinkish-purple. Magenta eyes. He had never seen eyes like that before. But before he could do anything he was yanked up by his arm. Oh boy...it seems he took too long. He was practically being dragged out of the building, by the man and was trusted into a van. The man slammed the van shut and hopped into the drivers seat, taking off like a speeding bullet.
The man was rough with him and his arm stinged a little from where the man was gripping him. But other than that and the knowledge of being kidnapped, he was fine.
Actually...he was beginning to feel his eyes droop. The humming of the van, the quiet curses coming from the front of the van, hidden by a black sheet of glass, was lulling him. Just like his music...and before he knew it. He was asleep.