RATING: R
MAJOR CHARACTERS: Suano, Ran.
DISCLAIMER: This is mere fiction, based on the anime Sukisho!. No profit made. Not recomended to sue me, bankrupted from head to toe.
SUMMARY: The little pink-haired boy wants Little Birdie to deliver a message. Not for sensitive readers.
WARNING: Angst. Violence. Sensitive material.
COPYRIGHT: © Octobor 2005
Little Birdie
By mitmiya
The straps hold him in place, cutting into soft, smooth skin that is rapidly starting to fill up with small scars, a permanent reminder of what happened everyday in this small lab.
Little birdie?
He used to struggle, and I used to help him, but not anymore. I watch him sadly as he lays there, eyes blank and lifeless as he stares into space, mind ceasing to work as he tries to escape the brutal reality. I know what he is thinking about, but it hurts too much to listen to his childish voice laughing happily as needles get inserted into his beautiful body.
Little birdie.
He used to cry out, sob and lose conscious. His voice used to leave him for days when the pain was too much and the little boy could not help but scream so loud that I had to cover my ears; my own scream loud enough.
Little birdie.
Now, he looks so defeated, naked and bound to that cold metal table as people hovered over him, touching and caressing. His pale skin was tainted with blood as sharp objects were pressed into him, slowly, teasingly and I'm mesmerized at the way the river of life rushed to escape his body.
Where are you little birdie?
Was that a sign? Did the way he bled was a sign to how much his body wanted to rest, to stop existing? Do I want him to? He had suffered enough already.
Little birdie?
I shut my eyes tightly as a shiver race down my spine, and I immediately wrap my arms around myself. It is so cold, yet so hot. The needles are roughly pulled out of his body, and the flinch show me that he is still alive.
Birdie?
Sometimes, I wish he wasn't.
Please, little birdie?
Calloused hands roam his body and I open my eyes to see his own widen, the straps are pulled and yanked as his arms and legs flailed. He will tolerate anything, beatings, being cut and all sorts of pain, but he can never stay still when he was used in that way. Pinned and tainted with stains that can never be washed out.
Little birdie!
Time passes agonizingly slow before his bruised, battered body is thrown back into the cell, the small room we try to feel some safety in, where the hands are far away from him. I sit on the lone cot and watch him crawl from where he was left to reach the wall. His small hands are placed on the cold brick barrier as he tries to stand up, his tearful eyes looking up to take a glance at the small window, past the bars to look at the sky of the night.
With that sad, soft voice, he starts calling out.
"Little birdie."
I hate him when does that, he sounds so pathetic as he calls into the night for a creature that is never going to answer him. I hate it when the tears start to slowly trail down his bloodied cheeks, like small red rivers.
"Little birdie?"
Despite not liking the way Nao-kun was acting, I find myself usually calling out with him, my own voice desperate.
"Please tell Kuu-chan to come back."
Please tell Yoru to come back.