Warning : Heavy smut, multiple personality disorder, abusive relationship and a lot of screaming incoming.
What was the thing that you feared the most?
We know fear since young, like it was a curse haunting us for the rest of our lives. We know fear as something that we are scared easily, something that we really wanted to avoid for the rest of our lives – something that could be the death of us, or that's what our brain was telling us. Oddly, our brain worked miraculously, and it may be deceiving. Our brain was created in the most complicated ways; it was smart. It could be more cunning than its own host, than the soul living inside the body. Apparently, the brain successfully tricked us about these things we called as fear. We thought as we grew up, the old fears we had would be replaced with something else, something different, something that wasn't supposed to be related to the childish terrors we used to have.
Well, what if I tell you – that's not a hundred percent correct. Then again, please do not exclaim any accusations and statements about my word being false. First of all, I didn't say it was entirely wrong. You see, humans are differentiated into several categories. We all know that, because we simply did it ourselves.
Think again.
Childhood was the time when young children started to develop their own characteristics and was exposed to these world of fears, traumas; a dimension of the mind's problems. And that was, in fact, the particular time when we discovered our own instead. And as we tried to recover from such matter, we didn't really notice that the horror never really did disappeared.
It followed us.
Everywhere and anywhere, fear constantly followed behind our feet like our shadows – or perhaps they were our shadows – constantly changing and shapeshifting and hiding, merging in with other shadows. We never really noticed these kinds of things, too hidden and secretive. We just thought the old ones run away, new ones came to our life.
Well, dear friend, sometimes that wasn't simply the case.
Sure, for some people; they were too ignorant to have the real kind of fears. They never really expected to have the real kind of emotions thumping in their chest like a hammer would hit a nail, these things called trauma and paranoia. Those who strived for ordinary wouldn't bother such things but those who opened their eyes and observe might be.
You see. . . When we were children, we started to have simple or incredulous fears like darkness or strangers. Yet, when we grew up – like I said previously – the terrors tend to change. And they did. Like a child, who developed the fear of strangers; little did he know, that kind of trepidation would transform to something akin to the crippling social anxiety. Well, it was relative, isn't it?
See?
I told you so.
So, how about young children who feared on getting mocked or bullied or used up because of their flaws and weaknesses? How about those young ones who couldn't really defend themselves?
Results were, there were two answers for these rhetorical – but not really – questions.
First, it remained unchanged. The weak stayed as the weak. Unless you come from a fiction, then God would give you some incredible abilities to knock down your foes and such. But what does reality tells you?
Nothing. Just some random suicide cases or the better news of it; they remained hidden and stepped on, ruled by and trampled.
And second, well – they started to hate themselves. Hated – no, no, no, the word was quite wrong – loathe, yes – how pitiful they grew up as. Loathed how helpless they became, how weaker they were, how useless.
Well, the aftermath was just as similar to the first ones.
I'm telling you, not everything was like that. But I'm talking about majority – let's be real.
Do you get me?
So, what is this about Kuroko Tetsuya and Akashi Seijuurou actually? What are their conflicts, their arguments, their vices, their enemies, their fears? Why were they, despite being lovers, so unhappy and conflicted and hurt in so many ways? Why were they helpless? Why were they scared?
Why?
Why?
What do you think?
Did I give you too many questions?
Well, my friend, listen closely. This tale I'm telling – I'm telling you well; about two unfortunate lovers. How they loved, but they feared to love. How closer and deeper they wanted to dig in, but they never made it to that kind of level. How pitiful that Tetsuya became, that because of a fear, it had caused a lot of misfortunes in his life. How helpless that, despite the strong Akashi Seijuurou was, yet he lost – he lost to someone stronger.
This kind of tale, a telling told how one similar fear from two different people caused mishaps and pandemonium to their lives. . . and to others as well.
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Inspired by The Devil and I by Deepper
Mozu The Mochi
Represents
Odium
PART I
Crimson
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"But even when I stop crying, even when we fall asleep and I'm nestled in his arms, this will leave another scar. No one will see it. No one will know. But it will be there. And eventually all of the scars will have scars, and that's all I'll be-one big scar of a love gone wrong."
― Amanda Grace, But I Love Him
Tetsuya abhorred the night. He abhorred the icy cold room till even the soles of his feet could sense it. He abhorred the absence of light when the murkiness looked like shadows and phantoms surrounding the area. He abhorred there was just two people living in such a lavished, wide penthouse and the other companion wasn't really a pleasant one. By means of the lack of pleasantries, he meant more than just disgust, more than irritation, more than the unsatisfying feeling curling in the pit of his stomach; the feelings were much stronger, bitter, way miserable. He abhorred the golden shades, visible in one of the companion's iris as it mocked and taunted and threatened and feared him so much – that each hour settled in, had he never been this restless before. He abhorred the one living inside Akashi Seijuurou, yet not Seijuurou himself.
It was a demonic persona – or perhaps the devil itself – settling inside the host like a parasite.
Fret not, there was an explanation to all these execrations, reasons to the fear he gained from the lone companion he had. As much as the blunette hated to state this; but his lover, the red-haired man he tenderly cared for, suffered from multiple personality disorder. A disorder he much loathed – and even the Akashi himself hated it with all his soul – that happened to be so much like a curse.
And soon, the sun crawled back into its hiding position, and dim swirls of amber and rich gold became dark shades of panther-like, navy blue. The blunette embraced himself, his arms circling his own lithe body, bracing to what fate would dawn upon him. He hoped the darkness shrouding the spacious chamber was able to hide him even the slightest moment. He hoped that the persona wasn't as sharp as the host himself, and that he'd missed the silhouette holing up behind the bed, curling in piles of sheets and pillows.
The clock's scrawny, metallic arms pointed with a loud ticking sound toward the digits; six and twelve. He braced himself for the incoming footsteps as it got louder.
Alas, it wasn't as what he had hoped for.
"Tetsuya. . ."
Cold. The voice was cold and brutal and callused, not at all comforting nor velvety, not at all as similar as the lover he should have. Tetsuya could feel the smile – one that wasn't chaste but a sinful kind – curling on Seijuurou's lips as he dragged the blunette's name painfully slow, torturous and bloodcurdling.
"You know you can't hide from me. . ."
Tetsuya covered his eyes, his whole body shaking.
Please. . . Please, don't let him see me. Please go away. . . That was all he wished for. For the real Seijuurou to come toward him and the familiar redhead to wrap his long arms the semblance of warmth to return – and then, soothing words susurrated to his ears.
That wouldn't come in night time, unfortunately. Till the last drop of moonlit casted on the diaphanous curtains, the demon stayed. The demon lingered, the demon taunted.
Tetsuya could already picture the smile in the interim, one that meant no comfort, of course.
"Found you. . ."
And Tetsuya could feel a pair of cold hands pulling him closer to the brink of his death.
Too much.
It was too much. Too much for Tetsuya to handle till he found himself screaming for the one on top to stop, the strings of moans followed by pitiful pleas and begs. Tears pricked in the corner of the red-rimmed twin azure pools. With his position on all fours, he felt his bottom violated and sore, the slaps and spanks followed after wasn't even near helpful. And there wasn't any comfort, nothing to cling to but whispers of thoughts, images of the Seijuurou basked in daylight, inwardly he sputtered a plethora of profanities and curses toward the harasser.
"Aka –. . Akashi –!"
"Call me by my name, Tetsuya!"
"No –"
Slap! Slap! Slap! The redhead wouldn't stop. He fingered Tetsuya's abused hole with his three digits, not paying attention to the pathetic mewls despite his rough gestures whilst his other hand had been spanking the blunette for God knows how many times and fondled over the rock-hard shaft.
It was unfair. Whilst the bottom was bound from any kind of movement, his wrists bearing angry red lines and scars, tied firmly with a cloth clinging to the bedpost, the other allowed to touch, to caress, to linger his hands on the alabaster white skin. Whilst the bottom was in utter despair, the other enjoyed his futile weeps, laughing and chuckling like his screams were a joke – "Pain is hilarious. . ." And so he claimed to be.
"Nnngh. . . Sto –" It came out in chokes and coughs, lungs derived from oxygen, he was suffocating.
He wouldn't listen. He never did. Every night, amidst the pain, the demon fed his needs but never Tetsuya's own satisfaction – just pain. Only that, the gestures became erratic and rougher, increasing to tenfold times of agony.
Tetsuya found the redhead tore the cloth and threw it near the corner, forgotten; flipped his lithe body to face him, and he soon found the mismatched eyes – not two pools of crimson – glinting sinfully in lust, overshadowed with the desire to conquer. A tongue prodded out as he licked his lips, closer did he inched toward the blunette's neck and took a bite at the pearly white skin.
"Ah – nngh. . . Aka – Sei! It hurts. . ." Wantonly, yet miserable, moaned the red-faced blunette. The redhead didn't pay any attention despite his pathetic pleas yet a scorn marred his features.
He peppered wet trails of kisses and licks from the neck down to the collarbone, as if Tetsuya's body was a blank canvas, he carved out hickeys – bright red and angry – all over the skin. It was painful, too much for the smaller male to handle, that he found himself clawing Seijuurou by the shirt. His nails dug deeper into the fabric as he attempted to dwindle the pain. They never did kissed on the lips, not that the counterpart personality bothered to and that Tetsuya was sure he would disallowed such action no matter the pain he'd received. It was worth protecting for; the intimate action only deserved to be done by the real Akashi Seijuurou, with him and only him.
"Sei – stop!"
Another slap was followed, this time on the face.
"I really would appreciate it if you stop talking. . ." murmured Seijuurou, clicking his tongue when he tried stopping the squirms from the bottom male.
There wasn't any democracy in such relationship after all.
It was unbearable for him now. The southern region, despite his abhorrence, stood proudly and his walls clenched tightly, the tremendous, torturous heat radiated all over his body. He gasped involuntarily. Tetsuya only wanted everything to be over even if he had no pleasure – as in there was any pleasure in such rough and brutal intercourse. He only wanted morning to come and the last drop of white glow flowing from the window panes were no more, replaced by the lemon yellow glint he was familiar with, and relieved to gaze upon. He wanted the pain to disappear – or at least, please don't paint his heart with scars and paranoia. And the nausea was building up in his head, the sight of the golden eye became blurry and all he could do was to feel.
The Seijuurou he hated was only about to start.
In and out, Tetsuya felt his lower region full and throbbing. In and out, the demon wouldn't stop until he felt sated and complete. In and out, both were craving but not toward each other; one longing for his true, loving companion and the other his build-up libido. In and out, the blunette turning into a moaning mess and he was starting to see stars and white all over. In and out, for once everything was focused toward the erratic movement getting more fluid and faster – and then everything stopped as in the track of time did as well.
The room was humid and smelt like sweat and sex amidst the darkness. Tetsuya was trembling, his body felt torrid and cold all over. He was already reaching his climax and through brief glimpses he assumed the redhead was, as well. After a while, long strings of hot, white seeds came out from his length and the blunette squirmed uncomfortably, dirtying the thick duvet beneath them. Seijuurou chuckled above him, and he brought his face closer to the blue-haired male, heterochromia eyes clashing against cerulean.
"You're so lewd, Tetsuya," he laughed once more, "Are you perhaps enjoying the love-making we had together?"
"Of. . . Of course not. . . We're not even making love!" He whimpered soft and inaudible, disgust and disdain.
It was true; this was just plain sex, numb and sore, not a process of making sweet love.
Unfortunately for the hissing blunette, the laughter from above stopped. In a blur, Tetsuya felt his cheeks stung and blood red from the hits directed from the seething latter, crimson and royal gold gleaming bright in the absence of light. That was when the fear crawled in, Tetsuya filled himself with dread and remorse toward what might come to him.
He felt fingers softly – the tender gesture was in purpose – toward his soft, baby blue tufts. It wasn't supposed to be relaxing, and panic did Tetsuya became till his breath hitched as the fingers pulled, actually yanked the locks roughly and brought his face the same level as Seijuurou.
"Wha –! What are you doing?!"
"What do you think I'm doing?" he was chuckling.
"Aka – nnngh. . . Seeeiii, you're hurti. . . ing me!"
He didn't stop even the slightest.
"Silence," he smiled sweetly, "You know better than to defy me, right Tetsuya?"
"Go away. . .," sobbed Tetsuya despite the pain.
The blunette had never tasted anything bitter than the bile rising to his throat. He felt hands slipping off his body for a brief moment – and he heaved a sigh – only to met a not-so-gentle, belligerent yank on his hair. When did the demon had his hands on his head? Oh right, he was spacing out again. It was typical for Tetsuya to had his mind linger; the train of thoughts worked as a contribution to ease the pain after all.
Tetsuya was thrown to the mattress for like an umpteenth time of the night – and another round was done. The entire night was filled with agonizing screams and smacking sounds, the mattress continuously creaking till their adrenaline ran out.
And all Tetsuya could hope was for daylight to come.
Daytime was a blessing for none other than Kuroko Tetsuya. There wasn't any other person who was so relieved and happy to greet the morning rays with a cheerful smile like Tetsuya himself. Morning was an escape, a key to open the lock from the cages filled with nothing but darkness; and the sun was a symbol. If he'd to choose another religion, he'd worship the sun as his god. He'd bowed down, bid many and many thanks to the golden globe scattering its bright and powerful rays. He would be like in ancient Egypt, where humans felt that they were so small – and Ra was the creator, the powerful deity, the central God of Sun.
Even so, no matter how powerful and bright a sun could maintain, it could never defeat the sequence of day and night. In the end, even the sun needs its sleep and night time would give its greetings, waking up in a form of a glowing moon amidst the blank carpet, like tossing waves of the deepest depths of ocean.
Akashi Seijuurou was like the sequence itself. He was the light that Tetsuya hold on too, yet he was also the one who brought the overwhelming darkness to the blunette himself. He was both God and demon, the hope and despair, creator and destructor combined into one body. This is true to what some had said; the greater the light, the greater the shadow one would likely to create.
It was a natural order. It was permanent. It was destined.
No matter what the blunette did, he couldn't hide from the demonic side of Akashi Seijuurou. Sure, he had ran a thousand miles, flew to another side of Japan, hid himself from the rest of the world – but he found himself; his arms pulled by the redhead, the twin pools of sapphire constantly watching over spills of bloody crimson matted both hands of the said redhead.
The bond was stronger than marriage, stronger than red strings of destiny. The bond was deranged, twisted like the person himself, sinful. The bond was unstoppable, that no matter how many houses he settled in for the night, the redhead kept looking for him, dragging him to the hell hole he dreaded so much. The bond was stronger that it led to something else; something darker, an unforgivable crime he was sure he wasn't able to forget. The bond was stronger that Tetsuya wished he never met Akashi Seijuurou in the first place.
It was night, of course. Like any other night, Tetsuya couldn't soothe the panic rising like bile in the pit of his stomach. He constantly returned to the bathroom to excuse himself for vomiting, washing his face countless of times and paced around the area to and fro; he felt like he developed the compulsive behaviour due to his unsettled bundle of nerves. The house was fairly fine for someone who lived alone; and through brief glances, he peered toward Kagami preparing the two of them dinner.
The familiar bile rose to his throat once more.
"Kagami-kun. . . I think I'm going to the bathroom again. . ." murmured Tetsuya, whose face was blue from discomfort.
His said friend had his eyebrows scrunched, scowling in displeasure, "Seriously? You've been in and out for Godknows how many times! Are you seriously okay, Kuroko?"
". . . Ye – Yeah. . . I guess so? I'm not sure."
"Maybe you have a fever." The taller lad propped the back of his hand against the pale-ish forehead for a moment, his eyes gazing with uncertainty. "You feel a bit hot. It's not that bad but I still think you should have a medicine."
"Do you have some, Kagami-kun?"
"Wait, hm. . ." the taller one went to the nearest cabinets and checked every spot. When there was none, he gave a frustrated huff. "You know what, I'll go buy some while you wait here. Is it okay for you?"
Of course not! He wanted to say it, but Kagami-kun was being nice. So instead of a violent attempt of showing refusal, he sullenly muttered a "Fine" and nodded.
"But please, Kagami-kun. . . be a little bit fast, will you?"
His chest was heavy with endless concerns. So many flashes of Kagami-kun being attacked came to his mind till nausea settled in the poor blunette once more. But the taller one scoffed and grinned lopsidedly;
"Okay, okay. You don't have to worry about me, idiot."
If Kagami-kun knew about his fear, then the blunette was sure he'll relent. The words, as if, begged to be spoken of but Tetsuya had them stuck in the throat and he was only able to breathe once the tall lad left the house.
Kami, please let him be safe.
Immediately, he rushed to the bathroom once again. Nausea was hitting him how stones would wound a bird's wings; his vision hazy like delusions. He threw up the contents of his stomach, his belly stinging, eyes glossy with crystalline tears. Why was he feeling this uneasy? He was safe, he was warm, he was free from bruises and scars, he was not violated – yet there was a voice shouting in his head, telling him to run as far as he could.
He would've, if his body wasn't saggy and exhausted, the trail of footsteps languid and adagio. If he could describe the pain, it felt like a dozen of blades pierced through his skin at the same time – and the exhaustion was completely undefeatable. Tetsuya dragged his feet to Kagami's bedroom, not at all caring whether it was right or wrong and lied down as if the doors of death would greet upon him in any minute.
He closed his eyes, finally; safe and warm.
Scratch that. Kuroko Tetsuya was never safe at all, cue the sentence above.
He was never, ever safe especially when he woke up to the sound of shrieks and cries – and cruel, cruel laughter. A laughter of a mad man, a laughter of the demon; if demons could laugh that wholeheartedly, not just a simple sneer. The echoing laughter by the hallway haunted his memories for the rest of his life. Even Seijuurou's footsteps sounded menacing from the constant tap tap tap outside, and the sounds and echoes halted once he reached in front of the door. Tetsuya had locked the bedroom door, of course, but his mind screamed danger all over. The rivulets coming from the sapphire stones became thicker and he tasted the saltiness through the tip of his tongue. Tetsuya can't stop himself from the occasional sobs that blew off his cover.
"Open the door, Tetsuya."
He sobbed, his arms embracing his cold, chafed knees.
"N. . . No," he wept loud enough for the redhead to hear, despite his shaky tone.
"What did you said?"
"N-n-no. . ."
"No?"
There was no response.
"Answer me, Tetsuya."
"Please, Akas – Se. . . Sei. . ." he sobbed, "Let me go. . ."
A brief pause, for once Tetsuya was puzzled – hopeful. "Very well."
And then, there was the same repeat once more, the thunderous screams pierced through the very walls and reached to Tetsuya's eardrums. The blunette gasped once he realised who the target was, the shivers ran down his spine like he felt gossamers entwining him into a spider web. Kagami screamed again, but the screams were rasped and forced and sent horrendous memories to the paranoid blunette. He clasped his ears closed, yelling to the other side of the door;
"Stop, Seijuurou! Stop!"
"It's a little too late to stop now, Tetsuya."
He couldn't figure – not at all – what was going on outside, whether Kagami was still alive or not. He had heard the last shriek and then everything went still. He counted the duration; it was only two minutes. Two minutes of torture, he wondered what happened to Kagami.
"Tetsuya. . ." the redhead chuckled, "You're such a bad friend for leaving your friend to die."
Kagami is. . . dead?!
"Oh well, maybe he's not being a good friend after all since you didn't bother to save him."
"S. . . Stop! Seijuurou, please. . ."
Of course, Seijuurou never did.
"I'll. . . I'll open the door," surrendered the blunette.
He had to surrender. He had to look upon his friend's state, whether he was alive or not but for sure it wasn't a pretty sight. From the opposite side of the door, the blunette could assume, imagine the deranged, and of malice, look he wore on the supposed unwavering features. Through the smallest creak, he glanced upon two gleaming pools, one a raw crimson as akin as the liquid splayed on the floor – marring the floorboards messily with sticky pool of red – and the other a shade of the royal crown, resemblance to his superior character. True to his thought, his smiles were the most demented as he carefully played with the scissors. Beside him, lying lifeless and tormented; sprawled none other than Kagami Taiga. Gashes upon gashes, bruises upon bruises – the pair of scissors was like a painting brush to Seijuurou's nimble fingers. Like an artist, he stretched his arms and slashed – like a painter would when he streaked a shade to the canvas – and cut. He made deep wounds, deep until he felt the flesh and ichor splattered from the skin. It was much more fun when the pair of blades made contact with the face, how they gouged the eyeballs, how they ripped against the jawline.
The blunette gasped. Even by looking at his dear friend's dead condition almost made his very soul slipped away from the host. It was too much for him to see, Tetsuya blocked the view from his vision with his arms crossed in front of his face. The house was yet to be filled with an ear-splitting scream.
But the killer only stared, mismatched eyes glazed and half-lidded. Seijuurou looked amused than satisfied.
Before Tetsuya could mutter a word, a callused hand yanked a grip of the soft blue tufts and pulled him back inside, directing his footsteps to the bed. And even with his full strength, the blunette was unable to free himself from the grip – Seijuurou was never a weak person; and poor, little Tetsuya felt like a powerless sheep claimed by the huge, alpha wolf.
His body was thrown on top of the bed.
"NOOO! Sei – Sei – Pl. . . please! Stop! I'm sorry –"
I'm sorry, Kagami-kun.
"Liar," the demon growled, "You're apologising Taiga, not me."
The mismatched orbs' gaze embedded like knives, especially when the dark intensity caused an ethereal glow upon the two colours. If Seijuurou wouldn't be a demon in the night, Tetsuya would indulge over the shades, would drink every gazes he'd been given to. But it wasn't the Akashi he knew, and for sure he wasn't going to give himself away that easily.
That was a rule he managed to keep on his own; no matter how many times – an infinite amount of sex even – had he been forced to surrender his body, the love blooming in his chest was as strong as steel. The love was his strength, was his determination. The love was what kept him at bay; the love was his sanity. The love was Tetsuya's only hope.
So, even when he chanted please like an unstoppable mantra, like he was summoning a saviour, like he was giving up; the blunette fought hard from the man imposing the same visuals as his Akashi. The redhead on top sure clawed, bashed, slapped every parts of his skin till the supposed pale complexion turned to angry pyrrole hue but the bottom man still had the energy to thresh his arms, fighting his dignity, fighting pride.
Seijuurou held the smaller lad by the cheeks, feeling the cherub and smooth texture, but vicious and wild he displayed such actions; "You have no right to order me, Tetsuya."
"Please – please. . Sa – Save me. . ."
"He won't save you, Tetsuya. . . He can't."
Tetsuya, Tetsuya, Tetsuya. Even his own name sounded foreign despite the familiar voice and yet it was his own name to begin with. Vaguely, he remembered the moments Akashi would called him by the surname, yet his was a velvety, soothing lullaby but the demon's unruly, uncontrollable, dominant, whispers from the deepest pit of Hell. His name, his very own name, was bitter to his eardrums and he was cringing to every mutters of the name. By now, the blunette was a sobbing mess with the thick teardrops left marks on both cheeks, chest rising abruptly with non-stop hiccups.
He found no pleasure yet the man pouring his silhouette shrouding him was spreading his legs and had them wrapped shakily around the fine build. He found no pleasure when the man sheathed his length into his tight hole, no matter how erratic and fast, it was inevitable. He found no pleasure toward the fingers that pulled, pinched, perked the pink nubs and caressed the corners of his lithe figure.
He found no pleasure but spite – somewhere in his mind; he wished for the man he was facing to die.
Of course, he can't stop moaning and groaning, supposed sounds of pure ecstasy, no matter how many times he chanted and begged his body stop; it just wouldn't. His heart might be made from steel, but his body had been manipulated, shaped to fulfil the demon's desires. And Tetsuya despised that; hated the fact his body was enjoying such aggressive sex, unruly actions.
He had promised to himself, and inwardly to Akashi-kun, he'd never bow down to the demon.
Inwardly smiling at the thought, his visions hazed, white dots flashing like he was watching the stars in a planetarium and his mind shut down; the only thing he was hearing was the smacking sounds, hard and echoing and brutal and they never stopped.
Mornings were supposed to be a symbolic meaning for a fresh start. One would wake up feeling as great as the blooming flowers after a fresh pour of the rain and they themselves feel the obliged to do something productive; yet many few would be as groggy like Hell had just descended upon their dreams and they might as well sleep till kingdom befalls. And like any other, the sun was bright as it was summer; like gentle, warm hands placing caresses and soft strokes upon skins. Still tucked beneath the sheets – but why did his surroundings were so. . . unfamiliar? – the redhead had his crimson eyes gazing the blue skies, fond over shades of azure, cerulean, celeste and Carolina.
He woke up like he had a hangover the night before, his head felt like it had weights of a multiple stones weighing on top of the skull and Kami, was he bathed in blood?!
What had happened the night before?
"Yo – You're awake. . ."
There was a voice. A sound yet familiar and soothing but wasn't one that he wanted to hear at the moment, depending on the crimson on his shirt and toned skin. A sound he wanted to reach toward but at the same time he wanted to run away, miles and miles and miles away. It was a heavy feeling, and when he turned around, the instincts in his gut was true after all. It was a different kind of fear; no that sounded wrong – he was nervous, his palms were sweaty. Was this guilt? Or was it remorse?
"Kuroko. . ."
Limp and tired and wounded, that was the kind of state his lover's – strong, brave Tetsuya – body . What the demonic persona did last night was beyond his memory, he vaguely recalled anything because it wasn't him to begin with.
The poor blunette looked exhausted as Hell even as he lost consciousness last night. Buried in the depths of his mind were the ugly, painful scars literally sprawled across – he was supposed to be beautiful; that gorgeous, tempting body – the pearly white skin. But no, it seemed that the other side of Akashi Seijuurou wouldn't allow the current one to see how alluring his lover was supposed to be, he had bestowed a curse upon the supposed original persona. And now, neither could he touch the blunette without hurting him, he couldn't gaze upon his own lover without shaming the latter, he wasn't able to speak of comforting words without putting the other into tears. He was bounded to stay a distance even when he was the real lover. Because even at this moment, Akashi could see the pain clear in the soft blue pools, wincing about as he tried to shift his weak body and withstand the ugly bruises colouring the pale shade in dark blue and purple.
Even so, the blunette managed to sit up as he hauled – he took a long time, poor Tetsuya – himself to a cross-legged position and embraced the startled man. His hands wandered along every lines and muscles and skin, finally the fingers landed toward the tufts of crimson and pulled them gently. Akashi knew he was enjoying the crimson in his eyes, forgetting instead the mismatched ones. The redhead, too, had his arms pulling the thin waist cautiously and carefully; like Tetsuya might be a fragile item, he might break any time soon.
"I'm sorry, Kuroko. . ."
The blunette simpered, happy to receive the warmth in the interim. "It's okay, Akashi-kun. Just stay with me right now. . . I – Kami, I missed you."
There was something about Tetsuya that he seemed to be hiding something. Although no matter how curious the redhead was, he remained silent.
"Kiss me, Akashi-kun. . . Please. . ."
He was desperate. Akashi knew why was he acting in such hasty attempts when the blunette was dying in shame inside; but the disgusting feeling buried deep was what he wanted to rid of currently. The impurity he was feeling almost riled him to insanity, and it broke Akashi a little in the inside to see his dear Tetsuya was breaking like a fragile item. Well, when he found the blue-haired male, he knew how weak his soul was. Tetsuya was a fragile item. But right now, he was an already broken pieces being glued together that was almost on the verge of falling again. Akashi knew better than to refuse.
Yet, the voices in his head gave him doubts worse than the devil had erased the bits of last night's recollections.
"No. . . Kuroko, you're hurt. . ." Akashi was begging. Please, don't hurt the blunette any further. He, too, died a little inside.
"Please, Akashi-kun. . . I just – I just –"
Scratch that. If the redhead was being stubborn enough not to comply, then he would act the same as well. And so, the despaired latter close the distance between themselves until only a small gap was present against their lips. He smiled a little as he pressed their lips firmly, trembling and weak arms circled the taller lad's bloodied neck and traced every lines against his jaw.
The kiss – the god damn sweet kiss – was chaste and simple yet blissful and sweet, it was enough to send little butterflies fluttering inside Tetsuya's belly. This was the kind of feeling he wished for; he felt safe and warm, all he wanted was more and more and more – they could continue for hours! It was only when the need of oxygen was greater than their needs that they broke apart for a brief moment before connecting their swollen lips again. This time, it became sloppier; an open-mouthed ones involving teeth and tongue. The shorter one moaned as Akashi traced every corner, the pink flesh explored the cavern curiously and lapped over the other one; sucking and nibbling and twirling.
It was when last night's images started flashing inside Tetsuya's mind, had he pushed the other one fearfully, blue eyes widened like he had witnessed a ghost. He fell from the bed with a thud, whimpering as he did so.
"Kami, Kuroko! Are you alright?!"
Was he?
"I – I – I don't know. . ." the waterworks started to work again. The blunette could only kept his head low, hanging in shame, the rivulets dropped to his exposed lap. "I'm sorry it's like this."
He said it sincerely. He was sorry because – because it was different. It was too different. How can it not be different? Nothing was ever as similar as before, nothing could be the same again. Nothing could be like the high school days when they started to love each other just because they thought they were perfect. Time caused changes; and changing was always a scary thing. Changes was what developed fears, upgrading them to another complicated form yet akin to the previous.
The redhead answered nothing but silence. Well, simply because the ultimate silence was the only single form that could soothe the traumatised blunette right now. Of course, there were many things he wanted to do. He wanted to close the gap between their shoulders, he wanted to embrace the quivering body of the male in front of him. He wanted – he needed to caress, to touch, to linger, to savour, to indulge everything about Kuroko Tetsuya.
But he can't, can he?
Not without the other lad seeing him as a demon. Not when the he was the resemblance of the demon; the demon was supposed to resemble him, not vice versa!
They were supposed to be lovers.
They were supposed to do the sort of things lovers did together.
They were supposed to be on each other side.
If one would witness the scene, they would cringe for sure. They would mourn, they would cry and yet they would be helpless. This was beyond the capabilities of fixing it, the relationship was tormented and twisted and broken. Like when a little girl had a worn-out teddy bear; the choice was either to treasure it or simply throw it. Of course, the little girl would want to throw it away but at the same time she would start to doubt, reconsidering about the moments she had with her favourite toy. The scene implied to this kind of conflict as well; they knew but they refused to simply break it off.
People said love is blind.
But what happened when you forced yourself to be blind?
In a closed, small space; two lovers simply settled on two opposite corners, wondering why life was unfair to them.
"Kuroko. . ." the redhead said from a distance, "What did. . . what did I do last night?"
"It's not you, it's him."
The Akashi heir cringed. "I'm sorry. . . I'll ask again, what did he do last night?"
"You. . . He killed Kagami-kun."
The room was morphed in tension once the words escaped from the tip of his tongue, Tetsuya felt suffocating when the air was heavy to bear.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you."
The male shifted his crimson eyes, peering past his shoulder to see the other curled, face buried deep in his lap and his pair of arms circled like he was hanging for dear life.
"It's okay, Kuroko. . ." a brief pause, "It's okay."
It's not okay. Nothing was alright. The dead body was still flopped against the floor, having the wooden boards covered in dried blood. The blunette was still having panic attacks. This wasn't changing when he wanted it to change.
How cruel.
They were still in the opposite sides of the bedroom.
Occasionally, when the night had been too rough for Tetsuya to handle, the redhead was left alone to brood for his mistakes. Whilst the latter had been sent off to the hospital – on which Midorima would always stand by – for a treatment against his painful wounds; he locked himself in his study and had stacks and stacks of books piling up like a tower on his desk. All the books would be about multiple personality disorder and ways to find a cure, an end to the suffer they both were facing. Every day, the same routine, he scoured himself with the thick, leather-covered paperbacks with definite focus and hope.
He just hoped Tetsuya wouldn't return home like a loyal pet he was becoming. Not that, he was saying the latter was a masochist – for Kami's sake! – he was suffering. Akashi Seijuurou must found a stop for all of these at once.
"You're just too weak to be with Tetsuya," and so the voice had spoken.
Akashi gritted his teeth, a turmoil of anger – which was seldom to witness – began to recollect in his heavy chest; if possible, there would be wisps of steam escaping from his ears like how cartoons would describe anger. He had his visage turned bright scarlet, though.
"Silence, I don't want to hear anything from you!"
"Tch, you're running away from your problem? What a coward."
"You –"
The words halted there, on that point, when Akashi realised that he couldn't come up with a comeback. For a brief moment, he was gaping like a fish before frustration returned to seep in his soul. He huffed, continuing the passage he was reading.
"I'm going to ignore you."
The inner voice chuckled, amused at his antics. "Run all you want. You can't escape from. Nobody can escape from me. . . –
After all. . . I am the real Akashi Seijuurou."
Having a thick book held in his firm grip, he managed to smash the paperback against his forehead as hard as he could. But no matter how hard he tried, Akashi wasn't able to cease the menacing laughter belonged to the inner demon residing in his head. True to the demon's word, he was far too weak – he was incapable – he was nothing but a replacement being living for the bright daylight.
Almost – Almost, the conflicted red-haired male felt his consciousness slipping away from reality when he noticed his visions were nauseated and spinning. Yet, the Akashi heir managed to grab hold at the end of his desk, gasping and panting and pleading for air once he realised what he was doing.
It was still morning.
The sun was still visible, the skies bluer than the blues he ever gaze, and little sparrows were still at its wake. It was morning yet he didn't feel like it.
Usually, when the redhead woke up in the morning, he'd wake up fresh and energetic but confused and scared. But now, when the time was still ticking at the eleventh digit, he felt like stones being dropped onto his body and he felt his weight tremendously heavy.
And Akashi wasn't foolish to not know what it was.
"You. . . what do you want from me?"
"Who knows? Why don't you think for yourself?" Akashi could feel the smile even when the appearance was his own, how he hated that particular fact.
"Coward. Just be truthful to yourself."
The demon clicked his tongue; "Akashi, Akashi. . . Isn't it simple about what I really, really want? I've been giving you clues – lots of clues! It's just you. The coward is you. You're afraid to know the truth and yet you still play along, feigning ignorance. It'll be soon enough that you simply can't ignore me anymore."
Defeated, the Akashi heir merely slumped back to his settee, recovering himself from the throbbing ache.
Most of the times, the demon spoke with riddles and twists, bringing others to confusion and curiosity yet the answers were scarce and often lacking. It was amusing to the demon, that even the smartest heir couldn't even figure out to the deepest depths of his mind.
How odd. The night seemed darker than usual; having the silvery drops from the distant sphere was overshadowed by wisps of dark blue clouds. The stars seemed fewer, clouded by a layer of pollution coming from the city. Indeed, the night seemed like a setting for Halloween to scare the kids off. To be honest, it failed to cease the discomfort and overwhelming fear Tetsuya was feeling; and he had his breathing paces coming in short, sharp grunts. He took a step forward, not bothering the natural songs of crickets and cicadas and the bustling breeze. Rolling beads of sweat damped his shirt in spite the fact that he was actually wearing his autumn sweater. The heat pooling in his body could defeated the nature's own coolness; he was really, really afraid.
It was colder, yet he knew inside the penthouse was colder. It was dark, yet he knew inside the penthouse was darker; of shadows and phantoms and endless menace.
Slowly, on purpose he did so, the blunette pushed the front door as silent as he could be – hoping that whatever percentage of invisibility he had was higher than the average fifty. Of course, he expected the demon, the pair of liquid crimson and sienna, was sharp in sight. It was futile, whatever he wished for. How foolish he was becoming.
Once he managed to slip inside, foot stepped against the chilling mosaic, bright blue orbs trailed and shifted around the lounge to see upon any silhouette, any figure, any shadows. But there was nothing. For once, relief washed over his soul.
Hah, what a bad decision that was.
"You seemed happier than usual."
There. There it was. The voice he dreaded. The cold, soul-shattering voice he ever dreaded. And Seijuurou pried his eyes against his prey, the mismatched pair seemed glowing and threatening from the staircase. And there was the smile. The calm, easy going smile that Tetsuya knew he might embed any blade against his chest any sooner. The casual mien he portrayed, cheek against a palm and arms resting against the handrail. One would think he was feeling that kind of joie de vivre kind of emotion in first glance because how gleeful was that smile, how vibrant was the composure. Albeit, Tetsuya knew better than to catch the dangerous trap.
He had sniffed danger.
"Akashi –"
"Seijuurou," came the malicious sound.
"S-Seijuurou," a tongue prodded out to lick his lips wet, an awkward nervous pause, "I thought you'll be –"
"Out?" he chuckled, "You don't like me being here, Tetsuya?"
Of course, I don't. "It's not like that. . ."
Tetsuya stepped forward, cautious and slow.
"Ah, right. . . You loved him, not me," from Tetsuya's perspective, Seijuurou had an uneased look despite the predatory air he gave in the surroundings. Something was bothering the man, obviously.
And yet, he wondered. Could a demon like him even had emotions, could a demon like could experience confusion? Could a demon like the one staring with the mismatched eyes possibly be human as well? An odd feeling lingered; Tetsuya wasn't able to cease his curiosity.
"Hey Tetsuya, should I end that fear of yours. . .?"
"Huh?"
One step, two steps, three steps taken. In the blink of an eye, Tetsuya was surprised to see the menacing pair of ruby gem and topaz glinting so close toward his own baby blue. He was taken aback, rendered speechless and helpless when a pair of hands, callused and familiarly bloodcurdling, made their way to his neck and pinned him to the floor, head knocked against the mosaic tiles with a thud. It hurts. But when the blunette wanted to speak, only his tongue prodded out and he was gasping – gasping desperately! He was suffocating. Seijuurou, the demon inside Akashi Seijuurou, was suffocating him to death.
"Sei –", Tetsuya inhaled sharply, "Sei – wh-what a –", another breath, desperate. "Sto –", and another short intake as the other continued to pin him down. Both of the blunette's legs were stuck in between Seijuurou's own; he felt numb all over just like the moment of their coitus. But this – this, he knew death would come any moment soon and the reaper would take his soul.
Maybe heaven was better than all of these.
The redhead was quiet, wearing that unease expression Tetsuya couldn't still figure out the reasons why. His grip tightened around the neck, the voices in his head telling that he should get rid of the person in front; whispering such things like punishment of some sorts or a few more telling that he shouldn't erase Tetsuya just yet. And there was laughter, lots and lots of laughter echoing in his mind till he found that his own lips were laughing as well. The vibrant feeling he was feeling, although short-lived and obnoxious, he found himself enjoying himself even if it was just briefly. Somewhere deep in his mind, he wanted that persona to scream and plead and confess and regret. Somewhere deep in his mind, he wanted to be the real Akashi Seijuurou.
"Seijuurou. . ." the man writhing beneath was getting weaker, softer; until he felt his soul slipping away along with his consciousness. Albeit that, he felt relieved that death was approaching, and it was better than the mindless intercourse they always had.
Alas, the strangling stopped.
Tetsuya released a string of coughs, his lips parted to consume a large amount of oxygen he was able to. With the baby blue eyes, once soft and calm like the clear ocean in summer turned to frosty ice colder than the blight and monsoon and snowstorm.
"Why. . .?" muttered the blunette, bitterly.
The redhead had turned his face, avoiding the icy gaze. "I got bored." He hauled himself upright, creating a large distance, away from Tetsuya.
Was the demon angry?
"You – You almost killed me! And you said you're –"
Quick as lightning, the redhead swiftly approached the quivering blunette and had his fist connected to the pale cheek; having Tetsuya pushed toward the front door that was previously shut. The blue-haired man wheezed and coughed and cried – finally he revealed the vulnerability all along, breaking into waterworks. Tetsuya never really did cry with style; it wasn't silent, as he puffed in between pearl-shaped tears in his wide, luminous eyes. At first, they were small stifles coming into choked sobs, ferocious and noisy.
"You yelled at me."
Whack!
"You yelled. . . You yelled at me. . ."
Whack!
"Stop!" the blunette fought back, returning the multiple hits with a clumsy sort of kick. Odd, he felt adrenaline as he made another kick toward the shin and present, was a brief feeling of relief.
Still, no matter what, Seijuurou was stronger than him albeit only a few inches taller – but when he grasped Tetsuya, he pushed him back to the wall and did the unthinkable.
Seijuurou laughed.
Not that kind of evil kind of laughter, it was filled with humour like Tetsuya had made a joke; loud and sincere and real and vibrant. Somewhat, the shorter male who had been stuck against the wall felt cheated. For someone who just previously got kicked, he was being rather happy.
Right. Nothing was normal to define what the demon personality residing in Akashi-kun's body. He was nothing more than a parasite; a maniac, deranged and twisted in the head kind of parasite. He was just the definition of bad news, nothing more than that. Tetsuya shouldn't be surprised. Oddly, he wasn't.
He eyed the madman suspiciously instead.
"I'm rather glad that you're learning well, Tetsuya," he chuckled, draggy and slow. Shivers crawled to the spine belonged to the blunette's involuntarily.
"Learning –? What are you talking about?" Nonsense. He's talking nonsense, again.
"Hm, it's more fun if you found out about it yourself. I do trust you for not being that foolish. You're certainly observant and smart in some aspects, Tetsuya. . . So, why don't you figure out what I want from you?
What does he wants from me?
Why me?
Why Akashi-kun?
The demon was one that held many secrets, if it wasn't one that held the most importance. He spoke of riddles and clues, twisting words into another form of thoughts. Kuroko Tetsuya knew about it just yet but he couldn't figure out the words, the ideas – what was the demon really thinking?
The shorter male tensed when their shoulders brushed against each other; he gulped when the redhead stepped to the front door; he dared himself a glimpse when he felt his back was greeted with cold gusts of wind. Outside, the myriad of trees were a dancing bizarre and the dark blanket thickened with wisps of smoke; somewhere, a building was on fire but that wasn't what he was panicking for. It was when Seijuurou shut the door with a drag of creak, that Tetsuya realised he had been holding his breath in the interim.
"What. . . what just happened?"
Slumping to the floor, the confusion did nothing but becoming an addition to his misery. Although the blunette had the pain in his chest – also around the neck – damn, it was scarred – ceased by now, a whisper told him something, a whiff of danger was coming any time soon.
The next day, Akashi Seijuurou never did return home. The shine was visible for Kami's sake, yet Tetsuya came upon contact with a brief feeling of loneliness and a tinge of morose. Without the redhead by his side, he felt the space of the bed too spacious for him – yet again, the whole house was colossal itself – or that he was too small for an adult. Groggily, Tetsuya had stretched his fingers just to claw upon air; that actually left him to wake and he rose abruptly.
Last night's recollection was the least enjoyable. Woeful was the best description, or execrable. Cringing, the latter involuntarily, indirectly brought his fingers to the neck; calloused tips against angry, bright red marks. He dimly remembered the gold flicker, raw in one eye and how it could possibly looked deadly. If looks could kill, that eye bearing a raw golden shade was a blade, ready to plunge, to kill. The blunette shivered, again, fingers tracing on the scar. The bitter scar. The question. Odd and yet, it was so much like him.
"Hey Tetsuya, should I end that fear of yours. . .?"
The image ended. He gasped and found his legs tangled along with the sheets till he felt his weight shifted and stumbled onto the floorboards. Tetsuya groaned. Somewhere on the bedside table, his mobile rang, the Android cell vibrating vigorously till he weakly reached the metallic object.
"H-hello?", yawning, screw the manners, "Aomine-kun?"
"Tetsuuuuu!" So, the tanned skin male was panicky in the earliest hour of the day; what could it possibly be?
"Hurmm?"
"Are you still asleep? – wait! Never mind that! Did you know what happened to Kagami?!"
Kagami-kun!
The torture, the screams. . .
"Ka-Kagami. . . Wh-wh-wh-what happened. . . .?"
Gone was the groggy feeling, came instead the dread and fear, coiling and curling. Of course, the others would know about it soon, worst if . Of course, secrets weren't meant to be hidden forever. At some point in life, secrets would unravel, including the deadliest ones. Of course, why would he forget about that?
" –Oi Tetsu, do you hear me?"
"Haa – uhm, yeah. . . I guess so. . . What is it again?"
There was a sigh across the line. Well, Aomine-kun wasn't one to show distress easily. Yet, the heavy groan visible truly marked that he, indeed, had heard about the demise of one of their closest friends. "You know that. . . Kagami's dead, right? You know that he was murdered."
"O-oh. . .?"
"Tetsu, don't play dumb with me. . ." the tanned man had that caution in his tone, although he, too, muttered additionally, "I'm not that dumb, though. . ." but he continued on – now his tone wasn't one that meant friendly as in childhood-friends-kind-of-friendly but that of a true policeman. The tanned man, if not an idiot, actually matured through years of experience in the police department somehow. In the interim, Tetsuya was cursing in his mind. "Judging from the dead body, he might be killed a few days ago. . . And Tetsu, you were with him two days ago."
Uh-oh. Is Aomine-kun. . .
The blunette gasped.
"Aomine-kun, I can explain. . ."
"Fuck, Tetsu! You killed him?"
"No, I didn't –"
"Then, can you tell me who did this?!"
"A-Aomine-kun. . . It's better if you don't –"
"Was it you?!" Somewhere along the firm line, tensed and hesitant, Daiki was hoping the murder wasn't led by his best friend.
Along the line, the policeman heard his friend huffed desperately. He, too, was being hopeful. "It wasn't me b-b-but I can't tell you. . ."
"Was it Akashi?"
The gasp was much obvious now.
"You –"
"I'm sorry Tetsu. . ."
"Aomine-kun!"
"I have to find him. . . I have to talk to you too, Tetsu. . ."
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!
Was he prepared to see the same form of Kagami Taiga done to his other best friend as well?
In the end, the blame was put to Tetsuya. Him, who held the most secrets as well. In the end, what difference can he make between the demon and himself?
Sometimes, the more you wanted to run, the harder was it to oblige. Sometimes, life was like that – formed by a sequence of causes and effects, dos and karmas. Life was bitter that way, the way it tasted so bad when Tetsuya gulped a lump of saliva, nervously.
For once, he whiffed out a long exhale.
"Aomine –"
". . . Wha –?"
"It's me," from across the line, Tetsuya sounded very sincere. So honest, so true. It was funny how the desperate lies sounded so true at most times, and oddly, Tetsuya found himself giggling in a sheer, small tone. "I killed Kagami Taiga, I tortured him. I'm the murderer."
There was a grumble, and a string of mutters – "I knew it!" – by now, Aomine was actually frightened of his best friend. It was a different fear. Not at all like the one when they first met in a decade old basketball court; the childish, surprised sort of fear he briefly had felt. Now, it was clear. Sincere.
And the ganguro-like man dared himself asking, voice smaller, ". . . But why?"
"Because. . ." he thought for a moment. Why would the demonic persona did all of those things when he shouldn't have?
The answer was simple, really.
"Because I could."
Click.
How odd, Tetsuya could perfectly imagine the shrill of laughter – Seijuurou had an innocent laughter to be honest, his gentle tone bathed in carbonated velvet – coming from a particular madman in his head. In his head, he imagined the smile turning into a sheer grin to a smirk known with many sins flashing in the back of his head, the familiar monotonous pair of mismatched eyes despite the curves on his lips. Surely, one day, the demon in the Akashi heir would really be his own quietus.
How odd, Tetsuya felt his own giggle. Both tempo and volume increasing, the laughter he dimly had reaching up to his eardrums as he collapsed to the floor.
It's a pity the tale ended up like this.
THE END
. . .
Obsession
PART II
Scarlet
COMING SOON
TRIVIA
. . . Akashi is portrayed the light and the dark, just how in Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde where Dr Jekyll treated the sick but Mr Hyde was a foul man. This story is, after all, was inspired by that fiction.
. . . I wanted to compare Ra with a moon God of some sort. From the manhwa Lessa, there should be a God of Destruction but what Wikipedia showed me Apep was just an evil yet powerful spirit after all. Due to my doubts, I didn't include Apep in the descriptive sentence.
. . . Even when Tetsuya loved the morning Akashi, he had developed some trauma upon contact with him, the memories of rape and abuse would instantly flash in his mind. And that was why their love was impossible. The morning Akashi knew this and even when he wanted to touch Tetsuya, he just can't.
. . . There's a firm line of difference between sociopathy and psychopathy. Sociopathy is affected by the surroundings, unlike psychopathy, they tend to do things rather messy. They show signs of possessiveness and obsession, rather than real love. But is Akashi a sociopath? It's up to the next part to figure it out.
Mozu : Hahah, Aomine you bastard! You seemed like you're provoking Tetsuya there! Is it too mean? Don't worry, there's part two and part three and prequel! Hahahahahahaha! This should be a thank you gift for 100+ reviews in Love Me For Thirty Days but I think this is more sadistic. My best friend suggested the usage of metal in coitus, I thought it was pretty sick but then again I'm pretty fucked up myself. I might be using BDSM next time, and I was thinking whether to make Tetsuya develop the addiction of getting strangled during coitus. What am I talking about?! Hahahaha. See? I'm pretty messed up.
NOTE : I can't update my other fics just yet cause my laptop is having a problem. Sorry, people!
-Mozu The Mochi (2015)