It had been a long two day vacation.
Between scrambling, hiding, running and being captured (again) there really was no point in bringing him back to this building. If he didn't learn his lesson the first 20 times, what made them think that he would learn it this time? It did nothing but revitalize his efforts in taking another break- he really didn't want to come back to this building, but the locked doors and windows in the car they had put him in didn't really give him any option other than to stay put. He would be looking forward to finally sleeping on a memory foam bed though. Memory foam was awesome for weary and tired bodies.
As the road took more hilly and denser forested roads, his time of peace was coming to an end. Though the building and area were beautiful, the other people in said area were of a lesser and more vile quality. They made him sick. He didn't want to go back. He wanted to run out and live again. He wanted to talk to human beings and he wanted to go back to a time when he wasn't afraid of everything for everything. It was out there, that chance at the life he once led.
He had experienced it before. The life he once had wasn't anywhere near extravagant as the life he led now- but it was so much better and nicer. He had had friends and people that cared about him- a family. But out of all the things he missed the most, he missed his dark haired friend. It had been almost two years since he had last had any news of him. Everything had been better when the two of them just hung out and did things together. All of his troubles, all of his worries, all of his doubts; they would all just go away and leave him more stable minded.
He still wrote to him sometimes, when things were really lonely and he didn't think the other was looking for him. It all just took a toll on him- he just wanted to vent and let it out. Even if the letters were never mailed (lest they be found and he be further punished) and even if they would never see the light of day to anyone other than him- writing those letters felt as if he had his dark-haired friend by his side. It was more than enough to push him through the day.
There was no signal this far out and away from the city. He was totally isolated from basically everything; his only real friend out here was nature. He loved nature and all, but being isolated like this could really wear down on someone who was accustomed to being the center of attention and surrounded by people he loved and cared about. Yes, he still was the center of attention, but the people that surrounded him now were not exactly his cup of ramen.
Huh, sun's going down, he observed. He edged himself away from the window in favor of just plopping himself onto the seat, giving him a view of the road up ahead. This area in general was just so beautiful; it always managed to keep him together just before the building came into view. He always imagined himself taking a dip in the little creek that was in this area- he had been to it a few times; one couldn't really see if from the road. You had to walk a little ways deeper into the forest, and if you still couldn't see it (because it was dark or you're just blind) one could always hear it. The soft and gentle whisssh sound, along with an even softer breeze that was very difficult to notice, but was always there.
The creek was crystal clear; one could see all the little pebbles, and if you had a good eye, you could spot all the toads/frogs and little fishes that would occasionally swim in that creek. When he had first found the creek, he was at peace with himself, and he vowed to visit this creek whenever he had the opportunity. He knew the chauffeur and body guards wouldn't let him outside of the car for even a second (they had learned their lesson), so he stayed quiet and just imagined the creek. Allowing himself just a few moments of peace before the storm truly hit him hard.
It was much darker now, by the time they all arrived at the gated building. His chauffeur and one of the body guards were gathering their weapons before they went outside to check for permission to enter, as well as to check for any possible escape routes- Same drill, they always did this. He wasn't fazed anymore. The only thing that ever changed was the reaction the chauffeur would have once he reached the intercom asking to be let in. The chauffeur's reaction always told him what to expect- whether what was going to be dished out to him was going to be tough or painful. If he tensed, then it was just going to be tough; if he calmly walked back- then he should be scared.
This time, the chauffeur just walked calmly back to the car.
The chauffeur turned to him and said, "You should be thankful" before starting up the car and pulling forward, just as the gates were opening up. The bodyguard that had also stepped outside was now stationed at the gate, watching after them. Stoic, poised, statuesque- he could never understand the logic of that posture the bodyguards always held. It must be very taxing on their bodies, standing still for so long, and then having to break out into a dead sprint/run.
He didn't want to think about it. What was waiting for him inside the building- to be honest, it was a mansion before it was turned into a building, and then finally turned into a mansion again. But due to the lack of warmth and kindness from the people that lived there, it remained a very dull and lifeless building. Anything of life that stepped into the building was instantly sucked dry and made enjoying anything (even sex) either very difficult or awkward. He hated it.
By now, it was pitch black, and the building seemed to be compensating for the lack of light. It was the only source at this point,. Not even the night sky could compare with how brightly lit this building was. He didn't want to think about what was waiting for him in the building- but the building being so brightly lit made it impossible to focus on anything other than what was heading his way. His breathing started to come in and out faster- but it wasn't enough. There wasn't enough air; he couldn't breathe.
His chauffeur and bodyguard were accustomed to this- they did nothing as his body began to tremble and shake. He couldn't see past the building. It was the only thing his eyes could see, but his body knew and felt all of the consequences his actions were going to bring. As much as he wanted to be brave and not regret his actions, there was that little voice in his head that told him he really shouldn't have.
The car was parking right in front of the building. He didn't turn to look outside of his window. He knew there would be someone right outside of it- he didn't want to face reality right now. He couldn't escape; his chauffeur was in the front, the doors were locked, and his body guard was blocking the only other exit. He just wanted to go- he wanted to go home, right now. Anything would be better than this. He never wanted this.
Just as he took a deep breath and turned to open his own door- it flew open and the arm that was reaching for the door was grabbed and pulled harshly. He fell to the ground in one go; there was shouting, but he did his best to tune it out. Everything would hurt ten times worse if he listened to the voice and what it was saying right now, as opposed to when it would be repeated more calmly and gently to him. When he was recovering or had recovered from his beating.
His body was being pulled so fast he couldn't keep up, he could only be dragged if he had any chance at keeping pace with the other man that was pulling his arm so harshly. He wanted to say something, but knew that if he so much as whimpered, he would be taken advantage of. He would be used again, and then locked away until he wanted to use him again. It wasn't like this at first- things used to so much better between the two of them.
Friends didn't do this to each other, right? They didn't imprison, hurt, main, torture, destroy and rebuild, only to repeat the awful cycle of pain. Maybe if he wasn't so bad at being obedient, or if he would just accept his new life- maybe none of this would be happening to him. He would be happier with this way of life; if it wasn't for the fact that he knew this wasn't the life he ever wanted to lead.
The man pulling him wasn't really that much older, but he was that much more powerful, in every sense of the word. He had short and uncontrollable red hair. When they were much younger, he would spend hours joking and playing with that hair, trying to style it into any shape. Trying to tame it, and failing each and every time- now, the roles of tamer had changed significantly. Only this time, he wasn't sure who would break first, and if they could ever recover from something like this.
The man had a lean body, but if one was fooled to think that they could beat him in a fight, they would be promptly placed in a hospital. When he wasn't doing 'business,' he was working out at the gym or practicing whatever sport he could entertain himself with. The man above him was a very well known and feared individual. And he was still screaming and pulling and dragging him all over the building- maybe this would be a public event and this time the nurses would know exactly what happened, instead of asking him, "Does it hurt when I do this?" or if he was 'okay'- really? Blood wasn't enough evidence anymore?
Finally, the man pulled him into a room that was painted, floor to ceiling, in shades of blue; even the furniture and appliances were blue. The color scheme in this room was making him sick and dizzy- or maybe it was just the fact that he wasn't breathing properly? He kept his eyes to the ground and refused to even glance at the other. He willed the floor to swallow him whole, for the blue to turn to water and drown him, for the light bulbs to explode and cut his jugular- anything to get away from this situation.
The red head began to adjust and calm down, just a little. At first, he didn't do anything but just stand above him and breath heavily through his nose. He could picture that face, the red hair would be in even more of a disarray than usual, his nostrils would flare open with every breath, and his dark honey colored eyes would be bulging from their sockets. He didn't look up and away from the ground to see if what he pictured in his mind was the same as reality- he knew it to be true. He felt the grip on his arm tighten before it was thrown back at him, almost as if to show the other's disgust at the thought of having to do this all over again- but he didn't have to. He didn't have to do this… They could go back to the way things were before, and things wouldn't be so hard and difficult for the both of them.
"Had fun." He kept his face planted to the ground, he didn't move, he couldn't (wouldn't) allow himself to breathe. He couldn't face the man when he was like this. It hurt so much more to see his face- the memories of everything would flash by him, and he would hate himself so much more for everything, even though he knew it wasn't his fault. But he still had to blame someone, even if it was himself, if only to feel even a little bit better.
"Had fun." He said again, whispering the last two words. And when he still wouldn't respond, the man raised his foot and kicked him in the face.
It hit him in his cheek, thankfully missing his nose. Unfortunately, he bit his tongue so hard all he could taste was his blood filling his mouth. His immediate reaction was to spit the blood out, but before he could do that, he was grabbed by his chin, "If you spit, this will be taken up to the bedroom, where we can get as dirty as I want. You know I prefer to get messy with you in the privacy of our bedroom, Naru-chan." He whispered his name seductively, tightening the grip on his chin.
When a swallow was his only response, and he still kept his eyes to the ground, the red head threw him to the ground. Kicking him several more times in the face, he soon grew tired of the silent treatment and proceeded to kick him all over. Starting from the shoulders, he placed two hard downward kicks, dislocating his shoulder. A loud 'pop' was heard; he waited a little bit, letting the pain and shock settle in before kicking him again, this time, in his chest. From that single kick alone, three small but audible 'cracks' were heard.
He was silent throughout most of the ordeal, the only sounds that came from him was the occasional grunt and gasp. But other than those sounds, he always tried to keep silent during these beatings. There was no satisfaction that was gained from this kind of punishment, they both knew this. It was just one way they dealt with the other. One would run away, and the other would just let him run away as far and fast as he could go, before setting the hounds out to bring him back.
He curled into himself, getting ready for another blow, and tensed his body for the worse. He took a few more shuttering breaths and tried his best to ignore the aches and pains in his body and soul. He still kept his eyes on the ground. If he turned to face the red head, he wasn't sure he would be able to hold it all in. Everything was too much already; he didn't want to deal with this any longer than he had to.
Tomorrow was going to be an awful thing to wake up to, no matter how nice the bed and the meds were.
"This is really starting to grate on my nerves, Naru-chan. I really thought you had learned your lesson. How many more times are we going to go through with this?"
Although he knew he would hurt so much more if he said anything- he couldn't help but whisper his response, "As many times as it takes, Kyu; Until one of us finally gets it." As he said this, he turned to look Kyu dead in the eyes.
Turning back wasn't an option at this point- but neither was running forward.
Just as he saw Kyu's eyes harden and the muscles tense, a slow and languid smile began to appear on his face. Tired and with pains beginning to appear in places he could no longer ignore, he wiped his mouth and noticed his fatal flaw- at some point, while his mouth opened and closed, when he was breathing through his mouth to bring life to words he knew he should have left for dead, blood had dripped past his lips. Looking down and to the ground, he saw a small trail of blood droplets leading straight onto Kyu's snow white shoes.
He quickly looked up to Kyu, only to feel a hand grab his hair and push his face into the floor. He was left breathless as he felt Kyu place himself on top of him, putting pressure in all of the areas that just plain hurt at this point. Even though things hurt so much, he still kept quiet and refused to make a single whimper or sound.
"I was hoping you'd say something stupid and cute like that. You see, babe, it's not entirely my fault you're in this predicament; we're both in this together. I try to make things as easy as possible, but you just love to be such a problem." As Kyu said this, the grip on his hair tightened and his face was smashed into the floor, a loud 'smack' reverberating throughout the room.
Dizzy and hurt and confused beyond all measures at this point, he decided to give in and began to whimper, "Kyu, please, it hurts." He didn't even bother trying to swallow all the blood that had filled his mouth. He knew it was hopeless; a small pool of blood was already forming on the floor beneath him. It smelled disgusting and it was so cold. He just wanted to get away from it at this point, "Kyu, please, it hurts. I'm done, I swear, I'm done."
Kyu wouldn't release his hold, in fact, he tightened it and starting to poke and prod at his rib cage.
The fingers kept at this till finally, "You. Always. Say. That." He felt the weight on him disappear and then Kyu was gone.
Breathing was such a difficult task- he didn't even bother trying. As the edges of his vision began to turn black, he heard the hustle and bustle of nurses rush to his side and begin to check all of his vitals. No longer worried for his health (not that he usually was), he let himself slide into the darkness. Where there was no pain and nobody broke their promises, and it was just quiet, calm- and there was a certain dark-haired individual, waiting for him with open arms- it was just the two of them, and no one else.