MS: Hello all :) I know, I know... I've dicked off this year. Even when I promised I wouldn't, andddd you're tired of my shitty apologies. Haha. My bad. Work this summer was crazy, and with my boyfriend having some health problems I found finding the time or the inspiration to write was really difficult. I also couldn't find a skype roleplay partner who would stick, so my inspiration was running pretty low. However, since joining Tumblr I became part of an online Beyblade roleplay that helps somewhat, and sort of gave me the idea for this little ficlet here. :)
I would like to thank Bryan's roleplayer for giving me permission to play with your lovely headcanon! Your Bryan is a big source of joy for me right now lolol. Also I would love to encourage anyone new and interested to ask me about the Tumblr roleplay or to track us down yourself! We have plenty of awesome characters not occupied ;) Just sayin'.. Haha. Anyways, read on and don't forget to review and let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade; all characters are the property of Beyblade TM and its creator Takao Aoki.
Nights with them always started out so well.
Sometimes they'd go out for dinner, have wine and vodka mixers to go with it. Other nights they spent time with the rest of their teams; Bryan and Yuriy playing video games, Ian and Kevin giving excited shouts over who the prospective winner would be while Sergei texted Mathilda and spent time in his favorite chair reading; the strong silence of him rendering him uninterested in video games, but still wanting to just be with his team.
When they would visit Japan to see Dunga and Ozuma, meeting Joseph there who sometimes brought Emily with him (it was a strange match; so unlikely. But Mariam would be lying if she said she didn't like the headstrong girl for her brother), nights were spent in Ozuma's small apartment or at her place; lounging on the back deck just talking. Joseph and Emily, her younger brother so brave and cunning who always tricked Emily into PDA sitting on the edge of the bridge beside her ex-team leader. Ozuma always had Max with him now; and, for awhile it had still hurt but Bryan made it better. Now Mariam was enthused to just see her leader so happy.
No matter how hard Ozuma tried to hide it.
Those two would sit and make jokes, Max especially; a ray of sunshine to her team's sometimes gloomy demeanor. Dunga would always bring some new strange discovery, like a new sports magazine or some book he read that was never that impressive; but fuck it if Mariam didn't like to see him so proud of himself. The blonde Saint Shields member was a constant in their lives... Always the same. And they liked Dunga that way. Mariam and Bryan would sit by the old koi pond in the yard... It was long dry now. The fish were gone, and the rocks moss-covered and weathered. They would just talk too, laughing at the others.
Those were good nights.
When the night out was over, Mariam and Bryan would go back to wherever was home at the time: be it Osaka, Moscow, or Heart's Content and then things got really good. Scratched backs and bruises and bitten lips, pulled hair and cursed moans that made them both remember what had attracted one to the other in the first place. Then they would sleep. Just for awhile.
And then the night would turn wrong.
'Defeat to our enemies, victory is life!'
Barely 3:30AM, Bryan's arm would leave her waist and that pale-chest warmth she had come to know so well would be gone. He would slowly shuck the covers down, run a hand through his bed-mussed hair and stand up. Pulling on his boxers he knew she would follow, she always did but he still hated to think that both of them were so hindered by the past that something as simple as sleep, for all their progress.. Was kept from them.
He would wander down the hallway and make a stop at whatever fridge they were using; grab a beer, a pack of shots, or the entire bottle of Jack that was so commonly in the sidedoor and then he would head for the living room, the deck, or the roof.
Plates, glasses, utensils went clattering to the floor as they fought each other like lions savage for a scrap of meat. Only three pathetic meals; those who snuck food inside, had to hide it well or eat it quickly. Once spotted, well... The ruckus reminded Bryan of his father throwing bottles at the wall just to hear the smash and see the fear on his mother's face.
Mariam would sit up in bed for a few minutes, holding the sheets to her chest and wondering what could've brought him awake tonight. A nightmare..? A memory? A pressing thought that just wouldn't leave? Worry for his teammates...? Relentlessly, Bryan was a victim. So strong that you'd never know; but he was.
After awhile she would take the sheet, drape it over her body and leave their bedroom. Drag the fabric to whichever perch of whichever home they found themselves in, sit down near to him, and be silent.
He had escaped the touches of the men his mother brought home to keep them alive. After he was rescued from the vast streets of Russia, set up at the Abbey as though he stared down the gates of heaven, ...Bryan hadn't been so lucky.
Eventually he offered her the bottle, like he always did. Mariam reached out her long arm, brought the mouth to her lips and took a long sip of the burning whiskey. When she handed it back Bryan would do the same... Lower it, and then give an almost unnoticeable flick with his jaw that said 'come here.'
Mariam moved closer to the strong man before her, and she knelt behind his back and outstretched one arm around his chest. Her fingers moved upward across his muscled pecs, stroked once over the burning Abbey tattoo on his heart and then held him fast, chest to back. Bryan reached backward, grabbed a handful of the pale blue sheets and pulled them to slightly guard his own being from the cold as well; though Mari was quickly warming him from behind.
They were four. Tala, Bryan, Spencer, and Ian. They were four, so different but they shared the same they fought for their meals; strived to be the best in every training regimen Boris threw at them. And together, at night when they couldn't sleep they all told themselves that someday they would find something better.
But Bryan could remember the days wearing on... The ticking of the clock, the mattresses that never got softer, the faces that were 'discharged' screaming and crying and begging for mercy to never be seen again.. Bryan never forgot them. So, after a couple years there... What had once been 'fight on for something better', became 'fight... Just to watch the world burn.'
They were both tired, and the bottle of natural remedy before them could only last so long. Mariam rested her head against Bryan's back, closed her green eyes and tried to go to sleep knowing that Bryan wished she would while she thought the same of him. Like this, skin against skin with minutes passing in seconds Bryan and Mariam knew each other better than any amount of conversation or drunken rambling could ever portray. In the silence of the coming morning, another day with bright lights that told them 'time to live again', the Blitzkrieg Boy and the Saint Shield were reminded that right now... This closeness, this affection, this love, ...Would go on. Just like the things that haunted them so well, what they had, would serve to affect them in everything they did for the rest of their lives.
They were proof that 'when you open the door to your past, you close the one to your future' was just a remark. Just a statement so hollow like the evil words of predators that lurked in their minds.
Here, in the quiet of the night with the music of crickets and far-away car horns to lull them... The embrace they shared under one thin satin bedsheet was enough to scare off the mechanical arms of a child-run army or the memory of an innocence so long ago taken.
Even in the bowels of the Abbey, where things more frightening than death occurred on a daily basis, Bryan could never get her eyes out of his head. He couldn't remember a lot before... He couldn't remember much about the love she gave him. But he remembered after. The coldness, the smell of death, her blood-soaked white silk hair and the odd angle at which her body lay.
But her eyes... Those green eyes... They would stay with him forever.
In more ways than one.
Bryan turned his head a little to make contact with his cheek to her forehead. Mariam tilted her head, leaned upwards and pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth.
"Go sleep."
She shook her head; rested it back down and closed those green eyes of hers. Bryan sighed, brought the Jack to his lips and took a long, hearty gulp. "I should sleep." Mariam knew Bryan should sleep; but they both also knew he couldn't.
"Mmhmm... You should."
"...This is all bullshit." She nodded her head again. Bryan felt anger so fervently sometimes, that in this way Mariam met her match for quiet sadness. "Fucking hate this shit."
She nodded her head again. And then things were silent for awhile.
They classified themselves in the Abbey not because they wanted to, but because it was easier to survive that way. Ian was the child, he was the happiest despite everything and he needed to be protected. He was the untouchable... Or the perpetrator had a world of hurt coming from his three big brothers.
Spencer was the tower; the support, tall and strong and he was a true protector. If it was within his power to stop a coming threat, he would; and he would never expect a thank-you, because he knew that protecting the other three was in his best interest as well.
Tala was the leader, Tala was the wise one who always knew what to do and what to say to somehow give them the urge to wake up for another day; to keep going. He bladed the best, he became the best... Because without being the best, he would fall behind his three comrades and in losing them he would lose what little hope he had left.
Now Bryan... Bryan was the sick one. The sadist. He made it that way. He was the blood and the teeth. He was the destroyer... And if you sought out death, he was a good lead to follow. Someone needed to be angry; someone needed to be appreciated for being just a little too extreme. So with his fists and his cursing and his constant intimidation...
Bryan became the windy warrior.
Bryan lifted the bottle a few more times; drank roughly a quarter of the whiskey in the hours they spent there. Dawn appeared on the horizon and if they were near a window, they watched; if they weren't, they felt the dimness of the room lighten and lift and knew what time it probably was.
Mariam never asked him what it was that had woken him up; maybe he never slept at all. In the darkness of their bedroom sometimes it was hard to tell because wrapped up in each other, it was easy to consider it all peaceful. Either way.. It was tradition not to ask.
Bryan's broad shoulders that so often begged her hands to ease the muscles and the strain were still for almost the entire time that she lay there against him with her head down, just resting. Her arm around his waist never budged, and it anchored them together underneath the thin sheet.
The pain. Oh, god... The pain.
He tried so hard to be the best and sometimes he was. But other times... Some stupid mistake, some smart-assed remark at his 'teachers' brought hell down upon Bryan's head. Chains, the cold, kicks, whips, punches, frost on the floor of the dungeon. It all bled together after awhile. Bryan forgot why he didn't deserve these things and in time he also forgot the method.
Now all he had was a searing memory of agony, and the-
Mariam's fingers made a trek upward, rubbing gently over the tattoo on his heart. Bryan let his eyes drift downward to see one of the few people with skin white enough to rival his own, watched her touch and felt it go deeper than just the surface layer of his skin.
With a slow breath he raised his free hand backward, behind him. He found that head of hair he had become so familiar with, wrapped his fist in the blue strands, and gently guided Mari's head up and to his own. She came willingly, pushing herself up and dragging her nude front against his back in a way that made him close his eyes and wish they could just go back to bed. She brought her lips to his and the kiss was soft, but it showed her closing her eyes as well in the silent strength of it all.
The sun was rising higher in the sky, and soon the telltale sounds of the world around them coming to life would be heard. Perhaps her brother and Emily, gently giggling in the new morning light as they got up for work. Maybe Ian yawning in the hallway, knocking on someone's door to figure out what was for breakfast that day.
Mariam gently pulled her lips away from his. "I should put something on..."
He nodded his head, no dirty remark after one of these nights, and gently squeezed her thigh as Mariam's permission to leave him. She stood up, pulled the sheet from him and rewrapped herself. "What should I make for breakfast?"
Bryan 'hmmm'd to himself; took the last nuances of the bottle down with a gulp.
"Bacon. And eggs."
She nodded her head, and she left him in the last vestibules of his acceptance that a new day had started. Very shortly later, Bryan came in as well with the empty bottle and got showered and changed for the day.
Bryan really only felt a little guilty about keeping her awake; and Mariam really didn't mind. Together they decided they would have an easy-going day... Movies on the couch about killers they could never be scared of, a bit of popcorn and they would attempt an early night.
No, he never felt guilty and she didn't mind.
Because tonight would probably be one of those nights where Mariam woke up screaming, prying Bryan from what little sleep they both got these days... And he would have to follow her out of their bedroom under the cover of a new night.
One of them was going to need to go to the liquor store.