I'm really sorry it took me so long to post this. I had a writer's block and no imagination.
Sanatorium: Fear
Don't look down.
Not down. Allen licked his lips. If he knew that it's going to turn this way, he wouldn't have tried to do it. Yeah. He looked down, trying to shake his head to get that fuzzy feeling of fear out of his head. Crap, there were twenty meters or something. If he fell from that height he would be able to count all his bones, cranium included.
A breeze passed lazily by, making the boy swing on the cotton rope that was tied to the window. C-crap. He had to hold tightly or else… Why didn't he make sure that the rope covered the entire distance from the third floor to the ground BEFORE he tried to go down?! He shredded two bed sheets to make the rope and it went only halfway! Half Way!!! The hell! And why did the wind shut the window?! Now even if he wanted to get inside he wouldn't be able to!!!
He should have known this from the beginning! From the beginning! His plans of escape always sucked. Even when he was a snotty kid in the sandpit and played Monte Cristo with other snotty kids, he always ended up being the old dude who died in the prison. And even in high school, when they did that play, Gandhi or something, he always ended up playing the corpses of unfortunate revolutionaries!
Talk about unfair!!!
A crow flew by and the boy cringed. He was hanging on the damn rope for dear life, while his legs galloped in the air. Damn, why was he so unlucky in escaping? And that Kanda, where the heck was he?!
Well, actually he did wait until Kanda left. Kanda was going out pretty often. And he would be away for three, four hours, after which he came in their rented place, dirty like a mole. He would bring Allen the damned soba—
Soba.
The boy cringed again, and his face made the crow that flew nearby drop dead. That damn loon fed him soba three days!!! Three 24 houred days!! Five meals a day!!!! Thirteen bowls a meal!!!! He looked desperately at his fingers, hoping that they would somehow unveil the mystery of algebra.
THAT WAS A LOT OF BOWLS!!!
Allen whimpered and kicked the air again. He had to get out of here, but not like that!!! Escaping like that was plain stupid!!
Of course he had tried other plans! (none of which helped.)
His first plan was to just open the door and run away. It didn't work. The door was locked, that's one. The woman with broccoli stuck in her teeth refused to open it; that's two. Kanda caught him picking the lock with the spoon and beat the crap out of him; that's three.
Then he tried to resort to peaceful protests, like Gandhi. But it didn't work because Kanda was Japanese and a bastard, and didn't care for the brave little Hindu who freed his country.
Nonetheless, Allen tried. He tried! He pissed Kanda off and then let himself be beaten by the cruel British gove… no, by Kanda. That ignorant bastard had no idea that he had to give in to Allen's demands and stop hitting him because he would look bad in the world's eyes!!!
In other words, that plan didn't work. So Allen took out his trump card. Yes! That very terrifying card!
He went on hunger strike. It was a kind of strike where the person would starve and yet look heroic while resembling an escapee from Auschwitz camps. Allen was sure these kinds of strikes were popular. Very popular.
Just at his uncle's office he met thousands of young women with gray faces and furtive looks who snatched his doughnuts. They said that they were protesting their Fat. They said that agreeing to go on a diet made their lives different. And at this moment they would snatch another doughnut. If it worked then Allen could certainly try it. If hunger strikes could kill such a stubborn enemy as Fat, they would work on Kanda too.
At first it was easy. When Kanda brought him soba topped with broccoli he refused to look at it. Kanda just shrugged. That bastard didn't take his admirable efforts seriously. Prick. But Allen waited. He knew this is just the beginning! And he waited another two hours until dinner time.
When the dinnertime came Allen seriously needed to rethink his decision. It was he who was going to starve, not Kanda. And even if he did starve and look cool, Kanda would just raise his brow and say: "Cover your bones, dolt!" It would benefit Kanda's pockets, since he would not have to pay for seventeen soba bowls. Why did people invent such a foolish method of protesting?!!
The wind hit him again and the boy cried out, trying to not let go of the rope.
"Brat?! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!?!?"
Ah.
Allen glanced below him. Kanda was standing in the driveway, looking absolutely furious. Allen felt his soul sing Halleluiah. Kanda was here! That meant he could finally get into the room and let go of the stinking rope!! It meant he could finally eat something! After all, hanging an out of the window required rigorous arm muscles!
"I can't get inside, Kanda! The window is closed!"
"Just..don't move! Stay like that and don't move!!"
The man ran into the building.
Allen groaned. Just a few minutes and all of his (self-inflicted) martyrdom will be gone!! Another crow passed by. Where the hell did they come from?! Allen glanced below him, trying to distinguish anything in the dark.
There were tombs below, not one or two, but rows and rows…an infestation of tombs. Like some cemetery.
Wait.
Why the hell was this tavern built near a cemetery?! Did they like the stench of the bodies?! Did they?! Or was it the cadaver filled sunset they liked?! Allen squinted, trying to better his vision up to 200/230.
The whole cemetery was covered in growing broccoli.
NO WAY!!! And he ate seventeen plates with that thing yesterday!!! And that meant he ate broccoli that grew drawing nutrients from bodies!! No wonder they were so good. Allen looked at the broccoli fields, horrified. Why did bad things ALWAYS happen to good people?!
And where the hell was Kanda, that bastard?! Let his soul burn in hell!
But the presence of the crows still couldn't be explained. Damn, why was Kanda so slow?!
A crow sat right on the tomb under him. He followed the bird with his eyes. The crow took off and floated aimlessly in the air, joining another crow. Then a third one came. Allen carefully watched the trees. They were black with crows. Why would crows lurk around? Were they looking for food? But there were just dead people there, no foo—
No way. Allen gulped and cringed. Crows are vegetarian, right? They don't eat meat, right? They eat pretty things, like lettuce, and salad, and radish, and broccoli, right? They were there for the broccoli, right? Not for an eyeball, right? There was no way they'd eat an eyeball, or a finger, or someone's brai—
A crow flew from a tree and started to ring around a tomb. It levitated there for a second, deciding which part of body was tastier (Allen swore she had hungry eyes!) and nosedived into the bushes of broccoli. Allen held his breath. He was going to see the greatest show ever: a crow with an eyeball in its mouth and an ominous red dot in the eye.
Five seconds later, the crow came out with a piece of bread someone put there as offering for the dead.
"Gah!!! Why are you so deceiving!?" Allen yelled, kicking the air wildly. Above him something snapped, and the boy felt his stomach doing a bungee jump.
"Brat, hold on, I'll pull you right up!"
Allen snapped his eyes closed, feeling panic crawling in his stomach. A sudden jerk made him yelp. Kanda was carefully pulling the rope up, making the boy more nervous. The rope creaked dangerously, making Kanda stop and hold his breath. And Allen would start kicking the air this very second, sure that the bastard left him to rot under the window.
Finally, when Kanda's arms reached the boy's arm pits and pulled him up, Allen shut up and emanated a hurt aura. He stood defiantly in front of the furious man, looking away. Kanda simply grabbed him by the shoulder, painfully squeezing it.
"Do you have any brains? At least a bit?! IDIOT!!! You could have died! What were you thinking, imitating Tarzan under the freaking window?!"
"Is that so hard to figure out, Betty boy?" Allen grinned in Kanda's irate face. "I tried to run away." He sneered when the man silently let him go, taken aback by the his words.
"Is that so unbelievable?" Allen continued, screwing a hole in Kanda's face. "Is that so abnormal when the victim tries to run away from his captor?"
Kanda's eyes narrowed and he turned away, silently walking toward the bathroom door.
"What do you expect me to do? Jump in joy and thank you for screwing up my life? Thank you," Allen said, making a reverence, "Thank you, kind sir," he continued laughing darkly, "for saving my sorry ass from a normal lif—"
Allen choked when Kanda turned around and pushed him hard into the nearby wall. The air was painfully squeezed out of his lungs. He silently slid down, just before the man grabbed him by the throat and pushed him into the shaky bed.
"One more word," Kanda whispered, his lips half an inch away from the boy's ear, "Just one more word and you're dead."
Allen went absolutely still. Kanda meant it. He could feel it. He just stared in the man's dark eyes, holding his breath. Swallowing a swelling in his throat he blinked, and that simple motion made him afraid for his life. Kanda slowly touched his cheek, making the boy whimper and try to pull his head farther.
"Afraid?" he whispered again, and Allen felt him grinning. That word made his mind blank with fear, responding to his state extremely accurately. Kanda's face was too close to him. Too close not to try.
He suddenly hit Kanda in the face with a sharp fist. The man jerked back, letting go of his wrist, covering his face. Allen turned on his chest and reached for the table, trying to shake Kanda's body off of him. He kicked blindly, eyes locked on the table's surface.
Knife.
A simple kitchen knife. He cried out when his fingers finally reached the metallic object. Behind him the man seemed to finally feel the kicks in his chest and stomach, because he backed away, letting the boy go. Jumping off the bed, Allen backed into the wall holding the knife in front of him, like he had seen it in the movies.
He watched Kanda stand up slowly and ominously. The man was silent in his white fury.
"Go away," Allen whispered. He closed his eyes as if Kanda's face imprinted in his retina could kill him. "GO AWAY!!" he yelled, hurting his ears. "I s-swear, if yo-you move, I'll ki-kill you!" He stuttered, feeling his knees bent and weak.
"I'll d-do it, I s-swear by G-god," he hiccupped, trying to cancel out the hysteria that was sneaking on him. Kanda stood up, still not losing the eye contact. He took his hair piece out and slowly rocked his head from one shoulder to another, creating a black screen around his face. His eyes suddenly became three tones darker, almost black.
That simple effect made Allen fall on his back, unable to feel his legs anymore. He still stared at Kanda, wide eyed, unable to avert his gaze. He felt entranced yet so lucid and awake it hurt. That man did something to him. He had no idea what. That bastard was moving slowly, watching him intensely, like some kind of snake.
"I-I'll ki-kill y-you," Allen sniffed, baking away into a corner. His hands were shaking so badly that he gripped the knife with both hands until his knuckles went white. Kanda was three feet away. He slowly stretched his mouth into a strange, lipless smile.
"Try it," he breathed out, not disturbing his pace. He crept closer and closer until Allen jerked his feet under him. He mutely watched the man as he leaned ahead until the knife pocked is throat.
"Do it," he smiled, cooking his head. "One strike and you're free. One strike and you are not a captive anymore. Just one small strike." He leaned closer, making Allen's hands back away, "Go," he breathed in his face.
The boy's fingers gripped spasmodically. One strike. One strike and everything will be over. He hesitantly pressed the tip of the knife to Kanda's Adam's apple. He could see how the metallic object poked the skin there, and bit his lip, trying to press harder.
Murderer.
Allen stiffened. If he killed Kanda, he would be a murderer. And there was no excuse for that. He gulped and stared in Kanda's face again. If he did it, the man would be laying on the floor, grinning with that creepy smile while his throat would lose its natural whiteness.
The boy suddenly unwrapped his fingers off the knife's wooden handle. It fell on his lap. The boy tried to smile, still staring in Kanda's eyes. The lifted corners of his mouth made the tears lose the tracks they were following and slither over the lips into his mouth.
"I can't," he murmured, slowly lifting his arms up, as if Kanda held a gun. "I can't," he repeated, whispering to himself, "I'm not a murderer."
"Thought so," Kanda smirked, carefully scratching the boy's throat. "Kill or be killed. Life sure is simple." He pulled the boy down, making him squirm in a pathetic attempt to free himself. "Watch yourself die, demented fool."
He slowly slid a hand under the boy's parka. Feeling the goose-bumps under the palm he smirked.
"You're supposed to shit your pants about now, boy."
Allen's stomach caved in, reacting to the touch. He still stared at Kanda mutely, hoping that everything would end fast. The man lifted the parka and traced a finger from the boy's chest to his stomach. The skin turned cold under his touch. He brought a hand in his pocket, taking out a small knife case.
Allen's eyes suddenly widened and he stared at the man in complete horror.
"N-no. Please, no!"
Kanda cocked one brow, pressing a scalpel against the boy's stomach.
"Why?" He sounded false. Allen bit his shaking lips.
"I-It's a s-slow de-death… a-and it looks p-painful…"
Kanda blinked. Allen was watching the hand with the surgical knife, jerking involuntarily. Kanda slowly lifted his hand and let the scalpel fall on the floor.
"It will stay there if you promise to never run away," he said evenly, watching the pale boy with half lidded eyes. Strange. He had no idea the little idiot was afraid of blades. But again, who wouldn't, in that situation?
"I promise," Allen breath out immediately, " Just take th-that away…"
Kanda picked up the scalpel and was about to put it back in his pocked when he saw the boy's face. Allen looked frozen with horror; he stiffed his eyes on Kanda's hand, not even daring to breathe. The man rapidly slithered his hand in his back pocket, touching the knife-case. He sat on the bed and ran a hand through the hair.
"Come here," he said, nodding at the boy. Allen reluctantly stood up. He made three paces and stopped. Kanda sighed.
"I said, come here," he pointed at the spot right in front of him. Allen's face twitched. He moved hesitantly, like a broken puppet. Kanda slowly put a hand on his hair and the boy jerked back, hunching.
"Come here, idiot," Kanda hissed, grabbing him by the arm and slamming the small body into himself. Something wet and hot pressed in his palm and he felt the boy falling at his feet. He was bent practically in half, covering his face and pushing Kanda way at the same time.
"I hate you, I hate you," he murmured like a mantra, his whole body trembling in large, powerful waves.
Hysteria. That was all Kanda could think, watching as the Allen jerked on the floor, unable to stop thrashing even though nothing held him. His guttural murmurs grew in intensity. Kanda momentarily bent and lifted the boy, trying to contain his wild movements in an iron grip.
"I hate you! I hate you!" Allen suddenly yelled, his face twisting with mad laughter. Kanda felt a cold chill yanking the nerves in his spine. Allen was laughing in a senseless, hollow wail, like a mechanical toy. He suddenly stopped and gripped Kanda by the throat, digging his nails in it. Kanda opened his mouth, helplessly trying to swallow nonexistent air.
"I hate you," Allen hissed and squinted, his lips pressing against Kanda's cheek. He bit it wildly, pulling back, like a bulldog. Kanda gritted his teeth. The boy's face was close, horrifying with blood on its lips. Allen suddenly bent backward in Kanda's grip, making the man loose his footing.
" 'Fraid?" Allen yelled and suddenly touched Kanda's face with his fingers, seconds before he slithered the palm into the man's hair, pulling it down savagely. Kanda felt his eyes sting with tears of pain. That little demon was going too far.
"Stop it," he snapped, eyes searching for something cold, preferably water. The boy bit him again, this time in his shoulder. The small teeth broke the skin, digging deep into the bony arm. Kanda gripped him tighter, trying to break the tension in the boy's body. He hissed, feeling claws on his face, digging into the flesh of his bitten cheek. He heard a strange hohoing and stumbled to the bed, crushing the kid under him.
"I hate you!!"
The boy was hissing and biting Kanda's neck while the man simply gritted his teeth and pressed him down. He slowly was able to encircle him, limiting the violent movements of the arms. Such outbursts were brought by an extreme fear. Tch. He overdid it. Kanda was grimly considering to never use that again against the kid. Allen could simply die of fear.
He suddenly tensed, feeling the boy's apparent exhaustion. His thrashing became less violent and he stopped biting Kanda's shoulder. His breathing became heavy and pronounced. In five minutes he stopped completely, staring at the man, lost and disoriented. His face was wet and dirty while the pupils expanded slowly, reacting to light.
"Ka-kanda…" He sobbed weakly, "G-get off, it hurts…"
"You're done?" Kanda lifted his torso, looking at the boy's mouth, smeared with his blood. Allen stared at him with hurt and tired eyes. He blinked when a drop of blood from Kanda's face plopped on his chin.
"You're bleeding," he whispered, slowly touching Kanda's cheek. Kanda winced, making Allen jerk his fingers back.
"Di-did I do that to you?" he was genuinely scared. "Kanda…" he whispered, horrified, "Did I do that to you?!"
Kanda tiredly jerked his lips in a crooked smile. He felt drained, unable to respond or react. He let his face fall into the curve of the boy's neck. Allen stirred, unable to hide his unfamiliarity with the touch.
"Just sleep," Kanda whispered, feeling the strong smell of Allen's sweat. "Just sleep. I'll explain everything tomorrow."
"To-tomorrow?" Allen sharply inhaled the air in, trying to calm down. Kanda nodded, burying his face in the other's neck. Allen nervously raised one hand and shyly stroked Kanda's hair. He felt the man quiver under his fingers.
"Kanda? I kind of need to go to the bathroom," he felt himself redden with shame. Kanda slowly rolled on one side, letting him go. The boy sat up and glanced over his shoulder. Kanda was sleeping. He was exhausted. Allen's eyes lowered on the man's behind. He could see the bulge on the jeans, meaning there was something inside, something like keys.
There was a moment of hesitation. Then the boy crawled back on the bed, touching Kanda's pocket.
He slid his hand inside, freezing when the man sighed in his sleep. The insides of the pocket were hot. He felt a cell-phone and took it out. A lighter, a pack of strange cigarettes that he had never seen before, and the keys finally were laying on the bed. He took the phone, slipping it into his jeans. Looking at the keys he hesitated.
Two paces. Two paces and he'd be free. He sighed and looked back at Kanda. The man was sleeping on his abdomen, face hidden into the pillow.
"Kanda, I have to leave," he whispered, gripping the keys. "You kidnapped me. I have to run. It's supposed to be that way."
Kanda breathed softly into the pillow, not even knowing he had to answer.
"Kanda, I have to leave," Allen repeated, trying to convince himself he was talking to Kanda. Damn it. He had to leave. The keys were warm, still reminiscing of the times when they were pressed against Kanda. Allen approached the door and opened it, staring in the foul smelling hallway. There was light below, someone was cooking.
Soba.
He sat on the floor and threw the keys into the wall. The metallic bunch shrilly bumped into the wall, falling under a chair. Soba. Kanda fed him soba. Kanda liked soba. He liked green tea too. He liked black and forests, and hated cities and strident women.
Kanda also hated stupidity. He disliked naïve people. He also disliked yellow and pink. But he loved deep blue. And he loved privacy and solitude. And silent companions.
Allen knew him. He knew what pissed him off and what made him blissfully silent. He knew his very soul. And he didn't want Kanda to be caught. It was illogical and horrible. He was abnormal. He wasn't supposed to feel sorry for his captor.
Stockholm Syndrome.* He knew it. Every single psychologist knew it. The boy slowly bit his thumb, trying to guess how far he can go. The pain made him alive. The pain made him shut up his mind. He finally felt the nail bending under the pressure, giving out a bitter taste of dark blood.
He stood up and weakly sat on the bed, taking off his socks. He lifted Kanda's hand and stuffed himself under the man until his slow breath tickled Allen's forehead. The boy slowly kissed the wounded cheek, feeling the blood on his lips again.
"Just tell me everything tomorrow, Kanda," he murmured, stroking the man's hair. "Just tell me tomorrow. I'll wait."
__________________________________________
*A response sometimes seen in abducted hostages, in which the hostage shows signs of loyalty to the hostage-taker, regardless of the danger or risk in which they have been placed. (Wikipedia)
Ok, people. I love you. All those wonderful reviews made me so happy I decided to write something fluffy. And, a burp of irony, this monstrosity came out.
Sorry.
I sincerely apologize.
P.S. Those who are reading Tales of the Roadkill, please visit my profile for an anouncement for the said story.