Ratio 7! Omg was going to be the last chapter, but I'm afraid theres still one more to come ;)

It's raining. The sky is grey and even the sparkling headlights of the cars on the motorway look miserable. The man standing behind the glass watching the drizzle slipped his hand into the scratchy pocket of his tweed jacket, retrieving a fob watch. He flicked it open, checked the time, and fell back to watching the tiny droplets of freezing water coat the pane. It was mid-afternoon, sometime in January when the Christmas and New Year excitement had faded, and everyone was slaving away at work once more. Well, that was the norm anyway.

"Unscrupulous pervert . . ." he muttered to himself, referring to his albino flatmate as yet another groan of longing reached his ears from the back of the house. He'd kept his opinions in check since that night a few weeks back, turning to his gentlemanly qualities to see him through. But even courteousness and tolerance could only go so far; his ears rang with Hidan's frenzied cries and desperate moans while behind his eyes his hate quietly simmered. Only a few more days and he'd be back on his way to the comfort of university, those landscaped gardens and freshwater fountains. He sighed; he'd like nothing more than to sit down to a good debate on the Merits of Flaubert with his doctorate friends and –

"urrghh . . . God, Dei-chan I - hah!"

"Seemingly indefatigable . . ." Zetsu cursed again, his fists clenching around the glass of port he was nursing. Narrowing his eyes he wondered where Hidan got his limitless libido from, and at what point along the line his self respect had dissolved. He stared down into the blood coloured liquid, imagining the cracked leather chairs, smoke filled drawing rooms and elegance of Sasori's apartments where they drank together on numerous occasions. He recalled evenings spent sitting together in the Gentlemen's clubs around the university village, and the sophisticated cabaret lounges. He drifted in and out of his past, all the while trying to drown out Hidan's urgent sobs for carnal attention.

The rain continued, setting in for the afternoon and blending the various shades of grey into one disenchanting portrait. Come 5 in the evening, Zetsu was sitting alone in the freezing lounge, an uneaten tray of microwave food lying by his feet. He assumed Deidara would be along at some point to gobble it up, as soon as he'd finished waking Hidan. The sick man had been sleeping, he slept most days on and off in the bedroom by the TV . . .

Just as the thought was crossing his mind, the door creaked open, weakly pushed by Hidan's pale hand. Deidara stood in the semi darkness behind, slowly pushing Hidan out into the light.

"M-my legs" he whispered with a slight air of pain in his voice, "they ache"

"They will" Deidara replied sombrely, leaning over and massaging the top of his thigh. It was a completely innocent gesture without any sexual overtones, but even Zetsu could see the hunger stirring in Hidan's dark eyes.

"Aghh" he bit down on a grunt of frustration as Deidara helped him out of his chair, and down onto the sofa next to Zetsu. He sunk into the soft pillows, slumping back and closing his eyes. Whenever he was moved the terrible itch awoke again. Right now all he needed was to close his eyes, purse his lips and concentrate, just concentrate on not letting out that... that -

"urrghhh!" he moaned, clenching his fist on the arm of the chair and willing his feverish heat to subside. Stiffly he grabbed a pillow and forced it over his groin, pushing up into it to relieve the strain and gritting his teeth with fresh arousal. It didn't help that a food commercial was running on TV, mere feet away, one of those seductive ones that tries to get people all hot and bothered over the latest porridge oats. Trouble was this one was aiming to get people buying sausages.

"Fuck" he whimpered miserably, feeling hot, achy sensations growing between his legs and in his stomach. It wouldn't be long, and he didn't want Zetsu to see, not again. He glanced down, to his left so he didn't have to meet his friend's eyes and slowly slipped his hand down to rest upon his straining erection. With every tiny stoke heavy gasps escaped his lips, and he cast a sheepish look at the commercial again, feeling a hot gush of excitement. His chest heaved and his mouth was torn open allowing air to rush past his dry lips. He exhaled slowly, trying desperately to calm himself, but knowing even his best attempts were useless. An aching, throbbing sensation began to overcome him, his fingers and toes were beginning to tingle, and still it was not over.

"Oh . . .I. . .can't!-" he breathed, bucking into his own hand, knowing he couldn't handle this, and no one was going to help him this time. Faster he pumped himself, caring not for the glances of the others, only his own relief. He could feel himself growing harder and hotter, his breaths getting faster and his groans getting louder. He was probably drowning out the TV by now but it didn't matter, only a few more seconds. . A few more . . . a few –

"H a – a r g h!" he hissed, coming quietly and hanging his head so no one could see the glorious release shining in his eyes.

After a few moments of dazed satisfaction and shame, he felt a kind hand on his shoulder,

"Hidan, do you need to – I mean, do you want to clean up?" his blonde friend asked,

"It's – it's ok" he choked, "I'm . . . wearing a condom. I thought this would happen. . . I was right" he gave a short humourless laugh. Delving into his jeans he grimaced as he slipped himself free, thanking the small plastic thing for saving at least a scrap of his dignity. While Zetsu looked on in utter dismay, he removed the offending item, threw it into a waste paper basket across the room and sat back looking tired.

" . . .!" Zetsu commented in shock as the boring mediocre show flickered back into life. His life for the past few weeks had been about as interesting as daytime television, he needed a break from this petty existence. Just as thoughts of despair were rolling round his head like waves, Konan burst into the room with her phone in her hand and her handbag in the other.

"We're going out!" she announced, smudged make up and messy hair indicating she'd been crying again, but over what nobody ever knew. Pein was clinging to her shoulder, swaying slightly. It didn't look like he needed another trip to the pub, but Konan was adamant that she wasn't going alone,

"I can't drive and he's too drunk" she whined, "Kakuzu we need your van -"

"an' you 'ave to drive it" Pein giggled, pointing into the taller man's face as he appeared from the hallway,

"I've just got back!" he protested, but was drowned out by both Zetsu and Deidara's clamouring for a trip out.

"There's nothing on telly . . ."

"You deserve to relax . . ."

"C'mon why not?" Zetsu rounded off the argument, convincing their designated driver to unlock the van and let them in . . .

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It was in this way that half an hour later, head still woozy from last night's hit, Hidan found himself being pushed into the dingy pub.

He felt inside his wallet, and unsurprisingly had no money to buy anyone a drink. He knew where it had all gone; the evidence was sitting snugly in his jeans pocket, and amazingly he felt no guilt. His skin was slowly turning greyer, his wounds had stopped healing and he hadn't eaten for what seemed like days, but somehow he didn't care.

"mmh" he grimaced as Deidara lent him a hand to help him out of his chair, and he almost fell short of the bar couch he was aiming to reach. His cheeks burned red as his independence slid away and his legs were caught and manoeuvred by Deidara's warm hands. They ached so much he couldn't move them an inch, and as he sat, familiar urges spread like wildfire through his veins.

"Oh!" he gasped, "shouldn't have . . moved . . . so fast – mmph!"

He slipped a single hand down to rest over his crotch, steadying his breathing and trying to recover his calm. While he sat catching his breath, Deidara pulled up a chair next to him, scrutinizing his bony frame and offering him some peanuts. Meekly he shook his head, shivering as he felt cold sweat trickling down his back, he felt so awful, how long had it been since his last fix?

He gazed over as the others began wandering back from the bar carrying their drinks. He was grateful that Deidara had sat with him, even if he'd had money for a drink he couldn't exactly stand at the bar with the rest of them. He looked down in shame; in his chair he couldn't even see over the counter.

"-donning a tailcoat and a bowtie is not sufficient to be properly dressed!" Zetsu exclaimed chatting to a drunken Pein as the two sat down nearby. Hidan watched him, transfixed. He secretly admired his old fashioned dress sense, and was excruciatingly jealous of his upper class life,

"With whisky," he continued, swirling his drink, "anything less than a three year old malt is simply atrocious! One has to unlock it character . . ."

His voice trailed off as he noticed the pale face and even paler gaze of Hidan trained on him,

"What? You freeloading morally corrupt social milieu" he sneered, narrowing his eyes at the other man sitting helpless across the table from him.

"Zetsu –I" he raised his palms as if in defence. He had known he was hated, but he never knew Zetsu despised him this badly,

"Failure's always the safest option eh?" he continued softly, referring casually to their opposing lifestyles in a voice barely above a whisper.

Deciding to bring a little class back into the dire situation, he fumbled in his pockets for the gorgeous jewelled box Sasori had given him as a going away present. Its lid was beautiful engraved gold, sweeping down to matching twin hinges. Precious stones adorned the sides, and engraved into the bottom were Zetsu's own initials. The inside was made of equally pure gold, shining a gorgeous burnt yellow colour. It was almost a competition at University to have the best snuff box. Zetsu felt he was top of the heap with his and his friend's sophisticated hobby. He took a pinch of the toffee coloured nicotine powder and delicately sniffed it. It smelled lightly of tobacco.

Zetsu glared back down at the others again, haughtily alert and dusting his nose with a silk handkerchief. He was the perfect picture of class and sophistication, and he knew it.

"Time for another round, gents" he announced with a flashing smile, and swept up to the bar with everyone in tow, the whiskey was pouring like water and they weren't about to miss out.

Hidan was left sitting alone, amongst the cheap furniture that smelled of stale beer, sitting as if in a void. He shivered again, feeling more miserable than ever before. He felt like a nothing, a nobody. He squinted across the bar, seeing his friends circling Zetsu, laughing and joking, and the thought occurred to him that all his friends were being swept away. That is . . . if they'd ever been his friends to start with. His cheeks flamed with anger and embarrassment.

"You hate me, you judge me and you always will . . ." he croaked, holding back a dry sob as his fists clenched tightly, nails digging into his palms. He felt a sweat break out over his brow as he sat, shaking with self pity. Negative thoughts raced round his cranium, conjuring up pictures of him being left behind, being forgotten, being shunned, all of which he was sure were about to happen. Its not paranoia he convinced himself, it's real, its what's lying behind their eyes at this very moment as they stand sipping someone else's drinks.

He shivered again as a brief breeze chilled the sweat on his back. He was sick of sitting here watching everyone else have fun. Enough was most certainly enough. He wanted to feel good.

With shaking hands he gripped the beer stained table, dragging himself to the edge of the couch. His teeth clenched on a rising moan as waves of arousal pulsed over him. The movement and exertion was triggering it again and he felt the chilly sweats turn fiery hot under his jacket. Another urgent sweep of his arm and he'd hooked the cold metal of his chair, weakly he dragged it closer, wondering how in hell he was supposed to move himself. Normally he'd give in to the help from others, grudgingly allowing them to manhandle his wasted legs and haul him up like a sack of potatoes. Not this time.

"uhh!" he grunted quietly, resisting the urge to place a heavy hand between his legs and simply give in, get it done right here. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his breaths come quicker and hair stick to his clammy cheeks.

With one almighty heave, he pushed himself from the squeaky fake leather sofa. A heart stopping moment of weightlessness later, he collided painfully with the side of his chair, falling into it and almost tipping it. The table shuddered and almost fell, nearly tumbling empty glasses with it in a cascade of splintering shards. He gasped, hunching his shoulders and thanking his lucky stars that no one had seen. Independence was a million miles away, and as for walking . . .

"Maybe not yet . . ." he hissed sarcastically, unable to move a muscle below his hips.

Slowly, he wheeled himself through the tables, heading for the cool sanctuary of the bathroom, the other end of the pub. With one single backwards glace he checked the expressions of those standing with Zetsu, they seemed happy, amused, even carefree. Expressions that hadn't been seen for years around here. A cold feeling settled in his stomach, almost chasing the hunger away completely. His palm touched the wood of the door, and with difficulty he was soon amongst the dirty white tiles, drippy taps and damp floor of the bathroom.

A window was open nearby, and he reached to pull it closed, realizing too late his hand barely swept the pane, let alone the clasp.

"Come on!" he cried, urging his fingertips to stretch another few millimetres.

A miserable sigh left his lips, and once safely among the shadows he searched again for his dishonourable release. Silently he pulled the glinting needle free from his pocket, everything was so quiet he could hear the gentle night rain pattering outside the window. Just a few more minutes and all of his fears would be gone till tomorrow. For a long moment he averted his eyes, letting his hands do everything on autopilot. They were shaking pretty badly now, his body was once again craving his drugs and soon he knew the convulsions would start. It was always the same, his hands were the first to go – shaking and making even the simplest of tasks impossible. Flu symptoms would come minutes later, making him feel sicker still, and after that his entire body began to quake. He didn't ever want it to come to that again.

He straightened with a gasp, feeling a pinch as his hands wound a belt tightly round his upper arm. The material was cold, cutting off the blood supply to his arm to make the hit that much stronger. Soon the familiar sting of the needle pushing through his skin had him clenching his teeth, and the painful pressure that followed almost brought tears.

After the poison flowed freely into his blue swollen veins, he pulled the syringe free, desperately re-filling it before he lost his head completely. He knew he'd need it later, maybe sooner if Zetsu kept up his game. A gradual haze flitted back and forth across his eyes as the last of his desperate sobs echoed away. Somewhere far away his chair creaked as he shifted position. The cool plastic gently slipped from his fingers, he was slowly losing his grip. Feelings of happiness and elation rose up, clouding his brain, and gradually he rocked forwards sleepily. The needle, released from his fingertips, fell clattering to the floor but he barely heard a sound. He wasn't in touch with the world anymore . . .

"Ahh" he sighed, warm air rushing over his lips as his clammy hands slipped on the armrests of his chair. His head hung limply, his shoulders dropped, he was falling . . . falling.

He hit the floor with a sickening crack, both knees bloody amongst old broken glass. He curled, his hair soaking up the dirty puddle water. He was barely conscious and the pain was little more than a dull throb. Dazed, he crawled to the wall, slumping up against it and taking one last glance around his world, before being utterly claimed by his own abysmal release.

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Outside, in the warm smoky fug of the bar, the clock on the wall began to chime. Zetsu sat and listened to its tuneful ring, counting the chimes and trying to work out how many hours had passed. Between the empty glasses and sticky beer mats he sat appreciating the small piece of history amongst the tacky furniture of the room. Somewhere to his left, over the array of peanut packets and dozing heads resting on the counter, a slot machine glittered. He stared at it again, daring it to jingle any louder than it already was. A neon sign above it read "Egyptian Gold" and quietly Zetsu stifled an ironic laugh. Nothing was sacred anymore. Even the Egyptian legends had been turned into a plastic glowing money trap.

"Z- tsu wassa time?" a husky voice to his left mumbled and he looked down into the bloodshot eyes of Pein. No one knew how many shots he'd downed, or how many pints he'd had before that. He hung limply onto the bar, looking peaky and pale. Next to him, Deidara was in the same state with his head planted in a half eaten bacon sandwich. Under his arm lay a greasy plate that had once been a fry up. He'd eaten that too. Now his snores reverberated round the group of them as they sat dazed and swaying. Only Kakuzu had refused a drink, remembering his precious van in the carpark.

He glanced at it through the fogged up window pane. City lights flickered and danced in the background as a light drizzle fell. The orange streetlights reflected from the first puddles that had formed, and a rainbow glow of oil lay around the van's huge tires. The night looked cold and uninviting, he'd much rather stay here in the warm, snuggled up to Konan. His hand drifted through her soft hair and her sleeping breaths tickled the skin on his neck. One glance down and he'd got an eyeful of her exposed cleavage, the corners of her racy underwear could just be seen poking out from her baggy top. He took a deep breath, remembering that she was not his woman to gaze at, and laid her beautiful head gently down on the bar. Better safe than sorry, he thought.

Through the thick smoke of yet another cigar, he exchanged knowing glances with Zetsu. The hour was late, and their friends fast asleep. It was probably time to leave.

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Back in the bathroom, Hidan was beginning to awake. His palms and clothes were damp from resting on the floor, and his hair was dark with sweat. Water dripped from his arm as he bent to examine the needle wound, but in contrast his mouth felt dry as a desert. His entire body ached, right from his immovable legs up to his stiff neck. Grimly he winced and rubbed his eyes, his limbs felt like lead and his head was up in the clouds.

The rain was still falling lightly outside the window, providing background sound to the dripping of taps and the silence. Painfully he shifted upright, gritting his teeth when heat flared deep down.

"Why . . . ?" he choked, more to the endless dark than to himself. The desire was rising again, the need for . . . for a touch, pressure . . . penetration. He whined uncontrollably, no longer able to hold back the tide of emotions. It was coming back again, the drugs couldn't dull the ache this time, his jeans were scratching him as they became tighter. It was agony.

As he sat strangling in the semi dark, the window he'd left open was pushed wide. A tanned hand found its way in, pushing the frosted glass up and letting in an icy blast of wind. The window knocked slightly on the bathroom wall, and the denim sleeve of the intruder was bathed in electric light. His breathing was ragged, as if he'd been running for a long time, and his hair was plastered to his face. He carried no luggage, and as his jacket swung and fell off it was clear his pockets were also empty. A dull thud reverberated around the room as his heavy boots hit the floor. He collapsed, panting; exhausted but happy.

"K – Kisa-" Hidan mumbled in confusion, wondering if the drugs had made him hallucinate. Dumbly he reached for the syringe he'd earlier cast aside. His thin fingernails splintering as he scratched his way across the floor. The ghosts of his past had come back to haunt him, despite his every effort. His bloodshot eyes strained to see clearly as his hands searched. He could sense the ghost's eyes on him, feel the cold prickle on the hairs of his neck. It seemed as if the dripping floor was turning to ice under his motionless legs and waves of fear crashed over him.

"d-don't come any closer" he whispered urgently, brandishing his last needle with false bravado. His hand was slipping on the tiles behind him, and with a grunt of effort that sent delicious spasms shivering through him, he propped himself up on the side of his chair.

Taking his eyes off the spectre for one short moment he tapped at his arm in a frenzy. Make it go away! He begged.

"Now's no time to shoot up!" Kisame warned, taking a step towards his fallen friend. He was met with tearful bloodied eyes. Hidan was high, confused and desperate, so with a pang of sadness he'd felt constantly for months, he scooped him up and sat him in the chair. Instantly he slumped, head hanging low, hands plunging into the waistband of his jeans. His expression of distorted fear turned to a grimace and a low moan escaped his lips.

"Come on . . ." said Kisame through gritted teeth, snatching the needle from his limp fingertips and throwing it into the darkness. It landed with an empty click, but he barely heard, since the creak of the door opening drowned out the sound.

At once the smokey bar was opened up to them, all polished wooden counters and uncomfortable looking bar stools. The thin carpet underneath Deidara was scattered with crisps and crumbs, and the bar in front of Pein was swamped with spilled beer. It wouldn't have been long before they were kicked out anyway, but as soon as Kakuzu caught sight of Kisame's solemn face he jolted awake.

The low lighting illuminated the sudden fear in the taller mans eyes and his gaze darted to the TV, checking the news wasn't on. Kisame's release date wasn't for years yet, and he betted he hadn't been let out on good behaviour.

"Kisame . . . how?" he hissed, getting up from the bar and striding over, barely noticing Hidan as he sat slouched between them.

"We have to go. Now." He replied urgently, his voice little more than a low whisper. Nervously he checked the tables to their left and right, making sure he wasn't being watched or spied upon. His eyes raced around the room, searching out hidden cameras or nosy barmaids. He was on edge, and his fear was visible.

In a rush, Kakuzu handed over the bunch of keys, hastily bundling them into his friend's hands. The situation was serious, contemplated Hidan in a woozy daze as he stared up into their nervous faces. The prized van was being handed over, new interior and all. He was prevented from further thought, however, as another pulse of heat shot through him and his entire world dissolved. Slight nausea rose in his throat as his hunger became all consuming, but no one noticed. They were too busy bundling Pein out of the door, comforting Konan as she burst into fresh tears and trying to shift Deidara off the delicate barstool without breaking it.

Zetsu was gathering up all his own things, making his way across the floor in a stately fashion with his head held high. He didn't stop and help when empty plates crashed to the floor as Deidara awoke, mumbling and holding his aching belly. He didn't look down when Pein's knees gave out and he collapsed drunkenly to the polished wood floor, and he didn't stop and help to move Hidan out into the chilly night air. He strolled past, ignoring that both Hidan's hands were taken up with the burning task of satisfying himself, and there was no way he could wheel himself alone.

"guhh . . . ahh . . ." he grunted shamefully as Zetsu sauntered past, creating a breeze of old alcohol scented air. The door opened and closed behind him, sending the chilly air whistling right through his thin clothes. Silence had fallen again, and he waited, agonizing, until someone with a spare pair of hands came back to get him. By then his legs were on fire with pain, and his stomach muscles were complaining with the strain of suppressed urges.

The gravel of the car park crunched under the harsh metal wheels as he was taken outside into the night. The back doors of the truck stood ajar, and as he watched he saw Zetsu clamber inside with a sneer on his face. Clearly he'd expected a front seat.

Kakuzu had already started the engine, sending black smoke and pollution into his face. He coughed, and it stung his eyes but soon he was clutched tightly to the chest of the person who'd come back for him. His weak legs dangled down until they too were scooped up and his chair bundled into the back of the van. He rested his head on the shoulder in front of him. It was very soft, with equally soft hair tickling his nose. The flesh under his fingers was soft, too and he grabbed it a little harder earning a light gasp.

"Hidan you little - " he began, but was cut off as the albino squirmed free and landed in the passenger seat of the van. Grudgingly, Deidara took the next one to him. He'd wanted to avoid a window seat, especially at this hour, but he kept the thought to himself. Some things were better off not shared.

So as the morning light began to illuminate the sky in colours of pink and blue, the van hit the motorway. The tarmac stretched out endlessly, promising futures or prosperity. Neither of which were likely amongst the group. Their four wheels were the only ones on the lonely strip of road, and the noise of the engine was the only sound for miles around.

Nothing existed to mark their miles, except Hidan's own ragged breathing and the ground passed under them rapidly as they sped off into the distance.