LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC

Title: Sanguine

Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)

Author's Note: Edited Kakei's minor dialogue dealing with White Day, which takes place on March 14th and not in February along with Valentine's Day. Also used the business jargon of "stockout", which means running out of inventory for a particular item. (7/27/07)

CHAPTER 7

"Er, Kakei-san? Is this what you want me to stock?" Looking down at the multiple boxes of KY jelly and condoms, Kazahaya flushed. It was damn hot in Green Drugstore for this time of the day, and the heat wasn't even turned on. Dammit. Goddamn it. He was as red as his shirt, and the last thing he needed to hear was a smart-aleck quip about how hot he was under the collar. "Little Miss Virgin" indeed! Grabbing a handful of wrapped condoms – he didn't need to know what flavors they were, or if they were ribbed or not – he started shoving them into the glass jars. He'll deal with the tubes of what Kakei-san called "lubricant" later.

Of course, "Little Miss Virgin" was Rikuo's nickname for him, considering his reaction to receiving his first condom. Shaking his head, Kazahaya finished stocking the chocolate-labeled packages and plunged into the vanilla-flavored ones. He needed to stop thinking about Rikuo, because Rikuo was the reason why he was down here. He'd cut his extended holiday short, without explanation, and asked Kakei-san if there was inventory to be done.

As it turned out, there was. There was so much paperwork to check, supplies to be stocked and thrown out, and customers to take that Kazahaya found himself swamped by work for the next few days. Try as he might, he could not stay upstairs with his tormented roommate. Ever since the day Saiga-san and he experienced that horrible exchange of words with Rikuo, their relationship with the other psychic hit a dead end.

Rikuo wasn't talking to him. He wasn't talking at all.

It was, Kazahaya slowly understood, a form of silent suicide. The breakfast plates were scraped into the trash, uneaten. Whenever he ate, the older psychic found himself alone, staring miserably up at the ceiling and at the drying grease on his plate. Rikuo hadn't eaten for a week, and already, Kazahaya could see the translucency of his skin. According to Saiga-san, he should at least be grateful that Rikuo wasn't the type to shoot, stab, or hang himself. Those were immediate forms of suicide; this one dragged, giving them time.

Unfortunately, he was running out of it.

"Damn it," he cursed, swiping at a tube of KY jelly, only to toss it back into the box as if it burned him. "Rikuo, why?" After enduring days of the silent treatment, he'd had enough and left Rikuo. The first night he returned from work, he'd gone directly to his room and went to bed. It was also the evening he threw a pillow over his head to tune out the whimpers and cries of anguish. He hadn't been able to look Rikuo in the face since then.

"How's the re-stocking, Kudou-kun?"

At least his face wasn't burning hot. "It's…um…" He coughed, hoping that Kakei-san would misinterpret it for a seasonal allergy. The wicked amusement on the boss's face short-circuited his brain, churning up the dregs of what Rikuo would deem his lameness. "It's…interesting." Big fat chance of that happening. "With all the girls coming in here, what do we need these for?"

"They have lovers to please, of course. I thought you knew that, Kudou-kun."

Now, he was red. "Kakei-san!"

"All joking aside, how's Rikuo? You didn't tell me the exact reason why you came back to work. You should be with him; he needs your company."

"Tell that to him. He doesn't want me there."

"Why? Is it because of what happened a week ago? When you and Saiga took it upon yourselves to get him cleaned up?" Kakei's countenance darkened. "Saiga told me that shortly after he put you to bed, he returned to Rikuo. Rikuo became timid; nearly submissive in how he listened to Saiga. It was as if he'd lost a fight, and he didn't care what would become of him. It gave Saiga a headache afterwards, contemplating that."

"He listened to Saiga-san?"

"It's not in a good way, Kudou-kun." The other man sighed; Kazahaya shifted his weight, adjusted his stance, and prepared himself for the worst. "I don't know exactly what was done to him, but Rikuo basically gave up. It's a common way of survival for victims of abuse, especially in cases like Rikuo's, and it leaves them open to more violence. He knew he wasn't going to budge Saiga, so he allowed himself to be led in whatever direction Saiga wanted out of him. I'm aware that he broke the mirror in the bathroom."

"Kakei-san, he blames himself for that."

"Why would he? It's not his fault he snapped like that."

"The glass broke when I came in. I would've been hit if Saiga-san wasn't there. Rikuo thinks he nearly killed me. He wouldn't look at me, Kakei-san. He wouldn't, and now he's lying up there, wanting to die and I've done nothing to stop him."

"Is that why you came back to work? Has he eaten anything?"

Closing his eyes, Kazahaya recalled the wasted food. "Not for a week - no."

"Kudou-kun, has he spoken to you at all after that incident with you and Saiga?"

"No. He hasn't. I haven't seen him in days. I – I refused to."

"Why?" Suddenly, Kakei's demeanor chilled. Shuddering, Kazahaya stepped back, sensing the deadly coldness emanating from the man. One didn't need to be psychic to read Kakei's mood swings. "Why haven't you been handling the responsibility that's rightfully yours? Why didn't you see him?"

"Because he hurt me!"

A sharp sigh of frustration splintered the air. "Kudou-kun, listen to me very carefully. Have you considered why he's not speaking to you? Have you even stopped to think about why he's behaving this way? How do you think he felt when he was forcibly hauled and stripped? This isn't like being awoken from a nightmare. It was necessary, yes, but those actions during those missing weeks could have been precursors to something far worse."

"Is he holding me to blame for that?"

"The question is: 'Is he holding himself to blame for the mirror, as well as your concern when he doesn't feel like he deserves it?' This isn't a blame game, Kudou-kun. He's been badly hurt, and he's closed himself off. It's not betrayal, but it's not a place where he has any control. He's lost control of his telekinesis, and he nearly injured you in the process. He doesn't trust himself anymore. He's broken; he doesn't want to inflict pain on you – now do you see why he's suicidal?"

"Then why did he ask me to stay with him that night when he awoke? Why did he talk to me at all?" Beside him, the cases of condoms and KY jelly sat forgotten. Kazahaya clenched his fists, struggling hard to keep them at his side. "Why did he reach out when all he's doing now is running away?"

"Is that fair?"

"What? He's running away – he's not allowing us to help him!"

Across from him, Kakei folded his arms and glared. "And what exactly have you been doing this whole time, Kudou-kun?"

Kazahaya blinked, stunned silent. Did Kakei-san aim a barb straight at his own situation? Did it have something to do with his flight from home, away from Kei? If so…. Inwardly, he winced. Kakei-san knew more about him than he let on, but this particular comment stung. He heard himself yelling about Rikuo's cowardice, replaying the angry words. Running away, and this entire time, he kept his distance from Kei, from the sheltered existence he once lived. He couldn't hold onto his anger, not after Kakei-san exposed that hypocrisy. Not after…shit.

"Exactly."

"What would you do, then?" Not a challenge. A plea of help, more like. Crap, he was like Rikuo without realizing it.

"First, finish your job. You still have some inventory to stock; after that, you have the day off. You already know what you should do, Kudou-kun. You're just afraid to carry it out, and he's afraid to accept what you're offering him. You have to get past your problems first, or you can't help him. I've given you your answers – it's up to you to apply them."

"Oh."

"I see you're in the box of vanilla condoms. Not quite my taste, but it's suitable for beginners." Kakei-san stepped away from him, picked up the clipboard listing inventory and all the official paperwork dealing with the week's purchases, and smiled. "Looks like I'll have to call in another shipment of strawberry-flavored condoms. Another month and it'll be Valentine's Day and White Day will be upon us before we know it. It won't do for us to run into a stockout, after all."

It was appropriate, he decided, to discreetly cough.

Not that anything was discreet when Kakei-san stood right beside him.

"Get back to work, Kudou-kun. I'm sure you want that break, right?"

Kazahaya pulled the apron off, watching as the green strings whirled from behind. The air was keen and crisp outside, warmed by the sun and chill from the wind. Inhaling, he walked out of the drugstore, folding his work clothes as he did so. Every once in a while, he would stand on the pavement and observe the traffic of people, of bikes, and of cars. Today was such a day, Kazahaya marked. Instead of leaning against the store wall this time, he turned the corner and sat on the stairs.

A man dressed in a business suit strode across the street, briefcase over his shoulder. Two little girls ran ahead, giggling while their mothers gossiped in the background. A dog barked and a cat hissed in reply. Papers rustled as the wind blew through, ruffling his shirt and creating a wave of discarded pamphlets that rushed into oncoming traffic. Before, he'd taken a pamphlet and scanned through it. It was nothing more than religious fodder from one of the sects hiding in downtown Tokyo. He wasn't aware of how vast the world was until Rikuo pointed out to him that these sects populated Japan. Only then was he attuned to his ignorance and his social standing compared to the taller boy's street smarts.

He sighed.

His words were cruel. Thankfully, Rikuo wasn't around to hear them. What? He's running away – he's not allowing us to help him! He was the coward, not Rikuo. Rikuo couldn't do anything, but what about him? What about Kazahaya Kudou – the one who always wanted to fly free? The one who escaped harm time and time again because Rikuo was always there for him? The one who could understand; could still think without a cloud of pain hazing his memories? Kazahaya locked his fingers together, catching sight of a blue balloon trailing from a child's hand.

Instead, when Rikuo closed himself off, so did he.

Was this his way of telling Rikuo he cared for him?

If it was, it was an extremely selfish way to do it. Balling his apron in his hands, Kazahaya gazed at the sun as it crawled down toward the horizon. Grey clouds scattered across the sky, fringes aflame with gold, pink, and orange. It'd been some time since he'd seen a truly red sun, Kazahaya thought. With winter weather still whistling through Tokyo, the skies were darker earlier and the winds cut into one like a knife. Shivering, he stood and trudged up the stairs that led him back home.

The first thing he did upon stepping into the quiet apartment was to throw his apron and shoes in the corner. Kakei-san had him stock six boxes of inventory – most of which were highly embarrassing – and sweep the floor before calling it a night. Yet, the timing was flawless, so that he was out earlier than usual. It was uncanny how precise Kakei-san's calculations were; although, six boxes of supplies were a bit much. Rubbing his eyelid, he questioned if the overload of work was an indirect form of punishment. What he'd said about Rikuo really wasn't nice.

Rikuo.

Kazahaya stiffened. It was too still. Was Rikuo asleep? He couldn't possibly have walked out of here by himself. Kakei-san and Saiga-san would've known, and in his condition, Rikuo wouldn't get far.

"Rikuo?"

Apprehension twisted his stomach. "Rikuo, are you okay?" Never mind the fact that Rikuo wasn't on speaking terms with him, but the guy wouldn't go belly-up on him, would he? A week without food wasn't a death sentence, as far as Kazahaya knew. A month or two, maybe, but not a week. The last time he laid eyes on him, Rikuo was pale and thin, and nowhere near dead. Could someone die of heartbreak? Of emotional neglect?

"Rik–" He started to call again, only to stop and stare.

Water gleamed on the floor; drops shimmering dully. White strips of cloth, damp and curled, wound its way towards one of the green-curtained rooms. A wedge of yellow coming from the bathroom dissected the hall into dark and light. Kazahaya stepped closer, tentatively. The smell of soap lingered in the air, scenting the place with green pine. Rikuo had taken a shower – had gotten out of bed. Then why did he protest when Saiga-san tried to do the same? Why didn't he do it sooner and spare them the hassle?

"Rikuo?"

He lifted aside the curtain.

His scream shattered the air, as readily as glass. "Rikuo!" He slipped, he skidded, and he nearly fell on his face but Kazahaya scrambled next to the ashen form slumped across the bed. "Rikuo – speak to me! You can't be…" Rikuo lay unresponsive; his face frozen in a grimace of pain. Kazahaya wept, pulling the younger man closer to him. "Please, Rikuo – don't leave me!" The heart beneath his beat, but there was no movement from the body he held. There was blood on the sheets, and blood on the floor. Wiping aside his tears, he finally noticed the scrap of yellow clutched loosely in Rikuo's hand.

It was their washcloth.

It was also wet with blood. So were the bandages that hung loosely from Rikuo's body. Lying next to him, nearly hidden was a pair of scissors. Kazahaya flung them away, biting back his tears. "Rikuo, can you hear me?" Silence; except for the shallow breathing that strained to continue near his ear. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I walked out on you. I'm sorry I ignored you. I – I never wanted you to feel this way. I don't know what they did to you, and it frightens me. Please, Rikuo – don't die."

His voice cracked. "You've only just come back. It wouldn't be fair…"

To me, to you, to us. "Rikuo, please."

Nothing. His world broke around him, and its center was Rikuo.

Rikuo…Rikuo Himura…

"Is this the fool that tried taking on our best men?" A derisive laugh, followed by the sound of spit hitting the floor with a wet plop. "Rikuo Himura. Just a punk trying to show off, or a real idiot?"

The room was unbearably cold; nearly frozen. He tried moving his wrists and ankles, and found them bound by thick metal chains. Stomach churning, he remembered how a piece of flying wood threw him across the exterior hall when he'd entered. He'd blacked out, unable to hear the approach of his assailants. His head had cracked into the wall, and the pain still throbbed through his skull. His arms were numb, stretched as they were towards the ceiling. Everything here was cold and sterile.

He shuddered, unable to keep the fear down. He shouldn't be here, not like this.

"Looks like your idiot is awake, Iwakare. How about showing him what we do to upstarts? Maybe he'll learn a lesson from that."

He blinked, trying to clear his fuzzy vision. A man stepped before him, dressed darkly, and nodded his head off to the side. Something shattered, splintered into a hundred sounds, and whistled towards him. Looking up, not able to perceive the depth of it, he pulled all of his strength out, and tugged. The whistling struck him; he screamed, unable to hold back the agony that burst across his senses, and faintly heard another scream echo.

"Iwakare! Iwakare? Shit, man – he's dead."

His back burned. His shirt peeled from where the sharp bits of whatever hit him sliced it open. Pain dimmed his sight, filling it with bright spots of red. There was a dead man on the floor in front of him, blood pooling from beneath the iron beam he'd broken. He wanted to vomit.

"We'll take care of Iwakare later. Looks like the boss was right – this boy is dangerous. Well, gentlemen, are we just going to leave without taking vengeance for our fallen brother?"

Shattering upon shattering.

He screamed as his blood splattered, painting a circle of red around him.

It was the light pressure on his hand that awoke him. Kazahaya stared down, disbelieving. Rikuo's fingers were settled against his, soft and gentle. They were cold, but so was he. He'd never noticed just how much bigger Rikuo's hands were before. Rubbing his eyes, the older boy prepared to move out from under his charge, and stopped. It suddenly came to him why he was here, with the taller boy asleep on his lap and the scissors in the corner.

Kazahaya froze. Asleep? He'd thought Rikuo was dying. He'd seen the blood, the scissors, and the washcloth. The blood was still on Rikuo, but it wasn't as severe as it first seemed. There were no stab wounds, just abrasions on bare patches of skin. He could easily wipe the blood off.

He jerked, shakily.

Blood. Rikuo surrounded by a ring of blood. His own. A dead man lying on the cold floor with his head bashed in by an iron beam. Red gushing out from beneath the broken weight. Glass breaking, controlled by someone who wanted to hear Rikuo scream. Rikuo screaming; fear and pain overwhelming his mind. Rikuo doing something he shouldn't have done. A punishment in the beginning. Only the beginning.

Kazahaya trembled. Now he knew why breaking glass scared Rikuo. He also knew, against all odds, that he'd trespassed into Rikuo's mind and that by doing so, he'd disobeyed Kakei-san's rule. I didn't mean to, he argued within himself. Rikuo had frightened him, passing out like that. It was natural for someone to cradle the one they cared for, and he couldn't sit there wringing his hands. Did Kakei-san have knowledge that this was going to occur; thereby, the eerie timing? If so, why wasn't he stopped? Saiga-san could've stormed in and pulled him away before his empathic ability kicked in. He could've damaged himself and Rikuo – the memory was dreadful enough for that.

Getting nightmares was easy with those types of memories. But Rikuo slept on his lap, for once quiet. Kazahaya blinked, and then gently smoothed the damp hair back from the boy's peaceful face. It was like someone had tenderly washed away the agony. Rikuo stirred under his touch, murmuring, and slept on. Had his ability evolved? Did he absorb some of Rikuo's fear and torment? Did he take away his nightmares, at least for one night? He wasn't sure he'd like to approach Kakei-san with this hypothesis, because that would bring the storm down on his head.

Then again…. Rikuo's fingers; Rikuo's touch, soft in his palm.

It was the first time Rikuo ever touched him since that horrible Christmas evening.

"Rikuo," he whispered. "Welcome back."

For this, anything was worth it.