LEGAL DRUG (GOHOU DRUG) FANFIC

Title: Sanguine

Written By: RinoaDestiny (Ann Koo)

CHAPTER 9

"What did I return for?" Rikuo stared straight at the half-opened door; shame keeping those striking eyes away from him. If he gazed into them, Kazahaya was sure he'll see the jumbled ruins reflected in viridian. "I broke too much. I'm no good here."

"Don't say that, Rikuo."

The other boy buried his face into his arm; shudders wracking his large but withered frame. "I shouldn't have left," he mumbled, and Kazahaya could paint the words black for all the despair inherent in them. "Only good for one thing after that. I – I can't stay."

The railing against his back chilled like ice, leeching heat from beneath his layers of clothing. Was it always this cold, even in the dead of winter? Kazahaya shivered and jerked the collar of his coat up to shield his frozen ears. "Why did you want to see this, Rikuo?"

The edges of Rikuo's lips twisted. "To prove a point."

"What point?" he asked stupidly, staring at the carven features of Rikuo's profile. Bitterness and sardonic awareness etched lines in that too young face, while scorn hardened a beautiful pair of moss-green eyes. "What point are you trying to prove so that you'll run out here without telling me, freaking me out?"

Not to mention at the crack of dawn, before anyone else was awake. He never was a shallow sleeper before, but Rikuo was making him one. If Rikuo disappeared, abducted by Toshiya and his "friends", Kazahaya would never forgive himself; which explained his sudden leap out of bed, snatching a sweater and an overcoat when he realized the dark-haired boy was gone. Like it or not, both articles of clothing belonged to Kakei-san, and he stormed pell-mell out of the store cursing. Then, he'd noticed Rikuo sitting against the railing leading up to the third floor.

If he'd been any older, he would've gotten a heart attack.

"What point?" Rikuo reiterated beside him, shifting. The deep voice thickened with self-loathing, and Kazahaya watched as the other boy struggled to his feet. Rikuo hadn't gone more than a few steps before bracing himself against the door frame; his expression directed far into the darkness of their ruined apartment. The once proud arc of his back was bent, heavily depressed by unspeakable pain and turmoil. "I had to see for myself what I am now. You know what this proves, Kazahaya?"

He didn't dare answer.

"This…" Rikuo's dark head bowed, while his hand trembled against the frame. "This proves I'm no good. Not to you, not to them, and not to myself. What do I have left? I'm worthless…so broken. I'm not fit for your company anymore, Kazahaya. It's true, after all. I can't stay here."

"Where will you go?"

"Back to them. I'm only good for one thing now."

"You nearly died!" Startled by how loud he was, Kazahaya lowered his voice. Scrambling to his feet, he broadsided Rikuo. The younger man blanched, flattening himself against the door frame. Rikuo stared wide-eyed at him, stunned. Kazahaya clenched his fists, trying to stem back the panic he felt upon knowing of Rikuo's plans. What was he thinking? Going back there – to those brutes? "It's all lies, Rikuo! Who told you that you're worthless?"

"Does it matter?"

Memories – two of them, blood-drenched and stifling with humiliation and cruelty. Nightmares that was never imaginary but always real – too real. Rikuo bore the scars, the indignity, and the memories of what was and what could've been. And yet, he wanted to run back there? Kazahaya sputtered, unable to coherently piece together the scattered thoughts in his mind. "I don't believe what I'm hearing! You want to go back and die?"

Rikuo wanly smiled. "I didn't say that."

"Rikuo…" Fisting his hair in his hands, Kazahaya dropped his arms and glared at the pale apparition standing beside him. "I saw some of your memories last night, okay? I saw what was done to you, and I don't want you to go back there!"

The taller male visibly flinched. "You saw what?"

There was no going back now. "I saw Iwakare killed. I know why you're afraid of broken glass. Don't you remember, Rikuo? I can see and feel your memories if you let your guard down. Rikuo, I felt so much pain."

Rikuo didn't look at him; instead, focusing on the concrete beneath their feet. Kazahaya swallowed the lump in his throat. He could only imagine what Rikuo felt, with his ordeal known to someone other than himself. It must hurt, to have fallen so far – to no longer be strong. To have someone that used to be weaker now pitying him. "What else…" Rikuo inhaled sharply, visibly shaken. His knuckles were white, with fingers clinging too tightly to steel. Light swelled from his eyes and gleamed down his cheeks. "What else did you see?"

Silence.

How was he going to mention Toshiya's name without wounding Rikuo? What could he say without evoking terror? "Rikuo –"

"Please." It was unlike the old Rikuo to beg. His heart ached to hear it. "Kazahaya, what did you see?"

"Rikuo, I saw Toshiya. I saw what he –"

BANG!

Kazahaya jumped halfway out of his skin; Rikuo lurched forward, stumbling blindly inside, and the door swung back on protesting hinges. Collecting his composure, Kazahaya followed the other psychic inside. Rikuo had run hell-bent into the place without a cry or a word. It all happened so quickly that the only afterimage imprinted in his mind was Rikuo's right hand swinging out, slamming the door inward. His left arm, bound in its sling, was incapable of moving. Kazahaya ran in, ignoring the slight traces of broken glass and plaster from the night before. Those didn't matter.

Someone else did.

By the time he opened the curtain to Rikuo's room, he knew. Rikuo's dark hair was wet with blood, framed by sharp shards of glass. His right hand splayed out, black against other pinpricks of light. There was a steady flow of red, nearly black in the dim light. The lamp had been knocked askew off the nightstand, dangling by its electric cord, while the alarm clock lay on its side. Its iconic plastic face was shattered, spider webbed with lines of white. Kneeling for what seemed to be the hundredth time in less than a few days, Kazahaya tentatively reached out, then took Rikuo's bleeding hand into his.

This wasn't the first time Rikuo had fallen. He just didn't expect to see it like this.

"Rikuo?"

The boy shivered. He hadn't been wearing much outside to begin with but Kazahaya could tell that wasn't the issue here. Already, the bottom half of his shirt was soaked red. "Why?" It was a question he had no answer for. "Oh, why?"

"Rikuo?"

"Why did you have to see that?" The moan was nearly a sob. "Why did you –"

"I'm sorry, Rikuo. I had to."

Unsurprisingly, Rikuo yanked his hand away from him. His own fingers slid with blood, sticky and wet. Pleadingly, those eyes – dark and beautiful – begged him what words could inadequately ask. They were haunting in that pallid face, now swathed in crimson and black. "You can't, Kazahaya. Don't, please."

"Rikuo, I understand what you're feeling."

"You don't understand anything," the other youth spat. "You don't know what it feels like. I'm still living in the nightmares. You can't protect me – none of you can."

"But you're here."

"You think that makes a difference?" Tears streamed down that chiseled face, mingling with blood. "You think that's going to stop Toshiya from hunting me down when he knows I'm alive? What can you do to stop him?"

"Is that why you're thinking about giving yourself up?"

"I told you – I'm worthless. The only person who still has use for me is him."

Kazahaya shuddered, flattening his palms against his thighs. "Him and his 'friends', right? Are they the ones who told you that nonsense?" Rikuo's pallor heightened; he struck a bit too close to where most of the pain lay. "And you believed them?"

"It was all true in the end."

The older psychic grimaced. Cataloguing the series of events that started since Rikuo's return gave him incidents like this. The endless nights of screaming, the panic attacks, the breaking of mirrors and nearly all of Green Drugstore's top levels, and it should've been ridiculous that he was talking to Rikuo so early in the morning when they hadn't even eaten breakfast, yet. However, there was nothing remotely moronic about this. Not when Rikuo was so deathly afraid of Toshiya, spilling out his fears while lying in blood.

He fought off an involuntary shiver. That image struck too close for him.

"Why…" It was his turn to ask. "Why would you go back to him if you're so scared of him?"

Another tear slid down. "At least I can die and he can end the nightmares. It never stops repeating for me, here."

And if you go back to him, he might not end it for you, either. Toshiya's brutality must've been appalling, if Rikuo was seeing shadows of him everywhere. There must've been more to this than what he saw. Then, he remembered Saiga-san's confirmed hunch and he felt sick. He couldn't wrap his mind around the scale of cruelty – if it even existed for them. His once-pristine thoughts simply couldn't conjure how horrendous the torture must've been. Toshiya was terrifying on his own; how much more when the others were accounted for? "Is this why you won't let us touch you?"

The staring eyes were haunted, seeing phantoms in daylight. "They never stopped raping me. He never stopped. They should've just killed me."

"Rikuo," Kazahaya breathed, heartbroken. What else could he say to that?

"He was right…in the end, I was good for nothing else. I shouldn't have returned. You have to let me go, Kazahaya. I'm too dangerous to be around."

"I'm not leaving you, Rikuo. They'll have to get through us before they can get you. I won't let that happen."

Choking laughter, achingly painful, broke the fleeting silence. "You can't do that, Kazahaya. Have you seen what they've done to me? If I can't protect myself, I can't help you. Don't try to be like me, Kazahaya." Weariness creased the gentle line of Rikuo's brow. "I didn't ask for this to happen."

"I know you didn't. You're not a glutton for punishment, Rikuo. I am."

"No." Rikuo's voice was soft. "You're not."

Tears pricked his eyes. Kazahaya blinked, not wanting to cry upon Rikuo's sorrow. "You're not, either. What do you want me to say?"

"Don't play the hero. I'm not what I used to be," the jade-eyed boy murmured. "Nothing matters anymore, Kazahaya. There's nothing left for me. He's proved his point."

Kazahaya seethed, doubling his fists in his lap in an effort to contain his rage. Kakei-san wanted Toshiya dead but the killing blow belonged to him. "And you think this," he stared at the broken appliances and looked down at Rikuo, "proves his point?"

"Doesn't it?"

Shattered lights. Cracked mirrors. Damaged walls. A broken life. The others could be fixed, mended with time, materials, and money. Rikuo…. Rikuo's world had crippled him and thrown him aside. Playing the hero was no longer good – not a trait worth emulating. His fellow psychic was afraid of himself, of what he'd been and what he'd become. It left him impossibly wounded, unable to reconcile his identity.

Then, there were those lies.

Whatever Toshiya had told him, Rikuo had accepted at face value. For all Kazahaya knew, perhaps the verbal abuse was unending in those horrific weeks. Obviously cowed by the unceasing violence, the insults did little better to bolster what remained of a once confident young man. He recalled the pawing hands, the violence and the pain, and the foul words that lingered from the residual memory, and he knew it was so.

"I don't think it proves anything other than you're scared, Rikuo."

"I was afraid before. This is worse." Kazahaya shrugged free of his overcoat, draping it over Rikuo's huddled form as the other's shivering increased. Vacancy entered those miserable eyes, drew the lines of that handsome face into an anguished mask, and it seemed like Rikuo saw far beyond the confines of the walls.

When he started to speak, the smaller psychic realized why.

"They all took turns on me. It didn't matter if I was sick or barely conscious. They didn't care. The only one who did…well, he couldn't do anything about it."

"Who was he?"

A sigh, and Rikuo's eyes closed. "Eichiro. Made sure I didn't die and was clean."

Reeling at the implications of that last statement, Kazahaya glanced down and was profoundly disturbed. Rikuo was entirely too calm, too quiet to be giving out details like that. As for himself – he was taking this all in, unsettled; yet, unwilling to silence the pained voice. It was preferable to the heavy unease when Rikuo didn't speak. But Nayuki from the all-boys school said that he noticed things other people didn't. He noticed the thin sheen of sweat coating Rikuo's forehead, the slight tremor of his fingers, and the silent syllables that shaped his lips.

There was nothing he could do about it.

"You know his name."

"I knew all their names." Rikuo pulled the overcoat closer, pale fingers curling except for the ones still splinted. "Not that it did me any good. Toshiya liked to hear me scream. When he wanted it, nothing I did helped. When they all wanted it –"

"Rikuo." He wasn't going to cry, dammit! "You don't have to."

"No." Rikuo shook his head, smearing blood anew on his face and as much as Kazahaya loved that stubbornness, he was aware of the pervading misery he felt. It was reflected in those shadowed eyes, the tightness of the jaw, the contortion altering what was handsome and young into something years older. He wondered if his expression mirrored Rikuo's. "When they all wanted it, I…I gave it to them."

"Rikuo…why are you telling me all this?"

"You've already seen what Toshiya did to me. There's nothing left to hide."

It was probably eight or nine by now. He had no idea how long they've been talking, quietly and both of them exhausted from a short night's worth of sleep and too much soul-searching. There were no footfalls at the door, or calls from below to see how they were doing. He'd only uncovered part of the mystery but not all. Kazahaya hated Toshiya and his lackeys – driven further to it by Rikuo's defeated demeanor. "Rikuo, do you trust me?"

"I'm a whore, Kazahaya." Acrimony scalded like acid from each word. "Does it matter?"

He shouldn't have asked. It cost Rikuo too much. "Did they call you that?" He was too shrill, too furious, and too damnably outraged to care that his voice rose. "You have a choice not to listen to them, Rikuo!"

"I wasn't given any choices, Kazahaya! You don't get choices when you're theirs. You wouldn't understand. You weren't there."

"You can't do this to yourself!"

"It's who I am now. It really…" Several tears dotted the floor, patterning the monotonous shade of red with patches of white. Rikuo drew in his breath, near the verge of collapse. "It doesn't matter."

Kazahaya sighed, dropping his head into his hands. Rikuo placed so much trust in him, breaking his heart in the process. The details of his suffering compounded by what he knew about Saiga-san's observations and the chilling memory of Toshiya revealed an atrocity beyond the magnitude of his worst imagination. Blood on metal, bare skin against steel, the life-shattering agony multiplied so many times and did he have to ask why Rikuo barely clung onto sanity? He remembered clearly what he told Nayuki – how incredulous he was that anyone could be forced into sex – and how the other boy told him he was too pretty for modesty.

It happened, though. It didn't happen to him, as dreadful as the outcome would've been. Instead, it happened to Rikuo, and none of them expected that.

His head hurt.

That was the worst about it all. If he was hurting – if he was the victim – Rikuo would be angry. Rikuo would be able to fight back to protect him. What could he do, short of relying on Saiga-san and Kakei-san for assistance? No – the most horrible was that Rikuo was blindsided by Toshiya, completely taken unawares, and then forced to break. His friend had to watch himself shatter, unable to prevent it. Rikuo had no choice about that.

Rikuo had no choice about anything at all.

He didn't want Rikuo to be right on that; unfortunately, he was.

Kazahaya was glad that Nayuki and Mukoufujiwara couldn't see Rikuo in his current condition. The mere thought brought tears to his eyes. The difference – how was he to describe the before and after? How could he stand the reactions of those who once knew them, seeing their shock and pity at how badly Rikuo survived? At how the gauntness ate away his face or how devastated his expressions were? At the names and terms he called himself; at the suicidal thought of returning to his captors where rape was a certainty and death wasn't a guarantee?

"Kazahaya?"

He gazed through a haze of mist at the blur of black and red. "Rikuo?"

"I'm so tired."

So was he. "Are you hungry? Do you want to eat?"

"No. I just want to sleep. I don't want to wake up. He's always there when I do."

His knees were stiff. "Nobody's here but me, Rikuo. Nobody's going to hurt you."

"I only wish that was true."

"Rikuo," he whispered, running a hand over matted hair, wiping away cold sweat and dried blood. "Go to sleep. I'll be here." Beneath his fingers, he felt Rikuo start at his touch, and mourned at how the taller boy once loomed over him, gleeful at invading his personal space. It was an incalculable loss. "I'm here. No one's going to hurt you."

After a long wait, Kazahaya finally saw those eyes close, dark lashes against stark skin. Rikuo's breathing settled, and the older boy knew that everything he heard was remaining a secret. Kakei-san and Saiga-san might ask, but he wasn't obligated to tell them. Only enough to give them leads, but not enough to embarrass Rikuo. He would hear the footsteps at the door soon; the swish of the curtain and the troubled looks giving way into dawning comprehension. Rikuo would still be asleep, then; perhaps later, he would follow.

Rikuo hadn't answered his question; yet, in a way, he did.

"Thank you, Rikuo." Withdrawing his hand from Rikuo's cheek, Kazahaya laid down. In spite of the morning sun, the covered windows admitted very little light. Caught in between the inky shadows of the ruined room and the faint traces of dust motes, Kazahaya curled his fingers together.

Rikuo, despite the raw fear he sensed, allowed him to touch him.

Kakei-san, for the innumerable time since he was here, was correct again on all counts. The distancing, the silence, the tightly guarded hurt that made conversation impossible was slowly starting to unwind. Rikuo had allowed him to touch him.

Only him. Not Saiga-san. Only him.

It was a beginning.

"Rikuo," he whispered, glancing at the relaxed features of the youth across from him. He would be here, as he'd promised. There would be no more broken promises.

Now, Rikuo could heal.