Disclaimer: TeniPuri belongs to Konomi and all the other parties involved.
Author's Note:
-Story
behind this pic: http:// somnia.yume-umi. net/ fanart/ yukirain. jpg (delete
the spaces)
-yes I am a sadist to my favorite characters…
-I love SanaYuki, though I think it's subtle here 3
fallen from grace
It
drizzled, it sprayed, and then it poured. Colors bled and faded away as the
rain washed the world in a dreary monochrome. Dark clouds blanketed the sky,
casting a depressing shadow on the earth. Sunless, colorless, and void. It was
a truly joyless day. It was as if Heaven was crying.
A splish, a splash. Yukimura trudged through the misty rain, water trailing
down his bruised neck, cerulean hair clinging to his cheeks. His school uniform
was in a complete disarray, shirt torn and tie forgotten. The thin, translucent
material failed to hide the ugly purple bruises and red bite marks that marred
the smooth, pale skin. The ones who branded Yukimura were rough and merciless,
driven by lust. Lust for the angel's smile.
It happened after school when everyone left for clubs or home. The sun was
still shining then. He was just finishing up on match arrangements for the
Rikkai tennis club and getting ready to attend practice when they came. They
cornered him, all three of them, in that empty classroom.
"Why don't you ever smile for us?" they asked. "Smile for us,
Yukimura-buchou," they said.
They converged on the boy like three predators stalking a prey, eyes filled
with raw hunger. His own eyes widened in fear as they pinned him on the ground,
tearing open his shirt impatiently like ravenous beasts. Yukimura opened his
mouth to scream but a swift hand muffled his protests. He flailed his arms to
fend off the attackers but they fettered his wrists with the tie. He kicked but
they pinned his thighs down and pulled off his pants. In the end his struggles
were futile as three pairs of hands immobilized him.
Three pairs of hands smothered him with titillating touches. Three mouths
showered him with bruising kisses and stinging bites. Three pairs of eyes bore
into him with burning wanton desire. The pleasure wrenched moans and pain tore
whimpers from his abused lips, but Yukimura still refused to smile for them. In
response, they moved faster, harder, deeper until moans and whimpers
crescendoed into screams of ecstacy and agony. Through eyes blurred by tears,
he saw their distorted faces, cruel tongues licking cruel lips. That was the
last thing he saw before sensations overtook him and darkness swallowed him.
He awoke to the howling of the wind clattering angrily against the windows.
Yukimura chuckled sardonically when he found his tie loosened. How
thoughtful of them. Free from his bondage, he rose to his feet only to
wince from the dull pain throbbing in his lower back. He bit down a cry and
walked to where his pants were unceremoniously discarded. He languidly pulled
them on as he looked out the window at the world on the other side. Thick, black
clouds swirled in the sky, covering the brilliant sun as if those below were
not worthy enough to be blessed with its radiance. It was as if Heaven closed
its gates.
Then the deluge started, a bit at first but it increased with intensity until
the world was drowned in a blurry gray. The ravaged angel stood beneath the
darkened sky and looked up to the heavens, welcoming the rain. He ignored the
fact that he was drenched from head to toe or the fact that he was shivering
from the cold. Instead, he let the cool rain wash over his defiled body,
cleansing it of the filth. He closed his eyes and drops of rainwater streaked
down pale cheeks where tears once flowed, but now he has none to cry. In lieu,
the sky cried in despair and the wind howled in anguish for his loss of
innocence.
In the tennis club's locker room, Sanada furrowed his brows in a frown as he
toweled his hair dry. It was well past the end of club practice, which was cut
short by the rain, and Yukimura still has yet to show up. Sanada sighed. If
he couldn't make it, he could've told me. It was not like the buchou to
miss a day of practice and even stranger was that he did not inform anyone, not
Sanada or Yanagi. Needless to say, the fukubuchou was worried about his
buchou's unusual behavior.
The stern boy got his belongings together and was about to leave when the
locker room's door opened, revealing the disheveled form of the buchou in
question.
"Yukimura!!!" Sanada cried as his eyes widened in shock. Standing
before him was his buchou, his friend with his usual tidy shirt ripped open
revealing the countless marks and bruises. Raindrops, or were they teardrops,
streaked down Yukimura's face while the cacophony of the rain echoed off of the
lockers.
His outburst was answered by a smile and a soft apology. "Sorry for being
late, Sanada..."
Questions and thoughts raced through Sanada's mind as he watched Yukimura
enter, closing the door behind him. He couldn't move; he could only stare at
Yukimura's smile.
Yukimura could feel the unspoken questions emanating from the dark-haired boy.
He could feel the tension stretching taut in the roaring silence. He lowered
his head, blue curls matted down by water veiling his face. He hadn't expected
Sanada to stay this late after practice, especially on a rainy day. Of all the
regulars, he didn't want Sanada to see him in this state. Weak and broken like
a fallen bird.
He still felt dirty even after the cleansing in the rain. He could still feel
the ghostly traces of those hands, those lips, and those eyes. Yukimura
suppressed a shudder and walked toward the showers. He told himself that a warm
shower would do him good. He would be composed enough to face Sanada. Yes if he
could make it there...
"Seiichi..."
It only took a whisper to snap the tension and destroy the silence. It only
took a whisper to shatter the fragile wall he erected as a last defense, a
whisper of a name that Sanada hardly spoke. It was a line that neither dared to
cross so they kept their distance, hidden behind impersonal greetings. It was
ironic that it was this incident that made Sanada cross the line.
Yukimura suddenly felt very tired. He sank to the floor when his knees gave out
under him. Long suppressed tears finally flowed as waves of what had happened
swept past him and threatened to drown him in the undertow. He felt himself
sinking in the pain and sorrow, no, he was sinking until arms encircled
his waist and anchored him to reality. Sanada was now crouched in front of
Yukimura, embracing the sobbing boy. His tears and sobs matched those of the
sky and wind; he was finally able to cry for himself.
Sanada watched the boy walk by him toward the showers. He had many questions
but he knew it was not the time to ask them. Instead he whispered the name that
he had always wanted to say. The breach in their unspoken agreement meant many
things, and Yukimura knew and understood this when he stopped in mid-stride.
Sanada realized that their relationship was a delicate one, one that exists in
a limbo between being impersonal acquaintances and intimate friends. He knew
that things would be simpler if he were someone like Marui or Renji. But he's
not and things weren't simple. So he did the only thing he could: he stepped
across the threshold, showing Yukimura that he no longer wants to be stuck in
that position where both are unsure where they stand.
He said nothing after that; there was nothing he could say to make things
better. He could only comfort the other boy through his actions as he offered a
shoulder to cry on. He was never good with words anyway. Sanada was a person of
action, afterall. He thought back to the smile Yukimura gave him when he first
showed up at the door.
Even though you're ravaged and torn, you still smiled that smile of yours.
But he knew that the damage was done. He knew that something was lost.
The boy in his arms cried for that loss; the sky cried for that loss. Outside,
the wind raged while the rain poured, and Heaven mourned for the one fallen
from grace.
