Amor Fictus
Written by Sakki-san
Anything you haven't heard of belongs to me.
Anything you have heard of, doesn't.
"Ran…why do you always wear long sleeves and jeans?"
"I just do."
"Why don't I believe that?"
"…it's…not important."
"I don't believe that, either."
"C'mon, Ken, leave it alone."
"There has to be a reason. Even I wear t-shirts on occasion."
"You usually wear t-shirts."
"You don't pay close attention to me, do you…"
An annoyingly loud and repetitive screech came from Ran's alarm clock, disrupting a memory in the form of a dream. He reached out one hand, groped along his bedtable for the offending machine, and when he found it, smashed his fist into the snooze button. It sent the room into blessed silence.
Ran rolled onto his side and pulled the blankets up higher around his shoulders. It was cold, and he had no desire to freeze to death in his own room. His bed was warm. That was enough for him.
Sunlight filtered through murky clouds outside his window; mist floated down into the city and a haze of rain appeared over the buildings. It was light rain, but the droplets were large enough to disturb Ran's sleep and force him to peer over the edge of his blankets to see what was going on.
He stared at the clouds. Today was starting out badly, and chances are it would get worse. Yesterday had been bad enough. Spilling his guts about his past to some stupid psychiatrist…he let his body drop into its original position and stared at the plaster ceiling.
From the living room came the sound of silence; from Yohji's room, the same. Either the playboy was still out partying or he was sleeping in the kitchen. What time was it, anyway? Ran glanced at the satanic red numbers of his alarm clock.
7:34 in the morning.
He swore slightly and dragged the sheets over his head. No way was he getting up this early. Why was his alarm set, anyway? Probably reflex. He'd been unaware of the world around him when he'd come home the day before; there was a chance he'd set his alarm before sliding under the sheets and going to bed.
So he'd been asleep since 3 PM the previous day…
Ran attempted to go back to sleep, but it evaded him cleverly. If he wanted to sleep, he'd have to think about something. Or someone. And the first person who came to mind was Ken.
Ken…hadn't he just been dreaming about the brunette? Dreaming or remembering. There wasn't much difference to Ran. They usually replaced each other, going from reality to dizzy hallucination and back again.
Still…
He gently ran one hand along his bare chest. As he reached his lower stomach, small indents and bumps reminded him of the painful encounter he'd had with fire earlier in his life. He moved his hand up out of the blankets and gazed at the numerous faded black and red burn scars that decorated his forearm.
It was funny how they seemed to make a pattern along his skin. The places were the fire had made original contact seemed to always be at his wrist. He looked along the swirling, cracked patterns on his skin. They seemed so fresh and new. Hadn't he gained these three years ago, along with an unhealthy level of insanity?
Slowly he placed his arm back under the sheets. It was time to sleep, and sleep was always good…
As he drifted into the inevitable, Ran felt an odd pain in the left half of his face. He pushed it aside and let himself be swallowed by the darkness. Maybe when he woke up he would go to the mall…
~~~
Ken's eyes slowly opened, and as soon as they did so he winced and shut them again. His left eye was blackened, and opening it was a painful ordeal. Even moving it hurt. Touching it was completely out of the question.
He cringed inwardly as he remembered the amount of abuse dealt on him the night before last…when he'd come home at nearly 10:30 that night, still dizzy from his long hours spent lying in Ran's arms, talking about his life in general and trying to get Ran to open up a little, he hadn't remembered his promise to be home before dinner. So he'd been totally unprepared for the physical assault on his body that occurred shortly after he walked in the door.
Slowly, Ken raised himself off the bed and kicked the blankets away. His legs ached fiercely at the effort. Cautiously he stood up and walked across the room to the bathroom. He was blinded momentarily by the brightness of the light, but when he recovered, he made his way to the mirror over the sink.
What greeted him was an unfamiliar face; a massive bruise spanned the whole of his left cheek and eye, the first blow. On the right half of his face was a cut from where he'd been backhanded by a ringed hand multiple times. His neck was ringed with bruises and dark marks. More bruises littered his upper body, and there were a few bite marks on his body. Mostly bruises, though.
Ken sighed and coughed violently. Even his lungs hurt. His mouth and throat were dry. He turned on the water in the sink, washed his hands, then cupped his fingers to gather water. His body thanked him when he swallowed the water. This happened several times, until his mouth felt better and his throat didn't sting so much.
Almost casually, he slid one damp hand into his pants and massaged a bruised spot on his inner thigh. It had been there since God knows how long, and it was getting bigger every day. He grimaced slightly. Soon it would be all along his leg, and would affect his soccer playing skills. Somebody would notice then…
Somebody other than Ran.
Ran.
The name of a man with violet eyes.
Eyes that grabbed and held, that stole and wouldn't let go. Eyes that hid so much pain. Ken could see it, even if Ran tried to keep it a secret. Something…something had happened to Ran. Something with such terrible force that it drove the redhead to keep every moment of his life inside his head.
Wouldn't that make him insane?
Insane, or just reclusive, his logic countered. Ran wasn't crazy. Not like his guardian, he thought bitterly. Thankfully, the older man was out, and Ken could speak his thoughts without fear of getting caught.
As for that…Ken headed out of the bathroom and back into his room. He picked out a clean pair of pants and a shirt, put them on, and headed out into the kitchen to get some breakfast. He was hungry, after all, seeing has he hadn't eaten anything since lunch two days ago. There wasn't much left; he assumed his guardian was out getting food, so he just ate what there was.
After that was done, he stared out the window at the faded tops of the buildings in the city. Mist was covering them like a crown. Cars were locked in a traffic jam; the parking lot of the nearby mall was half full.
The mall?
Ken considered. He hadn't been told to stay home, and it was an easy walk. If he wore a turtleneck and used something to cover the bruise…it would look like a soccer injury.
For once, he was glad that soccer balls were deadly. Carefully, so as not to reopen any wounds, Ken headed back into his room and changed into normal clothes. A red turtleneck with long sleeves, jeans, and a little something on his face to make the bruises less obvious – if it could be done.
He looked at his face one more time in the mirror and sighed. The cuts couldn't be passed off as a soccer injury. Maybe…maybe he could say he'd gotten into a fight after the game and been punched? It worked. Sort of.
Ken shook his head slightly, grabbed his coat, and left the house, leaving a short note and locking the door behind him. So what if his guardian got mad at him for leaving? There wasn't anything he could do about it. Ken let the tiniest of rebellious smiles creep onto his face as he stepped into the icy air of the outside world.
Outside, the fog seemed to span in every direction but right where he was. As he walked, the fog parted and let him pass into a clearer sight, but just ahead of him was never there. Like something he wanted but couldn't reach, no matter how far he stretched his arm, or how fast he ran, or how high he jumped.
Kind of like someone who you like but you're not sure if they like you back.
Ken stopped thinking, then reprimanded himself for thinking of Ran at a time like this. The older man hadn't been part of his thoughts since the dream the night he'd come home and received the vicious beating. In the dream, he'd been trapped in a deep hole. There were huge crowds walking by the hole, but even though he was screaming and screaming for help, no one even looked down.
Then, Ran had stepped up to the edge of the hole and crouched down; he'd held out his hand to Ken, waiting to help him out. Ken had been so ecstatic to see Ran helping him that he'd leapt up and reached out to take the hand.
But his hand went right through his love's like it was smoke.
Ran was still waiting, and Ken kept trying to get out, but every single time he touched Ran his hand turned to something translucent. He tried to tell Ran what was going on, but he couldn't speak. Then the world turned upsideown, and suddenly he was among the crowds, staring down at Ran, who was trapped in the hole he had been in only seconds before.
Our places are the same, Ran had said in a voice that wasn't his own. And yet they are completely different.
Then Ken had woken up. Thus the day had begun, and -
Without warning he ran into a lamppost.
Ken blinked furiously and stepped back. A few kids who were also headed to the mall snickered at his blind idiocy. So caught up in his thoughts, Ken had neglected to realize where he was walking. Fortunately he'd gone in a straight line. Recovering his dignity, Ken stepped away from the post and headed for the doors of the mall, which were a short distance away.
Inside the mall was warmer than outside by a difference of 20 degrees, Ken thought, taking off his coat and wishing that he hadn't been beaten so badly that he had to wear the long-sleeved shirt. He sighed and fished around in his pocket for money. Yes, he'd grabbed some; not much, but enough for lunch, and maybe for a little something else.
What time was it? He glanced at the clock in the center of the food court, which was where he'd come in. It read 9:33 in the morning. Most of the stores would open soon. Ken walked over to a chair in the food court and sat down to wait and count his money.
He dumped a handful of coins and bills onto the two-person table, catching a few that strayed and headed for the table's edges. Carefully he counted, first the bills, then the coins. When he was done, he sighed again. This was hardly enough to buy a decent lunch. Why hadn't he grabbed more?
Ken stuffed all the cash back into his pocket and folded his arms on the table. He rested his head on his arms, looking at the few others that were in and around the food court. A girl was opening a fast food place for the day; a man who looked about 40 was cleaning off tables with a sullen expression. A couple sauntered in and looked around, briefly glancing at him. They looked so happy together. A boy and a girl, dressed in the latest fashions, with wallets full of money.
It was ironic, Ken thought, that he should be exactly like that lucky guy but was farther from it than anybody else.
A loud clang behind him alerted Ken to the opening of a store. 10 on Sundays, 8 on Saturdays, 7 on Mondays through Fridays, holidays varying. Maybe he could take a walk all the way around the mall five times. It might do him good. Or possibly make his wounds worse, but that didn't matter anymore.
Ken slowly got up and started walking. He walked by store windows that were advertising everything, from food to toys to clothes to unmentionable things. Several times a storekeeper would call to him from inside, asking him to come on in and look around. Kids here this early? Easy deals!
Ken walked on by.
At one point he reached a sports store that was advertising merchandise for his favorite team. He longingly admired the stuff in the window, but knew he could never have anything. It was a depressing feeling, to be so close and yet so far.
Like the dream.
Ken shook himself mentally. No! He wouldn't remember that dream or Ran right now. He wasn't attached to Ran in any way.
Unfortunately, that wasn't true, and he knew it. The way he'd traced his fingers along Ran's hands that one night proved it, and the way Ran had spoken to him so softly helped.
Not to mention the way he'd run his hands along Ken's body…
Ken felt himself blushing at the memory. It had been slightly more than just a turn-on to be lying in the lap of the man he was in love with, and having other things happen was…really…romantic…if that was the word.
He continued walking down across the tiled floor of the mall, wondering when he should head back home, until he came to a bench. It was empty, and the crowds were beginning to make their way in, so he sat down and shut his eyes.
Something stopped him, though; a familiar voice called his name down the hall, and suddenly someone was standing in front of him. Two people, actually.
"Ken-kun!" said Omi, smiling happily. "I wondered when I'd see you again!"
Standing behind him was Nagi, who asked all too calmly, "What happened to your face?"
"Oh…I was playing soccer and…got hit with the ball." He grinned weakly, trying to enforce the lie.
"Ah," responded the quiet brunette.
"Owww," Omi said, wincing. "That really must have hurt! You have to put up with a lot of pain, don't you, Ken-kun?"
"Yeah."
"I could never do that. I don't like pain." Omi kept going for a few minutes, jumping from subject to subject without really noticing it. Ken started when he heard Omi say, "I hope the school isn't closed for too long, though."
"Huh? Did something happen?"
"Yeah," Omi said, blinking at him. "Didn't you hear about it? Something happened at school. They say someone died or something, but they weren't giving out any details. Right, Nagi?"
"They said it was a murder," responded Nagi nonchalantly.
"Oh." Ken shivered. "That sounds terrible."
"Yeah, but we don't know who it was. Well, anyway, we need to get going. See you!" And with that Omi was gone, Nagi following him like a silent shadow.
Ken stared after them for a moment before closing his eyes again.
Blackness held him for a few minutes, and he felt himself starting to drift off when a voice cut into his exhaustion.
"Ken?"
His eyes opened.
There was Ran.
Instantly his heart rate sped up. Ran was standing a few inches away to his left, giving Ken the tiniest of smiles. He…still…liked Ken.
However, his gaze traveled to the huge bruise on Ken's face, and the smile dropped. It was replaced with a look of icy rage that was all too familiar to Ken.
"Ran…"
"Who did it?" The redhead sat down next to him. Ken shifted away, trying to hide his face.
"It was…I got hit with a soccer ball during practice."
"There's no practice on Fridays or Saturdays, Ken."
Caught.
"I…" Ken stumbled with his words. Ran reached over and just barely touched the bruise.
"Can you even see out of that eye?"
"Yes…"
"What happened, then? Tell me." Ran pulled his hand back and glared at Ken. Ken tried to glare back, but the look was so fierce he could hardly meet the other man's gaze.
"It was…it wasn't anything important," he lied.
"Try again."
"I'm serious. It's not important."
"I don't believe you."
"Ran, drop it." He surprised himself with the force of the words.
"Ken," snapped Ran, "tell me." Then his tone softened. "I don't want you to get hurt, but something must have happened. And don't tell me you ran into a lamppost."
"Actually, that happened on the way here."
"…and that's the cause of the bruise?"
"…yeah. Yes, that's it."
Ran snorted. "That's a lie, Ken, and you know it. First you said it was practice, then you say it's not important. Now it's a lamppost?"
Ken was silent.
"…just tell me." Ran's voice was soft again.
"I…when I went to your house that night…I…left kind of late…I forgot I was supposed to be home for dinner…"
Ran's eyes widened as the realization dawned on him, and Ken heard him say, "Oh…shit…" very softly.
"…I guess it was kind of important for me to have been home that night."
It was Ran's turn to be silent. The two of them sat without speaking for at least five minutes.
Then:
"I'm sorry."
"What?" Ken snapped out of his dazed state to look at Ran.
"I'm sorry."
"…what for?"
"I kept you late that night. It was my fault you got home late."
"What? No it isn't. I wasn't watching the clock. It was my fault."
"Same here. I could have been watching it. I was with you when you told him you'd be home for dinner."
"But…" Ken sought the right words. "Really, Ran, I told him I'd be home, and lost track of time."
"Did he even listen?"
"No."
"What all happened?"
Ken winced; he hadn't wanted Ran to ask that question.
"…I just got beat up a lot…"
"Are the bruises under your shirt?"
"Yes…"
"Then you're coming home with me."
"What?!" Ken's voice cracked. "I can't! I didn't…I can't…I…"
"Why not?" Ran raised an eyebrow. "Did you say you'd only be gone a little while?"
"No…but…I just…can't."
"You're coming," said Ran, as if it were final. Ken continued to protest, but nothing seemed to change Ran's mind even the tiniest bit. He stood up and seized Ken.
"No! Ran, please! You can't do this!"
"Ken, calm down. If you don't get medical attention, god knows what could happen."
"Medical attention?!" Ken felt near hysteria. "It's just a bunch of bruises and a couple cuts!"
The look Ran gave him shut him up, and he let himself be dragged down the mall and out into the streets. He was angry and felt helpless, yet somehow relieved at the same time. Someone actually cared about him enough to want to help him.
But what if Ran found out about the other wounds…?
He found himself looking up at the twelve story apartment building Ran lived in for the second time. It was a brick building, he realized as he was pulled through the front door. Back up the flights of stairs, back into the apartment where Ran spent his days.
"Back so soon, Ran?" called a sleepy voice from the living room. Ken tried to hide behind Ran and maybe back out the door, but Ran shut it firmly and directed Ken into his room.
"Just a minute, Ken." He disappeared into the living room, and shortly after he could hear low voices. One cold, one disbelieving. He could tell which belonged to who just by the tones.
After a minute or two, Ran returned, holding what looked like bandages and some sort of salve. He came into the room and shut the door behind him.
"On the bed," he instructed.
Ken sighed and sat down. Ran followed suit.
"Take off your shirt."
"Do I have to…?"
"Yes."
Ken sighed and pulled off the turtleneck. He heard a hiss come from Ran as he did so.
"Those are nasty bruises, Ken. And…they're not all bruises." He felt a featherlight touch on his skin, making it tingle.
"…I know."
"This will feel cold." Something icy touched a bruise, and he bit his lip to keep from cursing. Ran's fingers gently smoothed the salve over one massive bruise before bandaging it. He did that for every bruise before cleaning the cuts from various objects and bandaging those, too. After a short time, he came to Ken's waist.
"Take off your pants."
"No!"
"Ken…"
"No."
"You have to."
"No way in hell."
"Why? Don't want me to see your boxers?"
"No, that's not it!"
Ran raised an eyebrow, and Ken cursed himself mentally. That was an easy way out of taking off his pants and he'd missed it completely. No, he wasn't afraid of Ran seeing his boxers; it was the wounds in certain places he didn't want Ran to see.
"So what is it?"
"…nothing." Ken looked away.
Without warning, Ran dropped what he was holding and almost tackled Ken, pinning his unwary victim to the bed. Ken yelped as the redhead straddled him, holding Ken's wrists in his hands. The two looked at each other.
Then Ken started squirming.
"Ack! Get off me!"
Ran made no response, but rather grabbed both of Ken's wrists in one hand and shifted down so he was sitting on Ken's legs. With his free hand he worked the button on Ken's jeans. Ken felt the blood rise to his face along with a surge of panic.
"No! Ran, stop!" He twisted and fought, trying to break free of the stone grip Ran had on him. "Please! Don't!"
Ran didn't heed him. He yanked Ken's jeans down to his knees, repositioned himself, and released Ken's wrists. Immediately Ken lunged to shove Ran off him, but the door opened just then.
Yohji peered in.
All action stopped dead.
"…I knew it."
"You heard me before, Yohji," Ran said in a slightly embarrassed tone. "I have to take care of the bruises, and…"
"I understand," said the half grinning blonde. "But do you two have any idea what that sounded like from where I was?"
Silence.
"…oh, Christ," said Ran, his shoulders slumping. Ken only had the urge to strangle the blushing redhead, but all the blood had gone to his head and his arms wouldn't respond.
"Anyway, you two keep at it." Yohji winked, and Ran reached for the bandages. "Or do you need my help?"
Ran glanced at Ken, who gave him a horrified look.
"…No."
"Ah, well…call if you do." The door shut, and Yohji was gone.
"Nice going, Ken," muttered Ran.
"Hey, it wasn't my fault! If you hadn't tackled me…"
"I had to. You wouldn't take off your pants."
"Am I supposed to?!"
"What reason do you have no to?"
"I don't want…just…I don't want to." Ken glared at Ran from his position on the bed.
Ran said nothing, but glanced down at Ken's waist, where there was the fading bruise from the previous week. Gently he touched it, so lightly that Ken didn't notice it at first.
He did notice, however, when Ran took hold of the edge of his boxers and started pulling them down.
"No."
Ran stopped and looked at Ken.
"Ken, from what you told me, there are bound to be bruises under this."
Bruises and worse, Ken thought.
"Don't. Just…don't."
"I have to." And once again, Ran pulled on the fabric.
Ken swore and tried to grab Ran's arms to keep him from seeing anything, but it was too late. The redhead saw the bruises, the cuts, and the blood.
Silence followed this. Then Ran released Ken, leaning back, and Ken took advantage of the situation to pull his boxers back up.
"…Ken…what did he…do…?" Ran couldn't even finish the question. Ken looked away and leaned on his elbow.
"…just what you saw."
Again there was silence, but abruptly Ran wrapped his arms around Ken's upper body and pulled the brunette close. Ken was shocked by the act and even more shocked when he heard Ran's voice, which was choked.
"I'm sorry."