A/N: I just figured out that the one thing I will almost never write is a male-pregnancy fic. I don't read them either—though who knows what will happen when I get down with my current stories.

Generations:

Chapter three: Kessuke Sakuma

Kessuke looked up at the sky, hair swaying in the breeze passing him on the roof—he was late for his next class, but he didn't care; he never wanted to come to this school in the first place. Hell, he didn't even want to be in school anymore—he didn't need to put up with the shit people like that brunette tried to do to him. Pricks like that thought they could say and do anything to him because of what happened at his old school, acting like they knew the whole story when they didn't even know the gist.

"Damn it. Why can't I go somewhere besides school? There's fuckin better things…." His venting broke with a sigh, his vibrant eyes shifting down to the school roof.

'Yeah right, Kessuke, what better things are there to do? Hang out with that idiot you call father?'

"Hell fuckin no." He kicked at the concrete ground, his surroundings blurring in his sight, thoughts meandering through his brain.

Then he felt the familiar tremor pass through him, the overwhelming, voiceless urge to attack something—to do anything violent and irrational. He wanted to strike out, to kick, punch, wreck something beyond repair, but all there was, was the metal fence going around the perimeter of the roof.

That and his arm.

Immediately he ripped off his jacket and threw it to the ground, its absence revealing the bare skin of his arms. His left was still stained by blood from the wound he inflicted in the restroom, his right bore angry scars and burn marks. Both had bruises discoloring his pale skin.

The tremor growing stronger, he opened up the switchblade he now held in his right hand, and pressed its blade to his left forearm near the elbow. He sliced quickly, holding his arm on a downward angle to bring blood faster to the wound. Then he brought the blade down again, closer to his wrist, his heart racing faster every second.

This second cut drew more blood than the first; dripping down his arm to the concrete of the roof as he stared with glazed eyes at it. The sight of the red fluid trailing down his bruised and scarred arm tantalized his body like a drug, filling his body with adrenaline and endorphins, silencing the tremor.

He sighed, holding his arm straight down, the blood making mini-pools on the concrete, bright red and circular.

"What are you doing?"

Kessuke dropped the knife and spun around, his blue eyes meeting with the hazel ones of the kid he met in the music room.

"Did you cut…?"

The tremor flaring unexpectedly up, Kessuke lunged at the blond, slamming him to the ground, and punching him repeatedly. He growled and cursed viciously at the teen, blurring everything together 'til he didn't know who or what it was he was hitting.

A sudden hit to his head knocked him off the teen and back to reality. Then the blond lunged at him striking back and pinning him to the ground. Languidly he tried to pull away, his strength gone along with the tremor that caused his outburst.

"Fine, okay, I give. Get off me."

"Fuckin prick, why did you attack me like that? You fuckin stupid or something?" Shinichi glared into his assailant's bloodied up face, bruises already forming from his punches. "Don't think you can mess with me 'cause I look girlish. The last one who made that mistake landed in the hospital from a broken arm."

Kessuke barely heard him, his thoughts meandering off and blurring reality.

'"Get back here brat." A man shouted, eyes glimmering, face radiating with anger. Kessuke could smell the alcohol on his breath, and see the languidness of his movements.

"You've been taking that shit again! Get away from me." The black haired boy cried, dodging the man who tried to grab him as he rushed to his room. Eyes narrowed he slammed the door in the man's face, heart pounding, hands shaking.

"Open the door, Kessuke."

"No! Go away! You're drunk and high! So go fuck—" Kessuke gasped as the door flew open and in stepped the man, enraged in his intoxication. The black haired teen backed away each step the man took, his eyes darting around for escape as the man loomed…'

"Hey Kessuke! Kessuke, are you okay?" Shinichi's voice pushed his thoughts back to the present, drowning out the images threatening to overwhelm him.

Hearing the concern in the blond teen's voice, Kessuke glared at him frustrated at having spaced out like that with a witness.

"Where'dyou get off calling me Kessuke? It's Sakuma to you, and don't you forget it." Kessuke pushed the blond away, glaring venomously as he picked up his jacket and went back inside the school.

-

Later on, in his on-campus room, Kessuke blasted his stereo to drown out the memories of the day—his blade in his left hand, his right arm bare. Eyes gleaming he brought the blade to his wrist, breathing quickening each second that passed.

Then someone knocked on his door, not loud enough to overtake the music, but loud enough for him to know it was there. He ignored it, and pressed down on his wrist with the knife willing himself to slice the blade across his flesh and sever his wrist.

The knocking persisted then stopped, and he sighed just before his door opened.

Startled Kessuke jumped back, dropping his knife on the floor his thoughts on the memory from earlier. 'Shit, is he here? No…he can't be, this is school….'

"I came to see if you were okay, Kess—ur, Sakuma." The black haired teen relaxed hearing the voice of the blond teen. "Do…hey, were you cutting yourself again?"

Quickly Kessuke made to hide his arm, even though it was obvious Shinichi had seen it.

"Why do you do it?"

"Get out."

Pausing as he began to say something, Shinichi rummaged through the bag he brought, taking out some bandages, gauze and ointment.

"You should clean those cuts before they get infected." The blond stepped to Kessuke's side and grabbed his unresisting arm. "You cut a lot." Shinichi remarked, seeing all the scars running down the pale arm; after getting no response he cleaned the wounds in silence.

When he finished he looked into Kessuke's eyes, trying to find some emotion now hidden behind those cobalt eyes. He was about to move away when he saw blood dripping down from Kessuke's upper arm.

"You cut here too?" Shinichi pulled up the t-shirt sleeve, grimacing at the blood dripping from a partly bandaged wound.

"That wound probably just reopened when we were fighting." Kessuke pulled away very suddenly, wrestling his arm out of Shinichi's grip.

"Hey, Kess—Sakuma, those…those bruises on your arm…where did you…? I only punched your face and stomach, who…?"

"It's none of your business, get out."

"But…."

"OUT!"

A/N: End of chapter. Please read and review.