Toris returned to his room from studying at the library at precisely 8:00 pm so that he could finally get some much-needed sleep. He opened the door to the dorm, finding Feliks cross-legged on the bed, a mass of maroon and green fabric on his lap, a needle and thread in hand. As soon as he saw Toris, he leapt up, yelped, and ran over, clapping hands over Toris' eyes and pushing him out the door.

"Oh, my God, like knock next time, Liet! Get out!"

"Feliks, what in the world is going on? You can't kick me ou-"

"Just for a sec!"

And with that, the door was slammed in his face.

Toris let his forehead fall against the door. Thirty-seven seconds passed. The hallway was cotton-silent. Then Feliks flung open the door again. "Sheesh, seriously. I mean it when I say to knock."

"What're you – why were you sewing?" He caught one of Feliks' hands in his own, eyes widening. "Are you okay?" Feliks' fingers were covered in layers of mismatched Hello Kitty bandages.

"Oh, yeah, fine, whatever." Feliks pulled his hands away, hiding them behind his back rather uselessly. "Just getting ready for Halloween. We only have, like, two weeks, right?"

Toris laughed tiredly, dumping his books by the bed. "Yeah. What're you going to be, since you refuse to be a knight with me?"

"Psh, like I'd spill. It's a surprise, silly. I'm going to ruin it if I tell you." Feliks looked too smug for his own good, smirking gleefully. Toris let out a snort.

"Oh, I just plugged in the hot plate and set up a cup of water so you can make more Valerian tea tonight. Do you love me or what?"

"Yes, I do love –"

Toris had to abruptly break off his sentence in order to rescue a Styrofoam cup of water from being melted into a gelatinous puddle on top of the hot plate.

"Feliks…" he groaned, throwing the cup away and instead pulling out a small, handkerchief-wrapped kettle from the drawer. Perhaps Feliks was the cause of his mental problems.

"Oops," the boy giggled, unconcernedly opening his laptop and pulling up email.

Toris flopped down on the bed, groaning. They sat in comfortable silence for a short time, until the kettle began to steam. Toris hopped over and turned off the heat before the sound could alert anyone to their illicit hot-plate use. He poured a cup, turning to Feliks.

"Do you want any…?"

Feliks had his earbuds in, lost in a music video of some woman wearing huge platform heels and very little else. Toris sighed, finishing his tea quickly and shutting off the light. Feliks barely flinched, face illuminated in the blue synthetic computer glow.

Toris slipped off his uniform, collapsing into bed in his boxers and undershirt. He fell asleep to the tap-tata-tap of the keyboarding and the pounding of blood behind his eyes.

It was dark when Toris had entered the room. He had been entreated so desperately to sneak off after lights-out, but the misgivings were making his pulse flutter wildly in vague panic.

"Um… It's me, Toris…"

The door closed with a click and he was shoved roughly against a wall, lips captured possessively…

…He was on the bed now, arms restrained by sheer strength, domination, as he felt the sting of teeth against skin. A knee was thrust between his legs, roughly grinding against him as if it had turned him on, as if Toris felt the lust that crawled, insect-like, out of his captor.

Toris was quiet, biting back all noise as he felt words against his skin.

"I love you, love you, love you; you're so beautiful, like this, opening yourself to me." In time with the words, a strong hand slipped into Toris' pants and he whimpered aloud.

The touch was too rough, too possessive. He felt violated, as if something precious and pure were being slowly burned. The thought made his stomach twist and knot, breath speeding but no, this was right - right? This is what couples did. They expressed their love, this was simply showing his love; he'd only be a disappointment if he refused now, he had to allow this to happen.

"Oh, yes, arch your back like that," the boy murmured, working the pants off of Toris quickly. "Let me take you. I love you Toris, I love you."

"A-and… ah… I love you, Ivan…"

… His bruises and scratches screamed along his back as he arched on his knees, being taken against the headboard, the same as every night, every night for weeks. Too rough, too rough, thrust into, no preparation – "But this is the natural way, the right way to do it, my love, lovely little one" – blood and ripping but – "The pain will pass and then it will just be you and I, together, I love you, I love you…"

…Flipped on his back, salty with open wounds and aching, a thumb pressed to his slack, swollen lips, forcing them open, a few more fingers slipping inside.

"Now, I know you will not bite me like you did before, little one. I taught you not to do that. Relax, just relax –"

A pulsing, wet, bitter throb thrust entirely down his throat, one quick rocking motion, in-out-air-burn chokingcan'tbreathe but the warmth and flesh comes again, again. Toris feels his throat constrict, feels the hums and moans of the boy straddling his face and knows this is just his way of saying that he loves him; they are in love and this is what people who are in love do, this is pure and good and –

"Liet!"

Toris woke flat on his back, arms pinned by heavy weights. He struggled in the grip, crying out.

"No, no, I don't want to do this anymore, I can't, I can't, it hurts, please!"

"Liet, Liet, it's me. It's Feliks. Liet – look at me. Just look at me."

Green.

Green green green not violet, not lust crazed and fiery but warm and worried and cloudy with sleep. Feliks' eyes caught Toris', radiating comfort. Toris froze, forcing his limbs to relax, sobbing out deep breaths as the nightmare clawed at his mind. His entire body sagged in defeat, and as Feliks rolled off of him, he covered his face in his hands.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry…" The litany dripped from the corners of his eyes with tears of fear and relief.

"Shh… s'okay," Feliks mumbled thickly, eyes already beginning to droop. It was two seventeen in the morning. "M'right here. Damn that Russian bitch…" He pulled Toris close to him, and Toris buried his nose in Feliks' collarbone, taking in the milky warm scent of teen and talc. His breath came in quiet handfuls, the memories of last spring still red and sharp. This was the reason that he was so shaky, so lost sometimes; the reason his whole state of sanity resided in a few green pills. Three long months of nightly abuse, before the night that Feliks could not stand knowing anymore and screamed at Ivan and took Toris away and kept him close and held him together. They had always been together, but it took abuse and blood and violation for them to understand that "more than together" was what they really needed.

Feliks' fingers carded slowly through Toris' sweat-damp hair, growing sluggish as the blonde drifted closer to sleep.

Toris did not fall asleep, but he did slowly allow himself to relax, convincing himself that he was safe, listening to the still breath of the boy that he loved and the still breath of the morning.