The night was long, and Fuji had already called his sister to inform her pleasantly that he had a project to work on and would not be returning home that night. He wasn't above lying on those occasions, though he suspected that she was beginning to doubt his word, from the way she stopped by "coincidentally" all those times to give him a lift home.
The liquid tasted bitter.
Fuji hated nights like these. He hated the way everyone locked themselves in a different room of the house, and how small and scared he felt when he sat alone in the living room and heard his own heart beating. He couldn't explain away the inexplicable fear that gripped him, being alone in that house and by himself.
There were probably people at home, but Yuuta would just ignore him no matter how many times he knocked on his door. His sister would probably respond, but despite his aching need for company, he didn't crave it that badly to the extent that he would let her worry about his well-being. If the night bore on any longer, he wasn't going to even attempt spending it alone.
Fuji tilted the glass back and drank.
He hated having different faces at first. Then it became a habit, just to satisfy the throngs of people that were insistent on inquiring after his health. Few were fooled, and Fuji panicked the moment he heard the doctor murmur something about depression.
From then on, it became his practice to slide his eyes shut with the familiar, easy smile. It had hurt his cheek muscles at first, aching with a dull throb at the uncustomary exercise. His eyes spoke more than what he had been willing to reveal, and he didn't understand how to shield the raw, confused pain that lingered in the depths of blank azure eyes.
It ate away at him, a mixture of irrational anger and an unexplained sadness that tinged the edges of every memory. Even smiling didn't help when he felt like crying so badly inside that it took a lot out of him to keep walking with his head held high. And every happy thought that he had, never remained unaccompanied by the mocking voices that called him worthless and unfit for happiness.
Often, it felt like a dark spiral inwards, like a staircase spinning downwards faster than he could claw his way up. He often thought about it as a black hole, sucking up everything else, and collapsing upon itself in the end. There was no other way to describe that same devastation that gnawed away at him wearily, every single time he thought that he was normal at last.
The man that just walked in wasn't an angel. At least he knew that much.
He also happened to be the type that Fuji occasionally picked up, simply because there was no other more attractive alternative. He had wavy, dark hair that just touched the tips of his collar, and a fine bone structure that formed his long, slender fingers.
Fuji was familiar with the pretty-boy type that looked deceptively innocent, even a touch bewildered as they moved awkwardly amongst the crowd. Even just sitting by themselves, they were likely to be accosted by women who fell for it, and scrambled all over themselves to cater to him, and for the actor to get exactly what he wanted.
Fuji hated those types, but was still drawn to them despite it. After drinking enough, their faces always resembled Kaito more and more. And when he was just slightly drunk, he could always pretend that it was the alcohol that robbed him of his senses, such that he didn't have to admit to himself that he deliberately chose someone who resembled him.
And then, he could carry on pretending that it was what he wanted all along.
Things had probably started changing after he met Imano Kaito.
He was an undergraduate that worked part time at Ocean's Wake Café. He wore glasses and his hair was perpetually dishevelled. Kaito often complained that Fuji played with his hair like a cat and its ball of string, but Fuji did find it rather amusing to run his hand through his hair and watch it poke up in different directions. He was soft spoken and rather shy in the beginning, but when they began to know each other better, Fuji realised that Kaito had a passionate and driven personality beneath his quiet exterior.
Kaito was Fuji's first real boyfriend, who had patiently accompanied him as he sorted through his confused thoughts. He had been there, as Fuji painfully adjusted to a new reality that had taken place ever since he had woken up. And he was also the one who had held him and let him cry, and loved him unconditionally until Fuji didn't feel quite so lost and alone.
Fuji didn't know whether he did love him back, or whether he was even ready to be in love, but Kaito never failed to express his willingness to wait until he did. What he did know, was that being with him brought a sense of love, acceptance and inner peace, that he couldn't find anywhere else.
Their eyes met, and Fuji knew that he wasn't wrong.
An eyebrow raised elegantly in query, had the man looking vaguely embarrassed at the women who wound themselves around him, like tightly coiled snakes around a pole. Fuji waited patiently, swirling crimson liquid around in the glass that his fingers gripped so tightly, that his knuckles began to turn white.
Often at this juncture, he had the urge to punch the daylights out of the man, to shatter his glass and slice that soft, fair cheek into bloody peels. The nearly homicidal instincts that had him writhing inside with barely repressed aggression, often gave way to the equally strong call of lust and his unquenchable thirst for affection in its most feral form.
The other man bent and whispered something into the ears of the women; something that had them looking at him dubiously, before pouting and letting him slide off his seat, to make his way to where Fuji waited patiently.
He had always been waiting after all. A few more minutes wouldn't make a difference.
Fuji bit the inside of his cheek to avoid screaming.
Damn, it hurt.
He tasted the blood, but the coppery scent was everywhere, and Kaito was already drawing back to look at him in concern. He tried his best to assure him that it was alright, but the words sounded false even to his own ears. Fuji could have cried with the frustration that he was somehow unable to figure out how anybody sane and with a pain threshold could actually enjoy this.
Kaito drew him into a soft hug and kissed his shoulder, his lips brushing quiet murmurs of assurance and comfort as his fingers reached for his hand. In the darkness, Fuji breathed in deeply and did his best to relax.
Pretty soon, it didn't hurt at all.
It didn't take much persuasion for Fuji to follow the man home. Just physical touch that made him feel needed, just a few sweet words that made him feel wanted. And then he raged at himself inwardly, for his weakness and his flaw. He hurt so much inside that the slightest comfort could bring him happiness, but his pride only allowed him to submit to pain and nothing else.
Running his finger tips down the man's arms that encircled his waist, Fuji pressed open-mouthed kisses across his neck. Soft, fragile kisses that quickly yielded to the driven frenzy of his partner. Fuji allowed himself to be shoved against the wall, feeling his shoulders bruise against the eager ministrations of the other.
He liked the feeling of having someone that close to him, skin to skin and with no barrier that kept them apart. He liked the way they were honest in acquiring whatever they wanted. Fuji hated it when they tried to be sensitive of his needs, and how they tried to be gentle with him at the start. Didn't they understand that he had to be hurt in order to be forgiven?
The pain was good. The pain was purifying. It hurt sometimes, especially with the less skilful ones. Even so, he welcomed the way it made him hurt, where the intoxicating mix of brutal pain and intense pleasure smothered him, drowning him in the mindless grip of sensation. He especially liked the way each brutal thrust and pain-filled moment erased all other thoughts from his mind, leaving only emptiness and a dull, pounding ache in his heart that he couldn't identify.
To Kaito, he was everything.
He was lifted upon a pedestal in Kaito's opinion, where he didn't have to hear the rest of the world that insisted on bringing his mind back into the yawning abyss his memories had become. Sometimes Fuji remembered feeling so exultant, so gloriously happy that it almost seemed possible for him to reach out and touch the stars.
Fuji had always thought that it was just a momentary, unhealthy dependence upon a stranger that happened to walk into his life. Who had became the central focus of his being, mainly because there was no other substitute. Fuji held that belief for nearly the entire duration of their relationship. Until he left without a word, and Fuji's unsteady world began to crumble upon their foundations once more.
It was a long, long way to fall.
END CHAPTER 2
A/N: I suddenly realised that my paragraphing is horribly irritating. Unfortunately, I don't know how to edit it, because there doesn't seem to be a way to leave more than one spacing between lines so it will have to remain as it is. Oh, and sorry about the earlier repost, I couldn't figure out how to replace the chapter with an edited one.