Okay, so excuse the vulgarity, but while writing this I had the closest thing I have ever had to an erection in my life. Now, me being a girl, that's saying something. Technically, I can't... you know... but I felt something nevertheless. When I say this, it does not mean that this chapter has any type of X-rated content. I'm just weird. Now, regardless of this sad fact, this chapter may quite possibly be my favorite. I love it like I love Pringles and oh my do I love Pringles. Better yet, I love it like I love Stephanie Meyer. Enough said. Go ahead and read it and see why :) Why I love the chapter not Stephanie covered in Pringles... Oh and please, before reading this chapter, take a few minutes to read the others. It will make a lot more sense. There are quite a few references, I do believe. Enjoy!
After dragging me all the way down the street like some kind of damn rag doll, he plopped me down on his bed. He crouched in front of me, sucking in a breath through his nose and blowing it roughly out of his mouth. His eyes were clenched tightly closed behind his glasses. He took another deep breath and opened them, looking straight into my own.
"Okay," he said slowly. "What do you want me to do?"
I rolled my eyes, exaggerated antipathy rolling over me and making me shudder. "Unbelievable. Now you want to listen to me? Well, you chose not to listen to me when I said leave me the fuck alone, so I guess that's it. Sorry," I spit out, "I don't have any more orders for you at the moment."
He shook his head and kept shaking it as he spoke. "That's not what I meant. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you before, Ritsuka." He stopped shaking his head and I saw that he was trembling all over. He closed his eyes again, tighter this time if that was even possible. He spoke through clenched teeth. "Please let me kill him," he said.
The words caught me off guard and my eyebrows lifted. I was thankful that his eyes were still closed so he couldn't see my scowl disappear for those few seconds. I leaned back from him and cocked my head to the side. A sick pleasure spread through me at the thought of him committing murder for little old me, but I forced it down. "Look at me," I said softer, not so much pleased anymore as flattered at his request. He looked up and pain was etched deep into every line of his face. "You will not harm anyone on my behalf," I ordered. That seemed to ease his stress at least a little. He leaned forward and rested his head in my lap, pulling his arms around my waist, and for the first time that night I didn't feel repulsed by his touch. I sighed, stroking his hair as his breathing evened out. It felt good to be relieved of feeling bad.
After a while of us just sitting there, he broke the silence. "Do you want me to take you home?" he asked softly.
"No!" I yelled louder than I meant to. My voice echoed in the dim room and shattered the comfortable quiet, as I yanked myself away, mortified at the thought of going back to my mother. I was in enough pain already. I didn't even want to think about going home to her. She was sure to be furious that I'd been a no-show for almost a full day. "My mom won't be thrilled to see me, exactly," I said in an apologetic tone. "I know I'll have to go home sooner or later, but I'm just not in the mood right now."
He pulled me back into him, making me fall to my knees on the floor in front of him. My bare skin rubbed against the soft cotton of his shirt as he radiated heat. I realized I was shivering still, not quite over the autumn chill. I absolutely had to remember to start bringing a jacket for the next time I ran away from a psychotic parent or the next time I was assaulted by an older brother or the next time my life spiraled down into dark, hopeless nothingness. You know, just in case I was the lucky son of a bitch that something like that happened to twice. I'd taken all the generosity from fate I could stand for the night.
I tried to push Soubi away softly as I stood. I had been mean to him all day—on his birthday for heaven's sake!—and wanted desperately to make it up. With everything that happened, the fact that I was a horrible person on top of that was salt on an open wound. I grabbed his hands and intertwined his fingers with mine as he stood with me, my small palms flat against the center of his. "I want a bath," I ordered simply and softly. I smiled and, thankfully, he smiled back.
He walked to the bathroom and began drawing water into the tub. I just sat on the edge of the bed again, waiting for him to let me know when it was finished. Unfortunately it gave me the opportunity to be alone with my thoughts again, gave me the opportunity to reflect on the last few hours that I was awake. I groaned at the ambush of raw emotion that hit my chest. I hunched in on myself as a sharp pain pierced through my breast, a flawless incision. Sobs wrenched themselves out of my throat against my will.
Submerged from head to toe in despair, I hadn't heard Soubi return. The only notification of his presence was a deep sigh coming from above me right before his soft arms picked me up. He carried me to the bathroom and set me down so I could undress. I didn't have time to feel embarrassed by my nakedness like I usually was. I slid my pants down and stepped into the searing hot water, wiping the tears from my face. They were cold in comparison. He got a towel and picked up one of my legs to begin washing me.
"Soubi, you don't have to—," I started to say, but he was being so gentle, I couldn't resist. It was a pleasing contrast to the brutality of the evening. He had begun softly scrubbing my foot in little circles, taking his time between my toes and down to my heel. His tender hands moved up my calf to stroke it clean, the warm water easing my muscles into relaxation. I gradually allowed my mind to slip into ease as well until he began to move up from my knees to my thigh and—
Something in my head abruptly snapped. I jumped away from him as quickly as possible and clung to the back of the tub, hissing with all the ferocity my body contained. Water leaped out of the tub onto the floor with a noisy splash. My ears flattened against my head as my tail erected itself by knee-jerk reaction. My hair bristled sharply and I trembled from the bone. Even when I could get myself to stop hissing, my entire body was tense, my knees drawn tightly up to my chest. My feet and toes cramped up from how hard they were pressed against the linoleum. My knuckles turned dead white where they clutched the bathtub's rim. I glared at Soubi, not quite remembering why I was angered in the first place. Water swished back and forth, lapping against me, its dull slap the only sound besides my harsh breathing.
And he was simply staring at me, the most heart-breaking look of helplessness painted on his face. His lips were turned into a little frown of discontent that reached his eyes and magnified into misery. It disarmed me completely. I forced, with a great deal of effort, my body to stop shaking and my fingers to release its death grip on the rim. My muscles released from its ready-to-pounce crouch, but I couldn't— now matter how hard I tried—wipe the scowl from my lips. I looked down into the murky water. The reflection gazed back at me with that same hateful look. I pooled scalding water in my hands and splashed my face until my lips turned from a low frown into a nondescript position. I rubbed at my heated cheeks and sighed.
"I'm sorry," I said. It was pointed enough to sum up what I wanted to say, but I had the feeling there was more. Too busily distracted with a disconcerting feeling creeping up my spine, I didn't bother searching for it. "I'll finish washing by myself and meet you in bed," I mumbled.
He stood, silently obeying, and walked away into the dark gloom of his moonlit bedroom. "Soubi—" I called out. He ignored me and kept walking, closing the door behind him.
That might have hurt worse than anything else that night. It was a slap in the face and a punch in the gut at the same time. The closed door felt more like a 5-foot thick wall between us, and I had the deepest feeling that I was responsible for putting it there. I hurried and cleaned myself up, drying myself off and pulling on one of his shirts. I looked in the foggy mirror at my distorted reflection, glad that it was unclear. I combed out my wet hair with my fingers, pulling the loose ones out and placing them in the trash. Sometimes the wet, dark purple strands would get stuck on my moist hands so that I had to shake them to get it off. I busied myself with the science of such a humdrum occurrence, rambling on internally about adhesion and cohesion and all the while absently pulling my fingers through my damp hair.
A siren of alarm rang through my head as two big clumps came out. I cupped both hands to hold them, barely registering what they were. They were ever so slightly covered with blood in some parts, so I put it in the sink to rinse off. My first thought was, Oh shit, is that my brain? but of course it wasn't, because brains aren't hairy. Second thought: Oh shit, I'm balding. It could have been from stress or that stuff he gave me, but that was also unlikely. The substance wasn't the consistency of just a clump of hair. They were solid, soft and slightly pointy, hollow on one side like a seashell. I poked at the two heaps sitting in the sink and tried to figure it out. Third thought: Oh shit, are those my ears?!
I looked behind me and saw, with a great deal of relief, my tail still attached to my body. I swung it back and forth like I'd done a thousand times before. It stiffened and fell to the floor, limp and lifeless.
I turned back around in a hurry, wanting to get away from the obscene sight immediately. I locked the door in panic, not wanting Soubi to let himself in and… and see me like this. Most of the fog had evaporated from the mirror, but not enough for me to see my reflection. I wiped at it, streaks of water sticking together on its surface, and looked at myself.
The scar on my face (the one just below my cheekbone) was still fresh but healing, a pale pink instead of blood red. My eyes were a shade duller than its usual color, and despite the many times I had passed out in the last 24 hours, there were gray circles underneath them. Combined with that and the natural pallor of my skin, I looked sickly. It wasn't abnormal, though. I usually looked awful after running from mom. It had to be from hiking so far from my house to Soubi's or Kio's, especially in the cold. My stringy hair hung lazily on my shoulders, its dark purple hue glistening in the fluorescent light hanging over me, making a faint halo atop my head.
And no ears.
I stared at myself in the mirror. Well, not so much myself as the empty space above me. The space where my ears were supposed to be. I could outline their would-be shape in the void, trace where they were just an hour ago.
Great. I was without ears, plunged into the abhorrent world of adults. What would I do when I got back to my normal life, back to school? I was only a freshman! Now, through a series of fucked-up events, an earless freshman. And what about when I got back home? Mom would surely kill me. No, torture me and then kill me. And Soubi would—no, not Soubi. That wasn't a problem. I just wouldn't tell him. I would never come out of the bathroom. I would never let him see me again. I would have rather jumped out the window than face him.
Dread manifested in the form of nausea rolled through the pit of my stomach. I leaned over the sink and moaned, fearing the continuation of life, dragging in breath unwillingly.
"Okay, Ritsuka," I said to myself out loud. "What are we going to do?" My voice was shaking. I weighed my options, making a mental list. One, death. The easiest, a getaway. Two, isolation. Shut myself off from everyone, especially Soubi. Three, confrontation. Tell Soubi, confide in him, and who knows? Maybe he could help. Maybe he could stitch them back on or something. Anything. At the very least he would be there for me. He would never leave me, for that I was certain. Soubi practically personified chivalry. I could trust him with anything. I could lay out all my shame and hurt and he would mend my wounds.
I found that I wanted to tell him. Desperately. My broken heart was yearning to be put back together, and I knew only he could do it.
But what had happened was so ugly. The facts were hideous and real, exciting anger and making the body tremble in disgust. The details made one's very humanity shrink away from the injustice. Sure Soubi knew some of the story, but not enough to fully grasp what an ill tale it truly was. I'd seen how angry he was before, and that was with only the spark notes. I didn't want him to hear further blackness. What would he think of me if he knew? He wouldn't leave me, but he'd think of me differently. Think of me as something unclean. And, I added as an unimportant postscript, it's still his birthday. Hearing what he had done would be poison.
…but Soubi is resilient. Soubi would be able to handle it. Soubi is strong that way. And about his birthday… well, birthdays are just days. I could tell him. For the sole purpose of relieving the agonizing ache in my heart, for the purpose of removing my pain, I could tell him. So he could comfort me.
I wanted to tell him; I didn't want him to know.
I was so evenly divided. Both choices were viciously warring with each other. Tell or don't tell. My indecision was excruciating. I couldn't make up my mind, so I did the next best thing.
I screamed.
Phew! I'll admit, my excitement over where this is headed is borderlining sexual. I sincerely hope that it is as pleasing to my readers as it is to me. It's possible that I'm having way too much fun and ignoring the voice of the people. Speaking of ignoring, I never bothered with a disclaimer. I think they're stupid. Of course I'm not Yun Kouga, so of course I don't own Loveless. (snuck it in!) I tried bribing her once, though. The rights for Loveless in return for a um... favor. A hot, wild, sweaty, experimental favor. She said no. Oddly enough, I think she's married. Anywho, in case no one noticed, I turned in this story early. I still have 5 more days until I come home. I'm visiting though and thought "Hey, I should post a chapter before I'm decapitated." You're welcome. I'll have the next chapter by -insert date here-
With dysfunctional love, KC.