Sophomore Year

Chapter 18

Arthur came in from a long day of classes and placed his book bag neatly on the desk. He'd been speaking to Yao about Student Council matters, but he trailed off mid-sentence upon entering his room.

"They replaced you with that horrid girl who—what the bloody hell?" Arthur frowned at the powder scattered thickly over the room's pristine, white carpet. There was more of it on the desk, smeared down the door, and (most telling of all) the box for the detective kit had been forgotten behind the desk.

"What is all this?" Yao asked. Arthur frowned and his fists clenched angrily.

"Peter! Ugh! I knew it was him. He got this detective kit last Christmas. I know because he pestered my mum to buy it for him for months. He's been in here messing around—no doubt about it now."

"Isn't that a good thing? At least you know it is not something more serious now," Yao said. Arthur shrugged his shoulders dismissively and continued frowning at the mess.

"I have half a mind to track him down and make him clean this up…but then he'd likely never leave. We'll never get any studying done," Arthur said grumpily. Yao flashed his friend a smile and thought about how accustomed he'd grown to cleaning up small little messes since moving in with a two year old.

"I will help. It won't take long at all, Arthur," Yao said casually. Arthur seemed to relax a little and finally unclenched his fists.

"Thank you, Yao. I suppose I should be relieved. Are you sure you don't want this room tonight?" Arthur asked. Yao returned from the attached bathroom with a wet rag.

"You typically sleep here, don't you? Ivan and I will take the empty room. It is no trouble."

"Alright then. I should text Alfred and let him know it really was just Peter. I told him so. I don't know why he frets over me as he does," Arthur mused absently. Yao just smiled and passed Arthur the rag. The two cleaned up Peter's mess in silence and then moved to Alfred's neatly made bed, where they spread out their school books and waited for Ivan to finish with class and join them.

"It's nice to study with someone who knows what they're doing for once," Arthur commented with a small smirk. Yao marked down an answer and glanced back up at him, his expression equally mischievous.

"Likewise," he said.

"So…how are things with Ivan?" Arthur asked. "I mean…living together, and all, with his sisters and his uncle and a toddler…"

"This isn't the first time you've asked me that," Yao commented shrewdly. Arthur blushed.

"I suppose…it just seems so grown-up. I can't quite get used to the idea," Arthur replied. Yao's smile turned soft and he was quiet for awhile while he looked something up.

"You want the same thing with Alfred someday?" Yao asked knowingly. Arthur swallowed thickly and pressed a little too hard on his pencil tip.

"I…that is to say…I might have thought about it…once or twice," Arthur replied.

"And you worry Alfred has not?" Yao guessed again. Arthur let out a long sigh, and looked rather like a deflating balloon.

"Precisely. I wish circumstances would somehow throw us together, as it worked for you and Ivan. I'm worried if we have to make the choice ourselves it won't ever happen. Something will get in the way, or we'll fight too much, or…or…I don't know. I just worry about it. I want it and I worry about it at the same time. But Alfred never thinks of the future. He lives in the moment and says he trusts me to make all the plans, but I can't help but feel—"

"That one day he'll stop following your lead?" Yao concluded wisely. Arthur fell silent and nodded, glumly. Yao flipped the page of his textbook and rummaged about for a new page of paper.

"I cannot see the future, but Alfred seems happy enough to me. I am sure you will make it work somehow, even with all the obstacles in the way," Yao said. Arthur flashed Yao a small smile, thankful for his friend's vote of confidence.

"Yes. Of course. I'm in a right silly mood today, aren't I?"

"I find you are typically insecure. Today is not all that different," Yao said in his blunt, straightforward manner. Arthur felt a little put-out by it, but realized Yao's honesty was what made his company refreshing, even if it stung a bit at times.

"Heh…well…I think I've solved this one. Did you get thirty six as the answer?" Arthur asked, peering over at Yao's finished pre-calculus homework. Yao glanced at his work and nodded, just as the door opened and Ivan entered.

"The door should have been locked," he said by way of greeting. He was scowling. Arthur smiled apologetically, and Yao got up to greet him with a hug and a chaste kiss.

"Oh, really no need to worry anymore. We found out it was Peter after all. He was in here playing and left one of his toys," Arthur explained. Ivan stared critically at Arthur for a long, almost awkward moment before he grunted in what Arthur could only guess was agreement.

"We can return home then, right?" Yao asked as he peered up at Ivan. The taller boy nodded, but it seemed very noncommittal. He stared around the room a bit, but finding nothing amiss, eventually picked up their bags.

"I suppose we will go then," he said finally. Arthur found himself breathing a sigh of relief. Even though Ivan was Alfred's good friend, and he was practically Yao's husband, he still made Arthur on-edge and uncomfortable. Yao packed up his studying things quickly and surprised Arthur by giving him a quick hug.

"Do not worry about Alfred leaving you. If you are that concerned though, I can teach you how to cook. Alfred is like Ivan—fat, western pig! Cook good food and you will never get rid of him," Yao said with a smile that he clearly meant to be reassuring. Arthur, however, felt mortified about Ivan realizing they'd been gossiping about their relationships like teenage girls in his absence. He flushed hotly and tugged a bit at his collar, avoiding Ivan's mocking gaze.

"Er…cooking together sometime…right. I'm…err…glad we took care of that Student Council business, too," Arthur said. Ivan merely raised a silvery blond brow, as if to express his doubt that anything academic was actually discussed between the two friends.

Yao shot him a mildly confused look before clearly deciding to just let it go. He shrugged a delicate shoulder and turned on his heel, leaving Ivan to carry the bags. At the door, he slipped back into his shoes and was gone with a final parting. Ivan didn't say anything at all, but the look in his lavender eyes was still a little mocking. Arthur sighed when they were gone, and collapsed a little dramatically against his bed.

Deciding he wasn't ready to do more school work, Arthur began to unbutton his shirt and loosen his tie. A relaxing bath sounded heavenly.

WARNING - RAPE SCENE UNTIL NEXT LINE

A few moments later he was sinking into the warm water up to his chin, and feeling all his nerves and anxieties melt harmlessly away. He closed his eyes and began to stroke lightly over his stomach, not thinking about anything in particular, but realizing he'd get turned on if he kept it up. He trailed his hand a little lower, and tugged a bit at the blond curls between his legs. He bit his lower lip, his eyes still firmly closed, and pictured Alfred's hand wrapping around him.

He'd just given himself a few good strokes when the plastic was wrapped snugly around his head. His eyes slammed open but the world was distorted through the crinkled bag. He saw only a big black blob hovering over him. Arthur's survival instincts kicked in and he began to thrash, his hands slipping uselessly off the soapy sides of the tub. He used up what little oxygen was in the plastic bubble almost instantly, and started going lightheaded as he struggled against his attacker. His eyes rolled backwards and he went limp.

When Arthur awoke, he was naked on his and Alfred's bed, his hands tied to the headboard with what felt like a school tie and another strip of silky fabric tied firmly around his eyes. A few wadded up socks were stuffed in his mouth, and no matter how furiously Arthur worked his tongue, he could not dislodge them in order to scream.

"Awake?" a voice whispered. Arthur tried desperately to place it, but it was impossible. The breathy, monotone whisper could have belonged to anyone. He turned his head weakly from side to side a few times, and flinched harshly when the stranger's hand landed over his pierced nipple.

"I saw the video of you getting this, Arthur. It was so naughty of you…piercing yourself like that and putting it on the internet for everyone to see. That was when I realized what a slut you were. That was when I started planning how I'd punish you for toying with me."

Arthur whimpered in pain as the hand's gentle patting transformed into a harsh tugging and twisting. He'd never played with the piercing so roughly before and it hurt. His eyes widened hugely behind the blindfold and he imagined the pain he'd feel if the stranger ripped the little stud out. He felt tears begin to gather in the corner of his eyes as the sharp bolts of pain in his nipple didn't stop.

It was almost a relief when the hand stopped and trailed downwards, but not by much. Arthur tried twisting, even though it hurt his wrists horribly, and tried contorting his body as much as he could to get that awful hand off his heaving chest, but to no avail.

"You should know…this isn't the first time I've been here. I've come into your room plenty of times. At first I just touched your things. Soon, that wasn't enough. I took little things…things you wouldn't notice…your sock one time…a pair of your briefs the next. I had so much…fun…with those. Then I took your book. It smells like you." As his attacker said this, he jerked Arthur's head to the side harshly and breathed in his scent, invading Arthur's personal space and flicking his tongue against the vulnerable skin of Arthur's throat.

Arthur wanted to throw up, but the gag prevented him. He bit into it harshly instead, the tears flowing more readily now, as his attacker's roving hand began to caress his limp member. His ankles were bound like his hands, and while he had a little more freedom to clench his thighs together, he could not protect his privates at all. The voice continued to whisper—never rising in tone or pitch—completely flat and soft.

"Arthur…I'm going to kill you. Not today. So relax. Relax for me. That's it," the voice continued. The hand was pumping him gently, and now another hand was sliding up between his thighs.

"Today I'm just going to punish you. You spend all your time with that stupid Jones. You don't even notice me. Not anymore. Now you notice me, don't you? Arthur…you're getting hard for me…all for me."

Arthur tried to fight it, he honestly did, but his body was betraying him completely. The tears came even faster, soaking the fabric of the blind, and he made a low, hurt keening noise into the gag. The hand on his cock clenched harder, until the grip was almost painful, and Arthur felt with terror in his gut the bed dip and a knee slide up between his legs.

The voice mentioning Alfred did it for him. Arthur began to buck and squirm like a wild animal, pulling harshly on the restraints with no regard for the popping noises of bones and the sharp stabs of pain as his muscles protested. The sound of fabric ripping filled the air and then Arthur had a hand free. He swung wildly, but the blow was weak and only allowed his attacker to catch his wrist and force it to the bed. Arthur felt the pain then, and realized his arm had to be broken, or his shoulder dislocated. He screamed into the gag.

"You're being bad, Arthur. You hurt yourself again. You like the pain, don't you? You're such a little…fucking…slut!" The knee finally reached its goal and Arthur felt the harsh fabric of the attacker's pants pressed against his hole. His erection was gone at least, but the man still had one hand firmly wrapped around his dick, and now the grip felt threatening. His attacker pressed on his arm again and Arthur screamed once more, muffled by the gag, and shook his head furiously right and left. Cautiously, the hand released his wrist. Arthur wanted to strike him again, wanted to pull off the gag and the blindfold, but the smallest twitch of his fingers made pain rocket up his arm. He whimpered and didn't move, wishing he could curl protectively around his throbbing arm.

"I didn't want to break anything yet. You did that to yourself. I just wanted to do this. I just wanted to feel what will soon be mine," the voice finally cracked a bit, and Arthur realized it was a rather low voice. Not much else registered in the haze of pain as a dry finger in a coarse glove slipped down beside the knee between his legs and prodded at his hole. Arthur screamed, this time in pure fury and outrage, as the finger pushed inside him and withdrew in a parody of someone preparing his lover. It hurt, and Arthur screamed, but he mostly felt anger. How dare he? When Arthur finally got free he was going to kill him! He would rip him limb from bloody limb!

The reality of the situation crashed down on Arthur when the fingers withdrew and he realized he felt blood between his legs. His arm was useless, his throat was raw from screaming, and he felt like the skin on his wrists and ankles had been entirely rubbed off.

"You're so tight. I could even pretend you're a virgin when I fuck you for the first time. If you make it good for me, I might not kill you so soon," the voice promised, with the hint of a sick smile. Fingers slid up Arthur's belly again, this time slick with something, and then the hand was around his throat.

"I want to choke you blue. One day I will…one day…"

Suddenly, the door rattled and then banged open. Arthur's attacker was off him in a second. As the newcomer barreled into the room with a distinctly Russian sounding battle cry, the attacker flung the window open and threw himself out of it with nimble grace. Ivan pursued him, but he couldn't easily get through the window and he lost sight of the attacker within seconds. It had all happened in a matter of seconds, and (panting and huffing for breath) Ivan came back inside the building with a furious scowl of defeat.

He slammed the window down and turned to the bed, glaring even more fiercely at what he saw there. Quickly, he pulled the blindfold off and freed the gag from Arthur's mouth. The royal's face was a mess of snot and tears, and his green eyes looked like liquid emeralds in the darkened room. Ivan quickly surveyed the damage—badly bruised shoulder, already swelling, more bruises on Arthur's chest and around his throat, blood smeared over his belly and between his legs. Ivan set to work on the restraints, while Arthur cursed in a hoarse voice. He cursed and cried for Alfred and begged Ivan not to leave him all in a messy, panicked jumble.

"I am here now. You are safe. Breathe. Breathe!" Ivan ordered, finally shouting a bit to make Arthur realize he was having a panic attack. The prince began to suck in great mouthfuls of air and he stopped babbling. Instead, his watery eyes took on a blankness Ivan recognized as the look of someone in shock.

Ivan finished untying the last restraint and then fetched a blanket to drape over Arthur's slender, naked body. He pulled out his phone then and dialed for the authorities, and hastily explained the situation. Then he called Yao, who didn't answer—probably still sleeping at home.

"The ambulance will be here soon, da? You are safe now," Ivan repeated, though Arthur didn't seem like he could hear him. He was simply whimpering in pain, a noise so pathetic it almost sounded animalistic. Ivan cursed under his breath. He started to call Alfred, but then thought better of it.

Not knowing what else to do, he waited. Cops came bursting in a short twenty minutes later, and medical workers followed soon after. Ivan braced himself for the questioning, which started almost as soon as Arthur was loaded onto the stretcher and being wheeled towards the ambulance. Students peeked curiously into the hallway and stared unabashedly as Arthur was wheeled away into the night. Ivan went resignedly with the police, knowing he was in for a long night.

When Alfred got home, he stopped only in the living room to ask his mother where Arthur was without waiting for her to answer. He raced up the stairs and barreled down the hallway, passing temporarily alarmed security guards, to burst into his bedroom and then wince apologetically when Arthur nearly screamed and jolted in the bed like he'd been electrocuted.

"Sorry!" Alfred said sheepishly. Arthur had started to cry upon seeing him and just reached out for him wordlessly. Alfred stripped off his jacket and kicked off his shoes as he hastily made his way across the room. In seconds, he was pressed against Arthur's side, holding his boyfriend tightly as he sobbed against Alfred's chest.

"Shhhh…I'm here now…I'm so sorry, Artie. I won't leave you again, I promise! Next time I'll take you with me. Sshhh…I'm here," Alfred soothed as best he could, not even really knowing what he was saying.

"Alfred, it was…he…he…" Arthur seemed to fall apart beyond those few, stuttering words. He sobbed his frustration against Alfred's chest and finally allowed himself to have the meltdown that had been brewing since he recovered a bit in the emergency room. Alfred held him, mindful of the heavy bandages around his right shoulder, and waited out the storm. They stayed together like that for nearly an hour, with Alfred comforting and Arthur crying and stammering out the story.

The part that killed Alfred—the part he knew was coming but hated to hear—was that whoever had hurt his boyfriend was still out there. He'd escaped, and he'd left no evidence behind.

"Arthur, I know it's not okay…but I'm going to kill him if he so much as looks at you again. Understand? He won't ever touch you again."

"Just don't leave me, love. Stay? I keep dreaming about it, and waking up alone…"

"You can sleep now, Artie. I'll hold you, okay? If you look like you start to have a bad dream, I'll wake you up."

"…promise?" Arthur said weakly. He had clearly exhausted himself crying and reliving the experience.

"I promise," Alfred vowed. Reluctantly, though with great relief, Arthur finally let his eyes drift shut and he sagged into Alfred's strong hold.

A/N: I'm sorry I jumped around a bit in the timeline, but I didn't want to have to stop Arthur's part to show the scene between Alfred and Michelle that was in the last chapter—didn't think it would help the mood. I apologize if this chapter was too graphic/disturbing/dramatic. For awhile, I was going to take the less cliché route and have the kidnapper only be after money or something…but I couldn't resist the temptation of some good, old-fashioned hurt/comfort in the end. The stalker is still out there! What will happen next? Tune in next time! (and thanks as always for reviews—they always help motivate me to start the next chapter after some time has passed!)

Another apology is necessary for the extreme lateness of this chapter. This time of year is rough for teachers. State tests are coming and with extra tutorials, Saturday school (trust me, teachers like it even less than the students) and family obligations I've been way too stressed to write anything that wasn't complete crap. I am really very sorry for the long wait, though. Just know—I will NOT abandon this story!