Tap on my window, knock on my door, I...
Characters: Shirou Kamui [kamui_heaven], Alphonse Elric [bloodseal_soul]
When: Saturday, June 13th, later afternoon. After this thread.
Where: Kamui's room in Unohana's clinic.
Rating: R (Probably) for mentions of past memories of graphic abuse.
Summary: Though friends for nearly a year, there are things that Al's never had the heart to ask Kamui... like where he got all ( Read more... )
When: Saturday, June 13th, later afternoon. After this thread.
Where: Kamui's room in Unohana's clinic.
Rating: R (Probably) for mentions of past memories of graphic abuse.
Summary: Though friends for nearly a year, there are things that Al's never had the heart to ask Kamui... like where he got all ( Read more... )
He couldn’t run though. Not from Al.
Al has close to him...one of the very slim number people that he could trust to speak to about whatever he wanted. He’d called him normal and treated him like everyone else, instead of as some saviour that needed to be watched at all times in case he was damaged too early. Not that the Seals had really kept a complete eye on him, nor had they kept him truly safe but...Kamui knew they had their own wishes to fight for and he accepted that. He preferred to not have them hounding him every minute of the day. Still...
Where were they now when he needed someone else to explain the disgusting lines which glared at him each time he passed a mirror? Those scars mocked him, made him feel worthless at times, when other people had earned similar ones for acts of courage. How had he earned his? Falling into Fuuma’s hands and not realising until it was too late. Even when he’d fought back, in those final moments before he was brought here, he’d still ended up on his back with Fuuma above him. He was in the perfect position to be killed.
Kamui looked up from the ground he’d watched changing texture underfoot, his door in front of him before he really knew it. He was shaking as he opened the door, eyes dropping to the floor as body language quickly showed him retreating into himself a little. Even if... Even if he trusted Al not to judge him over something like this, he still felt insecure about the fact that someone was noticing those still clear marks.
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The younger teenager made a strange movement as Kamui entered the room, as if he were physically holding himself back from getting up and going to him, touching his face, holding him close to try and comfort away the haunted look.
He noticed secondly the fact that Kamui's shoulder was slick with blood, his shirt torn, although Kamui had wrapped the wound. Al gave a soft hiss of sympathetic pain and bolted up from the bed, silently urging him to sit down as he went for the first-aid box. Although he'd seen all sorts of wounds in his life, anything that bled that much at the shoulder brought back awful memories for him. He pushed them away. Even if Kamui didn't see Unohana, Al hadn't given up on making him.
"Come on, let's take a look at it," Al said softly, worried, and as he leaned in he gently brushed a thumb over Kamui's cheek. The tenderness and protectiveness in the gesture said everything he wasn't letting come out aloud. Gently, Al eased off Kamui's torn, wet and bloody shirt and began to undo the makeshift bandages, subtly watching his friend for any signs of pain.
This had to hurt horribly...
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He swallowed thickly when he felt the thumb across his cheek, head trying to jerk back slightly. Innocent touches like that might be one thing but...well, with the amount of times Fuuma had done something like that it unnerved him more than soothed him. Even though he knew Al meant well, that he wasn’t going to do or let anything happen, Kamui couldn’t trust those touches fully. It was just another little part of him that Fuuma essentially owned and had marked in a twisted way.
The esper was pulled out of his thoughts but the pain which was soon sparking from the wound, his other arm moving to steady him as he let out a sound somewhere between a yelp and a hiss. His fingers curled in the sheets as his head hung low, a mask of pain clearly on his features. He knew pain and this was rather mild for him, Fuuma had done far worse in their encounters after all. That didn’t serve to stop his shaky breathing or help him from not having to screw his eyes shut to avoid tears. His mind was absently floating back to the last incident he’d had here, the pole going through his leg and keeping him trapped until that person cut him out...
He wanted to wave this all off, maybe have a wash and then simply go to bed after hastily re-wrapping the wound. He knew he wouldn’t be able to though.
“...Don’t tell.” His voice was small and thick with pain, the traces of uneven breathing becoming more apparent again after the words had left his mouth. “...Don’t.”
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Something had hit him, all right. But that something looked to have been vaguely round and long, and upon hitting Kamui's shoulder, had not stopped. It had gone right on through. Goodness only knew how Kamui had gotten whatever it was out of there without passing out from the pain, and it was a wonder he'd managed to get himself back to the clinic.
Al felt a silent track of tears go down his face as he took a cloth and almost mechanically began to clean the wound, drawing on the deep calm somewhere inside of himself, the one that had allowed him to hold Itachi's chest closed while he was bleeding freely all over his hands and arms as Sasuke stitched him closed. His fingers were completely steady, gentle but firm as he cleaned it out. It needed disinfectant, or it could quite possibly end up killing his friend.
"Shhh," Al said soothingly, and began to apply the contents of the bottle, wishing he had a less diluted solution. Still, he was glad he'd seen Ed's automail surgery in detail, or the sight of debris and blood washing out the other side of the wound would have been enough to make him sick.
Once he had it clean, Alphonse threaded a needle for the stitches, forcing his hands not to shake. He'd done this before, but if Kamui insisted on not letting the healers see to him, then Al would do the best he could. If infection set in, he wouldn't be able to help, though.
Finally, Al trusted his voice enough to whisper, "What went through you?"
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Kamui still didn’t regret his decision though; at least this made him feel normal. Well, normal only to the extent that he was healing as nature intended. He was a quick healer so he wasn’t particularly worried about infections; in fact it was probably possible that Al was more worried about that than him. Maybe that just proved how abnormal he truly was. He chose suffering over the quick route, he’d chosen to tempt fate against and infection, and in the start of it all he’d opted for trying to dodge the weather back instead of waiting. Maybe Fuuma had done more damage to his mind than he had guessed...
His skin twitched as he tried to stop himself from pulling away from the stinging sensation; absently he noted the other readying a needle and for a few moments he was half tempted to shout for the other to stop. He bit his lip to stop that reaction. Instead he merely let out a chocked sound as he tried to respond to question. His breathing was growing more erratic as the moments ticked on, his head feeling a little light. Maybe everything was catching up to him now, the blood loss especially.
He reached out and clung onto Al’s shirt, leaning to the side although not of his own choice. “Pole. Metal...pole.”
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He packed the wound and wrapped it, wiping off his hands before slipping a supportive arm around his friend, holding him. His shirt was ruined with all the blood, but it wasn't like he cared. Silently, he touched his cheek to Kamui's, cradling and supporting him, closing his eyes against the stinging in his heart.
What the hell had Kamui been through to make him like this? Who had hurt him so badly? Al trailed his fingers slowly and repeatedly through Kamui's hair, letting him come down from the pain a little, or react how he wished.
"I've got you," he whispered.
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He kept his eyes shut and tried to ignore the pain while the other wrapped the wound and then shifted slightly. The esper’s breathing very gradual started to even out as the stinging sensation started to numb. This was something he was used to doing by now, ignoring and struggling through pain in order to achieve something else. At least this time he wasn’t in some type of battle, nor was he watching someone else’s suffering because they tried to protect him. No. This time he had someone worried, possibly angry as well, trying to calm him down.
He managed a weak nod, breath hitching slightly. He hadn’t wanted to talk about his scars in the first place and this just made him even more reluctant. Al had just helped him while he was in this much pain, why should he upset the boy further by explaining the games Fuuma had played in the past? He didn’t need to know of all those injuries he’d had, more recent scars covering the areas of past injuries from hands, glass and the Shinken. Surely there was no need for it...right?
He didn’t want to upset the other anymore than he already had done. He didn’t want to explain how his best friend had done this to him and how he would still gladly jump through fire if it would solve things. What if Fuuma showed up one day? People would try to kill him on sight and...Kamui didn’t want that, even after all the pain, he just wanted Fuuma alive and preferably back to his normal and friendly self. He really didn’t want fighting in this place, especially not possibly between Al and Fuuma.
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Gently stroking a lock of sweaty and damp hair back from Kamui's brow, didn't overthink pressing his lips to his forehead, at the same time checking for fever, which would herald an infection coming on its heels. Finding nothing yet, Al slowly rubbed between Kamui's shoulder blades, a soothing motion that he used on his brother, when he had nightmares.
"Kamui, I've... never asked about the scars because I don't... want you to have to think about them," Al said quietly. "But I... I'm really worried about you. It's unhealthy, the way you're acting about this one, talking about reminders for mistakes, and..." Al trailed off. He wasn't angry, not in the least, just concerned. Kamui had a distressing habit of blaming himself for things that could not possibly be his fault, and if he was craving abuse, accepting it as his due, he was a in a lot of trouble.
"Please, tell me what happened," Al whispered. "I want to be here for you. I want to understand."
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He was that oblivious to have missed the worry and he knew that having Al see him like this was probably serving to double that pain and distress. Kamui didn’t want to do that to Al, he didn’t want to worry and upset someone else because of his own selfish choices. At the same time he couldn’t seem to change his way of thinking, the way that he knew was true but that everyone else seemed to disagree with.
Very, very slowly he let out a sigh and nodded. He didn’t truly want to go through unnecessary details though so instead he took a sensible approach.
“What...what do you want to know?” At least if Al asked about certain things then he’d be able to win both sides, telling the other about what happened without going into too much detail.
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Alphonse dug into the box, coming up with a small bottle of mild painkillers, though he frowned at that. Better would be the bottle with the vicoden he had in dresser, but that was back at his house. He wish he'd thought to bring it.
Though Al could be said to be subtle at times, even to the point of pushing off a direct approach, he was in fact an Elric and he was perfectly capable of it.
"Who made these scars on you?" Al whispered. "Were they all at once, or over a period of time...? Were they doing it for some end, or just to see you hurt?"
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He didn’t reply immediately. His hand clenched around fabric as he thought back to one particular event where a lot of the scars had come from. Very quietly he uttered one word before falling silent again for several moments, “...Fuuma...”
The older teen absently motioned to several points, his hands, his forearms, his shoulders and one of his legs. All of which had scars from one event. The other scars that littered his body were from other fights, various moments of weakness when he’d been caught off-guard and several small ones from a childish trip up a tree for a hat.
He sighed shakily before quietly repeating something that he’d never repeated to anyone else. “He said I had a lovely voice... He wanted me to...watch...”
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Fuuma. Somehow, he should have known. Somehow... and this was the man that Kamui wanted to save, wanted to keep safe. Al wanted to rage, wanted to be angry at the man out of his reach, someone that would hurt Kamui so badly, and hide behind the mask of a friend.
He could say nothing, though. Alphonse was the same way with Itachi, though he knew it was no one's fault.
The corner of Al's lips twitched, and he took a slow breath. It was several minutes before he spoke, before he finally trusted his voice to come out low and gentle.
"What did he want you to watch?"
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He swallowed thickly and shook his mind of all those memories, of things he’d been told and suffered through back home, of people who had been hurt and died because they hadn’t been in time, because he, himself, couldn’t bring himself to end Fuuma.
He visibly paled at that question, colour draining from his body as a chill ran up his spine. Silence stretched on for several more minutes as Kamui tried to think of a way to simply avoid answering that question. He couldn’t think of anything though... Slowly he shifted to rest his head on Al’s shoulder, eyes blankly staring downwards without actually seeing. When he spoke his voice was so very quiet it could easily have been missed if not for the detached ring within it.
“Kotori... He killed her... His own sister and then--” He cut himself off as he choked back on tears he refused to shed again. Not here, not now, he’d promised that he wouldn’t grieve anymore.
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"And then?" he whispered, very gently, hoping it would be the last of the questions he needed to ask.
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“She...broke... Torn apart.”
Considering the injury he was currently suffering with, the boy moved rather sharply from his position to snatch at the fabric of Al’s shirt. He shouldn’t be around this boy; everyone seemed to get hurt if they knew him. The younger boy didn’t need to be another body for that pile; he didn’t need to be another bystander that was killed for getting messed up with his business.
“...My fault.” His breath hitched before he picked up his voice a little, “If I hadn’t... If I just not been born then they’d be alive...Fuuma wouldn’t have been my twin star.”
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As Kamui pulled back and gripped his shirt, Al leaned a little, cupping Kamui's face in his hands.
"Hey, look at me," he whispered. "Look at my eyes." His voice was gentle, his face close, all the sincerity coming through.
"Do you remember what I said, when we first met? About that girl from my village, who had the baby?" his voice was gentle. He didn't expect Kamui to remember.
"The birth was hard on her, and after she had the baby, she died of complications," Al whispered, trying to call up the memory for him. "She wouldn't have died if she hadn't had the baby, but that child wasn't to blame for her death, any more than you are for what happened to Fuuma and Kotori."
Al's serious eyes looked straight into Kamui's own, almost as if he could touch his heart, make him believe if he looked hard enough.
"Stop blaming yourself, Kamui. There are bad things, horrible things that happen in the world, but just because you were involved does not mean you could have stopped them. Nobody could possibly know the future, or what might have been." He carefully stroked back Kamui's hair.
"The world isn't fair... but you can't dwell on what's happen or try to place blame, especially on your own shoulders. All you can do is get up and keep walking."
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