love to hurt (5/?) Uruha/Ruki
Title: love to hurt.
Chapter: 5/?
Author: buriedinheart
Genre: angst, romance
Warnings: abuse, language, pain, sex, self harm, eating disorder, suicide attempt
Disclaimer: I own no one.
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Uruha x Ruki
Bands: the GazettE
Synopsis: We were pieces of driftwood floating in the raging seas, tornadoes and angry hurricanes.
Comments: '&&' = different scenes, '--'= breaks. ruki finally wakes up, but everything is wrong and uruha doesnt know how to fix things.
Faith is nothing more than damp pillows and cold, lonely sheets. Sighs filling the air in desperation and painful hope of something to keep him grounded in reality; because his soul wants to leave his body in tiny wisps like the broken autumn winds cradling the nape of his neck. Trying to forget reality, of what is and what was, and trying to believe in broken memories of love and what used to be.
Uruha is hurting more than anything he has ever known, because this pain is not physical (and that is much worse because bruises and cuts do heal but emotions are liquid agony), chicken wire is twisting its death grip around his heart, and from his head down to his toes he wants to undo everything. The only words he wants to hear right now is the doctor’s report, he wishes the doctor would come out of the room now and dissipate this heavy tension and apprehension hanging in the air. To know is better than this endless waiting and what ifs.
Sad smile to match the way everyone is feeling, and even if no one understands the things the two has been through, Uruha thinks that he will keep breathing as long as his lover recovers from this. Because he wants to be there for him. to say sorry, to whisper broken words against Ruki’s small frame, hugging him close, protecting him. Even if the band members hate him, angry black pools of dripping disgust in their glares at him, even if aoi had just punched him after realizing it was all his fault, even if his body is bruised and sore from the anger the rest had thrown in bursts of supernova exploding in furious pain, he does not fight back. He has become a marionette doll, taking Ruki’s place, accepting violence because well, he thinks, its only fair.
His heart feels like it would fall out of his chest any moment, if not for the thin wire called ribcage in that iron clad marionette chest of his, holding his organ back; a thin sheet of pale skin wrapped tight around his body, keeping his innards from spilling out. Uruha wants to make everything better, because this regret is so much worse than living, and he just wants to die. But he cannot die because that would be selfish, and he had already hurt his lover too much to be selfish any longer. So he can feel his innards spilling out, and all he wants to do is scoop them back in because he’s falling apart but he cannot, he has to be there when ruki opens his eyes -
He stares blankly at the white walls (They cage him in).
And Kai anxiously fingers the hem of his shirt, holding Uruha’s head back to stop the bleeding from his nose. Aoi sits silent; stone cold and still furious. Reita leans against the wall in exhaustion, nursing a hot cup of cheap coffee, massaging his forehead with one hand. Sakai looks like death warmed up; he keeps going to the counter at the far end of the long corridor, anxious footsteps resounding in echoes, trying in failure to check on Ruki’s condition. Its all his fault. He knows it and he only feels numbness again.
----
Uruha thinks this is the most surreal and sad thing the band has to go through.
----
He tries to steady his breathing because it’s the only tangible mark of his being alive.
---
&&
Ruki claws his way out of the cracks in between consciousnesses, struggling as tendrils of darkness wrap themselves around him, trying to keep him sedated and in that horrifying place of hatred. But he must get to the surface. He is convinced of this, although he doesn’t know the reason why.
Wide gasps of breathing and silent, frail beatings of his heart, fake blood and morphine still trailing his veins, dragging his consciousness and breathing along with them. The heart rate monitor is beeping slowly, evidence of his life force. The sound cuts through the heavy haze of his brain, blurry fog lifting when he squints his eyes at the painful white lights cutting into his wakefulness through his relenting corneas. He hisses in annoyance.
the light is fucking burning my corneas, is his first thought.
He drowsily opens his eyes, vision finally properly taking in the four white walls, his bandaged arms, and heavy material stifling his head. He blinks, once, twice. He thinks he is finally awake. Soft sighs escaping his lips in poor imitations of breathing.
--
Whispered voices and frantic movements, bright lights and murmurings of his heart. Ruki closes his eyes again because after a few seconds he finally remembers what happened, why he is in this bed, and he wishes suddenly that he had remained in limbo, in the darkness. Rather than deal with the anger and rage or whatever emotions were bound to be thrown in his face. He cannot live up to expectations and responsibilities anymore, cannot play the roles he has to play in his life. He is tired, so very tired. And Uruha. Ruki feels the dull ache in his heart at the thought of his lover, and the blunt knife is once again working its way through his heart (sewn together with clumsy and sloppy threads), tearing bloody holes in the abused organ, like so many times before.
Ruki just wants to go back to sleep, back to the dark oblivion, because he’s exhausted and he doesn’t want to cry anymore.
He doesn’t even think there are tears left in him.
But fate deludes him, commotion arising as he is being rudely awakened with low voices, and, taking in the sights in front of him, the doctors and nurses are frantic and overjoyed that he is awake. Ruki doesn’t have the heart to tell them he wishes he were still unconscious, and so he whispers stoic answers to invading questions, - what is your name, how old are you - do they really think he’s lost his memory or something, and he stares owlishly at the doctor, forcing out assurances like ‘im fine’ and ‘fuck off’. Although the latter probably wasn’t the nicest thing to say to people who just saved his life.
Ruki ignores the blunt, throbbing pain in his entire body, the pain announcing to him of bones fusing back to broken health, wounds closing and crimson vermillion crusting up. His body is sore from recovery and lack of movements, his blacked-out lungs craving a cigarette. Ruki closes his eyes, eyelids crashing together in annoyance, as the doctor finally stops asking him incessant, stupid questions. He wants dark oblivion, not reality.
I just want to quietly live in this lie. A tear almost slips out, without him noticing but Ruki catches himself and forces himself not to cry, not to let that lone tear drop. He is a strong barrier made of glass.
‘‘Fuck off, will you. And please let me sleep.’’ Ruki says, tired words tumbling out of his dry cotton mouth as nurses poke him, taking his temperature, all useless tangible fabrications of what it means to be alive. Ruki thinks bitterly that he has died long ago, back when Uruha first started to hit him and ruin his perspective of love.
So what was all this fuss? He was physically alive but emotionally and mentally dead, were they happy now?
&&
‘’He is awake and conscious, and he is a very grumpy man.’’
The doctor rubs his eyes in exhaustion, a smile faintly tracing the contours of his face in amusement. ‘’His memory appears to be intact and all he lost is copious amounts of blood, which we already transfused back into him; his physical body is still weak and still recovering. His anal walls are healing nicely and there are no signs of infections. All superficial injuries which should take about a week to heal, and then he can be discharged. No lapses in memory, which is pretty amazing since he lost consciousness and the brain tends to block out trauma.’’
The doctor sighs, lines creasing the surface of his skin. ‘’Take care of him then.’’ And he walks away in a blur of white, his entourage of life savers; nurses and assistants following him.
Sakai shouts thanks and words of gratitude after the doctor, and relief and gratitude show on everyone’s faces. Uruha feels the words warming him from deep within, cold frosty bones finally thawing. He jumps to his feet, anxiously pushing the rest out of his way and clutching the doorknob, the door to relief and solace and respite and warm love. An angry growl from Aoi behind him and Uruha suddenly stops, almost crashing into the cold unrelenting door as doubt creeps its way into his heart, the red organ barely beating, guilt stitched into every seam. Fingers trembling as he questions his sanity and whether he is what Ruki really needs right now, because all he can see through the blurry tears (which is what has become his vision); is pain outlined in a crimson inferno on Ruki’s pale skin, tears of suffering squeezing out his soul in a death grip and Ruki’s muffled screams of agony carving themselves on the seams of Uruha's soul, already etched with scars of deep bruised pain.
‘’Fuck off, you don’t deserve to see him.’’
And aoi’s seething, burning words slice into his soul, Uruha feels like a black hole, the earth is being pulled out from under his feet and he knows aoi’s right.
‘'Sorry.’’ Weak gasps of broken whispers and promises threading through his soul strung up like stars in a dark sky. He is nothing, just a black hole devoid of anything, not worthy.
----
And the four men push Uruha aside, entering Ruki’s room quietly, wearing hopeful relief on their faces.
----
Uruha stands outside, alone and weeping, and he feels like guilt and rejection are all that he knows in those seconds that feel like a lifetime.
A/N: hard to write. took an entire day an entire packet of kitkats and half a pack of cigs. I hope you like this. was really really painful because the words just wouldn’t come out, and It didn’t come out the way I wanted it to. Oh well -shrugs- ^^
Chapter: 5/?
Author: buriedinheart
Genre: angst, romance
Warnings: abuse, language, pain, sex, self harm, eating disorder, suicide attempt
Disclaimer: I own no one.
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Uruha x Ruki
Bands: the GazettE
Synopsis: We were pieces of driftwood floating in the raging seas, tornadoes and angry hurricanes.
Comments: '&&' = different scenes, '--'= breaks. ruki finally wakes up, but everything is wrong and uruha doesnt know how to fix things.
Faith is nothing more than damp pillows and cold, lonely sheets. Sighs filling the air in desperation and painful hope of something to keep him grounded in reality; because his soul wants to leave his body in tiny wisps like the broken autumn winds cradling the nape of his neck. Trying to forget reality, of what is and what was, and trying to believe in broken memories of love and what used to be.
Uruha is hurting more than anything he has ever known, because this pain is not physical (and that is much worse because bruises and cuts do heal but emotions are liquid agony), chicken wire is twisting its death grip around his heart, and from his head down to his toes he wants to undo everything. The only words he wants to hear right now is the doctor’s report, he wishes the doctor would come out of the room now and dissipate this heavy tension and apprehension hanging in the air. To know is better than this endless waiting and what ifs.
Sad smile to match the way everyone is feeling, and even if no one understands the things the two has been through, Uruha thinks that he will keep breathing as long as his lover recovers from this. Because he wants to be there for him. to say sorry, to whisper broken words against Ruki’s small frame, hugging him close, protecting him. Even if the band members hate him, angry black pools of dripping disgust in their glares at him, even if aoi had just punched him after realizing it was all his fault, even if his body is bruised and sore from the anger the rest had thrown in bursts of supernova exploding in furious pain, he does not fight back. He has become a marionette doll, taking Ruki’s place, accepting violence because well, he thinks, its only fair.
His heart feels like it would fall out of his chest any moment, if not for the thin wire called ribcage in that iron clad marionette chest of his, holding his organ back; a thin sheet of pale skin wrapped tight around his body, keeping his innards from spilling out. Uruha wants to make everything better, because this regret is so much worse than living, and he just wants to die. But he cannot die because that would be selfish, and he had already hurt his lover too much to be selfish any longer. So he can feel his innards spilling out, and all he wants to do is scoop them back in because he’s falling apart but he cannot, he has to be there when ruki opens his eyes -
He stares blankly at the white walls (They cage him in).
And Kai anxiously fingers the hem of his shirt, holding Uruha’s head back to stop the bleeding from his nose. Aoi sits silent; stone cold and still furious. Reita leans against the wall in exhaustion, nursing a hot cup of cheap coffee, massaging his forehead with one hand. Sakai looks like death warmed up; he keeps going to the counter at the far end of the long corridor, anxious footsteps resounding in echoes, trying in failure to check on Ruki’s condition. Its all his fault. He knows it and he only feels numbness again.
----
Uruha thinks this is the most surreal and sad thing the band has to go through.
----
He tries to steady his breathing because it’s the only tangible mark of his being alive.
---
&&
Ruki claws his way out of the cracks in between consciousnesses, struggling as tendrils of darkness wrap themselves around him, trying to keep him sedated and in that horrifying place of hatred. But he must get to the surface. He is convinced of this, although he doesn’t know the reason why.
Wide gasps of breathing and silent, frail beatings of his heart, fake blood and morphine still trailing his veins, dragging his consciousness and breathing along with them. The heart rate monitor is beeping slowly, evidence of his life force. The sound cuts through the heavy haze of his brain, blurry fog lifting when he squints his eyes at the painful white lights cutting into his wakefulness through his relenting corneas. He hisses in annoyance.
the light is fucking burning my corneas, is his first thought.
He drowsily opens his eyes, vision finally properly taking in the four white walls, his bandaged arms, and heavy material stifling his head. He blinks, once, twice. He thinks he is finally awake. Soft sighs escaping his lips in poor imitations of breathing.
--
Whispered voices and frantic movements, bright lights and murmurings of his heart. Ruki closes his eyes again because after a few seconds he finally remembers what happened, why he is in this bed, and he wishes suddenly that he had remained in limbo, in the darkness. Rather than deal with the anger and rage or whatever emotions were bound to be thrown in his face. He cannot live up to expectations and responsibilities anymore, cannot play the roles he has to play in his life. He is tired, so very tired. And Uruha. Ruki feels the dull ache in his heart at the thought of his lover, and the blunt knife is once again working its way through his heart (sewn together with clumsy and sloppy threads), tearing bloody holes in the abused organ, like so many times before.
Ruki just wants to go back to sleep, back to the dark oblivion, because he’s exhausted and he doesn’t want to cry anymore.
He doesn’t even think there are tears left in him.
But fate deludes him, commotion arising as he is being rudely awakened with low voices, and, taking in the sights in front of him, the doctors and nurses are frantic and overjoyed that he is awake. Ruki doesn’t have the heart to tell them he wishes he were still unconscious, and so he whispers stoic answers to invading questions, - what is your name, how old are you - do they really think he’s lost his memory or something, and he stares owlishly at the doctor, forcing out assurances like ‘im fine’ and ‘fuck off’. Although the latter probably wasn’t the nicest thing to say to people who just saved his life.
Ruki ignores the blunt, throbbing pain in his entire body, the pain announcing to him of bones fusing back to broken health, wounds closing and crimson vermillion crusting up. His body is sore from recovery and lack of movements, his blacked-out lungs craving a cigarette. Ruki closes his eyes, eyelids crashing together in annoyance, as the doctor finally stops asking him incessant, stupid questions. He wants dark oblivion, not reality.
I just want to quietly live in this lie. A tear almost slips out, without him noticing but Ruki catches himself and forces himself not to cry, not to let that lone tear drop. He is a strong barrier made of glass.
‘‘Fuck off, will you. And please let me sleep.’’ Ruki says, tired words tumbling out of his dry cotton mouth as nurses poke him, taking his temperature, all useless tangible fabrications of what it means to be alive. Ruki thinks bitterly that he has died long ago, back when Uruha first started to hit him and ruin his perspective of love.
So what was all this fuss? He was physically alive but emotionally and mentally dead, were they happy now?
&&
‘’He is awake and conscious, and he is a very grumpy man.’’
The doctor rubs his eyes in exhaustion, a smile faintly tracing the contours of his face in amusement. ‘’His memory appears to be intact and all he lost is copious amounts of blood, which we already transfused back into him; his physical body is still weak and still recovering. His anal walls are healing nicely and there are no signs of infections. All superficial injuries which should take about a week to heal, and then he can be discharged. No lapses in memory, which is pretty amazing since he lost consciousness and the brain tends to block out trauma.’’
The doctor sighs, lines creasing the surface of his skin. ‘’Take care of him then.’’ And he walks away in a blur of white, his entourage of life savers; nurses and assistants following him.
Sakai shouts thanks and words of gratitude after the doctor, and relief and gratitude show on everyone’s faces. Uruha feels the words warming him from deep within, cold frosty bones finally thawing. He jumps to his feet, anxiously pushing the rest out of his way and clutching the doorknob, the door to relief and solace and respite and warm love. An angry growl from Aoi behind him and Uruha suddenly stops, almost crashing into the cold unrelenting door as doubt creeps its way into his heart, the red organ barely beating, guilt stitched into every seam. Fingers trembling as he questions his sanity and whether he is what Ruki really needs right now, because all he can see through the blurry tears (which is what has become his vision); is pain outlined in a crimson inferno on Ruki’s pale skin, tears of suffering squeezing out his soul in a death grip and Ruki’s muffled screams of agony carving themselves on the seams of Uruha's soul, already etched with scars of deep bruised pain.
‘’Fuck off, you don’t deserve to see him.’’
And aoi’s seething, burning words slice into his soul, Uruha feels like a black hole, the earth is being pulled out from under his feet and he knows aoi’s right.
‘'Sorry.’’ Weak gasps of broken whispers and promises threading through his soul strung up like stars in a dark sky. He is nothing, just a black hole devoid of anything, not worthy.
----
And the four men push Uruha aside, entering Ruki’s room quietly, wearing hopeful relief on their faces.
----
Uruha stands outside, alone and weeping, and he feels like guilt and rejection are all that he knows in those seconds that feel like a lifetime.
A/N: hard to write. took an entire day an entire packet of kitkats and half a pack of cigs. I hope you like this. was really really painful because the words just wouldn’t come out, and It didn’t come out the way I wanted it to. Oh well -shrugs- ^^