fic!
Follows this event. (LINK IS TO A GRAPHIC RAPE SCENE)
'Pretend'
The light of Brian's cigarette glowed in the darkness, not brighter but sharper than the diffused street lamp several stories below. Rui hadn't noticed on the way to the bathroom that Brian was up, much less that he was curled in the windowsill smoking. His wrist rested on his knee, the fingers of his hand holding the cigarette curled slightly, relaxed, probably just barely keeping the smoldering tip from falling.
Brian moved his arm and ashed out the window, and Rui blinked at the fact that it was open; the screen was up. If the older man fell, it would likely be to his death, and both of his legs were up on the sill.
He padded across the room quietly, making just enough noise not to startle, but knowing he wouldn't -- Brian would have heard him in the bathroom. Lidded brown eyes just stared out the window at nothing in particular. When Rui was at his shoulder, Brian spoke. "I remember the day my son was born," he murmured, voice as soft as the lamp light. "Not too clearly, I was..." he shrugged, as if in regret, although Brian never regretted a thing. "Mikey and I went up to the roof, and I stood on the ledge and said I could fly."
Rui didn't ask who Mikey was. Brian rarely mentioned anyone from home. He'd never mentioned that he was a father.
"He isn't really mine," Brian continued, and for a moment Rui thought he'd meant Mikey, whoever that was. The older man was now leaning his head back against the window frame. "I know these dykes, see. Wanted a baby."
Was he expected to respond? Even if he was, there was nothing to say; it wasn't uncommon that the other would speak, and Rui just nod or shrug or smile, but none of those seemed appropriate now. So he listened, felt the cool night breeze across his bare chest and the cracks of the hardwood floor against the soles of his feet. Felt Brian's voice roll over him, like water while standing in a stream.
"Justin named him."
Two names now, that Rui had never heard.
"The three of us were running... down the hall, I think I hit a nurse's cart. She cursed at me right in front of these little kids. Corruption of youth, toss another one onto my resume." He lifted the cigarette to his mouth, breathed in; the tip glowed brighter and then smoke curled into the air, bluish in the dark. "Ever thought about having a kid?"
Of course he had. He was a Hanazawa; he'd have children. He got the feeling, however, that wasn't what Brian was asking. Did he particularly want kids? Did he think about being a father? "No." It was as honest as he was going to get.
"Heh," Brian huffed, smoke billowing in inelegant puffs. "Me neither."
He flicked again, then lifted the cigarette in offering. Rui took it without comment.
"You can kill it. I think I'm going back to bed." He made as if to get up, one leg dropping to the inside of the window, foot on the floor. But as he stood, his other heel slipped, and his body leaned dangerously into the open window. Rui grasped at Brian's arm, pulling him in, and the other man wound up stumbling against him, free hand on Rui's waist for balance. "Whoops."
He was high. Or drunk. Something besides nicotine was running through his veins, anyway. "You should be more careful," Rui said, not scolding or warning, just stating.
Brian only pressed in. "I live for danger," he intoned seriously, chest pressing into Rui's, firm and smooth, their stomachs brushing with every breath, soft and warm.
Sure he did. Sure, Brian.
As Rui meant to pull away, Brian's head dropped to his shoulder; his breath hitched. Rui's brow furrowed, and he tossed what was left of the cigarette out the window.
"Do you think we'll ever get out of here?"
Not until this place had broken them both. Completely. Irrevocably. Miserably. "Yes," he answered, because the question was simple. Did he think this? Yes. He would not elaborate. And he felt fairly certain Brian would not ask.
"Oh good." Brian's shoulder's drooped, and Rui wondered if he missed his friends. He'd never acted like he did, before.
"Let's go back to bed."
"No."
...there was only one reason Rui could think why Brian would say no, and it made something in his gut coil with disgust. Probably the same reason Brian got out of bed to start with. The warmth of someone next to him, the weight of another body...
"You go, then, and I'll sleep out here."
"No."
Stubborn bastard.
"What do you want, then?"
Brian lifted his head, and Rui saw something else he never had, even when Brian had cried; there was sadness in his eyes. "Debbie's fucking tuna casserole." He laughed, then, but it was a wounded sound, and Rui didn't ask who Debbie was, or why Brian would ever eat something like that without complaint. Likely he did complain. Rui might have offered to try making it, to try and cheer his roommate up, to let him mock him for how bad it was, if Brian was allowed solids right now in the first place.
"Come on," he urged, sliding a hand around Brian's back to settle on his waist. And Brian went, slowly, weaving a bit in the dark as they wound their way around the coffee table and then the bedroom door. He meant to deposit the other man in bed and go, but Brian pulled him down, grasping, muttering. Something about Rui being too tall, too broad. Who did he want Rui to be?
It sort of made him wonder why he was there in the first place.
Rui petted Brian's hair until he fell asleep, or to some semblance of sleep where his eyes were closed and his breathing steady, his arm heavy over Rui's stomach.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, while he could, without Brian snapping angrily that it wasn't his fault. Because he needed to. Because he was afraid, and still guilty, and so very, very tired of pretending he wasn't a wreck. He suspected Brian was, as well, but what else was there to do?
There was a sigh, and Brian stirred in his sleep, shifting more onto his stomach and more atop Rui. In the morning, it would be back to 'normal.' But for now, he could close his eyes and know it wasn't.
Rui's fingers continued to thread gently through Brian's hair.
'Pretend'
The light of Brian's cigarette glowed in the darkness, not brighter but sharper than the diffused street lamp several stories below. Rui hadn't noticed on the way to the bathroom that Brian was up, much less that he was curled in the windowsill smoking. His wrist rested on his knee, the fingers of his hand holding the cigarette curled slightly, relaxed, probably just barely keeping the smoldering tip from falling.
Brian moved his arm and ashed out the window, and Rui blinked at the fact that it was open; the screen was up. If the older man fell, it would likely be to his death, and both of his legs were up on the sill.
He padded across the room quietly, making just enough noise not to startle, but knowing he wouldn't -- Brian would have heard him in the bathroom. Lidded brown eyes just stared out the window at nothing in particular. When Rui was at his shoulder, Brian spoke. "I remember the day my son was born," he murmured, voice as soft as the lamp light. "Not too clearly, I was..." he shrugged, as if in regret, although Brian never regretted a thing. "Mikey and I went up to the roof, and I stood on the ledge and said I could fly."
Rui didn't ask who Mikey was. Brian rarely mentioned anyone from home. He'd never mentioned that he was a father.
"He isn't really mine," Brian continued, and for a moment Rui thought he'd meant Mikey, whoever that was. The older man was now leaning his head back against the window frame. "I know these dykes, see. Wanted a baby."
Was he expected to respond? Even if he was, there was nothing to say; it wasn't uncommon that the other would speak, and Rui just nod or shrug or smile, but none of those seemed appropriate now. So he listened, felt the cool night breeze across his bare chest and the cracks of the hardwood floor against the soles of his feet. Felt Brian's voice roll over him, like water while standing in a stream.
"Justin named him."
Two names now, that Rui had never heard.
"The three of us were running... down the hall, I think I hit a nurse's cart. She cursed at me right in front of these little kids. Corruption of youth, toss another one onto my resume." He lifted the cigarette to his mouth, breathed in; the tip glowed brighter and then smoke curled into the air, bluish in the dark. "Ever thought about having a kid?"
Of course he had. He was a Hanazawa; he'd have children. He got the feeling, however, that wasn't what Brian was asking. Did he particularly want kids? Did he think about being a father? "No." It was as honest as he was going to get.
"Heh," Brian huffed, smoke billowing in inelegant puffs. "Me neither."
He flicked again, then lifted the cigarette in offering. Rui took it without comment.
"You can kill it. I think I'm going back to bed." He made as if to get up, one leg dropping to the inside of the window, foot on the floor. But as he stood, his other heel slipped, and his body leaned dangerously into the open window. Rui grasped at Brian's arm, pulling him in, and the other man wound up stumbling against him, free hand on Rui's waist for balance. "Whoops."
He was high. Or drunk. Something besides nicotine was running through his veins, anyway. "You should be more careful," Rui said, not scolding or warning, just stating.
Brian only pressed in. "I live for danger," he intoned seriously, chest pressing into Rui's, firm and smooth, their stomachs brushing with every breath, soft and warm.
Sure he did. Sure, Brian.
As Rui meant to pull away, Brian's head dropped to his shoulder; his breath hitched. Rui's brow furrowed, and he tossed what was left of the cigarette out the window.
"Do you think we'll ever get out of here?"
Not until this place had broken them both. Completely. Irrevocably. Miserably. "Yes," he answered, because the question was simple. Did he think this? Yes. He would not elaborate. And he felt fairly certain Brian would not ask.
"Oh good." Brian's shoulder's drooped, and Rui wondered if he missed his friends. He'd never acted like he did, before.
"Let's go back to bed."
"No."
...there was only one reason Rui could think why Brian would say no, and it made something in his gut coil with disgust. Probably the same reason Brian got out of bed to start with. The warmth of someone next to him, the weight of another body...
"You go, then, and I'll sleep out here."
"No."
Stubborn bastard.
"What do you want, then?"
Brian lifted his head, and Rui saw something else he never had, even when Brian had cried; there was sadness in his eyes. "Debbie's fucking tuna casserole." He laughed, then, but it was a wounded sound, and Rui didn't ask who Debbie was, or why Brian would ever eat something like that without complaint. Likely he did complain. Rui might have offered to try making it, to try and cheer his roommate up, to let him mock him for how bad it was, if Brian was allowed solids right now in the first place.
"Come on," he urged, sliding a hand around Brian's back to settle on his waist. And Brian went, slowly, weaving a bit in the dark as they wound their way around the coffee table and then the bedroom door. He meant to deposit the other man in bed and go, but Brian pulled him down, grasping, muttering. Something about Rui being too tall, too broad. Who did he want Rui to be?
It sort of made him wonder why he was there in the first place.
Rui petted Brian's hair until he fell asleep, or to some semblance of sleep where his eyes were closed and his breathing steady, his arm heavy over Rui's stomach.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, while he could, without Brian snapping angrily that it wasn't his fault. Because he needed to. Because he was afraid, and still guilty, and so very, very tired of pretending he wasn't a wreck. He suspected Brian was, as well, but what else was there to do?
There was a sigh, and Brian stirred in his sleep, shifting more onto his stomach and more atop Rui. In the morning, it would be back to 'normal.' But for now, he could close his eyes and know it wasn't.
Rui's fingers continued to thread gently through Brian's hair.