[Fanfic] Mindplay [2/23]
Title: Mindplay.
Author: hikarinoniji
Genre: Angst, dark!fic
Pairing: Hinted Takabu, but none as for now.
Characters: Yabu Kouta, Inoo Kei, Arioka Daiki, Takaki Yuya, Takayama Mikiya, Kumakiri Masaru and Ogata Yamato.
Rating: PG-13 for this chapter.
Warnings: Mind play, alternative universe.
Disclaimer: This story is purely fictional.
Summary: Imagine waking up, knowing you miss something, something very dear to you but you can't remember what it is. You put it off as nothing at first but after a while it starts to bother you. It starts eating you and if you don't watch out it completely devours you. Nothing and no one is what it seems and in the end you have to face a whole different side of yourself.
A/N: This fiction is already fully written, all it's 23 chapters are done. Every once or twice I will update the story.
Chapter 2; Memories
His fingers trembling Masaru lit a cigarette. He puffed out a few gray clouds of smoke before spitting out the almost whole cigarette and trampling it with his shoe.
"Mikiya, fucking mindfuck." He huffed, his eyes red and hallow. He had been drinking. Pulling his jacket over his shoulders, covering the tattoo's on his body for the most parts he scoffed and started walking.
'Like I can ever mistake such a face for someone else’s,' he thought, sober enough to conclude there was nothing wrong with his vision.
"Fucking fucker, playing games with my head," he mumbled as he dug in his pockets to yet again find his package of cigarettes and a lighter. He tried to think straight, not the easiest task with enough liquor in your veins to provide a small party for the rest of the night with a decent amount of drinks.
When had he last met that annoying Masuda-kid? He had told him the news.
"They took him, my Aniki said, there is no way they let him live if they really took him," the younger male said as he sipped from his drink, grimacing at the strong alcoholic taste, "you know Mikiya, speaks before he thinks. These people won't take his fuckery, they-"
"You talk too much," Masaru dryly informed him, gulping away his scotch as if it was lemonade. He placed his glass on the table and got up, throwing some coins on the table. "Mikiya ain't dead until I see his mother fucking corpse right in front of me. Your aniki should stop drinking so much, it's starting to affect his brain."
He barged away, head held high, secretly hoping that what he so firmly had said was true.
He now had seen him. Alive and well. A little different but he was pretty sure it had been the same person. He could recognize him from anywhere. After all they had been... "Bastard," Masaru grumbled, the nicotine stick firmly clenched between his teeth.
"What the fuck happened to you?!" Daiki screeched at his 20-year old lanky friend entered the room, a bag of groceries in his one hand, the other rightly warped around his chest, as if he was holding it together.
Kouta groaned, mumbling something about some idiot calling him Mikiya and punching him when he figured he was being an idiot and talking to the wrong person.
If he hadn't been so busy with complaining about being injured, the ‘icky’ tattoo’s that encircled the other’s body and having to drag all those groceries back home by himself despite being in obvious pain, he could have seen the blood pulling away from the younger man's rosy cheeks. Quickly, the short male grabbed the paper bag and pushed the older's lanky body on the couch.
"Sit. And don't move."
Kouta who rather thought of this as an privilege, the not moving, than as a punishment of some sorts didn't resist and made himself comfortable on the couch, snuggling into the pillows of the couch.
The smaller man walked to the kitchen where he messily threw the groceries in on of the little cabinets before poking his head into the living room again. "You okay, Kou?"
The answer was some content kind of mumbling into the pillow and he figured the older male still had no idea of what was going on. This was probably best for his happiness, but not so much for his well being. His situation now was dangerous and Daiki was worried.
He sighed and looked down at his feet, resisting the urge to crawl next to his friend, bury his head in the older male's chest and bawl his eyes out. He wanted to let the other know, what he missed, what he was supposed to miss. But he couldn't, he wasn't allowed and even if he was it wasn't his place to tell.
Passing the living room seemingly calm, he quickened his pass in the hall and nearly ran by the time he got to the stairs.
He ran to the room, from which a sad piano melody emerged. Without knocking he barged in and after a false note the piano stopped playing. Two dark eyes looked the small male up and down, elbows placed on the white keys and a head resting in its hands.
Kei raised his brows, "Dai-chan?"
"He met Kumakiri," Daiki answered shortly, seeing his friend have the same reaction as he had. His naturally pale skin turned almost white and he bit his lip. There was a glimpse of a worried expression in his glassy eyes, before the 20-year old raven regained repose. "How do you know?
"A guy with tattoos all over his body called him Mikiya. It's already happening, they're already here Kei. And it won't be long before Kouta will meet them and find out," the younger bellowed.
The taller glared, his dark eyes prying at the younger man. "He didn't find out now either, did he?" he snapped.
"That's because Masaru got scared and ran away after hitting your best friend in the stomach." He saw Kei's eyes widen and continued. "But what if Ren sees him and mistakes him for Mikiya? You think he will let him off so easy, after what happened to Yamato? We both know he blames Mikiya for Yamato's situation. And..." he lowered his tone, "he won't hold back."
There was a silence in which Kei's eyes softened and for a second the younger thought he had won. Oh, how he was wrong, because the older male quickly got up, and shoved the younger out, "he is my responsibility. I'll take that risk then."
Shunsuke sighed. "How's Ren?"
"Still the same," was the answer Satoru gave him, running a hand through his short black hair and stealing a quick glance from the room where their mental leader had locked up himself ever since a few days ago. He didn't cry, didn't speak and barely ate. All he did was sitting next to Yamato's bed to hold his hand, wipe away some hair from his forehead and made sure the older male got the necessary amount of food and water through his throat.
"And why didn't we bring Yamato to the hospital again?" Rikiya asked, raising his brow and folding his arms, ready to get into defense.
"Because Ren thinks they might find Yamato and finish it off. This might be harder for us, but is safer for Yamato," Kengo answered, shrugging and poking with a few chopsticks in a bowl of noodles.
"Is that food?" Shunsuke popped up behind his back, eying the bowl and ready it grab it.
"Yes. But not for you," Kengo said, flicking the other's rank fingers with his chopsticks and cocking his head towards the room. "It's for Ren, I'm worried."
Shunsuke looked down, the others nodded in union. Kengo just shrugged and continued poking the noodles as he walked towards the room the others dreaded to walk into. The sight of their two best friends was heartbreaking and the fragile image of the older one sprawled on that bed, not even strong enough to move, eat or even speak felt like a stab in the heart every time they faced it.
Kengo knocked on the door, opened it and met the somber eyes of his friend.
"Ren," he spoke, softly, like and older brother, "eat.."
"I-I can't Honjo... He's and I'm-"
"He'll kick your ass if you don't eat. Now here you go." With those words he placed the bowl of noodles on the stand next to his black haired friend and sat down near the bed himself too.
With a tender hand he took the bottle with an extended straw and placed it on the brown haired male's lips, forcing a bit of water to pass behind those dry lips. He patted the man's head and thought back about when they found him.
Glassy eyes stared into nothing, their vision hazed by tears and blood. He had no idea where he was or even why he was there in the first place. All he knew was that he woke up with a throbbing pain filling his head.
He had tried to get up, his attempt futile as his lanky body refused to go along with him. After a while he had given up, resting his head defeated against the wall.
Had he tried to speak, he would have heard the sound of his own voice, rusty and hoarse, echoing from the walls. But rather than that, he stocked up the little bit of energy that he had to wait for his body to feel compelled to work with him and get out.
He blinked, trying to clear his vision and see what was in the room (or so he assumed he was in) and how he could get out, but aside from a weak, dim light coming from under the door the room was pitch black.
He licked his lips, only now realizing how dry they were, along with his mouth.
Suddenly there were noises. Noises from behind the door, He heard someone screaming, pain, anger, frustration sounding through his voice.
"Yamato!!"
'That's me,' he thought faintly, trying to answer the voice, but finding himself unable to do so.
There were more screams and then... Complete silence. He listened. All of a sudden the door swung open and if he had the power he would have raised his hand to cover himself from the blinding lights that shone his way. Instead, he squinted his eyes at the light and the people standing in it.
"Oh my God... Yamato." he heard next to him, and he weakly looked up. A body fell next to his and pulled him close, sobs emerging from the other and a hitched breath in his neck.
He wanted to raise his hand, to comfort the other. But he couldn't, his whole body refusing to work with him the way he wanted it. All he could do was look.
"Get up Ren, we have to get Yamato out of here."
Ren nodded, and Yamato felt himself being lifted.
He was saved. For now.
Kengo sighed, slightly content with the fact that the black haired male now had given in and silently ate his noodles, trying to forcefully get Yamato to eat them too.
"You'll choke him, and then our rescue was a fail after all," he chuckled despite the situation.
Ren looked his way, his mouth full noodles, clearly offended. "I won't choke him, he just needs to eat!"
"I know, I know," Kengo grinned, patting his head from a safe distance. "He'll be fine, Kazama. He will."
And all the other could do was meekly nod at those words and eat his noodles.
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Author: hikarinoniji
Genre: Angst, dark!fic
Pairing: Hinted Takabu, but none as for now.
Characters: Yabu Kouta, Inoo Kei, Arioka Daiki, Takaki Yuya, Takayama Mikiya, Kumakiri Masaru and Ogata Yamato.
Rating: PG-13 for this chapter.
Warnings: Mind play, alternative universe.
Disclaimer: This story is purely fictional.
Summary: Imagine waking up, knowing you miss something, something very dear to you but you can't remember what it is. You put it off as nothing at first but after a while it starts to bother you. It starts eating you and if you don't watch out it completely devours you. Nothing and no one is what it seems and in the end you have to face a whole different side of yourself.
A/N: This fiction is already fully written, all it's 23 chapters are done. Every once or twice I will update the story.
Chapter 2; Memories
His fingers trembling Masaru lit a cigarette. He puffed out a few gray clouds of smoke before spitting out the almost whole cigarette and trampling it with his shoe.
"Mikiya, fucking mindfuck." He huffed, his eyes red and hallow. He had been drinking. Pulling his jacket over his shoulders, covering the tattoo's on his body for the most parts he scoffed and started walking.
'Like I can ever mistake such a face for someone else’s,' he thought, sober enough to conclude there was nothing wrong with his vision.
"Fucking fucker, playing games with my head," he mumbled as he dug in his pockets to yet again find his package of cigarettes and a lighter. He tried to think straight, not the easiest task with enough liquor in your veins to provide a small party for the rest of the night with a decent amount of drinks.
When had he last met that annoying Masuda-kid? He had told him the news.
"They took him, my Aniki said, there is no way they let him live if they really took him," the younger male said as he sipped from his drink, grimacing at the strong alcoholic taste, "you know Mikiya, speaks before he thinks. These people won't take his fuckery, they-"
"You talk too much," Masaru dryly informed him, gulping away his scotch as if it was lemonade. He placed his glass on the table and got up, throwing some coins on the table. "Mikiya ain't dead until I see his mother fucking corpse right in front of me. Your aniki should stop drinking so much, it's starting to affect his brain."
He barged away, head held high, secretly hoping that what he so firmly had said was true.
He now had seen him. Alive and well. A little different but he was pretty sure it had been the same person. He could recognize him from anywhere. After all they had been... "Bastard," Masaru grumbled, the nicotine stick firmly clenched between his teeth.
"What the fuck happened to you?!" Daiki screeched at his 20-year old lanky friend entered the room, a bag of groceries in his one hand, the other rightly warped around his chest, as if he was holding it together.
Kouta groaned, mumbling something about some idiot calling him Mikiya and punching him when he figured he was being an idiot and talking to the wrong person.
If he hadn't been so busy with complaining about being injured, the ‘icky’ tattoo’s that encircled the other’s body and having to drag all those groceries back home by himself despite being in obvious pain, he could have seen the blood pulling away from the younger man's rosy cheeks. Quickly, the short male grabbed the paper bag and pushed the older's lanky body on the couch.
"Sit. And don't move."
Kouta who rather thought of this as an privilege, the not moving, than as a punishment of some sorts didn't resist and made himself comfortable on the couch, snuggling into the pillows of the couch.
The smaller man walked to the kitchen where he messily threw the groceries in on of the little cabinets before poking his head into the living room again. "You okay, Kou?"
The answer was some content kind of mumbling into the pillow and he figured the older male still had no idea of what was going on. This was probably best for his happiness, but not so much for his well being. His situation now was dangerous and Daiki was worried.
He sighed and looked down at his feet, resisting the urge to crawl next to his friend, bury his head in the older male's chest and bawl his eyes out. He wanted to let the other know, what he missed, what he was supposed to miss. But he couldn't, he wasn't allowed and even if he was it wasn't his place to tell.
Passing the living room seemingly calm, he quickened his pass in the hall and nearly ran by the time he got to the stairs.
He ran to the room, from which a sad piano melody emerged. Without knocking he barged in and after a false note the piano stopped playing. Two dark eyes looked the small male up and down, elbows placed on the white keys and a head resting in its hands.
Kei raised his brows, "Dai-chan?"
"He met Kumakiri," Daiki answered shortly, seeing his friend have the same reaction as he had. His naturally pale skin turned almost white and he bit his lip. There was a glimpse of a worried expression in his glassy eyes, before the 20-year old raven regained repose. "How do you know?
"A guy with tattoos all over his body called him Mikiya. It's already happening, they're already here Kei. And it won't be long before Kouta will meet them and find out," the younger bellowed.
The taller glared, his dark eyes prying at the younger man. "He didn't find out now either, did he?" he snapped.
"That's because Masaru got scared and ran away after hitting your best friend in the stomach." He saw Kei's eyes widen and continued. "But what if Ren sees him and mistakes him for Mikiya? You think he will let him off so easy, after what happened to Yamato? We both know he blames Mikiya for Yamato's situation. And..." he lowered his tone, "he won't hold back."
There was a silence in which Kei's eyes softened and for a second the younger thought he had won. Oh, how he was wrong, because the older male quickly got up, and shoved the younger out, "he is my responsibility. I'll take that risk then."
Shunsuke sighed. "How's Ren?"
"Still the same," was the answer Satoru gave him, running a hand through his short black hair and stealing a quick glance from the room where their mental leader had locked up himself ever since a few days ago. He didn't cry, didn't speak and barely ate. All he did was sitting next to Yamato's bed to hold his hand, wipe away some hair from his forehead and made sure the older male got the necessary amount of food and water through his throat.
"And why didn't we bring Yamato to the hospital again?" Rikiya asked, raising his brow and folding his arms, ready to get into defense.
"Because Ren thinks they might find Yamato and finish it off. This might be harder for us, but is safer for Yamato," Kengo answered, shrugging and poking with a few chopsticks in a bowl of noodles.
"Is that food?" Shunsuke popped up behind his back, eying the bowl and ready it grab it.
"Yes. But not for you," Kengo said, flicking the other's rank fingers with his chopsticks and cocking his head towards the room. "It's for Ren, I'm worried."
Shunsuke looked down, the others nodded in union. Kengo just shrugged and continued poking the noodles as he walked towards the room the others dreaded to walk into. The sight of their two best friends was heartbreaking and the fragile image of the older one sprawled on that bed, not even strong enough to move, eat or even speak felt like a stab in the heart every time they faced it.
Kengo knocked on the door, opened it and met the somber eyes of his friend.
"Ren," he spoke, softly, like and older brother, "eat.."
"I-I can't Honjo... He's and I'm-"
"He'll kick your ass if you don't eat. Now here you go." With those words he placed the bowl of noodles on the stand next to his black haired friend and sat down near the bed himself too.
With a tender hand he took the bottle with an extended straw and placed it on the brown haired male's lips, forcing a bit of water to pass behind those dry lips. He patted the man's head and thought back about when they found him.
Glassy eyes stared into nothing, their vision hazed by tears and blood. He had no idea where he was or even why he was there in the first place. All he knew was that he woke up with a throbbing pain filling his head.
He had tried to get up, his attempt futile as his lanky body refused to go along with him. After a while he had given up, resting his head defeated against the wall.
Had he tried to speak, he would have heard the sound of his own voice, rusty and hoarse, echoing from the walls. But rather than that, he stocked up the little bit of energy that he had to wait for his body to feel compelled to work with him and get out.
He blinked, trying to clear his vision and see what was in the room (or so he assumed he was in) and how he could get out, but aside from a weak, dim light coming from under the door the room was pitch black.
He licked his lips, only now realizing how dry they were, along with his mouth.
Suddenly there were noises. Noises from behind the door, He heard someone screaming, pain, anger, frustration sounding through his voice.
"Yamato!!"
'That's me,' he thought faintly, trying to answer the voice, but finding himself unable to do so.
There were more screams and then... Complete silence. He listened. All of a sudden the door swung open and if he had the power he would have raised his hand to cover himself from the blinding lights that shone his way. Instead, he squinted his eyes at the light and the people standing in it.
"Oh my God... Yamato." he heard next to him, and he weakly looked up. A body fell next to his and pulled him close, sobs emerging from the other and a hitched breath in his neck.
He wanted to raise his hand, to comfort the other. But he couldn't, his whole body refusing to work with him the way he wanted it. All he could do was look.
"Get up Ren, we have to get Yamato out of here."
Ren nodded, and Yamato felt himself being lifted.
He was saved. For now.
Kengo sighed, slightly content with the fact that the black haired male now had given in and silently ate his noodles, trying to forcefully get Yamato to eat them too.
"You'll choke him, and then our rescue was a fail after all," he chuckled despite the situation.
Ren looked his way, his mouth full noodles, clearly offended. "I won't choke him, he just needs to eat!"
"I know, I know," Kengo grinned, patting his head from a safe distance. "He'll be fine, Kazama. He will."
And all the other could do was meekly nod at those words and eat his noodles.
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