008; Chaptered: Painful Bliss (Part Two of Three)
Foreword:
It's delayed, but now it's here. I pulled an all-nighter last night, went out for a drink with friends, and now I feel drowsy and magical. This chapter is a bit 'meh', but we finally get a glimpse of Inoo's life! The next chapter will be the last and I'm having a hunch that it's going to be longer than this one, which is somewhat impossible however. Haha. Enjoy everyone!
Title: Painful Bliss (Part 2 of 3)
Pairing: Takaki Yuya/Inoo Kei
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Rating: PG-13 (Mentions of psychological issues.)
Part One here.
Takaki lounges around in the alley as per usual, waiting for his friends that usually will appear anytime soon to play with him, hopefully rougher than the day before. The cuts on his body, jagged and shallow ones still sting even now, but it adds to the bubbling excitement as well as the possibilities that he might or might not get even more beaten up when the hours of darkness comes to an end. He longs-for the pain that will surely resides in the bruises for days, and for the excitement and the thrill.
Feeling him shivering with anticipation, he pulls out a cigarette and lights it up, marking the fifth cancer stick that he’s smoked merely in the span of an hour. He’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday, splotches of red still adorn the white T-shirt as if it’s supposed to, and those black jeans that he’s been wearing consecutively for months.
It’s not like he dislikes hygiene, but it’s pointless to clean his clothes over and over again, especially since the bloodstains are particularly hard to get rid of. So he wears them on a daily basis, only wash them when it’s absolutely necessary, meanwhile his more decent clothes piling up at home. But he’s rarely home, anyway.
Today is particularly windy, but he has been spending the night on the bench so he leaves off the weather report since he’s busy relishing the sensation of the aches in his body-as well as the lack of garments on him mixed with the numbing weather-spreading through his blood like wildfire. It feels like ecstasy, albeit even better than that.
“Oh, our dear toy has come!” A familiar rough voice, husky and hoarse, reaches his ear and he perks up like an anticipated puppy. Takaki is able to make out a group of men from his peripheral vision with same looking expressions painting their face-one that shows hunger-burning hot and raw, that one emotion Takaki’s more than familiar with. He gulps in anticipation, throwing his cigarette onto the puddle of water on his feet from the rain earlier, and walks toward them with steady pace, his face void of emotion, masking his internal exhilaration.
The boss gazes at him up and down, looking slightly repugnant at his lack of cleanliness, however showing no sign of letting him go just like that. Takaki knows he’s good at this, the best, even. Takaki sleeps with each of them quite regularly, and their moans and groans of pleasure indicate no sign of dissatisfaction. It doesn’t mean that he, himself, likes sleeping with these disgusting men, but since they share a singular trait that Takaki wants, no-needs, he’s more than willing to whore himself out to feel that rapturing sensation, one that resembles a sweet, sweet drug that makes you keep coming back.
“Well, well, well.” The boss' mouth toys with his toothpick that half-dangling from his mouth (they probably have just eaten supper somewhere) and plays out a smirk when they finally meet halfway. His rough and huge hand reaches to tug Takaki’s hair back and he dips to give a languid lick on the side of his neck. “What a surprise. Not satisfied enough from last night, I presume?”
Takaki feels the need to spit to the ground, or preferably the old man’s face, but refrains himself-eventhough he’ll be punished and it will heighten the thrill of this adventure-unfortunately enough for him-he actually has to go home tonight in respect to the event that befalls him on the following day (As his parents have kindly put it-some sort of ‘gathering’, which is basically another name for an arranged date).
“Fuck you, old man.” He spits to the ground instead, and the old man sees red.
He smirks when he receives a punch in the gut in response, his body bent forward in reflex. He can almost certainly feel another hand on this body, shoving him backwards and turns him around for his face to collide with the wall.
“You never learn, do you?” Another voice pipes in behind him, and several of their guys yell to ‘get it on’. Takaki grunts in surprise when one of them daringly tugs on his hair backwards and shoves it forward to let it strike onto the cemented wall, not caring one bit about the possible concussion that would perhaps occur if this continues.
Takaki-already deciding to fuck tomorrow’s ‘event’ at home-feels more than happy to indulge in whatever kinks they have, as he has all the time in the world right now.
“I-is that all… You got? Losers.” Takaki turns his head toward them, feeling his mouth bubbles with blood, and he spits at one of them in the face, a grin taunting them challengingly.
Each of them smirks while one (the fucker he spat on) looks entirely livid-and the fun night begins.
. . .
He taps the cap that’s connected to the pen impatiently to his desk, his eyes droopy from the lack of sleep yet he keeps himself focused thanks to his daily cup of caffeine that sits around on his desk for hours now. It is already 12 AM and there’s barely any sign of life still occupying the school except him. And while his diligence is certainly one beneficial trait that keeps him on the top of his university-ranking-wise, this is also conceivably a major factor in keeping him stressed and sleep-deprived all the time.
He looks down to the pile of papers of ‘assignment’ before him, feeling like he should add more information to it for extra marks. He quickly flips the pages and after a long moment of contemplation, finally deemed it enough for him to hand them to the lecturer tomorrow.
Inoo leans back to his chair, the back of his neck resting on top of the chair, letting out a deep sigh that signals his distress. His hands fall down to his sides, and, almost reflexively, closes his eyes in order to wash out the dull ache thumping inside his brain. He still has tons of other assignments to do, but the deadline is months away so he still has enough time to do the rest.
Inoo sighs to the ceiling, eyes still closed.
Might as well go back now.
Sluggishly, he shoves all his stationeries and papers back to his backpack and quickly rises from his seat, before he’s forced to plop back down as his vision blurs and everything’s spinning. Inoo groans-crossed arms on the desk as he dives his head to rest on them. Now he knows that he has pushed himself way too far. Reminding himself not to bolt himself out of the chair immediately, he chooses to rise slowly this time, and with great strength that he doesn’t know he possesses, calmly walks out of the classroom.
After reaching towards the front door, he pushes it open only to realize that it’s worse than the weather report has predicted this morning. All he sees is white-despite the lack of lighting in the school compound, and it doesn’t hinder the fact that the whiteness is still piling up as time goes.
Rubbing his hands together to provide himself some warmth doesn’t help in the slightest bit-but he does, and as he pulls his winter coat tighter to his body, he walks along the snow-covered path and out of the school compound in no time.
Tonight-or rather, today-marks his fifth day of walking to this area this late by now, and truth be told he still is quite reluctant to go to this part of town, but he lacks any other choice. His house is located at the commoner side of town, as opposed to his school that’s established at the high-end community side, and what separates them is the rural part where nightclubs and bars are at, and of course a perfect place where lawbreakers and self-acclaimed ‘schoolboy’ delinquents lurk. His parents used to warn him even since he was small, not to wander around the part of town because of vampires and monsters that live there. And growing up, he still thinks that it’s a moot point.
His boots scrunch against the white, his hands tucked into the pocket on his coat, and he breathes heavily against the air. The thick silvery smoke wafts out from his breath-showing how cold it really is, and he decides that he has to be quick otherwise he’ll catch a cold or some sort. He feels cold and slightly dizzy, after all.
Even if there’s nobody waiting back at his house, he finds it uncomfortable to be out this late. But he knows sitting around his house doing assignments won’t be very effective, distractions are everywhere and his collection of mangas don’t help in the slightest. The school provides the best sources of information necessary for any assignments anywhere and he’s able to focus easily, so there’s that as well.
He stops when the sounds of grunts, followed by a series of punches being thrown, and raspy maniacal laughter from afar reaches his ears. He almost stops breathing when one of them shouts ‘he’s dying!’-Indicating whoever he is must be in serious misfortune, and then the reverberation of pummeling stops.
Inoo panics, as he suddenly perceives brisk footsteps gradually coming closer, and-looking around frantically, instinctively searches for a good temporary refuge. These batches of men are not up to any good and as sick and tired as Inoo is, he’s not ready to die yet.
Locating a dumpster near him, he throws himself beside it as he squats down, curling his body into a ball, hiding his face inside his arms, successfully concealing himself from view, just in time when the footsteps turns left at the intersection toward the alley he’s in and they walk pass by. He tenses when he realizes that they must be 10 or even 20 of them, as the footsteps seemingly aren’t going away.
He breathes, warily. And the headache comes back full force as he grits his teeth, holding his head tightly with his palms. The men are long gone by now, and therefore they’re not a threat anymore. He rises, supporting himself with his hand on the wall, and walks home.
Or is going to anyway, before he realizes that there’s something else he has missed out.
Inoo strides back to turn left, in the direction of the alley that he’s no longer familiar of, and spots the subject of their earlier assault.
The pulverized man is unconscious; blood is oozing out from everywhere, smearing out the white ground, as he is slumped down against the wall, his one knee bent, both of his arms limp against his sides, his face hidden by his red-matted hair as he looks down to the ground, or rather-passes out. Inoo chokes when he raises the man’s chin slightly, however enough for him to recognize who he is.
“Takaki,” He breathes out. Feeling a sense of adrenaline coursing through his veins like venom, he supports Takaki and raises himself from the ground. Inoo is considerately leaner and lighter in frame, while Takaki is similarly lean, albeit holding a slightly bigger frame than he is, and taller as well.
Inoo supports his dead weight with all his might; walks achingly slow towards his house. The snow mercilessly pours down, and Takaki is almost certainly has a concussion, indicated from the endless discharging blood from his head. Inoo trudges wearily, his own headache not easing in the slightest.
Finally out of the alley, he half-drags Takaki, not being able to support him anymore.
Miraculously he somehow makes it inside his apartment compound, walks inside the elevator, punches in the button of his floor, and drags both of them out of the box of metal, however instead of ploughing their way to his own unit, he hits the doorbell of the unit beside his.
He hears his friend curse, although eventually opens the front door hastily. Inoo would’ve laughed at his expression if not for how he’s badly sick and feverish. But he’s aware that the main concern now is Takaki, he needs to get to the hospital, and while Inoo doesn’t have any car, his friend does.
“Yabu,” Inoo starts weakly. Without being told to, Yabu is already aiding to support the bloodied man with his arm, apprehension already etched upon his facial expression. Inoo breathes, and whispers. “Taka-him… Hospital-ple-”
“Let’s go.” Yabu cuts him short, and they both make their way to Yabu’s vehicle.
Inoo doesn’t know where his strength comes from, but he doesn’t dwell much on it. He’s already sick as it is, and although it’s a miracle that he still remains conscious and able to think clearly-he feels ready to tumble down any time now.
Yabu is a friendly neighbor that came from Yokohama a year ago. Inoo helped him adjust to the life here in Tokyo and in turn he has helped Inoo in so many ways, giving him advices for cooking or his-sometimes ridiculous-philosophies and tons of ideas for his assignments when Inoo’s at his usual dead-ends. They’re best friends, if you’d call them one, and as they are neighbors, it’s not hard to develop a close friendship with the other.
Inoo doesn’t sleep in the car, afraid if he does, he won’t be able to wake up.
They arrive at the hospital at last, nurses rushing forward to bring Takaki onto the emergency stretcher and disappear inside the door. Inoo feels like he should come too, but his legs are giving up and from his blurred vision he can see Yabu is quickly to follow the nurses.
Takaki’s safe, so it’s okay to sleep, his mind says, but the voice is distant and he shakes his head in disagreement. He gives a choke as-the feeling of his headache that splits his head into two-comes back, and finally realizing he’s currently passing out, he gives up fighting, eventually succumbs to the long awaiting darkness that has been skulking around his peripheral vision.
He swears he hears the frantic voices that emanate from his neighbor, but all he visions is the face of Takaki.
(tbc.)
It's delayed, but now it's here. I pulled an all-nighter last night, went out for a drink with friends, and now I feel drowsy and magical. This chapter is a bit 'meh', but we finally get a glimpse of Inoo's life! The next chapter will be the last and I'm having a hunch that it's going to be longer than this one, which is somewhat impossible however. Haha. Enjoy everyone!
Title: Painful Bliss (Part 2 of 3)
Pairing: Takaki Yuya/Inoo Kei
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Rating: PG-13 (Mentions of psychological issues.)
Part One here.
Takaki lounges around in the alley as per usual, waiting for his friends that usually will appear anytime soon to play with him, hopefully rougher than the day before. The cuts on his body, jagged and shallow ones still sting even now, but it adds to the bubbling excitement as well as the possibilities that he might or might not get even more beaten up when the hours of darkness comes to an end. He longs-for the pain that will surely resides in the bruises for days, and for the excitement and the thrill.
Feeling him shivering with anticipation, he pulls out a cigarette and lights it up, marking the fifth cancer stick that he’s smoked merely in the span of an hour. He’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday, splotches of red still adorn the white T-shirt as if it’s supposed to, and those black jeans that he’s been wearing consecutively for months.
It’s not like he dislikes hygiene, but it’s pointless to clean his clothes over and over again, especially since the bloodstains are particularly hard to get rid of. So he wears them on a daily basis, only wash them when it’s absolutely necessary, meanwhile his more decent clothes piling up at home. But he’s rarely home, anyway.
Today is particularly windy, but he has been spending the night on the bench so he leaves off the weather report since he’s busy relishing the sensation of the aches in his body-as well as the lack of garments on him mixed with the numbing weather-spreading through his blood like wildfire. It feels like ecstasy, albeit even better than that.
“Oh, our dear toy has come!” A familiar rough voice, husky and hoarse, reaches his ear and he perks up like an anticipated puppy. Takaki is able to make out a group of men from his peripheral vision with same looking expressions painting their face-one that shows hunger-burning hot and raw, that one emotion Takaki’s more than familiar with. He gulps in anticipation, throwing his cigarette onto the puddle of water on his feet from the rain earlier, and walks toward them with steady pace, his face void of emotion, masking his internal exhilaration.
The boss gazes at him up and down, looking slightly repugnant at his lack of cleanliness, however showing no sign of letting him go just like that. Takaki knows he’s good at this, the best, even. Takaki sleeps with each of them quite regularly, and their moans and groans of pleasure indicate no sign of dissatisfaction. It doesn’t mean that he, himself, likes sleeping with these disgusting men, but since they share a singular trait that Takaki wants, no-needs, he’s more than willing to whore himself out to feel that rapturing sensation, one that resembles a sweet, sweet drug that makes you keep coming back.
“Well, well, well.” The boss' mouth toys with his toothpick that half-dangling from his mouth (they probably have just eaten supper somewhere) and plays out a smirk when they finally meet halfway. His rough and huge hand reaches to tug Takaki’s hair back and he dips to give a languid lick on the side of his neck. “What a surprise. Not satisfied enough from last night, I presume?”
Takaki feels the need to spit to the ground, or preferably the old man’s face, but refrains himself-eventhough he’ll be punished and it will heighten the thrill of this adventure-unfortunately enough for him-he actually has to go home tonight in respect to the event that befalls him on the following day (As his parents have kindly put it-some sort of ‘gathering’, which is basically another name for an arranged date).
“Fuck you, old man.” He spits to the ground instead, and the old man sees red.
He smirks when he receives a punch in the gut in response, his body bent forward in reflex. He can almost certainly feel another hand on this body, shoving him backwards and turns him around for his face to collide with the wall.
“You never learn, do you?” Another voice pipes in behind him, and several of their guys yell to ‘get it on’. Takaki grunts in surprise when one of them daringly tugs on his hair backwards and shoves it forward to let it strike onto the cemented wall, not caring one bit about the possible concussion that would perhaps occur if this continues.
Takaki-already deciding to fuck tomorrow’s ‘event’ at home-feels more than happy to indulge in whatever kinks they have, as he has all the time in the world right now.
“I-is that all… You got? Losers.” Takaki turns his head toward them, feeling his mouth bubbles with blood, and he spits at one of them in the face, a grin taunting them challengingly.
Each of them smirks while one (the fucker he spat on) looks entirely livid-and the fun night begins.
. . .
He taps the cap that’s connected to the pen impatiently to his desk, his eyes droopy from the lack of sleep yet he keeps himself focused thanks to his daily cup of caffeine that sits around on his desk for hours now. It is already 12 AM and there’s barely any sign of life still occupying the school except him. And while his diligence is certainly one beneficial trait that keeps him on the top of his university-ranking-wise, this is also conceivably a major factor in keeping him stressed and sleep-deprived all the time.
He looks down to the pile of papers of ‘assignment’ before him, feeling like he should add more information to it for extra marks. He quickly flips the pages and after a long moment of contemplation, finally deemed it enough for him to hand them to the lecturer tomorrow.
Inoo leans back to his chair, the back of his neck resting on top of the chair, letting out a deep sigh that signals his distress. His hands fall down to his sides, and, almost reflexively, closes his eyes in order to wash out the dull ache thumping inside his brain. He still has tons of other assignments to do, but the deadline is months away so he still has enough time to do the rest.
Inoo sighs to the ceiling, eyes still closed.
Might as well go back now.
Sluggishly, he shoves all his stationeries and papers back to his backpack and quickly rises from his seat, before he’s forced to plop back down as his vision blurs and everything’s spinning. Inoo groans-crossed arms on the desk as he dives his head to rest on them. Now he knows that he has pushed himself way too far. Reminding himself not to bolt himself out of the chair immediately, he chooses to rise slowly this time, and with great strength that he doesn’t know he possesses, calmly walks out of the classroom.
After reaching towards the front door, he pushes it open only to realize that it’s worse than the weather report has predicted this morning. All he sees is white-despite the lack of lighting in the school compound, and it doesn’t hinder the fact that the whiteness is still piling up as time goes.
Rubbing his hands together to provide himself some warmth doesn’t help in the slightest bit-but he does, and as he pulls his winter coat tighter to his body, he walks along the snow-covered path and out of the school compound in no time.
Tonight-or rather, today-marks his fifth day of walking to this area this late by now, and truth be told he still is quite reluctant to go to this part of town, but he lacks any other choice. His house is located at the commoner side of town, as opposed to his school that’s established at the high-end community side, and what separates them is the rural part where nightclubs and bars are at, and of course a perfect place where lawbreakers and self-acclaimed ‘schoolboy’ delinquents lurk. His parents used to warn him even since he was small, not to wander around the part of town because of vampires and monsters that live there. And growing up, he still thinks that it’s a moot point.
His boots scrunch against the white, his hands tucked into the pocket on his coat, and he breathes heavily against the air. The thick silvery smoke wafts out from his breath-showing how cold it really is, and he decides that he has to be quick otherwise he’ll catch a cold or some sort. He feels cold and slightly dizzy, after all.
Even if there’s nobody waiting back at his house, he finds it uncomfortable to be out this late. But he knows sitting around his house doing assignments won’t be very effective, distractions are everywhere and his collection of mangas don’t help in the slightest. The school provides the best sources of information necessary for any assignments anywhere and he’s able to focus easily, so there’s that as well.
He stops when the sounds of grunts, followed by a series of punches being thrown, and raspy maniacal laughter from afar reaches his ears. He almost stops breathing when one of them shouts ‘he’s dying!’-Indicating whoever he is must be in serious misfortune, and then the reverberation of pummeling stops.
Inoo panics, as he suddenly perceives brisk footsteps gradually coming closer, and-looking around frantically, instinctively searches for a good temporary refuge. These batches of men are not up to any good and as sick and tired as Inoo is, he’s not ready to die yet.
Locating a dumpster near him, he throws himself beside it as he squats down, curling his body into a ball, hiding his face inside his arms, successfully concealing himself from view, just in time when the footsteps turns left at the intersection toward the alley he’s in and they walk pass by. He tenses when he realizes that they must be 10 or even 20 of them, as the footsteps seemingly aren’t going away.
He breathes, warily. And the headache comes back full force as he grits his teeth, holding his head tightly with his palms. The men are long gone by now, and therefore they’re not a threat anymore. He rises, supporting himself with his hand on the wall, and walks home.
Or is going to anyway, before he realizes that there’s something else he has missed out.
Inoo strides back to turn left, in the direction of the alley that he’s no longer familiar of, and spots the subject of their earlier assault.
The pulverized man is unconscious; blood is oozing out from everywhere, smearing out the white ground, as he is slumped down against the wall, his one knee bent, both of his arms limp against his sides, his face hidden by his red-matted hair as he looks down to the ground, or rather-passes out. Inoo chokes when he raises the man’s chin slightly, however enough for him to recognize who he is.
“Takaki,” He breathes out. Feeling a sense of adrenaline coursing through his veins like venom, he supports Takaki and raises himself from the ground. Inoo is considerately leaner and lighter in frame, while Takaki is similarly lean, albeit holding a slightly bigger frame than he is, and taller as well.
Inoo supports his dead weight with all his might; walks achingly slow towards his house. The snow mercilessly pours down, and Takaki is almost certainly has a concussion, indicated from the endless discharging blood from his head. Inoo trudges wearily, his own headache not easing in the slightest.
Finally out of the alley, he half-drags Takaki, not being able to support him anymore.
Miraculously he somehow makes it inside his apartment compound, walks inside the elevator, punches in the button of his floor, and drags both of them out of the box of metal, however instead of ploughing their way to his own unit, he hits the doorbell of the unit beside his.
He hears his friend curse, although eventually opens the front door hastily. Inoo would’ve laughed at his expression if not for how he’s badly sick and feverish. But he’s aware that the main concern now is Takaki, he needs to get to the hospital, and while Inoo doesn’t have any car, his friend does.
“Yabu,” Inoo starts weakly. Without being told to, Yabu is already aiding to support the bloodied man with his arm, apprehension already etched upon his facial expression. Inoo breathes, and whispers. “Taka-him… Hospital-ple-”
“Let’s go.” Yabu cuts him short, and they both make their way to Yabu’s vehicle.
Inoo doesn’t know where his strength comes from, but he doesn’t dwell much on it. He’s already sick as it is, and although it’s a miracle that he still remains conscious and able to think clearly-he feels ready to tumble down any time now.
Yabu is a friendly neighbor that came from Yokohama a year ago. Inoo helped him adjust to the life here in Tokyo and in turn he has helped Inoo in so many ways, giving him advices for cooking or his-sometimes ridiculous-philosophies and tons of ideas for his assignments when Inoo’s at his usual dead-ends. They’re best friends, if you’d call them one, and as they are neighbors, it’s not hard to develop a close friendship with the other.
Inoo doesn’t sleep in the car, afraid if he does, he won’t be able to wake up.
They arrive at the hospital at last, nurses rushing forward to bring Takaki onto the emergency stretcher and disappear inside the door. Inoo feels like he should come too, but his legs are giving up and from his blurred vision he can see Yabu is quickly to follow the nurses.
Takaki’s safe, so it’s okay to sleep, his mind says, but the voice is distant and he shakes his head in disagreement. He gives a choke as-the feeling of his headache that splits his head into two-comes back, and finally realizing he’s currently passing out, he gives up fighting, eventually succumbs to the long awaiting darkness that has been skulking around his peripheral vision.
He swears he hears the frantic voices that emanate from his neighbor, but all he visions is the face of Takaki.
(tbc.)