[untitled]
Title: [untitled]
Author: Reita-tattoo
Rating: R
Genre: Angst, drama
Disclaimer: If I owned them, there's no way in hell I'd write this half-assed shit about them. I'd film then 24/7.
Warning(s): Character death and weirdness.
Author's Note: The original idea was awesome. The finished product... Not as awesome >.< Too tired to re-write, though.
And it's rushed and just weird, weird, weird. Hope you enjoy anyway! Btw, anyone got an idea of a title?
And he’s breaking, shaking, gasping for breath because he’s alone again and it’s so, so cold. It’s dark and his head is hurting and this place is so familiar yet he feels like he does not at all belong here. A door squeaks from somewhere within and he knows, because the sound is so, so familiar. But he can’t place it.
“H-Hello?” he whispers. “Anyone?” a little louder. He can hear steps approaching him, and with them comes heavy breaths. He knows those breaths and he lets out a little panicked sob. Not again… “Takanori, my love, why are you crying?” The voice he used to love is cold and hard and how he wished he never heard it in the first place. He doesn’t answer, just tries to make himself smaller. “What are you doing? C’mere.” A hand grabs his arm and he tries to break free, but the other is strong, way too strong for him.
“Let me go!” he tries to scream, but his voice comes out as an unrecognizable croak, and Akira laughs. “Why should I? You’re mine, mine, mine.” He knows it’s not worth it, he knows he’ll have to pay for it, but he keeps struggling, desperate to get out of this place, desperate for warmth and light and love. “What the fuck are you doing?” Akira suddenly hisses and moves his right hand from Takanori’s arm to his throat. Takanori almost stops breathing, terrified of what Akira will do next. But then the hand is gone and he’s pulling the now-still Takanori along again, cursing under his breath.
He’s thrown into another room, equally as dark and his mind goes blank as he stumbles backwards against a bed. No, no, no… But yes, Akira is coming towards him and he doesn’t waste any time in pinning him to the bed and tying his hands to the bedpost. “That’s what you get for hiding, Taka” he says before he leaves the room. He probably won’t come back until tomorrow, Takanori knows that, and yet he screams for him to come back, kicks all around him and tries to get out of his restraints, to no avail.
In the end, he gives up because his throat is sore, his headache is worse than ever and he’s sure he almost broke his wrist. Instead he opts for crying himself to sleep silently and waiting for Akira to come back, because even that is better than this. Anything is better than this.
However, nothing could prepare him for what actually happens when Akira returns. It’s a little lighter in the room now, and he can see the knife glistening as Akira lifts it. For one horrible moment, he think he’s gonna get stabbed, but Akira moves it above his head and cuts his restraints off. He pretends to be asleep, since he probably has a bigger chance then. But when both of his hands are free, he quickly sits up and pushes Akira’s chest. The latter falls on his butt with a dull thud and drops the knife, which Takanori isn’t late to pick up. As he straddles the taller’s waist, he can see the first flash of fear in Akira’s eyes, and he feels satisfied with himself.
“W-what are you doing, Taka?” Takanori doesn’t answer, just inspects the knife closely, as if wondering what he should do with it. In fact, he already knows exactly what he wants to do. “Takanori!” Akira shouts in panic and it’s only than that Takanori looks up. “Oh, are you talking to me now?” he asks with feigned surprise and looks up, eyebrows slightly raised. “Get off me and give me the knife, Taka.” Takanori’s brows furrows. “No.” Akira attempts to push Takanori off of him and get up, but he pauses any movements when he can feel cold steel against his throat.
“Now you’ll listen very closely, Aki.” The older nods and lies down again. “Do you remember when we first met?” Another nod. “You were so amazing; good looking, funny, nice… But most of all, you cared for me, Akira. That meant a lot for me. I think I fell for you when I realized that you actually cared. You can imagine how happy I was when I confessed, and you told me that I love you too. That didn’t last for long.” He took a deep, slightly shaky breath. “You’re not who I thought you were. You’re not nice and caring at all. You’re downright evil and mean and I think I hate you.” He paused for a moment before sliding off Akira to sit next to him. “But that’s not true…” he mumbled to himself.
“Why not?”Akira asked, and just then, Takanori decided to lift the knife so that he could drive it into Akira’s chest. “Because I love you, you fucking piece of shit!” he shouted and repeated his actions until he was sure Akira wasn’t breathing anymore. It was only when he let go of the knife and looked over his work that he realized what he’d done. His eyes widened, and with an “Oh my God, what’ve I done!” he dropped the knife to the floor as he stood up and ran. Where, he didn’t know, he just ran. Out of the house, onto the street and then he just ran and ran.
After a while, it seemed like he’d gotten closer to the center of the town, and he noticed people staring after him. There were so many people… Someone put a hand on his shoulder and he automatically jerked away and started running again. He didn’t even have time to notice the car in the corner of his eyes before he was flying.
Author: Reita-tattoo
Rating: R
Genre: Angst, drama
Disclaimer: If I owned them, there's no way in hell I'd write this half-assed shit about them. I'd film then 24/7.
Warning(s): Character death and weirdness.
Author's Note: The original idea was awesome. The finished product... Not as awesome >.< Too tired to re-write, though.
And it's rushed and just weird, weird, weird. Hope you enjoy anyway! Btw, anyone got an idea of a title?
And he’s breaking, shaking, gasping for breath because he’s alone again and it’s so, so cold. It’s dark and his head is hurting and this place is so familiar yet he feels like he does not at all belong here. A door squeaks from somewhere within and he knows, because the sound is so, so familiar. But he can’t place it.
“H-Hello?” he whispers. “Anyone?” a little louder. He can hear steps approaching him, and with them comes heavy breaths. He knows those breaths and he lets out a little panicked sob. Not again… “Takanori, my love, why are you crying?” The voice he used to love is cold and hard and how he wished he never heard it in the first place. He doesn’t answer, just tries to make himself smaller. “What are you doing? C’mere.” A hand grabs his arm and he tries to break free, but the other is strong, way too strong for him.
“Let me go!” he tries to scream, but his voice comes out as an unrecognizable croak, and Akira laughs. “Why should I? You’re mine, mine, mine.” He knows it’s not worth it, he knows he’ll have to pay for it, but he keeps struggling, desperate to get out of this place, desperate for warmth and light and love. “What the fuck are you doing?” Akira suddenly hisses and moves his right hand from Takanori’s arm to his throat. Takanori almost stops breathing, terrified of what Akira will do next. But then the hand is gone and he’s pulling the now-still Takanori along again, cursing under his breath.
He’s thrown into another room, equally as dark and his mind goes blank as he stumbles backwards against a bed. No, no, no… But yes, Akira is coming towards him and he doesn’t waste any time in pinning him to the bed and tying his hands to the bedpost. “That’s what you get for hiding, Taka” he says before he leaves the room. He probably won’t come back until tomorrow, Takanori knows that, and yet he screams for him to come back, kicks all around him and tries to get out of his restraints, to no avail.
In the end, he gives up because his throat is sore, his headache is worse than ever and he’s sure he almost broke his wrist. Instead he opts for crying himself to sleep silently and waiting for Akira to come back, because even that is better than this. Anything is better than this.
However, nothing could prepare him for what actually happens when Akira returns. It’s a little lighter in the room now, and he can see the knife glistening as Akira lifts it. For one horrible moment, he think he’s gonna get stabbed, but Akira moves it above his head and cuts his restraints off. He pretends to be asleep, since he probably has a bigger chance then. But when both of his hands are free, he quickly sits up and pushes Akira’s chest. The latter falls on his butt with a dull thud and drops the knife, which Takanori isn’t late to pick up. As he straddles the taller’s waist, he can see the first flash of fear in Akira’s eyes, and he feels satisfied with himself.
“W-what are you doing, Taka?” Takanori doesn’t answer, just inspects the knife closely, as if wondering what he should do with it. In fact, he already knows exactly what he wants to do. “Takanori!” Akira shouts in panic and it’s only than that Takanori looks up. “Oh, are you talking to me now?” he asks with feigned surprise and looks up, eyebrows slightly raised. “Get off me and give me the knife, Taka.” Takanori’s brows furrows. “No.” Akira attempts to push Takanori off of him and get up, but he pauses any movements when he can feel cold steel against his throat.
“Now you’ll listen very closely, Aki.” The older nods and lies down again. “Do you remember when we first met?” Another nod. “You were so amazing; good looking, funny, nice… But most of all, you cared for me, Akira. That meant a lot for me. I think I fell for you when I realized that you actually cared. You can imagine how happy I was when I confessed, and you told me that I love you too. That didn’t last for long.” He took a deep, slightly shaky breath. “You’re not who I thought you were. You’re not nice and caring at all. You’re downright evil and mean and I think I hate you.” He paused for a moment before sliding off Akira to sit next to him. “But that’s not true…” he mumbled to himself.
“Why not?”Akira asked, and just then, Takanori decided to lift the knife so that he could drive it into Akira’s chest. “Because I love you, you fucking piece of shit!” he shouted and repeated his actions until he was sure Akira wasn’t breathing anymore. It was only when he let go of the knife and looked over his work that he realized what he’d done. His eyes widened, and with an “Oh my God, what’ve I done!” he dropped the knife to the floor as he stood up and ran. Where, he didn’t know, he just ran. Out of the house, onto the street and then he just ran and ran.
After a while, it seemed like he’d gotten closer to the center of the town, and he noticed people staring after him. There were so many people… Someone put a hand on his shoulder and he automatically jerked away and started running again. He didn’t even have time to notice the car in the corner of his eyes before he was flying.