residual
The very room seemed to tremble with this man’s presence. His voice echoed against the walls, in this room that smelled faintly of the iron-based residue known as blood.
Green eyes struggled to stay open, knowing that if they fell closed, his punishment would be worse. It was already painful, and his pants were in tatters around his ankles, a trickle of the liquid the room smelled of streaming from his backside, but once he got going, he couldn’t see anything but his goal-in this case, taking complete advantage of him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Shou-chan,” The albino said suavely, smiling as though he hadn’t committed a terrible act to the young redhead for far from the first or last time.
The redhead waited until the door had closed behind him to fall to the floor in a heap, letting hot tears course down his cheeks for a moment. It was a sickening thing, to be violated like this. He winced quietly, knowing that he was watching everything. He touched the base of his spine carefully, exhausted. Forcing himself wobbily to his feet, he tried to put his brave Shouichi face on-the one that was as heartless as Byakuran’s, with cold green eyes and a set scowl on his lips.
The sadder part was that the more this man did this, the more he could feel himself slipping into that persona easily. It broke his heart inside, especially when he knew what was going to happen in the future, that he was becoming used to such things and closing a part of his heart like this. But there was something undeniably intimate about the act. It was, however, one of the only ways he could understand such an unreadable and cruel creature as Byakuran Gesso, leader of the current Millefiore family.
On his way back to his room, he stumbled a bit, trying to buckle his shirt and pants. He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose as he walked with something of a limp, still unbelievably sore from the earlier invasion. His forehead wrinkled as he was trapped in his thoughts, wishing that he could understand a little more about the lavender-eyed masochist than he knew. It kind of made him wary of himself, that he wanted to understand a murderer…but he felt like he owed it to him to at least listen to what he whispered in his ear while he raped him, for it might’ve been holding secrets Byakuran was holding under the surface, but he never caught anything particularly worthwhile. Well, nothing aside from the fact that the man thought he was beautifully pale for an Asian, respectably intelligent, and far too lean for his age and height, but he had no right to talk. The white-haired young man was practically anorexic, but his scars, both mental and physical, kept him from worrying too terribly about his image. He realized that he was a disgusting existence as well, but he was just so much more convinced of his greatness, to the point where his darkness had become light in his warped thoughts.
Shouichi wanted to throw up. He was honestly about to fall over as well, leaning on the wall only a couple of feet from his door. From within its limits lie his room, untidy to all who entered but himself, with CDs, a pair of headphones, laundry, and shoes lying around everywhere in between high stacks of papers and reports. Blue-prints, orders, random paperwork from other members of White Spell, but it didn’t matter. For now, the red-head settled for flopping down on his mattress, shoving the experience from his mind, and trying to sleep.
…But the thoughts just wouldn’t stop. With a hazy flush, he pulled his pants down slowly and simply remembered. Pale hands had ghosted over him, biting him hard in places that were uncomfortable, digging his nails into the very base of his spine before pounding into him dry and rough, taking no amount of care in his actions. He shoved fingers down the red-head’s throat as well, making him throw up on the very cold floor that the albino was pounding him into. Every time he pulled out, Shouichi’s face lifted from the pavement-temperature flooring. Every time he pushed in, his face slammed back into the ground, the chill running up from his member and back to the very person inside of him, who could feel his victim’s quiet trembling.
When he touched him, it felt so hot that Shouichi had first wondered if he was using flames in his touch today. It burned harshly, but he couldn’t complain-Byakuran had been leaving his front side unattended today, and if anything, the red-head was a man, and even those sorts of needs had to be tended in instances like this, regardless of the gravity of the situation. He gasped around the fingers gagging him, forcing the bile back down in the heat of pleasure, and when those nails dug into the flesh around his nipples, he forced that disgusting mixture back down and let his green eyes roll back a little bit. It hurt, sure, but it felt better than it had before.
Byakuran kept whispering disturbing things, all about how he would kill the red-head when he wasn’t useful to him any more, as well as how the world would crumble at his feet, no matter what. He felt guilt press at home-at the core of things, this really was his fault. But it was too late for that now. A tight grip grasped a handful of his hair, forced him to stare at the bright smile of his offender, and then said man shoved his skull into the floor painfully, making the other young man wince. But then he was pounded into again, and he sucked on those long fingers to find something to do with his mouth-otherwise, he might’ve been heard whimpering like a child.
After a prolonged period, mostly because the albino had a vice-grip on his business to keep him from coming too early, he came on the icy concrete, and found his rear end once again bleeding from the fresh penetration-the family boss deliberately planned these events far apart for the sake of pain, after all.
Cycling through all these feelings made him simultaneously embarrassed, exhausted, and curious. He’d had an urge to reach out to Byakuran after he’d grabbed the crown of his head by the hair. It was an odd urge on a typical day, so why now, when that had happened only minutes ago?
He let out a sigh. Shoving the glasses off of his face, he let his face hit the pillow again. He got his shirt about half-off before he fell asleep like that, arms raised and shirt halfway on his torso.
He’d been more exhausted than he thought.
…
From his couch, which allowed for him to lounge in front of the view of the city, he smiled. He refused to acknowledge that something within him wanted Shouichi-no. He was merely a toy for now. Something to use until he finally broke. He was hiding something, too, and doing a pretty good job of it. But the lavender-eyed man ate a marshmallow and decided it was a worry for another night.
Tonight, he was satisfied. Tonight, he would sleep with a smile, knowing that he was picking at the red-head’s psyche, one step at a time.
He wanted his very presence to forever reside in the tactician’s mind. He wanted the red-head to go to sleep with the act freshly there, with his eerie expression forever pressed in the young man’s memory. It wasn’t jealousy. He wasn’t possessive.
He just wanted to affect everyone, everything, and anything for as long as he could. No one was going to forget him that easily. No, he was Byakuran Gesso-or rather, Byakuran Millefiore, now.
Byakuran was like a residual virus. Something that never really went away, thanks to his ambition and determination. Oh no. Haunted lavender eyes glowed within the very realm of nightmares of those like Shouichi-who hid secrets behind their own “green” eyes, and similarly haunted the leader of the family himself.
Yes. This lingering, burning thought.
And with a chuckle, Byakuran murmured to no one, for he was alone. “Shou-chan, you parasite.” And with that, he crushed a glass that he’d been holding his left hand, walking away from the mess with a bloody appendage, smiling all the same. “Who told you that you were allowed to invade my thoughts?” He pressed his long, bloodied fingers to his temple, looking eerier by the moment. “But it’s okay. Because you’ll all be dead soon, anyways.”
Cold green eyes flashed in his memory, and he chuckled again. “Very, very soon.”
His lavender eyes seemed to haunt the very room as he swept out of there, and the dim light of the city faded out into the darkness.
…
In a sort of burn, Shouichi woke up with those same eyes in his sight, his heart pounding. He grasped his chest desperately, trying to force that same heart to slow itself. It had only been his eyes, nothing more.
Just the residual lingering of Byakuran. Nothing more. It had only been a dream of days long past. His tormentor was dead now.
It had been nearly a month. He had to forget. The man was in Vendice now. Nowhere near here.
But yet, with clammy skin, the red-head shoved his glasses on, bed-head and all, and approached his window, still feeling as though that lavender gaze and smooth voice were out there among the lights of the city.
As though those long, pale hands could reach out from behind him and murmur, “Hello again, Shou-chan.” He retched out the window hurriedly, his pulse quickening. Those days had been particularly hard to forget. In fact, he couldn’t. When he’d been violated like that? Horrid. Simply horrid.
But it had felt awfully real. He shook Byakuran from his subconscious and tried to go back to sleep to no avail. He gave Tsuna a brief call to make sure things were still okay, to which the Vongola’s boss said that all was well, and wished him more pleasant dreams.
Those lavender eyes trapped in the glow made him shiver, curl under the blankets and wish. Just wish for it to go away.
But, with an ache in both his mind and his lower quarters, he wanted to weep. Even though it had been the worst thing in the world, he’d become accustomed to it. To being abused sexually. To being violated. And now he was deprived. A month. He could hardly believe it. He hadn’t been nearly killed, or raped, or verbally abused, or any manner of other terrible things in a month, and now he was starting to go to pieces about it? He was ashamed of himself.
Refusing to rise to the taunt, he took two sleeping pills and lie there until they got to work. He wasn’t going to let Byakuran preside over him even in this. His body was his-not some sicko’s that he was trying to deceive.
That’s right. Shouichi thought decidedly. I don’t have to pretend like those things are okay any more. Byakuran is gone. And he finally slipped off into sleep.
However, he could almost hear the ghostly whisper of the man even in his pleasant dreams.
“Hey, Shou-chan,” He was saying, standing there with his hands lazily at his sides. “Don’t you miss me?”
And even in the dream, for which he cursed himself for, the green-eyed youth extended his hand and followed the man, leading to his own demise yet again.
After all, Byakuran wasn’t that easy to get rid of.
///
A/N: I feel like that was a really eerie fic that I just wrote here. Huh. Oh well. Hope you enjoyed. NAPPPPPPPPO, I LOVE YOUUUUUUUU. :3
Green eyes struggled to stay open, knowing that if they fell closed, his punishment would be worse. It was already painful, and his pants were in tatters around his ankles, a trickle of the liquid the room smelled of streaming from his backside, but once he got going, he couldn’t see anything but his goal-in this case, taking complete advantage of him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Shou-chan,” The albino said suavely, smiling as though he hadn’t committed a terrible act to the young redhead for far from the first or last time.
The redhead waited until the door had closed behind him to fall to the floor in a heap, letting hot tears course down his cheeks for a moment. It was a sickening thing, to be violated like this. He winced quietly, knowing that he was watching everything. He touched the base of his spine carefully, exhausted. Forcing himself wobbily to his feet, he tried to put his brave Shouichi face on-the one that was as heartless as Byakuran’s, with cold green eyes and a set scowl on his lips.
The sadder part was that the more this man did this, the more he could feel himself slipping into that persona easily. It broke his heart inside, especially when he knew what was going to happen in the future, that he was becoming used to such things and closing a part of his heart like this. But there was something undeniably intimate about the act. It was, however, one of the only ways he could understand such an unreadable and cruel creature as Byakuran Gesso, leader of the current Millefiore family.
On his way back to his room, he stumbled a bit, trying to buckle his shirt and pants. He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose as he walked with something of a limp, still unbelievably sore from the earlier invasion. His forehead wrinkled as he was trapped in his thoughts, wishing that he could understand a little more about the lavender-eyed masochist than he knew. It kind of made him wary of himself, that he wanted to understand a murderer…but he felt like he owed it to him to at least listen to what he whispered in his ear while he raped him, for it might’ve been holding secrets Byakuran was holding under the surface, but he never caught anything particularly worthwhile. Well, nothing aside from the fact that the man thought he was beautifully pale for an Asian, respectably intelligent, and far too lean for his age and height, but he had no right to talk. The white-haired young man was practically anorexic, but his scars, both mental and physical, kept him from worrying too terribly about his image. He realized that he was a disgusting existence as well, but he was just so much more convinced of his greatness, to the point where his darkness had become light in his warped thoughts.
Shouichi wanted to throw up. He was honestly about to fall over as well, leaning on the wall only a couple of feet from his door. From within its limits lie his room, untidy to all who entered but himself, with CDs, a pair of headphones, laundry, and shoes lying around everywhere in between high stacks of papers and reports. Blue-prints, orders, random paperwork from other members of White Spell, but it didn’t matter. For now, the red-head settled for flopping down on his mattress, shoving the experience from his mind, and trying to sleep.
…But the thoughts just wouldn’t stop. With a hazy flush, he pulled his pants down slowly and simply remembered. Pale hands had ghosted over him, biting him hard in places that were uncomfortable, digging his nails into the very base of his spine before pounding into him dry and rough, taking no amount of care in his actions. He shoved fingers down the red-head’s throat as well, making him throw up on the very cold floor that the albino was pounding him into. Every time he pulled out, Shouichi’s face lifted from the pavement-temperature flooring. Every time he pushed in, his face slammed back into the ground, the chill running up from his member and back to the very person inside of him, who could feel his victim’s quiet trembling.
When he touched him, it felt so hot that Shouichi had first wondered if he was using flames in his touch today. It burned harshly, but he couldn’t complain-Byakuran had been leaving his front side unattended today, and if anything, the red-head was a man, and even those sorts of needs had to be tended in instances like this, regardless of the gravity of the situation. He gasped around the fingers gagging him, forcing the bile back down in the heat of pleasure, and when those nails dug into the flesh around his nipples, he forced that disgusting mixture back down and let his green eyes roll back a little bit. It hurt, sure, but it felt better than it had before.
Byakuran kept whispering disturbing things, all about how he would kill the red-head when he wasn’t useful to him any more, as well as how the world would crumble at his feet, no matter what. He felt guilt press at home-at the core of things, this really was his fault. But it was too late for that now. A tight grip grasped a handful of his hair, forced him to stare at the bright smile of his offender, and then said man shoved his skull into the floor painfully, making the other young man wince. But then he was pounded into again, and he sucked on those long fingers to find something to do with his mouth-otherwise, he might’ve been heard whimpering like a child.
After a prolonged period, mostly because the albino had a vice-grip on his business to keep him from coming too early, he came on the icy concrete, and found his rear end once again bleeding from the fresh penetration-the family boss deliberately planned these events far apart for the sake of pain, after all.
Cycling through all these feelings made him simultaneously embarrassed, exhausted, and curious. He’d had an urge to reach out to Byakuran after he’d grabbed the crown of his head by the hair. It was an odd urge on a typical day, so why now, when that had happened only minutes ago?
He let out a sigh. Shoving the glasses off of his face, he let his face hit the pillow again. He got his shirt about half-off before he fell asleep like that, arms raised and shirt halfway on his torso.
He’d been more exhausted than he thought.
…
From his couch, which allowed for him to lounge in front of the view of the city, he smiled. He refused to acknowledge that something within him wanted Shouichi-no. He was merely a toy for now. Something to use until he finally broke. He was hiding something, too, and doing a pretty good job of it. But the lavender-eyed man ate a marshmallow and decided it was a worry for another night.
Tonight, he was satisfied. Tonight, he would sleep with a smile, knowing that he was picking at the red-head’s psyche, one step at a time.
He wanted his very presence to forever reside in the tactician’s mind. He wanted the red-head to go to sleep with the act freshly there, with his eerie expression forever pressed in the young man’s memory. It wasn’t jealousy. He wasn’t possessive.
He just wanted to affect everyone, everything, and anything for as long as he could. No one was going to forget him that easily. No, he was Byakuran Gesso-or rather, Byakuran Millefiore, now.
Byakuran was like a residual virus. Something that never really went away, thanks to his ambition and determination. Oh no. Haunted lavender eyes glowed within the very realm of nightmares of those like Shouichi-who hid secrets behind their own “green” eyes, and similarly haunted the leader of the family himself.
Yes. This lingering, burning thought.
And with a chuckle, Byakuran murmured to no one, for he was alone. “Shou-chan, you parasite.” And with that, he crushed a glass that he’d been holding his left hand, walking away from the mess with a bloody appendage, smiling all the same. “Who told you that you were allowed to invade my thoughts?” He pressed his long, bloodied fingers to his temple, looking eerier by the moment. “But it’s okay. Because you’ll all be dead soon, anyways.”
Cold green eyes flashed in his memory, and he chuckled again. “Very, very soon.”
His lavender eyes seemed to haunt the very room as he swept out of there, and the dim light of the city faded out into the darkness.
…
In a sort of burn, Shouichi woke up with those same eyes in his sight, his heart pounding. He grasped his chest desperately, trying to force that same heart to slow itself. It had only been his eyes, nothing more.
Just the residual lingering of Byakuran. Nothing more. It had only been a dream of days long past. His tormentor was dead now.
It had been nearly a month. He had to forget. The man was in Vendice now. Nowhere near here.
But yet, with clammy skin, the red-head shoved his glasses on, bed-head and all, and approached his window, still feeling as though that lavender gaze and smooth voice were out there among the lights of the city.
As though those long, pale hands could reach out from behind him and murmur, “Hello again, Shou-chan.” He retched out the window hurriedly, his pulse quickening. Those days had been particularly hard to forget. In fact, he couldn’t. When he’d been violated like that? Horrid. Simply horrid.
But it had felt awfully real. He shook Byakuran from his subconscious and tried to go back to sleep to no avail. He gave Tsuna a brief call to make sure things were still okay, to which the Vongola’s boss said that all was well, and wished him more pleasant dreams.
Those lavender eyes trapped in the glow made him shiver, curl under the blankets and wish. Just wish for it to go away.
But, with an ache in both his mind and his lower quarters, he wanted to weep. Even though it had been the worst thing in the world, he’d become accustomed to it. To being abused sexually. To being violated. And now he was deprived. A month. He could hardly believe it. He hadn’t been nearly killed, or raped, or verbally abused, or any manner of other terrible things in a month, and now he was starting to go to pieces about it? He was ashamed of himself.
Refusing to rise to the taunt, he took two sleeping pills and lie there until they got to work. He wasn’t going to let Byakuran preside over him even in this. His body was his-not some sicko’s that he was trying to deceive.
That’s right. Shouichi thought decidedly. I don’t have to pretend like those things are okay any more. Byakuran is gone. And he finally slipped off into sleep.
However, he could almost hear the ghostly whisper of the man even in his pleasant dreams.
“Hey, Shou-chan,” He was saying, standing there with his hands lazily at his sides. “Don’t you miss me?”
And even in the dream, for which he cursed himself for, the green-eyed youth extended his hand and followed the man, leading to his own demise yet again.
After all, Byakuran wasn’t that easy to get rid of.
///
A/N: I feel like that was a really eerie fic that I just wrote here. Huh. Oh well. Hope you enjoyed. NAPPPPPPPPO, I LOVE YOUUUUUUUU. :3