That Day
DISCLAIMER: I don't own D. Gray-man.
WARNING: YAOI - if you don't know what this word means, or if you don't like boy/boy relationship this story is not for you, don't say I didn't tell you! You know the song, DON'T LIKE DON'T READ!
Okay, I know, I should be concentrating on translating the stories I have already began, but... Well, I wanted to write something especially for Kanda's birthday, and using one of the 100 LaviYuu themes, and... I worked so hard to have it ready yesterday but I failed *cries*
I wanted it to be a one shot, but due to the fact I couldn't finish it in time, it will be a two shot.
Well, I'm sure Kanda will appreciate it all the same even with some hours of late! XD Maybe. Sort of. I wasn't that tender on him this time^^"
The 100 LaviYuu themes Prompt is n.98, Emptiness. Enjoy!
As always, special thanks to EM1&EM2, aka Saxon-Jesus who did the beta work for me, being so patient and helpful!
And, Happy Birthday Kanda, once again, even if late!
I know, you're sick of this, but I need to add the LaviYuu Festival advertising XDD
With Kanda's Birthday, this year too starts the third LaviYu Festival!
Welcome to the LaviYu Festival, now at its third year!
For those who still don't know what the hell I'm talking about, let's make a brief look up over it.
The Festival, supported by the LaviYuu fans from all over the world, placed itself between Lavi and Kanda's two Birthdays, beginning with today, 6 June 2011, Kanda's Birthday, and culminating with the LaviYu Day, that was chosen exactly in the middle of their two Birthdays, on 8th JULY, to then end on 10th AUGUST with Lavi's Birthday.
This year the celebration has a couple of contest like last year, and of course we all are invited to post our stuffs during the whole period of the Festival. Check them out, the links are in my profile ^^
That day
Chapter 1 - Him
The alley was dark. The light of a street-lamp barely reached its entrance, creating a gloomy atmosphere, hiding those sloppy details that identified the place as an area of ill-repute. The wall behind him penetrated his back while someone was pressing him hard against it, so that he could count all its bricks.
A gasping breath mingled with his own, grazing his face, going down along the curve of his neck, making him shudder and squirm; his body was vibrating like a violin string, plucked with skilled hand from an experienced musician, desire for this perverse contact that devoured him from the inside, almost like it was the ultimate solution to all his problems.
But it wasn't, he knew it, yet he let it happen, he was letting it happen, and he wouldn't do anything so the other would stop kissing him, touching him, possessing him, as if there was no tomorrow for them.
But tomorrow would come, punctual as ever, bringing the awareness of what he had done, together with the pain of remorse, as well as the bodily one. And that was what he wanted, what he was looking for, a lethal dose of pain that could so cloud his senses to make him forget everything else, because self-destruction was the only thing that made him feel alive.
Drinking until he was completely numb was a solution that was already beginning to fail, because, as they said, troubles can swim, and his empty life was more and more unbearable to him.
The cacophony around the nightspot's corner filled the air like music, steady, hypnotic, almost unreal, perfect to cover their groans, mingling them inside itself almost like it was a cocktail made from exotic ingredients.
He wasn't aware either of the moment they went out, he had barely registered being slammed against that wall in a dirty and smelly alley, under the vagrants' eyes, who certainly lived there, well hidden in the shadows of their cardboard slapdash beds.
They were both so drunk to the point of not realizing what they were doing, at least this young man who buttonholed him was, since he did it even though his own expression was so prohibitive to drive out anyone at first glance.
He had approached him with one of those smiles that dazzle, only one eye visible but bright with joy (and intoxicated with alcohol) fixing onto his own - clearly trying to seduce him - and flaming red hair, short and unkempt; he immediately knew that this so weird youth had taken him for a woman, since the idiot was totally drunk, but that night he didn't care.
Yes, he usually would punch the young man for that kind of an insult, but at that moment he just wanted to hurt himself, to prove to himself and the world that he wasn't a piece of ice, that he was able to feel emotions, to feel desire like everyone else, and no, it didn't concern him that the person put in front of him by Chance was another man, it just made everything even more despicable.
An ignorant man, so drunk that he didn't realize he had a male in his arms even feeling said male's erection pressed against his own stomach. Perhaps a mistake was made by the both of them, because he immediately realized the effect that the young stranger's touch had on him, his reactions, and this realization had thrown him into an abyss of despair; perhaps, perhaps the reason why he avoided each and every contact with women was this, he was waiting to find someone who was capable to turn him on like this.
That someone, however, was less gay than he was until a moment before he met him, and he couldn't even blame the damn pub, because it was a normal nightspot, not some sort of a gay club. In addition, even if he had wanted a relationship, or to see the redhead under different circumstances, both being sober, he was sure the other would reject him.
When the young man introduced himself he didn't even understand his name, but he had to have watched the redhead in a way that the boy liked, which he interpreted as an invitation to continue, because after mumbling something incomprehensible the drunk teen got closer to him, placing a kiss on his lips .
He should be upset, and horrified, and should have given the redhead what he deserved, instead, he had fueled the misunderstanding by curving his lips in a satisfied grin and pressing himself closer to the youth, taking care not to say one word to let him notice of this case of mistaken identity.
Abject? Ignoble? Unworthy? Yes, maybe, but they all could go to hell for what he cared, as long as that night he got what he wanted, proving himself to be alive.
And maybe it was the most convoluted thing his mind could come up with, but as they say, one has to be thankful for what he gets, and he was sure that if he was sober he would never have done this.
He had to let himself go meanwhile his conscience couldn't be able to protest. There was another kiss, and he returned it with ardour.
What happened after wasn't clear to him, he felt himself grabbed and dragged on the dance floor, the redhead's hands sliding along his body, and the next moment he was out in the alley, half-naked, with the youth over him. He had no doubt that he actively participated in all of this, the only question he had, dancing in his head, was: "Why, why do I feel so much desire for him?"
Every kiss he received, every caress made him mad, he wanted more, craved for more, now that he finally felt something he couldn't give it up. He allowed his shirt to get open, welcoming the other youth's lips on his nipples, the redhead's tongue drawing the outlines of the strange tattoo he had on his chest over one of them, incredulous about how it was possible that the youth didn't realize he had no breasts.
He drove the boy's hands along his hips, positioning them to support his buttocks, determined to go all the way before his lover could come up to his senses, before all this could stop sending him chills of passion along every fiber of his body.
He couldn't believe he was going to do something like this with his own hands, he, the upright Kanda Yuu, the school's idol, a blameless person, the one who didn't drink, didn't take drugs, didn't go whoring, didn't flirt with anyone.
Oh, how they were wrong! That evening Kanda Yuu surrendered all along the line and got drunk almost to no longer know who or where he was, he let himself being picked up by a man no less, and he was now in a dark alley having sex with him. Consenting sex.
He kissed said man hungrily, distracting him from the movements of their bodies tied together, raising a leg after freeing it of his pants and clinging to the redhead's waist, while introducing two fingers into his own body, thereby hoping to prepare himself enough to partially reduce the pain.
Kanda's fingers clasped the youth's crimson locks, he had himself kissed a long time on the neck, careless of the bruises that he would have had the next morning, and as he thought to be ready he grabbed the other's erection, leading it where he wanted, between his buttocks, and pressing on it with full force, easing the throbbing member to enter himself with the same hand that held it.
The stifled cry of his owner came as music to Kanda's ears, and he let out a long moan in his turn, trying to balance their weight between the wall and the redhead's shoulders to whom he was desperately clinging.
The young stranger came to his aid, grabbing his hips and starting to thrust inside him, slowly at first, then harder, until Kanda's moans turn into muffled screams, barely held back only by the obstinate force of will that was one of his distinguishing marks.
Their moving was reaching something inside him that made Kanda go out of his mind, the pain mingling with ecstasy, so intense that when he came all over his lover's chest he almost collapsed on him; Kanda didn't even realize if the other had poured his own seed inside his body or not until they ruinously fell to the ground.
He stood up, disgusted, shaking, shamefully naked, dirty of sex and mud, full of dust from the wall, his hair disheveled, sticky with sweat, filled with plaster fragments.
Kanda dressed himself up as best as he could, unsteady on his legs, and dragged himself limping toward his home, determined to forget forever all this madness.
The next Monday, when he went back to school, Kanda was more cantankerous than he'd ever been, after the memory of what he'd donefell down on him with all its repulsive realism. He couldn't really complain though, now that the pain he'd chased for so long, thin and sharp as a knife, planted itself deeply into his heart.
He had left the stranger senseless and stark naked in the alley, at the mercy of anyone who had wanted to rob, rape or kill him. "Che," escaped his lips at the thought. He would never see the youth again, and this was his greatest pain.
Kanda sat in his classroom with his usual icy demeanour, composed and uninterested in anything apart from the lesson that was about to begin, but when the teacher came in there was someone with her, a new student. Him.
Kanda's heart stopped, his breath froze in his throat and he became deadly pale: would the youth recognize him? How much did he remember of that night? Would he realize that the girl he had banged against the wall wasn't at all the above? That she was instead a male, him?
This time the youth's name came to him loud and clear: Lavi Bookman, just moved to town after a long wandering around the world. Was it because of this that he came to drink in the damn bar? To celebrate his fucking return to his supposed country of origin? Dammit.
Kanda tried to remain indifferent when Lavi sat down at the bench beside him, striving to look focused on the tasks due for that morning. Lavi, however, seemed at once interested in him, and a cold shiver ran down Kanda's spine: so, did he remember? He knew?
Doubt tortured him until the bell ringed, announcing the lunch-time break, moment in which the object of his thoughts came to the bench where he sat, a friendly look and a gentle expression on his face.
"Lavi, nice to meet ya." The youth gave him the same smile with which he had captured him the offending evening, and held out his hand.
"Che." Kanda replied disdainfully, evaluating Lavi's reactions to understand whether or not he had recognized him, and turning his head to the side in so very rude a manner. The redhead seemed surprised, totally wrong-footed, speechless from such a harsh reaction.
"My pleasure. Allen." Said another student from the bench in front of Lavi.
That stupid albino meddler he couldn't stand was getting in the way to antagonize Lavi. Not that Kanda had made some effort to be friendly, mind you, but it irritated him all the same.
"Hi there." Lavi turned to the newcomer, shaking hands with him, and immediately the boy came close to him and whispered something in his ear.
"You don't have to mind him, Kanda is the way he is, he hates everything and everyone. Be careful not to call him by his first name, or he will eat you alive." Allen warned his new friend gravely, looking over Lavi's figure to verify if the evil ogre in question could have somewhat overheard.
"R-Really?" Lavi murmured, keeping his voice equally low in volume. "It's not Kanda's name?"
"No, his first name is Yuu, but he doesn't want anybody to use it." Allen said with a shrug. "It must be some sort of tradition from his country, you know, he's of Japanese descent."
"Oh..." Lavi said, glancing sideways at the young Asian. "Can't speak our language well?
Allen laughed, pulling his companion aside and earning with that a murderous look from Kanda, even if he misunderstood the reason for it, imputing it to his person, which the youth cordially hated.
"No, no, he speaks English well enough; he just didn't want to talk to you." The boy continued to laugh out loud, landing a pat on his new companion's back. "You'll get used to this. Come on now, let's go eat before our time runs out. If it's not a tactless question, what have you done to your right eye?" Allen asked out of curiosity as they walked away.
Kanda grimly stared at the two going out of the classroom: that damn albino had taken Lavi away from him! He gritted his teeth, trying not to show how much it bothered him, absolutely refusing to admit to himself he was feeling terribly jealous, blaming his aversion to the pestiferous boy - that he loved to address with the nickname of 'moyashi', because of the teen's frail appearance and short height - for the sense of irritation he was experimenting.
Reflecting on it in cold blood, this was really a Royal mess, a real terrible catastrophe that was threatening to ruin him. If Lavi had revealed to moyashi what they had done, no, what he had done…
Kanda absolutely had to find out how much Lavi remembered about that fucking night.