D/K Oktoberfest Week .o1: Burning Anecdote
[Title] Burning Anecdote.
[Pairing] Die/Kaoru
[Genre/Type] AU (dystopia)/Drama/Romance
[Rating] NC-17
[Warnings] References to sex and death, non-descriptive genocide, language, totalitarianism (if this is even a warning but I'm playing it safe)
[Summary] We are the free. But they, you see, they're prisoners.
[Author's Notes] For the Die/Kaoru Oktoberfest Week #1 at diexkaorulove. Theme: AU. Ngl I have such a raging literary fetish for dystopia based settings like this, and I was dying to get it done. But, here it is now and I'm proud of the outcome. I swear, though, sometimes I have to kickstart my brain to get it working... I'm sorry if it seems like I skip so much in between, I'm so tired while writing this, but it's also supposed to signify how much time passes between the two.
Oh and I had Story of the Year's newest album BLASTING the whole time I wrote this. It fit, if you ask me.
[Music] "The Ghost of You and I" - Story of the Year
[Word Count] 4200. Unbeta'd.
intro.
Digital numbers on the clock in the city's square whiz by; minutes, seconds, milliseconds, nanoseconds. They were just a blur in the redhead's eyes right now, less visible behind the bit of smoke filtering through his room and the black smoke blowing outside, making ash fly and throats choke up and stars run and hide.
But see, right now, to Die, it was all useless to think about, even bothering to think was just a waste of those whizzing numbers. Even though the burnings occurred almost daily, he had previously been used to smelling thick dusty air and the odor of rot and just plain death. He had messed up before tonight, though. Oh, before tonight, he had fucked up the royal order and all that was plain and holy, written in the textbooks he'd read from childhood to now, the handbooks of work and life, just close enough to the modern Bible, the written rules pertaining to the obeying of the Father.
It wasn't the fact that he had first roughed up the stranger outside his door, then taken him to bed, and fallen in love with him within a few weeks (even though that's a fucked-up order in itself, he mused to himself), but he had just fallen with the wrong person in the wrong world and universe and way of living.
If Die had to be honest? He questions how it could be the 'wrong' person in the government's eyes if everything just fit so perfectly.
i.
And, he figures, if he hadn't been so wary before meeting him, then this taste of delicious difference would've never occurred.
Die had come home right after raiding a sanctuary, his cherry-stained hair ruffled and unkempt with some blood visible along his hairline, toting his military-issued revolver in his bag and still in the monotone-colored uniform he wore daily, even though now it was darker in some places due to blood spattering from the bullets that pierced through the bystanders and offenders.
"And the bitch had the nerve to grab my leg! Got a hand print on my uniform, too," Die complained into the mobile phone he clasped to his ear. "Even though I doubt the dying think of the repercussions of unauthorized physical contact with a commanding officer," he snickered, "it was just too fun to kick her away and watch her try to breathe."
He paused halfway down the hallway, reaching into the pocket on the front of his jacket, the jingling of the numerous medals echoing down the empty steel hallways as he searched for his keys, and listened a moment to the person on the other end of the phone. "No, no, not that it was enjoyable, having to get blood all over my boots, but getting rid of an impurity. A top case, Toshiya, a top case of rebellion against our Father! And we solved it! Now all that's left is to burn the place down, as an example of the great power we hold." Adjusting his shoulder bag once more, he continued, "Why must these silly people worship a-a-a silly, non-existent prophet, dead and crucified, no less, when our great Leader is alive and well, every day on the screen!"
Toshiya's voice was a babble of static on the other side of the phone, or at least it seemed like it to Die now, because there was something new when he paused in front of his door, key in hand.
There was a man there. A civilian man, no less, dressed in the black jeans and turtleneck that was commonplace among the male civilians, smoking nonchalantly with ash falling onto his shirtsleeve. And he was looking at Die, just looking with eyes deep and black and Die felt like he was being positively suffocated by the intensity behind that gaze. It wasn't an intense hate, or like, or curiosity, but it just radiated tension, and Die could feel it rush through his nerves.
He snapped back into reality just to mumble, "Yeah Totchi, gotta run, news," and hang up. Sparing a second to shove his device into the jacket pocket, he bent in half to reach the other's level, face-to-face, gave what would be to most a knee-shaking glare, and rumbled in his most authoritative voice, "These are the quarters of the Class Four Officers. As you are a civilian, it's a punishable offense to be caught in here without reason. Might you have one?"
The civilian shook his head and -- Die swore to the Father -- chuckled at that. He didn't answer, only took a drag on the smoking stick between his fingers and kept giving Die that gaze.
The redhead's forehead wrinkled more with confusion and despise -- he just despised these uppity bumpkins from the outreaches of the city -- and his voice rumbled dangerously low, "Are you going to cooperate with me? Are you going to give me plausible reason as to why you are in quarters that do not suite you?"
The black-clad man stubbed his cigarette out in one swift movement against the bloody handprint on Die's pants, dark hair obscuring his face as he did so, and Die was torn between his rational side and the impulse to pull out his rifle and just execute the bastard against his door and sleep like a baby afterward.
So, he settled for a compromise: lifting the city man by his shirt and slamming him against the door hard enough to throttle his head back against the titanium door and keep him suspended a few inches from the ground.
That look was still on his face, that infuriating and smart-ass smirk, and Die was determined to wipe it off once and for all. Die brought his face in close to the other's and yelled loudly, "Desecration of an officer's uniform, too?! Who in the hell do you think gave you the right to treat me like one of your own kind? Answer my question, immediately!"
That smirk then curved into a cynical grin, and out from that pale throat rumbled a low, sultry voice, replying, "If you're so closely connected to the Father, our all knowing Leader, passing on all his knowledge to his Children," he leaned in until his nose bumped into Die's and coffee-and-cigarette breath heated his lips, "you tell ME why I ventured here."
That cocky--
Die leaned forward and bit into that smiling mouth's lower lip hard enough that he tasted blood in the first second, tasted nicotine and copper and disgust and laughter, and when he received no yelp of pain or protest, he went fuck all to the key and pressed the emergency button on the doorframe, causing both him and the dark-haired man to tumble to the ground in a heated, angry mass.
Somehow, they managed to grope and scratch and claw their way into Die's bedroom in the dark, Die growling about you son of a whore and the other don't bring me so low when I can bring you so high until Die shut him up with a slap to the face and a lick across his jaw.
Every capable though flew out the window as everything progressed further and further: the civilian ripping the uniform --quite literally-- off of Die's slender form, Die breaking the zipper on the black denim jeans of the other and getting them caught around the dingy boots on his feet, and it was quite amusing, really, to see both so eagerly engaged in some type of contest of 'who can get the other naked more roughly'?
Blunt nails dug into skin, teeth bit into necks and shoulders and god knows where else, hips undulated futilely, attempting to gain more contact, and there was fighting for dominance until the redhead pinned the other to the mattress as he scraped his nails across that heaving abdomen and ink-stained arms.
"Teaching you to have a damn good fucking reason--"
And laughter bubbled out of that abused form as Die tucked slippery fingers into other, hastily, just enough for it to work quick enough and well enough, over almost as soon as it began, and the bearded man said through the laugh as Die held onto his thighs and pushed them upwards, up up until his knees touched his chest, "Oh, I think I have a pretty fucking good reason n--"
Which was cut off by a harsh yell as the redhead pushed his way in, all the way, blunt nails digging hard enough into pale flesh to immediately leave grotesque colored marks. There was no hesitation, because both knew that no, there would be no waiting. This was a challenge, this was war.
With violent movements and actions, with slaps and scrapes and expletives being tossed at each other like bombs, this was nothing close to gentle; in fact, it was the total antithesis, with Die growling against the other's bleeding mouth and what name do I scream when I'm satisfied?
...Kaoru, I want to hear you beg for Kaoru.
ii.
"I am not a fucking woman. You're doing the sheets."
Die gave Kaoru a defiant look out of his peripherals at the other, not willing to move his battered but definitely sated body, not even to look at his handiwork on the other.
That was soon granted, though, as the tattooed man sat up, muscles tensing and fluttering from the exertion. Running his fingers backward through his long hair, he chuckled ruefully and rapped his knuckles against Die's abdomen.
"I don't know anything about treating bloodstains--or cumstains, for that matter--on gray sheets. But I will cook breakfast, because from the looks of those plates on the floor, you can't cook worth a shit." A pause. "...or clean, for that matter."
"You're such an ungrateful bastard, insulting me after I gave you the greatest fuck you'll ever have in your useless life," Die retorted, sitting up and placing a hand on the pale expanse of the older man's back. He could feel the criss-crossing of old, weathered, well earned scars underneath his fingertips, and he leaned in against him.
"I have to serve my duties to the Father," he mumbled against the creature inked into the smooth neck, "but I expect you to come back for more, yes?" The red haired man bit roughly into a dark bite wound from the previous night, which caused Kaoru to flinch reflexively but reach back and pull Die's hair while murmuring, "But isn't that a violation of my civilian code, Commanding Officer?"
Like a true Child of the Father himself, Die was all knowing. Kaoru did indeed come back with that same confident smirk and rough words and violent actions and lithe legs, again. And again. And again and again and yet again and if Die didn't know any better, he would've sworn that Kaoru was like the drugs that were in his history texts, texts that told of the rushes people would get and the ecstatic feeling after each use, but minus those disgusting side effects.
Afterward, before they would practically collapse from exhaustion and satisfaction, they would exchange a few words about themselves. Such as how Die managed to raid a library and burn the historical fiction books, who was being promoted, and what tactics were best when dealing with orphaned sons destined to become officers themselves, while Kaoru told short stories about growing up in the city, the fights in the alleyways, the daily life and how the people would react to the Father's speeches about the dedication needed to prevent the impending wars.
"A huge crock is what we are, Die," Kaoru murmured into his sweaty pillow one evening. "We civilians are just asylum bound. I mean, look at me, a middle class smartass who now has one of the Children as his fuck buddy, with no other benefits but a better bed to sleep in. But get this--that's a good thing. It's a motherfuckin' HONOR to have my ass handed to me nightly by one of the high officials in the government."
Die chuckled from his position by the bed, shaking his head so that red and black strands flew back in forth. "You all aren't crocks. I don't think I'd be stupid enough to bring a freshly released psycho into my bed. Nor would I allow said person to lay in my bed without cleaning themselves up." When Kaoru didn't move, the taller man flopped onto the bed and frowned. "That was a hint."
Kaoru just murmured in protest and waved his arm in a lazy 'go away' gesture. Reaching out for his cigarettes, he grabbed one and stuck it between his lips for the comfort in it and curled into himself. He pulled the sheets over himself and said, "If you roll over on me again tonight, I swear, I will cut your dick off and feed it to you."
'What's with THAT harsh attitude? To think you'd say that to me, someone who could easily kick your ass to the warfield and leave you there with no regrets?" A note of mock-hurt was evident in Die's voice.
Kaoru smothered a laugh. "Because you snore and drool! And you sweat a lot on your sides and thighs and it gets kind of gross after a few hours."
"Oh, oh fine. You don't like smelling like me? I am offended."
The banter continued for a few more moments until Kaoru had managed to wrestle the officer onto his back and lie down on top of him, and Die stilled for a few moments.
A couple of unspoken words, a request, an "okay", and all was silent until Die had to remove himself from Kaoru's iron grasp and move on to the next assignment. And he was even...almost reluctant.
iii.
Kaoru was on the balcony, one cigarette between pale pink lips and another dangling from his fingers, both lit. Their smoke, however, was indistinguishable from the putrid black cloud floating in front of him.
When Die walked out towards the balcony, clad in a pair of jeans and towel drying his hair, he called, "Kaoru? Hey, why's the window open? It smells like shit," Die fanned a hand in front of his face to ward off the smell; even if he dealt with this type of occurrence many many times, he just couldn't get used to that smell.
The civilian didn't answer. In fact, he didn't move, he didn't speak, and for half a second, Die wondered if he was even breathing. He sidled up beside him and wrapped an arm around his bare shoulder, shaking gently. "What's wrong? You're stock-still."
That was when Die saw what had the other man frozen.
He saw the lines of men, women, and even children, marching along the podium, with some of Die's fellow commanders following close behind, their guns poised, ready to shoot any offenders or escapees. At several points along the podium, the ones in front would stop, and the officers would place the guns against the back of their heads. With each shot, Kaoru gave a subtle flinch, and Die instinctively brought him closer. After each shot, the people would fall...
"They're burning."
Die plucked the remnants of his lover's cigarette out of his mouth, dropped it towards the flame pit, and recovered that smaller hand with his own. "Yes."
"Die, they're burning. Little children are burning."
He nodded in response and watched as Toshiya, laughing, jerked an older man towards his line by the arm. He asked the frightened fellow something, a sneer quite evident in the way he held his head up and body erect, and the prisoner started gesturing frantically towards a woman about his age, presumably his wife, and a young teen girl. Toshiya paused, as if considering something, but shook his head and rammed the butt of his gun into the man's gut, and the recoil caused him to fall backwards into the pit.
Alive.
Kaoru could feel the burn of bile rising up in the back of his throat when Toshiya turned and gave Die a thumbs up, and as Die returned that gesture with a grin and a salute, he turned away quickly and rushed into the kitchen.
He didn't realize that the younger redhead had followed him into the kitchen until he pulled his head out of the sink and felt a rough palm on the small of his back.
Right as Die was about to open his mouth, Kaoru interrupted with a weak but steady voice. "You never told me. You never told me about these people."
"It was none of your business. You never needed to know, because it's something someone like you doesn't need to deal with," he replied, wrapping his arms around the civilian's torso and watched as the flames disappeared and reappeared out of his window, resting his chin on one inked shoulder. "And, though you may not understand this, but they're not people, Kaoru. They're nothing."
Die found himself roughly pushed away with Kaoru facing him now, an outraged look on his face and disgust evident in his voice. "Nothing? They're nothing? That may be the case now, Die, as they're bone and ash, but," he reached out and placed his palms against Die's chest, "how can you say they're not people? They have a heart that beats, they have a family, they walk and talk and laugh and cry, just like you and me, and they're not people?
"There are little children in there, Die! Kids! One of them looked just like my nieces, another like my cousin, just barely into this world, Die! What wrong could they have done to deserve this--" he chokes on his next words, and Die tried his best to calm down the shaking man holding on to him, "this sick persecution? What about the mothers who watch them burn?! About the future generations that could've come from them?! If we're using that logic of yours, 'they're nothing', then we, and the Officers and Commanders and maybe even the fucking Leader himself are nothing!"
He started to talk once more, but Die quickly stopped that train of thought with a punch to the face and a shove to the ground until Die was lying on top of him, dead-weight, covering Kaoru's mouth and shaking ever so slightly as his eyes darted around.
Blood from Kaoru's split lip stained the palm of Die's hand as the officer sat up on Kaoru's stomach. He had a sorrowful, pitying look upon his face, and he started to talk as he smeared his palm across the sharp cheekbones, bringing the bloodstains with it.
"You're insipid. You speak so callously about things that have great impact on both of us, of the purity, Kaoru," Die responded, running his fingers on the opposite hand through the thick dark locks of the man underneath him. "You know absolutely nothing of these people. You assume that because they're young, they're pure? They're like you and me? No. Being born from bad blood automatically makes you an enemy."
Painstakingly gentle effort was put into helping Kaoru up and back onto his feet, and even then he continued, "What you don't see is their inside, Kaoru. Inside these people are all tarnished and disgusting, like the whores of the War Zone or the drunks of the Lower District. Our whole government, our great Leader, based our peace on finding these people and wiping the stains clean from society.
"Since forever, we, the good, and they, the bad, have just been lumped together as one race of people," he grabbed a hold of Kaoru's chin and tilted it upwards until he was staring into those deep ebony eyes, "but think about it--think about it! Now, we have ourselves, the still surviving and living, and them, the ones who have nothing to live for except for the day they become trapped in hellfire.
"Think about it, Kaoru. We are the free. But they, you see," he gestured towards the dark smoke reaching towards the sky, "they are the prisoners."
A breathy sigh was exhaled. Kaoru slipped his hands into Die's and stared at them for a moment before continuing, "It's disgusting, how you have the blood of countless lives spilling over your hands. It hurts to see someone I love like this so deep into a battle of hatred and murder and," he can't continue. He can't. The words are stuck in his throat, but they are obvious in his eyes.
I love you, but you disgust me.
Die doesn't mind. Die doesn't care. He can deal with one bad half so long as he gets the other good half, and when Kaoru leaned in to press his lips against the officer's, the shorter one tasted soot and smoke and death and most of all the care that mattered more than the desecration he subjected himself witness to by being with him.
Worthy enough for a masochist like himself.
iv.
Again, there was a stranger on his doorstep.
Die had stared at the solemn figure for a good five minutes ahead before he ventured in closer to examine who was blocking the door to his quarters. When he got close enough, he was shocked to find that it was Kaoru. Unrecognizable, what with the white blunt bob cut and blue working uniform, but Kaoru nonetheless.
The first thing that hit Die was the look on Kaoru's face. When most men came home from war, they had a look of weariness, like no sleep and a bad taste in their mouth and all they want is to crawl into a dark place and die away slowly. Kaoru bore this look, but his was just...
Cold. Stone cold. So sad and listless and it made Die's heart and stomach turn upside down and he ran over to hold Kaoru's face between his palms. "Kaoru? Kaoru, are you okay? Is something wrong?"
To his shock, Kaoru yanked Die's hands away and pushed him, pushed him almost across the hallway and held up his hands in front of his face. The civilian's voice was rough and hoarse as he said, "I have to go."
"Go?" Die questioned, moving closer in front of the shorter one but not touching. "I'm confused. Are you leaving? Is it vacation time already?"
"No. Die, I have to go. You have to stay here. I can't take you to where I'm about to go." His shoulders slumped wearily as he answered. "There's...no reason to need an explanation. I just have to go and get out of here, far away. Away from this city, away from this zone. Away from you."
Brown eyes widened at that last statement, and Die spluttered, trying to get his thoughts straight. No you can't I need you if you leave what'll happen to you don't worry about me why so sudden come back-- "I'm...you, you aren't thinking straight. What's wrong, Kaoru, are you sick?" A leather clad hand placed itself on Kaoru's forehead for a nanosecond until Kaoru jerked away but moved back to pull Die by the belt of his uniform and buried his face in the crook of that slender neck. He breathed in deeply once, just once, before whispering now you're truly free and giving the officer one last godawful look before leaving him bewildered and still confused in that hallway.
With each passing hour, Die's pacing became more frantic, his worrying mounting, and soon his apartment filled with smoke from the two packs of cigarettes he had smoked. When his phone rang, he jumped for it, almost knocking over the bedside table and the mountain of laundry that Kaoru had folded, only to be disappointed when he realized that it was only Toshiya that called to announce the impromptu cleansing of the opposing side's spies (They fuckin' infiltrated us! Trying to get to our Leader! What the fuck is that thinking, anyways?) that would take place that night.
Die brushed it off with a headache excuse, and Toshiya, being the naive one he was (I heard getting laid cures headaches, man!), accepted it, with just a little teasing on the side, but it was all meaningless to Die. He at least wanted an explanation for this rashness, or maybe it was wanting to hear Kaoru's voice again, but whichever one it was, it was pulling Die into different directions. His better judgment of leaving Kaoru to his business, clinging on to hope that he would call later, or his impulses, which screamed at him to get his boots on and run, run, run anywhere, looking for that eccentric charisma that he found, quite literally, on his doorstep.
The one eccentricity that, in the long run, had changed his life in no way that the Leader promised, that life itself had planned.
post.
And as he watches those numbers flash by, he watches that bright blue and white spot move closer to the flames, watches as that white disappears into ash, and somehow, through all this, Die smiles at the thin hope that maybe these tears could, at least metaphorically, extinguish those ashes to keep them from burning away entirely.
x-posted to diexkaorulove and direngrey_yaoi
[Pairing] Die/Kaoru
[Genre/Type] AU (dystopia)/Drama/Romance
[Rating] NC-17
[Warnings] References to sex and death, non-descriptive genocide, language, totalitarianism (if this is even a warning but I'm playing it safe)
[Summary] We are the free. But they, you see, they're prisoners.
[Author's Notes] For the Die/Kaoru Oktoberfest Week #1 at diexkaorulove. Theme: AU. Ngl I have such a raging literary fetish for dystopia based settings like this, and I was dying to get it done. But, here it is now and I'm proud of the outcome. I swear, though, sometimes I have to kickstart my brain to get it working... I'm sorry if it seems like I skip so much in between, I'm so tired while writing this, but it's also supposed to signify how much time passes between the two.
Oh and I had Story of the Year's newest album BLASTING the whole time I wrote this. It fit, if you ask me.
[Music] "The Ghost of You and I" - Story of the Year
[Word Count] 4200. Unbeta'd.
intro.
Digital numbers on the clock in the city's square whiz by; minutes, seconds, milliseconds, nanoseconds. They were just a blur in the redhead's eyes right now, less visible behind the bit of smoke filtering through his room and the black smoke blowing outside, making ash fly and throats choke up and stars run and hide.
But see, right now, to Die, it was all useless to think about, even bothering to think was just a waste of those whizzing numbers. Even though the burnings occurred almost daily, he had previously been used to smelling thick dusty air and the odor of rot and just plain death. He had messed up before tonight, though. Oh, before tonight, he had fucked up the royal order and all that was plain and holy, written in the textbooks he'd read from childhood to now, the handbooks of work and life, just close enough to the modern Bible, the written rules pertaining to the obeying of the Father.
It wasn't the fact that he had first roughed up the stranger outside his door, then taken him to bed, and fallen in love with him within a few weeks (even though that's a fucked-up order in itself, he mused to himself), but he had just fallen with the wrong person in the wrong world and universe and way of living.
If Die had to be honest? He questions how it could be the 'wrong' person in the government's eyes if everything just fit so perfectly.
i.
And, he figures, if he hadn't been so wary before meeting him, then this taste of delicious difference would've never occurred.
Die had come home right after raiding a sanctuary, his cherry-stained hair ruffled and unkempt with some blood visible along his hairline, toting his military-issued revolver in his bag and still in the monotone-colored uniform he wore daily, even though now it was darker in some places due to blood spattering from the bullets that pierced through the bystanders and offenders.
"And the bitch had the nerve to grab my leg! Got a hand print on my uniform, too," Die complained into the mobile phone he clasped to his ear. "Even though I doubt the dying think of the repercussions of unauthorized physical contact with a commanding officer," he snickered, "it was just too fun to kick her away and watch her try to breathe."
He paused halfway down the hallway, reaching into the pocket on the front of his jacket, the jingling of the numerous medals echoing down the empty steel hallways as he searched for his keys, and listened a moment to the person on the other end of the phone. "No, no, not that it was enjoyable, having to get blood all over my boots, but getting rid of an impurity. A top case, Toshiya, a top case of rebellion against our Father! And we solved it! Now all that's left is to burn the place down, as an example of the great power we hold." Adjusting his shoulder bag once more, he continued, "Why must these silly people worship a-a-a silly, non-existent prophet, dead and crucified, no less, when our great Leader is alive and well, every day on the screen!"
Toshiya's voice was a babble of static on the other side of the phone, or at least it seemed like it to Die now, because there was something new when he paused in front of his door, key in hand.
There was a man there. A civilian man, no less, dressed in the black jeans and turtleneck that was commonplace among the male civilians, smoking nonchalantly with ash falling onto his shirtsleeve. And he was looking at Die, just looking with eyes deep and black and Die felt like he was being positively suffocated by the intensity behind that gaze. It wasn't an intense hate, or like, or curiosity, but it just radiated tension, and Die could feel it rush through his nerves.
He snapped back into reality just to mumble, "Yeah Totchi, gotta run, news," and hang up. Sparing a second to shove his device into the jacket pocket, he bent in half to reach the other's level, face-to-face, gave what would be to most a knee-shaking glare, and rumbled in his most authoritative voice, "These are the quarters of the Class Four Officers. As you are a civilian, it's a punishable offense to be caught in here without reason. Might you have one?"
The civilian shook his head and -- Die swore to the Father -- chuckled at that. He didn't answer, only took a drag on the smoking stick between his fingers and kept giving Die that gaze.
The redhead's forehead wrinkled more with confusion and despise -- he just despised these uppity bumpkins from the outreaches of the city -- and his voice rumbled dangerously low, "Are you going to cooperate with me? Are you going to give me plausible reason as to why you are in quarters that do not suite you?"
The black-clad man stubbed his cigarette out in one swift movement against the bloody handprint on Die's pants, dark hair obscuring his face as he did so, and Die was torn between his rational side and the impulse to pull out his rifle and just execute the bastard against his door and sleep like a baby afterward.
So, he settled for a compromise: lifting the city man by his shirt and slamming him against the door hard enough to throttle his head back against the titanium door and keep him suspended a few inches from the ground.
That look was still on his face, that infuriating and smart-ass smirk, and Die was determined to wipe it off once and for all. Die brought his face in close to the other's and yelled loudly, "Desecration of an officer's uniform, too?! Who in the hell do you think gave you the right to treat me like one of your own kind? Answer my question, immediately!"
That smirk then curved into a cynical grin, and out from that pale throat rumbled a low, sultry voice, replying, "If you're so closely connected to the Father, our all knowing Leader, passing on all his knowledge to his Children," he leaned in until his nose bumped into Die's and coffee-and-cigarette breath heated his lips, "you tell ME why I ventured here."
That cocky--
Die leaned forward and bit into that smiling mouth's lower lip hard enough that he tasted blood in the first second, tasted nicotine and copper and disgust and laughter, and when he received no yelp of pain or protest, he went fuck all to the key and pressed the emergency button on the doorframe, causing both him and the dark-haired man to tumble to the ground in a heated, angry mass.
Somehow, they managed to grope and scratch and claw their way into Die's bedroom in the dark, Die growling about you son of a whore and the other don't bring me so low when I can bring you so high until Die shut him up with a slap to the face and a lick across his jaw.
Every capable though flew out the window as everything progressed further and further: the civilian ripping the uniform --quite literally-- off of Die's slender form, Die breaking the zipper on the black denim jeans of the other and getting them caught around the dingy boots on his feet, and it was quite amusing, really, to see both so eagerly engaged in some type of contest of 'who can get the other naked more roughly'?
Blunt nails dug into skin, teeth bit into necks and shoulders and god knows where else, hips undulated futilely, attempting to gain more contact, and there was fighting for dominance until the redhead pinned the other to the mattress as he scraped his nails across that heaving abdomen and ink-stained arms.
"Teaching you to have a damn good fucking reason--"
And laughter bubbled out of that abused form as Die tucked slippery fingers into other, hastily, just enough for it to work quick enough and well enough, over almost as soon as it began, and the bearded man said through the laugh as Die held onto his thighs and pushed them upwards, up up until his knees touched his chest, "Oh, I think I have a pretty fucking good reason n--"
Which was cut off by a harsh yell as the redhead pushed his way in, all the way, blunt nails digging hard enough into pale flesh to immediately leave grotesque colored marks. There was no hesitation, because both knew that no, there would be no waiting. This was a challenge, this was war.
With violent movements and actions, with slaps and scrapes and expletives being tossed at each other like bombs, this was nothing close to gentle; in fact, it was the total antithesis, with Die growling against the other's bleeding mouth and what name do I scream when I'm satisfied?
...Kaoru, I want to hear you beg for Kaoru.
ii.
"I am not a fucking woman. You're doing the sheets."
Die gave Kaoru a defiant look out of his peripherals at the other, not willing to move his battered but definitely sated body, not even to look at his handiwork on the other.
That was soon granted, though, as the tattooed man sat up, muscles tensing and fluttering from the exertion. Running his fingers backward through his long hair, he chuckled ruefully and rapped his knuckles against Die's abdomen.
"I don't know anything about treating bloodstains--or cumstains, for that matter--on gray sheets. But I will cook breakfast, because from the looks of those plates on the floor, you can't cook worth a shit." A pause. "...or clean, for that matter."
"You're such an ungrateful bastard, insulting me after I gave you the greatest fuck you'll ever have in your useless life," Die retorted, sitting up and placing a hand on the pale expanse of the older man's back. He could feel the criss-crossing of old, weathered, well earned scars underneath his fingertips, and he leaned in against him.
"I have to serve my duties to the Father," he mumbled against the creature inked into the smooth neck, "but I expect you to come back for more, yes?" The red haired man bit roughly into a dark bite wound from the previous night, which caused Kaoru to flinch reflexively but reach back and pull Die's hair while murmuring, "But isn't that a violation of my civilian code, Commanding Officer?"
Like a true Child of the Father himself, Die was all knowing. Kaoru did indeed come back with that same confident smirk and rough words and violent actions and lithe legs, again. And again. And again and again and yet again and if Die didn't know any better, he would've sworn that Kaoru was like the drugs that were in his history texts, texts that told of the rushes people would get and the ecstatic feeling after each use, but minus those disgusting side effects.
Afterward, before they would practically collapse from exhaustion and satisfaction, they would exchange a few words about themselves. Such as how Die managed to raid a library and burn the historical fiction books, who was being promoted, and what tactics were best when dealing with orphaned sons destined to become officers themselves, while Kaoru told short stories about growing up in the city, the fights in the alleyways, the daily life and how the people would react to the Father's speeches about the dedication needed to prevent the impending wars.
"A huge crock is what we are, Die," Kaoru murmured into his sweaty pillow one evening. "We civilians are just asylum bound. I mean, look at me, a middle class smartass who now has one of the Children as his fuck buddy, with no other benefits but a better bed to sleep in. But get this--that's a good thing. It's a motherfuckin' HONOR to have my ass handed to me nightly by one of the high officials in the government."
Die chuckled from his position by the bed, shaking his head so that red and black strands flew back in forth. "You all aren't crocks. I don't think I'd be stupid enough to bring a freshly released psycho into my bed. Nor would I allow said person to lay in my bed without cleaning themselves up." When Kaoru didn't move, the taller man flopped onto the bed and frowned. "That was a hint."
Kaoru just murmured in protest and waved his arm in a lazy 'go away' gesture. Reaching out for his cigarettes, he grabbed one and stuck it between his lips for the comfort in it and curled into himself. He pulled the sheets over himself and said, "If you roll over on me again tonight, I swear, I will cut your dick off and feed it to you."
'What's with THAT harsh attitude? To think you'd say that to me, someone who could easily kick your ass to the warfield and leave you there with no regrets?" A note of mock-hurt was evident in Die's voice.
Kaoru smothered a laugh. "Because you snore and drool! And you sweat a lot on your sides and thighs and it gets kind of gross after a few hours."
"Oh, oh fine. You don't like smelling like me? I am offended."
The banter continued for a few more moments until Kaoru had managed to wrestle the officer onto his back and lie down on top of him, and Die stilled for a few moments.
A couple of unspoken words, a request, an "okay", and all was silent until Die had to remove himself from Kaoru's iron grasp and move on to the next assignment. And he was even...almost reluctant.
iii.
Kaoru was on the balcony, one cigarette between pale pink lips and another dangling from his fingers, both lit. Their smoke, however, was indistinguishable from the putrid black cloud floating in front of him.
When Die walked out towards the balcony, clad in a pair of jeans and towel drying his hair, he called, "Kaoru? Hey, why's the window open? It smells like shit," Die fanned a hand in front of his face to ward off the smell; even if he dealt with this type of occurrence many many times, he just couldn't get used to that smell.
The civilian didn't answer. In fact, he didn't move, he didn't speak, and for half a second, Die wondered if he was even breathing. He sidled up beside him and wrapped an arm around his bare shoulder, shaking gently. "What's wrong? You're stock-still."
That was when Die saw what had the other man frozen.
He saw the lines of men, women, and even children, marching along the podium, with some of Die's fellow commanders following close behind, their guns poised, ready to shoot any offenders or escapees. At several points along the podium, the ones in front would stop, and the officers would place the guns against the back of their heads. With each shot, Kaoru gave a subtle flinch, and Die instinctively brought him closer. After each shot, the people would fall...
"They're burning."
Die plucked the remnants of his lover's cigarette out of his mouth, dropped it towards the flame pit, and recovered that smaller hand with his own. "Yes."
"Die, they're burning. Little children are burning."
He nodded in response and watched as Toshiya, laughing, jerked an older man towards his line by the arm. He asked the frightened fellow something, a sneer quite evident in the way he held his head up and body erect, and the prisoner started gesturing frantically towards a woman about his age, presumably his wife, and a young teen girl. Toshiya paused, as if considering something, but shook his head and rammed the butt of his gun into the man's gut, and the recoil caused him to fall backwards into the pit.
Alive.
Kaoru could feel the burn of bile rising up in the back of his throat when Toshiya turned and gave Die a thumbs up, and as Die returned that gesture with a grin and a salute, he turned away quickly and rushed into the kitchen.
He didn't realize that the younger redhead had followed him into the kitchen until he pulled his head out of the sink and felt a rough palm on the small of his back.
Right as Die was about to open his mouth, Kaoru interrupted with a weak but steady voice. "You never told me. You never told me about these people."
"It was none of your business. You never needed to know, because it's something someone like you doesn't need to deal with," he replied, wrapping his arms around the civilian's torso and watched as the flames disappeared and reappeared out of his window, resting his chin on one inked shoulder. "And, though you may not understand this, but they're not people, Kaoru. They're nothing."
Die found himself roughly pushed away with Kaoru facing him now, an outraged look on his face and disgust evident in his voice. "Nothing? They're nothing? That may be the case now, Die, as they're bone and ash, but," he reached out and placed his palms against Die's chest, "how can you say they're not people? They have a heart that beats, they have a family, they walk and talk and laugh and cry, just like you and me, and they're not people?
"There are little children in there, Die! Kids! One of them looked just like my nieces, another like my cousin, just barely into this world, Die! What wrong could they have done to deserve this--" he chokes on his next words, and Die tried his best to calm down the shaking man holding on to him, "this sick persecution? What about the mothers who watch them burn?! About the future generations that could've come from them?! If we're using that logic of yours, 'they're nothing', then we, and the Officers and Commanders and maybe even the fucking Leader himself are nothing!"
He started to talk once more, but Die quickly stopped that train of thought with a punch to the face and a shove to the ground until Die was lying on top of him, dead-weight, covering Kaoru's mouth and shaking ever so slightly as his eyes darted around.
Blood from Kaoru's split lip stained the palm of Die's hand as the officer sat up on Kaoru's stomach. He had a sorrowful, pitying look upon his face, and he started to talk as he smeared his palm across the sharp cheekbones, bringing the bloodstains with it.
"You're insipid. You speak so callously about things that have great impact on both of us, of the purity, Kaoru," Die responded, running his fingers on the opposite hand through the thick dark locks of the man underneath him. "You know absolutely nothing of these people. You assume that because they're young, they're pure? They're like you and me? No. Being born from bad blood automatically makes you an enemy."
Painstakingly gentle effort was put into helping Kaoru up and back onto his feet, and even then he continued, "What you don't see is their inside, Kaoru. Inside these people are all tarnished and disgusting, like the whores of the War Zone or the drunks of the Lower District. Our whole government, our great Leader, based our peace on finding these people and wiping the stains clean from society.
"Since forever, we, the good, and they, the bad, have just been lumped together as one race of people," he grabbed a hold of Kaoru's chin and tilted it upwards until he was staring into those deep ebony eyes, "but think about it--think about it! Now, we have ourselves, the still surviving and living, and them, the ones who have nothing to live for except for the day they become trapped in hellfire.
"Think about it, Kaoru. We are the free. But they, you see," he gestured towards the dark smoke reaching towards the sky, "they are the prisoners."
A breathy sigh was exhaled. Kaoru slipped his hands into Die's and stared at them for a moment before continuing, "It's disgusting, how you have the blood of countless lives spilling over your hands. It hurts to see someone I love like this so deep into a battle of hatred and murder and," he can't continue. He can't. The words are stuck in his throat, but they are obvious in his eyes.
I love you, but you disgust me.
Die doesn't mind. Die doesn't care. He can deal with one bad half so long as he gets the other good half, and when Kaoru leaned in to press his lips against the officer's, the shorter one tasted soot and smoke and death and most of all the care that mattered more than the desecration he subjected himself witness to by being with him.
Worthy enough for a masochist like himself.
iv.
Again, there was a stranger on his doorstep.
Die had stared at the solemn figure for a good five minutes ahead before he ventured in closer to examine who was blocking the door to his quarters. When he got close enough, he was shocked to find that it was Kaoru. Unrecognizable, what with the white blunt bob cut and blue working uniform, but Kaoru nonetheless.
The first thing that hit Die was the look on Kaoru's face. When most men came home from war, they had a look of weariness, like no sleep and a bad taste in their mouth and all they want is to crawl into a dark place and die away slowly. Kaoru bore this look, but his was just...
Cold. Stone cold. So sad and listless and it made Die's heart and stomach turn upside down and he ran over to hold Kaoru's face between his palms. "Kaoru? Kaoru, are you okay? Is something wrong?"
To his shock, Kaoru yanked Die's hands away and pushed him, pushed him almost across the hallway and held up his hands in front of his face. The civilian's voice was rough and hoarse as he said, "I have to go."
"Go?" Die questioned, moving closer in front of the shorter one but not touching. "I'm confused. Are you leaving? Is it vacation time already?"
"No. Die, I have to go. You have to stay here. I can't take you to where I'm about to go." His shoulders slumped wearily as he answered. "There's...no reason to need an explanation. I just have to go and get out of here, far away. Away from this city, away from this zone. Away from you."
Brown eyes widened at that last statement, and Die spluttered, trying to get his thoughts straight. No you can't I need you if you leave what'll happen to you don't worry about me why so sudden come back-- "I'm...you, you aren't thinking straight. What's wrong, Kaoru, are you sick?" A leather clad hand placed itself on Kaoru's forehead for a nanosecond until Kaoru jerked away but moved back to pull Die by the belt of his uniform and buried his face in the crook of that slender neck. He breathed in deeply once, just once, before whispering now you're truly free and giving the officer one last godawful look before leaving him bewildered and still confused in that hallway.
With each passing hour, Die's pacing became more frantic, his worrying mounting, and soon his apartment filled with smoke from the two packs of cigarettes he had smoked. When his phone rang, he jumped for it, almost knocking over the bedside table and the mountain of laundry that Kaoru had folded, only to be disappointed when he realized that it was only Toshiya that called to announce the impromptu cleansing of the opposing side's spies (They fuckin' infiltrated us! Trying to get to our Leader! What the fuck is that thinking, anyways?) that would take place that night.
Die brushed it off with a headache excuse, and Toshiya, being the naive one he was (I heard getting laid cures headaches, man!), accepted it, with just a little teasing on the side, but it was all meaningless to Die. He at least wanted an explanation for this rashness, or maybe it was wanting to hear Kaoru's voice again, but whichever one it was, it was pulling Die into different directions. His better judgment of leaving Kaoru to his business, clinging on to hope that he would call later, or his impulses, which screamed at him to get his boots on and run, run, run anywhere, looking for that eccentric charisma that he found, quite literally, on his doorstep.
The one eccentricity that, in the long run, had changed his life in no way that the Leader promised, that life itself had planned.
post.
And as he watches those numbers flash by, he watches that bright blue and white spot move closer to the flames, watches as that white disappears into ash, and somehow, through all this, Die smiles at the thin hope that maybe these tears could, at least metaphorically, extinguish those ashes to keep them from burning away entirely.
x-posted to diexkaorulove and direngrey_yaoi