The Insomniac's Journal (mha fanfic)

G'Morning

Shota looked around to find himself in a small but cozy, personalized bedroom. Colorful posters were taped to all the walls. It was probably the size of his dorm room if not a little bigger. A large bed, probably queen sized, sat in a corner of the room. A few feet besides it on either sides were two doors.

The one closet to the foot of the bed, also closest to Shota, lead to the hallway outside. He didn't have to open it to know. The other, which was near the head of the bed, lead to the bathroom. A third door was on the opposite wall to the entry door but they angled instead of being in a straight line. It was a double door because it would bring you to a walk in closet.

A bit away from the door was a medium desk with a lamp and various books on top of it and a marine blue backpack rested against it. A more-or-less bare bookshelf sat between it and the wall. There was only a hand full of books and magazines while figurines littered the remaining shelves.

He heard the footsteps outside approaching from afar when he noticed the mirror on one of the closet doors reflected him slightly. Confused by the sliver of an image he saw, Shota approached to make sure it was not so as the footsteps quickened the nearer they got.

He looked in the mirror to find that he had shrunken by two feet. His body was also thinner and there was a bandage on one of his eyes. His hair was also remarkably shorter. If what this mirror said was true, then Shota's about 15 or 16 years old.

He hates the fact he looks twelve but he knows his own body well enough to tell how old he actually was. Blood splattered, bony cheeks and fresh red eyes stared at him. He must have been training before this.

It impressive how well his body generates this image. Maybe it was carved a little too deep in his memory. The lines on his hands were a little off as were the folds of his skin and the shapes of his eyes. Other than those and a few more small details this was pretty accurate.

As he was deep in his analysis the door flung open with such hitting the wall with such force the whole room shook. Shota turned around to see Yokami standing at the door with a malevolent look on his face. He stepped into the room and slammed the door hard behind him, making sure to lock it.

Without warning, Yokami jumped on Shota and pinned him to the bed by his throat. His breath rate increased and sweat beads formed on Shota's body. The rough hand chocking him only tightened its grip as a response to his suffering.

"Please... stop." He begged to the man above him.

"Silence." The older cousin yelled threateningly. Why the fuck were all the rooms in this damned house soundproof again?

Shota whimpered at the pain and a slap came in contact with his skin. Oh. He must have won while they were sparring. Only when tears came from his uncovered eye and rolled down his cheek did Yokami finally removed his hand from Shota's throat.

He drew in a deep breath and let it out. Taking advantage of the time he was given, Shota did small breathing exercises hoping to soothe his lack of air.

He should have at least sat up to watch the other boy but it even he can admit Yokami could have pushed him back down and gotten pissed all over again just for that. If he had, however, dared to sit up he would have noticed the boy taking off his belt and unzipping his pants.

An arm went to him and pulled him to sit upright. Shakily, he looked towards his older cousin as if asking him what he wants now. "So? You just gonna stare all day or are you going to make yourself useful and suck me off?"

What? No. No, not again. Not again please. He thought.

"Well." Yokami demanded as he slipped his jeans off all the way.