Nostalgia

Crash (2/3)

Ruki x Uruha

Uruha's POV

I could barely let out a squeak less than a shout as I was slammed against the wall, my head hitting against the concrete painfully, my vision seeing stars when an arm was held hard against my neck, slowly choking me. I gasped for breath, hands clawing away the arm that is unexpectedly strong despite the offender's size. He let go as fast as he had attacked me, standing a safe distance away as I slid to the floor, gasping for dear breath. Sweet oxygen that I never knew was so important.

My hands around my sore neck, I watched him, him standing there unaffectedly, arms crossed in front of him. What frightens me most isn't the uncaring controlled anger in his face. Perhaps it is me knowing that I wouldn't do anything to stop him. Not after everything I have done against him.

"How long?"

Before I could answer him, he knelt next to me, his face dangerously close to mine, his fingers clenching into my shoulder painfully.

"Don't think about lying"

I never knew this side of Ruki. Total opposite from whom I had associated him to be. Is this my fault? Is this our fault for unleashing this in him?

"That was the first time"

My head turned from the impact of his blow, his other hand again tightened on my shoulder. I kept my head turned, my bearings steadied again before I peeked at him from beneath my disheveled hair.

"Liar"

I leant my head back, tongue darting out to lick away the bead of blood from my cut lip. Damn. The rest will be asking questions now. I guessed my not answering him pissed him off more, pushing all the wrong buttons when his fingers reached to pull at my shirt, not caring of the buttons flying everywhere, the clatter of it on the floor far too loud in my ears.

I watch him, not stopping him. His fingers unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned my jeans, pulling it roughly past my hips along with my boxers. Still I didn't stop him, still he didn't say a word. Perhaps this is seeking penance for my sins. Let him blame me.

Better me than Kai. I laid dormant as he thrusted into me, concentrating on willing away the tears, zoning myself out from the pain surrounding my lower body. He pulled out spent, breathing harshly, chest heaving, sitting across me, uncaring of my own limpid state.

I pulled myself from the floor, leaning against the wall slowly, every movement causing silvers of pain running through me. As I shifted to pull the jeans from my knees to cover myself, I could feel his eyes on me.

"Why?"

The broken child underneath his angry façade pleaded for an answer from me. How could I answer him? How could I tell him?

I leant again against the wall, chuckling softly, slowly turning into hysterical laughter. Laughter at myself, at my own situation.