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BLITHE YOUTH	By : SabreTooth Category: +. to F > Ai no Kusabi Views: 1911 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Ai No Kusabi, yaoi fandom; I do not own the characters and story-line of the canon. No money/profit is made from this.

Chapter List
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SILENT PROTEST

Raoul Am and Iason Mink. An odd couple – roommates. A bet has been going down for weeks, suggesting that the two would not survive a whole month together. Especially, since they were so different. Raoul had gone to such lengths in his obstinacy as to cut his hair. His fringe was long, reaching to his chin and covering most of his face, but the back of his neck was bare. The golden locks had been left on the floor in the headmaster’s chamber in a wordless protest against the invisible gag that was forced upon the young boy – not allowing for a genuine expression of opinion. The deed was shocking, and though nearly two weeks have passed since Raoul’s outrageous behavior, everyone still whispered and discussed the event behind his back whenever he passed by. Whispered was, of course, a matter of definition, for the unkind surrounding spoke clearly enough for Raoul to be able to understand that the conversation was about him only. They never allowed for him to forget. Not even Iason was forgiving. It was far too erratic to be accepted. The event had taken place during social sciences class. It was one of the very few lectures the two roommates shared and it was also during this session that Raoul Am announced his famous words of wisdom; “The body language is the only true universal language, and sex is the currency accepted by most.”
Iason found those words despicable and a heated argument on ethics and politics had burst into bloom. Raoul had nestled into ethical issues and drew his conclusions from there, whereas the rest of the class found politics in its purest form – completely free from empathy – be the best option for proper social control. The deviant claimed firmly that many decisions regarding the everyday life of people, were made between the sheets when emotions were flowing. Raoul even possessed the indecency to allege that some great leaders were influenced by their spark of affection towards such insignificant creatures as the mongrels. That was the true face of politics and the way things worked among the highly ranked. Everyone knew that Raoul had a point, but the Deviant was readily and aggressively contradicted just for the simple fact of being the most ostracized student in the Academy.
That was the way things worked in a group of social beings – it was the law of Nature. However, the arguments against his ideas and thoughts were getting far too personal, which eventually resulted in physical encounters and blood. At first, Raoul had the upper hand, but he had no allies. He was held down by some classmates, which opened the opportunity for the primary opponent to direct a few precise strikes against Raoul’s face. His vision blurred and starts were flashing before his eyes. He could see the blood from his own mouth spray over his shoulder as his head flung to the side. When he opened his eyes, he was on the floor. Strong hands were pressing him towards the plastic floor, which smelled of wax and disinfectants – sterile, like the world of the Blondies. No wonder that the flaxen were seeking their refuge in the arms of those who added varieties of shades into depraved lives; the colorful Pets. Those with hair color other then blond, skin other then fair, and words other then noble. It was true – but it was taboo. No one was to think it and no one was to speak it. Unfortunately, Raoul had broken that unwritten code of confidence and spoken the forbidden words into the face of the Elite.
Iason watched as Raoul was pushed down, and dragged to the headmaster’s office. He refused to intervene. Raoul was not to speak those things. A true and pure Blondie was not ruined by perverted desires for the weak. Why would Raoul say such a thing? He spat on his roommate internally, but somewhere in the bottom of his consciousness he sensed that Raoul had touched upon an uncomfortable truth. If only that imbecile knew how to shut his mouth.
Later that day, Raoul returned to the room with bruised lips, cheeks wet and marked with the tiny rivers of tears he had cried. He must have done so for hours. His eyes were red and his appearance unworthy a Blondie. That as such was no news to anyone, but he had always taken pride in that golden, wavy hair that rested on his shoulders like a mantle. He was pleased with his lovely hair, which added a soft aura to his ridged charisma, but now there was nothing to quench his rogue appearance.
Iason was lost for words. He was seated at his desk reading, when the unruly flaxen entered the room. He had expected Raoul to barge in with fury burning through his eyes, screaming, threatening and rumbling about his rights to express himself in any way he wants. But no such behavior was displayed.
Raoul moved in slow motion. He closed the front door with a soft click, wordlessly walked into the bathroom and remained there for a long time. Iason was so dumbfounded by Raoul’s altered, dramatic appearance that he couldn’t move from his seat. The book exposed its valuable contents of tiny black letters on white sheets, but Iason could not see the lines screaming for his attention. He stared at the bathroom door.
The shower had been running for what seemed eternity; giving off a monotone patting against the floor. Nothing else could be discerned beyond the familiar sounds of water hitting against stone. The Blondie was getting worried. Raoul deserved a lot of correcting, but not…no, not that. Frightening images of blood swirling down the drain were tainting the peace out of him. His hands started trembling, body numb with cold as if it had been submerged in ice.
“Raoul,” Iason whispered at first, then with a summoned intensity he called out again. “Raoul?”
No answers came from the bathroom.
Iason walked slowly towards the ajar door; his heart pounding in his throat. His chest was heaving with those shallow breaths that were pressed out of his body cavity with force. It was strenuous to move, but he had to continue towards the mysterious door. It was almost as if he had been lost in strange world and this door would promise a portal to another dimension. Iason was worried that the dimension he was about to explore was a gruesome one. He held his breath as he walked inside with tentative efforts. The preponderating steam inside was casting an impenetrable veil before his eyes. He advanced through the mist, walking towards the silhouette on the floor behind the shower cabin.
“Raoul,” Iason called out with a meek voice – he was beside himself with worry. His trembling fingers anchored into the cabin door and with a sudden jerk, he opened it. Raoul remained huddled up on the floor. Clothes completely soaked and body completely unresponsive as Iason shook his shoulders.
“Raoul, please answer me!”
Finally, a slight evidence of life was revealed through muttered words.
“Leave me alone, Iason.”
“What have you done?” Iason asked in disbelief as he moved his hands to the back of Raoul’s neck. Exploring the short and unevenly cut hair, his fingers traveled gingerly along the length of the neck and to his surprise, Raoul made no attempts to escape the fumbling fingers. The juvenile head hung deeply between the shoulders, chin almost touching the chest, as if the weight of the world had been forced upon the tired body. The heaviest load, on the other hand, was Raoul’s own spirit and it sent an arrow of remorse through Iason. Perhaps he shouldn’t have abandoned the Deviant, shouldn’t have left him alone. But there was no way now to have the situation undone, only to perhaps correct, or at least ease the tension. For the first time, Iason found himself questioning the degree of suffering and the weight of the punishment, against the upsetting crime. Did Raoul’s words justify his current state? The thoughts were unfamiliar and disturbing to even take into consideration, and thus Iason chose to push them aside.
“C’mon, Raoul,” Iason sighed. “You can’t sit here all day…c’mon.”
He tried to pull Raoul to his feet, but the rogue was too heavy as he made no attempt to aid Iason in his efforts. The flaxen outside the confined universe dissolved in water continued with his endeavors, but to no avail. Finally, Iason expressed his lack of patients, by responding slightly exasperated while backing away.
“Raoul, get a grip on yourself and get off the floor.”
Iason turned the shower off and frowned at his wet clothes. He despised this kind of drama and Raoul was a master when it came to theatrical outbursts.
“Stop sulking and make an effort to collect your thoughts,” he continued lecturing. “If you hadn’t been stupid enough to say all those things, this wouldn’t have happened. You have yourself to blame, Raoul. Now get off the floor and stop feeling sorry for yourself.”
The Deviant watched the last bits of his strength disappear down the drain with the water. He had no will to oppose or to cause another argument and thus, he obeyed like a programmed robot and left the bathroom on harsh command. He had nothing else to do really. The situation was bad and no one could or would ease his pain. This was something only time could heal.
Raoul sat down on the bed not caring the slightest about the sheets, but Iason intervened. He could have refrained from interfering with Raoul’s little whims, but the truth was a seed of guilt had rooted within, forcing Iason into any kind of action that eased the pain – his own. He caught Raoul before the juvenile deviant lay on the bed stating;
“You’ll ruin the sheets if you lay about as wet as you are. C’mon Raoul, don’t be such a…,” the flaxen suddenly halted and swallowed his insults. He stood motionless above the silent one; observing and contemplating on his next move. Raoul was staring hypnotically through the window with face devoid of any expression, and thus Iason made a decision. Slowly he bent over the deviant and placed his hands on the waist of his mate while looking questioningly at the boy. Were his actions accepted or was he considered too blunt? Since the deviant made no apparent moves, Iason removed the wet shirt after which Raoul assumed his previous position; arms resting lifelessly in his lap, eyes wandering beyond the mortal world somewhere outside the window. Iason felt rather awkward in this situation – caring, for Raoul of all people. He was hoping no one would see him like this – ever actually. Wordlessly, he continued undressing the wet boy before him.
Apathy ruled inside every part of Raoul’s body as he lay on the bed. His entire universe was rocking and moving to the tugging of his clothing, and it had almost become a soothing, familiar state of existence when it suddenly halted.
Iason froze. He wanted, but couldn’t move. No, it wasn’t true. He didn’t want to move; he wanted to stay like this for long time. He allowed himself to be mesmerized by the image before him. He recalled his actions from only a few seconds in the past, but it already seemed ages ago. He remembered he had eased the trousers around Raoul’s waist, taken a firm hold and pulled them to the middle of the thighs. Raoul bucked his hips to aid Iason, arching his back to the point where skin almost grazed skin. The world suddenly stopped spinning.
The saturated scent of something familiar, yet completely unexplored, hit against Iason’s face, then swiftly disappeared again as the hips distanced and rested heavily against the bed. Iason’s heart awakened a wild ceremony in his body, and his eyes focused on a shiny mesh of flaxen, curly hair that produced a soft bed for the resting member. A tormenting rush of heat spread through the young body – burning and consuming his spirit. He wanted to touch it so badly; to feel it against his palms. Would it be as soft as it looked or little more coarse like the fur on an animal?
“Your cheeks are blushing,” came as a disturbance of silence.
Iason lifted his head and met the gaze of Raoul. The corners of his mouth twisted into a little smile, but that was all he allowed himself to do. After all, he mustn’t forget what Raoul was – a deviant. He gathered his strength and regained his composure as he spoke;
“So you are awake after all. Good. Take off the rest of your wet clothes and get some rest and…”
“Iason,” a deep voice called out. “Have you ever seen anyone naked before?”
The question was insulting and Iason grunted on a mere reflex.
“Of course, what do you think?”
“Do you like what you see?”
The question was so imposing that it could be considered vulgar, yet Iason had no will to fight it. He wanted to give a clear answer of confirmation, but he played evasive.
“It looks like anyone else’s.”
The moments between words were thick with silence and anticipation. Iason was waiting for Raoul’s next move and though he could have expected anything blunt and brutal from the rogue flaxen, the words spoken made him lose his breath in a treacherous moan that revealed his innocent yearning.
Raoul, however, was ever so cold as he asked; “Do you want to get closer?”
Iason gasped, clutching the fabric in his hands, trying to collect his thoughts.
“Do you want to get closer?” Raoul repeated, tensing his abdomen and thereby making the beautiful organ assert a discrete sign of alertness with a little twitch. Performing a tiny swagger to invite its chosen partner to an intimate dance.
“By Gods, yes,” rumbled inside Iason’s head. Alluring images of his lips exploring something so forbidden and precious was making his spirit stir within - blooming with sexual arousal. Curiosity was taking him over and just as he was about to mouth a wordless approval to this daring question, he shook his head denying his desire – betraying himself. Raoul nodded, but by no means was he burdened by shame over his crude approach.
“In that case,” Raoul snorted slightly irritated. “Stop staring at me.”
The comment ignited an overwhelming anger within the faltering Blondie; making him back away and reassuming his proud stance. Raoul swiftly discarded the last bits of his clothing, wrapped the blanket around himself and turned his back against Iason. Within a few minutes he was asleep.
“You know Raoul, you are an asshole,” Iason added and returned to reading his book.
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BLITHE YOUTH