Portrait Without Sin | By : animeyaoi Category: +. to F > FAKE Views: 4374 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own FAKE, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Disclaimer: FAKE, nor any of it’s characters belong to me…* sigh *… those rights all belong to Sanami Matoh.
Warning: Not your ‘nice’ everyday fanfic of your favorite couple. Very strong language / Humiliation (depending on how you look at it) / Angst / Lime, Lemon / Yaoi. Rating will tend to go up in later chapters.
Summary: How would it be if the one person you trusted with your heart was found to have betrayed it? Seeing him there, with… ‘him’ was nearly more than he could bare. He never thought that he would do something like this. He never thought that he would be betrayed by him.
Yes, the character’s might seem a little out of character, but then how would you react?
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Quotation marks “.” = talking
Italics, apostrophe marks ‘like this’ = thoughts to oneself.
*********** = skips of moments, time, views of people, and such
Ummm…… Sorry. I know I said that this chapter would be “THE” chapter, but it wound up way, way long, and there wound up really two different story settings… soooo…… I know that some of you like longer pieces, but I didn’t want this beginning piece to get shifted aside by getting scrolled down over. Sorry, still forcing a bit of angst here.
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Portrait Without Sin
By: Ryoan
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Part 9: Separate Together
A light haze of smoke drifted upward, curling and making swirls as if in a dance of its own. The tip of the cigarette had about a quarter length of ash on it, where it had burned down but not yet flicked away. It was held between two strong tanned fingers, dangling between the two upraised knees; elbows from both arms rested atop of them as the other hand lightly clasped around the opposite’s forearm.
He sat on the wide cement landing newel at the top of the landing of an apartment house nearly opposite the one he stared at. Actually, it wasn’t the building itself, just one particular window on the third floor that had it’s lights on inside. He had seen a shadow cross over the panes of the square lattice casement once, but no figure of a person came directly into view.
Flicking away the remnants of ash, the man brought the filtered tip up to his lips, and took a long drag of it. He held onto the warm pollution as he lifted the burning cigarette up, as if for study. Releasing the cloudy inhaled smoke, blowing it away from him out of the side of his mouth, he thought ironically, ‘Just a few decades ago, they called this a fag.’
He scoffed at the mindless musings he was having while he sat there with no reasonable purpose other than just not being able to tear himself away.
How long he had been sitting there, he hadn’t a clue. His ass was already so numb, he’d be lucky if he could get up and walk when he did try. A dozen or so crushed tips of used cigarettes were gathering in a growing line of discarded ones, -- the only real evidence of how much time had passed, knowing that he had been smoking at leisure.
A hand came up to run fingers through his hair; not so much as to brush the annoying strands out of his eyes as it was a restless gesture.
Why the hell was he even there, was a question he asked himself, but no answer came, not even from the back of his subconsciousness. He knew the answer. It was buried within every pore, but he couldn’t bring himself to think that way, or say it.
The end of the cigarette grew red, as he took another long draw upon it before crushing it out as next in succession. Exhaling, he twisted his wrist to look at his watch.
2:48 a.m.
He gave a glance back up to the lighted window, before he relaxed his legs and swung them over to the side. He really should go. He had work early in the morning, and he wasn’t going to get much time to sleep as it was.
Hands braced upon the cool slab next to his thighs, as fingers pressed themselves against the gritty hardness of the cement, yet still he didn’t make that final push. Green eyes slid back upward. He knew that the light was deliberate, and with a slight pushing jump, the boots made a small high pitched tap against the landing.
Gathering the crushed remains of the cigarettes, he deposited them in the now, empty carton, before making his way down the steps that led to the sidewalk. Turning to the right, he moved about eight feet, and tossed the pack of debris into the garbage can that was sitting there near the curb.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, he continued on his way. Soft clunking taps could be heard in the near vacantness of the street, as he made each step. There was still another block to go before reaching his destination.
Turning the disheveled mane of dark locks, he couldn’t help taking a last look as green eyes glanced momentarily back to the upper window. His lips tightened, and he turned his focus to the front of him.
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Ryo glanced at the clock sitting upon the stand next to the bed. The numbers were somewhat hard to read being a bit blurry, but he could make out that it was only ten minutes before three o’clock. Lean fingers reached up and wiped the moisture that was tickling his face; wiping them across damp lashes as well.
He sat up from the pillow he had been lounging against, and shifted himself to look out the window. His eyes scanned what part of the street he could see below, taking in the vehicle that drove pass and the silhouette of a person walking down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. The familiar vehicle, which he looked for, was not parked along the road to denote that his invitation had been accepted. He hadn’t really expected him to show up -- he had hoped but not expected.
Sliding back away from the window, he pressed his back against the coolness of the wall. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he wrapped his arms around them for comfort. At this time of night, whatever ‘fun’ Dee had planned to do with his ‘new’ partner would have already happened. Done and over with.
Did he treat this other man like he had him? Had he been gentle and patient, or had he been in such a rush that it had just been a frenzy release? Had he crossed his mind at all? Did he think about what it was that he was doing, before he did anything? Or, had the thought of settling the score just what kept him going? Images of himself and Dee filtered through his mind, as he remember the first time he had been with Dee.
Those memories brought a sharp painful ache to the pit of his stomach, and a break in his heart.
How could one innocent choice come to the point of where it shattered his life, taking away the one thing he had come to depend upon and love most in the world? The secret he wanted to keep from Dee seemed so… trivial, so… minuscule a reason for the result to come to this.
Heated tears coursed their way down his face once again, and he released a choking sob which was followed by a series of painful cries. Dropping his forehead down against his arms, Ryo muffled some of the sounds in the folded space of his body; his shoulders quaking uncontrollably in the thrones of his grieving.
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Footsteps were quieted by bare feet as they approached the closed entrance. A hand touched upon the wooden door, to somehow allow more stealth to their movements as they leaned their head against it also. They could hear the muffled sounds of the person inside, consciously trying to control the level of sound they made. If anything, it made it even more painful to hear, knowing that they struggled to keep their grief silent from anyone else.
Slipping down to the floor, the young adolescent curled up to lean against the barrier that separated them. He so much wanted to go inside and give comfort against the suffering. The man had done so much for him during the past few years of his life, and the love that he had for him was just as strong as any kid would have for a devoted parent. But he knew that if he went in, Ryo would stop and give him some garbage that everything was fine. He would put on a stiff upper lip and pretend it was alright -- again, when all the while the man would be breaking inside. So instead, the streetwise blonde teenager, sat silently, allowing a few tears of his own to run down his cheeks, knowing that the man inside needed the emotional release for now.
It didn’t stop him from still feeling at a loss. He hurt for Ryo’s pain; he hurt for his own. That dumb-ass Dee! How could he do this to someone he had so… passionately… no, strongly admitted that he loved? How could he just walk out of his life like this… out of their lives? It had taken sometime before he would even accept Dee, and now he does this?
‘That fucking asshole! I had better not see his face again, or I’ll… I’ll knock him on his ass and mess him up for daring to hurt Ryo!’
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A lone figure sat staring out the side window of the car. His elbow was propped against the door handle, as thumb pressed into his cheek, and his teeth bit into his forefinger in gentle pain. He had two choices at the moment, but there were enough reasons on either to cancel out the other -- so he just sat there.
Despite the urging need, the key was turned and the engine revived to life.
He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure if he could forgive; he wasn’t sure he could completely let it go, and that wouldn‘t do either of them any good. It stung his own pride, but most of all it still broke his heart.
With a heaving sigh, he set the vehicle in motion and started to drive away. He turned off at the end of the block so not to drive pass the particular apartment building, yet he couldn’t help glancing up before he did so and saw that the light was still on.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ End of Part 9 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
vacantness (vacant-ness) - another word that I fixed to fit my story.
landing newel - do not kill me if I'm wrong about this word. I was going to call it a banister or balister, so I might be wrong all around. Don't write me on it. I am really referring to the wide cement top, that sits atop brick or cement sides of the stairs and landing part. I tried to look the correct word up and still don't know if I got it right.
Thank you all still so much whether your readers or viewers of this story. I do give extra special Thanks to my reviewers who have made it as exciting for me as it is for you to read.
Aspiker - No there isn’t. Maybe someone else can.
Cole’s Lover - Sorry about the rain in this one, but there is an ending coming soon. Maybe the next chapter with explain about Armon’s silence. Hope you stay with me.
Hong Mee - I’m not sure how much of a climax it will actually be, but it is just around the very, very next corner. Yep, it’s that close.
Inineen Autumn wolf - No, he wasn’t trying to make him cry. I could say he is protecting himself by being so ‘rough’, which in a way would make a person probably cry, but he wasn’t ‘trying’ to make him cry. And as for Ryo, that’s what the next couple of chapters will be about.
JazzGirl - Hope this chapter didn’t put you over the edge. Things are about to make a turn. Next chapter, promise.
Julia - Cause I relate to him. Sorry about this tearful one.
KD - Yes, that was pretty mean there. And he’s afraid if he does listen 1) he’d wind up giving in and he’s not sure if he can forgive completely (yet). 2) that he’d hear excuses from Ryo that would lead to his own failings, and 3) that he’d hear Ryo speak of what he found that he loved and attracted him to the other man. Is this personal enough?
Kit_Yang - Poor Derek, but he was an ass to Ryo, which Dee did not put him up to. Hope things are working well with your computer still.
Muyoluv20 - Sometimes people’s head are really thick.
Raining_like_tears - Have no clue what to write for you. You do so much on insight, blows me away.
Someone Out There - Don’t know if you can answer your question in this chapter or not. Yes, Dee is being deliberate there. Sometimes, in my experience, when someone’s hurting they say and do dumb-ass things.
Wildefyre - One more angst chapter. Don’t know how you feel about Dee now after this one, but don’t rule out he’s not going to be a bit of an ass in the next one. (Just a tiny bit)
Xzanayu - Hummm… it does look that way. I don’t know if this chapter helped or not.
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