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Dec. 29th, 2007 04:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat8chaPastels replaced by dark purple, soft by hard, and warm by so very cold.
“I don’t see why we can’t kill him.” The tall man mutters, twisting Itsuki’s hair around his thick grubby fingers and pushing his head to the side. Itsuki whines, a high pitched noise that he can’t help from escaping even with the gag. Itsuki is scared. This isn’t a job for him, this is a job for the elite at Seigaku Station. Itsuki is a mind reader, nothing more.
“Killing him would serve no purpose.” The man who kidnapped Itsuki states. When the man walks forward to slap the overweight man’s hand away his feet make snapping noises when they impact on the floor. Snap, snap, snap, slap. “We need him alive.” Calloused fingers carefully holding his chin, soft on the bruise from where the blond man smacked him. Itsuki feels his head turned, carefully, but he keeps his eyes averted.
Calloused fingers rub soothingly along Itsuki’s jaw. “I don’t need eye contact to do anything to you, Itsuki-kun.” The fingers move up Itsuki’s jaw and over his face, brushing back his hair. Itsuki is so tired, his mind still fraying at the edges like a pair of cut off jeans. “You can keep looking away.” Fraying, fraying, coming undone like a sand castle under the steady pounding of waves.
Schwooooooot
Itsuki puffed angrily, glaring strait up into hard, cold, dark eyes. His mental walls snapped up, brittle as crackling ice, but they would hurt the other man to break them.
Kite, something inside Itsuki whispered, the tendril of thoughts that Kite had managed to touch curling inside of Itsuki’s mind. Cream on porridge and early mornings with no coffee. Kite.
Itsuki glared at Kite, and if the gag had not kept him from spitting at him, Itsuki would.
Gingerly Kite reached up to wipe a trail of blood from one nostril. “Shiranui, Aragaki.” Two other men stepped forward, not the blond, not the large one. They were nondescript, fuzzy around the edges like the leftovers Bane-san kept in his fridge. “I want you on surveillance. The minute anything comes up,” Kai, red, orange, ring “I want to know.”
Itsuki blinked once, slow as molasses, Kai Kai Kai beating at his senses.
“Chinen.” Kite snapped, snap, crackle, pop goes the weasel, Itsuki had to stifle a giggle, which sounded more like a half swallowed frog by the time he was done. “Stop messing with him.” It was off like a switch then, the ring of fire burning outside of his mental ice walls. “He is a hostage, and I have no doubt Rokkaku will want him back sane.”
“None of these guys are sane, Eishirou.” The blond snapped. “Fuck, haven’t you heard what they do all day?” Worry, stress, fuck Kai you idiot, radiating off him as he stalked over. If Kite’s strides had been snaps, the blond’s strides were like popping bubble gun. Pop, squish, pop, squish, fashionable jelly mules creating strange new songs on the concrete floor.
“This guy reads criminal’s minds all day.” The blond jerked his thumb at Itsuki, so close Itsuki could have bitten it if he leaned forward. Itsuki didn’t want this stranger’s, this murderer’s, blood in his mouth. Touch opened up psychic channels, and blood could create psychic bonds. Itsuki had heard of children cutting themselves accidentally and forming a relationship that neither of them would be able to escape from for the rest of their lives.
Kite’s cold front quashed the blond’s high pressure. “Your point?” Kite adjusted his glasses, the light from one of the warehouse windows glinting off them sinisterly. “Hirakoba-kun.”
“That it’s a fucking insane job. And why the hell do you keep using our names?! To make it easier for them to track us down?”
Kite smirked again, and Itsuki felt pinpricks of pain at his temples. “Because, Hirakoba-kun, he won’t remember them later.”
Dark, purple, purple, blond, and black. Itsuki closed his eyes.
Passing out was a kind of sleep, at least.
“Killing him would serve no purpose.” The man who kidnapped Itsuki states. When the man walks forward to slap the overweight man’s hand away his feet make snapping noises when they impact on the floor. Snap, snap, snap, slap. “We need him alive.” Calloused fingers carefully holding his chin, soft on the bruise from where the blond man smacked him. Itsuki feels his head turned, carefully, but he keeps his eyes averted.
Calloused fingers rub soothingly along Itsuki’s jaw. “I don’t need eye contact to do anything to you, Itsuki-kun.” The fingers move up Itsuki’s jaw and over his face, brushing back his hair. Itsuki is so tired, his mind still fraying at the edges like a pair of cut off jeans. “You can keep looking away.” Fraying, fraying, coming undone like a sand castle under the steady pounding of waves.
Schwooooooot
Itsuki puffed angrily, glaring strait up into hard, cold, dark eyes. His mental walls snapped up, brittle as crackling ice, but they would hurt the other man to break them.
Kite, something inside Itsuki whispered, the tendril of thoughts that Kite had managed to touch curling inside of Itsuki’s mind. Cream on porridge and early mornings with no coffee. Kite.
Itsuki glared at Kite, and if the gag had not kept him from spitting at him, Itsuki would.
Gingerly Kite reached up to wipe a trail of blood from one nostril. “Shiranui, Aragaki.” Two other men stepped forward, not the blond, not the large one. They were nondescript, fuzzy around the edges like the leftovers Bane-san kept in his fridge. “I want you on surveillance. The minute anything comes up,” Kai, red, orange, ring “I want to know.”
Itsuki blinked once, slow as molasses, Kai Kai Kai beating at his senses.
“Chinen.” Kite snapped, snap, crackle, pop goes the weasel, Itsuki had to stifle a giggle, which sounded more like a half swallowed frog by the time he was done. “Stop messing with him.” It was off like a switch then, the ring of fire burning outside of his mental ice walls. “He is a hostage, and I have no doubt Rokkaku will want him back sane.”
“None of these guys are sane, Eishirou.” The blond snapped. “Fuck, haven’t you heard what they do all day?” Worry, stress, fuck Kai you idiot, radiating off him as he stalked over. If Kite’s strides had been snaps, the blond’s strides were like popping bubble gun. Pop, squish, pop, squish, fashionable jelly mules creating strange new songs on the concrete floor.
“This guy reads criminal’s minds all day.” The blond jerked his thumb at Itsuki, so close Itsuki could have bitten it if he leaned forward. Itsuki didn’t want this stranger’s, this murderer’s, blood in his mouth. Touch opened up psychic channels, and blood could create psychic bonds. Itsuki had heard of children cutting themselves accidentally and forming a relationship that neither of them would be able to escape from for the rest of their lives.
Kite’s cold front quashed the blond’s high pressure. “Your point?” Kite adjusted his glasses, the light from one of the warehouse windows glinting off them sinisterly. “Hirakoba-kun.”
“That it’s a fucking insane job. And why the hell do you keep using our names?! To make it easier for them to track us down?”
Kite smirked again, and Itsuki felt pinpricks of pain at his temples. “Because, Hirakoba-kun, he won’t remember them later.”
Dark, purple, purple, blond, and black. Itsuki closed his eyes.
Passing out was a kind of sleep, at least.
