'Why?'
If the words had been spoken then they would have matched that of a wolf's growl; fierce and savage in the anger that filled it, sounding as alien as the passion it also contained.
'Why does he have to piss me off so fucking much?'
The figure, pounding pavement in the dark hours of the night, not paying attention to where it was going much less who might have been following. Right now, he would have been glad for someone to try something, just for the chance to let out his emotions.
'He doesn't have to be a bastard the entire time!'
Stopping and lifting he's head up, the figure looked around at the decrepit buildings and run down houses that was the area of their new hide out. Not the worst place in the world, but it suited his mood at that moment.
Spotting an open doorway with dark blue light spilling out of it and someone wobbling out to throw up, a smirk appeared before the figure headed towards it. Misery loves company and right now, he needed somewhere that was quiet, dark, hidden.
Walking right in, black jacket flapping slightly as it hug open off of his shoulders and walking up to the bar, the figure took a moment to glare around at the few people in there before the barman appeared.
"Well?"
"Jack Daniels. Double."
There was a nod and the barman turned to optic behind him while the new figure in the bar glared at the stains on the scrubbed wooden plank that was the bar, purposely not paying attention to the barman. Handing not nearly enough money, he took his drink and slipped off to a nice dark corner to brood in his thoughts.
'I know he's not fucking emotionless.' His thoughts continued there same angry march across his mind now that he was not distracted by the outside world. 'I know he cares something for me.'
'Right?'
Fresh anger spewed from inside and he clenched his jaw tight as he leaned over the drink, looking down at it, arms crossed and leaning on the table, one hand inside his jacket, caressing his knife handle.
He could tell there were four people watching him, waiting to see what he would do. Waiting to see if he would drink.
'He fucking knows not to pull that shit on me! I trusted him where I've never trusted other people, again he fucking knows that!' A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth before he took a sip of his drink, 'it wouldn't be beneficial if there were cracks and tensions in the team.'
Tasting two different types of doping drug in the drink –one that was a tranquilizer that was popular with Oz and the other was familiar from his home streets of L2, the medical blocks- he looked at it again. He could feel the tension go up a notch in the room, as the people seemed to hold their breath.
Almost sighing at there stupidity he took another sip of the drink. The two mixing toxins wouldn't have any effect on him singularly as he was immune to most things of there kind, but together they would cancel each other out by how the operated.
Slipping the larch off of his knives sheath and keeping it close he played along. Smirking, he threw back the rest of the drink, putting the glass down with a clank before leaning back with a sigh, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes.
Utterly venerable… My ass!
Waiting for the game to start, his mind started to think on it's own again. 'He seems cold and harsh, but me an t' others know that he is more on t' inside.'
'He's caring, funny, friendly but in his own cold way.'
'Argh! He's such a stubborn fucker.'
They were sharing a safe house together, and it wasn't the first time that bed's had had to be swapped with other people either. But when he had come to him and asked if he could share his room while the other team mates sorted out there sleeping problems… He'd been shocked to say the least.
He had a crush on him.
Yes, he sometimes shared his bed with other members of the team but they only ever slept and knew the price of trying anything with him. It was at the very least, some harsh words and a few bite marks from when he was getting untangled and kicking them out of bed. In the worst of cases, it was a few shallow cuts to the stomach that were never mentioned to the rest of the group.
When he woke up wrapped around someone, he was okay with that though. He didn't mind sleeping huddled up next to someone; you did it all the time on the streets!
But when he had woken up that morning, with him wrapped around him…
His barriers had been lowered.
They were friends enough to trust each other were they wouldn't trust certain others, but he knew that he would never call him more than just an ordinary friend. Close friend never even entered his mind.
He was the only one that knew of his real history of living on the streets.
Of stealing, fighting, running.
Of being abused whenever he was caught.
Of being beaten nearly to death when he lost.
So when he moved and stretched up to place his lips gently up the pale ones before him, he wasn't sure who was more surprised. Yet as they responded, something in his jumped, pulling a sharp tug in his stomach and filling him with passion.
As they fell more into it, passion took them and they were wrestling, growling, biting, kissing, grinding…
It was seemingly heaven.
The few clothes worn were lost.
They carried on, hands moving over heated flesh, clawing and grabbing in rough play before turning gentle and caressing as softly as virgin lovers.
When he finally moved to touch him, his wits returned and he became tense until he soothed him with soft words and touches, stroking him gently to show him what he was doing.
Yet as he moved on, he moved to his entrance and began to finger in gently, stretching it and teasing him.
He was on top when this started and the minuet it happened he froze, body almost painfully tense and being no help to the fingers that were trying to gain entry. "Relax, I just want you to get used to the feeling. I won't do anything with you."
He trusted him then.
He still did stretch him, making him gasp and grit his teeth, painful memories mixing with the new pain and panic that was taking over his body. But as he promised, he never did anything with him.
Soon they were laying next to each other, still throbbing and hard but this time he was gentle with him. In-between caressing him and himself, he would lift his hands up to make him play with himself.
Starting to relax again, he complied. He knew how he liked to be stroked, and if it was what did it for him, then he didn't mind.
"Yes… So beautiful…"
The words were ground out in that gruff voice that was only roughed and hushed with passion but they made him stop and stare in wonder at the figure lying next to him.
When they were finally finished, they got up, showered, and continued there day. Of course he'd joked with his friends, and had been randomly ambushed throughout the day by hugs, kisses and caresses from him, but…
He was snapped out of his thoughts again when he felt someone draw level with his table, eyes still shut he could tell by the heavy breathing and smell telling him well in advanced this person was on his way to drunk, but also that he was a solider of Oz.
He might have recognized him as a rebel pilot and signalled the barkeep. Either way this place was going to go up in flames before the night was though.
"I think he's done now Nick, come help me get him in back." It was an old English accent that had survived the new colony years but was still called 'an old Shrewsbury accent'.
Feeling the other guy move closer, he snapped his eyes open suddenly, looking at the dishevelled soldiers. He only ever saw there uniforms when they were covered in blood or burn marks. Seeing them covered in things like food and beer stains hammered home the painful remaindered that these were ordinary men.
Like he used to be.
"Fucking shit! Ee's wake Ry! Watda fuck we gonna do now!"
Ordinary men that wanted nothing more than to kill him.
"You get fucked cockbite."
Finally!
His mind crowed in savage, pure bloodlust as the blade glinted in the almost greasy light of the bar and the bright red of the blood looked almost alien in the room of greys and drab, smoky lights.
One of the men was gutted, his stomach slashed open from groin to breastbone.
His friend was still shocked at the speed he had moved, almost blurring threw the tables and killing his friend. Turning to the other man, seeing him loose himself in his pants, tears starting to fall down his cheeks. "Please… I only wanted to get away from the war! I don't want to die! I-I-I-"
He was cut off as his throat was slashed so deep he felt his knife almost snag on bone.
Taking his second step away from his seat, he looked around the bar at the others there, standing petrified that this young looking boy could do so much damage to two full grown, strong men.
His gaze said it all, 'any more takers?'
Their body language answered simply, 'please don't kill us.'
He left, turning out into the mildly cool night, jacket still open and knife back in it's sheath, having decided to not kill any more people or burn the place down. He hated killing in all truth, he may only believe in the God of Death but he hated killing. It was a waste of precious life.
"I blame you, you fucking ball-less cunt."
"I was jelouse okay."
They were arguing. He was trying to explain why he had had to sleep in someone else's bed and was demanding why he should have to explain something like that anyway. When he'd gotten his answer it had shocked him into silence but not completely.
"I like you the most out of everyone."
"Those are dangerous words!"
"Well how do I explain it then, that all they ever do is sleep? You were the only one I ever let do that!"
"Hn."
There was silence for a moment and he hoped the argument was over but as he made to simply turn to his right it started right off again.
"Sorry to be blunt but you don't mean that much to me."
It was probably the way he had said it but it had made something inside of his chest pull tight. Something that he never knew was even there, but before he could reply the other had snapped that he was going to work on his Gundam and he'd left.
Pounding pavement once more in the darkness of the night, he let the growl out from earlier in the night, turning it into a louder and louder scream of rage, pain and hurt.
"If he doesn't care, why get jealous? If he was so fucking heartless then why be so fucking gentle and caring? Why keep up that stupid fucking mask? Why? Why? Why!" He knew he was talking to himself out loud, but he didn't give a shit. He started to turn back towards home, anger radiating off him still until one thought floated threw his mind.
"Yes… So Beautiful…"
And something inside of him pulled again and he had to focus very hard to keep himself under control. Killing him or crying not very useful in any aspect of the near future, but as he looked at there small, falling down house he sighed.
'Please pull your head out of your shitter and realise…'