Started: 08-02-06 Completed: 02-03-07PAIN IS NOT AN OPTION
Silent breaths filled the darkness of the sports equipment room. Occasional sounds of balls rolling and falling could be heard as a silhouette of a figure slowly put on his glasses and tried to get up, holding the baseball shelf for support. The figure winced at the soreness of every part of his body and shivered, not out of cold, but out of fear and dismay.
As he slowly put on his ragged clothes one by one, Watanuki began to think back how this could ever happen. He felt so dirty, so ashamed and so…whore-like. How could this ever happen to him? Why was it that bad things always revolve around him? First his parents died trying to protect him, then he started seeing spirits and be chased by them every single waking moment of his life, then he had to work his butt off for an insufferable and insatiable witch who promised to get rid of his unwanted gift yet have no intention of showing any effort in fulfilling her side of the bargain, then he gets paired with the guy who never spoke more than one word and had been a pebble in his shoe everyday without fail, then there’s Himawari who fails to notice every time he tries to shower her with his undivided love and attention…and now this. Could his life get any worse?
It happened a few hours ago after their P.E. lessons, the last period of the day. As usual, since they were the most athletic and best scored players in the team, he and Doumeki had to stay back to put away the baseball equipment back into the sports equipment room. He complained as usual about Doumeki’s arrogance and show-off attitude during the game and Doumeki replied him in his usual blatant and less-than-one-syllable way. Himawari had often find it funny and amusing to see him screaming his head off like some lunatic who escaped from a madhouse and Doumeki looking and talking to him like none of anything is his business, and she always complimented at how close their friendship were, which often made him rather annoyed. If only she knew what he really felt about that insufferable know-it-all of a Doumeki.
Once they’ve carried the equipment into the room, Doumeki inquired about how far it was till Valentine’s Day. Watanuki hadn’t expected that question coming out of his mouth.
“It’s coming in about two weeks’ time. Why do you ask?”
“No particular reason.” Doumeki replied briefly as he put the box of baseballs into the shelf.
“You’re not trying to expect anything from Himawari-chan now, are you?” Watanuki growled, his eyes glaring at him in total suspicion.
“Hm.”
“What does that suppose to mean?”
“Need I spell out everything secret that is going through my head for you?” Doumeki asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh no! I know what you’re thinking! You’re thinking of going to ask Himawari-chan to make chocolates for you on that day, aren’t you? You know that Himawari-chan is a nice person and would do anything to make people happy! You’re going to prey on her kindness and steal her away from me! I knew it! I knew it!”
Watanuki was going into one of his screaming fits, jumping into conclusions again. Typical.
“What makes you so sure that you’re right?”
“Of course I’m right, you baka! I know I’m right! You’re always showing up at unnecessary moments when I’m having my quality time with Himawari-chan, showing off that so-called genius mind of yours and bragging about how you know things just because you’re raised by your good ol’ grandfather in that stupid shrine, making me look like a fool in front of her! You always swallow up the food that I make especially for Himawari-chan and you’re always circling around us like a vulture in a raw meat buffet, making her fawn all over you instead of me! It’s obvious! You want Himawari-chan all to yourself and you just can’t wait to watch me drop dead in front of your face and take off with her right under my nose!”
“Urusai. Your shouting in this room is making the effects even worse,” Doumeki said as he plugged his ears, obviously used to the ranting and raving but still showing a hint of irritation in his voice.
“I’ll shout all I want! I hope you go deaf by the time I’m done with you!” Watanuki screamed even louder, his hands flailing about in his way of emphasizing his point and his spit flying all over the place. “You’re insufferable, irritating, selfish, good-for-nothing, show-off, womanizer, stupid and a jerk-off and you know it! I don’t even know why Yuuko thought of pairing you with me on missions anyway! What exactly does everyone see in you? I bet that—”
“URUSAI!”
Before he knew it, Doumeki’s palm suddenly landed squarely at his cheek, sending his glasses flying and him landing butt first onto the ground and knocking over the trolley that kept the baseball bats and gloves. Watanuki was shocked speechless, his cheek red and throbbing in pain. Was that Doumeki? Watanuki thought, his mind set into denial. It couldn’t be! It couldn’t be! Doumeki never had outbursts before. He never laid a finger on anybody. The only thing he ever does was scolding me with his passive voice and giving me sarcastic replies. He never used violence. Not once! What’s gotten into him?
“Nandateyunda, Doumeki? What is your problem?”
“Do – you – ever – shut – up?” Doumeki growled, saying the words one by one as he closed in on Watanuki who was still on the floor trying to get up on his feet.
“Dou…Doumeki…Doushite…?”
“Do you ever shut up??”
Watanuki had never seen Doumeki like this. It was a side of him he had never seen before. It wasn’t the Doumeki who would look at him with his stone-faced expressionless features and talk to him like he didn’t bother to raise his voice for the likes of him. It was the Doumeki filled with emotion and an aura that could kill, with eyes screaming bloody murder and gritted teeth bared out for him to see. He has his fists clenched real tight; so tight his knuckles were going white, and red was flushing over his tanned face. He was letting out short breaths of anger and was ready to beat Watanuki into a pulp. If he wanted to, he really could.
“Doumeki…”
“Urusai! Urusai, urusai, urusai!!!”
Without warning, fist after fist landed on the tiny thin Watanuki. His blows were strong, like sledgehammers ramming onto every inch of his body. He tried to scream for help and begged him to stop, but the blows came harder. He tried to fight back but his hits pale in comparison with Doumeki’s who had been a strong archer longer than he was a cook. All he could do was hold onto the pain and tears that were threatening to burst out of his blue eyes and cringe into a fetal position, praying that Doumeki’s rage would stop.
After what seemed like forever, the blows finally stopped. But the aggression had not end there. No sooner Watanuki relieved himself of the fetal position than Doumeki suddenly reached over and grabbed him by the collar. He picked him up like an abusive father would pick up a defenseless child and rammed him against the baseball shelf. With one hand gripping firmly on his jugular, Doumeki literally tore off Watanuki’s uniform: jacket, shirt, pants, underwear, all of them. He hastily threw the torn garments onto the ground and forced Watanuki to face the shelf. Watanuki’s eyes widened in horror as he heard the sound of Doumeki’s pants being unzipped and a forceful intrusion that might as well tear him in half.
Watanuki let out a strangled yelp as the archer forcefully thrust into him, pumping his manhood with great gusto. Doumeki made a hush almost as loud as a spitting snake and closed his mouth tight, while the other hand held his waist in position. He was being raped. He knew he was. And there was nothing he could do except let out one muffled scream after another as Doumeki continued to thrust, the latter more painful than the former. He could feel himself bleed inside out. He tried to push the archer away but he was no match for him. Doumeki was the strong, macho man and everyone’s favourite. He was the teachers’ pet and the females’ adoration. He was the school’s pride and joy of an archer and most probably the apple of his family’s eye. Who would pay attention to a freak who sits somewhere in the back of the class constantly hounded by irritable spirits and never stood out much in either academics or sports and was never favoured by anyone else but a witch and her assistants as their personal slave cook? No, he could never fight him. Never.
Finally, Doumeki came to an abrupt stop. Watanuki felt something warm bursting inside him. Doumeki had come. He came and left his filthy seed inside him. Moments later, Watanuki involuntarily came too. Both of them slid to the floor, waiting for the final tremors to subside. This was the first time he came in his 17 years of life. It was supposed to feel good. It was supposed to be ecstatic.
It wasn’t.
It hurt badly. Real bad.
Doumeki unceremoniously pulled out and pushed him away. Watanuki dared not look up. He dared not even speak. He just waited until Doumeki cleaned himself with whatever he had, pulled up his pants and stomped out of the room before he began to painfully recollect himself and regain composure.
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