Genre : Angst, Drama. AU
Rating : PG-15
Pairing : RyoUchi
Summary : Uchi was the town outcast nobody really wanted to have anything to do with. Ryo was the boy from the wrong side of the tracks. As unlikely as it sounded, they met and forged an unlikely friendship.
A/N : Oh gad, I read a novel and somehow this plot bunny sprung up. I have no idea whether I will continue this, I guess it depends on whether people like it because the premises is pretty far-fetched and yes the setting is somewhat mirrored on one of those Southern towns where everybody knows everyone.
And sorry for the fact that I hadn't been continuing my chaptered fics. Real life is a pain. Comments welcome.
Fade to Black
Fade to Black
Nishikido Ryo slung his duffel bag across his shoulder and the sweltering heat beating down on him like an iron cast skillet greeted him with odd familiarity. The hot air was thick with the smell of petrol with the solitary petrol station nearby, and the salt from the lake seemed to permeate the stagnant afternoon air. Not exactly the sort of welcome any tourist would associate with this part of the country, famed for its gentle rolling hills and picturesque views of
Uchi Hiroki liked the hours of the night. It was easier to pretend he was somewhere else, and living an entirely different life from this. He wasn’t sure what he hated about his life now. Maybe it had to do with the fact he had to contend with strange men strolling in and out of his house, heading straight for his mother’s bedroom. Sometimes he could feel their leering, sly looks travelling down the length of his body, and he would run inside his room and fasten the latch. The latch provided little reassurance or security but that was all he had. The latch could keep the men out but nothing kept him from hearing the guttural moans and animalistic grunts through the paper-thin walls.
Sometimes he tried to sleep with his hands over his ears and then he realized that his imagination was a lot worse than the sordid reality happening in his mother’s bedroom. So he kept his eyes open, studying the hairline cracks spread over the peeling wallpaper of his room like a large giant cobweb. Meanwhile he listened to his mother’s moans, that hovered between pain and pleasure and then they would die down to muted silence. Before he heard the rustling of clothing and the thumping of footsteps across the creaking wood. They never stayed long. Nobody in the town really wanted to associate themselves with the Uchi family, no matter how much they liked being between the legs of Uchi Akiko.
They were outcasts, living on the edge of the town. An unwed woman and her son born of wedlock. In these parts of the place, it was tantamount to a heinous crime and they were shunned and avoided. For the most parts, people pretended they didn’t exist. Uchi was used to it. In fact, everyday he went to school hoping that they would leave him alone. He liked school. In his uniform, he felt that there was nothing separating him from the other children who had normal families, whose parents drove a classic model of the
However, his fair-skinned face, brown eyes full of cynicism accentuated with sooty lashes and frail, slight build only served to make him stand out amongst the boys his age. He tolerated the insults, but all too often, the bullies knew exactly where to strike and how to bait him. They didn’t target Uchi, they hurled the insults at his mother and if there was one thing Uchi hated, it was them calling his mother a whore, a slut. He would retaliate even if he knew it was a losing battle. If he was lucky, they would be contented with emptying the contents of his bag onto the ground, flinging his textbooks and crushing his stationery beneath their nicely-polished shoes. There were times when they put their hands on him. Pain, he could handle. In fact he was accustomed to it. Pain was almost like a familiar friend, when they slugged him across the face and he stood up anyway, ignoring the trace of blood across his face. But he couldn’t take the humiliation when they tried to shove their hands down his pants, whispering vile words to him about his mother and him being the town sluts, as their breath grew hot and heavy. He didn’t cry. Somewhere along the way, he lost the ability to actually shed tears and he endured everything they threw at him.
When they got bored, they left in search of their next victim. He didn’t really care for the bruises on his face, what pained him was the textbooks, torn and tattered. They were passed down to him from a distant cousin, and there were drawings and messy writings scrawled across the pages. But he valued them, because what every child treated as something for granted was not a given in his life. There was never really anything certain in his life, and he learnt to treasure the little comforts, like learning algebra in the kitchen while his mother was sprawled face-down in the bedroom, the blinds keeping the sunlight out.
In their tiny dilapidated house, survival was an everyday struggle. Sometimes it was the choice of dinner over the electrical bill. Sometimes it was beer over food, and this battle, his mother would win with amazing ease because Uchi loved his mother. She was flawed but she had loved him. She had loved him enough to give him a crumpled wad of cash every month, with a kiss on the forehead. And because of that, once every week, Uchi would bring their food money over to the grocery store, buying a six-pack which was his mother’s ticket to oblivion.
The store owners weren’t allowed to sell it to him, but maybe it was out of some unspoken sympathy for the boy who was dressed in a baggy shirt and sandals too small for his feet. They all thought the boy was too good for his mother, but it didn’t stop them from discriminating against the family. In small towns, when you were labeled, you were branded for life and you either accept your lot in life or tried to fight back. Uchi’s mother had long given up the fight and in a way, she had pinned her hopes on her only son, who was way smarter than she would ever be. When she was lucid, which was pretty rare, she wondered where in hell had Uchi come from. Because his father had been a good-for-nothing pub singer who had harbored ridiculous dreams of fame and fortune and she had been a small town girl, her only ambition to have a family to call her own. And Uchi had been better than the both of them, and she had felt sorry because Uchi had given up his innocence and childhood so that she would afford to escape into her drunken world, away from the prejudice and searing looks. But that guilt only lasted long enough until she finished her fourth pint of booze and everything went dark.
It happened to be one of those days again when Uchi was walking home from the grocery store, his hand hefting the six-pack and sweat dripping down his forehead. His shirt clung to his back as he made his way down the narrow stretch of asphalt. And it was then that he met Nishikido Ryo. Nishikido Ryo who was different from all the abusive and scornful boys he had met. He was walking home when he suddenly tripped over something and he fell onto the ground. He watched the beer bubble out from the cans, wetting the dark gravel and he tried to salvage them. Because his mother was waiting for him to bring the beer back and he hated to disappoint her, when her life had been a string of disappointments, one after another.
Suddenly he was shadowed in darkness, and he had looked up to see Nishikido Ryo in a shirt, smeared with grease. Ebony dark hair falling over his face, brows over eyes dark and glittering like molasses. At the sight of Ryo, something came to life inside Uchi. Back then, he didn’t comprehend what it was, neither did he understand the slow, undulating waves of heat and pleasure wherever Ryo smiled, a glint of amusement in those eyes.
They made an unlikely pair, the town’s wayward son and the outcast. And Nishikido Ryo, town rebel with a penchant for Marlboro Lights was hardly a person who looked like he could save anyone, but he saved Uchi, in more ways than one. As unlikely as it seemed, Nishkido Ryo was his knight in shining armor, complete with a venomous stinging tongue and long, graceful hands that had tweaked the engines of most of the cars in town with deft finesse. The same hands that had caressed the bruises on Uchi’s face before outlining the full pout of his bottom lip.
The same hands that would be smeared in blood, in an attempt to save Uchi as Ryo took the blame for something he didn’t do.
Nishikido Ryo liked this small town. He was good enough at what he did, and then some. The girls liked him, casting beckoning looks to him because he was a boy from the wrong side of the tracks, something forbidden and that fact alone was enough to make him irresistible. He liked them just fine too, and he was never really one to refuse them. But Uchi Hiroki had been different, there was something that called out to him, irrational and ludicrous as it might sound. Something that was old beyond his years, how his gaze was fierce and direct for someone as slightly built as him. And he could sense the wariness as he pulled him up to his feet, their hands touching. He could feel the stickiness of liquor on Uchi’s fingers and long after Uchi had withdrawn his hand, Ryo could still feel the whisper touch of his warm skin against his.
And standing there, something roused in him, a disturbing heat that had nothing to do with the balmy, humid weather, but everything to do with the boy in front of him.