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The Prophet	By : Tcharlatan Category: > Kyo/Kaoru Views: 1201 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction. I do not personally know any of the members of Dir en grey, and do not profit from this work.

Chapter List
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February 10^th - 8:00 pm
The music swelled powerfully, rising through the air and carrying him with it. All of his pain, humiliation, anger, fear, grief; it was all washed away in the wake of the song, if only for these short moments. His hips twisted with the beat and though the sinuous movement should have aggravated so many aches, Kyo felt nothing but the heavy throb of the song’s climax as he sang.
“The thing I treasure most in live cannot be taken from me. There will never be a reason why I will surrender to your advice to change myself, I‘d rather die. Though they will not understand, I won‘t make the greatest sacrifice.” A blonde head tilted back, chest heaving as a powerful voice rang through the building, “You can‘t predict where the outcome lies, you‘ll never take me alive. I’m alive. I’m aliiive! I’m alive! I’m alive. I’m alive! I’m aliiiiive!”
The music ground to a halt after the sustained note and Kyo opened his eyes, hiding a soft grin at the cheers that rang out through the building. Unlike the man who’d been singing when the blonde came in earlier, Kyo was not shy about singing at full volume. The entire building had reverberated with his voice, and familiar faces had rushed to the stage to greet him during his performance. The catharsis of the stage was so deep and so complete; he took a moment to bask in it before his real life could catch back up to him.
He handed the microphone back to Kouji and started toward the stage stairs before a quick, clumsy movement caught his eye. Someone was rushing toward the front door, trying to look unhurried and failing miserably as he pushed past other patrons standing in front of the bar, earning a string of dirty looks. Flashing club lights illuminated a shock of green hair and a brutal facial scar, and Kyo felt his heart stop.
“Oh shit…” He ran off the stage, dodging past Akio and sprinting back toward the private room.
Hands tried to catch him, Akio’s and those of friends that had missed him, but he twisted and jerked away from them. If the man fleeing the club was who Kyo thought he was, there was no time to spare, no time to think. He stumbled up the stairs to the alcove and halted for a split second, panting. Kaoru was watching him curiously after seeing his mad dash. Die’s hand was halfway out of his jacket with a gun, startled and ready to protect Kaoru. Masanori and Yasunari were closing in on him, but a soft chime from behind him sent him flying forward.
Small hands gripped the heavy table and flipped it over with the strength only adrenaline could provide, the heavy wood coming over to trap Kaoru and Die against the far wall as the stairway behind him exploded in a rain of fire and wooden shrapnel. Kyo felt something heavy slam into his back and searing heat roll up his legs in a wave of agony even as he crashed into the bottom of the table.
His ears rang shrilly, and everything went black.
February 14^th - 6:00 am
Strong hands gripped thin hips as Kyo was pressed into the brick wall, legs hitched around the other boy’s waist. At seventeen years, Kyo’s small frame was easily light enough for Toshiya, a year his junior, to support. Toshimasa Hara was a good friend of Shinya’s, and his family had been serving the Terachi’s for many years now. There had been whispers that the messenger would be trained as Shinya’s bodyguard, and Kyo had been spending extra time with the younger boy to determine if he would be suitable.
At least, that was what he told himself. He had been increasingly flustered by Toshiya’s relentless flirting, but not as offended as he normally would be. He had caught himself more than once admiring long legs and strong, slender arms. Tonight, when the taller boy grabbed him abruptly at the end of the walk home and crushed their mouths together, Kyo had opened up willingly and when a skilled tongue had pressed a small, bitter pill down his throat, he had swallowed it without hesitation. He had a pretty good idea of what it was, even if he hadn’t taken that particular drug before. Now, pressed against the front wall of Toshiya’s apartment building, the blonde was starting to feel everything around him with an almost terrifying clarity.
He was carried into the building and onto the elevator, both boys oblivious to the scandalized stares they received even in this seedy part of town. Toshiya’s mouth was intoxicating, and the younger boy couldn’t seem to get enough of him, hands sliding up into a baggy shirt to slide over smooth skin. The elevator beeped and they stumbled into the hallway, hands leaving his shirt to search for and find the handle to a door that was never locked. They went crashing into Toshiya’s tiny apartment, the door slammed shut behind them, and Kyo was pressed back onto the bed.
Toshiya backed off, panting, and grabbed Kyo’s shirt, dragging it up over his head to discard carelessly. The blonde’s eyes swirled, entranced by the brilliant red of the room. Toshiya swooped down, biting at the older boy’s smooth neck and collarbone as Kyo squirmed against the soft sheets, overwhelmed by the sensations washing through him from the drug he’d so carelessly swallowed. Dark gold eyes were glazed, round cheeks flushed, full lips panting deeply.
“Toshiya… Totchi, I haven’t… I’ve never…” The blonde struggled to form a coherent sentence through the cotton-candy haze that had crept into his mind.
An easy grin split Toshiya’s face as he tugged off Kyo’s loose jeans. “I know. Don’t worry, you’ll like this.”
Kyo’s eyes rolled back in acceptance as lips met his once more, and he hardly noticed slick fingers creeping up his inner thighs, or his legs bring pressed wider and wider apart.
Dark lashes fluttered. A round face glistening with sweat frowned, and a soft groan escaped dry lips. Burnt gold eyes cracked open blearily and rolled side to side, blinking. Kyo’s body felt so heavy, like his bones were made of lead, but his mind was floating languidly. He caught a familiar tune playing softly and caught sight of his music player, plugged into his speakers at the bedside. His glasses were resting on top of a book he was halfway through reading in front of the speakers, and his eyes tried to close with content. These were his things, right where he left them.
But something was wrong… wasn’t it? Did he always have such a big bed? Maybe it just felt big. Did he always have such a big window? …No, his apartment had a tiny window with thick, tightly drawn curtains. He forced heavy eyes open again to look. Past his music player was indeed a large window, letting in faint grey morning light. But his bookshelves still framed it, and his pictures were still hanging on the walls. He rolled his eyes to take in the other half of the room. Off to one side he saw his desk with his stacks of spiral-bound notebooks and his desktop computer. There were several prescription pill bottles on the other nightstand, next to a pitcher of water and a short glass. He frowned; those were not his.
“Yes, how is it going?”
A low voice, speaking softly, caught Kyo’s attention. It was coming from the bathroom, which was about three meters to the right of where he’d left it, where his kitchen should be. The sound was oddly muffled in his left ear, and the imbalance made his head swim a little.
“Any luck getting the access codes? …I see.”
A figure passed by the open doorway, and the blonde’s hazy mind caught only black slacks and damp black hair before stuttering over a shirtless, heavily tattooed arm holding a cell phone. Toshiya? No, he hadn’t slept with Toshiya in years, and after how the man had dumped him there was no way he would have so much as let him into his apartment. Plus, Toshiya didn’t have a graveyard tattooed on his arm. Toshiya didn’t have anything tattooed anywhere.
“Still asleep. He should be up soon to take his pills.”
Pills? Strange memories circled just out of reach and he strained to catch them. Where was he last? He remembered the Lotus… karaoke… and running…
“…Okay. I’ll meet you downstairs in a bit.”
Kyo heard a soft beep and watched with bleary eyes as the figure came into view again, now wearing an unbuttoned white shirt. He frowned. “What’re you doing in my apartment?”
Wait, that wasn’t right… hadn’t he established that this wasn’t his apartment? Worry about that later; right now deal with why Kaoru Niikura was here in his home/not-home.
Chocolate eyes looked up, mildly startled. Hands that had been working on buttoning the shirt paused what they were doing as the older man walked over to the bed. “Oh. Did I wake you?”
“Answer my question!” The blonde was increasingly confused – why did Kaoru have a giant gash on his head, held shut with a thin white bandage? – and his inability to grasp the situation was making him defensive and snappy.
“This isn’t your apartment. We moved your things into this room a couple days ago, remember? You were here when we did it, and you were very particular about where you wanted everything.” Kaoru looked amused.
Laying in bed, fretting as half a dozen men unpacked his meager – but deeply cherished – belongings and distributed them around the room. Were they being gentle enough? Were they putting everything where it belonged? All of his books and music had been meticulously organized! Were they going to steal something? Had they already stolen something?! He wanted desperately to do the work himself, not trusting these strangers with his things, but Kaoru’s hand on his shoulder was enough to keep his weakened frame in place. His mind was thick and hazy, his eyelids heavy, and it was a fight to stay awake.
Kyo frowned at the foreign memory. “I’m… drugged, aren’t I?”
The older man nodded, settling into a plush chair that had been set up next to the bed. “Pain killers. The explosion cracked a few ribs, burned the backs of your legs, and your left ear needed to be surgically drained to prevent further rupture.”
Excruciating pain in his chest made it impossible to sit up on his own, even dulled by the powerful pain medication. Thin hands patiently helped prop him up enough to get his legs under himself so he could stagger into the bathroom, or eat a small meal. Waking up in the small hours of the morning with a straining bladder and having to turn to the man sleeping in the chair beside him for assistance was a crippling humiliation.
“You’ve been sleeping in here… Why?”
Kaoru’s head tilted, damp hair falling into his eyes and making him look more… human, somehow. “I owe you a great debt, Kyo. That bomb killed a couple dozen people, and would have killed Die and me if you hadn’t pushed that table on top of us. You saved my life, and that of my dearest friend. It’s not something I take lightly.”
A screaming, thrashing, hysterical fit. Many of Kyo’s friends – innocent people that had nothing to do with the Terachi or Niikura families, including Clara, who had been a second mother to him – had been killed by the blast, and the blonde was not taking the news well. The blonde screamed vicious insults and blame at Kaoru, though he knew it was Shinya’s assassin who had set the bomb. His insides twisted with self-hatred for having saved the life of his captor, though he knew that the public death of the last Niikura would have resulted in a full-scale turf war between all of the families surrounding Kaoru’s massive territory.
His action had saved thousands of lives, but his presence had caused the death of innocent people, many of whom he knew and cared for. A horrible voice in the back of his mind whispered that he should have died with them, and he screamed curses to drown it out. Kaoru and Die stood on either side of his bed, holding him down while a kind-faced elderly woman in a doctor’s coat slid a thin needle into his arm. The sedative was quick-acting, but did nothing to slow the fat, painful tears pouring out of dark gold eyes.
Kyo closed his eyes, frowning. He didn’t like the fragments of memories, half lost in the haze of drugs and dreams. “How long have I been here?”
“Today will be the fourth day. Doctor Bao reduced your codeine dosage last night, so you should be able to stay awake longer, and you’ll be significantly more lucid.” A wry smile. “Kind of a shame, really. You’re much more… social when you’re high.”
Now, more than ever, Kyo wished he could remember the past few days. His eyes were narrow and regarded Kaoru suspiciously. “What did I tell you?”
“Lots of things. What kind of music you like, your favorite anime and video games, things you remember about Kyoto, why you don’t drink alcohol.” Kyo blushed; that particular story was a bit embarrassing. “A couple times, late at night, you were very concerned about convincing me that Shinya used to be a kind person. You told me many stories about your childhood together, but not so much as a word about your work or his.”
Staring into hooded, half-awake eyes, mouth running desperately even with a slightly slurred tongue. What had happened at the Bloody Lotus – killing so many people just to get to Kaoru – was the most callous thing Shinya had ever done, but not the first time his ruthlessness had chilled Kyo. Afraid of what his friend was becoming, he fought to convince Kaoru – and himself – that the boy he had grown up with was still somewhere inside the man he worked for. Maybe if he could make the older man understand that Shinya was a good person at heart, he wouldn’t retaliate with the full, horrifying force that the Niikura family commanded.
“Regardless, the attempt on my life has demonstrated a boldness that I can’t afford to ignore. It was one thing when he was simply pushing into my territory, but this new aggressive behavior needs to be addressed immediately. I’ve put it off for a couple days to take care of you, but now that you’re recovering I’m afraid I have to get back to work.” The older man checked his watch and sighed. “Let’s get you up. We’re due downstairs shortly.”
He shifted forward, one hand sliding under Kyo to support his upper back as the blonde moved to get himself into a sitting position.
Kaoru was leaning over him, patiently helping sit him up through the agony in his ribs. The pain of loss and betrayal was fresh and his heart ached for a distraction. Spiteful impulse surged and bandaged hands grabbed at Kaoru’s shirt, dragging the startled man onto the bed.
Kyo’s eyes widened and he jerked away from Kaoru abruptly. “What…”
He caught a flash of dark purple under the older man’s open collar and grabbed the shirt roughly, pushing it aside to reveal a vicious-looking hickey. Kaoru gently pried the blonde’s hand off and stood to finish buttoning up.
Bruised and burned legs swung over to straddle thin hips, bare flesh sliding over carefully tailored wool. Small hands gripped both sides of a pristine white shirt and ripped, sending pearly buttons flying, baring an exquisitely tattooed chest and a long, elegant neck. The older man’s perfection in the face of his own tattered condition infuriated him and he growled as he dove in, mouth clamping onto that long neck with the intention of marring that flawless skin.
“Oh… oh gods… We… you… I…”
Kaoru slid gracefully into a dark grey suit jacket, and watched Kyo’s face go from nearly white to an impressive shade of red. As amusing as it was, he felt a bit of sympathy for the younger man’s apparent embarrassment. The blonde had been sliding in and out of consciousness for days, and his short term memory had been spotty at best. He’d been wondering when – if – Kyo would remember that particular event.
“Had sex? Yes. You were… rather insistent.” Kaoru fought to hide an amused smile as Kyo’s mouth gaped open, eyes unfocused. He could almost see the memories surfacing. “I was worried you were going to re-break a rib, the way you were moving.”
Kyo groaned and covered his face with both hands, mortified. As much as he wanted to blame Kaoru, he knew the fault was all his own. He remembered, all too clearly, hands that carefully supported him and kept him from over exerting himself in his fervor. Certainly the older man had done nothing to stop or even discourage Kyo’s ministrations, but in the end the blonde had been the aggressor and was ultimately responsible for everything that had followed. He recalled, horrified, that Kaoru had actually had to force him to stop long enough for the older man to stretch and lube him, and his own protestations of the interruption.
“I’m…” he faltered over an apology, not only because he knew he wasn’t really sorry, but because he knew Kaoru didn’t want, need, or even really deserve one. “Fuck.”
"Indeed."

The song detailed in this and the previous chapter (I'm Alive), is property of the band Disturbed. I do not own any rights to it, and do not profit from use of its lyrics.
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The Prophet