Return Ticket To Stockholm

So yesterday I posted a lot of sighing and wringing of hands on LJ because I was so stuck, and now I am posting two days ahead of my self-inflicted schedule. It seems that my muse is rather responsive to a little bitching.  :D

Thank yous go to everyone who gave me feedback. I'm glad Ryo is likeable, I like him a lot myself and I'm trying to convey that, so thanks for answering! There will be more questions at the end of this one. :P

It was suggested that I enable anonymous reviews, which I did. And no, I don't write wifeys and insta-love. That made me laugh.

Enjoy. Please. I beg you!

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Travelling Can Change You

It was nasty out, rainy and overcast, and even in the secluded inner courtyard gusts of wind were bending the small trees every which way. The leaves were still green and only falling where the wind had ripped them off, but there seemed to be a first hint of change, like fall calling ahead that he was heading out the door now.



Ryo wondered if he would see him arrive.



Nothing had happened the last day or two, or maybe more, he wasn't sure. It had only been a few, maybe four or five all in all, but he couldn't say exactly. They all looked the same, the silent days in this pale room, Blainn and himself the only sources of color and sound.



Brennan hadn't been by; no explanation had been given for this and he hadn't asked. Not that he wasn't wondering -by now his mind was positively crawling with awful ideas-, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know, not to mention the fact that Blainn was not likely to tell him. Ryo could only hope that the man was tied up in other, more urgent things, could only try to ignore the nagging doubts about it- if the man had grown bored, or gotten answers elsewhere -whatever they might have been-... that rendered him useless.



Even he knew what that meant.





Do you really want to be useful, though? Does that sound like a good time?







The thin jingle of the game started up again as Blainn, done coughing, unpaused it. He'd caught something, although Ryo didn't know when- maybe the guy was out and about at night more often than he realized, maybe he slept through a lot of... of goings-on.

He didn't really like that thought, but then, if any of it concerned him he was bound to find out soon enough. Maybe it was better he was unaware... he certainly didn't want to see any more than he had. But how did he, the lightest sleeper in the history of sleep disorders, not wake up? How was it he slept like a rock? He was exhausted, which went a ways towards explaining it but was a mystery in and of itself.



Watching the guy curled up at the other end of the window sill with the little handheld, Ryo wondered -not for the first time- how old he really was. He looked like a teenager right now, lazy and into video games and wiping his nose with his sleeve like that.

After his 'meeting with his past', or whatever Brennan had called it, Blainn had been angry the rest of the night and somewhat sullen the next morning, but by now -two days later? Three?- he seemed to be back to his old self... so Ryo dared ask.



"Hey, man... how old are you?"



"You're twenty-three, right?" Frantically hitting a button, the guy didn't look up. "Younger 'n you, then. Prolly."



"Probably?"   What the hell?



"Yeah, twenty...ish. Prolly."



"What are you talking about?"



For a moment there was no answer, but then the music indicated a level completed and Blainn looked up. "Dunno, really. My age, I mean."



"Check your ID," he offered. "It usually says."



The redhead snickered a little. "Yeah, it also says I have a last name."



"Well, don't you?"



"I do now." With his trademark ugly little grin, he looked down and made to start another level, threatening to leave Ryo to his thoughts. His very confused thoughts.



"No, no, wait," he interrupted. "I... what?! Explain, please." A sceptical look answered his plea, but the game was lowered. "How do you not know how old you are?"



"Easy," the guy said, still running his thumb over the 'start' button. "Nobody tole me. Name, neither."



"Didn't you... have parents?"



Blainn snorted in a way that said the very idea was funny, although Ryo couldn't see why. "Yeah, I got parents. Everybody got parents. Y'know about this making babies thing, or d'you want me to explain?"



"I didn-"



"I just ain't met mine. Tha' I know of."



"Oh." A foster kid, then? But wouldn't foster parents know his age? "So where did you grow up?"



"Under I-38."







What?!







For once, when he saw Ryo's face, the redhead actually laughed. Good for him, probably, if he thought this was funny. At least he didn't seem bitter.



"But.. who... how did you even end up there? Somebody must have..." He gave up.



"Eh, for all I know Mom had me there an' staggered off." Blainn coughed, still grinning.



"But how did you even survive-"



"How would I know? I don't remember that early." The conversation, fucked up as it was, seemed to amuse the guy, and he set the handheld aside to give it his full attention. "The earliest I know is, I had a sleeping spot nobody could steal cuz I was the only one who fit in it."



Those were his childhood memories? Good fucking God, this place, these people, honestly...!



"An' cuttin' someone who were tryin' to take my food off me. Thought it was gonna be easy just cuz I was small." There was a twinkle in Blainn's eyes; he was enjoying himself.



"...You're just saying that for the shock value," Ryo protested, wanting that to be true.



"Yeah. But the best shock value is the truth, ain't it?"







So... hell. The guy had grown up under the freeway? With the drunks and homeless and junkies?

...How did a child survive that?

Thinking back to the blood-stained shirt, he knew how- by keeping your head down and learning to cut people. Learning early.

Speaking of...





"Is that where you met, uh, 'Yuri'?"



Brown eyes narrowed briefly, and Ryo thought he'd pushed too far, but then the freckled face relaxed -although it stayed serious- and turned towards the window.



"Yeah. Broke my arm. Twice. You try gettin' a cast down there...!"



Overcome with morbid curiosity, Ryo couldn't help himself. "Why-"



"First time for the hell of it. Cuz I was small an' he could. Second time... cuz I din't wanna get 'recruited'." He said the word with a mocking waggle of his head.



"...for...?"



"Turnin' tricks."







For a moment, Ryo didn't know what to say. What a shitty life! The guy seemed perfectly cool about it, but was that even possible? Wouldn't that make anyone snap?

Maybe it only made you snap if you'd ever known a better life.

That thought was even worse.







"And... I mean..."   'Did you prostitute yourself?'   Awkward.   "What... happened?"



"Had a rusty can an' a good arm. Cut his face up good." The twinkle was back, thank goodness.







Wait, 'thank goodness'? You weren't supposed to be cheerful about this sort of thing. He wasn't supposed to be relieved. What was happening to him?







"Did he leave you alone after that?"



"Well, he... I don't think he would've. Was away gettin' stitched up for a couple days, but..." Absentmindedly, Blainn rubbed his arm, probably in the spot where it had been broken. "Tha's when the boss said I could come 'ere, see?"



"You knew him?"



"Yeah. Got hired now an' then."



"Cutting people?" Ryo said, before he could stop himself and his sarcasm.



Blainn didn't seem to think anything of it. "Nah. Ran errands for 'im an' shit. I reckon cuz I was like the only sober one down there, y'know?"



"And now you're...safe? From Yuri?"



The guy chuckled, an ugly little sound made uglier by his words. "Now I get to go an' break his nose now an' then."







Well, that explained the shirt.



The story was starting to come together now; Brennan had offered protection, an actual home, employment, for... well. Blainn seemed wholly unfazed by the price Brennan asked of him. He'd said it didn't normally hurt, right? And that even that time, he'd gotten his? Maybe the deal wasn't so bad.



Fuck's sake, Ryo. You're not thinking straight.



Brennan had taken an injured teenager -teenager, right? They weren't talking about a child here, were they?!- with precious few options, and made him his toy. And Blainn couldn't refuse for fear of the alternative.







"Did you know Brennan was going to..."    molest you?



A careless half-shrug answered his question. "I guess I... sorta figured as much."



"And you were okay with that?!"



Another shrug. "Beats the freeway."



"Would you, if you had the choice?"



"No." The answer was casual, but definite.



"...And you don't have the choice."



"No."



"...That's rape, Blainn."



Both eyebrows shot up on the other face, round eyes studied his. "Rye... I seen rape. This ain't it."



"He's... he makes you do it even though you don't want to. Because he has power over you. That's rape."



"If it ain't white, it's black, is it?" Blainn was eyeing him with a vaguely amused expression. "Must be nice. All simple like that."



"F...fine, call it coercion, then. It boils down to the same thing!"



"Yeah? An' if your boss at the gas station says you have to show up or you ain't gettin' paid, that's blackmail?"







That was... just completely... urgh. It was hard to argue against that, for one because he'd never thought about it before, but also because things kept slipping around and looking different every time he looked at them. Was it... it seemed wrong that Brennan used his position of power to sleep with Blainn. But if both of them thought he had the right to, if Blainn didn't feel like a victim, was it wrong? Well, wrong, yes, but was it a problem?



And no, having to show up to work in order to get paid wasn't blackmail. But he offered his time and his presence in return for money, was nice to people even when he didn't want to; wasn't that selling himself, in a way? To smile and kiss ass even when customers were completely unreasonable... he always felt both cheap and angry afterwards, and yet he did it, because it was part of the job. Because it was what he got paid for.



So if everybody sold themselves for something; maybe offering sex was not that different from offering... 'normal' services?



Ryo felt pretty sure that it was, but he couldn't say how.







He was tapping his fingers, he noticed. Weird, that had never been a habit of his. Stretching his hands, he let go of the unsolved argument in his mind and returned his attention to the redhead- if the guy was in the mood to talk, Ryo was going to make the most of it.



"So how long ago was all this?" he asked, hoping for the best.



"Three, four years, maybe."







Okay, so that wasn't exactly 'the best', as such -statutory rape? Check- but, all things considered... given the rest of the story...  it could have been worse.





It could always be worse. It can always GET worse.





Scrambling to get away from that thought and the ones that were sure to follow it, Ryo launched his next question rather hurriedly. One that had been nagging at him.









"How come all the food you get is, like, bought?"



"You askin' me to cook?"



"No, no, I just..."     ...thought this place was super-secluded, but you keep going to the deli and I can't make sense of it.    "...I mean, wouldn't microwaved food be less hassle than going out?"



"I don't go out, jus' downstairs to the cafeteria."



"The...?" A ridiculous image ran through Ryo's mind, of mobsters with pinstripe suits and fedoras and machine guns leaving their cubicles and lining up with trays for a plate full of soggy fries. He nearly laughed.



"Cafeteria. They make food, y'know? For the pen pushers? It's really cool, you don't need to bring your own lunch an' shit."



Pen pushers? This new information was so baffling that he had no attention left over to give to Blainn's needling. "There's... offices? Here?" Whatever the hell for?



"Yeah." The guy was looking at him like he was stupid. "Legit business. What's the boss gonna tell the tax man, 'I shit money'? If you wanna cook the books you need to have books, like."







The 'tax man'? These people paid taxes?

...Of course they did. Someone living in a nice house and owning half a dozen cars was going to get noticed eventually, so maybe it was best to be an upstanding citizen right away and... and have some sort of legal income.







"What sort? Of business?"



"I ain't telling you more'n that."





It was said in a way that left no room for argument. With a little sigh he sat back and looked out at a new gust of rain drumming against the window, wondering how it was that Blainn was so unwaveringly loyal to his boss, despite... everything.



"I know," he mumbled, catching his fingers tapping again. "You need to protect him."



A low snort made him look up just in time to see a strangely soft look on the guy's face melt back to the usual poker face.



"It ain't him that needs protectin', Rye."







...no, I guess not.







Not sure what the guy was getting at, he let it go and just followed his thoughts as they drifted.



So it had to be the weekend by now, he figured. Ryo was fairly sure that it was the weekend, just not what part of it. He'd talked to Shelly about maybe going out; she wasn't a close friend but a fun party buddy; had she gone out -was she going -whatever tense applied here, or had his disappearance put a damper on things?

He wondered if they had called the police, if they were even aware that he didn't have close family who would. If so, had they questioned Phillip, the last person to have seen him? He half hoped they'd given the guy a horrible time.





Leaning against the window pane and watching the trees getting battered, he yawned. What was up with that?

It was only when Blainn responded that he realized he'd said it out loud.



"Wha's up with what?" Long since back on the game, the guy didn't look up, but doing one thing never stopped him from paying complete attention to something else. Learned through necessity, Ryo guessed.



"I dunno, I'm just so... exhausted. And stir-crazy at the same time. How does that makes sense?"



The redhead actually glanced up, however briefly. "Cuz it's your mind tha's runnin'," he said flatly. "Not your body."





Ryo nodded to himself, thinking of his cousin and how, growing up, she had always fallen asleep after she'd cried. He had seen how emotional turmoil could wear people out, just like physical exertion, but he'd never understood it until now. It was funny how Blainn could cut straight to the point, how his simple way of saying things only made them more obvious.



He wished he had a treadmill, to take care of his pent-up energy.





























Brennan finally came back later that day -whatever day this was-, towards the evening, as the rain stopped and the sky was visible here and there. He looked a little strained, tired maybe, but as he sat and quietly talked with Blainn, he seemed perfectly at ease.

So did the redhead. Ryo was watching him, unwilling to believe that the guy was just okay with his situation, but no matter how hard he looked for it, he couldn't find any sign of fear or resentment. Submission, yes, a lot of that- seeing the two interact it was painfully clear who called the shots. But no hostility.



Still slouched on the window sill, Ryo had had a turn on the game- but with this guy in the room he couldn't concentrate on it, so he turned it off and watched the clouds race overhead, trying to pretend that he was alone. Trying not to listen. Surely they wouldn't talk about sensitive things in front of him, right? He didn't want to know; knowing something had been what had brought him here in the first place- but it was hard, downright impossible, given that their conversation was the only sound in the room.

"...not to bring him along," Brennan was saying. "He's trigger-happy."



"Stab-happy, too." Blainn snorted a little, clearly unimpressed with the guy in question. "Gets carried away."



His boss nodded slowly. "That makes him pretty much useless. I expect my staff to have more self-restraint than that- I'm not paying him to go and enjoy himself."







The way Brennan said it, as if he was disgusted by this sort of behavior, rang like a taunt in Ryo's ears. How hypocritical was that, really? To honestly, literally get hard while he was hurting people, and then act like it was a character flaw in someone else?



"Seems like you of all people would understand," he muttered to himself, watching his breath fog the glass.

 

A quiet creaking sound made him look up and straight into Brennan's eyes. He had heard.





Oh, stupid stupid stupid. What the hell got into you?

 

He could only watch as Brennan got up and came over, every step loud as thunder to Ryo's ears. He tried to shrink further against the window, but the sill wasn't that wide and he'd been up against the glass to start with... and still Brennan was closing in. He finally stopped, leaning over the vents, so close that Ryo thought he could feel the guy's body heat- although that was probably just his skittish imagination.



"No... you misunderstand," the man said, light brown eyes fixed on Ryo's own. "It's not about the pain. That's just the means to an end."





Well, what end, then? Was Brennan trying to get him to submit to his advances, this way? It certainly wasn't about information- because, he'd have been willing to answer any questions, no pain necessary, except nobody was asking him any.

"I can make you scream, you know," the man said softly, leaning forward to speak directly into Ryo's ear. Hands in his pockets, he managed to hold Ryo in place with the faintest touch of cheek against cheek, and sheer hypnosis. "You'd be amazed at some of the sensations your nerve endings are capable of. I can make you cry out and beg me to end it... the good way or the bad, that's your call. I'll hear your moans eventually, Mr Tailor, but they need not stem from pain. I won't insist."





That was what it was all about, the sounds? Brennan kept hurting him because it sounded like sex? What the fuck. What a twisted world he'd gotten himself into.



Wrapping his arms around himself, he could only watch as the guy stepped back and did a mocking little bow.



"Have a good day, Mr Tailor."









He huddled against the window, hugging himself, long after Brennan had left; long after Blainn had climbed up and picked up the handheld. The man's words played over and over in his mind, taking more of his breath away with every repetition.





Cry out.



Beg me to end it.







So, what, was the man going to keep doing that? Cause him pain and listen with rapt attention to his response? ...What if Brennan reached a point where the, uh, results he was currently getting weren't good enough anymore?





I'll hear your moans eventually... the guy might as well have said 'sleep with me, or die. Miserably'.







Maybe sleeping with Brennan was going to be the lesser evil; that was clearly the point the man was trying to get across and Ryo was more than willing to believe it. Going off what Blainn had said, Brennan wasn't near as ruthless in bed as he was... otherwise.

He could be getting off instead of getting killed.





Ryo. Did you just think that? What's happening to your head?





The thin electronic music coming from the opposite end, annoying at the best of times, was insultingly cheerful.



 

"He's just fuckin' with you, y'know."



"He is?" Ryo glanced up to where the guy was sitting.



"'Bout the screamin'? Yeah." Eyes never leaving the little screen, Blainn shrugged. "Ain't really his thing. Would have you put down easy, more like."



"Oh, awesome." His cynicism was a poor cover-up for the fact that his heart was beating out of his chest again.



"See, I'd've thought you'd rather die quick an' easy than slow an' painful."



Sometimes he wondered how he'd managed not to throw up so far- now was one of those times when it seemed increasingly likely. "I'd rather not die at all, actually," he said, willing his stomach down.



"Then I don't know why you won't drop trou. Seems to me that might work in your favour. Aw, fuck." The suddenly woeful trail of sounds seemed to indicate Blainn had just lost, and he started over with newly focussed dedication.







It sounded so simple when Blainn said it- just give it up, then. No big deal. Why did it feel like it was? He'd slept with people before, just because, sometimes just for a random hook-up. It seemed that staying alive was more of a reason. If you slept with people for a bit of fun, you could definitely sleep with people to save your life, right? That was logical, right? It made sense.



Except it didn't, somehow, but Ryo couldn't quite put his finger on it.









He didn't want to die, especially not in a 'beg me to end it' sort of way... no matter what Blainn had said, he couldn't stop thinking about that.









Curling up on the couch eventually, he slipped into a mindless state where he seemed to be hovering right above a chasm of terror, one that he would fall right into if he so much as formed a thought. Even so, the fear was reaching out to him, clenching his body in an iron fist while his mind kicked and struggled to stay afloat. The urge to do something, anything, was overwhelming and still not strong enough to overcome the paralysis. He wanted to pace, but couldn't move.







He noticed it was getting dark when Blainn slipped off the window sill to switch the light on. The guy said something, senseless babble, and then he was gone and Ryo had no memory of him leaving.

The awful feeling that his chest was being crushed wouldn't go away, had been going on for most of the afternoon, apparently, and now it was starting to hurt. That couldn't be healthy. The way his heart stumbled and skidded, hurt with every beat, only added to the terror he was already trying to keep down. Was it okay for heartbeats to be painful? For them to skip around like that? And the general pain in his chest, spreading out, as well as his shallow, frantic breathing... that didn't seem good, either.

Heart attack.

He remembered reading that those were typical symptoms, the chest pains spreading to your arm, the irregular and painful heartbeats. The fear. That had to be it.

He'd expected the thing to give out eventually.

Calling for help crossed his mind briefly, as well as the thought that maybe, as awful as it was, this wasn't the worst way to go; and after that there wasn't really anything but trying to breathe and not wanting to die.

 

Someone was talking to him, but it didn't really register until that someone tried to haul him upright. Who was pulling on him and why? He blinked. Oh, Blainn. Whatever. The guy could wait. He was busy dying.

 

"Boss. ...  Yeah.  No, this one's worse.  ....  Lemme give 'im something.  ... I know, but- yeah." There was a pause in the stream of noise. "Thanks, boss. ...I know. Can't help it."









It was hard to say how much time had passed when Blainn was pulling on him again. He had a small bottle in his hand, one that looked an awful lot like, like... pharmaceuticals.

Most pharmaceuticals he knew could kill you.

He struggled against the grip, trying to get away. To his surprise he managed to get up and dizzily take a few stumbling steps; he hadn't thought his legs would even carry him; but the idea of being put out of his misery was even worse than the misery itself and gave him strength he hadn't known he had.

When Blainn followed him, reached out to grab him, he fought back- and then the vertigo got worse and he was on the floor with his arm on his back, and Blainn was hissing at him, saying something, something about being an idiot. Who was an idiot? The question touched him briefly, but was forgotten when Blainn rolled him over and sat on his chest, knees digging into his biceps.



Get off, you fuck. Heart attack. Don't sit on it. Get off get off get off.



His teeth were hurting. And his cheeks. They were hurting because there were fingers wrapped around his jaw in a grip that made him wonder what it took to snap it.





"Get a fucking grip," Blainn snarled through clenched teeth.



He tried to shake his head, more to dislodge the hand bruising his jaw than to express any actual disagreement. "Get off," he panted.



"I'll get off after you open your fuckin' mouth. I swear I should just leave you to it."



He couldn't seem to get the guy off of him; he was too weak or Blainn was too strong or both. He gave up. "Okay. I'll drink it."



"The whole thing?" Blainn scoffed in surprise. "I mean, you need some, but not that much. That'll kill ya."





Wasn't that the point? He was so confused.





"Rye." The guy's voice was calmer now, firm and confident. "Jus' open up. I'll get off."





'Rye'...? For a second, he didn't know what that meant.







That's me. He means me.







He wasn't sure what was going on, he was short of breath and in pain and the thoughts in his head were bouncing around like rubber balls, but Blainn seemed to know what he was doing. Maybe it was best to just let the guy do his thing.



Cold, bitter drops fell into his mouth, one by one, each of them carefully observed by the redhead straddling his ribcage. True to his word, the guy got up as soon as he was done counting them out, and Ryo curled up where he was in a futile attempt to cradle his tightening chest. Why wouldn't it stop? He'd thought heart attacks were faster than this, why was he still here, and still hurting?

Each labored breath seemed more difficult than the one before, but after a while he thought he might be imagining that because there was no way he was getting worse and still conscious. Any worse than this and he would be gone, surely.







He was getting tired, sleepy almost. No wonder; his body had to be giving out. Or giving in. Or... the thought was gone. What had it been? So sleepy. Was he dying? Maybe dying wasn't so bad, it seemed like there was less pain here, and breathing was easier. No, wait. No breathing after you die. Maybe he'd stopped breathing? When would he stop thinking? Maybe he wouldn't. Maybe you kept thinking after you died. Just lying there and feeling sleepy and thinking and floating and thinking and-













"Ain't no way someone hired him."



"I would agree, but... something has turned up that needs looking into."



"He...? Nuh-uh. Last I checked, hell ain't froze over."



"We will see.  ...I should keep him for decorational purposes. He matches the room perfectly."



"Shit, boss, you gay or something?"



"...Why don't you ask Lynn?"



"I ain't ready to die, boss."



"Thought so."

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So there's a lot of information in this chapter, no real answers, but still a lot of stuff to absorb. Was it too much? Did the conversation make sense or is it jumbled? Let me know!

Fun fact: I originally wrote "I-38" as a place holder for some non-existent freeway, because this story isn't based any place in particular and I didn't want to make it seem like it was. And when I went online to find an unused number, it turned out that I-38 is an oddity because it doesn't exist. If my day job doesn't work out, I'm going to try my luck as a psychic.

I'm a little worried about being able to stick to the updating rhythm I've followed so far, I always write ahead but without rhyme or reason which means that I am at a point where I have to write the next couple of chapters from scratch. We'll see if I can do that in ten days. On the upside, chapters 12 and 13 are nearly finished?!