Forbidden Memories

It was raining. Fall always remembered it as raining, now, strangely, on the odd occasion when he looked back on it. It was normally when he\'d been on his own for too long, when he began to think of old friends, old people. He drew in a long sigh, hand lifting and running through his raven hair. It was just plain black. Healthier and slightly shorter than it had been in those days...Eyes slipped shut, recalling the roughness of the brick or the road against his shoulders, thighs and arse. The way it was...Fall dipped his head, the drizzling rain managing to bite through his black shirt, causing it cling to a form that used to be emacated. Damion, lost his vigrinity in this very ally. Oh he\'d been fucked and raped before, before that, but the first time he willingly rolled over for someone, was in this ally. Just over there, really, in that boarded up doorway. It had hurt, he\'d been torn. His shirt was a little too big, the sleeves covering his hands, the buttons inproperly buttoned, giving a flash of toned, smooth tanned skin. Damion, Fall...they weren\'t the same person. Fall was the second most powerful man in the city, a bitch a whore that everyone fell in love with. Damion was....Damion was... His brows crinkled into a frown, Fall lifting his feet and padding down towards the boarded up doorway. Jeans were frame fitting, and his feet were bare. He\'d always ran with bare feet, and that, and the drugs, were the only thing that hadn\'t changed since Damion. And the Baby Blues. They were...there was something different in them. harder to place. Wiser, yes, more confident, that too. But...Why the hell was he here? Been drawn to this place on a nighttime walk, a small spurt of self pity and that dull ache in his stomach that knotted, almost to the point of nausea.

KC stood in the shadows hidden behind one of the dumpsters. At the moment seething over the bastard who had all but raped him and then ran off without paying. Head tilted his ears picking up soft foot steps, great another person to rip him off. The others from way back had long since left the alley, moving on with better lives or better alleys. KC however seemed glued to this godforsaken place. A soft sigh as his slender fingers curled around the belt loops of his pants, the button undone - torn off actually by the last customer. Short brown hair fell into carmel colored eyes. Stepping from the shadows, lips usually so pretty... cut and bruised, left eye black and healing slowly. The rain had matted his white shirt to his thin form. Hell, he couldn\'t remember the last time he had a decent meal. Who knew, maybe the person coming up the alley would give him food. Really didn\'t feel up to fucking again right now. He stopped dead in his tracks in his tattered hole filled shoes and stared as he realized who it was. Mouth forming a cute little O... \"Damion\" slipped past his lips in a whisper. Confusion registered on his face, was he high again, seeing things? Wanted to run but he was rooted to the spot.

His head started, hand resting on the rough boards that blocked the door wat from use, rat tails of black hair plastered to his forehead, cheeks, a few strands resting almost lazily on his lower lip. A frown, body tense, goose bumps crawling over his skin despite the humitidy. Might be raining, but it was warm. Silence. Nothing but the sound of the rain battering into the various surfaces, the filth starting to seep between his toes. He stepped forwards, shaking his head a bit. No no no...He\'d...Cyn had. This ally had been cleaned out. Cyn had *ordered* it cleared when he figured Fall had been a street rat. Wanted all ties gone, leaving Fall with only one source of refuge. That man\'s arms. He took a few steps past KC, and then paused, looking up at him. KC had always been that much taller. That just little bit so he needed to glance up through long lashes at him. There was nothing to say, was there? \"...KC.\" His voice had deepened a bit. It was a light voice even after it had broken in the ally, but age had given it a little more huskiness. Or maybe that was sexual maturity. The training, the practise. The skill. He swallowed a little, teeth pulling at his lower lip and flushing it red with blood.

God, oh dear God. Dead, he was dead, the bastard had fucked him to death. Yes, that had to be it, because everyone had told him Damion was dead. His slender fraile form began to shiver. This had nothing to do with the rain, memories flooded back. Nights huddled away from the rain, hiding from Spike, in the dumpsters if needed. Holding him close, trying to stop the bleeding, the damage the bastard had done to the youth. To KC Damion had been the beginning and the end. His head tilted now, bitting at his lower lip, cracking the healing wounds causing them to bleed again. Hand lifting to wipe it away, it dripped down onto his chest unnoticed. Voice dry and choked \"Damion...\" more wanted to come and yet it was locked somewhere in his throat and that bothered him. Blinking again lashes sticking to rain soaked cheeks a moment. Shyly he reached out, needing comfirmation, grimy fingers brushed Damion\'s cheek. Same soft touch though it was a bit skittish after years of dealing on the streets. His thumb ran over the other\'s jawline, pulled away then stared at his own hand as though confused even more now than he was before.

He tensed even more at the touch. Hands bunched into fists and he was wanting to pull away, but didn\'t. Oh god, this was weird. The flash of crimson caught his attention, and as KC dropped his hand away Fall shifted, hands scrambling into his pocket and pulling out a small tin of vaseline. There was another tin in that pocket too, but we all know whats in that one. His fourth finger he smeared in it after popping the lid off, and then wiped it on KC\'s lips. \"You shouldn\'t bite your lips...\" He scolded, gently, barely whispering. not sure what to say. \"You\'ll get something nasty like HIV...trust me, I should know...\" Damion *was* dead. Or at least he was in a deep sleep. Damion was a name that, that Fall barely recognised. That life was left far behind. Fall. He was Fall now. But the name tripping off those lips the way it used to was something, it stirred...something. KC\'s lips now coated in vaseline, fall wiped his finger clean on his jeans, and pocketed the small tin. Oh god, he\'d never expected this...

KC gulped as Damion\'s fingers touched his lips. Damn it all to hell, he could have sworn he had been well rid of any feelings for him, but apparently that was not the case. \"I... I don\'t bite them anymore.\" What the hell was that, something spoken out of lack of anything else to say. Well, fact was he didn\'t, his lip was split from being beat up, brutally very brutally. The words of confession would never come past his lips, the truth that he had a cracked rib or two, and a broken ankle. But then how was he supposed to get to the hospital? No money, no transportation and he didn\'t want to pick pocket, he had become better but in his state right now he wouldn\'t be able to pull it off. Staring at his tattered shoes, ragged snug jeans and old white shirt he suddenly realized how shabby he looked next to Damion. It actually stung a bit. Damion had been around all this time but hadn\'t come to check on an old friend. Or had KC just been a bump along the road? Not realizing it his eyes were flooding with every emotion and feeling right now, he should have remember that because Damion had always said they were very expressive. Quickly his hands stuffed in his pocket with a slight wince from the shock of the pain of a almost healed jammed finger.

He\'d. There had...He\'d never had the chance. Three years locked in an aslyum, then three months on the run and then finally picked up by the *man* in Tifica. When was, how was? Fall let out a sigh. \"You...you hungry?\" He knew what it was like on the streets. Injuries were low priority. Drugs, generally, were the first, then water, then food. Injuries tended, unless they were really bad, to be ignored. Christ knows Fal-- Damion had stumbled around with various injuries for months on end. \"Come on, I\'ll...it\'s. It\'s on me. I might be able to dig some new clothes out for you or something...\" Fall. Damion. There had been physcial changes. He was taller, not by much, but taller. More muscular. Better groomed. The only visable fault was a white sort of rip scar on his neck. Guess where that was from eh? He drew in a thin breath, and glanced around, looking for some place to take KC for eats. \"Where....where do you want to eat?\" Guilty, oh sweet gods the guilt. This guy had saved your ass, protected you ass god knows how many times. And this was how you repayed him? Oh gods it hurt. it hurt. Eyes squeeed shut and Fall looked away, in the same way he always did when Spike asked to see him alone. Somethings never change.

His head tilted, lord only knew why he always did that, but it was just... habit. Reaching out he touched Damion\'s back. \"You ... you don\'t have to do this, the guilt. You did nothing wrong. Better things found you.\" Nodding as though to himself, his hand fell away. The words were very sincere, but it didn\'t stop the ache inside he had long ago thought buried. Pulling his lip between his teeth a moment before realizing what he was doing and releasing it. Looking away, not even feeling worthy enough to be in the other\'s presence. Damion had always been beautiful and great at turning tricks, but now... now he was beyond beautiful and it seemed he had a good job. What did KC have, the old alley and clumps of dirt to call friends. His gaze fell on a nearby diner and headed toward it. Much changed for him too, the once proud stance had slipped to slumped shoulders and lowered head, hands that once loved to be shown off by running through his hair - now remained shoved in his pockets. The jeans were pitifully torn and his shirt was practically thread bare. Shoes were missing the laces and had holes in the toes. Stepping down off the curve crossing the street to the diner he slipped in not missing the rude looks he was given.

Fall followed. Better things. It was...a mixed blessing, his life. He followed, baby blues turning fierce and protective at the evil glares. \"What? You never seen someone that\'s better than you need some fuckin\' help?\" There was a growl, low as his hand reached out and snatched at KC\'s wrist, pulling it out the pocket and pulling him along. \"Come on baby doll, you\'re better than this dive. I\'ll feed you in the house and you can have a bath and I\'ll get you some clothes. Corals stuff should fit you. He\'s a decent kid and won\'t mind....\" He trailed off, having pulled KC out the diner and back onto the street. He\'d pulled him some way down it too, towards his house when he stopped, letting go of KC\'s wrist and taking a step back, pausing, swallowing nervously. The firece decivness in the voice dying, looking lost, again, like a child. It was a look those baby blues will never lose. \"That\'s....if...you wanna.\"