New Story!! A little darker than my usual stuff, but dark and morbid is more fun! (Wow, wasn't that contradictory?) Hmm anyways a few words about this story. . . Hatsu Shoujouhi translates to something like Scarlet Hearts. By 'scarlet' I don't mean the reddish color; I mean "immoral or unchaste." But Unchaste Hearts doesn't have the same ring to it, me thinks. . . Ok there are more things at the end, so on that note. . .READ ON!

Warning: Rated for strong language, non-consensual sex, thoughts of suicide, drug abuse, shounen-ai and in later chapters yaoi lemon/slash (boyxboy relationship, people! If that offends you then don't read) and some other stuff that I may add. ^_^'


Hatsu Shoujouhi

Prologue: Bleeding Hearts


Sometimes it's too much. The world is too much and I can't handle it. I'm weak I know it but. . .I don't want to be here anymore. I need to get away. This feeling, this *pain* it won't leave, only intensify 'til it's a burning rage I can't control, a bitter cold feeling that I can't warm. This pain. Anything is better than this. Death is better than this.

I stumble from my room into the bathroom. I know exactly where to find the razor blade; I've taken it out enough times to do it even when lucidity is miles away. Though the room is veiled in darkness, the blade shines in the light that peers through from beneath the bathroom door.

I hold the blade to my wrist. 'Just push it down' I will my hand, 'push down and drag and then. . .' Maybe this time I'll do it. . .maybe this time I'll have the courage to do it. And be rewarded by the flow of warm sticky blood. *My* blood. Flowing from *my* veins. 'Just push a little harder. . .'

No. . .

I can't.

I drop the blade onto the tiled bathroom floor, bringing my hands up to hide my face behind. 'Couldn't do it. . .too weak. I wish I could just do it.'

I drag myself back to my bed and flop down onto it, feeling tears burn the back of my eyes, tears I refuse to cry until I've made sure my door is securely locked until my head is buried in my pillow. Safe in the sanctity of my room. Only then do I let the tears pour from my icy blue eyes. I hate myself even more for those tears. They prove my weakness, my lack of ability to control anything. I'm everyone's pawn, never seen as a human, only a device. Life. . .or rather death, is the one thing I *can* control and one day. . .one day I'll find the strength to do it. To take fate and destiny into my own hands. To end it all.


We made love. . .

No, no not really because you couldn't call it that, daren't call it that because it wasn't love at all. There was no love there, only his animalistic need.

And what did I get out of it?

A couple ten thousand[1] yen, in cash. And a chance to fall asleep with someone. Even though he wouldn't necessarily be there when I woke up. Actually he'd most likely leave when he was satisfied, tossing the money on the stained bed sheet as he headed for the door calling out, "Thanks for the lay, whore." Or "You're a good fuck, slut."

And the words don't hurt. At least not anymore. Because I am all those things he says aren't I? A slut, a whore nothing but an expensive toy for the tastes of horny executives. They weren't insults, even if they were meant to be. They were truths, facts I lived my life by.

There are regrets. I'd be lying if I said I didn't have any. My body is used and abused night after night, for what amounts to not really much money to live off of. But enough. Just enough to get by on.

Anyway. . .we fucked.

And he left, as usual. Another satisfied customer.

Pulling on my clothes and pocketing the cash I headed out of the cheap motel room, to the street below, smoking as I went, headed for home. Headed for a warm bed. A warm *empty* bed.


I need to get out. The walls of my little room feel so small. It's as if I'm drowning. I need to get out.

I don't know where I'm going. My legs carry me as if they'd walked the path before, knew each and every turn, knew which road to take when we came to a fork in the road. I don't know where I've ended up, but when I got here I stopped. Perhaps destiny has brought me here?


There was someone standing on the path, I noticed. Standing there, looking dazed and lost and confused. I could relate.

He stood there and in the pale moonlight I made out his features. Luminescent pale blonde hair, almost giving off its own glow. Or maybe it was a trick of the light? Blue eyes, sharp blue eyes that seemed to see straight into my soul that seemed to know all my secrets. When our eyes met I had to look away. Guilt coursed through me, as though he knew every dreadful thing I've ever done and could see it simply by looking me in the eyes.

He looked almost ethereal standing in the path, blocking my way. When we stood right in front of each other I paused a moment. Maybe I was just tired or something. . .but he looked. . .unreal.

I pushed past him muttering a weak, "'Scuse me."

"Sorry." He muttered back, shaking his head as if lost in a trance.

I walked faster, not looking back, afraid he might disappear and prove my lack of sanity. Keep walking, I told myself. Ignore it. But I couldn't ignore the feeling of. . .hope? Yeah. . .hope.


Someone bumps into me.

"'Scuse me."

Someone with dark hair and enigmatic green eyes. I shake my head to clear the fog.


I turn to watch him walk away. He isn't looking back, just kept walking faster and faster. Not looking back. Just walking away.

I want to call out to him. I don't know why. A compelling need to see, just *who* had bumped into me? No. . .more than that. I need to see him. Because just looking in his eyes, in that split second before he turned away, I felt a strength long forgotten. I watch him go, until he turns the corner.

And tonight when I reach my house again, I won't go into the bathroom, won't hold the blade to my wrist and pray for the strength to draw blood. Instead I'll go straight to my room, drop down into my bed and sleep. Because right now I feel if only a little, that tomorrow just might be a little brighter.


Hmm. . .well I'm sure that was *extremely* confusing, the constant switching between points of view and all (which is why Keitaro was present tense and Kiril was past tense) But I really wanted to use this strange style to look into the two characters mindsets. Don't worry the main chapters will be written in all-knowing third-person!

Please review! It would mean sooo much to me! And please look for the first chapter of this story which will be coming REALLY soon. (I promise ^___^;;)


[1] I'm too lazy to worry about just how much Kiril gets paid for his 'work.' Ten thousand yen is only about 85 US dollars if my math's right (which it usually isn't) so feel free to calculate just how much he really gets. ^____^;