Comforting Lie

Taichi K. Hakubi

(A Comforting Lie Can't Last.)


The door to Ian's room, which had been opened a small crack, widened, and then closed. The light that had once been glittering faintly through the crack in the door was now gone, leaving both Ian and his unwelcome visitor in pitch-blackness. The heavy smell of cigarettes and alcohol filled the air and he didn't need to look over his shoulder to see who had stealthily slithered into his room. Him. Kojiro.

It was the same person who pretended to be his traveling partner during the daylight hours. It was the same person who always suggested that they get separate rooms to keep their privacy when they reached an Inn, but was also the person who would later violate that privacy for his own selfish desires. It was the same person who came to him every night, drunken and aroused. It was Kojiro, the same Kojiro he had always been since their childhood, only he was now a drunkard who sexually abused his best friend.

            Ian rolled over to face the wall after feeling the extra weight of another presence slipping into his bed. Kojiro's presence. He sighed and curled into a ball, not bothering to push his light brown hair away when it slipped into his face, covering his amber eyes. The less he could see, the less pain he would feel, right? That was a big, fabricated lie he had created so he wouldn't feel as broken and abused when Kojiro finally left the room after being spent.

            It was a comforting lie; one of many Ian was forced to endure all to keep his sanity.

            But comforting lies don't last.

            Ian heard it, even before Kojiro had said it. The silent "I love you" that was supposed to make him feel a little bit more pliable to Kojiro's whim. The sweet little lie that was supposed make him lie still on the bed as his alcohol-influenced friend used his body.

            In truth, Ian knew Kojiro didn't love him. Not like that. Love wouldn't make someone do the horrible things Kojiro had done. Love wouldn't force him into sexual submission, and then expect him to remain oblivious to the encounter the next morning.

            But it still felt nice to pretend.

            It was another one of his comforting lies.

            But comforting lies don't last.

            Long, graceful arms slid around Ian's middle, agile fingers working in small circles on his bare chest. He stifled a sob and didn't move. He never did. He would stay still. He had learned from painful experience that trying to pull away would only lead to a beating.

Oh sure, there had been a time when Ian tried to fight back, tried to land a few good punches to throw Kojiro off. For an entire week after that, Kojiro had left him alone. It was only at the end of the week did Ian realize the 'error of his way', as Kojiro had soothingly put it as he wrapped delicate fingers around his throat. Struggling to pry Kojiro's hands from his neck, he could only watch in a sort of terrified fascination as a slow, cold smile spread across his face and a short knife appeared in his hands.

So with twisted amusement, Kojiro taught Ian the hard way to become a cutter; a willing, compliant blood letter. With every swift slash of the knife, Kojiro explained its purpose. He explained the significance of the bloodletting. And all Ian could do was cry silently when he realized that he understood all too clearly why Kojiro was doing this. It made him even more upset when he also understood what Kojiro was saying. The blood he would shed could distract him from the pain. Though in a way, Kojiro was helping him find a way to maintain his sanity, that was the first and last time he dared try and force Kojiro off.

But that didn't stop Ian from continuing to cut himself long after his punishment. He knew he was only giving in, and that doing such a harmful act to his body was exactly what Kojiro had wanted, but it didn't stop him from his last comfort. The blood giving freely was beautiful, he was told. The blood would stop the pain, he was told. This was the very first lie he had created to stop his spiral into madness.

Blood would stop the pain if he sacrificed it willingly.

It was a comforting lie, but comforting lies can't last.

When Kojiro had noticed the reoccurring scars that graced Ian's once perfectly formed arms, he merely smiled his slow, cold, knowing smile, placed a tender kiss on Ian's forehead and whispered, "You're beautiful."

Of course, when Ian looked in the mirror, he was anything but beautiful. The life looked drained from his face. His amber eyes no longer held the strength, the will they once did. He was a shell of his former elegance. Only traces of the man he had been remained. Only a soft, lingering memory that could be easily thwarted by the reflection he saw now.

But Kojiro said he was beautiful. His second comforting lie.

Comforting lies don't last.

So now here he was again, trying to remind himself that he was beautiful, that Kojiro loved him, that he would feel no pain as long as he let his blood willingly, and that in the morning, Kojiro would be different.

Kojiro slowly began making scratching motions at his chest, which Ian recognized as impatience. That was when he realized that Kojiro had already stripped of his clothes and all that separated bare skin from bare skin was Ian's silky pair of boxers that suddenly didn't seem like nearly enough. Exhaling heavily and resigning to his fate, Ian allowed himself to be turned around until he was facing hungry blue eyes, eyes that studied him with such scrutiny that he felt himself shiver, the first sign of human life he had shown in quite a long time.

Pleased with his response, Kojiro placed a lingering kiss on Ian's lips, his short black hair slightly mussed, probably from getting in a fight with another drunk man at the bar downstairs. It wasn't uncommon it his case.

One hand rested on Ian's stomach, applying pressure slightly. When Kojiro finally repositioned himself so that he was now sitting on Ian's thighs, it was suddenly very obvious how thin Ian had become. It was always obvious to Ian how aroused Kojiro was. Kojiro licked his lips in anticipation as his long, nimble fingers spread over Ian's pale chest, indulging greedily the way the moonlight coming in from the window illuminated the pair of them.

"You're beautiful." Kojiro crooned, his fingers beginning their lazy trail from Ian's neckline to the elastic of his boxers.

            "So you've told me." He replied, his eyes focused at the ceiling. Maybe if he were good, he wouldn't make him watch this time.

            As if hearing Ian's thoughts, Kojiro roughly grabbed his face with his right hand and tilted it so that they were eye-to-eye.

            Ian choked back his sob when he saw the predatory look in his eyes. Warm, salty tears trickled down his face when he felt cool fingers slowly slip into his boxers. He bit his lower lip and immediately began drawing blood, trying to ignore the way his body betrayed him at the simplest of touches.

            His body jerked violently as he tried his hardest not to respond to Kojiro's ministrations. His breathing became ragged as he stared up at cold, calculating blue eyes. Eyes that were silently commanding him to bend to the stronger will. Letting loose a loud cry of pent-up frustration mixed with the embarrassment and shame, Ian finally allowed himself to rise enough to meet Kojiro's hand, his movements shaky and uncertain. Seeing the pleased amusement in his partner's eyes, he wanted to cry harder, wanted to do something to remove himself from his physical body so he wouldn't have to bear the indignity and dishonor he was suddenly feeling.

            Just as he felt himself nearing his peak, Kojiro yanked his hand away, the malicious enjoyment once again taking position on his face. Ian whimpered audibly, his hips rising, trying to regain the pleasure he had been denied. Instead, Kojiro crushed his lips to his, a demanding, possessive gesture that only made his male organ throb harder. He knew why Kojiro was doing this. He was doing this because he loved him.

            That lie wasn't as comforting as it should have been, but it did offer a little solace for Ian's already shattered pride.

            But comforting lies don't last.

            "You're so selfish." Kojiro purred, his mouth inches away from Ian's. He let his previously occupied hand now settle once again on Ian's chest, smirking malevolently as he made sure Ian understood just how much he had enjoyed Kojiro's painful torture. Ian only cringed when he felt his own fluid rubbed gently across his stomach. It was a sick sensation that made his tears begin to fall like tiny rivers again.

            "Please." Ian begged, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the twisted delight in Kojiro's eyes.

            "Please?" He returned, his voice insultingly tender.

            Ian moaned when Kojiro's hand made it's way to the edge of his boxers again. Ashamed at his own desperate desire, he couldn't help it when he thrust his hips upward, his final sign of total and blind obedience.

            Instead of returning his attentions to Ian's member, he slowly pulled a small knife from a stool beside the bed. Seeing Ian's eyes widen in fear and poorly disguised sexually stimulated ecstasy, he lowered the knife to his boxers and leisurely began cutting away at the silky fabric until he was completely nude. As the task was finished, rather than placing the knife back on the stool, he set it soothingly on Ian's inner thigh, adding just enough pressure to make a neat line of blood trickle down his soft skin.

            Ian's back arched, a low purring sound coming from deep inside his throat. Kojiro laughed softly, lightly tracing his finger up and down the small cut he had made. When enough blood coated his fingertips, he raised them to his lips, lapping at the coppery substance.

            Placing the knife on the stool again, he returned his attention to his own erection, placing both of his hands on either side of Ian's head.

            Catching the pleading look in his lover's eyes, Kojiro positioned himself just outside Ian's opening. Many long, excruciatingly painful moments passed before Ian realized what Kojiro wanted –expect of him.

            "Please," He whispered, his voice hoarse and filled with agony and bliss. "Take me." He groaned.

            That was all the invitation Kojiro seemed to need as he forced himself inside Ian's broken body.

            Why did Ian give himself so easily? Because he held on to the comforting lie that in the morning, Kojiro would still be in his bed, ready to say "I love you" and sincerely mean it. Because in the morning, Kojiro would be a different person; a person who didn't drink and abuse him.

            After Kojiro had slipped out of the room despite Ian's desperate pleadings for him to stay, he finally allowed himself to lie back down on his bed, sweat glistening off of his body, cooling him. He stared at the ceiling, lost in his own thoughts for many moments before his head turned and he caught the glint of light on metal. He snatched up the knife from the stool beside his bed, silent tears slipping down his cheeks as he pressed the blade to his arms. He began sobbing pitifully.

            Not even the blood running down his arm could heal the ache in his heart.

Because he wanted that comforting lie to last just a little bit longer.

            Because I love you, Kojiro-kun.



Aww!!! It's so sad!!! ^.^ Anyway, Kojiro is a weird name, but that's okay. Ian's dand. I want to use it, too! I'll spell it different. Maybe s/he'll be a kitteh or something. O.O A CUTE CATBOY! HELL YEAH!