Break Me, Shake Me
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Pairings: Ansem/Riku, Ansem/Sora, Riku/Sora
Side-pairings: Leon/Cloud, Sephiroth/Cloud
Disclaimer: I hereby declare that none of the characters in this story are mine. This fic is only for entertainment purposes and is not meant for money or distribution.
Summary: Riku is a disowned rebel teen, turned hard-hearted by the harsh abuse of his foster father. Sora is a simple happy-go-lucky country boy moving into the suburbs, with just as much attitude. When they meet, it's like a spark to start the fire, and slowly it consumes their lives. As their world and the fates of others weave together intertwined, sora's feelings for riku lead him to the conclusion that he will liberate riku from the abusive environment he lives in, no matter what the cost. But can he be victorious, or will his efforts burn to dust, unsuccessful?
Author's Notes: You know you're lame when you're addicted to Savage Garden several odd years after their popularity's died out. That and you've only known about Donnie Darko's existence since a few months ago.
Um...this is technically NOT a songfic, it's more like, a "fanfic with a theme song," but if you want to call it a songfic you can. If this were only one chapter I would call it a songfic officially, but that is not the case. So...yes. "Fanfic with a theme song."
Be warned. If Riku seems out of character, then you're probably overlooking the fact that yes, stuff like that does affect you mentally, and people can get changed/twisted if they're introduced to such abuse. Just a note for you.
I've played KH2, yes I know about Ansem/Xemnas/Xehanort, but Ansem sounds better, so please don't expect me to call him anything otherwise. Thanks for understanding. It's just the writer's preference, that's all!
This chapter's really short, but trust me the next one will be longer. Now, I had the option to either sugarcoat this thing or to slap you in the face...I went with the "slap you in your face." This is not going to be a very happy fic. Quite a bit dark in some places. If this were I would post the full lemon chapters. But this isn't So I can't. So the darkness is toned down a little. Oh, well...enjoy!
This was spliced into the proper "Part One" of the story on Tuesday, June 13th, 2006.
"This House And Home"
Waking up, the sunlight did nothing to better his mood. Riku blinked it away until it no longer blinded him, and he sat up like a zombie. Routine—everything was routine. The sick part about it all was that he knew it in full by now. Since he'd been a boy; he was used to it. He stared ahead of him at the flat-screen television in front of his bed. He could still remember hearing the sounds of sex and the pornographic movies playing from it on pay per view. "Bedtime stories."
There wasn't any way for him to sugarcoat it. He was dead. Doomed. The flame had died inside him long ago. It would be a miracle if anything could get it fired up again. This was his life, and tried as he had, nobody knew the true horrors that occured behind closed doors. Nobody knew what it was like to be here. To be his kid, when he wasn't even really his kid. Riku knew the leash he was strapped to quite well. He could walk freely and live a normal teenage life, but the minute he came home, there was always something to deviate from the usual pain. Wax. Clamps. Beads. Chains. Whips. Anything he could think of.
Last night had been a Godsend. The Master and Pet routine. "Dad" had been in a good mood then, because Riku had kept his grades up in school. He couldn't promise they would stay that way. But at least that one time, it had counted enough to save him from hiding more scars.
Riku felt the collar around his neck get pulled at the leash. It was reversed, and the blunt metal studs dug into his flesh, giving him goosebumps. He resisted the tug only to feel the cold, harmless spikes on his skin, and sighed as it helped him relax.
If anything, he'd learned one thing by living here.
Pain is good.
"Good morning, pet."
Riku replied without hesitation, still straddling the stomach of the body he'd slept against last night. The one that barely fit on his twin-sized bed. Too small even for him.
"Good morning, master."
"Today is a Saturday."
Riku winced, mentally. Saturday and Sunday. The Splurge Days. He wouldn't be seeing the sun again until Monday. He looked wistfully out the window, where the bright pastel rays of sunshine filled his room. His "room." The one he got when he was "good." He sighed. Good-bye, undersized bed. Good-bye, T.V. Good-bye, freedom.
The studs pressed into his skin again, pulling him back, and he obeyed it. His head came to rest on a pillow, beside the head of a man with dark brown skin and hazel eyes, hair as silver as his, and three times his age.
Ansem turned and looked at him, and Riku's soul burned away another little piece of itself under his gaze.
"What game shall we play today?"
Riku sighed dolefully again, his sky-blue eyes as glazed as they had been last night. This question wasn't loaded, like some of them were. This was a question to which he always gave the same answer:
"Anything you want."
Ansem purred approvingly and pulled on the leash, gradually adding pressure. It fit very tightly to Riku's neck, and the teen shut his eyes, letting the pain crawl down his spine. He wished his spine would snap.
Like a machine, Riku replied with the same worn-out answer again.
Ansem nodded again, and stroked his fingers through Riku's silvery hair, which by now was past his shoulders and composed of greasy but beautiful thin spikes. "There's a new neighbor moving in today." He asked, "What are we going to do when they arrive?"
Riku didn't know why Ansem thought he would try that again. Once he'd attempted to rat him out to the parents of a new kid in the neighborhood, even to the kid himself, but it was a pitiful failure. He got caught within less than a day, even as discreetly as he'd slipped the messages. In hindsight, Riku now realized he'd probably slipped them a little too discreetly. The neighbors probably never got the hint.
"We're going to go to the basement." he droned. That incident hadn't even succeeded, hadn't even gotten to the point where the people got the least bit suspicious, but ever since he was fifteen, all of a sudden, it was his Original Sin. The punishment was carried out whenever neighbors moved in, even when they moved out—he'd tried a second time with an old couple leaving the cul-de-sac. He went to school covering up hot wax burns on his stomach.
"Good boy." Ansem praised, still petting Riku's hair. "Now, give your father a hug."
Dutifully, as it was his obligation, Riku rolled over and flung his arms robotically around Ansem's dark chest, a glaring black-and-red tattoo still on his left pec from his youth: a picture of a black heart crossed out by red thorns. At Ansem's request, Riku had gotten the same tattoo in the same place. A mark of Ansem's territory. Ansem's property.
"I love you, son." The sentence cut him like a knife. Riku died again inside, for a second or two.
I'm not your son, he thought woefully. At least, he hadn't been before the agency handed him over. But now I'm yours. Even mentally, he failed to reject it. It had become a fact of life.
He was used to it.
"I love you too, Dad."
Ansem smiled and squeezed Riku in his arms, returning the hug. "Go eat your breakfast, and get showered. I'll meet you downstairs...my pet."
He sighed again.