Warning: BoyXBoy relationships You have been warned^^

Rain streaked through the grey sky, pounding on the naked form of a broken figure.

It hurts...fragmented words manage to string together a single thought, which was repeatedly continued. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts…why…?

New thoughts swam to his foggy mind. Shattered images forming a horrible collage of pain and agony. Pain, so much pain…

Whimpers joined in with the falling rain, until the two sounds melded together.

"Why…" he whispered this time, forcing pain hazed eyes open to stare at a bleeding sky.

He could remember the shaking pistol held up to his head. The cool feel of the metal, the scent of sweat and blood, his blood, the cracks of whips and slashes of knives that sung throughout the air. They had taken everything he had left. His home, his innocence, and they were about to take the final thing they could, his life. Blood wept from their wounds, ensuring his demise. No one would save him. Who would be wondering the alley's in the middle of the storm. No, he had been discarded, something once valuable that they had broken!

Lips parted slightly he blinked slowly. The rain seemed surreal as it streaked towards him. Black waves of unconsciousness battered him until he relented, drowning within the seas of death.


Shizuo Heiwajima was a walking, talking time bomb. Blonde hair hung over eyes of darkened coffee, which spelt the doom of whoever was caught within their gaze, a tall, well defined figure stood stooped, hands shoved within pockets, and a ciggy hung from scowling lips. A dark coat was thrown over his usual work attire, that of a bartenders, and slowly slickened as the rain abused it.

This formidable figure stalked through the alley's on his way home, not wanting to run into a soul. A foul mood had seized his mind and raged pulsed softly at the edges of his thoughts. Any soul unfortunate to meet up with him tonight was likely to get a VIP ride in an ambulance.

Of course, he had just been fired from his job, again! This time it wasn't even his fault. All he had done was break the nose of a drunkard who had blatantly groped him, him, Shizuo Heiwajima. He hadn't even thrown anything at the man and he had been fired. Damn…

He didn't really need the job, his parents still paid for rent and such even though they had kicked him out of the house three years ago, but right now he was trying to save up for college, because that brilliant mind of his refused to allow him to get a scholarship on that alone.

"Damn…" he muttered, kicking at a can. It skittered across the wet asphalt, striking a pile of rags at a great force.

The 'pile of rags' suddenly moved, making him jump. He may the strength of Super Man but he was still scared of creepy things, like that the haunting moaning that was coming from that 'pile of rags'.

"It's probably just a cat…" he muttered, hating himself for his being a coward. Just to prove to himself that he was not going to let some cat scare him he stalked towards the rags. It moved again but he held his pace until he drew within three paces of it. His footsteps fell silent as his foot came down on a river of red.

"Blood…?" a dark feeling suddenly told him that whatever that was, it was not a cat. He ventured forth the remaining distance and knelt. Two ears, black cat ears, poked out from crimson stained cloth. He let out a sigh and rolled his eyes, see, it was just a stupid cat. Just to make sure though he pulled off the cloth and froze.

A boy… it was a boy… with ears…

The boy was stripped of everything besides wounds, which still allowed blood to pass through the torn flesh. The cloth was still settled on the small of the boy back, which looked much too thin. Bruises colored such pale skin. A series of cuts were etched into the once smooth skin of the boy's back. Another moan confirmed that the boy was alive, if only barely. The head moved enough for him to see a black eye and a split lip. Another series of darkening bruises clung to the boy's neck. Damn, this kid was a rape victim.

He stood up and sighed. Damn cosplayers, what did they expect to happen when dressed up like anime character, most of whom wore little to no clothing. Well, looked like he had to do something to help this boy.

He stripped himself of his coat and laid it over the boy before picking him up. Damn, this kid was light and those ribs definitely should not be protruding that much. Making sure he had a firm grasp on this stick of a figure he turned and headed towards his apartment. Thank god he lived alone or else this would be a bitch to explain.

Once safely out of the rain and under a roof he set the boy down. Now that he had a better chance to examine the kid he saw that the kid was older than he thought, maybe only a year or two younger than himself. Raven black locks spilt over pale skin and closed eyes. Almost bloodless, yet bloodied, lips were parted at they dragged rattling breathes in. He really hoped that this kid didn't catch pneumonia or anything like that.

He could also see that the injuries weren't as bad as the shadows had made them out to be. Though they were still fairly deep, a few still bleeding, stitches didn't seem to be in need. Though he could tell that some serious S&M had occurred.

"Poor kid," he shook his head slowly, staring at the unconscious figure. Even if the kid was one of those damn cosplayers he surely didn't deserve this.

He made his way to the bathroom, grabbing a wash cloth and a first aid kit. Deciding to leave the coat covering the boy's lower half, not looking forward to treating below the waist, he started disinfecting and stopping the bleeding on the boy's chest.

The boy stirred slightly, lips forming words but sound never escaping. Soft eyelashes fluttered. He hoped the boy wasn't about to wake up, he really didn't want to deal with an awake injured boy at the moment, unconscious was much better, didn't complain as much.

As though hearing his wishes, and wishing to defy them, the boy's eyes opened half-mast. Red orbs, clouded by pain, slowly slithered around the room, trying to make out their surroundings.

He saw the red eyes and sighed, he really hated cosplayers. Really, who would ever want to have red eyes, red, what the hell! Talk about unnatural. Ah, he was so not in the mood to deal with any conscious person.

The boy coughed, raising a weak hand that caught splotches of red. Aww, damn, this kid really was sick. Those red eyes, which had been closed in pain as he coughed, were once again open and staring at him. A moment passed. Then those eyes focused, followed by piercing shrieks of fear that filled the air.