[M] Look What You Made Me Do

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Fionn
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Sat Jan 19, 2019 8:31 pm

Dentis 27, 2718 | Passive Dorms | Night
TW-Rape AllusionsShow
This post contains some highly triggering content pertaining to sexual assault. My sincerest apologies.
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"I want to ask you about something."

Fionn turned and looked up, blinking rapidly in his surprise. Ayden had come looking for him personally and it didn't sound like the usual sort of thing either. If he wanted to engage Fionn for whatever reason, he usually said that he had a 'job' for him, which could be beating someone up, intimidation or going to bed with him. This was different, especially as the older man seemed worried, worried enough to have disturbed him in the midst of his meal.

"What's up?"

"Not here but... come talk to me in my room. Be quick about it, this is important."

With those mysterious and rather worrisome words, the brunette was gone, pushing off from the blond's table and leaving him to wonder what was going on. Needless to say, he wasn't keen to dawdle after that, quick to wolf down the rest of his meal and dispose of his food ware before following his patron. When he reached the older boy's room and knocked, he found himself called in, the door unlocked and for some reason that put him further on edge. His mood wasn't improved when he found Ayden sitting at the end of the bed, hunched over with his hands dangling between splayed legs.

He offered Fionn a wan smile as the younger servant shut the door behind him, patting a space on the bed beside him.

"Seriously, what's up? You look- Something's wrong, isn't it?" the blond commented anxiously, placing a cautious hand on the other's shoulder. The older man shrugged it off, rising from the bed to begin slowly pacing back and forth.

"Yes and no. It's not- well, it kind of is serious but it isn't anything that will destroy life in Brunnhold as we know it," he remarked with a laugh, his expression quickly growing serious again. "It's something that I have to deal with though. It's... it's about Lars."

Fionn's heart seemed to stutter to a halt in his chest, the teen gasping in a pained breath as panic surged through him, his pulse seeming to restart uncomfortably.

He'd told the boy to keep his head down.

He'd asked him not to let himself enter Ayden's field of vision.

Fionn could handle their patron's moods, how he could grow... displeased at unpredictable moments, and his occasional bouts of subtle violence and abuse. Such things were typically his fault so he'd oft been on the receiving end of some ill-mood or other but he understood Ayden and knew that he was sweet underneath it all. They had an understanding, one that had been cultivated over the years and Lars didn't have that.

He'd been worried - was still worried - that if Ayden and Lars had dealings then the older blond was going to end up being broken. He didn't want Lars to get broken so the idea that the boy was in some sort of trouble filled him with dread.

"You know him better than me and he's a bit... well, he seems bang moony if I'm honest so if I come at this the wrong way... I need to make sure that I get through to him," Ayden admitted with a sigh, running a hand over cropped hair.

"What has he done?" the defect Madden asked hoarsely, mouth dry.

"Well, he's caused quite a bit of upset to some galdor, a professor. He was serving at one of those fancy school dinners last night and there was- well, there was an ambassador or something as well and everyone got upset and he was at the centre of it. Had it brought to me personally so I've got to see that he's punished, don't I?"

Fionn was gawking, unable to process what he was hearing. What had the boy said? That he always behaved and never got into trouble, or something along those lines? What had he done at a formal dinner that had caused such a furore with professors and ambassadors and-

Good Lady!

"Clocking hell! What sort of a lugger is he? How do you- Wait, you want me to help you work out how to punish him?" the teenager questioned, his voice high and shrill.

Ayden stopped in his pacing and nodded.

"I have an idea but I wanted to check. See, I know he's a virgin so I thought I might break him in, you know? It's easy to be rough with one and he won't forget it in a hurry because he'll be-"

Fionn's mind started screaming, ears closing themselves against the words, against what the words described as the older man went into sickening detail with surprising casualness although his face showed chagrin.

As if he was talking about something mildly-

As if he wasn't talking about quite literally destroying-

This was one of those Ayden things, one of those things that Fionn made excuses for him about and that he'd known that Lars couldn't handle.

Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, he couldn't.

His own horrific memories rose within him, every denial and refusal bubbling up beneath his skin, drowning him and overwhelming him as much as the mona had that one time his diablerie had occurred.

N-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-

Every time he should have said no and couldn't, every time he'd needed to say no and hadn't done so, hadn't been able to, every would-be refusal rose up his gullet, choking him.

N-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-

He wasn't going to let himself be choked into silence again, he couldn't, he couldn't stand by and let him do that to Lars. Good and sweet Lars who was too innocent for this place, too clueless, too unworthy of such treatment. In spite of what he'd seen him do, the casual expression on his face while Fred's dead body lay at his feet, the all too serious threats of deaths that had dropped from his lips, Fionn couldn't let Ayden ruin him.

"NO!" he almost screamed, firing it at Ayden with such power that he actually saw the other man take a step back, blue eyes wide with shock, words coming to an abrupt halt even as his expression flickered. For a moment, there was raw hatred and rage on his face, terrifying and monstrous and then it was gone, the facade slamming down again so fast that Fionn blinked and thought that he'd imagined that look in his currently distressed state.

"Not that. There are other ways, i-i-it won't work on him," the teenager appended, swallowing audibly. It was a lie and a poor one and while Ayden must know it, he said nothing about it.

"So... anything but that?"

Fionn found himself nodding, eager, desperate to avoid that fate for his roommate. For his crush.

"So... a beating then?"

He was still nodding, agreeing away, the words washing over him a little senselessly. The full meaning of what he was agreeing to wasn't sinking in, only that he wasn't agreeing to... the other thing.

"Well, I'm glad that you're volunteering. It'll have to be a good one. I don't think you should wrap your knuckles this time-"

"W-w-wait, what? You w-w-want m-m-me to-"

"Well, you just said that a beating would be the way. It's a serious thing that he's done and you don't want me to fuck him so... you're beating him up. Badly.

The nonchalance with which he said it staggered Fionn who could only stare, unable to comprehend what he wanted him to do. He couldn't hit Lars. He couldn't make a total mess of him. Hadn't he just thought about how he didn't want the boy to be broken and now Ayden was saying-

"You know I don't beat people up, Fionn, we've talked about this and you're usually so eager to use your fists and it needs to be done. He's upset galdori and if you beat him then everyone will-"

"N-n-not Lars. I wouldn't h-h-hit Lars, he's-"

"If you want to be a pussy about it then I can do it my way. Might end up having to anyway because it doesn't sound like you want to leave him bloody so I'll just-"

"I'll do it!" Fionn blurted out, eyes watering. There was no way out of this. There was no way that wasn't awful but this way was less horrific. Besides if he didn't do it then Ayden might get someone else to do it instead or go about dealing with things his own way.

It'd be easier if someone else did it, his mind whispered treacherously, the teenager mentally shaking it off.

It would be easier, sure, but it wouldn't be better. If someone else did it then they might not stop, might not know when to and they could just keep going until Lars was far more severely injured than he had to be. Or worse, someone could ki-ki-ki-k-k-k-k-k-

"He's my roommate so I might as well, right?" Fionn commented with a shrug, trying to be casual about it although he could feel several things shutting off inside.

"That's the spirit! I knew I could count on you! We'll fuck when we get back, all right? I don't want to be spent beforehand in case I have to finish things off after. Shall we?"

There was that casual allusion again, bile rising up the boy's throat as he watched Ayden pull the door open, watching him expectantly. He rose from the bed, movements jerky and uncoordinated as if he was a marionette being controlled by a poor puppeteer.

He walked forward, feeling unbalanced as he followed his patron out, moved down the corridor to his own room, watching as if from far away as Ayden knocked and entered. A mantra went around and around in his head, keeping him working, words having power over him as surely as a golem.

You have to do this.

He followed Ayden in, standing there dumbly as the door was shut, Lars seated on his bed, Jamie conspicuously absent. Had Ayden found some reason to get the boy out of the room? Had he planned this from the outset, driving Fionn down this path? No, he couldn't think about this.

You have to do this.

His gaze was faraway as Ayden talked about the previous night, how Lars had done wrong and how his behaviour couldn't be allowed to slide and then Fionn's name was being said, repeatedly, almost sing song as the familiar sounds took time to burrow into his brain.

"Huh?" he blurted dumbly.

"You can do what you came here to do now," Ayden explained, words slow and clear as if he thought he was talking to a simpleton; he probably was.

The blond moved towards his roommate, trying not to see everything he liked about the boy, everything that he wanted to protect.

This was for the best, he thought, as he conjured up the memories of recent days, the agony that the boy had caused him, settling on the way he had gone to gag after what he'd walked in on, that sassy wave as he left in the end.

The emotional pain helped, mixing with the adrenaline already coursing through his blood vessels, re-enlivening it so that it charged with anger.

You have to do this.

The boy deserved it in a way. He deserved to feel a small measure of what Fionn had suffered at his hands recently, what he had always suffered. Physical injury was easier to handle anyway, better at healing even if the end result wasn't always pretty.

"Don't miss his face," Ayden added softly.

Fionn didn't.

He drew back his arm, hip twisting so that when he sent his fist flying forward, his torso pivoted and his full strength was behind it. His fist went straight for Lars' mouth, another punch already waiting in the wings to slam into his gut.
Last edited by Fionn on Mon Jan 21, 2019 10:23 am, edited 2 times in total.

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Lars
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: nil igitur mors est ad nos
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Sat Jan 19, 2019 9:48 pm

Dentis 27, 2718
Dormitories
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Every day was the same. Long ago he learned to stop expecting anything different from his days and his nights, and though in recent times his life had seen more activity and social interaction, in the span of things it was all just the same.

People came and went. Jamie had perhaps been the only constant in his gated life, and as annoying and chatty as the dark-haired passive might be, he was still a friend. As many times as he'd bothered and fought with him in the privacy of their dorm, voices hushed and pronouns mixed, he never held those arguments against the man. As many times as he'd walked in on him with Bennett, hidden beneath blankets and silent still, as many times as he'd walked right back out and pushed it out of his mind, he still cared about Jamie.

There was Clover. The red-headed scrap that used to cling to him like a child to their mother, but her intentions were far from platonic. As delusional as she was, she was another constant. A constant nagging in his ear, a constant chip on his shoulder, a constant reminder of what he was and what he never could become.

Bennett had been a constant, until the beginning of the year. He had been there for as long as Lars, had been his first and permanent and only roommate before Jamie joined them a few years later. He had never been as enthusiastic or chatty as Jamie, never as nagging and pushing as Clover. He had been like Lars, almost--a person no one noticed, no one except Lars. Bennett had been an anchor in the angry sea that was Brunnhold, a light in the distance that he could always find even if he could never quite reach. He had been pure potential, despite his servitude; a promise that good could still be found.

But he'd ruined it.

He had squandered it; drove out all the good with his physical desires, pushed himself into a meaningless relationship with Jamie and found nothing good from it. Bennett threw away the promises, the potential, the trust, and threw away the permanence Lars had depended on since being thrown into the fortress so suddenly. Lars had seen the regret in his eyes, felt the guilt culminate in his rapid heartbeat as he'd pulled him close into one last embrace.

"Do something for me," he had asked.

"What do you need, Laurentius?"

A note was all he had left of him. A clocking note that he couldn't even read; he could barely make out the letters and he'd never allowed Jamie to look upon its surface despite it being intended for him.

"Take this," and he'd slipped the shard of broken glass into his pocket, bony fingers brushing up his side afterwards to rest on his jaw, "let me see the light fade from your eyes. Then I'll forgive you."

Steel-blue and faraway as usual, Lars' eyes flicked over to the door as it was opened. It brought him unceremoniously from his thoughts, his recollections of the moments only hours before Bennett's wasted death, and it was clear in his expression, however distant as it may be, that he was confused.

This wasn't normal, Fionn wasn't supposed to be coming back to the dorm right now. It was his mealtime, wasn't it? Jamie was gods-knows-where, but he hadn't questioned the other passive's absence until now; the sight of Ayden after Fionn a concerning one.

He hadn't wanted to tell Professor Siordanti the truth; hadn't wanted to give out Ayden's name when he knew the patron's dislike for him. It had never been an issue, not really; he expected that many didn't like him, and Ayden was just another in the waves of unhappy servants, but nonetheless he hadn't wanted to deal with his patron.

Fred had been enough of a problem.

Remaining silent, Lars lifted his head, watching the men approach with a guarded expression. Ayden's explanations for their visit were met with a slightly narrowed gaze, the blonde not believing he had really done anything to warrant punishment. He had spilled blistleberry juice on the professor, it was true, but was it really that big of a deal? Was it really his manners that were the problem, rather than his clumsiness?

It hadn't even been clumsiness, really, but distraction. The Gioran ambassador's smile from across the room had been so startling, so shocking for the passive when he had been surrounded with such chaos lately. Her words in his defense had been even more so; foreign despite the fluent Estuan. The concept of being worth something, of being important, of being loved by the gods or the people or anything really, well it was outlandish and distracting. He knew that now, staring up at what he could only describe as a distraught Fionn and an expectant, smug Ayden.

"But he didn't--" and a solid hit against his mouth stopped his words, the man for a moment dazed, confused, unaware of what had just happened, but another hit to his stomach and reality sunk in.

It knocked the air from his lungs, the blonde pushed back onto the bed, blue eyes wide and upper lip starting to bleed. A pain erupted in his abdomen, pulling him up almost forcefully, his back arching from the sensation as he brought himself back into a sitting position. That wasn't right, something wasn't right, something wasn't right in his stomach--

And blood already streamed from his lip and dripped from his chin, that wasn't right, why was he bleeding so--

As if unsure of himself, he quickly wiped a hand across his mouth, fingers stained with blood as he pulled them away. No, why was this happening? What had he done so wrong? Was this a joke? A cruel, violent joke? He didn't know, but he tried to get away, slipped off of the bed as if it were a waterfall and the hard ground was a mouth of fresh, cooling water, but the pain still erupting in his stomach was enough to crumple him onto the floor in front of them, face hitting the ground with a small crack.

A pained, frustrated noise came from his mouth, the blonde forcing himself to lie on his back and stare up at the two. A moment of focus, a moment of panic, and then the passive went still. A dark sort of acceptance that accompanied the distant look in his eyes and relaxed softness in his muscles; a sign that Lars wasn't going to struggle against further violence to his slender form.

What was the point?

"G'on then, get i' over with."
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Fionn
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Sun Jan 20, 2019 4:12 pm

Dentis 27, 2718 | Passive Dorms | Night
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Fionn was no stranger to using his fists, the act of beating a person bloody hardly a foreign one. When it came to blood, he wasn't typically squeamish whether it was his own or someone else's and if anything, he actually enjoyed drawing blood. There was an elation to it, a giddy excitement that had his blood rushing, pounding in his ears, heating him up and usually arousing him at least a bit. Sex and suffering were linked in the young man's mind so it was perhaps to be expected and so typically this sort of thing was a natural turn-on.

In spite of all of his experience and all of his usual responses, the blond wasn't prepared to beat up Lars.

No matter how much he knew that this was the lesser evil and no matter how much he had geared himself up for this, the young servant found that the contact sickened him. To see his own fist slam into Lars' mouth and feel the solidity of flesh yield and small particles pop under his knuckles, to see the other's shock as he tried and failed to comprehend what was happening to him and why, the blow to the gut knocking him back to gasp and writhe on the bed.

And then it somehow got worse.

He found himself pausing after the two quick punches, staring at the agonised contortions of his roommate's body but also watching in macabre fascination as blood began to pour. The boy had a good right hook he'd admit but to see so much blood appear so quickly was horrifying. The beautiful face was wide blue eyes and pallor and red red RED dripping down his chin, made all the worse by the contrast with his suddenly white face.

Fionn felt sick.

His brown eyes turned to Ayden, full of bewilderment and personal agony as his roommate pitched onto the floor, cracking his face off it with a sound that made him wince, almost afraid to look back to see what had been done. His patron had been leaning against the wall, all nonchalant observation, but now he was leaning forwards as if to get closer to the action. There was a small but noticeable nervous twitch in the man's leg, a hand pressed so hard against his own thigh that his knuckles had blanched. It looked as if he was trying to stop himself from-

No, he was right, the truth of it was in the brunette's face, especially his eyes. The excitement, the giddiness, the lust both sexual and bloodlust. His blue eyes found Fionn's frantic gaze, radiating encouragement as he nodded his encouragement, waving for him to continue.

Faced with such obvious desire, violent and passionate and heated, the young man felt anything like it in himself shrivel.

The look to Ayden might have seemed like an eternity but it lasted seconds, Alioe dragging out his suffering. Thus, when he looked down, he had time to see Lars roll over, see the expressions on his face, more feeling crossing his face than he'd seen in previous flickers before something died, the light in his eyes purposely dimmed, the muscles relaxing and softening into total impassivity. Once again, he was blank, that dreaminess returning as if this didn't matter. As if he wasn't about to be beaten bloody, as if he wasn't already experiencing pain, as if it wasn't Fionn who stood over him so clearly distraught even as his fists tightened.

How could he just lie there and act as if-

Why would he just take it?

His words, a little slurred, thicker because of the damage to his mouth, would have been a goad from Fionn's own mouth or said with bitterness at the very least. But Lars just... didn't seem to care and that pissed the blond off.

He should care. Damn him, he should fucking care what was happening!

His foot was drawn back, slammed forward into the other's hip, pain radiating through Fionn's own toes but he found himself caring less, adrenaline fuzzing the edges of his own suffering as he bent to grasp the older man's shoulders, hormones giving him strength to haul and lift. He grabbed the other's hair, twisting, tugging back as he backhanded him, the smack as painful for him as it was for Lars. Another smack and one of his knuckles screamed having caught on a tooth and been torn.

A low animalistic sound escaped him of pain and rage and frustration as he laid into him, fists pounding into torso and face, knee into chest, foot into side and hip and legs and groin. The movements were swift and efficient, even a single strike to an area sufficient to cause agony and bruising. Some areas were tougher than others, better able to take multiple hits than others and Fionn was familiar with each, blows rained there instead of softer places more prone to damage on the average person.

However, for all his anger and violence, the feeling was quick to burn off, the sight of the blood rising too quickly to the surface and spilling out bringing him to his senses.

He didn't know when he had started to cry but his face was wet with more than sweat, a choked breath coming from him as he tried to inhale and exhale around the tears that stopped up his throat. His whole body was trembling, hands a bloody and agonising mess from where old scars had ripped open but even then most of it wasn't his own blood. He was splattered in it - Lars' blood - covering his uniform in a fine spray as well as larger droplets and stains. It was sprayed across the nearby bed, parts of the duvet that hung over the edge of the bed soaked scarlet and the floor was slick with it. And Lars...

His beautiful face, his fair hair, his usually neat uniform, and his unseen form beneath it were ruined. He knew they were ruined and it was all his own fault.

Fionn had done this.

Hands went to his mouth, his face, his hair, tracking blood over them all as he made a keening sound, trapped in the horror of what he'd done. There was a splintering feeling in his own chest, the heat and intensity enough to bring him to his knees, ready to drop further and crawl towards the boy to cradle him in his lap, to provide what comfort he could now that the damage was done.

But then Ayden was at his side, a hard hand on his shoulder, a painful insistent scrabbling grip. The brunette was shaking too but for vastly different reasons.

"You did such a good job! Look at him! Just look at him! He's such a mess," Ayden commented breathily, his excitement tangible as he bent his mouth to Fionn's ear and whispered, "Leave him. Come with me."

The blond recoiled or tried to, attempting to pull out of the grasp.

"I don't want to- I can't leave him!" he choked out, brown eyes wild as they bounced back and forth between the two men he had somehow succeeded in falling in love with, one bloody and pained and the other currently demented, a devil with all semblance of innocent and normal disguise stripped away.

"I don't want to do- Not now! How can you think I'd want t-t-t-to sleep with you n-n-n-now?"

Something hardened in the other's face, the grin predatory, almost manic as he leaned close again and grabbed Fionn's chin.

"I can fuck you or I can fuck him but I thought you beat him up so I wouldn't touch him? I know he's a mess and I'd get blood all over me but I don't care. I'm going to get blood on me anyway so what's a little more? Well, a lot more," the patron remarked, a laugh coming from him that veered towards a giggle.

Those blue eyes danced before him, making the urge to vomit rise within him. He turned his face out of Ayden's grasp, his eyes closing tight so he didn't have to see.

There was no choice. He only had one thing that he could do. Again. At least this time, Lars wouldn't get hurt. He could protect him properly this time. Truly protect him.

"I'll come with you."

"Perfect! Come on then."

A hand was clapped on his shoulder, odd camaraderie in the gesture before he strode to the door, leaving Fionn on his knees.

"Fuck's sake, come on!" Ayden snapped from the doorway, Fionn jerking where he sat, eyes snapping open to stare at him. His mouth opened and shut then opened again.

"I'm coming. Don't just stand there, it looks... obvious," Fionn remarked, getting shakily to his feet and finding that the next time he looked that Ayden was gone, the door left ajar. He moved quickly, bending back down to Lars' level, a hand moving to stroke the boy's hair, his touch hesitant.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry. I didn't want to- I didn't have a choice. I had to do it or he was going to-"

"Fionn!"

The call from down the hall sent a tremor through him, a panic, a hunted, haunted expression in his teary gaze before he pressed a swift, soft kiss to Lars' temple.

"I'm sorry. I have to go, I don't want- I have to leave, I'm sorry, love," he whispered against his forehead, moving back, wiping Lars' blood from his lips as he retreated. The tears had begun again, the blond moving swiftly out into the corridor, hurrying after his patron, pleas already on his lips.

Please don't make me leave him like this.

Please don't let him bleed out like that.

He isn't normal, please don't let him...

Don't let him...

Die.

Don't let him die.
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Lars
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Race: Passive
: nil igitur mors est ad nos
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Sun Jan 20, 2019 6:35 pm

INCONSEQUENTIAL
WHAT HAVE YOU DONE
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A kick to his side, another eruption of pain. Underneath the skin it almost boiled, overflowed, a pain so striking and unusual that one would've expected some sort of reaction from the man; a widening of his eyes, a gasp, a shout, but nothing fell from his bloodied lips. Nothing crossed his foggy blue eyes, not the slightest hint of a reaction, not even as the beating escalated at Fionn's hands.

Blood. There was only blood. Underneath the skin; pooling where it decided not to break, bruising dark purples and blues so quickly after each hit. Above the skin; pouring out from each crack and tear that his youngest roommate inflicted, staining his ivory skin and perfectly-clean blue uniform with scarlet.

Lars was a pliable statue at the hands of the distraught passive. A punching bag, a dummy, a target of Ayden's rage that had seemed fit for punishment because of a simple spill.

He wasn't thinking of Fionn, with tears streaming down his face; or even of Ayden, who stood above with a crazed lust in his gaze. He wasn't thinking of Bennett as he had been before, perhaps one of the only people who had ever truly cared about him. Bennett wouldn't have let this happen, but he wasn't here, and so he was pushed out of mind. He wasn't thinking of Jamie, who could walk in at any time and likely find punishment of his own for witnessing such a thing. He wasn't thinking of Clover, who would surely comfort and care for him if she found him in this state. He wasn't thinking of Renard, or Garamir, or Lenore, or Norwyn, or Professor Siordanti, or Ambassador Bruthgrave, or anyone he had met in the sixteen years he'd spent gated, confined, isolated from the rest of the world, shamed for his oddities and feared for his inherent and inborn risk, he wasn't thinking about any of them.

Lars was thinking about himself.

With every added hit, he begged for apathy. With each bruise, he prayed for numbness.

Something isn't right.

His blood was a lake beneath him, a matting of his golden hair, the smears across his cheekbones and his mouth. It was a part of the room; sewed into the bedclothes, stained into their uniforms like blistleberry juice. He fixated on the thought, on the sight of red soaking into Fionn's shirt; brought himself back to the previous night when the only issue had been a fixable one. He didn't know how easily his blood would be removed, certainly not as easily as it was drained from his paled body.

You always wanted to see this.

At some point Fionn stopped, his fists pulled away from their war against his face and body, and the first reaction from Lars was a strangled, choking sound.

Blood sputtered from his mouth, head tilting back as red hot liquid streamed into his eyes and up his nose. The flood from the sudden angle only worsened his problems, the blonde struggling for a moment to push his head up so that the blood didn't drain into his eyes and nose.

He barely heard what the two said when they spoke. Their voices were muffled and unimportant when he was almost drowning himself with blood, and it took a lot of strength for him to keep his head at such an angle so that the blood fell to the floor rather than his face.

A touch to his head, gently brushing against his hair, and Lars choked again on the blood coating his throat. He didn't pull away, but red-stained eyes flickered to focus on Fionn, on the form bending down and stammering out apologies.

Ayden was out of the room, he noticed then, but he hardly cared. Ayden's presence didn't make a difference to him.

Perhaps more surprising than the beating itself was a soft kiss to his bloodied temple, a gesture that Lars would've perhaps appreciated more if he wasn't bleeding onto the ground. Now it served only to confuse him, eyes closing against the strain of bloody vision, letting his head fall ungracefully back to the floor when Fionn left his side.

He wasn't sure how long he remained there after that.

He doesn't want to die. He doesn't want to die, but something's wrong, the bleeding isn't stopping.

Lars swallowed, the taste of metal strong on his tongue.

He doesn't want to die. No, please. He doesn't want to die. Please save him.

Eyes reopened, unfocused in their stare up at the ceiling.

Please. Please. Please save him. Don't let him die. Please.

For the first time in forever, he felt a wetness against his face that wasn't blood or sweat or steam. A salt that stung as it crept into the new cracks in his face. A sob that sprung from his aching stomach and caught against the blood in his throat, producing a hacking sound that spattered blood into the air above.

And then, as if whole again, it stopped.

We're not going to die. Not if we pick ourselves off the gods-damned floor and move.

Ignoring the pain, the disconcerting liquidity beneath his skin all over, the dark hues of bruises covering his body mingling with red, he pushed himself up with shaking, bony hands. Up and off of the floor, although he stumbled on wobbly legs and fell against the side of his bloody bed. A frustrated sound came from his throat, rumbling with a pain in his abdomen, but moments later the door to the dormitory was opened and he heard a gasp from across the room.

"Oh my--Sweet Lady, Lars, oh my gods, what happened? Oh gods--" Jamie looked as if he was about to faint at the sight of so much blood, but nonetheless he managed to rush to Lars' side, hands helping him back up even as the gentle touch exploded pain within him.

"F--fn," tried the blonde, "dn't matter, get m--tak--take me som-so, som--take me," speaking was too hard, too straining, and so Lars nodded towards the door and made an effort to walk towards it.

"Wh--the hospital? I'll get you there, I--"

"N-no, no, jus-just follow."

Jamie assisted the older passive in standing straight, and despite the panic clear on his face, followed through with Lars' request.
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