- Title: How Do You Feel About That?
- Author: Meicdon13
- Pairing(s): Homura x Dokugakuji
- Rating: R
- Summary: Gojyo tries to help his older brother get over some childhood issues by sending him to a psychiatrist. Doctor Homura finds it hard to give his patient what he really needs.
- Website: http://meicdon13.livejournal.com/
- Warnings: AU, violent playacting
- Notes: To quote the goddess, "Freud's rolling around in his grave right now." I feel like I can do better on this one. And yet, nothing's coming to me. Hope this is good enough. Fading font inspired by karose's in her fic E=mc2. I am not sure what Doku-chan's eyes are. I always thought they were midnight blue. Written for a_mael for 7thnight_smut 2008. Beta by xcerpted.
"Mom, please stop! It hurts!"
"Hair the color of blood! Her blood running through your veins!"
He ran into the room and saw his mother beating up Gojyo. He grabbed her arm and pulled her away from his half-brother, his lips pressed firmly together in a thin line. "Mother, calm down," he said soothingly, carefully drawing her away from his crying brother.
"Oh, Jien!" She threw herself into his arms, holding on tightly to him, sobbing against his chest, tears wetting the front of his shirt. He held her up and couldn't find it in himself to look at Gojyo as he half-carried half-dragged her into her bedroom, locking the door behind him.
He thought he heard his brother whispering, "'Niisan…"
"The drugs aren't working!" he shouted, throwing the small plastic bottle across the room. It hit the far wall with a satisfying crunch of plastic on concrete and the top popped off, spilling small white pills all over the floor. Dokugakuji's hands were fisted in his short hair and he tried not to have a complete breakdown in his living room.
Gojyo stood a few feet away, worry in his red eyes as he watched his older brother warily. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as he watched the brunet. "Are you sure you've been drinking them regularly? Doc says if you miss one, it could change how effective they are."
"Of course I've been drinking them! Do you think I don't want to be cured?" Dokugakuji kicked the coffee table, overturning it and spilling their drinks all over the carpet.
His younger brother grabbed him, shouting, "Hey! Stop it!" The redhead's hands went to his shoulders and the brunet found himself being shaken. "Get a hold of yourself!"
Dokugakuji didn't know how he ended up crying in his brother's arms, both of them kneeling on the wet floor, and he didn't really care. Gojyo's hair fell around him like a red curtain and he gripped his younger brother's arms hard enough to bruise.
He dimly heard Gojyo saying things like, "It's okay," and, "It'll get better," and Dokugakuji wondered if that was true.
He's walking down the street and it's dark. He's cold and he can't see anything. He thinks that he should be going home, that Gojyo's all alone in the house where they're staying and that his baby brother's probably hungry and worried about him.
He thinks that Gojyo isn't a baby anymore and doesn't like to be treated like one. And he decides that he doesn't care because he'll always be his baby brother, no matter what happens.
He should be going home but this morning, he was struck with the urge to buy his baby brother that jacket he was looking at a few days ago. It was made of black leather and he thought of telling Gojyo that the biker look had gone out of fashion long ago but the want in those red eyes made him keep his mouth shut.
So here he is, walking towards that clothes store, praying that it's not yet closed so he can buy his baby brother the jacket he wants.
He shifts his grip on the plastic bag full of food and walks faster, boots making muffled sounds on the wet pavement. He pulls his coat tighter around himself and ignores the cold wind that's begun to blow. He wishes he had an umbrella. It looks like it's going to rain.
He's passing by an alley when a hand shoots out and grabs his arm, dragging him into the darkness.
"You know, you're just wasting your brother's money if you refuse to talk to me."
"What if I don't want to talk to you?" His patient crossed his arms and glared at him, his midnight blue eyes narrowed mutinously. "The first psychiatrist was a complete failure and we ended up wasting money on him as well."
Homura looked down at his clipboard and read the patient's datasheet. Dokugakuji Sha. "Look, Mr. Sha, I can't do my job if you refuse to cooperate. And how will you know that I'm no better than that previous doctor if you won't give me a chance?"
"You're all the same. You just want something from me." The other black-haired man seemed to loosen up a bit; his arms were still crossed and he was still sitting slumped in the chair but the fight seemed to leech out of his eyes. "Everyone just wants something from me."
The psychiatrist tapped his pen against the top of his desk. "I don't want anything from you, Mr. Sha."
"You want my brother's money. That's the same thing."
Gojyo's arm bled through the bandages wrapped around the wound. He sighed and slowly removed the dressings, ignoring the sounds of pain his brother made. He had to ignore them or else he'd never find the strength to clean the wound with alcohol and wrap it tightly with white bandages again.
He didn't want to hurt his baby brother. But if he needed to, he would.
The redhead didn't answer when he asked him where he got the wound and he stopped asking after two more tries because it probably came from their—his—mother.
He ruffled his brother's long red hair and hugged Gojyo, pressing his face against the top of Gojyo's head. The sound of a small sob reached his ears and he fought the urge to cry as well.
He comforted himself with the thought that the wound wouldn't leave a scar.
"Look! It can't be good for you; just keeping all that crap locked up inside of you!"
"And I'm telling you that it's better if I stop seeing that quack! You're just wasting your money. Money that you could be using to pay for your rent! And what's this I heard about you taking in some homeless guy?"
"He was bleeding to death on the sidewalk. I couldn't just leave him there!"
Of course you could, Dokugakuji thought to himself. All you had to do was keep walking. He didn't say that out loud. Instead, he sat down on the sofa and cradled his head in his hands. "I know," he said after a while. He locked eyes with his brother and added, "But you have to move that guy to a hospital or something. He'll be taken better care of there."
Gojyo ran a hand through his hair. "The thing is, the guy asked me not to. He didn't want to go near any hospital. And he didn't want to report the attack to the police."
The brunet looked at his brother's face and sighed in exasperation. "If you get involved in anything, you know I can't afford to pay bail." He looked around at his threadbare miniscule apartment.
"Don't worry, 'niisan. I can take care of myself."
Dokugakuji couldn't remember the last time his brother had called him that and he noogied the redhead in retaliation.
The hand on his arm is strong and he can feel the heat of its flesh through his coat and shirt. It's as if there's nothing separating their skin. He's pretty sure that he doesn't like that feeling—shouldn't like that feeling—but his heart's speeding up as if he were excited.
He tries to free himself from the stranger's hold on him but the resistance he's putting up is laughable. The plastic bag of groceries falls to the ground as he's dragged further into the alley. This time, the struggle he puts up is stronger and genuine. That was his baby brother's dinner that just fell into a filthy puddle of rainwater in a smelly alley.
He stops when he hears a low laugh coming out of the shadows in front of him.
"Welcome back, Mr. Sha," Homura said as he looked up from where he was playing solitaire on his computer. "You're thirty minutes late, though I was expecting that you wouldn't come at all." As the psychiatrist closed his programs, he asked, "So what made you change your mind?"
"I don't think that's any of your business."
The other man sat down at the chair Homura provided for his patients. He was sure that it was comfortable but the way Sha sat you would think he was sitting on glass shards instead of a supple leather armchair. "Comfortable?" he asked, trying to get his patient to relax.
Sha nodded curtly, eyes not quite meeting his.
There was a moment of strained silence before Homura asked, "Are you ready to talk to me about it?"
Sha nodded again.
"Jien!" she gasped, fingernails raking down his back. He winced at the small pain but kept moving, hips thrusting as he pounded into his mother. Her legs tangled around his waist as he moved and she pressed sloppy kisses against the side of his neck.
He heard the front door open and close.
His midnight blue eyes focused on the small clock on the bedside table and realized that Gojyo's classes had ended almost an hour ago. It must be the redhead downstairs.
"Jien," his mother said, hands grasping his forearms, nails digging into them. "Jien, what is it honey?"
"Nothing, mother," he said soothingly. He went back to what he was doing.
She screamed in pleasure as he moved and he clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the noise. She licked at his fingers as he heard the sounds of Gojyo's footsteps going up the stairs.
When it was all over, he showered for two hours before he finally went to welcome his brother home.
"A little birdie told me that you're treating one of my old patients."
Homura looked up from his paperwork and saw a bespectacled man standing in his office's doorway. "A lot of your patients leave you, Nii. Which one are you talking about now?"
Nii adjusted the hold he had on his stuffed rabbit before answering, "I believe his name is Dokugakuji Sha."
"What about him?"
The other man leaned against the doorjamb, peering at Homura from above the lens of his glasses. "I just thought I'd give a fellow professional some advice. Unless you feel that you don't need it…?"
Homura motioned with his hand, indicating that he was listening.
"He doesn't really believe that what we do can help him." Nii tossed his bunny into the air. "It's gotten so bad that the medication I prescribed for him has stopped working." The other ebony-haired man tapped his temple. "The power of the mind is amazing, isn't it?"
"Maybe the drugs you gave him were too strong," Homura commented nonchalantly as he made a note on a patient's file.
"Maybe. Maybe not." The other psychiatrist straightened up and turned around. Before he left, he glanced over his shoulder and asked, "One last thing, Dr. Houtou. What do you think about Mr. Sha's condition?"
Homura's mismatched eyes narrowed in annoyance—why wouldn't the man just leave him alone?—before he answered. "I think he's just another classic case of Oedipus complex."
Nii chuckled. "If you think that, then he hasn't told you everything."
There's a hand closing around his throat.
"It's not like I wanted to sleep with her!" he shouted. He glared at the man sitting in front of him and thought about how easily he could break Nii's neck. Something about the psychiatrist made his skin crawl.
"Really? Then why did you do it then?"
He thought about how his mother would beat up Gojyo, how she raked her nails across his face, how she pulled his hair, how she kicked the redhead when he fell over. When he treated Gojyo's injuries yesterday, he was dismayed to find out that there would be scars on his younger brother's face.
He thought about how he had to drag her off of the redhead when things got way out of hand and how she would drag him off to her bedroom. He thought about nights when he had to place his hand over his mother's mouth to stifle her cries of pleasure.
"To save my brother," he whispered.
Nii placed his chin in his palm, elbow on the desk between them, and smiled. "Do tell."
Gojyo sat on Dokugakuji's sofa and called his apartment to check up on the stranger he had picked up on the street. The older man drank his coffee in silence.
His new psychiatrist wasn't prescribing any medicine and he was getting restless. Dokugakuji didn't want to think that maybe he'd become a junkie because he never overdosed on the pills that Nii had given him. But maybe he had come to depend too much on them.
He just wanted to know why they weren't working anymore.
"Has it ever occurred to you that it's not your fault?"
Midnight blue eyes narrowed as they glared at him and Homura went on, trying not to sound antagonistic. "Think about it. It wasn't your fault that your father slept with another woman. And it wasn't your fault that your mother slowly lost her mind. You should have brought her to a medical facility the moment you realized—"
"We couldn't afford it," Sha snapped. "And that was my fault. I should have been able to earn enough money to support my family."
Homura jotted down 'martyr' in the margins of Sha's patient data sheet and tapped his pen against the tabletop, thinking. He noticed that his patient's hands were shaking and asked, "Do you want to rest for a while?"
'Feels the need to be strong.'
The hands are pushing his coat off his shoulders, ripping his shirt open. They land in another dirty puddle. He's completely pissed off now and he tries to kick his assailant off of him. The hand on his neck tightens and he can't breathe.
A punch lands on his gut and knocks out the remaining air from his lungs. While he's trying to regain his bearings, he feels a hand undoing his belt and the fastenings of his pants. He's already shivering from the cold night air.
He kicks out again and this time his foot makes contact with something. For a moment, he's free and he tries to make a run for it; he can see the end of the alley and the light coming from a streetlamp.
Something hits the back of his head and he's being dragged back into the alley. He's dizzy and his vision's blurring. Something warm and thick is trickling down the back of his neck.
He's pushed back against the desk, papers flying everywhere, the computer mouse falling to the floor. A pair of narrowed mismatched eyes stare down at him. He feels helpless.
A hand pushes his pants down to his knees and he shudders when his cock is exposed to the cold. Sharp teeth close down on his neck, breaking through the skin. He gasps in pain and his hands come up to grip broad shoulders.
The brick is rough against his back and he winces in pain as he's pushed against it. He can feel his assailant's erection against his thigh and he feels disgusted by it. It's wrong, wrong, wrong…
Fingers push into him without preamble and he cries out in pain as they twist sharply inside him. His eyes are closed but everything's dark anyway and he wouldn't be able to see even if he did open them.
The sound of cars passing by is muffled in the alley. No one will hear him even if he shouts for help; a hand choking him prevents him from making any sound. Whoever's pinning him down begins to push, his dick going in without any lube, and it hurts like Hell.
He wants to throw up.
There's blood running down his thighs. The smell mixes with the other stenches in the alley and he fights the urge to hurl. He barely keeps himself together. The person with one hand around his throat and the other one clamped down on one thigh is licking up the blood from the wound in his neck.
Everything hurts and everything's dirty or bleeding and he can't believe this is happening to him.
It's a relief. A blessing.
"I'm glad I could help."
Dokugakuji walked outside to meet his baby brother at the front of the building. If Gojyo noticed that he was walking differently, he didn't say anything.