Bittersweet [Rozumbrad]

[Chris]

"It's just... it's different. Banshee..." he stalled. "I love Banshee, and she loves me, and there's so much love, but she loves playing these games. They mess with me. I don't... I don't really like those games." He moved his arm from the other's back, then wrapping both around his knees as he drew them to his chest. "... I miss her," he admitted softly. "I miss her, and I hate her. ... but I miss her."

[Rozumbrad]

"Then tell her," Brad said, wrapping his arms around Chris. "Only do what you want to do."

[Chris]

"It's not just as easy as that..."

But his lips sealed shut, as if he said too much, something darker in his eyes, a sort of loathing, a simmering anger. Something that was being bridled.

[Rozumbrad]

"Just tell her no," Rozumbrad repeated. "She won't dare cross you."

Even with her strange love of pain, even she wouldn't risk Chris completely losing his temper.

[Chris]

"But it's hard. You don't... you don't... she just... it's a game. She looks so much like Ki--Coalie... it's... it's..." His eyes squeezed shut as he rocked forward, hands weaving behind his head as if trying to drown it out.

[Rozumbrad]

"It's alright," Rozumbrad said, holding Chris. "Everything will be alright. It always works out in the end."

Bloody Banshee. He really didn't like that nutter.

[Chris]

Chris continued to weave, eyes squeezed shut as tightly as he could as if drowning out something, a painful memory, a corrupted memory. Of defense, of being held. He saw the blood, felt the pain as hands held him back, but there was something wrong in the memory: he could see her face. How could she have done it if he saw her face, saw her screaming, saw her crying?

It was probably Banshee. Had to be. Fangor, Pascal, and Banshee had explained what happened to him so many times. They nursed him back to help. They were his real family. His only family. He loved his family. He'd do anything for his family.

"What do you want from me?" he asked shakily. Family first, the family always came first.

[Rozumbrad]

"What do you mean?" Rozumbrad asked. "I'm not hear to want anything from you."

[Chris]

"Everyone always wants something from me. Everyone. You must want something. Everyone wants the Feel Good Tom. And love. I just want love. There's not enough. No one loves the way they used to. I just want it." He shuddered more, gritting his teeth.

[Rozumbrad]

"You're no just a Feel Good Tom," Rozumbrad persisted. "Things only change if you let them," he added, stroking Chris's cheek gently.

He didn't like this. This Chris was no fun.

[Chris]

His breathing slowed in time with the strokes, head tilting just a bit, chin raised slightly. A purr sounded from the back of his throat, quietly at first, then increasing in volume. A beast soothed by a calming hand.

[Rozumbrad]

Rozumbrad found this quite odd. Chris was acting more like a kitten than usual. He wanted the bright cheerfulness back. Even if he was a feel-good-tom like that, he was happier and easier to deal with that way.

"Better?" he asked.

[Chris]

Chris didn't verbally reply. There was just the affirming nod of his head, the closing of his eyes, the way he pressed himself harder against the other. Just don't leave me, he thought, a bit helplessly, as he felt himself start to drift off.

[Rozumbrad]

Rozumbrad continued to gently pat Chris. This was definitely very odd and annoying. He wanted toyboy Chris back.

[Chris]

Chris's nose wrinkled, little twitches in his whiskers as he slid down, head resting on the other's thigh, lulled into sleep. The trauma built up. Even finding Rozumbrad... especially finding him... it terrified him.

Just the way his dreams did, always the same one, the same scenario. But it was always strange. Right as he was gripped, as he felt the pain, he kept seeing the look on Kitrina's face, one filled with horror. Terror. Mortification.

[Rozumbrad]

Rozumbrad squeezed Chris lightly, wondering what the active sleep was about. Hopefully he wouldn't wake up crying from a bad dream. That would just be annoying.

[Chris]

How could it be such a nightmare with her killing him but looking like that? She couldn't be in two places at once, but she had to be. He saw the stripes. The Doctor said... Fangor said... Banshee said... They all said... They were his family. They saw it. They saved him.

But that look....

What happened to the kittens? He never saw their bodies. Where did they go? He was out for awhile, they said.

But it was there, her face again. She was screaming something, words he couldn't distinguish. There was a pounding in his ear, then a wetness spilling down his throat as he hit the ground. Before him, he saw a glimpse of legs covered in white leather and red.

He jerked in sleep as he turned, fists balled up. He wanted to leave, to find her when he awoke, but they kept him confined. Said it was best. Made him work out, work out so much that he became solid muscle, bulked a little more. Bulked too much then took away some of his food to make him smaller, to make him more agile. To make his temper wear thin.

He scratched at himself in sleep, clothes feeling rough, turning more on his stomach then, hair mottled, unkempt, a little longer than it once had been. It sorely needed a trim, to be better washed.

[Rozumbrad]

"You're filthy," Rozumbrad muttered to himself. At least he didn't have anything he needed to be doing anything else today. It probably wouldn't be good if Chris woke up in a strange place by himself.

He had bulked up. Rozumbrad had too, but his was more to do with getting older, since he was barely an adult when he joined the group.

[Chris]

It was about an hour before Chris woke up, the active sleep seeming to dissipate into a nothingness as he stared up at Rozumbrad. He didn't avert his gaze, only blinking a few times as if to distinguish dream from reality.

A hand lifted to touch Rozumbrad's cheek, and he found himself smiling a little bit. "You didn't leave me." One sentence, a sort of relief. Sometimes it was hard to process that Chris was certainly older than Rozumbrad, or that Chris was older than anyone with his behavior save for those moments of silent fury. Sometimes his fury was not so silent--those were the only times he'd ever been pried off his victims.

[Rozumbrad]

"Why would I have left?" Rozumbrad asked. After all, it was his room, not that he would say that.

[Chris]

"The others leave me alone." A slight snivel was given before he shifted, arms wrapping tightly around the other, inhaling the thick, musty scent. "Everlasting Cat, you really are here. You really are real."

[Rozumbrad]

"I've always been real," Rozumbrad said, slightly bemused. "And as for the others, I haven't seen much of them. Apart from that Fangor is up to something, I don't know much."