**

What ravages of spirits

conjured this tempestuous rage?

Created you a monster,

broken by the rules of love.

**

He out after the fourth hit this time. The harsh bang of his head hitting the floor was the last thing he remembered. In a crumpled mess amongst the broken possessions scattered across the floor, he lay. Unmoving. Unfeeling. A broken mass of broken flesh.

Unmoved by the display before him, the inflicter made no reaction at all. Down he sat, collecting his thoughts like it was a normal Sunday night, contemplating the day and winding down for the next. Why should he show remorse? After all he didn't show it the previous time this happened, or the time before that. Why should he care?

Ten minutes passed and the body was still there, immobile as before. Blood was now pooling from a deep gash below their left eye, covering the whole left side of their face and hear in dark, crimson liquid. This was how it always was. If it wasn't a cut to the eye, it was one to the forehead, cheek or chin. He had no preferences.

Getting bored of waiting, the attacker walked over to the injured man and kicked him harshly in the back. “Wake up!” He screamed. “You useless piece of trash! Wake up!” No joy. Throwing his had up into his hair and raking down his scalp in obvious fury, he stared at the broken man. “Useless. That's all you've ever been,” he spat. Slowly he lowered himself onto his knees beside him, taking his head in his arms, pulling it up onto his knees. Blood stained his jeans in bright streaks of crimson extending up his lower thigh. “Look what you've done,” he spat. Holding his head in place he looked down, a smug smile spreading across his face. He seemed almost proud of his handiwork.

After minutes like this, the injured man's eyes slowly started to flicker open. It was painful, so he didn't open them fully straight away. The first thing he saw was the man who held his head, hovering over him, staring straight into his eyes, a smile connoting to evil on his ace. The light burnt his eyes, but before he had time to react, the man pounced towards him, face as close as it could get, crashing his lips onto his in one searing blow. The kiss was rushed and intense and the injured man's reactions were no where near quick enough to keep up. He just stayed still while his lips where attached with bruising kisses. Maybe a kiss wasn't the correct way to describe what was happening. There was passion, but that which develops from hatred; not love. Hands either side of his shoulders, the man pushed the injured down roughly so that his back was flush against the floor. Leaning over him fully, he resumed his violent kissing, pushing into him so hard that his head felt it was going to break on the wooden flooring. The stronger ran his hands all over the other man, pushing them under his t-shirt onto his bare skin where he proceeded to dig in his fingernails and drag them along his tender flesh, taking skin with him. Moving his position to on top of him, he changed to spreading red hot searing kisses down his chin and onto his neck. This not being satisfying enough, he started to bite at his bare neck, drawing blood and leaving deep teeth marks. He them moved onto his protruding collarbone which his down hard on, leaving a deep brown mark. A sign that he was his. The weak man didn't even have it in him to react. If he could, he didn't know how he would. Was this passion? Was this how it was supposed to be? He'd never experienced anything else so he didn't know.

Bored now, the stronger started to remove his clothes. He slept with him then and there that night. Face to face the whole time, the stronger man stared at his face. He could see him, but he wasn't looking at him. In fact he was staring straight through him as if he was made out of glass. A glass statue frozen in this state. No reactions, good or bad. He just stared into his (lovers) attackers eyes. This was what usually happened after a beating session and each time he look for a spark. A flash in his eyes that would show he acknowledges him. That he wasn't just a piece of meat to be thrown around and used however suited. But it wasn't there. It never was. But he didn't feel down trodden, he'd grown to accept what was happening. It didn't stop him being hopeful though. He was nothing if not optimistic. Strange that optimism could still exist when this was happening. He'd accepted long ago that, if this was how it was going to be, then that is how he would stay. Willingly. Loving unconditionally. He loved him.

When the abuser was finished, he stood up to make his way to bed. Grabbing the other by his shoulders, he pulled him up and dragged him harshly towards the bedroom. All his strength and self control was depleted so when he threw him down onto the bed, he put up no struggle. Climbing in beside him and pulling the covers up over them, he closed his eyes instantly. He didn't care for looking at the broken man before him any longer than was necessary. The broken man was a sleep near instantly too. It would be better in the morning.......

*

The sunlight pooling in though the window signalled the morning as two men lay sleeping in a bed. The man that awoke first was Yoochun. Slowly opening his eyes, blinking several times to adjust himself to the new light, he looked straight ahead of him to the man sleeping beside him. The section of the while pillow that his head lay on was bright crimson, evident signs of heavy bleeding. Finding the source of the eruption, Yoochun extended his hand and ghosted it over the wound, careful not to actually touch. This would lead to another, but a past one. Moving from this one, he found another. A road map of scars webbed the man's face. Before proceeding with his exploration, he moved his fingers to his own face, kissing his finger tips. Moving back to the the others face, he found his starting point and touched down slightly. As if completing a dot-to-dot, he used the scars to guide him, gently brushing his fingers along his face, careful to ensure that every scar was touched.

Stirred from his sleep by the gentle movements, Junsu carefully opened his eyes, squinting his left one due to the pain from the slice beneath it. Noticing the movement, Yoochun looked into the man's sleepy eyes, pausing his exploration for a couple of seconds before continuing, never breaking eye contact. Junsu's eyes were involuntary hooded as he relaxed into Yoochun's touch; the kind of touch he was so inexperienced with. This had happened before; but their occurrence were few and far between. They stirred in Junsu a whirl-wind of emotions. How could the slightest of touches cause an eruption of love in him. Is this really enough to compensate for the previous nights attack? It isn't, but for Junsu it does. How could one so violent have such tender moment as these? An emotion connoting to sadness was visible in Yoochun's eyes as he moved his hand away, biting down on his bottom lip hard. Before he could pull it away entirely, Junsu hurriedly clutched at it and forcefully pulled it to him, spreading the palm and fingers down the side of his face, flinching violently at the pressure put on a ripe bruise on his cheek. Looking at his with pleading eyes, he challenged himself to speak, his voice filled with panic and desperation: “p-please. Please! A little longer! I need this! Please.”

Yoochun's hand was shaking from Junsu's trembling..

“Please.” He closed his eyes as tears started to pool out, trailing down his face and onto the pillow, several running down into his cut. His breath hitched over and over as his heart pounded in his chest. This was mirrored by Yoochun who's heart rate had almost doubled. All he did was stare at the crumbling man before him, but what did he actually see? As if disgusted, he ripped his hand away from Junsu's clasp and sat up in bed, turning around and swinging his legs over the edge. Feet touching the floor, he pushed of the bed and stood up. When fully vertical, he pressed his palms to his eyes and rubbed roughly before walking out of the room and towards the bathroom, pausing in the doorway to shout: “clean up the living room, you made a right mess.” The cold, unfeeling tone was back..... just like usual.

In the bed, Junsu continued to cry, gripping onto the pillow and screaming silently into it. He thought he'd made progress that time when he saw Yoochun's eyes. Knowing he had to get up and sort himself out he cursed himself.

“What are you crying about?! Get up! He's right, you're useless! He was right all along....”

Pushing himself up against his body's protests, he crawled out of bed. Knowing what he had to do, he made his way to the living room to tidy up: pick up the things thrown and smashed by Yoochun, clean up the dried puddle of blood when he had laid. This was the usual sequence of events: he'd be beaten, had with, then have to clean up all the chaos.... and he did it willingly. He is a fool, but he'd do it regardless.

**

The yearning to be near you,

I do what I have to do.

But I have the sense to recognise

that I don't know how to let you go.......

**

All tidied, he prepared breakfast for the two of them; a simple bacon and eggs. When done, he went to the bedroom and gently rapped against the door to signal to Yoochun. Emerging minutes later, he sat down at the table and ate the food. Not a word was spoken between them, stolen glances from Junsu was the only sign of acknowledgement. After trying a bit of bacon, he realised that he didn't have the appetite to eat and resolved to just sitting in silence, looking down at his fingers that lay laced on his lap. Yoochun on the other hand ate like a ravenous pig, shovelling the food down his throat.

“D-do you w-want more?” asked Junsu timidly when Yoochun had finished.

Looking up quicky, then straight back down, Yoochun answered with a simple, harsh “no.”

Taking this as his que to move, Junsu stood up and started to collect the plates together into a pile to wash, only to be stopped by a hand grabbing his wrist. Looking towards the grabber, his eyes connected with a pair of big brown ones looking at him almost (almost) apologetically.

“Leave this.” Ordered Yoochun. “Go wash. You still have blood on your face and in your hair.”

Lifting a hand to his head, he felt the matted hair that was clumped together with dried blood. Obeying the man before him, Junsu made his way to the bathroom. After setting the taps going to fill the bathtub, he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror scanning all the marks on his face, touching the fresh cut under his eye. He really was a sorry sight.... Bath ready, he gently undressed, careful not to disturb and fresh bruises in the process. The hot water was soothing as he slowly lowered himself into it, letting out a soft moan at the wonderful feeling it gave him. Immersing all his body – but leaving out his head – Junsu closed his eyes and started to daydream. He found solace in his thoughts. He hadn't been like this for no longer than five minutes before the door slowly creaked open and Yoochun walked in.

“ummmm.... I thought I had best h-help you...... you hair is pretty matted after all.... and that c-cut will need properly c-cleaning.” Yoochun announced slowly, almost nervously. He looked everywhere but at Junsu.

Shocked, all Junsu could do was nod his head. Taking this as acceptance, Yoochun carefully walked over to him rolling up his sleeves, dropping onto his knees near Junsu's head. Placing a shaking hand on his shoulder, he said: “Lay down fully so your hair is under the water.”. Obeying him, Junsu competed this action. That's when Yoochun laced an arm around the back of his neck, using his free hand to rub his hair. An attempt to loosen the dried blood. Success was shown by the rapidly reddening water around Junsu's head. There really was a lot of blood in his hair. When it felt softer, Yoochun ordered him to sit up, then proceeded to put shampoo in his hands and massage it gently into his hair, ensuring to cover his whole head. This done, he asked him to lay down again, and resumed the action of running his fingers through his hair. All done, Yoochun stood up and reached for a towel, opening it out and fully extending it in his hands in front of Junsu. Taking the signal, he stood up, not caring at all what he looked like. Seeing him stark in front of him like this, Yoochun could see the extent of the damage. He was covered in bruises and scrapes. It was any wonder how he could sit or even move without being in agony. Not wanting to see any more, he stepped forward and wrapped the towel fully around him, rubbing his body gently to dry him.

Looking from his body to his face, Yoochun stared into Junsu's eye, a rare softness visible. “You can climb out now,” he informed Junsu. He then turned and left the room, leaving Junsu standing wrapped in the towel.

**

A glowing ember,

burning hot,

and burning slow.....

**

Fully dressed, Junsu sat on the living room sofa with a book, intending to read a bit to pass some time. Yoochun was busying himself looking for something in the bathroom. When he'd found it, he made his way over to Junsu, pushing the book I front of his face, eliciting a gasp from the other.

“Calm down. I'm going to put some of this on your cut,” he told him, nodding his head towards the bottle of antiseptic cream in his hand. Unscrewing the top, he squeezed a bit onto his finger. He used his other hand to hold onto Junsu's chin to lift his head up for a better view. Carefully, he spread a layer of cream over the wound, causing Junsu to gasp at the stinging sensation it caused. Enough applied, he wiped the excess onto his jeans. Then he left through the front door.

He didn't come back until it was two in the morning and Junsu was in the newly made bed. If he'd been out this long, Junsu assumed he'd been drinking and he didn't like to still be awake if he was drunk. And he was. Stumbling into the flat, he stomped around.

“Where are you?!” He shouted, the filth in his mood evident from the venom in his tongue. “I said where the hell are you?! You can't hide from me!”

Just keep your eyes closed, thought Junsu, squeezing them as tight as he could. He clutched at the covers, bringing them tight to his chest. Please go away.

Yoochun continued to stormed through the flat, throwing anything that was near to him. Junsu could hear his footsteps getting closer to the bedroom and his heart beat faster and faster. It rang in his ears and he let out a stifled cry. Please not tonight. The door flung open, pooling him in light, putting him in clear view.

“Here you are.”

Junsu kept his eyes tightly closed.

“Why didn't you answer me when I shouted you?” he asked, steadily moving closer the whole time.

“Oi!”

reaching the bed he flung the covers off him.

“I am talking to you! Answer me!” He shouted, grabbing at Junsu's shoulder and pulling him up towards him. Junsu opened his eyes and looked at him. “Answer me!” he shouted in his face, now starting to shake him violently. Junsu started to cry, he couldn't hold it in any longer.

“Please don't hurt me” he pleaded folding his arms around his head. Yoochun pushed him down onto the bed.

“Pathetic.” He spat.

In reaction Junsu curled up, pulling his knees to his chest, sobbing. Yoochun stood over him for several seconds, watching his body shake as he cried hard. In his current state, this had no reaction on him at all. Reaching down and lacing his fingers into his hair he grabbed a hold and yanked back his head harshly. With his face now in full view, he forced a searing kiss to his lips, on his bottom lip and biting down hard. Junsu whimpered which only seemed to add fuel to the fire. He pushed him down onto his back and straddled him in one swift movement, continuing the bruising kiss, his fingers still tangled in his hair. Junsu tried pushing his chest to get him away from him, but he was far too strong for him, yanking his hand away and pining it by his side.

He had his way with him again that night. Why break tradition?

*

The sunlight streamed though the window as the sound of birds singing outside filled the air. The bed was cold. The room was cold. Junsu laid alone in the crumpled bedsheets. Slowly opening his eyes, he looked ahead of him. The bed was empty. Overcome with his thoughts, he lay in bed. After contemplating for some time, he made up his mind. Reaching into the draw in the table at the side of the bed, he pulled out a bottle of sleeping pills. Sitting up in bed, he opened the bottle and emptied half the contents into his hand. Not needing to contemplate any more, he put the pills into his mouth, taking a big drink from a bottle of water he'd put on the bedside table the previous night. Replacing the bottle and the rest of the pills - lid still off – on the bed, he laid himself down, pulling the covers fully over him. He closed his eyes and listened to the bird singing beautifully for him outside his window.

“So lovely” he mused. “Why don't you sing more?” he asked. A soft smile played over his lips.

**

I don't know how to let you go....

**

Yoochun could hear him talking. Quietly, he walked up to the door and listened.

“Sing to me until I fall asleep....”

Surprised by this last request Yoochun reached for the handle and slowly opened the door. Door fully open, he stood and observed the man laid in bed, smiling gently...... then he saw it; the open bottle next to him and the water. In a panic, he rushed over to him.

“Junsu.... Junsu!” he shouted, climbing onto the bed next to him.

Rousing him from his gentle slumber, Junsu opened his eyes and blinked up at the man hovering over him. “Yoochun....” he smiled.

“Junsu. What's this?” he asked, holding the bottle up to him. Junsu just smiled. “What have you done? Did you take these?” he asked, his words rushed in panic. Junsu just nodded.

“How many? How many did you take?!” he shouted. Junsu just shrugged his shoulders.

Yoochun's eyes widened and he dropped the pills sending them scattering across the bed sheets. Reaching an arm around Junsu and pulling him towards him, he started to rock him. “Please Junsu, tell me you didn't. Tell me this is a joke. I won't be mad! I'll laugh. L-listen... hahaha. I-its fu-unny!” Tears were now spilling down his cheeks.

Junsu, laid with his head and shoulders on Yoochun's lap while he cradled him, looked up at him. “Don't cry.” He said, extending a hand up to his face and wiping the tears that were falling onto him. This had the opposite effect, making him cry more.

“I'm sorry,” he said, hugging the man tightly. “I'm sorry for everything.”

Junsu just the side of his face. He regretted nothing. To change the subject, Junsu asked: “is the weather beautiful outside? I can only see through the curtains, but it looks like it is.”

“It is. The sun is shining.” Was Yoochun's reply.

“I knew it.” He continued to a few more times before his arm fell away competely, his body overcome with convulsions.

“No no no no NO!” Yoochun shouted, holding onto Junsu tighter than ever in an attempt to still him. “Please.” His body shook with the strength of Junsu's convulsions. Then he stilled. Crying even harder now, Yoochun held him. He knew.

Pulling away, he looked into his peaceful face, pushing a few wayward strands of hair to the side, leaving his fingers to linger on his cheek. He looked like he was asleep. He laid him down on his pillow and pulled the covers over him. Scattered across the bed were the rest of the pills. Looking at them, Yoochun's foggy thoughts cleared. He frantically collected up the pills and recovered the water bottle then climbed into bed beside Junsu. First adjusting Junsu's hair again so that it was all out of his face, he took what was left of the pills and pulled the covers up so they were covering both of them. Placing an arm around Junsu and closing his eyes, Yoochun drifted to sleep, listening to the birds singing.