FicWad

Chapter one

~~~~~~~~

Kiff drifted slowly back into the world around him. He thought about moving, but lacked the will to actually attempt this. So he merely lay still on his back, oddly supine for a long moment. His senses came back to him slowly. Touch. Smell. Taste—Blood. It was all he could smell and taste. All he could think about as he lay with his eyes glued shut and far too heavy to open just yet. The blood was drying and sticking his skin to the fake plastic tiles of the kitchen floor. It made an odd noise as he shifted around.

His fogged mind tried to piece together coherent thought. He couldn’t exactly remember where the blood had come from, but it was probably his own. It wasn’t a shock that it was his. A little frightening as he thought that, perhaps, this time he wouldn’t get back up, but not shocking. It would have been far more baffling if it hadn’t been his own. And probably a touch more frightening as well.

He peeled his eyes open slowly and blinked, only just making out the digits on the kitchen clock nearby before he began to recede back into his own mind. Oddly enough, the only thing that crossed his mind was that he was definitely going to be late for school.

~~~~~~~~

“And yes, class, your biography does have to be on a real person,” Alex heard the teacher drone on in the background as his thoughts buzzed elsewhere. It wasn’t like him to space out in class—especially when an assignment was being explained—but his teenage hormones made it impossible to concentrate on anything but the drowsy boy sitting next to him.

That damned punk had chosen to sit right next to him—well, he hadn’t necessarily chosen to sit next to Alex, it had been the only choice since he’d come in late—limping no less—and had been forced to take the only empty seat, coincidentally, next to Alex Graham. Now, normally the seat next to Alex was filled with some pretty/petty bimbo who thought they could earn his favor by allowing him to see down their shirt. But today he had asked them to leave him be. He had also asked them to leave him be the day before, and the one before that. It had been a plan. And a good one.

There was only ever one or two empty seats in the history classroom. So, when Alex asked the girls to leave him alone in the back row, there was always a good chance that anyone coming in late would be forced to sit next to him. And there was only one person, nearly two weeks into class, who showed up late and hadn’t dropped yet.

So, why the hell would he complain about not being able to pay attention? When it was his own damn fault? Because he was nervous, or course.

Alex rested his head in his hand, elbow on the desk, as he watched the other gingerly inspect his own rib cage with thin fingers. He flinched from his own touch. ‘Guess it’s more than just an injured leg,’ Alex thought and wondered what had happened. He moved his eyes slowly over Kiff’s torso, clothed in the plain grey, black and white school uniform. The only hint of colour was the school emblem; A light blue crane against a bright orange background. ‘Wow, who ever made the school emblem was either crazy or my sister, which amounts to the same thing.’ Alex grinned slightly as his eyes wandered up the boy’s pale neck. He watched waved, black hair play around his face as he shifted slightly in his seat. Kiff brushed his bangs out of his half lidded eyes, causing him to look tired and depressed.

The chin length strands of his hair framed his face delicately, perfectly lighting his vividly, bright honey brown eyes. Kiff was a head shorter than Alex, and had a feminine like figure that could almost be described as petite, but not quite. His face hinted at more background that the obvious Caucasian with its pale creamy colour which was smooth and flawless—except for the light ridge of scar tissue marring the flesh from the right side of his rounded chin, just where the delicate curve started, to the slight rise of his cheekbone.

Alex watched Kiff’s eyelids flutter closed against his cheek. He especially liked the boy’s wide, perfectly shaped mouth, and the full lips that glistened when he wet them with his cute, pink tongue–Alex came out of his thoughts just as the history teacher finished her long winded and repetitive explanation of the project they were to be working on.

“This assignment will be due next week, you will have partners, which will NOT be chosen by you! In fact, your partners will be the person or persons at your table,” the teacher stated with a slightly evil chirp. Alex glanced back at Kiff and felt his chest flutter oddly at the thought of a reason to spend time with him. A reason to talk to him, a need to speak with him.

Kiff sat up from his slouched position. His thoughts on this arrangement were completely different from those of Alex’s. His reaction was one of dread, apprehension, and something close to panic. He was hoping beyond hope that he had heard the teacher wrong. Spending time with the hyperactive prep was something he just didn’t have the energy for.

And the way Alex kept glancing at him wasn’t helping, almost like a predator stalking its pray. It was disconcerting and he was apprehending the coming days—more so than usual.

Alex rested his jaw in his hands, watching as Kiff laid his head on the table. Despite Alex’s best efforts to hide his interest, his blond hair was chopped above his eyes, and so did little to nothing to keep Kiff from noticing his stare. His heart jumped slightly when they made eye contact for a split second before Kiff flinched away, as if expecting some form of scolding.

Alex’s frowned at this slightly but shook it off. Kiff looked so innocent and weak that he didn’t know how anyone could bring themselves to even pretend to disapprove of anything he did. Even if he decided to light the school on fire and dance around in his boxers. Alex had a mental image of the boy clad in nothing but a pair of black silk boxers as the school building burned around him, the blaze lighting his eyes and making his creamy white skin glisten with sweat. He quicklyshook his head to clear the images that threatened to pop into his mind of the boy hot and sweaty from the more … pleasurable, ministrations that could be performed.

Alex lowered his gaze to his paper and told Kiff in a sweet voice that they had work they should be doing. Kiff, startled by Alex’s flaccid tone, tried to stutter an agreement from his slouched position. Failing this, he nodded with a nervous jerk and looked away, his lip caught between his teeth.

~~~~~~~~

‘Damn it, why Alex?’ Kiff fumed, heading down the hall. Kiff’s thoughts were bitter, if he had to be paired with anyone, why Alex? Why not someone calm? Someone who didn’t stare at him? Kiff trudged through the Gym doors—yet another period he had with Alex, and worse than that, mandatory gym wear, T-shirt and shorts. Well, at least the shorts went past the knees, and if he wanted, he could wear a sweater. Kiff grimaced, trying to make himself feel better with these meager comforts as he hugged his overly baggy sweater closer to his body. ‘Yes, thank goodness for sweaters.’ Kiff’s grimaced as his fingers danced across his bruised rib cage and left arm. He may be able to hide the brunt of it—his chest, arms and thighs where riddled with small scars and bruised almost regularly—but he couldn’t hide the scar on his cheek or the four or five present bellow his knees.

“Hey, Kiff! Turn around you fairy!” Kiff lowered his head and continued walking towards the opposite end of the gym. He was still able to see the group of boys out of the corner of his eye and glanced up just in time to see the baseball before it struck the side of his face. Kiff’s head snapped to the side from the impact and he cried out quietly as he landed hard on the cork floor. He hung his head even lower, trying his best to avoid looking as the guys laughed and exchanged high fives.

He felt like crying, sobbing and running away. It was just so ... malicious. Kiff bit his tears back quickly; he wouldn’t let them see him cry. That was something he wouldn’t do anymore.

“Was that really necessary?” the unusually dark tone of Alex’s voice came from behind the snickering boys, “It must make you feel so powerful to know you can throw a ball,” he stated dryly.

Kiff froze in his attempt to rise, thinking quickly as the confrontation before him unfolded.

“Why the fuck are you standing up for him? He’s just a lame fairy, do yourself a good turn and piss off,” the leader, Mark Divears, commented and tilted his head to the side. His shaggy brown hair was cut just short enough to show the two bolts through his eyebrow, and the many rings and studs adorning his right ear. Mark pushed Alex out of the way before moving towards Kiff, each step a threat of its own, “We just have to put this gay bastard in his place before he infects the rest of us, that’s all. Don’t worry, we’ll leave him breathing.” Alex intercepted the tall brunet boy, shoving him back a step with a surprising amount of strength before he could get too close to Kiff. Alex met Mark’s startled eyes coldly, bluntly replying that it would be a wise decision for him to just stop and leave. Alex glared at Mark for a second more before turning to walk towards Kiff ... who was silently cursing his immobility as Alex strode up to him, caught his arm in an iron grip and, throwing a stiff glare over his shoulder, helped Kiff up and led him into the empty change rooms.

“He won’t be around to protect you next time, you whore,” they heard Mark yell as Alex shut the door with a small slam.

“W-W-Why’d y-you ...?” Kiff trailed off as he backed away from Alex until he was against the change room wall, his chin touching his chest as he twitched his eyes back and forth, looking for an escape. Alex stepped closer to Kiff and—seeing that the boy was unable to move away any farther—took his face in his hands to examine the bruise that had begun to spread over the old pale scar. He brushed his fingertips across the flesh he was examining, marveling at the contrast between scarred tissue and smooth skin under his finger tips.

Kiff was stuck like a deer in the light of an oncoming truck.

“I don’t like those guys, they shouldn’t be such bastardly jackasses! What did you ever do to them, huh? He has no right to do that! Why the hell haven’t the teachers put a stop to this! Whatever, I guess I’ll have to do it,” Alex grumbled.

Kiff frowned at that. It sounded strange–it was a lie; no one would defend him unless they were trying to get something. Even when they were, they usually just beat it out of him instead of taking the time to fool him. It was an odd cruelty.

Kiff couldn’t move as Alex lightly brushed his fingertips across his cheek and touched the corner of his lips. He could barely even force himself to breathe through the fright and allowed Alex to examine his face while he tried to keep his mind off the touches to his cheek and neck. And the fact that his wrist was still trapped in Alex’s firm hold wasn’t easing his mind in the least either.

‘Warm.’ Alex’s hands were so warm and soft, comforting, but not quite like his mother’s used to be. Kiff’s thoughts trailed off as he lifted his gaze in confusion, just stopping short of meeting Alex's sharp, vivid green stare.

“Why do people insist on hurting you?” Alex asked softly, finishing his examination of the other’s face, both his hands dropping back to his sides, but he didn’t yet back away, he hovered. Kiff’s mind flooded with millions of questions. He wondered why people hurt him. He wondered why he couldn’t bring himself to stand up against it. And, mostly, he wondered why his mother had had to leave him. Kiff zoned into his own mind, folding in on himself. The colour drained from the room.

“Hey, you in there? What’s wrong?” Alex frowned, taking a light hold of Kiff's shoulders and attempting to look into his eyes as Kiff looked up into Alex's worried green stare, face completely blank. “Hey, Kiff. What’s wrong?” Alex trailed his hands down Kiff's arms, lightly circling his wrists.

The way Alex was touching him confused Kiff. His hands were comfortingly warm as they trailed down his arms. He liked the touch, the sensation, and that just made it worse. He was beginning to get frightened, and when Alex’s fingers circled his wrist, he began to panic.

“N-n-no-nothing,” Kiff said shortly. Pulling his wrists from the boy’s grasp, he pushed past him, walked briskly through the doors of the change room, and back into the gym, leaving Alex to stare after him and wonder what he’d done to make the boy act so cold towards him. Alex frowned as he trudged through the door to join Kiff in the Gym.

Alex saw Kiff almost immediately as the bright orange and powder blue striped shorts clashed comically with his heavy, over sized black Hoodie. He paused and leaned against the railing of the gym stage, his eyes roving over Kiff’s lithe frame and he sighed, taking in every detail and wishing he could go over there and run his hands through the gorgeous boy’s hair, feel Kiff’s lips against his own, run his hands down the boy’s sides and up under his sweater. Be damned if anyone else saw, they could enjoy the show and listen to the boy whimper as he would push Kiff against the wall and use his hand to—‘No! Bad Alex!’ He cursed himself, if he didn’t stop thinking that way he was just going make himself hard. Now that would be fun to explain to the teacher. Alex shook his head in amusement at his own over active libido. He felt pulled towards the boy. He just wanted to hold him so badly.


“Hey, Kiff!” Alex called as he jogged over to where Kiff was leaning against the wall, fidgeting with the strings on his sweater, “You kinda ran out of there a little fast. You okay?” When Kiff didn’t respond, Alex continued, “Well, anyways, I thought we could get together tonight and decide on what we’re going to do for our assignment … I was thinking we could meet in the art room after classes?” Alex looked at Kiff, eyebrows raised as he rocked from heal to toe a couple times.

“Uh, s-sure,” Kiff mumbled. They stood there for a few awkward seconds, Kiff avoiding eye contact, and Alex trying to make it, until the class was called to the other end of the gym for attendance. Kiff shuffled over silently and stoped a good few feet away from the group of students. He was surprised when Alex didn’t join the group, but stood beside him, arms folded over his chest as he kept an eye trained on Mark and his group. He kind of felt like he had a body guard. One that was manic and could turn on him any second.

Alex stayed close for the entire gym class, even opting to be Kiff’s partner for the game of badminton. Not too soon for Kiff, the class ended and he was able to put his pants and sweater back on over his gym clothes and head off for his next class, Leaving Alex behind without even a goodbye. Not that he wouldn’t have minded saying goodbye, but the blond had still been changing when Kiff had ducked out of the change room and he couldn’t bring himself to wait. Whenever he lingered in the change rooms, people started tossing lewd gestures at him. They always made him blush. And that was where the rumour of him being gay had come from.

~~~~~~~~


At the end of school Kiff found himself sitting cross lagged on a table top staring out the second story window, patiently waiting for Alex to arrive at the empty art room. They had agreed to meet about fifteen minutes ago and Kiff was beginning to get nervous, doubting that Alex would show. Maybe it would be better if he didn’t. Then Kiff could just leave, go to the old, broken bridge in the park and be alone until he had to be home.

His hopes were dashed as he heard the door creak open and then shut as someone entered the room. He turned from the window and watched as Alex made his way over, avoiding bumping into the scattered desks with a grace that didn’t quite fit his lanky frame. His arms swung out limply, coming close to knocking into almost every object he passed, but somehow missing everything as he approached.

“Sorry I’m late, Magen couldn’t find her purse and freaked out. Turns out she left it in her locker,” Alex rolled his eyes with a good natured smile, “I hope I didn’t make you wait too long!” Alex chirped the last part happily as he sat down next to Kiff on top of the long art table, his legs swinging out in front of him.

“I-I-It’s alright,” Kiff mumbled, casting his head down as he shifted away from Alex, closer to the edge of the table.

“So, who should we do for the history assignment? I asked the teacher what the assignment requirements were, ‘cus I wasn’t listening during class, and we have to choose a historical figure from at least two hundred years ago from a different country and simply write a biography to explain why they are remembered,” Alex paused, trying to meet Kiff’s eyes with no luck before continuing, “You have any ideas?”

“Me?” Kiff asked, looking over at Alex’s jaw–this being as far as he could make himself lift his eyes–startled. Alex raised an eyebrow.

“Well, I don’t think you’re quite two hundred years old, there, Kiff. And if you are, you’ve aged well. You look no older than seventeen!” Alex’s joke fell lame but he smiled brightly at the boy in front of him anyway. Kiff ducked his head in embarrassment, his cheeks staining an adorable rosy pink.

“I-I’m s-sorry, I, uh, I m-m-meant, I …” Kiff stumbled over his words, fidgeting with one of the drawstrings on his hood and attempting to shove it into his mouth even while he was talking. Alex laughed lightly.

“Don’t worry, I know exactly what you mean, I was just having a bit of fun! Anyways, so, you have any ideas?” Alex beamed at the raven-haired boy, the pink still staining his cheeks, making Kiff irresistibly adorable.


“Well, uh, w-what ab-about p-prince Vlad th-the third?”

“Prince who the third? Well, I know nothing about history, so, I doubt I could come up with anything, so let’s go with that. So—” Alex was cut off by an insistent beeping from Kiff’s watch. He had set it for 20 minutes before he had to be home. Even though he only lived five minutes away he always thought he was better safe than sorry. Kiff mumbled a curt apology and explained that he had to head home.

“Ah, I see,” Alex was a little disappointed but quickly covered it up with a bright smile, “Well, we should get together to work sometime. With my grades, I really have to work hard,” he laughed.

“Y-you’re not j-j-just g-going to m-make m-me do it?” Kiff asked, a little startled. People he was partnered with had a tendency to make him do all the work, or do it all themselves to prevent “spoiling” the project, as they seemed to put it. He couldn’t blame them though, his work definitely wasn’t the best, he just couldn’t seem to pay attention at all.

“No, of course not! Why on earth would I do that? It’s a group assignment after all! Well, anyways, how about we meet tomorrow night?"

“Uh s-sure.”

“Well, meeting at the school is out of the question, why don’t you come over to my place?” Alex asked hopefully as he watched Kiff. The boy began to fidget with the hem of his sweater as he stumbled for words.

“I, I uh, w-why d-don’t we m-m-meet at the li-brary? The one n-near the th-theatre i-is open a-all week,” Kiff suggested as he twisted his sweater around in his fingers. Alex frowned for a split second, slightly disappointed. So, going over to stranger’s homes wasn’t something that was frequently on his ‘To-do’ list, he should have guessed.

“Sure, that would be great. How about noon?” Alex smiled brightly as Kiff nodded his approval and left, unconsciously leaving as much space between him and the tall blond as possible as he maneuvered through the desks towards the door.

~~~~~~~~

Kiff slipped through the door of the house he and his father shared. It was small and modest, with two levels to it. The first level consisted of two bedrooms, kitchen, family room, washroom, and study. The basement contained a laundry room, bathroom, and Kiff’s own bedroom.

He trudged down the stairs, walked down the thin hallway towards the door leading to his room, and sat down on his bed to change out of his school uniform.

His room wasn’t much, being about nine by ten feet. It was a fair sized room and even had its own bathroom. But the room was bare. In it was a battered bed with an old, worn teddy bear on it, a dresser, closet, and a small book shelf with little on it but a couple old broken baby toys, his school books, sheet music, some tattered note books, and a copy of ‘The Dragon Riders of Pern.’ It was alright though, Kiff liked his room; it had been the room he had chosen when they moved in ten years ago. Kiff had liked the space the moment he’d seen it. It was small, dark blue, and there was only one window that stretched along the entire northern wall and was only about one foot from top to bottom. He felt at peace, secluded and safe.

Kiff went upstairs and grabbed a cloth and bowl of water and began to clean the dried blood off the floor that he had left in his rush to get to school. When this was done he rinsed the cloth and pulled out a scrub brush and rummaged through the cabinets above the sink, looking for the Comit that would bleach the slight stain from the white floor.
“FUCK!” Kiff cursed at the empty kitchen. He shouldn’t have gone to school at all. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have been stuck having to meet with Alex the next night. He should have just told him he was busy, working or something. The only upside was that he wouldn’t be home, but, then again, he could have gone to the park and been alone.

He scrubbed at the floor. One stroke, then another, and thought about the blond he was forced into conversing with. He wasn’t that bad of a guy. He was nice to him, and that was more than he had gotten from anyone in a long time.

Kiff forced the blond from his thoughts and stared blankly at the floor he was scrubbing. He was quite fond of the light pink floral pattern. His mother had picked it out ten years ago when Kiff was seven. When his dad, although rarely around, had still called him kiddo, hugged him and told him he loved him. This thought hurt him more than his current loneliness. Knowing that he had once been a happy little kid, with a father who bought him toys and took him for walks to the park. Tears began to build futilely behind his eyes and he realised couldn’t scrub any longer. He was dizzy and tired. He had memories of his mother flooding his mind. When she smiled and laughed, and when she left.

Kiff was just putting the cleaning products back in the cupboard when his father, Rick, walked in. Kiff watched as Rick crossed the living room, and let out a sigh of relief when the older man disappeared into his bedroom. Maybe he would leave him alone for tonight. Maybe he’s finally forgotten about his son?

Kiff finished cleaning up in the kitchen and headed for his room, hoping he could just lie down and forgetting everything, even if just for a few hours. But no such luck. Just as he was about to pass Rick’s room and head towards the bleak basement steps, his father tossed his door open and glared down, condescendingly, at his son. ‘Oh no.’ Kiff's mind froze in panic as he realised his father was clothed in nothing but a bathrobe, a bottle of Brandy already in his hand.

“And what do you think you’re doing standing outside my door?”

“I-I apo-apologise. I-I was h-heading to m-my room,” Kiff answered his father, quickly ducking his head and positioning his eyes on a heat vent near the door.

“Your room?” Rick asked incredulously, “I let you live in MY basement out of kindness. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re good for a few laughs, you’d be on the street,” he grabbed a handful of Kiff’s hair. Pulling hard he forced the boy to look him in the eyes, “You know what I think? I think you were just waiting to be punished,” Rick pulled Kiff into his room, tossing him harshly onto his bed and climbing towards him.

Kiff stared wide eyes at the man in front of him. In public his father was a very respectable man, he worked at a music company in town—doing what, Kiff didn’t know—but behind closed doors, Rick was vicious.

Kiff felt the other man’s hands on him, hating that he couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but lay there and pray it ended quickly. Kiff hated himself even more for not kicking and screaming, trying to get loose as his father tied his hands together. But he just couldn’t and he didn’t know why.

He thanked the gods for little miracles as his father flipped him onto his stomach; today he wouldn’t have to watch, he wouldn’t have to look into the other man’s carnal features, twisted and disgusting in the throws of power.

No matter how many times this happened Kiff still wished he had imagined the entire thing. He wished that he was still asleep in his bed, hoping to be awoken at any minute by his mother calling him for breakfast, telling him to hurry before his pancakes got cold. He wished it could be, at least once again, just like it used to be.

~~~~~~~~
"I’m so happy for you Alex!" Sara laughed lightly at her brother who was practically floating with excitement, "It’s about time you stopped mooning over the boy and made a move. Just, be careful Alex, I’ve seen him around your school when I came to pick you up, and he doesn’t look normal. He might have some problems, he seems like a real weirdo," Sara patted her pathetically taller brother on the shoulder. Sara may have been two years older, but she definitely didn’t look it. If anything, she looked about three years younger. Sara came up to about her brother’s shoulders, and the fact that her brother was six feet tall didn’t make her feel any better about it.

"I know, I’ve been watching him for awhile, Sara,” Alex turned towards the wall, "And I don't care about what kind of ‘problems he has,’ I want him. I want to see him smile, that’s all I want...–Tomorrow is going to be the best!” he exclaimed, spun toward his sister, and tried to throw his arms around her neck, but, alas, Sara dodged, causing him to end up toppling over the computer chair in Sara’s small, bright yellow room.

Alex knew his sister was eccentric, but this was a little extreme. Her walls were bright yellow with a black carpet. This alone would have been fine, but the ceiling was painted in a hypnotizing black and yellow spiral, the fact that the lines were so close together seamed to make anyone who entered the room a little dizzy. And then there was the bright green Princess Barbie blanket spread over her bed. Worn and thin.

Alex picked himself up off the floor and walked out of his sister’s room into his own across the hall. He liked his room better. And he hoped that Kiff would too, when he saw it, which Alex was hoping would be soon.

The walls in Alex’s room were a rich colour of red under the numerous, crooked posters taped to the walls, accented with gold trimming and a creamy ivory carpet. His bed was a slightly oversized oak four poster bed, on which were eight large, deep red, satin covered pillows and six smaller ones, black sheets and a thick, soft comforter. The comforter was Alex’s favourite part of his bed. It was maroon with faded gold embroidery depicting a bird perched on an old gnarled tree. Alex sat down on said comforter and began to remove his clothes. When he was done he flopped onto his back with a soft thump, almost losing himself within the pillows. He absently hoped that he never suffocated himself.

Alex looked around himself. He was definitely spoiled. He had everything he could ever want, for his family had been rich for generations after generations. His cousin had always told him that if there was ever anything he wanted he could get it, that he could control anything if he had enough money. But Alex wasn’t blind enough to believe that, he knew from experience that no matter how much money you have, you could never buy someone’s heart, well, metaphorically anyways, he could technically, if he wanted to, buy a human heart ... Alex made a face at his own thoughts. Perhaps his cousin was the one that was really spoiled.

Alex buried himself under his covers, reveling in the feel of soft sheets against bare skin, and began his nightly teenage angsting about a certain black haired beauty.

~~~~~~~~

Kiff closed his door with a soft click and collapsed against it, cringing in pain as his bruised backside connected with the wood flooring. He watched blood drip from a cut on his arm, which he had no recollection of getting, and began to laugh. He had no idea what the hell was so funny about the blood droplets moving lazily down his arm, but he couldn’t pull himself from hysterics. Curling up in a ball on the floor Kiff’s laughs turned into choked sobs, and he cried himself into the dark recesses of his own mind.