A Life not Spent with You

BY : Rin-chan
Category: DarkFic > Slash - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 4294
Disclaimer: Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental - this is a work of fiction.

TRIGGER WARNING: Contains details of sexual assault! Ye be warned...I think I'll post this warning for each chapter! Thank you for reading! 

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As he started to slow down for the next red light, Ivan focused on not betraying any outward indications to his inner panic. Glancing at the passenger side of his car, he saw that the younger man was still hugging himself, pressed tightly against the door. Like he's going to climb through the window and run away... This had occurred to him and made him anxious – maybe he'd done something wrong? As they waited for the lights to chance, Ivan unconsciously ran his fingers through his dirty blond locks in a nervous gesture. They'd never had a communication problem before, to suddenly be thrown into a raging storm of doubts and fears was beyond stressful. I don't want to make him feel he has to talk...Is he scared of something? Any could remind the younger of his attack; the suddenly possibilities made his teeth clench in worry.

 The quiet rumbling of the engine was the only sound in the car, the thundering silence between him and the other man was beyond uncomfortable. At some point in the drive, Damien noticed he'd withdrawn himself, hugging his chest as if to hide his body. Self-loathing tasted bitter in his mouth, as well as the salty tang of another man's bodily fluids. A wince broke his attempt to keeping a calm face, the sudden memory of being shoved, of having his hair being roughly yanked backwards, face upwards and-

A hand touched his arm, made him jump at the contact. Disoriented, Damien heard himself let a whimper, unable to stop himself. “Dami, are you alright? You started to shake pretty badly...?” Crushing embarrassment stained his cheeks a dark red and pathetically he whispered an apology. Being trapped in the small space of the car, Damien was painfully aware of how unclean he was. His boyfriend finally withdrew his hand, let him resume being as far away as possible from him. Staring out the window, the younger tried to find something to say, anything like his usual jokes or carefree attitude. But nothing worked, he couldn't stop thinking of the last few hours. Tears began to form rapidly as he saw himself in his memory doing things, allowing things, saw himself not stopping it. What if Ivan found out? I let it happen I smell of another man's sweat and sex and I could've done anything to keep it from happening...A shout, a scream he's going to make me talk I can't tell him...

 Seeing the hotel at the next corner, Ivan signalled a turn and eased off the gas. A broken shuddering sigh made him falter, a quiet sniffling confirmed his suspicions that the younger was crying again. Throat tightening at hearing his lover trying to muffle his pain, the blond focused on driving for the next minute before carefully parking near the hotel entrance. Uncertain what to say, he let the engine rumbled a few moments before turning the key. After a sputtering cough, the car was silent. Licking his lips, Ivan dropped his hands, suddenly weary and eager to lie down. Anything to slow the heavy burden of the last few hours. Imagine how he feels...

 A wash of discomfort swept over Damien, it was as if unspoken words had become a swarm of insects crawling across his skin. Certain the older was going to say a lot of unhelpful sentiments in such a gratingly loving voice, he unpeeled an arm away from his torso and waved towards the entrance. “I don't really w-want to talk. Just g-go check us-us...” His struggles to keep the sobs from breaking his voice failed; lowering his head, he covered his mouth with his hand and cried. Part of him was amazed at how much he wanted to be away from his lover, his boyfriend of four years – during his attack he'd prayed to be able to see him one more time. He felt Ivan's helplessness at his weeping, sparking him into shouting, “Just go! S-stop staring at me!” Ashamed, hating the older man's pity, or what he thought was pity, Damien sobbed into his hands and leaned against his door.

 Pale and feeling sick, Ivan scrambled out and quietly shut the door. After his back was turned and he made his feet move himself briskly towards the hotel building, he let his face twist with misery. What a nightmare! God I keep fucking things up maybe I shouldn't have touched his shoulder but he was really shaking... This constant second-guessing himself was so unnatural, the pit of his stomach went cold. Maybe I frightened him? Walking up the small set of stone stairs, he fought the urge to glance back and let himself in, tried to work himself into a calm demeanour. Like someone who isn't going out of their mind... It occurred to him as he walked up to the receptionist's desk, that hotels were usually a place full of laughter and excitement from new travels and vacations. People meeting old friends, seeing operas and concerts. It seemed like a cheerless place, so sterile and unwelcoming compared to their apartment. Maybe being near the ground-floor will make him nervous...  

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 Great way to start things... After a few minutes of weeping, Damien wiped at his face with the tissues they kept in the car. Irritation prickled under his skin, and not knowing the reason made him more frustrated. Regretting the second after he yelled at the older man, he shifted in his seat, stretched his arms out. He had felt Ivan's immediate rejection and sadness but despite wanting to call him back he let him go. Dimly, he realized being so out of control of his emotions was maddening. He means well, god I'd do anything for Ivan to keep doing anything loving towards me... Movement far to the left made him jump, and stupidly, Damien watched a woman in a business suit walked by. Suddenly aware of all the activity outside, anxiety crept up on him, far too much to process. Will people seem me and know whats happened to me? A terrifying question came into mind – What if he's following me?

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 “Perfect, thank you very much.” Taking his credit card back, Ivan refrained from sighing, rolled his neck as he stepped away from the counter. In his pocket, he now had two key cards to room 1005. Wondering if the younger even wanted him to stay in the same room, he bit his lip and turned, ready to face his sweetheart and his decision. To his surprise, the younger was just entering the lobby, their one backpack slung over one shoulder. His eyes scanned the few people seated on the various sofas, standing by the concierge desk. When their blue gaze fell on him, Ivan watched his face pale slightly, his eyes darting away quickly. His steps slowed, but he only stopped a few feet away.

 Squeezing his hand tightly around the strap of the backpack, Damien cleared his throat, cheeks flushing in shame. “I-I'm sorry I yelled at you. I'm kind of, out of it...” Trailing off, he glanced at Ivan, who offered him a small smile. Heartened slightly, he shook the bangs from his eyes, “What room do we have?”

 “Ah, room 1005, if that works for you?” At the younger's nod, they started towards the elevators. As a couple passed by, Damien pressed against his side briefly with a tiny moue of discomfort. Taking this in, Ivan considered what Dr. Meramec had said about PTSD. While waiting for the next elevator, his lover stepped close at his side again, hesitantly took his hand. Heart skipping a beat, Ivan held his hand, paused only for a moment before twining their fingers like they always did. Damien's fingers squeezed around his, and he did likewise. A sense of peace settled over him, his heart comforted by the fact his boyfriend still counted him as safe and not a threat. The door beeped, opened, and they stepped in together.

 The barely noticeable hum as the car lifted was soothing after the constant buzzing of conversation of the lobby. A headache Damien didn't realize he had, throbbed with relief and the sudden quiet. He felt like telling Ivan his fears he'd felt in the car, and wondered why he didn't just say them aloud. He'll think I'm pathetic...I can't stand be alone for five minutes... As he fretted over this, Ivan gently squeezed his hand again, his thumb lightly tracing along his, sweeping across his wrist. A shiver of pleasure ran through him at this sweet gesture – his body went cold in response to the feeling. Breath halting for a second, Damien felt his vision blur slightly as fear began to blossom in his heart. You must love it you're so hard! Dread filled his system, a terrible sense of spinning out of control clouding his thoughts.

“Ivan, I'm scared.” The quiet statement, the surreal quality to his lover's voice worried him. Turning, keeping their hands twined, Ivan looked across his lover's pensive face, “Hey, what is it?” Damien's breathing began to quicken, his eyes unfocused and wandering. Concerned, Ivan parted their fingers and held his face, caressed a cheek with one of his thumbs. “Look at me, darling, its me, its Ivan!” Keeping his voice a barely raised volume, he brushed his cheek. Damien blinked, his breathing slowing just a little as the eyes met. Smiling, the older man nodded, “That's it, luv, I've got you, you're safe with me.”

 The flood of fear began to drain away, its frightening speed of how it took control of him, made him feel sick with worry. Embarrassed once again, Damien fought to keep staring into his lover's eyes, lose himself in the warm green of his gaze. The blond ceased holding his face, only touched his shoulder uncertainly, “We're here, floor 10...” Looking up at the elevator level indicator, he saw they had arrived, and wondered when their floor dinged. This fear...Is it going to be this bad all the time? What had brought on this sweeping, crippling made his eyes sting with tears again, guilt searing into his soul. He felt so tired of these constant mood swings. Nodding, he trudged out of the elevator, and followed his boyfriend.

 Certain the younger almost had a panic attack, Ivan bit his lip as he drew out one of the key cards from his pocket. A tiny part of him was dancing with joy at being able to stop the panic attack, the rest of him was agonizing if he accidentally caused it. Far too many maybes – what if his attacker had done this or that. The small gladness in his heart faded away as he slid the key card in the door slot and let them into the room. This is too much. Inadequacy stung, made his throat tighten with sorrow. The room was perfect, pin neat, and so unfamiliar. Our apartment is probably still being searched...Things being marked as evidence... The possibility of this never happening if he'd stayed home instead of picking up an extra shift made his eyes grow damp.

 Feeling scratchy at needing Ivan's help calming down, Damien stepped in and shrugged the backpack off, set it on the table. Turning quickly, not wanting the older man to see his teary eyes, he side-stepped around him. “I'm going to c-clean up. I hope there's enough shampoo in those tiny bottles...” He'd half-laughed at the end, wanting to seem in control of himself before he cried as quietly as possible once he'd be alone in the bathroom. “There's some shampoo and conditioner in the backpack, toothpaste and toothbrush too...” Ivan's voice was clipped, it caught the younger's attention. The older man retrieved a zipped bag from the backpack and handed it to him. “Your favourites...Go on, luv, I'll be out here...” Feeling dismissed, Damien murmured a thank-you and took it. Hovered by the bathroom door before closing himself in.

 Sitting on one of the beds – Ivan asked for two queen beds, unsure if Damien would want to share a bed – the blond swept his bangs up from his face, looked around the room. The nightstand between the two queens had a digital clock that read 1:34AM. It was unbelievable that their lives could have changed so severely in roughly six hours. His urge to cry grew at his pitiful anger at himself for accepting his manager's call to come in a eight PM. It was a Friday night and the main line cook had called in sick, left the kitchen teetering into chaos. What if I said no...Would we even be here? Fucking Greg if he hadn't called in with his bullshit story this would never have happened! Anger felt better than the misery, Ivan clung to it as much as he could before wiping the tears from his eyes and sat with his head in his hands, elbows digging into his knees.

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 After shutting the door, Damien bit his lip and locked it, wished he could lock everything out of his life. The crazy sense that he was going crazy and every thought led him back to his assault, his attack. I-I still can't call it what it is... Even his mind faltered at admitting that shattering word. Hoping the noise will mask his crying, he turned on the fan. As he inspected the bathroom, admired the large tub, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Ugly. His first thought, then disgust and shame. He looked at himself, at the cut on his lip, the terrible bruise under one eye, the large bump on his forehead. But it was the look in his eyes that hurt the most, the naked, vulnerability he saw. His lips were red raw – Damien whimpered and covered his face, remembering a hand wrenching his ponytail to make his face turn upwards, remembering why his throat and lips were so sore. Not able to bear anymore, he turned his back to the mirror and took a deep breath.

 With shaking hands, he gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled up and over his head, let it fall to the floor. The air against his hot skin made him shiver, again he wondered if his attacker infected him with a disease. A sob wrenched past his control at possibly having HIV, of Ivan leaving him, of him giving up and declaring him impossible to love anymore. Inconceivable, but he'd felt the tiniest trickle of lust at Ivan's thumb brushing against his as they held hands. The pleasure at that one small gesture caused an atom bomb of panic in him. Hugging his chest, Damien bowed his head, tried to keep quiet as the implications he hadn't considered, came to light.

 An overwhelming sense of loss and violation filled him, at what the rapist robbed of him. Would he be fearful of Ivan's touch? Of a hug or kiss? Would he be able to enjoy sex ever again? The idea of being with his lover that way made him tremble. I just can't oh god what if he leaves me if I can't. Does he even want me that way anymore? Its too hard he'll leave I'd leave me if I could... He couldn't be alone for five minutes, he got scared of just one trickle of something pleasant, he was torn and damaged.

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 While going over what the doctor told him about triggers and flashbacks, Ivan frowned, listened hard and got to his feet. Crossing the room, he stood next to the bathroom door and hesitated, fist already made to knock. His lover was crying, his breath hitching at times as he sobbed. Hearing this wrenched Ivan's heart, and he decided to leave the younger alone until something changed. The crying grew and grew until he was weeping as if his heart had shattered and he was sobbing bits of himself across the bathroom floor. Worried, Ivan knocked lightly on the door, not wanting to startle him.

“Damien? Sweetheart, are you-” He paused, not sure what to say. Clearly Damien wasn't okay.

 Dimly aware that Ivan was knocking, he tried to get a hold of himself again. Unsure how long he was loudly crying as the realization that his life would forever be changed, he stifled his panicky breaths. Great just wail for a few minutes that will really make him want to stay with you! A little frantic at not giving the older man more reasons to think badly of him, Damien tried to speak, cleared his throat painfully. “I'm s-sorry I'm gonna be fine... Please, Ivy... ” Not quite sure what he was pleading, he wiped at his face, and heaved a shaky sigh. Gathering what strength he could, he undid his jeans and proceeded to strip his remaining clothing. At least it isn't in front of Ivan this time...Or in front of a stranger... That had been the worst, to behave like a lost child clinging to Ivan's hand as he stood naked before the doctor. Cheeks warming, he kicked his jeans to the side and grabbed the bottles his lover bought and stepped in the tub.

 Pulling the curtain shut, closing him in, he deliberated and decided on lukewarm water, unsure how his various cuts and sores would take to sudden hot water. Not good... His shoulder throbbed painfully, Damien could remember the teeth biting into him there, marking him, claiming him almost. Ivan saw...He saw everything... And he was still here, in the next room, had thought to bring him clean clothes and shampoo to clean his long hair. His attacker had cruelly pulled his hair, teased him about it, said it made him look like a girl. You should act like one too! That made him want to cut his hair short. A resolve to get this task done with had him twist the knobs and start the shower. He adjusted the temperature, and stepped under the shower head. A hiss escaped him as water rained down on his tender shoulder, his aching body. Everything was so sore, it hurt. Just clean up and then go to him...  He needed to be held, he longed for it, just to be close to the one he loved. I bet he needs me to hold him too...

 It was fine until he soaped up the washcloth he'd been using and started to clean his genitals. Feeling nauseous again, he carefully inspected himself, tried to clean away the feeling of the attacker's hands over him. A few tears and whimpers escaped him as he turned so the water didn't hit him, and parted his buttocks carefully. Steeling himself, he began to very gingerly lather suds. A hateful memory gripped him, at feeling a long gob of semen spill down where he was cleaning. His stomach heaved, and the water he'd had on the drive from the hospital came up. A small scream escaped him, as if the sound chased away the memory as he began to dry heave.

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 Amazingly, Ivan felt the adrenaline that first spiked in his system from the second his landlord had called with the terrible news, start to fade. Perhaps it wasn't adrenaline, but some crazy kind of energy, but it left him feeling very tired and pessimistic. What if everything I'm afraid of is true...That Damien blames me or hates me or he's never going to be the same...

“I-Ivan?” He sat up, looked to see Damien dressed in his shirt and knee-length boxers. His long hair was brushed and sleek, looked thin as it always did before growing thick and luscious as it dried. His wounds on his face looked a little worse, probably irritated by the water. Ivan felt his heart leap with an intense wave of love and longing; letting it fill his eyes and face, he gave a hesitant smile.

 Damien saw the softness in the older man's face and responded to it. Crossing the few steps, he opened his arms and wrapped them around his lover, holding on tight. Arms folded around him, their quiet strength warming him down to his toes, A few sore spots on his back stung at contact, but he ignored it and relished their closeness. Ivan brought up a hand, gently meshed fingers into his wet hair and carefully combed them out. A small sound escaped him, voicing his appreciation, his need, his fear, his pleasure at the soothing gesture.

 “I feel so out of sorts, like I'm going crazy...I get scared y-you're going to leave me, that I'll make things too difficult and you'll give up. I'm scared you blame me and I let someone d-do it to me and I'm scared...” The delicate whisper grew more fragile, the arms tightening around him, “I'll never enjoy y-your touch again or your kisses or I m-might be carrying a dis-disease and-” His stammering had grown worse, his voice trembling now. Ivan started to pull away, but the younger gripped him closer. Staring down at the floor as he fit his chin over the slighter man's shoulder, he took a breath.

“I think I'm going crazy too, I keep thinking if only I didn't get called into work or if I didn't accept the shift. Maybe this wouldn't have happened to you...I'm sorry if I'm acting different, I-I don't know what will make you scared or worry. I don't want to do anything that'll remind you of what you've been through...” Damien loosened his embrace, started to fall away in uncertainty. Can't let him know... His lover pulled away slightly, offered him a smile. “You don't have to tell me anything, just know that I'm here for you. You're alive, sweetheart, you did everything right.” Smiling, he raised up on his toes again, made to kiss the older man; already he had tilted his face just a little, and was a breath away before he froze. Remembering, the pain of crying alone in the shower as he tried to erase the feelings of stranger hands all over him. His eyes...Does he not want me to kiss him anymore?

 It was automatic, Ivan angled his head slightly in response – it was the younger's freezing, the surprise in his wide eyes. Keeping still, he floundered, unsure whether stepping out of reach would be mistaken as disgust or disinterest. New to this uncertainty, and trying to get used to the idea that it'd become very common, the blond gently drew Damien in a loose embrace. As he did so, he placed a soft kiss on his cheek; his lover's arms wound around his waist, held him tightly. Oh luv... Glancing at the bed, he waited a few seconds, gathering the willpower to ask whether or not he was allowed to stay. Maybe he won't want me here...Having me here could seriously frighten him if he has bad dreams... More than anything he wanted to help, to be turned away would hurt deeply.

 Feeling faint, Damien let his grip loosen, the warmth of his boyfriend was calming and familiar. His chest, the feel of his arms around him was unmistakably Ivan. His body ached dully, tiredness smoothing the edges of pain. His lover kissed the top of his head, made him smile as it always did. A hand patted his arm, “Hey, I got two beds because I wasn't sure if you could-” The older man paused, almost as if he were about to stammer, “I mean...I'll sleep anywhere you want, I can even leave the room if you want?” The hesitant lilt to his voice barely registered with Damien. Imagining him alone again, as alone as he thought before a figure shoved him against a wall, wrestled him immobile. Making a small noise of protest, he squeezed his arms around his boyfriend, shaking his head.

 “N-no, please, I want you here with me. I-I can't be alone, I thought I was alone before and-” His voice started to grow panicky, Damien could hear it and broke off, pressed his bruised cheek to the older man's chest. “I think I can still feel his hands all over me, I'm really scared I'm d-dreaming and I'll wake up and its still happening.” Admitting this was hard, to even share something this secret, made him feel incredibly vulnerable. A hand came up to pet his hair, slid through his tresses, the gesture soothing. The younger smiled, amazed he could after the night he had. “Lets go to bed, dearest.”

 While Ivan changed into pajama pants in the bathroom, Damien, already changed into his own bedclothes, felt nervous tension start to coil in his stomach. His longed to pace, a way to burn off the uncomfortable agitation. Letting out his breath in a sigh, he concentrated on what would make falling asleep easier. “Oh, can you leave the bathroom light on and the door open a little when you come out?”

Doing as requested, Ivan folded his jeans as he came back into the room and placed them on the table with the backpack. Damien's jeans were, of course, dropped to the floor and kicked out of the way. He half-smiled, amused that even after the last few hours, the younger's messy habits remained the same.

 Standing near the pillows of one bed, Damien tugged the sheets and blankets back. Unsure how bad it'd hurt, he steeled himself and experimentally sat on the edge of the bed. A sharp hiss slipped past his guard, his lower body protesting loudly. He let his breath out in a shaky sigh, gave him time to get himself settled lying on his side, tugging the deliciously cool sheets over his sore body.

  Watching as the dark-haired man gingerly laid himself down, Ivan fought nibbling his lower lip in worry. What if me holding him while he sleeps makes him have nightmares? Am I making things worse? “C-can you turn off the bedside lamp now? And come to bed?” Pushing away the doubts, he hurriedly did as asked and came around to the other side of the bed. Slowly, not to shake the mattress too much, he climbed onto the spacious bed, lying on his back. Tugging the blankets over him, Ivan hid a yawn with his hand, and looked to his left, to see Damien's eyes dart away.

 As he lay on his side, he couldn't quite meet his boyfriend's eyes. They were close, but not quite touching, Damien sensed the older man's reluctance to make contact first. With much effort, he lifted his head up, the way he'd always did. Ivan's face lightened considerably, but didn't move. “Are you sure?” Tears prickled his eyes at the question, throat tight, Damien nodded. The blond wriggled closer, and gently laid his arm out for him. A quiver of fear ran through him, despite his attempts to calm down, a sob escaped him as he pressed his body against Ivan's side, laid his bruised cheek upon his chest. Ivan's arm bent around and loosely held him, the movement slow and it still made him tremble. Wince as his body remembered the terror and pain of being so close to another person, a stranger.

 The younger flung out his arm to rest on his chest, fingers clenching his shirt in a tight fist. Sobs started to wrack his boyfriend's slight body, Ivan froze. The force of his crying grew steadily; frantically, Ivan asked what he could do or if he'd scared him. Dami only cried and cried and trembled against him. Stroking his shoulder, Ivan blinked back his own tears, and finally let them slide down his face as he held Damien and whispered that he was safe and loved.

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