Candy Hearts Bleed Ink

BY : Dean_Wax
Category: Drama > Slash - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 3011
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to existing persons or events is mere coincidence. Acts described in this story are not condoned by the author. This work is for legally adult eyes

Content warnings: Mad science, Abuse, Anal, Angst, Fingering, H/C, HJ, Humil, M/M, Meta, Minor2, OC, Oral, Sexual Harrassment, Dubcon.

Author’s Note: Hey, hi. Take this tiny cat paw I have just made you imagine. This story is going to get weird, but I’m pretty sure different people will find different angles to enjoy it from. If I’ve made you cringe and remember some bullshit from the slash roleplay scene, I know my job is done. I’m also going to break the fourth wall a little bit but don’t worry about that too much because the characters sure won’t. Just trust in the little cat paw. I promise it will be interesting in the end.


As dappled sunlight filtered through the window of his eclectically decorated bedroom, Nathaniel Willowisp’s piercing blue eyes delicately bloomed into view from beneath their thick veil of lashes. He had woken up just before his iPhone’s alarm again. With a melancholy smile he drew a deep breath he patiently let the sleep leave him. Rolling onto his back, he stared up at his uniquely-painted purple ceiling, dotted with paper snowflakes he had made himself to express his free spirit. After a few moments more his iPhone diligently began chirruping “Ohayou~! Ohayou~!”, so he pushed back the bedcovers and got up.

Looking at himself in the bathroom mirror,  Nathaniel flipped his silky raven fringe back with nubile, waifish fingers. This kind of passive self inspection was a regular morning routine for him. His pale skin was the colour of exotic chai tea with just a shade too much milk added after the honey; flawless except for the nasty stitches he knew were hidden underneath the large bandage on the left side of his chest. He’d already missed the first week of school because he’d still been in the hospital trying to correct his rare heart condition. Worse yet, he’d heard from his best friend Dudley that the teachers had announced his absence to the rest of the students at the orientation assembly, so everyone was gossiping about him and wondering who he was.

He just wasn’t sure he could handle that much attention, being so inherently shy.

Biting his snakebite-pierced lip uncertainly, he pulled on some stripy socks and some pre-ripped black skinny jeans with alluring purple stitching after that, then tied the laces on his limited edition Nondescript Street Art Converse Chuck Taylors.

“Big day today,” he told himself with a brave little smile as he very carefully applied thick black eyeliner to his eyes. Nathaniel was quite pretty, and lots of people had told him that – on several occasions complete strangers on the street had told him he looked quite like Alex Evans but with a more feminine nose, higher cheekbones and a more expressive aura. Nathaniel wasn’t quite sure he could trust the opinions of psychics, but he did know that he didn’t like the way he looked. He’d never told a soul about how he hated his appearance; he just distracted from it with makeup. He didn’t want to worry anyone else with his problems; he was very considerate and self-aware like that.

He screwed his eyes shut tight to make the kohl smudge a little, then pulled on a white t-shirt with a soft cry of pain as the stitches stretched. The tears welling in his big, blue eyes made the kohl smudge a little more, so  he supposed it had worked for the best. Today was his very first day at Tropes Academy for Athletic or Artistic Boys Only, and he wanted to look his best, however little that might mean. His t-shirt had two long rows of safety pins down the front to show how alternative he was; they matched the ones on his beaten up black backpack that he packed with his sketchbook and an endearingly haphazard assortment of paintbrushes and pens before heading out into the small living area of his lonely little studio apartment.

Nathaniel lived alone – he was meant to be living with his Aunt Marjorie, but she was a very glamorous international jetsetter, so she left him live alone in the fully furnished studio apartment near his school while she was abroad. It could get very lonely sometimes, but whenever he got very sad he just cried in front of a mirror while softly practicing lines from drama scripts. He liked to imagine he was other people, so drama came very naturally to him. As for the painting, his mother had been a critically acclaimed French artiste, so he supposed it was in his blood without needing to study very much. He’d always had a raw talent that he could finally express after getting his scholarship to Tropes.

Wandering into the kitchen with an even mix of melancholy and optimism, no sooner had he popped a piece of bread into the toaster and pressed down the lever than he saw the time on the clock. “Oh no! I’m going to be late!” he cried out, clapping a hand to his cheek. Flustered, he grabbed his backpack and popped the warm bread into his mouth and held it there while he unlatched his door and took the elevator down to the ground floor.

He found Dudley Durmat waiting patiently on the front steps, humming an awkward tune. They’d been best friends ever since they went to Glossover Middle School for Boys’ Backstories together – he was Nathaniel’s only friend, actually. All through middle school most people had never spoken to them and he didn’t have the foggiest idea why. He was always very generous, kind and polite to everyone and he was a talented and expressive student, but he kept finding little photographs of himself with dart holes in them all over the place. He had wondered if he had been upsetting people by being too nice, but when he tried to be bad, that just made it worse. In the end, only Dudley had stayed by him. Nathaniel guessed he was lucky to have such a devoted friend.

“Hullo, Nathaniel,” Dudley smiled and stood. When he was standing on the bottom step, he saw eye-to-eye with his slightly-built friend. Dudley clocked in at just under six feet tall and he wore second-hand baggy shorts and a jersey – he was attending Tropes on a Team Fodder scholarship for the basketball team. “I like your shoes,” he grinned, pointing down at his own. He wore Chuck Taylors too, but there weren’t limited edition like the ones Nathaniel had – just the plain kind. They were red to match his hair.

“Thank you,” Nathaniel took the bread from his mouth to reply graciously, but he had a little furrow in his brow as he descended the steps with his bread in one hand. “But you shouldn’t have waited for me, Dudley. You’re going to be late. You should run on ahead. You know I can’t hurry because of my… condition,” he winced slightly, placing one hand gently over his heart.

“Never,” Dudley said loyally, offering a freckly hand.

“Well, if you’re sure…” Nathaniel gave up with a weak smile. After a moment more of hesitation, he took it and they set off for the front gates at a moderate pace, Nathaniel nibbling at bread all the way.

“I promised I’d walk you to school. And it’s not very far – if coach complains at morning practice, I guess I’ll just run some laps.” Dudley explained.

Together they walked the two blocks to the large stainless steel gateway with the school’s name spelled out in letters along the curve of the arch. The word ONLY didn’t quite fit on the sign, so it hung on its own plaque on two chain links just below the apex. It was a very modern institution with big glass buildings, and the hallways were lined with lockers that had been decorated here and there, presumably by the students here for artistic merit. Others had a sports sticker slapped on them, but little else. The distinction between the two varieties of students was clear.

“Where is everyone?” he remarked curiously, looking around the empty hallways.

“I think the bell has already rung,” Dudley shrugged, “Oh! Before I forget, here’s your locker.” He stopped, pointing to an undecorated locker as they approached it. “Here,” he handed his friend a little card with the combination written on it. “I’ve been keeping it safe for you.”

“Thank you, Dudley. You’re a good friend,” Nathaniel, hugging it to his chest. “We have English together, right? I’ll see you then?”

“You sure will,” his friend said with a grin and a quirky little salute. “Are you sure you’ll be fine getting to class?”

Nathaniel nodded gingerly, “I think I know my way around,” he remarked, looking around with a furrowed brow. “They showed me where some rooms were during a tour before my… operation.”

“You just let me know if anyone gives you any trouble, okay?” Dudley said with an encouraging smile. “I’ve gotta run, or I’ll be all sweaty for English. See ya!”

“Bye, Dudley,” Nathaniel murmured, watching as his friend ran down the hall on lanky legs, his sneakers squeaking on the linoleum floor. With a soft sigh he turned towards his locker and looked down at the combination card, then tucked it into the secret pocket he’d sewn for himself on the inside of his shirt. He opened up his locker, humming innocently to himself as he unpacked the supplies he wouldn’t need and gathered up the notebook and pencil case he’d likely need for his homeroom class. He was so distracted that he never heard a pair of svelte footsteps come up next to him in the hall.

BANG! A locker door slammed open next to him and Nathaniel screamed out, his poor heart feeling like it had burst. With a whimper he crumpled down onto his knees, clutching at his chest. He looked up to his right and found a much taller and more muscular boy sneering down at him with perfectly white teeth and cruel, smouldering eyes the colour of slate. With his stylishly coiffed hair and chiselled jawline, Nathaniel could have sworn he’d seen him in a magazine somewhere, only with an expression that was much less frightening.

“What are you crying about?” the boy said coarsely, pulling a crumpled textbook from his locker and then proceeding to cram in a gym bag that smelled faintly of chlorine.

“N-nothing…” Nathaniel stuttered softly, feeling an attractive pink blush rise in his cheeks as he looked away. He was very demure; his mother was part Japanese, so it was in his nature. “You just scared m-me, that’s all…”

The boy didn’t seem to like that. “You calling me a creep?!” he growled, hauling Nathaniel up by the front of his alternative t-shirt, snarling into his face.

“N-no!” the delicate boy gasped, feeling a little lightheaded as his nose filled with the scent of chlorine and Axe deodorant. “Nnno sir, I swear…” he whimpered, arching his back as he tried to pull away, his hands held up in surrender. With his shirt pulled up, his taut, exposed belly brushed against the other boy’s hip.

He gave a silent gasp as hot fingers suddenly spread over his stomach, rubbing down from his navel and splayed over the twitching muscles. “Wuh-what are you doing?!” he gasped, his face flushing with worried fear as he bit his lip. It made the piercings stick out at an odd angle – one was a little star, and the other was a crescent moon. They clicked against his bottom teeth as the bigger boy drew closer.

“Smooth,” he murmured huskily in Nathaniel’s trembling ear, rubbing a small circle on his skin. “You’re such a little bitch.” With that, he roughly shoved the smaller boy away so he crashed into the lockers, stomping down the hall with a grunt.

Nathaniel yelped as his shoulder clipped the door of his locker, shivering as he picked up his notebook and clutched it to his pounding chest as though it were a shield. He took a little longer than he would have liked to finally get to homeroom – he didn’t want to go there with wet eyes.

When he did finally get to the door he knocked on it gently and was met with a fairly genial call of “Oh? Come in!”

He timidly opened the door, peeking out at the classroom full of twenty-odd students from behind an obsidian shroud of his fringe swept coyly over one eye. “H-hello? Is this mister Goodwill’s homeroom?”

“It sure is,” the aforementioned teacher said brightly, gesturing widely with outspread arms. He seemed like a very alternative and friendly teacher; he was wearing a nonthreatening patterned vest over his shirt and slacks, but his hair was a bubblegum pink. “You must be Nathaniel Willowisp! I’m so glad you’re well enough to come to school after your tragic spell in the hospital.”

There was an immediate, conspiratorial hush over the rest of the classroom, all of whom had already been staring at Nathaniel with wide eyes. He felt himself blush, and a few boys whispered to one another with cupped hands, never taking their eyes off of him. “Y-yes. Hello,” he said kindly, giving a quick little bow even though it made the blooming bruise on his shoulder stretch tight and ache.

“A bow! How formal and exotic. Have you spent some time in the orient, Nathaniel?” Mister Goodwill asked curiously, his twinkling eyes alight.

“Um. Hai,” Nathaniel said gently. “I lived there for a few years when I was small. My mother travelled around a lot.” This received a few oohs and aahs from other boys in the class, especially the ones who were clearly there on artistic merit. Even some of the jock boys looked begrudgingly impressed with how cultured Nathaniel was. He felt a little more at ease then, but not for long.

“Now, let’s see here…” Mister Goodwill said slowly, looking between the student’s desks in front of him and an oversized seating plan spread out on his own desk. “Ah yes, you’re in the last seat left, next to Brent Butcherson at the back of the class. Brent, I hope you’ll make Nathaniel feel welcome! He’s a very special boy.”

Nathaniel looked towards this ‘Brent’ and saw the same slate-coloured eyes from earlier glaring back at him. He swallowed uncomfortably, mustering up the courage to walk towards his chair.

“Sure, mister Goodwill,” Brent said gratingly, never unpinning Nathaniel from his gaze as he drew closer, hands gripping the edge of his desk. “We’ll be real close.”

Nathaniel twitched faintly with those words. He couldn’t help but think they sounded like a threat.

// To be continued

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