1 The Past

Meet Kim Mitzuki.

Kim Mitzuki: nineteen years old, loved dying his hair (it was currently half apricot and half pink). The teenager was a normal, easy-going and person who was slow to anger. He worked hard at his part-time job through the last two years of high school and after he'd finished all his final secondary school exams. He adored his friends and loved his family whole-heartedly, accepting most people at face value and he was planning to take a year off before he started University. Other people often said he was an angel in disguise because always kind to others and he would help if he saw someone in trouble and, until tonight, Kim Mitzuki thought he loved his boyfriend.

"You did what?" The pastel haired nineteen year old blurted out, frozen with shock at what his boyfriend had just said. As the words his boyfriend declared were absorbed the pinkette felt an unfamiliar pressure building in his chest.

"What the fuck's wrong with you?! Why are you doing this again? You promised me that last time was the last time and you wouldn't do this again, you swore it to me!" He cried to the other, recognizing the feeling in his chest as anger.

He didn't like this feeling but after three years of this he was exhausted of always being made out to be the bad guy, he was sick and tired of being sick and tired. Kim Mitzuki was tired of being treated like trash, as an afterthought or a second option and he was tired of being used. He was over feeling like second best, of being controlled and always told what to wear, what to eat, or when he could hang out with his friends.

Kim was emotionally drained from dealing with the way his boyfriend had changed, especially in the last few months after he'd been attacked in a nightclub he went to with his friends, his boyfriend didn't seem to understand how hard intimacy was for him now - or he didn't care. Kim Mitzuki was so tired of his boyfriend's shit.

Meet Izuka Yang.

The stench of alcohol and cigarettes from the hours he'd spent at the bar had steeped into the green haired male's clothes. The highly intoxicated male swayed where he stood, the alcohol making him off-balance and spewing all the resentment he withheld from the soft-hearted male opposite him.

"That was before you went and let my friends fuck you. If you'd spread your legs for me like you did for him I wouldn't have to sleep around. I did it because of you - you won't even fucking touch me to save yourself." He screamed at the pastel haired male,

"You don't deserve to be with someone as good as me because you're a slut that puts out for everyone except your fucking boyfriend!!" A resounding *SMACK!* was heard through the apartment.

"IZUKA YANG! How can you say that? You know I didn't! You know what really happened to me!!" The side of the greenette's face stung with the impact of the slap. The greenette's odd eyes narrowed in fury, and with the alcohol fuelling his actions and muddling his thoughts he began to use the other as a punching bag. He hated that this FUCKBOY had the nerve to talk back to him. How dare he!

"What. The. Fuck. Kim?" Each word he spat out was punctuated with a violent punch to the pastel haired boy.

"You're the one who fucked up! *punch* You're the one who won't put out! *slap* You asked to be fucked. *punch* I told you not to go out! *PUNCH* This is your fault! *kick* I told you not to wear those jeans! *SMACK* You fucked someone else but won't fuck me! *punch* This is your fault! *PUNCH* This is all your fault you whore!" The greenette shoved the pastel boy against the wall and roughly pulled his tracksuit pants down, grabbing his cock roughly and yanked it painfully.

"AAhhh! Get off me Izuka!" The pinkette was finding it hard to breathe because of the punches to his diaphragm, his lungs struggling to draw oxygen he needed, he kept struggling and pushing the drunken male away,

"Don't do this! Don't do this to me! You promised! You promised!" The sting of tears burned as they spilled out from his red-rimmed eyes, he was hurt and angry for allowing the other manipulate him - again. *punch SMACK punch*

"You'll learn your goddamn fucking lesson Mitzuki," Yang crooned sadistically,

"Time to make you dance for me again." The trapped teen was spun around and pushed up against the wall with one arm twisted behind him so he couldn't move. Kim Mitzuki felt the burn in his ass of being taken raw, he felt the tearing of his ring as the greenette forced the teen to take his shaft without preparation and pounding into the younger as he sobbed and begged for the other to stop.

The struggling male under Izuka Yang only aroused him more and Izuka pounded furiously into the piece of ass under him, wrapping his free hand around the pastel haired teen's throat he felt himself get harder. Izuka Yang had high endurance levels so the **** and torture of the battered teen lasted for hours; well after the other had become unconscious and until greenette himself passed out with exhaustion.

* * * * * * *

His consciousness surfacing slowly, Kim Mitzuki stayed perfectly still and doing an internal check of his body. He ached and stung everywhere, he knew he was bleeding from new cuts and bruises. Carefully checking if he could move made the decision to leave. He'd thought about it before but tonight's fight and resulting 'punishment' that he'd received was the last straw. As soon as he could move enough to walk he was going to be gone, like dust on the wind.

When the beaten teen was sure that his boyfr-- no... his ex-boyfriend was completely out of it and wouldn't wake up he wriggled as carefully as he could out from under the green haired male he had once loved. Tears fell from his glossy orbs and the sobs desperately tried to escape his sore throat - stifling them as best he could, not wanting to rouse the sleeping monster for fear of having to endure another round beating he didn't think he'd survive.

Kim Mitzuki grabbed a large duffel bag and threw in whatever he could grab and a few sentimental items; he made sure to take his wallet, phone and charger, he gently placed his keys on the bench as he left.

The beaten, bloody and broken pastel haired boy hobbled quietly past the security guard in the front room, walked out the door and vanished into the night.

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