[Fanfic] Morning After

[raiu_deluxe]

Title: Morning After
Paring: Nissy/Shinjiro
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Contains violence! A very violent and unpleasant take on Nissy. Written simply to challenge myself as a writer.
Summary: There are fine lines between love, obsession and contempt...


I love the mornings after. Don’t get me wrong the nights are great (and I mean GREAT) but when we’re just laying together in the bed, watching the sunlight stretch across the room, it just feels so perfect. I think this is when we are at our most content; the both of us. In these moments we have nothing to fear. I just wish it could always be this way…

Sometimes we fight. I know, its stupid; all couples fight. I’ve heard it all; ‘You wouldn’t fight if you didn’t love him’, ‘Fighting means you care’ and the best one ‘You always fight the ones you love’. But the thing is, we go beyond fighting. It’s almost cruel… or … maybe it is cruel.

I know it’s my fault. It always is. I say or do something wrong. It’s just typical me.

The first time we fought, he scared me. I stayed out really late and I didn’t call. He sent me messages asking where I was, who I was with, if I was ok and I just ignored them. I knew he’d understand when I got home. He’d know I was just having some fun with some friends.

But it didn’t go that way.

I stumbled home at some ungodly hour. He was pacing up and down in the kitchen. When he saw me, he looked so relieved. He ran over to me and hugged me so hard I almost ran out of breath. When he let me go he asked what happened. I just told him the truth, or tried to; I was so drunk everything I said just came in one big slur.

He was like a different person then. He was yelling at me like I’d never heard him before. He shouting about how there he was at home, worried sick, while I was out partying it up like some cheap whore. That comment stung. It wasn’t like I was out selling myself, I was just having a night out with some friends. I told him so.

Then I felt my back hit the wall. His face was barely an inch away, twisted in anger. I started to cry and just then he snapped back to his senses. He held me again as we sank to the floor. He apologised again and again, holding me in his arms. He was crying too. He said he was so scared that something bad had happened to me. I told him it was ok, that it was my fault but he just kept crying.

When we woke up the next day, it was so peaceful. We lay in bed for hours, just talking and teasing each other. When I finally went to have a shower, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. The smile fell from my face when I saw the bruises on my back…

Nothing bad happened then for a few months. I didn’t stay out to late and he didn’t get angry at me. The bruises had faded away but the memories still remained imprinted in my mind. For a few weeks I’d been afraid of him a little bit but I knew in my mind that I’d caused him to worry and that in a way I’d deserved it. But I still couldn’t get it out of my head.

A while later we were invited to a party with a few of our friends. Again I’d gotten a little too drunk. We’d just gotten home after a great night. Nothing had happened but I noticed that on the way back he was very quiet and when we got home he just went straight to bed. I was up for a little fun and tried to get him in the mood but he wasn’t having it. After I nagged him a little bit he just sat up and slapped me in the face. I was so shocked that I fell off the bed.

He just looked at me with disgust and said that I’d made a fool of myself, that I’d made everyone think I was some alcoholic. Then he just rolled over and went to sleep. No apology, no tears, no nothing.

I slept on the couch in the living room that night; well actually I lay awake on the living room couch that night. My face stung and my head hurt from when I fell. But I knew he was right. I did make a fool of myself. Maybe I do have a problem with alcohol, I thought. From that moment on I promised myself I would never drink again.

I told him so the next morning. I said I was sorry and I would never drink again. He seemed happy when I said that then he treated me to dinner that night, completely alcohol free.

Things continued as normal for a while. I didn’t drink and he stayed happy. I’d also noticed that my friends began to call less and less. Now that I wasn’t drinking I couldn’t really go out with them anymore. I told him about this and he thought it was for the best. ‘The just bring out the worst in you’ he said, ‘You’re better off without them’. He was right, as usual, but I still felt a little lonely.

Then one night I’m not really sure what happened. He’d been out all day. When he came in he was really quiet. I asked him if anything was wrong. He just told me it had been a bad day. I left it at that but then he got angry. ‘What? You don’t care?’ he asked. His voice was sharp and his eyes were piercing though me. ‘Of course I do’ I told him, ‘Is it something I’ve done?’. He laughed.

Then he punched me.

It took me by surprise so much that I fell back on to the floor. He stood over me, his eyes spitting venom. ‘I know what you and him have been doing behind my back!’

What? Where I this come from? I wasn’t doing anything with anyone. I begged him to explain what he meant but he just kicked me in the ribs. ‘Don’t play dumb,’ he spat, ‘I know what you’ve done.’ I tried to ask him again but I was given another blow to the ribs.

He turned and left. I lay there alone. I’m not even sure for how long. All I felt was pain and sadness. Someone had told him something. But it was lies, all lies.

Or maybe it was me. Of course it was me. He suspected one of my friends; how could he not? Around them all I did was get drunk and make a fool of myself and then when they don’t call I get upset. Of course, I did this. It’s all my fault.

I finally managed to force myself into the bathroom. I had a black eye and my lip was bleeding. Bruises were starting to form around my ribs. I was just cleaning myself when I saw his reflection in the mirror.

I froze. I didn’t know what to do. He just stared at me, his eyes full of hate. Then he finally spoke. ‘Promise me,’ he said, ‘Promise me you won’t see him again’. I wanted to explain to him that he’d made a mistake, that there was nothing going on. But then I thought about what would happen. If I tried to explain he might hit me again or worse.

So I nodded. I nodded and promised I would stop. It was better this way, for both of us.

Then things got worse.

The next day I heard drilling down stairs. I came down to see him testing a new lock he had installed on the door. He said it was to protect me. He had also installed locks on all the windows. There was one key and he kept it at all times.

I only ever left the house with him now. He said he didn’t want be to be alone, that I might get hurt. So he came with me everywhere I went.

A few days later I got a call from work. My boss was angry that I had missed so many days. He took the phone from me. After a lengthy conversation in the next room he came back and told me I no longer had a job but that it was ok, he would take care of me. Everything would be alright. Then he took my phone, said I didn’t need it anymore.

When he was at work he took the only key. He locked the doors and left me inside. During the day I would clean and make dinner for him when he came home. At night I would wait in bed for him to come up. He was different now. He seemed to have a taste for rough sex. He would often bite me or scratch me. I guess it made him feel good and that made me feel good. I think.

Two months later I woke up late on a Sunday afternoon. I could hear something outside. I got out of bed and followed the noise. I saw him outside with my old friend. They were fighting, shouting at each other. I didn’t go outside; I knew better. I waited for him to come inside. A while later he did. He saw me at the table, sitting patiently.

‘You promised,’ he said, no more than a whisper.

I didn’t say anything. I knew not to argue. He was angry. It was my fault. It was my friend that came here. Of course it was my fault.

Something hard hit me on the back of the head. I fell forward on to the table. I looked up and saw him holding a lamp.

‘YOU PROMISED!’

He swung again. I rolled over this time and crashed on the floor. He was angry, really angry. I crawled into the corner. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t argue. It was my fault. All my fault.

‘YOU CHEAP LITTLE SLUT!’

The lamp smashed just above my head. Glass and steel rained down from where he’d thrown it. A knife grazed my arm as it fell.

‘I trusted you’ he growled, ‘I trusted you and all this time you’ve been with HIM!’

I felt his foot in my side. I screamed. I couldn’t hold back anymore. I yelled with every hit. He didn’t stop. I could taste blood in my mouth. My vision had become blurry. I couldn’t take the pain.

Finally he stopped. I saw him look at me, taking in the sight in front of him.

‘Look what you made me do,’ he whispered.

‘This is it,’ I told myself, ‘I’m going to die. Its over.’

He knelt down beside and grabbed my hair. He pulled my head back to look at him. He had smears of blood on his face. My blood. He was panting like an animal. His eyes were empty. This wasn’t him. This wasn’t the person I loved. He was gone. He didn’t exist anymore.

Then he changed. His face was full of shock, his eyes full of fear. I don’t even remember picking up the knife. I just remember feeling his warm blood trickling over my fingers. He slumped over on his side, his eyes glazed, his body motionless.

Now I’m lying here, in this hospital bed, watching the sunlight stretch across the room, the morning after…