Beyblade Fan Fiction ❯ In petto Tryst ❯ One-shot ( Chapter 1 )
[ P - Pre-Teen ]
By: Tsuyomi 
A look into the world of Bryan and Tala: their relationship, their future, and what happened to them in the abbey.
Anime/Manga: Beyblade Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 06.16.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.3K | Visits: 501 | Status: Completed
A look into the world of Bryan and Tala: their relationship, their future, and what happened to them in the abbey.
Anime/Manga: Beyblade Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 06.16.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.3K | Visits: 501 | Status: Completed
Title: In petto Tryst
Author: Tsuyomi
Pairing: Bryan/Tala
Rating: PG
Feedback: Quite welcome! I'd really appreciate any comments and/or constructive criticism...
Warnings: Shonen ai; angst; blood; brief half-nudity; language. I think that covers it all. o.o;;
Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade; Beyblade, its characters, and storyline are that of Aoki Takao and any others that may apply!
Summary: A look into the world of Bryan and Tala: their relationship, their future, and what happened to them in the abbey. Somewhat of a PWP.
A pair of bare feet padded silently down the stone floor of the hallway. The boy's eyes had yet to adjust to the darkness and he depended heavily on the hand that skimmed lightly along one side of the jagged walls. Every time he did this he risked being discovered, but continued to return despite the dangers. If he didn't count the number of doors properly there was no guarantee he'd make it to his destination or even find the way back to his own room. Just the slightest of mistakes could jeopardize everything. The mere thought of having no more nighttime visits was always enough to make him pay close attention to what he was doing.
Long, slender fingers groped blindly in the black for a moment before grasping the cool, brass doorknob tightly. He turned it slowly and opened the heavy door only wide enough to squeeze in, then closed it quietly behind him. By now his movements had become mechanical, almost thoughtless, unlike the first few times he had done this.
"Bryan!" he gasped softly at the sight of his lover sprawled out on the pallet in a far corner of the small room. The mustard-colored shirt and jacket normally donned by the Russian blader lay in a tangled heap by his feet, leaving him only in his burgundy pants. Fresh bruises and oozing cuts decorating that pallid chest and both arms made his stomach flutter; he hoped this would not be a time they'd have to make a trip to the abbey's doctor.
He sank to his knees, his hands automatically reaching out to brush away a few silver locks that clung to the other teen's damp face. The light touch caused the body to stir slightly before his eyes widened in something that was surely akin to shock.
"Tala," he hissed through clenched teeth, "I told you not to come tonight."
The redhead rolled his eyes and snorted. "Like I ever planned on listening to you. Besides, you really need to get those," a hand gestured to the wounds, "taken care of and it doesn't seem that you intended to do that anytime soon."
Tala prided himself in being able to tend to injuries almost as well as the doctors that had been specially chosen by Voltaire to work in the abbey. While he wasn't exactly glad to say he'd been practicing on his boyfriend, who often suffered the wrath of Boris, it was practice nonetheless and he seemed to get better at it each time.
Crystal, azure eyes spotted a bowl of water across the room and Tala immediately retrieved it with care, so not a drop of the precious liquid went to waste. A small tube of ointment (which he had taken from the hospital ward of the building without notice) with the flat, wide end rolled several times was also extracted from the depths of his pocket. Some of the deeper gashes would need to be wrapped, and the only thing missing was the bandages. It always took a bit of creativity on their part to see what they could find to dress the wounds.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" Bryan demanded as the other teen began to unzip his tricolored jumpsuit.
There was no answer, and Tala continued until the zipper ended at the blue waistband. He shrugged out of the sleeves and wasted no time tugging off the tight black tee that he wore underneath. Firmly, he gripped the shirt with both of his hands and tugged the shirt apart at one of the seams. The action was repeated on the other side, then one half was torn into various sized strips while the other was torn into four pieces.
Tala seized a quartered section of the cloth, dipped it in the bowl of chilly water, then diligently wrung the fabric out. He used it to wipe gently at Bryan's forehead and face, soothing away the sweat and flecks of blood that had dried there. After that followed his pale, slender neck, broad shoulders, and chiseled chest and stomach, stopping only to soak the piece of his shirt every so often. It made Tala feel jaded, if not much older than he truly was; most teenagers his age were going to the movies and doing other normal things, while he was confined to the abbey where he doctored up his teammate two or three times a week.
"When we get out of here I wonder if...we'll ever see our families again." He always spoke confidently about the future: when we get out of the abbey, when we escape, when they're done with us. When Kai had been a part of their team he had promised to set them free, along with the other hundreds of boys in that cold, unforgiving fortress of Russia. That small jewel of hope gave him the strength to wake up each day, to be able to reverse the physical damage inflicted rather delightfully by Boris. But healing physical damage was the best he could do, and he couldn't fix what the heartless man had done to mess with his lover mentally.
Bryan, much like the rest of them, had been a happy, playful child, once upon a time. He had become friends with Tala the first day they both arrived at the abbey, bold and animated. Now, his shining green eyes had become dull and everything he said stung with an underlying harshness. They had all become hollow shells, free to be poked and prodded at in the technologically advanced laboratories under blinding lights; free to be filled with whatever bullshit Voltaire wanted them to believe.
"I don't remember my family anymore," Bryan stated nonchalantly, as if he was talking about something no more trivial than the weather. He didn't bother to say anymore and Tala didn't press the subject, sensing that the discussion would not be welcomed or taken any further. He pulled away from the blue-eyed boy's delicate care when the last dark bandage had been tied in its place. "You can leave me alone now."
"I know, I know. I'm going..." the smaller teen muttered. Falborg's holder grasped him tightly by the back of his crimson hair, painfully bringing him down for a lingering kiss. It was rough, noses bumping and teeth clashing together unpleasantly. When Tala pulled away Bryan instantly rolled on to his side, facing away from him. He heaved an inaudible sigh directed to the back of his lover. "Good night, Bryan."
And he slipped away into the black, swirling abyss, stealing soundlessly through the night once more. It was harder to keep track of the doors he passed this time, fumbling ungracefully down the hallway and back to his room.
Alone, upset, and feeling a little more insane than before.
---
in petto - in private: secretly
tryst - an agreement to meet
--Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary Tenth Edition
Begin: 061405
End: 061605
Author: Tsuyomi
Pairing: Bryan/Tala
Rating: PG
Feedback: Quite welcome! I'd really appreciate any comments and/or constructive criticism...
Warnings: Shonen ai; angst; blood; brief half-nudity; language. I think that covers it all. o.o;;
Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade; Beyblade, its characters, and storyline are that of Aoki Takao and any others that may apply!
Summary: A look into the world of Bryan and Tala: their relationship, their future, and what happened to them in the abbey. Somewhat of a PWP.
A pair of bare feet padded silently down the stone floor of the hallway. The boy's eyes had yet to adjust to the darkness and he depended heavily on the hand that skimmed lightly along one side of the jagged walls. Every time he did this he risked being discovered, but continued to return despite the dangers. If he didn't count the number of doors properly there was no guarantee he'd make it to his destination or even find the way back to his own room. Just the slightest of mistakes could jeopardize everything. The mere thought of having no more nighttime visits was always enough to make him pay close attention to what he was doing.
Long, slender fingers groped blindly in the black for a moment before grasping the cool, brass doorknob tightly. He turned it slowly and opened the heavy door only wide enough to squeeze in, then closed it quietly behind him. By now his movements had become mechanical, almost thoughtless, unlike the first few times he had done this.
"Bryan!" he gasped softly at the sight of his lover sprawled out on the pallet in a far corner of the small room. The mustard-colored shirt and jacket normally donned by the Russian blader lay in a tangled heap by his feet, leaving him only in his burgundy pants. Fresh bruises and oozing cuts decorating that pallid chest and both arms made his stomach flutter; he hoped this would not be a time they'd have to make a trip to the abbey's doctor.
He sank to his knees, his hands automatically reaching out to brush away a few silver locks that clung to the other teen's damp face. The light touch caused the body to stir slightly before his eyes widened in something that was surely akin to shock.
"Tala," he hissed through clenched teeth, "I told you not to come tonight."
The redhead rolled his eyes and snorted. "Like I ever planned on listening to you. Besides, you really need to get those," a hand gestured to the wounds, "taken care of and it doesn't seem that you intended to do that anytime soon."
Tala prided himself in being able to tend to injuries almost as well as the doctors that had been specially chosen by Voltaire to work in the abbey. While he wasn't exactly glad to say he'd been practicing on his boyfriend, who often suffered the wrath of Boris, it was practice nonetheless and he seemed to get better at it each time.
Crystal, azure eyes spotted a bowl of water across the room and Tala immediately retrieved it with care, so not a drop of the precious liquid went to waste. A small tube of ointment (which he had taken from the hospital ward of the building without notice) with the flat, wide end rolled several times was also extracted from the depths of his pocket. Some of the deeper gashes would need to be wrapped, and the only thing missing was the bandages. It always took a bit of creativity on their part to see what they could find to dress the wounds.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" Bryan demanded as the other teen began to unzip his tricolored jumpsuit.
There was no answer, and Tala continued until the zipper ended at the blue waistband. He shrugged out of the sleeves and wasted no time tugging off the tight black tee that he wore underneath. Firmly, he gripped the shirt with both of his hands and tugged the shirt apart at one of the seams. The action was repeated on the other side, then one half was torn into various sized strips while the other was torn into four pieces.
Tala seized a quartered section of the cloth, dipped it in the bowl of chilly water, then diligently wrung the fabric out. He used it to wipe gently at Bryan's forehead and face, soothing away the sweat and flecks of blood that had dried there. After that followed his pale, slender neck, broad shoulders, and chiseled chest and stomach, stopping only to soak the piece of his shirt every so often. It made Tala feel jaded, if not much older than he truly was; most teenagers his age were going to the movies and doing other normal things, while he was confined to the abbey where he doctored up his teammate two or three times a week.
"When we get out of here I wonder if...we'll ever see our families again." He always spoke confidently about the future: when we get out of the abbey, when we escape, when they're done with us. When Kai had been a part of their team he had promised to set them free, along with the other hundreds of boys in that cold, unforgiving fortress of Russia. That small jewel of hope gave him the strength to wake up each day, to be able to reverse the physical damage inflicted rather delightfully by Boris. But healing physical damage was the best he could do, and he couldn't fix what the heartless man had done to mess with his lover mentally.
Bryan, much like the rest of them, had been a happy, playful child, once upon a time. He had become friends with Tala the first day they both arrived at the abbey, bold and animated. Now, his shining green eyes had become dull and everything he said stung with an underlying harshness. They had all become hollow shells, free to be poked and prodded at in the technologically advanced laboratories under blinding lights; free to be filled with whatever bullshit Voltaire wanted them to believe.
"I don't remember my family anymore," Bryan stated nonchalantly, as if he was talking about something no more trivial than the weather. He didn't bother to say anymore and Tala didn't press the subject, sensing that the discussion would not be welcomed or taken any further. He pulled away from the blue-eyed boy's delicate care when the last dark bandage had been tied in its place. "You can leave me alone now."
"I know, I know. I'm going..." the smaller teen muttered. Falborg's holder grasped him tightly by the back of his crimson hair, painfully bringing him down for a lingering kiss. It was rough, noses bumping and teeth clashing together unpleasantly. When Tala pulled away Bryan instantly rolled on to his side, facing away from him. He heaved an inaudible sigh directed to the back of his lover. "Good night, Bryan."
And he slipped away into the black, swirling abyss, stealing soundlessly through the night once more. It was harder to keep track of the doors he passed this time, fumbling ungracefully down the hallway and back to his room.
Alone, upset, and feeling a little more insane than before.
---
in petto - in private: secretly
tryst - an agreement to meet
--Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary Tenth Edition
Begin: 061405
End: 061605