Fake Fan Fiction ❯ Portrait Without Sin ❯ Lost ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: FAKE, nor any of it's characters belong to me…* sigh *… those rights all belong to Sanami Matoh.

Warning: Not your 'nice' everyday fanfic of your favorite couple. Very strong language / Humiliation (depending on how you look at it) / Angst / Lime, Lemon / Yaoi

Rating: NC-17

Summary: How would it be if the one person you trusted with your heart was found to have betrayed it? Seeing him there, with… 'him' was nearly more than he could bare. He never thought that he would do something like this. He never thought that he would be betrayed by him.

Take above Warning seriously.

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Italicized words = stressed emphasis

Bold Italicized within apostrophes 'like this' = thoughts

********** = skips of moments, time, views, and such

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Portrait Without Sin

By: Ryoan

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Part 3: Lost

His boots tapped quickly and harshly against the wooden flooring of the hallway as he headed toward the elevator. Only anger fueled him to move, otherwise the gripping pain that he felt crushing his heart, would have had him crumble to the floor and weep like a baby. He couldn't have that. He needed to get out. He needed out so that he could breathe before he suffocated there, too.

He thought that he had finally found the other piece that completed him. It had certainly felt like it. And after all that time chasing after Ryo, building a relationship with him…… He thought that he knew his half Japanese partner, but, then, he sarcastically chuckled inwardly at himself. It just proved that no one ever really knew anyone.

What a fucking waste! All those years to get him, and they couldn't last a year after he had! Now his life and heart was shredded beyond measure… again. Old feelings of being alone, being deceived, crept back around his heart, making him feel as though he just wasn't destined to love, be loved, and be able to keep it.

His finger pushed at the button on the wall, even before he had came to a complete halt. He stared fixedly at the metal closure for about ten seconds before he pushed the button again. It was even a shorter time than that when he pushed it again,… and again, and again until a frustrated growl rose up out of his throat. With the side of his fist, Dee gave the button three or four more jabs, -- as if the elevator would hurry any faster by abusing it -- before finally hearing it ding and the door slid open. Stepping into the cubical, he quickly smacked the button for the first floor.

He looked up to give one last look down the corridor, and he saw Ryo standing there. He had managed to put his pants back on, but the top button wasn't done. He stood there barefooted and shirtless, hair mussed up, and reaching one hand out to him as if to make him stop. A mixture of emotions were displayed upon him face, including a loss for words with his mouth hanging partway open, and his dark eyes reflecting as much.

"Good bye, Ryo," his mind silently said with finality, and he turned his face away because he couldn't bare to look at him the remaining couple of seconds before the door closed.

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Ryo collapsed to his knees as the elevator door closed. Dee was gone. Of course he could run down all the flight of stairs, but knew it wouldn't make a difference. It wasn't like he was just mad and took off to cool down a bit as he would occasionally when they argued. This was different. This left a lingering emptiness in the air. This felt truly as if it was the end.

How could he have thought that he could have kept this a secret? And from a cop, no less! Had he been so lousy of one himself, that he had given Dee enough clues over the past weeks for him to decide to follow him? Had he been so wrapped up in his own excitement that he hadn't noticed sparking his partner's curiosity? Surely he had to have, or Dee wouldn't have shown up there at Armon's. After that… well, it wasn't a scene in which he would have wanted his lover to walk in on.

The expression that crossed Dee's features those few seconds that they stared at each other, relayed the message that it was too late to even try to give an excuse. Still he ignored that; calling out to him, dressing quickly, and rushing out without so much as a good-bye to the other man left behind.

He hadn't given heed to it even when he arrived at the apartment. He wanted to explain, but Dee's feral temper cut him off and backed him down time after time. Things came to a head and this was the result.

Dee was gone.

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Dee drove aimlessly around the city. There was no real direction in which he headed -- just as long as there was motion outside his window that was all that mattered. There were times that he just wanted to shove his foot down on the pedal and just take a chance with what fate wanted to do with him next, only he was afraid that -- as a joke -- he'd survive to continue the entertainment of his existence.

It had felt like he had been shot, stabbed, beaten, and run over by a truck. He had hurt so bad, but he was numb for the time being, except his throat felt raw from both crying and holding the sounds back. His eyes felt glued open from the crystals of salt drying around the edges.

He did not know for sure how long he had been driving around, for his mind had been in too much turmoil to be bothered with such a trivial thing as time, but eventually he pulled up outside a building. There were lights still on in a couple of the upper floor windows, and also the front door step and inner hallway was lit as well. It was a change from what he was use to, and even though it was now familiar to him, it wasn't the place he had belonged.

He sat in the car, staring up at the door thinking that he hadn't ever felt as lost and alone as he did right then.

After a while, Dee got out of the car, locking it behind him, and went up the steps to the door. He figured it would be locked by now, yet still he tried the knob. When it didn't give, he reached for the black button at the side.

"Yes?" came a voice through a crackle of electric.

"It's me. Dee."

A small buzz sounded immediately, and the dark haired man was able to turn the handle and open the door. He stepped inside, closing it with a click, and began to walk down the empty corridor. The tap of his boots landed a bit differently than when he had marched down the hallway at the apartment. Whether it was because of a subconscious respect, or he was just to damn spent to expend the same energy, they didn't have the snap of the enraged man he was a while ago.

Before he managed to get halfway down the hallway, Dee heard the soft tapping of someone else's footfalls, and soon saw a figure making their way down the steps that he was headed toward. Both met at the bottom nearly at the same time.

"Dee?" the female's voice questioned with concern, seeing the young man before her with apparent turmoil on his face. "Is everything alright? Has something happened?"

He could no longer hold the older woman's gaze, and he dropped his lashes over his eyes to hide the pain in his soul. His head fell forward, and turned to the side. Opening his mouth, Dee tried to speak but nothing seemed to come out. He used his hands as if to help direct his voice outward by their gestures, but still there was nothing. The burning sensation behind his lids began to sting again, and the pain in his throat closed off the escape of any words.

Cracking his eyes open was like turning a key in a lock. He could feel his hands start to shake, and a flooding wetness started racing down his cheeks. Next thing he knew, he fell to his knees, and wrapped his arms around the thickened waist of Mother "Penguin". His tears soaked into the terry cloth robe she wore, and his cries were muffled against it as well.

Withered hands came up around the child that she had watched grow into a fine man, giving what comfort she could. It was the first time, since Dee was five years old, that she had ever seen him cry.

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