Chapter 69: Wound for a Wound
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CW: Explicit language, blood and gore, violence, mentions of dub/noncon, mentions of drug addiction, mentions of emotional abuse. 


Jun returns to the Temple the next day, after taking a short respite at the estate. True to her word, Mira disappears from his side as soon as they enter the Slums, and though he can no longer see her, he does sense her presence. A flicker in his periphery. A tingling upon his nape. A shift in the air.

It’s cold.

The usual summer heat is replaced by the damp, mildewy chill of an approaching autumn.

Jun’s unsurprised to see Rin by the Marquis’ side when he enters the courtyard, but it still comes like a blow, leaving a rancid taste, like blood, in his mouth. They’re at the animal pens, chatting animatedly with each other. Laughing. Touching. Each progression of this foul scene twists the little lord until he feels no longer himself. Just a petty, ill-tempered thing, deluded of his possession of another.

But of course, he has possession of nobody. Least of all, his most cherished person.

“You have to go for the fat ones!” Rin climbs into the chicken pen and grabs a round feathery ball that squawks in a panic. He keeps a tight hold of the spooked creature and thrusts it under the Marquis’ nose. “See? Doesn’t it look delicious?”

“If you are hungry, I can have Princess buy you chicken legs from Sweet Brier.” Korain pushes the chicken away with the tip of his finger. “You have always been so enthusiastic for food.”

“Well, it’s one of the three things you need for a good life.”

“Oh?”

“Drink, food, and fucking!”

"What a simple creature you are," Korain hums and picks out a feather from Rin’s unruly hair. The latter flushes pink and smiles, despite himself. “If you so wish, then you may have the chicken.”

“Really?” Rin leaps out of the pen and holds the poor chicken over his head like a trophy. “Princess! Princess, come and pluck the chicken–” His voice catches in his throat when he sees his little lord, watching him with a dark expression.

He slowly lowers the bird and hugs it to his chest. Defensive. “Oh. Bijan. Where have you been?”

Jun’s golden stare bores into the raven like a direct beam from Solaris itself, burning and scorching his very flesh.

“Bijan Azar!” The Marquis exclaims, sweeping his arms out to the sides in a dramatic welcome. He approaches the gloomy lord and gives him an amicable pat on the back. “We thought you had run off for good! Leaving like that without telling anyone, least of all your good friend here. Why do you not join us for our midday meal? It seems like Rin has his heart set on chicken.” He laughs  and brings a slender hand to his chin, ever so elegant and poised.

“You two seem to have become rather close in my absence,” Jun says in a low voice. “You ask me where I was, however I could return the same question. Where were you last night, Rinnie?”

The raven visibly hesitates. His grip on the chicken loosens and it makes its great escape, flapping and squawking madly as it launches itself out of his grasp. Freedom is brief when a passing Hound deftly captures the dumb thing and tosses it back into the pen.

“...I was with Korain,” Rin says, slowly. Warily. He flits his gaze to the Marquis, but the latter appears distracted by the sky, humming and smiling to himself. “I couldn’t sleep. So I had a small drink with him. Is that a problem?” He poses the last in a sharp tone, eye narrowing in irritation.

“Why would it be?” Jun says, his own gaze turned heavy-lidded. “It was but a small drink, was it not?”

“...It was.” But there’s uncertainty there. A flicker of confusion. Memory of a kiss, many kisses, linger upon his lips. Groping hands. A keening desire. Heat licking over his flesh like an uncontrollable blaze…

“Rinnie. Are you lying to me?”

Rin starts, his heart skipping a beat at the lord’s blunt question. “What do I have to lie about?”

“Indeed, your good friend has no reason to deceive you,” Korain lilts, giving the lord a syrupy smile. He seems to be enjoying this tense interaction. “Are you, perchance, upset that we enjoyed ourselves without you, my dear advisor?”

The lord’s waterlines flinch upwards, narrowing his cold, golden glare. Every muscle tenses as if he were about to launch an attack. “Of course not,” he says, shortly. “I am glad you enjoyed yourselves. But I do wonder what exactly is the nature of your relationship. It has been rather unclear.”

“Do you know what a Marchioness is, Bijan?” Korain glides over to the lord and stands before him. He reaches out and straightens his collar. Fingertips graze his neck. “A Marchioness is the title one gives whoever weds a Marquis. While we are not legally wed, Rin and I have a…close bond. It is inevitable, considering our shared history. Surely, you have a Marchioness of your own, oui?”

“I do.” Jun steps just out of the Marquis’ reach, smoothing down his own collar. “But he is being rather noncommittal. So easily swayed is he by another.”

Rin grits his teeth, anger spiking. “Sounds like you’re jealous. Why don’t you do something about it, if it distresses you so much?”

“I will,” Jun returns, evenly. “I am. However, it is also dependent on his understanding of boundaries. Marquis, what do you know of commitment?” Those goldens remain fixed upon Rin, never straying from their target.

Korain raises a brow, glancing between his advisor and Marchioness. "There must be loyalty, of course,” he says, brushing invisible dust from his robes. “If there is none, then there is no trust. No true commitment.”

“Shouldn’t his word be enough? Trust goes both ways, doesn’t it?” Rin interjects, hand on hip. “Anyway, as long as he’s not fucking anyone else, what does it matter?”

“If it is inconsequential, then why would he lie?” Jun asks, grimacing.

“Maybe he knows that you’d freak out for no good reason–”

“Kissing another man is no good reason, is it?”

“One kiss isn’t a betrayal.”

“It was not just one kiss.”

“How do you know? Have you been watching?”

“It is a fair and obvious assumption to make.” Despite his anger, Jun’s ears flush red. “But I was willing to give him the benefit of doubt. Perhaps he does not understand what commitment means.”

“I’m sure he knows what it means. He’s not an idiot.”

“In his line of work, it would be understandable–”

“Oh, so it’s because he’s a whore?” Rin jeers the word, an ugly grin stretching across his face. “He’s a whore, so he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. Is that what you’re implying?”

"Those are your words, not mine!"

The two men glare at each other, breathing hard. The tension breaks when Rin erupts into laughter, the sound hateful and strident. He doesn’t even bother pretending anymore.

“Hey, fuck you.” Tears of anger gather in the corner of his eye. “Poor, poor Bijan. Falling in love with a common whore. You probably should have run while you had the chance. You know what – I’ll give you an out right now. If you leave, I won’t come running after you. It’s a clean break. A fresh start. Whaddya say? Hm? Tempting, ain’t it?”

Anger, confusion, and hurt - they flit about Jun’s blanching face like moonlight scattered over rippling water. Dancing in and out of focus.

The light extinguishes from his eyes. He gives Rin an empty look. Dark and hollow. He simply shakes his head as he walks past, never offering another word. The great door creaks open and shut. And then, there’s nothing.

Rin scrubs his eye, cursing under his breath. He feels sick. Sick and hot and stuffy. Like he’s swallowed a bucket of embers. He stumbles to the chicken coop and leans on the fence, trying to control his torrid breaths.

How could his commitment to his little lord be so blatantly questioned? Him, who has made a vow to dedicate his life to the guy. To work like a dog under a blueblood for him. To kill for him. And he’s getting shit on for what, a few meaningless kisses?

It’s laughable. He could laugh. But he finds that he can’t.

He wrings the wooden fence under his palms. Splinters prick at his callouses.

“Bijan Azar is more than a friend to you.” Korain’s silken voice pierces through the thick brume of emotion, clearing the anger, the confusion, just enough for the raven to find his breath.

“It’s…I…” Rin stammers and stutters, his expression collapsing into one of consternation. “....Yeah. I guess so.”

Korain glides to his Marchioness’ side, standing tall as he gazes at the latter. A faint smile hangs upon his lips. A glint of pleasure. “Why did you obscure this fact?”

“I didn’t,” Rin protests, heatedly. He pauses, frowning. “I mean. I did, initially, when I thought you were a dick. But…I suppose I don’t have to hide it anymore.” He scratches the side of his neck and peers up at the elegant man.

From this distance, he can see the sheen of sweat upon Korain’s brow. The pinches of pain and sickness. Light trembles that wrack his body. It’s clear that he’s already undergoing Slowane withdrawals, and it sends Rin’s heart aflutter.

He’s really doing it. He’s quitting Slowane for me. 

The coarse spikes of anger sands down, softening the youth. He smiles and takes Korain’s quivering hand, intertwining their fingers, holding on tight.

The Marquis' fingers are soft and delicate, his palm silken smooth. His touch is far different from Jun’s, whose hands are strong and calloused.

Rin’s chest aches.

“And yet…you remain here, by my side.” Korain presses his body into Rin’s, bringing his lips close to his ear. Hot breath puffs, sending a shiver down the raven’s spine. “Why do you not go after him?”

The youth rubs his tingling ear and glances away. “I don’t think that’s what he wants.”

“How quickly your relationships crumble.” The Marquis chuckles, straightening up. He sweeps a strand of Rin’s hair behind his ear, clearing his profile. “It is a bad habit of yours, bébé souris.”

“A bad habit? What about this is my fault? If the guy hadn’t been spying on me, then we wouldn’t have this issue.”

“Maybe you should not have kissed me, if you were committed to each other.” An amusement shines in those phoenix eyes.

“It’s just a kiss. Doesn’t mean anything at all.” He pauses, bringing his fingers to his lips. Memory flickers. “I mean…I was drunk. Nothing means anything when drink’s involved.”

“You weren’t drunk the first time,” Korain reminds him, lips upturned.

“...You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Rin squints at the man suspiciously. “We’re not getting back together, Korain. Even if Bijan doesn’t want me anymore, I’m sticking to him.”

“Obsessive. Another bad habit.”

“If anyone’s obsessive, it’s you,” Rin bites back, scowling.

“Whatever happened to Bijan’s promise to never leave you, hm?”

Rin’s expression becomes complicated. Conflicted. “I know it’s what he promised. But I…”

“You do not believe him.” Smug satisfaction infiltrates Korain's voice.

“I do believe him,” Rin protests, worrying his bottom lip. “I do. He’s just…pissed. And I need to give him space. That’s all.”

"You know that is not the truth.” Korain strokes the back of the youth’s head, trickling his fingertips down his curly tresses. He hums in admiration. “Why do you not leave him first? Why obsess over someone you cannot have? Just come back to me, mon amour. I am still here. After you left me. Pushed me away. I kept waiting for you to return. And I am easy to be with, am I not? I am someone familiar. Someone you know. Bijan…he is complicated. Painful. Messy. And there is no guarantee that he will be as patient as I.”

“He waited six months for me.”

“I waited five years.”

“You also hurt me.” The raven turns his pale visage to Korain. There’s a detachedness in gaze, as if he were trapped in the haze between sleep and wakefulness. “Bijan’s never hurt me. Not intentionally. Not like you have.”

The Marquis’ smile fades. Regret colours his expression and shame stays his tongue. He brings a trembling hand to his eyes, rubbing them lightly as if he were trying to hold back tears. “It was the only way I knew how to love,” he says in a near whisper. “I was taught from a very young age that the more you loved another, the more imperative it is to confirm their resolve, their loyalty. My father tested me from the moment I could hold my own head up and until the day he died. His last words were that I must not let his body out of my sight until the snow melted, when the soil is soft enough to turn. Do you know how long three months is, when you’re trapped in a house with a corpse?”

Korain brings Rin’s hand to his lips. Grazes his knuckles with a soft, imploring kiss. “That was the only way I knew how to love you, mon amour. I had to test you, understand you, pull you apart until I knew everything there was to know about you. Otherwise, I could not be with you.”

The pitch from Rin’s memories, visceral and insidious, gnaws on his periphery. “You loved me so much, you tortured me for months. That makes sense. All is fucking forgiven.” He spits the last, ripping his hand free. He can’t look at Korain anymore. Not without his stomach flipping.

Does Korain's explanation justify his abuse? Absolutely not.

But a broken part of him wants to say yes.

“I do not expect to be forgiven, mon amour. Not in this lifetime. Perhaps, not ever. All I want is for you to give me another chance. Watch me get clean for you. Watch me save our home. And then maybe, maybe you will have the heart to love me again.”

Such pretty words, to entice and entrap. Rin touches his own chest, feeling his heart pound against his palm. It hurts. Everything hurts. He can barely breathe.

“I don’t know about loving you,” Rin says in a wavering voice. “But I want to see how far you can take it. I want to be the one to test you, for once.”

“Then I will accept this test. Gladly.”

Korain gathers the raven into his arms, pulling him into a gentle embrace. He’s so skinny, Rin thinks in alarm, allowing himself to sink into the other’s touch. Just skin and bones. When’s the last time he’s eaten?

Unlike Jun’s hugs, Korain’s is cold and awkward. He’s such a delicate frame, Rin’s scared of hurting him, so he ends up tensing every muscle and holding Korain as if he were made of glass.

Has he always been this fragile? Is this truly his personal monster?

It’s not too dissimilar to the time when he realised that the Mother – despite how terrifying and imposing she is – is still human. A human who has her own flaws and weaknesses. A human who trips and makes mistakes.

And Korain. He has never been more human.

***

The junkyard is quiet that night, lacking the usual Last Cycle vultures. The cold snap continues to sap heat from the air. A taste of autumn to come.

Rin ambles down the twisting path through the junkyard, quietly ruminating on the two thorns in his sides as he puffs away on a cigarette he pilfered from Happy.

He feels torn in two directions. His past and present manifested in two desires that are not yet entirely his. He thought this would be easy. He hated the Marquis. His obsession turned to calloused hatred. A complete demonisation of the entity that wore Korain’s beautiful face like a mask.

And then. And then somewhere along the way, the hatred disappeared. Like an old wound reopening, he found himself reliving his memories, his past, those long buried emotions came surging back with renewed vigour.

And his little lord. He’s there, always, like a golden ray of light in Korain’s murk. He’s the unknown factor that throws everything askew. The piece that doesn’t fit into this fucked up puzzle.

Rin flicks the butt of his cigarette away. The tarry bitterness lingers in his mouth.

“How long are you going to follow me?” He turns to glare into the spiky shadows, subtly reaching for one of his blades. “If you have something to say, then just say it.”

There’s a long, terse silence. And then, a ragged figure steps out of the shade, big boots and all but looking worse for wear – Titch the Bitch.

“I don’t have anything to say to you.” She labours as she speaks, a lingering symptom of having her tongue ripped out, perhaps. Her cracked lips stretch into a leery grin and she flips the switch blade in her hand with expert ease.

“Well. You look like shit.” Rin makes a show of drawing his tanto, just one for now. The ex-Hound doesn’t really seem to pose much of a threat. “And it looks like you got your tongue reattached. Shame it doesn’t work that well.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re here to kill me?”

Her insidious grin widens.

“What, because you got yourself kicked out of the Pack like a dumbass? How is that my fault?”

“He did it for you.”

Rin frowns, lowering his tanto a tad. “Korain? He didn’t kick you out for me, you moron. He kicked you out because you went all rogue on him.”

“Rogue?” Titch laughs, a mean guttural sound. “Why the hell would I go rogue? I know what the boss would have done to me if I had.”

“You expect me to believe you?”

“I expect you to use your fucking brains for once, Rat.”

Titch’s speed catches Rin off guard – he barely has time to raise his blade before he’s slammed into a rusted car.

His heart vaults madly in his chest as he struggles to free himself, but Titch has weight and muscle over him. Her switchblade nicks his throat.

Titch brings her face near. Their noses almost touch. “You don’t need two eyes to see that he’s manipulating you. It’s not even that subtle. Stop thinking with your dick, Rat.”

“I’m not thinking with my dick,” Rin grits out. He angles his head to the side and takes a shallow breath.

“Then why haven’t you killed him? Why are you playing Marchioness?”

Rin glances back at Titch, startled. “What are you–”

“Everyone might be fooled, Rat. But I know what you’re up to. I knew the moment I heard that you agreed to come back to him. After what he did to you? That doesn’t make any sense. Unless you’ve really gone mad.” She pauses and draws back a tad, brow nocked. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“Maybe.” Rin shoves at her, giving himself room to breathe. He rubs the thin cut on his neck, smearing the blood. “If you’re not here to kill me, then just tell me what you want, Titch.”

The woman rocks back on her heels. “I want in. Whatever you and that prissy Westerner are planning against the Marquis, I want a part of it.”

“Because he took your tongue?” Rin scoffs, readjusting his grip on his tanto. “You don’t even know what we have planned. Or if there is a plan at all.”

Yes! Because he took my fucking tongue!” she shrills, kicking at the nearest hunk of metal. The spikes on her boots puncture through the rusted sheet. A grating bang echoes through the yard, ringing for long after.

She seethes through grit teeth, blistering with palpable rage. “I don’t just want him dead, Rat. I want to rip his tongue out and stuff it down his fucking gullet. And then I want to do it to other parts of him too. Piece by piece, he’s going to chomp down on himself and he’s going to enjoy every moment of it.” There’s a mad glint in her eyes as she paints the gruesome scene and she’s practically salivating by the end of it. “And, well, maybe then I’ll kill him. Or maybe not. Depends how good of a show he puts on.”

Rin wrinkles his nose in distaste. “Look, pet, I know what he’s done to me, but that’s all in the past. The guy’s different–”

“The boss isn't capable of change,” Titch growls, stalking close and stealing his hard-won space. “And it’s clear that you’re not either. Shame. I thought you had better sense than this, Rat. But you’re like everyone else here. Just a mangy mutt who spreads their legs as soon as he gives you the slightest bit of attention.”

A wild laugh rips out of him and he gives her a sharp-toothed grin. “I'm thinking this isn't about revenge, but about wanting a little taste for yourself. And I don't blame you. His cock is so delicious--”

With an maddened shriek, Titch swipes at his face with her blade, beetroot red.

Rin slams back into the car, narrowly avoiding the attack, and throws himself to the side. He skips away from the enraged ex-Hound with a giddy laugh. “This is your last chance, Titch. You can piss off right now and I'll pretend this never happened."

The woman shrieks her mirth. “You're his whore. Think I'm just gonna let you go?”

"So this is about wanting Korain for yourself, huh?"

Titch grins, flexing her grip on the switchblade. "I think I prefer that Westerner friend of yours. Once I get rid of you, I'll play with him for a bit. See how he fares. Do you think he's a screamer or a sobber?"

Rin's smile drops. His expression flattens. Empties of everything that makes it human.

"Maybe he's neither," Titch taunts, delighted that she found an ostensible sore spot. "Maybe he's the kind to check out. You know what I'm talking about, don't you? Their eyes go glassy and no matter what you do to them, they just lie there like they're already dead--"

Hellebore eye erupting in a splendorous crimson plane, he zips towards her, ducking under a flailing strike and sweeping his blade across her belly.

Blade bites through flesh. Blood sprays in a light mist, painting his face.

A hoarse scream fills his ears and rattles his skull, but he keeps going, never pausing for a breath, just moving, moving like the wind. He dodges her clumsy attacks and strikes where he can, whenever he can, rending her flesh until she’s mere viscera.

She drops to her knees, reeling from the blood loss and pain, drunkenly swiping at the air with her blade. Deep groans rattle in her lungs with every laboured breath. Her eyes rove wildly, blindly, trying to follow his swift movements, but unable to keep track.

He catches her by the wrist and breaks it with a clean snap. The switchblade falls to the ground.

Pushed to the limits of her stamina, Titch can only sob as she cradles the broken limb to her chest.

Rin grabs her by the jaw, raising her pain-addled visage to his own. “You don't touch my person.”

Bloody spit strikes his cheek in response.

She flinches at his expression, anger turned to terror when she realises her impending mortality. Her eyes snap wide open, scleras flashing in the gloom.“...R-Rat,” she stammers, weakly. “Rat, come on. I was joking. I won't touch the boss. I'll leave him alone--”

"I wasn't talking about Korain."

Her eyes bulge, terror-glazed with a hint of wonder. And there’s the stench of shit and piss.

When she finishes her metamorphosis, from her to it, he rises to his feet and empties his stomach.

Nausea twists his insides as he drags the corpse into the sea of hard rubbish. He stuffs it inside of a–what was it that Jun called it? A drying mechanism?

His strength falters midway so he leaves the legs hanging out. A meal for the crows.

This time, his sickness eases in minutes, as opposed to hours. When he’s finished clearing all signs of death, he’s feeling himself again. There’s a cold satisfaction that fills that crippling emptiness, sharp and shallow yet just enough to ease the painful gnaw of hunger.

When he inspects himself, he’s perfectly calm, save for the lingering adrenaline pumping through his body.

“This was necessary,” he affirms aloud, glancing at the silhouette of the Temple in the distance. Dead silence responds to his uncertainty.

He wonders what Jun would say. And then, he decides that he doesn’t want to know.

Rin continues down the twisting path, an amble through the junkyard, back to where he was.

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