filetofish | PSLS BECAUSE GAY

--What?

[Maybe he should have expected Rean to say surprising things when he's really really high, but Crow's still shocked. How can he hear something like that and keep doing this? He doesn't want to. He wants to get Rean out of here and deliver him safely to Class VII's arms. But he can't. If he wants to keep fighting he has to follow even this order.

He steps back, though, just for the comfort of distance.]

You're high. You're not accomplishing anything like that.

Mm. Yeah.

[He laughs, light hearted.]

But it'll work out. I don't know how, but I definitely think things are going to be fine.

[He reaches for Crow but the distance is too much so he just blinks at his fingers.]

Maybe it's the thing you gave me? I just feel really positive. I will make you come back, and it'll be okay.

You won't.

[Not now. Not with what they're going to do to him.]

Give it a few weeks and I doubt you'll even remember you wanted to.

[He feels too good to be disturbed or threatened.]

I could never forget. You're too important.

You will.

[He says it with force, because the idea of Rean remembering no matter what is too painful. He really wanted to be beaten. He wanted to be dragged back, and he's mourning the chance that it could happen. It could still, maybe, if he rebelled, but he's not going to. He can't. He chose his priorities a long time ago.

So for now he's turning to leave. He can't bring himself to do anything really cruel.]

[Rean's having a fine time in his empty room, up until he isn't. When the drugs drain thin in his system and his body starts crashing. The withdrawal is bad. The first one leaves him shaky and sweaty, throwing up in the tiny bathroom, curled on the floor and crying.

The first one is the easiest.

The next time Crow comes he fights harder, yells louder. But the high takes hold like before, and like before Crow is long gone when Rean is left crying and shivering on the floor.

After five days his arms are bloody and scabbed from Rean clawing at them. And there's something wrong, the high should last longer than it does but every day the period shortens alarmingly and the withdrawal gets worse, the pain and craving lasts. On the first day the high lasted twelve hours, the fifth it's down to six.

On the sixth day Rean doesn't fight, doesn't get up from the curled ball of misery he is on the floor. He doesn't offer his arm but doesn't struggle when an orderly drags it up from where it's tight around his knees.]

[Crow's been dutifully taking notes. He comes in every day, coldly administers the drug, and watches Rean just long enough to see how he feels. From there it's a hidden camera and the vitals-monitoring device stuck to his skin that tell Crow how the withdrawal is going.

He hates it. He hates seeing Rean cry, and he hates seeing him lost in the high just as much. This is meant to erode Rean's sense of self, but Crow likes Rean. He doesn't want to lose him. But he has to. He tells himself that if he was willing to annihilate Crossbell, fucking Rean up should be small potatoes. But every day he has to put on a blank face, to keep himself from losing it.

Today's no different. He's quiet and cold, injecting Rean and standing back to watch it kick in. The goal here is to make Rean so desperate he breaks -- to make him willing to do anything for his fix, and to make his identity fade. The more drugs he takes the more it'll eat away at his memory, and while he'll remember everything when sober, when he's high it'll get harder and harder to be anything but a creature that exists to stay that way.

They're not there yet. But soon they will be. Today though Crow's just given him a bigger dose, so the pleasure is greater and will last a little longer.]

Have you accepted it yet? That you lose.

[Rean looks up at Crow tiredly. The drugs aren't kicking in yet, soon, but there's a red tinge to his normally soft pink eyes. His breathing is kind of shallow. But there's nothing about him that seems threatening.]

No.

[It's quiet and sad. He's aware right now, and when he's only in mild extreme pain, which is often these last few days, he has time to think. His body is doing things he can't control, control has been wrenched from him, daily, but he won't give up on Crow. Not as long as he's aware of himself.

The problem is the stretches of time he's not aware of himself.]

I...

[He can feel it starting already, creeping into his head, numbing and shrouding the pain and his sense of who he is.]

I'll remember you. No matter what. So at some point I'll drag you back...

[His eyes start to dilate, the pain dulls. He's not sure why he was upset.]

....

[That hurts. Even more than before, Crow's sure that he doesn't belong back there. Even if Rean won now, how could Crow ever return to a happy peace? He's done too much. He's crossed lines he never wanted to cross.

He wants to stop, but the more he does this the harder that becomes. He feels like he's already messed up too much to recover from, and if there's no recovery why not just keep going? Moving forward, no matter the pain.

He's not hurting nearly as bad as Rean, so he can't complain. He can keep his distance though, and he's not remotely able to make eye contact.]

It'll be easier for us both when you forget.

[He hasn't forgotten but it's getting hazy. Distant and unimportant. What's important is the drugs. And not coming down from this. He needs it.]

Don't go.

[He says softly, looking at Crow with that drugged out gaze. Not quite focusing.]

...Why?

[Crow always leaves. He can't stand to stick around and watch Rean, not when he's like this and not when he's in withdrawals. If he's alone with the cameras he can break down all he wants, but he won't allow himself to show any emotion to Rean's face.]

I don't want to be alone.

[He's sounding softly high, mellow. But like this he's still aware of what comes later, and as much as negative emotions can penetrate, he's scared of it.]

...You're already alone.

[Ugh. It's not new to Crow, this pretending he doesn't care thing. But it stings more sharply than it used to.]

Get used to it.

[He starts to say something and then just... Stops. The pleasure is sapping away his ability to think or care, his memories of why he should, but he's still aware enough that the heartbreak is naked in his expression.

He doesn't believe that. He doesn't believe he's alone but he doesn't know how Crow can go through with this either.]

...Crow...

[Honestly the drugs are wearing him down but what might be worse is the loneliness. Solitary isolation except when Crow comes to get him high, the non-interactions with those who bring food, Rean isn't a person built for this kind of loneliness.]

Honestly, you should just quit talking to me.

[Because he's horrible and doesn't deserve it. But he's trying to make it sound like he's irritated by it instead. Like he's fine with all this and Rean's friendliness is a bother.]

Unless you're answering a question, nothing you say has any use.

Sorry...

[His voice is a little off and floaty, mellow, getting strung out.]

I must be really disappointing you, not finding a way out already.

[He smiles, like that isn't even a bad thing now. The words are sad, even his expression is sad, but the drugs are strong and does it really matter?]

I'm not disappointed.

[Crow snaps the words harshly, too emotional for how cold he's trying to be.

He's not disappointed. It's not Rean's fault. It's Crow's, and it's eating him up inside. This is so much worse than just fighting Rean.]

Just forget it. I really don't need you throwing your feelings at me.

[His breath is hitching a little, the higher dose, the pleasure making him flush and close his eyes briefly.]

Not gonna forget. Promised.

[He's sure he's sad about some things, but that seems so very distant. It's nice now, everything is so... good, right now. He doesn't want this state to stop.]

I don't care.

[He does care. That's why he's going to storm out, and slam the door behind him. He just can't stand being around Rean, like this.]

[At least when he's high it feels good. They want him to be able to fight on this drug so the pleasurable affects aren't all encompassing, but they're certainly there. Worse is the affect on his mind, erasing his awareness of self and his memories when he's in the height of it. He's not immune to boredom, exactly, but it's hard to be bored when you can just get off or touch your own face and find it fascinatingly pleasurable.

The higher dose leaves him strung out for a while but all too soon the crash comes, and it's harder.

This time is a little different than the others. Not curled on the floor vomiting and sobbing but instead curling on himself and clawing at his skin, screaming incoherently to get it off, get it out, make it stop. Bugs under his flesh, or something crawling. That's what he thinks. He tears up his arms and his neck until his nails are dripping and bloody, his eyes turned red and his hair white and his demeanor feral and mad. He scratches under his eyes, leaving scratches on his face, and licks at his bloody nails when he finally calms down.

But the calm doesn't bring a reversion to his normal look, like something broke a little in him, and he's stuck like this.

The next time the orderlies step into the room he attacks them. Unsuccessfully, but with more strength than he's had before.]

[Crow has to watch it on the monitors. He has to take notes, and they have to sound objective.

It's the worst. As he watches and listens to Rean break, he can feel his own heart shutting down. He can't go on like this unless he really stops caring, so he's willing himself into a deadened state.

There's a horrible emptiness in him, when he comes in this time. But he still does it. He watches Rean struggle, and he gives the injection, and then he leaves before anything else can happen -- leaves the orderlies to check vitals with the device stuck to Rean's skin. And that's what he's going to do for awhile. He can't deal with it, so he's letting himself die inside, and spending as little time in Rean's presence as physically possible. He's not even giving the injections himself anymore, after that day. He just stands there near the door and watches it be done, and then leaves.]

[After the first day Rean doesn't attack again, he holds his arm out for the injections, and he doesn't try to talk. There's something distinctly wrong with him. He only stares at the walls when he's high and he goes wild when the drugs where off, and then in the between, when he's lowkey miserable but not in the worst of coming down, before the scheduled injections, he simply lays on the floor.

He eats, a little, and when he stinks too much he lets them shove him in the shower. But he doesn't do much else but crawl to relieve himself in the toilet and then crawl back to the floor. The bed's there but he doesn't bother with it.

He's boring, to watch, when he's not screaming. The most active he gets otherwise is taking off the bandages they keep putting on him and clawing open scabs to rend deeper scars into himself. His arms and neck are not going to heal right, the scratches under his eyes are likely to scar at this rate too.

Probably the worst is that sometimes he looks at Crow, when he holds his arm out for the drugs, but he doesn't try to say anything. Or maybe it's worse when he doesn't look up at all, just keeps his head tucked to his knees and thrusts his arm up blindly.]

[Crow hates this more than he's ever hated anything, and that takes a lot of hate. But it's too late to stop now. He's committed. He can't take it back, no matter how badly he wants to.

So he keeps it up. And then finally it's time for the next phase -- Rean's left completely alone for three days. No injections, no manhandling, nothing but the food and water shoved in the door and left for him. The question they're testing is: how much will Rean do to get his fix? How desperate will he be without it, and how well can they control him with it?]

[The first day is... Bad. He eats a little and then huddles in a corner, getting increasingly agitated, scratching his wrists raw and bloody for hours.

The second day he doesn't eat, and he keeps scratching, though he sleeps more, exhausted and sick. Between that he licks at the blood from his nails, claws, licks, claws, licks, claws, licks.

The third day he continues not eating. Well, not the food he's given. He starts gnawing on one of his nails, and then on his fingertip. At first it just looks like semi-normal stress chewing but he keeps going. Biting into the flesh of his own finger like he can't feel the pain. It escalates fast, from chewing to outright tearing at the meat of his finger, trying to crunch through the bone, like a starving animal thrown meat. Except the meat is himself and there's actual food not that far away and yet here he is.]

[Crow watches for the first two days, feeling nauseous but doing his best to keep his feelings flat. On the third he gets so worked up he has to walk away -- he even goes to protest it. This is going too far. There's no need for it.

But when he argues, Cayenne pushes a button no one should push -- he slaps Crow, shamelessly, lecturing him about his place, about who's in charge, about how easily he could throw Crow to the wolves. Normally it wouldn't happen, but Rufus isn't there to keep things under control, and that's a fatal mistake on everyone's part.

Crow deals with it by decking his boss. After that all bets are off so he takes off for the depths of the facility, and shoves Rean's door open just in time to see him taking a chunk out of his own finger.]

--What the hell?!

[He's across the floor in no time, yanking Rean's hand away from his face.]

That's enough!

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