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I Plead Insanity

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Shion threw open the door to the apartment he had been living in for the past three years or so and let it slam shut behind him. He tossed the bag he used for work into a corner of the entrance, not caring what happened to it, and sunk down against to door to hold his head between his knees. He clenched his teeth hard and took deep, gasping breaths. It had been a long, long day made harder by the engagement reception he had had to go to for a coworker. All the couples, happy and laughing and leaning on each other and smiling into each other’s eyes and…. He had had to plead a sickness coming on before he lost his mind.

Which clearly hadn’t worked since here he was, in the flat he had lived in since he left West Block and started working on the No. 6 reconstruction team, on the floor trying to keep himself from bursting into tears and his soul from breaking into miniscule pieces.

All the couples, happy…. It was what he had wanted for years. But who knew when the person he wanted it with would be coming back…if he would…. Stop that, he thought, clenching his teeth more and squeezing his eyes shut. Don’t go there, Shion.

He brought his head up a bit and fumbled for the back pocket of his slacks, eventually pulling out a few tiny scraps of paper and staring at the elegant script written on them. The writing made him think of the pale hands that had made the words on the little pieces of paper. Shion clamped the hand holding them shut and held the notes close to his chest, leaning over his clasped hands like he was protecting a small, hurt animal or child.

He couldn’t let himself cry. He just couldn't. No matter how lonely he felt, no matter how much he felt he needed to see that one person… he wasn’t going to. And he couldn't let himself cry; he would never be able to stop.

So instead he took a few more quick, gasping breaths and got up slowly from his spot on the entrance’s floor. He carefully, reverently, placed the notes back into the back pocket of his slacks. He shuffled over to his bedroom and collapsed on the bed without removing any of his day clothes.

Shion grappled with the fly on his pants for a moment, yanking them and his underwear down in desperation. He grabbed onto his cock and stroked, biting the wrist of his other hand to keep down his tears. He moved his hand quickly across himself, needing the release it gave him -- even if it wasn’t what he wanted most. He whimpered around his wrist and moved his hand faster. It hurt a little, it was chafing him, but he didn’t care. He needed to feel the momentary pleasure and respite orgasm gave him.

“Nezu --” he cried out, and choked back his sob as he came and coated his hand in white stickiness.

Instead of crying on the entrance floor of his flat, he curled up into a little ball on the too-big bed in his room, suppressed the sobs that wanted to wrack through his body every time he thought of Nezumi, and tried to sleep.