the-voltage-diaries · 4 years ago
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I’ll Stay by Your Side, Every Night - Soryu Oh
For our very own, @joaxotome​; one of the sweetest, kindest, and most amazing humans I have had the honour to meet. I don’t think I write Soryu that well, because the last Soryu piece I wrote was over a year ago lmao, but I tried. I hope you like this, Joanne. Thank you for being such an amazing ball of energy who can cheer anyone up in a mere few seconds. Love you. <3
Also, since you said you love yourself some angst to love, I tried to make it come true. Cheers to me writing better Soryu fics, hahaha.
This one’s for the discord exchange, and I’d just like to take a moment to thank our very own @voltage-vixen​ for hosting this beautiful event <3!!
TW: Angst (with fluff... or so I hope.) This work is based around the ideas of abuse; mental, emotional, physical. If you are in any way uncomfortable with that, do not read this. 
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“Are you going to cry now?” He smirks, his eyes glinting in a way that make the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
All I see is black as my eyelids force shut, not wanting to look at his face for a second longer, too scared to think about what will happen to me if I do.
“Hahaha,” he laughs and I sense him bending low, his face coming closer to mine. “Look at you, scared and shivering like the mess you are.” I shift uncomfortably, feeling his breath creating warm spots on my neck as his voice lowers, almost down to a whisper, “You asked for it, baby.”
“Ugh!” I jolt, my groan muffled against the cloth stuffing my mouth when I feel his fingers stroke the sides of my waist, teasing, testing the waters.
And then, before I know it, his palm comes to rest on my chin and in one swift motion his fingers pull out the dirty piece of fabric gagging me. My eyes burn with unshed tears at the pain in my mouth, caused by the sudden pull, and I take a deep breath, refusing to admit defeat in front of this bastard.
It’s okay. It’s okay. It’ll be okay. I’ll survive. I know I will. At least I hope I will.
“Baby,” he purrs, almost as if coaxing me, “Open those beautiful eyes of yours for me, won’t you?”
My breathing shallows and goosebumps show up on my skin at the nickname, the way he calls out to me in that god forsaken voice.
His rugged fingertips graze the corners of my jaw, almost as if luring me back into him, back into that web of pain, lies and suffering. “Look at me,” he whispers, and I shiver at the tilt in his tone, reminding me of the days when things between us started to go awry. “Don’t worry Joanne, I’m not going to hurt you.”
Just as his fingers tighten around my jaw, I hear the sound of a mobile ringing. He clicks his tongue in annoyance, and my sigh of relief goes unnoticed. I hear his footsteps as they back off and walk in the direction of the device which refuses to stop ringing.
My guess is that he picks up the incoming call, because no sooner than his feet stop do I hear him let out a muted, “What is it?” Again, I hear his footsteps move away, and then a door opens, and then it shuts. And then? Complete silence.
My uneven breaths echo in the silence so eerie you would hear it if a snail moved.
As I try to calm myself down, my mind chooses the worst distraction it possibly could have; my past with this man.
When did we become like this? Why did we become like this? What went wrong?
We had started off on such good terms. Both of us were madly in love. He was the perfect boyfriend; he would take me out on dates, message me constantly, shower me with his love, call me nicknames, spend time with me... or so I thought.
About a year into our relationship I realised how badly had I fucked up. I realised how blind I was to the changes in his behaviour; the way I didn’t notice how him taking me out on dates turned into him forcing me out when I didn’t want to go, just to show me off as his trophy girlfriend, how his constant messaging turn into something obsessive, how him showering me with his love turned into showering me with his abuses, how calling me nicknames turned into calling me a whore or a slut whenever I so much as even looked at someone else, the gender didn’t matter, how him spending time with me turned into him gluing himself to my side, never once leaving me.
Always on the look-out for when I’d commit even the slightest of errors. Because then he would unleash all his names, curses, abuses at me; making me feel like I didn’t deserve to be loved.
Well, maybe I didn’t.
Over time, those curses and abuses turned physical as he turned more violent, slapping me or beating me up for even the most minor of mistakes. Those verbal slurs turned emotional, making me feel like I didn’t deserve to be alive. Hah, what a cheeky little failure.
“Heh,” I scoff at myself, laughing at how naive I was to not realise when our love turned into something that would make most people sick to their core.
What makes me feel the most miserable about our past is that I allowed myself to be used and abused. Even when he didn’t reply to my texts, ignored me for days sometimes, and clearly had stopped even so much as glancing my way... I still hadn’t given up.
Not until that one fateful day when I saw him. In my bed. With not just one, but two bloody women.
Silly girl, one of his sex friends had said, smirking in all her naked glory, can’t you see the truth right in front of you? This is his little kingdom, and you’re not the queen anymore.
“Argh,” I groan, my thoughts coming back to the present when I feel my bound wrists numb with pain at a tear in the thin skin that covers them. Rolling my shoulders to forget about the pain for the time being, I pull at the rope tying my wrists behind my back, in futile hopes that it would come loose.
“Ah, I always loved the feisty side you hid underneath all that cute drama.”
I jump and my body freezes in its spot, my eyes widening at the proximity of his voice.
In my peripheral vision I see his face, his chin coming to rest on my shoulder with him standing right behind me.
When did he come back?
“While you were too busy reminiscing about the beautiful bubble you had created for yourself with me,” he chuckles, as if reading my mind. Looking at the way my eyes refuse to un-widen, he continues, “You were always easy to read. Now weren’t you, Joanne?”
“Why are you doing this?” I whisper, my head bent, refusing to stay up any longer.
“Because, Joanne,” he starts, a lewd smirk lining his face when I let out a choked sob on the use of my name, “I want you to have your epiphany.”
“My what?” I ask, looking up at him, wondering if I heard him right.
“Your epiphany,” he repeats. I feel the throbbing in my wrists relax as the ropes slowly come undone, surprising me. He slowly walks around me, coming to a stop just in front of me. My heart only pounds faster when I catch the glint of the knife in his hands. “I want you to realise what a useless little bitch you are without me in your life. Nobody loves you, kitten. Nobody did, nobody would.”
“Stop...” I whisper, bowing my head in defeat, trying to mute out all his words in an attempt to stop them from having their effect on me.
“You, Joanne, are a pretty little good for nothing.” He smiles, his palm resting on my shoulders. “Your friends run away from you, your peers refuse to talk to you. Ever wondered why?”
No, Joanne. Don’t listen. It’s okay. It’ll be okay. Every thing will be fine. Just breathe.
“Because, oh darling,” he murmurs, dragging the knife’s tip up my neck, slowly, “you are so very broken and no one cares to notice.”
“I trusted you,” I say, finding the courage to meet his eyes from god-knows-where. I meet his challenging gaze head on, trying to sound as angry and frustrated as I feel, “I trusted you so much.”
“Well then you can’t exactly blame me, can you? It was your mistake.”
“What the fuck do you want?!” I yell, immediately regretting it when I see how his smile turns from teasing to predatory.
“What do I want?” He mutters, bringing his face so close to mine I can feel his disgusting breath on my lips. He drags the tip of the knife lower... and lower... and lower, until it reaches my abdomen.
I can’t think.
“You want to know what I want, Joanne?”
I can’t breathe.
"I want so many things," he whispers. "I want your mind. Your strength. I want to be worth your time." 
His eyes hold me still, as if commanding me to stay where I am.
His fingers graze the hem of my top and he says, "I want this up." He tugs on the waist of my pants and says, "I want this down." He touches the tips of his fingers to the sides of my body and mutters, "I want to feel your skin on fire. I want to feel your heart racing next to mine and I want to know it's racing because of me, because you want me. 
And then I hear the sound of something sharp piercing skin, and the sound of blood oozing out. My eyes slowly travel down to look at my waist where the knife rests, buried deep in my body.
Because you never, " he breathes and pulls me up to him, and looking up, in the depths of his eyes I see the formation of something that makes me lose my mind, "never want me to stop. I want every second. I want every inch of you. I want all of it." He smirks, pushing the knife deeper into me as his fingers come to rest on my chest, where I feel my heart pound, "I want your soul."
And I drop dead, all over the floor.
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“Joanne?” I hear a voice call out my name. It’s almost distant. Almost.
All I see is pitch black as I feel my heart pound out of control and my body grow hot.
“Joanne, love,” The voice says, insistent, and it’s as if my body automatically relaxes a little at the familiarity of it. “Can you hear me? Wake up, baby.”
I feel the urge to reach out and grab at the voice, and so I do. I stretch out a hand into the darkness that surrounds me, in the hopes of grasping on to something, not knowing what it is.
“JOANNE, WAKE UP!” I sense someone’s fingers curl around mine, grabbing my outstretched hand, and pulling me towards a strong, warm chest, immediately jolting me awake.
“Wha-What?” I whisper, not quite catching up with what is going on. All I see in front of me is a navy blue hoodie, covering a broad, strong frame, and I look up to meet a familiar pair of eyes, as calming and deep as the ocean.
“Hi,” he says, giving me a relieved smile. But for some reason, while my body calms down, my mind delves right back into the state of panic as I feel my nightmare overlapping with my reality.
“Get away from me!” I yell, pushing him away, and jump away from the bed, running to the opposite end of the room.
“Joanne?” He calls out, his eyes widening in surprise, maybe not expecting me to run away. Oh no, maybe I angered him. Maybe he will beat me up now. Oh no.
“Don’t take my name!” I say, covering my ears. I can still hear his voice ringing in my head, letting my name out from his sickening lips.
He gets out from the bed, slowly, steadily, and looks at me with a warm, comforting gaze, “It’s me, Joanne. It’s Soryu.”
“S-Soryu?” I murmur, slowly looking up to meet his eyes. I try to calm my ragged breathing down as I gradually start registering what is going on. But the moment he takes a step towards me, I immediately jump back.
“Love,” he coaxes, “at least let me clean you up. You’re all sweaty.”
Wait. I am?
It’s when he says that do I notice the state I am in; my face wet with tears, my body sticky with sweat and my fingers trembling with fear.
‘... Joanne, I’m not going to hurt you.’
“Come here,” Soryu says, opening his arms for me.
“Why?”
“Just come here,” he mumbles, taking a step forward.
“No!” I shout, stopping him in his tracks as I flinch away. “You’re going to hit me.”
“I’m not going to hurt you, Joanne.”
“I’ve heard those words before.”
He looks at me, his hair still a mess, and in that moment in the pale moonlight he looks more handsome and more human than I have ever seen him. “I guess I’m asking you to trust me,” he says, opening his arms wide, once again, for me to fall into. 
I stand there, shaking in fear for a moment, but when I see his deep, grey orbs look at me with so much longing and care, I finally start to take slow, deliberate steps towards him.
Within a few steps, I fall into his strong embrace, letting it consume me and make me forget about whatever I dreamed of.
When his fingers comfortingly start stroking my back with extreme patience and give me that sense of security I was so desperately searching for is when the dam breaks and all the tears I had been holding in rush out.
He stands there, silent as a graveyard, patting my back in a rhythmic pattern, not once judging.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask not being able to think of an answer myself.
“Doing what?” He murmurs, his voice muffled by my hair as he rests his mouth against my head, kissing the spot before staying there.
“Treating me like a person,” I whisper.
“I’m doing this because,” he starts, pulling away to look in my eyes. His fingers gently grab my chin, guiding my face towards his, to make sure our eyes are locked, “I love you, Joanne.”
My lips form a smile when I realise how much he means every one of his words. “I love you too, Soryu.”
He smiles, his fingertips stroking my cheek, patient. His other arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer to him.
“What are you thinking?” I ask, my fingers reaching up to play with the soft fabric of his hoodie.
“I’m thinking of how I want-” he stops when he sees my face go pale.
‘I want your soul.’
“Never mind what I want,” he whispers, effectively stopping me from going too far into my nightmares again. “What do you want?”
“You.”
I suck a breath, surprising myself at how I don’t even waste a second to say it to him.
Always you.
“Love,” he brings his face closer to mine, his voice low, “You already have all of me.”
I gasp at the amount of emotion in his voice, the ineffable level of care those eyes hold for me, and he bends lower, his lips almost touching mine.
“May I?” he asks...
... when he doesn’t need to. I smile, gently standing on my tip-toes and pressing our lips together.
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