Snippet #2678735

"Alright alright," Haruka sighed and scooped the pile of clothes from Ava's arms. He turned towards the bathroom and entered, locking the door behind him.

He began to work on unbuttoning his pants, but stopped. The teenager leaned against the wall, slowly sinking to the floor and holding his head in his hands.

"It's all the same," Yukimura murmured to himself, looking down at the bland mosaic tile under him. Changing in bathrooms to meet new employers and customers. Being given clothing to wear. Having a job that relied on his looks, his ability to please others, and his modifications. At the thought of such, he grabbed onto the end of his tail and brought it in front of his face. A chill ran up his spine with even the lightest of touches along the semi-prehensile limb; the nerves used in the implant were almost too sensitive for their own good.

"So this is what I've become again. I thought I could get away." No matter how far he ran, how often he cut his hair, or who he met, nothing was going to change.

First I'll work and get tips for my looks. Soon, the boss'll make me wear tighter clothes to bring in more customers. Before I realize it, I'll be working out back for 'massages' again, being a rent boy. Then it'll become every day, no more working in the cafe itself. If I don't do a good enough job I'll get 'the room' again, and master will be upset, and when master is upset, I get the medicine..

Haruka found his head in his hands, curled in the fetal position against the wall. Tears streamed down his wrists, past the assortment of scars along his arms, each one seemingly from a different source from the irregularities in the marks. For the first time in a long time, the boy wept. For several minutes, he let himself go, no facade to put up, nobody to hide from.

"I don't wanna go back, I don't wanna go back, I don't wanna go back," he repeated endlessly, barely forcing the words out past his sobs. After a few dozen repetitions, his babbling became unintelligible, until he gave up and returned to trying to breathe.

"N-no. I won't," Haruka sniffed and wiped his face. "If this is who I am, so be it. If they want to take me back, then let them fucking try."

Yukimura looked to the pair of fresh clothes, and changed into them. He no longer felt dirty and exposed, possibly out of sheer indignance. "They already took so much of my life, I won't surrender the rest of it."

Once dressed, he wiped his somewhat-red eyes with the beanie. He emerged, his old clothes folded in a neat pile in his arms, with the hat gently laid on top. His ears were standing up at attention, and his tail trailing behind him instead of being tucked in his pants.

"Alright, I'm ready."