Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12329046.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      Multi
  Fandom:
      Free!
  Relationship:
      Nanase_Haruka/Tachibana_Makoto, Kirishima_Ikuya/Shiina_Asahi, Kirishima
      Natsuya/Nanase_Haruka
  Character:
      Nanase_Haruka, Tachibana_Makoto, Kirishima_Ikuya, Shiina_Asahi, Kirishima
      Natsuya, Hazuki_Nagisa
  Additional Tags:
      Emotional_Hurt/Comfort, Pedophilia, Child_Abuse, Child_Neglect, Sexual
      Abuse, Rape/Non-con_Elements, Drug_Use, Anxiety, Panic_Attacks,
      Depression, Anorexia, Haru_has_anorexia, Makoto_has_anxiety, Nagisa's
      parents_neglect_him, Ikuya's_father_sexually_assaults_him, Asahi's_mom_is
      abusive
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-10-11 Updated: 2017-10-26 Chapters: 6/50 Words: 4384
****** A Club For the Broken ******
by blossomatris
Summary
     There's only one rule:
     Listen.
Notes
     I'm going to say this once: This fic is a vent fic and it will
     contain explicitly sensitive topics with extremely graphic details.
     If there's anything in the tags that may trigger you, turn away now
     because I am not beating around the bushes with this story.
***** Theft of Innocence *****
⦅Kirishima, Ikuya ⨟ ⦆
 
Had he simply woken up at the creak of the door, or the dip of the bed, or the
removal of his blankets, maybe Ikuya could have stopped it that night. Or,
maybe not. His father was stronger than him and bigger, something he used to
his advantage. So, perhaps when the hot hand slid under his shirt and jerked
him awake, it would have happened anyways, whether or not he’d woken up sooner.
Grabbing his father’s wrist, fingers twisting his nipples, did nothing but
encourage him in his drunken state. The scent of alcohol was already smothering
Ikuya.  
            “No,” he mumbled. He felt sick to his stomach and he was still half
asleep.
His father crawled on top of him and pulled his shirt off, despite Ikuya’s
resistance.
“Please, don’t. Not- not now. Stop, please, stop.” His voice wavered and his
muscles trembled as he struggled to keep his father’s hands off of him.
            “Mm, you smell beautiful, Ikuya,” the drunken man hummed deeply.
His fingers hooked under the waist of Ikuya’s pyjama pants, and in one swift
motion, he had his son naked underneath of him.
            Ikuya’s breath caught in his throat. The second he felt his
father’s rough hands rip his legs open, he cried out for his brother, knowing
he was sleeping in the room a few steps down the hall. As soon as the words
left his mouth, those rough hands that were previously running over his legs
snapped up to his neck and mouth.  
            His dad’s fingers lined up perfectly on the bruises on his neck
from earlier.
            “Iki... Iki…” his father growled. His eyes were hooded and his
chest heaving. “You know what happens when you call for your bitch of a
brother.”
            “Don’t call me that,” Ikuya whispered, turning his face away from
the rancid breath that was hitting his face.
            “Why not? It’s fresh; holds more innocence. We’ve overused Ikuya,
don’t you think? I love the way Iki tastes in my mouth. It’s sweeter. Sweet as
sugar.”
            Ikuya swallowed down a whimper as his father attached his mouth to
his collar bone, biting harshly. Tears welled in his eyes. The hands on his
mouth and neck pulled away and yet again tore his legs open, allowing his
father’s leg to slide between them. One hand wrapped itself around Ikuya’s
penis, and the other one pulled at Ikuya’s hair.
            He turned and looked at the digital clock glowing in the darkness.
            04:11. His father sucked at the skin between his thighs, trailing
his tongue in places that made Ikuya’s body reel. He silently pleaded for
Natsuya to help him.
            04:13. His pinched his nipples so hard, tears slid over Ikuya’s
face and he couldn’t stop himself from pathetically begging for him to stop.
This only spurred his father on even more.
            04:18. His father leaned back, sitting up and pulled Ikuya down,
shoving his face ito his cock. With no other choice but to obey, he opened his
mouth and instantly, his dad pushed him down, the large member hitting the back
of Ikuya’s throat. Every time a sob got caught behind the member in his mouth,
his father would moan and tear feverishly at his hair.
            04:24. His father had three fingers penetrating him, and he
continuously groaned, “Iki, you’re so fucking tight.” Every time his dad spread
or curled his fingers, Ikuya shut down a little bit more.
            04:32. His father forced his face into his pillows and lined his
penis up behind him, thrusting in. Ikuya gripped his sheets so tightly his
hands went numb. He was crying, dissociating, and sobbing into the pillow. He
did not enjoy it.
            04:36. There was pain ripping his back end apart. He hated having
to give the blood and semen covered sheets to Natsuya to try to clean.
            04:40. Heat exploded inside of him and his father growled, ripping
his head back by his hair. Ikuya was clawing at the sheets.
            “Onii-chan! Onii- Onii-chan!” he cried. His father, having reached
his release, collapsed on top of him.
            04:41. Natsuya threw the door open, hair messy from sleep. He
flicked the lights on and rushed towards the bed. He grabbed their fathers
passed out body and rolled him unceremoniously onto the floor.
            “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Ikuya coughed out as Natsuya
wiped tears off of his younger brother’s cheeks.
            “It’s not your fault,” Natsuya whispered in a low voice. He picked
up Ikuya’s shirt and handed it to him. “We’ll clean you off. I’ll wash your
sheets. You can sleep in my bed until you need to get up for school. It’s going
to be okay.”
            Ikuya looked down and saw thin rivulets of red staining his inner
thighs.
            Natsuya helped him off of the dirty bed and Ikuya nearly collapsed
as pain shot up his spine. Natsuya pretty much carried him to the washroom and
ran the shower. He helped his younger brother into the tub. Ikuya didn’t take
the shirt off.
            “While you’re cleaning up, I’m going to go wash your sheets, okay?”
            As soon as Natsuya had shut the bathroom door behind him, Ikuya
slowly slid to his knees and cried, the tears suffocating him.
            And this time, it had only lasted 30 minutes.
 
***** Withered Confidence *****
⦅Tachibana, Makoto ⨟ ⦆
 
School work was done in the student support centre on his bad days—like
today—and on better days, he attended class with Haru. But the bad days seemed
to be more common than the common cold and Makoto rarely saw his friends
anymore.
            Thirty-five minutes of work and already the anxiety was thundering
in his chest like a stampede of horses. He dropped his pencil, nauseated, and
sat back. As usual, the anxiety was vague, but always, always, there. He never
knew why he was anxious, and that made it hard to explain himself.
            There was always one class that he couldn’t run from—ironically—and
that was PE. The dread of having to change in the locker room; have everyone
watch him struggle to coordinate himself with the activities; and the sweat,sat
in Makoto’s stomach like massive hunk of ice. He would rather do a million
tests than go to gym class.
            The only thing that made PE the slightest bit manageable was being
with Haru. Having his small body beside his own made Makoto’s anxiety lessen.
He knew that Haru hated PE just as much as he did, but for his own reasons.  
            Currently on the court were Kisumi and Ikuya. Volleyball was
clearly not Kisumi’s strong point, and that made Makoto feel a bit better.
            But then the coach shouted “Tachibana! Nanase! You’re up!” and the
anxiety swooped in like a wave.
            Ikuya and Kisumi walked off their side of the net, Kisumi giving
Haru’s shoulder a light slap and Ikuya panting, his cheeks flushed. Makoto
hated King’s Court. There was too much pressure and everyone that who wasn’t
playing was watching. All eyes were on you, and if Makoto messed up (which he
always did), then everybody would see and laugh about it for the rest of the
day.
            The two current ‘kings’ eyed up their new opponents before serving.
Makoto instantly dissociated, his anxiety physically hurting his chest. He
wasn’t aware of his actions. He wasn’t aware of Haru’s movement beside him.
            It felt like it went on for hours.
            But then, Haru was too slow to get the ball, and it bounced down
onto the floor. Makoto tumbled back into his body and his eyes zeroed in on his
friend, breathing heavily. His chest was heaving far too much for just a few
minutes of activity.  
            “Haru, are you ok-“
            “I’m fine,” Haru interrupted. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes
were glazed.
Makoto had seen Haru faint before, and it was always the worst thing he could
ever witness. Every time he was terrified it was going to be the time that Haru
wouldn’t wake up.
            The pair walked off the court, drifting towards Ikuya and Kisumi.
Makoto’s stomach was twisting painfully. When they stopped, Haru put a hand on
the stage and steadied himself. Kisumi eyed him, clearly concerned.
            “You don’t look too good,” the pink haired boy said. “Maybe you
should tell coach you need to take a break. Or sit down? Drink some water or
something.”
            Haru shook his head, but his expression told them all a different
story. Makoto didn’t know what to say—he never knew what to say to Haru when
this happened. Haru was trembling like his limbs were made from noodles, but
Makoto had never felt so tense in his life, bracing himself for Haru’s knees to
give out on him.
            “You need to eat,” Ikuya said.
            Haru opened his eyes and took his hand off the stage, and snapped,
“As if you weigh more than me, Kirishima.”  
            Ikuya glared and his fists clenched. “Yeah, well, when you die in
your fucking sleep, don’t say I didn’t try. At least I’m healthy and can
fucking stand for longer than five minutes.”
            “Okay, Ikuya… I don’t that’s really helping,” Kisumi said, looking
uncomfortable.
Haru’s usually lifeless eyes were steely.
            Makoto chewed on his tongue, tasting blood. He reached over and
wrapped a hand around Haru’s boney wrist, and he turned away from Ikuya,
looking at the volleyball court. Kisumi glanced at Makoto—not in the dark about
Haru’s eating disorder—and swept Ikuya away.
            Makoto swallowed and look at Haru’s bent head. His wrist was still
in his grip.
            “Haru… Do you- Do you want to- to- Do you want me to take you to
the nurse’s office?” Makoto asked quietly. Haru’s face was pale and covered in
a sheen of sweat.
            “Please,” Haru whispered, twisting his shaking, twig-like hand
until it grasped Makoto’s tightly.
            And Makoto shoved down the flutter of his heart, told the coach
where they were going, and slowly walked Haru to the nurse’s office.
***** A Safe Haven *****
⦅Hazuki, Nagisa ⨟ ⦆
 
Nagisa loved school—sometimes. It was an entirely different place than home
where people actually listened to what he had to say and the teachers actually
seemed genuinely invested in his work. Nagisa felt entirely different at
school.  
            When Nagisa was at school, he felt like a person. An honest, three-
dimensional person with thoughts, feelings, and opinions. Nagisa could actually
breathe and get out of his head for once. He was surrounded by all of his
favourite people who accepted him for him.
            Nagisa whipped open the door to the club room and shouted, “Asahi-
chan! I would like to inform you that as of now, you are a part of my
expirement.”
            Asahi looked at the second-year and blinked. “How so?”
            Nagisa seated himself in a wooden chair around the centre table,
placed his folded hands on top of it, and said, “Not tomorrow, but the next
day, I want you to go to my house and ask where I am. Like, as if you want to
hang out or something. I want to see if that sparks some sort of ‘oh, I haven’t
seen our youngest child for the past few days’ thoughts in my parent’s brains.”
            “I would feel kind of bad doing that,” Asahi said.
            “And you don’t feel bad about the fact that I’m going to be
homeless for the next week?”
            Haru walked into the club room and interrupted the conversation,
saying, “No you aren’t. You’ve already moved into my house.”
            Asahi looked at him. “And you let him?”
            “I didn’t know until I woke up this morning for my run and
practically stepped on him.”
            Nagisa winked and was about to say something else when Makoto and
Ikuya entered the room. Makoto still wore his school uniform, but Ikuya had
changed into grey sweats and large mossy green knitted sweater that swallowed
him whole.
            Asahi sprung out of his chair, planting his hands on the table and
saying, “Alright, Kirishima, take a seat. I’ve been worried about you all day.”
            Nagisa looked between Asahi and Ikuya, already confused and
curious. Haru and Makoto were watching as well, and Nagisa took note that Haru
wasn’t looking all that peachy. Perhaps today’s club meeting would be a tad
heavier than Nagisa thought.
            Ikuya slowly sat down into a chair. He was still for one second
before his face cracked and tears flooded from his eyes.
Nagisa froze, hypnotized by the way Ikuya’s eyes welled with tears before they
slipped over and raced down his cheeks. He was fascinated with the way Ikuya’s
fists were held in front of him as if he didn’t know what to do with his hands
as his body shook with sobs.
            He was fascinated, hypnotized, in awe at the way Ikuya’s usual cool
exterior could crumble and would crumble every day during club.
And, as a club rule, you weren’t allowed to comfort anyone until they’d spoken.
If someone was crying, the only job they had was to listen—something Nagisa’s
parents had failed to do with him.  
            He paid attention as Ikuya got his story out through his sobs and
tears.
***** Food Poisoning *****
⦅Nanase, Haruka ⨟ ⦆
 
From his spot on the roof, it looked like the pool below was full of glitter as
the sun glinted off the tiny ripples that the wind was creating. A couple of
girls were down by the side of the pool, giggling and circling their feet in
the water.
            Haru blinked lazily and thought, they have very beautiful bodies.He
let his eyes wander to their chests, entranced by the way their slim shoulders
and prominent collar bones melded right into small breasts; a smooth journey
from their breasts to slight waists and delicate hips; delicate hips attached
to thin legs. Their bodies were like a waterfall of perfection.
            Haru glanced down at his own body. More like a rock fall of flaws.
            “Haru? We’ve been looking for you.”
            He turned around and looked at Asahi, standing at the door to the
roof. Behind him was Makoto. He didn’t respond to Asahi. He gave once last look
at the girls and then walked towards his friends.
            Makoto was biting his fingernails again. Once he moved out of the
doorway, Haru noticed that Ikuya was behind him, his small body folded closely
inwards and his big, feminine eyes void of emotion. Haru felt resentment rise
in his stomach and rest in the back of his throat as bile.
            Ikuya was everything that Haru was not.
            “Where’s Nagisa? I thought he was here today?” Makoto said, eyes
scanning the rooftop.
            Haru let out a breath. “I haven’t seen him.”
            Makoto’s flickering eyes came to a stop, resting on Haru. Somehow,
his sad eyes grew even sadder and he asked, “Have you eaten, Haru?”
            Haru looked away.
            “I brought some extra food today. Um, for you. I didn’t think you
would have eaten. It’s nothing that’ll be hard to eat, I promise,” Makoto said,
offering a lunch bag.
            Haru kept his eyes averted and muttered, “Thank you.” He felt no
gratitude. He did not want the food.
            Asahi flopped down on the ground and placed his own lunch in front
of him, opening it up and taking a bite of a wrap. Ikuya sat down beside him.
Haru tried to not feel sick and Makoto just sat, holding his lunch.
            “No one’s going to judge you,” Haru said to Makoto, blinking. “If
we’re going to judge anyone, it’ll be Asahi.”
            Makoto smiled faintly and rocked slightly. “I know. I just … I just
don’t want to eat.”
            “Why would you bring your lunch if you don’t want to eat, then?”
Ikuya asked bluntly.
            Asahi spooned some rice into his mouth and scolded Ikuya. “C’mon,
Iki, it’s nothing new.”
            Ikuya’s eyes fluttered shut and he said quietly, “Don’t call me
Iki.”
            The other three looked at him. He’d never been bothered by the
nickname previously, but they could remember Ikuya’s story well enough. Ikuya
was more than rattled by his father calling him by his safe name.
Haru couldn’t stop from looking at Ikuya; couldn’t help his eyes from following
the slight form of his body. He was tiny. Small, and delicate. He was
beautiful. Disgusting as it was, it was no wonder why his father treated so
vulgarly.
            Ikuya’s body simply faded into his clothes—clothes that were always
too big—and his limbs looked like things you could easily snap. His thighs
always held a gap between them. His collar bones protruded sharply. His hands
were slight and small.
            Haru began to count the calories he’d already burnt that day so
far. He had gotten out of bed early this morning and gone for a run before
returning home for a cold shower. He hadn’t touched a single piece of food all
day yet.
            All his efforts and he was still big and hideous. He hadn’t reached
perfection yet, and at this rate, it seemed he never would. Albeit, he was
getting closer to his goal, but it seemed every step forward was followed by
five steps back.
            Haru was going to show his father that he could be perfect. He
could be the son that he wanted. He would be. He would be.
***** Beaten but Not Broken *****
⦅Shiina, Asahi ⨟ ⦆
 
Aiko and Asahi were both in the washroom, glopping makeup on their bodies to
cover the cuts and bruises. Aiko was putting layer after layer of foundation on
her cheekbone to hide the growing purple spot.
            “I can’t even see it,” Asahi mumbled, glancing down at his own only
barely visible finger prints on his arm, as well as his scars.
            Aiko powdered her face and stared at her reflection, her mouth
turned down in a frown. Her eyes were pooling with tears. Asahi rose his eyes
from his arms, to her face, and then down at her own arms, thin and laced with
small cuts.
            “Are you not going to cover those?” Asahi asked, his voice low.
            “I … will. I’m just waiting for you to be done with the
foundation,” his sister replied, swallowing thickly.
            Asahi sighed heavily and finished off applying makeup to himself,
sliding the products to his sister and left the washroom. She closed the door
the second he was out and Asahi heard her cough out a sob.
            Their mother was passed out on the sofa, an arm hanging limply over
the side.
            Five minutes later, Aiko left the washroom with clean flesh and
bright eyes. Within a few minutes, she had pulled herself together and put on
her public façade. They grabbed their stuff and left the house to meet up with
Ikuya and Natsuya.
            As they approached the two Kirishima siblings, Natsuya took one
look at Aiko and asked, “Is everything okay?” He had a look of concern on his
face.
            Aiko smiled and stroked a hand down one of her pigtails, saying,
“Yeah, I’m okay. Don’t worry. I’m fine.”
            Asahi stared at her, but didn’t say anything. He fell into familiar
step beside Ikuya and stared down at the pavement as they walked. Ikuya
was—unsurprisingly—silent on their way to school, and Asahi struggled to find
something to fill the silence.
            Ten minutes passed. Natsuya and Aiko were chatting themselves, and
eventually faded away as they split in the direction of the high school. Next
year, Asahi and Ikuya would be going with them.
            Asahi stretched and linked his fingers behind his head, looking at
the sky rather then the pavement.
“Did you hear? Nagisa’s doing another social experiment. He’s going to see how
long he can be gone for before his family notices.”
            Ikuya’s tilted his head down to the side, saying quietly, “Hasn’t
he done that one already?”
            “A while ago, yeah, but he thinks it could go longer this time.”
            “Is he coming to school?”
            “Yeah, he said it would ruin the experiment if he didn’t. School
would call home if he missed classes and then his family would be suddenly
aware of his existence.”
            Ikuya gripped the neckline of his uniform and buried his mouth into
it, gazing blankly at the pavement ahead of them. Asahi’s stomach lurched as he
examined his friend, and he asked in a quiet voice, “Did he touch you again
last night?”
            Ikuya’s eyes fell shut briefly before he opened them again and
said, “I’ll tell you after school, okay?”
            Asahi knew not to pry and simply nodded before they continued on in
silence.
***** How Things Can End *****
⦅Tachibana,Makoto ⨟ ⦆
                                        
The day was coming to an end and Makoto was feeling good; happy; calm. He was
excited to walk home with Haru, maybe hang out at his house for a bit. It was a
good day.
            But then Haru stood up after class and utterly dropped like a dead
weight. Makoto’s positive mood dropped as instantly as Haru had. He shouted for
the teacher, collapsing to his knees. Haru was pale and barely breathing. The
teacher rushed over and knelt down, picking up a thin, lightly scarred wrist.
            “Makoto, can you get the school nurse, please? Quickly,” the
teacher said.
            Makoto got to his feet, his hands already going numb, and rushed
out the door, crashing into Ikuya.
            “Oh, my god,” Makoto said, snatching Ikuya’s sweater before he
fell. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I swear, I didn’t see you. I’m in a rush.”
            Asahi nodded and tugged Ikuya back by the bottom hem of his jumper.
“Clearly. What’s up? Who’s chasing you?”
            “Haru passed out again,” Makoto stuttered out. “I’m going to get
the nurse.”
            “Oh. Shit,” Asahi said, peering into the room. Ikuya, beside him,
folded his bottom lip between his teeth and swallowed thickly. “Do you need
help?” Asahi asked the teacher.
            The teacher kneeling beside Haru glanced up and shook her head. She
had her phone to her ear. “No, you two go to your club activities. Makoto, get
the nurse.”
            Makoto nodded and turned back around, running down the hall and
stairs, going to the nurse’s office. His head was slowly filling with sludge
and clogged his ears until all he could hear in his head was his own heartbeat.
            Two minutes, he was back in the classroom, watching the nurse try
to draw Haru into consciousness. Sirens of an ambulance could be heard, quiet,
but slowly growing louder and louder. Makoto could hear himself asking if he
could ride with Haru. He could hear the nurse telling him, “No, go to your
activities”.
            He watched the paramedics hoist Haru onto a stretcher and strap a
mask over his nose and mouth. They wheeled him out of the room and a small
crowd of spectators had begun to form. The teacher who had called the ambulance
was shifting through drawers, searching for Haru’s contact information.
            From the classroom window, Makoto watched the ambulance speed away,
Haru locked inside. His chest was iced over and he felt dizzy, thinking ‘This
time, he wasn’t going to wake up. He was going to be hooked to a million tubes,
left in a coma until somebody ended things for him’.
            “Hey, Makoto,” a quiet voice said from behind him. “Ikuya and Asahi
are in the club room. They’re waiting for us. Why don’t we head over, yeah?”
            Makoto turned to Nagisa, standing in the doorway. His hair was
glinting on his head like a golden halo and his bright eyes shimmered, almost
like a doll’s. Makoto glanced once more out the window and then slowly made his
way towards Nagisa. He slung his arm around the shorter one’s shoulders and
whispered, “I’m don’t feel too hot right now.”
            “He’ll be alright,” Nagisa mumbled, wrapping an arm around Makoto’s
waist. “He’s going to be okay. He always is. He just needs this little bit of
time to reboot, you know? He was getting bad again. We saw this coming.”
            “How many times is he going to ‘get bad again’ before he doesn’t
‘get better again’?” Makoto whispered, his throat closing up. Nagisa helped him
up the stairs and they started their way towards the room at the end of the
hall.
            Ikuya and Asahi were already at the table. Asahi was playing some
cooking game on his phone and Ikuya was still as a statue, watching him with
the cuff of his sweater in his mouth. Both looked up when Nagisa and Makoto
entered.
            “Should we go see him when he wakes up?” Asahi asked. He paused his
game.
            Makoto shook his head. “No, you know how he is. We should… We
should give him some time to get back on his feet…”
            The past times that Haru had collapsed, he would come to and become
irritated. Makoto knew he got frustrated because he thought he had failed, and
he was embarrassed. Haru hated to admit that by not eating he was causing his
body harm, but it was pretty hard to admit that fact when he was hooked up to
machines in the hospital with doctors telling him what he was actually doing to
himself.
            He especially hated it when all of his friends, the doctors, and
his mom tried to convince him to accept some help.
            Makoto could remember the first and last time he’d tried taking
some of that professional help. Haru got so fed up with it that he simply
broke. He refused food more than before, he stopped speaking, he spent more
time in the bathroom scratching at the back of his throat than not, and he took
an interest in his mother’s sleeping pills.
            The moment his mom took him out of therapy, he began speaking
again, he had a small meal and he returned an empty bottle of sleeping pills to
his mom.
            Makoto sat down in front of Ikuya and put his head down, closing
his eyes tiredly. He didn’t know how long it would take for Haru to wake up
this time—if he did.
            “Can someone talk?” Makoto said quietly, his voice muffled against
the table. “About anything. Please?”
            Asahi shifted his position, propping his socked feet on the table
and said, “My mom’s gone missing. Dunno where she’s gone or when she’ll get
back.”
            Makoto heard him, but he wasn’t in the room anymore. He was lost in
his head, remembering the times before Haru had shed all aspects of his
personality and became a void body.
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