2spooky: The All-Saints Pyschiatric Hospital

[bluezone]

Four cases of beer, a bet, and a dare. That was how it all started.

The beer had been Tecate and it'd been bought by someone's older brother, since not a one of them was older than seventeen. The bet had been that the Heat wouldn't win against OKC, and in fact would lose by at least fifteen points. The dare had been at the discretion of the winner. Aomine had had way too many of the beers, had claimed that Miami would win, and had scoffed at the idea that any dare would be too tough for him to see through.

A day later, while still nursing the worst kind of hangover, he was cursing himself, his asshole friends, and the fucking failure of the Heat defense for his current situation.

All-Saints Psychiatric Hospital hadn't been a hospital since the 50s; supposedly it'd just been records storage before finally being shuttered for good sometime in the 1980s. Now, it was a derelict ghost sitting on the edge of new suburban sprawl, it's crumbling facade obscured by trees, an overpass, a hill, and distance. Once you got past the high fence and heavy, bolted gate, you might as well have been in another world, one overrun with grass, weeds, twisted shrubs, and patchy trees. There'd been a cobblestone drive, once, now a river of potholes and ugly, standing water, and there'd been a grand entryway with stone steps and metal handrails, all of it twisted and crumbling now, reduced to crumbling concrete and rebar.

Inside, it's a fucking tomb. It's cracked tile and peeling wallpaper with long streaks of black mold; it's graffiti and broken glass, and rotted doors hanging off rusted hinges; it's a single, abandoned hospital bed, it's padding slashed open, laying on its side near a set of doors that says OFFICES. It's utter silence, except for a faraway dripping and Aomine's own pounding heart.

He just has to go to the second landing. The stairs off the main atrium were secure and sound, he'd been told, and there was an observation deck up top that looked down on the dusty, cracked reception desks. All he had to do was walk up, take a few selfies, make a video shot down the long, dark hallway toward the first ward, and then get the fuck out.

His hand tight around the smartphone in his pocket, Aomine hustled toward the grand, wide stairs littered with leaves and garbage, and pretended that he wasn't fucking terrified.

At the very least, it was still daylight outside; it was 10 AM on a balmy Saturday in Spring.

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[bluezone]

Once he was there, once tasted her, all his thoughts of care and slowness seemed to evaporate into nothing. She was like velvet all around him, hotter than anything he'd ever felt in his life, sliding and squeezing in just the right away. He discovered that it wasn't just in and out, that there was a way he could grind his hips to drive sensation through his whole body, that he could lick and bite at her neck whenever he drew back to ease how cold the air felt on his bare dick. He found that even though his shoulders were shaking he had the strength needed to hold her up and so he did, bracing one palm on the door and wrapping the other around her.

"L...Lia."

He sounded shaken. Grateful. "Lia, you feel amazing...I can't even - "

Describe it. He could only groan, then swallow down the noise as quickly as possible. They couldn't be found.

So he kept quiet. Bit his lip. Listened, and could make out the slick, erotic noise of their bodies meeting and parting. Fuck. He'd seen enough porn to know it made sounds but it was still...fuck...

She would be able to feel when he moved faster, when his weight came to pin her against the door. He managed to swallow his groans but not the thick pants and heavy gasps for air that were right against her ear, or her cheek, or on her jaw whenever he wasn't leaving clumsy kisses there. He didn't know that all his affections would leave marks on her by tomorrow morning; he only knew that it felt so good to give them.

[psalmed]

Their weight was against the door. It kept it closed, kept them safe. It was the security she needed. A switch in the back of her mind flipped to enjoy it more properly. Even if people heard they couldn't prove what they were doing. They were protected.

Sometimes it was divine providence. Sometimes it was answered prayers. Right now it was a door and combined body weight.

It should be on a bed. It should be paired with kissing and cuddling. But this was something. Passionate and tangible and Lia moaned sweetly against him. Her fingers groped at his naked hip, her nails lightly scratching at his skin as they fucked.

Her head tilted and tipped into the kisses and marks. She squirmed, rolled her hips, showed him all the ways they could couple. "Like that, darling. Sweet boy. So...sweet." Her head was spinning and she arched, panting a little bit as he hit particular good nerve endings inside her. It had been so long and it was such relief.

She was clenching, wet and hot around him and nearing the edge of something.

[bluezone]

Blood rushed in his ears for many reasons: the sensation. The heat. The drive toward that wonderful precipice. But there was something special in hearing her praise him, this time. She'd done it before; she'd praised him for not biting people, for fuck's sake. And yet now it mattered almost as much as her arch and the way she trembled in her grip.

He wanted her to feel good.

He wanted her to praise only him.

Maybe it was pathetic. Maybe something was switching off or changing in his mind, pushed toward some new idea by his continual returns to this place and the fact that every time, his life was in her hands. He didn't know. He wasn't that smart.

But when she tightened, he lose control of his voice, and groaned, and dropped his hand. The pads of his fingers found her clit, rubbing in quick circles. The way she shivered and tugged at all of his cock said she wanted more and he hurried to give it to her, even as his feeble control over his own orgasm was slipping through his fingers. He was a young man; the only reason he hadn't come yet was because he'd already done so earlier.

[psalmed]

One of Lia's hands lifted, scratching at the door almost helplessly as the other gripped his hip. It wouldn't be long. It wasn't long. She should feel guilty. She would feel guilty later, alone, whispering her prayers for all the things she's done wrong and all the things she will continue to do because she simply can't stop.

Her burden. Her purpose. You will be a shield. burned into her fate.

"Daiki," She whispered again and it ended in a whimper as his fingers roughly found her clit. It was a little painful, a little wonderful, and she tipped over the edge almost immediately after. Gushing wetly around him, tight enough she could feel the drag of flesh inside her, and she shuddered around him and in front of him, breath coming in rough and aching pants.

[bluezone]

"L-Lia...Lia...!!"

It was a little bit helpless. It was a little bit wonderful. It was more than a little crazy, knowing what he did, having the guesses that he had. But he hurried after her, pumping hard and hissing in startled pleasure whenever she squeezed around him. That was all that he needed, though some desperate, hungry part of him struggled to keep going even as his thighs shook and he spilled himself into her body.

Finally. Finally. He'd wanted this so badly.

That fact made it all the more cruel when, mere seconds after, his head began to pound. That now-familiar pressure began to build in his head, filling it with fog and the feeling that his ears would pop.

He tensed. Stared at the door. Then, wrapped both his arms around her holding tightly. "No...damn it, no!"

It didn't matter. The paint on the walls was peeling. He was going back again.

[psalmed]

She moved with him, that last little bit. Then he came, liquid heat inside her, and she panted against him and turned to kiss him. So sweetly, so gently, almost pretending that they were romantic. Almost loving. It was a reminder of other times, better times, with someone who had cared so much for her.

Someone she would have died for.

"Daiki?" Her voice was uncertain. Floating.

The world around them faded-and it was them. Lia was still in his arms, still with her skirt hiked around her legs. The walls crumbled, the paint peeled. The plumbing of the room creaked and groaned and broke, but no water came pouring out.

And Lia's uniform, blue and white and so crisp, bloomed red. Blood spilled down the front of it, hot and sticky and so bright as sunlight streamed in a broken wall. She gasped at him, stumbling away, seemingly reappearing in the room he was in, her hand pressed desperately over her chest though he could see right through her.

[bluezone]

The world wrenched strangely. His stomach flipped.

There was a miserable pop in his ears, one that was strong enough to make his vision blur, and then Aomine fell forward in a heap, his knees hitting cracked tile hard enough to scrape through jeans and into his skin. He was only able to save his head by flinging his arms out at the last second, gaining likewise cuts across his palms and staring down at a cluttered, dusty, moldy floor, the remains of what had been, many years ago, a bathroom.

He sucked in a harsh, terrified breath. He jerked his head up and--

Saw her.

He saw her.

The world had changed again but she was still there and there was so much blood that his gut twisted sickness gathering in his throat. "Fuck, Lia - "

Aomine shoved himself up. He saw at a glance that he was dressed again, right back into the clothes he started this all in, but his skin was clammy with sweat and the region of his thighs felt damp and overly warm. Shit, had he come here? How much of it was real? How much of it wasn't?

Fuck, there was so much blood.

He reached for her hand, groping at her, shock and desperation alive in his eyes. "Shit, Lia!"

[psalmed]

"Daiki." It was whispered. Gurgled. Around blood and a hole in her chest. It came from the walls, from all around him. Desperate and confused at the same time.

In Lia's hand was a little locket. One side had the face of a young man, blond, handsome. On the other side was a baby. "Find her." Over and over, all over the walls, whispered. Find her find her findherfindherfindher."

Then it was gone. The blood and woman both disappeared and there was nothing. The deafening sound was replaced with the chirp of birds and cicadas as late afternoon fell around the crumbling, half abandoned asylum.

The walls were still peeling and half gone. The stairs were creaking like someone was running up and down them. The sunlight had gotten weaker; it wasn't overhead enough to be bright. But, it seemed for the time, that Aomine was alone.

[bluezone]

Long seconds ticked by.

He expected something more to happen. Some other sign.

None came.

After an age, Aomine hung his head, and pressed one hand against his face. Damn. Damn it. "God - " His hand shook, his fingers curling into a shivering fist. "God damn it!!"

Pounding his fist against the floor only made his hand hurt. But the pain helped to wake him up, helped to remind him that this was real, that this was where he was supposed to be, and before was...something else. Not real, but not nothing. He gulped in stale air, his eyes burning from dust and emotion, and then slapped his palms onto the broken tiles and shoved himself up.

Find her. The woman with blood like a flower on her chest.

In Aomine's mind was something he had all but forgotten: his phone. It had fallen from his jacket during that very first episode, back in what would be his 'room'. Wandering around the hospital was stupid, pointless; he could search for days, weeks, and find nothing, because nobody else had found anything. If they had, Lia wouldn't be...here. Somehow. It made sense in his head. But if he could get to his phone, he could search for this place, for her name, for anything at all he recognized from those times he had slipped into the past, or whatever it was. With names and dates, or blueprints, or something, he would have a better idea of where to look.

His steps were fast and heavy on rotted floorboards, following his memory to take him back to his room.