The Lovely Wounds (SpaMano)

Aru

((**WARNING**: Sexual assault))

Antonio woke with a skull-splitting ache at the base of his head. His world was spinning although he could see nothing but darkness and little patches of faint light. Maybe he was still seeing stars. He had no idea of what was going on around him. He was too disoriented, too confused. He couldn't remember what he had been doing prior to this. He had no recollection. All he remembered was being hit on the head. And now he was here, wherever here was. There was a tightness around his wrists that he didn't remember being there. Further inspection told him that he was tied to something, most likely a chair. God. This was all so familiar to him. That throbbing at the back of his head. The black bag over his head. It all reminded him of his friends. They had done this to him only days prior. They had picked him up off the streets, scared the living hell of him. They had kidnapped him. This was so reminiscent of that situation with the two other members of the Bad-Touch Trio. What had landed him there?

And then it hit him.

The Russian.

Antonio was trying to find the Russian. Well, it seemed that the Russian had found him. He found him and kidnapped him. For the second time. First his friends and now some crazy man in a trench coat. Nothing could make this worse. This was a much less friendly ground of people. The Russians. Antonio blinked back the pain that had seemed to reach his green eyes, but was met with patchy, yet continuous blackness. He couldn't gain any insight to where he was, but he assumed that the owner of the footsteps that were steadily growing louder would reveal his location to him sooner or later. A door to his left opened, and those footsteps came into the room. Someone had walked into the room. They shut the door with a soft click.

Suddenly, a dim yet blinding light suddenly filled Antonio's pupils. Whatever had been covering his head and block his view had been removed. He was met with bright, iridescent lights. A heavily accented voice spoke.

"It has been a long while since I have seen you, ja?" a male asked.

Antonio said nothing, attempting to focus his eyes to the sudden change in light.

"High school, I believe. It took me a moment to figure out after you left with your Italian... So, I decided prove a further point to the both of you, mainly you," Ivan Braginski said, a small trace of his accent hidden in his words. "You did strike back against my men. You have proven yourself to be a threat. I need to put your in your place to ensure that you do not disobey my rules or cross me again."

Antonio eyed the Russian icily. He seemed smug with his violet eyes and tall frame. "What could you take from me? I have nothing," the Spaniard said cooly.

"I beg to differ. You have a very vulnerable Italian in the next room over..." he said with a motion of his hand.

There was a window that looked onto something entirely dark. He assumed it had a view into the other room. A light flipped on, probably at the command of the Russian, and what Antonio saw made his heart skip a couple of beats. His stomach dropped and the air around his seemed to turn to ice. Suspended from the ceiling by his wrists was Lovino. The tips of his dress shoes barely scraped the ground. A black bag may have covered his head, but he could tell it was Lovino by the tattoos that covered his arms. He may have only studied them for a short period of time, but he could tell immediately who those weight strained, inked arms belonged to. His dress shirt had disappeared before he was strung up, leaving his chest open and revealed. Antonio could see some of the faint scars that littered his chest from his sophomore year. One of the Russian's men stood in the room with Lovino. He removed the bag from Lovino's head a few moments after the lights were turned on. The Italian seemed confused and disoriented, but his face quickly became cold and expressionless.