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It was the small begging that got Tim to stop, confused as he grew anxious. It was nothing, he had to finish the massage. But Daren emitted another small please followed quickly by 'don't.'"

Timothy had begged just the same way in the beginning. Begging against the unwanted things, hoping Andrew would understand.

Timothy did.

His entore body moved away from the larger man, suddenly feeling sick with poison and self-hate. How, how could he do something which Andrew had done to him? "Ao... I..." No, he was turning into Andrew, he couldn't. No he couldn't let that happen.

With quick movements he was out of Aomine's room and in his own, door closed and locked before he realized he was trembling, tears rolling down his cheeks. How could Aomine say he was nothing like Andrew when he so obviously was? "I'm sorry." he whimpered, hands covering his mouth, not caring about the oil covering them or the fact his words were muffled. "I'm sorry."

He was sorry. He was sorry. Why was he becoming like this he didn't mean it. Did he? Why else would he do it if he didn't mean it? He was turning into Andrew and he was only going to get worse. His hands hand changed positions, wiping at his tears before digging his nails into the skin of his cheeks while his body gently rocked.

He was good. He was good. He was good. He was nothing like Andrew. He was a good boy he was nothing like that man. Timothy had control. He had self control.

But he didn't believe it, curling up and letting his head rest on his knees as Daren's voice came through the door. "No. No no no. No. No. No." and then covered his ears, still gently rocking.

Had he been turned on? Had he been forcing himself onto Daren? He was disgusting. A disgusting little whore, willing to pleasure any man. A slut. Prostitutes were a higher class than him.

"No. Nononono don't come in." and curled up tighter, continued to mumble to himself the contradicting words of being a good person but being nothing more than a wanton whore.

His head snapped up as the door support disappeared and he stared at Daren like he was his worst nightmare. "A-Aomine please, I'm sorry. I won't do it again." he had to prove he wasn't Andrew. "A-And I, I won't massage you ever again if it causes that. I won't do anything to cause you toget aroused ever again! I-I didn't want to do it for sex I mean, I'm used to doing it for sex but, but I'm sorry! I'm sorry I won't do it again I'm not Andrew! I'm not a filthy slut who just sucks men off for pleasure, I swear!"

He was begging this man to believe him, tears falling onto the floor and making the man's vision blurry.

"I'm just so used to it. I know how men liked to be touched and they always enjoy it, and I'm used to them egging me on so you rejecting and I'm so sorry." he continued to babble and apologize, only half-listening to Aomine's words, curling up as he was pulled into a hug. "I'm so sorry I really am. But part of me wants to finish but I don't know because if I do I'll be as bad as Andrew!" his head was lifted up but he couldn't reciprocate the gesture. "It's not your fault. It's not your fault. I'm filthy and dirty and it's in me. You should just sell me out that will be the only job I can obtain. What we did came from nowhere and I came onto you because I'm a whore."

"Why are you so--!" but something stung across his face and everything in him automatically shut down. Never say it again. Never say it again. Okay, he'd be a good boy and never speak again. He wouldn't speak because it wasn't true, being a good boy, not being like Andrew, it wasn't true. He was exactly like Andrew. His job, his mannerisms, he was like Andrew with the sex an the hurting.

But his job.

Aomine was giving him his job back. And going to give him a bath.

Aomine hit him.

"Why did you hit me?" he asked suddenly, feeling the cold tile underneath his feet. "You hit me! I'm a trauma patient! I was in the trauma ward!" he shouted, struggling, thankful that in his panic attack his oil covered hands covered his arms. "Get off!" he slid out, looking back at the man. "How can we have a proper talk?! Your only job is to babysit me anyway since Iroh took you off duty because of your bum arm! Trust me they would have dropped me off at any other agent because they sure as well wouldn't put me with my mothers! The trauma patient will be safer with a cop!"

He grit his teeth, looking away and grabbing his hair. "I'm going for a walk. I'm leaving. I'm getting a sub. I'm not staying in here." He turned around quickly, entering his room and tossing a shirt over himself before putting on shoes. "I'll be fine you don't need to come!"

Timothy caught the wet cloth and wiped his arms and face of the oil and blood. "Like hell they're going to find me. I went four years without them knowing where I was a day shouldn't hurt." he found a sweater and shrugged that on before leaving the complex and storming down the stairs before entering the crisp air of fall. "******** a*****e." Those two words felt good to say, soon walking down the sidewalk. He didn't know where he was going but he knew he didn't want to stop.

It was cold, it was so much colder than a sweater. He needed three layers at the very least to keep warm. His toes curled in his shoes and he hunched his back against the wind, trying to retain some warmth. However he smelled something this his stomach and mind quickly told him he craved. He stopped a few seconds, trying to remember this smell before looking across the street to see a pizza shop, mouth salivating so fast it almost hurt. How much was a pizza? When was the last time he had pizza?

His hands moved quickly into his pockets and he nearly gave a cry of frustration. He stormed out without having grabbed anything. "******** s**t." giving the pizza parlor one last look he continued his walk. He wasn't going to beg like a peddlar. No, no he was done begging. there was no point in begging anymore he either snapped, cried or just wanted to sleep.

"Pathetic maggot." But Aomine said he'd get his job back. "They took all of my suits as evidence, though. Where am I going to get a suit?"