Warning: This is my shot at insanity.
Though not very obvious, this is supposed to be the sister fic of Love Notes. Everyone who gave reviews to that fic, love you all. But now, because of all your suggestions, I'm having a hard time deciding how to go through with the story now. They're all original; I even once contemplated on using a possessed Yuki…
Summary: A psycho Christmas fic that was inspired by the word, necrophilia- though I wished I could've gone with that instead of this.
Merry Christmas, everyone
Down On His Luck
I could hear his voice resonating in the dark, again and again, in my black dreams of oblivion where only I and his voice lived. It was a cliché, but such a realm for nightmares that was forced upon humanity was also forced upon me. So my dreams had to be what society dictated it to be, black with all the ghost and skeletons of past vices coming back to me- using the sleeping realms as haunting grounds.
I am not anymore in my home, as I was forced out of my place of residence by a horde of men dressed in white. You should see where I live now, this place with so many white walls. Those people who came that afternoon, or was it in the middle of the night? I don't really know and I don't really care.
They were like the walls, they were dressed in white- I mentioned this one before. They were calm and composed, so was I, on that evening of December twenty four. After, fourteen months- papers from calendars torn down to mark my stay in this place- it seemed like it was yesterday that I was first brought here.
It in the bleak month of December, I could recall, that had the sweetest taste of them all. The end of the year, with the one I most love in my arms. Outside our window, the snow would constantly fall like rain. Comparisons of old come again and again to haunt my brain, forcing my pen to add chapters with white and snow here, there to tell of a winter's playful but quaint scene.
He was in the bathroom brushing his teeth, looking at the mirror standing tall.
His hair a beautiful mix of red and white, in other words his hair of that shade of pink; was sitting on top of his head. His sakura like hair, petals of the nation that cries their tears for the dead in the prime of spring, was flowing wet.
It was the blood of the trees that dripped on his shirt, that merry, merry Christmas Eve.
It was beginning to look a lot like a silent night.
"Yuki" he said to me, "It's cold outside, and the snow is falling too hard and…"
A lover's worry that is only for me to hear, I am touched by the words that were reserved for my ears. His fingertips went to touch the biting glass of the room's only window. We had a reservation waiting for us in a restaurant that was on the other side of town.
It was an Italian place, where the people know us too well.
I take his hand and pull him out from the glaring light of the bathroom.
Lead him by the hand and out the door
Lead him by the hand and onto the wooden floor
Lead him by the hand and made him walk more
So we are trapped here at home with nothing to do.
"Yuki, what are we going to do now?"
What a coincidence for him to ask me that.
"Yuki, what's wrong? Why aren't you talking?"
I don't know really. Days have been wonderful, sometimes I feel like I was high on cloud nine. Though I do not remember taking in any drugs in any form or in any day, moment, time of my life.
I think Shuichi's biggest mistake was going home to me that night. Or maybe it was the night before when he broke a favorite cup of mine that had me kicking him out of the house. But to think about the cup now, it wasn't really loved that much anyway, I think I just used that as an excuse to get him out. But maybe the blame should be on me, I shouldn't have made the reservations because I had to call his cell phone to tell him about the reservations.
Such jargon and complete waste for the eyes and mind that had to trouble themselves with our petty fights; but I think this is in the least bit necessary for you to understand why I am here.
In the end, it was still not right for him to come home to me.
My hand was not holding his anymore; he was a grown boy, was he not? He has already learned to walk like a normal being without a hand guiding him. He's been doing it for the last nineteen years of his life. Shuichi will manage.
I have been switching form past to present to past, haven't I? Well, I don't think I should apologize. My head seems a bit a whole lot of strange things for a year and two months. Tenses aren't that much important to me as they are to you.
"Yuki" yes, there is my name again. Has his vocabulary has been reduced to me, my welfare, my name ever since he came and forced himself into my life? That's nice, I feel touched.
"Yuki?" his tone is questioning here as he said my name again. I refuse to let my head turn and look at his face.
"Yuki…" I have pulled him into our lightless kitchen without the aid of my hands, just the direction of my feet.
"Yuki…" begs in his tone, "Why are you ignoring me?"
I think by this time, there was a knife. By the counter, it was shinning so bright I had to take it and point it at his heart.
"Do you want to know what true love really is, Shindou Shuichi?" I plainly remember my question to him that night. I stopped his interrogative words from spilling out of his pink lips; he would've ruined my little introduction back there. And I didn't want that.
He looked at me, "Yuki put that away"
There's my name again, and I laugh just coming closer. The tip of the blade was on top of his little aching heart, and as soon as he realized my foot has went forward instead of my hands going back… He just tried to make sure that there were still a good few inches between him and that sharp end.
"Yuki, you're not serious are you?"
"I don't know, what do you think?"
It took a few more uncertain steps for the pop star and just my own firm ones before I slashed the blade down on him.
It ran a line across his open hands that tried to 'push' me away- with all the unseen air between us.
What is true love?
It was that sensation that took me for a joy ride on Christmas Eve I guess. When I saw pink hair, and wide violet orbs, my mind make no more pictures of sex but of gore.
There is supposed to be quote for this, a saying that goes… A man would want to destroy the thing he loves the most.
Funny but true
He screamed most of the time, though not at first but panicked asking what on earth was wrong with me. I didn't answer; I just smiled and moved on to his chest. For some reasons, I couldn't find it in me to mar his face.
Though I did let a couple of drops trickle down his face after all his life went out.
It was quite a struggle for my dear boy; he was still in denial at that time, which was a stupid time. This strawberry pocky lover had a hard time, he was screaming around making noise that didn't suit a holy night like this one. There were stains on the floor.
We had fun playing our chasing game around. Well, I was the one who had more fun in the whole affair while the young child just kept crying and trying to scream for help.
Ten hours passed us.
Nevermore, I mimicked a poem that was in the depth of my head, shall his name be spoken in this plane. Nevermore
There was a slight rapping, almost a tapping, clinging the silence of this floor. And then here comes Tohma, looking very much like a whore.
Tohma saw us stationed by the living room grounds, my Shuichi in my arms a gun next to me found.
I managed an (actual) greeting of Christmas cheers that sounded casual enough for my brother-in-law.
Regret, how was it that I didn't have a camera that day?
The look on his face was priceless that day.
(SPACE HERE)
A/N: For those who didn't understand- not a surprise since it's my fanfic- Yuki killed Shuichi and the former is in some asylum in Japan.
Maligayang Pasko