Lys Summers
Umm yes, I do have a fixation with giving Hisoka random phobias. Whatcha gonna do about it, eh? I blame this one all on Zanzou - I met her at Anime North and promptly got kidnapped when my identity was revealed. Luckily she's awesome, so we had a lot of fun. Somehow she managed to get me to promise her a fic, and here is the result. The Nagasaki snake referance was her plotbunny, which started it all.
Shoutouts to Becchan for reading it over for me, and assuring me the weird tense wasn't... well, too weird. I think I picked it up from her Seamus/Dean fic. [end shameless plug]
Now, please enojy!
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The night is unusually dark. With a trembling hand you brush back sweaty bangs from your face, eyes staring wildly at the window, where the barest traces of light have managed to sneak into your room. Panting slightly, you try to push the disjointed remnants of your dream away. Again.
You can never escape from your fears.
You can run from them, you can try to bury them inside your heart, but they're always there. If you don't have the courage to face them, they'll never leave you alone.
But I don't have to tell you that, do I? You know. Your fears still follow you. No matter how hard you try to push them away they're still with you.
You see it in your dreams. Tossing and turning, sheets entangled in a large bed that's threatening to swallow you whole.
A set of piercing yellow eyes.
A faint hissing of breath that carries on the wind.
The creeping cold, seeping through your mind. The one simplistic goal, the driving hunger. Searching, ever searching.
And you're always running.
It makes you angry. It frustrates you that you're so weak. It shouldn't bother you, should it? It shouldn't make your heart pound in fear, your breath come out in halting gasps.
But it does. Every time.
You remember it all in your dreams.
Half hidden in the shadows, coiled around that vacant skull. Watching you. Always watching.
You suppose that must be when it started - this childhood terror must be the cause for your reoccurring dreams.
But is it really?
Somewhere in you, you've always known. It's always calling you, watching you, stalking you with that constant hunger.
And when you're lost inside that void, sometimes it seems like it hungers for you.
You belong to it. And it knows that. It hungers for you, and you can't get away.
It has even followed you into death.
That night, in Nagasaki, frozen in fear as the white form hurdled towards you through the darkened warehouse. I saw you then. Saw the look in your eyes. It found you - your fear.
But he saved you, pushed you out of harms way.
Sometimes, in your dreams, another twisting form joins the first. Their eyes bore into you. They can smell your fear.
Sometimes, in your dreams, there is someone who holds you, someone who shelters you in the night. He wipes away your tears.
Always, when you wake, he is there.
Now he sleeps peacefully next to you in the night, unaware of your watchful gaze. A shaking hand traces the contours of his face, your breathing calms as a slender finger ghosts over his smooth brow, then his slightly parted mouth. He is here.
Lying back down in the sweat-dampened sheets, you curl into his side, lowering your shields so that you can feel him there. No fear, no hunger. You are filled with a vague sense of sleepy contentment, and slowly you allow yourself to be eased back into slumber.
Always, when you wake, he is there.
He is here, and as long as he stays you're free from the hunger, the pain. It can't have you. You belong to him now.
You wouldn't want it any other way.
Because always when you wake, he is there.
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