Disclaimer/Note: I do
not own DNAngel, or any of the characters used in this story. They
belong to the series' creator. This story was written solely for
the amusement of those choosing to read it, and no copyright
infringement was intended. All original ideas/concepts and the story
itself are original (duh) and belong to me. Do not steal.
This story takes place during the third volume of the manga.
Enjoy. The Day After
"We don't have much time left, you and I," the somber boy whispered from where he sat beside the clinic bed. The privacy curtain shifted as he leaned forward, chair legs scooting back noisily on the white tiles. He rested his elbows on his knees, head bowed slightly as he spoke with hands obscuring his mouth. The action would muffle his words, but at least it would keep him from touching his companion again. "I don't know how long I can keep doing this. . ."
His gaze flitted over the other boy's form from behind thin-framed lenses, catching on an undone button near his throat. He could see part of a dark turtleneck beneath the school uniform, peeking out as if to taunt him. What would the boy on the bed have looked like without that cloth there? His mind wandered along these lines idly, fingers itching to rip through the shirts to find out. Would he have scars or bruising from the previous night's tussle? Or would his skin be soft and pure to the touch. . .?
Satoshi quickly averted his vision, clutching at his arms and holding himself close. He stared at a spot on the floor between his feet, motionless.
"He is coming," his calm mask slipped, the collected façade he hid behind shattering as a tremor crept into his voice. He knew his words sounded forced and strained, knew it sounded wholly out of character for him. But Satoshi could not find the resolve to care.
He was coming.
Something bright and cold inside him tried to claw its way to the fore, a blinding and dominating white light that seemed to pierce through his very soul. Satoshi held it at bay for now, knowing that he would not last long if it persisted with this unrelenting fervor. The thing inside him wanted out. He wanted to be free.
It would not be safe for him to stay.
The boy on the bed caused him to feel new and strange feelings, brought the winged monster out of the shadowy recesses of his forgotten DNA. Even Satoshi had to find it ironic that his first love – his "sacred maiden," as it were – would be host to his clan's sworn enemy.
He clamped a hand over his mouth when the pain increased; he doubled over when he felt like his back would be ripped open, his blood spattering the walls. The wings, should they appear, would be a perfect white, a color that brought to mind holy cleansings of an unnatural order several generations ago.
"Daisuke," he gasped the name, and it made his throat burn, icy chills spreading through his body. Saying the name only agitated that monster, only made his heart pound faster and the white wings beat against the cage of his ribs. He could not stop himself; he was losing control.
The sound of the clinic door opening broke the transformation, and Satoshi jerked back, whirling in his seat to acknowledge the new arrival. To get his mind off of Daisuke and all the emotions that clouded his judgment; to thank his accidental savior for interrupting.
"Um, I. . ." it was Riku, standing near the door, her fingers still curled around the edge of the privacy curtain as she sought for something to say. She wanted to say something, anything – really – to break this awkward silence. Satoshi's mask slid back into place, covering his naked vulnerability from her view. He stood abruptly, his body language silencing her.
"I'm going back to class," his voice sounded relatively normal, and not at all like he had been biting back screams for the last ten minutes. The white winged angel faded into the background, becoming dormant once more. "I'm sure Daisuke will be fine."
He left then, the door falling shut heavily behind him. Neither he nor the girl noticed the single white feather that drifted to the ground in his wake.