Rhyme used at end: Tom, Tom, the Piper's Son
Over the Hills and Far Away
The wind blows, rattling branches, sending flocks of birds flying into the air. They shriek a haunting, melodic call, and Riku snarls, shutting his bedroom window with a crash.
He has had another fight with Kairi - another pointless, stupid argument about pointless, stupid things. He can't even remember why they were fighting, only that it ended with her slamming the door in his face, screaming at the top of her lungs, shouting that she never wanted to see him again. He has tried reasoning with her, has sent at least fifteen texts and recorded four voice-mails on her phone. But she didn't reply, and now, five hours later, Riku decided he just didn't want anything to do with her and her drama anymore.
He has sent the break-up text, and recieved a reply listing each and every single thing Kairi despised about him. And now, everything was too cheerful- couldn't the world see that he was miserable and single, and that he did not want to hear birds chirping at each other when he was trying to sleep?
He fell asleep dreading waking up. He did not want to see Kairi again, did not want to listen to all her whining and crying, and he most certainly did not want to face all the disgustingly happy faces of his peers the next day at school. If he could have slept forever, well, he'd have been happy with that.
When he next opened his eyes, he found himself standing at the edge of the roof of a very tall skyscraper. He wasn't sure how he knew this, for he could not see; a thick silk blindfold covered his eyes. He could feel himself walking forward, forward, until he could feel the empty space where the roof should have been, and then he was falling, falling-
The sequence changed. He was now on an island, and he could actually see his surroundings - the blindfold had been removed. Huge, insect-like creatures were crawling to him, whispering dark, evil things in his ear, their florescent eyes glinting in the night. They crowded around him, grabbing his legs, and now Riku could feel cold tendrils snaking up his legs, prying open his mouth, coating his insides and swallowing him whole...
"My, my, someone was angry when they went to bed!" he heard a soft, chiming voice ring out from behind him. The scenery changed and blurred into a breezy, open clearing, where a smirking brown-haired youth was leaning against a log.
"What angry things you dream of!" he leapt off the log feet-first, landing neatly on his feet. He circled around Riku and his mouth quirked up in a grin, revealing sharp, pointed teeth. "Silly Riku," he purred. "Don't you know that nothing good comes when you go to bed mad?"
He twisted sideways, left hand outstretched as though trying to grab something, and he suddenly disappeared- his fingers went first, traveling up his arm, down his torso and finishing at his feet.
"You're so beautiful," Riku heard a murmur next to his ear, and he spun around in fright. The upper body of the strange boy was floating in midair, coming out of a hazy portal through which, Riku realized, he had disappeared before. A soft, wet tongue licked up his ear, and Riku shivered, equally disgusted and aroused by the strange boy.
"You'll make a nice edition to my collection."
With that, the boy withdrew back into the portal, and his voice rang through out the clearing. Riku suddenly found himself frightened of the deceptively cheerful space, and looked for a way out. He saw a path leading into some woods and ran at it, panicking, and was suddenly thrust into a cold, snowy place as the dream changed yet again.
The land was barren, dead trees and gnarled stumps covered in a frosty layer of ice. Piercing winds whipped around him, slicing into Riku's uncovered arms and neck - even as he watched, a thin cut appeared near his wrist, thin, beading droplets of blood sliding down his fingers and dyeing the snow pink.
And then there were warm arms wrapped around his middle, although curiously, though they seemed to be blazing with heat, the places where they touched Riku's bare skin left a lingering chill that froze him to the core. An arm reached out, grabbing Riku's fingers, twisting them and lifting them so that the blood pooled in the center of his palm. A head leaned over his shoulder, brunet spikes brushing his cheeks, and the boy's bright blue eyes narrowed in pleasure as he licked up the blood.
"You cannot escape from your dreams, Love," the boy's voice chided. His sharp teeth scraped the soft skin of Riku's palm as he cleaned up the remainder of the blood, mouth sucking lightly on the pulsing cut. "They showcase your innermost thoughts, feelings, hopes, desires... you cannot run from what is in your head, and it would be most foolish to try."
He ran his tongue lightly along the seam, and Riku jerked sideways, wrenching his hand out of the other boy's grasp. The arms around his middle tightened, leaving an icy, dead feeling in his stomach, and the boy's chin came to rest lightly on his shoulder.
"Oh, silly darling." And even as he spoke, the wind lashed another cut on Riku's neck - they were standing on the edge of what was like the eye of a storm, with walls of air rushing around them. The boy stroked a finger against the cut and watched in interest as a drop of blood slid down his own finger, before sticking the finger in his mouth and releasing it with a small 'pop'.
"Your blood is delicious," he hissed lightly in Riku's ear.
"Get away from me!" Riku screamed, wrenching his arm out of the boy's grasp and pushing him away. "I- don't- want- you- near- me!"
But the boy merely gave another amused smirk. He whipped out a flute, a pretty, delicate thing, playing a tune as he vaguely watched Riku attempt to escape the tempest. "You'll never escape, Love," he cooed, blowing a few more notes on the flute.
"It is already too late."
Riku woke up drenched in sweat, the last notes of the boy's flute ringing in his ears. He went to school feverish; cheeks flushed, eyes glazed. He drifted from class to class, unable to concentrate on anything.
Of course his day would only get worse.
Axel pushed his way up to Riku during lunch. "I have someone I'd like you to meet," he said. He called someone's name, and Riku could see a head of blond hair pushing through the crowd, moodily shoving students out of its way. Finally, Roxas settled down at their table.
The first things he saw were the eyes.
That was when the screaming started.
They said he tried to strangle him, actually grabbed onto his neck and started tightening his grip. And Roxas was just standing there, choking, trying to push Riku off of him. Finally, it was Naminè who ran up, tears streaming down her face, shouting to stop, stop, please, Riku, stop, can't you see he can't breathe? Hers was the first face he could remember seeing, and she steered him towards the nurse, holding his hand and waving goodbye as he was sent home for the day.
He went to bed angry and horrified at the same time. Never had he ever actually attacked anyone before, no matter how angry he was. But Roxas' eyes... every time he thought of them, he remembered how that strange boy had leaned over him, whispering, licking the blood off his palms...
"I will not dream tonight," he told himself. "I will not dream."
Don't make me go back there. No matter what, don't make me go back.
He should have known it was useless trying to escape.
"Hello, my love. Pleasant dreams?"
This time, the dream was a graveyard, an awful, decrepit graveyard, lit by the sliver of moon in the sky and the light of a few candles that rested on the graves. The boy was resting against the marble surface of a tomb, lightly fingering the same ivory flute. He blew a few notes - high, then low, then higher and lower again.
He looked up, his eyes narrowed into coy slits, licking the shell of his lips. "Don't you love it?"
The moment the notes hit Riku's ears, he was lost. He couldn't help it - terrified though he was of the boy, the music was oddly familiar; haunting, soothing, like a lullaby. He found himself leaning towards the boy like a young child seeking praise, eagerly drinking up the wonderful tune spilling forth from the flute. His eyes were glazed over, his breathing was shallow. The boy noted this all with a sort of wild delight, still merrily playing.
"It's very beautiful, isn't it? I wrote it for you, you know."
The moment the boy stopped playing, the spell was broken and Riku started, throwing himself backwards after realizing he had come within a few feet of the boy. The air around him was hazy, shimmering, and his hair was waving slightly even though there was no wind. He raised the flute to his lips again, smiling playfully.
Against his will, Riku drew near again, entranced by the music.
"Yes..." the boy breathed over the flute, leaning his face forward so that his nose brushed Riku's cheek. He put the flute down, curling his arms up and over Riku's back, pressing a nose into the flushed skin at his neck. Riku was shivering, still entranced, and didn't react to any of this.
With another glittering smile, the boy drew Riku closer still, and captured his lips in a searing kiss.
Riku didn't go to school the next day. Or the day after that.
And every night, in his dreams, the wild, cat-eyed boy visited him, playing wonderful music on his flute. And Riku stood there - flushed, helpless, hypnotized - leaning into the searing touches with a type of mindless longing as a small voice in the back of his head screamed for him to stop.
By the fourth night, he began looking forward to the visits.
By the sixth, he was waiting.
"Do you love me?" the boy whispered against Riku's lips, hand wrapped around his waist.
"Yes," Riku breathed. "Yes, I do."
"Come with me," the boy commanded, playing a few notes on the flute. "You'll love it, I promise."
Riku nodded, dazed, caught up in what was now the perpetual enchantment the boy had cast him under. The boy opened another hazy portal, bright blue eyes lit up and laughing. He pulled Riku through, tugging lightly on his arm.
They arrived in a small, dark town, lit with dusty streetlamps and filled with run-down shops and messily cobbled streets. The boy pulled Riku along, brown spikes bouncing softly as he gracefully maneuvered through the streets.
"Almost there, love!" the boy called out joyously, face filled with wild happiness. Riku, blinking slowly, glancing up and down the hazy path, trying to clear his head from the fog the boy placed there that had been stopping him from thinking. But the boy noticed his struggles, shrugged, and twisted his hand. The flute appeared, and he played it as he went down the streets. Riku watched, spellbound again, as rats and mice came out from niches in the wall and followed them. Followed the music.
They finally arrived at what seemed to be the town square, except the greater part of the space was dominated by a huge, glassy well. The top was frozen over with a thin sheet of ice, and glinted opaquely in the dim lighting of the lamps. The boy stopped playing the flute, and it vanished as he led Riku up to the wall surrounding the well. He leaned forward, caressing the ice with his thin hands, splaying his palm out on the surface and pushing the cold flesh to Riku's cheek.
"This is my collection," he whispered softly. "Isn't it every bit as wonderful as I told you?" his eyes were lit feverishly, sharp teeth showing as he grinned.
The glow from the lamps slid over the surface of the well, and in different lighting the opaqueness of the ice melted away and became clear.
Riku screamed, and the spell broke. There are bodies in the well.
There were no adults. That much was clear. Riku could see a little blonde girl, ice frosting over her long hair. She was next to a boy about his age, bloodless gashes and tears littering his face. They were pressed together, grotesque, brushing alongside each other as they floated in the still waters of the well. All of the bodies were almost perfectly preserved so it was as though they could be sleeping, but even as he thought that, Riku knew that they'd never be mistaken for asleep. His eyes darted from one body to another, and his feet were frozen to the ground – look over there, a brunette high school girl with spiraling hair, wearing a faded orange shirt and khakis - and as he watched, another blonde floated past, with two slicked-back bangs that waved lazily in the water... her eyes were closed, and a black blazer trailed behind her like a veil, bloodless cheeks marred by a great slash that went from her jaw line up to her scalp.
There was a brunet teenager, almost a man. He had a great scar in-between his eyes, brushing against another, more petite boy with long, sweeping spikes and frosty blue eyes, one of which, Riku noted with horror, seemed to have been blown off, along with one side of his face.
"This is my collection," the boy stated grandly, with the air of showing someone an important trophy. "You were going to be part of it, but..."
He looked puzzled for a second, but then pasted on another smile. "Humans are such silly creatures, don't you think?"
He dipped his hand toward the ice, tapping the surface lightly, and a hole melted in the ice where his finger touched it. He swirled his hand lightly in the green-tinged water, chuckling. Riku watched, sickened, as a severed hand with long, thin pianist's fingers drifted past, the ragged ends of tissue and bone showing where it had been split from the body. The boy delicately picked it out of the water, stroking the pale knuckles before dropping it back in with a 'splash.'
The world was closing in on Riku, and he felt faint. The rational, scared side of his brain warring with the enchantment the boy had placed upon him. On his right the boy sighed, caught up in his own thoughts, murmuring "Oh, Aerith, you were always too sweet for your own good."
The boy blinked, and suddenly seemed to remember Riku was there. Instantly, his eyes lidded, and he drew closer to Riku, licking his way up his neck, biting down on his lip - Riku could feel the blood well up, could feel the boy licking it up - and murmured softly in his ear, "You're not like the others. You'll be the gem of my collection, my jewel, my prize..."
Riku trembled. "You're a monster."
The boy chuckled. "No, just Sora. And now..." he drew out the ivory flute, and raised it to his lips.
"Now, it's your turn to join."
Oh, he was a piper's son,
He learnt to play when he was young.
(And all the tune that he could play
was "Over the Hills and Far Away".)
