Dreaming - by Harukami
"Mother."
Clothing was shucked with small, pointless motions, buttons undone without effort, loose cloth pooling on the ground. He stretched, muscles rippling like mice under the skin, travelling, stomach tight, buttocks clenched. Perfect. Smooth. White.
Like bone.
Toes curled on the rock as knees bent, tense. Tight. Chin tucked but eyes up, waiting for something. Some wind. Some smell.
Elsewhere in the city, a boy slept and dreamed of this man, standing posed so perfectly, white as bone.
A breeze stirred black hair, made bangs move in front of still, blood-brown eyes, and brought a scent with it, warm, thick, cloying, the scent first born with iron.
And suddenly, movement, a spring, fingers touching to white toes, body bending then straightening so he cut like a knife, sending a soft warm spray all around him.
Thick.
Blinding.
"Mother."
He could see her there, rising from a crouch from beside He Who Had Been His Father. She was naked then, and appealing, the thick spray of blood from Father's heart having coated her frame so that blood ran warm rivulets between her breasts, over her stomach, disappearing into the black hair at the junction of her legs. He stared. Even so young, he stared.
"Your Father is gone now."
And it didn't hurt, though a piece of his own flesh was torn away and settled blank on the ground, bone-white and coated in blood. Black, white and red.
It didn't hurt.
She approached him, let a hand trail over his cheek, leaving a smear of blood he'd always see in the mirror afterward. "Say something."
"Will I get a new father?" His voice was bland, eyes focussed on the pool of blood in the hollow of her throat. Appealing.
And that was enough to make her look at him consideringly. "No. I think it will just be the two of us for now." She embraced him then, hair smelling of sakura blossoms.
Eventually, it would be only him, her body naked, coated with blood, settled blank on the ground, bone-white.
His head broke the surface and he gasped, feeling liquid running down his cheeks, soaked in his hair, running over white skin.
The boy was near, sleeping, and it wasn't much effort to approach. To appeal.
Naked, he let his hand trail over the boy's cheek, watched lips part. Unsure of where to look, caught by the stream of blood running warm over chest, over strong stomach, disappearing somewhere around muscled thighs. Even in dream, unable to look. Staring instead at the hollow of the throat.
"Your sister is gone now," Seishirou said, watching the smear of blood trail from his fingers to Subaru's cheek.
Silence. No tears. Nothing. A thick, dream, scented, bone-white silence as Subaru stared. Say something, he wanted to shout. Anything.
"Subaru-kun," Seishirou whispered. "Do you think I'm sexy?"
Eyes widened.
And, in dreaming, Subaru's hair blew the scent of sakura blossoms.
"Mother."
Clothing was shucked with small, pointless motions, buttons undone without effort, loose cloth pooling on the ground. He stretched, muscles rippling like mice under the skin, travelling, stomach tight, buttocks clenched. Perfect. Smooth. White.
Like bone.
Toes curled on the rock as knees bent, tense. Tight. Chin tucked but eyes up, waiting for something. Some wind. Some smell.
Elsewhere in the city, a boy slept and dreamed of this man, standing posed so perfectly, white as bone.
A breeze stirred black hair, made bangs move in front of still, blood-brown eyes, and brought a scent with it, warm, thick, cloying, the scent first born with iron.
And suddenly, movement, a spring, fingers touching to white toes, body bending then straightening so he cut like a knife, sending a soft warm spray all around him.
Thick.
Blinding.
"Mother."
He could see her there, rising from a crouch from beside He Who Had Been His Father. She was naked then, and appealing, the thick spray of blood from Father's heart having coated her frame so that blood ran warm rivulets between her breasts, over her stomach, disappearing into the black hair at the junction of her legs. He stared. Even so young, he stared.
"Your Father is gone now."
And it didn't hurt, though a piece of his own flesh was torn away and settled blank on the ground, bone-white and coated in blood. Black, white and red.
It didn't hurt.
She approached him, let a hand trail over his cheek, leaving a smear of blood he'd always see in the mirror afterward. "Say something."
"Will I get a new father?" His voice was bland, eyes focussed on the pool of blood in the hollow of her throat. Appealing.
And that was enough to make her look at him consideringly. "No. I think it will just be the two of us for now." She embraced him then, hair smelling of sakura blossoms.
Eventually, it would be only him, her body naked, coated with blood, settled blank on the ground, bone-white.
His head broke the surface and he gasped, feeling liquid running down his cheeks, soaked in his hair, running over white skin.
The boy was near, sleeping, and it wasn't much effort to approach. To appeal.
Naked, he let his hand trail over the boy's cheek, watched lips part. Unsure of where to look, caught by the stream of blood running warm over chest, over strong stomach, disappearing somewhere around muscled thighs. Even in dream, unable to look. Staring instead at the hollow of the throat.
"Your sister is gone now," Seishirou said, watching the smear of blood trail from his fingers to Subaru's cheek.
Silence. No tears. Nothing. A thick, dream, scented, bone-white silence as Subaru stared. Say something, he wanted to shout. Anything.
"Subaru-kun," Seishirou whispered. "Do you think I'm sexy?"
Eyes widened.
And, in dreaming, Subaru's hair blew the scent of sakura blossoms.