Disclaimer—No own, so sue
Notes—Okay, first attempt at YnM from the Title Challenges over at Fiction Alley. A little vignette, not really a story. I guess it's a PWP minus the lemon part—those do exist, you know. Here goes nothing.
Sometimes The Clock Chimes At Three AM
Sometimes the clock chimes at three AM and Hisoka wakes up in his first big-boy bed, frightened of a nightmare. Feeling too old to call for Mommy he huddles underneath his blanket, seeing shadows of wolves lined up at his mattress that will surely attack him if he moves his body the tiniest bit. Naturally he gets an itch in his foot and the need to scratch it drives him mad, but he is too terrified to move his hand—though not his mouth as he gives up his bravado and screams for Mommy, for Daddy, for Tsukiko the maid, for the dog, for anybody to come—and they all do. The wolves disappear and everyone huddles around him. Mommy and Tsukiko comfort him and Daddy lectures him on the need to be a big boy and the dog licks his face and curls at his feet to keep them warm. At three AM, Hisoka feels safe.
Sometimes the clock chimes at three AM and Hisoka is raiding the fridge, looking for a supplement to his meager diet of bread and water, food for a prisoner. He is sore from the kenjutsu training and the cold air from the refrigerator only adds to the chill he carries from the basement. He must be careful to leave no sign that he has been stealing food; Tsukiko used to take pity on him and say that the food was used in making meals but Tsukiko was fired for "liking the monster too much". The dog stirs at a small noise Hisoka creates and Hisoka holds his breath, waiting for the howling and barking sure to follow as the dog undoubtedly believes he is an intruder. The dog that used to frighten away the wolves now terrifies him more than those wolves ever did. In fact, as he flees from the kitchen sans sustenance, he wishes those wolves were back.
Sometimes the clock chimes at three AM and Hisoka opens his eyes now that the source of pain has left him, leaving only its aftereffects. He is lying on his stomach covered in dirt and blood and sweat and tears and so many other things he cannot identify. The night stabs him with cold air and he cannot move to retrieve his torn and bloody clothes lying in between himself and the half-decapitated women sprawled on the ground twenty feet away from him. A soulless laugh is ringing in his ears and he claws at his head trying to drive it out. The laugh is incessantly growing louder and louder until Hisoka's head feels ready to implode; the laugh will never leave and the prospect of this bleak forever drives him to despair and then darkness. The last things he sees are the pale pink sakura blossoms floating serenely, sinisterly, to the ground.
Sometimes the clock chimes at three AM and Hisoka is babbling insanely in a hospital bed. The doctors say he has paranoid schizophrenia but Hisoka knows that his "delusions of persecution" are not delusions, there IS a gold eye staring at him and black human-like figures whispering inaudibly and a dog barking and a perennial menacing laugh and a tornado of sakura blossoms and wolves lined up at his bed. Hisoka throws his pillow across the room at his roommate (why he was given a roommate he does not know) and starts shrieking louder while the roommate calls for a nurse, who arrives with a needle. Hisoka hates those needles but he cannot avoid it; he is strapped to the bed by his waist and the nurse easily stays his flailing, undernourished frame in order to give him the sedative. Hisoka stops screeching but the babbling continues; the nurse shakes her head and tut-tuts the shamefulness of it.
Sometimes the clock chimes at three AM and Hisoka stares at the ceiling. They have moved him to Isolation and have become disinterested in keeping him alive. Once a month his parents will visit and he speaks of wolves to them, and they leave immediately. Not that he truly cares for their company, or for the doctors' or anyone's. Sometimes he will cry but often just whimper, if not remain silent and watch shapes and pattern in the ceiling tiles. Everyone once in a while he will see a swirl of pink or a flash of gold and his head will pound. Those are the only times he is truly afraid; even as he lays there dying he cares not for the fact that he will depart the world soon. He wants to escape his head throbbing and the endless injections and his parents' feigned affections. When he sees the light he is prepared to go towards it. Only the colors pink and gold scare him now; even the wolves have lost their place as tormentors.
Sometimes the clock chimes at three AM and Hisoka wonders what he is doing here. He yearned for an escape from life only to find himself living another one; well, really a paradox of life in Purgatory, hatred and vengeance on his mind as he eats, sleeps, and breathes. He confronted the gold eye and regained his full memory, and now all he can think of is avenging himself. He wonders if gold-eye knows how horrific it was, what he did to Hisoka and Tsubaki and Maria and Eileen. Gold-eye obviously cares naught for it; he wonders why he wants to take revenge on someone who will clearly not feel his wrath but merely laugh at his feeble, childish attempts. The thought maddens Hisoka. The wolves are coming back in his dreams, and the shadows of people whispering, and the dog barking, and everything that drove him to despair in the hospital. Hisoka wonders how he stands it.
Sometimes the clock chimes at three AM and Hisoka will wake up with a start, frightened of a nightmare. A black serpent runs rampant through his dreams, sporting twin, bloodstained swords. The intense feeling of hatred is drowned out by fear, not borne of wolves or dogs or eyes or flowers or laughter, but of a limp figure silently crying as he leans against the wall, wishing for his own death and being eaten by hellish black and red flames, while all Hisoka can do is watch in despair as the sole love of his life is devoured. Fully awake Hisoka will turn and stare at the sleeping figure in the infirmary bed next to his and thank all the powers that be that shadows had rescued him and his love, clinging to each other and sobbing, from the tongues of fire that licked at them, ripping off flesh as it did. Anxiously he watches the figure turn over and mutter in his sleep. He thinks he hears a dog barking in the background.
Sometimes the clock chimes at three AM and Hisoka will wake up in a cold sweat. He will have arms around him, holding him to the chest of a warm, strong body that will stir when he does and whisper, "Are you okay?" Hisoka will nod and gulp for air and Tsuzuki will not buy it for a moment; he'll snuggle Hisoka into the trunk of his body tighter and softly kiss his head. Hisoka will turn onto his side and bury his face into Tsuzuki's collarbone, inhaling the scent of flesh and laundry detergent. The body has enough balmy warmth to chase away the wolves—he has not dreamt of them since moving in. The silhouettes of humans and the dog barking are gone as well, the sakura going, and the gold eye beginning to lose its definition. He will glance up and stare into a pair of amethysts beautiful enough to rival real jewels and see the loving soul of his partner shining from them. They will kiss and Hisoka will feel at peace, when the clock chimes at three AM.