"It's the guilty innocence that I want to be reflected in your eyes. It's the innocent guilt that I want to be reflected in your heart. I've never felt like this before, and I'll never feel like this after."

Once again, he found himself dreaming. How many times had he found himself like this? In a world of his own creation with no noise, no shelter, no life?

Just plain black and white. If only the real world had that aspect.

Alex watched as the man wandered carelessly, cheerily, through the back alley. The alley led to the back door of his apartment building which is where he preferred (and it was preferred by others) that he entered if it was anywhere between the hours of 10 and 5 at night. No one lived near the door, so even his drunken arrival wouldn't bother many. He hadn't even been sheepish when mentioning his drinking habits over coffee; completely unashamed. Alex had found out that most aspects of his life were an open book for the world, like he never imagined anything bad could come from such a trait. The man truly was a fool.

The dream had variations, but only in the same way that you can bake the same cake over and over and have it slightly different each time, or maybe just watch a movie on repeat and notice more and more little details with each time. If he had been conscious of his surroundings being merely a dream he would be lazily counting down until that man would appear and they would meet again.

If only their real meeting had been under different circumstances.

His shoes scraped against the pavement as he drew closer. There was no one else but them, barely any other sounds, but still it wasn't until Alex had nearly closed the distance between them that the man's head flicked up, accompanied by a startled "Who's there?" Alex said nothing, instead stepping further forward and removing himself from the shadows barely-but-just enough. The man's shoulders visible relaxed and he moved out of the defensive half-crouch his body had jumped impulsively into. "Oh, it's just you Alex. You really freaked me out ya know? Make some noise or something next time, like a "hello!" would be great."

Alex could just catch sight of him from across the barren concrete desert that engulfed the two of them. He was slowly getting bigger in his sight, moving closer while still anchored to the floor. Scratches danced across the landscape, Alex observed, from the ground they stood and up the walls into the endless above. He had plenty of time to take in his surroundings as he himself found his feet unable to move off the floor.

He was ever slow with catching on, Alex idly observed somewhere in the haze of his thoughts. It took him another few moments for his eyes to trail low enough to spot the next part of the picture. "Is that a gun?" The question was followed by a choked, nervous laugh. "I guess you thought the same thing I did, except I only have my keys for protection. Come on, put that thing away before you scare the crap outta some other poor soul, or worse get the cops on your tail." Alex didn't move, unaffected by the expectant gaze he was now receiving. However slow he was on picking things up, he always knew the suspiciously correct words to say and how to say them with that silly, Labrador expression. It was the kind of expression you would expect from a child, wide eyed and innocent, as they ask why the doctors were pulling the white blanket over mummy's head. It made Alex sick.

As his face came into view, it was practically shining with radiance. His skin slowly changed from its usual, ever so slightly bronzed colouring to a brilliant white emitting a pale glow. Alex felt it he looked at it for too long he might be blinded, like a mere man staring into the sun, but still he could tear his eyes away. His world shook.

Those eyes never left him as he raised the gun to eye level, arm firm and muscles locking into place. Those eyes suddenly swirled with confusion and unease as they continued to search steely grey opposite, looking for a reason, a trace of humour; "Hey, don't mess around like that, not even joking. I hope you've got the safety on that thing. Didn't your mother ever teach you not to play with guns? Or was that just scissors?" Another nervous chuckle imitating bravado; their eyes still connecting; Alex felt a quiver run through his trigger finger, the sensation foreign and frightening. Those eyes were making him gag.

As he watched the room light up under that man's brilliant radiance, he himself felt dwarfed in comparison. There was a twitch in his chest, holding him tight and suffocating him. It twisted and writhed, reaching out to creep across the rest of his body as spider webs that expanded to bubonic markings. He looked down for a moment to watch the splotches of darkness spread to his arms and hands, gnarling his fingers and painfully restricting his arms.

The only light left on his person was that that was radiating from the other man, somehow reflecting off of his rotten body, just as the sun pities the moon.

Alex, arm locked in place, stepped forward boldly, and again, until the metal of the barrel could brush against the man's defined jaw, then again so his arm had to bend at the elbow until it was near on completely folded in. How badly he wanted to touch him, their faces this close; just stroke his cheek tenderly and brush that one strand of hair off his forehead. But he couldn't, he resolved. His hands were still covered in the blood of the hundreds before this one idiotic man, the one who just had to help him up when he tripped outside a coffee shop, who just had to treat him as compensation for a stumble he had no hand in, who just had to be one of those people with an obnoxious mouth but a heart in exactly the right place; one of those people that didn't deserve to die young, or have such bloody hands caressing them gently.

He watched as the brightly illuminated man ascended, above all else his pearly teeth behind curling lips still visible through the luminosity, while he himself was dragged down into the abyss, feeling the arms of horrible creatures grabbing and pulling. It was as if it were some planned appropriate punishment he had been assigned, as they were the same kind of creature he had once defined himself as.

So he does the job quickly, pushing his frivolous desires aside. The squeeze of one finger, the running of two legs and it's done; collect pay and leave. With professional skill, he manages to splatter no blood on his hands; the gun in pocketed and his legs are moving before the body even hit the ground. The sound of his footsteps against pavement can't cover the sound of the sticky thump as it does, and for the first time in his career the sound echoes, ringing in between his ears. It's disturbing to hear.

God, I am watching a twisted dream…

And then… I wake up.

The rental accommodation he's been given to stay in is modest, nothing special; a joint kitchen and lounge with one bedroom and bathroom. Nothing particularly interesting resided there, leaving his opinion of the apartment at a neutral. He curled up on one of the settees with his morning coffee, just beside where his usual jacket was slung over the armrest, and flicked on the television to watch the news out of habit.

Various stories droned into the otherwise silent room, all blurring together into dull noise that floated into one ear and out of the other without being properly processed. A photo flashed onto the screen that made his blood run cold as eyes he thought he was rid of stared directly into his.

Matthias Kohler

Victim

It was a layout he saw all too often, hundreds of times in his past by his fault alone, but like everything else so far with this one man it was the only one which goaded any response from his mind. He didn't hear a word of the story; if the police suspected him his boss would've been on him about it by now. All he could focus on was those baby blue eyes staring, grinning, right at him from behind glass. Even after the photo was taken off, after they moved to a different story, those eyes still haunted him. His coffee tasted bitter; he wanted to throw up.

He became painfully aware of the jacket resting next to him now, pocket still weighed down by a gun loaded full save for one bullet. The same gun was meant to be fired again tomorrow night, as it was a week ago today, except this time at a sleaze ball up to his eyes in debt rather than a puppy with a big mouth.

It wasn't until his fingers were gripped around the handle of said gun did Alex snap back to where he was. The metal felt cool and familiar, a comforting feeling for him at that moment. Removing it robotically from the pocket he brought the barrel to rest on the same spot he chose for that man.

It wasn't fair. He took everything from that man, and that man from everyone, and yet he was the one who managed to take his heart. If it hadn't been for him, his heart would still be dry and his mind would still be cruel and his work would still be easy. It was all he had going for him, and that man shattered everything with a single coffee date. Alex felt pathetic, like he might actually become ill.

Closing his eyes, the choice became obvious to him.

For a moment, he pitied the poor maid who would come to clean his room, or the landlord who would come to kick him out, but someone had to take the proverbial bullet in such a situation and it was something out of Alex's control. He let his head tilt back, eyes falling gently closed, and his absolute final thoughts came peacefully, comforting his in their twisted way.

He remembered the dream.

The black; the white; the dark; the light

And he prayed

God, give me eternal rest in this dream

This world of 'if only's

I need no compensation

Nor do I deserve it

And to you too

You'll never know about these feelings I have

Please watch over my end as I sink within the debris

Matthias.

And then… he didn't wake up.

A/N: This fic was based around the Vocaloid song "Bullet for Prisoner" by Megurine Luka. The quote at the top is from the video and some of the other lyrics are used in the story, specifically the last verse. Please R&R~