A/N: The characters don't belong to me..I wish. The poem, however, is mine. Hope you enjoy the story, and please, R&R!! Thanks!
Light footsteps echoed down the short hall as the singer slowly found his way to the back room. Long fingers slowly turned the knob to the room, causing the door to squeak, the sound echoing through the sparse room. Switching on the light, the room filled with a soft reddish glow, revealing a room painted entirely black, the single window that rested in the far corner covered with a light preventing black drape; one that would only be removed if it was a complimentary night. A soft sigh slid from gentle lips as he made his way to the small stand in the right corner, of which stood an undersized stereo. He didn't particularly care what music was in it, as long as it was acceptably soft and depressing. Making sure it was low enough he didn't understand any words and yet high enough to hear clearly he smiled softly, ignoring the pain that seemed to rip through his chest in reaction to the music sliding through the room. Dark brown eyes slid closed for a moment before he walked to the desk set within the middle of the room, papers scattered about it, a closed laptop settled upon them. Thin pale fingers slid across the papers, his lips curling in disgust as he read a few over, crumpled it and tossed them at a waste basket near the wall.
The stool in front of the table was a bit tall, one that would allow him to hunch over the papers strewn about if he so wished. The wood had been painted black, of which he trailed his fingers over before he jumped upon it and opened the 'dead' piece of equipment. He turned away from the bright light when it blinked on and, once in, changed the desktop and color scheme to something dark as he had still been on another from when he had been away from his home.
Home.... This place had never seemed home to him; a sneaky feeling in the back of his mind reassured him that it never would. No where would ever feel like home ever again. He took a deep breath and pushed the feelings to the back of his mind once more, unwilling to allow that ramble to fall out onto his papers once yet again.
He shivered in the cold of early fall entering through the cracked window. Unwilling to get up from his seat, however, he ignored the feeling and settled his fingers upon the keyboard, closing his eyes and allowing the feelings to flow into him, out of him onto the screen.
Nothing he'd started writing got too far, and soon tears of frustration and pain slid down soft pink cheeks. He growled softly and turned away from the computer, the want to throw it as far away from him as possible almost too much to be left behind. Wiping the tears away with shaking hands he turned the song to one of which he'd never wanted to hear again...then again...these feelings were ones he had never wanted to feel again. They were back though, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Taking a shuttering breath he clamped his arms around him and bit his lower lip, so intent upon the pain of his heart to feel teeth slowly breaking skin. Brown eyes clouded with pain and want, hope shattered and desperation as he slowly made his way to the desk, set, once again, to attempt to write something. Anything. He just...needed to write.
His hand shook and the desire to delve into the small hidden conclave of his desk was almost overwhelming...however the need to write was stronger, so he slowly placed his hands upon the keyboard once again and began to write:
From the depths of the dawn
To the paleness of death...
From the heart's last desire
To Hell's ever-present breath...
Destroy the heart so drenched in fear,
Until nothing remains
Of the deadened desire found there.
Destroy the life so foul within
For only you are more then I...
Bitter tears that sorrow brings
Let them wash down a face so undeserving.
Blackened hands touch a scarred body
Unknowing of its taints.
A mind clogged with fear searches for release,
Only to be found in death's sweet depths,
Devoured by the lies,
Soothed by the pain.
Claws create deaths a thousand times over,
Contorting a mind numb from the heart beyond.
Destroy me...
But stay with me.
Kill me....
But Love me.
Devour me...
But continue along this path of pain with me.
Is this truly where the unknowing and defenseless belong,
Or am I so corrupt
That only the deepest depths of hell
Suffice to be my home?
Can I not rise from this,
Out of the blackened bloody waters
Found only within a soul tainted?
Paint my black a red...!
Show my sins-
The hands so covered with my own blood
That will never be free from these shackles.
Chain me to a wall, Love..
And kill me day by day...
Destroy what little soul is left
That I could be your puppet...
That I may live through this
With nothing.
His body shook, the only steady areas of his body his hands as he slowly ceased typing and saved the document, unsure if he would ever use it. He doubted it...it would hurt too much to sing it. Taking a shaky breath he wrapped his arms about his body, only to pry one loose to lightly tap a hidden button within the desk to release a small drawer, of which contained a small decorative dagger; one of which he had sharpened to a fine edge every month.
The deadly tip danced across slightly scarred knuckles as he contemplated the release, one that writing couldn't bring, and singing would only inspire and drive. Small tears slowly made their way down his cheek as he pushed at the pajama pants he had worn that day to reveal a scar infested hip. The only area he could cut that wouldn't be seen by anyone...anyone. He gazed at the scars for a moment, trying to remember what he had been trying to draw last time he had brought this knife out. Shaking his head, he couldn't remember, he slowly drew the knife over the skin carefully, barely leaving a white line across the flesh before repeating along the same line - each time going slowly deeper into the skin. He watched with half closed despairing eyes; chin shaking as he bit his lip to keep the sobs in. He cried too much, he'd decided that last time he sat here like this, devouring his flesh. He'd drawn a small line running from his hipbone to mid pelvis, stopping just above the abhorrence that made him male. He would never be liked by the one that he yearned for, cried out for. He was already married, after all, very happily, he assumed, with a child on the way.... Heh...even in the years before her he would never have seen the yearning in the brunet's eyes; it was too covered with falsities. He as too...'far fetched' to be the one the blond would ever want to hold, want to be held by. He slowly shook his head and closed his eyes, decorating the other side of his hip with a degrading mark against himself as he contemplated simply driving the dagger into his gut. That would finish it, wouldn't it? Maybe he'd be in Hell then...then again, wasn't this a living hell? A shaky laugh slid from pale lips before he bit them.
The soft 'clunk' of a falling dagger resounded through the room as he leaned against the wall, sagging to the ground and burying his face against raised knees. You'll never be mine, Tohma...and all I can do is write. Gomen nasai.... Silent tears slid down his cheeks as he sat within the darkness, devoured by his heart and mind through the everlasting night until he slowly fell asleep in the degrading ball of blackened desire.