Aiming
DISCLAIMER: D・N・Angel is © Sugisaki Yukiru. This story's mine.
(burn the length and breadth of sky – we point our arrows at the moon)
The view through Daisuke's window explodes with color in a matter of seconds. Red and gold and orange and pink; the vast flowers of fire dance against the darkness like a fancy ball. Or a traditional festival. Or the nightscape that Dark once stole with his help.
There's homework he ought to be doing, and a half-finished painting he's toying with working on, but for now Daisuke just lies on his back in bed and stares at the lights of the fireworks until they hurt his eyes.
He plays with a small lock in his hands, absently picking it and locking it and picking it over and over out of habit; it's not something he notices.
It's too bad, because he really wishes he could go see the fireworks from the park or somewhere with a friend—with Riku especially, but even with Takeshi or Hiwatari. Hidden in the corridors of his heart, Dark is sulking; Daisuke thinks it's because he'd rather be out stealing or seeing those fireworks with Risa himself.
He can hear his family downstairs, faintly—his mom and dad and grandpa talking, Towa screeching at Argentine, Wiz kyuuuu-ing for all he's worth. They're probably watching the fireworks on TV—either that, or planning his and Dark's next heist.
There are so many things that he should be thinking about, but all Daisuke can bring himself to be interested in is his lost date opportunity and the sight of the fireworks.
"…They're really pretty, aren't they, Dark?"
…I don't care. They're not hot girls, and they're not Hikari artworks, so don't bother me about 'em, will you?
Daisuke makes a face and shakes his head at the sharp tone of Dark's voice in his head, but he smiles a little as he realizes that Dark is reluctantly watching now, too.
Yeah. He doesn't need to say it aloud, but Dark can appreciate the beauty of the fireworks well. Dark knows better than anybody that there are some things that are incredibly precious because they can't be stolen.