Title: Nightmare of You
Chapter title: Fear of the Unknown
Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon.
Notes: A continuation, if you like, of my Taikeru drabble, 'Comforting Sounds'. I enjoyed writing it so much and was so inspired that I had to write more. This isn't going to be a long fic; only a few chapters long. I just hope there's some emotion there. And my assigned beta seems to have disappeared off the face of the planet, so TK kindly beta'd for me; I would have waited, but I'm in a rush in case I lose inspiration.
Takeru walks in a questionably straight line down the street, trying not to lose his balance. The nightmares won't seem to stop, and he can't sleep. A yawn is suppressed as he turns a corner; he tries to pay attention to the faint noises animals are making in the dark. But they get repetitive very quickly.
He doesn't know where he's going. Perhaps he should have thought about it before he left. He knows he's safe here, but he still feels nervous being out alone this late at night. There's not a soul around. Yes, he's safe, but…
No. He's not safe. Not while Taichi's back at their apartment on his own. Of course he's probably sleeping. Why wouldn't he be sleeping? He does like to sleep, and he only ever wakes up in the night if Takeru wakes him up. Like tonight, when Takeru had another nightmare.
But he's never convinced when Taichi tells him it's ok, that nothing can hurt him and nothing can break them apart. He always gives a smile and lets Taichi feel like he's done a good deed, reassured him; but when he closes his eyes again the smile fades and Takeru will drift back into his nightmare world.
It's an unpleasant place. The creatures are like nothing he's ever seen; too different to both animals and Digimon for him to consider them familiar. The last couple of weeks have favoured a giant rabbit. It's white and its eyes are angry and red, and Takeru is tempted to refer to it as an albino. The teeth are big, sharp and stained. But it's slow, and it hardly moves at all. It doesn't have to. Nightmares are funny like that; not making sense.
The rabbit killed Taichi tonight. Again. He wasn't even running; neither of them were. Takeru couldn't understand why.
He still can't.
It didn't, and still doesn't, frighten him. He was a little scared the first time he encountered the rabbit, like he was the first time he came across each of the creatures. But it's ok now, because he knows the rabbit. It's comfortable to see, and he doesn't mind it because it doesn't move. Some of them move, though. One of the first ones was a hippo which stood upright and wore stripy pyjamas; that one moved quickly. No hope of escape, but even then Takeru wasn't frightened, not after it had killed the first time. Because he knew.
He still struggled when they moved. He couldn't help it; it was like he was programmed to resist. Taichi never did though. Even in nightmares, he was still first and foremost the Child of Courage. There are never any words of protest, any screams to ring in Takeru's ears long after his sweat has dried and his breathing has calmed. Taichi took the senseless killings like a man.
Always having to be the hero. It's something Takeru loves about Taichi, and he knows that one day it's going to be his downfall.
The scenes replay and Takeru's fingers tighten around the pockets of the dirty jeans he had hurriedly pulled on. No matter what the creature or how fast it moves, it always has the same intention. And it always succeeds. Every time Takeru has to watch the person he loves most in the world die, and there's nothing he can do about it except scream and struggle against bonds that aren't there.
But the worst part isn't the hunger in the eye of the beast when it looks at Taichi, or the dreadful sounds of the spring snapping shut and the metal jaws crunching through bone. It's not the vain and pitiful determination to triumph in the end that Takeru can always see on Taichi's face, nor is it the utter uselessness he feels when he knows what's coming, because it always does.
No. The worst part is in that brief, hideous moment when Takeru's eyes are wide and his fingers are twisted over themselves, tangled in the sheets. When he can feel cool air against his wet skin and his hair stuck to his forehead, the tenseness of every muscle in his body and the drum of his heart pounding desperately against his ribcage. When his breathing is almost too hard to bear and he's shaking so violently with the awful blow of what he thinks he knows.
When he has to turn and hope, with everything he ever had and ever will have, that Taichi is still lying next to him, alive and breathing.
And so far he has been. Takeru has been able to push his hair back from his face and let out a heavy breath with visible relief every time his nightmares have been too much to cope with. Taichi's always there, never complaining when Takeru wakes him up and craves reassurance. He'll hold his hand and whisper soothing words, his voice melodious despite being groggy and laced with exhaustion. Sometimes, like he did today, he'll rub Takeru's thigh or stomach instead of holding his hand; it has the same effect. But his voice is always soothing, calming, reassuring. Like nothing else Takeru has ever heard, and he never wants it to be taken away. Just hearing his voice is often all Takeru wants, and this can be his motive for waking him up. Other times, he has to check that Taichi's still alive. Even if he's snoring; Takeru has to be absolutely sure.
He hears a bird and stops where he is, hesitating before turning around. He needs to go home; Taichi's not safe there on his own at night. Taichi's not safe anywhere on his own, and neither is Takeru. His quickening footsteps echo through the street, loud and lonely, as he makes his way back.