Author's Notes: So apparently it's common to have this here? I'm still working things out, haha.
Well, in any case, this is just a one-shot that kind of popped into my head one night. It's not my best writing, it's very short, and it's not at all happy, but it's one of the first things I've finished in months, so I'd say that's an accomplishment in itself. In any case, I hope you enjoy it! Comments and constructive criticism are more than welcome.
The visitor is at the door of a house that he knows almost as well as his own. He can hear voices on the inside, blending with the painfully cheery Junes jingle that he hates so much. When he knocks, they all disappear, like someone pressed a mute button or unloaded a silent gun.
The door opens, and he's there. Souji's eyes are gleaming and colorful in a sick way that gray eyes shouldn't be. The visitor cranes his neck to see behind him and finds the house empty. He doesn't think to ask why. Souji opens the door wider and steps out of the way, as though he's been expecting company even though he never made any advance plans. At least, the visitor doesn't think he did—it's starting to become hard to remember where he was before this. All he knows is that he's here and that he has something to do.
Souji closes the door. He still has that look in his eyes, like he knows everything and intends to reveal nothing. The look pisses his visitor off to no end, and he sticks his hand in his jacket pocket, running his fingers across the cool metal they find there. He feels no remorse at it being there, and what it's going to be used for.
Souji smiles at him and offers his visitor tea. The visitor's mouth is dry and foul-tasting, but he shakes his head. His hand tightens around the blade. He walks closer to the gray-haired teen, who still has a placid and welcoming look on his face, unaware of any hatred coming his way. The same as he always is.
It's then that the visitor draws the weapon out of his pocket and leaps towards Souji, pinning him to the ground.
Souji's face changes in an instant. The pompous look on his face is gone, and the color in his eyes is being swallowed by fear. He's got a slash on his face from where the blade slipped in the struggle, and the blood on his face is being diluted by tears. The attacker has never seen Souji cry before, and his lips turn up in an involuntary smirk. His terror, his true self finally unmasked at another person's mercy, is such a sudden rush.
What's even better, though, is Souji's begging. He's saying through tears that he'll do anything, just not this, and please why I thought we were friends. Friends? The word is foreign in the attacker's mind. He cannot connect it to this pitiful being underneath him. All he knows is that once he ends this, he'll have everything. How or why doesn't matter; he just will.
Still, it's so funny, seeing Souji like this. If only he could broadcast this on the Midnight Channel for everyone to see. Their flawless leader, screaming for his life like a coward. How wonderful it would be to see everyone's disgust at how pathetic he is. But there's no time.
He closes his eyes and brings the kunai down only once. It's all he needs.
When he opens his eyes, there is no kunai in his hand and no screaming Souji under him. The Junes jingle is playing again, making him long for something long and sharp to jab into his eardrums. It takes him a few seconds to notice that Chie is lecturing him on how he needs to pay attention when she's talking to him, but he's gotten used to tuning her out. He has eyes only for the person sitting next to her.
Souji is very alive. He looks as he always does, neat and together, no fear or sorrow in his eyes. He's perfect. He looks at Yosuke and smiles, and Yosuke does so in return.
Yosuke would never kill Souji like in that dream.
He doesn't have the courage.
But the small chance that a Shadow might do the job for him is more than enough reason to smile.