Title: Smirk
Author: MoonlitAffairs (Kyoka)
Theme(s): #3- Nighttime
Characters: Tezuka Kunimitsu
Rating: PG/K+
Warnings: Mentions of blood, implied character death
Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis belongs to Konomi Takeshi. I'm only borrowing them for a while. I don't own [crazy Tezuka for the life of me. (And trust me, if I did, people would be running for their lives.)
Summary: Tezuka doesn't know what he's seeing anymore. Written for the 30 deathfics community on livejournal.
Some Notes: I'm sorry for the utter random-ness of this. I've been brain-dead for a few days, and this is all I could produce. It's horrible, I know. Once I'm done with my vet. science project, though (it's due in a week) I'll be able to do more. So I apologize for the lack of quality on this. (I did proofread!)
Smirk
He was alone.
Alone, in a world where the wind passed slowly, and the seasons blended in to one another. As night slowly slipped into day, his eyes fell closes, reflecting the blue sky and soft white clouds above, slowly moving in the direction of the wind, the direction where his hair was swept and where leaves blew.
His eyes would open later, wondering if this was really a real place.
This wasn't the world of his dreams, was it?
The sky slowly melted into a deep purple, reflecting on thin lenses. His lips parted as he exhaled, his breath carried as well into this wind, blowing hither and thither until it disappeared fully. Quietly, he sat up to meet a spinning head. This was a familiar feeling; his eyes closed to will it a way, and he took his breath slowly, seconds at a time.
In the distance, he could have sworn he saw the glint of a knife, and the stark, crimson color of blood.
But it was just a dream….
At least, he thought that it was.
The twilight faded into darkness, and a soft smirk shown at him tauntingly, from the very corners of his mind. He lay back in the grass and stared at stars. This wasn't a dream, was it?
Was it?
There was a figure in the distance, cloaked by shadows and a wave of red crimson painted onto his body. Eyes glinted, but he couldn't recognize who exactly it was, nor could he move closer in order to better see the character. "Tezuka..."
The voice rang across his ears with astounding familiarity, and before he realized it, the figure was coming closer. Running his fingers through his hair, he closed his eyes. None of the shadows seemed to evaporate. "My beloved Tezuka." The voice was frightfully possessive. He wasn't used to hearing such things, and if he wasn't feeling so drowsy and dizzy he would tell the person to keep some distance. It was suffocating. "Tezuka." The words were spoke hauntingly, without breath, spoken against the nape of his neck. A cold hand contacted his neck, and his eyes snapped wide open.
He wasn't in a field at all; he was in his own bed, shivering. Outside the faint glow of the streetlight made way into his window. Groping in the darkness blindly for his glasses, perhaps for the bedroom lamp, he sighed. When he found the metal frames he slipped them on with some difficulty and then stared up at the ceiling.
The answering machine was playing back it's last message. "Tezuka-san, if you can call me back as soon as possible, I'd appreciate it. We have important manners to discuss."
His eyes flickered for sometime like golden flames, dancing in the darkness of the room before they closed again. Somebody had died, hadn't they? He wasn't able to remember who it was exactly that was dead. His heart skipped a beat, for the next time he opened his eyes, he was sure that he saw a pale, ghostly figure in the corner, staring at him coolly. An arctic breeze blew across the sheets, but Tezuka didn't shiver.
There was a soft smirk, a smirk from a person that wasn't even there.
"Tezuka." The set of eyes was closer than he expected it to be. Tezuka pulled the sheets up to his chin, took a deep breath, and counted to ten. When he opened his eyes, nothing was there. Surely, he was going crazy. He wasn't calming down like he usually would have, because even with him being as stoic as he was, he was still in a state of panic. His eyes scanned the room expectantly for the ghostly figure again.
Nobody was there.
He was alone.