Title: monsters under your bed
Rating: T...?
Characters: Irie Shouichi, Byakuran, Rokudo Mukuro (though briefly)
Pairing: sort of 10051...? Maybe...?
Summary: Shouichi's life is normal - and he likes it as it is. Alas, it all comes crumbling down when something straight from a nightmare comes to get him. Two- or threeshot, depending on how wordy I get.
Credit: I got this idea from IdyllicCritic. I know it's not exactly according to your comment, but this somehow wrote itself like this.
He's been very stressed lately and that's why this is happening, that's the only explanation he can offer to himself.
Being the head programmer for Vongola corporation isn't exactly a stress-free job, after all; the countless hours the work consumes from him are longer than the ones he spends in his own apartment in quiet, and the vacations are scarce if not nonexistent.
But Irie Shouichi does not complain, does not utter a single protest at the gruesome working hours that would have any other person filing a complaint against the company.
He is, as you can imagine, very much in love with his work, and fully committed to spending the rest of his working life solving problems and creating new programs that would benefit Vongola more than not.
His newest creation was a security program, and so far it had been a huge success as the amount of hacking that occurred monthly had decreased noticeably much to everyone's immense relief and joy.
In exchange, Shouichi had missed quite a few nights worth of sleep, but he doesn't regret anything. Except maybe the fact that his back is starting to get worse again because of him dozing off on his laptop.
Anyhow.
Everything begins one snowy night – except that in reality, this is no beginning but rather the middle of the story for the other main character of this play that borderlines tragedy.
That night, snow falls down in heaps, flakes of white sticking together as they fall down on the unsuspecting people, much to the joy of children and annoyance of drivers.
Today, Irie Shouichi has returned home from one excruciating day of work, and he barely notices the snow or the squeals of children as he makes his way up towards his apartment in the largest apartment building of the area.
It's a cold concrete building, aesthetically not pleasing to the eye, but it is sturdy and has room and the prices have gone through the roof.
The same could be said about Shouichi's apartment itself; it is small but offers warmth and a place to sleep and eat at whenever he's gone from work.
But it can't be called a home.
It lacks the warm feelings of attachment and devotion, and it's not a place Shouichi feels completely at ease in.
If anything, this night he feels even more uncomfortable in his tiny apartment than usual. Something nasty is in the air, he could feel it... but he has never been the type to listent to those sorts of paranoid thoughts that would only claw you alive.
His life is bleak at best, there is no way anything would change that.
And he does not mind the bleakness of it, not at all; he is content with his life, with his choices, with his work and relationships.
It's everything he needs, but...
But.
There is always the but.
...
It's later on that evening when that terrible feeling of something being amiss returns to him, and he's already in his pyjamas by then, right about to tuck himself under the covers of his simple bed.
The feeling makes the hairs on the back of neck stand up, and a shudder runs up his spine like ghostly fingers over his skin.
Shouichi halts his movements, his dazed green eyes gazing around the room thoroughly as the cold feeling of wrongness grips his heart tighter.
The darkness has fallen a long time ago, its reign starting after the colorful sunset, and now all light has fallen to its victim, rendering Shouichi's near-sighted eyes useless.
Shouichi swallows thickly just as he reprimands himself for being so jumpy and rigid when there is absolutely nothing to be afraid of in his own apartment. The silly fear of burglary occurring here is just that – silly, since he lives on the fifteenth floor and there's a very trustworthy security system he himself has checked and upgraded at least twelve times during the three years he has lived here.
Of course this must be his overactive imagination going wild, right...
Shouichi agrees with himself, again chastising himself for being silly before he pulls the covers over and climbs into the bed and tugs the warm blankets over his body. With that, everything is settled, and he can sleep peacefully in his bed.
But life hardly ever goes according to plan, does it?
This time life decides to kick Shouichi's crotch with high heels and squirt lemon juice into the green eyes; that is what life does, that ever so fickle thing.
Or maybe life has merely decided that it's time to break the serenity that is Shouichi's everyday routine.
Shouichi shifts over to his right side, one arm resting over his torso underneath the blankets while other lies on the blanket wrapped around his body.
A minute or two – or thirty-two – passes in comfortable silence, during which Shouichi tries to sleep, but as is the case with many things, the harder one tries to fall asleep, the more aware they get of their surroundings.
This is one of such cases.
It happens when he's near to falling asleep, his nerves finally letting go of the tension he has built up in the past few days and sleep almost overcomes his senses – and that is why he initially believes it is just a figment of his imagination.
He twitches lightly in his near-sleep, half of his pyjamas-covered leg sticking out from underneath the blankets, but even in his sleepy state, he can feel clearly the feeling of something touching his ankle. Something cold, distinguishly softer than the touch of a feather, brushes against the skin, and Shouichi furrows his brow, his foot twitching in agitation at the tickling sensation.
The sensation does not stop there, but it climbs up his leg – feather-like touch of something ghostly – and it reaches his knee effortlessly, and at this point Shouichi's not sleepy anymore. That sensation is impossible to ignore – it's like fingers are tracing his leg, barely touching but it's sitll enough for Shouichi to feel it and be aware of it.
When he feels something close to nails scraping against the joint of his knee, Shouichi's eyes fly open as he pulls his leg back onto the bed a little too quickly, nearly colliding with the wall on his other side.
"What the..." Shouichi mutters as he pulls his leg up and stares at the darkness looming in his room. No one's there, he tells himself – and every logical human being would agree with him on that observation.
No one's there – but why does it feel like he's under someone's sharp, watchful eyes this very moment?
At the very least, the sensation is gone (cold, soft and agile fingers trailing up his leg), but Shouichi doesn't feel much better; he thinks he might be going insane or his paranoid thoughts are finally getting the best of him.
Shouichi lets out a breath he has been holding, fingers clumsily running through his messy bush of red hair, before shakily lying down again and this time making sure both his legs are under the blanket. Maybe it's just the cold temperature outside that somehow manages to seep inside his room every now and then.
Yes, that must be it.
Shouichi closes his bloodshot eyes again, unaware of the pair of amethystine hues that stare at his sluggish form closely and with a hint of not so innocent intentions.
The second pair of lips in that room curl up into a wicked, playful smile as sickeningly pale fingers curl.
"Found you, you naughty child," the lips whisper deceivingly gently as fingers reach for the sleeping redhead's hair but do not touch. "Will you play with me, Shou-chan~?"
From that day forward, Shouichi has felt like somebody's watching him, and the feeling is driving him mad.
The scary thing, however, is that it's not a constant nagging feeling in the back of his mind – that would have been his unreasonable paranoia, most definitely – but he only gets that feeling in his own little apartment.
And that scares him, no matter how many times he tells himself that he's being idiotic. There are no hidden cameras in his room; he knows that because of the detection system he himself has and which he uses.
Spying is, sadly, a part of the technology industry, and his works are desired by many companies all around the world.
So, no hidden cameras and no listening devices either can explain the suffocating feeling of being watched in his apartment – or, to be more precise, in his bedroom, and that's the part that is really worrisome for him.
It has reached the point where he can't even undress in his bedroom anymore because of the eerie feeling of someone's eyes devouring the sight of his bare body.
And then, when he tries to sleep...
Sometimes he feels that same ticklish sensation of ice-cold fingers tracing his legs (ankles, feet, even thighs) accompanied with nails scraping his skin – and each time this process occurs, he can feel the touches more and more clearly, as though an actual person is there with him during those times...
Sometimes, the invisibly touches move up into his hair and they press up against his scalp so strongly that Shouichi, during those moments, feels like somebody's hand is gripping his head.
And then there are times when he swears he can feel someone's breath on his skin.
Those are the times when Shouichi thinks that he has actually gone insane; not mention the times he wakes up in cold sweat because those touches enter his dreams, too, and he can't escape them no matter the state of his brain activity.
He tries to escape this by working even harder and staying at his working place for the nights as well – not that this is anything unusual in the first place – to ease his growing uneasiness and panic-stricken stomachaches.
For the most part, it works, but his boss takes it upon himself to send Shouichi back home after a few too many times spent in comfortable silence and peace for his mind.
"I'm just concerned for you, Shouichi-kun" is what Sawada Tsunayoshi says as he gives Shouichi a serious look that speaks volumes of just how worried the brunet really is for him and his working habits. "You've been working hard, and you need your rest just like everyone else."
And that is how Shouichi has gotten two weeks off from work.
Back to his apartment then.
It's the first night of his forced vacation when he starts to hear that voice.
It's so sudden, too, that Shouichi nearly trips over his feet as he attempts to climb into his bed. Not to mention the near heart attack he gets from the sudden sultry voice he hears from his behind.
"Shou-chan has been avoiding me," the voice says softly, accusingly, and Shouichi can hear the hard edge that lies underneath the amicability. It's enough to make him freeze and nearly collide with the wall on his bed's side.
But he doesn't because something grips him from his torso and stops his nearly unavoidable collision. That, however, is not the first thought in his mind; it's the sheer coldness that he can feel pressing against his back and the shallow breathing tickling his neck that takes up all the space in his mind and thoughts.
He doesn't believe in the supernatural, but he can't explain this phenomenon with science, either.
The only acceptable exlanation is that Shouichi has lost his mind and is hallucinating.
A chuckle echoes in his ears, and he can feel chilly breath fanning at the shell of his ear, eliciting a shiver from the red-haired programmer.
"You are not real," Shouichi mutters to himself, trying to convince himself out of this hallucination, but the tightening hold around his torso only turns more real when nails dig into the fabric of Shouichi's pyjama shirt.
"How cruel of you to say such a thing, Shou-chan," the voice chuckles again into Shouichi's ear, and even if it's as quiet as a falling feather, Shouichi can hear it just as clearly as he would if the other shouted.
His stomach hurts as his understanding of the world fails him.
"How can you say that I don't exist when I can do this to you?" the voice whispers nastily, sharp nails (or that's how they feel like, to him) digging through the fabric and against his aching stomach. "Shou-chan is so skeptic, it's cute."
Shouichi groans at the sharp pain on his skin.
He can hear the devilish grin from the voice even if it doesn't have a face to smile with. "It hurts, doesn't it~?"
Sadist, Shouichi wants to retort, but fear grips him and renders him speechless as he stares at the slowly growing spot of red on his pajama shirt.
He has always had a safe life – he has never had any trouble, asides from the feeling of detachment and separation, in this world; he has never caused any trouble for anyone; he has never...
And now he's... in this situation, hallucination, whatever it is.
"Don't look so troubled now, Shou-chan," the voice giggles in amusement, and immediately the sharp pain in his stomach eases a bit as the invisible nails move from his wound. There's something more than just vague sinister feeling he gets from the voice, and it's nothing good, he thinks to himself as he tries to force his way onto the bed.
Unsuccessfully, he might add.
"Trying to escape, little lamb?" This time, there's no way Shouichi could miss the hard, dangerous edge that shines through the honey-saturated voice. "Oh, Shou-chan, you can be so utterly silly sometimes. It amuses me oh so much."
"What do you want from me?" Shouichi asks quietly and with underlying desperation, but regrets it immediately after as the coldness on his back intensifies and the pressure of someone's chest on his back growing larger. It doesn't hurt, surprisingly, but it is uncomfortable when weight and coldness are combined this way on his back.
Something presses against Shouichi's cheek, and he shivers involuntarily; the freezing cold feels like it's going to consume him completely until there's nothing left but his ice statue, forever frozen and forever locking him inside that crystal blue prison.
A breathy laughter tickles his cheek, and Shouichi purses his lips – they're already losing their warmth, and they quiver, teeth gritting together underneath the pale lips.
"What I want, hm~?" the voice hums, and Shouichi thinks that there's no way any voice could be as... suggestive as this one is. Sickeningly sweet and lewd at the same time, enough to make his tomach flip around in discomfort. "It's simple, Shou-chan..."
"And stop calling me that!" Shouichi retorts, his stomach's grumbling growing louder and stronger, and the nausea is enough to make him close his eyes in order to keep his stomach inside him.
"Ah, ah, did you lose your temper with me?" the nasty whisper in his ear echoes in his mind, and Shouichi shudders unwillingly against the invisible force that holds him in its grasp. "You're just adorable, aren't you? It just makes me want to... ravish you."
If that doesn't make him want to run for the hills, then nothing ever willl.
"Adorable little rabbit," the voice purrs against his cheek, invisibly hands grasping Shouichi's chest and pulling him closer to the being that Shouichi can't see but which he can sense frighteningly well.
Shouchi's cheeks burn with anger, fear, and embarrassment – he's not sure which of those emotions is the strongest one, but they are all present in his stomach, in his mind, and in the way he twitches in the being's hold.
"I'm not-!" he all but squeaks, his voice cut off by a sharp pain coming from the side of his neck. "Ah-!" he gasps as he violently thrashes against the grip, the pain on his neck becoming unbearable as something rips and tears at his skin.
Devouring him.
Shouichi trembles more and his vision blurs as he can feel blood flooding down his neck; a scream leaves his lips as the pain grows tenfold and it feels like it's tearing him from the inside, the pain robbing him of all coherency as his world of senses is taken over by all-devouring agony.
The cause of all this pain chuckles, and the sharpest pain on his neck disappears. But the bleeding doesn't. "This is a punishment since Shou-chan has been trying to avoid me~. Bad, bad Shou-chan," the voice admonishes him like he's a badly behaving child.
Shouichi doesn't have the strength to protest or pay full attention to the degrading manner of speaking; he merely tries to breathe correctly but he can feel himself slipping into the state of shock little by little as his torn flesh on his neck aches in unmeasurable pain.
"Shou-chan can't escape me," the voice croons into his ear, mesmerizingly and yet so threateningly, as something that feels like a hand wraps around Shouichi's throat and squeezes – earning a blood-splattering cough from Shouichi.
"Because we're bound together."
There's something terribly wrong with the cheerful way this being says that, Shouichi distantly notes to himself as his senses weaken, the thumping of his heart winning over the voice by now in volume.
The next words the voice utters are so quiet that Shouichi doesn't catch them – but it doesn't matter to him in the least.
"Shou-chan will be my beautiful white queen, won't he?"
Says the monster that lurks in the shadows of Shouichi's bed, waiting for the promised day when his real form returns to him.
It's coming soon, the said monster feels this as he gazes at Shouichi's withering form, and it smiles, its blood-stained teeth peeking from behind its lips.
It's the bloody eve of a new beginning for him.
When Shouichi's eyes open, it's already mid-afternoon, and there's no sign of blood anywhere on his sheets... or himself, he notices as he stares at the mirror in the bathroom, his hand on his unblemished neck.
And it confuses him.
Didn't something really disturbing happen last night? Shouichi questions himself, his thumb brushing over the crook of his neck where there should be at least a small injury. Logically, there should be torn skin and dried blood and grime, but there is none of that.
His skin is as unblemished as usual.
Shouichi lets out a long sigh, letting his hand fall from his shoulder as he hangs his head in a dejected manner. So, after all, he really is turning insane...
A shudder runs up his spine as he thinks about what had happened... in his mind, at least.
Maybe he really is insane.
Shouichi swallows thickly as he raises his head back to its former position and stares at his reflection some more, noting the dark rings under his eyes even despite how he slept over ten hours after that experience.
He shudders again, the cold feeling on his back is the same as before at least.
Maybe he's just getting sick and these hallucinations are a sign of that...? Has he really overworked himself to this extent?
The coldness inside him only grows worse as those thoughts run through his mind, his hands clutching at his rumbling stomach. This just the worst... Shouichi's dull green eyes fall shut as he tries to calm his erratic breathing down.
Beautiful white queen.
Those words make his legs tremble even now, and it's hard to believe that the voice would be just a fidment of his imagination.
It can't be just his imagination...
It just can't...
There's little to say about the next few days; the same sort of things occur every night, only for the next morning to make him question his mental stability.
And what's more, the figment of his imagination now has a name – Byakuran.
It's also clear that he (Byakuran has a distinctively masculine voice) likes to make vague chess allusions every chance he gets, and that's perhaps the only thing Shouichi can stand in the invisible creature of his own mind.
He's touchy feely, and it's not even in the sexual manner that Shouichi could maybe shrug off somehow; there's something much darker and possessive in those touches, and to be frank, it scares him more than anything else about Byakuran.
Because he can't see Byakuran, things are much more worrisome for him, and his stomachaches grow both in frequency and intensity as he worries over his sanity.
He tries to talk about it to Spanner, his best friend, but every time he opens his mouth ("did you know there's someone named Byakuran living in my head and I think it's not just my imagination even though I try to tell myself that he's just a sick pran my min projects onto me?") he finds himself incapable of uttering even a single word about Byakuran or the sickening, foreboding feeling in his gut.
And so he seals his own destiny, although he does not know this yet.
It's the tenth night since his vacation started, and Shouichi can't sleep. Not because of invisible touches all around his body that make him feel dirty in the most illogical sense – even if those touches are greedy and never cease – since there isn't any touching going on at the moment.
His body is all his own again, and he should be content, but this time it's the noises that keep him up, frozen on his bed like a little child who has been scared with stories of the bogeyman a few times too many.
He can't help but wonder why this has to happen to him, of all people in the world, as he hears a scratching sound from underneath his bed. His breathing halts as he listens closely to the sounds coming from the opening between the floor and his bed.
Something scratched at the bottom of his bed, eliciting a long, ear-piercing sound., and Shouichi closes his eyes, wrapping himself tightly into the blankets as he attempts to ignore the sounds.
It's like he's still the same thirteen-year-old teen who wet himself due to his fear of dark and unknown; even then he had gotten the eerie feeling of being watched.
But this time it's real, and he can't even try to fool himself thinking that it is just his imagination; the sound of something scratching against the wood underneath him isn't something his ears could mishear so easily.
That night, he won't fall asleep.
"It should take a day or two at most~," the white-haired, long-legged humanoid hums happily to himself as he stood up from his crouching position, locks of pure white swaying over his face as he looks up at the simply decorated ceiling, from where several small doll-like things hang.
His precious little dolls.
A smile plays on his lips as he reaches for one of the dolls; a figure of a dark-haired girl with deep blue eyes and a smile that could touch the evillest of hearts – but never his, never ever his.
His fingers stroke at her porceline cheek, sharp nails digging into the soft skin (because realistic dolls are always the best, are they not?) and tearing until dots of red greet his sight.
Her eyes remain as blank as the everlasting night outside this room.
"Yuni-chan's so beautiful when she's submissive like this," Byakuran coos at the doll, nails scraping over the injury he has given the girl. "So, so beautiful."
But she's nowhere near being his favorite~!
That place belongs to the one he has been hunting down ever so diligently for a good few years by now... That special person whose disappearance would be sure to attract a certain brunet's attention as well.
But Byakuran merely counts that in as a bonus.
Irie Shouichi, after all, is so much more than just a mere bait used to lure in a bigger fish. So, so much more; Byakuran's long, agile fingers twitch in excitement as he thinks about the red-haired man.
"It's rare to see you so excited," a decidedly bored voice echoes from behind the tall humanoid, and Byakuran tilts his head slightly, an act of curiosity.
"It's even rarer for Mukuro-kun to come visit me on his own."
'Mukuro' chuckles dryly, one blue and one red eye flashing as Byakuran does not bother to turn around.
"Once upon a blue moon, even I get bored enough to come visit the likes of you."
Byakuran's grin turns into an outright smirk as he fingers caress at his doll's face, not minding the rope that hangs her from her neck.
"Oho~? You like to talk big for a low-class being such as yourself, Mukuro-kun."
"What do you want with Irie Shouichi?"
Byakuran halts his movements, finally turning his head to face Mukuro, whose figure is as ghostly pale as it always is and whose eyes are narrowed into a condescending glare. Nothing new under the moon.
Byakuran opens his eyes half-way, his curious look fading and replaced by a nearly stern one. "Figures Mukuro-kun would know of Shou-chan," he chuckles mirthlessly, lips curling up higher on his face.
"Answer me, Byakuran." Mukuro's voice drips with inpatience and underlying anger – and Byakuran knows well where that emotion comes from.
This time, he laughs.
"If Mukuro-kun doesn't know my plans yet, then he should hurry up and find out, should he not~?" Byakuran croons, not even a hint of gentleness apparent in his voice nor face.
"Otherwise," Byakuran lowers his voice as he smirks smugly, "it might be too late for the one you love, no?"
Mukuro's face, he later thinks, was a sight to behold.
Byakuran finds the task of breaking into another world to be a dreadfully exhausting without the proper preparations, which he this time has made sure to take as he doesn't wish to let Shouichi get away from him.
Proper preparations being, well, letting his energy replenish and then loosening those metaphorical threads that keep separating the two closely-tied worlds.
Putting all jokes aside, transcending the borders of the worlds is not an easy task, even though Byakuran manages to do so all the time – but only partially most of the time as he too uses a lot of his energy on other things, such as fighting off those disgusting little rats that keep swarming outside his humble abode – or so he likes to call the little house that he in reality has no need for.
Beings such as him need nothing like peace or rest; what they need, what he needs, is power... and nutrition, of course. Byakuran loves to eat; the sweeter the prey is, the better.
A thing that he loves more than sweet-tasting prey?
Mind-fucking the little rabbits called humans, of course.
And this is exactly what he has been doing to Shouichi – and please, mind-fuck in this case does not mean Byakuran imagining dirty things he could do to Shouichi.
Although he does that too, just to entertain himself.
(He can't help but want that lithe little body underneath him, squirming in pleasure and face flushed deep red as he pleads Byakuran to stop-)
He tugs at the air hard enough to cause a rumbling noise (seemingly from nowhere but actually it is the door to the other world), and Byakuran hums (a drop of sweat lingers on his cheek) as the door slams fully open and-
His fingers scratch against the familiar wooden board that keeps the mattress on Shouichi's bed; Byakuran momentarily distracts himself with the thought of himself and Shouichi on that bed, Byakuran's longer limbs tangled with Shouichi's and skin pressed against skin-
Byakuran feels no shame as he shakes that thought off, nimbly squirming underneath the redhead's bed and purposely letting his leg slam against the legs of the bed – thus informing the redhead of his presence like he has so many times before.
This time, though, he's fully there; not just half of him like most of the other times. His complete form had returned. Finally.
And this time, Byakuran muses to himself as he hears Shouichi's breath catching in his throat, I'm getting what I came here to get.
Shouichi is starting to reach for his glasses on his nightstand when his hand is grasped. Tightly. Too tightly, even-
But he doesn't cry out; instead, he bites his lower lip despite the pain going up his arm, and raises his head slightly to glare at the space he expects nothing to be seen in-
-but now there is a person whose outline he can see very vaguely even in the darkness and without his glasses.
Shouichi's eyes widen remarkably. "Who-"
The familiar laughter greets him like an old enemy.
"You know me already, Shou-chan."
That voice. Byakuran.
Shouichi immediately attempts to tug his arm back, immediate rejection to Byakuran's unwanted presence in his room.
He sees the white strands of hair swaying right before he's forced to stand up by a harsh tug from Byakuran – and the next second he's entangled in Byakuran's long, spidery limbs, and nails are scratching Shouchi's back to the point where the redhead is gasping out loud.
"What are you-"
Shou-chan sounds so very scandalized as Byakuran presses closer, and the white-haired monster (because that's what he is, isn't he? A dirty little monster that takes whatever he wants until that plaything has outlived his or her use as an entertainment?) can't help but love the way Shouichi feebly tries to fight against what is meant to be.
It's so adorable in the strangest of ways, Byakuran thinks to himself as he effectively pins Shouichi against the wall and holds Shouichi's arms by the redhead's face so that he can't squirm.
It makes Shouichi's soul even tastier, he can feel it, and the desire to just suck in the very being that is Irie Shouichi flares up like the flames in dry hay.
But there's one soul he needs – not for his hunger, but for his ambition – and Shouichi can help him with that.
That, and Byakuran wants to keep this one with him longer than the last plaything that had gone by the name of Leonardo.
And the raven's sould hadn't even tasted that good, Byakuran sulks to himself as he connects eyes with Shouichi – forest, almost dull, green eyes staring at Byakuran' amethystine ones.
Byakuran grins, pearly white teeth revealed – and Shouichi's face pales noticeably as Byakuran leans in to press their lips together.
This is just one of Byakuran's ways to steal one's soul, but it's definitely his favorite one, and this case only makes his preferences even clearer to himself.
Shouichi's lips are soft and tender underneath Byakuran's demanding ones, and Byakuran grins at the thought of this being Shouichi's first kiss.
There's nothing better than robbing people of their innocence.
Byakuran nibbles down on Shouichi's lower lip, ignoring the way the redhead attempts to shift his head away from him, and can't quite suppress an excited shudder that goes through him when Shouichi's lips part-
-but then the redhead already goes limp in his arms, completely knocked out.
Byakuran moves his hand to Shouichi's neck, testing for pulse to see whether he had gone too far with the kiss. A steady heartbeat meets his finger, and a pleased grin graces his lips.
Job well done, Byakkun.