This is what comes from writing when you're so tired you're not in a proper state of mind and thus, you write something you don't even remember

This is what comes from writing when you're so tired you're not in a proper state of mind and thus, you write something you don't even remember. That was how this story started. I came back the next day and found it and wondered where the heck it had come from, read it, and I was actually scared by it.

This entire story is a one-shot, but so long I had to break it up into three separate parts. As the end is still being completed (I can't work on this unless I'm sleep-writing) the next two installments will be up sometime in the future.

I'm not kidding when I say this is a scary piece. There are no names used, so this story could apply to any male/female couple you so desire. I believe it was initially written as a specific pairing, but you may think it is about whomever you wish. Tell me who you think this is about in your reviews- I'd like to see the different ideas.

This one-shot became frightening because it dwells on obsession. Not just crushing, maybe keeping an eye on them or following them to be sure they're safe, but a full-blown obsession from someone who's probably lost their mind. If you get really creeped out and can't read any more- I understand. This thing still gives me the chills and makes me look over my shoulder in the dark.

Most people should recognize the main song used- and also where the one-shot gets it's ironic name- and all other 'in betweens' are some song lyrics and mostly of my own creation. See if you can name the artists- or songs- but please don't let that distract you from the reading.

This is rated M, currently, because of the intensity of His- for lack of a better word- stalking of Her. If you think it should be rated T instead, let me know.

I do hope you feel a chill down your spine and eyes peering in from the Shadows while you read. Check behind you occasionally- you never know who's watching.

-Demenior

You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

He could remember that day when he first looked upon her and saw before him an angel.

Today the day was dark and the skies were gray, clouds cried upon the ground and the earth spread the misery like a plague. He and She were sitting in the room, alone. She was lounging on the couch, spread out peacefully and unaware of his gaze. She seemed so sure of herself, like a mountain cat or a leopard, dozing in her natural habitat and knowing that no one would come to disturb her. He watched her with fascinated eyes, observing every curve, every dip or bump. Every inhale and exhale was caught in his gaze.

And so the predator watched the prey, waiting for a moment to spring.

A strand of hair, dark like scarlet in the gloom, fell across her face. He longed to reach out and touch it, to push it away, but he did not know if he would stop there. No, he knew himself too well, he would continue, because he loved her and was afraid. He would run away or stay and hurt her.

He wondered what she thought; he wondered what she thought about him. He wondered what she was thinking of right now. He wondered if she wouldn't mind if he touched that hair. Just a touch. It was so little to ask for, something so simple. And yet it was everything. It was anything. Just a touch would lead to something more. Just a touch would mean something else. Just a touch would mean the end. Just a touch would mean the beginning. Just a touch would mean…

It would mean he cared.

Maybe he had admitted to liking her before. Maybe he did watch her, study her, but that was what he did with most people. He observed, studied like a scientist making notes on his experiments. He arranged situations so he could see the reactions. He was interested in people because they interested him, not because he liked them.

But because they were interesting.

He'd wondered how the world went on like this, blissfully believing that everyone cared, even deep down, he'd always wondered that. That even the darkest of people deep down cared, that there was always some light shining though.

And they all live happily ever after.

But didn't the villain die? Evil had to be vanquished in order for the light to prevail, that was why the knight picked up the bride with blood-stained fingers and left crimson marks on her dress as he rode off into the night to make love to her. Because they were happy, this was fine

But what if the princess loved the villain? What if she threw herself in the way of the knight sword to save whom she really loved, and the knight in his foolishness, swung the sword around her and killed the spell-weaving villain whom had 'forced' the maiden to protect him. The princess lived a bittersweet life with the man who had killed her heart, while all the while he thought she'd given it to him.

He was a prince to a queen whom had once been a princess in the situation. Her Ever After ended when she was forced by that knight, but her happily started when she stepped in front of the train.

A pat on the head and a kiss to the cheek. Be a good boy, she said. Mind you manners, she said. Always wash your hands, she said. And turn around and never look back.

A freedom-inspired laugh, and shouts from around. A screech of machine and a crunch that vibrated his frame. He felt warm splats on the back of his legs. He looked back.

And he waved her goodbye.

The hair drooped lower over her face and her eye twitched at it. He felt his fingers twitch, just a touch, they said, only a touch. And he said no. Because to touch would mean he'd have to tell her not to look back.

A funny thing, the gloomy day, upon one's mind. It settles in, spreads its own clouds, and rains at its own will. A deceiving trickster is the gloom within our mind, sometimes hiding and tricking us into seeing the sun, and then it rains and extinguishes that hope. But not for long for the sun is a valiant warrior and it will reunite, but not without help.

And he'd lost the kindling.

It took a long time for most people to restock their kindling, and longer still to find those people with matches. Maybe that was why he was content to watch, to see how these people distributed their matches. Sometimes carelessly, sometimes too arrogantly, and sometimes not at all.

The shadows fell over her face like the darkness in everyone's minds. It stretched across until it almost seemed to cover her in a dark blanket, and as if feeling that coldness grip her, she moved until she was back in the light again.

Her eyes opened narrowly, looking for what dare disturbed her. She saw him sitting not to far away, quiet at a cat's paw step, eyes like mirrors.

They only reflect what you see.

She rose, lithe as the huntress she was, and stalked to the window on the tips of her feet.

Mmm, she hummed, mmm. Rain. Can you taste the rain?

He found it a stupid question. Yes.

What does the rain taste like? She breathed on the window; letting the vapor in her air frost the glass before it slowly shrank and withered away against the blurred image of the outside world.

It tastes sad. Like the fairy tale that didn't end with happily ever after. He watched her, saw the twitch in her knee that signaled she was anxious. He saw the flex in her knuckles that meant she was bored he saw the wild look in her eyes that said she was wondering. The angle of her shoulders spoke of restlessness. He knew this, and he knew her. He read her easily, plucked off familiar motions and movements.

Aye. She said after a moment. It does. But I think it is also happy. It is warm and soothing. It is like a friend that will always come back.

No. It is just sad. He stood up and moved like her, on the balls of his feet, and stood beside her and stared out the window. But he did not touch her.

You make me happy

When skies are grey

She turned to face him, her eyes strangely lit in the gloom. Her lips didn't move around her silent words. He continued watching the window, not meeting her strange gaze. He knew that look, as he knew her, as he knew them. It would be a mistake to meet that gaze. The same if he was to touch her.

She shifted on her feet, changing the placement of her weight. He was immediately aware of how her body tensed and her shoulders had become slightly rigid. She was nervous. Her fingers trembled and he was aware at how she clutched her upper arms to control herself. How strange, she suddenly felt awkward.

I like spending rainy days with friends, she told him, it is like the entire city has been draped in a blanket and it is time to be together.

You think the rain is happy because of this? He moved on his feet as well, leaning more away from her.

Such thoughts are best left forgotten.

Aye, she said. It is a time to think.

It is a time to be alone, to be sad. He repeated.

No, it is a time to feel good for what you have and to recognize your life for how nice it may be. She told Him.

Together? He inquired.

Yes, She nodded. She turned to face him, the tension in her body almost constricting her. Will… will you share it with me?

She reached out to touch Him. He stepped away, pretending not to see the hurt look in Her eyes. He didn't answer Her.

Still stalking as if he were being hunted, he slipped away into the darkness again, returning to where he was originally watching her. She said no more and turned to look out the window to erase the strange look in her eyes. He saw her shoulders slump and she dropped onto her feet, making the sounds of heavy footsteps as she returned to the couch.

You'll never know dear

How much I love you

He saw her flame dwindle. He saw the unshed tears rain on it as it rained outside. He saw how it hurt her. The flame cried out and she could not help it. She hurt herself as she sat there in the dark. He watched through his stone eyes. She brought her knees up to her chest, and he noticed how the shadows moved on her.

He saw the gleam of a scar illuminated briefly on her shoulder, and the darkness of the bruise from a battle on her leg. The shadows danced around on her, leaping and singing around the flame that kept them at bay. They beat their silent drums and cried out their unheard chants as it rained on her flame. Would the fire go out? He was almost eager to see. He had destroyed the fire in few people in his life. He found it beautiful as they fell out of the light and joined the dark ring dancing around the other flames. They never last long, they wither away all too soon after loosing their fire. And then, and only then he will he gently brush their cold skin with his fingers.

He hates being burned.

The shadows sat with him. He did not join in their chorus. Not right now. He waited just as intently as her flame flickered and dimmed. The darkness intertwined with his fingers, brushing against his cold skin. His expression never changed.

She gasped in the dark as her flame grew low and red. The shadows padded around noiselessly as they waited. She would go out, they chanted, she will become one of us. A Queen for our King.

But the fire stayed red. It continued glowing warmly, and then grew brighter. The darkness cowered behind him and he protected it. She took in a deep breath. Quietly as she had awoken, she touched her feet to the floor, flinching away from the cold dark, and slowly stood up. She did not speak, but turned away. He saw why her fire has been saved in the low lighting from the window. He saw the small glass trails down her face as she left. He let her leave. But he watched her go.

His hand moved to follow her but he quickly stilled them. Quietly the shadows left his protection, spreading around the room again. He remained sitting, staring at his hands who were so willing to betray him at any moment. It was hard to see, but they began to glow very faintly with warmth. The shadows suddenly pulled away, hissing and spitting insults at Him.

No, no, he whispered. I am darkness, I have no light. I am not made to be warm.

Please don't take my

Sunshine away

Swiftly He stood and made His way into the kitchen. The drum of the raindrops continued on the window facing the backyard. He ran His hands under the cold water, dousing the warmth that had come to Him. He stopped to look at His skin, wondering if it was blistered or boiled. He was satisfied that it was not.

Turning, He caught sight of the glass cups on the counter. He knew which one each person in the house had drunk from. He could tell from the print of the lip on the rim and the leftover substance inside the glass. He reached over and delicately selected one from the pile. There was a smudge for the print of the lip, made in a strawberry-scented lip balm. He turned it in the moonlight, admiring the fingerprints and the room-temperature water still swirling at the bottom. For a moment He thought about possibly raising it to His lips and drinking that water. And while He drank, possibly tasting Her lips. He set the cup down and pulled His hands away before they could linger too long.

His hand accidentally nudged the cup off the side of the counter. Secretly He wondered if it really was an accident. But what was happening outside of His mind came back to His attention and He watched the glass fall to the floor. It shattered and rained across His feet and the linoleum. He watched the cuts in His feet begin to turn red and the blood start to trail out before He bent down and grabbed a handful of glass. He shook off His feet as He walked, and stood over the garbage to throw it away. Yet He paused over the waste bin. The glass looked pretty. It refracted the already strange light from the rainy world outside and almost seemed to glow of its own accord.

His own cold fire.

He clenched it in His fist once last time, feeling the satisfying sting as it bit into His skin. Then He turned His hand over and dropped it into the trash. As it lay in the bottom of the bag, that was all it was. Trash. He finished cleaning up, not bothering to admire the glass any more. He noticed His hand was bleeding. He watched the blood trickle into His palm for some time. The liquid was black in the light. He leaned down and licked it off His hand, feeling small glass shards scrape His tongue. He savored the coppery taste for a short while before swallowing. That would satisfy His need for Her taste for a while.

The shadows twirled up around His bloody hand and on His cut feet and they dabbed and tasted His blood. They grew bolder and suckled on His wounds, enjoying the meal. His blood had been warm, He mused. He knew it had to do with Her. Her and His need to sense Her. He could smell Her in the house, and He tried to satisfy Himself with watching her. He knew Her off by heart to His eyes, and He knew Her voice with His back turned. But He wanted to know Her more. Intimately. He wanted to touch Her. To taste Her. But She burned Him, She hurt Him. And it would mean He cared. And if He cared He would have to go to His mother.

Never look back. He waved goodbye.

It was how he'd survived, without his flame. He'd never tried to rekindle it. Once he tried, he would burn, He would burn and he would become like those he had doused himself, cold and still. Without a flame constantly going, he had become wet and cold. Like the rain. A flame could not light in him again, but even if it did, it would kill him. He was too cold to stand the heat.

The rain was sad. He was the rain. He was sad. There was no happiness in the rain. There was no pleasantry. She was wrong about that. The rain was only sad. It was sad in all senses. In every sense he wanted her but could not have her.

He saw her before him. The only way he could have her. She was cold like him and there was no flame to keep him away. The shadows danced and sung for them both. She met his eyes and she gave him a look that he could now respond to. He moved towards her and held out his hand to finally touch her face. She faded before he made contact. He was left with a bloody hand knowing it had been another dream.

The other night dear

As I lay sleeping

He let his shoulders droop and looked at his hand. The dark has licked it clean. Or was it Him, the taste of His blood was still so fresh. The cuts were white. Slowly He made His way to the stairs and began the assent. He moved into the bathroom and found the gauze and tape for His hand. The antiseptic washed away the remaining scent of Her. He tried to hold on to it but it slipped away from Her. He finished wrapping His hand without thinking of Her.

As He headed for the security and icy nothingness that echoed in His room, He found Himself drifting to another door. He touched the doorknob lightly, slowly pushing the door in. For a moment He reveled in the scent of Her, almost content with just that. He stepped into the room.

She was curled in a ball under Her blanket on Her bed. She was facing the door. It looked like She had cried herself to sleep. He slid over to Her. He stood over Her, watching Her sleeping figure. Again. He wanted again to just touch Her. She exhaled deeply, letting out a small noise of contentment. She turned to lie more on Her back, exposing Her partially open mouth and round face. Her hair was in Her eyes again. She uncurled some, lying in just a way that He could see the bump and curve of Her breasts and He found himself again longing to touch Her. He could feel the warmth in Her from here, and it was getting too hot.

She still had Her lip balm on. He gingerly placed a hand on the side of Her bed, careful not to touch Her, and leaned over Her. The heat was unbearable, but just once He had to let Himself be this close. He might have leaned down more, touched His lips to Hers and maybe tasted Her. But He'd want more. He always wanted more of Her.

I dreamt I held you

In my arms

The shadows shrieked in worry, pulling Him and trying to stop Him. He smiled sadly at Her. One day, He told Her, one day you will be mine and I will be satisfied. Then He stood up and pulled away from Her. He left Her room, pausing one last time to breath in Her scent and let it fill Him. His hands lingered on the door and the doorknob. He was reluctant to leave Her smell, and the fresh air was sharp in his lungs.

He returned to His dark room. He closed the door and was surrounded by His dark. It held Him in its comforting embrace. I'll share this with Her one day, He knew, one day she and I will share the darkness. The shadows caressed Him with their long fingers as He passed and then stripped down into His shorts. The rain continued to beat as He got into His bed in the darkness and dreamed of Her.

The sad paradise that doesn't exist

.x.X.x.

She stands in her friend's room, discussing everything and nothing with her friend.

Why do you want Him Her friend asks.

Who? She replies calmly.

Him, Her friend insists, He's not good for you. He's broken, you can't fix him. Don't try. He's only hurting you.

I can handle myself She tells Her friend.

You're a strong girl, Her friend agrees, you have a lot of love and support to offer into a relationship. But He's empty inside, He will keep taking until you're as empty as Him. Don't let that happen, please, don't let him kill you.

You're so dramatic! She laughs.

.X.x.X.

End Part 1