Quiet Nightmare by Chyna Rose
Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon. Yaoi (Kensuke/Takori) and murder/death. I don't know where this came from. I promised someone a fluff Kensuke/Takori, and this is
what I come up with. Not very fluffy is
it. And Sarah, don't worry. Your fluff piece is coming. It's gonna be a humor fluff.
The warmth of the sun.
I can almost hear the gulls out near the bay. It seems so real. But it
was a dream. A silly little dream. A
dream that I can't seem to escape. And
yet it seems so real.
It always starts out with my walking. Sometimes I walk on sand, sometimes stone or
brick. Or even wood. A breeze ruffles my hair gently, smelling of
the sea. I can hear the ocean, the
gulls, and a wind chime. Mostly the
wind chime. It sounds of crystal
music. The path I follow leads to a
small house. I walk slowly, but I never
hesitate unless it is to take a closer look at the flowers. I stop at a rosebush near the house. The blooms are dark; a blood red that I have
never seen in the waking world. I have
to touch one of those beautiful buds.
And where my skin laid on the silky petals, a swath of white develops
for a bit. Then the red slowly runs
into the emptiness. I wipe my hands on
my pants. The path leads to a porch
with a table and four chairs. On the
table is a pitcher of lemonade. The ice
in it gently moves within in time to the wind chimes. I am alone, but I do not worry.
I open the screen door and walk inside.
It closes behind me with a bang.
I'm in a kitchen now. Takeru and
Iori are sitting at a table talking.
Daisuke walks up to me and kisses me gently.
"Go wash your hands." He says, smiling. "Dinner's almost ready."
"What are we having?" Takeru asks. I look at my hands. They
are covered lightly with dust. I wash
them at the sink. Now Daisuke's sitting
and the food is on the table. I walk to
my chair, and am about to sit down when Daisuke grabs my arm.
"I thought I told you to wash your hands." He says.
"I just did." I reply.
I look down at my hands. My hands
are smeared with blood. Slowly I look
up from them. The food is gone. A bloody kitchen knife lays in their place;
staining the white table cloth. Takeru
and Iori sit there with their heads bowed.
Red trails slowly flowing down the front of their shirts. They hold hands.
"Look what you've done." Daisuke admonishes me. "Why'd you have to go and make a mess like
that? You should have stuck with the
poison like I told you to." He tries to be harsh, then softens. I can clearly see the love in his eyes.
"Don't worry. I'll
clean this up. Why don't you cut some roses for the table? The buds just started to bloom." I say. He leaves as I set about clearing the
table. He comes back carrying an armful
of the dark red roses. I run my damp
rag one more time across the clean table.
I reach for a vase to put them in, them set them on the table. He smiles at and I smile back. The wind chimes still tinkle outside, the
only sound other than our breathing, heartbeats, and the slow whirring of a
ceiling fan.
We embrace. Kissing
lovingly. I can feel his hands roaming
across my back, under the light top I have on.
I can feel his hardness against my own.
He opens his mouth and I slip my toungue in. He runs his fingers through my hair. We make out for a while, then pull back desperate for air. He looks at me and smiles.
"I love you." He says.
I smile back and pull him closer for a hug, resting my chin on his
shoulder. In my hand is the knife.
"I love you too." I reply as I gently plunge the knife into
his back; his heart. His blood staining
my hands.
And I wake up. No
screams, no cries. Just a simple look
at my hands. My pale porcelain white
hands. Hands that should be covered,
dripping with blood. Hands that have
done terrible things. And I wonder as I
look at the slender digits, are these
really my hands?
