Title: A Dream That I've Chased
Sub-Title:
Of Thousand Year Old Memories and Despair
Genre:
Romance
Rating Fiction Rated:
K+

Author's Note: I've decided to make this a series of oneshots that are standalone. Credits of the quotes belong to Fu-ki of Blood and Charles Baudelaire.

A Dream That I've Chased

- Of Thousand Year Old Memories and Despair–

Suddenly bells are fiercely clanged about
And hurl a fearsome howl into the sky
Like spirits from their country hunted out
Who've nothing else to do but shriek and cry
-
Charles Baudelaire

'When the cold heavy sky weighs like a lid. On spirits whom eternal boredom grips, and the wide ring of the horizon's hid. In daytime darker than the night's eclipse.'

The whispers nearly became echoes in the silent dark room. It consisted nothing but abandoned furniture, dust-covered ancient portraits and shadow-filled corners. The room, with all of its full-length windows shut tightly, seemed desolate of life. But as the phrase went, looks can be deceiving, as the moon shifted outside. Her light strayed inside, through the sheer glass windows and illuminating the very centre of the room. A figure, huddled and alone, sat upon the marble floors of the empty room. Its head hung low, its locks falling to hide its profile and its hand lay flat upon the marble tiles.

'When the world seems a dungeon, damp and small, where hope flies like a bat, in circles reeling. Beating his timid wings against the wall and dashing out his brains against the ceiling.'

His eyes were shut closed with more energy than he intended to, his body visibly shook with each breath he took. A hand upon the tiles curled inwardly, maintaining a somewhat control over his self. A calming peace took over, his body relaxed as his eyes slowly revealed the glittering green.

Alone and forgotten in the cage of solitude
It will never end
My heart frozen, my dreams long gone
Only regret and a lifeless corpse...

'When trawling rains have made their steel-grey fibre, look like the grilles of some tremendous jail, and a whole nation of disgusting spiders. Over our brains their dusty cobwebs trail'

His shirt glowed in the darkness, the whiteness contrasting against the black, and unbuttoned from neck down, stopping only at his slim torso. A moment he felt he was alone and the next, he was not, he discovered as his head slowly rose. A hand, perfect in its own way, lay open towards him in an offer. His eyes travelled up from the hand, the arm, the neck and finally glancing upon the visage he had so long dreamt of. A gentle smile was given as he observed how the dark locks curled at the nape. The glittering darkness swirled in his eyes, a twinkle of seductive mischief. The offering hand surged forward a little, the fingertips curling slightly.

"Would you care to…" the voice came out, wrapping him in its most soothing deep tone. He frowned as he leaned back. "Dance?" the voice breathed out again. His frown deepened, contemplating before he relaxed again.

"There isn't any music," he whispered, his eyes shying away for a moment. A chuckle echoed in reply.

"Take my hand." His gaze returned back to the face, his frown deepened even more puzzled. "Go on, take it."

His hand lifted shakily, slowly reaching out to the offering one. His eyes glanced up again, and at the nod the other gave him, he firmly placed his hand upon the other's. Cold warmth curled around his hand as the other gently pulled him up. Their bodies were flushed against each other, eyes staring at one another, as a hand curled around his waist. Softly their feet shuffled, led gently by the dark-haired man.

"Can you hear it now?" the man whispered, his mouth close to his right ear.

"Hear?" he whispered back, leaning a little back to stare at the dark eyes. The dark gaze gentled, and as did the smile.

"Close your eyes," came the whisper, the voice somewhere near his crown of hair. A last glance above before his eyes closed in silence. The softest touch came upon his forehead, his breath hitched for a moment, a smile etched so secretly at the faint touch of lips. As if by magic, music streamed in, softly at least, and finally enveloping around. It weaved around them, caressing their skin and touching them.

His heart wrenched at the sound, at the movement of their dance and finally at the way he moved closer to the other body. With his hands around the other man's nape, his lips stayed close to the ear. "What remains in my heart even now is…the grief, agony and despair continue to roam in infinite darkness."

The hands at his waist tightened at the words, but silence only greeted him back. The sound of the lilting music disappeared entirely, what left remained…the sound of bells… the ringing sound of impending tragedy. And all too sudden the hands released his waist, leaving him feeling empty. Surprised, he glanced up at the saddening wistful look the dark-haired man had. Like before, the man held out a hand towards him.

"Let's continue this outside, shall we? It is getting a little hot in here." He could hear the trembling in the voice. Those dark eyes held an unspoken emotion that glittered strongly. It reminded him of a frightening kitten. Despite of his heavy heart beating against his ribcage, he let on a smile. His eyes hid the need to cry, even when telltale tears showed. Despite the shuddering he gave at the sudden coldness of the room, he grasped the hand offered to him.

"It is rather hot in here."

The silence was peaceful as was the sable darkness surrounding them. His eyes glanced around, following swiftly the movements of glowing fireflies. The little insects glowed almost eerily about the hauntingly beautiful garden. But they walked past the garden, his hand linked gently with his companion's, and towards the most brooding part of the castle grounds. Even those tiny fireflies dared not enter.

His eyes, demurely lowered, glanced at the many names etched on the slabs of stones erected from the ground up. But even when his eyes did glance at the stones, however respectfully, he tried his best to ignore one that seemed to shine under the gleaming moon. The sound of the doom-impending bells rang strong in the area they were at, his eyes gleamed with unshed tears. Unknowingly he let out a shiver.

To his shiver, his hand was gently squeezed. Tenderness glanced back at him in that dark gaze before him. A gentle smile he gave in return, a wistful one in answer. In silence they trudged on with the bells as their escort. Closer they came to that shining stone, etched perfectly and grimly, until finally they came to stop before it. With his head hung low, he could barely see the stone but he knew its presence was there. A soft pull brought him closer, with him standing beside his companion.

These ideals sunken deep within my body
Continue to roam in infinite darkness
Even the flow of blood cannot soften this despair
As the cries of ringing bells echo in this room

"You have to accept it," a soft voice whispered from beside him. His eyes shut tight at the softly spoken words. His hand tightened its grip upon the other, fearing he would lose his hold upon it. "It's been years, Wolfram."

"No." He choked on the word, his head shaking feverishly. "I will not accept it. I will never…"

"Wolfram…"

"Please…don't ask for this. Anything but…"

A sigh was his answer. A hand gently brushed away the locks, trailing down to palm his cheek. A second later, it moved lower to gently nudge his face towards the other's. A smile, apologetic and soft, was given. A single tear, in the midst of falling, was brushed away. His dark eyes were gentle and gleamed with much tenderness that he had little choice but to stare.

"Our dance," the man said, his hands pulling him closer. "It's not finished." And once again, music came to life. His eyes shone, taking notice of only the man that led him on though he could feel they were not alone. He knew they were here for a reason. But it mattered not to him, for he was still with his companion. Eyes closed, his head rest upon the shoulder of the man while his hands moved to clasp behind the dark-haired man's nape. Instinctively arms circled his waist, pulling him even closer. Their feet shuffled.

In the swirling darkness of the area, gleaming eyes watched the two. Their eyes held no malice or judgement, only gentleness mixed with sorrow. A shadow moved a little closer, its shape of a woman barely visible. Her eyes watched them as they filled with tears. Her head lifted a little, glancing up at the bright moon that turned crimson slowly. Her lips moved, her whisper barely heard.

"Your hollow eyes project infinite darkness while your adorned corpse is exposed. Unwittingly you approached the abyss that you created. Your future has already sunken into meaninglessness while you wallow in the past. Drawn in by your suffering, you can no longer escape. You fear you are alone and forgotten in that cage of solitude. You fear the sorrow will never end." Her eyes lowered, continued watching the two moved.

"But I fear...you already knew you are dancing with the dead."

Their feet stopped just as the music disappeared without a trace. They remained close together, unmoving. Slowly his eyes opened, the grave acceptance finally reflected in the bright vividness of green. Slowly Wolfram began to lean away. Hands pulled him even closer with such force, he had to gasp. Their grip tightened around his waist, he could feel the fingers clutching his shirt without any restrain.

Fearing he would have no control over his emotions, he rested his forehead upon the man's shoulder. His body shook as his hands clutched desperately at the other man's arms. None cared that they both were crying.

"Don't…don't leave me," he breathed, his voice hoarse. His fingers dug even deeper, but he could already feel he was grasping at air.

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry," the other muttered. The grasp around his waist loosened and he could feel it slowly slipped away. With a startled sharp intake of breath, he glanced up to a pair of gentle, yet wistful eyes. Unshed tears caused the darkness to swirl in those eyes. His body froze, he could only watch the dark-haired man stepping away from him. The past kings and queens of the country, watching him with their sad age-old eyes.

'Do not let him leave you. Not when you have him within your grasp'

His eyes widened and he started to stretch out his arm. His fingers wildly clawed the air, furiously tried to get to his companion. "Please…don't leave me! Yuuri!"

The dark-haired man, wisely known as the demon king, lowered his head as he closed his eyes in resignation. His frame slowly faded out as he stood beside the others.

"My time on this land is finally up, Wolfram. They allowed only this night. For me to see you once more."

"But I don't want this one night! I want you! I want you to stay with me, stay by my side," he choked as he fell to his knees. His arm was still stretched, fingers straining to reach out. "Please…don't." His back slumped, returning him to the position he once was alone in the empty room before.

A hand gently palmed his cheek once again, slowly nudging him to lift his chin. Through the tears, he watched desperately at the man's saddened face. His hand lifted and tried to replicate the gesture, but grasped at nothing. "I'll always be with you, Wolfram. When you're alone, I'm by your side. When you're feeling lost, I'll always guide you. I'm right here." The ghost-like hand shifted, till it covered entirely over his heart. "I'm alive in your memories."

"But if you were to vanish, what shall I go on living for?" He knew it was futile to try, but he still held a hand over the other's. A smile appeared, and he would have felt the touch of a forehead upon his own, if only the other was alive.

"Continue living for me, Wolfram. For us, for Greta, for everyone. They look upon you now, my 'queen'." A teasing grin appeared. "My prince of Shin Makoku."

"Yuuri." The king glanced over his shoulder and at a random translucent figure before turning back. His grin disappeared, a somewhat wild desperation reflected in his eyes.

"I have to go. I may not have much time but…" His words were suddenly cut off as he leaned forward.

Wolfram's eyes widened at the sudden feel of lips upon his own. The tenderness of the kiss, the gentleness of the lips and the sensual taste finally broke him. Tears flowed with no end as his hands grasped tightly at his king. He pulled his husband closer, never breaking the contact, as his eyes closed.

"Goodbye Wolfram. I'll always love you." As the words were spoken began to disappear with the wind, his hands fell forward. His fingers dug deep into the sand, his body violently trembled with each sob. The faintly figures of the kings and queens of the past lowered their heads in sad sorrow as they disappeared without a trace, leaving him alone. Behind him, the tombstone of the king glittered as the moon's rays reflected on it.

Fleeting hopes piled high are dashed to pieces
Shadows fall like rain
In the endless night, thoughts that I had put to rest
Are already fading away...

Then long processions without fifes or drums
Wind slowly through my soul. Hope, weeping, bows
To conquest. And atrocious Anguish comes
To plant his black flag on my drooping brows.
-
Charles Baudelaire