The world seemed to revolve in slow-motion, and all the nature was in suspended animation. Even the rustling, howling wind could not remove the stillness which pervaded. Snow was imminent, Renji could feel it in his guts, and he found himself yearning to be surrounded by iridescent whiteness. Despite all the noiseless movements of the incumbent winter, he felt restless, never at ease, and he knew that the softness of the snow would make him feel safe, and at home.
Renji closed the window after taking a deep breath, filling his lungs with the promise of the snow. He smiled, almost imperceptibly, and his lips called out an inaudible name. It was his first night off that week, and after having mustered through hours of various classes on dream walking, he was glad he would have a few hours of unmonitored rest. The constant control and insight that he had to relinquish to Ulquiorra felt monstrously invasive, and he looked forward to the day he alone will be allowed to dwell inside of his dreams.
He pulled out two red pills out of his breast pocket and he fought hard against the desire to gulp one down. He wanted to do it badly, but he knew that forever was a long time, and the one year he had spent without Byakuya was only a speck, a blemish on that vast sun dial. Just like every other night, he put the pills back.
The red tide is high. The obsidian rocks of the shore turn into jagged, rotten teeth protruding from a waveless sea. All is still, yet something stirs and crawls, relentlessly. An ill-omened wind rises, carrying his thoughts across the crimson sea. Every rotten tooth lacerates and somehow severs his consciousness into a myriad of unconnected impressions. There is no night, no day, only perpetual bloody dusk with no blue, no yellow; just shades of red. The world trembles upon its own dumb, inward cry.
A small, seedless patch of land. A white column rising into the sky. Two lean hands, shackled around the column. A taut chain buried into the fallow ground. Strands of wet, dark hair cover the man's face. Sweat and tears. Soundless screams. Blood dripping from the wrists, eaten down to the bone. Desperate attempts at freedom cease.
The chained man is naked. Behind him stands another figure, its eyes are dead, its face a ceramic mask of ashen indifference. The eyes stare without seeing. The hips move with unimaginable vigour, ramming its dick into the shackled man. Hard, merciless, penetrating. Red liquid trickles down the captive's thighs. Pain tears him apart from inside. Death is coveted after. Demise is a thing of dreams. Thoughts of freedom are relinquished. Death. Only death. Even hell, but death.
The rapist keeps on thrusting, pushing, fucking. It shows no signs of pleasure, and end is not near. It moves its hand onto the captive's face. The rapist peels of the hair, taking with it chunks of skin and flesh. Beyond the blood, the captive's face is barely discernible. Byakuya shrieks as Ulquiorra delivers yet another tearing thrust.
Renji woke up screaming Byakuya's name. His heartbeats echoed through the dark room. Each pore on his skin was on fire, every drop of blood felt poisonous. He jumped off of his futon to open the window. Each vein in his body throbbed, each artery, filled with poisonous fluid, threatened to burst as he leaned over to vomit. He lifted a shaky hand and ran his fingers through his tousled hair. It was all still there, although it felt as if someone had taken his scalp. Renji gripped the windowsill, tight enough for his nails to break against the strain.
"Byakuya," he whispered into the cold night, as if invoking a deity, as if calling out for redemption. He vomited again, images of macabre sunset still vivid. Renji knew that silence surrounded him, but still he could hear the unearthly scream of his mind, the noiseless anguish of his severed consciousness.
The sounds of a dream are worse than any image, as monstrous as it may be. Pictures fade to black over time, but the shrill noises of the subconscious reverberate through eternity. Nothing is as perennial as the pain you hear with your mind, with your blood, with every living cell of your mortal body. It aches beyond comparison to any physical wound. And it lingers.
Why did it seem so real? After all those arduous months of training, he was still unable to control his own dreams. He was even unable to tell the difference between dream and reality. The pain on Byakuya's face, and hideous vacancy in Ulquiorra's eyes felt real enough to touch, to smell. The metallic taste of blood was still palpable on his tongue.
A soft, moist sensation touched his eyelids and Renji opened his eyes. Snow. Hundreds... thousands of gentle patches of white perfection assailed the chill night. He eased his grip, unaware of the blood dripping from his wounded fingers. He reached out into the dead of the night, and he smiled.
He closed the window, and all thoughts about eternity evaporated with the awareness of the never-ending cycle of days each dream walker has to go through. He reached into his breast pocket and took out one precious pill. He rolled it on his tongue for a few seconds, his skin tingling with anticipation of meeting with Byakuya again. He had to know that the man was ok. Despite being aware that it was only a dream, still, he had to make sure. After all, the only reason why Byakuya would leave those pills was because he wanted to see Renji again, and those red pills were the only way they could meet, at least until Byakuya became the First of the Yumearuku order. Maybe then, he would decide to visit Renji regardless of the restrictions placed upon dream walking. He swallowed.
It took only a few minutes for the anaesthetic to work. During those moments Renji was trapped within a realm in which reality melted into dreams, a realm which made his heart race and pump faster each time.
When he was deep within the dream world Renji met consuming nothingness. Gleaming whiteness surrounded him, and the brightness of the dream hurt his mind. He closed his eyes, and strained in order to make out shapes around him, only to found that there were no shapes. Even he had no form in this vacant dream. Renji reached out, but his hand was not there, his body did not materialize. Nothing as far as eyes, or thoughts could perceive. There was no way to try to explore the space of the dream, it was beyond his abilities. The only thing he could do was wait for the anaesthetic to wear off, and he found the lapse of time nonexistent. The unending, blinding nothingness filled him with panic he had felt during the previous dream. What if Byakuya was in pain? What if he was arrested? But he could feel the truth. Despite the fact that there was nothing, not even him, he knew: Byakuya refused him entrance.
Byakuya could feel him on the other side of the wall. He knew Renji was there, perplexed, blinded by the barrier. He had made a promise, and he never broke his promises. As much as he wanted to let the wall shatter, as much as he wanted Renji to feel just how much he wanted him β he could not betray Kenpachi's confidence. To see Renji again, to touch him, if only within a dream, was what he wanted more than anything. Renji was adamant, forceful as ever in his futile attempts to penetrate the wall that divided them. Despite those attempts, despite his own desires, Byakuya made the whiteness wider, more solid. He needed protection against Renji's protruding wish to see him. He needed to dissolve every connection, because he did not want to go through the ordeal again. He needed to make sure Renji understood he did not want to see him β he simply could not.
But if he could only show him, explain why it was necessary, why it had to be like that... No. Kenpachi made it clear enough. No contact. Abarai Renji never existed. If only words could become reality upon utterance. If only it was that easy to erase Renji from his life. How in the world could he forget about the man who had touched him, who had kissed him, caressed every inch of his cold body? He should break the dream, put an end to this torture. But Renji is there, he can feel him, and he knows that the wild redhead can feel him on the other side, pushing him away, telling him to go away. Never come back.
Byakuya broke the dream. He felt like someone was sitting on his chest as he tried to get up. Something was pushing him down, an invisible force pinned him to his futon, and he was unable to move. He could feel invisible fingers grab his shoulders. Was it the wind that crept under the door that was caressing his neck, brushing against his collarbone?
"Byakuya ..." a voice boomed. He shuddered. It was Renji's voice. Was he going mad? Renji was miles away, and there was no way his voice carried through the dream into reality. Only the First had that ability. The energy holding him down disappeared, and the eerie voice became an echo Byakuya would have to struggle to forget during the years to come.
He wanted Renji by his side. He wanted to feel the warmth of Renji's body on his futon, against him. It was still unbearable, even more after being so close to him, separated only by a wall. Byakuya felt how much Renji wanted the same, but he had no strength to let some of his own feelings cross over.
He winced at the rising tension in his groin βit was his own fault. He shouldn't have imagined Renji's breath against his skin. He should have blocked the image of the strong, naked body, covered with wandering tattoos. Byakuya threw the covers away from his body, and he nervously fumbled around his waist band, forgetting what pride and self-control once meant to him. He was desperate to reach for his erection, to stroke it, to touch himself while the images of Renji were still alive in his head, with his voice still lingering in the room. He grabbed his hard cock in a merciless grip, and he masturbated with desperation, wanting release to come fast. He closed his eyes and he tried to imagine it was Renji's hand touching him, but to no avail. His own hand around his rigid shaft felt coarse, and he could put no feeling into the act.
He stared at his cock, still painfully hard, and he let out a shrill laugh. If he wanted release, he will have to be gentle, he will have to take his sweet time. If he wanted to come he will have to recreate Renji's movements. Byakuya laughed again. When Renji was jerking him off, he never even noticed just how deliberate his strokes were, how each was minutely different from the previous one. If Byakuya wanted to come, he will have to suppress self-loathing he felt, he will have to calm down and show himself some tenderness. He covered his half-naked body knowing that he was not capable of giving it what it needed to feel at ease. Only Renji could do that. And Renji was no more.
"Well, Ulquiorra?" Sousuke inquired. He had just woke out of an assignment himself, and he was eager to hear the news about Renji and Byakuya.
The strange man waited for Sousuke to wake up in order to relate the information about the task he had been given. Ulquiorra was not particular about his duties, as long as those were a part of Aizen Sousuke's plans. Others might have been reluctant to do Sousuke's dirty work, but Ulquiorra had no problem with it. He did not like them, nor did he dislike them. It was his duty. He was ordered to do it, and he had performed admirably, as usual.
"I have done what you have asked me to do," Ulquiorra remarked.
Sousuke nodded, rising from the chair in which he normally dream walked. He brushed back his dark hair. He could relax around his Third. There was no need to explain why he issued orders, or what those had to do with their mutual goals. Unlike Gin, Ulquiorra was the perfect subordinate. A bit on the bland side, true, but rather pleasing when he wanted to avoid explanations.
"And, what did your perceptive eye catch? Something interesting?"
"He loves Byakuya," Ulquiorra stated, his green eyes as dull as always.
"Details, please."
Ulquiorra replayed the entire dream he had forced upon Renji in order to make his report as clear as possible.
"He did not feel any jealousy. Not a modicum of resentment towards Byakuya. Mostly it was anger and desire to rip me to pieces. And anguish. I even felt he was prepared to trade places just to ease Byakuya's pain."
"I see," Sousuke noted curtly. He smiled, radiantly, as he realized that he had the best case scenario in his hands. Still, he needed evidence.
"So, they were lovers?"
"Most definitely. He doubts Byakuya's affection, but he does not care about it. I think he would die for him," the dream-rapist said.
"How lovely. But I do not think Renji needs to die. We'll put him to good use when the time is right."
Ulquiorra bowed his head.
"Your orders?"
"We need to get that fiery redhead to the brink of insanity before we drag him back to reason, our reason. Then he will tell us everything we need to know, and more," Sousuke said, feeling tingles all over his body. He could not curb the excitement which arose in him every time things were proceeding precisely as he had planned.
"You want the same scenario, Aizen-sama?"
Sousuke was the one who devised the plan that had worked so beautifully, pulling out all the information he needed at that moment. However, it was only the beginning.
"Not the same. Similar. Next time, make Byakuya like it."
