"Ah, this strange scene which I behold," said a great man "can it be reality…?"
•REM sleep•
The earth trembled. Its frame, the ground, was being torn apart; a swelled red sphere emerged through the fissure in the soil. The red form dragged throughout the fissure with an incredible force, its content was a blurry shaped form, engulfed into a reddish-brown color. The delicate surface of the sphere burst open.
The land was tainted in scarlet red as rivers of blood made its way onto the ground. Its fillings spilling like sea waves, soon after it was almost dry inside, the being inside the sphere moved lightly.
In the distance, a brawl echoed; pleadingly, longingly, angrily clamoring for its partner. The sorrowful cry grew louder and louder. The beast approached to the place where the sphere exploded, where the shaped form of a person moved through the red liquid, where the earth cringed in fear.
Darkness covered the firmament; a black shadow killed the sky slowly, taking the light away.
The brawls were getting louder, the beast coming closer and closer to the form of a man. The man on the ground was breathing heavily; his eyes were lost into the darkness above. His eyes were seeing something that wasn't there. The cries stopped and the beast stomped forward to meet the man. A dark figure as dark as the sky stilled its frame in front of the man, the beast cried in a demonic delight.
Four legs moved over the man, dark empty eyes looked down, sharp teeth grinned. In a second two arms protruded from the torso of the beast, flesh ripping apart, pieces of red muscles falling onto the ground. The wound healed almost immediately. The beast's mouth opened, a long tongue stretched over the man's face.
It laughed.
"Shi…shishi…shishishi…" hissing happily, it moved its news arms and hands, its claws moved to grasp the man's face.
The sharp black nails caressed pale skin.
The toothy grin widened, black eyes studied intently the scarlet eyes of the man taking liking of the golden streak on them. It loved it. Slowly, so ever slowly the man's arm lifted taking a hold of the beast neck, a hand trailing its path to the beast's chest and then to its arm. The frame of the beast quivered excitedly. Its arm moved, a rough scaled hand grasped the man's hand gently, squeezing it lightly. The beast licked the man's face, cleaning the blood away.
The beast contorted his jaw, bones cracking and body shuddering.
This was it.
This was it.
He was finally there.
The beast trailed his tongue along the skin of the man 'till its jaw was over the man's mouth.
It whispered his name against his skin, with a voice that did not belong to any creature over the earth's surface "…Iza…ya…"
More blood flowed as its teeth carved carefully deep into his neck.
•••••
Izaya startled jumped on his bed; his heart was beating fast, racing like crazy, his hand was on his neck, pulse rating. He panted, cold sweat rolling over his temples, his pupils were dilated and his mind was hazy. His throat was dry. He was shaking.
His room was dark; so he turned the lights on.
He cursed holding his head with his hands.
His head was throbbing.
"…That… dream… again…"
It was so real.
It felt real.
Was it real?
•••••
One day earlier…
"Namie-san! Namie-san! Namie-san! I have sinned!" Izaya said dramatically, "I have damned my impeccable record! I have committed the worst sin against my own principles!"
"Hm" Namie, his secretary/assistant/minion/employee said.
"I have been neglecting my humans!"
"Hm," Namie said while she arranged paperwork into the shelves of Izaya's office.
"…Namie-san, at least pretend you are listening to me…" Izaya said slumping on his chair "…You're no fun…" Izaya complained.
"Hm," Namie said.
A bit annoyed Izaya demanded: "I want tuna and black olive cream spaghetti and for dessert, ice coffee and mango custard."
"Hm," Namie said.
Silence.
"…Namie-san… could it be… perhaps… that you're angry…?" Izaya tilted his head.
"Where were you yesterday?" Namie asked with a chilly tone, sending daggers at Izaya direction.
"Um… Can I know why you're angry?" Izaya asked avoiding the question.
"You left all your work to me yesterday. Even though I'm your co-worker you don't have the right to exploit me". Namie said darkly.
"I differ about that." Izaya said naturally, "Your contract perfectly states that kind of situation. And for the record, yesterday was the first time in which that clause was fulfilled, so I don't see the problem about it. Instead, that makes me think that in reality you have an ulterior motive about it. So, please be honest with yourself and ask about the things you want to ask me about. OK?" Izaya smiled.
"Where were you yesterday?" Namie asked again.
"Ikebukuro." Izaya's smile was restrained a bit.
Namie walked up to him and hovered over him threateningly. She was about to ask with who he'd been wasting his time while she worked her ass off for him when Izaya looked at her startled, she frowned and he spoke.
"You're doing the same thing that occurred at the beginning of my dream last night. That thing about hovering over my head and look at me menacingly. Though, I do hope that that monster doesn't appear and jumps to eat your head…"
"What?"
"I have a dream last night. No. It is nothing important! Nothing is going to eat you! Yes! Rest assured! Let's back to work! I have to catch up with my work!"
Namie was forced to forget about her anger. But she didn't forget about that look Izaya gave her.
It was the first time she saw that look on him.
•••••
Today's sunrise…
He wasn't scared.
Scarlet eyes with a golden streak on them observed the beast from afar. The light and the darkness fought the sky. This time the man with scarlet eyes wasn't alone; behind him people crowded talking among themselves in quiet whispers. The man tilted his head in confusion. Weren't they scared? The dark beast was a couple of meters away from them.
At some point the beast spoke, slurring his words.
"…Hell…o… ag…ain…" was the man the only one able to see it? Was the only able to hear it? "I… wan…t … to… be… wi…th…you…" its arms stretched to reach for him, but it couldn't touch him, "…Won't… yo…u… cry… o…ut… an…d… call… for… me…?" the man turned his back to the crowd watching the beast's empty eyes, "…on…ly… your… vo…ice… can… set… me… free…" the beast cracked his bones, neck and head twitching harshly, "…Don't… worry… I…won't… eat… yo…u…" the beast showed its toothy grin.
The man stared for a moment and the beast spoke again, "…I …will… love …yo…u…" the man's lips twitched, "…love you… no… mat…ter what…" the beast made a step forward going into the light's territory. Each step it made shadows covered its path. It whispered sweets words for the man, its voice clearing with the time.
"I'll love you no… matter who you kill…" the beast was a few feet away from the man, "Call for me," it grinned, sharp teeth showed in a type of affection.
It whispered more bewitching words. The darkness and the beast crawled at the same time; it slipped through the light, "…Be… mine…" it's cold claws were inches to touching his skin.
Inches to grasp his life.
"Hell no." A voice said, warm breath tickled the man's ear. Two arms wrapped protectively around the man's chest and neck pulling him backwards "He's mine." The voice growled darkly "Not yours."
The man's eyes could see messy blond locks. He could feel warmth behind his back. He glanced at the arm that secured his neck; a long scar adorned the skin along the forearm. His heart warmed, he knew this person. The beast brawled.
The blond smirked "Too bad fucker," the man was wrapped more tightly, but not harshly.
The captive man smirked too…
"Izaya doesn't want ya dipshit." Both men were in sync, they snickered at the beast.
It backed away snarling lowly. However. It didn't go away.
The arms of the blond tightened lightly, "I won't give him up to anybody…" Izaya looked up… to see his face…
The beast hissed lowly, soon after it growled madly, rage and hate polluted from its scent.
"Mine!" its eyes filled with blood, its voice drowning with wrath and indignation.
"…Heh…"
The cry of war was made and the beast charged forward. The movements of its muscles were precise, calculated, perfect, powerful, simply marvelous. It looked for one thing only.
Kill.
The blond pushed Izaya behind his back. With decision and resolution he charged against the beast. The blond was wearing a white grin. The final of everything will be set with one hit. Two powerful beings were prepared to die with just one blow.
In the eyes of the beast could be seen hate and resentment.
In the eyes of the blond could be seen only pure delight.
In their clash, a dreaded silence ruled over the time and space, until a laugh was made, until the sounds of gasps and bones cracking were over.
"Fuck off loser." The beast's skull was kicked and the blond returned to where Izaya was.
They were standing in front of each other, "Ya little runt," he said bending to Izaya's eye-level, "do ya know…" he grasped Izaya's cheeks pinching them hard, "…what ya did?"
The blond was wearing that maniac grin, veins bumping from his face. He was happy or he was mad? The casual observer could have never guessed the difference. Izaya, who cheeks were being abused terribly, glared, digging his nails on the palms' of the blond trying to break free. It was futile. The blond applied more pleasure with his fingers. It hurt badly. He closed lightly the distance between their faces.
"Ya sorry…?" the corner of the grin twitched… how lovely…
Izaya stuck his tongue out.
"…Of course ya don't! Ya never! Ya little runt!" The blond pinched and squeezed Izaya's cheeks a few moments more, slowly the pinches had deceased, instead, his hands were just grabbing Izaya's face. It was a deep stare, a contemplative stare, a fond stare. How did it turned out like that then? How was possible that the same hands that killed the beast, that were drenched in blood, were caressing with such tenderness Izaya's skin? The blond pulled Izaya closer. Izaya was wearing a neutral face, a soft line his lips were and his eyes a deep sign of calm.
The grin of the blond had been replaced with a sly smile; he lowered his face and placed a kiss on Izaya's left cheek, doing the same with the other. He stopped, and placed together their faces, their cheeks felt warmer.
His voice was deep, "Say my name," his tone and speech had changed.
Izaya stilled, "You can…" he kissed the jawline of Izaya, "…Do it…" he trailed his lips to Izaya's neck kissing the middle of it.
Izaya opened his mouth but no word came out.
The blond straightened a bit, "please… do it for…" he bent forward lightly again, placing hesitantly his forehead against Izaya's "…for me" the golden streak of his red eyes twinkled, reverberating inexplicably.
Like magnets their lips merged together, Izaya's sides of face were covered by two big warm hands.
They pulled apart briefly.
Their lips were still brushing.
With a cracking voice that he hadn't used in a long time Izaya said "Shizuo..."
•••••
How many of our daydreams would darken into nightmares, were there a danger of their coming true! -Logan Pearsall Smith
•••••
Namie was in a precarious situation. Namie had never been in a position like that. Certainly, she would like to never have to deal with it again. How could she have fallen in such disgrace? One word. Money. Damn it. Even though Namie felt reluctant about the issue itself, he found herself enjoying the work, which of course was a problem. Because she had never allowed a man, other than Seiji, to use her lap. And certainly, she hadn't allowed Izaya to use it before, until now. Namie opened his mouth to protest more when Izaya's voice beat her.
"I'm your boss, you like it or not. I will pay you a good sum of money. I will give you vacations. And the only thing you have to do is to sit still and listen. Erase of your mind that stupid concept that I have louses. If you don't believe so then you can clean yourself in bleach afterward if you may." Izaya adjusted his head on Namie's lap. Her tights were definitively soft and comfortable. It felt so different from the muscles of- argh!
Izaya groaned rubbing his hand on his face.
Namie looked at him with an unreadable expression "Care to explain why you are so… angry?" She leaned back on the couch of Izaya's office. Izaya tilted his head lightly to look at her with what could be called a displeased pout.
Namie had, or not, the fortune to see the most childish attics of his boss.
"Throughout history, people have sought meaning in dreams or divination through dreams. Dreams have also been described physiologically as a response to neural processes during sleep; psychologically as reflections of the subconscious; and spiritually as messages from gods, the deceased, predictions of the future, or from the Soul. Many cultures practice dream incubation with the intention of cultivating dreams that are prophetic or contain messages from the divine." Izaya said.
"You have a bad dream again then?" Namie said exasperatedly.
"The meaning of 'Subconscious'?" Izaya asked stretching his arm up flexing his fingers.
"Oi, I am-" she stopped briefly, "-If I don't say the meaning you are not going to pay me, are you?"
"You're, indeed, a genius" Izaya grinned.
Namie huffed "The term 'subconscious' is used in many different contexts and has no single or precise definition. This greatly limits its significance as a definition-bearing concept, and in consequence the word tends to be avoided in academic and scientific settings." She looked coldly at the thing on her lap, "In everyday speech and popular writing, however, the term is very commonly encountered as a layperson's replacement for the unconscious mind, which in Freud's opinion is a repository for socially unacceptable ideas, wishes or desires, traumatic memories, and painful emotions put out of mind by the mechanism of psychological repression. However, the contents do not necessarily have to be solely negative."
"Namie-san is so cool~" Izaya clapped.
"I have not finished," Namie said.
"Oh. Go on then." Izaya said.
"The word "subconscious" is an anglicized version of the French subconscient as coined by the psychologist Pierre Janet. Janet himself saw the subconscient as active in hypnotic suggestion and as an area of the psyche to which ideas would be consigned through a process that involved a "splitting" of the mind and a restriction of the field of consciousness." Namie closed her eyes, "done."
"Namie-san is soooooo coooool~!" Izaya grinned.
"Can I hit you?" She asked.
"Nope." He answered.
There was a friendly silence until Izaya regained their topic.
"There is not a universally accepted biological definition of dreaming. In 1952, Eugene Aserinsky identified and defined rapid eye movement (REM) sleep while working in the surgery of his PhD advisor. Accumulated observation has shown that dreams are strongly associated with Rapid Eye Movement during which an electroencephalogram (EEG) shows brain activity to be most like wakefulness."
"Hm" Namie said as her hand moved to rest on her right tight; he brushed some of Izaya's strands of hair. She noted the silkiness.
"According to Sigmund Freud, dreams are more often forgotten entirely, perhaps due to their prohibited character. Altogether, these problems seemed to put them beyond the realm of science." Izaya frowned, "The boundary of the dream world and the real world is thin…"
"I'm not following your trail of thoughts," Namie said.
"We really live in reality? Or our existence itself is a real dream? Which is true reality?" Izaya said looking at Namie.
"…Can I go now?" She said in bored tone.
"Have you ever fallen in love in a dream…? Have you felt that when you wake up, you have a terrible feeling of loss…?"
Namie did not expect that comment, "No. I haven't experienced such thing…"
Izaya was thinking in silence.
"So… did you…?" Namie couldn't believe she was asking this, "Did you fell in love…?"
Izaya looked up to her, "No. I didn't."
"Of course you didn't…" Namie said deadpanned.
"I didn't… but someone in my dream did… and… I'm jealous…" Izaya said irritably.
Namie could only stare astonished.
Izaya noticing the incredulous stare spoke, "What? Can't I be angry at my own dream?"
"No, is just that I didn't think you'd spoke so frankly." Namie said serious.
"I, always, speak honestly" Izaya said in displeased tone.
"I suppose, but, not about this type of issues." Namie answered, her hand unconsciously moved to Izaya's head, playing with shiny black strands of hair.
"Is that so…?" Izaya asked mild surprised.
"Yes. You have changed in this couple of weeks…" Namie said as her slender finger caressed Izaya's hair.
Izaya did not look pleased with the answer. A moment after Izaya's mobile rang. He talked about work in the phone while Namie still played with his hair.
Namie sighed tiredly after Izaya ended the call. "You finished?"
"Yes" Izaya said.
"Why did you want to do this session?" Namie asked.
"Eh? For nothing in particular~." Izaya grinned.
"What…? That's all?"
"Yup."
Namie sighed.
She caressed his head, then, she finally realized what she was doing "Ahh, crap. I have to go and purify myself with abrasive chemicals," she stood and Izaya almost fell on the floor.
"Wait, where are you going?" Izaya asked looking at her retreating form.
"Out," Namie barked slamming the door shut.
While Namie walked out to the front door of the building opening her umbrella a faint blush married her features.
Rain was falling down.
What the hell did she do back there?
•••••
In that same afternoon, Izaya texted Shizuo. They met again. They, again, shared that odd thin line of mutual tolerance. They believed in that definition. However, something deeper than their thoughts had other meaning for it. Something deeper within their beings knew the truth, knew the name of the thing Shizuo felt and what Izaya was discovering. That something wanted to exist. That something, wanted to be released.
It didn't want to fade away.
It wanted to throw its essence to the wonders of the unknown, because, it couldn't take it anymore. Only one person knew about that ethereal existence. Or rather, like a gardener planning the growth of new seeds, looked after it. That night everything changed.
That night Tsugaru arrived at Ikebukuro.
•••••
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.
~William Blake, "Auguries of Innocence," 1810
•To Be Continued•