Pain of Remembering
Disclaimer: Characters not mine. Oh, and thanks a lot to those who reviewed my first story.(
In the deepest parts of a forest park, an angel kneels, a long forgotten marker of a little girl's grave. It's marble body gives off an otherworldly sheen, standing out against the dark green of the dense forest like an opal in a velvet case. Its head is tilted slightly to the side like that of a curious bird, gazing down at the figure sprawled on the book it holds on its lap. Under the relentless stare of the lifeless stone, the figure stirs, the hands clasped on its chest breaking apart like the butterfly's wings at the start of its new existence. Lashes flutter as the prone figure struggles to open his eyes, caressing the air with a butterfly's kiss. The eyes snap open at the sound of a twig breaking no more than a foot away from him, brilliant amethyst eyes gazing out into the blackness of night. "Tsuzuki-sama.you look so scared." It was Muraki, with his purring velvety voice. He approached Tsuzuki cautiously, ever aware of the paranoia with which Tsuzuki stared at him with. That had never been there before. In a cracked voice, witness to weeks of mute observance of the world, Tsuzuki struggled to form what seemed to be his first words "Muraki, you came." He waved that away with an impatient gesture. "Of course I came, did you actually think I could stay away when I heard what happened?" With Muraki's assistance, he sat up, leaning back against the marble messenger. "But how did you find out?" That low laugh and then "Oh, Tsuzuki-sama, I have pacts and contacts you'd really rather not know about." But truly, Tsuzuki could scarcely care now. What was important was life, and Muraki, evil as he was, was brimming with it. "Come with me, Tsuzuki. It's your chance now. What have you got to turn back to anyway?" Coming to Tsuzuki's side he kneeled as if in supplication. "They left you when they promised that they would never. They abandoned you, my beautiful broken doll, they hurt you." Leaning over, he wrapped his arms around Tsuzuki, gathering him to his lap, holding him like a mother would hold her hurting child. "You're not one of them. You've never been." From the folds of his long trench coat, a syringe appears, unseen by Tsuzuki, already transported to a world of pain and guilt by Muraki's piercing words. Easily, Muraki slid the syringe into Tsuzuki's jugular vein, the drug freely flowing into Tsuzuki's system, wreaking havoc on his mind already made vulnerable by Muraki's words and actions. "Come with me, Tsuzuki." Tsuzuki sighed as he lay back on the feather bed in his room. It had been, what? Months, weeks, days since Muraki had taken him under his wing and under his care and literally, under him. He giggled and tittered furiously at that. then stopped. Since when did he? But there was no time to think. Muraki was here, kissing him and he was kissing him back. A rosary of sighs fluttered from his lips as Muraki showered his naked and eager body with kisses. No time to think." Tsuzuki, come with me." Tsuzuki smiled indulgently "Where now, love?" "Somewhere, where I'll show you something infinitely interesting." "Uh-hmmm. Later Muraki. Please, I need you in me right now, Muraki. I need you." It was a young woman with long beautiful blond hair. " Don't you think that her hair is beautiful? Do you want it Tsuzuki?" "Uh-hmm, I want, uh-hmm." Muraki smiled at his eagerness. Tsuzuki watched with fascination as Muraki, with one hand and appalling strength pulled off an entire section of her hair. One end glistened with bits of skin and blood. Tsuzuki smile dreamily. "Pretty color, that. I like red. I like blood." But something was bothering him. Something he was supposed to do. A small frown appeared on his forehead. Somebody he should stop right now. Was it Muraki? But why? Because.because.because Muraki is. a sting on his forearm and then it was gone. And so were his thoughts of opposing Muraki. Muraki was gazing down at him with a small smile. He loved Muraki. He shouldn't stop him from doing anything. After all, it was Muraki who had showed him how nice it was to feel the blood flowing over your fingers after you've slit the throat of some innocent young thing. It was Muraki who showed him how wonderful it was to hold the still beating heart of a victim in your hands, holding it in front of him, pretending he could still see. "What next, Muraki?" Tsuzuki was confident, confident he could sort it all out. But not yet, not right now. Something was begging to be remembered but when he tried to, it hurt too much. Muraki had asked him to stop trying to. He tried to listen to Muraki, but sometimes scenes flashed before his eyes and there was no stopping them. Scenes of laughter, of an angel with long flowing golden hair, of a serious young man with brilliant emerald eyes, of a grouch who could still look so beautiful while tormenting him about something or the other. So he was confident that he could figure it out. But not yet. As he wound the hair around his wrist like a bracelet, smiling at Muraki and asking for his help in knotting it, he thought, not yet. Life's just too good. The pain can wait.
Disclaimer: Characters not mine. Oh, and thanks a lot to those who reviewed my first story.(
In the deepest parts of a forest park, an angel kneels, a long forgotten marker of a little girl's grave. It's marble body gives off an otherworldly sheen, standing out against the dark green of the dense forest like an opal in a velvet case. Its head is tilted slightly to the side like that of a curious bird, gazing down at the figure sprawled on the book it holds on its lap. Under the relentless stare of the lifeless stone, the figure stirs, the hands clasped on its chest breaking apart like the butterfly's wings at the start of its new existence. Lashes flutter as the prone figure struggles to open his eyes, caressing the air with a butterfly's kiss. The eyes snap open at the sound of a twig breaking no more than a foot away from him, brilliant amethyst eyes gazing out into the blackness of night. "Tsuzuki-sama.you look so scared." It was Muraki, with his purring velvety voice. He approached Tsuzuki cautiously, ever aware of the paranoia with which Tsuzuki stared at him with. That had never been there before. In a cracked voice, witness to weeks of mute observance of the world, Tsuzuki struggled to form what seemed to be his first words "Muraki, you came." He waved that away with an impatient gesture. "Of course I came, did you actually think I could stay away when I heard what happened?" With Muraki's assistance, he sat up, leaning back against the marble messenger. "But how did you find out?" That low laugh and then "Oh, Tsuzuki-sama, I have pacts and contacts you'd really rather not know about." But truly, Tsuzuki could scarcely care now. What was important was life, and Muraki, evil as he was, was brimming with it. "Come with me, Tsuzuki. It's your chance now. What have you got to turn back to anyway?" Coming to Tsuzuki's side he kneeled as if in supplication. "They left you when they promised that they would never. They abandoned you, my beautiful broken doll, they hurt you." Leaning over, he wrapped his arms around Tsuzuki, gathering him to his lap, holding him like a mother would hold her hurting child. "You're not one of them. You've never been." From the folds of his long trench coat, a syringe appears, unseen by Tsuzuki, already transported to a world of pain and guilt by Muraki's piercing words. Easily, Muraki slid the syringe into Tsuzuki's jugular vein, the drug freely flowing into Tsuzuki's system, wreaking havoc on his mind already made vulnerable by Muraki's words and actions. "Come with me, Tsuzuki." Tsuzuki sighed as he lay back on the feather bed in his room. It had been, what? Months, weeks, days since Muraki had taken him under his wing and under his care and literally, under him. He giggled and tittered furiously at that. then stopped. Since when did he? But there was no time to think. Muraki was here, kissing him and he was kissing him back. A rosary of sighs fluttered from his lips as Muraki showered his naked and eager body with kisses. No time to think." Tsuzuki, come with me." Tsuzuki smiled indulgently "Where now, love?" "Somewhere, where I'll show you something infinitely interesting." "Uh-hmmm. Later Muraki. Please, I need you in me right now, Muraki. I need you." It was a young woman with long beautiful blond hair. " Don't you think that her hair is beautiful? Do you want it Tsuzuki?" "Uh-hmm, I want, uh-hmm." Muraki smiled at his eagerness. Tsuzuki watched with fascination as Muraki, with one hand and appalling strength pulled off an entire section of her hair. One end glistened with bits of skin and blood. Tsuzuki smile dreamily. "Pretty color, that. I like red. I like blood." But something was bothering him. Something he was supposed to do. A small frown appeared on his forehead. Somebody he should stop right now. Was it Muraki? But why? Because.because.because Muraki is. a sting on his forearm and then it was gone. And so were his thoughts of opposing Muraki. Muraki was gazing down at him with a small smile. He loved Muraki. He shouldn't stop him from doing anything. After all, it was Muraki who had showed him how nice it was to feel the blood flowing over your fingers after you've slit the throat of some innocent young thing. It was Muraki who showed him how wonderful it was to hold the still beating heart of a victim in your hands, holding it in front of him, pretending he could still see. "What next, Muraki?" Tsuzuki was confident, confident he could sort it all out. But not yet, not right now. Something was begging to be remembered but when he tried to, it hurt too much. Muraki had asked him to stop trying to. He tried to listen to Muraki, but sometimes scenes flashed before his eyes and there was no stopping them. Scenes of laughter, of an angel with long flowing golden hair, of a serious young man with brilliant emerald eyes, of a grouch who could still look so beautiful while tormenting him about something or the other. So he was confident that he could figure it out. But not yet. As he wound the hair around his wrist like a bracelet, smiling at Muraki and asking for his help in knotting it, he thought, not yet. Life's just too good. The pain can wait.