Have a Very Merry Christmas
Author: Purrmeow
Disclaimer: This is my very own Tsuzuki/Hisoka yaoi ficcie, so you now that you are aware of that, you must also be told that Yami no Matsuei is property of Matsushita Yoko and not I. I also take no responsibility if a series of killings take place, using my technique, I am not a killer, I am merely a writer. So come and join me in a world of insanity, cute yaoi couples, and murder. Bwahahahahahahhahah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!^-^
Chapter Three: The Chapel
The bright red moon brought it's victim nightmare after nightmare, and the blonde spent the night tossing and turning, helplessly moaning out Muraki's name as he attempted to escape the dream man's possessive touch. The vicious memory played itself over and over again in his constricted mind, and there was no way for the teen to escape it's vital grasp, but he tossed and turned relentlessly anyways begging outwardly for freedom.
"Tasukette... tasukette!" The blonde pleaded over and over, each scream growing louder as the silver haired otoko tore his body up in the dream, dominating and destroying him in one fell swoop, beneath the eerie glow of the blood red moon. His entire body quivered on the rickety bed, and the sound echoed in the small room, subconsciously the boy had also tangled his arms above himself, mimicking the nightmare world, trapping himself further in the hell that was his memory.
All of the noise Hisoka was making brought Tsuzuki out of his formerly pleasant dream, the world of cakes and cookies dissappearing as he descended back into the depressing reality. He was, at first, uncertain of what had drawn him out of the dream world, but all became clear when his eyes found the shaking Hisoka. Not only had the teen stripped himself in his sleep, but he had also gotten tied around the bedpost, and was barely concealed by the sweatdrenched sheet that clung to his featherlight hips. Stumbling over to the groaning and distressed shinigami, Tsuzuki unraveled the bindings, with great difficulty; but he found it even more difficult not to stare at the heavenly figure that was accented by a sheen of glowing sweat. Literally tearing his eyes from the form that squirmed along te sweat damp sheets, he gripped onto Hisoka's narrow shoulders and shook the boy a couple of times, receiving only greater cries for help.
"Save me! Save me Tsuzuki..." the words died down as the brunette pulled the trembling blonde into his tight grip, burying the tear stained face in his exposed collar bone. Hisoka had actually called out his name in his sleep, he had called out for Tsuzuki in the depths of his nightmare! Brushing the prospect of it meaning anything, the man clung to his much younger, and much more feminine partner, petting his golden hair gently until the desperate cries subsided.
A pale hand then grasped tightly onto the dress shirt that loosely hung from Tsuzuki's form, weak but still evident, and an unsure voice broke through the silence of the room. "Tsuzuki," it whimpered, clutching to the form that held in so tightly, " Tsuzuki..." Hisoka spoke up again, curling into a tight ball that within the welcoming grasp, and through tears it choked out, " Thank you."
~ After the boy had actually fallen back into a peaceful sleep, a task that had taken a couple hours of the shinigami's time, the brunette settled him back onto the bed, pulling the sheet and quilt up to the teens shoulder's.
It was then that he stared at the innocent young man that lay on the bed next to him. Although he had never really told anyone, he really cared for Hisoka, far beyond that of a partner or even that of a friend. Hisoka was the first person to rouse such feelings out of Tsuzuki, the first one to dominate his thoughts; Hisoka was on the elder shinigami's mind 24/7, he was the last person the the brunette thought of before he went to bed, and the first when he woke up. He wasn't even sure when these feelings first arose, but he could of sworn that it was the first time he had met the arrogant teenager. Either way, he was almost certain that he loved Hisoka, he loved him more than anyone else, and only wanted to wash the memory of Muraki from his partner's mind as soon as possible.
The thought of loving the teen, although he was a boy was of no shock to the brunette; he knew that he was gay a long time ago, he'd had over 70 years to think about it and he was pretty certain that women were of no interest to him. He was also aware of the many men that were attracted to him, but he didn't really care for them, or at least not sexually. However, when Hisoka came along everything seemed to change, and feelings that he had hoped to lock away for the rest of eternity surfaced. It wasn't long before he realized the one thing that horrified him more than Muraki, he was in love with Kurosaki Hisoka. And it wasn't even Hisoka himself that made the thought horrible, it was the way he knew that his affections would never be returned, and that he may be stuck with that realization for the rest of his existance.
Sighing heavily, he glanced towards the window, the sun was already high in the sky and it's beams shone through the window into Tsuzuki's purple eyes. " Well..." the defeated man began, " might as well stay up," he then strided over to the coffee maker and prepared a pot. Hunched over, the obviously exhausted shinigami plodded into the bathroom and turned on the shower, stepping beneath the steamy water to awaken his half asleep body. Scrubbing the night's exhaustion from his pores, Tsuzuki felt slightly more relieved and was able to escape the bathroom as his usual, chipper, self.
Toweling his hair dry, he skipped to the coffee pot, flipping over one of the two available mugs, and pouring the steaming fluid into it's porcelain bowl. Smiling at the pleasantly sleeping Hisoka, he turned on the computer and took a sip of the bitter fluid; making a sour face after his first sip, he resorted to his customary actions, and poured in 7 tablespoons of sugar, creating an almost syrup, but satistfying his sweet tooth. It took less than three sips before an idea came to his mind, the computer had not even adequately loaded and he had already tossed away the task. If Muraki was indeed the murderer, and he was in Nagasaki, then he would be at their first meeting place... the chapel.
Although before he had dreaded ever returning there, his only experiences having been negative when it came to there, he was excited to having found a way to verify the killer, or so he hoped. Placing his nearly full mug onto the desk, he ran, tossed the towel back into the bathroom, and made his way to the door. Pulling on his shoes, he shouted back," Itte kimasu," and he ran from the motel room, slamming the door behind him.
Running as fast as his feet could take him, the energetic Tsuzuki had to force himself to calm down and take a normal walking pace, although his heart still beat hard in his chest in near silent anticipation. The streets were all familiar, just beginning to bustle with life as people left for both school and work.
Climbing the stairs before the tall and ominous building, he could feel his expression go solemn and his steps slow. It had been a while since he had visited this place, so much so that it seemed foreign to him, and he almost feared seeing the top.
It was at that moment that he remembered the chapel had burst into flame, in fact it should be little more than a pile of wet ash. Rushing up the last few steps, afraid of what he might find, Tsuzuki found... the chapel, fully in tact and as pristine as ever. Although it's mere existance puzzled him, he stepped through the gothic style doorway and crept towards the altar.
The room had a golden glow about it, a glow that he barely remembered, but it was still capable of surfacing hateful memories of the one man he yearned to find here. Dropping the memory, his eyes raised to the end of the aisle, there was no one. But at the front of the church appeared to be a pile of something unrecognizble, a deformed shape. Rushing up to the front he knelt before the entirely too familiar object... a white jacket.
***End of Chapter Three*** It just keeps getting more and more suspenseful ^-^ Reviews!!! I'm sorry if some of my info in this chapter is not very correct. I would varify the chapel thing with my tapes, but I have leant them to a friend. Either way, it's not a very important fact,and if it didn't burn down, then just ignore and keep on reading.( If I have onfused you with this whole paragraph, jusy ignore it and read on... product of my worries after finishing Chapter Ten ) I can be a bit of a perfectionist from time to time... ^.^'
Author: Purrmeow
Disclaimer: This is my very own Tsuzuki/Hisoka yaoi ficcie, so you now that you are aware of that, you must also be told that Yami no Matsuei is property of Matsushita Yoko and not I. I also take no responsibility if a series of killings take place, using my technique, I am not a killer, I am merely a writer. So come and join me in a world of insanity, cute yaoi couples, and murder. Bwahahahahahahhahah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!^-^
Chapter Three: The Chapel
The bright red moon brought it's victim nightmare after nightmare, and the blonde spent the night tossing and turning, helplessly moaning out Muraki's name as he attempted to escape the dream man's possessive touch. The vicious memory played itself over and over again in his constricted mind, and there was no way for the teen to escape it's vital grasp, but he tossed and turned relentlessly anyways begging outwardly for freedom.
"Tasukette... tasukette!" The blonde pleaded over and over, each scream growing louder as the silver haired otoko tore his body up in the dream, dominating and destroying him in one fell swoop, beneath the eerie glow of the blood red moon. His entire body quivered on the rickety bed, and the sound echoed in the small room, subconsciously the boy had also tangled his arms above himself, mimicking the nightmare world, trapping himself further in the hell that was his memory.
All of the noise Hisoka was making brought Tsuzuki out of his formerly pleasant dream, the world of cakes and cookies dissappearing as he descended back into the depressing reality. He was, at first, uncertain of what had drawn him out of the dream world, but all became clear when his eyes found the shaking Hisoka. Not only had the teen stripped himself in his sleep, but he had also gotten tied around the bedpost, and was barely concealed by the sweatdrenched sheet that clung to his featherlight hips. Stumbling over to the groaning and distressed shinigami, Tsuzuki unraveled the bindings, with great difficulty; but he found it even more difficult not to stare at the heavenly figure that was accented by a sheen of glowing sweat. Literally tearing his eyes from the form that squirmed along te sweat damp sheets, he gripped onto Hisoka's narrow shoulders and shook the boy a couple of times, receiving only greater cries for help.
"Save me! Save me Tsuzuki..." the words died down as the brunette pulled the trembling blonde into his tight grip, burying the tear stained face in his exposed collar bone. Hisoka had actually called out his name in his sleep, he had called out for Tsuzuki in the depths of his nightmare! Brushing the prospect of it meaning anything, the man clung to his much younger, and much more feminine partner, petting his golden hair gently until the desperate cries subsided.
A pale hand then grasped tightly onto the dress shirt that loosely hung from Tsuzuki's form, weak but still evident, and an unsure voice broke through the silence of the room. "Tsuzuki," it whimpered, clutching to the form that held in so tightly, " Tsuzuki..." Hisoka spoke up again, curling into a tight ball that within the welcoming grasp, and through tears it choked out, " Thank you."
~ After the boy had actually fallen back into a peaceful sleep, a task that had taken a couple hours of the shinigami's time, the brunette settled him back onto the bed, pulling the sheet and quilt up to the teens shoulder's.
It was then that he stared at the innocent young man that lay on the bed next to him. Although he had never really told anyone, he really cared for Hisoka, far beyond that of a partner or even that of a friend. Hisoka was the first person to rouse such feelings out of Tsuzuki, the first one to dominate his thoughts; Hisoka was on the elder shinigami's mind 24/7, he was the last person the the brunette thought of before he went to bed, and the first when he woke up. He wasn't even sure when these feelings first arose, but he could of sworn that it was the first time he had met the arrogant teenager. Either way, he was almost certain that he loved Hisoka, he loved him more than anyone else, and only wanted to wash the memory of Muraki from his partner's mind as soon as possible.
The thought of loving the teen, although he was a boy was of no shock to the brunette; he knew that he was gay a long time ago, he'd had over 70 years to think about it and he was pretty certain that women were of no interest to him. He was also aware of the many men that were attracted to him, but he didn't really care for them, or at least not sexually. However, when Hisoka came along everything seemed to change, and feelings that he had hoped to lock away for the rest of eternity surfaced. It wasn't long before he realized the one thing that horrified him more than Muraki, he was in love with Kurosaki Hisoka. And it wasn't even Hisoka himself that made the thought horrible, it was the way he knew that his affections would never be returned, and that he may be stuck with that realization for the rest of his existance.
Sighing heavily, he glanced towards the window, the sun was already high in the sky and it's beams shone through the window into Tsuzuki's purple eyes. " Well..." the defeated man began, " might as well stay up," he then strided over to the coffee maker and prepared a pot. Hunched over, the obviously exhausted shinigami plodded into the bathroom and turned on the shower, stepping beneath the steamy water to awaken his half asleep body. Scrubbing the night's exhaustion from his pores, Tsuzuki felt slightly more relieved and was able to escape the bathroom as his usual, chipper, self.
Toweling his hair dry, he skipped to the coffee pot, flipping over one of the two available mugs, and pouring the steaming fluid into it's porcelain bowl. Smiling at the pleasantly sleeping Hisoka, he turned on the computer and took a sip of the bitter fluid; making a sour face after his first sip, he resorted to his customary actions, and poured in 7 tablespoons of sugar, creating an almost syrup, but satistfying his sweet tooth. It took less than three sips before an idea came to his mind, the computer had not even adequately loaded and he had already tossed away the task. If Muraki was indeed the murderer, and he was in Nagasaki, then he would be at their first meeting place... the chapel.
Although before he had dreaded ever returning there, his only experiences having been negative when it came to there, he was excited to having found a way to verify the killer, or so he hoped. Placing his nearly full mug onto the desk, he ran, tossed the towel back into the bathroom, and made his way to the door. Pulling on his shoes, he shouted back," Itte kimasu," and he ran from the motel room, slamming the door behind him.
Running as fast as his feet could take him, the energetic Tsuzuki had to force himself to calm down and take a normal walking pace, although his heart still beat hard in his chest in near silent anticipation. The streets were all familiar, just beginning to bustle with life as people left for both school and work.
Climbing the stairs before the tall and ominous building, he could feel his expression go solemn and his steps slow. It had been a while since he had visited this place, so much so that it seemed foreign to him, and he almost feared seeing the top.
It was at that moment that he remembered the chapel had burst into flame, in fact it should be little more than a pile of wet ash. Rushing up the last few steps, afraid of what he might find, Tsuzuki found... the chapel, fully in tact and as pristine as ever. Although it's mere existance puzzled him, he stepped through the gothic style doorway and crept towards the altar.
The room had a golden glow about it, a glow that he barely remembered, but it was still capable of surfacing hateful memories of the one man he yearned to find here. Dropping the memory, his eyes raised to the end of the aisle, there was no one. But at the front of the church appeared to be a pile of something unrecognizble, a deformed shape. Rushing up to the front he knelt before the entirely too familiar object... a white jacket.
***End of Chapter Three*** It just keeps getting more and more suspenseful ^-^ Reviews!!! I'm sorry if some of my info in this chapter is not very correct. I would varify the chapel thing with my tapes, but I have leant them to a friend. Either way, it's not a very important fact,and if it didn't burn down, then just ignore and keep on reading.( If I have onfused you with this whole paragraph, jusy ignore it and read on... product of my worries after finishing Chapter Ten ) I can be a bit of a perfectionist from time to time... ^.^'