I'm going to now state for the record that this entire fic is not going where I want it to. I wanted this chapter to be about a page longer, but then this scene popped up and I couldn't make it longer. Stupid chapter. Oh well, enjoy the chapter. I promise more action in the next one, I swear.
The first thing Hisoka was aware of when he returned to himself was a dull throbbing at the back of his skull. A shiver danced down his spine as he felt the beating of the cold water on his skin. Was he still in the shower? He couldn't remember. Slowly, his emerald eyes cracked open as he glanced around himself at the tiled walls and inside of the hotel bathroom.
Nothing had happened. Muraki had not come, there was no evidence of anything out of the ordinary.
He sat up from where he had fallen in the tub, wincing slightly as the pain at the back of his head grew. What had happened? A quick glance to the floor of the tub explained his question. The water across the bottom of the tub ran towards the drain carrying a slight pink hue with it. Reaching to lightly touch the back of his head, Hisoka could feel the wound there as it healed over.
He had fallen, probably hit his head on the side of the tub.
Shaking himself slightly, Hisoka rose from the floor and quickly turned the water off. If he was still here, the water was still on…then what had become of what Muraki said? It somehow didn't seem like the doctor to make empty threats like that. He said he was coming, Hisoka had felt him coming, but then…nothing.
Hisoka frowned, his brows knitting together in thought. It was all too strange for him to understand. Whether what he had just experienced was an illusion of his own mind or not was simply some thing that he did not want to think about at that point in time.
With a soft sigh, he made his way out of the bathtub and dried off, trying to keep his eyes from the slight stain that remained upon the porcelain of the bathtub. He had brought his pajamas in to the bathroom with him, which consisted of an old shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants. Pulling them on, he tugged at the sleeves of his shirt, somehow thanking himself for having remembered to bring a long-sleeved shirt.
Even though Tsuzuki knew his marks were there, he would never admit to it by allowing his partner to see them unless he wanted him to. Perhaps on some other occasion he would show Tsuzuki the marks for more than a moment, let his partner see how far they ran about his body, how they seemed to stain his entire existence. But he could not do that just yet. And perhaps, he never would be able to.
Hisoka was never quite sure of what he felt for Tsuzuki, what there was between them. He had admitted to needing Tsuzuki, and that much he knew to be true, but beyond that he could not tell. Whether or not what they shared went deeper than his own selfish desire to have someone near him to banish the loneliness that he had unwillingly grown accustomed to in his living years he could not tell.
Glancing up from where he had paced into the hotel bedroom he saw the man in question curled up in the blankets and covers of the room's sole bed. Sighing to himself, Hisoka shook his head at the sight. Sometimes he swore his partner never did anything more than sleep, eat, and whine. It was irritating, but he had spent enough time with the grown-up child he called a partner to grow used to it.
Pulling at the second pillow placed at the head of the bed, he ran his hands across the few sheets that Tsuzuki had left for his own use. He did not feel tired, and he had no real desire to sleep, but he knew that he ought to at least try. There had been far too many embarrassing experiences when he had blacked out and found himself awakening with Tsuzuki's purple eyes on him, filled with concern.
Hisoka did not want that to happen again, he hated admitting to his own weakness. Somehow, if he could just convince everyone that he wasn't a child and that he was fine by himself, he would be happy. Maybe then people would leave him alone and stop worrying about him, and then maybe, with that loneliness, he would be happy.
Shaking his head quickly Hisoka dispelled the thoughts and crept up onto the bed. Tsuzuki was sleeping soundly, as always, and did not seem to notice when his partner joined him in the bed. That in and of itself was certainly not strange, Tsuzuki often slept through everything and anything.
However, something did not sit right with Hisoka. There was something strange about the situation he was in. Sitting up on the bed for a moment he frowned in thought. Really there was no reason for him to be worried that Tsuzuki was sleeping soundly. Nothing had truly happened which would have awoken him, had it…?
Hisoka's eyes widened suddenly at his own revelation. His own screams. He remembered, he remembered distinctly having fallen in the bathroom, his own screams echoing to his ears. Tsuzuki would have heard those. He would have been worried, he would have done something.
Inhaling sharply, Hisoka felt a cold weight sink upon his chest, pulling at his heart. There was an-all-too-familiar stinging in his eyes and he knew what he felt. Swallowing, Hisoka ran a hand across his eyes trying to catch any tears that might have strayed. He lay himself down upon the bed and curled up into a tight ball, letting his back face Tsuzuki.
Though he told himself that he would not cry until sleep took him, sometimes there was very little that his mind could do to govern his own actions.
For Hisoka, dreams had been a strange sort of constant factor within his life. For as long as he could remember, he had slept to the visions of dreams. They had not always been pleasant, but he knew that they were always there. Twisting realities of what could have been and what had come to pass. Visions of futures, pasts, and presents which he could have, would have, might have lived had his life changed in just the slightest little way.
In dreams, he has a mother who cared, a father who loved him, an older sister to play with, someone to watch over him, hold him close in the night and whisper words of love and care into his ear. But in dreams, there was darkness hidden under moonbeams, slit-eyes hiding in the shadows, and incomprehensible hatred hidden behind the most caring facades.
However, on this night, there were no such things. He did not dream of his home, nor of a family that never was. He did not dream of a darkened night, crimson-tainted and plagued with memories. Within his dream, there was nothing.
A black expanse, a void unending for miles upon miles. He faced it alone, with no support nor even a shadow to follow him as he tread onto paths unknown. Though he was not afraid of it, the vision before him seemed to be slightly unnerving. The darkness was too deep; it held something more behind its surface.
But Hisoka was not sure that he knew, nor wanted to know, exactly what lay beyond the smooth ebony surroundings.
So he contented himself to the loneliness. He sat within his own darkness, surrounded by it on all sides, and endured the loneliness. Things such as that had long since become habit for Hisoka. He had managed to make his way through the loneliness of his life with his family, and, through the years as the living dead, he took the times when he was alone, and endured.
But of course, there were things that would have been, which could be, and would make things so much better. A person to rest beside him each night the sun fell, someone to sit with him, to share his meals, someone he would share the simple comfort of just living with, if only to have them there, and to know for a split second that when he returned home from the office, he would not be alone.
There were those things that he wanted, but could never have on his own…
Hisoka, could I come home with you?
For a moment the bleak darkness of his dreamscape shifted. Hisoka could almost swear he had seen the echo of violet eyes that haunted him every day. But all too quickly after it had appeared it vanished. Staring confused into the emptiness, he was not sure exactly what he had just witnessed.
Little brother…hurry up! Papa and Mama are waiting for us!
Turning quickly he could see the fading image of a girl running from him. Her blue kimono and sandy blonde hair stood out in striking contrast to the ebony of his own dream. Without even knowing what he had done he called out to her.
"Neesan…wait!" he ran after her, chasing the image as it vanished before him. Once again he was left alone. But the place he was in was no longer his own darkness. There was something else dwelling within, he could sense it.
Ne…Hisoka? He heard a familiar voice call out to him, although he could not see where it had come from.
"Tsuzuki…?" He questioned the darkness, not knowing exactly what was happening.
Little brother will find someone for himself, won't he?
"Neesan? You think so…?" his words were full of hope, full of a swelling happiness within himself even though he knew not where it came from.
It'd be pretty hard for little brother to find someone like that though…
"What do you mean?" he asked, turning in every direction trying to find the source of his nonexistent sister's voice.
Because little brother is a cursed child.
"What…?" Hisoka said softly, his eyes wide with shock.
Little brother stole my life, didn't he?
"No! Neesan, I didn't do anything like that!"
Little brother knows that papa never really wanted him, doesn't he?
"That's not true neesan! It's not true!"
Little brother can tell that mama hates him, she hates him…
"Neesan!" he shouted, suddenly very aware of tears that were streaming down his own cheeks, "That's not true!"
"Is it?" she asked, her voice now very real within his own illusion. Turning quickly, he found himself staring into eyes as bright and green as his own. A small smile twisted across his sister's features. "They all reject you in the end."
"No…they…" Hisoka gasped between his own tears, tears he found himself unable to stop.
"Who was that one whom is precious in your eyes?" she asked idly, looking down upon him with her eyes as cold as jade, "Those amethyst visions that haunt your dreams?"
"Tsuzuki…" he whispered under his breath, "What…what about Tsuzuki…?"
"Little brother…you must know he doesn't care," she said to him, a soft and honest smile across her face, "You must know he cares for no one."
"But he…"
"He smiles to all, and he closes his heart to them as well."
"Neesan…how do you know…?"
"I have been told," she said quickly, placing a delicate hand upon Hisoka's shoulder, "I only want what's best for my little brother, right?"
"Tsuzuki is right for me, neesan," he said firmly, looking up at his older sister, "I know that…"
"Shh…" one of her soft fingers was placed over his lips, "Listen to me, little brother. Your Tsuzuki is wrong for you."
"No, he isn't." Hisoka said firmly, "He's right, he's-"
"Just listen little brother," she cooed to him as one of her hands stroked his hair gently, "He'll hurt you. You're wrong to love him, little brother. You know that, don't you?"
"Neesan…" he said softly, "I don't understand…"
"Just think little brother," she said encouragingly, "You know who's loved your Tsuzuki before, don't you?"
He nodded slowly, looking into her emerald eyes, "Tatsumi-san loved him too."
"Very good, and does your Tsuzuki love Tatsumi-san?"
"No…he…" Hisoka started, before he shook his head and glanced down at the black void expanding below his feet, "I don't know."
"Does your Tsuzuki share his life with Tatsumi-san?"
"He doesn't," he said softly.
"Does your Tsuzuki allow Tatsumi-san to hold him softly, to quell his fears?"
"Sometimes…he…"
"Little brother," she said harshly, and when his green eyes met hers, she continued in stern tone, "Does he?"
A moment lapsed between them before Hisoka turned his head aside and whispered softly, "No, he doesn't."
"Now…do you think your Tsuzuki would treat you differently, with your love little brother?" she asked, tilting his head up so she could look into his eyes that mirrored her own, "Would your Tsuzuki treat you any different, little brother?"
"I…" Hisoka said, trying to gather a though to counter his sister's words.
"Would he?" she asked calmly, looking into his soul with her eyes filled with concern.
"No," he said softly.
"That's right little brother," his sister reassured him as she drew her younger sibling into an embrace. "He's not the one for you, your Tsuzuki."
Hisoka felt bitter tears sting his eyes as he clutched at the blue fabric of his sister's kimono. Crying into her, he felt sorrow, but a part of him knew that this revelation was the truth. He could not hide from the truth any longer. A few moments brought silence to his sorrows. Calmly, he wiped his eyes dry with the back of his hand, before he turned up to his sister once more.
"But, neesan…if he's not the one for me…then, who is?"
His sister smiled at him upon hearing this. Fluidly, she stood before him, the blue fabric of her kimono swirling gently in an unseen wind.
"The one who's right for you little brother…" she said with a smile as a strange image began to twist itself into being behind the darkness of the dreamscape. "Is an angel."
Behind her, Hisoka could see the tall trunk of a cherry tree sprouting from the ground which had only recently been nothing but void.
"He's a truly wonderful person," she continued as the moon appeared in the sky above them, clouded red with stains of blood.
"I think you've met him before, little brother, haven't you?" As she turned to him, her visage changed and slipped away. The blue kimono was replaced by a coat of pristine white. The lips that were no longer hers, but his twisted into a cruel smirk as he turned his attentions to the boy. "Ne, bouya?"
All at once Hisoka saw before him the images of the falling sakura, strewn blood and pain of death play over once again. And once again, he woke to the morning sky screaming.
Hisoka's eyes were open before he could stop his own screams. That was the way it always went. Slowly he would gain control of his breathing, clench his hands to the bed sheets and keep his own small frame from shivering because of the fear that the dream had wrought.
The first thing he always became aware of was the graying light blue hues of morning's first light. It seemed to him that almost every morning he woke to see the sunrise creeping over to present to the word a bloodstained dawn. Some people claimed that the sunrise was a beautiful thing, full of radiant colors, showing the life of the day peeking out from under a cover of night's death.
But Hisoka did not think so. He thought the sunrise was nothing more than a reminder of the people whose existence had flickered and faded under a velvet covering of stars. Much as his own had faded away, one night so many years prior.
So he sat there, silently, watching as the dawn broke upon a newborn world and covered everything in a strange red-tinted golden light. Only when the first beams of light had gently touched the walls of the hotel room he slept in did he dare get up from the bed he shared.
His morning ritual was something that never changed, regardless of whether or not there was another person there with him to interrupt the steady flow of his own actions. He dressed, unconsciously pulled down at the long sleeves of his navy blue turtleneck as he saw the marks creeping slowly further across his skin. He ate, in silence with no company save for himself and the dull echoes against the wall of his own motions as he made to sustain himself in what seemed a futile and foolish effort.
And then, only when everything else had been completed, did he turn to the still-sleeping form that had curled itself into a cocoon of blankets on one side of the small bed that they had shared that night. Hisoka knew Tsuzuki never liked early mornings. On all the cases they had completed together, Tsuzuki would never willingly pull himself out of bed before the hour of noon. The thought of such a thing seemed sacrilege to the man.
Hisoka knew this, and at all times, it truly depending on his mood as to whether or not he would disturb his partner from the soothing sleep of dreamers. Some days, he would simply seat himself near to the bed, a book hiding his face as he stole furtive glances to the peaceful and open face of his sleeping partner. He would be careful to keep his eyes to the pages once Tsuzuki's stirrings indicated that he would be awake soon.
Other days, he did not care for what his partner's desires were. On those days, he would grab the bed sheets that encircled his partner as a barrier between him and the waking world and brutally pull that protection from him. He would watch with a sort of sadistic pleasure as Tsuzuki squirmed for a few moments before whining and rubbing at his sleep worn eyes.
Today, he stood before the bed, looking down upon a mop of disheveled brown hair that peeked out from under the quilted hotel blankets. He frowned silently to himself, contemplating his course of action, but at the same time wondering softly why he felt a strange sort of déjà vu at this moment.
There was truly nothing strange about Tsuzuki sleeping in, nothing which should have espoused the feelings of worry and sadness within Hisoka. But at the same time, he knew, instinctively, that there was some thing that should have woken his slumbering partner.
He frowned in thought, his green eyes narrowing as he wondered to himself why the situation, why the feelings, were all to similar to what he had felt the night before…
…when his screams had echoed across the walls of their room, but Tsuzuki had slept soundly.
Hisoka's eyes widened momentarily at the recognition. That was what it had been. He knew, as always happened, that his dreams and nightmares brought him into the waking world with screams on his breath. He had heard them this morning, echoing in his own ears.
In the past, no matter how deeply Tsuzuki slept, no matter how hard it was to wake him in the morning, if, at some point in time before dawn broke, Hisoka's screams could be heard within the room they shared, he would be awake. However, this morning, much the same as it had happened the night before, Tsuzuki had not awoken to his partner's cries for help.
He remembered Tsuzuki's warm embrace. Remembered how his partner had comforted him in the past. Tsuzuki had always been there for him offering comfort even when he was too selfish and too detached from his partner to accept it. The other Shinigami's warm smile and gentle words had almost become a sort of constant to Hisoka's life beyond death. And yet…now they were gone.
Hisoka shook his head, trying to dispel the thoughts of doubt that clouded his mind. There was some sort of explanation for it. Some reason why Tsuzuki had not awoken to his screams. However, Tsuzuki had fallen asleep before Hisoka had, and he had not been woken by the screams the night before. He couldn't possibly have fallen into a sleep so deep that he would not hear the sounds of the outside world. Although Tsuzuki did always sleep like the dead, he had always awoken, every time, when Hisoka's nightmares plagued his rest.
However, now Tsuzuki slept peacefully in the bed they had shared, he was encircled in a world of dreams, seemingly oblivious to the cries that Hisoka had uttered earlier. There was nothing to concern him more than his own slumber.
Hisoka had realized this, yet he did not know exactly what to make of it. He felt the familiar sting of tears within his eyes, his throat had closed with their coming, but he knew that he would not let himself cry. Stubbornly, he moved and sat at the small table within their hotel room. He had left his book there the night before. Picking it up, he firmly buried himself within the words written upon the pages, not caring for the world outside of the book's fantasy.
Somehow, he felt as if Tsuzuki's continued slumber was a sort of betrayal. As if, for all the times that he had provided comfort for Tsuzuki, he received nothing in return. However, as he plunged himself deeper into his world of fantasy, none of that seemed to matter. Instinctively, he had known that Tsuzuki wouldn't return his feelings, that the violet-eyed man was only seeking his own selfish comfort from the boy.
Hisoka realized this now, and he did not care. Things had simply returned to the way that they always were. He had never really seen true comfort, and he knew that he would not find it within the arms of the man resting softly in the bed not more than three feet away from him.
So, with a dull ache set deep within himself Hisoka sat reading his book until the sun reached its apex and Tsuzuki woke on his own violation, ignorant of the dreams which had plagued his partner's sleep.
~*~
From Dreams to Reality
Chapter Three
~*~
~*~
~*~
Neesan means older sister in Japanese, for the curious at heart. And yes, Hisoka does have an older sister. Her name was Hisoka. And she was killed by his uncle about ten seconds after she was born. So yeah, the Kurosaki family is really screwed up.
