The Good Child
The skin of Death was so very cold. A giant glacier stuck in a frozen sea. It scratched away at his porcelain hands, trying to bite it's way through. This didn't bother the boy, though. Strangely enough, it fascinated him, and an overwhelming thought took hold. Could he make Death warm? Could he bring heat to the body that was long since forsaken?
The boy kept his chest pressed firmly into that of the demon's, keeping his wide purple eyes focused on the facial features of the monster that looked so much like him.
No, wait. Monster was not a good word. He didn't like that word at all. Demon angel. Yes, that one he liked.
He ran his small hands over the cheeks of Death, then moved down to the chin, the nose, and forehead. He gently touched the large black eyelashes, the hard-placed eyebrows, and over the silky cold lips. Yes, he was right in his earlier suspicion. The more he touched the demon, the warmer he became.
A frenzy of strange emotions was swirling in a maelstrom of activity in his stomach. This boy, this strange creation of light, why did he find a monster like him so intriguing? Yes, he believed he was a monster. He was the Boogey Man waiting in your dark closet or under your bed. He was the reason little children woke up in cold sweats at night, alone in their room. His eyes could be seen in every drop of blood, his voice evident in every blood-curdling scream.
Every soul he had ever come across was terrified of him, and not one didn't beg to be spared. If they could find their voice at all. He would laugh evilly at it sometimes. Living mortals would write all of the time about their great heroes looking the End in the eye and laughing.
It was all silly illusions that they made. None of it was real. They ALL quivered in fear. This boy had too, until something inside of him snapped as it had never snapped in a soul before.
The demon took a hard look at the boy in front of him, whose warm chest was pressed firmly against his own, a look of hard concentration on his features. He was beautiful.
No, wait. He wasn't a boy. Not really. He was a very young man, very young. Late teens, maybe. A boy by his standards, but probably not by the light's.
His cold skin was teeming with dizzying sensations. Heat was moving into him at an agonizingly slow rate. He needed more. Much more. His body was shivering and aching with the burning greed for more.
Touch me, please. Touch me and make me warm like you. Make me feel life again, life that was denied from me for all eternity. Let me _feel_ you, your warm hands caressing me like the delicate wings of a butterfly. So soft, so delicate, and so full of life and vitality like the light of the sun.
Moonlight and sunlight and starlight was teeming and swirling and swallowing him up and making him whole again. Hold me, little one. My little light. Hold me and make me warm. I'm not as cold as some might think. I just needed that one soul, that one light that could understand me. That one light that could give me the warmth that you are now. You understand me, I fascinate you. You are not afraid of me.
Maybe he was fooling himself. Maybe none of this was real after all. He would dream of something like this often, an attempt to end his own misery. But like always, the dream would end, and he would find himself surrounded by the darkness that he loathed.
But it couldn't be here. Not now. Could it?
He held tightly to the creature in his arms. "Are you really real," Death inquired softly, still in disbelief.
He looked at the demonic creature in wonder. Yes, of course he was real. He was very real. He was becoming frustrated, though. Why did it feel like he couldn't get close enough to the cold body? Why wouldn't the pale skin take on the pink glow of the living?
The boy starred hard at the cold, contemplative crimson eyes. His hands cupped both sides of the demon's face. Inches apart they were. So close, they could feel each other's breath cascading down their skin.
A strange pulling sensation couldn't be ignored as it gnawed away at the boy. Closer. He had to be closer.
His heavy head inched its way forward, closer and closer to Death's face. A painful gap was between them .
The demon felt burning flesh pressed firmly against his lips. Tastes and smells he had long ago forgotten hit him a ferocious wave, nearly knocking him over. Fire was snaking its way down into his soul. Rivers of lava straight from the surface of the burning Helios tantalized his thoughts and his mouth and his limbs and his whole being.
Light was filling the dark, dank, musty void of his soul. He had to have had a soul. Nothing short of such a miracle could feel this, could it?
He pressed back in reply. Yes, kisses were good. He liked this kiss. He begged for entrance that was happily accepted.
Gods and goddesses of all creations, the happiness that flowed through him made him want to cry. The warmth, the love, the sheer life flowing into him! It was masking his darkness, suppressing his own dark desires. All he wanted was this creature of light
Chocolate and cream and milk and honey and strawberries and oranges and almonds and all things that could possible taste smooth and creamy and tangy played at his senses.
Yummy.
Delicious and exquisite and absolutely irresistible
Without their conscious knowing their bodies slowly descended to the hard, black floor beneath them. The young light could feel the cold body becoming warmer by the minute. The hand that slid up his shirt wasn't trying the bite through his skin. Oh, no. It was quite full of life.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
He panted heavily, clutching tightly to the neck of his new lover. Death was completely warm now, and pink tinged his pale skin. The sense of completion that was over him was indescribable. The half of his soul that he had been born without he had finally found.
The demon kept his head buried in the hollow of the light's neck, trying to hide the tears of blood that were spilling over his cheeks. Gods, he had never been happier. The moment their bodies had become one, Oh, he shivered thinking about it. Some sort of strange force felt like jumping out of him, and the only thing holding it in was his spiritual skin. Life and completeness and love had wound into his shallow heart and wove its way into the fabrics of his soul.
He could never let this spirit in his arms go.
The boy realized something. Death wasn't going to kill him. Not ever. But, that was the only reason for souls to be here at all, to await their doom. What was going to happen to him?
"No, no I don't want to go home. Not without you! Please, don't leave me!" He held tighter to the warm neck, pleading and begging with the demon that was Death. The thought of separation made him want to cry. He needed the touch of his newly acquired lover like his mortal body needed to breathe.
"I'm sorry, my little light. I have no control over it. You have to go now. Already you've been here too long."
"No! Come with me! Please, you must," the light sobbed.
"I can't. I'm Death, I can't have a mortal body of my own. Forgive me, little one. Forgive me." The demon whispered his apology in the boy's ear with as much compassion as he could muster. An amount that had just recently increased.
"I promise, though. I'll find you again. One way or another, I'll find you."
He kissed him one last time on the forehead, then stood. In doing so, it felt like a part of his souls was ripped from him, and the pain that ensued was pure and unsuppressed agony.
The boy was in heart-wrenching tears, unable to move because of the pain.
"Goodbye, my mortal lover. We _will_ meet again. I promise you that. We will meet again," his echo continued as he vanished back into the shadows, and the boy continued to cry, trapped in his own circle of light, pain gnawing at him in a raged fury. The far-off screams were returning.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Anzu wiped away at her eyes as another tear fell. The little piece of powdered paper in her hands was completely soaked in her salty vapors. She needed a new one. She looked at the box in her lap. Damn it, she ran out of tissues. Her lithe hand shook the cardboard box. Empty.
The continuous buzz of the heart monitor continued to whine, filling the silence with the final doom.
Yuugi Moto was dead.
His lifeless body was lying limply on the white, cold hospital bed, allowing family and friends to say their final goodbye.
Grandpa Moto had walked out with a tear-stricken face. His only grandson was dead.
Damn cars, damn semis, and damn school busses. Damn the whole world.
She didn't even want to think about the rampage that Jonouchi was on right now. All of Domino City must be in ruins.
She sniffled again. What were they going to do without the jovial Yuugi around, with his happy demeanor and love for everyone?
Damn it, more tears. How was she to wipe them up now? She thought of the song, Two Tear Drops. 'Oh the ocean's a little bit bigger tonight, two tear drops somebody cried. One of them happy and one of them bluer than blue."
Oh yeah, she was the blue one right now. A sad, melancholy tune that she started humming to herself. It seemed to fit for the moment.
Oh, if only that monitor would just start going beep. . .beep. . .beep, like it had only half an hour ago. She could hear it, and see his chest rise and fall as it expanded with air.
Gods, he couldn't be dead, he just couldn't.
She looked back at his body again, hoping that all of this was a bad dream. The lips were ice cold, and his skin was turning blue.
Dead.
No, not more tears. Be strong, Anzu, be strong!
Oh, screw it, she let them fall anyway.
"Beep. . . . . .Beep. . . . . . . .Beep!"
Her brown head snapped up. No, it couldn't be.
"Beep. . . . . . . .Beep. . . . .Beep!"
The chest of the dead boy rose in an agonizing attempt to breathe.
"Doctors! Doctors! Nurse, get in here!! Get in here!!!" The brunette girl began screaming at the top of her lungs. Damn it, where the hell where they?
Two men in white coats came plowing in. "What, what is it?"
"The heart monitor, it's beeping! And look! He's breathing again!"
Sure enough, it was. It was becoming rapider, too, as his heart rate increased. One of the men took hold of one of the wrists and took a pulse anyway. "I don't believe it. He really is."
Anzu didn't really need to hear it from him though. She already knew. Before they could blink she had run out the double doors and was heading to the waiting room.
"Mr. Moto, Mr. Moto!! Come quick! Come quick!"
The old man was dragged into his grandson's hospital room and forced to look at his grandson's dead body again. Or rather, his grandson's dead body that was slowly coming back to life.
Tears poured down his old, wrinkled face. "Oh, Yuugi, Yuugi can you hear me? Yuugi!?"
Slowly, painfully, the teenage boy on the bed pried his lids open. Oh, gods, his chest hurt. Did a heard of elephants decide to trample him? And was that a vice squeezing on his head? No, it was a spike. Yeah, that was it. Oh, did he have a splitting headache.
Someone was chanting his name over and over again, and it felt like something was rubbing against his hand. Was that grandpa's voice?
His blurry vision cleared, and he could see the frazzled figure of his devoted grandfather standing over him.
"G-grandpa?" he asked wearily. His speech felt slurred. Oh, he would need LOTS of pain killers before he completely woke up.
"Oh, it's a miracle!" Everyone in the room was exclaiming this. Kinda felt like torture to him.
What a strange dream he had. Death, who looked so much like him. Just what on earth happened to him?
"W-what happened?" he asked.
"You died, Yuugi. About half an hour ago. But, somehow, you're here. And you're alive!"
An unusually large frog became lodged in his throat. Of course. That intersection, the missed red light, the swerving school bus, the rolling semi, all of it landing right on the side walk. And straight into him.
Oh, that memory hurt. A lot.
But, that meant that he didn't have a dream at all. All of what happened was real.
He suddenly felt very alone in that hospital room full of people. He wanted that cold darkness next to him, to touch him, to breathe down his neck and become warm with the kisses. Gods, why was he still here?
Grandpa Moto was so happy he didn't bother to mask his giddiness. His grandson Yuugi was alive! "Oh, Yuugi, I have something for you. I'll be right back!" And just like that the old man was out of the hospital room before the teenage boy could even blink. That would have taken a while, anyway, as he felt like going beck to sleep again.
Within five minutes he was back, saving Yuugi from the sobbing Anzu, who kept chattering away about something like 'Oh, just wait till Jonouchi hears about this! He's sworn to kill everybody, you know. . .' and something of the like.
Grandpa held a large box under the dilapidated boy's nose.
He looked at it scrupulously. Odd. It looked to be of solid gold! "What's with this strange symbol on the side, grandpa?"
"It's an ancient Egyptian symbol for good luck. It's called the Eye of Horus, Yuugi. Open up the box."
He complied, and popped open the gold lid. Gosh, how it sparkled and shined! Well, this was interesting, it looked like hunks of gold inside.
"Why, it's a puzzle!"
"That's right Yuugi. I was going to give it to you next week on your birthday, but, well.." the old man trailed off, and Yuugi understood.
"I can't wait to put it together, grandpa. You know that I love puzzles!" The pieces seemed to be glowing with a preternatural life in his hands. He was already in love with the strange artifact. That's what it had to be. Grandpa always went to Egypt on archeological digs.
Suddenly and without warning, a huge pair of strong arms in a brown trench coat wrapped around him. "Yuugi, you're alive!!!" Those arms were joined by a pair of arms in a green jean jacket. He could smell pizza. "Jonouchi!"
"Yeah, Yug', it's me."
The friends talked for the better part of the afternoon, only stopping when Yuugi's eyes began to droop, and the nurse shooed everybody out. The golden box was still in his hands when he fell asleep.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Well, here's the continuation of the story that was SUPPOSED to be a one shot thing. Do you want more? Lots of fluff and angst on the way, if you do. . .*sick, sing song voice*
The skin of Death was so very cold. A giant glacier stuck in a frozen sea. It scratched away at his porcelain hands, trying to bite it's way through. This didn't bother the boy, though. Strangely enough, it fascinated him, and an overwhelming thought took hold. Could he make Death warm? Could he bring heat to the body that was long since forsaken?
The boy kept his chest pressed firmly into that of the demon's, keeping his wide purple eyes focused on the facial features of the monster that looked so much like him.
No, wait. Monster was not a good word. He didn't like that word at all. Demon angel. Yes, that one he liked.
He ran his small hands over the cheeks of Death, then moved down to the chin, the nose, and forehead. He gently touched the large black eyelashes, the hard-placed eyebrows, and over the silky cold lips. Yes, he was right in his earlier suspicion. The more he touched the demon, the warmer he became.
A frenzy of strange emotions was swirling in a maelstrom of activity in his stomach. This boy, this strange creation of light, why did he find a monster like him so intriguing? Yes, he believed he was a monster. He was the Boogey Man waiting in your dark closet or under your bed. He was the reason little children woke up in cold sweats at night, alone in their room. His eyes could be seen in every drop of blood, his voice evident in every blood-curdling scream.
Every soul he had ever come across was terrified of him, and not one didn't beg to be spared. If they could find their voice at all. He would laugh evilly at it sometimes. Living mortals would write all of the time about their great heroes looking the End in the eye and laughing.
It was all silly illusions that they made. None of it was real. They ALL quivered in fear. This boy had too, until something inside of him snapped as it had never snapped in a soul before.
The demon took a hard look at the boy in front of him, whose warm chest was pressed firmly against his own, a look of hard concentration on his features. He was beautiful.
No, wait. He wasn't a boy. Not really. He was a very young man, very young. Late teens, maybe. A boy by his standards, but probably not by the light's.
His cold skin was teeming with dizzying sensations. Heat was moving into him at an agonizingly slow rate. He needed more. Much more. His body was shivering and aching with the burning greed for more.
Touch me, please. Touch me and make me warm like you. Make me feel life again, life that was denied from me for all eternity. Let me _feel_ you, your warm hands caressing me like the delicate wings of a butterfly. So soft, so delicate, and so full of life and vitality like the light of the sun.
Moonlight and sunlight and starlight was teeming and swirling and swallowing him up and making him whole again. Hold me, little one. My little light. Hold me and make me warm. I'm not as cold as some might think. I just needed that one soul, that one light that could understand me. That one light that could give me the warmth that you are now. You understand me, I fascinate you. You are not afraid of me.
Maybe he was fooling himself. Maybe none of this was real after all. He would dream of something like this often, an attempt to end his own misery. But like always, the dream would end, and he would find himself surrounded by the darkness that he loathed.
But it couldn't be here. Not now. Could it?
He held tightly to the creature in his arms. "Are you really real," Death inquired softly, still in disbelief.
He looked at the demonic creature in wonder. Yes, of course he was real. He was very real. He was becoming frustrated, though. Why did it feel like he couldn't get close enough to the cold body? Why wouldn't the pale skin take on the pink glow of the living?
The boy starred hard at the cold, contemplative crimson eyes. His hands cupped both sides of the demon's face. Inches apart they were. So close, they could feel each other's breath cascading down their skin.
A strange pulling sensation couldn't be ignored as it gnawed away at the boy. Closer. He had to be closer.
His heavy head inched its way forward, closer and closer to Death's face. A painful gap was between them .
The demon felt burning flesh pressed firmly against his lips. Tastes and smells he had long ago forgotten hit him a ferocious wave, nearly knocking him over. Fire was snaking its way down into his soul. Rivers of lava straight from the surface of the burning Helios tantalized his thoughts and his mouth and his limbs and his whole being.
Light was filling the dark, dank, musty void of his soul. He had to have had a soul. Nothing short of such a miracle could feel this, could it?
He pressed back in reply. Yes, kisses were good. He liked this kiss. He begged for entrance that was happily accepted.
Gods and goddesses of all creations, the happiness that flowed through him made him want to cry. The warmth, the love, the sheer life flowing into him! It was masking his darkness, suppressing his own dark desires. All he wanted was this creature of light
Chocolate and cream and milk and honey and strawberries and oranges and almonds and all things that could possible taste smooth and creamy and tangy played at his senses.
Yummy.
Delicious and exquisite and absolutely irresistible
Without their conscious knowing their bodies slowly descended to the hard, black floor beneath them. The young light could feel the cold body becoming warmer by the minute. The hand that slid up his shirt wasn't trying the bite through his skin. Oh, no. It was quite full of life.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
He panted heavily, clutching tightly to the neck of his new lover. Death was completely warm now, and pink tinged his pale skin. The sense of completion that was over him was indescribable. The half of his soul that he had been born without he had finally found.
The demon kept his head buried in the hollow of the light's neck, trying to hide the tears of blood that were spilling over his cheeks. Gods, he had never been happier. The moment their bodies had become one, Oh, he shivered thinking about it. Some sort of strange force felt like jumping out of him, and the only thing holding it in was his spiritual skin. Life and completeness and love had wound into his shallow heart and wove its way into the fabrics of his soul.
He could never let this spirit in his arms go.
The boy realized something. Death wasn't going to kill him. Not ever. But, that was the only reason for souls to be here at all, to await their doom. What was going to happen to him?
"No, no I don't want to go home. Not without you! Please, don't leave me!" He held tighter to the warm neck, pleading and begging with the demon that was Death. The thought of separation made him want to cry. He needed the touch of his newly acquired lover like his mortal body needed to breathe.
"I'm sorry, my little light. I have no control over it. You have to go now. Already you've been here too long."
"No! Come with me! Please, you must," the light sobbed.
"I can't. I'm Death, I can't have a mortal body of my own. Forgive me, little one. Forgive me." The demon whispered his apology in the boy's ear with as much compassion as he could muster. An amount that had just recently increased.
"I promise, though. I'll find you again. One way or another, I'll find you."
He kissed him one last time on the forehead, then stood. In doing so, it felt like a part of his souls was ripped from him, and the pain that ensued was pure and unsuppressed agony.
The boy was in heart-wrenching tears, unable to move because of the pain.
"Goodbye, my mortal lover. We _will_ meet again. I promise you that. We will meet again," his echo continued as he vanished back into the shadows, and the boy continued to cry, trapped in his own circle of light, pain gnawing at him in a raged fury. The far-off screams were returning.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Anzu wiped away at her eyes as another tear fell. The little piece of powdered paper in her hands was completely soaked in her salty vapors. She needed a new one. She looked at the box in her lap. Damn it, she ran out of tissues. Her lithe hand shook the cardboard box. Empty.
The continuous buzz of the heart monitor continued to whine, filling the silence with the final doom.
Yuugi Moto was dead.
His lifeless body was lying limply on the white, cold hospital bed, allowing family and friends to say their final goodbye.
Grandpa Moto had walked out with a tear-stricken face. His only grandson was dead.
Damn cars, damn semis, and damn school busses. Damn the whole world.
She didn't even want to think about the rampage that Jonouchi was on right now. All of Domino City must be in ruins.
She sniffled again. What were they going to do without the jovial Yuugi around, with his happy demeanor and love for everyone?
Damn it, more tears. How was she to wipe them up now? She thought of the song, Two Tear Drops. 'Oh the ocean's a little bit bigger tonight, two tear drops somebody cried. One of them happy and one of them bluer than blue."
Oh yeah, she was the blue one right now. A sad, melancholy tune that she started humming to herself. It seemed to fit for the moment.
Oh, if only that monitor would just start going beep. . .beep. . .beep, like it had only half an hour ago. She could hear it, and see his chest rise and fall as it expanded with air.
Gods, he couldn't be dead, he just couldn't.
She looked back at his body again, hoping that all of this was a bad dream. The lips were ice cold, and his skin was turning blue.
Dead.
No, not more tears. Be strong, Anzu, be strong!
Oh, screw it, she let them fall anyway.
"Beep. . . . . .Beep. . . . . . . .Beep!"
Her brown head snapped up. No, it couldn't be.
"Beep. . . . . . . .Beep. . . . .Beep!"
The chest of the dead boy rose in an agonizing attempt to breathe.
"Doctors! Doctors! Nurse, get in here!! Get in here!!!" The brunette girl began screaming at the top of her lungs. Damn it, where the hell where they?
Two men in white coats came plowing in. "What, what is it?"
"The heart monitor, it's beeping! And look! He's breathing again!"
Sure enough, it was. It was becoming rapider, too, as his heart rate increased. One of the men took hold of one of the wrists and took a pulse anyway. "I don't believe it. He really is."
Anzu didn't really need to hear it from him though. She already knew. Before they could blink she had run out the double doors and was heading to the waiting room.
"Mr. Moto, Mr. Moto!! Come quick! Come quick!"
The old man was dragged into his grandson's hospital room and forced to look at his grandson's dead body again. Or rather, his grandson's dead body that was slowly coming back to life.
Tears poured down his old, wrinkled face. "Oh, Yuugi, Yuugi can you hear me? Yuugi!?"
Slowly, painfully, the teenage boy on the bed pried his lids open. Oh, gods, his chest hurt. Did a heard of elephants decide to trample him? And was that a vice squeezing on his head? No, it was a spike. Yeah, that was it. Oh, did he have a splitting headache.
Someone was chanting his name over and over again, and it felt like something was rubbing against his hand. Was that grandpa's voice?
His blurry vision cleared, and he could see the frazzled figure of his devoted grandfather standing over him.
"G-grandpa?" he asked wearily. His speech felt slurred. Oh, he would need LOTS of pain killers before he completely woke up.
"Oh, it's a miracle!" Everyone in the room was exclaiming this. Kinda felt like torture to him.
What a strange dream he had. Death, who looked so much like him. Just what on earth happened to him?
"W-what happened?" he asked.
"You died, Yuugi. About half an hour ago. But, somehow, you're here. And you're alive!"
An unusually large frog became lodged in his throat. Of course. That intersection, the missed red light, the swerving school bus, the rolling semi, all of it landing right on the side walk. And straight into him.
Oh, that memory hurt. A lot.
But, that meant that he didn't have a dream at all. All of what happened was real.
He suddenly felt very alone in that hospital room full of people. He wanted that cold darkness next to him, to touch him, to breathe down his neck and become warm with the kisses. Gods, why was he still here?
Grandpa Moto was so happy he didn't bother to mask his giddiness. His grandson Yuugi was alive! "Oh, Yuugi, I have something for you. I'll be right back!" And just like that the old man was out of the hospital room before the teenage boy could even blink. That would have taken a while, anyway, as he felt like going beck to sleep again.
Within five minutes he was back, saving Yuugi from the sobbing Anzu, who kept chattering away about something like 'Oh, just wait till Jonouchi hears about this! He's sworn to kill everybody, you know. . .' and something of the like.
Grandpa held a large box under the dilapidated boy's nose.
He looked at it scrupulously. Odd. It looked to be of solid gold! "What's with this strange symbol on the side, grandpa?"
"It's an ancient Egyptian symbol for good luck. It's called the Eye of Horus, Yuugi. Open up the box."
He complied, and popped open the gold lid. Gosh, how it sparkled and shined! Well, this was interesting, it looked like hunks of gold inside.
"Why, it's a puzzle!"
"That's right Yuugi. I was going to give it to you next week on your birthday, but, well.." the old man trailed off, and Yuugi understood.
"I can't wait to put it together, grandpa. You know that I love puzzles!" The pieces seemed to be glowing with a preternatural life in his hands. He was already in love with the strange artifact. That's what it had to be. Grandpa always went to Egypt on archeological digs.
Suddenly and without warning, a huge pair of strong arms in a brown trench coat wrapped around him. "Yuugi, you're alive!!!" Those arms were joined by a pair of arms in a green jean jacket. He could smell pizza. "Jonouchi!"
"Yeah, Yug', it's me."
The friends talked for the better part of the afternoon, only stopping when Yuugi's eyes began to droop, and the nurse shooed everybody out. The golden box was still in his hands when he fell asleep.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Well, here's the continuation of the story that was SUPPOSED to be a one shot thing. Do you want more? Lots of fluff and angst on the way, if you do. . .*sick, sing song voice*