The Good Child
It was black again. Solid and complete and overwhelming. Overpowering and engulfing and enveloping in its icy grasps and, dear gods. He was choking on it. Everywhere. There was no escape from the black. The eternal darkness and complete loss of vision. Yes, his vision. His sight that was torn from him every time he entered this room.
It felt like his eyes had been ripped out, his blood gushing out in freezing torrents. His throat was on fire from screaming and sobbing and his agonized limps were tired. So very tired. Shivering takes a lot of energy.
Where could he go? Wander the empty corridors of his mind? Explore the uninhabited shadows of his soul? He couldn't even see!
But that's just it. He WASN"T alone in his soul room. Oh no, never alone. The empty, solid blackness seemed to have some sort of strange, conscious awareness of him. Behind those ancient doors was an unknown evil waiting to trap him forever in its grip. Blood-stained memories and an unforgiving past that wanted him not just dead, that would be kind. No, the demons and sinful souls of his past and his very existence wanted him in an eternal torture, to always be able to rip out his heart, lick at his lacerated flesh, feel his veins pulsating with crimson liquid. Copper and salt and sweat and decaying flesh would forever bombard his senses. Never would he smell the sunset or flowers or fresh foods or pretty perfumes, or rain. Gods, the sweet, invigorating smell of the rain. Never again.
What should happen to him if he were to wonder haplessly into one of these rooms? There could be no one to save him. He could defy death, for that was his very existence. It was his life and his eternity and his destiny to rule as such. But that didn't mean that he could avoid pain. The prince of darkness. The keeper of the damned.
He hated it. He didn't want this life. He never asked for it.
Pounding and monotonous thudding droned in his ears. Those demons were always trying to get out. He had locked up those doors tight eons ago.
But the locks were rusting.
And the stone walls were beginning to crack.
The harsh ebony of his surroundings was splitting every minute. He may not be able to see it, but he could certainly hear it. He could always hear the dull pop and crack as the rock parted.
He couldn't get out. He couldn't see the door. It was so dark. And torture was awaiting him. What would happen when those rusted locks finally gave way?
Sobbing raked through his mind, clouding his tormented thoughts. He screamed out into the shadows, telling the one who was crying to be silent, let him think. Silence was always welcome.
Another of his tears fell to his feet. Yes, it was he that was choking on his own sobs.
Not that any would have pity on him. He was a demon. He was death. He took loved ones away and payed no head to age or sex or race or family. Those that would seek revenge on him ranked in the millions. Every soul wanted a piece of his flesh to mount on their wall.
The pounding was growing louder. Gods, they were going to get out. The devils inside of him were going to suck him even further into the pits of darkness.
He couldn't find the door.
He screamed, falling to the floor with his buckling knees. A sticky liquid splashed about him, salty and steaming.
Blood. The floor was covered in it. Since when did his floor have blood?
It was coming from underneath of the locked doors. Whatever traps and monsters were behind them, they were going to get out.
They were coming for him.
He clutched his head and he screamed. What else could he do? He was trapped and he was doomed and not one in the world could stop those demons and sinful souls and monsters that had a bounty on his head, his heart, his mind and his flesh.
The pounding was getting louder.
Yuugi struck his fist at the dingy door again. Yami. Something's wrong. The overwhelming sense of not just dread, but fear and pain and hurt and tears and betrayal and isolation was choking him. His yami, his beautiful, sweet, pretty, soft, cold and devoted yami was in pain. He was in trouble and he needed help.
The door to the demon's soul room wouldn't give.
"Yami!" he called out again.
Forget pounding on the door. He rammed his shoulder into it, then did it again.
Desperation was a monsoon in their mental link. Yami usually tried to hide such feelings from his hikari, but at the moment the fact that he even had a light didn't seem to occur to him.
Again Yuugi ran into the metal door, and finally! It creaked open, heavy as it was. Light flooded the dingy, dreary room.
Without hesitation Yuugi stormed in.
His yami, his gorgeous darkness he loved so much, was crouched in the middle of the floor in a pool of blood.
Blood that was not his.
The spirit's eyes were clenched tightly shut, head in hands, screaming. Bloodied tears rolled down his cheeks.
Falling down into the blood along side his other half, Yuugi cupped the face of darkness and began to kiss away the tears. Salt and bittersweet copper teamed at his lips.
Yami looked down, slightly bewildered at this strange apparition of light in front of him, clinging to him and uttering words of calm.
No, wait, this was no apparition. This was no manifestation of his mind. This was his light. This was his hikari and the only reason he was at all living.
His arms snaked around the smaller boy's waist in an almost lethal embrace.
He cried. Unsuppressed and emotion flooded tears.
Yuugi's hands tangled in the silky hair of his darkness, chest pressed firmly against his other.
Were he to try and get up, his darkness might feel as if he were being abandoned, with the mental state that he was in.
Squeezing tighter around the spirit's waist, Yuugi pulled the two of them up. He had only one thought on his mind: get Yami out of here.
Slowly, carefully, he led his darkness out of the place that was known as Yami's soul room.
He closed the rusted metal door with a final bang.
In a complete state of delirium, Yami followed his hikari into another room, one filled with a soft, silver light. So much like to sweet innocence of his other half.
Yuugi closed the door to his own soul room tightly and led Yami over to his bed.
It was so warm in his hikari's soul room. And he felt so very cold at the moment.
Yuugi, Yami tucked away next to him, stroked the golden tinged face of his lover, raining butterfly kisses down his skin.
This wasn't the first time something like this had happened. It was the worst, though.
Yuugi could often feel a slight uneasiness about his darkness, and would ask what was wrong.
Although Death's muscles would tighten beneath his navy leather, he would always so that everything was fine, so long as his light was there.
Of course Yuugi would always be there. He wouldn't be anywhere else.
Another dilemma, though. What was he going to do with that soul room across the mental hall?
Yuugi had often extended the offer to stay with him in his own room, but Yami insisted that he would be infringing on his aibou's privacy. At least, not until Yuugi was accustomed to have a shared link.
Oh yes, he was quite used to it now. He couldn't ever remember not being able to feel the thought, emotions, and desires of his bonded.
Sleep. He would sleep now, with his yami by his side, and worry about that accursed room in the morning. Yes, in the morning.
Maybe it would be raining. He liked the rain.
Yami, as of yet, had never stood out in the rain. Wouldn't he love it!
*****
Sorry this took so long, peeps. So much homework, and late night pit practices for the spring play have been driving me up the wall. Lots more fluff on the way. Sorry couldn't get to grandpa this time, but will next time. Promise! Citrus-y goodness on the way, too. Please, R&R.
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It was black again. Solid and complete and overwhelming. Overpowering and engulfing and enveloping in its icy grasps and, dear gods. He was choking on it. Everywhere. There was no escape from the black. The eternal darkness and complete loss of vision. Yes, his vision. His sight that was torn from him every time he entered this room.
It felt like his eyes had been ripped out, his blood gushing out in freezing torrents. His throat was on fire from screaming and sobbing and his agonized limps were tired. So very tired. Shivering takes a lot of energy.
Where could he go? Wander the empty corridors of his mind? Explore the uninhabited shadows of his soul? He couldn't even see!
But that's just it. He WASN"T alone in his soul room. Oh no, never alone. The empty, solid blackness seemed to have some sort of strange, conscious awareness of him. Behind those ancient doors was an unknown evil waiting to trap him forever in its grip. Blood-stained memories and an unforgiving past that wanted him not just dead, that would be kind. No, the demons and sinful souls of his past and his very existence wanted him in an eternal torture, to always be able to rip out his heart, lick at his lacerated flesh, feel his veins pulsating with crimson liquid. Copper and salt and sweat and decaying flesh would forever bombard his senses. Never would he smell the sunset or flowers or fresh foods or pretty perfumes, or rain. Gods, the sweet, invigorating smell of the rain. Never again.
What should happen to him if he were to wonder haplessly into one of these rooms? There could be no one to save him. He could defy death, for that was his very existence. It was his life and his eternity and his destiny to rule as such. But that didn't mean that he could avoid pain. The prince of darkness. The keeper of the damned.
He hated it. He didn't want this life. He never asked for it.
Pounding and monotonous thudding droned in his ears. Those demons were always trying to get out. He had locked up those doors tight eons ago.
But the locks were rusting.
And the stone walls were beginning to crack.
The harsh ebony of his surroundings was splitting every minute. He may not be able to see it, but he could certainly hear it. He could always hear the dull pop and crack as the rock parted.
He couldn't get out. He couldn't see the door. It was so dark. And torture was awaiting him. What would happen when those rusted locks finally gave way?
Sobbing raked through his mind, clouding his tormented thoughts. He screamed out into the shadows, telling the one who was crying to be silent, let him think. Silence was always welcome.
Another of his tears fell to his feet. Yes, it was he that was choking on his own sobs.
Not that any would have pity on him. He was a demon. He was death. He took loved ones away and payed no head to age or sex or race or family. Those that would seek revenge on him ranked in the millions. Every soul wanted a piece of his flesh to mount on their wall.
The pounding was growing louder. Gods, they were going to get out. The devils inside of him were going to suck him even further into the pits of darkness.
He couldn't find the door.
He screamed, falling to the floor with his buckling knees. A sticky liquid splashed about him, salty and steaming.
Blood. The floor was covered in it. Since when did his floor have blood?
It was coming from underneath of the locked doors. Whatever traps and monsters were behind them, they were going to get out.
They were coming for him.
He clutched his head and he screamed. What else could he do? He was trapped and he was doomed and not one in the world could stop those demons and sinful souls and monsters that had a bounty on his head, his heart, his mind and his flesh.
The pounding was getting louder.
Yuugi struck his fist at the dingy door again. Yami. Something's wrong. The overwhelming sense of not just dread, but fear and pain and hurt and tears and betrayal and isolation was choking him. His yami, his beautiful, sweet, pretty, soft, cold and devoted yami was in pain. He was in trouble and he needed help.
The door to the demon's soul room wouldn't give.
"Yami!" he called out again.
Forget pounding on the door. He rammed his shoulder into it, then did it again.
Desperation was a monsoon in their mental link. Yami usually tried to hide such feelings from his hikari, but at the moment the fact that he even had a light didn't seem to occur to him.
Again Yuugi ran into the metal door, and finally! It creaked open, heavy as it was. Light flooded the dingy, dreary room.
Without hesitation Yuugi stormed in.
His yami, his gorgeous darkness he loved so much, was crouched in the middle of the floor in a pool of blood.
Blood that was not his.
The spirit's eyes were clenched tightly shut, head in hands, screaming. Bloodied tears rolled down his cheeks.
Falling down into the blood along side his other half, Yuugi cupped the face of darkness and began to kiss away the tears. Salt and bittersweet copper teamed at his lips.
Yami looked down, slightly bewildered at this strange apparition of light in front of him, clinging to him and uttering words of calm.
No, wait, this was no apparition. This was no manifestation of his mind. This was his light. This was his hikari and the only reason he was at all living.
His arms snaked around the smaller boy's waist in an almost lethal embrace.
He cried. Unsuppressed and emotion flooded tears.
Yuugi's hands tangled in the silky hair of his darkness, chest pressed firmly against his other.
Were he to try and get up, his darkness might feel as if he were being abandoned, with the mental state that he was in.
Squeezing tighter around the spirit's waist, Yuugi pulled the two of them up. He had only one thought on his mind: get Yami out of here.
Slowly, carefully, he led his darkness out of the place that was known as Yami's soul room.
He closed the rusted metal door with a final bang.
In a complete state of delirium, Yami followed his hikari into another room, one filled with a soft, silver light. So much like to sweet innocence of his other half.
Yuugi closed the door to his own soul room tightly and led Yami over to his bed.
It was so warm in his hikari's soul room. And he felt so very cold at the moment.
Yuugi, Yami tucked away next to him, stroked the golden tinged face of his lover, raining butterfly kisses down his skin.
This wasn't the first time something like this had happened. It was the worst, though.
Yuugi could often feel a slight uneasiness about his darkness, and would ask what was wrong.
Although Death's muscles would tighten beneath his navy leather, he would always so that everything was fine, so long as his light was there.
Of course Yuugi would always be there. He wouldn't be anywhere else.
Another dilemma, though. What was he going to do with that soul room across the mental hall?
Yuugi had often extended the offer to stay with him in his own room, but Yami insisted that he would be infringing on his aibou's privacy. At least, not until Yuugi was accustomed to have a shared link.
Oh yes, he was quite used to it now. He couldn't ever remember not being able to feel the thought, emotions, and desires of his bonded.
Sleep. He would sleep now, with his yami by his side, and worry about that accursed room in the morning. Yes, in the morning.
Maybe it would be raining. He liked the rain.
Yami, as of yet, had never stood out in the rain. Wouldn't he love it!
*****
Sorry this took so long, peeps. So much homework, and late night pit practices for the spring play have been driving me up the wall. Lots more fluff on the way. Sorry couldn't get to grandpa this time, but will next time. Promise! Citrus-y goodness on the way, too. Please, R&R.
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