Warning: Angst. Lovely.
Disclaimer: Gah.
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Chapter 17
When I Want You, All I Have To Do Is Dream
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. . . . . .Taka. . . . . . .ta. . . . .
Takashi rifled through his stack of CDs impatiently. He let his eyes skim over the more mundane selection of albums, skipping over the classicals and opera that he had, the pop albums he and Kyo bought when on a more whimsical mood and finally, stopped before a likely looking title. Onmyouza.
If that wasn't a good enough distraction, he didn't know what was.
Sighing, Takashi took out the CD from its case and slipped it into the stereo. With the remote control in hand, he flopped onto a nearby armchair and pressed 'play'. Not long after, an ethereal wail, a dipping, diving, rising and spiraling interlocked voices of the male and female leads of Japan's more prominent visual-rock band throbbed through the apartment. Takashi closed his eyes and let his mind ride free with the pumping beat and idly tapped his fingers.
After three songs, he gave it up as a lost cause and irritably, switched the stereo off. Unblessed silence filled the space left and frustrated, Takashi started walking around the living room, straightening cushions, rearranging magazines, generally, doing everything possible to distract himself from that voice inside his head.
Taka. . . . . . . .Taka. . . . . . . . .
"Goddammit!" Takashi blew up and taking the nearest available object, a glass ashtray, threw it as hard as he can against the wall. The glass shattered immediately upon impact, scarring the wall and falling with a discordant tinkle to the floor. Not that the outburst helped any. That voice was still inside his head. Still calling to him in a weak, desperate whisper, sometimes, loud, sometimes soft, like a badly-tuned radio. At times, it would go on for hours, never-stopping until Takashi felt he was going to go crazy. Going crazy was the most preferable option he had after all. What else could he do, hearing that cry for help and not being able to do a thing about it?
But sometimes, maybe for a few hours, a few days, or even months, he wouldn't hear a sound and during these times, all he wanted to do was die because he wanted to hear it so badly.
Sometimes also, the whisper was a scream.
I can do this, Takashi thought to himself grimly. I can hold on. It's only been 15 years after all. There was a definite sarcastic undertone in his thoughts. I won't give up. I can do this. I can cope. Lately, it was the only mantra he could believe in. Not 'everything will work out fine', not 'tomorrow's a better day', not any other foolish psychobabble. Just a simple 'hold on'. It was all he could bring himself to believe.
Deciding that he might as well go with the flow, Takashi did what he always did when he was agitated or upset. He cleaned the apartment. Not that the apartment needed it. Considering that 'agitated', 'upset' and sometimes, 'insane' was his usual state of mind these past years, the apartment was flawlessly clean. Not a speck of dust dared to settle on any surface but Takashi went about the cleaning stoically all the same. He polished the dining table until it shone, the sliding doors fairly sparkled and the kitchen counter and stove gleamed. As night fell, he found himself doing laundry, taking out and refolding or ironing his clothes with a detached, mechanical air. The whispering had gotten louder in the past hour and several times, Takashi found himself staring off into space blankly as he tried vainly to follow that voice back. He had ruined two good shirts that way.
Folding the last pair of jeans neatly, Takashi placed it absently into the open drawer when his fingers brushed against soft wool. He looked down and his mouth tightened to a pinched line. Kyo's favorite black turtleneck.
Kyo owned several pieces of the same style turtleneck, one in soft gray, two in black and thanks to some wheedling on his part some years back, had gotten one in white. Taking out the turtleneck, Takashi held it to his face, inhaling its clean, unused fragrance deeply. If he hold still, breathed deeply enough and tried hard enough, he could almost smell Kyo's scent again.
A dim part of his mind noted clinically that he should have known better than to have done that in the first place. Now look at him. He was all curled up on the bed, on Kyo's customary right side and was sobbing unrestrainedly into the wool. It was one of those cries that tore right through you, feeling as though it was wrenched up right from your guts; a wordless, soundless gasping that was as frustrating as it was a relief. Despite the grief that tore through him every time, he had refused to pack Kyo's clothing and belongings away so that he wouldn't have to go through the whole grieving thing in the first place. He had felt as though to pack it all up, was a sign of giving up. That to keep it all away in a dusty corner meant that Kyo was never coming back.
. . . . .Taka. . . . . .miss. . . . . .Taka. . . . . .are you?
Not for the first time, Takashi tried to reach out again, even though he knew it was hopeless.
Kyo. . . . .come back. . . .Kyo. . . . .I miss you. . . .
* ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *
He was lying on a cold, hard floor.
The chill bit through his skin to freeze his bones, sending little jolts of pain now and then. Kyo blinked, by now used to the pain and frankly, was too tired to care anymore. Dimly, he remembered the first time he had woken up in this place.
If it could be call a place. Maybe a dungeon would be more appropriate. Not that there were any bars but still, when you're trapped, you're trapped. He had found himself naked, not a stitch of clothing on him and that did not help with the cold in the first place. But it wasn't his lack of attire that bothered him. It was the chains.
The chains were a dull grey, and if possible, was even colder than the floor. The metal was attached to a piece of thick iron, its two points digging deep into the floor. The chains themselves were at least an inch thick and defied any attempts to be broken. They snaked and twined themselves all over his body and were attached to his wrists, ankles and his neck thanks to a wide band of metal that clung tightly to his bare skin.
The floor itself seemed conspired to keep him here. It was not stone, concrete, metal, or any substance he knew of. It was simply a floor. A black, matted, dry floor that was utterly impervious to scratches, kicks or even desperate pleading. Even his surroundings defied any escape since he wasn't sure if there was an exit to escape from. He wasn't aware of any walls, just a thin silver mist that eddied gently around his prone body and foiled any visibility. All he could see was himself, the mist giving off some illumination, his chains, the floor he lay on and that's it.
Idly, he wondered how much time had passed. He was aware that time did pass in this surreal place he was in but had no means to keep track of it. All he knew was that seconds flowed into hours, hours into days, days into months, and months into years. He missed Taka terribly.
The thought of his sensei managed to lift the haze that clouded his mind a bit. Ignoring the discomfort, he curled in onto himself, the chains biting into him but he curled up even tighter. He can't forget. If he forgot, she would win.
"Taka," it was a near soundless whisper and the mist barely stirred.
"Taka," Kyo repeated, squeezing his eyes shut and tried desperately to recall the happy times. Times when he and Taka had each other and no one could come between them.
"I miss you."
"I want to go back."
"Where are you?"
If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost hear Takashi's voice calling to him. As he lay there, cold, tired, in pain that was so constant he hardly registered it anymore, a vague wind pushed the mist tentatively.
A flash of white.
A soft laugh.
An achingly familiar auburn hair that when the light struck it, some parts look almost as white as cornsilk.
"TAKA!" he screamed out. He was on his feet now, the chains clanking sullenly on the ground as he tried to run through the mist. He had barely gone more than five steps when the chains jerked taut and he fell to his knees, gasping for breath as the metal dug cruelly into his neck, cutting off air, and his wrists and feet, cutting of circulation. Kyo crouched on the hard floor, panting and weeping silently. Despite the bizarre prison he was in, Kyo knew with absolute certainty that if he could just get free of the mist, to actually go beyond it, he would be free.
He also knew for certain that it was impossible.
But he couldn't give up. He had to try. When these little moments of recollection came through in physical form, it managed to pierce through the mist and gave him the impetus to try and break free. Not that it ever worked. But he had to try.
"Taka," he sobbed and ignoring his earlier lesson, scrambled to his feet again and tried to push forwards against the mist. He strained futilely against the chains, ignoring the stinging pain of skin torn open and the blood flowing freely down his naked body.
"TAKA!" he screamed again as the eddies died down and the mist settled ponderously like a white wall. He was too late. "TAKA! TAKA!"
When the mist froze solid around him, Kyo knew his chance had been lost. And now, it was time to pay for his folly.
Before he could brace himself, the chains tugged at him with mindless ferocity and he fell backwards with a painful thud, his wounds opening up further. On their own accord, the chains started glowing from a dull blue to a flashing white. As the brilliance struck him blind, Kyo screamed again, this time, a wordless wail as the chains burned him, burning him mercilessly, sizzling his skin and wrapping tight around his body as he struggled to break free.
It was a long time before he could stop screaming.
* ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *
Kyo woke up to see Ayame peering down at him worriedly.
"Aya," he breathed out. It was the best he could manage. His chest felt strangely flat and each breath that he took in barely stirred him. Talking was an effort he could not indulge in.
Ayame smiled, a tinge of sadness coloring it and brushed back the bangs from his forehead tenderly. Her palm felt cool on his skin and he gave her a rather wobbly smile.
"How are you feeling?" Ayame asked softly.
"I've. . .been. . .better," closing his eyes as a shaft of sunlight shot through the opened shoji right into his eyes. Ayame quickly got up and closed the sliding screen and a welcome dimness returned to the room.
The reason for the feeling of wretchedness that laid heavily on him was not a mystery. Last night, he, Ayame and Aki had went out for a family dinner. Their family had a tradition of having dinner outside around once a month, when neither he nor Ayame had to cook. They were going to a favourite restaurant of theirs, just a small family operation that served good food.
Walking down the main street hand in hand, Kyo and Ayame were enjoying Aki's antics as she described the latest misadventure she, Imai and Natsu had gotten into. Aki was practically skipping along in an infectious good mood and every once in a while, when Aki didn't have her eyes on them as she skipped ahead, Kyo and Ayame would steal a kiss. As they crossed the street, Kyo saw a flash of. . . .he can't remember what, from the corner of his eye, and the next thing he knew, he was down like a sack of potatoes right in the middle of the street.
Kyo wondered vaguely how Aya and Aki had managed to bring him back. He had passed out not long after he went down.
"Aki?" Kyo asked weakly and didn't protest as Ayame tucked the blankets more firmly around him. He had to admit, he was feeling a bit shivery.
"She's getting ready to go to school. I somehow managed to convince her to go," Ayame smiled crookedly. "She was insisting on staying back, until I reminded her she had her exams today."
". . .good. . ."
"But I'm afraid I can't stay," Ayame apologized, a brief shadow passing over her face. "I tried canceling my trip but the office says it's an emergency." Ayame bit her lip. "I'm sorry," she said miserably.
Kyo grasped one of her hands in his own and smiled faintly. "I'm the one. . .who should be. . .sorry. . . I'm the husband and. . .yet. . . you and Aki are. . . the ones. . .taking care. . .of me." He had to struggle for a minute to catch his breath after that sentence. "This is getting. . .bad," he frowned and was suddenly too aware of how his chest was throbbing dully with pain.
Ayame twisted around and took an all-too familiar bottle from the bedside table. His medicine bottle. "I think this can help you out," Ayame said quickly. "It's stronger than the last batch."
His frown this time had nothing to do with the fact that he was still in pain even after taking his medicine last night. "A stronger one?"
"Aa," Ayame nodded and noted his frown deepening. "Kyo. . ." she said warningly.
"Stupid heart condition," Kyo muttered darkly but allowed Ayame to help him down the bitter liquid. After a minute, a welcoming numbness had spread throughout his chest and his breathing grew easier.
"You'll probably sleep for a few hours afterwards," Ayame explained after corking back the bottle. "I think you'll wake up by the time Aki gets back home."
"Oh goody. . . .a whole day in bed."
"Be nice."
"Yeah, yeah. . ." Already his eyes were getting heavy with sleep and with a yawn, he mumbled, "Tell Aki not to worry. . .and good luck for the exam."
"I will. Now, sleep." Her command was a soft whisper and Kyo felt his body relaxing even more, willingly chasing the deep sleep offered by the medicine. As he drifted away into welcoming darkness, he felt a light kiss on his forehead.
"I love you Kyo."
* ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *
"How's Dad doing?"
Ayame raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be going to school already young lady?"
Aki rolled her eyes and shifted her backpack to the other shoulder, fixing her mother with a glare. "I am, but not until I know Dad's okay."
"He's fine," Ayame sighed and pulled her daughter into a hug. A second of rebellion and Aki returned her hug with a fierce one of her own.
"Good," Aki conceded and stepped back.
"He says not to worry and good luck for your exam," Ayame informed her.
"I can't believe he can still remember I have exams today!" Aki walked to the front door, her mother following with an amused smile on as she sat down on the floor to pull her shoes on. "I mean, really! I know he's a teacher and all that but still!"
"He's your dad. What did you expect?"
Aki made an inarticulate sound at the back of her throat but faced her mother with a smile anyway. "Will you still be going out of town?"
"I'm afraid I have to. The office insists on it."
Aki's smile grew wistful and she gave Ayame another hug. "Don't be gone long okay? Dad and I miss you too much whenever you have to go on these trips."
"I miss you guys too," Ayame confessed and kissed Aki's cheek. "I'll try to be back as soon as possible," she promised. "Now hurry up or you'll be late for school."
"Dad will be okay by himself?"
"He'll be sleeping the whole day."
"Good. I guess I better not bring Imai and Natsu back today." Aki opened the door and blew a kiss. "Bye Mom!"
"Bye," Ayame waved and stood there at the door, watching, until she could no longer see Aki. Moving silently through the house, Ayame picked up her travel bag, packed since yesterday and made sure she had everything she need. Her trips out of town were a regular once a month occurrence and she had long ago grew practiced at packing the necessities she needed.
But it didn't hurt to check though. If she just so happened to forget a vital tool, god knows the hassle she would have to go through. Before zipping up her bag though, she felt around at the bottom carefully and with a long fingernail, tripped the latch that revealed a secret compartment underneath. The compartment contained something that she would never ever let out of her sight. It was something so precious, so important, she took it with her whenever she went out of town.
This was something that not even Kyo knew. After all, it was from him that she needed to keep it secret after all.
She reached in and pulled out a dark, gleaming knife. The haft and blade shimmered a dull red-black in the light and seemed to pulsate with a life of its own. Ayame smiled as she held the knife tenderly in her hand.
"I love you so much Kyo."
* ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *
Hisoka raised an eyebrow when Takashi walked in to the staff room the next morning. The sensei already had his lab coat on; that meant he would be helping Watari in the lab today. But that wasn't what Hisoka was concerned about. Takashi and Watari were lucky enough to be assigned the Sixth block; things were relatively dull in that area. No, what Hisoka was concerned about was the fact that Takashi was radiating misery.
It wasn't enough to inconvenience Hisoka in any way; his shields were doing well enough. And Takashi is pretty miserable most of the time. Of course, a non-empath could hardly tell with the convincing charade he puts on but there you go. Still, his misery today had a slightly different quality to it. It was higher in pitch. And underneath it, like a black current, anger was beating sullenly.
Hisoka watched silently as Takashi barely gave the others in the staff room a cursory nod of greeting before heading straight for the coffee machine. Takashi quickly made a mug for himself and Hisoka noted that his hands were trembling. Paying no heed whatsoever to the blatant scrutiny from the empath, Takashi downed the hot coffee in two gulps and made another mug.
"Couldn't sleep last night, Takashi?" Hisoka asked softly.
Takashi ignored him and just as quickly, finished his second mug. As Hisoka pinned Takashi under the perfect glare only he (and Tatsumi) could achieve with Takashi still morbidly ignoring him, the office was thrumming with the usual morning sounds of a normal workday.
Terazuma was arguing with Wakaba, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he gesticulated wildly with the latter giggling at him. Tsuzuki was already deep in the morning's supply of donuts and occasionally setting aside the cinnamon-flavoured ones for Kacho. Watari was, for once, actually using his office desk. Probably because Tatsumi had came out of his office for a cup of coffee and was engaged in a quiet talk with the secretary. A quiet talk, a small part of Hisoka's mind was amused to see, that consists of Watari running a hand suggestively over Tatsumi's thigh. Tatsumi was blushing.
In a far corner, a small radio had been turned on. It wasn't really anyone's, more like for general office use and it added to the happy din. Someone, probably Watari, had switched on an oldies station and a light, cheery sort of tune was playing. An English song. Hisoka had managed to learn the language (when you're dead, you pretty much have plenty of time to spare) with the occasional tutoring from Takashi. He could just make out the lyrics of the song.
When I want you, in my arms
When I want you, and all your charms
Whenever I want you all I have to do
Is dream. . . .dream, dream, dream. . .dr—
The song ended abruptly. Probably due to the fact that the radio had started to emit sparks and with a woeful sort of whine, died in a small cloud of black smoke.
Again, an eyebrow was raised. Hisoka may not be that adept at 'jitsu nor have strong Reikan abilities like Tatsumi but after using magic for so long, you tend to become attuned to it and any sort of magical activities. What killed the radio was definitely magical. A magical wave that not surprisingly, came from Takashi himself.
A wave of silence rippled through the room with the radio's untimely death and since everyone here was a magic-user in some level or another, all eyes fell automatically on Takashi.
"Takashi. . ." Hisoka said hesitantly and tentatively tried to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. Before he could, Takashi spun around, back facing him.
"Please don't," he said tersely. The whole room waited expectantly. "I'm sorry about the radio. I'll replace it later."
Body vibrating with tension, Takashi walked out of the room silently, his coat flapping with the breeze made by his hurried passage. Hisoka threw a glance over to Watari. The blond shrugged and returned his look with one of his own. It clearly said you're the best choice this time.
With a nod to Tsuzuki who now looked less happy than a few minutes before, even with the donuts, Hisoka followed Takashi out.
* ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *
When all else fails, smoke a cigarette. That was his second most important mantra lately. Well, that or get massively drunk. But since it was a workday and Watari had been keeping a close eye on him, smoking was the only option left. Not that it was actually helping in a positive way. Despite popular belief held by non-smokers, a drag does not help lessen tension. It helps decreases the burn for a nicotine boost which, funnily enough, was caused by smoking in the first place. But it does help take your mind of things. Things which you would rather not think about in the first place.
Though Watari did not mind him smoking, it was a bad idea to smoke in the lab. So Takashi found himself sitting outside, just underneath the window of the lab. It was his usual place for a smoke. Far enough from the volatile chemicals abundant but near enough to hear anyone calling him.
"You know, if anyone wants to find you, all they have to do is follow the smoke."
Takashi grunted. He took another deep drag from his cigarette and blew out a smoke ring. Apparently, his forbidding silence wasn't enough of a deterrent. Hisoka merely leaned out of the window further, looking down at him with a wry smile.
"Those things can kill you."
"I'm already dead."
"Ah, semantics." With it, Hisoka gave a discrete cough and Takashi obligingly blew his smoke in another direction. "Thank you."
"What do you want, Hisoka?" Takashi sighed and ground out his cigarette on the concrete apron.
"You look like you need a talk," Hisoka said softly. "And I'm more than happy to listen."
"I don't want to," Takashi said bluntly.
"Just because you don't want to doesn't mean you don't have to. I fully intend on pulling you out of this funk you're in. Now spill."
"I think I like it better when you were more sullen," Takashi grumbled under his breath.
"What's that?"
"Nothing."
A sigh. "Takashi, come inside. Please?"
He knew it was useless to protest when Hisoka took that tone with him. As he clambered inside, Hisoka standing aside so he could come in, Takashi reflected that it showed just how many times he had spent 'talking' with Hisoka for him to be able to detect the subtle warning signs in his tone. Only Tsuzuki was better at it than him. He followed Hisoka like a dejected puppy that was about to get reprimanded and flopped down dispiritedly on Watari's sofa.
After a few minutes of silence, Hisoka asked him gently. "Last night was pretty bad I take it?"
Takashi rubbed his eyes tiredly, having long ago given up wearing his glasses, and sank deeper into the yielding cushions. ". . . .near a whole hour," he mumbled.
"What did you say?" Hisoka frowned. "I didn't catch the first part."
"Kyo was screaming for a whole hour."
Hisoka blinked. "For a whole hour?" he asked incredulously. "Why didn't you call me?"
"Couldn't. . ." Takashi was still rubbing his eyes and Hisoka suspected he was rubbing away his tears. "Can't think. . .could only hear him. Didn't sleep at all." He was sagging to one side now and without a thought, Hisoka pulled him gently down until Takashi was lying down with his head in his lap. Takashi covered his face, curling up into himself.
"I'm sorry," Hisoka whispered, frustrated with that meager comfort he could give. Taking a leaf out of the sensei's book, he started to stroke Takashi's hair softly. "Do you want me to do it now?"
'It' was the only help Hisoka could give him. That first night when it was revealed to them that Takashi shared a psychic bond with Kyo, a bond that enabled Takashi to constantly 'hear' Kyo, Hisoka suspected that whatever it was that the girl Ayame used to hide Kyo from the JuuOhCho also distorted the bond Takashi and Kyo shared in a way. It would explain why Takashi could no longer tell where Kyo was. Left with no other choice, that night, Hisoka had granted Takashi a few hours peace by pulling the man in with him into his empathic shield. It was at best, a temporary solution. He could only do it when he shielded himself together and it had troubled him just how thick his shields had to be for the bond to be muffled completely.
Afterwards, Hisoka had offered to do it every night for him but Takashi had refused. It was mainly for Hisoka's sake. To put up shields that strong, Hisoka had to concentrate exclusively on him and that left him with little resources to do anything else. Hiding behind that shield together, Hisoka could no longer feel Tsuzuki as well. He didn't want to subject Hisoka to that. The only times he consented was when it was particularly bad.
Of course, he neglected to mention to Hisoka that he could hear Kyo any time of the day. Not just at night.
"Takashi?" he prompted.
The sensei nodded. Still covering his face, Takashi said in a muffled voice. "Please. Could you. . . .take me out completely? Just for a while?"
Hisoka's hand stilled in their stroking. What Takashi was asking for was to have Hisoka sever, in a totally emphatic sense, the bond. He knew that with the usual method he used, Takashi could still feel Kyo's presence through their link. What Hisoka usually did was to silence the whispers.
"Are you sure?" Hisoka asked. The memory of what happened the first, and last time, he had done that for Takashi played in his mind. Takashi, to put it bluntly, had gone hysterical. To not feel Kyo at all was as bad, or even worse, than hearing that constant call.
"Please," Takashi whispered. "Just. . .an hour or two."
"Aa," Hisoka said heavily and placed a gentle hand on Takashi's forehead. "Sleep now."
It was like wearing earplugs. A low, static white noise; his co-workers emotions, which played constantly in the background, was completely silenced. Hisoka found himself suddenly edgy. It wasn't often he did a total blackout with his empathy. Though his gift was more of a curse at times, he felt somehow vulnerable. . .and naked to not be able to 'hear' anyone. Even if it was for a short while.
This is for Takashi, Hisoka reminded himself and with visible effort, managed to lower down his hackles. Underneath his hand, Takashi's breathing had slowed, then deepened. As he fell into a dreamless sleep, his hands fell to the side, revealing a face that was, thought not happy, was at least peaceful.
Too bad it would only be for a couple of hours.
* ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *
to be continued
* ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ *
A/N: The wise once said that to not review is shameful but to review is divine.
O.o
Everyone! I need help! Badly! Please, I would be so grateful if anyone can answer these questions I have concerning "Fruits Basket"!
Q1: What kind of touch (besides hugs) can turn the Soumas into their Jyuunishi form? I've noticed that they can touch Tohru's hand, even her cheek and not change. Does this mean they can/cannot kiss a girl?
Q2: What exactly is the burden of the curse that Akito carries? I've seen the entire anime but I don't think it's mentioned anywhere specifically.
Q3: And why is Kyo cursed into that form when his bracelet is removed?
Q4: Can anyone tell me where I can get the scanlations?