Damn, he wasn't a boy anymore, he was an adult, he cursed himself inwardly. Well, he had been an adult since he was ten, a little voice inside of him whispered, and Satoshi winced.
He didn't depend on Daisuke.
He didn't…
Warm arms wrapped around him, pulling him close to the other man's body, holding him, as if Daisuke had sensed his discomfort. Maybe he really had… Satoshi couldn't care less, returning the hug, reveling in the feeling of his lover's warmth and tenderness, of the soothing way his hand was running over his back.
Satoshi looked up, blue eyes met brown ones, and Daisuke pulled him even closer, brushing their lips together.
"I could still cancel… "
"Don't you dare even think of it, Niwa Daisuke! This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and you wont let it pass, understood?!"
"Yes, sir," Daisuke smiled, playfully nipping at his lower lip. "I'll be in touch, Sato. I'll call you every day, promised."
"I get along, don't worry, Dai. I've managed before."
That earned him a long thoughtful look, but Satoshi refused to fall for the bait.
"Let's go or you'll be late," he called, picking up one suitcase.
Daisuke nodded, hurrying after him. His parents would drive them to the airport.
They parted at the airport without much fuss. Daisuke looked out of
the window of the plane as they departed, the airport growing smaller and
smaller beneath him.
'I get along, don't worry, Dai. I've managed before.'
I know, Sato, he thought. And that's what worries me.
You aren't kids anymore, Dai, the soft voice of the
kaitou whispered.
Satoshi never was a kid, Dark. He has a problem with Krad's return.
I… I fear for him.
It's two months, eight weeks, Dai. Have faith in your partner.
I have faith in him. But when it comes to Krad, he's … too vulnerable.
There was a soft sigh from the entity inside him. He won't hurt
him
How could Dark be so sure? And even if Krad behaved, what of Satoshi?
Daisuke had never known the full extent of his lover's torment until they
had grown to be closer friends, until the other boy had told him. Haltingly,
slowly, over time, he had revealed his fears and nightmares, his life.
Daisuke had been shocked, had listened in horror to the stories of trying
to starve his body so the demon he carried inside wouldn't grow to be too
strong. How Satoshi had held Krad back by sheer mind-power, by his will
alone, and how he had gone through the transformation pains that had left
him weak and breathless each time.
Daisuke had always wondered why Hiwatari Satoshi was so thin, so pale;
then he had found out. He had been trained to catch Dark, his body had
been stronger than the average fourteen year-old, but he had done everything
to keep that power from Krad. He had failed in the end and he had paid.
You don't know him like I do, Dark, he murmured. You don't
know how hard it was for him
I can imagine, Daisuke. Still…
Daisuke shook his head. Let's not go into this, okay? I'm flying
to Prague to study at the National Museum for two months!
Dark sent a grin. I hear the nights are nice and they have a lot
of interesting art collections
Daisuke felt himself grin. We're not going to steal anything!
Awwww….
Satoshi held out three weeks before he started to fall apart. He hadn't
exactly felt Krad's presence inside of him but the sheer knowledge was
enough. Hikari Satoshi returned to the only behavior he knew from the past,
from his Hiwatari past, the only behavior that meant even a bit safety
– he started to self-destruct. Appetite was a foreign word for him since
Daisuke had left, and it started to show. His blood-pressure went down
in reaction, and most of the time Satoshi felt dizzy or even nauseous with
occasional stomach cramps.
Nights were an utterly different matter – if exhaustion took over and
Satoshi managed to slip into sleep it would be an uneasy one, making him
gasp when he woke up from dreams or toss and turn restlessly. In one word
– he was becoming a mess.
Daisuke called every day at the same time, so that was something solid,
too, but Satoshi found it more and more difficult to pretend he was all
right at his lover's worried questions. All he wanted was to cry into the
phone, beg his lover to come back, to hold him and tell him everything
would be all right, but he never did.
Krad didn't make an appearance, nor did he speak to Satoshi, though
the young man could feel him move in the background. He pushed the demon
away.
He didn't want to hear him. He didn't want to see him. He didn't want…
him!
His visits to the Niwas were cut short. He claimed a load of work,
though that was only partially true. He had inherited his parents' money,
now that his stepfather had died, his mother being dead already, and he
had put it to good use. There had been a lot of money; a lot. The Hikari
came from a wealthy background. Now that money worked for him and he worked
on the same project as the Niwas – finding dangerous art work, sealing
it, removing it from the public until it was safe.
Still, even work only distracted him so much. Satoshi had too much
time to think. He knew he wasn't doing himself any favors, starving himself,
weakening his body and with it his mind. But he hung on, he did what he
had done as a child.
After five weeks he had become a wreck and he didn't leave the apartment
any more. He did what little he could by electronic means and had even
more time on his hands to think.
Daisuke was gone. His only place of warmth and life. What he had been
left with was the cold, ruthless creature inside him, just waiting to break
free.
Krad would strike soon.
He knew it.
He just did…
Satoshi shivered though he knew it wasn't cold. Yet he felt cold,
utterly cold. A part of his mind realized that this was mostly because
the lack of food and sleep, but yet Satoshi thought the cause in his lover's
absence – and his Nemesis' presence. Curling deeper into the blanket didn't
bring any warmth, and closing his eyes didn't bring any rest. Slowly he
slid into a restless slumber.
Satoshi woke up with a suppressed yell, reaching out to the other side
of the bed only to find it empty and cold. Realization set in, ruthless
and cruel – he was alone, alone with the demon in his head whose existence
he abhorred. He couldn't help the hot tears that sprung from his eyes.
Oh Daisuke, please come back …
Swaying into the bathroom Satoshi intended to slap some cold water
into his face. He almost made it. Glancing into the mirror he saw his own
face reflected but when he needed to blink some water out of his eyes the
image blurred. Malicious golden eyes stared back at him, an angelic face
with a cruel smirk…
'You're mine. You're my everything.'
"No! NO!"
Satoshi threw back his arms and slammed his fists into the mirror several
times, sending it flying in shards. Skin broke open under the assault as
sharp bits and pieces bit into the soft flesh. Satoshi stumbled away from
the partially broken mirror, wide eyes staring at the spider-web of breaks
forming in those areas that hadn't crumbled down. Then his eyes fell on
his hands.
Blood was dripping down onto the floor. Red droplets stained the formerly
clean tiles, soaking into the small carpet. He blinked, held up his hands,
and gazed at the cuts with an almost morbid fascination.
It didn't hurt.
There was just a mess of red, intermingling with silvery shards. Light
reflected off the broken pieces, making them sparkle. Everywhere around
him the sparkles caught his eyes. More blood flowed from the wounds and
Satoshi picked at the shards, amazed that he felt no pain. Actually, he
felt like he was floating... in a dream... not really here.
Blue, dazed eyes rose and met his mirror image. It was wavering, as
if he was looking through a haze, and to his rising amazement he saw tears
slide down the pale cheeks of the mirror image.
Until the face suddenly changed, became different, with long, blond
hair and feline, golden eyes. Cold and unfeeling, possessive and cruel.
Beautiful, ethereal, so angelic... and so evil, so demonic, so destructive.
'Mine,' a voice whispered, echoing in the small bathroom. 'No one will
ever have you but me.'
No! he protested. No, no, no.... NO!
His fingers closed around a shard that had fallen into the sink, the
sharp edges digging into the already abused and raw flesh, but the pain
was distant, almost not his own.
Not yours, he whispered without moving his lips. Never yours. I don't
belong to you. I never will!
"Never!" he hissed.
And he raised the shard to his throat.