Scar the Wind
A/N: I read too much Stephen King... XD And I'll never say that again, either. All emphasis on emotions come from King and the way I circulate vocabulary when writing. D Yeah. In example: "The thought was too" and my mind will jump, saying: "strong strength power great intense filled with the power and" and it'll continue. :sweatdrop: I'm weeeeee-eird...
And for you l337ists? The title was originally much longer. As in, "Leave a Scar on the Wind of Tomorrow." o.O But I forgot that (WORDY!) title when I was writing names in the "fics to finish" column of my to-do list, and I ended up with "Scar the Wind." Hence the shortened name. D
Disclaimer: Yeah... I think it's fairly obvious that it's not me, thanks.
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Scar the Wind
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"TSUZUKI!"
Kurosaki Hisoka was bolt upright in bed only a moment. His eyes, scattershot, were unable to focus in the black room. Cold sweat poured down his back to remind him of
/ the pain oh god the pain hurt physical want to die please the pain \\
the horrifying scene his mind had forced him to see.
He could still see him---that murderous gleam in his demonic eyes as Muraki stood erect over the dark mass on the ground below. The brilliant pale color of his clothing, face, and hair all marred with the deep, dark red of blood. The twisted smile on the man's face as he lifted his right hand, scalpel still tight in his grip, was absolutely merciless. He brought the instrument to his lips and tasted that precious fluid now, and at his feet lay the cause of all that
/ panic anxiety oh no please begging pleading inadequacy all together and \\
mess, lying in motionless bondage.
Bile rose in Hisoka's throat and it was all that he could do to stop himself from becoming physically ill. The wounds on the victim's body healed and closed before his very eyes in an instant, his dark, blood-splattered face lifting slowly to reveal glassy, violet eyes. And Muraki dipped down fluidly to grip the man's jaw firmly in his hand and raise the gleaming metal in his other hand to those same, open eyes.
Even above the pounding of his heart and headache, Hisoka could still hear that doctor's scornful, mocking
/ envious overjoyed and thrilled oh yes thrilled how wonderful \\
laughter and the shallow grunts of the older guardian as he fell forward, blood dripping out of empty sockets as with tears.
And now it was all sinking in once more. He had seen, with great clarity, the fiendish glee as over and over again Muraki was able to destroy Tsuzuki Asato's body---his mind already gone by some tortuous degredation.
Tsuzuki, with that monster.
It gripped him like an icy hand of that
/ fear terror oh god the fear anxiety and \\
crescendoing horror. What he had seen had him almost beside himself in absolute, unadultered terror.
Tsuzuki. Where was Tsuzuki?
The young man struggled to his feet, tripping and stumbling over the god damned comforter. His feet were still slipping and sliding as he tried to run. The palms of his hands together with his knees and the soles of his feet stung as they all slammed against the cold hard floor in his attempt to keep the momentum going.
Hisoka's shoulder hit the door frame and left him with a dull throb. He might have been tempted to become disgusted with himself, if only his mind
/ helpless oh and terror never forget the terror horror fright \\
could allow him even one selfish minute at this point.
Crack! And for a second it was
/ pain crushing sudden pain and hurt \\
but only for that one second. His ankle gave a throb and it was then that he looked down and saw it already beginning to swell. It must have twisted or perhaps he'd only rolled his anbkle; either way, such a trivial matter couldn't stop him now. Not even the
/ content serene in fear of upset angry calm annoyed stressed excited \\
dreams and emotions of his fellow (though still sleeping) guardians would be enough to slow him down. He could still place his weight on the appendage, therefore he would still be able to run. That was all there was to it, really. No matter if by morning it had purpled and become the size of a grapefruit; that was a bridge he would cross when he came to it.
If, that was, he ever came to it; of course.
And then, just for a moment, as Hisoka's hand pressed against the door of some empty room, he was
/ sleepy tired calm and stressed peaceful uncaring sad and alone but happy too and \\
struck again by the emotions of dreamers. The urge to retreat back to his own, once-warm bed (for it had to have cooled off by now, and it was most likely dampened by his sweat) and ignore the physical pain which had awakened him.
Hisoka shook his head quickly. He couldn't stop now, he wouldn't dare let himself. It was he who had once been a victim of Muraki's extreme cruelty, and there was no way---and Hisoka felt very strongly indeed about it, as he pushed off with his own blasphemous hand---that he could let Tsuzuki suffer so.
The boy, distracted by his own head and forgetting where he was and just how far he was going, slipped on the tile floor and skidded past the door in question. He was angry
/ angry mad furious or maybe just pissed yeah pissed \\
with himself for going too far although he had seemed to have forgotten that... If it were all true, this bedroom would be empty whether he liked it or not.
His heartrate was too fast, too irratic. He was perspiring even more now and his entire being was shaking violently. If only he could snap himself out of it, but the pressure was just mounting all too quickly, and...
And those were not excuses, nor were they reasons. They were only small truths about the empathetic blonde. Every sense in him a this hour seemed heightened, but it was his
/ FEAR oh god the FEAR fright terror and hopelessness \\
emotional baggage that had him sweating and gulping for each lungful of air. His eyes closed and he exhaled, opening green eyes once more.
And then there he was
/ begging and hopeful yes hopeful and wishing dreaming if only please god could you please \\
at the doorway, panting for lack of air. It was with a shaking hand that he touched the doorknob, eyes widening as the door fell away from the gentlest touch.
And if he were religious, even at all, Hisoka would have found himself slipping into prayer. The request in his mind was so powerful and the need so great, it was a wonder why he didn't just collapse to his knees then, but for the
/ terror fear oh please god and the fear and hope and illness \\
fact that he needed to know the answer. The boy didn't want to be here---he wanted to be asleep, that's what you were supposed to do at this hour of night, or was it morning yet? Hisoka didn't care which.
Better yet, he'd like to be banging at Tatsumi's office door the next morning, screaming and yelling and blaming him for whatever happened to Tsuzuki. It would have been so much easier, not to have to deal with Muraki and the stress...
But he couldn't walk away.
Instead he was rooted to the spot and in an instant, his breath long gone from his lungs, the young Hisoka tried to brace himself for whatever it was that might be revealed.
The bed inside was a mess. Still he was trembling as me moved closer. Something dark red, almost sticky looking, appeared on the floor under the open window, and the male's breath caught in his throat. Fear
/ fear fear and the TERROR and oh god the FRIGHT and then ALARM \\
was enveloping him. It took but a second for him to move away from the red, and then again towards the covers.
One pillow, he could see now, had been forced under the bed and several fluffy white feathers were peeking out from the cloth.
It didn't look so good. But it wasn't what was under the bed that interested the boy; it was the mound of covers atop it. Something was underneath that mound, and it was quite motionless.
Again, his breath hitched in his throat. One trembling hand came up to cover his mouth lest he be unable to physically stand for what he saw. Now would have been a terrible time to become ill, and he knew it, just as he knew that this was so very important, and---
Movement.
The boy stumbled back as a hand
/ afraid in fear of TERRIFIED --- \\
seemed to fly out of nowhere, almost hitting him
/ --- shock and fright and the HORROR --- \\
smack across the chest. And for another moment he was still
/ --- questioning and confusion and FILLED with fear terror --- \\
and then he saw. It was
/ relief oh sweet god gratitude thankfulness relief and joy cheer \\
only a moment after that that he closed his teary eyes and threw himself at the mound, spindly arms wrapping around Tsuzuki's larger, warmer waist. He was barely even aware of the choking sound and then the
/ questioning confusion perplexity \\
groan as the elder guardian saw the clock and the personnage now attached to his front.
"Hisoka?" he questioned, voice gravelly with sleep. The sound only made the empath clutch tighter, a futile attempt to disguise his own
/ rejoice adoration relief and happiness \\
swelling of emotions. A fat lot of good that would accomplish---Tsuzuki knew him too well for that.
As if to prove it, the brunette sat up in his wrinkled sheets, blinking lazily. This was a strange new development, Hisoka just running in and acting like this. Whatever had him so distressed...
But Tsuzuki would not voice nor would he think about that, though forcing himself not to was a strain at this hour. Actually, it would have been a strain on him at any hour, but that was beside the point.
"Hisoka?" he repeated, and then the man with the half-lidded but brilliant violet eyes just sat in amazement as the boy clutched far tighter. What in the world...
"Tsuzuki," Hisoka's voice let out thickly, and he was unable to continue. He was crumpling inside like a leaf and it was just before Tsuzuki could adjust his eyes to the light that the boy hid his face and the tears he was now shedding.
The older man jerked in surprise. He wasn't able to understand the situation as it now presented itself to him save that Hisoka was in a great deal of pain. He didn't know why; he was too tired to ask. He rubbed at his eyes sleepily, trying to wake himself up just a little bit. His burrow of blankets had been intruded upon, but by the least-likely suspect. And with Hisoka, that was never a joke.
To hide the tears that shamed him, Hisoka could only force his face tighter into Tsuzuki's front. Better to pour his heart out now than to suffer through the rest of a fitful, sleepless night.
"I was so afraid... Tsuzuki... "
He felt the older man, still dizzy from his slumber, pause in his movements. There was a
/ pitying confused sad not quite guilty more pityingly \\
feeling that seemed to be suspended all around the two of them, prodding at Hisoka. Was it Tsuzuki who felt that way?
A tentative hand touched the boy's shoulder. He looked up with tear laden eyes to view a sad, questioning violet gaze. Soft tones---sleepy tones, he corrected---met his ears, a plain and simple question: "Hisoka... ?"
"I... didn't want to see you... " and Tsuzuki was confused, now, but Hisoka clenched his eyes shut and took Tsuzuki's night shirt tightly in both hands. "Didn't want to see you... in pain again... but, Muraki... "
Tsuzuki, as tired and confused as he was, was beginning now to understand. Partially, at least. Nothing Hisoka did was ever without pith---it simply was not in his nature.
The elder guardian reached out slowly. Muraki. Yes, of course. Why wouldn't the mad doctor have something to do with this?
And so Tsuzuki allowed himself to take the boy in his embrace as gently as he could considering the current time.
"I'm not going anywhere, Hisoka," he reminded the youth, who only let out a shudder beneath the weight of Tsuzuki's arms.
"I know," he let out in a whisper of a voice. It was more of a thought, really, spoken out loud but only just. "I just... " Hisoka looked away, ashamed of himself again. What had happened to him to allow himself to be so careless with his defenses?
"I needed to make sure... Tsuzuki... "
The brunette's violet eyes closed at the end of the phrase. The boy wasn't squirming and barely seemed alive; he must have been exhausted from it all, and Tsuzuki had few words to use for comfort. He was perfectly useless in situations such as these---it was a wonder Hisoka had come to him in the first place. Another wonder, this one equally as curious and with no doubt more important, was the question of why the boy's ankle was so swollen and miscoloured. It looked awfully painful---but Tsuzuki had to wonder if Hisoka had even noticed it.
Instead of asking either question, he could only hang on as the blonde shivered from the open air and tucked his face deeper into the fabric covering Tsuzuki's stomach. The brunette, still
/ hopeful maybe not sure worried nervous and happy \\
uncertain, held him for a few moments. The only sound either could hear was the faint movement of cloth and the faint, muffled sobs of a certain empath.
Time passed. Tsuzuki was uneasy and tired, and he tried to shift away from the dead weight on his lap. "Come on now," he tried to bribe Hisoka, "let's get you back to your own room---"
"No."
Tsuzuki blinked in surprise. "No?"
Hisoka shook his head. "No." He latched his thin arms around Tsuzuki's head and neck, pulling his lithe body tight to the elder that of the elder guardian. "I want to be with you... " If he tried his best to ignore the fear of
/ longing security pain love despair loneliness agony defeat \\
rejection, perhaps...
But nothing happened.
Hisoka shuddered. It was so embarassing; he could feel it radiating from him in great waves. How could he have ever thought that Tsuzuki would ever---
And then something did happen.
The youth was very quickly lost in surprise as a strong hand cradled his head, fanning out to pull his own face tighter and closer to the brunette man's shoulder and chest. A hefty arm came around his waist in a moment to hold him tightly, and Hisoka's eyes fell closed.
"Only tonight, Hisoka," Tsuzuki said, or something to that effect. It didn't matter any longer to the youth. It was the comfort he could feel in the air and nature of the older man that had him in his own euphoria.
"Only for tonight... "
His words fell on deafened ears. The green eyes of the teenager had ceased to open after the last syllable of his name had left the older man's lips. There was a sort of smile on Tsuzuki's face at that moment, more a quirk than anything, and he yawned lazily. Yes... it was late. Drawing the youth closer up to the pillows. the vague question of where his had gone flitted through his mind. He ignored this thought when Hisoka stirred and lay back, one tentative hand around the younger boy.
Tsuzuki's violet eyes fell shut. In the morning he would wake to find Hisoka's body spidered around his own, and the temptation to fall back to sleep would be like a drug. He wouldn't even remember why Hisoka was there beside him or why that strawberry soda was on the floor there for a long time, but eventually it would come back and bring a small to his lips. It would take a whole half an hour after that for the blonde to awaken and then turn red with embarrassment.
But all of that wouldn't happen until the sun rose. And for now, Tsuzuki only lay down and slept, and outside his open window, the sound of windchimes could be heard---suspiciously enough, from the direction of Watari's laboratory. It was a calming din; and the further he fell into the sleep, the less he noticed that he was still holding the boy close.
Until then, there was simply a lingering sense of
/ kindness serenity still in fear of waking tranqulity amusement and hope \\
something undescribably soothing in the air. And that was enough then.
It just had to be.
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fin
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A/N: One day I will finish reading The Stand. Until then, I guess I'll just have to reread The Shining. D Which is where all the crazy emotional crap came from, by the way. Parts are probably derived from Carrie, too, and Pet Sematary, and maybe even 'Salem's Lot. Firestarter---well, I haven't finished Firestarter yet---but there may be some of that in here, too. Working through Christine now, though. Know what? It's Kingly. D End of story.
And the Kyoto Files are rotting my brain. :3
Gangsta Videl
