Disclaimer: I own Chrono, yes I do! I'm a liar, how 'bout you!
Author's Note: See chapter one or chapter seven.
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Ticks of the Clock
Dark
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I remember a time, Rosette, when you were terrified of the night. A time when you would grab your brother's hand to "keep him from becoming frightened," when it was obviously you who trembled. A time when you would run, whimpering, into my arms whenever the shadows fell- as if afraid they'd take you away. A time when you would seek any form of protection against the color black. Yes, the stars were your salvation, moons and lanterns always flickering in your sapphire pools.
It only grew worse after Aion, after we found ourselves in the convent- truly separated for the first time since meeting. And I remember, Rosette, that every night you would sneak out of bed. . . wait until the iridescent dusk began to blossom on the horizon. . . and then spring through the window like a gazelle.
Sneak out of bed so that you could cling to me.
I always knew when you were coming. You could've been heard from miles away. I still remember it now. . . remember how easily I'd pick up the sound of your bare feet trampling the cool grass, the panting that echoed through your tiny chest, the muffled sobs of quelled horror- the taste of summer fog and sunset dew. But I always pretended that seeing you was a surprise. . . and I'd put down my book thoughtfully, scoot over, and allow you to cuddle me as if I were some sort of huge teddy bear.
I grew fond of our time together. Of those silent hours where I actually felt like I could protect you- not just bandage your wounds and tolerate your abuse. It filled me with a strange sort of satisfaction. A strange sort of. . . longing.
Longing. An ancient, sinful longing that started out small and began to grow- deep inside the crevasses and cracks in my heart. I tried to ignore the latter sensation, for it scared me. But I found I couldn't stop it.
. . . I stole a kiss from you, one night, Rosette. One sticky, sweaty night when the moon was red and the sky a violent violet. When you were only 13. I remember how sweet you tasted, how soft you were, how breathlessly you moaned- even in your slumber. How you whispered what sounded like my name; the katydids singing through the window.
But mostly I remember how much I hated myself in the morning.
I never did it again.
Yet I couldn't stop the feelings that had begun to surge through me whenever you appeared at my door; flushed and sweaty and all too dangerous in your lacy little gown. Your blinding white innocence, in my eyes, was much more seductive than the sultriness of the darkness I had grown knowing.
I wondered how much longer I could allow you beside me at nights without worrying for your wellbeing. But I soon learned I shouldn't have worried.
On the eve of your 15th birthday, your nighttime visits- which had been becoming fewer and farther between for months- stopped all together. Part of me was relieved.
Admittedly, it was a very small part.
Once I asked you why- one blustery fall day when we were trundling nonchalantly down a dusty country road, admiring the pines that swayed in the breeze. I posed the question quietly, in a tone that suggested that I didn't care; but to this day I am glad that you didn't see my eyes in that moment.
For they had turned a demonic shade of lust-red.
You laughed loudly, amusement and embarrassment both playing across your face. "Oh, Chrono," you smiled, clucking your tongue in exasperation. "Don't be stupid. Darkness isn't anything to fear. Everything's the same as in the light- it's just harder to see."
I didn't respond, only continued to keep my gaze glued to the window.
Rosette, you didn't- you don't- fool me. I could hear the wavering in your voice- no matter how well hidden it may have been. It wasn't the realization that the darkness wasn't anything to dread that drove you away- it was the realization that you couldn't escape from it. That darkness is everywhere: in your heart, in the Order, in every part of this world.
And most definitely. . . in me.
Perhaps that is why you no longer come to me when the fireflies flicker, casting their golden-green glow across the grounds; highlighting the indigo heavens. The twilight tattletales.
You frowned at my silence, casting me a warning look. "Seriously. I'm not a child anymore." Your hands tightened on the steering wheel. My heart grew heavy.
No, Rosette, you are not. You are no longer a child by any means. But still, I have one question for you. And please- answer it truthfully. I know. . . I always know. . . when you are lying. Rosette. . . my darling little Contractor. . .
Are you afraid of the dark?
(Note: I was re-reading 'Chasing My Shadow' a while ago and decided I wanted to play with the dark Chrono theme a little more. XD Mwahaha. . .)