Dark: Do I get to kiss Dai-chan yet?
Whisper: No.
Dark: Awww! You're so meeeeeaaaaaaaaaan!
Whisper: Shut up and be quiet, or I'll drag your torture out for another three chapters.
Dark: Shutting up, ma'm.
Oo.oO
Price of Angels
Until I Fall
Oo.oO
YesterdayA forlorn bundle of humanity was huddled in a dark corner of nowhere, feeling a loneliness so tangible it threatened to devour him, leaving him bereft of reason like a mad dog. He had no desire to become a creature of this desolate existence, but it was what he was transforming into, with only one, indelible thought keeping him clinging tenaciously to sanity.
It would all soon be over.
His reward would be granted, something he told himself was worth all this torment, both of his mind and his body. Ah…but simply to have the company of other living beings would have been solace enough at the moment, anything at all to ease the monotony of this psychic wasteland.
He forgot his host could read minds, but even if it had crossed his mind, he would never even have remotely wagered that his request for a cellmate would be granted. He heard things before he saw them here, a displacement of air and something crashing heavily against an unseen wall to drop like so much trash at his side…golden hair spilled across his legs.
It was almost fitting that they should share this fate. He had known before that the angel was here…
Krad.
He was clad in nothing but a tattered pair of pants that once upon a time had been white, that and the crimson of his own blood, much of it newly shed. Krad had not been as resilient here as Dark. Krad had been the stout tree in the wind, the one that refused to bend…and so something had broken. His sanity? No, he was still all too sane, but he didn't say much, keeping his thoughts to himself, his cockiness gone. Dark pitied his former rival, there was so much that Krad had been denied in life, and he had become so very bitter. It hadn't helped that the Hikaris had always treated him like dirt, fought him. So, to survive, Krad had become a monster…a monster of his master's creation.
And now he was broken. He couldn't fight. The fight had kept him alive, he had lived to dominate and destroy, it was a purpose. Here there was none, nothing at all, and he could not live in that. It was something he'd never had to cope with, always before, in the darkness, he knew that there would be another chance, he could come back, but here, the silence; the vast emptiness was enforced, their taskmaster seeking their every weakness for his own amusement.
Dark placed a gentle hand on the angel's hair, moving a stray strand back from the closed eyes of his unconscious cellmate. Their time was almost up, it had to be. But what did Krad have after this? The phantom thief wanted to return to his beloved Daisuke, wanted to return more than anything that heaven, hell or the material world had to offer, but what of Krad? Why had he accepted the deal of the malevolent devil that toyed with them as a pleasurable game? He was sure his enemy had thought too highly of himself to stoop to that. Why had he wanted to return? It surely couldn't be his host? Could it?
Dark Mousy.
The thief shifted sluggishly, with great concern he laid Krad on the ground before rising slowly to his feet, as if he didn't care, as if he wasn't afraid of the mocking voice that commanded this world of hellish nothing. "What do you want of me?"
Tut. Tut. The voice chided reprovingly, sounding almost amused. Today it is no longer what I want, but what you have wanted, Phantom Thief. The voice giggled, something that reminded Dark remarkably of fingernails scraping down a chalkboard torturously. But he could have cared less.
He dared to hope that this was not yet another game designed to break him. "Is it time?" Breath seemed no longer able to escape him as the silent seconds dragged by, his master in no seeming hurry to answer.
"Please. Please. Please." He begged within his mind, his torn and aching body seeming weightless for just a moment, as it had used to be.
Yes.
One word had never held so much joy.
Oo.oO
A couple of hours later, a purple-haired young man stood in the driving rain in front of a large tower, a fenced garden to his back. He had his eyes closed, reveling in the feeling of the water on his skin, seemingly ignorant of the fact that he was soaked to the skin. The blood and grime of the past two years was washing away in the torrential downpour and he could almost feel all the dirtiness he had despised in himself washing away as well. It didn't seem to matter at the moment that he wasn't quite sure where he was, or where he was going. But when the thought did hit him, he laughed.
He laughed long and loud, his arms outstretched and face uplifted, the world had never seemed so beautiful. He moved down the street, limping slightly, his left arm tucked into his chest as the wrist was still healing from a not so distant wound. He knew from the pain that had shot through him when his mirth subsided that several of his ribs were still broken. It had only been a couple of weeks since they had last been snapped after all.
But none of that mattered anymore, he was free from the clutches of that monster, and he wouldn't ever have to endure that agony again. And he was going to see Daisuke.
He knew later when he began to stumble every few feet that he was in serious trouble, but in his euphoria he ignored the warning signs…what was pain to him anyhow?
Oo.oO
The PresentCurled up against the wall was a lean figure, he was soaking wet, and his clothes, a black shirt, pants and leather jacket, were soaked as well. It was his foot whom Daisuke Niwa had tripped over. At a casual glance he looked like any other down on his luck bum, "Idiot. Probably stone drunk." The boy muttered, annoyed, he was already much to late after all. But this callous thought was pushed aside as he noticed the posture of his object of study. His legs were drawn up halfway towards his chest, and the man shook slightly, his breathing was ragged and painful, as if taking in air caused agony. Dai was immediately concerned. He had not changed so much from that fourteen-year-old boy after all. He would worry about anyone; something his mother often scolded him for. But he couldn't help himself. He reached up and pushed the shaggy dark hair back from the other's face. "You ok?" he said in just above a whisper, not wanting to alarm the man.
"Please…" the voice was so weak, a thin stream of blood continued to run from the side of the fellow's mouth, despite the rain and a dark bruise discolored one of his cheekbones, slightly disfiguring him. "No more…" he pleaded, the tone was absolutely heartbreaking to the redhead, it sounded so broken. "I just want…"
Dai assumed the fellow was delirious, but something triggered at the back of his mind, this guy bore a remarkable resemblance to…Dark. The ache in his heart increased tenfold. "Not Fair!" It sent a pang of regret racing through him. But he did not have time to dwell on that. Someone had hurt this man, and badly. The redhead assumed that there were other injuries that he couldn't see from the sound of his breathing and the way in which he curled in on himself. Broken ribs maybe? Hopefully there wouldn't be any internal injuries. "Shhh…" he whispered, in an effort to calm the other. "I'm not going to hurt you. You need help."
The man opened his eyes, ever so slowly; they were glazed over from the pain, and probably a fever as well, "D-don't want…need to find…just…need to find…"
Daisuke gasped softly, those eyes…they were such a deep, depthless purple. It was too much, too much, he could feel himself beginning to cry. "It's not fair." He scooped the black-clad figure up in his arms. The man was much too light. He apparently hadn't been eating well. That someone would do this to another person… Dai was very angry to say the least. The man's resemblance to Dark didn't do anything to ease his anger. And should this dark mass of wet hair turn out to be purple, well, so help him he would hunt down whoever had done this to him. Sure, this fellow couldn't be Dark, but it didn't matter. It still struck too close to home.
As he walked home, bleak thoughts of revenge swirled in his soul. This hurt so badly. It was his fault that Dark was gone, and that he wouldn't see it again. He had been so blind. Blinded by his childish feelings, first for Risa then for Riku. A stupid crush, and he had sold his best friend…no, more than his friend, just for that. He had loved the Phantom Thief. He wasn't afraid to admit that now. He was so distraught he didn't notice when the rain stopped or when his tears soaked his face. "I'm so sorry, Dark." His voice was so low as to be almost unheard. He felt like he was drowning in his own misery, but then…then… he felt a warmth.
There was a hand cupped around his cheek.
The redhead nearly dropped his burden. He looked down, the mass of hair had indeed started to dry, wisps of dark purple framed the face, which, washed free of grime by the rain, was heart-stirringly familiar. And the amethyst eyes were now so clear, a gentle hand touched his lips, his face, as if to memorize him.
"Dark?" he whispered, almost terrified of the answer. It couldn't be…
"I was…so afraid." The figure in his arms said, the voice so pain-filled it was almost a moan, eyelids drooped to cover those beautiful orbs once more, and Dai cursed himself inwardly. It was foolish to hope. A look-alike. Nothing more.
Dark was never coming back.
TBC
Dark: Oh the angst! You're killing me!
Whisper: Actually, I'm not anymore.
Dark: Pfft!
Krad: I say…what about me?