Warning: Character deaths, may contain disturbing themes. Rating may change.
Her Sweetness: I'm so tired...
—A Few Small Repairs—
Heat:
He wasn't sure how long it had taken him to get back on his own street. But then, he wasn't sure of much as he had walked down those lonely streets. Lonely. Lonely for him, it seemed. Everyone else wasn't lonely. They were walking with friends and family. They were always together laughing, talking, sinning in their own minds. But as horrid as they were and as horrid as they would always be, they were never lonely. And here he was. Gorgeous, pure and saved by his lover who watched over all, he was perfection in the definition.
He did everything for his lover, washing away the filthy ones and at the same time fought off a brilliant entity that destroyed every living thing. And yet, when he walked down the streets and people passed him, unaware that he was hating them, burning them in his deep sanctuaries, he knew they were judging him. Saying in their minds that he was sweet or kind looking. And that he was lonely. How did they know he was lonely? How does everyone seem to be unaware of how awful, disgusting and horrible they are but they know just what was happening in his mind. How?
Maybe, he'd thought before, he'd no longer be lonely. That all his problems, all his loneliness and worries and disguises would no longer matter because of one thing that he had claimed to have saved him. For that one moment in time, he believed Malik would rescue him, set his emancipation. There were so many times when he thought of the blonde with only adoration and love clouding his brown eyes and today, he thought, would define that Malik cared for him too.
And it had.
Three words that Malik had said to him on that beautiful, shimmering lake had defined and set the tone for how he thought his life would go on. And not five minutes from that moment, his world came crashing down. And he was lonely again. Like so many minutes before that one, like so many countless hours spent in front of a window or out on the lawn in his lover's presence or in the dark caverns of his mind feeling his body being touched and caressed.
His motions led him up the driveway of a house he had entered many times before. And as his motions ordered him to get the key out of his pocket, he realized for the first time since leaving the park that he had not stopped starring at that card. White, black print and small, it never left his pale hands on the trip home. Remaining emotionless, he tucked it in his back pocket and pulled out his key. In less than a minute, the door was open and the door was closed and he was inside, standing. Not knowing what to do with himself. He starred into the blood-stained floor and felt a familiar prickle in his eyes. Fighting to keep the tears away, he raised both of his hands to his face and sniffed quietly, sobbed quietly. Quiet so as not to…
What's wrong, sugar?
"Oh… N-No, please, go away…" At hearing this one question, his hands came falling down to meet his arms, rubbing them up and down, almost as if he were warming himself when cold. But this was different, this was very different than being cold. He felt warm. Like a heater was blowing on the gentle skin on the back of his neck. He fought back a shiver and let go of himself, dropped his hands and turned to the other side of the room, looking away from where he had previously been looking. As if he could look away from what was bothering him. As if he could just… look away.
There was a very low and swift chuckle that echoed throughout the corridors of his mind. He had heard that shallow laugh so many times before and as it now came again, that voice followed, You shouldn't be so callous to me, sugar. I only want to help you.
Another sniffle and a sob, more forceful this time. He said something, but it was unheard by anyone and possibly could not be understood by anyone except for the entity who already knew what he was thinking.
It was something Malik said to you, wasn't it? I wonder if your sadness has anything to do with that card in your pocket… I think it does. What does that card say to upset you, sugar?
By now, he was kneeling by the sofa on the floor. Knees buckled underneath him and his head resting on the couch cushion for comfort, his brown eyes were red around the corners and his pale face was stained in tears. He buried his face into the cushion and mumbled, "I-It's a… Malik wants me to go to a p-psychiatrist… He says… says I need help. And I do," He sighed, wiping his face with his navy blue jacket sleeve and letting the hand rest on his chest, "I'm not… normal…"
Is that what you want, sugar? To be normal? To be like every other disgusting, sinful person? Ravaged with impure thoughts and destined to die in an unmarked grave? The voice grew louder, and the heat on the back of his neck intensified. It was almost as if Death was mad at him. But that couldn't be right. For as long as he had been aware of the voice's presence, he had never raised his voice to him. He lifted his head from the cushion and starred off into nothing, listening to what the voice was saying, To be forgotten about after less than a century? To be ugly and filthy for the rest of your life is Malik's goal for you? That's nothing! That's not even possible for you!
"Why not?" Was his sudden cry, sudden scream. It hadn't meant to be voiced, but it did come out. And now he had to contend with what he said and, not being able to control himself, he continued on, "Why can't I be normal? If being higher, if being above everyone else means having to suffer like I am… having to kill and having to deal with something like you, I'd rather not be pure! I'd rather walk on the street with friends and I'd rather my father come home and live with me! I'd rather that Yugi and Tea be alive right now, not dead by my hand!"
And you'd do all this… you'd betray your lover like this? Just to please Malik?
"Yes…" He said slowly, not thinking about his words but thinking about the reason for them. Those hours on that lake the way Malik put his arms around him and the way he felt when they kissed and how Malik had told Death that he'd give up anything… Those were the reasons for his words, "I-I would become impure, I would lose my morals to be with Malik and make him happy. I would do anything, I just… I love him."
Never had he felt a pain like the one he was enduring after those few words. Never had he felt this kind of molten heat springing forth from every pore in his body. His screams were overlapped and drowned out by the screams of the voice in his head, long and deep and filled with a burning passion of distant suns. His body was soon stretched out on the carpet, vanilla and blood colored, his eyes were dilating, wide and empty as two chocolate orbs rolled back in his head. Convulsions of his entire body hit all at once and his hands opened and balled into fists involuntarily while he arched his head back almost to his shoulder blades. Screams continued inside his mind, though they were not coherent ones.
Neither of them could think, their minds were paralyzed as were their bodies for the moment as the teen's body continued in it's seizure-like motions. Shivers took over, constant shivers that vibrated his body and turned him onto his side as his mouth, covered and leaking light foam, opened and he gasped involuntarily, searching for more air. Suddenly, as quickly as it had begun and as painful as it was when it began, it stopped and his body was limp, his face emotionless and his eyes slowly coming back down out of his skull, though they were dark and clouded. And right next to the boy was his look-alike, lain in the same position as he was, in the same clothes and sweating profusely just as he was.
This body, though light and transparent, awoke. Eyelids shot apart from each other and orbs the color of dirty blood were free, currently scrutinizing the form in front of him. The young teen's chest was going up and down softly and the faintest sound of snores could be heard. Death's smile was grim as he propped himself up with one elbow and managed to turn the boy over onto his back. He looked down into the sweet face and he flipped his silver hair onto one side of his face, leaning down and whispering into the boy's ear until two sweet, brown eyes shot open and the teen's weak scream followed by attempts to get away forced Death off of him. He pulled back, no longer smiling but frowning at him.
"I know it hurt. It hurt me, too. But you wouldn't listen to me if you didn't see how serious I was." Death moved a few strands of pale hair that were stuck to the boy's equally pale face. He shook his head, leaning in again and holding his look-alikes chin firmly in one hand, "Malik has never loved you, sugar. And today there was proof, but you were blinded by all those other things. All those other meaningless things. You've mistaken love for lust. And whose fault is that? Well, it certainly isn't yours. Malik's poisoned you, sugar, he's trying to blind you to what he's really doing. What I said he would do from the very start, do you remember?"
"Y-You're… wrong," He panted, out of breath but starred up into Death's face and said, "Malik would never do anything to hurt me. He only wants me to see a psychiatrist to help me, he's going with me…!"
Death's eyes were emotionless as he slowly let go of his look-alike's chin and reached back into the back pocket of his own jeans, pulling out a small, white card. He sat back, taking it in both hands and read it silently until a wicked grin emerged on his face, making the boy scoot up closer to the couch as Death inched over next to him, slowly so as not to make him run away. He held up the card to him, leaning his head tenderly on the boy's shoulder, "Didn't you read the whole thing, sugar? Besides you going just a psychiatrist's office, this is a mental institution… A hospital. They have hundreds of people in similar situations there… Do you know how they're being helped? They're being kept in small rooms there, forbidden to go out, given pills daily to reduce them to nothing but a drooling mass. This is how Malik wants it to be for you. You're dangerous, so he's locking you up."
By this time, the teen was crying again, not sobbing but simply letting drops of water leak from his eyes and face down his already reddened face. He turned his head away to the other side and waved weakly at the card in Death's hand. He continued his fight, "No… No, h-he wouldn't…"
"It's alright." Were the two calming words that settled in the boy's ear. He felt a warm sensation going down his spine again, this time from Death's warm breath trailing down his neck. He wrapped two pale, light arms around the teen's waist and buried his face in the crook of his neck, whispering, "I'm not going to let it happen. You're not going to let it happen. He's hurt you in the worst possible way, I know this, I can feel it inside you… How much you're hurting right now, even though we're separate for the moment, your pain will always be in my heart. Because that's all I am. And as your pain grows, so do I. Sugar. He's not going to hurt you again… And why is that?" When nothing was said, Death simply smirked and answered himself, "Because we're going to hurt him first."
"No!" He cried out, wriggling out of the entity's tight grip and managing to stand on his own legs. He shook his head fiercely and began up the stairs, slowly so as not to stumble, "I don't care what Malik's done or has meant to do, I will not hurt him and I will do everything I can to make sure you don't hurt him either!"
"…" Death watched him go and smiled.
.0.0.
There was only an estimated fifteen minutes that the pale teen had been in his room, alone. But he was not estimating. He was on his bed, on his tear-stained bed, as close to the wall as he could possibly manage. He knew Death was still in the house, he knew he was still mulling around somewhere, but he doubted the creature would come if called. That was the thing. His loneliness was now back tenfold and it was all because of what was on that small, white, perfect little piece of paper. Sitting there, on that bed with covers and blankets bunched up all around him, he felt safe but now at the thought of his best friend wanting to send him to that awful place that Death had described, he felt lonely.
He pulled a pillow closer to him, hiding most of his face. He didn't want to go there. All the pieces were now fitting together. And it was just as the entity had said a day ago, Malik is sending him away because he's dangerous. And all those things on the pier and everything, did those sweet words mean nothing? Were they lies, every last one? He shook his head. That couldn't be. Malik had appeared so sincere when he was telling him… And every time he said those words, they seemed more real than the last time. Like he was falling into reality, away from the rain and away from Death and his solitude. But, like a dream, reality faded away as well.
He moaned into the pillow, trying to fight back a fresh flood of tears. He lost the fight.
"Sugar." That one word rang throughout his hollow bedroom and he immediately lifted his head from the swirling blue comforters around him. His eyelids drooped and he weakly scooted up closer to the wall as his look-alike came over and sat on the bed, smirking gently at him and holding something up. In the near darkness, the boy squinted and hiccupped through his tears, pushing the tool away as Death chuckled, "I was giving you some time to cool off… And look what I found down stairs? Brings back memories, doesn't it…?" He held the screwdriver loosely in his hand and traced it gently around the teen's face and neck and arms. He stopped, setting it down on the floor and got on the bed all the way, smiling when the boy didn't try to stop him.
The boy turned away, "I won't."
Death shook his head, "I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want."
"Then leave me alone…"
"Is that what you really want?"
"Yes."
His smile softened as he slid his hand up the bed and let it rest on his look-alike's stomach. He nodded when he felt the boy shiver beneath him, "Alright, sugar. I'll leave you alone. But this won't."
At first he said nothing but in less than a moment, he put his hand on Death's transparent one. He muttered, "What do you mean… this…?"
His smirk returned and, in one motion, he roughly grabbed the boy and turned him on his back, forcing him to look up at him. He received a terrified yelp from the teen as he straddled his hips and slid both his warm hands under the boy's shirt and slowly rubbed them up and down from his chest to his stomach, firmly. As the boy's eyes continued in their wide, questioning silence, Death spoke, "This fire. This fire deep inside you that ignites whenever you get the slightest bit angry. This is the fire that killed Tea. This is the fire that killed Yugi. This is the fire that brought me to you and now this fire has evolved from a spark to Hell. Because what you have been put through… is Hell. And it wants to burn badly, sugar. It'll consume you if you don't let it loose."
The pale teen watched intensely as Death's hands wandered from his stomach to the small button on his jeans, deftly unsnapping it and then taking his own hand and moving up Death's shirt and onto his chest and stomach. He continued as he let his pale fingers play with the zipper on his pants, "I have a fire, too, sugar. It's the same one as yours. Because we're the same. Whatever you feel, I feel. And I hate it when you feel this way, I want to help you. Just let me."
By the time he had stopped talking, he was slowly pulling his look-alike's pants down by his ankles and massaging his bare inner things, moving one finger down the milky skin, followed by another and he continued that pattern as he repeated, almost in a trance, "Just let me."
In a moment, all of the young teen's clothes were discarded and his beautiful pale skin gleamed in the midnight rays coming through the blinds. There was naught but a small space in between him and Death. He placed his light hand on the slightly lighter one on his thigh and shyly spread his legs from each other. He nodded.