Ah. I seem to be becoming popular (blushes) Gah! I never expected people to like my stories like this...oy, and now I sound like the eager little kid that I am...heheheh.
Mm...lets see.
Ah yes, my shameless plug, everyone look to the end of my bio. I have links for two pictures of mine. One's a head shot of Tsukasa-kun. The other I am REALLY proud of. It's Shiba-senpai...I even made an awesome ying-yang/dragon design for him which turned out awesome. The people I've shown it seem to think they're not bad, so I thougth I'd flaunt a bit (cough cough MistyStarlight cough cough).
Now, Reveiw responses (joy JOY!)...are banished to coming up AFTER the cliffhanger of doom (oh COME ON you've got to expect one of those. This IS my trippy angst story, it's filled with little twitchy things like cliffhangers and doom.)
Okay, I'll spill. THey're getting long because my fingers get twitchy at the thoguht of writing back to someone who actually took the time to type about what they thought of MY pathetic writing. I'm such a geek that I get excited about these things, and before I know it-hey presto!- I've got a page for two measly responses in ten point font. It's really sad. But that's where they are. I always write responses to everyone, so everyone who dropped me one this past chapter gets one. (W00T! You get a reveiw from a loser! doesn't this just make your day!)
so look for your penname/signing name, and see what you get.
...And to all of you in general I give a big whack on the back (ow) which means I'm very flattered but am too worried about my ego to give you a glomp (heheh). But I really mean it in a nice way, so it's kinda the same as a glomp...er...for me at least. If you want a better reward check out my pictures and consider them free of any strings for what you might want to do with poor Tsukasa-kun or Shiba-senpai. (cackles)
As for anyone else, here's your chapter without further delay.
warnings: shounan-ai, angst, pediophile preist-ness(well it IS...sort of), 'divine affection'(angel x human goodness), a touch of descriptiveness for gore, and of course...the ever feared big honking cliffhanger of doom at the end of the chapter.
Tomonori gave a shiver. But not from the cold. He had a sudden horrible chill in his chest, taking his breath away. He slowed, placing a hand to his chest, frowning thoughtfully. Something wasn't right...Like something was suddenly missing. He frowned. That deep cold hole was spreading, as though something horrible was eating away at him and was steadily growing worse... He frowned, puzzled. 'what could have possibly happened? I'm no psychic, no clairvoyant, no telepath... I've never sensed something bad happening before...that must be what I'm feeling but...what could this be?' He walked on, frowning. He didn't like this feeling. He didn't like this one bit. Try as he might, he couldn't think of a single instance that could cause him such an emotion. Emotionality wasn't his strongest point to begin with anyway. Fear usually only took hold of him in relation to Tsukasa discovering this horrible feeling of his towards the boy, or of something horrible happening to him... but...usually...nothing else would affect him this way...'did something happen to him?' He frowned, shaking his head irritably. 'You've never felt this sort of thing before, It's more of an aryashiki trait, clairvoyance...It'd be higly unlikely that you're guessing correctly what could have caused this...' He frowned behind his calm mask. 'Except, once...that time when you found Tsukasa on the street...you DID feel something like this, though less...strong...' His head reminded him. 'You could feel something calling to you for help...' His eyes widened momentarily, then quickly reverted back to normal, as he consciously maintained his control over his expression...though the street seemed deserted.
This was the fateful train of thought that had led him to realize that his feelings for Tsukasa weren't strictly platonic--and that alone was enough to make him uneasy, but now... 'Tsukasa? In trouble? NOW? And likely worse than the time when he was lying there on the street...two years ago' if his feelings were correct... He stopped in his tracks, frowning uneasily. The other time, he had gained only a horrendous headache, not this cold seeping through his chest. That would suggest unrelated incedents. And would aslo imply that this was a different reaction of his body to some unrelated, undescribable force.He frowned, removing his glasses for a moment, and allowing the heels of his hands to rub into his eye with a dull ache and an explosion of white sparks in his vision behind closed eyelids. He opened his eyes on a dully, fuzz-edged world. "I-I need to think this through." He murmured to himself. He massaged his temples where he was starting to get a horrible headache.
A headache...
Oh dear...
The coldness however, remained in his chest...gnawing away like something was boring a hole in him...a hole to his heart. ...His chest...the exact spot where Tsukasa had healed him of an eraser blow...was the spot now sensitive to Tsukasa's energy? He frowned. Thinking deeply on this curious concept, pulling back on his glasses and allowing the street to regain it's crystal sharp edges and colors.
Even normal humans occasionally could feel a storm coming through their scars or broken bones. They could sense things through scars that defied all explanation allowed to those without any shred of power. Considering that, what would a wiz-dom with power feel through an eraser healed wound? What stragne sense could this have given him?
Perhaps it wasn't such an odd idea or occurence after all.
Perhaps he could feel Tsukasa...and in that case, He was in grave danger.
Tomonori shook his head visciously, trying to calm himself. It was highly improbable that this was suddenly happening to him with no warning all because of a healed wound...but...
a delayed slow, stealthy fear snuck it's way in with the cold spot in his chest, and soon began to overtake even his reasoning as horrible things began to surface in his mind. His overprotective paranoia for the boy who had become his achilles heel was sending horrifying thoughts racing through his head. Images of Tsukasa lying in their home, broken and bleeding, crying out in pain, weeping...alone...
That loneliness was what was worrying him the most. He had felt unbearably alone before, and he knew better than anyone else what Tsukasa feared the most. Dying alone, meaninglessly, forgotten. He had told him so. Just mentioned it one day, brought on by a memory no doubt. Tomonori never asked him questions when he got into such a mood, but took the comments in stride. He had said in that soft, sad tone, that he was afraid above all things of dying slowly...helplessly. Of nobody coming to his side and comforting him through his death. It had moved him then, and frightened him now. The poor boy, he worried about being alone. Probably through memory of that horrible time lying on the street, bleeding. If he had stayed there all night, he likely would have died...Tomonori had given him what he hoped was a comforting response. "I will always be there for you Tsukasa, I promise. I won't let you die alone...we promised to fight as a team. If nessecary, we will die as such." That had seemed to comfort the boy, though now, Tomonori had to wonder exactly what way he had taken it. He had smiled and said "Don't say we'll die. I won't let you die Tomonori-san." Tomonori hadn't had any response to that. It was moving, but also strangely disturbing to him that Tsukasa would spend such time thinking about how he would die. That couldn't be healthy. He didn't want Tsukasa to think of death. ...what could he have done? He couldn't be that upset could he? No...no...Tsukasa wouldn't kill himself over something like this... What could have happened to him?
'I left him at home...alone...Anything could have happened to him!' Tomonori answered himself irritably, his thoughts becoming more worried by the second, 'That other eraser who attacked him already knows he's there...he healed him once of course, but still...' Tomonori tried to force himself to be rational, but those pleading weeping eyes, crying out in pain, only to have none answer, for nobody to come...'That eraser could be ordered to eliminate his friend by a mindbreaker and he would have to do it, no matter how fond he was of him. He could have easily come back...Tsukasa wouldn't strike back, he never would harm his friend...if that's what happned...'
The image of those teary mirrored eyes came back to him. The coldness gnawed deeper. Empty. Empty as his words had been to the boy...what must he have thought? "oh! What have I done?" He cried softly to himself, turning back towards the house.
He quickened his pace, fear suddenly overwhelming his greiving, racing back to Tsukasa. 'what if I'm too late? what if something horrible has happened to him? What if he's dead?' He nearly tripped over the hem of his robe and was possessed of a very uncharacteristic urge to swear. He slowed to prevent himself from accidental harm, then growled to himself. Here he was worrying about his appearence when Tsukasa could be dead, or dying. What was the matter with him? He cared more than this, he knew it. He HAD to care more for him than for some old peice of sewn fabric. "Oh, damn it all." he muttered visciously, thinking mostly towards himself, before he could stop the words from leaving his mouth, picking up speed again. Uncaring of how undignified it was, uncaring when he nearly tore the hem of his robe. Uncaring as he cut through a hedge of neat thorned roses and earned himself several long scratches on his skin, and even more numerous snags on that poor abused fabric of his clothing. He must have looked like the deomns of Hell were chasing him--which given his powers, wouldn't have been an overly odd event to happen anyway... He sprinted to the door, jammed the key inside, quickly jerking it open. "Tsukasa!" he hollered inside, feeling desparation hammering in his chest. An image of Tsukasa's broken body, blood pooled into the floor around him, the feathers of his eraser form, hanging at awkward angles, like the wings of a bird hit by a car, bones shattered, neck twisted horribly backwards... Tomonori forced away the image, feeling his heart give a sickening jolt at the increasingly more graphic, more violent, more horrible images filled his mind.
The boy's aura was flickering weakly upstairs, nothing else was present in the room...but that flicker...he didn't like it. He REALLY didn't like it. The cold spot in his chest chilled him deeper, biting, like a block of ice was being wedged slowly between his ribs, forcing them apart. He raced to that point of flickering essence, heart jackhammering in his chest. He bounded up the stairs, stumbling, grabbing the banister for support to prevent himself from falling. He growled suddenly, irritatedly. Why did all these small things conspire to keep him from reaching Tsukasa? time was running out. Curse those stairs! Curse his robe for making him so clumsy if he so much as tried to take a wide step! Curse it all! His foot reached the final stair. His eyes flicked over the hallway in several alarmed seconds...a slight glimpse of fabric was outstretched like a beacon from the doorway of the bathroom. Tomonori's heart quickened as horrible visions of what might greet him flashed through his all too imaginative mind.
He rushed over. He found the boy, lying prone on the floor between the hallway and the bathroom, curled in a rigid fetal position. His heart lept into his mouth, horrified. "Tsukasa!" He didn't think as he jerkily knelt next to him, scooping him up, cradling him like an infant. Searching with horror for some sign of a fatal wound. He held the boy's limp form in his arms. Tsukasa's desperate hold on himself, curled into a ball, suddenly went limp at his gentle touch, the boy's slender limbs suddenly hanging freely. Icy droplets of moisture collected on Tomonori's forehead in an uncharacteristic show of fear. "Tsukasa!" He shook him by the shoulders, wiating for him to awaken. Nothing. The young eraser's head lolled weakly. The preist wasted no more time calling for him to wake up. He knew words were no substitute for medical attention. Tomonori lifted him up, gently cradling him and made towards the boy's room quickly. He paused as he was greeted with a foreign sight. The matress was half-made, the second sheet half pulled up, as though something had stopped the person from making it completely. Pillows tumbled on the floor, one with a new case, one bare. Strewn haphazardly as though dropped.
Tomonori felt somehow hesitant at entering Tsukasa's room, especially in this state. Something felt odd about it now. Alien even. It was too clean, despite it's strange time-stop look. As though Tsukasa had stopped making the bed for some undescicive reason. Tomonori wasn't quite sure what to do. Had he ever really given the boy's room some thought? There were no posters on the walls, the calender had no marked dates, not even for school. The bookshelf held textbooks and a bible-the staple of every room in that house of Tomonori's-but nothing else. No show of humanity. No sign of personality. As blank a slate as the wall that Tomonori pulled over his inner emotions and thoughts. He treated the room as though he was a guest, rather than a permanant member of a family consisting of only him and Tomonori.
The only thing that showed the room as even having been inhabited by anyone, the only sign of the prescence of a human-no, not an eraser soul, but a human's-was a picture framed on his desk. Tomonori filled with memory just at the look he spared it. He looked again, more deeply, more closely.
One day perhaps two monthes back Kirihara had taken them all to the beach, as a group. Even Shiba, now involved with his family's chinese conglomerate, had made special arrangements so he could come and see them all--though especially Kirihara. Tomonori had taken the picture, he had pushed the button, directed the flash, caught the moment himself. He remembered it well. The others grinned as though having the time of their lives, decked out in beachwear. Shiba had his eyes closed in a blink and his arms folded over his chest, grimacing as Itsuki slung an arm around his neck in a would-be-friendly gesture, dragging him into the picture in a headlock. The cheerful psychic's other hand was giving Kusakabe bunny ears. Kusakabe's expression was solemn as ever despite the faint blush on his face as Kirihara flung her arm around his waist, beaming in obvious joy. Itsuki's twin sister Haruna was in turn headlocking her brother and giving him bunny ears in vengence...or perhaps it was a noogie, it was hard to tell, and Tomonori hadn't attempted to memorize the details.
His gaze lingered over the picture, the cold spot in his chest receding...seemingly-even from a picture-their master's soothing prescence could be felt. It was like someone had removed the slivers of ice and was gently coaxing warmth back into his body. But there was a small figure on the fringes of the group that he felt more closely towards. The figure he had remembered the most, the one he wished would make the cold spot recede from his heart, more than his mindbreaker could. Tsukasa lingered shyly, almost in the background, peeking from behind Kirihara as though afraid to be seen in the picture. She was urging him in with her other hand, making him part of their group. His eyes were rivited to the camera, a shy smile on his face, but by the pink on his cheeks and the sparkle in his eyes one could tell that he was having the time of his life. ...how frail and childish he looked in that oversized T-shirt to hide the scars on his back... he had, nonetheless, loved that day deeply, with childlike wonder and innocence. He had loved the sea. Watching the birds with wistful eyes, seagulls soaring overhead. He had so loved that one single trip to a world seemingly outside the borders of war...outside the borders and boundries drawn by their war as parts, peices, and pawns of the struggles in the aquarian age. He had adored it, so much so, that Tomonori himself, though typically rather indifferent to the antics of the others, had been roused up for a friendly volleyball game. Like a normal human. ...until Shiba and Itsuki began bickering about some trivial matter and Shiba popped the ball by squeezing it too hard in aggravation...
Tomonori had never pondered it before, but in that picture, Tsukasa's manner was so attentive it was as though he was ignoring the rest of the lively antics around him...as though absorbed in the camera. And the emotion in those eyes...amidst the joy...
Tomonori blinked, then suddenly wished he had never even seen the picture, never even started down the fateful train of thought. It was suddenly so obvious. It was suddenly so clear. It was suddenly evident just how LONG Tsukasa must have felt this way that Tomonori felt suddenly and horribly blind, insensitive, and callous. "Oh..." he murmured. He gently set Tsukasa down on his half made bed staring down at the boy...the one who loved him. He was even more unsure of what to do now. He suddenly remembered the dire circumstances that had driven him to enter this room in the first place... He brushed away his blond bangs so he could check his temperature. Cold, cold as ice. Tomonori had a sudden and desperate urge to throw his arms around the unconscious form in a pathetic, emotional attempt to warm him, but refrained once again. He couldn't and he knew it. What if Tsukasa were to awake with him doing something of the sort? When he was told the lie--that it was only because he was so cold, it would break his heart again, and Tomonori couldn't STAND to let himself do that. He suddenly stared at his hands, shaking madly, shock flooding into his system, followed by awful dread. "no...I've done it." He whispered.
He could no longer deny it. 'I...love him too...' He stared at that frail little form lying there. Did Tsukasa LOVE him? Yes. Yes he did. He couldn't doubt it with the expression those eyes had illuminated. Beyond that, he adored him. That sweet creature cared so much for him, a human, that it was enough to make his cheeks warm. He was undone. That little innocent bumbling angel who couldn't even kiss someone without nearly accidentally breaking their teeth, had undone him. He felt. He cared. Something inside of him softened at the very sight of that delicate face, with its small features and large eyes. And his heart had done so, adoringly, for what he knew was a long time--A long time of justifications and excuses and absurd arguments proving it as impossible, insane, even stupid, but now, despite it all, he was doomed. Was this really love? Yes, this could only be love. It had never touched him before, but somehow, he knew it. Nobody was as close. Nobody could compare to Tsukasa. He drifted out, eyes glazing as he distractedly stroked Tsukasa's hair.
This odd affection...it was love. Even the scatterings of Tsukasa's entry into his dreams couldn't break him out of his sheild of stubborn denial and tell him what he felt...
Ah...those dreams...only one actually. The same one over and over, though each time, he felt he was dreaming it anew...
So vivid...
A shyly smiling winged angel, clothed in a delicate shade of cream. Those beloved mirrored eyes glittering with excitement at him as his gentle voice floated to his ears, "Tomonori-san...won't you come with me?" It always started with that question, nothing less, nothing more. Always started with that adorable innocent face looking up at him. Tomonori could always see himself there. As though simultaneously looking at himself outside his body, and looking through his own eyes down at Tsukasa. Double visioned duality. His awkward human form standing there, out of place in that world of soft golds and creams. Harshly black, harshly pale. He didn't belong here. He was confused, terribly confused. Confused and naked. Too pale. Too dark. Too starkly contrasting and sharp in such a soft and pleasant golden place. The place was blurred, and fuzzed over in his vision as the world was without his glasses. Tsukasa's form was softly defined, faintly blurred-ever so faintly out of focus. Whereas his own body's definitions were sharp and clear. Impossibly sharp compared to his surroundings, almost etched on the retina. Drawing all the more attention to the thing that didn't belong Tsukasa never looked at him all the more strangely for it, or for his obvious nakedness-infinitely embarrassing. But he wanted to hide himself somehow. Unworthy. Unbelonging. Ashamed even. Wishing for the smallest peice of cloth to cover himself. Wishing for a simple place to hide. He was out of sync with the enviroment there, out of sync with that world, with that place, with everything that Tsukasa seemed to fit into so well. That beautiful angel melted into the surroundings as beautifully as though it were an extension of himself. Tomonori's thoughts were always jumbled, confused, questioning, reluctant "come with you where Tsukasa? W-where are we?" He always asked. Tsukasa never answered him. Just holding out one of those small delicate hands, and tenderly taking his. "Won't you come?" he would ask again, looking into his eyes. Worry was beginning to seep into those perfect mirrored irises. "please? Won't you come with me?" Each and every time, Tomonori would back away. What if he noticed his nakedness? What if he laughed at him? What if he was afraid of him? He couldn't go with him. "I...I can't...where are you going to take me? W-why do I need to go? Is something wrong? What happened?" Those large eyes suddenly filled with tears, always ready to weep. "But...Y-You don't want to come with me?...why couldn't you just go! Why do you want to be alone?...oh...I should go then...I shouldn't have..." And always he watched his angel drift away weeping quietly, while he was paralyzed, unable to call for him to return--so like what had happened that evening between them in reality...perhaps he DID have a clairvoyant streak... The celestial scenery became black, demons leering at him, mocking him, riotously laughing and jeering at his nakedness. And always that shame came to him...that horrible gut wrenching shame as he was pulled forever away from Tsukasa, and try however he might, he couldn't get him to come back.
A horrible dream.
Even more horrible because it was always his fault that it was that way...but why was he so afraid? What did Tsukasa want him to do anyway? It always confused him, because the dream was all questions and no answers, the dream seemed to have no point, yet be a foundation. A foundation to what though? Even he didn't know.
He shivered. Placing a hand to his sleeve to test that he was clothed, hidden. His memories were always vivid to the borderline of reality... too vivid. The first mark of true madness was the blurring of reality and the dream world. He was already too close for comfort in his opinion.
But it was all true then. He felt something for the boy, and not just any something, he was exquisitely precious to him. He was special to him. He had a fondness for some others but Tsukasa...Tsukasa was Tsukasa. There was no other way for him to explain why Tsukasa would draw him like this.
But worse yet, he knew there was a chance that Tsukasa would accept him anyway, even rejoice at his love being returned...expect a relationship...after all the proof in those eyes, the blind trust, he knew. So Tomonori couldn't frighten himself into wishing for it to pass from fear of rejection because, the rejection wouldn't come if what he saw was true. He knew he would be unable to resist-if he was accepted, he would never be able to refuse Tsukasa anything. Not a hug, not a kiss, not even his body or his very soul would be held back if Tsukasa so much as implied that he wanted it. He would give himself utterly to Tsukasa, and that was exactly what he couldn't do. Once he did that, he was doomed to Hellfire. His soul was in danger because of his wavering heart! Tomonori clasped his hands to his head, wishing nothing more than to bang it into a wall, much like he had caught Shiba doing on occasion.
He was going mad. He was here with an unconscious body, a chill growing in his heart again, and a head he longed dearly to rip from his shoulders.
Yes, he had truly lost it this time.
'what am I going to do now?' he asked. And he had no answer. For the first time he could remember. He had absolutely no idea of what he was going to do. And in that instant, the wall of impassive control broke into a mess of worry, confusion, and fear, and he couldn't consciously bring it back up again, for the first time ever. He had lost control of his unemotional wall.
For the first time in his rememberence, Tomonori Nakaura's expression was a glass image of what was going on in his head. And the expression was one of sheer and utter fear.
A nakedness far worse than that of his dreams.
A nakedness that would only seal his doom.
Tomonori's hands trembled. He had failed. He had failed. They both had feelings...feelings that could never see the light of day. They had both had feelings for the other for who knew how long! Tomonori knew he couldn't outright lie and deny it if asked by Tsukasa head on...he hadn't said anything before, justfying it--It had been easy enough when there had been some chance that he was neutral, that chance had allowed him to pass it off as being for their own good and because he didn't want to tell Tsukasa unless he was absolutely sure of what he felt, but now...he knew what he felt. He was sick, he was twisted, he was something that brought down a wave of horrid self-loathing in his own mind. But he loved the boy more than he loved anything. Tomonori trembled again. Wrapping Tsukasa's unconscious form in blankets, a sudden thought interrupting his misery. What had happened to Tsukasa? What could make him fall to the ground in anguish?
Tomonori mentally hit himself for not thinking about it sooner. He tossed his woe aside. He was cold...He blinked, his heart dropping into his stomach, he jerked and instantly checked for a pulse. It was there. He relaxed. His brow furrowed, his inner voice becoming caustic 'Right, paranoid. so he's alive. now...all you need to do is find some way to wake him up." He grimaced. "easier said than done." he muttered. He didn't like the idea of leaving Tsukasa's side for a second-what if he did so and came back to find the boy DEAD? He shuddered at the thought. How empty his life would be without the sweet angel...over two years he had become incredibly attached to him-an incredible understatement, he was in love with him. On that street, On that rainy day he had turned his large teary eyes to him, blood streaked over his delicate skin and whispered "please...help me..." in response to his own questions about whether or not he was okay. The child had collapsed into his arms, shivering, tears runnign down his face, and had been inseperable from him ever since. They had shared a deep bond with each other since the incident ages ago. When Tsukasa has first opened his eyes to an anxious young man staring concernedly at him and asked "Who are you?" in a teary grateful way. And Tomonori had given his name along with "I'm here to help you." Then that small boy had stared at his hands as asked "And who am I?" When he had been unable to tell him, tears had slipped down his face. "D-don't cry!" He had said in alarm. Those hurt, fearful, teary hazel eyes had looked into his with such dreadful loss. His own heart had sunk down into his stomach. He couldn't bear to see this long haired, slender boy cry, he looked too much like a girl, and Tomonroi had hated to see girls cry for some reason he himself couldn't fathom...perhaps it was because of his sister... He mentally shook himself. She was dead. First blinded by the attack, by that horrible choking ash, by those embers-oh how her sightless eyes had wept when she heard that their parents were dead. Corpses nothing more than ash in the air...perhaps even the glowing ashes that had blinded her. Then infection had set in as a week of neglect crept upon the two of them scavenging together for food, for shelter, for peace in the midst of their ruined lives.
...She had died in his arms, leaving him those words he could never forget... you go on...and...live...Tomonori-chan...you'll get out of this...I know you'll be strong...be strong...for both of us...pl- Her breathing had ceased just as she tried to say the word 'please'. The next day, the WIZ-DOM had searched the charred remains of the village for survivors, and found a small boy, weeping, holding the corpse of an older girl. Her cloudy, shriveling eyes staring straight at them, bloodless mouth slack... "D-don't cry...I'll take care of you...I'm not going to put you back out there again." He had said, unable to watch those tears fall unchecked. The shivering boy had given a grateful sob, and quivered out a "Thank you..." Those eyes had seemed so blank for a while, because they had no past, only a terrible greif, but soon his personality had filled them. He had become happier, so innocent that his every tenative push towards something had made Tomonori smile and try to help him. That innocence and naivety filling the older man with more peace, more gentleness than he had felt towards anyone in years. And finally, he felt himself beginning to move on from the deaths that so haunted him. He had moved on so far that his graphic visual memory, had forgotten the faces and moments that had changed him to his aloof and distant position. Tsukasa-as Tomonori had named him-had a childlike wonder for all things. A sweet face, and an even sweeter laugh. He brought him a sense of purpose that he hadn't felt since the day his sister had died. Tsukasa had helped him to live in the present. The pastless boy had eased his own past burdens, he was soon his dearest companion and friend. He loved to teach him, and Tsukasa was eager to learn...but soon afterwards, he became disillusioned. Soon learning new things no longer filled that bright eyed child with the same light. He began to wonder about his past. And whenever he did so, his inability to remember made him incredibly sad. It was all Tomonori could do to try to help him...and he still tried his best...
but that was so long ago... back in a time before he had built this wall for his emotions...
He frowned suddenly. On second thought, how long had it been there? That blank wall. He frowned more deeply, feeling mildly disturbed at the revelation, worried eyes staring down at the fallen angel. 'I built this wall to protect Tsukasa...or so I thought...but in fact...it has distanced us...how can he like me so much when I've grown so distant!' He closed his eyes in a slient grimace. What did he himself want? He couldn't seem to guess Tsukasa's motives anyway. On the one hand he could hope to form a relationship with Tsukasa, and ignore the consequences on his preisthood, on his status in the wiz-dom, and on his soul in order to make himself, and Tsukasa happy. Or, he could thicken the wall and drive a deeper rift between them, and force Tsukasa to act as his son, and he himself, be content as his surrogate father, saving his soul, but condemming Tsukasa to misery, and himself to emotional anguish, anguish that would grow ever worse upon the lovely eraser's eventual union with another. He was too beautiful, too kind, to wonderful to be lonely for long, there was bound to be a line of women lining up to be his. Tomonori bared his teeth in a silent growl. There was no easy choice. Furthermore it was difficult because of how either choice of his would change Tsukasa's life as well. The boy shivered, a small whimper escaping his lips. Before Tomonori could tell himself not to, he sat next to the prone form, and took him into his arms, cradling him gently. His eyes softened at the sight of the boy he was so attached to, looking with such an expression of pain, He was suddenly drawn back to their last battle as a rather motley team when he had last held him this way...Remembering how that boy had defended him..or at least how he had tried, then Tsukasa had killed another eraser..and...
Tomonori blinked, remembering something suddenly.
Tsukasa had passed out just like this, except...Tomonori suddenly unwound the blankets from around Tsukasa, staring for evidence. He cringed. Blood. Blood stained his shoulders. Just like the other time. Tomonori raised his hands to his head, squeezed it at the temples, and visciously screamed at himself internally for bringing on such a strong reaction from Tsukasa. For hurting him like this. "I knew he was fragile, but...oh, WHY didn't I see this before? WHY didn't I just tell you?" He whispered the last part mournfully, hesitantly stroking one of Tsukasa's cheeks, then snatching his hand away worriedly at his own boldness. He thought for a moment, 'if it is merely what it seems than he will not die if I just go and get something to stop the bleeding...' he hurried to the bathroom nonetheless, snatching a roll of gauze, then hurrying back to Tsukasa's room once again. The blood had stained a trickle, moving down his sides. Tomonori suddenly swallowed as a thought occured to him. In order to bandage Tsukasa properly, he would need to take off his shirt.
Logically, it wouldn't be the first time he had seen Tsukasa topless, he had seen him practicing swimming, and had even found him naked on the street two years before, but with his newly acknowledged feelings...it felt far too much as though he were undressing Tsukasa for some more...pleasurable reason...a far dirtier one as well... He struggled with his body's urge to blush-at his own thoughts too! Of all the humiliation! Setting his jaw, he peeled back the shirt from the congealing wounds. Tsukasa made a slight whimper, tensing as some of the newly formed scabs reopened. "shhhhhh." Tomonori whispered soothingly. His eyes darted around. There was a glass of water on the bedside table luckily enough. He grabbed it, wettening a wad of gauze and using it to wipe away the blood. He didn't want to risk leaving again and returning to find Tsukasa frightened and awake on his return. He somehow could sense that he was needed there beside him. Tsukasa would want him there...
Tomonori frowned, peeling off his gloves-they were a pain to get clean, especially of bloodstains...which he knew from experience, disturbingly enough. He dabbed at Tsukasa's bare back. He was surprised. This close, he was amazed by how fragilely he could see that the boy was built, by how slender he was, how frail...how in need of protecting he seemed--who would suspect that his poor creature had harmed himself in penance for being a murderer?...Before Tomonori's wits returned to him, and he reminded himself harshly that he absolutely had to bandage the boy's shoulders, rebuking himself strictly for even having such thoughts. Tomonori wrapped his upper back and shoulders with gauze, shivering when his fingers touched that delicate skin. He finished, tucking in the edges of the gauze, and cradling Tsukasa mostly upright so he could eye his work, he gradually found himself turning him over to face him, soothing that tormented face in it's sleep. Tsukasa's face suddenly seemed to be different. As though he was seeing it for the first time. Golden lashes over such large beautiful eyes, his small nose, those childish cheeks that blushed at the slightest prevocation...'dear Lord...he's...beautiful...' Tomonori caught, and slapped himself internally 'NO! I can't!' He found himself focusing on his lips, and he cringed inwardly again...His lips were dark, bruised slightly, small and trembling in the nightmares that almost certainly plagued what was now a mere sleep. Tomonori's chest gave a pang of guilt, feeling suddenly responsible for those darkened, and probably painful lips. He felt his hand propping Tsuksa's neck upwards. His blond hair felt like cool silk strands running along his newly exposed hands...had he ever felt that beautiful hair without gloves?...yes actually, His mind replied far more rationally to his jumpy and nervous feelings. That once...one time when Tsukasa had had a nightmare and had asked...Tomonori swallowed. And had asked to sleep in his room, next to him, and he had never thought of it at the time...he had never noticed the smoothness of his hair as Tomonori had gently ruffled it...Oh! How long had this dwelled in both of them? Tsukasa's brow was creased as though his dreams were pained. Tomonori couldn't help but stare. Stare at that beautiful creature...that lovely malt colored hair, those crescents of gold lashes...those lips...why couldn't he look away from them? They had never looked so tempting as when they were bruised like that...as when they trembled in whatever chilling nightmare pained that poor angel's soul. Was this what Tsukasa had felt, staring at him? Had he felt this desire creep up over him, as Tomonori did? A longing to simply be close to him, to touch his skin... He stared, cradling the bandaged, half naked creature in his arms, feeling his heating face grow closer, unable to resist this hypnotic sensation. Something in his head was tingling, an energy of sorts. It came off of Tsukasa in waves...his aura! Tomonori had never felt it before, never so strongly, now it washed over him like a tropical ocean breaker making him feel dizzy, not quite dreamlike, more like the effects of a laconic drug...dragging him into something incoherent and instinctive, where his thoughts were only of the lovely face before him. He was close...he was getting much TOO close. He had to stop this! But oh...he wasn't sure if he wanted to.
/\/\/\
(End of part three)
/\/\/\
Crap demons. This one's long. (frowns) Ah, no matter, It probably only works better that way.
I may have a minor chapter coming up this week sometime early, or I may in fact update with a 'double whammy' (double chapters) becuase I'm a rather confused individual, and I'm going to have to come to a verdict on what I'm doing next. (gulps)
Okay, the deal is, I have about six chapters pre-written. (I think I may have mentioned that earlier) this one was tricky. I hope it doesn't show, but it was. It was two consecutive Tomonori POVs in my original because Tsukasa's out cold. I had to find a way to make that all fit into one...and I didn't quite make it. I left out a bit more stuff for that chapter and added loads to the original...such as my own little past story for Tomonori--that was a last minute addition, I added that at about ten PM on wednesday night, which left me just enough time to proofread it for errors. (sigh) The problem is, I'm at a crossroads. Or as one of my friends would say, my knickers are in a bit of a twist.
Now, I have an idea buzzing around in my head, which would result in a 'compromise chapter' (part Tomonori, part Tsukasa) or I could do a breif Tomonori shot then come at it again with a full blown Tsukasa POV. As of now, I'm still deciding. (sigh) I want it to turn out well. But I said that every other chapter would switch off, and I'm usually quite rigid about going against my word, unless circumstance absolutely prevents me...also, I'm flipping my lid slightly--because like everyone else, I am in school: I have a religions class which is becoming rather demanding, because I'm doing a project to boost my grade. Also, I have double english, because I flunked last year. So I have Othello to annotate, and to kill a mockingbird to discuss at the same time, which is driving me mad (not to mention the fact that I'm reading out loud as Iago...he's not exactly a nice guy...I hope my teacher's not implying anything...just because I'm the only one who pronounces the shakespearean speech properly...(grumbles)). My head is officially about to explode in a mess of frizzy blond, gore, and crap (from all the dirty stuff that's polluted me). (sigh) But I'm TRYING not to go back on my word. I CAN update weekly, so I WILL. But my order's going to require some personal attention, which makes me worry about whether the quality will suffer, which will just plain, make me angry with myself when I notice. So the point is... updates this week might be a little awkwardly spaced, however I will guarantee one update this friday if nothing else is definate. Pardon any typos you find in this chapter and the next one to two. I am officially becoming stressed out by my own stupidity. (eye roll) Each time I go to try to find a stopping point, I end up randomly typing and changing things until i can barely remember my own original plot. Nonetheless, My story (hopefully) will only reap benefits of this 'itchy fingers' style of writing. I could have as many as three chapters on my hands from this little screwup if I'm not careful, so cross your fingers and please wish me luck (not to mention sanity, and a good supply of green tea)
cheers.