Grains of Sand -- Prologue
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Dedication: to marchgirl - who always asks me for longer fics!
Author's Notes: Major thanks to LKK for editing this. This is a million times better because of her. I hope all those who enjoy my drabbles enjoy what I plan on being a much longer fic!
The door handle feels like ice, like it is frozen solid, and Rikuo feels such a deep sense of foreboding that in a strange moment of panic, he unthinkingly breaks the door locks, using nothing more than a spare second of concentration to do so.
His palms feel sweaty and he rubs them against his uniform pants, hoping that the irrational fear he is suddenly feeling, the fear that had caused him to run home from school, is completely unfounded.
When he looks down and sees the bloody footprint, he realizes that he has never wished his intuition to be wrong more than in that moment. A few hasty steps lead him to the kitchen and he feels bile rise in his throat, because there is blood everywhere, and there is a stench of something he doesn't want to know about, and he thinks he sees something in the corner of his eye, perhaps some sort of fabric, but he can't look because his body is betraying him, stepping back in horror.
He's almost beginning to think he really is going to be sick, but he knows that he has to call for help first, and he turns around to run into the living room to get to the phone. But when he turns around, he runs straight into the hard chest of Saiga and is more relieved than surprised at his presence in that moment.
"Shit."
It is with that violent curse, Rikuo knows what Saiga just saw and any hopes that he is delusional are gone with it.
And Rikuo is normally very calm during stressful moments, or in situations where most are prone to panic, but this time, he's not, and when the edges of his vision start to go fuzzy and knows without a doubt that he is going to pass out, he thinks, in a strange moment of clarity, that he hopes Saiga will catch him, because he will not be able to handle it if later on he has to wash blood, her blood, off of his skin.
"Rikuo?"
Saiga is sounding very worried, probably the most Rikuo thinks he has ever heard him sound quite so upset.
"Rikuo?"
But it's not helping and no matter how much he says his name, Rikuo is falling and he doesn't ever want to get up.
"Rikuo!"
Rikuo's eyes opened, wide and startled, and he realized that he was in his own bed, not his old apartment. It was the four white walls of his bedroom, not a drop of Tsukiko's blood in sight. He wasn't sure if he felt relief that he had only been having a dream or destroyed by the fact that he knew it wasn't really a dream at all.
But he had no time to dwell on it, because leaning over his bed was Kazahaya, only the pale light of the moon shining through his window, giving away that fact. It seemed as though he'd been trying to wake him for a while now and looked rather confused, and even slightly worried, by the entire episode.
Before Rikuo could stop him, Kazahaya unthinkingly placed a hand on Rikuo's shoulder, no doubt only trying to comfort him. By then it was simply too late for Rikuo to do anything other than support the dead weight of the other, when Kazahaya passed out on top of him.
When a few scant seconds later Kazahaya was conscious again, he was breathing like he'd run a marathon. Although Rikuo had no idea what exactly he'd seen, he knew that Kazahaya must have seen at least part of that memory, because it was too strong in that moment to be resisted.
It was then that Rikuo realized Kazahaya wasn't the only one breathing hard, his own chest was heaving too. There was a layer of sweat on his back, making his undershirt stick to his skin.
"Rikuo? Are you okay?"
Rikuo knew he must have looked pretty upset for Kazahaya to be so concerned. But how was one to hide behind his mask, when it had been shredded to pieces only moments before?
It took him a moment to answer; because he wanted to make sure his voice wouldn't crack under the severe strain he was feeling at that moment. "Yeah, I'm fine. Are you?"
Kazahaya nodded as he sat up, his fingers fidgeting nervously with the buttons on his shirt. Rikuo noticed that his hands were shaking.
Rikuo knew he should ask Kazahaya what he saw, explain the situation, anything to clear up that look in the other's eyes, but he couldn't find it within himself to visit that awful dark place again so soon. "What are you doing up, anyways?"
"I had to count inventory tonight, remember? I just got home and thought I heard something in here. I thought maybe I'd woken you up or something…"
He pushed Kazahaya away and stood up from the bed, peeling his sticky undershirt off and throwing it into the hamper across the room.
"Rikuo?"
"What?" His voice came out much sharper than intended. He couldn't help it though; he didn't want to deal with the situation. Impractical notions like talking didn't change the past.
"Never mind. Forget it."
"Just go to bed."
But Kazahaya was already leaving, walking out his bedroom door and not looking back. Rikuo knew it had been mean; after all, Kazahaya was only trying to help. But if they had stayed in the same room, he'd only end up saying something he shouldn't have, or potentially even worse, something that he should have.
Finally starting to regain his composure as he walked toward the bathroom where he planned to take a long shower, he told himself futilely that they both could just forget everything by morning.
But he knew it wasn't that easy. Only lying to himself was.