A/N: Ahay! Ang stupid! Bakit ko ba 'to ginawa? Bakit? Ano? Himala? Walang himala? Akala mo meron? SAAN? SAAN? WALA!
Don't worry, my Filipino instincts just kicked in. Oh, before reading this story, I want to send my condolence to the seventy or so people who died in the stampede at ULTRA in Manila.
Please offer a few minutes of silence for the dead.
Two: Illusion
It was raining, the drips of water running down the stone pavement. They sometimes run along from the tip of rooftops slowly following a path going back down to the ground. Blue skies were replaced by an ash-black drape where the birds didn't fly and it was hard to find a smile.
Kazahaya was in between the curtains of heaven's tears striding into the gloom of the day.
The world had taken in the darkness.
Kazahaya was lost in that darkness.
It seemed that everyone was consumed by the gloom that the rain spread. And the bleakness it has given has engulfed each and everyone in this city.
People ran pass him; all wearing black. Some wore black jackets; other people were running around in their black pants; stepping on the wet concrete with black shoes.
Everyone was carrying a black umbrella as a sort of protection from the rain.
Kazahaya had none.
There was one boy, speeding through the crowd parting people with his pace. He was in his uniform colored black. One hand held a book that covered his face as he ran in a futile attempt to shield himself from the rain.
His and Kazahaya's shoulders brushed as he passed by.
Then he sped by Kazahaya and he didn't look back to apologize in his hurry to disappear.
Kazahaya looked back, but all that his emerald eyes can see is people, draped in black.
The boy was nothing more than a remnant of a memory that was never meant to be realized.
He stopped walking but the tide of black kept on moving. It was raining still and people, some rushed away off to find some sanctuary; like a telephone booth, a waiting shed, or the nearest building where they could find a ceiling to secure themselves.
He spun around.
A sound
His eyes flashed suspiciously as he looked about.
Another one
Something or someone was moving. It didn't totally escaped Kazahaya that he was still inside a crowd and that, yes, everything was moving around. But the hairs on the back of Kazahaya's neck stood and he couldn't understand why. He couldn't understand why he feels the emotion a child feels when he thinks the boogeyman is prancing around in the darkness of his room. He couldn't understand why his heart made fast and steady beats, doing more than the usual beats at a time.
He couldn't understand but whatever it is, he could feel the need.
Whatever it is or whoever… it was after him.
Kazahaya broke into a run.
He pushed people away with a hastily added apology, he felt it coming closer.
There was something…
He ran faster, escaping the darkness and the thing that came for him.
Familiar…
'It' was there…
The rain was still pouring and it will be for the time being, yet it stopped looking like rain to him anymore. A sense of acquaintance swelled in his chest, they took form of something else but he shook off the shapes that were already outlined. He ran fast, away from the people and their darkness, away from the rain.
His mind whispered of a name that he never knew was in his head.
Who?
He made a sharp turn running away from a force he hasn't seen- or reckons that there was a 'force' to run away in the first place.
His nose picked up a scent; a sweet lingering fragrance of something he should know.
The feeling of terror danced in his chest; he should've been used to that feeling by now, yet each encounter with it is so fresh and raw that he fought a scream down his throat. He felt hundreds of pairs of eyes loomed over him, all of various colors; red, brown, green, black; all on him as he rushed off looking for his own sanctuary.
But there was something wrong, this terror, this fear; it doesn't feel like him. Almost as if he was being afraid for someone else and not for his own well being; that the one who should be running is not him but the person who own this fear.
It was useless to think of things like that in this kind of situation.
Situation
He stopped, he was in a part of the city where there wasn't much people, but he wasn't in an alley. He was just in another part of the city, surrounded by shops and there was even a bakery on the other side of the street.
He wanted to think he was now safe and away from…
What was he running away from?
Rationalization took his brain over or something close to it rational thinking, there was nothing to run away from the first place.
He wanted that sense of fright to be whisked away in a part of his head where he will never open or better yet, let the anxiety fuck off and die. Leave him and his sanity alone.
He already has too many problems as it is.
However his heart proved otherwise. A hand was on his chest trying to calm down his ongoing heart.
It was like a click.
He heard it in his head, exactly inside his skull; something akin to the snap of fingers kind of click. Or was it a snap?
He could die of heart attack right there and then.
All he could hear was the abnormal pace his heart took. All he could feel was the panic coming back washing his entire being.
All he think about was one thing: He thought wrong.
The rush of people toned down into an indefinite silence.
The sounds of traffic, the gossiping of women in the nearby tea shop, the flash of a car hurrying by; all summed down to that silence.
Buildings were peeling off like old paint. All coming downwards, shedding like some old reptile's skin and some were breaking into fragments all showing him one thing.
A bleak void of black
Each piece of reality Kazahaya tried to cling to was discarded and it consumed him. The darkness
It took Kazahaya as its victim.
Green eyes went wide.
An illusion, a trick of some kind, he turned and tried to analyze this all that is around; how did he get here?
Petals
The scent
They came back, but they never left him in the first place; they'll never leave him. They have no plans to.
Petals went flying about him. They knew of his anxiety and they delight in his slow pace to insanity. That's why they love to flutter in the air for a while, drowning him in their innocent-like beauty.
Don't touch them, he ordered himself. This piece of instruction just popped out of his head, like it was always there.
Where on earth did he get that idea?
The first petal that kissed his cheek left a mark, that lead to small trail of blood.
Kazahaya backed away protecting himself, crossing his arms across his chest and hoping the petals won't fall on him. Of course that was unavoidable. They rained down on him and there was so many of them.
Maybe this is all a dream; I didn't go out of the store. I must be dozing off…
But the sting of another petal on his face told him otherwise.
He backed up slowly trying to get away from the piercing petals. He held the ever increasing fear in his chest tightly with his arms.
"Leave me alone" his voice pleaded, but he couldn't tell the difference anymore. He knew it was his voice that said those words but there was something wrong. The cracking of his voice, the choice of words; they didn't belong to him. They leaked out of his lips in a way that told him that someone is inside him in now, showing him a piece of a past that should stay as a it is, a memory.
His back hit the bark of a tree, the source of the sakura petals; and they rained down on him.
He feels their softness caressing his skin the same way sensual fingers would. But the love marks they left on his exposed skin, red marks trailed with bits of blood here and there.
He sees them fluttering around his eyes, dancing to an unheard song, inviting him into their soft embrace.
He hears their chuckle, their delighted giggles filled with sinful mirth. Now their giggles were more like laughter of the mocking kind. He can't help but find their joined laughter familiar.
He smells their fragrance, so sweet and intoxicating, making his head spin in so many directions making logical thinking a chore. He was pulled over to that course, and then his body was pushed to the left.
But what really scared him was the taste of something that tasted like metal that flooded his mouth. The drowsiness caused this, he was so sick.
He cupped a hand over his mouth, he felt something silky touch his skin. Kazahaya withdrew his hand; he was wearing a velvet glove.
His other hand was wearing the same velvet glove.
His toxic filled brain couldn't fathom why on earth he was wearing a pair of velvet glove. Nor does said toxic filled brain care on something so unimportant at the moment.
Nevertheless, he knew it belonged to his hand. It was like he wore this very pair of gloves so many times before that it became a part of him. It was him.
He cupped his hand back to his mouth and threw something out. The metallic taste went along but there were remnants of it in his mouth.
Kazahaya wondered what on earth was inside his mouth that tasted so terrible. Only when he withdrew his hand did he see that he just coughed out:
"B… Blood…?"
And then on instinct, his other hand went to his chest. There was something horribly wrong.
"My beautiful… beautiful… Subaru-kun" a voice said, seducing in its own right. The statement stroked the skin near his ear and took its time imprinting each word in his confused head.
Subaru-kun…?
What happened? Why does he feel so heavy now?
The hand from his chest raised itself slowly up.
His lids were heavy and all he wants to do is sleep or lie down or something like that. His body was shaking terribly, his legs began to wobble and he was near to falling.
There was something wrong.
So terribly, horribly wrong
He felt the gaping wound in his chest, drenching his white shirt he wore with red instead.
He chocked.
He gasped.
Or was it the other way around?
Both of his hands were delicately covered in red, hot, thick, blood.
His own blood, blood that came from his body
His eyes couldn't believe what was right in front of him, of what was right in his own hands.
Green eyes went round in great astonishment.
How did this happen?
How did he not feel it?
How?
How?
He wanted to ask but his vision was blurry. He can't die. He wasn't dying.
But, it looked like it.
Kazahaya knew he was careless, he knew he was stupid; but he couldn't be this ignorant. There's a hole in his chest, the one where his heart is supposed to be- or used to be… he couldn't just… not… know…
"…Ah…"
This was not right.
"…Hurts…"
He can't die now.
"…Not… now…"
And he went left to right like a drunken man who took in more bottles than intended. His legs crisscrossed before letting him fall to the ground, knees first.
He is not dying.
Yet the darkness invited him willingly.
I thought I had you there.
Hmm…
He looked a bit like you, don't you think?…with deep soulful eyes…
But no matter…
A cigarette butt was smashed by a foot covered in a black shoe.
A/N: Oh my… is he dead? Is he dead? Oh no! What a horrible story! The author should die painfully with her eyes pulled out of their sockets, her tongue tied to knots, and her body beaten to a bloody pulp!
Oh wait… I wrote this story…
Oh my…
Read and review, ne?