Blegh, I retyped this thrice because I'm trying to keep it as canon as possible. I'm happy with this chapter, finally.
Comments? Criticism? Send 'em my way, kiddos.
Anyone willing to beta read me? Hn, I really should get one of those.
"I wonder why he didn't show up?" Daisuke mused to himself, back in his bedroom. His light was the only one on in the house. The world was sleeping but for two people: himself, and Dark Mousy. But maybe that only counted as one person.
They had gone to the museum directly at five, which was when the note for the previous night had said Dark would be there. There'd been even more guards the second night, but as usual Dark had had no trouble getting in, and getting the Agate Links. Though Takeshi had made a brave effort against him. Takeshi had actually gotten the Links out of Menou's hands before managing to fall off the roof. Daisuke had felt a bit bad leaving him there, but really, he'd only fallen on bushes and he wasn't hurt, and it was better that the police find him and take him to his father.
But Satoshi hadn't shown up the entire night.
"He knew he didn't have a chance. He's finally given up," Dark said, and slid into a chair. The lamp illuminated only half his face, giving him an exotic, mysterious look. The tiniest edge of a smile teased his lips.
"He has not. I know Satoshi. He won't give up that easily," Daisuke replied. He was against the wall opposite the bed, knees hugged to his chest, eyes focused solely on the floor and the whorls in the carpet. Dark turned his head and glanced at him in a way that made Daisuke just grab his knees tighter.
"I was making a joke. You and him've been getting quite friendly lately," Dark said. "He's a Hikari. Don't you think that's a little bit like… fraternizing with the enemy?"
"No," Daisuke said angrily. "He's a bit odd. But he's sort of my friend, too. I mean, well…" he shrugged. "I don't want to kill him." He looked at his feet lamely.
"He's clearly obsessed with you," Dark replied.
"No, just you," Daisuke retorted. He bit back the second part of that remark, lest he incite Dark's anger—Dark could be extremely volatile when angry.
"Well, who wouldn't be?" Dark struck a pose from his seated position, practically oozing ego. Daisuke merely rolled his eyes and tucked his chin into his kneecap.
"What, not interested? You and I both know better." Dark grinned and looked out the window. Daisuke watched him warily from his position against the wall.
Sometimes it was hard to realize that Dark wasn't actually there. That if anyone were to open the door, they'd only see Daisuke talking to empty air. Because really, Dark was in his mind; it was a sort of hallucination, though to Daisuke Dark was as real as anyone else. One of the highlights of being a Tamer, he supposed. Daisuke's cheeks flamed brightly.
He rose to get a book from his bookshelf, figuring he'd try and get some reading done. He'd had a remotely peaceful evening—no getting hunted, no police swarming the streets, no Riku or Risa to mess up his nerves.
And was remotely surprised to feel a hand around his waist. He looked down at the arm that he could see, feeling Dark's lithe form pressed against his back, and his heart beat wildly. It was true that he felt for Dark. Though this feeling was different from the one for Riku, or for Satoshi. He wanted Riku's body more than anything he'd ever wanted in his life. And around Satoshi he got an electric kind of feeling, a confusing muddling of his head, a strong feeling that overwhelmed him and which he couldn't name. And around Dark he was worshipful, adoring. Dark knew this. And he used it to his advantage.
He stiffened slightly. His hand paused on the shelf.
"Come on, Dai. Are you gonna pretend like you don't care about me the same way I do about you?"
Daisuke was silent for a while. "You don't."
"It's always clicked with my other Tamers. So why not you?"
He didn't want to imagine that Dark had been seducing his ancestors for centuries. He really, really, tried hard not to imagine it, but his mind wandered, and he let go of the book he was about to grab as Dark fingered the base of Daisuke's shirt.
"You're in love with Satoshi, aren't you?"
"No!" Daisuke was adamant. But there was nothing he could protest further. He was getting flustered. Dark grinned coyly just over his left shoulder.
"Good. For a second there, I was worried." Hands pulled at the bottom of his shirt, reaching to unfasten the buttons and slip it off his shoulders. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing deeply, evenly. He didn't like it when Dark touched him. He might have adored him, but he didn't want… agh, he was so confused. So damn confused all the time. Why was everything so hard to figure out?
He remembered his grandfather's words, the morning after his fourteenth birthday, and after his first time stealing and becoming Dark. His grandfather, Daiki, had sat him down in the parlor and bent his head close, eyes serious.
"Daisuke. You must know that Dark is a romantic at heart. Your mother's told you about the legacy of the Phantom Thieves—that they fall in love with someone who causes them to switch forms. This is how their Tamer must control them. But in Dark's case… well…he's a sort of libertine, you understand; a rather different spirit. And he's always been jealous of those he possesses. He's jealous of our mortality, of our being human. He craves his Tamer's love, craves his adoration like a drug. Needs it to live."
"…Hunh? Grandpa, I don't get it," Daisuke had replied.
"Nevermind, Daisuke. Just remember that." And he'd left.
Dark's breath was warm against his skin. Though how he had warm breath was uncertain, because he wasn't even really alive, technically. He was a hallucination. Part of Daisuke's spirit. Not real. Not real. Not real. He repeated this thought to himself.
"But I am real. As real as you."
"You aren't me, though."
"We are one and the same. Haven't you realized that yet?"
"That's not what Satoshi told me." He thought back to long ago. What was it Satoshi had called Dark? His other half. So Dark was really only half of him. He was relieved at that. Because deep down, in the farthest parts of his mind, he feared that Dark really would eclipse him someday and that he would be nothing more than a shadow. He feared being lost forever, or worse, forgotten. He feared it more than anything. Hands grasped his shoulders, brushed past the clasp on his belt and it slipped off because there were no locks that Dark could not break. And when had they gotten to the bed?
Well, this was one of those nights.
"Why won't you just give yourself over to me? You're the first Tamer who hated being me," Dark said softly from above him. "I'm not going to hurt you. You don't have to look so scared."
Liar, Daisuke thought to himself. You're a liar and a thief.
"Aw, come on, Dai. Don't be like that." Dark's kiss tasted oddly like cinnamon and coffee, a sweet, comforting taste. Maybe he was manipulating that part too. He could change how he looked if he wanted to, or how he smelled or tasted. That was what he was doing now. Trying to put Daisuke at ease. Well, it's not going to work. I never asked to be a phantom thief.
Moving down now. And the thrum of energy inside Daisuke was finely tuned, distinctly violin-like, a musical instrument playing to the static in the air around them. As Dark's hand curled over the rim of his waistband he flinched and struggled to push Dark off him, trying to stand on his own. Trying to leave the bed. "Leave me alone, Dark," he said evenly, each word spaced between clenched teeth.
Suddenly a hand shot out and enclosed Daisuke's wrist, pressed it to the pillow, held it there. How was he so damn strong? Daisuke twisted under his grasp, eyes wide. "Dark, no! Get off me!" He was suddenly sick of this. Sick of Dark trying to just persuade him to let go, to just give in and be a part of him for once and to let Dark do as he would. He was done with that. He never wanted to do that again.
"This is for your own good," Dark said, and there was a hint of steel in his tone, his eyes burning into Daisuke's gaze as if they themselves were fire. It was a thoroughly alien look on Dark. No humor, no amicability, no friendliness left in those eyes. Suddenly something snapped into place in Daisuke's head and realization came to him, making him arch his back, try and throw Dark off him. But it didn't work. Dark was not only taller, he was about ten pounds heavier.
Daisuke twisted his hips, trying to bend his knees and press upwards, but—"Don't fucking fight, Daisuke. You'll understand later."
"Dark, listen to me. I'm not just gonna…" Dark silenced him with a rough kiss and Daisuke was consumed with breathing and thinking and trying not to completely panic. As Dark broke the kiss, he sucked in a breath as if he were going to make some further protest but Dark pressed his free hand to Daisuke's mouth.
"You wanna wake up the others?"
Daisuke was very silent then. No matter what he did or didn't want, he definitely didn't want to awaken his mother, and definitely not his grandfather. He wondered if, in his own circumventing way, his grandfather had been trying to warn him about Dark. Maybe he'd been wrong though.
He sighed, and when Dark moved in to kiss him again he didn't twist or protest this time. It was either this or reject his family legacy, and if he and Dark couldn't work together, his mother would die of grief. It was her life's dream to have a son as phantom thief Dark. It had always been. He had to do this, he realized, for her.
And now the pants were sliding down, off his hips. The first thrust was, as always, searingly painful, incredibly so, like an intruder that was unwelcome in his body. For the next few minutes as Dark lowered over him and pressed into him, there was only the sound of his own torn breathing, because Dark didn't make noise when he breathed. He closed his eyes and silently begged it to be over soon. The pain did not decrease. But he knew it wouldn't last long.
Around the second thrust or so he felt a twinge of electricity. Dark had hit up against something buried deep inside him and it sent a shiver of warmth throughout his body. He tried not to concentrate on the pleasure, to ignore it, to squash it down, but with every passing second it only grew more and more present until he let himself be carried over the threshold. And for a little while, for a few seconds, he was in bliss.
It was as if someone had taken a most brilliant and luminous light and pushed it in front of his eyes, and that was all he could see, white noise filling his ears and brain with emptiness. His mouth opened slightly, quivered, closed again after drawing a shaky breath. And Dark's form was still over him, still searching his eyes for some kind of answer, some kind of exoneration.
"I love you, Daisuke," he said, and it was sincere. "For fuck's sake, why can't you just honor the old traditions?"
This is love? Daisuke wondered to himself, the last ebbs and flows fading. Is this what I'm supposed to feel for Riku, expected by my family to do for her? Is this really what love means?
He shook all over. Every time Dark did this, he felt stale and empty. It meant nothing to him. Nothing at all. He was expected to bond with Dark; that was what his family expected of him, and he couldn't give it to them.
Was he a failure, then?
In the morning he realized Dark was asleep inside of him, and probably would be for most of the day. Slipping off the bed he hiked up his pajamas and tossed them into the clothing hamper—he hadn't used them, anyways—and stripped the sheets and comforter, pressing them into a bundle with the… used… parts on the inside. It was still the borderline between dawn and true daylight, and his mother wouldn't be up for thirty minutes. He dressed in complete silence.
He tossed them into the washing machine, loaded the solution, pressed the start button, and exhaled slowly as the spin cycle began and water flooded the chamber. He watched the motions: around and around…
He found himself sitting on the floor against the opposite wall, just watching the washer. Thinking. It was a kind of tranquility he didn't find often.
He was surprised to hear footsteps, though. A sort of shuffling slide: this wasn't his mother's steps. It was his grandfather. Daiki. He gave Daisuke a slow nod and then stepped over to where his grandson was, taking a seat next to him despite the state his legs were in. He was surprisingly nimble for a man his age. All ex-phantom thieves were.
"Sleep well, kid?"
Daisuke was sure he had pockets under his eyes. But of course he nodded.
"What are you washing?"
He turned his gaze to the machine, then back again. "Bedsheets. I… was painting on my bed… one of my paints got on them, bled through…"
He knew it sounded lame. He met his grandfather's eyes and knew that Daiki could tell exactly why he was in the laundry room and exactly why he was washing those sheets. But like a good person, he held his tongue, and merely said, "I see."
"I've gotta get to school early. Tomorrow's the big school trip and I haven't signed up for a group yet."
"Right," Daiki said, and put one hand against the doorframe as he paused in the doorway. "You do that. Take care, Daisuke. I'm here if you need me."
He felt awful. He couldn't tell his grandfather. Not about Dark, not about school or his friends, or about his lack of success with Riku. Somehow he didn't feel cut out for her in any way. Maybe they weren't so compatible. And he certainly couldn't tell him about his dream, because that was something that had shocked even him.
He'd dreamed about Satoshi.