Inkblots By Deep Color
HISOKA
The
dread has come once more
To claim its rightful throne
Silence
is an enemy
Invoking the phantoms from within
As
a little child is left to war
For what little remains of
tomorrow
The
silence grows louder
Then quieter
Hisoka pants, his heart racing. It was that dream again—the night of the curse, and the dreadful face of the laughing red moon. He had wanted to die; the pain of the doctor's curse was more than anything he'd had in his already painful life. But he was not granted such clemency.
All his years of solitude within that godforsaken room… deep-rooted feelings of remorse and hatred for him had penetrated even those thick concrete walls. He couldn't control them. The noise in his head was too loud for him to even understand, so he had just forced sleep to avoid them.
But there had been no solace in sleep.
When he wakes up, the surroundings will not have changed. In the day, there is only the noise of the world he does not dare try to understand. At night, there will only be darkness and the phantom that frightens him to sleep. His tears will not have changed anything….
Hisoka is surprised to find that his cheeks are soaked with tears, back in the present.
There was no comfort at all in dying. Why, he asked himself, did he have to live after he died? The nothingness he had been wishing to disappear to seemed so far away now…
But the cruel present held no place for him to dwell in the crueler figments of yesteryears.
He stirs and lifts his hand to wipe his foolish tears away. When he puts it back down, he feels the warmth he had secretly—but wholeheartedly—been seeking. The feeling of Tsuzuki's arm around his waist was an immediate and lasting comfort, more than what he thought he'd deserved.
"Go back to sleep, Hisoka," he mumbles sleepily, and Hisoka nods and holds onto that arm until morning comes.
The heartless, psychotic doctor's face was an imprint in his head that could never be erased, but Tsuzuki's presence is something stronger. It takes his mind and heart and there is nothing else he must think of to be happy.
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To explain the weird verb-tenses, to those who've missed the logic: The fic is written in the present tense. Thoughts of the past are written using the past tense, as is appropriate.
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Next chapter: TSUZUKI
