Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, I don't even own my left foot. :(

Warning: There is blood and there will be a BoyXBoy relationship in later chapters. Don't say I didn't warn you!

Note: It's been a while since I've done this so please be kind and review! Tell me how I can improve.

Thanks to everyone for reviewing! It really helps me put out more chapters when I know that people are actually reading it! -; Hope you like the first chapter!

Thanks for reading!

Chapter One: DreamScape

"My Body Is Numb

The Nerves Are Dead

And I Can't Feel This Pain

Except In My Head"

Run. Faster, he's catching up. Run. Run. Run!

Legs pumping, burning the muscles, tearing the back of his well-defined calves. His heart ached, along with his lungs that were either sucking in too much air or had stopped taking in the pure air of the night all together. That didn't matter. Those were the little things he didn't need to care about, the fear was driving him to be quicker. He didn't need to breathe at the moment.

A voice in his ear that whispered to him, the voice never grew louder but never faded out either, it was just there telling him where to go. It was guiding his feet, placing one foot in front of the other, making him jump over roots of trees. The voice was familiar; it had always been there. He knew he could trust it, this voice knew of his pain.

Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Don't stop. Pain will only come. Pain. Don't stop. Pain. Don't stop…

His body was hurting even as he ran. He needed to stop, he couldn't breathe. The irrational thought of not needing to breathe came to him again and he wondered why he had thought such a thing. It was a stupid thing to think and as he ran his mind got caught up in its stupidity.

His lungs were aching and the cold air was pressing against his chest. It was laughing at him. The wind was laughing at him. It knew of the future. It knew that he was doomed and he knew it as well. But he kept running and he couldn't figure out why. It was useless but he still tried. He knew the outcome to this story; he had seen it so many times in his mind and he knew he was doomed.

Yet his legs still kept taking him further, trying to get him away from this threat. His body was almost robotic the way it moved, forgetting about all grace and ready to fling itself as far away from this inevitable problem as possible. And the feeling in his gut deepened, churning evilly.

He knew exactly where he was going to trip, he had, after all, re-lived this moment for the past few months. Here it comes.

His bare, dirty foot catching on a tree root while an audible crack could be heard throughout the forest. All the pain rushing into his being within a second's time. His ankle was definitely broken now, he was pretty sure it had been twisted before since it had felt strange to run on it as he had. Then there were these small sensations all over his body, prickling him. He knew what they were; they were cuts slowly dripping with his life's liquid, rolling down his body, soaking into his shirt, killing him with one blood droplet at a time. The cuts didn't feel right like when he had done it to himself, no these hurt. This type of cut hurt, it was different.

There were bruises on his hands, his lip was fattened into a bloody bulge and his insides were screaming at him. But that didn't matter. His mind was clear and yet it had wandered away looking blankly at the root that had hindered his escape. He didn't want to try anymore. Why would he want to try?

The first time he had been there he had tried to get up, he had told his body to move though it wouldn't listen to his pathetic command, it laid there limply. He had stopped struggling after the next three or four times the scene had played over, he'd still run but he knew his body had given out right at the moment he tripped and he wouldn't try to run away if he knew he couldn't.

His mind trying to recognize where he was going to be found, hopefully an animal would drag him deeper into the forest. He didn't want any innocent bystander finding him and ending up in a mental institution. It wouldn't matter anyway; he'd be dead to this world in a few moments.

Something inside him told him that this was important, that he needed to know where he was. He picked out a few landmarks: a tree parting like a Y, a hunter's trap under the bush to the right of him that was glinting devilishly in the moons light, a tree to his left that had it's bark chopped off in the shape of a crucifix, he was lying on top of a very sharp rock that was pressing into his spine. There were also rocks around him, making a circle, all the rocks had blood on them making them seem as if they were facing him. He wasn't sure if that was his blood or not but he doubted it mattered. The lastly there was the root he had tripped over, it was large and black. It wasn't the helpful but it would do.

The sense of being watched finally over took him and as he looked up to see his killer, his heart stopped. Something inside him hurt, he knew this person or he was going to know this person. It was such a familiar face that he was sure he knew who it was, but then the shovel hit his head with a good whack. He felt it in his nose and his mind had gone berserk, yelling at him. It was too much pain! He gurgled as he tried to scream; his teeth had broken and fell to the back of his throat. It was no use; his mind was dead the next moment as the shovel collided with his face once more.

"Dead, Dead. Chop, Chop. The Sky Is Awfully Bright. Something's Right About This Night…"

His mind caught onto the words as he shot up from his bed. The bile rose quickly in his throat, not giving him anytime to reason over what he had just heard. He was already up, running into the bathroom. He let go as soon as he was over the toilet, watching the pungent, liquidly chunks fill the bowl. Someone was bound to see him make a run for the bathroom at some point; he'd been lucky so far. No one had noticed the odor of bleach when they came in, he would try hiding it like the scars on his wrist for as long as possible. There was something telling him that this was a secret, no one needed nor wanted to hear about his pains, his mind-blowing headaches, those strange nightmares, the cutting and that clenching feeling in his heart.

He wiped the leftover bile off his face as he flushed the toilet, his other hand reaching for his toothbrush. The nightmares had started three days before the end of his life, meaning it had started three days before Yuki had asked Torhu out and the girl had replied yes. He wondered if it was all connected. That would explain a lot if it was but he doubted it.

His mind had lost the image of the man who had killed him; he would always forget that part. It was irritating but he had all the time in the world to think about it and try to remember as he scrubbed the cover of the toilet. The man had said something different this time, he had been saying 'Dead, Dead. Bang, Bang. Wrong Way. Something's Wrong With This Day.' Then there was the fact that it had been unusually dark this time around and the fact that instead of killing him with a gun like last time it was with a shovel.

What else was different?

He couldn't remember. The scenery was the same except it was night, everything happened as it had always happened. He knew he was missing something, but did it matter? It was just a dream and a dream meant nothing. Dreams had never had meaning before so why would it had any meaning now?

Letting out an irritated sigh for being so stupid for letting that dream get to him, he started the shower. He wouldn't be able to get to sleep anyways and it was 3:10 in the morning, he knew that since every single nightmare would end at exactly three ten. He didn't think about it, he didn't want to. It was stupid to think a dream would actually mean something.

He didn't seem to notice the presence outside the bathroom door, it had heard the grunts and pained groans Kyo was making and had watched the boy from the shadows for the past few nights. It was becoming increasingly hard to ignore the fact that something was terribly wrong with the cat.