Ghost of Our Past: Part One

A/N: :o

Anyway please forgive any missed grammar or spelling.

Chapter Three

The forest Love stood in was dead, winter having stolen away any forms of life there had been in the summer. Flaks fell from the gray sky above and soundlessly landed on the ground, laying blanket after blanket of freezing snow on the ground. Love cocked a brow; he'd been watching the little child in front of him for hours with a mixture of worry and concern. The little boy was starved and looked no older than one or two years old. And the fact that the child was covered from head to toe in blood didn't help. Love watched on as the child played in the deep snow, his tiny fingers turning red from the biting cold. The dark skinned man felt a jolt of surprise when the little boy looked straight into his eyes.

"When's mama and papa wakin' up?" He asked, his tiny voice cutting through the silence of the dead forest with ease.

~0~

Love jumped up in his bed, his blankets flying about from the sudden movement. His breath was ragged and fast, the harsh pants echoing through his room as he looked around. The dark man brought up a hand and wiped sweat form his brow, then tried calming down. He'd never had a dream so…odd before, and he'd never been so spooked by a silly dream before either. Shaking his head and pushing the dream back Love looked around his room shivering slightly. It was colder than yesterday, which had been miserable. Looking outside his window Love watched as the snow fell in fat fluffy balls, landing softly on the rooftops and covering the vegetation around the warehouse in white. Love turned and stood from his bed, cracking his back and other bones, the sounds like gunshots in the deathly quiet. Love figured everyone was still asleep; he always woke up before the others anyway. Pulling on some shoes and fixing his jogging pants up, Love plucked his sunglasses from his nightstand. Sighing and pulling on a huddie he placed the dark shades on their rightful throne, then made his way downstairs. However he was shocked to see a shadowed figure wondering about on the first floor, a guitar in its hand. Cocking a brow Love jumped down from the third floor, his landing almost inaudible.

"Rose," He said, walking up to the thin blond. "What are you doing up so early?"

The curly blond turned around, his eyes half lidded and tired. "Oh, hello Love-kun." He said. "I might ask you the same thing."

Love looked at him confused. "I'm always up early, but you're always one of the last ones to get up."

Rose smiled. "Ah, that is true." He said, sitting down and plucking at his guitar.

Love's brows shot up when he finally noticed what Rose was wearing. Instead of his usual elegant dress shirt and coat, all he had on was his sweat pants and a pristine white t-shirt that was so white it made your eyes hurt. Mashiro had always said Rose was excellent with the laundry. However that was besides the point, Love was about to freeze to death and Rose wasn't even batting an eyelash at the freezing weather.

"Aren't you cold?" Love asked, gesturing to Rose's clothes.

The blond looked at himself and grinned lazily. "No, are you?" He said, his expression as bored as ever.

"Ya, I'm freezing my ass off, and you should be to." Love said reaching over Rose and pulling at a guitar sting.

Both watched the white frost crack and break away at the movement. Rose let his brows drift up in mild interest.

"Is it really that cold?" He said, rubbing the rest of the frost off of the instrument. "It really doesn't seem like it."

Love shook his head dumbfounded. "You really are something else." He said, listening as Rose began his ritualistic tuning.

"Maybe you're just too sensitive." Rose parried, grinning.

Love cracked a grin and walked away to pick up the manga he'd left on the floor yesterday. Looking at it he remembered the events with Rose. Walking back over to the blond Love sat down and watched as he tuned the last string. However after a moment Rose stalled, feeling Love staring at him. The blond looked over to his friend and cocked a brow.

Love thought a moment before speaking. "Why did you lie to Shinji the other day, and me for that matter?" He said, flipping lazily through Rose's manga.

He looked up when he heard the blond swallow loudly, Love's eyes growing wide. Rose looked like he was going to be sick again. His already pale skin got paler and his eyes were wide while his throat worked as he swallowed roughly. The dark man didn't have a clue what he had said to make Rose so sick, but this added on with yesterday's problems made him suspicious. However he was torn from his thoughts when Rose bent over and placed his face in his hands, his guitar nestled in his lap, forgotten. Rose's blond hair hid his face from view and his boney back rose and fell slowly as he tried to settle his stomach. Love stood and walked in front of Rose, grabbing his hands pulling them away from his face.

"Rose, what the hell is wrong with you?" Love said, though his face was bland a tiny layer of concern laced his otherwise bored voice.

Rose swallowed again, his throat bobbing up and down. "It's fine, Love. Everything is fine; I'm just a little queasy. As I said the oth-" Love cut the blond off.

"You didn't eat the other day, so don't give me that. You woke up screaming bloody murder, crushed us with you spirit pressure, and then vomited all over the place. You've never done that, what's wrong with you?" Love said, his tone still bored and uncaring.

Rose looked to Love aggravated, his purple eyes flashing dangerously. Love watched and let go of Rose's wrist, the thin limbs dropping limply. Love knew Rose hated telling anyone about himself and Love also knew how much Rose hated to be worried or cared for. No one knew why, but Rose hated it with a passion and would often snap at anyone who tried to push it onto him. While a captain he was notorious for refusing help and leaving when wounded. Love himself didn't like to be worried for either, but he didn't hate it, nor would he grow angry if it was pushed onto him. Love often wondered how he and Rose were such close friends, they were complete opposites in almost every way expect for their love of music and reading. Love watched Rose think, the blonds eyes narrowing as his argued with himself, not sure what to do. However a long moment later he was still silent and Love sighed. Yes Rose was becoming worrisome, but forcing the blond to tell him would only result in him lying again.

"It's alright Rose." Love said, going back to his chair. "You don't have to say anything."

Rose didn't respond, but instead picked up his guitar and began to play. Love listened and picked up reading where he had left off the other day. He didn't pay it any mind when everything went quiet again as Rose stalled in his playing.

"Their brains…..they…they were all over the place…." Rose said softly.

Love looked up shocked, that wasn't what he'd been expecting. "What?" He said, looking at Rose's hidden face.

The blond had bent his head down and was staring at his instrument.

"It was a blood bath, Love. I've never seen so much before. I-I didn't even know there was that much blood in our bodies." Rose said.

Love really didn't know how to respond. "That's what you dreamed?"

Rose nodded. "There were two people, a man and a woman. Their heads were…bashed in. I could see their brains. And their eyes were…and…the man…he'd…ugh!" Rose hunched over, cupping his hands to his mouth and gagging.

His guitar clambered to the floor and Love jumped to his feet. Quickly going over to Rose he helped the blond as he dry heaved, his empty stomach producing nothing to vomit. However as Rose kept trying to puke, he also tried to continue talking, coughing and gagging on choked sentences Love couldn't understand. And it seemed the further he got into the dream the sicker he became.

"Ro-Rose listen, just leave it." Love said, stumbling as Rose short forward, coughing violently. "You don't have to tell me, just leave it be." Love said, helping the blond sit up when he stopped heaving.

Not only did he want to avoid a repeat of the current situation in the future, he honestly didn't want to hear the rest. Even though what Rose had told him had been short, it was extremely horrid. Love knew Rose for having a cast-iron stomach and the blond had seen men and women alike blow to bits and cut in half while a captain, never even batting an eyelash. If that dream had him in such a mess, Love really didn't want to know.

A/N: …eeeehhhh I don't like this chapter either….but it had to be done. Kinda sets the foundation to the rest of the story. Man…now I'm sad…. I don't like this chapter… :(

Anyway please forgive any missed grammar and spelling. Sorry about that…