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Entry tags:
- 30_romances,
- 31_days,
- fic,
- tsuhis,
- ynm
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31_days[May 10th][Yami no Matsuei]darker yet
Title: darker yet
Day/Theme: May 10th / the night grows darker yet
Series: Yami no Matsuei
Character/Pairing: Tsuzuki/Hisoka
Rating: PG
Summary:
A/N: done concurrently with. 22. Shadow ; Flame ; Footfall for30_romances
And for Reicheru, as I’m making a habit out of it :D ♥ feel better~
I.
Candlelight. So brief, they quiver hesitantly, as if the souls are gripping to their previous life, begging for another day, minute, second – But the scythe has already cut them. (trimmed them, pruned them plucked them away)
The flames flicker out like cut roses, the smoke filtering out with the smell of sulphur and decay.
II.
Tonight is a drowning day (and of course, there are only three types of days, the good ones when he can find enough to believe in the world, the ones where he numbs his senses and thinks about ending this life with fire or ice, and the days which are passageways between the two)
Vodka on the rocks, straight out whiskey, tequila with lime, each one is his mistress tonight, with each shot he gets a little warmer, a little more numb.
Their fingers encircle him, pressed nails and exotic scents. His fair ladies, they never let him down.
Before midnight there’s another to his harem, a round of sake and even an apple martini. By then Tsuzuki isn’t choosy. They are tonight’s only comfort, afterall.
III.
Hisoka can feel always Tsuzuki just beyond his consciousness.
He stands – not sits, book open and after five re-readings, he still hasn’t read a word. (His eyes trace over the page, his mind is far elsewhere)
Closing the book, he sighs.
VI.
Closing time. (You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here)
Tsuzuki leaves, stumbling out into the deep dark of Meifu at 3AM. The sky is clouded over, the world is blurry and celluloid, flashing before him with mothers and ghosts begging him with tear streaked eyes, their mouths forming one, unsaid word. why?
Somewhere Tsuzuki thinks he’s found mercy, but it isn’t here with these endless brick walls and the slippery moss, the cold that bites at his fingers and the ring of faces, staring.
Here there’s just the voiceless accusations and the falling, the feel of hitting the ground.
There is no mercy here.
V.
Warmth. Sound. It seems in slow motion, underwater.
“I’m not cleaning up after you if you make a mess” the voice says, and offers a hand.
Tsuzuki takes it, fingers tightly gripping Hisoka’s wrist, then upper arm. It takes several tries, and in the process Hisoka falls down as well. (“you damn drunk!”)
“Hisoka, you came for me” he says, his breath making clouds in the night air.
“No one else would.”
Tsuzuki holds on tighter.
VI.
Tsuzuki wakes up with a splitting headache. The light filtering through the window blinds are white lines on the inside of his eyes, each breath sounds loud enough to be an explosion.
There’s a bottle of water on the nightstand and a note, plain and unsigned. (I told Tatsumi you were sick.) There’s an extra blanket at the foot of his bed, a bucket beside the bed.
The room is empty, but there’s traces of Hisoka everywhere, left like footprints, fingerprints all in floors that are cleaner than usual and dust that has dispersed. In water bottles and spare blankets and unread books mistakenly left behind.
VII.
Today is an in-between day, Tsuzuki isn’t his usual self (or “irritatingly energetic” as Hisoka would put it) but he’s alive, or as much as possible.
Tomorrow will be better, and it will keep rising until he falls again (until there is a child to bring back or a lost soul he must recover, each one of these is like a section of his own soul is cut out and passed with red tape and documents sent after every case.)
But then there will be notes and bottles of water, a hand to grasp his own, a shoulder to lean on. Tomorrow won’t be a drowning day because there is Hisoka. (Hisoka at his side, steadying him with a muttered curse and fingers which don’t let go)
And that’s all he’s ever needed.
Dude, this so should've had something, like, a soliloquy by Tsuzuki about humanity’s collective fraility or something but I was so tired ;_; (I FAIL AT LIFE!)
Day/Theme: May 10th / the night grows darker yet
Series: Yami no Matsuei
Character/Pairing: Tsuzuki/Hisoka
Rating: PG
Summary:
A/N: done concurrently with. 22. Shadow ; Flame ; Footfall for
30_romances And for Reicheru, as I’m making a habit out of it :D ♥ feel better~
I.
Candlelight. So brief, they quiver hesitantly, as if the souls are gripping to their previous life, begging for another day, minute, second – But the scythe has already cut them. (trimmed them, pruned them plucked them away)
The flames flicker out like cut roses, the smoke filtering out with the smell of sulphur and decay.
II.
Tonight is a drowning day (and of course, there are only three types of days, the good ones when he can find enough to believe in the world, the ones where he numbs his senses and thinks about ending this life with fire or ice, and the days which are passageways between the two)
Vodka on the rocks, straight out whiskey, tequila with lime, each one is his mistress tonight, with each shot he gets a little warmer, a little more numb.
Their fingers encircle him, pressed nails and exotic scents. His fair ladies, they never let him down.
Before midnight there’s another to his harem, a round of sake and even an apple martini. By then Tsuzuki isn’t choosy. They are tonight’s only comfort, afterall.
III.
Hisoka can feel always Tsuzuki just beyond his consciousness.
He stands – not sits, book open and after five re-readings, he still hasn’t read a word. (His eyes trace over the page, his mind is far elsewhere)
Closing the book, he sighs.
VI.
Closing time. (You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here)
Tsuzuki leaves, stumbling out into the deep dark of Meifu at 3AM. The sky is clouded over, the world is blurry and celluloid, flashing before him with mothers and ghosts begging him with tear streaked eyes, their mouths forming one, unsaid word. why?
Somewhere Tsuzuki thinks he’s found mercy, but it isn’t here with these endless brick walls and the slippery moss, the cold that bites at his fingers and the ring of faces, staring.
Here there’s just the voiceless accusations and the falling, the feel of hitting the ground.
There is no mercy here.
V.
Warmth. Sound. It seems in slow motion, underwater.
“I’m not cleaning up after you if you make a mess” the voice says, and offers a hand.
Tsuzuki takes it, fingers tightly gripping Hisoka’s wrist, then upper arm. It takes several tries, and in the process Hisoka falls down as well. (“you damn drunk!”)
“Hisoka, you came for me” he says, his breath making clouds in the night air.
“No one else would.”
Tsuzuki holds on tighter.
VI.
Tsuzuki wakes up with a splitting headache. The light filtering through the window blinds are white lines on the inside of his eyes, each breath sounds loud enough to be an explosion.
There’s a bottle of water on the nightstand and a note, plain and unsigned. (I told Tatsumi you were sick.) There’s an extra blanket at the foot of his bed, a bucket beside the bed.
The room is empty, but there’s traces of Hisoka everywhere, left like footprints, fingerprints all in floors that are cleaner than usual and dust that has dispersed. In water bottles and spare blankets and unread books mistakenly left behind.
VII.
Today is an in-between day, Tsuzuki isn’t his usual self (or “irritatingly energetic” as Hisoka would put it) but he’s alive, or as much as possible.
Tomorrow will be better, and it will keep rising until he falls again (until there is a child to bring back or a lost soul he must recover, each one of these is like a section of his own soul is cut out and passed with red tape and documents sent after every case.)
But then there will be notes and bottles of water, a hand to grasp his own, a shoulder to lean on. Tomorrow won’t be a drowning day because there is Hisoka. (Hisoka at his side, steadying him with a muttered curse and fingers which don’t let go)
And that’s all he’s ever needed.
Dude, this so should've had something, like, a soliloquy by Tsuzuki about humanity’s collective fraility or something but I was so tired ;_; (I FAIL AT LIFE!)
no subject
But~~ Something about the faces around Tsuzuki struck me as really creepy and thus, really awesome. Of course, Hisoka taking care of him--that is a precious moment for me. ^_______^
And you do not fail at life, since I like the fic how it is. It is so hard for me to find good, in character TsuzukiHisoka-ness. All I can ever find is porn
and I have idea why that is.But yes, so you know: *loffffffff* But then, I love all your Yami stuff. I am as of now hunting for my anime. lol.
no subject
Thanks~ *loffs back* ♥!!!!!
no subject
I can't describe how those first three words of II hit me. I have known days like that.
♥