Crescent Moon Fan Fiction ❯ Breathe ❯ Deja Vu ( Chapter 3 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Wow. It's been a while since I've written for Crescent Moon. This story is hard.
Chapter Three: Deja Vu
“Please don't…”
Mitsuru's face twitched in his sleep. He let out a small groan of pain.
“Mitsuru, please don't! I'm sorry! Come back…”
What was this voice? Who was it? There was a stabbing feeling in his chest, a burning there he couldn't quite place.
The voice died out in the distance, a lump in his throat. He was angry, mad, he wanted to… wanted to…
Anguish washed over his features, not so much a physical pain anymore.
He wanted to kill someone.
There was a sudden pain in his stomach that took his breath away, but this had nothing to do with his dream. His eyes shot open, and he saw Keiko standing over him, a distant look over her face.
“Are you awake yet?” she asked without the usual gruffness. She wasn't completely there, but Mitsuru wasn't paying attention. He realized she'd kicked him in the stomach. “You sounded like you were in pain.”
Well that didn't help, he thought angrily. He bared his teeth at her, squirming like a worm in his straightjacket to face her, sitting up. She dropped the tray in front of him, and the food almost spilt over.
“Eat,” she murmured. She turned swiftly, leaving as quietly as she'd come.
He growled angrily. The damn woman forgot to loosen her straps.
Mahiru felt her vision go fuzzy for a minute, and her hand slipped as she sliced the apple. She held in a breath as she felt the sharp knife slice into her skin. She dropped it quickly, drawing up her finger for closer inspection.
There was a fine line of red, and the blood slowly began dripping down her hand, falling into soft pools on the countertop.
She stared it a minute, giving an insincere: “Ow.”
Nozomu stirred in the next room. She quickly jammed her finger into her mouth, holding it there until she could find a band-aid. The blood had startled her. It was… unsettling. She remembered… Had it been two years already? Yes, two years ago…
Lost in thought, she stumbled into the living room. Nozomu noticed the finger stretched inside her mouth and grabbed her arm, yanking it out to get a better look.
“Stop it,” she chided. A new red welt had begun to form, coming all too quickly. Her vision shifted for a moment, like contacts falling out of place then sliding back in. “I'm getting a band-aid.”
Then, he did something that completely surprised her.
He licked the blood that had reformed away, kissing the slit.
“Is it better now?” he asked.
She stared at the finger, eyes wide. No, no, no…
He moved forward, pecking her cheek, the corner of her mouth, catching her fully on the lips. Mahiru was too shocked to move, to protest, maybe even give in. All she could feel was warm blood trickling across her hand. There was nothing else, just cold, frozen numbness, spurts of heat where he touched her. This was wrong though: wrong, wrong, why was she doing this, why didn't she stop him, why, why, why, WHY?
She pushed him away, shoving him hard. He fell backwards, and she fled, slamming the bathroom door behind her, locking it.
Nozomu sighed from his landing position and stretched out his arms. He was an idiot. Why had he done that? Oh, yeah. Because he still loved her, even after all those years.
But something disturbed him now, something he never would've noticed unless he'd gotten so close. Mahiru wasn't warm to touch. She was like a doll now, a robot programmed to live its life until the battery gave out.
He wondered if, two years ago, it was Mahiru who died along with her lover.
“I'm sad.”
“Why? Did something happen?”
“What? Tell me.”
“I shouldn't. It's bad, that we carry on like this.”
“Carry on like what? We're friends, I don't care what he says. You can tell me anything.”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Of course.”
“I'm sad because you're leaving.”
The door rattled violently.
“Go away!” Mahiru shouted over the porcelain tub.
“'Hiru! You have to let me in!”
“I'm not dressed, so go away!”
“It's not like I've never seen you naked before!”
She rose a bit out of the bath. “When did that happen?!”
“Okay, I haven't, but I've seen you half-naked. Isn't that the same thing?”
“NO! Go. A. Way.”
Nozomu let go of the knob and slumped against the door. “I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry, it was stupid, I shouldn't have done it. Now talk to me.”
It was silent from the other end. The water stilled, and sounds of Mahiru moving around stopped.
“…Mahiru? Are you…?”
He stopped. From the other side of the door he heard tiny sniffles. There was a pained, raspy breath, and he let go of the doorknob once more.
“…I really am sorry, Mahiru. I'll come back tomorrow.”
He left without another word.
“He was insane!”
“What happened?!”
“He tried to rip my neck out with his teeth!”
“You didn't hurt him, did you?! Where is he?!”
“I was just protecting myself. I don't think he was even drunk!”
“Is he okay? Please tell me…”
A hand on her shoulder, meant to be a comforting gesture, but all she felt was cold. Would she ever be warm again?
“Mahiru, I think he's dead.”
“What the hell?”
Mitsuru was… startled.
Down his arm, and halfway across his chest, through the straightjacket he'd now been forced to wear all day, no thanks to that Keiko woman, was a blurred red line. He stared at it before realizing his chest felt wet, and so did his arm. There was no pain at first, but now it came, white hot as it stabbed across his body. He felt himself fall backwards, hitting his head hard on the floor. There was a familiarity to it, a deja vu that left him gasping for air. Or maybe that was the pain. Or maybe it was the sudden sense of someone nearby, someone warm. There was a slight tingly across his chest as a phantom-person wrapped their arms around him. The pressure grew stronger now though, and he cried out as the pain sharpened. His vision blurred, and he had the vague sense of blood forming around him. He tasted blood, smelt it, it was all around him.
“Stop! Please don't!”
What was that voice? He could hear it in his head, the phantom speaking to him.
“Is he dead? No! He can't be!”
A dizzying blur of images racing through him. Anger, rage boiled up within him, and felt only hatred.
A beautiful girl wrapped in the arms of another man. Dread filled him as they kissed, too warmly, too friendly.
The physical hurt had numbed now, but his head felt like it was exploding. He just wished it would, to end the pain.
“Look, buddy, you're really pissing me off right now.”
What had happened to him? What was going on?
“It really is a shame you decided to go after me. I was looking for a fight.”
That was his voice, bitterness, anger, taunting a second party.
“You bastard, what the hell?!”
He knew what it felt like to be cut by a knife.
“I told you. It wasn't very smart of you to decide to fight me.”
It had happened to him twice in one night, after all.
Authoress Notes:
And that is where I leave you.
A bit of Nozomu/Mahiru in here. It's okay.
Does anyone have any idea what's going on? I demand theories!!