Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Dark ❯ One-Shot
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Gemini5788 
A/N : This was written on a whim so don’t expect it to be spectacular.
Anime/Manga: Digimon Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 04.20.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.8K | Visits: 610 | Status: Completed
A/N : This was written on a whim so don’t expect it to be spectacular.
Anime/Manga: Digimon Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 04.20.2005 | Pages: 1 | Words: 1.8K | Visits: 610 | Status: Completed
Dark
By:: StrangeAffinity
~~~~~~~
You wanted this.
You've convinced yourself a thousand times, but you cannot make yourself say the words out loud. Can't say the words or they'll become reality, jagged and sharp. You prefer the truth blurry around the edges, drowning in the tangy haze of red wine and denial. If you've forgotten it, it won't make sense anyway. Nobody can place the blame on you then.
And the blame is a heavy thing. You know because you've taken the brunt of it. All because you wanted this. They will always blame you for your lack of remorse. Even though he served you the divorce papers. Even though you lost your first born child in the ensuing court battle. Even though you thought you still loved that man.
Both of your fingerprints are all over the destruction. Like children fighting over a toy, you each took one side and pulled. Your family came apart at the seams, and it will always be your fault because you never allowed the physical manifestation of emotion. Just because he limped about like a wounded animal and you dressed the wound with a stoic face. You couldn't feel more wronged.
You know now that your mouth will always taste like this. Burnt from searing recriminations, and bitter with everything you never said. There is no memory of his kisses on your lips anymore. Only the hatred his mouth left in yours. You were swallowing each other's poison and getting drunk on the anger. You with your petty vengeance, and he with his petty jealousy. You thought that Love had finally given up on you. You thought that it had finally gone off somewhere to die alone with whatever dignity it could preserve. For the longest time you were able to turn a blind eye on the fact that you were wrong.
You knew Love wasn't something you could just smash out of existence, and yet you weren't prepared when it wouldn't die like you wanted. It's the weed that keeps growing back in your bed of roses. Somehow you'll have to choke it, and it won't be swift or easy.
You aren't afraid to be alone. You were always alone before you met him, and it never frightened you then. You're too old to be scared of things that don't exist.
It only seems bad because it's your first night without them. The apartment only feels this way because the darkness is empty. There is nothing else wrong. Just the creeping shadows and the claustrophobic blackness all around you. Once you and Takeru get used to it, life will be alright again. It has to be.
The bathroom floor is freezing on the soles of your feet. You can't wear slippers because you never owned a pair. You used to borrow from Hiroaki, but he took what was his when he left. All you got to keep was the apartment. The apartment that always smells damp and has cracks in the walls. It's funny how you never noticed that before.
Brush your teeth until your gums split and sting. Spit blood and toothpaste. Rinse. Don't look into the mirror. You used to get a smug sense of satisfaction from your striking reflection. Now you can't bear to see how changed you've become. Older. Tired. Defeated. You aren't the same woman who used to turn heads wherever you went. She was smouldering. Now your label is ‘pretty enough'.
That is why you haven't turned on the lights. Even though the dark is closing in around you. Grabbing you. Claiming you. You think that you've begun to breathe it in now, and it's starting to infect you. It's the tightening in your throat and the turning of your stomach. It's the spots of grey in your lucid eyes. It's the painful tickle between your toes and under your fingernails. Ineradicable as your vanity.
Step out of the bathroom like a cat, wide eyed and close to the wall. Takeru is in bed, and you can't make a sound. Enter the bedroom that's all yours now. It doesn't bother you that Hiroaki's night stand is gone from beside the bed. It didn't go with the rest of the room anyway. You should be happy it's gone. Missing furniture isn't going to upset you tonight. You wanted this.
Hop into bed without getting your ankles in range of the monster beneath. Nestle into the pile of sheets and close your eyes. Keep them closed. If you dare to open them, you'll see the dark and then you will imagine. You can't afford imagination.
No. He isn't there. He never will be. Don't think about him, especially in the dark. Don't think about the emptiness beside you or the loudness of the silence. Pull the covers up to your chin and don't think. Curl up your legs and toes until you are a ball of warmth. You don't need an arm across your hip to chase away the shivers. Now you can move anytime you like without worrying about waking him. You could even sleep in the center of the bed if you wanted to.
But you don't.
You don't, you can't or you won't? Perhaps all three. Habits are hard to break.
Was that a creak? Don't open your eyes. It was just your imagination. If you open your eyes you'll never be able to fall asleep. It would be a shame to lose sleep on this night that you have wanted. Blessed silence. You can finally hear yourself think, but now you think too much. Think about the softness of the bed. Cool, clean sheets. You can't let yourself think about cold and sterile. And it doesn't smell the same. You should be glad that you can't smell him in your pillows or taste his breath in the air. You never needed that.
He won't pull you close, against his beating heart, and whisper pretty words in your ear when you're trying to sleep. He won't trace hot fingertips over your arms or insinuate his knee between your thighs in the early morning hours. You can finally sleep in peace and you're glad. So glad that you just wont think about that either. No point in bringing up the past.
He used to be here, but now his presence is gone. Erased like the words on a chalkboard. Or so you think. You can't smell the sex, but you can still smell the lies, hanging in the air. They weren't supposed to remain when it was over. You're glad he's gone. You are. You are. You are.
So why can't you sleep?
Perhaps you will go and check on Takeru. Just to make sure you aren't alone. Which is silly because you aren't afraid. What is there to be scared of? All the same, you'd just like to see him. You could always draw tranquillity from your boys.
Your children are another regret attached to your guilty conscience. You don't like to think about some of the things you know they saw. You and Hiroaki never staged screaming matches around them. You never threw China or slammed doors, but the damage was the same. Whispered words of hate and silent accusations are just as deadly. You think Takeru is young enough to forget parts of it. Yamato will always have confusing memories that he may never come to terms with. You know he won't forget. You can't put the toothpaste back in the tube.
Push open his bedroom door and try not to scream. Takeru isn't in his bed. Lean against the wall for a moment to keep up with your plummeting stomach. Perhaps he is gone as well. You only imagined that they'd let you keep your child. It was all a cruel joke, and you were a silly woman for believing.
That momentary flash of pounding terror jolts you out of your half sleep, and then you know where he is. Without question. Turn to the room adjacent to his. Yamato's old room. The door is standing a jar. Push your shoulder quietly into it and slip inside.
The first thing you notice is that the room isn't dark. A nightlight is on and yellow light caresses the contours of the walls, making both the light and the shadows more pronounced. The fact that the room is completely bare adds to the feeling. Bare except for the form of a small boy buried under a mound of blankets and pillows.
You can't understand how he managed to move all of this stuff in here without you hearing. Perhaps you were too busy thinking about the dark. But it doesn't matter. At least he's asleep now. Comforted by the light and the memories. Things you can't seem to find.
You have to take a moment to watch him. His face is colored blue and gold in the dark, with parted lips and lashes like dragonflies' wings. He looks so small amidst the vast emptiness. Maybe you're both too small for this. How can you possibly continue living in this apartment without running into shadows and holes in your memories?
You are all each other has now, and you don't want to leave him alone for a moment. Maybe you can't escape the loneliness, but at least you can be lonely together. A puff of air that might have been a sigh escapes your lips, and you drop to the floor. It is only then that you realize he has chosen to sleep in the exact same spot where Yamato's bed once was. You can still see the marks in the carpet from the posts. Another sigh. Another blink. Don't think about that now.
Slip under the spaceship patterned covers beside him, and rest your head on the pillow. He makes a half mewling sound in his sleep and reaches out instinctively. He feels another warm body and pulls himself closer with a small smile on his face. Rest your chin lightly on his plush head and tuck him into the curve of your body. Pet his face and hair with fretting fingers. The only kitten you have left. Pray he stays small and precious forever.
You barely hear the name on his lips as his drifts off to sleep, but hear it you do. It would break your heart if it wasn't already in smithereens.
"Yamato."
And the darkness swallows you both in dreamless oblivion.
By:: StrangeAffinity
~~~~~~~
You wanted this.
You've convinced yourself a thousand times, but you cannot make yourself say the words out loud. Can't say the words or they'll become reality, jagged and sharp. You prefer the truth blurry around the edges, drowning in the tangy haze of red wine and denial. If you've forgotten it, it won't make sense anyway. Nobody can place the blame on you then.
And the blame is a heavy thing. You know because you've taken the brunt of it. All because you wanted this. They will always blame you for your lack of remorse. Even though he served you the divorce papers. Even though you lost your first born child in the ensuing court battle. Even though you thought you still loved that man.
Both of your fingerprints are all over the destruction. Like children fighting over a toy, you each took one side and pulled. Your family came apart at the seams, and it will always be your fault because you never allowed the physical manifestation of emotion. Just because he limped about like a wounded animal and you dressed the wound with a stoic face. You couldn't feel more wronged.
You know now that your mouth will always taste like this. Burnt from searing recriminations, and bitter with everything you never said. There is no memory of his kisses on your lips anymore. Only the hatred his mouth left in yours. You were swallowing each other's poison and getting drunk on the anger. You with your petty vengeance, and he with his petty jealousy. You thought that Love had finally given up on you. You thought that it had finally gone off somewhere to die alone with whatever dignity it could preserve. For the longest time you were able to turn a blind eye on the fact that you were wrong.
You knew Love wasn't something you could just smash out of existence, and yet you weren't prepared when it wouldn't die like you wanted. It's the weed that keeps growing back in your bed of roses. Somehow you'll have to choke it, and it won't be swift or easy.
You aren't afraid to be alone. You were always alone before you met him, and it never frightened you then. You're too old to be scared of things that don't exist.
It only seems bad because it's your first night without them. The apartment only feels this way because the darkness is empty. There is nothing else wrong. Just the creeping shadows and the claustrophobic blackness all around you. Once you and Takeru get used to it, life will be alright again. It has to be.
The bathroom floor is freezing on the soles of your feet. You can't wear slippers because you never owned a pair. You used to borrow from Hiroaki, but he took what was his when he left. All you got to keep was the apartment. The apartment that always smells damp and has cracks in the walls. It's funny how you never noticed that before.
Brush your teeth until your gums split and sting. Spit blood and toothpaste. Rinse. Don't look into the mirror. You used to get a smug sense of satisfaction from your striking reflection. Now you can't bear to see how changed you've become. Older. Tired. Defeated. You aren't the same woman who used to turn heads wherever you went. She was smouldering. Now your label is ‘pretty enough'.
That is why you haven't turned on the lights. Even though the dark is closing in around you. Grabbing you. Claiming you. You think that you've begun to breathe it in now, and it's starting to infect you. It's the tightening in your throat and the turning of your stomach. It's the spots of grey in your lucid eyes. It's the painful tickle between your toes and under your fingernails. Ineradicable as your vanity.
Step out of the bathroom like a cat, wide eyed and close to the wall. Takeru is in bed, and you can't make a sound. Enter the bedroom that's all yours now. It doesn't bother you that Hiroaki's night stand is gone from beside the bed. It didn't go with the rest of the room anyway. You should be happy it's gone. Missing furniture isn't going to upset you tonight. You wanted this.
Hop into bed without getting your ankles in range of the monster beneath. Nestle into the pile of sheets and close your eyes. Keep them closed. If you dare to open them, you'll see the dark and then you will imagine. You can't afford imagination.
No. He isn't there. He never will be. Don't think about him, especially in the dark. Don't think about the emptiness beside you or the loudness of the silence. Pull the covers up to your chin and don't think. Curl up your legs and toes until you are a ball of warmth. You don't need an arm across your hip to chase away the shivers. Now you can move anytime you like without worrying about waking him. You could even sleep in the center of the bed if you wanted to.
But you don't.
You don't, you can't or you won't? Perhaps all three. Habits are hard to break.
Was that a creak? Don't open your eyes. It was just your imagination. If you open your eyes you'll never be able to fall asleep. It would be a shame to lose sleep on this night that you have wanted. Blessed silence. You can finally hear yourself think, but now you think too much. Think about the softness of the bed. Cool, clean sheets. You can't let yourself think about cold and sterile. And it doesn't smell the same. You should be glad that you can't smell him in your pillows or taste his breath in the air. You never needed that.
He won't pull you close, against his beating heart, and whisper pretty words in your ear when you're trying to sleep. He won't trace hot fingertips over your arms or insinuate his knee between your thighs in the early morning hours. You can finally sleep in peace and you're glad. So glad that you just wont think about that either. No point in bringing up the past.
He used to be here, but now his presence is gone. Erased like the words on a chalkboard. Or so you think. You can't smell the sex, but you can still smell the lies, hanging in the air. They weren't supposed to remain when it was over. You're glad he's gone. You are. You are. You are.
So why can't you sleep?
Perhaps you will go and check on Takeru. Just to make sure you aren't alone. Which is silly because you aren't afraid. What is there to be scared of? All the same, you'd just like to see him. You could always draw tranquillity from your boys.
Your children are another regret attached to your guilty conscience. You don't like to think about some of the things you know they saw. You and Hiroaki never staged screaming matches around them. You never threw China or slammed doors, but the damage was the same. Whispered words of hate and silent accusations are just as deadly. You think Takeru is young enough to forget parts of it. Yamato will always have confusing memories that he may never come to terms with. You know he won't forget. You can't put the toothpaste back in the tube.
Push open his bedroom door and try not to scream. Takeru isn't in his bed. Lean against the wall for a moment to keep up with your plummeting stomach. Perhaps he is gone as well. You only imagined that they'd let you keep your child. It was all a cruel joke, and you were a silly woman for believing.
That momentary flash of pounding terror jolts you out of your half sleep, and then you know where he is. Without question. Turn to the room adjacent to his. Yamato's old room. The door is standing a jar. Push your shoulder quietly into it and slip inside.
The first thing you notice is that the room isn't dark. A nightlight is on and yellow light caresses the contours of the walls, making both the light and the shadows more pronounced. The fact that the room is completely bare adds to the feeling. Bare except for the form of a small boy buried under a mound of blankets and pillows.
You can't understand how he managed to move all of this stuff in here without you hearing. Perhaps you were too busy thinking about the dark. But it doesn't matter. At least he's asleep now. Comforted by the light and the memories. Things you can't seem to find.
You have to take a moment to watch him. His face is colored blue and gold in the dark, with parted lips and lashes like dragonflies' wings. He looks so small amidst the vast emptiness. Maybe you're both too small for this. How can you possibly continue living in this apartment without running into shadows and holes in your memories?
You are all each other has now, and you don't want to leave him alone for a moment. Maybe you can't escape the loneliness, but at least you can be lonely together. A puff of air that might have been a sigh escapes your lips, and you drop to the floor. It is only then that you realize he has chosen to sleep in the exact same spot where Yamato's bed once was. You can still see the marks in the carpet from the posts. Another sigh. Another blink. Don't think about that now.
Slip under the spaceship patterned covers beside him, and rest your head on the pillow. He makes a half mewling sound in his sleep and reaches out instinctively. He feels another warm body and pulls himself closer with a small smile on his face. Rest your chin lightly on his plush head and tuck him into the curve of your body. Pet his face and hair with fretting fingers. The only kitten you have left. Pray he stays small and precious forever.
You barely hear the name on his lips as his drifts off to sleep, but hear it you do. It would break your heart if it wasn't already in smithereens.
"Yamato."
And the darkness swallows you both in dreamless oblivion.