Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction / Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Symphonys of Roses and Pain ❯ Unwell ( Chapter 8 )

Unwell

 

 

He could hear. The voices were soft, as if trying not to wake him up, but that only made him return to consciousness quicker.

 

The quirks of always being on the run.

 

Stretching his arms and legs above and below him, it felt good to be in a warm and comfortable bed. He still had his eyes closed, so even though he turned his head to where the two voices were coming from, he couldn't see them. After popping a few of his joints, he slowly opened his electric violet eyes and focused on the two who had wakened him.

 

He knew one, Tatsumi. The blue eyes he'd seen so open and warm were now hard and cold behind his glasses. Even though he could see the look clearly, he wasn't fooled. Heero had used almost the same mask to get through the wars. Seeming to be cold and uncaring on the outside, but when opened up, there was a beautiful thing waiting inside. Heero had been particularly hard to open up, and he had never managed the feat. Ralena had beaten him to it.

 

However, Tatsumi was different. He had seen the beautiful flower first, and was just now getting to see the hard impenetrable shell. A smile quirked at the side of his lips for a moment before his attention turned to the other person.

 

A mask and two gloves.

 

He frowned at that, but that was where the voice was coming from. The mask and gloves seemed to float around, the gloves gesturing while the mask seemed to talk. It was strange to say the least. Quietly slipping out of the bed, the sheets hardly rustled as he stood up and padded over to the pair, his feet as quiet as a cat's.

 

The mask and gloves stopped talking and moving as he rested his arm on Tatsumi's shoulder. He didn't give one of his customary Cheshire cat grins at the mask as he scrutinized it carefully. There was definitely nothing there that he could see.

 

“Please to make your acquaintance.” The mask said, floating gloves clasping together and resting on something in midair.

 

He had a feeling that the hands were supposed to be resting on crossed knees. Reaching up to run his fingers through his short length of chestnut hair, he shrugged his other shoulder dismissively. “I suppose I am going crazy, or are you really invisible?”

 

His voice was flat and his eyes held nothing but curiosity in them. He really thought that if he pleaded insanity, then the people at the nuthouse would at least give him a break and tie him to a bed for the rest of his life, and more so if he was lucky, shoot him up with drugs every time he started screaming.

 

The mask, however, simply chuckled as he dropped his arms. He could feel the tension between the mask and Tatsumi grow as the mask `stood' up. Or as he saw it, the hands unfolded and the mask seemed to grow taller in rapid succession.

 

“I was just here to see the one who had put so many of my candles out.” The mask said cryptically, smiling. “It is quite an honor, and I look forward to seeing more of you.”

 

Narrowing his eyes as the mask and pair of gloves glided out of the open door, he looked at Tatsumi. “I have the distinct impression that I was just hit on.”

 

He frowned more as he sat in the chair that the mask had vacated and found it warm with body heat. He started to wonder that albeit the mask had been invisible, there was a considerable amount of proof that signified that he was actually real.

 

He was cut out of his musings before they could go a little too in-depth.

 

“That was Count.” Tatsumi said, keeping his façade up.

 

“He is a little…odd.” There was a pause in there, like Tatsumi had been looking for a word that wouldn't be too harsh or unrealistic.

 

“That is an understatement.” He snorted, crossing one leg over another as he ran his fingers through his hair again.

 

He still felt naked without his hair, like he was open to everything. That and he was still amazed at how light his head felt now, like he could move more freely. He absolutely hated it.

 

Tatsumi raised a hand in front of his mouth and made a little `ahem' noise. “We need to talk.” He said, talking to the purple eyed teenager sitting adjacent to him.

 

Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms over his chest and raised a chestnut eyebrow. “Then let's talk.”

 

It was a challenge, and he knew that Tatsumi knew what he was doing. He didn't care however, he was a little too messed up in the head right now, and he had every right to be childish. At least, that's what he told himself.

 

Tatsumi sighed and raised up a hand to pull his glasses off of his nose. Keeping his blue eyes half closed, he cleaned them with a cloth that he pulled from his breast pocket before placing them back on his face. “I want to talk about Tsuzuki.” He stated calmly after he'd put the cloth back into his pocket.

 

It was that one sentence that made him jump out of his chair and stalk off back towards the bed in anger. Everything had come crashing down on him yet again. Just like when this had all started. He had found some place he had been happy, school was great, new and old friends still about. And then the dreams had started.

 

Dreams of people he didn't know dying, sometimes of a man with silver/white hair and yellow eyes. It had ruined his life. And here, even though he had only been here for a few hours, he felt like he belonged, like this was home.

 

Walking over to the window, he crossed his arms in a closed off way and looked out into the distance, watching the Sakura trees. He could hear Tatsumi get up out of his own chair and walk up behind him. “How do you know he won't come back again?” Came a whisper from the older male's lips.

 

Whirling around, he fixed his angry violet eyes on Tatsumi. “I hate him!” He raged, uncrossing his arms and clenching his hands into fists around his short locks.

 

“Look what he has done to me! He has taken everything from me!” His voice was breaking as he held back the tears that he refused to shed.

 

“My cross, my hair! They're all gone!” he dropped his hands and looked at the ground, refusing to meet those open blue eyes anymore.

 

“I don't have anything but my memories of what I have done and lost.” His voice was soft now, and he wrapped his around his way in such a way that said how self-conscious he was at the moment.

 

His head was down and his hair was covering his eyes, not allowing Tatsumi to see how much self-hatred he had. Nothing could compare to how much he hated himself, not even how much he hated Tsuzuki.

 

He saw Tatsumi's hand come up and reach for him. Something in his mind clicked, and all at once he was back in his dream of black fire. Watari and Tatsumi arguing while Tsuzuki and Hisoka burned. Violet eyes widened as the hand continued forward, a silent offer of comfort. Before either of them could blink, he had backed up, pressing his back into the open window.

 

And then he was looking up into the quickly retreating window.

 

He opened his mouth to scream, but the only thing that came out was the name Byakko.

 

The wind came up and seemed to cushion his body as he was falling. He knew it was too late however, he heard the ground coming up to meet him, and then all was black.

 

~DdDdDoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoMmMmMmMmM~

 

A/N: Okay okay don't kill me. I am incorporating some of the later mangas into this story. As I said before, this story takes place in the future (obviously) but Tsuzuki and Hisoka die in the building with Muraki. But I do have to use some of the later imformation to make it more believable. Some things will not change however, Hisoka died without any Shikigami Tsuzuki still has his twelve. That is all I am saying for now.

 

Thank You all my reviewers, especially Sadie Woods. Ja!