Yami No Matsuei Fan Fiction ❯ Blood Bond ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )

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

 
Oppressive heat curled lazily around him, lethargic and cat-like, refusing to be displaced by even the highest setting of the ancient air conditioner. The unit coughed and wheezed, spitting out a puff of smoke before trailing off into silence.
 
The glare Hisoka focused on the air conditioning unit was filled with all the hate he could muster.
 
“I'm so sorry! I'll... I'll get someone to fix that right away sir!”
 
“Don't bother,” he murmured, sending the waitress into another bout of apologies. He stood shakily, leaving a crumpled, sweaty wad of bills on the table.
 
“Sir? Are you al-” The door slammed on the waitress's concern with an odd sort of finality and a tinkling of the antique bell over the door jam. She glanced down: sitting a-top the crisp, white tablecloth was a nearly untouched cinnamon roll. “He only took a bite...”
 
xx
 
He could see the waves of sweltering heat reflecting off the pavement. The world blurred into indistinguishable looming images and thoughts of one voice. 'It's so hot!' Hisoka winced as a pair of school girls brushed past him, their mental opinions of the heat merely adding to the boy's torment. 'Stop! It hurts enough for just me. I don't need your discomfort too.'
 
Murmurs, barely audible complaints that weren't his tugged at the corner of his mind, quietly, insistently demanding attention. The voices grew from a whisper to a clamor, and he found his certainty of self slipping. 'Which one is me?'
 
'I can feel them,' Hisoka realized with a start, almost at the same time he realized 'I don't want to feel them.' The voices were not just voices. They were people. But not words, not even thoughts, something far more primal than thoughts.
 
'Stop!' A quiet moan tore from his lips as he mashed his palms to the side of his head.
 
“Hey? Are you alright?” Impatience. Distraction.
 
“Water! Does anyone have water?” Worry. Fear.
 
“Get him somewhere cool!” Anxiety. Nervousness. Curiosity. Hesitance. Indecisiveness.
 
They crowded him, each trying to outdo the other in their bid to be noticed.
 
“It's fine.” He managed over the howlings in his mind. His knees shook at the obvious lie, and it was only his white-knuckled grip on a railing that kept him from pitching forward. “Just need...to get out of the sun.”
 
Gentle hands helped him to a seat, and gentle voices warned him to take care. He replied, probably politely and with a smile, but he couldn't quite hear what it was he said. His own voice apparently was of no great import in the company of someone else's mind.
 
His hands clenched, and trickles of blood dripped from perfect half-moons where his nails bit into the skin of his palm. The voices faded with the helpers' retreating footsteps and Hisoka buckled, slumping against the warm wall of the rest-area. Proximity: nearness to someone made it worse. He would have to remember that.
 
The vending machine chugged unpromisingly but soon enough a can tumbled into the holder at the bottom, followed by the soft clinks of falling yen. Hisoka ignored the change and snatched the can desperately. He didn't care what it was; he had simply jabbed at a random button after all. The important thing was that it was cold. He gasped as the first touch of cold slammed against his forehead. With a hiss he yanked the can away, glaring at it as if it was the can's fault. It was a few seconds before he replaced it, more carefully this time. His eyes fluttered shut and he stood there unmoving except to wipe away the drops of condensation that wound down to the end of his nose. He almost laughed at how utterly ridiculous he must look.
 
'Was I always like this?' The boy wondered. 'Did simple things like time alone or a cold can of,' he checked the label, 'coffee-milk make me happy?' There really was no way to be sure, at least not yet. He would remember soon, he was sure of it.
 
Hisoka didn't feel the wafting emotions warning him of someone's approach. He was completely distracted by his attempts to remember some other things he liked to notice the tentative brush transform until it had almost enveloped him. They all struck him simultaneously: disbelief, relief, caution, happiness, wariness... a literal torrent of feeling. Hisoka shivered, clenching his teeth against the pain. How could one person feel so much? Who could...
 
He turned and saw only purple eyes.
 
“Hisoka?”
 
xx
 
Notes: Chap 2 already written, chap 3 halfway through. They sort of run into each other so... as soon as I edit something I'll put it up. I like this method of quick updates... All will be revealed shortly! Thanks to all who reviewed!