It's time the tale were told...
Title: The Darkest of Your Days
Author: Deathless Juliet
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: X
Pairing/Characters: Fuuma/Kamui
Disclaimer: X belongs to its brilliant creators, CLAMP.
Summary: What else can you be in this situation?
Theme: #2, You Can't Do This
Notes: For 30_smirks
"It's time the tale were told of how you took a child and you made him old." -The Smiths
“To rid ourselves of our shadows - who we are - we must step into either total light or total darkness” -Jeremy Preston Johnson
The Darkest of your Days
“You say that you have had a traumatic experience, Mr. Shirou?” The psychologist, a woman, asked him. There were pictures on her desk, happy smiles facing him, but detail was lost to his vision, nowadays. The world through his eyes was only muddled inkblots. Words, he could hear. He chuckled bitterly at hers, face lowered, a miasma of self-loathing and hatred against this world that had left him so lost boiling powerfully in him.
The one reality he could see clearly was the one in his head, the one that years of therapy could never scratch.
“You could never understand my pain!” Kamui hissed violently, shrinking back into his seat, his face twisted into a snarl, shaking. “Only he can, the one who caused it all…” His voice drifted off, sinking, but his knuckles were white, gripping the arms of his chair. His attention focused wildly on something out the window, his heart pounding, the sound loud, like a jackrabbit on a desert evening.
Suddenly, his head snapped back as sharply as if someone had yanked his hair. The boy’s eyes struggled desperately to focus on a spot on the ceiling.
“No…” A weak, guttural moan. “NO!” Panic flew into his voice as his arms shot out, flailing. “Fuuma, no!” He shrieked as the psychologist edged away, grabbing for her emergency microphone.
“Security! My patient’s becoming unstable, I need someone in here!”
A heaviness settled on the air, like the feeling of electricity, little pulses shocking the room. Everything metal started shaking, papers flying off the desk. The psychologist stood stunned, frightened, holding her mic limply.
“Stop!” Kamui wailed, the surroundings becoming a maelstrom to match his emotions. “Kotori, Kotori!”
A guard ran in, a syringe wielded in his fist, as he wrangled a thrashing arm and pierced Kamui none-too-delicately.
“Ah.” He groaned, body jerking, eyes fluttering shut, falling liquidly out of his chair to hit the ground, asleep.
~*~
Everything was jumbled.
Usually, he was a sullen, angry teenager, an attractive boy all the same, his fragility earning the early affection of the nurses. But he was subjective to enormous psychotic episodes, which easily took weeks to recover from. He had little known history, and no living family.
He had triggers, minor things that set off an earthquake of an emotional meltdown. Doctors didn’t know if he could ever fully function outside of the center’s walls.
One of these triggers was the sight of birds.
Sometimes, a shadow of his past self came out, usually when he was settled enough to talk with Subaru, still living out in the world, whose own grief hadn’t quite progressed to Kamui’s stage. But the young Savior’s mind was so fragmented that he would only be truly present for only a few minutes, before his mind turned in on itself, to that past that he had no choice in, the thoughts of which consumed him.
~*~
The last of these psychotic episodes occurred one night, with bad weather raging outside as Kamui tried to focus on his book through the dim light. He glanced up, spotting a visitor in the frame of his open door. He froze and began to shake, terrified at the sight of the red trenchcoat and the sound of heavy footsteps coming to meet him. A hand caressed his cheek.
“You can’t do this.” Kamui’s eyes were wide, streaming with tears, the droplets trickling down the hand. Lips came down to press against his.
Fuuma kissed him harder, then turned to leave, making his way out of the room.
“Please stay.” Kamui’s countenance was frantic and wild. “Stay with me, please!” He pleaded. ‘I don’t want to be alone...’ rang through his mind.
Fuuma gazed at him for a long moment before his face crinkled into a smirk. His eyes narrowed, the door swinging shut before him and leaving the room darkened. Kamui’s body sagged like a ragdoll against the other side of the door, and he moaned, harsh wails of anguish howling out of him, clawing ferociously at the thick wood until there was blood in the grooves he had etched.
“You can’t leave me alone anymore!” He shrieked in full-blown insanity, pounding against it, blood dripping down his arms.
Two doctors passing by his room overheard his screams, pausing to exchange cryptic looks.
“Dreaming about his friend again, right?” One doctor said impatiently.
“Isn’t he always?” The other replied. He unlocked the medicine closet, searching for something to subdue the wretched cries. Many other patients at this ward were similar, but the young boy always gave him shivers.
“Has he had any visitors?” The first doctor asked.
“Not today.” Came the hurried and muffled answer. A blood-curdling scream sounded from behind door 419. He moved a little faster. “But you’re right. He does seem to be worse on days without visitors. That one man, in the white trenchcoat, comes often enough; but by the looks of it, he should be in a room here as well.”
“Really? How so?”
“He just seems...off. Not connected to the world the way we are, you know? It’s odd though, because I think they find some solace in each other. Kindred spirits-type thing, I suppose.”
Lightning flashed outside Kamui’s window, and a piercing howl rang in response. The doctor remembered how his patient always seemed to react badly to stormy weather.
Jiggling open the lock, the other doctor stood guard at the door while he made his way into the dark room. Kamui stared at him with panicked eyes, but, the doctor realized with a shiver, he never saw the man in front of him at all. His screams had died into whimpers as he huddled on the floor.
“You can’t do this to me anymore.” Kamui said more calmly, tears falling rapidly onto the floorboards, clouding his voice. “You understand, don’t you, Fuuma?”
“Yes, I understand completely.” The doctor said, though he really didn’t understand anything at all. He reached for Kamui’s injured arm, the boy drawing back slightly at the touch. Thankfully, he didn’t lash out.
The injection flooded Kamui’s veins as he slumped fully onto the ground. Finally, he could feel nothing but blessed cold emptiness, going under again.
He called out to Fuuma one last time, though there was no response. There never was. After all, Fuuma was dead.
Always, before he shut his eyes, he could almost touch him. He just couldn’t reach far enough.
“You can’t leave me anymore.”
He closed his eyes.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Comments? I feel bad for tormenting Kamui all the time.
Author: Deathless Juliet
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: X
Pairing/Characters: Fuuma/Kamui
Disclaimer: X belongs to its brilliant creators, CLAMP.
Summary: What else can you be in this situation?
Theme: #2, You Can't Do This
Notes: For 30_smirks
"It's time the tale were told of how you took a child and you made him old." -The Smiths
“To rid ourselves of our shadows - who we are - we must step into either total light or total darkness” -Jeremy Preston Johnson
The Darkest of your Days
“You say that you have had a traumatic experience, Mr. Shirou?” The psychologist, a woman, asked him. There were pictures on her desk, happy smiles facing him, but detail was lost to his vision, nowadays. The world through his eyes was only muddled inkblots. Words, he could hear. He chuckled bitterly at hers, face lowered, a miasma of self-loathing and hatred against this world that had left him so lost boiling powerfully in him.
The one reality he could see clearly was the one in his head, the one that years of therapy could never scratch.
“You could never understand my pain!” Kamui hissed violently, shrinking back into his seat, his face twisted into a snarl, shaking. “Only he can, the one who caused it all…” His voice drifted off, sinking, but his knuckles were white, gripping the arms of his chair. His attention focused wildly on something out the window, his heart pounding, the sound loud, like a jackrabbit on a desert evening.
Suddenly, his head snapped back as sharply as if someone had yanked his hair. The boy’s eyes struggled desperately to focus on a spot on the ceiling.
“No…” A weak, guttural moan. “NO!” Panic flew into his voice as his arms shot out, flailing. “Fuuma, no!” He shrieked as the psychologist edged away, grabbing for her emergency microphone.
“Security! My patient’s becoming unstable, I need someone in here!”
A heaviness settled on the air, like the feeling of electricity, little pulses shocking the room. Everything metal started shaking, papers flying off the desk. The psychologist stood stunned, frightened, holding her mic limply.
“Stop!” Kamui wailed, the surroundings becoming a maelstrom to match his emotions. “Kotori, Kotori!”
A guard ran in, a syringe wielded in his fist, as he wrangled a thrashing arm and pierced Kamui none-too-delicately.
“Ah.” He groaned, body jerking, eyes fluttering shut, falling liquidly out of his chair to hit the ground, asleep.
~*~
Everything was jumbled.
Usually, he was a sullen, angry teenager, an attractive boy all the same, his fragility earning the early affection of the nurses. But he was subjective to enormous psychotic episodes, which easily took weeks to recover from. He had little known history, and no living family.
He had triggers, minor things that set off an earthquake of an emotional meltdown. Doctors didn’t know if he could ever fully function outside of the center’s walls.
One of these triggers was the sight of birds.
Sometimes, a shadow of his past self came out, usually when he was settled enough to talk with Subaru, still living out in the world, whose own grief hadn’t quite progressed to Kamui’s stage. But the young Savior’s mind was so fragmented that he would only be truly present for only a few minutes, before his mind turned in on itself, to that past that he had no choice in, the thoughts of which consumed him.
~*~
The last of these psychotic episodes occurred one night, with bad weather raging outside as Kamui tried to focus on his book through the dim light. He glanced up, spotting a visitor in the frame of his open door. He froze and began to shake, terrified at the sight of the red trenchcoat and the sound of heavy footsteps coming to meet him. A hand caressed his cheek.
“You can’t do this.” Kamui’s eyes were wide, streaming with tears, the droplets trickling down the hand. Lips came down to press against his.
Fuuma kissed him harder, then turned to leave, making his way out of the room.
“Please stay.” Kamui’s countenance was frantic and wild. “Stay with me, please!” He pleaded. ‘I don’t want to be alone...’ rang through his mind.
Fuuma gazed at him for a long moment before his face crinkled into a smirk. His eyes narrowed, the door swinging shut before him and leaving the room darkened. Kamui’s body sagged like a ragdoll against the other side of the door, and he moaned, harsh wails of anguish howling out of him, clawing ferociously at the thick wood until there was blood in the grooves he had etched.
“You can’t leave me alone anymore!” He shrieked in full-blown insanity, pounding against it, blood dripping down his arms.
Two doctors passing by his room overheard his screams, pausing to exchange cryptic looks.
“Dreaming about his friend again, right?” One doctor said impatiently.
“Isn’t he always?” The other replied. He unlocked the medicine closet, searching for something to subdue the wretched cries. Many other patients at this ward were similar, but the young boy always gave him shivers.
“Has he had any visitors?” The first doctor asked.
“Not today.” Came the hurried and muffled answer. A blood-curdling scream sounded from behind door 419. He moved a little faster. “But you’re right. He does seem to be worse on days without visitors. That one man, in the white trenchcoat, comes often enough; but by the looks of it, he should be in a room here as well.”
“Really? How so?”
“He just seems...off. Not connected to the world the way we are, you know? It’s odd though, because I think they find some solace in each other. Kindred spirits-type thing, I suppose.”
Lightning flashed outside Kamui’s window, and a piercing howl rang in response. The doctor remembered how his patient always seemed to react badly to stormy weather.
Jiggling open the lock, the other doctor stood guard at the door while he made his way into the dark room. Kamui stared at him with panicked eyes, but, the doctor realized with a shiver, he never saw the man in front of him at all. His screams had died into whimpers as he huddled on the floor.
“You can’t do this to me anymore.” Kamui said more calmly, tears falling rapidly onto the floorboards, clouding his voice. “You understand, don’t you, Fuuma?”
“Yes, I understand completely.” The doctor said, though he really didn’t understand anything at all. He reached for Kamui’s injured arm, the boy drawing back slightly at the touch. Thankfully, he didn’t lash out.
The injection flooded Kamui’s veins as he slumped fully onto the ground. Finally, he could feel nothing but blessed cold emptiness, going under again.
He called out to Fuuma one last time, though there was no response. There never was. After all, Fuuma was dead.
Always, before he shut his eyes, he could almost touch him. He just couldn’t reach far enough.
“You can’t leave me anymore.”
He closed his eyes.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Comments? I feel bad for tormenting Kamui all the time.