Arashi/Silent Hill - Ghosts
Title: Ghosts
Fandom: Arashi/Silent Hill
Word count: 380
Notes: I posted this in my journal few months ago and thought that it would be suitable for Halloween... So here it is, my little depressing Arashi/Silent Hill crossover. :P
Dirt and dust and fog and rust and he can't remember how he got here, into this town that seems to make him walk in circles around unseen landscapes, closed up stores and abandoned apartment buildings. Sometimes it's dark and sometimes it's light, but he can never see anything. There's something banging around in the night but they are only metallic clangs, he never sees what is causing the noise.
He has a gun now. He was never very good with the steel pipe he had earlier, or the crowbar or the knife. He was too weak and he has the scars to remind him. But now he has a gun and an old radio that crackles and tells him when he has to run.
He's gotten better at hiding.
He chased shadows of the past into this town, maybe. Or maybe this was Hell. Or maybe he's just been there too long to really care about the reasons anymore.
He has met other people: a tall man with blond, lanky hair hanging over his eyes, eyes that had stared through him more than at him. The lines around the man's eyes that appeared when he frowned had shown him that he had once smiled often.
Not anymore.
There had been another man, with dark hair and a red mouth, who spoke in whispers and hid from the light. The clasp of his hand had felt warm when he had held him.
They were both lost in the fog now, running in their own circles, facing their own shadows and slowly going mad. If they already weren't mad. And he suspected they were. He suspected he was too. He was seeing ghosts. Ghosts in empty windows and dirty mirrors.
He had met a man with curly hair and hollow cheeks two days ago. He had told him about his ghost and there had been a haunted look in the man's eyes. He had given him his gun and his radio and left him alone again, without speaking many words. And none of the words he spoke were encouraging. Warm and resigned, but not hopeful.
It was all up to him now.
He could see the smile of his ghost in his mind now, now that he walked into the fog.
Fandom: Arashi/Silent Hill
Word count: 380
Notes: I posted this in my journal few months ago and thought that it would be suitable for Halloween... So here it is, my little depressing Arashi/Silent Hill crossover. :P
Dirt and dust and fog and rust and he can't remember how he got here, into this town that seems to make him walk in circles around unseen landscapes, closed up stores and abandoned apartment buildings. Sometimes it's dark and sometimes it's light, but he can never see anything. There's something banging around in the night but they are only metallic clangs, he never sees what is causing the noise.
He has a gun now. He was never very good with the steel pipe he had earlier, or the crowbar or the knife. He was too weak and he has the scars to remind him. But now he has a gun and an old radio that crackles and tells him when he has to run.
He's gotten better at hiding.
He chased shadows of the past into this town, maybe. Or maybe this was Hell. Or maybe he's just been there too long to really care about the reasons anymore.
He has met other people: a tall man with blond, lanky hair hanging over his eyes, eyes that had stared through him more than at him. The lines around the man's eyes that appeared when he frowned had shown him that he had once smiled often.
Not anymore.
There had been another man, with dark hair and a red mouth, who spoke in whispers and hid from the light. The clasp of his hand had felt warm when he had held him.
They were both lost in the fog now, running in their own circles, facing their own shadows and slowly going mad. If they already weren't mad. And he suspected they were. He suspected he was too. He was seeing ghosts. Ghosts in empty windows and dirty mirrors.
He had met a man with curly hair and hollow cheeks two days ago. He had told him about his ghost and there had been a haunted look in the man's eyes. He had given him his gun and his radio and left him alone again, without speaking many words. And none of the words he spoke were encouraging. Warm and resigned, but not hopeful.
It was all up to him now.
He could see the smile of his ghost in his mind now, now that he walked into the fog.