Monsters Under the Bed
folder
Descendents of Darkness/Yami No Matsuei › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
3,973
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Descendents of Darkness/Yami No Matsuei › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
3,973
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Descendants of Darkness (Yami no Matsuei), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
boogeymen
Obligatory Disclaimer: Yami no Matsuei is owned by Matsushita Yoko. If I owned it, Nagare and Touda would be fucking like bunnies. >.>
Part two. ^^ Hisoka\'s side of the story. Still working out whether or not I want this to be a longer fic... I\'m kicking a few ideas around, to see if they\'d actually work or not. XD; If I do continue, however, the style will change -- this isn\'t a single-character-centric fic. ^.^
Beta props to Catie and Colin. Thank you loves! :3
--==--
As a child, I had cultivated an excellent imagination. It was my escape, when things started to get too ugly, too painful for me to bear.
I was never sure if this was a blessing or a curse. After all, it\'s what allowed Muraki to entrap me so effectively. It\'s what made me believe for a moment that in death I could have something like a normal life.
It\'s not a very big leap to go from deluding yourself to deluding others.
Tsuzuki. He was the only one who made me feel safe, needed - even for a moment. It was something I latched onto, desperately, -knowing- it couldn\'t last, but needing it to anyway. Needing to believe in it, to convince myself that I could still feel an emotion that wasn\'t someone else\'s.
But even though I told him I loved him, it was a lie, told in an attempt to seal the illusion, make it secure.
It was the only lie I ever really told him. The rest - he read into my actions, my words, his paranoia creating meanings that weren\'t there. Tsuzuki was always like that, you know. A simple \"stay with me\" turned into forever, became the definition of his entire life.
It was stifling. And though I always smiled at him, I could never meet his eyes. I suppose he thought it was embarrassment, shyness.
It couldn\'t haven gun guilt.
And who knows? Maybe I did love him, in some strange way. I\'m not so jaded to say that it isn\'t a possibility, but the games I played with him weren\'t what one does to someone they love.
I pushed him, made him hurt and cry and laugh and love me, to just prove to myself that it could be done, that Tsuzuki could be controlled, that I could have the power in at least one of my relationships.
Selfish. I knew that it was cruel and self-centered and that it would only hurt him in the end, make him just a bit more unstable, push him farther over that edge that he perched so shakily on already. I didn\'t care.
We played the game of lovers well. Everyone was fooled, even Tsuzuki, though I knew he had doubts that whispered to him, to us both.
He was convinced that he was taking advantage of poor, innocent, perfect little me, especially in the beginning, and it took more careful manipulation than I had realized I was capable of to overcome his reservations.
Sex wasn\'t this big, earth-shattering thing for us. It was simply something we did to convince the other that this was real, a farce that we played night after night.
It was too gentle. Tsuzuki always touched me as if I was this fragile -thing- that he didn\'t want to break, for fear of a scolding. His gentleness wasn\'t genuine, and it grated on me. It wasn\'t me he wanted to protect - it was himself.
At least Muraki was honest with who he was and what he wanted.
That thought kept sneaking in, haunting me. As if it were preferable to be raped than to be in a relationship built on lies, neither party truly caring for the other.
Or even... to -be- the rapist.
Perhaps, in a way, it was true - there was a straightforward, brutal honesty about the way Muraki treated people that was seductive in its simplicity. With him, there were no lies, no manipulation games. He simply took what he wanted, and was on his way.
With Tsuzuki, there was this sense... this surety that the game would be played out over decades... centuries even. The more I thought about it, the more it left me cold.
I was trapped, and I hated it. After a while, I couldn\'t even figure out why I stayed, except that it was easier than trying to leave, to disentangle myself from the prison of lies we had woven together.
Maybe I was scared - of what I had become, of hurting someone else. Of being the final thing that gave Tsuzuki a convenient excuse to finally finish his complete mental breakdown.
Part two. ^^ Hisoka\'s side of the story. Still working out whether or not I want this to be a longer fic... I\'m kicking a few ideas around, to see if they\'d actually work or not. XD; If I do continue, however, the style will change -- this isn\'t a single-character-centric fic. ^.^
Beta props to Catie and Colin. Thank you loves! :3
--==--
As a child, I had cultivated an excellent imagination. It was my escape, when things started to get too ugly, too painful for me to bear.
I was never sure if this was a blessing or a curse. After all, it\'s what allowed Muraki to entrap me so effectively. It\'s what made me believe for a moment that in death I could have something like a normal life.
It\'s not a very big leap to go from deluding yourself to deluding others.
Tsuzuki. He was the only one who made me feel safe, needed - even for a moment. It was something I latched onto, desperately, -knowing- it couldn\'t last, but needing it to anyway. Needing to believe in it, to convince myself that I could still feel an emotion that wasn\'t someone else\'s.
But even though I told him I loved him, it was a lie, told in an attempt to seal the illusion, make it secure.
It was the only lie I ever really told him. The rest - he read into my actions, my words, his paranoia creating meanings that weren\'t there. Tsuzuki was always like that, you know. A simple \"stay with me\" turned into forever, became the definition of his entire life.
It was stifling. And though I always smiled at him, I could never meet his eyes. I suppose he thought it was embarrassment, shyness.
It couldn\'t haven gun guilt.
And who knows? Maybe I did love him, in some strange way. I\'m not so jaded to say that it isn\'t a possibility, but the games I played with him weren\'t what one does to someone they love.
I pushed him, made him hurt and cry and laugh and love me, to just prove to myself that it could be done, that Tsuzuki could be controlled, that I could have the power in at least one of my relationships.
Selfish. I knew that it was cruel and self-centered and that it would only hurt him in the end, make him just a bit more unstable, push him farther over that edge that he perched so shakily on already. I didn\'t care.
We played the game of lovers well. Everyone was fooled, even Tsuzuki, though I knew he had doubts that whispered to him, to us both.
He was convinced that he was taking advantage of poor, innocent, perfect little me, especially in the beginning, and it took more careful manipulation than I had realized I was capable of to overcome his reservations.
Sex wasn\'t this big, earth-shattering thing for us. It was simply something we did to convince the other that this was real, a farce that we played night after night.
It was too gentle. Tsuzuki always touched me as if I was this fragile -thing- that he didn\'t want to break, for fear of a scolding. His gentleness wasn\'t genuine, and it grated on me. It wasn\'t me he wanted to protect - it was himself.
At least Muraki was honest with who he was and what he wanted.
That thought kept sneaking in, haunting me. As if it were preferable to be raped than to be in a relationship built on lies, neither party truly caring for the other.
Or even... to -be- the rapist.
Perhaps, in a way, it was true - there was a straightforward, brutal honesty about the way Muraki treated people that was seductive in its simplicity. With him, there were no lies, no manipulation games. He simply took what he wanted, and was on his way.
With Tsuzuki, there was this sense... this surety that the game would be played out over decades... centuries even. The more I thought about it, the more it left me cold.
I was trapped, and I hated it. After a while, I couldn\'t even figure out why I stayed, except that it was easier than trying to leave, to disentangle myself from the prison of lies we had woven together.
Maybe I was scared - of what I had become, of hurting someone else. Of being the final thing that gave Tsuzuki a convenient excuse to finally finish his complete mental breakdown.