Something To Rely On

Chapter 6. Getting Rational, Confrontational, and Denying all Logic

Disclaimer; I own nothing but this story and its ideas

Warnings; contains adult themes, AU, Angst, Vampire Fic

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I’m getting rational, confrontational
And denying all logic
I’m getting frantic, completely desperate

And I’m swallowed up in it all
I lift the knife up high, scream with the pain inside
Drop it to the ground and cleanse my mind

It’s getting hard to breathe, suffocating me
I let it burn inside and kill the thing in front of me.
It screams to the night, crushing everything in sight

They pray to god and lose their very minds
They are swallowed up in it all, basking in the glow
I’m getting rational and then the agony will come

I’m getting confrontation, biting all
I’m getting frantic, start killing all
I’m getting desperate and find an end to it all

I’m denying all logical
I’m denying all logical

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Who was he...what was he…was he really there?

Questions, they blazed through his mind like a rapid, paced fire. Inside his mind everything was a mess, a mistake. His brain desperately tried to comprehend the events that transpired before him only days before. Time seemed to have stood still and every second, every flex of muscle, every tightening of flesh, every breath that he took was preserved perfectly inside his brain. With its memory so fresh inside him, he clung hopeless to his subconscious in hopes of finding answers, any answers.

Questioning, racking his brain for answers that might not even be tangible, and trying to make sense of his very own feelings and actions took up nearly every second of his day. Shame, disgrace, aroused, and even a sense of mind lifting; these emotions bombarded him at every turn. What else was he to do except feel lost? How was he supposed to act? Was he to just pick up his life and carry on as if nothing had happened? As if a stranger that defied all the qualities of a human, hadn’t just blazed into his world. His life was thrown out of balance, his mind disturbed, and it was because he wanted it to be. Thus, he was kept with the very simplest of questions, the very basic ingredients to his addiction of finding the truth.

Who was he…what was...and was he even real?

That was the one questioned that plagued him the most, that haunted his dreams, and made him stare into the mirror for hours with a glaze of self loathing. It was the one that questioned his own sanity, the one that compelled him to face nasty habits that he had created. Was it just a fairytale? A simple make-believe illusion that he prayed so hard to be real? Had it actually materialize before his eyes alone? Had he lost himself, slipped over the fine line of reality and into illusion like he had done so many times before? Was he pretending, trying desperately to change at least a little piece of his reality?

The possibilities haunted him, driving him nearly to the edge with their taunting. You made it up, you made it up. They snickered, perching on his shoulder, and screaming like elementary school children. His eardrums throbbed and his nails were stained with dry blood. His heart quaked with each imaginary line and he was forced down the ever lonely path of memory lane. Hiding in the past, it was the best he could ever do. Once there he was chained, strapped down and forced to view the images of his life.

They flashed before him like a movie’s opening credits. Slow and filed with a sense of burning anticipation, making you begged for them to end and for the real movie to begin. They made him do the impossible and the horrible, they made him think, made him hate, and become even more filled with dread and self loathing. To be reduced to such simple, average feelings made his heart burn with anger. It coated every inch of him with its unforgiving touch causing his palms to bleed and his fingernails to be eroded with blood.

He hated himself, despised his weakness, and wished to possess the power to erase everything. However he didn’t, he was simply and painfully average. The perfect example of human, the perfect fool. So in order to find his answers, to find the truth, to sort out the illusionary from the reality he forced to counter his childhood once again.

That too was average, nothing more, nothing less. The only thing that could have possible changed that description was him, and even then he wasn’t good enough to make a lasting affect. His name was common, a simple label that thousands of people had. It rolled off their tongues and vanished into the air along with everything else that was ordinary. Shuichi, excellence first, the meaning have nothing to do with the type of person he truly was. It was false, a fake portrayal of a boy seeking to blur the lines of life; any lines really. Though it gave him a small sense of satisfaction that he at least managed to elude it.

His last name was just as equally common. It was plain, bland, and just another word that the world took no notice of. He was the same, the always forgotten, and constantly living in a dazed world. He was nothing more than a common human being trying desperately to outrun the destiny that had been handed to him upon his birth. That to him was even banal he supposed, everyone was trying to accomplish it, and everyone inevitable failed in the end. If you passed him on the street the only thing that would stand out would be this painted pink hair. Not his face, not his luminous eyes, nothing. So it wasn’t hard for him create a world where everything was challenged and defied.

His childhood itself had been average. He had hard, honest working parents that worked until their fingers bled, their backs ached, and they nearly went insane to fit into the perfect image that society expected and demanded. They strived to be the best, to be perfect, to hide their faults and mistakes from the world. Inside their heads they viewed the world with frightful eyes, afraid to take a chance and even more afraid to screw up.

Anything less than perfect was unacceptable, a mar upon their false paradise. That was what he was, a failure, a being that defied and challenged their perfect household. Something hideous and so out of place that he had to be hid, locked up tight, and thrown behind a closed door like a criminal. He was left utterly alone, abandoned, and condemned to solitude. So he dreamed and wished for his own perfect world. A place where fantasies where real… where the flawed were honored… a land where he could walk in the light and not be shunned.

Imaginary perhaps, illusionary highly possible, unwanted…..escaping an answer all together.

Once there he created a best friend, a young man with hair the color of prized wood, with eyes as black as night, and a personality just as confused as he was. Nakano Hiroshi was his name and he was a genius. That’s all he could say about him really, he was perfect, and ushered upon Shuichi all the love that he craved and was denied. He was the perfect best friend, fitting into the role without a single flaw. He was his safe haven, his safety net, his secret keeper. So even now that when he was so confused and distraught it was Hiroshi that he turned to for help. Though all the man could do is say that it wasn’t a dream or something of the real world, the answer was so vague that it nearly drove Shuichi even more insane.

Though in the end, Shuichi didn’t care if the creature he saw was real or if it was just a manifestation of his mind. All he cared about was the sensation that it produced. He was bored, dangling on the line between insanity and everything else. His life as a young adult was spiraling out of control, eroding before his fingertips, and bursting into flames.

Nothing was working, nothing was going as he planned it to be. He wanted to be famous, to be bathed in light, to have the world finally take notice of him. He had one talent that was slightly better than anything he possessed and he exploited it the best he could. Hiro had laughingly called him a song bird and encouraged him to find a career in singing. He had tried, and just like everything else he did, he had failed.

So when that man appeared in his room, his voice cutting short to stare at the being in front of him, his heart clenched. It began to beat like never before, a sense of truly being alive filled him. It made his flesh burn and his blood became rapid. Fear was overtaken by excitement, nothing else matter. Time stood still and the world melted away. He was chained to the spot, his music blaring faintly in the background. That was until the blond hair Adonis moved and he was suddenly pinned to the wall.

Sharp pain over took his mind and fear finally reared its ugly head. Warm liquid fell free from his body and onto his attacker’s hands. Everything was spinning and he was drifting away. Paralyzed, he watched as the anti-human licked his essence. With nothing left to do, he glazed upwards and his sight became locked with amber fires. His eyes wore something that belonged in any world; they were pools of burning hatred and ambition. Lust swirled through out and he found himself letting go of everything, of his own pain, of his fantasies, of his very life. Then it was over, he was left sprayed out on the floor, his neck leaking and his senses returned. He was back to where he started this time only more confused.

Though, after viewing the night continuously over again in his mind, he finally came up with his answer. The creature had to be real; otherwise he wouldn’t be touching the wound on his neck. Wrapped tightly and uncaringly concealed, it tingled and seared with the pressure exerted upon it. That was proof enough. His creations would never hurt him. Never rip open his own body and expose any part of him to the world. That creature that been something else, something that had come from outside of his mind.

Shuichi sighed and pushed all thought from his mind, he was tired, exhausted, and his neck burned like slow blazing fire. Slowly he pushed himself away from the area that he had resided in for the last hour. Bringing himself to a standing position, he nervously glanced around his room. He was alone; he told himself that, though the hair on his neck still continued to rise. There was no music this time, no distraction, no Hiro to whisper in his ear. The only thing that was the same was the window.

It remained open and untouched. Despite the warnings that were screeched at him, the pain that was carved into him, he refused to close it. It stood open allowing the wind to creep its way into his apartment without permission. Slowly he walked to it and braced himself against it. His nails pushed back upon the faded, peeling paint as he stared out into the night.

The moon was gone, hidden completely by the clouds, as they drifted pleasantly through the sky. Shuichi nearly snorted at the sight, the tranquility that it tried to show was just a mask. Behind those clouds the moon was ready to strike, ready to be set free, to govern the sky like it had always done. However, he thought, why should he think of such things.

Hiro was now whispering things into his ears, his soft voice almost as strong as the wind, “Silent screams in the dark, they’ll consume you. Close the window or else everything will be changed. You’re already slipping, why try to hide,”

“Because it’s my choice,’ he said and turned from the window. Slowly his heart began to beat faster and his breath increased with each second. His mind seemed to float away. Everything became distorted and twisted in his eyes. The masks that each object put on where cracked and torn, he was falling.

Dropping to the floor he clutched his head in his hands as his neck seared in unimaginable pain. It struck him like a whip and made his back arch in discomfort. Blood seeped through the white bandages that covered it from the world. The perfect vermilion pigment marring the cloth’s very essence as it flowed down his neck.

Throwing his head back in pain, his eyes caught sight of the window and he watched as the moon broke free from its captors. Unbridled by the clouds it shined powerful and menacing. The pale, deathly surface burned in Shuichi’s mind’s eye, causing him to be chained by its bewitching light. He glazed at it for what seemed like hours until it was covered up by something darker. His heart froze, his breathing slowed, and he nervously stood to face the sight before him.

It was tall, it was death, it was everything he longed to see.

With skin so pale that it could make the moon quake in a jealous wrath, this being screamed deadly beautiful. Forgetting everything, ignoring everything, Shuichi waked towards it. The being that defied all logical twitched, inhaling the scent of Shuichi’s blood as he finally stopped his movements and stared eye to eye with the thing that had completely disturbed his life.

Amber, a perfect hue of ferociousness and pain met his dark amethyst orbs and made him shiver in fear. Just like they had many moons ago, he was snared. In one instant he forget everything, his fear, his excitement, his life. He was drowning, swimming in that amber pit of desire that he nearly screamed. It was suffocating; it was…..it was something indescribable! His flesh crawled and his knees buckled. The floor did not rush to meet him as the demon grasped him. With strength that could crush a rock into dust he was pinned against its side. The shape of human form barely registered in Shuichi’s mind as his chin was roughly pulled upwards.

Perfection. That’s all that he could say. The face that loomed in front of his wasn’t that of a demon, but something of an angel. Prefect hair, as golden as the sun that shined, flawless skin, and haunting eyes. Though it was those eyes that made him quiver, made him retract his opinion of this …..thing not being a demon. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, the expression fit so well. Now fear filled every fiber of his being and the sensation to scream over took him again.

The vampire grasped his prey and nearly laughed at what he had accomplished. He had found him, his victim, in the exact spot as where he had left him. Its fail, fragile form quivered in pain as he entered through the window soundless. Not even heaven could stop him from accomplishing his task. He wanted, no needed revenge for the actions that this trash had caused him to commit. To be locked in the past, to be consumed in regret…..it made him want to rip open his own flesh and scream until his vocal chords burst.

Hn, but that wouldn’t happen, he wouldn’t allow it. His victim swayed at the sight of him and cringed when he met his golden orbs. The overwhelming desire to suck every minuscule drop of blood in this human’s body made the predator clench inside with pleasure. Grasping pink, hair youth when threatening to fall to the floor, he pulled it tight against him.

It shook, it trembled, and it was all because of him.

He was bathing in it now, the pleasure that he was controlling everything. It was pure bliss, it was relief. And…..just like before…it all changed. His high subsided and he was left staring at the sight in his arms. Staring at the human, with eyes so brilliant that they threaten to swallow him, he felt suddenly powerless. The positions of power changed, he was now the victim, now the one damned. Memories and images flooded his mind and he cried. ‘Why, why was this happening. Why!’ He desperately sought an answer as the human squirmed and coughed. Blooding was staining his finger tips yet he felt desire, no satisfaction to drink it. There was no pleasure in this act…he realization of this fact hit him heavily. So he did the only thing that seemed to make sense. He fled, with the enigma of a human strapped to side.

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