xxxHolic: Unending Sleep
>_>; Hi. I'm back.
Title: Unending Sleep
Author: insidiae
Rating: PG-13
Notes: "But Diae!" you say, "This story's chronology is impossible! With all that goes on in it, it can't possibly exist at any point in canon!" To which I reply, shhhhhhhh.
Fanfic archive here.
It is a familiar nightmare to Watanuki, despite how long it’s been since he last suffered it.
In front of him stand two figures, recognizable outlines filled in with grey. They have no faces because he can no longer remember them, but Watanuki knows with absolute certainty that these are his parents.
A black vortex opens beneath them, swirls around them, and swallows them whole. Just like that, they’re gone.
But the vortex keeps growing, changing into a gigantic black mass. It grows fangs and claws and turns hungry eyes on Watanuki. The shape charges toward him with its huge mouth agape, and Watanuki raises his hands and closes his eyes and prepares to be eaten as it descends upon him.
When he wakes up and opens his eyes, he is in his own apartment. The recognition barely registers before it vanishes, replaced by more pressing matters. All he can think about is why someone would put a mirror right above his futon, because his vision is filled completely with the pair of his mismatched eyes.
Then he realizes that the brown eye is darker than his own, and the blue eye lighter; and it is not his reflection at all, but Syaoran looming over him. Watanuki squints, pondering at the uneasy emptiness in those eyes, but he doesn’t have long to think about it because soon Syaoran is drawing back, standing up and over him. Syaoran’s finger moves erratically through the air, and Watanuki watches, awed, as glowing letters appear in front of him in a language he has never seen before. The letters blend and coalesce into a sword that Syaoran grips in both hands.
“Don’t disappear!” Syaoran screams, and then he plunges the sword downwards.
It is pure instinct that saves Watanuki. Without even processing what is happening, he rolls to the side, narrowly dodging the blade. He can feel the air it displaces blow against the nape of his neck.
However, although he escapes decapitation, Watanuki’s evasive maneuver causes him to crack his head harshly against the wall. For a second, he sees stars; then darkness overtakes him.
When he wakes up and opens his eyes, night has fallen. He is lying facedown on smooth tatami mats, moonlight spilling upon him. He rubs his eyes as he rises to his feet, following the moonlight to the outside. “Good evening, Haruka-san,” he says from the door.
Haruka takes a drag from his cigarette and exhales slowly. “Are you feeling alright?” he asks as he pats the wood beside him, gesturing for Watanuki to join him.
“Yes,” Watanuki replies automatically, taking his seat on the porch, then, “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”
“You look troubled,” Haruka observes. He offers Watanuki a cup. “Sake?”
Watanuki opens his mouth to refuse, but then thinks, to hell with it. Everyone else he knows is a lush, anyway. “Sure.” He takes the cup and almost gulps its entire contents down at once, remembering only at the last second that he handles alcohol poorly. Instead, he sips at it lightly. “I’m so confused,” he admits.
“About what?”
“About…” Watanuki waves his hands vaguely. He takes another sip of the sake and feels his eyelids droop with drowsiness. “I’ve been spending so much time in dreams,” he murmurs, “I can’t tell what’s real and what’s fake anymore.”
“Watanuki-kun,” Haruka drawls, “Just because something is a dream, it doesn’t mean it’s not real.”
Watanuki grimaces, his head fuzzy. “That’s not what I meant…” he attempts, but fatigue slams into him suddenly and unnaturally. His eyes try to widen, but sleep drags his eyelids down. “The sake… Haruka-san… you… drugged….”
“Forgive me,” Haruka whispers, “But there’s still one more person who needs to talk to you.”
Watanuki’s limbs fail him, and he collapses. The last thing he’s aware of before he falls unconscious is Haruka catching him before he crashes on the floor.
When he wakes up and opens his eyes, he is sprawled across the couch in the shop’s greeting room, with his head resting on Yuuko’s lap.
She looks as glorious as ever, smoking lazily from her pipe. She is so, so beautiful, too beautiful for Watanuki to handle, and he almost starts crying, right there and then.
Instead, he sits up and stares at her with wide eyes.
“Hello,” she says.
And Watanuki, he says the first thing that comes to his mind, the only thing he can think about. He says, “I love you.”
“I know,” Yuuko murmurs, and Watanuki does start to cry then.
He clutches at her glamorous robes, the material changing beneath his fingers as it shifts between every dress that he’s ever seen Yuuko wear, as well as a few he hasn’t. “Come back to me,” he pleads. He hugs her impossibly tight and squeezes, as though he could crawl up inside her skin and become one with her.
“Oh, Watanuki,” she whispers, cradling her protégé. She runs fingers through his hair and rocks him gently. “Oh, my dear boy.”
When he has finally calmed down enough, Watanuki pulls back, wiping at his eyes. Yuuko looks at him expectantly, but says nothing. Finally, he states, “I’m so scared, Yuuko-san.”
“Scared?”
“Terrfied. Every time I open my eyes, I find myself in a new dream. What if I’m never able to wake up again?”
Yuuko grins a sly smile. “Oh, I wouldn’t suggest doing that. I know someone who would be very angry if you never woke up again.”
“It’s not my choice!” Watanuki exclaims. Or at least, he tries to. The words refuse to come out, stopped in his throat. It feels like there’s some… some thing in his mouth, gagging him, and then there’s a burning pressure on his chest, and Watanuki starts to panic. He can’t breathe. He can’t-
When he wakes up and opens his eyes, he is in the bed in the shop, the sheer curtains surrounding him. Doumeki is on top on him, heavy, with his tongue in Watanuki’s mouth.
Watanuki chokes and pushes at Doumeki’s shoulders, trying to push him up. Doumeki gets the message quickly enough and draws away a bit, allowing Watanuki to breathe. Watanuki takes deep, desperate breaths, his heart thundering in his ribcage, while Doumeki looks down at him, concerned.
“What…” Watanuki pants, “The hell did you think you were doing.”
Doumeki shrugs lightly, uncertain. “You were having a nightmare. I needed to wake you up.”
Watanuki groans. “Am I dreaming?” he asks, half-hysterical. “Is this just another dream?”
With cool eyes, Doumeki carefully regards him. Leaning down, he says, “It damn well better not be,” and he slips a large hand into Watanuki robes, caressing the skin he finds there lightly.
“Bastard,” Watanuki hisses even as he arches into the touch. Even this light contact sends electricity shooting down his spine. “Hate you, hate you, hate you.”
“Shut up,” Doumeki murmurs against his lips, and for once Watanuki listens to him. Then they are kissing again, and Watanuki stops thinking, too.
The kiss is harsh and crude and almost painful, and is everything that Watanuki needs, because here, in Doumeki’s arms, with his breath being stolen from him, he knows without a doubt that he is finally, finally awake again
Please review. Comments and criticisms make the authoress happy in her pantalones.
-Insidiae-
Title: Unending Sleep
Author: insidiae
Rating: PG-13
Notes: "But Diae!" you say, "This story's chronology is impossible! With all that goes on in it, it can't possibly exist at any point in canon!" To which I reply, shhhhhhhh.
Fanfic archive here.
It is a familiar nightmare to Watanuki, despite how long it’s been since he last suffered it.
In front of him stand two figures, recognizable outlines filled in with grey. They have no faces because he can no longer remember them, but Watanuki knows with absolute certainty that these are his parents.
A black vortex opens beneath them, swirls around them, and swallows them whole. Just like that, they’re gone.
But the vortex keeps growing, changing into a gigantic black mass. It grows fangs and claws and turns hungry eyes on Watanuki. The shape charges toward him with its huge mouth agape, and Watanuki raises his hands and closes his eyes and prepares to be eaten as it descends upon him.
When he wakes up and opens his eyes, he is in his own apartment. The recognition barely registers before it vanishes, replaced by more pressing matters. All he can think about is why someone would put a mirror right above his futon, because his vision is filled completely with the pair of his mismatched eyes.
Then he realizes that the brown eye is darker than his own, and the blue eye lighter; and it is not his reflection at all, but Syaoran looming over him. Watanuki squints, pondering at the uneasy emptiness in those eyes, but he doesn’t have long to think about it because soon Syaoran is drawing back, standing up and over him. Syaoran’s finger moves erratically through the air, and Watanuki watches, awed, as glowing letters appear in front of him in a language he has never seen before. The letters blend and coalesce into a sword that Syaoran grips in both hands.
“Don’t disappear!” Syaoran screams, and then he plunges the sword downwards.
It is pure instinct that saves Watanuki. Without even processing what is happening, he rolls to the side, narrowly dodging the blade. He can feel the air it displaces blow against the nape of his neck.
However, although he escapes decapitation, Watanuki’s evasive maneuver causes him to crack his head harshly against the wall. For a second, he sees stars; then darkness overtakes him.
When he wakes up and opens his eyes, night has fallen. He is lying facedown on smooth tatami mats, moonlight spilling upon him. He rubs his eyes as he rises to his feet, following the moonlight to the outside. “Good evening, Haruka-san,” he says from the door.
Haruka takes a drag from his cigarette and exhales slowly. “Are you feeling alright?” he asks as he pats the wood beside him, gesturing for Watanuki to join him.
“Yes,” Watanuki replies automatically, taking his seat on the porch, then, “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”
“You look troubled,” Haruka observes. He offers Watanuki a cup. “Sake?”
Watanuki opens his mouth to refuse, but then thinks, to hell with it. Everyone else he knows is a lush, anyway. “Sure.” He takes the cup and almost gulps its entire contents down at once, remembering only at the last second that he handles alcohol poorly. Instead, he sips at it lightly. “I’m so confused,” he admits.
“About what?”
“About…” Watanuki waves his hands vaguely. He takes another sip of the sake and feels his eyelids droop with drowsiness. “I’ve been spending so much time in dreams,” he murmurs, “I can’t tell what’s real and what’s fake anymore.”
“Watanuki-kun,” Haruka drawls, “Just because something is a dream, it doesn’t mean it’s not real.”
Watanuki grimaces, his head fuzzy. “That’s not what I meant…” he attempts, but fatigue slams into him suddenly and unnaturally. His eyes try to widen, but sleep drags his eyelids down. “The sake… Haruka-san… you… drugged….”
“Forgive me,” Haruka whispers, “But there’s still one more person who needs to talk to you.”
Watanuki’s limbs fail him, and he collapses. The last thing he’s aware of before he falls unconscious is Haruka catching him before he crashes on the floor.
When he wakes up and opens his eyes, he is sprawled across the couch in the shop’s greeting room, with his head resting on Yuuko’s lap.
She looks as glorious as ever, smoking lazily from her pipe. She is so, so beautiful, too beautiful for Watanuki to handle, and he almost starts crying, right there and then.
Instead, he sits up and stares at her with wide eyes.
“Hello,” she says.
And Watanuki, he says the first thing that comes to his mind, the only thing he can think about. He says, “I love you.”
“I know,” Yuuko murmurs, and Watanuki does start to cry then.
He clutches at her glamorous robes, the material changing beneath his fingers as it shifts between every dress that he’s ever seen Yuuko wear, as well as a few he hasn’t. “Come back to me,” he pleads. He hugs her impossibly tight and squeezes, as though he could crawl up inside her skin and become one with her.
“Oh, Watanuki,” she whispers, cradling her protégé. She runs fingers through his hair and rocks him gently. “Oh, my dear boy.”
When he has finally calmed down enough, Watanuki pulls back, wiping at his eyes. Yuuko looks at him expectantly, but says nothing. Finally, he states, “I’m so scared, Yuuko-san.”
“Scared?”
“Terrfied. Every time I open my eyes, I find myself in a new dream. What if I’m never able to wake up again?”
Yuuko grins a sly smile. “Oh, I wouldn’t suggest doing that. I know someone who would be very angry if you never woke up again.”
“It’s not my choice!” Watanuki exclaims. Or at least, he tries to. The words refuse to come out, stopped in his throat. It feels like there’s some… some thing in his mouth, gagging him, and then there’s a burning pressure on his chest, and Watanuki starts to panic. He can’t breathe. He can’t-
When he wakes up and opens his eyes, he is in the bed in the shop, the sheer curtains surrounding him. Doumeki is on top on him, heavy, with his tongue in Watanuki’s mouth.
Watanuki chokes and pushes at Doumeki’s shoulders, trying to push him up. Doumeki gets the message quickly enough and draws away a bit, allowing Watanuki to breathe. Watanuki takes deep, desperate breaths, his heart thundering in his ribcage, while Doumeki looks down at him, concerned.
“What…” Watanuki pants, “The hell did you think you were doing.”
Doumeki shrugs lightly, uncertain. “You were having a nightmare. I needed to wake you up.”
Watanuki groans. “Am I dreaming?” he asks, half-hysterical. “Is this just another dream?”
With cool eyes, Doumeki carefully regards him. Leaning down, he says, “It damn well better not be,” and he slips a large hand into Watanuki robes, caressing the skin he finds there lightly.
“Bastard,” Watanuki hisses even as he arches into the touch. Even this light contact sends electricity shooting down his spine. “Hate you, hate you, hate you.”
“Shut up,” Doumeki murmurs against his lips, and for once Watanuki listens to him. Then they are kissing again, and Watanuki stops thinking, too.
The kiss is harsh and crude and almost painful, and is everything that Watanuki needs, because here, in Doumeki’s arms, with his breath being stolen from him, he knows without a doubt that he is finally, finally awake again
Please review. Comments and criticisms make the authoress happy in her pantalones.
-Insidiae-