YYH fic: Restless Night, Part 1
Title: Restless Night (possible Part 1)
Fandom: Yu Yu Hakusho
Pairing: Kurama/Hiei (not exactly clear - you’ll understand)
Rating: PG-13 (ish?) for some violence
Summary: Hiei can’t sleep due to nightmares of Kurama’s brush with death.
Notes: This is a fic that came to me after re-watching the Yoko Kurama (Kurama vs. Karasu) match. It’s based some time after the Dark Tournament.
It’s getting worse. Night after night, I awake in a cold sweat, gasping and withholding the scream dancing at the edge of my tongue. Slowly and painfully, I swallow that threatening phantom, gritting my teeth and grasping at the bed sheets twisted chaotically around me.
With my heart still pounding painfully in my chest, I then cast my eyes frantically around the dark room, always on edge for my surroundings are never the same. I tense and place my hand upon the sword resting at my side, but there is never any threat, never any sense of impending danger. It’s only my own fear, as well as these damn restless nights stacking like cement bricks upon my mind.
A few nights ago, I realized that my will could only take so much torture until it shatters into nothing. And I could feel it now, shaking and crumbling as my barriers and my remaining defenses fall under the assault of my worst nightmares.
It’s the cold that has driven me to seek the shelters of uninhabited hotel rooms. This harsh, unusually cold winter clashes against the searing heat contained within my demonic form. Driven to compete against the frigid elements, I finally recognized the weakness wrecked upon both body and spirit energy, derived from the actions of my very unconscious.
However, nights in the comfort of a heated room have left me open to a new kind of threat. The dreams descend on me now, unhindered and unopposed by my previous exertions.
Every night, I watch Karasu torturing, slowly killing the one I love. I stare in horror as crimson blood seeps through Kurama’s torn clothing, darkening his slashed rags and then dripping from his fingertips to pool at his feet.
And I fight the raging battle within myself, denying my desperate desire to put an end to this madness. When he finally screams and falls helplessly to his knees, I force my face to remain calm, covering my fear and fury with an expressionless mask. From emotionless eyes, I silently watch the scene, even though all I want to do is plead for that madman to let me take his place.
The remembrance of this apathetic sham ultimately drives me to leap quickly from the warm bed. I rush heedlessly to the window, throwing it open before a vicious blast of cold air returns me to my senses. I gasp and fall back in surprise, swaying unsteadily under the force and magnitude of these alien emotions.
Never had I felt such a desire to see another, to simply feel his presence beside me and know that he’s alive.
I stand in the middle of the dark, blank room for a long while, caught in the callous grip of indecision. Slowly, the cold seeps into my skin, yet I bear its gradual spread without any notice. If I freeze to death here, then I won’t have to crush my deeply rooted sense of pride.
As I suffer the feeling of ice creeping through my veins, images of my blood-soaked Kurama flash before my eyes. He stares at me, those expressive emerald eyes pleading, begging for me to remember him. I attempt to shut my eyes from the pain reflected in his dying features, and to escape the growing uncertainty afflicting my mind.
The torment he wears, the anguish roiling within me, they all seem much too real. I clench my hands as the last resistance breaks away from my feeble state of existence. I know then, without a doubt, that I must see him.
Before I even realize it, I am racing through the swirling snow and treacherous ice of this cold, lonely night.
~ ~ ~
He’s asleep. I stand outside his window, watching as his chest rises and falls with every breath. Within this intricate network of branches, I hide and witness his inherent beauty. Tendrils of scarlet softly frame his pale and peaceful face. Though there is hardly a moon, his blood-red hair and ivory skin gleam under the meager light.
It’s embarrassing to admit that such a sight cuts me to the core. It’s the blade of a knife, slicing through my confidence, reminding me that this forbidden child, this abomination of fire, could never possess such beauty.
Before the Dark Tournament, he confided feelings of love towards me, claiming that he longed to be my lover, as well as my friend. I laughed in his face, knowing full well that this enchanting fox would soon tire of me, for hatred could only come from knowing me that closely.
I kept our relationship to that of fellow fighters, and I’m proud that he trusts me above all others to fight at his side. However, I denied him the love he requested, so he may never see the base reality lurking within my being.
Yukina…Kurama…If either ever gazes beyond this deceptive shell, how repulsed would they be by one who never should have been born?
Holding Kurama safe and slumbering within my watchful gaze, I allow the cold, unrelenting fingers of exhaustion to pull me into a deep and dreamless sleep. Finally, I could surrender, captured by the frigid air, my own fatigue, and the comfort of knowing that Kurama is alive.
~ ~ ~
Though I’m not the biggest fan of this particular day: Happy Valentine’s Day, y’all!
I’m debating on a second part to this fic (kinda like with “Slivers” - though hopefully not as depressing). What do y’all think?
Fandom: Yu Yu Hakusho
Pairing: Kurama/Hiei (not exactly clear - you’ll understand)
Rating: PG-13 (ish?) for some violence
Summary: Hiei can’t sleep due to nightmares of Kurama’s brush with death.
Notes: This is a fic that came to me after re-watching the Yoko Kurama (Kurama vs. Karasu) match. It’s based some time after the Dark Tournament.
It’s getting worse. Night after night, I awake in a cold sweat, gasping and withholding the scream dancing at the edge of my tongue. Slowly and painfully, I swallow that threatening phantom, gritting my teeth and grasping at the bed sheets twisted chaotically around me.
With my heart still pounding painfully in my chest, I then cast my eyes frantically around the dark room, always on edge for my surroundings are never the same. I tense and place my hand upon the sword resting at my side, but there is never any threat, never any sense of impending danger. It’s only my own fear, as well as these damn restless nights stacking like cement bricks upon my mind.
A few nights ago, I realized that my will could only take so much torture until it shatters into nothing. And I could feel it now, shaking and crumbling as my barriers and my remaining defenses fall under the assault of my worst nightmares.
It’s the cold that has driven me to seek the shelters of uninhabited hotel rooms. This harsh, unusually cold winter clashes against the searing heat contained within my demonic form. Driven to compete against the frigid elements, I finally recognized the weakness wrecked upon both body and spirit energy, derived from the actions of my very unconscious.
However, nights in the comfort of a heated room have left me open to a new kind of threat. The dreams descend on me now, unhindered and unopposed by my previous exertions.
Every night, I watch Karasu torturing, slowly killing the one I love. I stare in horror as crimson blood seeps through Kurama’s torn clothing, darkening his slashed rags and then dripping from his fingertips to pool at his feet.
And I fight the raging battle within myself, denying my desperate desire to put an end to this madness. When he finally screams and falls helplessly to his knees, I force my face to remain calm, covering my fear and fury with an expressionless mask. From emotionless eyes, I silently watch the scene, even though all I want to do is plead for that madman to let me take his place.
The remembrance of this apathetic sham ultimately drives me to leap quickly from the warm bed. I rush heedlessly to the window, throwing it open before a vicious blast of cold air returns me to my senses. I gasp and fall back in surprise, swaying unsteadily under the force and magnitude of these alien emotions.
Never had I felt such a desire to see another, to simply feel his presence beside me and know that he’s alive.
I stand in the middle of the dark, blank room for a long while, caught in the callous grip of indecision. Slowly, the cold seeps into my skin, yet I bear its gradual spread without any notice. If I freeze to death here, then I won’t have to crush my deeply rooted sense of pride.
As I suffer the feeling of ice creeping through my veins, images of my blood-soaked Kurama flash before my eyes. He stares at me, those expressive emerald eyes pleading, begging for me to remember him. I attempt to shut my eyes from the pain reflected in his dying features, and to escape the growing uncertainty afflicting my mind.
The torment he wears, the anguish roiling within me, they all seem much too real. I clench my hands as the last resistance breaks away from my feeble state of existence. I know then, without a doubt, that I must see him.
Before I even realize it, I am racing through the swirling snow and treacherous ice of this cold, lonely night.
~ ~ ~
He’s asleep. I stand outside his window, watching as his chest rises and falls with every breath. Within this intricate network of branches, I hide and witness his inherent beauty. Tendrils of scarlet softly frame his pale and peaceful face. Though there is hardly a moon, his blood-red hair and ivory skin gleam under the meager light.
It’s embarrassing to admit that such a sight cuts me to the core. It’s the blade of a knife, slicing through my confidence, reminding me that this forbidden child, this abomination of fire, could never possess such beauty.
Before the Dark Tournament, he confided feelings of love towards me, claiming that he longed to be my lover, as well as my friend. I laughed in his face, knowing full well that this enchanting fox would soon tire of me, for hatred could only come from knowing me that closely.
I kept our relationship to that of fellow fighters, and I’m proud that he trusts me above all others to fight at his side. However, I denied him the love he requested, so he may never see the base reality lurking within my being.
Yukina…Kurama…If either ever gazes beyond this deceptive shell, how repulsed would they be by one who never should have been born?
Holding Kurama safe and slumbering within my watchful gaze, I allow the cold, unrelenting fingers of exhaustion to pull me into a deep and dreamless sleep. Finally, I could surrender, captured by the frigid air, my own fatigue, and the comfort of knowing that Kurama is alive.
~ ~ ~
Though I’m not the biggest fan of this particular day: Happy Valentine’s Day, y’all!
I’m debating on a second part to this fic (kinda like with “Slivers” - though hopefully not as depressing). What do y’all think?