Untitled - Ni~yaxSakito - Chapter One
Title: Under Consideration
Author: etoilerose
Band: Nightmare
Pairing: Ni~yaxSakito
Rating: 12 (I feel English today 8D)
Disclaimer: None of this happened and they aren't miiine
Genre: AU, supernaturally
Notes: I have this slight obsession at the moment, as well as a want for experimentation that led me to write this. Remembrance... I don't know what's happening with that. We'll see. I have a feeling the writing descends in standard as we go along. Um... think of a title for me? T___T;
C H A P T E R O N E
Sakito pulled the creamy fabric of his soft, thick blazer tighter to his slender frame as he walked, watching the paces of his urgently hurried feet as if any terrifying person or mere shadow that stalked the darkened streets would be deterred merely by the simple fact that he could not see them. He hated this route. Hated it so that he always walked in such a manner- wrapped his arms tight around himself in simulation of another’s comforting embrace, striding as if he could deny the presence of his surroundings through simple feigned ignorance. But as uncomfortable as it made him, this was by far the quickest way to reach his home and with it, the soft, warm bed that he so craved after such a long day; and for once he was not willing to weave a detour through major streets as often he would.
Anxious, his fingers tapped a rhythm against the waist they were pressed against; daring his limbs to try and match the rate and quickening the moment they got anywhere close. Somehow the night had a different aura to that of its usual, and the dirty buildings either side of him leered down at his inability to discern whether the change was for better, worse or… merely a change. Much to Sakito’s irritation, their scorn was not dispelled, for the only difference he could notice in the air was that it was colder than the last time he had travelled the course earlier in the year- too cold. His watering eyes told him, squeezed shut against the chilling wind, and the whipped red hue of his cheeks and ears. Too cold, far too cold. Surely he was almost home now?!
It didn’t take him long to slip into a daydream of said destination, but just as he was contemplating the toppings for a well-deserved hot chocolate, something vaguely soft hit his foot and, even as his arms flailed out for something to maintain upright posture, his knees connected jarringly with the icy, hard concrete, all too quickly followed by bare palms that were the only barrier between his face and a painful imprinting of gravel.
For a moment he was still, not daring to move as he willed the pain of impact to subside. However, as it began to ebb, he slowly pushed himself up, removing his feet from their perch on the cause of his fall. He dusted his jacket down subconsciously, before halting the movement as his downcast eyes registered the form of the obstruction.
It was a man. Such an irony that a simple, everyday sight- something he saw thousands of on a daily basis could be so astounding when uncovered in this certain place, time and way. Yet as Sakito leaned closer, warning bells jangling in his head and preparing him to leap away, the situation continued to get furthermore outrageous.
For this person below him was a true oxymoron. There he lay, sprawled across the filthy street unconscious in the undeniably true manner of a (to put it correctly, Sakito thought to himself) homeless person; and yet his clothes were terribly elegant, even in the eyes of the discerningly fashion-savvy observer, and seemed to be utterly unworn but for a recent splattering of mud barely perceptible beneath the dim amber streetlights from the dark fabrics that clothed his entire body. However, even more so than the respectable attire, it was his face that captivated Sakito’s attention, convincing him beyond doubt that he was dealing with no common vagrant. Totally, utterly, ashen white. His skin was beyond the pallor even of one who had not once been exposed to sunlight, and the bleached tresses that fell to dirty themselves in slushy puddles near matched the hue, seeming all the paler for the contrast provided by their roots- deeply raven in a manner which seemed purposeful, and perhaps was. But it was the expression that commanded the fallen’s features that truly fascinated the eye- for even though his were obscured it held a startling resonance uncommon when the so called ‘windows to the soul’ are curtained. He held the look of someone who truly believed himself to be above the world, yet, though such an assumption would usually sour Sakito’s prejudging at once, in this instance he found it captivating, and all the more so for the undercurrents that it barely, barely revealed- the fear and pain whom had obviously been so painstakingly suppressed until finally they had risen enough to steal away awareness even as the stony façade was maintained.
It was this striking confusion of emotion, as well as the starkly pallid state of his complexion, that convinced Sakito he was obliged to aid the man in some way, and could not possible merely evacuate the scene and pretend they had never crossed paths, so to speak. So it was that he knelt swiftly, pressing a palm to a portion of exposed arm before his eyes widened in horror and he flinched back. The skin was utterly devoid of warmth, chilled as if the last dregs of life had seeped into the ground hours past and if it were not for the steady though slight rise and fall of his chest, it would have been beyond belief that he clung still to life. Yet this small sign was enough to convince Sakito to brave the unsettling sensation of the other’s flesh and to grip him once more, hands shaking slightly.
‘Excuse me? Are you alright?’ he inquired, mentally shooting his senseless query down the moment it left his lips. Of course he was not alright! And it was made evident, for he stirred only in the slightest, parting his lips a fraction as if he intended to continue the motion and speak, but never proceeded to this stage.
Eyebrows furrowing slightly in an instinctive display of concern, Sakito shook the arm again, releasing his hold to burrow desperately into his pocket when there was no response. How had this man ended up so?! It was a bitter night, but surely not severe enough to cause such malady, and there was the matter of his attire- so unsuited to the backdrop against which he lay. Who was he, and why of all places, was he here? Before he could begin to consider the answers to the questions he had posed himself, Sakito’s fingers closed around a rounded, plastic object and he pulled it out with relief, flipping up the cover and keying in the number of the local hospital, something he knew by now justified precaution rather than former necessity.
Typical.
No signal. Cursing under his breath, he dialled the number again, stuffing the phone back into his jacket when the effort once again proved to be fruitless. For a moment he was motionless, at a loss. A statue of good samaritanism as he tried to come to any conclusion other than the one that came to mind… but it was useless. His only option was to move the man- it wasn’t far to his apartment now after all- and just pray to the heavens that he was no axe murderer with a very cunning game plan. Of course, this was all very well, Sakito mused, but the matter of whether he could in reality transport him was quite another. Anticipating failure he braced himself, attempting to lift the upper half of the other’s body, before almost dropping it as he found, to much astonishment, that it proved to be barely an endeavour at all.
With utmost care he tried to hoist the limp figure upwards, thinking as he did so how much of a good job it was that it’s condition did not appear to be the result of some physical fall, and that he really should have considered that. Either way, it was too late now, and the matter at hand was getting to somewhere warm, safe and in possession of a telephone.
Sakito was never entirely sure of how he managed to get home, but supporting, dragging and near-carrying; he arrived and fumbled the door open with numb, tired hands, finally releasing his burden onto an invitingly squashy sofa. Turning, he made to grab his landline in yet another bid for medical help, and froze. For so suddenly he was almost compelled to check his heart was still beating, a hand had flown out and clasped his wrist, tight, and there it remained, sharp nails digging ever so slightly into the tender skin that veiled his arteries.
‘Don’t call them.’
Sakito twisted to see his rescuee, head raised slightly and eyes brimming with the senseless request. His voice was weak, yet held the assurance of one who knows how to get their way that his demand would be followed. And of course, it was, though with great unease.
‘Are you sure…?’
The man did not speak, did not even dip his head in response, but he regarded Sakito with eyes that clearly held the answer.
‘I will just rest here.’ He finally replied, giving no sense of requesting the pleasure of such an action before relaxing his neck and lying once more, darkly ringed eyes sliding closed without the suggestion of a flutter. And there stood his host, astounded and not a little irritated, for he had not at all intended to put up the stranger for an entire night and was hardly thrilled at the thought of trying to sleep with god-knows-who camping out in his living room… yet he could really think of no alternative now. Already he seemed to be sleeping once more, and he could hardly just be dumped off outside the doorstep now. Even ignoring the ethics of the situation Sakito was deeply opposed to going against the proud, confident undercurrents of the voice with which he had just spoken. No… it was best to leave the situation for now, and have an extensive gripe to Hitsugi over the qualms it had caused him in the morning, when he could hopefully ensure his surprise guest long gone.
Therefore, after watching the sleeper for perhaps another minute in an attempt to still his suspicion, Sakito made his way with slight reluctance into his bedroom, changing his dampened clothes with fatigued relief. Rasping a toothbrush around his mouth and washing his face, he was finally able to slide beneath his duvet and, even as he thought bitterly that he could never get a moment of respite under the conditions, he slipped into a heavy slumber.
Author: etoilerose
Band: Nightmare
Pairing: Ni~yaxSakito
Rating: 12 (I feel English today 8D)
Disclaimer: None of this happened and they aren't miiine
Genre: AU, supernaturally
Notes: I have this slight obsession at the moment, as well as a want for experimentation that led me to write this. Remembrance... I don't know what's happening with that. We'll see. I have a feeling the writing descends in standard as we go along. Um... think of a title for me? T___T;
C H A P T E R O N E
Sakito pulled the creamy fabric of his soft, thick blazer tighter to his slender frame as he walked, watching the paces of his urgently hurried feet as if any terrifying person or mere shadow that stalked the darkened streets would be deterred merely by the simple fact that he could not see them. He hated this route. Hated it so that he always walked in such a manner- wrapped his arms tight around himself in simulation of another’s comforting embrace, striding as if he could deny the presence of his surroundings through simple feigned ignorance. But as uncomfortable as it made him, this was by far the quickest way to reach his home and with it, the soft, warm bed that he so craved after such a long day; and for once he was not willing to weave a detour through major streets as often he would.
Anxious, his fingers tapped a rhythm against the waist they were pressed against; daring his limbs to try and match the rate and quickening the moment they got anywhere close. Somehow the night had a different aura to that of its usual, and the dirty buildings either side of him leered down at his inability to discern whether the change was for better, worse or… merely a change. Much to Sakito’s irritation, their scorn was not dispelled, for the only difference he could notice in the air was that it was colder than the last time he had travelled the course earlier in the year- too cold. His watering eyes told him, squeezed shut against the chilling wind, and the whipped red hue of his cheeks and ears. Too cold, far too cold. Surely he was almost home now?!
It didn’t take him long to slip into a daydream of said destination, but just as he was contemplating the toppings for a well-deserved hot chocolate, something vaguely soft hit his foot and, even as his arms flailed out for something to maintain upright posture, his knees connected jarringly with the icy, hard concrete, all too quickly followed by bare palms that were the only barrier between his face and a painful imprinting of gravel.
For a moment he was still, not daring to move as he willed the pain of impact to subside. However, as it began to ebb, he slowly pushed himself up, removing his feet from their perch on the cause of his fall. He dusted his jacket down subconsciously, before halting the movement as his downcast eyes registered the form of the obstruction.
It was a man. Such an irony that a simple, everyday sight- something he saw thousands of on a daily basis could be so astounding when uncovered in this certain place, time and way. Yet as Sakito leaned closer, warning bells jangling in his head and preparing him to leap away, the situation continued to get furthermore outrageous.
For this person below him was a true oxymoron. There he lay, sprawled across the filthy street unconscious in the undeniably true manner of a (to put it correctly, Sakito thought to himself) homeless person; and yet his clothes were terribly elegant, even in the eyes of the discerningly fashion-savvy observer, and seemed to be utterly unworn but for a recent splattering of mud barely perceptible beneath the dim amber streetlights from the dark fabrics that clothed his entire body. However, even more so than the respectable attire, it was his face that captivated Sakito’s attention, convincing him beyond doubt that he was dealing with no common vagrant. Totally, utterly, ashen white. His skin was beyond the pallor even of one who had not once been exposed to sunlight, and the bleached tresses that fell to dirty themselves in slushy puddles near matched the hue, seeming all the paler for the contrast provided by their roots- deeply raven in a manner which seemed purposeful, and perhaps was. But it was the expression that commanded the fallen’s features that truly fascinated the eye- for even though his were obscured it held a startling resonance uncommon when the so called ‘windows to the soul’ are curtained. He held the look of someone who truly believed himself to be above the world, yet, though such an assumption would usually sour Sakito’s prejudging at once, in this instance he found it captivating, and all the more so for the undercurrents that it barely, barely revealed- the fear and pain whom had obviously been so painstakingly suppressed until finally they had risen enough to steal away awareness even as the stony façade was maintained.
It was this striking confusion of emotion, as well as the starkly pallid state of his complexion, that convinced Sakito he was obliged to aid the man in some way, and could not possible merely evacuate the scene and pretend they had never crossed paths, so to speak. So it was that he knelt swiftly, pressing a palm to a portion of exposed arm before his eyes widened in horror and he flinched back. The skin was utterly devoid of warmth, chilled as if the last dregs of life had seeped into the ground hours past and if it were not for the steady though slight rise and fall of his chest, it would have been beyond belief that he clung still to life. Yet this small sign was enough to convince Sakito to brave the unsettling sensation of the other’s flesh and to grip him once more, hands shaking slightly.
‘Excuse me? Are you alright?’ he inquired, mentally shooting his senseless query down the moment it left his lips. Of course he was not alright! And it was made evident, for he stirred only in the slightest, parting his lips a fraction as if he intended to continue the motion and speak, but never proceeded to this stage.
Eyebrows furrowing slightly in an instinctive display of concern, Sakito shook the arm again, releasing his hold to burrow desperately into his pocket when there was no response. How had this man ended up so?! It was a bitter night, but surely not severe enough to cause such malady, and there was the matter of his attire- so unsuited to the backdrop against which he lay. Who was he, and why of all places, was he here? Before he could begin to consider the answers to the questions he had posed himself, Sakito’s fingers closed around a rounded, plastic object and he pulled it out with relief, flipping up the cover and keying in the number of the local hospital, something he knew by now justified precaution rather than former necessity.
Typical.
No signal. Cursing under his breath, he dialled the number again, stuffing the phone back into his jacket when the effort once again proved to be fruitless. For a moment he was motionless, at a loss. A statue of good samaritanism as he tried to come to any conclusion other than the one that came to mind… but it was useless. His only option was to move the man- it wasn’t far to his apartment now after all- and just pray to the heavens that he was no axe murderer with a very cunning game plan. Of course, this was all very well, Sakito mused, but the matter of whether he could in reality transport him was quite another. Anticipating failure he braced himself, attempting to lift the upper half of the other’s body, before almost dropping it as he found, to much astonishment, that it proved to be barely an endeavour at all.
With utmost care he tried to hoist the limp figure upwards, thinking as he did so how much of a good job it was that it’s condition did not appear to be the result of some physical fall, and that he really should have considered that. Either way, it was too late now, and the matter at hand was getting to somewhere warm, safe and in possession of a telephone.
Sakito was never entirely sure of how he managed to get home, but supporting, dragging and near-carrying; he arrived and fumbled the door open with numb, tired hands, finally releasing his burden onto an invitingly squashy sofa. Turning, he made to grab his landline in yet another bid for medical help, and froze. For so suddenly he was almost compelled to check his heart was still beating, a hand had flown out and clasped his wrist, tight, and there it remained, sharp nails digging ever so slightly into the tender skin that veiled his arteries.
‘Don’t call them.’
Sakito twisted to see his rescuee, head raised slightly and eyes brimming with the senseless request. His voice was weak, yet held the assurance of one who knows how to get their way that his demand would be followed. And of course, it was, though with great unease.
‘Are you sure…?’
The man did not speak, did not even dip his head in response, but he regarded Sakito with eyes that clearly held the answer.
‘I will just rest here.’ He finally replied, giving no sense of requesting the pleasure of such an action before relaxing his neck and lying once more, darkly ringed eyes sliding closed without the suggestion of a flutter. And there stood his host, astounded and not a little irritated, for he had not at all intended to put up the stranger for an entire night and was hardly thrilled at the thought of trying to sleep with god-knows-who camping out in his living room… yet he could really think of no alternative now. Already he seemed to be sleeping once more, and he could hardly just be dumped off outside the doorstep now. Even ignoring the ethics of the situation Sakito was deeply opposed to going against the proud, confident undercurrents of the voice with which he had just spoken. No… it was best to leave the situation for now, and have an extensive gripe to Hitsugi over the qualms it had caused him in the morning, when he could hopefully ensure his surprise guest long gone.
Therefore, after watching the sleeper for perhaps another minute in an attempt to still his suspicion, Sakito made his way with slight reluctance into his bedroom, changing his dampened clothes with fatigued relief. Rasping a toothbrush around his mouth and washing his face, he was finally able to slide beneath his duvet and, even as he thought bitterly that he could never get a moment of respite under the conditions, he slipped into a heavy slumber.