Impression of Eternity (D.N.Angel, Satoshi/Daisuke, Challenge #16)
Title: Impression of Eternity
Author: zukirin
Pairing: Satoshi x Daisuke
Fandom: D.N.Angel
Theme: #16 Invincible; Unrivaled
Disclaimer: I do not own D.N.Angel.
Warnings: PG-13.
Summary: True love is eternal and can never be destroyed.
Posted to: 30 Kisses
----------
He was ready.
The solitary individual sported a simple black suit, as if prepared for a funeral. Straightening his tie with deft fingers, he calmly let the retinal scan inspect his right eye. A few moments later, the machine gave him permission to enter with a small beep. A sharp click told him the door had been unlocked. He grasped the doorknob, rotating it. Then, he stepped inside.
It was finally the moment of truth -- a moment the wealthy, although relatively young, investor had been both anticipating and dreading for the last two years. Those preceding months had been full of countless, confusing emotions, distracting him from his work and his daily lifestyle. Anger, sorrow, depression, anxiety…
His physical therapist had informed him that his health was slowly deteriorating with each passing day.
He minded, of course - he wanted to live to see if this project was a success.
He knew that he had only himself to blame, though. That accursed incident that occurred three years back… It was all because of him. If he had only made a different decision… If only… Then this would never have happened. He would never have lost his reason for living.
But one day, a strangely garbed man in crimson apparel had approached him, making an offer that he would have been insane to refuse. Or, he now speculated, it was quite possible that the only sane decision was to refuse.
From then to this day, he had been dreaming of the possibilities, wishing for a means to rid himself of the loneliness that tormented him from morning until dusk, every single day of his life.
And now that this moment had arrived, he simply felt… empty.
He saw him in the center of the bleak chamber, which was empty of adornments but for a four-poster bed in one of the corners. He had asked them specifically to deliver the subject to his room.
Brushing long, slender fingers over the pale cheek of the young man, his face remained perfectly expressionless. The youth’s eyes were closed, and he made no sign that he felt the other’s touch. He wore a simple white turtleneck and trousers. His feet were covered with pristine-white socks.
Nothing but a strand of bitterness laced the suited man’s monotonous voice as he gave the first command.
“Tell me your name.”
A brief interlude of glacial silence passed before the shorter individual answered. It was not unexpected, though, for he was told that the subject had an allotted period of time to respond.
“Daisuke Niwa.”
It genuinely seemed that the stark white room was made warmer with the cheerful intonation of his voice. Memories of gentle sunlight and spring flooded the older man’s vision before they faded into the harsh, unfeeling, and artificial blaze of the chamber.
Eyes previously shut were hesitantly opened, and blinked experimentally. They were the exact shade of rubies, shining like a pair of faceted gems in the cold florescent light.
The man was pleased, in a depressed sort of fashion.
“Yes. That is correct.”
Daisuke gave a small, soundless cheer using only his eyes and mouth. Both corners of the slender teen’s lips were timidly quirked up, forming an awkward, angelic smile.
He did not smile back, instead inquiring, “Who am I?”
“You’re Satoshi Hiwatari.” The younger man tilted his head to one side by a couple of degrees, somehow eager for the next question. A few scattered bangs fell over his face. Bewildered by his momentary loss of vision, it took Daisuke a few seconds to realize what he had to do to fix the problem. He shook his hair out of his eyes, only to have them fall back into their obtrusive position.
Satoshi gave a small, short laugh, though not as a result of the other’s antics. It sounded hollow even to his own ears as it resonated off the bare walls. Composedly, he uttered, “Yes. And what am I to you?”
The smaller boy did not mind piping up merrily in a melodious voice that was only a little higher-pitched than Satoshi’s low tone. “You’re my best friend! Um… Besides With, Riku, Takeshi, and Masahiro, of course.”
Innocence radiated from the youth’s core, and Satoshi nodded in grim approval. “Yes. That’s exactly what you would have answered, Daisuke.” There was an eerily melancholy undercurrent to the blue-haired man’s tone of voice.
“Okay…” came the unsure response. Daisuke was quite evidently confused by Hiwatari’s odd statement.
Meanwhile, Satoshi’s eyes were looking farther than any human eye could see. Recollections of the past swarmed him as if they were a plague of locusts, bombarding his mind on all sides. Happiness, grief, pride, desire… They all blended together to become part of something dark and black and ugly and so painful, it hurt to even breathe.
He finally spoke, covering his face with one hand, breath jarring between short strands of words. His heart… hurt. It hurt.
“But in truth… I am not your… best friend… I am not your friend at all… I have done so many horrible things to you… So many…”
He felt as if his heart were trying to break free of his fragile ribcage, pulsating fast and puncturing his lungs with a myriad of rusty needles.
His voice became softer and softer as he continued to speak, until he was breathing the words.
“If it weren’t for me… This wouldn’t have happened to you… Daisuke…”
He fought hard not to cry, removing a hand from cerulean eyes to face his most beautiful illusion thus far.
With a gentle, melting gaze, the redhead came forward and touched Satoshi’s mouth with his own.
“I love you, Satoshi. Do not worry about the past.” A tiny smile. “Do not worry. I am here now.”
Satoshi’s eyes stared into Daisuke’s non-existent soul, wondering why he had ever even considered doing this. It only caused him to feel the wretched pain all over again.
“Yes… You are… And yet… You are not.” Satoshi gazed sadly at his fake angel. Synthetic flesh and blood lay outside and inside that slender form, authentic in all aspects except that… they were not real.
“Daisuke died a long time ago. You are not real. You are not even alive.”
Unfazed, the automaton spoke with a voice filled with faith and love. “Satoshi… I can be him as long as you believe that I am.”
Reluctant to respond, Satoshi merely stared at the creature that looked so very much like his beloved Daisuke.
And then…
“Satoshi… I love you.” Thin arms reached out for him beseechingly. “I love you… And now, I will be able to love you for eternity.”
…And Satoshi believed.
“Yes…”
Falling back into soft mattresses, he sighed and surrendered himself, body and soul, to the seraphic figure before him.
Tenderness infusing his every action, the manufactured angel sank down onto him, into him, drowning him in a sea of saccharine kisses and sweet forgetfulness.
And Satoshi never wanted to breathe again.
Author: zukirin
Pairing: Satoshi x Daisuke
Fandom: D.N.Angel
Theme: #16 Invincible; Unrivaled
Disclaimer: I do not own D.N.Angel.
Warnings: PG-13.
Summary: True love is eternal and can never be destroyed.
Posted to: 30 Kisses
----------
He was ready.
The solitary individual sported a simple black suit, as if prepared for a funeral. Straightening his tie with deft fingers, he calmly let the retinal scan inspect his right eye. A few moments later, the machine gave him permission to enter with a small beep. A sharp click told him the door had been unlocked. He grasped the doorknob, rotating it. Then, he stepped inside.
It was finally the moment of truth -- a moment the wealthy, although relatively young, investor had been both anticipating and dreading for the last two years. Those preceding months had been full of countless, confusing emotions, distracting him from his work and his daily lifestyle. Anger, sorrow, depression, anxiety…
His physical therapist had informed him that his health was slowly deteriorating with each passing day.
He minded, of course - he wanted to live to see if this project was a success.
He knew that he had only himself to blame, though. That accursed incident that occurred three years back… It was all because of him. If he had only made a different decision… If only… Then this would never have happened. He would never have lost his reason for living.
But one day, a strangely garbed man in crimson apparel had approached him, making an offer that he would have been insane to refuse. Or, he now speculated, it was quite possible that the only sane decision was to refuse.
From then to this day, he had been dreaming of the possibilities, wishing for a means to rid himself of the loneliness that tormented him from morning until dusk, every single day of his life.
And now that this moment had arrived, he simply felt… empty.
He saw him in the center of the bleak chamber, which was empty of adornments but for a four-poster bed in one of the corners. He had asked them specifically to deliver the subject to his room.
Brushing long, slender fingers over the pale cheek of the young man, his face remained perfectly expressionless. The youth’s eyes were closed, and he made no sign that he felt the other’s touch. He wore a simple white turtleneck and trousers. His feet were covered with pristine-white socks.
Nothing but a strand of bitterness laced the suited man’s monotonous voice as he gave the first command.
“Tell me your name.”
A brief interlude of glacial silence passed before the shorter individual answered. It was not unexpected, though, for he was told that the subject had an allotted period of time to respond.
“Daisuke Niwa.”
It genuinely seemed that the stark white room was made warmer with the cheerful intonation of his voice. Memories of gentle sunlight and spring flooded the older man’s vision before they faded into the harsh, unfeeling, and artificial blaze of the chamber.
Eyes previously shut were hesitantly opened, and blinked experimentally. They were the exact shade of rubies, shining like a pair of faceted gems in the cold florescent light.
The man was pleased, in a depressed sort of fashion.
“Yes. That is correct.”
Daisuke gave a small, soundless cheer using only his eyes and mouth. Both corners of the slender teen’s lips were timidly quirked up, forming an awkward, angelic smile.
He did not smile back, instead inquiring, “Who am I?”
“You’re Satoshi Hiwatari.” The younger man tilted his head to one side by a couple of degrees, somehow eager for the next question. A few scattered bangs fell over his face. Bewildered by his momentary loss of vision, it took Daisuke a few seconds to realize what he had to do to fix the problem. He shook his hair out of his eyes, only to have them fall back into their obtrusive position.
Satoshi gave a small, short laugh, though not as a result of the other’s antics. It sounded hollow even to his own ears as it resonated off the bare walls. Composedly, he uttered, “Yes. And what am I to you?”
The smaller boy did not mind piping up merrily in a melodious voice that was only a little higher-pitched than Satoshi’s low tone. “You’re my best friend! Um… Besides With, Riku, Takeshi, and Masahiro, of course.”
Innocence radiated from the youth’s core, and Satoshi nodded in grim approval. “Yes. That’s exactly what you would have answered, Daisuke.” There was an eerily melancholy undercurrent to the blue-haired man’s tone of voice.
“Okay…” came the unsure response. Daisuke was quite evidently confused by Hiwatari’s odd statement.
Meanwhile, Satoshi’s eyes were looking farther than any human eye could see. Recollections of the past swarmed him as if they were a plague of locusts, bombarding his mind on all sides. Happiness, grief, pride, desire… They all blended together to become part of something dark and black and ugly and so painful, it hurt to even breathe.
He finally spoke, covering his face with one hand, breath jarring between short strands of words. His heart… hurt. It hurt.
“But in truth… I am not your… best friend… I am not your friend at all… I have done so many horrible things to you… So many…”
He felt as if his heart were trying to break free of his fragile ribcage, pulsating fast and puncturing his lungs with a myriad of rusty needles.
His voice became softer and softer as he continued to speak, until he was breathing the words.
“If it weren’t for me… This wouldn’t have happened to you… Daisuke…”
He fought hard not to cry, removing a hand from cerulean eyes to face his most beautiful illusion thus far.
With a gentle, melting gaze, the redhead came forward and touched Satoshi’s mouth with his own.
“I love you, Satoshi. Do not worry about the past.” A tiny smile. “Do not worry. I am here now.”
Satoshi’s eyes stared into Daisuke’s non-existent soul, wondering why he had ever even considered doing this. It only caused him to feel the wretched pain all over again.
“Yes… You are… And yet… You are not.” Satoshi gazed sadly at his fake angel. Synthetic flesh and blood lay outside and inside that slender form, authentic in all aspects except that… they were not real.
“Daisuke died a long time ago. You are not real. You are not even alive.”
Unfazed, the automaton spoke with a voice filled with faith and love. “Satoshi… I can be him as long as you believe that I am.”
Reluctant to respond, Satoshi merely stared at the creature that looked so very much like his beloved Daisuke.
And then…
“Satoshi… I love you.” Thin arms reached out for him beseechingly. “I love you… And now, I will be able to love you for eternity.”
…And Satoshi believed.
“Yes…”
Falling back into soft mattresses, he sighed and surrendered himself, body and soul, to the seraphic figure before him.
Tenderness infusing his every action, the manufactured angel sank down onto him, into him, drowning him in a sea of saccharine kisses and sweet forgetfulness.
And Satoshi never wanted to breathe again.