Suicide Circus 1/1 Aoi/Uruha
Title Suicide Circus
Chapters: 1/1 (Oneshot)
Author: veroxion
Beta: n/a
Genre: Horror/Romance
Rating: G
Warnings: Character Death(?)
Pairings: Aoi/Uruha
Synopsis: I haven't known a nightmare until I've known this. "Today is circus day."
Comments: Hello again! Remember me? :P Just a quick fic to show I'm still lurking around. My usual updates will be resumed after the New Years, if everything goes well for my muse. Interpret the ending and this fic however you like. I'd love to hear what you think is going on. :D
-x-
I pace about like a mad animal; caged and furious. All I can hear is the sound of my own ragged breathing as my cold bare feet thud on the hard cement floor exactly seventy-three times before my weak legs give out. Just like that, I'm staggering; fumbling for something to hold onto until I collapse to the ground in a crumpled heap, no longer able to control my body to move.
My heart beats in time with the lone, aged clock hanging woefully on the wall in the seemingly endless hallway, and the slow ticking it emits give me some kind of solace as it synchronizes with my hoarse breathing. Stealing a glance up at the round clock that hangs above my blond head on the wall, I realize it's not even two in the morning. So once again, I rise to my feet and continue on tiredly down the dark hall, occasionally fingering the white band strapped firmly around my slender wrist.
A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead as I briskly turn around a corner. Running mindlessly, not knowing where to go or what to do, I feel like someone else is walking right next to me. Skin as frigid as marbles almost brushes against my own, making terror run deep into my heart. But as soon as I turn to look, to see the beast beside me, there is nothing there. Simply my vivid imagination, or so it seems. So I reach out for the rusty handle of the dilapidated door, sighing softly as my heavy eyelids close before giving the doorknob a good pull to open it.
I can feel his mysterious, alluring presence before I see his beautiful visage. Today he sits silently; watching from a broken wooden chair in the otherwise empty room, his charcoal eyes seeming to perforate through my skull. It makes me shiver, to see him like this. His black lips tighten into a straight line; pallid face wearing a peculiar expression. One that I most certainly do not like, but something I have grown incredibly fond of.
The bluish skin under his obsidian eyes is tainted by insomnia, and his inky black hair hangs limply, reaching to his narrow jawbone which is as pale as the moon itself. A tattered top-hat is perched on his head, casting shadows over his long, angular face.
What catches my eye though, is the faded topaz necktie that he wears with his usual dirtied white shirt. Oddly enough, it is far too elegant-looking and resplendent compared to the other things he usually accessorizes with. It makes me wonder... where will he take me today?
He seems to sense my thoughts and gestures for me to come to him, crooking a finger, wearing a sly smirk on his chapped lips. “Today is circus day.” he announces darkly, and all I can do is nod my head as if I understand what he means.
With a quiet chuckle, he stands with a grace of no other; rubbing his marble hands together with malicious intent, and takes one step, advancing slowly towards me. His icy breath brushes against my exposed neck, and his cool lips press to my colourless cheek in an ironically caring manner.
I follow him across the desolate room like an eager-to-please mutt, tagging right on his heels. Having to walk with speed to keep up with his strangely swift pace, I am nearly gasping for air by the time we've reached the exit.
Curling his spidery fingers around the knob, he opens the door ahead of me with a loud creaking whine before ushering me through the portal to the supposed 'carnival'. A sudden wave of disappointment slaps me in the face, attempting to burn me from inside out.
As clear as day, he notices my obvious dejection immediately and shakes his head, as though he's ashamed of me for not being able to hide my emotions so easily as him. Instantly, I feel the blood rush to my pale cheeks; filling them with colour. I just let my gaze fall to the grimy floor in embarrassment.
Soon enough, as if I had almost expected it, a bone-chilling laugh escapes from behind his dark lips. I look up suddenly, wondering what is so amusing about this situation. My eyes, like shards of gold ore, meet his opposing obsidian ones for a fleeting moment before a sensation of fear urges me to look away. However, I am soon forced to look back when a stingingly algid finger is tilting up my chin.
I gaze at him through impossibly long lashes as he cups my face in his marble hand, wishing that I could stop the blush from creeping back onto my cheeks. Waiting for him to say something, I nervously bite at my cracked bottom lip, staring up into his startlingly onyx eyes.
Instead, he hesitates to speak, leaning closer to me so slowly that I hardly notice until his mouth skims my own for a hopelessly brief moment. The too-hopeful thought that he might actually care about me more than a lifeless rag doll is short-lived when he abruptly yanks me harshly by the wrist, causing me to fall to my knees before he begins to drag me down the passageway.
I cannot help but wince as he hauls me along behind him, jerking on my thin arm until I'm sure it's going to be pulled from its socket. My knees scrape painfully on the uneven ground of broken stone, and even in the dull light, I can see the beads of my own sparkling crimson blood on my legs. I silently wonder where he is bringing me.
Finally, we reach the end of the hallway, and tells me to stand, even going as far to assist me by wrenching me up by the arm to my unsteady feet. I manage a forced smile of fake gratitude to satisfy him and brush off the dirt that had accumulated on my soiled clothing.
I desperately want to ask why he bothered bringing me to the very end of the hallway, but before I manage a word, he shoves open a door that was hidden in the blackness of the shadows. I hadn't even seen it there before.
My aureate eyes dance about the curious scene that is displayed before me. There are carousel horses accompanied by looming Ferris wheels, red and gold carnival tents placed sporadically about the area.
Dollish porcelain girls twirl around gracefully, faded white skirts tickled by the breeze. People with strings stapled to their skin mimic the appearance of puppets, moving with a fluidity that is somehow almost robotic.
Mime-like humans and clowns linger about the tents, casting unsettling glances my way. Faint accordion music can be heard in the distance, with a dash of some other instrument, perhaps an oboe, intruding every so often. The lilting notes, a haunting melody of flats and sharps, are unusually eerie for circus music.
I suppress a shudder as one of the clownish men approach me, their hot breath right in my face, reeking of death and something almost metallic-blood, maybe. The look of utter madness and chaos swirling in the jester's forlorn eyes is enough to terrify me into silence. As if a mere breath would unleash a horror that would swallow me whole.
"Don't worry, my love. He won't hurt you.” My coal-eyed master assures me, lacing his gloved fingers through my own and pulling me after him as he starts making his way through the macabre circus.
I nod quickly, hoping he's telling the truth and stay close behind him, clinging to him eagerly like a leech to naked skin. Deep down, perhaps he feels something for me if he’s willing to make such promises of protection, but it seems too good to go true. So I simply shake the thoughts away.
As he heaves me along, my heart thuds irregularly, my breaths shooting in and out at a ragged, choppy pace. Something about the atmosphere of this alleged circus is wreaking havoc on my insides. My stomach twists into knots and my heart is pumping at an impossible rate to keep my thick blood moving through my protesting veins. I'm not enjoying this circus. Not in the least.
The characters I pass by as I follow him examine me closely with dull, hollow eyes, acting as if I were the one with strange make-up splattered on my face or with lacerations on my gaunt cheeks. It's as thoug I m a freak show, and the dolls, clowns and carousel horses are my audience, staring at me as though I'm a piece of prettied-up meat for their morbid entertainment.
His relentless grip on my wrist tightens, his blunt, filthy nails splitting the pasty skin of my underarm apart; warm blood spurting from the fresh crescent-shaped abrasions. I take it that I'm not walking quickly enough for his liking, and so I loyally quicken my pace, my bare feet almost brushing his heels with every step I take. I hope that wherever he's taking me to will involve many less nightmarish clowns and peculiar ballerinas.
“Do excuse me, but... where are we going now?” I ask boldly, my voice weak and pathetic, sounding as though it had been through a pit of knives; scratchy, laden with despair and pain.
In reply, he only presses his black nails deeper into my skin, a half-sneer overtaking his full lips.
“Our destination should not be of any concern to you, pet. We'll be there soon, and you'll enjoy it thoroughly, I promise.”
I bite my pink bottom lip, sighing softly and continuing to follow him. I have no choice but to obey his demands, after all.
Glancing behind, I realize that there is an uncanny parade of the circus beings in the wake of us, traipsing silently as though they were soldiers of death. They all wear arrogant smirks on their made-up faces, though their dead eyes lack any kind of solid emotion.
This is not a circus.
This is a death march.
Panic's cruel grip seizes me, and I am suddenly overwhelmed by fear, tripping over my own dirty feet as I'm hauled along behind him.
Finally, we arrive.
A large building lies ahead of us, seemingly out of place in this desolate area. Dead trees are scattered about, and the stucco on the outside of the structure is old and weathered, giving it a weary look.
He leads me inside, locking the parade out to peer in through the dirtied windows with zombie-like faces, not even allowing me enough time to marvel over the beauties of the interior before his frigid cold lips collide with my own.
I am shocked to the point of almost recoiling in disgust, and it takes me a moment to realize he is kissing me passionately, as though I'm his lover. It is the most bizarre thing that has happened thus far today; the least expected, yet by far the most pleasing.
He lifts my shirt over my head, his long fingers moving skillfully up and down my protruding spine, freeing me from the confines that used to be my clothing. I feel so exposed, so vulnerable-almost scared, truly. But I will do anything to satisfy him, to entertain him, to bring him pleasure... anything to keep him from harming me. So I surrender my body to him, arching my back under his somewhat caring touch.
I cannot help the inevitable smile that perks up onto my lips. He has never treated me in this way before, and I'm coming to enjoy it. I close my eyes, making sure to memorize the feel of his too-gentle hands; the sensation of his smooth ebony lips upon my own; the way I can feel him almost grinning against my mouth. He strokes my pallid cheek with his thumb, urging me closer, but as my naked chest presses against his, he ends the moment all too soon and abruptly pulls back.
He then takes an eager step forward, and I am sure to stay right next to him, almost cowering behind his lean shoulder as he raises his arm slightly and flicks my wrist. I question what is going on, my sharp fingernails digging into his bicep as I watch with horror while he slides a rusty syringe out of his pants pocket.
His silky raven hair falls over a contrasting dark stone eye, and he demands that I give him my arm. Unable to rebel against his wishes, I squeeze my eyes shut and press my forearm into his hand, anticipating the prick of a needle.
“This is where the circus is drawn to a conclusion, my love.”
I nod, trembling. But for a while I don't feel anything, and I let my eyes flutter open, catching a glimpse of his twisted smirk before I feel the sharp silver syringe puncture my paper-like skin. His lips brush against my cheek, a soft whisper of a word-a name m name escapes from his lips as my body starts to slowly deteriorate.
And after exactly seventy-three seconds, my world goes forever black.
-x-
Comments: So, there we go. Figments of my morbid imagination for your reading lol. I hope you all had a great Christmas, and will have a good New Years as well. :D I know I did.
Also, am I the only one who really hates the new posting screen? Thank goodness we can go back to the old one, but the new one just seems all over the place in terms of where things are placed. (>_<)
Chapters: 1/1 (Oneshot)
Author: veroxion
Beta: n/a
Genre: Horror/Romance
Rating: G
Warnings: Character Death(?)
Pairings: Aoi/Uruha
Synopsis: I haven't known a nightmare until I've known this. "Today is circus day."
Comments: Hello again! Remember me? :P Just a quick fic to show I'm still lurking around. My usual updates will be resumed after the New Years, if everything goes well for my muse. Interpret the ending and this fic however you like. I'd love to hear what you think is going on. :D
-x-
I pace about like a mad animal; caged and furious. All I can hear is the sound of my own ragged breathing as my cold bare feet thud on the hard cement floor exactly seventy-three times before my weak legs give out. Just like that, I'm staggering; fumbling for something to hold onto until I collapse to the ground in a crumpled heap, no longer able to control my body to move.
My heart beats in time with the lone, aged clock hanging woefully on the wall in the seemingly endless hallway, and the slow ticking it emits give me some kind of solace as it synchronizes with my hoarse breathing. Stealing a glance up at the round clock that hangs above my blond head on the wall, I realize it's not even two in the morning. So once again, I rise to my feet and continue on tiredly down the dark hall, occasionally fingering the white band strapped firmly around my slender wrist.
A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead as I briskly turn around a corner. Running mindlessly, not knowing where to go or what to do, I feel like someone else is walking right next to me. Skin as frigid as marbles almost brushes against my own, making terror run deep into my heart. But as soon as I turn to look, to see the beast beside me, there is nothing there. Simply my vivid imagination, or so it seems. So I reach out for the rusty handle of the dilapidated door, sighing softly as my heavy eyelids close before giving the doorknob a good pull to open it.
I can feel his mysterious, alluring presence before I see his beautiful visage. Today he sits silently; watching from a broken wooden chair in the otherwise empty room, his charcoal eyes seeming to perforate through my skull. It makes me shiver, to see him like this. His black lips tighten into a straight line; pallid face wearing a peculiar expression. One that I most certainly do not like, but something I have grown incredibly fond of.
The bluish skin under his obsidian eyes is tainted by insomnia, and his inky black hair hangs limply, reaching to his narrow jawbone which is as pale as the moon itself. A tattered top-hat is perched on his head, casting shadows over his long, angular face.
What catches my eye though, is the faded topaz necktie that he wears with his usual dirtied white shirt. Oddly enough, it is far too elegant-looking and resplendent compared to the other things he usually accessorizes with. It makes me wonder... where will he take me today?
He seems to sense my thoughts and gestures for me to come to him, crooking a finger, wearing a sly smirk on his chapped lips. “Today is circus day.” he announces darkly, and all I can do is nod my head as if I understand what he means.
With a quiet chuckle, he stands with a grace of no other; rubbing his marble hands together with malicious intent, and takes one step, advancing slowly towards me. His icy breath brushes against my exposed neck, and his cool lips press to my colourless cheek in an ironically caring manner.
I follow him across the desolate room like an eager-to-please mutt, tagging right on his heels. Having to walk with speed to keep up with his strangely swift pace, I am nearly gasping for air by the time we've reached the exit.
Curling his spidery fingers around the knob, he opens the door ahead of me with a loud creaking whine before ushering me through the portal to the supposed 'carnival'. A sudden wave of disappointment slaps me in the face, attempting to burn me from inside out.
As clear as day, he notices my obvious dejection immediately and shakes his head, as though he's ashamed of me for not being able to hide my emotions so easily as him. Instantly, I feel the blood rush to my pale cheeks; filling them with colour. I just let my gaze fall to the grimy floor in embarrassment.
Soon enough, as if I had almost expected it, a bone-chilling laugh escapes from behind his dark lips. I look up suddenly, wondering what is so amusing about this situation. My eyes, like shards of gold ore, meet his opposing obsidian ones for a fleeting moment before a sensation of fear urges me to look away. However, I am soon forced to look back when a stingingly algid finger is tilting up my chin.
I gaze at him through impossibly long lashes as he cups my face in his marble hand, wishing that I could stop the blush from creeping back onto my cheeks. Waiting for him to say something, I nervously bite at my cracked bottom lip, staring up into his startlingly onyx eyes.
Instead, he hesitates to speak, leaning closer to me so slowly that I hardly notice until his mouth skims my own for a hopelessly brief moment. The too-hopeful thought that he might actually care about me more than a lifeless rag doll is short-lived when he abruptly yanks me harshly by the wrist, causing me to fall to my knees before he begins to drag me down the passageway.
I cannot help but wince as he hauls me along behind him, jerking on my thin arm until I'm sure it's going to be pulled from its socket. My knees scrape painfully on the uneven ground of broken stone, and even in the dull light, I can see the beads of my own sparkling crimson blood on my legs. I silently wonder where he is bringing me.
Finally, we reach the end of the hallway, and tells me to stand, even going as far to assist me by wrenching me up by the arm to my unsteady feet. I manage a forced smile of fake gratitude to satisfy him and brush off the dirt that had accumulated on my soiled clothing.
I desperately want to ask why he bothered bringing me to the very end of the hallway, but before I manage a word, he shoves open a door that was hidden in the blackness of the shadows. I hadn't even seen it there before.
My aureate eyes dance about the curious scene that is displayed before me. There are carousel horses accompanied by looming Ferris wheels, red and gold carnival tents placed sporadically about the area.
Dollish porcelain girls twirl around gracefully, faded white skirts tickled by the breeze. People with strings stapled to their skin mimic the appearance of puppets, moving with a fluidity that is somehow almost robotic.
Mime-like humans and clowns linger about the tents, casting unsettling glances my way. Faint accordion music can be heard in the distance, with a dash of some other instrument, perhaps an oboe, intruding every so often. The lilting notes, a haunting melody of flats and sharps, are unusually eerie for circus music.
I suppress a shudder as one of the clownish men approach me, their hot breath right in my face, reeking of death and something almost metallic-blood, maybe. The look of utter madness and chaos swirling in the jester's forlorn eyes is enough to terrify me into silence. As if a mere breath would unleash a horror that would swallow me whole.
"Don't worry, my love. He won't hurt you.” My coal-eyed master assures me, lacing his gloved fingers through my own and pulling me after him as he starts making his way through the macabre circus.
I nod quickly, hoping he's telling the truth and stay close behind him, clinging to him eagerly like a leech to naked skin. Deep down, perhaps he feels something for me if he’s willing to make such promises of protection, but it seems too good to go true. So I simply shake the thoughts away.
As he heaves me along, my heart thuds irregularly, my breaths shooting in and out at a ragged, choppy pace. Something about the atmosphere of this alleged circus is wreaking havoc on my insides. My stomach twists into knots and my heart is pumping at an impossible rate to keep my thick blood moving through my protesting veins. I'm not enjoying this circus. Not in the least.
The characters I pass by as I follow him examine me closely with dull, hollow eyes, acting as if I were the one with strange make-up splattered on my face or with lacerations on my gaunt cheeks. It's as thoug I m a freak show, and the dolls, clowns and carousel horses are my audience, staring at me as though I'm a piece of prettied-up meat for their morbid entertainment.
His relentless grip on my wrist tightens, his blunt, filthy nails splitting the pasty skin of my underarm apart; warm blood spurting from the fresh crescent-shaped abrasions. I take it that I'm not walking quickly enough for his liking, and so I loyally quicken my pace, my bare feet almost brushing his heels with every step I take. I hope that wherever he's taking me to will involve many less nightmarish clowns and peculiar ballerinas.
“Do excuse me, but... where are we going now?” I ask boldly, my voice weak and pathetic, sounding as though it had been through a pit of knives; scratchy, laden with despair and pain.
In reply, he only presses his black nails deeper into my skin, a half-sneer overtaking his full lips.
“Our destination should not be of any concern to you, pet. We'll be there soon, and you'll enjoy it thoroughly, I promise.”
I bite my pink bottom lip, sighing softly and continuing to follow him. I have no choice but to obey his demands, after all.
Glancing behind, I realize that there is an uncanny parade of the circus beings in the wake of us, traipsing silently as though they were soldiers of death. They all wear arrogant smirks on their made-up faces, though their dead eyes lack any kind of solid emotion.
This is not a circus.
This is a death march.
Panic's cruel grip seizes me, and I am suddenly overwhelmed by fear, tripping over my own dirty feet as I'm hauled along behind him.
Finally, we arrive.
A large building lies ahead of us, seemingly out of place in this desolate area. Dead trees are scattered about, and the stucco on the outside of the structure is old and weathered, giving it a weary look.
He leads me inside, locking the parade out to peer in through the dirtied windows with zombie-like faces, not even allowing me enough time to marvel over the beauties of the interior before his frigid cold lips collide with my own.
I am shocked to the point of almost recoiling in disgust, and it takes me a moment to realize he is kissing me passionately, as though I'm his lover. It is the most bizarre thing that has happened thus far today; the least expected, yet by far the most pleasing.
He lifts my shirt over my head, his long fingers moving skillfully up and down my protruding spine, freeing me from the confines that used to be my clothing. I feel so exposed, so vulnerable-almost scared, truly. But I will do anything to satisfy him, to entertain him, to bring him pleasure... anything to keep him from harming me. So I surrender my body to him, arching my back under his somewhat caring touch.
I cannot help the inevitable smile that perks up onto my lips. He has never treated me in this way before, and I'm coming to enjoy it. I close my eyes, making sure to memorize the feel of his too-gentle hands; the sensation of his smooth ebony lips upon my own; the way I can feel him almost grinning against my mouth. He strokes my pallid cheek with his thumb, urging me closer, but as my naked chest presses against his, he ends the moment all too soon and abruptly pulls back.
He then takes an eager step forward, and I am sure to stay right next to him, almost cowering behind his lean shoulder as he raises his arm slightly and flicks my wrist. I question what is going on, my sharp fingernails digging into his bicep as I watch with horror while he slides a rusty syringe out of his pants pocket.
His silky raven hair falls over a contrasting dark stone eye, and he demands that I give him my arm. Unable to rebel against his wishes, I squeeze my eyes shut and press my forearm into his hand, anticipating the prick of a needle.
“This is where the circus is drawn to a conclusion, my love.”
I nod, trembling. But for a while I don't feel anything, and I let my eyes flutter open, catching a glimpse of his twisted smirk before I feel the sharp silver syringe puncture my paper-like skin. His lips brush against my cheek, a soft whisper of a word-a name m name escapes from his lips as my body starts to slowly deteriorate.
And after exactly seventy-three seconds, my world goes forever black.
-x-
Comments: So, there we go. Figments of my morbid imagination for your reading lol. I hope you all had a great Christmas, and will have a good New Years as well. :D I know I did.
Also, am I the only one who really hates the new posting screen? Thank goodness we can go back to the old one, but the new one just seems all over the place in terms of where things are placed. (>_<)