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Dorian Gray
Author of 13 Stories |
Standard Disclaimer: Yami no Matsuei © Matsuhita Youko, Central Park Media, et al.
Rating: G
Summary: In the succession of days, Hisoka feels something slip away.
AN: I'm trying something a little different here. If the font size of your browser is set unusually large, the formatting might be off. Feedback is welcomed and appreciated. Enjoy.
Attrition
By Dorian Gray ()
Shinigami live forever.
So Hisoka should have guessed that it would happen.
Sooner.
Or later.
His alarm went off.
. . . I hate this thing . . .
. . . want to sleep . . .
Morning came through the window in pale beams.
. . . stupid job . . .
He washed, dressed, ate.
. . . bread's stale . . .
. . . need to go shopping . . .
. . . ah tea . . .
Walked to work.
Passed a few people.
Felt eyes on him, following his movements.
. . . lust . . .
. . . too young but cute . . .
. . . gorgeous green eyes . . .
. . . wish I had time to flirt with . . .
He opened the door and went inside the imposing building.
. . . worry . . .
Walked down the hall.
. . . four bodies found . . .
There was a new case.
No two cases are the same, but after a while they all run together.
Unlike Tsuzuki, he made no effort to remember the names and faces of all the people he killed.
. . . how many years has it been . . .
Tsuzuki himself was late again.
. . . irritation . . .
. . . that idiot . . .
Two hours passed before he finally showed up.
. . . depression . . .
. . . they are going to be so mad at me . . .
. . . anxiety . . .
Tatsumi yelled at him.
. . . I deserve this . . .
There was a brief meeting.
Who had died, when and where.
The blood-flecked details.
Tsuzuki looked at the crime-scene photos. . . . grief . . .
. . . horror . . . . . . anger . . . . . . guilt . . .
Hisoka did as well.
. . . should I feel something . . .
They were to gather information at a local high school.
Again.
. . . why do I always play the student . . .
. . . always play a nurse . . .
If asked a month later, Hisoka wouldn't be able to recall any details of the case.
. . . lie, kill, repeat . . .
He might remember the festival Tsuzuki dragged him to.
There always seemed to be a festival.
And, of course, there were always crowds.
. . . joy . . . . . . . . . . laughter . . .
. . . haven't been here in years . . .
. . . jealousy . . . . . . anticipation . . .
. . . will he let me kiss him . . .
. . . delight . . . . . . frustration . . .
. . . what does he feel . . . . . . I want . . .
. . . glad to be here . . .
. . . with you . . .
Tsuzuki had smiled and laughed.
. . . to see him smile . . .
. . . to share this with him . . .
. . . affection . . .
Hisoka got a headache.
. . . I hate crowds . . .
Later, Tsuzuki would ask him if he'd had a good time.
Hisoka would only shrug.
. . . were any of those feelings mine . . .
He couldn't say.
So Hisoka went home again.
Took some painkillers.
. . . repeat dosage until the pain is all gone . . .
Got an ice pack.
. . . repeat until numb . . .
He set his alarm clock.
. . . why am I waking up tomorrow . . .
And went to bed.
Repeat.
Until the days all run together.
. . . days to years . . .
. . . years to decades . . .
. . . decades to . . .
Remember, shinigami live forever.
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