Author's Notes: In response to a Temps Mort "Addiction" challenge, limit 45 minutes. First timed challenge. It's a pretty interesting experience. Actually, there's not much I wanted to do with this piece, so it's pretty short, and doesn't have much to it. Most of it is psychological drama. Mostly this is for me to brush up on prose, and such... Mostly it's pieces of internal drama, so don't expect much plot development. . Cross-posted both at the Temps Mort community and on my LJ.
Disclaimer: DNAngel belongs to the great Bunny-sensei, and a load of other companies. I do not own it, unfortunately.

Time Start: 5:25 PM

THE ART OF STEALING

Tonight's piece was a marble sculpture called Angel of Death, and was a detailed work of a black devil-like being looming over a reclining human with his eyes closed. The vicious cycle of death. The one that Dark could never experience. He leapt out the window, grinning. Idiots, he thought. The rush of adrenaline through his blood made him even more excited, as he leapt from roof to roof and into the sky.

"Look! He's flying across the sky! The legendary Dark is flying across the sky!" A reporter pointed up in the sky excitedly. "How does he do it?"

"Are we done, Dark?" Daisuke sounded bored, Dark thought. And tired. Distracted, too, maybe. Dark privately believed that Daisuke was probably still knocked out from transforming back and forth at school. Damned kid was more perverted than Dark thought he'd be, and they shared a body. Damned swim suit incident.

He pushed the thought out of his mind before Daisuke became too aware of it. "Pretty much, yeah."

Daisuke mentally yawned. "Can we go home now?"

"Sure thing," Dark replied. "One more lap around this area and we can disappear and creep the hell out of the stupid reporters."

"Don't get to close to Harada-san's house.. You scared her last time."

"I won't." A long pause as they flew across the night sky. "Well," Dark said, "let's go home."

-

"Good job tonight!" his mother squealed, hugging him to her tightly. "A success!"

"T-thanks," Daisuke tried to wriggle out of her grasp, to no avail.

"And I have a dinner laid out just for you!" she squealed. With some difficulty, Daisuke got out of her grasp, sat down, and dug in.

It's been a long day, he sighed to himself. He wasn't sure why he did this anymore. Stealing art meant ungodly sleep scheduling, no time to do homework, and no time for anything else, really.

"Ne, Okaa-san," he asked thoughtfully between bites. "Why does Dark steal?"

"Because it's his duty to," his mother replied. "And he feels like it."

-

Daisuke stared up at the ceiling, and turned on his side, shifting on the mattress in attempt to be more comfortable.

"Dark?"

Silence.

"Dark?"

"Yeah?"

"Were you asleep?"

"No."

A pause.

"What is it, Daisuke?"

Another pause. "Say, Dark, why do we steal?"

Why indeed, Dark thought. Perhaps they steal because Hiwatari is a two-faced idiot and Dark likes to piss the hell out of him. Perhaps it's because the ancient works art are beautiful. Something beyond what modern artists can create. There's some sort of mystic beauty involved in those works, whether they be paintings, sculptures, or jewelry. There was some level of thrill too, in stealing these pieces.

Or perhaps they steal because it's stealing.

Dark paused. "We steal because we can, Daisuke."

But Daisuke was already asleep.

Dark knew that Daisuke would die rather than admit it, but Dark had a sneaking feeling that Daisuke loved stealing too. The rush was incomparable with anything else. There was really no reason to steal, other than the fact that it was stealing. All that destiny crap was bullshit. Daisuke knew well that it didn't matter at all whether he stole or not.

But of course, it was impossible to stop stealing. Dark wondered if they'd ever figure out why.

-Owari-

End Time: 6:00 PM

A/N: That ended all weird. It didn't turn out quite as well as I'd hoped, but it was good practice, I guess. Comments? Criticism?