Angel of My Dreams

Ramblings: I so changed my writing format to this-much more likeable.

Nites: Genre change. Oh, & see if you can tell the foreshadowing.

---

There was no hesitation in his voice, his kiss, his heat, as was there none in Krad's. Perhaps that had been the absolute downfall of him-of both of them.

They had fulfilled many a dream that night, whispers & cries & sounds so deep & so dark, Krad was half-afraid that Dark would suddenly lash up to him and rip his throat out-but of course, this would not be. Would not be. Could…

Never be.

ooooooo

There was an overwhelming heat on his stomach-so hot was it, Krad thought he was being baked alive. It burned at every touch that landed upon him, burning, scathing, scalding-

"Krad?"

And almost as if it were a charm, the heat faded. Only a cool amethyst gazed sleepily through mussed, beautiful bangs.

"What the hell's up with you?"

Yet even through it all, he dreaded…

…what was he dreading? What was there to fear? Nothing was amiss…

…right?

ooooooo

"Krad, Krad! C'mon look!" He loved every sound Dark emitted, it was all so gloriously harmonic, a rhythym pulsed through his veins sharper than any dagger could ever pierce his skin. It, too, burned, but it was a dull throb, as if an old wound come alive again. What was this sensation? Was this love?

…should love hurt so much that it licked in its fury at his every crevice, his every inch of skin; bathing him in an immense…

Heat.

"Gosh, what's with you? You're so spacey…kind of like Daisuke was."

Burning…

Burning!...

"Krad!"

ooooooo

Cool.

A cool, cold wind, and…

Was that pickles he smelt?

"You're finally up, Krad." Ah, the being of his fire. Dark's breath was washing over him, smelling strongly of pickles, but…

Cool?

"You passed out-you have a fever of some sort. Don't worry you'll be-"

"Don't touch me!" Please, don't touch me…your touch burns.

ooooooo

"What hell is this? He's delusional, has a fever of 103.7, & is about ready to either screw me into the floor or choke me with his sheets-I can't tell which!" He could hear voices…hot, frantic voices…

"I'm not entirely sure…I think he…"

"He what?"

"He may have been drugged." Ah, so that's what it was…drugged, eh? But this power from it…what drug could stimulate it? What was so potent…?

Ah…

That's how…

ooooooo

"Geez, Krad, I don't know you did it. One day and you're already drugged, delusional, and giving me the creepiest look in my life." Albeit short-lived.

There are things he knows that he shouldn't; things he doesn't know that he should. Mysteries upon unsolved mysteries & everything is simply rolling into one large ball of…

Ice?

No…it was too warm for ice…

Fire.

ooooooo

Everything is the same, nothing is amiss. The shelves are (were)stocked with a plentiful supply of the classic books he so adore(d)s. What (How) went wrong?

"Here Krad, have…oh…what is this?" There is (was) a childlike quality to his voice, as if everything is (was) moving along so fast and so quickly that nothing is (was) itself anymore. "This…this is…"

ooooooo

"Yes, please, I need to gain hold on Commander Hiwatari!...no, I don't have time, this is an emergency! What do you mean he's busy?...what, I can't-?"

Dark…I love you too.

ooooooo

"He's been like that ever since…maybe even before…"

"But why?"

"Apparently he was drugged & was suffering severe amounts of hysteria, paranoia, some anemia, and a general case of just being flat-out psycho."

"What could do that to him?"

"…a poison love."

---

Beginning Song: The Wicked End

Ending Song: Secrets Don't Make Friends

Author's Afterthoughts: AHAHAHAHA. It's done. Finally. ;D I LOVE this writing style so much. Oh. Epilogue, ish. : )