Author's Note: In a theatre workshop I recently attended, they assigned us something called the Open Scene Project, in which we all had to come up with an original scene from a script of exceedingly vague dialogue. The script had four options on it, each more ambiguous than the last.
I know a challenge when I see one. X3
So here you go, some DarkxDai goodness based off of that worksheet. I'll try to use some of the options more than once, so see if you recognize the dialogue. Heehee. XD
Open Scene Project
Dark's words echoed through the silence of twilight, vanishing in a rainbow swirl of brilliant golds and pastel reds. The cotton clouds glowed, softening the horizon and fading into nothingness. And even as Daisuke watched, the bright sunlight dimmed, making way for the waning crescent of the moon and blanketing the front porch with bleak blackness.
From what seemed far away, a baby bird cried. The porch swing creaked; the wind rustled through a tree.
But for a long time, neither spoke. Or moved. Looking helpless, Daisuke spent a moment trying to loosen the fist he'd clenched round the swing chain; he could feel his nails raising blood. But he couldn't force the muscles to relax… nor could he blink, or breathe, or restart the beating of his heart.
Inside his head, Dark said nothing. Instead, he waited: waited for his previous words to register… waited for Daisuke to respond…
Waited for his world to crumble.
Finally, the young boy found his voice, cracked and broken though it'd become: "Oh…" he choked, trying and failing to put a cheerful note into the reply. It was a futile effort—how in Heaven or Hell could anyone respond cheerfully to…
"Yes," Dark responded quietly, purposely crafting an ambiguous response. He merely needed to throw something out as a prompter. Daisuke would fill in the rest when he was ready.
They sat there, rocking on the porch swing, for what felt like hours. And Dark noticed that, while they were still one at the moment—he'd never felt more distant from Daisuke than he did now.
In the distance, the sun began to sink. Daisuke's feet stilled; he bowed his head, as if shielding his eyes from the light.
The rosy sunbeams made his hidden tears glint and sparkle, like diamonds in a stream.
"…why are you doing this?" the younger boy finally asked, sounding smaller than he ever had before. Though it hadn't seemed possible, his hand tightened; the chains clanked. His tennis shoes scuffled against the pavement beneath him, squeaking softly as he curled and uncurled his toes.
Dark had to close his eyes and clear his throat before answering—if he didn't, he was sure he'd shatter. "It's the best thing," he then said in a firm way… though even he had to admit that the robustness seemed forced.
But it was enough.
In that moment, the boy's pain was nearly tangible—the way his blood froze, heart stopped, eyes widened. "You… can't mean that," Daisuke whispered, his words barely audible over a sudden gust of spring-scented air.
And he didn't. God, it was the furthest thing from the truth! But though Dark's heart was breaking, he still… he still had…
Please, don't hate me—!
"No," the phantom breathed. "I'm serious."
His tamer's head wilted further, like that of a dying flower.
Silence. The sun was gone now, as was any hope of light. And as the scenery around them darkened, as the brisk chill became more pronounced, the pair knew the end had finally come. Not just of another day, but of something greater…
Daisuke didn't even bother hiding his tears now: inside their shared soul, Dark watched the grief pour like twin rivers down his pale cheeks, splattering like bitter rain against the marble floor. His small shoulders shook; his hands formed fists on the ground when his legs gave way beneath him.
Dark watched him, stock still, from across the room of nothingness. His hands remained firmly at his sides; his feet remained rooted in place. He wouldn't move… if he did, he knew he'd cave.
He couldn't do that. For Daisuke's sake, he couldn't.
Eventually the sobs subsided, leaving little more than sniffling in their wake. Dark waited, each tiny sound piercing his already battered heart like a poison-tipped spear. But he waited just the same, and Daisuke eventually fell silent, his small body trembling and weak.
He wanted to say something else. Dark could feel it.
And he was right.
"Please…" Daisuke murmured after a prolonged hush, his voice still shaking in the wake of his tears. He tried to take a deep breath, tried to continue, but in the end remained silent.
Dark quirked an eyebrow. "What?"
The nonchalance in his response seemed to make something in Daisuke snap; his face whipped upwards without warning, cold and hurt and afraid and confused. Dark recoiled an inch, but made no other response.
"What does this mean?!" Daisuke demanded loudly, all but screaming, as he grabbed at the ring Dark had given him: the beautiful ebony creation that Dark had stolen; the concrete memory of their first kiss; Dai's 18th birthday present. Its smooth, polished surface shone in the bleached light, cold to the touch and heavy on the hand.
The spirit shrugged… and spoke the words that near killed them both:
Daisuke's eyes widened—glassy. Blank.
Dark had to look away, unable to watch his lover crumple like that. Unable to bare the sheer agony in his beautiful ruby pools. His only, his treasure, his favorite… how could he do this to him?
…but there wasn't any other choice. He had to leave—had to, to set his Dai-chan free.
"L—listen…" Daisuke began after a pause, clearly pleading with Dark—ready to beg—
"No," Dark interrupted, cutting him off with an unyielding shake of his head.
Daisuke sucked in a pained breath, wincing as if physically hurt. But then he frowned, pushing himself onto his knees, and simply stared at the violet-haired thief: eyes narrowed, penetrating and sharp, as if reading Dark's soul.
He clearly wasn't pleased by what he saw there.
"So different," he murmured, more to himself than to the spirit, as he began gnawing on his bottom lip.
Uncomfortable, Dark shifted in place, trying to sound offhanded and aloof. "Not really," he corrected in a grumble.
And Daisuke, as if finally seeing his other half's true colors, offered Dark as small half-smile. "Oh."
That was it. He couldn't take it anymore.
With swift, soundless footsteps, Dark glided to Daisuke and fell to his knees before him: clasping his shoulders with his hands and placing a lingering kiss on the boy's forehead. The movement made Daisuke sway and swing, like a soulless doll, in Dark's steady grip.
But he did not respond to the other's attention.
Brow puckering in anguish, Dark cupped the younger boy's face in his hands, shaking him gently. "You're good," he said insistently, his eyes full of unreleased, unacknowledged tears.
Too good for me, Daisuke. Too good for me…
He had to let him go, Daisuke had to understand that—
The teenager shook his head rapidly, jerking himself from Dark's grasp. He'd lowered his face again: eyes shadowed by his hair, lips pursed in a cold, thin line. And Dark, being as close as he was, could see that he had started quivering again… just as the tears returned.
The snarled hiss seemed to come from nowhere, and vanish at the same time.
Dark gave a start. "What?"
Daisuke's head snapped upwards, his eyes full of such revulsion and utter disgust that Dark instinctively shrunk away, looking much like a wounded puppy. "Go on!" the boy screeched, pushing Dark back with a flurry of sharp nails and flailing arms. Tears wetted the thief's outstretched fingers; he gaped at the boy in disbelief.
But this had been what he'd wanted…
Go on—the words reverberated through the silence.
Dark swallowed, closed his eyes, and set his face. When he met Daisuke's gaze again, his features were completely void of emotion.
And he did.