D. N. Angel Fan Fiction ❯ Snippets ❯ September ( Chapter 16 )

September-A Tribute:

 

Disclaimer: I don't own DN Angel.

 

Warnings: AU, sensitive issues (if you can't handle Sept. 11th, stop HERE).

 

A/N: I have tried to research all these events thoroughly and I sincerely apologise to anyone who thinks that I have made fun of those who suffered or died in this tragic event. I KNOW none of the flights came from Japan and I can't say that I know what the view from any of the airports in NYC is like, considering that I've never BEEN there. All other mistakes are my own and God bless all those who have lost a loved one. Again, apologies to anyone who might take offense at this. If you think that you cannot handle this, I suggest you don't read. Also, this is a repost due to a typo pointed out by a couple of readers; thanks guys; you know who you are. Sorry!

 

Dark Mousy always remembered the month of September as being particular. It demanded more attention from him. Why, he didn't know. Well, okay, yes, he did know. However, the reason didn't please at him all, which was why he didn't want to dwell upon it for too long.

 

For as long as he could remember, September had always been a month of change for him. It was the month in which he had been born, the month in which his mother had officially moved out and he'd been left with his father. Not that he wasn't shipped back and forth like some present, of course. Many people remembered September as being a special month because it was the month in which they rose a year in school, but not Dark. Oh no, heaven forbid that he ever remember September as being the beginning of a new school term.

 

Although September was the month of change for Dark, there were bound to be incidents which stood out in his mind far better than others, the clearest of which had happened when he was seventeen or so.

 

He was hanging out with his best friend, Daisuke Niwa, a fourteen-year old. He'd moved to Azumano just over three months ago, and had immediately caught Dark's eye. It might have struck others as odd that a senior would willingly pair up with a high-school student, but to those who knew the whole story, it certainly wasn't. After all, it wasn't every day you met someone who you felt an immediate kinship with. Heck, the first time Dark and Krad had met, the whole school had been privy to the mother of all prank wars, and now the pair were close friends.

 

Daisuke looked up at Dark from his perch on the fence. “Dark, what's up?” Dark shook his head.

 

“Nothing much,” he said shortly. It had been a beautiful day; the leaves were just starting to change colour and as a result the trees above were a myriad of green, red and gold. Still, he didn't feel happy, as he normally did. It felt as though there was something on his mind, but he didn't know what. There was an empty sort of heaviness in his gut, the feeling he got whenever he forgot something but didn't know what it was.

 

Daisuke looked up from the strings of his guitar, eyes concerned. “Dark?” He asked. “You can tell me anything, you know. I won't mind.” Dark nodded absently, examining a leaf that had fallen in front of him. The two sat in silence for a while, one absorbed in his study of the leaf, the other in his music.

 

He remembered every single detail of that September's day, right down to the sound of the Tower clock as it chimed three times. Daisuke looked up, eyes warm, arm casually draped over the body of the guitar. “Dark.” Said teenager turned around to look at him again.

 

“You're never this quiet,” the redhead said. “Why don't we go down to the park? There's more to do there.” Truth be told, he wanted to cheer his friend up. Dark was rarely this melancholic and as far as Daisuke could remember (well, from the time he spent with Dark since his arrival in Azumano), he had never looked this down in the dumps for so long. Giving his guitar a fond pat, he secured it in its case and then stood up. “Come on,” he said, holding out a hand to Dark, “Let's go.” The purple-haired boy looked at his hand for a moment, then took it and hoisted himself up.

 

They arrived at the Park in due time, and much to the senior's surprise, there was a carnival going on. Dark was surprised and looked around, baffled as to how something this big could have possibly escaped his notice. “How?” He asked, looking at Daisuke.

 

The redhead smiled slightly, then dragged his friend over to the roller coaster. “Let's go on that one!” Five minutes later, a pair of laughing, flushed boys came out and Dark seemed to be in a much better frame of mind. Collecting their things from the section reserved for passengers' belongings, they continued through the funfair, occasionally stopping to join the queue for a ride or play a game.

 

They were sitting on the Ferris wheel, that wonderful contraption which had acted as a catalyst for so many couples. Dark grinned at Daisuke, who was doubled over laughing at a previously made joke. “You're so slow sometimes, Dai,” he laughed. Daisuke looked up, eyes still dancing with mirth.

 

“Hey, look, it's not my fault you can't tell a joke properly,” the other defended himself. Dark harrumphed and then looked at his best friend again, enjoying the way the redhead could make anyone cheer up. For a while, just a while, that heavy feeling in his stomach was gone. Then, as he examined the laughing teenager's face more closely, it hit him like a ton of bricks and suddenly that lurching, heavy feeling made itself known in the pit of his stomach once more. That's…that's it…Oddly enough, once the feeling of revelation had passed, Dark felt nothing new. It was as though he was looking at something he had known all his life, but never really thought about until now. There were no butterflies in his stomach, no sudden, random impulses. Then again, he was a creature of impulse, so perhaps it didn't register as much with him as it would with any other person.

 

A jolt as the ride ended, and both boys climbed off, laughing. Without really thinking about what he was doing, or the consequences of the act, Dark leaned forward and gently cupped Daisuke's face in one hand. The fourteen-year old flushed darkly but did nothing to resist the action, even leaning into the touch a little. Or so Dark believed. He leaned closer, allowing his lips to brush over the other's in a butterfly kiss. There was no raw heat, no desperate clutching of clothes, no moaning and certainly nothing remotely akin to acting like dogs in heat. It was uncertain and awkward, what with the difference in their heights and the surprise which took Daisuke. They pulled apart, neither saying anything. Then Daisuke leaned forward and by yanking at the other's collar, he brought their mouths together in another careful kiss.

 

That was Friday, September the fourth, 1995. Dark remembered everything just as if it had happened yesterday, although in truth it had happened five years ago. He was sitting in his apartment, listening to the television drone on. Irritated with the moronic answers of the contestants in nearly every morning quiz show (`Doesn't anyone know what the capital of Canada is?'), Dark picked up the remote and flipped through the channels, idly surfing. Daisuke was coming to join him in the States, albeit at university. Still, it was in the area and it wasn't as though he couldn't drive over to see him every time. At first it had been difficult getting past the first stage, where awkward questions came up every five minutes, but soon they had settled into a sort of pattern. Although Dark didn't exactly remember when it had started, he soon began to feel…lost without Daisuke. The younger man was an anchor for him, the only stable thing in his life except for those September events. He smiled at the thought of the cheery redhead and then looked at the clock. His plane was soon due.

 

An hour later he had arrived at the airport and was standing in the waiting area, looking up anxiously at the large clock on the wall every two minutes. Time went by at a sluggish pace and Dark scowled, impatient to see the redhead once more. He glanced out of the large window now and again, hoping to see the plane pulling into the area, but he knew it was useless. A glance further across the field gave him the full view of New York and he could see the Twin Towers and the Pentagon glistening in the distance, the sun's rays reflected off their shiny, polished surfaces. Suddenly, the phone in his pocket rang and the purple-haired man pulled it out. “Hello?”

 

“Dark!” His voice trembled with anxiety and sadness and the purple-haired man felt his heart sinking.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Dark!” The sound of Daisuke's sobbing over the phone was heard and he frowned.

 

“Daisuke, are you—“

 

“I-I don't think I'm going to make it,” His voice was quiet, frightened.

 

“What? What are you talking about?” Dark laughed nervously down the phone, unsure of what to do.

 

“Listen…there's…oh God, there're terrorists on the plane, they've threatened the pilot…we're heading towards the Twin Towers…Dark please…goodbye. I love you.” The redhead dissolved into sobs and Dark's face paled as the line went dead.

 

“No!” He shouted down the phone, but the action went unnoticed. By now, everyone else was receiving phone calls. The purple-haired young man rushed to the window. To his horror, there was definitely a something heading towards the Twin Towers. As though it were some action movie playing in slow motion, he watched as the plane crashed into the building and flames erupted. He collapsed, unable to say anything more.

 

It was September 11th, 2001.

 

Five years later:

 

He stood there, staring through the heads at the strobe lights that marked Ground Zero. His eyes were dry, face blank and emotionless. Around him, people sobbed and leaned on each other for support, but he was alone. The names hummed, just part of the background music for the memorial service. He wanted to scream, cry, sob, do something that would mark him as normal, but he couldn't. He felt empty, numbed. Idly, he wondered whether he was still suffering from shock or denial. He didn't know the difference any more. There were no survivors.

 

“Hey Daisuke.” The words came out faintly, so faintly that they were lost on the slight breeze. He laughed weakly, swallowing hard and clutching the photo in his hand so tightly that it crumpled under his fingers. “It's been a while.” He placed the bouquet carefully on the small marker, smoothing out the wrinkled ribbon carefully, still clumsily clutching the photograph. “I decided to come now…because the service's still going, and it'll be crowded when it's all over.” He sat down, making himself comfortable on the grass. As though realizing that he held something else, he looked at the photo and smoothed it out on his lap, trying to erase the wrinkles. It was a photo card, the kind generated by the machines found in arcades and made to cater to girls. “I got your favourite flowers; morning glories, see?” He pointed at the plants. “Remember how you told me they were called `trumpet flowers' in Cantonese one time, and then that nosy Chinese waiter came over and said your pronunciation sucked?” He continued to talk, trying to drown out the noise of the service, trying to make conversation with the little black stone.

 

Night had fallen. Dark shifted slowly as his senses awakened once more, and winced at the dull throb in his lower back. Slowly getting up, he walked back to his apartment, his right hand gripping the little photograph in his coat pocket. I'll come back tomorrow, he silently promised Daisuke.

 

I'm sorry for the date mix-up, once again, thanks to those who pointed it out. I also edited the end in order to try and make it just a little less cliché. I repeat: I apologise for any errors and I apologise if you found yourself offended (though why you didn't leave earlier does pique my curiosity). God bless those who suffered and died on that day. Before you ask, yes, this is in memoriam. I did not lose anyone, but I feel that those involved on Sept. 11th deserve to be remembered. God bless.