Pet Shop Of Horrors Fan Fiction ❯ some kind of bliss ❯ Pangs Too Soft To Kill ( Chapter 7 )

See Chapter One for all that start-of-fic type malarkey. I did not write this at two in the morning, have had a full night's sleep, and am not high on sugar (or anything else, for that matter).

^*^

He was not sure when the dreams had stopped. They had been unpleasant, clear and cold as marble. But this -- this was comfortable, just lying here. The darkness was soft and warm, and lay over him like a blanket. The darkness was tender. The darkness felt safe.

There was something that he should be doing, he thought. Yes, he was sure of it. Somewhere else, not here, something that he should be putting right -- but he could not recall it, and it was so difficult to think, and the darkness was so warm --

And then, quite suddenly, he was being torn out of it, dragged up into consciousness with every fibre of his being protesting loudly. He did not want to wake up, or to leave the comfort of the dark -- did not want to open his eyes --

D started into wakefulness, and realised that he was being lifted up. His eyelids fluttered open, but everything was blurred, and he felt dizzy, so he shut them again quickly. Then he was being set back down, but somewhere soft this time, not the floor. He supposed it must be the couch. Yes, the couch. Well, that was better.

For a few seconds he lay blankly still, waiting for the dizziness to subside. And then he remembered. The creature -- his father -- Leon. That was what he had to do. He had to find out what his father was trying to do, and, whatever it was, he had to stop it. Lying here on the couch was not going to help, at any rate.

He raised himself, gingerly, onto his elbows, and half-sat up, and then the pain hit him like a brick. It was dull, leaden, crushing, at his sides, across his stomach, all around his waist, and made him gasp for breath and feel that the room was spinning around him. And then there were hands on his shoulders and he was being pushed down, pressed firmly into the couch and held there, and a gruff, familiar voice was saying: "Keep still, you fucking idiot. You're hurt."

D's head swam. He lay still for a moment, concentrating on trying to breathe. When the dizziness had faded a little he opened his eyes, and blinked a few times.

"Leon?" he whispered.

"You just sit tight, okay? I'm gonna call an ambulance."

"What -- ? No!" D protested, weakly. "Really, Detective, there will be no need -- "

"Huh? Quit being stupid, D! You were unconscious on the floor. You need to see a goddamn doctor!"

The beep of cellphone buttons being pressed.

"Please, Detective." D forced himself into a half-sitting position and peered up at Leon who was standing over him, frowning. His vision was a little less blurred now, at least. "I am begging you. No doctors."

He supposed he must have sounded rather desperate, since Leon stopped dialling. He looked unconvinced still, but put the cellphone away.

"Okay, fine." Leon scowled. "Just don't come crying to me if you wake up dead in the morning."

D managed a tiny smile at that, and sank back down onto the couch. It hurt to move, and he winced before he could stop himself.

"Shit! You okay?" Leon crouched down beside D and looked into his face intently, his scowl fading. D nodded weakly, and blinked up at Leon, whom he could see quite clearly now. The human's expression was still fierce, but there was something else behind it, D realised now -- something that looked very much like concern.

Unbidden, the memory of the creature's earlier words rose in his mind. He does, you know... Love you.

Of course.

And this was almost too perfect to have been planned. He had hardly expected to wake up in Never-Never-Land, but this -- leaving him humiliatingly, physically vulnerable, and with not a soul but Leon around to help -- this was beyond cruel.

Well, that was not strictly true. The animals would do their best to help take care of him, and he never took long to heal. He should send Leon away again, should get him out of here as quickly as possible. It was not fair that he should be drawn into whatever was happening here. But it seemed unlikely that Leon would listen to him, and he felt so weak, and in truth he was not sure that he could even stand up --

"So, you going to tell me what the hell happened to you?" Leon was saying. "Like who did this? If you think they're gonna come back or anything I can call the station -- "

"That… will not be necessary, thank you, Detective," D murmured. And indeed, he was almost certain that the creature would not return. As for whatever else might happen -- well, there was little that the police department would be able to do to help. "And I must confess, I do not know that I am entirely sure what happened." Then a thought occurred to D, and it was his turn to frown. "Might I enquire, Detective," he asked, "Why you are here? I had asked you to leave -- "

"Yeah, after spacing out on me and then looking like you'd seen a goddamn ghost. I'm a detective, okay? I wasn't gonna leave you acting all weird like that without finding out what the hell was going on." Leon glowered down at the floor and bit his lip, and for a moment he looked uncertain. It was most odd. Then he glanced back up, and muttered, "I was worried about you, okay, moron?" And then, unnecessarily: "Jesus fuck, D."

^*^

And it was true. Leon hadn't quite realised it until he'd actually blurted it out, but yeah, it was true. He had been worried. Worried about D.

Jesus.

He'd been more confused than anything at first, after D had kicked him out of the shop. Too confused to even get properly pissed off, which was a first. He just didn't get it. One minute D had been fine, if a little quiet. The next he'd been staring into space like some kind of zombie, looking right through Leon -- then telling him to get the hell out of his shop and go home. Well, not exactly in those words, but Leon had gotten the message.

And the weird thing -- well, the weirder-than-normal thing -- was, he didn't have a fucking clue what had triggered it. It wasn't like he'd said or done anything particularly offensive, or at least he didn't think so, and he hadn't even knocked over a teacup or accidentally trodden on any of the animals. He'd just said a couple of things about Jill, and then asked if D thought he should get a pet, and he couldn't see what was wrong with that. Hell, D should have been glad he was getting offered more business if anything. That guy was just too damn weird sometimes.

By the time he'd gotten to the end of the street, he'd decided the pet thing was probably a bad idea anyway. It had just been a stupid spur-of-the-moment thing, and anyway, he didn't have the time to look after a goddamn goldfish, never mind a proper pet. Still didn't explain what had gotten into D, though.

Leon was halfway back to his apartment by the time it occurred to him that something might really be wrong.

D freaking out -- that just… wasn't right. D never freaked out. Sure, he got upset over stupid shit, and he threw hissy-fits all the time, but they never lasted long, and he always told Leon what was bothering him. Usually at considerable length, and with plenty of politely-worded insults thrown in for good measure. Tonight he'd just kind of… shut off. Like there was something he didn't want to tell Leon. Which, when he thought about it, looked pretty fucking shady. D had to be up to something.

But then, he hadn't seemed pissed so much as… scared. Leon had had to stop and think that over for a few seconds, it seemed so unlikely. D and scared just didn't go together. He never acted like that, ever. However big of a snit he was in, he'd never just kicked Leon out without a reason before, or acted frightened -- even when he was standing in the path of a stampeding horse. It would have to take something big to shake him up like this, Leon figured. Something really fucking big.

Then, of course, he'd realised he had to go back. He'd argued with himself about it at first -- why the hell should he care what was bothering D, anyway? -- and he'd still been arguing with himself by the time he made it back to the pet shop and found the front door half-open, and the whole place spookily quiet.

He'd kind of forgotten about the argument when he saw D unconscious on the floor. But it was only now, feeling it slow down, that he realised his heart had been racing; only now, remembering to exhale, that he realised he'd been holding his breath. Refusing to go to the hospital was damn stupid, but still, he didn't think he'd ever actually been glad to see D acting something like his normal, infuriating self before.

D still looked kind of out of it, though. He was white as ever, but with only a shade of his usual pale glow, and his eyes were half-closed, one hand drooping limply over the side of the couch. Which probably wasn't the best place for him if he was hurt.

"D?" he ventured.

"Mmm?"

"You, uh -- you probably ought to go lie down or something."

"I was under the impression that that was what I was doing, Detective." D's lips curved briefly in the faintest shadow of his usual, amused smile, and Leon found himself blinking at how weak D's voice sounded. For some reason, he really didn't like it.

He scowled. "I meant on your bed, stupid. Since you're not gonna let me take you to the goddamn hospital."

D blinked. "Oh," he murmured. "Yes. Very well."

"Think you can get up?"

He shook his head slowly. "I… do not believe so, Detective. I am afraid you will have to carry me." The small smile that touched his lips stayed for just a half-second, and then was replaced by something different, more troubled.

Leon frowned, but didn't comment on it. D was probably still a little freaked by whatever had gone on here, that was all. And there were more important things for him to be concentrating on right now. He could ask questions in a minute or two.

He took a deep breath. "Okay," he said. "You just hang on to me." And then he put one of his arms round D's slender shoulders, hooked the other one under his knees, and scooped him up. D gave a faint little sigh, but then let his head settle against Leon's shoulder.

"You okay?"

"Yes. Yes, I think so."

"Well, you're gonna have to give me some directions. I ain't standing here all night."

^*^

He should have know D would live somewhere like this, Leon guessed. Silk sheets and a four-poster bed, like a princess in some kind of stupid period movie, plus God-knew-how-many cushions and ornaments, and intricately-carved bits of furniture scattered around the place. He'd only paused to look round the room for half a second though, since he'd been kind of preoccupied with putting D down somewhere safely before he dropped him. Not that he was heavy -- quite the opposite, especially if you stopped to think about all the cakes and chocolate the guy put away -- but they'd been round so many twists and turns and corners that Leon was starting to get dizzy. How the hell he was going to get out again, he had no idea. The place was like a goddamn maze.

"Detective?" D's voice was soft, uncertain.

"Yeah?"

A moment's pause. "Nothing," D murmured, at last, and let his eyes drift closed. He still looked troubled, Leon realised. Kind of drawn, too, and surprisingly little lying among all those overstuffed cushions, and his breathing was a little laboured. Leon almost winced, recalling the way his heart had lurched when he'd walked into the shop, the way D had whimpered quietly, still only half-conscious, when Leon put him down on the sofa, the way he'd gasped in pain when he tried to sit up. He was obviously still in a pretty bad way. The had to be something Leon could do, even if D wasn't willing to see a doctor like a sane person -- at the very least, he should try and get a look at D's injuries, to see how bad they were. Hell, if he had to, he could just call an ambulance anyway, and D would damn well have to put up with having his ass saved.

"D?"

Mismatched eyes flickered open. "Yes, Detective?"

"Look - if you're not gonna let me take you to the hospital, will you at least let me take a look at you? You're hurt. You might need…" he trailed off. "Help."

D blinked at him. He said nothing for a moment, and a tiny frown crossed his face. But then he just nodded, and said, "Ah, yes. I suppose you are right."

"Uh, okay…" Leon took a deep breath, thinking he'd really have to stop and remember that one later. D saying "you are right" wasn't something that happened every day, after all. His hands hovered over one of the elaborate-looking fasteners on D's outfit for a moment before dropping back to his side. He could hardly even manage to get a bra strap undone without difficulty most of the time, and the… thing… D was wearing looked a lot more complicated than that. Not, his brain reminded him, that he'd been anywhere near a real live girl in months. And where the hell had that comparison come from, anyway? "Ah, could you…?" He gestured at the fastener.

"Of course." D gave a faint flicker of smile, and for once Leon was almost relieved that he was okay enough to be amused, but then the rich fabric parted over skin, and he found himself feeling faintly ill instead.

D's skin, most of it, was smooth and milky-pale, just like you'd expect, except for the bruises. Huge bruises, that kind of reddish-purple colour that meant they'd happened recently, and some of them looked like they were going to turn out pretty bad. They were in a strange pattern, too, not like normal bruises - all across D's abdomen and, as far as Leon could tell, going right round his waist. Like something had wrapped round there and tried to crush him. Jesus fuck. Before Leon had quite realised he was doing it, he'd reached out with his right hand and touched his fingers to the edge of one of those bruises. His hand brushed D's skin where it was undamaged, still pale, and it was cool, but the bruised skin was warm, and tender - fragile, like it might burst if he pressed too hard -

D winced, and Leon snatched his hand away.

"Jesus," he blurted, "what the hell happened to you, D? You lose a fight with a boa constrictor or something?"

D smiled weakly. "Something like that."

Leon blinked at him for a second as he tried to process that one. Did D mean he'd really been attacked by one of his weird-ass pets? And he hadn't even thought to warn Leon about it? The thing could still be running (slithering?) round loose here somewhere.

"What the hell?" he demanded. "Why didn't you tell me? Is it still -- " He glanced around the room, as though something monstrous might suddenly loom out of the shadows at him. " -- here?"

"No. Please, Detective, there is no reason for concern. There is no -- " D's face clouded for a split second. " -- immediate danger." Then his expression resolved. "There are certainly no dangerous animals in the vicinity, at any rate."

This time, he sounded certain enough that Leon relaxed back in the chair a little. He still wasn't entirely convinced, though. The door had been open when he came in - maybe D was right, and the creature that had attacked him had gotten out that way. He probably ought to call the station or something about that. Those things were dangerous. He'd heard stories about them doing pretty serious damage to people -- sometimes even crushing them to death --

Next thing Leon knew, he was grabbing his cellphone again. "Okay," he mumbled, "This time I really am calling a goddamn ambulance."

D's eyes widened. "No!" The pleading note from earlier was back in his voice then. "Detective -- please. It will be of no help to me if you do."

Leon frowned at him. "What, and just staying here not doing anything about it is gonna help?"

"No. But -- " D broke off, blinked, and looked back at him more steadily, but there was still faint panic in his expression. "Please, trust me in this. Going to the hospital would be more trouble than it is worth, Detective. That is all."

"Getting better isn't worth the trouble? What the hell are you on, D? You could be seriously -- "

"I shall be fine." A faint, wobbly smile that looked like it took a lot more effort than D's usual smirks. "I feel a little better already, in fact."

Leon raised his eyebrows, but shoved the cellphone back in his pocket. "Okay, okay. Whatever you say," he muttered, hoping his skepticism was obvious. "But like I said, just don't come whining to me if -- ah, shit."

D's mouth quirked, but for once he didn't comment on Leon's choice of language. Instead: "What on Earth is the matter now, Detective?" he asked.

Leon groaned. "Nothing."

Which was kind of true. It was just that -- as he'd just realised -- if D wasn't willing to be persuaded on the seeing-a-doctor front, there was no way Leon was getting any sleep tonight. He couldn't in all conscience leave D on his own when he was in this state. The idiot needed somebody to keep an eye on him, make sure he didn't get worse, and it looked like that somebody would have to be Leon. Which, he guessed, meant crashing on D's couch. Not something he really wanted to do, especially with that fucking goat thing running loose around the place. Unless --

"Look, D are you sure you won't let me call a doctor?" he tried, one last time.

"Quite sure, Detective." D murmured, and stifled a yawn. Leon wasn't quite sure if it was faked or not. "I simply need to rest. Nothing more."

Leon rolled his eyes. "Fine. Look, uh, you gonna be okay on your own for a minute? I'm just gonna go make a phone call…"

A sleepy smile. "Of course, Detective."

^*^

The clearing was empty now. Cold, too, frost sugaring the sharp grass. All was quiet. Still and bright, and empty. It had not been so before, he was sure. No; his grandfather had been here. Yes. And there had been sound, a sound like the rustling of leaves.

A voice called out, and he turned -- turned again -- cast around for the source of it -- but there was nothing. Nothing answered. The silence weighed heavy in his ears, the air cool as a blade against his skin. It was then he realised the voice had been his own.

He was alone still. There was nobody here, nothing here -- nothing but the awful quiet, and the crisp shadows of the trees, and the light of the cold, cold moon.

"Surely you see it now, child."

D blinked. And then he was in the forest clearing no longer, but standing in the pet shop, in his own warm-lit chamber where the shadows breathed softly, looking down on his own sleeping form. His own bruises, too. He winced, involuntarily.

Leon walked back into the room then, shoving his cellphone back into his pocket. He stopped at the bedside for a moment before sitting back down, a slightly troubled expression furrowing his brow as he gazed down upon D. The detective bit his lip, an oddly childlike gesture, and D felt a faint pang.

"Even he has noticed it. Your father."

And Sofu was standing beside him, his expression half hidden in the reddish dimness. Only his eyes stood out as he looked down at the pair in the bedroom, clear and amber-bright, and as coolly unforgiving as the moon of those dreams.

"You are too attached to him. And he to you; that I own." Sofu turned his head sharply, the fullness of his gaze coming to rest on D. D opened his mouth, some protest half-formed in the back of his throat, but he was cut off. "I always knew you to be too compassionate. I had thought perhaps -- but no. It is weakness, this fondness for mortals. It is not for our kind. It can lead only to suffering." Sofu's eyes dropped again, coming to rest on Leon, who still appeared to be engrossed in staring at sleeping-D, oblivious. He was fidgeting a little. "He is human. Never forget that. As brief as their lives are, they still become corrupt. They will let you down, always. He will let you down." The briefest of pauses, serving only to underline his next few words. "You must send him away. See no more of him."

D's heart jumped in his chest. "Grandfather!" he began, "I cannot -- "

Sofu held up a hand to silence him. "It is for the best. What your father plans, I do not know, but he is part of it. Even if you will not think of your own safety, to keep him near you would be to endanger him. You must distance yourself, child. It will be… unpleasant at first, yes, but should you grow yet more attached to this human, things will be the worse for you when you lose him. And lose him you will." A final look at D, and Sofu's expression softened. His voice dropped, and this time his tone was almost kind. "You have a great capacity for love, child. But to waste it on a single being, a single human, would be folly. There is no species less deserving."

Then he was gone. D realised his eyes were wide with shock; he closed them and was still for a moment, trying to calm his fluttering heart. (How ridiculous that his pulse should race in such a fashion, when he was not even in his own body!)

He could not deny the truth of Sofu's words, however.

As a child, his grandfather had tried hard to instil in him the proper disdain for mortals. It had not worked, not entirely -- D had never been able to judge quite so harshly as his fathers, had always hoped against hope that the second chances he offered would not be ruined -- but an aversion to close attachments, a slight distaste, had lingered in him. It was not so very surprising; he had been told many tales of human depravity, and a few stories, recounted in hushed tones, of spirits who had fallen in love with mortals, and finally been driven mad by a grief that spanned eternities.

It made sense, everything his grandfather had said -- very good sense. And yet --

And yet --

To send Leon away now, to refuse to see him -- never to see him again? It was somehow unthinkable.

He was… used to Leon, he supposed. Suddenly, it was impossible to imagine a day when the detective did not storm into the pet shop, scowling and blustering, and welcome as fire in the cold of January. It was impossible to imagine a day when he did not have to soothe Leon's temper, to sit smiling calmly until Leon's current fit of rage had worn itself out -- and smiling to himself, privately, with a satisfaction far deeper -- far more real than he ever dared show, or even acknowledge.

When, exactly, D wondered, had this human become quite so necessary to him, such an integral part of his existence? If only he had noticed -- perhaps he would have been able to do something to stop it. But this had been no lightning-bolt, no sudden change; it had crept up on him as slowly as sleep, and now it weighed heavily on him, like sleep. He could not escape it.

His gaze fell upon the young man at his bedside. Leon still looked a little bothered; he was still frowning. And then, as D watched, he leaned forward, seemed to peer at something through the gloom, and then reached out and took one of his hands. He looked down at it for a long moment, then caressed it, sweeping his thumb over the little dents where D's fingernails had broken his own skin. The touch looked so soft, so gentle -- something he had never imagined from Leon. Another pang cut through him, and he could not be sure whether it was tenderness or sorrow.

The air in the room felt heavier, suddenly -- and then he could no longer feel himself standing there, outside his body. He was being dragged back into himself, pulled out of this strange half-dream. His eyelids drooped.

What was he to do, now? Were he to wake up, he should tell Leon to leave, he knew that. But could he bring himself to do it, to follow his grandfather's advice? Sofu had been right -- he could not argue with that -- and yet something about it seemed so wrong.

Perhaps for now he could just sleep. Perhaps he could think about it tomorrow. Yes. Tomorrow. Tonight was too soon, was too much -- it was all too much --

^*^

Leon had called the station and let them know that there was possibly a rampaging boa constrictor (could boa constrictors rampage? He wasn't sure, but he thought it had made his point) on the loose in Chinatown, which had made him feel slightly less useless, at least. He hadn't gotten hold of anybody he knew that well, and the guy on the other end of the line had sounded like he thought Leon was mad, but hell, he'd tried. Wasn't his fault that weird shit stuck to D like flies on honey, after all.

He'd been asleep when Leon got back, which meant the guestroom, if there was one, was out -- there was no way Leon was finding his way around this place without a pretty detailed map, and he didn't think much of his chances ever finding his way back out if he tried it. D looked kind of better, though, or at least he was breathing properly and stuff, even if he didn't look all that peaceful. He was kind of frowning in his sleep and his eyelashes kept flickering nervously, like he was having a bad dream or something. Not a lot Leon could do about that, though.

So he'd just sat down, and decided he'd better stay and keep an eye on D.

D had marks on his hands, Leon realised after he'd been sitting there for a minute. Keeping an eye on D was turning out to be slightly more absorbing than he'd expected. They were sort of little, half-moon-shaped dents in the pale skin, like nail marks -- like he'd been clawing at himself or something. One of them had a scab on it. Damn freaky nervous habit to have, if you asked Leon. He paused, then, with a quick glance to check D wasn't anywhere near waking up, he took one of the Count's slender hands in his own and brought it nearer. The blemishes didn't go away. He ran his thumb over one of the little indentations, hesitantly, careful not to wake D up. Felt real. And it just looked kind of… wrong. The same way the bruises staining his skin, soft around the edges like shadows, were wrong. Seeing D hurt like that had disturbed Leon more than he'd expected, and he wasn't sure why.

D was just -- well, there had to be a word for it. The way his hair was spread out round his face on the pillows, dark against the pale silk. The feverish brightness of his skin, glowing like a paper lantern in the dim room. And the memory of it still on Leon's fingertips, cool and smooth, and so fragile where it was bruised, feeling like it might break under his hands like fruit.

D was -- what?

Beautiful. Yeah, that was it.

Christ.

Leon shook himself. He must really need some sleep. Deciding that D was beautiful. D. He really wasn't thinking straight. Jesus. He glanced across at D again, frowned, and then pulled the folded-down bed-sheet up over him, covering those horrible bruises. D didn't stir. He still looked pretty dead to the world. Which, Leon guessed, meant the couch, and trying to fend off that goddamn goat thing from biting his ankles all night. Great.

Unless --

Well, that was a pretty huge bed. And D didn't take up much space in it.

Nah. Getting into bed with other guys was really fucking beyond the pale. However well you knew them. Just not done.

But then, it wouldn't technically be getting into bed with another guy. D was underneath the bedclothes. He could just lie down on top of them to get some sleep. That wouldn't look too dubious, right? And it did look pretty comfy, and Christ, was he tired. Besides, D seemed like he'd probably be out of it for a while. Leon could just get an hour's shut-eye, and he'd be up and about again before D ever knew anything about it. Yeah.

He pressed down on the mattress to test it before putting his whole weight on it, just to be sure D wasn't going to wake up. And he didn't, not then or when Leon lay down next to him - just turned over, murmured something incoherent and probably in Chinese in his sleep, and then snuggled up against him.

Leon froze. That hadn't been in the script. And it looked pretty fucking dubious, by anyone's standards. Plus now there was no way he'd be able to move wihout risking waking D up. Shit.

Well, he'd just have to wait it out. Hopefully D would move over again in a minute or two, and then Leon could extricate himself and escape. Well, so much for this bright idea.

He took a deep breath, and tried sternly telling his heartbeat to slow down, and then, since it was the only thing he could do, given their position, let his left arm relax round D's narrow shoulders. D made a little, contented-sounding noise and, if anything, nuzzled in closer.

So much for today not getting any weirder. Leon let out a groan, and allowed his head to fall back against the pillows. He was starting to suspect that the whole world was in on some sort of conspiracy to drive him mad, once and for all. Hell, with D involved, that seemed pretty plausible.

He really needed to get some sleep, he decided, and not sit here thinking about dangerous animals on the loose, or D freaking out on him all the time -- or the fact that he was lying in bed with another guy, holding onto him and for some reason not getting up and running away as fast as he could. Yeah. Sleep was good.

Christ All-fucking-mighty. What a day.

^*^

C&C are always welcome.