The Wallflower Fan Fiction ❯ Dark Like Me ❯ Dark Like Me ( Chapter 1 )

DISC: I do not own The Wallflower (AKA Perfect Girl Evolution). I make no money off this story. At all. The Wallflower was created by and is owned by Tomoko Hayakawa.

 

 

 

 

 

I've started to become used to them all. The radiant creatures. They enter my darkness every day. And it doesn't seem as painful as it first was. I can… tolerate them here.

 

How long has it been that we've shared the same domicile now? That I've spent my time cooking and cleaning up after these glowing radiant beings? I don't know. But I know that it's become what is normal. When did that happen? How did that happen?

 

These creatures of light, they… act as if they care for me. And I find myself reacting in odd ways. Almost like I wish to care for them, protect them. Help them. Occasionally, I notice that they've been absent from my presence and it… vexes me. And that vexes me even more.

 

But not as much as the fact that I have found myself wanting to smile in their presence. It's almost as if I enjoy their company. But that can't be right.

 

One thing I know for sure, though. None of this is true of the one. The most radiant of all God's creation. It's even more painful to be in the same house as him now than it ever was. It's been getting progressively more difficult since that passionless kiss. He was right, a passionless kiss means nothing.

 

It means nothing.

 

That must be why I've found myself noticing his absence so much. Because he is light and I am dark. And I notice myself so much more when he's there because the light calls attention to the dark.

 

Maybe I really do need to kill him.

 

 

X X X X End Sunako's Diary Entry X X X X

 

 

It was a Wednesday: three more days of school that week til the break day, Sunday. She'd made fish curry for dinner. Everyone had already eaten. But Takano Kyohei had not come to dinner. Everyone had finished eating and left to go back to their rooms - to study or whatever. Still, she waited at the table, as they left. Should she continue to wait?

 

There were dishes to be washed. She'd completed her homework already, but she still had some chores. No. Waiting would not be acceptable.

 

She prepared a plate of food, covered it with plastic wrap and placed it in the refrigerator for him to reheat, should he desire to do so later. Dishes were next.

 

It would have amazed her housemates to know that she actually enjoyed the act of cleaning the dishes. It was a little different from the pleasure that she got from seeing blood. Blood was proof that there was life - a visual confirmation that every living thing was needy and could not exist without the same vital substance, a proof that beautiful or not, everyone was the same when you dug deeply enough into their flesh. It's just that some people live on the surface, and others live deeper.

 

Washing the dishes was a much more simple pleasure. An action with a definitive reason. Something that, once done, was done. No question about it. It was a task that she could complete and then know that she had done. No one needed to tell her whether or not she'd done a good job.

 

Once the dishes were clean and put away, she looked back at the refrigerator. His untouched plate was still there. Where was he? It was not like him to skip a meal.

 

Regardless, it truly wasn't her concern.

 

She moved on to dusting. It wasn't so much that she liked to dust. Dusting was by all accounts the most tedious of tasks. But it had to be done repetitively because dust was composed primarily of dead skin cells that had flaked off the body. Dust was, therefore, a sign of continued life as well as an indication of individual cellular death. It would be almost as interesting as blood, except that it made her sneeze.

 

She finished dusting the living room, and glanced at the stairway. Well, she supposed the hallway upstairs could use some dusting, too. It does tend to line the tops of the frames on the hanging artwork. It was that she was working. Not that she cared about the bright one's absence. Still, as she finished up her dusting, she did knock on Kyohei's door with the intention of softly calling out that she'd left a plate in the fridge for him if he got hungry.

 

Truly, there was no way for her to anticipate the door swinging open when she knocked.

 

She was surprised by the lack of… well, anything in his room. It was so plain - nothing ornamental, just functional. And there was no Kyohei there, either. Odd. The others had told her that he was up in his room, working on somethin-

 

What was that on his desk? She found herself drawn toward it.

 

A sketch book. She had no idea that he had ever engaged in such a pastime. She idly wondered if *anyone* knew.

 

But the drawings were magnificent. The one on top was so unique. A knife slit open a wrist and the blood that flowed out of it somehow became the form of a rose. And the knife wasn't just a knife, somehow it was also the thorn of the rose.

 

She flipped the page, and didn't notice that he'd titled it on back, “SandY”.

 

She gasped. This one was obviously a drawing of Oda and Noi. The two of them were kissing, and as they did so, they were melting into each other, becoming at first just a mass of flesh that almost looked like something hit by a car, but which eventually smoothed into a mirror reflecting an image of the two, but a bit blurry. It was dark and creepy in how it captured the violence done within one's soul when one surrenders to love, yet the purity of the emotion and the hopefulness it inspired was breathtaking

 

She felt like she was witnessing something she shouldn't, so she flipped the page. Again, the title “Together” escaped her notice.

 

The next page was a picture of Morii. He was chained to a chair. Next to him, a woman who somehow gave off an image of beauty, even though her face was melting - or maybe it was vague so that it couldn't be seen as any one particular woman. He had his eyes closed in ecstasy as the woman fed him pieces that she cut out of him with a knife and fork. As she turned the page, this time she caught the name on the back: “Deceit of Desire”.

 

She looked at the following page. Her jaw dropped and she stood frozen for a moment. Then, she ran out of the room and hid herself in her coffin.

 

 

X X X X End scene X X X X

 

 

Kyohei shook his head as he heard his stomach growl. The sun had already set. He had been so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed. It was an hour since he'd taken a break and stepped out on the balcony to try to clear his head. He grimaced at himself. He hadn't meant to lose track of time like that.

 

He probably shouldn't have walked away from the drawing. In the past 5 years, he'd discovered that sometimes a thought would get caught in his brain that he couldn't get rid of. He'd notice something that he felt most people were ignoring, or something that was special, or even something that most people would think was just wrong, and the thought would bounce around inside him until he could almost hear it pinging off his skull. But if he took pencil to paper and set it down there, it was like he was supergluing the thought in place. It was such a relief at times.

 

This time, however, he couldn't get it right. He'd tried to draw this thought at least ten times already. When he finished, he'd look at the end result and realize that THAT wasn't it. It didn't capture the thought. And the idea would be zinging around inside his head again.

 

He stood up and turned to leave the balcony and go back into his room, and stopped short, three paces in. His door was standing wide open. It had been closed when he went outside. He looked around, but there was no one in his room. Casting a suspicious glance over his shoulder toward the door, he walked over to his desk. There on the desk was proof.

 

Someone had been in his room.

 

He remembered slamming the book closed - then flipping through the drawings he WAS satisfied with before going out to get some air. He liked to make sure that he still felt that the image he'd put on the paper still captured the thought, so he didn't have to think about it unless he chose.

 

As he had flipped through, he'd remembered a bit of what he'd felt as he drew each. Pity bordering on sorrow. Hope mixed with a touch of envy. Then, with the top drawing, there was an emotion that he refused to name. He'd drawn it after Yuki had taken Sunako out on their date. It was inspired by the look of joy on her face as Yuki's blood rained on her. It was inspired by the lovely rose that Yuki had shown her. It was inspired by seeing her look at Yuki so concernedly when he cut his finger on that first thorn. Somehow, after drawing this, the almost-thought that maybe he could cut his own wrist, the almost-thought that she might smile for him then, had faded.

 

He had left that drawing on top, shutting in the more recent pieces, while he went outside to decide whether or not to burn his latest drawing - like he had the previous ten. Like he did for all the drawings that failed to maintain their hold on his thoughts, and were therefore unworthy of naming.

 

He had left the SandY drawing on top when he went out. But now, the book was open to his latest drawing. One that he couldn't decide whether or not to keep. Would this one finally fix the thought so he could continue on? He shook his head and walked out of his room, closing the door behind him.

 

On his desk, the book remained open. Sunako stood balanced on one foot. Her other foot struck an eagle in mid-flight. As the eagle dropped it's fish, she caught it with one hand. The other was raised over her head in victory, with a kendo sword in hand. The moonlight glistened off the sword, and in her eyes. A golden bear, that somehow almost looked human, bowed in submission to her. She was smiling, yet she looked fierce. She was all woman. All powerful. She had nothing to hide, so there was nothing hidden. She stood unashamed in the moonlight. The Kendo sword had been used, there was blood on it, and some of the blood had splashed on her face, and on her breast, and a part of her belly. She was as frightening as Kali. She was beautiful. Every flaw in her beauty, every blemish, was captured perfectly, yet it made her appear even more real, more dangerous. More perfect.

 

 

X X X X End scene X X X X

 

 

Someone had been in his room. He pounded on his roommates' doors one by one, and when they opened it, he angrily asked them, “Did you come into my room tonight?”

 

“No.” Morii slammed the door in his face.

 

“Uh, why would I go in *your* room?” Oda looked at him as if he was insane, and Kyohei turned and went on to the next door.

 

“Of course not. Hey! Why'd you miss dinner? It was fish curry. I thought that was your favorite. It was really good.” He turned his back on Yuki and walked downstairs. It was obvious it wasn't any of them.

 

That meant *she'd* been in his room. She'd seen the drawing. He didn't know how to feel about that.

 

His stomach growled again, and he headed to the kitchen to heat up some instant ramen or something. He opened the fridge to get a beer, and saw the plate she had saved for him. In the past, they'd all missed meals before. But in all their time together, there had never been a plate saved for anyone.

 

He pulled it out of the fridge and put it in the microwave.

 

As it heated, he looked around. She'd already completed all the dishes and her chores. That meant she would be hidden in her room by now.

 

She'd been in his room. Why?

 

The microwave beeped, and he pulled out the plate, sat at the table, and began to eat. Fish curry. His favorite.

 

She'd looked at his drawings. No one ever looked at his drawings. Ever. He'd never even thought about showing them to anyone. They were simply a way to get thoughts frozen and out of his head.

 

Why would anyone want to look at his drawings?

 

Part of him was confused. And another part was starting to get angry. She had gone through his drawings. She didn't have any right. He finished the food and stomped over to the sink. He dropped the plate in the sink, rinsed it, and placed it in the dishwasher. He slammed the rest of his beer, set the bottle noisily on the counter and stalked toward her room.

 

“Sunako!” He yelled, and slammed open the door to her room. The room appeared empty. Her mannequins were in place. Her schoolbooks were in their normal stack on the floor. Her bed was made. And the coffin was… closed.

 

He stalked over to it, intent on opening it, pulling her out, and throttling her. “What the fuck were you doing in my room?!” he yelled as he slammed the coffin open. Empty.

 

 

X X X X Change Scene X X X X

 

 

She curled up in her coffin, panting. What the heck was that drawing? He had drawn her? Why had he drawn her? And… was that how he really saw her?

 

In the drawing, she was fierce, regal, death moving. But she'd never seen anything so beautiful, ever. Why had he drawn her like that? HOW could he draw her like that?

 

`I didn't even know he COULD draw.' She thought about the disturbing images that he had captured. `So grim. So full of darkness.' She didn't understand. How could a creature of the light be able to…

 

GASP! Was he not really a radiant creature? But he was! He WAS the most perfect of all God's creation. `I don't understand.' The same thoughts repeated in her head. Interspersed with memories. She remembered him fighting to protect her from the crazy girls at school, wrapping her in a curtain and carrying her pressed to his body.

 

She remembered him carrying her up in Hokkaido, and shielding her with his body from the damaging falling tree. He had even sustained some injuries that might have been really quite serious if it hadn't been for Yuki healing him. All for her.

 

And his perfect face. His perfect body. She remembered more vividly than she wished how he had looked when she had accidentally walked into the bathroom with him. In a word, he was flawless - not a blemish on him.

 

He was perfect. He HAD to be a radiant one.

 

He had kissed her to save her from the spirit in the basement. He had kissed her. But it didn't mean anything. It was passionless. He had said so. He hadn't kissed her because he wanted to, but because it was necessary.

 

That thought did NOT make her want to cry. It didn't!

 

That drawing! That drawing. She had to… she had to… She had to pee!

 

She ran to the bathroom. After finishing and heading back toward her room, she heard him slam open the door to her room yelling her name, and she froze.

 

“What the fuck were you doing in my room?!” he yelled as he slammed the coffin open. “Dammit!” he muttered. He let the lid open, and stalked back toward the door to go up to his room and sulk. Exiting her room in a huff, he almost ran right into her, where she was frozen in place. Backpedalling a couple steps, he saw her in front of him eyes wide with fear. He'd never seen her look afraid before. She almost looked vulnerable.

 

“Wha- wa- - Were you in my room?” he asked, trying to recapture his anger. Somehow, with her right in front of him, he wasn't angry anymore. He knew he should be, but-

 

“Yes.” She stared at him with wide eyes. The radiant one was there, talking to her. But she saw… Was she imagining it? She blinked at him. She must have been imagining the dark core she saw in him.

 

He saw her blinking at him uncertainly, and he felt odd. Like maybe he had something on his face and he just didn't know it. He felt… uncertain. She'd seen his drawings and now she was looking at him like this. He tried to get mad - she'd gone into his room without asking, and looked through his private stuff. She'd seen his drawings. No one had ever seen them before. He felt like… Like he cared what someone thought of him or something. Ridiculous.

 

He swallowed and said, “Why?”

 

“I just… thought you might be hungry. There was a plate…” He was looking at her funny. He'd drawn her like that. Her heart started to speed up. What was wrong with her? Was she sick? “I'm sorry,” she cried at him, and ran past him into her room, and closed herself back into her coffin. He turned after her, as she closed herself into darkness.

 

“Whatever,” he muttered, and he stomped upstairs to go to bed, also stomping down the thoughts in his head. They could wait `til tomorrow.

 

 

XXXXXX End Scene XXXXXX

 

 

The next few days, Kyohei pushed it out of his mind. Or tried to. He went about his everyday life. Got into a few fights. Went to school where he was worshipped by the idiot girls in his class. Worked a part-time job, ate, did the bare minimum of homework that he could get away with, and went to bed. But her reactions to him kept reminding him that she'd seen the drawing and that reminded him of what he had drawn.

 

At first, she avoided him. When she saw him, she gave a startled “Eeep!” and hid. But then, she started to feel like an idiot. `What the hell am I hiding for? I'm not the one who drew that picture!'

 

That damn picture. What gave him the right?! She got angrier and angrier. `He said he couldn't see me in the steam! He lied! And why is he drawing ME, anyway? Why is he drawing me NAKED?!' The angrier she got, the more she glowed with the fierceness, the regality he'd been trying to capture. The angrier she got, the more he saw his drawing when he looked at her.

 

This was really pissing him off. He stomped around the house, slamming doors. Kami sama! Why couldn't he stop thinking about this?!

 

By the end of the third day, their three other roommates could no longer take the tension and had successfully found ways to NOT be at home: Oda took Noi on a date, as did Yuki with Machiko. And of course, Morii always had his share of women who were available to him. They left school on Saturday night, and immediately left for their dates, only returning home to quickly freshen up and change out of their uniforms.

 

Kyohei knew of only one way to get his mind off this track, since drawing was out of the question.

 

Sitting in the main room, with some music on, he opened one of the bottles of sake that were left in the house from their last party. Beautiful liquor. That'd do it. He'd already gone through a whole bottle when she came in, looking pissed off and - to anyone else on the planet - scary!

 

She put her fists on her hips and stood in front of him.

 

“You!” He looked up at her and felt the heat of the sake flow out from his stomach to his limbs. He realized, finally, what the thought was that had been dogging him, and realized he had no way to know how to deal with it.

 

She saw his radiance, but with her anger fortifying her, she was able to stand. “Why did you draw that? You had no right!”

 

He sat there quietly drinking, just absorbing her with his eyes. She stood her ground and waited. When she saw he had no intention of answering, she blazed at him, “You WILL answer me!”

 

Quiet filled the room as she waited. And waited. He took another drink.

 

“Nope. Can't answer the dryyy girl. Too steady.”

 

He held out a sake cup. “When you've drunk as much as me, then I'll answer any question you want.” He smiled up at her, and she felt her stomach lurch. Her knees gave out, but she pretended that she had intended to join him at the kotatsu table as she sank to the ground. She turned away from him as she grabbed the cup and downed it.

 

He poured her another glass. “Drinky drinky.” He leaned back against the couch and watched her as she put the cup to her lips. His eyes ate her lips that pressed to the cup and sipped at the liquid fire. When she sat the glass back on the table, he filled it again.

 

“How much do I have to drink before you answer me?” She fired at him. He reached by the table, and lifted up the empty that he'd already downed. Her eyes bulged at the thought. Then she grabbed the bottle off the table, stuck it in her mouth, and chugged.

 

While she was doing that, he opened the third bottle he'd brought in.

 

Through sheer force of will, she was able to empty the second bottle in one try. Then she slammed both palms on the table and said, “Now answer!”

 

“I also had two glasses out of that bottle, so you need to drink four more glasses.” He grinned at her laughingly and poured them each another glass. He held it up for her to clink. She glared at him but clinked her glass to his. He leaned onto the table and as she finished it, he said softly, “To you,” and drank his glass.

 

She heard him say something, but he couldn't have said what she thought he said. She turned to look at him. He was leaning on the table drunkenly, and smiling lazily at nothing. She stared at him. He didn't look as bright as normal. Her eyes weren't hurting. And she saw - what?

 

That darkness. It was there. A core. A black core in the center of his glow. His aura was emanating from the darkness he held within. Why couldn't she see it before? All she'd ever seen before from his was light.

 

But… If dark, then… She shook her head and then rested it in her hands. When she looked at him again, she saw only light. But every now and then, she could see the flash of dark that made her feel comfortable and at home instead of scared and wishing to hide.

 

She grabbed the bottle, poured another glass and downed it. Two more to go.

 

He reached for the bottle and their hands touched. She flinched and pulled her hand back, and he grimaced, took the bottle, and poured them each another glass.

 

“You might want to start sipping now. Don't want you to get sick.” He smirked at her. She didn't know what he was talking about.

 

“Feh! I don' fee noffin',” she proclaimed proudly.

 

“Nice enunciation.” She pouted at him. Then slammed back the glass.

 

He shakily stood up and started to walk out of the room.

 

“Where you goin'? I noly haf one more to dreek and then you gotta annsir my kes-chin!”

 

He smiled over his shoulder at her. “If we don't eat something, we'll both be sick in the morning. I'm gonna go order us some bentos for delivery.”

 

`He's gonna buy me food?'

 

“Hey, your half is 1500 yen. You can pay me back later,” he called from the hall phone.

 

She smiled. `Well, at least I wasn't completely wrong about him.' She grabbed the bottle and was pouring her final glass when he came back into the room.

 

“Dinner is in half an hour.”

 

She smiled at him, held up her glass, and slowly sipped it. “Last one,” she said after she finished. He was seated across from her. “Answer my question.”

 

“Nope. Now you're too drunk. Or I'm not drunk enough.”

 

Fire burst from her eyes, and she grabbed the bottle she'd emptied and raised it to smash it on the table and gouge his pretty eyes out. She paused as she briefly considered what they would look like rolling around on the table, and in that pause, he grasped her wrist and said, “See, you're too drunk to beat me. So I can't tell you now. After dinner. You can sip on some sake and eat, and I'll try to drink enough to be as drunk as you. When we're both equal, then I'll tell you.”

 

She glared at him furiously. “LIAR!”

 

He pried the bottle out of her hand, kissed her knuckles lightly and said, “I promise.” She snatched her hand back, cradling it to her and inspected it for burns. He kept his eyes trained solely on her, smiling at her the whole time.

 

Meanwhile, he took to drinking more sake - straight from the bottle.

 

 

Dinner showed up on time, and he brought them to the table where they were drinking. She sipped at her sake and ate every piece of sushi in her box. Idly, she thought, `This isn't a 1500 yen bento box. This is expensive sushi!' But she had consumed a bit too much sake for the thought to be anything more than fleeting.

 

True to his word, for every piece of sushi he ate, he drank another glass of sake. As she sobered just a bit - enough where she could speak without slurring, he became the equivalent of her drunkenness. He knew because he was fuzzy. And because he actually wanted her to ask him.

 

He finished his last piece of sushi, washed it down with more sake, and said, “Well?”

 

“Well what?” she replied.

 

He shook his head and stood up.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

Without looking back, he replied, “To the basement. We'll be able to talk better there.” He found his way to the secret door and climbed down to the dark depths. Wordlessly, she followed after him.

 

Once they were safely down the steps, he reached up and turned the light out. Blackness enveloped them.

 

“You're not sneaking out on me!” she exclaimed, as she moved to block the stairs.

 

“No. I'm not,” he calmly replied from over at the table where she had once served him spiked tea.

 

He reclined back in the dark and said, “You know, I can still see you in this dark.”

 

She sputtered, “Wha - What?”

 

He walked over to her slowly. She heard his steps as they got closer and closer. Unerringly, he took her hand. “You're not asking me your questions,” he chided as he led her back to a seat.

 

Her heart was beating loudly.

 

“Wh- wha-?” She stopped and took a breath. “I already asked you a question, and you haven't answered it: Why did you draw me?” She didn't like how shrill her voice sounded.

 

She felt his fingers running through her hair. “Because I *needed* to.” He continued to play with her silken tresses, and she could feel her scalp tingle at his touch.

 

“You needed to?” She was confused. None of this made sense, and the sake was disorienting her. As were his soft fingers playing with her hair.

 

“I thought I could get you out of my head if I did.” His fingers stroked the side of her face.

 

“Out… out of… your head?” She leaned into his touch. She couldn't see him. It was too dark. What was he doing to her? This wasn't how she reacted to things. She strained to gather herself.

 

His hands stroked down both arms, and he whispered into her ear, “It didn't work, but I can't bear to burn it like all the others.”

 

“All.. all the others?” She was finding it difficult to get enough breath, and his breath was not exactly tickling her ear, but it felt like the sake was making parts of her that she usually wouldn't notice all warm and throbby.

 

He had walked around to the front of her, and holding both her hands, he bent down to put his lips right next to her ear, straddling her in the chair. “Sunako,” he breathed, “Why won't you get out of my head?”

 

She turned her face toward him, and she saw him in the dark, his face was close to hers and it looked peaceful and pained all at once. “You're the only person I've ever met who stayed in my head and just wouldn't leave.”

 

“I don't know what you mean!” She exclaimed, and he moved the extra inch forward to claim her lips. She struggled to free her hands so that she could push him off her, but he held them firmly. As she opened her mouth to yell at him to get off, he seized the opportunity, his tongue snaked in and twined with hers and her cry was replaced with a sobbing moan. But she didn't pull back. He gradually released his grip on her wrists, and wrapped his arms around her, stroking her hair with one hand and her back with the other.

 

Her arms wrapped around him of their own volition. As they broke for breath, he responded to her, “Do you know now?”

 

She dropped her arms from around him and pulled back, her hands going to her mouth, covering it in shock and fear. The radiant one had kissed her. With passion.

 

“You - you - kissed me!” she gasped, then pushed him off her lap. He landed on the floor in front of her with a thump.

 

“Yes. I kissed you again.”

 

“You kissed me!” she said again.

 

“I wanted you to remember this one.”

 

“You kissed me!” she cried. She quickly stood up and began to run toward the stairs, but he was too fast for her. He reached out and grabbed her ankle and as she tried to run, she fell to the floor.

 

“Please don't leave me,” he asked quietly.

 

“You kissed me!”

 

“Please.” He held onto her ankle.

 

“You drew me, and then you kissed me.” She was a little quieter now, but there was still a measure of panic in her voice.

 

“Yes.” He was quiet. He maintained his grip on her ankle, but either he was trembling or she was.

 

“But why?!?”

 

“You still don't know?” he asked. She shook her head no, her hands no longer struggling to grasp something to help her pull away from him, but back up to her mouth, covering her surprise. Maybe they were both trembling.

 

“I give up,” he sighed despondently and released his hold on her ankle. She immediately scooted away from him, and he pulled himself into a ball, hugging his knees. “You can't even tell when someone is in love with you. How am I ever gonna-”

 

“What?!”

 

He fell silent, and looked away from her. In the darkness, it looked like he was pouting.

 

“You LOVE me?!”

 

He remained silent and wouldn't look at her.

 

“How on earth could YOU love ME?!”

 

He sighed. “It's okay,” he said quietly. “I know you don't like me.”

 

She sat there staring at him in shock.

 

“You're the only person I ever met who didn't want anything from me. You never even wanted to be in the same room with me. But that's not it.

 

“You're the strongest person I ever met. You stay true to yourself always. You're just… so cool!

 

“Even if you don't see it, maybe it's good if you know someone else does. But… Still… I hoped… But it's okay. Okay? Tomorrow, you can pretend that I was drunk and that I didn't really mean it, so it won't have to be weird.”

 

She sat there frozen in shock as she heard him get to his feet and walk toward the way out of the basement. As his foot hit the bottom stair, she called out, “Wait!”

 

He stopped with his foot still on the step and didn't turn around. He just knew tonight was going to be sleepless with thoughts of her again.

 

“This doesn't make any sense. You said you'd answer all my questions, but this doesn't make any sense. You have to come back and make it make sense.”

 

He turned toward her but didn't move.

 

“You have to come back and make it make sense! How could the most perfect creature that God ever created find ME cool?” When he still didn't move, she went on, “You promised you'd answer my questions.”

 

“Why do you always call me things like that? Radiant. Perfect.” He sat on the step. “Are those insults? Aren't you just judging me by appearance?”

 

She shook her head. “No! No, but you ARE those things.” She crawled over toward the step. She wasn't that far from it in the first place. “And I'm… ugly.”

 

A sigh escaped his lips as he turned away. “No I'm not, and NO, you're not.” He sighed again. “Didn't you look at the drawing? I made sure to capture every visual flaw. Every reason you THINK you're ugly. But didn't you see? When you look at all of you, the whole you, it's YOU who shines in the middle of the darkness. Everyone else just fades when they're in the dark. But you… You're the radiant one.”

 

She sat back and nervously laughed, “Okay, you really must be drunk.”

 

He turned to her with fire in his eyes. “NO! I'm not!” He grabbed her shoulders. “Do you want me to prove it to you?” His voice was husky with his frustration.

 

Did she want him to prove it to her? She swallowed hard. Maybe it WAS too much sake. She nodded and whispered, “yes.”

 

He picked her up and flung her over his shoulder. She shrieked and started flailing against him, “Put me down!”

 

“If you don't stop squirming, I might drop you,” was his quiet response. He carried her over to the wall, and pushed her against it, grabbing her wrists one by one and putting them in the leather restraints.

 

“What the hell are you doing?” She screamed.

 

“Showing you,” he replied. Once she was fully secured, he walked over to the table and picked up the knife that lay there.

 

He slowly advanced on her, testing the sharpness of the knife on his thumb as he did. Fear mingled with anticipation. What did he have in mind? Did he plan violence?

 

The knife pressed against her throat, and she was amazed at how frightened she was. She was amazed also at how alive she felt, how real, how… “Radiant,” she breathed in astonishment.

 

He leaned in and kissed her, and she kissed him back. He pulled back, and the knife tip slid down the hollow of her throat, between her breasts, down her stomach. There was enough pressure to raise goosebumps on her flesh, but not enough to draw blood. Her shirt and bra neatly opened down the middle from the knife slice. He drew the knife along each shoulder, causing the material to completely fall from her. He took a step back to once again appraise her and agreed, “Radiant.”

 

He stabbed the wall with the knife, so that it would be handy as needed, but leave his hands free, and then he fell to worshipping her breasts. Soft and full. Milky white. Just like he remembered. As he attacked them with his lips, his hands, his teeth, she gasped and involuntarily thrust toward him.

 

Lips slipped down her abdomen to her belt line. His hand grasped the knife and pulled it out of the wall. He held it to her tummy as if he meant to pin her to the wall like an insect. Moans echoed off the dungeon walls. She vaguely realized they were a reflection of her own.

 

He traced her beltline with the tip of the knife, then sliced down the right outside seam. As he reached her cuff, the pants began to fall away. He moved the knife over to the cuff of the left leg, and sliced up to the waist. The final cut through the waistband allowed the pants to fall, leaving her in nothing but her white cotton panties. He slit the left side first, then the right, and they fell to the ground.

 

He knelt in front of her. “Radiant Queen,” he breathed. He traced her insteps with the knife, and slid it up between her legs. The sharp edges on her skin made her part her legs. Once open, he slid his knees between her feet. He stabbed the knife into the wall again. She was surprised to find she jumped at the sound.

 

His hands caressed the inside of her thighs, and ran up to the curls there. Pulling gently at the curls, his fingers wiggled toward her folds. She gasped and tried to squeeze her legs back together. “No, my Queen,” he breathed up at her, “Please, let me worship you.”

 

He pushed his shoulders between, and lifted her thighs onto his shoulders, his mouth descending upon her opening. His tongue danced, and she squirmed. His hands came up to massage her lower back, her ass, as his tongue danced in and out. Her breathing came faster, more shallow. One arm wrapped up, around her thigh, the fingers darted in from the front to find her hidden jewel. Mouth and hand matched, then alternated pace, and she felt as if she was coming apart. Like in fission. So much light. So much energy coming off of her. Finally, the explosion came. Radiance poured out from her fingertips, her eyes, her toes. She came apart like a nuclear reaction. Her scream carried her away, and came back to her in echoes as she fell through the light, became the light.

 

When he could tell that she'd come back to consciousness, he lifted her off his shoulders, and set her on her feet. Then he bowed prostrate in front of her for a moment, then stood up, wiped his face clean, then kissed her cheek. He whispered again, “Radiant,” before freeing her wrists from their leather shackles. She slid to the floor, where she sat, naked, motionless except for her panting.

 

He took off his button-down shirt and draped it over her before turning toward the stairs. “Where do you think you're going?” Her voice was laced with fear, satisfaction, and imperiousness.

 

He gave her a sad grin. “I thought I should get you some clothes before I went to bed.”

 

She looked at him dumbfounded. “But… but…”

 

He cocked his head at her. “We've proven that the radiance in this house belongs only to you. What else is there for me?” He smiled sadly at her, and turned back toward the stairs.

 

“What do you mean, what else is there for you?” She stood up, still holding his shirt to her. “Don't you… I mean… You said you loved me!” she yelled at him.

 

“But you don't love me,” he said back to her, smiling gently. “You deserve your first time to be with someone you love.” He turned back to the stairs and began to climb them - only to find himself lying on the floor with a naked Sunako pinning him to the ground.

 

“NO!” She buried her head in his chest, her hair blanketing them both. “You stay! …please, Kyohei.”

 

Kyohei. That was the first time she'd ever called him by name.

 

His forefinger traced her cheek. A single tear escaped his eye. “Sunako,” he whispered, “I can't.”

 

“I hate you!” she cried and beat his chest with her fists. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you hate you hate you hate you…” her voice trailed off slowly. She sobbed, and he felt his chest wet with her tears. His hands stroked her hair. “ha.. you. la… you… lo… you…” She lifted her head and wailed, “I LOVE YOUUUU!”

 

Then she looked horrified and scampered away from him, hiding by the stairs trying to cover herself with his shirt. She curled up in a ball, and tried to will herself to disappear. He rolled over and stared at her. Then smirked at her.

 

He walked over to her, and she braced herself for disaster. He'd come over and he'd tell her that he didn't like ugly girls, and then…

 

He picked her up in his arms, and cradled her to him. “Do you really?” he asked, sounding a bit smug. She cringed, waiting for it. “Do you really love me, too?” He smiled softly at her and kissed her forehead. “God, I love you.”

 

`He… he loves me?' She looked up at him, saw the truth in his eyes, and threw her arms around him, kissing his face. She wriggled pleasantly in his arms, and kissed him, plundering his mouth with hers. He found himself pinned under her, Her naked body pressing against his hungrily, and reawakening the member he thought would go unsatisfied.

 

His skin felt so good to her touch, she couldn't stop kissing it. His hands roamed up and down her back as he returned the favor. Her moist heat pressed against his hardness through his jeans, and he moaned loudly, “Sunaaaaaaakooooo!”

 

She was like a wild animal, pulling his clothes off him as fast as she could. She needed to feel more of his skin. More. More of his skin right now. Now! She crawled over him on all fours, grabbing, unzipping (with one hand inside so he would not be damaged in her haste), sliding, yanking off his feet, tossing aside, then she crawled back on top of his nakedness and curled around him, hiding their actions with her expanse of hair.

 

Her silky hair glided over his skin and he moaned and pulled her closer, kissing her deeply. “I love you, Sunako.”

 

She gave him a fierce grin, and then impaled herself on his ready staff. She knew it would hurt, but she bore it as she bore everything else - with sturdy dignity and a grace beyond that of convention. As her actions caused him to tear through her innocence, he reached up to wipe her tears away with his thumb. Even so, even with his attention focused on her needs, the sudden feel of her sheathing him fully ripped a moan from his throat. She smiled down at him, then bent over to kiss him, as she set a slow, torturous pace.

 

Soon however, her needs overtook her, and she was riding him at a furious pace. She writhed in animalistic passion, like some pagan sex god fraternizing with a lowly human like him. For as long as he could maintain conscious thought, he saw that his drawing failed to adequately capture her divinity. Then, thought ceased to be possible as they both exploded into motes of light. She shrieked his name, “Kyooooooo-Heeeiiiiiiiiiiii!” and the echoes bounced off the walls, buffeting them both.

 

She collapsed onto his chest, and he purred into her hair. “Mmmm. Sunako.” He sighed contentedly. They lay there for a few minutes, til she shivered in the cold, and he picked her up and carried her up the stairs. She squirmed, trying to escape from his grasp, “Where are you taking me?!”

 

“To bed,” he replied.

 

She cuddled up to him, then thought about the implications. She'd just given her virginity to the Prince of the Light. The Radiant One was now carrying her to bed - hers or his, she wasn't sure. What did this mean for her? Was she supposed to stop being who she was? Was she supposed to now care about the things that seemed stupid and an exercise in futility?

 

“You,” she said, and Kyohei stiffened. She'd stopped calling him by name. Still, he kept going, carrying her toward his destination. “What comes next?”

 

“Sleep,” he replied.

 

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “What comes NEXT?” Yup. That would help clarify her meaning to him. She expanded her thoughts, “I… want to know if you… expect that…” She stopped and said, “I am who I am. I need to know you know that. I won't turn into…”

 

He stopped her with a kiss, as he pushed open the door to her room, and walked across the room to her bed. “I fell in love with you. I HOPE you DON'T change because of this. I wouldn't know what to do with you.” He set her down there, and covered her up with a blanket.

 

For the first time in the entire time he'd known her, she smiled as if she were completely blissful, and he felt a warmth radiate through him at the thought that HE'd caused that smile. “You could stay if you want,” she sighed at him.

 

He kissed her and said, “I want. But. Do you want to break it to the boys this way, or gradually.”

 

“I don't care what they think,” she said sleepily.

 

He smiled, and climbed in next to her. Before they fell asleep, he said good night to A-kai, A-tai, and Yue-en-fen, and she fell asleep smiling.

 

- END -