Tsubasa Chronicle Fan Fiction ❯ Tsubasa: Revolutions ❯ Bitter, Sweet Dreams ( Chapter 4 )

Chapter 4: Bitter, Sweet Dreams

 

The thing I have come to love the most about advanced worlds it a thing most call “indoor pluming.”

 

The bathing rooms in the palace are enormous. The tub alone could probably comfortable fit three people, and yet here I stand, wrapped in a soft silvery robe as the cute little maid girl shows me how to use the thing and even is nice enough to pour in some scented bubbles. The entire bathroom now smells like lilacs. It's quite lovely, though it does concern me that I too may smell like lilacs as a result and I'm unsure of how I feel about this. I can almost hear Kurogane's voice in my head now, “You smell like a damn flower…”

 

“Enjoy your bath, sir,” she bows to me and hurries out of the room.

 

The water is a perfect, comforting warm and I settle into the bath, all but disappearing beneath the foamy white bubbles. The window must have been cracked open as I can hear the soft hoot of an owl near by and the distant rustle of tree leaves. Aside from that however, the room is in perfect silence.

 

The whole of it all it rather relaxing, and as much as I try and resist it, I can't help that my eyes slip closed for a bit. Not to sleep just yet, but… a little rest won't do me any harm.

 

I didn't realize how long that had been in the bath until I hear a pounding on the door, “You plan on staying in there all night, Magician?” I could have been there for hours, it's not like the water was going to get cold.

 

“I'm almost finished,” I say just loud enough for him to hear me before pulling myself from the tub and drying off.

 

He's standing there leaning against the dresser as I walk out, “I told them you were tired. Everyone's eaten dinner already and the kids are in bed.”

 

“Is it that late?!” my eyes find the darkened window to see the moon halfway through the sky. “Why.. why didn't you come to get me!?

 

“I did. But you were still in there. I figured you had fallen asleep or something,” he explains and heading across the room. “You thirsty?”

 

“No,” I snap at him a little harsher than I had intended. “And I wasn't asleep.”

 

“I wasn't talking about that,” he says flatly, ignoring my later comment. “The wine here is pretty good.”

 

“I'm fine,” I shake my head and wonder slightly what he's still doing in here. We have our own rooms now. The palace is full of empty rooms, so it's really quite pointless for us to share any more. It might look suspicious if we did.

 

“Suit yourself,” he shrugs and there's a loud pop as the cork falls to the floor. It's rather odd to watch the thing vanish from the floor and appear on the countertop as though it had been placed there. He pours himself a glass, and half-fills another and leaves it sitting there before settling into a chair near the window.

 

I'm still in my bathing robe and a bit disoriented because of the time I seemed to just skip over, and here he is sitting in my room drinking wine. Part of me really wants to tell him to leave, but I say nothing and rummage through the pile of clothes left for me at the foot of the bed. A deep navy coloured suit with tails is at the top - what I should have worn down to dinner.

 

Everyone always picks out something blue for me to wear, but I decide on the pair of black silk pajamas for now.

 

“The Princess is worried about you,” he tells me and takes a long drink of his wine. “She knows you haven't been sleeping. To tell you the truth, I don't understand it myself. Because of the way this world is, the sleep you get here is good.”

 

“I don't expect you to understand me, Kurogane,” I say sharply.

 

He doesn't take his eyes off me, even as he takes another drink of his wine, “Because you won't let anyone.”

 

“And that's my business.” I shrug and wonder how long he plans on staying in here and bothering me. Bothering me. Hah. I don't know that I would actually call it that. I just find it easier when he's not right in front of me…

 

“Are you happy that way?” one black eyebrow raises at me and he gulps down the last of his wine and stands to pour himself another.

 

“Perfectly content,” I flash him a smile.

 

He laughs quietly, deep in his throat “My ass,” he shakes his head and thrusts the half-filled glass of wine in my face. “Drink it.”

 

“I said I was fine.”

 

“And I said drink it.”

 

As if we haven't had this argument countless times already. But I take the glass anyway, immediately realizing that my doing so is not going to get him out of my room any faster.

 

Subconsciously, maybe I don't want him to leave but the rest of me doesn't want to think about that right now. And I will admit I have grown rather fond of our constant arguing.

 

Every time he argues with me, every time he get angry or forces me to do something, as sadistic as it sounds, it just shows that he hasn't given up yet.

 

Not yet.

 

But it's only a matter of time.

 

He's stubborn, so it may not be soon, but eventually, he will tire of it. Eventually he will realize I'm not worth the effort. So until that time, maybe a small piece of me actually is happy.

 

The wine he handed me is a deep, cherry red and is just as delicious as I expect it to be. Books in the library had said that this kingdom was especially well known for its crops, and to my surprise, King Ienyn had said that it was one of the only things that had not changed after the feathers came; things had tasted just as delicious back then as well. I suppose the only difference now is that no one in this world can properly appreciate it.

 

“You know, when you were just pushing me away, I sort of understood that. You're so damn stubborn I half-way expected that to happen anyway. But lately,” he pauses to take a drink, “You've started pushing her away as well. I'm not close to her like you are. With all that's happened, who do you thinks she looks to now to run to when she's scared or sad, or just wants someone to talk to?”

 

I cannot look at him while he talks, so I drink instead. The entire glass in one gulp. And then … I say nothing.

 

I can feel his eyes on me, and after a short while he growls, “Well at least you're not trying to deny it. Just remember that she's not like me. She's going to take this personally. She won't understand that its got nothing to do with her and that it's just you being a damned idiot.”

 

“Well at least you understand that about me, Kurogane,” I smile.

 

He drinks again and glares, “Do you do that just to piss me off?”

 

“What?” I ask innocently. I know exactly what he means.

 

“That damn smile of yours. It makes me sick.”

 

“Then don't look at it.”

 

Its not until now I realize that he's standing right in front of me. Not until every hair on the back of my neck stands on end and my stomach drops into my knees when he says, “I've tried that, already.”

 

I am sure he saw the confused and frightened look on my face, it was only there for a split second before I could properly adjust myself, but I know him well enough to know he saw it anyway. But to be perfectly honest, I have no idea what to say.

 

“But like it or not Magician, you and I are stuck together,” he says, draining his last glass of wine before walking away from me at last, setting it on the counter with a soft clunk. He turns around and looks at me one last time, “You hungry?”

 

“I'm fine, thank you.”

 

“Alright then. Try and get some sleep.”

 

“I'll try.”

 

He grumbles something that sounds like a good night and waves his hand at me in a rather “I'll believe that when I see it,” kind of way and leaves the room.

 

I cannot help but sigh the moment I hear the door click closed behind him and I wonder to myself if he'll go straight to his room and go to bed or if he'll take a detour and sit in the parlor and read through magazines.

 

Not that I care. Or at least I'd like to think that I don't.

 

I should have asked him who the guests at dinner were.

 

My hair is still damp against my neck and left to hang loose around my shoulders instead of in its usual low ponytail I've grown accustomed to wearing. I set my own empty glass down for a moment, then realize that there is only enough wine in the bottle left for one more glass and decide that something so delicious shouldn't go to waste.

 

I suppose that the combination of a week's worth of sleepless nights, my relaxing bath and what will soon be a glass and a half of red wine, the thoughts of curling up in the midst of that large king-sized bed in the center of the room sounds incredibly inviting to me.

 

The black silk pajamas hang a little loose and I've left my bathrobe to fall the floor just where I had stood. It's gone already. I imagine its folded neatly in a drawer somewhere or hanging on a peg behind the bathroom door, but I would really rather not think about that. Messes that clean themselves are a very odd site to see if not even a little disturbing.

 

Moonlight casts long silvery shadows across the cushioned blue-grey carpet and I decide to finish my glass of wine by the window sitting in the chair Kurogane had recently occupied. The stars shine like brilliant diamonds amidst a clear and untouched black sky. I hadn't really bothered to notice how beautiful the sky is here and even though I'm aware its really nothing more than an strange sort of illusion, I admit that to those of us who are not used to living and breathing in a world of perfection, it's a truly lovely sight to behold.

 

I sit a while at the window, watching the flowers in the gardens below sway in the breeze just light enough to caress their petals until the soft sound of a knock on my door.

 

“Fai-san?” Sakura-chan opens the door just wide enough to peer inside.

 

“Oh, Sakura-chan! I thought you were already in bed. Come in.”

 

She opens the door but does not actually step fully inside, instead she looks straight at me with her large, innocent green eyes and asks me if I'm feeling better.

 

I wasn't feeling bad to begin with, but I smile and tell her that I am feeling much better now.

 

“I… I just wanted to wish you good night. Please get some sleep Fai-san. This is one of the only places where we can truly get good sleep, and not have worry about bad dreams. Please Fai-san. I worry about you. You always seem so sad anymore, and…”

 

“Its alright Sakura-chan,” I assure her and I'm to my feet and standing before her with my hands on her shoulders before she can say another word. “I'll get some sleep tonight. I promise.”

 

“I asked Kurogane-san to check on you later,” she blushes and looks at her feet. “Because you always say that now…”

 

What a clever girl.

 

“Well then I had better not be a disappointment,” I smile at her.

 

“You can never be a disappointment Fai-san,” she looks at me with those serious eyes I'm still not used to seeing on her. But she's quick to regain her innocent poise as she smiles and reaches up to touch my hair, “I like it down. It's pretty.”

 

“Good night Sakura-chan.”

 

“Good night Fai-san,” she smiles at me once more before walking away towards her room down the hall.

 

The entire world seems to be out to get me tonight, so I suppose I shouldn't fight it. With nothing better to do, I shut off the light and slip beneath the covers.

I don't know how long I've been laying here in a completely dreamless sleep but I hear the door creek open and see the light from the hallway draw a slender yellow line of light across the floor.

 

It's aggravating to only have one good eye to see with as it leaves me with very little options for peeking.

 

Leave it to Kurogane to not be satisfied with just seeing me lay here, motionless. He's got to come and check.

 

Damn him.

 

I close my eye tight and try to be as motionless as possible. I need for him to think I'm asleep so he'll tell Sakura-chan just that in the morning. At least this time it won't be too much of a lie. I had been sleeping for some time before he came to check.

 

“Well, well look at this,” he says softly to himself, and I feel the bed shift slightly as he sits on its edge. “I expected you to be sulking in a corner of the room somewhere.”

 

He really is a jerk sometimes.

 

“You'd better not be faking it, Magician…”

 

I tense up slightly, worried that he's going to be able to tell.

 

“But if you really are asleep…” his voice has softened, “I'm not going to wake you. And I hope that whatever you are dreaming of now, is a good dream.”

 

The warm fingers that brush the hair out of my face startle me at first and I do my best to not react. “At least maybe there, you have someone you can really smile for.”

 

I know that it's only moments, but it seems like half of eternity before he moves at all. He's just sitting there with his fingers still in my hair, the heal of his palm just barely touching my face.

 

What is he up to? I can't very well just open my eyes… eye and ask him. But the longer he just sits there watching me, the hotter my face gets.

 

Go away.

 

But no. No, he just sits there, as if he knows its driving me crazy.

 

I'm just moments away from breaking down and snapping at him before… something brushes across my bottom lip. Rough. Dry. Breathless. I think it was his thumb.

 

“Sleep good.”

 

I barely hear the words. His voice is so low, so quiet its as if he's afraid I'm going to hear it. Though, now that I think about it… I suppose I did hear it. But he thinks I'm sleeping and that I haven't heard anything else he's said, so what should that matter?

 

I hate that I want to reach out and catch his arm to stop him from leaving. That I want to at least look up and say “Good night,” to him before he walks away. But I can't, because the last thing he'll want to see is my open eye, and all we'll do is argue again about how “I should sleep” and how “I'm an idiot,” and that “I'm a liar,” and that “He'll tell Sakura” and everything else that I've already heard from him a dozen times. Its better that I just let him leave and allow him to believe that he's finally won. I should at least be nice enough to let him get some sleep before he figures it out in the morning. That I was faking it.

 

We can argue over it later. It'll give me something to look forward to.

 

I wait, listening for the sound of the door shutting behind him.

 

And wait.

 

And wait.

 

And… what the hell is he doing in here still?

 

I really want to just peek for a moment, but I'm afraid to see him just hovering above me to smirk and go “Gotcha!” or something stupid like he'd probably do.

 

So I don't.

 

But still, the door hasn't made a sound. And even though Kurogane is a big guy, he's pretty quiet, so the sound of the door is really all I have to go by. And still, I hear nothing.

 

But I cannot stand just lying here waiting to be caught, so resort to stretching my arms and murmuring sleepy noises and roll over on my side. It's a cheap trick, but I'm hoping it'll work. At least at this angle I can see the door, and if I'm fast enough I can peek at him to see where he is.

 

Damn it.

 

Not by the door.

 

Where is he?

 

“I'm not stupid.”

 

Oh. By the window apparently.

 

I've got my eye closed, as I am slight afraid to look at him. I'm sure he's wearing something loose and his hair's messed, and the moonlight's hitting his tanned skin just right… of course. I don't really want to deal with that. I've had far too many dreams that begin like that already. “If you're wearing a towel, a flowered kimono, a pair of dog ears, or lots of tight black leather, I demand that you get out of here right now.”

 

“Why would I be wearing dog ears?” he growls.

 

“You do sometimes.”

 

“What?!”

 

“I don't want to talk about it. Will you please leave?”

 

“I'll leave as soon as I know you're sleeping.”

 

“I was sleeping just fine before you came in.”

 

“I doubt that.”

 

“Please Kurogane, just go to bed.”

 

“I promised the Princess that I'd be sure you got some sleep. I'm doing this for her, not for you. So shut up and close your eyes before I knock you out anyway.”

 

“They're already closed,” I say and smile in his general direction just because I know it'll make him mad.

 

“Then stop talking, smartass.”

 

I'm tired of him trying to control my life. Live. Eat. Sleep. I can manage those things on my own. But I should be able to choose whether or not I do them. I don't feel like talking to him anymore.

 

I lay silent for a while before he quietly shuffles around the room. There's a pleasant tinkling noise and the delicate sound of something being poured. I'm sure it's the wine on the counter in the corner of the room; there were several bottles there.

 

He'll never leave if I don't sleep. As much as I don't want to do it, it's the only way he'll leave me alone. I suppose I can deal with one night of visions I don't want to see if it'll get him off my back.

 

They say you can't have nightmares here. You cannot have bad dreams. No dark alleys or scary monsters, or mean men chasing you with knives. But what about flashes of the happy memories you can never experience again? Or images of the people you love who you will never see again? Or excerpts of a future you know you can never have?

 

I'd have thought those would be called nightmares as well. But apparently I was wrong.

 

I can only recall Kurogane getting up from his chair for two more glasses of wine before the dreams begin…

 

“Ouch!” he yelps angrily in typical Kurogane fashion, “Not so hard.”

 

I mutter some half-hearted apology in his ear before continuing, leaving a bright red stain of blood in the very place I had whispered. I'm making a mess in this particular position, but I don't care. Its so much better this way.

 

His neck is closer to his beating heart, so the blood is slightly warmer. I'm sure I couldn't have been bothered to notice something like that before, but now, in my particular condition, I find the taste difference is significantly greater.

 

He's much taller than me however, so he sits patiently while I feed, comfortably perched on his lap; my legs all but pinning him to the couch. He has little else to do with himself, so he occupies his mind my drawing designs across my back - his fingers tracing the phantom lines of the tattoo that I once possessed as if he actually knew what it had looked like.

 

I'm nearly finished with my meal. Just cleaning up my plate now; secretly, it's my favourite part of the whole thing. Blood that has dripped down the side of his neck and pooled in the dip of his collarbone just waits to be licked away and I take extra care to make sure every last inch is as clean as if he had just stepped out of a shower. Every stretch of skin on his long tan neck, the ear I stained, all of it is gone over with delicate, slow and careful detail.

 

He doesn't say a word. Doesn't make a sound. But he's stopped drawing lines on my back with his fingers now and has instead, fisted them into the fabric of my shirt. Its so unlike him to not say anything when he isn't sure what sort of mischief I'm up to, but I have no doubt that he would let me know if there was something that bothered him. So I take his indifference as a sign that I can continue.

 

In all my dreams, I've never kissed him. I suppose that's because I cannot even imagine what that would really be like.

 

I keep to his neck, his ears, and anything below that strong jaw line. And in turn, he sticks to mine. Licking, nipping, kissing, sucking, biting. Anything that I feel like doing, and he says nothing. He just lets me do as I please, and in return, I let him do the same.

 

“You're such a mess,” he grumbles with his eyes cast down, focusing on the lapel of his shirt. There is a tiny splash of red where there shouldn't be.

 

“I'm sorry,” I say without a hint on sincerity.

 

“Good,” is all I hear before the growl escapes his throat as I trace his inner ear with my bloodstained tongue. I love that sound and I wish I was able to see the face that goes with it, but for now I am content with the growl. So I do it again.

 

I smirk into his ear and give a small purr as one of his hands slips beneath my t-shirt and the other grips the back of my belt.

 

And I do it again.

 

This time it's him to attack my neck, though not quite in the same way I suppose. I purr against him, nipping at his earlobe and press my knees further into the couch to make sure he cannot escape me; my legs locked tightly around his hips. His mouth is hot against my skin and seems to lull my eyes closed. I don't have to see him to know what I'm doing.

 

He yelps in surprise as I bite a bit harder than I should at his ear. “Damn it. Warm me before you do that!”

 

A few perfect drops form and run down his neck, but I do nothing about them for the moment, just watch the crimson trail slide down his skin and onto his shirt.

 

“Oh no,” I point dramatically. “I made another mess. Kuro-woof needs this washed right away!”

 

“Just take it off already, idiot,” he grumbles. He didn't even look. How discouraging. But who am I to argue with him?

 

Stupid buttons. They take so much time. But it is well worth the effort. And all he has to do is give one tug and mine is gone, that isn't very fair. I also have suspicions that he's removed a shirt or two off of someone else before.

“You're so damn skinny, Magician,” he grumbles, both of his hands now free to trace every inch of my bare skin; his fingers grazing over places where scars should be, but instead is nothing but perfect, smooth white.

 

Maybe that is why he is letting me do this. Because I am slender, because I am smooth, because my hair is long and falls to my shoulders and if he closes his eyes he can pretend I'm a girl. I can't decide just yet if that bothers me.

 

“Maybe you should eat more.”

 

“If I eat too much I'll kill you,” I tease. “And then I would have no one to play with.”

 

I'm bored with his jaw line. His ears. His neck. His shoulders. There is so much else left for me to explore and I have every intension of doing so. I've taken it upon myself to find places that make the best sounds. So far, my favourite noise he has made comes from his hip bone.

 

I don't know when I lost control over things, but I'm not surprised in the lest that he doesn't let me keep it for too long. I find soon that I also enjoy other sounds; like the sound of my own belt being thrown across the room as though it had been some kind of snake he had to get rid of, or the bump of his knees hitting the ground not a moment after he pushed me to the floor.

 

It is only at this moment that I am assured he doesn't mind that I am not female, even though it might be arguable that I am still being treated as one; laying beneath him as I cling on desperately while he rocks us both back and fourth.

 

It's this moment that I cannot stand. This moment that I hate him for. Because this…

 

This isn't real.

 

I am dreaming.

 

I cannot even bring myself to finish before I wake up, staring at the ceiling, frustrated as all hell. And there he is, asleep in the chair across the room, haloed in silver moonlight.

 

Obviously, if there is a god in this world or any of the ones to follow, he hates me.

 

So I'm stuck here at this godforsaken hour of the night, frustrated and unable to sleep anymore and left to stare at the object of my demented fantasies while he sleeps, probably passed out from too many glasses of wine.

 

And my stomach growls. For a split second the thought of “he might not even notice if you had a little midnight snack,” pops in my head.

 

You have got to be kidding me.

 

I'm going for a walk….