Chapter Text
I enter briskly with the wind. We slip through the tears in the wax paper that are stapled to the window frames. I do not hesitate to hover to the sleeping boys.
One is dead. The other will die.
-
I eye the dead boy currishly. He has cheated death in the most grotesque way. I can smell the stolen blood in his veins and the feverish heartbeat that isn’t his own. I wrinkle my nose and wonder how this little boy, the one that will die, can stand it.
It must be true love, I think.
Carefully, the dead one maneuvers the little one out of his arms, turning around. He wants to face the door, to watch for enemies. I understand or at least I respect the choice.
The little one's mumbles, he doesn’t like the lack of heat. It must be cold in the room; he would be the only one able to feel it. The dead one lays the sweater that was tucked under his head over his chest and tucks the blanket around his waist.
The dead one turns to the door, determination flickers in his chest.
Eventually, he grows sluggish. His eyelids become heavy; his mind turns to mush, and his senses fall into a deep slumber. He isn’t even aware.
This is expected.
He is a delicate creature, created for swift slaughter and emotionless actions. He kills his victims so quickly, so unexpectedly, that I rarely make it there in time. The soul is forced to hover in the body longer, suffering longer too.
I am not sympathetic. Not as much as I could be. But, I do not wish for these optimistic humans to suffer. They are innocent and sweet. They do not know horrors. They are babies with enemies and soft saviors.
He is an enemy. An abnormal figure in their fresh world. I claim to be a savior, but they wouldn’t call me that.
A demon, a monster, the devil? Yes.
They are so ignorant.
This boy, though, has broken these rules that he was created for. He has felt, he has loved, and he has held regret in his soul.
So, these advantages will not favor him.
They will slowly turn his body off. It will take centuries, but first, it will start with the gift of sleep.
-
I do not stop the small boy from leaving. I cannot.
I consider bristling against the dead one, letting the darkness of my cloak awake him. He would blink rapidly and realize his mistake and ponder how it happened. Then he would notice the lack of warmth and curse himself, storing the question away for later.
The door would be swinging on its hinges in no time.
I do not, though, instead, I follow the boy.
-
Outside a dense fog as taken over and a soft mist-like rain falls from the overcast sky. The ground is damp and the air is humid. Down below, the ocean is a mess, roaring and smashing onto the beach. This is only the beginning of the storm, it will be much worse.
As I follow the boy into the wooded area I think about how he will die. I never really know how these humans will die, not until they do at least, but I normally have a good idea.
The girl with the bald head and weak arms will die from a sickness inside of her. The boy with the angry father will have a messy bullet hole in him. The toddler that likes to run will be demolished under a car.
I had figured that this boy’s death will be caused by the other dead ones lurking inside this woods, but I am not too sure now. I glance upwards, to the skies, and predict the rolling thunder and the deep lighting.
I also consider the ocean and earthquakes.
And I wonder if I will collect more than one body tonight.
-
The boy is humorous, like most humans.
He kicks at pinecones and rocks, missing often, and mumbles little things to himself. He stumbles over twigs and as a less than graceful way of walking. He is like a child and I appreciate his fresh and innocent mind.
Yet, he cares deeply about the boy. The dead one.
He tries to understand him and, I hesitate to say this but, he does understand. He has listened to the story and reflected upon it. He feels the sadness that the dead carries.
Why must he die? I question.
I shake my head, prodding the question away. I do not want to know. I just need to help him through, to another life.
-
He pulls his foot back, aiming at a large pinecone. His foot makes contact, flinging it into the woods ahead. When I don’t hear it stumbling across leaves and twigs, I know.
The boy tenses. He feels the darkness. And I feel his fear. For a brief, humane, moment I regret not waking the dead boy.
Out of the shadows, a shadow himself steps a tall boy. He is smooth and pale face. With caramel hair curled delicately around his brow. He walks with grace and confidence. I would call him beautiful if it weren’t for the sharp grin that wraps around his chin and the dark, void, eyes.
Behind him, another boy steps out. He is handsome, with a strong jawline and dark, but warm, eyes. And he too is in love.
The boy, my favorite, steps backward hurriedly. His face is struck with horror and the sudden realization of death.
“Hello, Shouyo,” says the one with caramel hair coyly. “I believe that this is yours.”
He holds out the pinecone. Hinata just stares.
“Well isn’t it?” he says mockingly.
Hinata shakes his head rapidly.
Slowly, the caramel haired boy shakes his head, grinning. “I believe that it is, though.” He steps forward, jutting the pinecone outwards. “Take it, Shouyo.”
Finding his voice Shouyo stutter’s; “N-no.” His hands are balmy and shaking. His face is just as pale as the dead ones.
I step forward and he shivers. He feel’s me, I think.
Shrugging, he chucks the pinecone aside. It rolls away softly, becoming part of the underbrush. Hinata’s eyes trail after it.
“You are hard to fine, Shouyo.” say’s Carmel Hair. I wish I could take his soul tonight, he irks me.
Hinata doesn’t reply.
“You are being ru—“ He gasps. Hinata turns on his heel and dashes away. His feet slip on pine needles and he stumbles on rocks, but he never falters. He keeps running.
Carmel Hair stands still, shocked, his mouth agape. I, too, am shocked. I never expected him to run this early on. It doesn’t take long for Carmel Hair to recover. He shakes off his shock and turns to the handsome one behind him, “Follow him,”
-
Hinata knew about the shadow trick.
As he ran he frantically looked behind his back, into the trees on the left and to the tree on the right. He squinted at odd shapes and sprinted when hearing a small rustle in the foliage.
His heart was beating erratically and his brain contoured freighting situations. His lungs cried for air and his legs burned with fatigue.
Gasping, he busted out of the forest. He stumbled and leaned over, his hands resting on his bent knees. He heaved, struggling for air. I questioned if he had asthma or something of the sort and stepped forward, ready to catch his soul if his body collapsed.
But then the dead boy ran into view, frantically calling for Hinata. His eyes landed on him and rushed forward, falling to his knees.
“Shouyo…” he whispered, his hands grasping at his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s—“
“Well, hello Tobio.” Interrupted Carmel Hair, stepping into view. Dark wisps of shadow clung to his body, threatening to evaporate him to nothingness. I hissed at the shadows. The evil, heartless things.
Standing up the dead boy growled, “Oikawa.” His eyes narrowed and his hand gripped Hinata’s shoulder protectively.
Hinata, having finally caught his breath straighten up, staring defiantly at Carmel Hair and the handsome one.
I figured that if Hinata hadn’t been there, the dead boy would’ve fled. He would’ve had a flash of memories and feel the wave of regret and sadness wash over him. And without hesitating would flee to the countryside, change his name, and play coward for the rest of his life.
It was funny how much braver they were in each other’s presences. How the dead boy pushed aside his past and how Hinata stood confidently, ready for the danger. How they had both secretly pledged to protect each other.
How silly in love they were.
-
The dead boy attacked ferociously, but his form was slow and sluggish. He wasn’t the quick creature of the night anymore. He was just the immortal, immoral, human. He screamed at Hinata to run. Hinata, paused, hesitant to leave him, but after a second scream, begging for him to run, he ran.
I didn’t stick around for the fight. I knew what would happen after all.
I followed Hinata down the winding cliff and onto the beach.
-
Small pebbles littered the dark sand. The waves, huge and luring, smashed into the sand, the surf was an angry gray. Jagged rocks line the sides of the cliff and met at the middle, creating a jetty. Water lapped up on the jetty, the wind howling around the small post at the end.
As Hinata hopped up on rocks and began to walk across them, carefully, I hoped that he wasn’t an idiot, planning to walk out to the jetty.
I didn’t think so, though.
He slipped once or twice but caught himself. The wind slammed against him, his white shirt flapped about, longing to fly, and his hair jostled around, sticking to his brow and nape of the neck. I followed closely, behind, waiting for him to slip and strike his head against a rock.
The waves would crash onto his body, again and again, drowning him slowly in his unconsciousness. That would be painfully slow and I would have to wait around for a long time, and it was forbidden, by the unspoken rules, to speed up the process of death.
Cautiously, he slides off a rock and down to the sandy floor bed. An inch of cool water hovered, tiny fish swam around his ankles. He wasted no time running forward, splashing about, and into a small cave built into the cliffside.
It was small, barely indented. The ground was sandy and water lapped up around it. Crouching down, he huddled against the back wall. His hands wrapped around his legs and his face pressed into his knees. He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. He longed for his mother.
I positioned myself across from him. My cloak dipped into the cool water and sand stuck to my shoes. I didn’t notice or care. It would disappear soon enough.
-
A soft curse, followed by a silent slip. Hinata jerked his head up, frozen. His entire body rigid. I bite my lip. I could feel the death in the air.
Silence.
Only the howling of the wind, pounding of the wind, and Roaring Ocean. Hinata didn’t believe any of it.
-
“You are awful, Tobio,” mocked Oikawa, “You used to be good.”
“Shut up,” grunted Kageyama, swinging a punch.
They had been biting at each other’s ankles for at least twenty minutes, Kageyama using everything he had and Oikawa playing with his food. The handsome man hovered off to the side. Kageyama had questioned briefly, why he didn’t send him after Hinata when he ran, he was hoping he wouldn’t and would stay and fight. But he just hovered in the shadows, watching.
When Oikawa avoided the punch, Kageyama played dirty and shoved him into the trunk of a tree with a strong force.
Groaning, he rolled over to his side. He pulled himself up to his knees and spat into the leaves.
“Fuck you,” he said with venom. Tobio snarled and stepped forward, ready to kick him in the gut, to tear into his dead, soulless body.
Oikawa jumped up, rolled his fist backward, and ran it into Kageyama’s face. If the punch had come from Hinata or anyone else, it wouldn’t have hurt. But this Oikawa. His superior in strength and power.
Kageyama attempted to raise his knee to kick Oikawa in the gut but was knocked backward with another punch.
“You never know when to stop?” demanded the advancing Oikawa, “Do you?”
The burly man in the shadows shifted. Is he coming here to gang up on me? Thought Kageyama.
“Fuck you,” echoed Kageyama. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. Oikawa chuckled, grinning. It looked odd and out of place with the swollen check. But it still held the same venom.
Pulling himself to his knees, he shoved Oikawa backward, jumped up and shoved his fist into his face. He didn’t notice the lack of bite in Oikawa or how easy this was. He just wanted to punch and punch. The wave of regret floating through him.
The burly man advanced from the shadows. “Stop.” He commanded.
“Why should I?” growled Kageyama. But he pulled himself up, pushing Oikawa aside.
“Because. This isn’t fair.”
“Life isn’t fair, buddy.” retorted Kageyama.
He clenched his fist, ready to pound him as well. He was ready to pound anything really. A shopkeeper, a tree, the fucking ocean.
“I wouldn’t.” warned the man. “I won’t go—“ he stopped himself, wincing.
Kageyama ignored this.
He shot a punch, aiming for the face. The man blocked him, jabbing his gut with his left hand. Kageyama gasped. He was strong.
“I tried to warn you.” cried the burly man, swinging his left hand into Kageyama’s face. Kageyama managed to block it before It made an impact.
“I did my best!” he shot back. Angry, that this man was accusing Kageyama of not doing a better job.
The men shook his head.
-
The fighting continued until the rain was hailing from the sky and thunder echoed through the trees. Lighting lit up the sky and the wind wafted around thing’s whistling a sweet, deathly tone.
His arm raised in a punch, the man fell to his knees. His face ashen.
Kageyama stepped back. “What?” he questioned.
“I’m sorry.” whispered the man.
The sudden realization hit Kageyama like a ton of bricks. He let out a soft gasp and turned on his heel. Oikawa was gone.
He realized his mistake and cursed. He turned to the man, his face screwed up in a million emotions.
“Why?” stumbled out Kageyama.
“I’m sorry,” echoed the man. “I’m sorry.”
Shaking his head Kageyama fled to the small clearing, his heart wrapped panicked against his chest, his soul felt swollen and damaged.
Nothing was ever that easy.
-
I heard it first.
The dead boy. The wind carrying his voice. He called again, “Shouyo!”, and Hinata perked up. His lips parted, his body stilled, but ready to jump up and run to his arms.
“Shouyo!” the voice was closer.
Jumping up, Hinata scrambled out of the cave. His feet splashed against the cool stilled water as he scaled the rock and hollering.
“Tobio!” he called, balancing out his feet on the slippery rock. Algae and moss slathered it; the plants were damp with salt water. I stood next to him, waiting.
Kageyama’s eyes meet Hinata’s and his face flushed with relief. He ran forward, skirting through the rocks. It looked so much easier with supernatural powers and a romantic desperation.
“Shouyo!” grinned Kageyama, landing on the rock across from Hinata.
Then I saw it.
How tragic, I thought.
-
He was grinning. His hair plastered to his forehead. I stepped forward, ready to wrap my arms around him.
Then he wasn’t grinning. His eyes weren’t shining and, for the first time, he faltered.
It struck with thunder in the distance. With a roaring wave. With a jolt of rain. With a gust of wind.
-
With a choked gasp he fell to his knees. The impact there was sickening. He coughed. He brought his hand to his mouth and whipped away the substances. Red dots decorated his hand. He gasped. Coughing again.
Above him stood Oikawa. He held a sleek knife, a thin layer of blood coating it, in his hand. He eyed the victim below.
“No,” gasped Kageyama, rushing forward. He pulled Hinata to his chest, his hands fluttering around the bloodied hole in his chest. “No, no, no,” he whispered.
His face was already pale, his eyes glazed over. A small cluster of tears gathers in his eyes. His lips trembled slightly.
“Shouyo, no,” rambled Kageyama. His hands danced across Hinata’s chest in a ghostly manner. Big tears dripped down his face, unnoticed.
-
Oikawa slipped away. And he realized that his pain and embarrassment was no less.
What a waste, he thought, and tossing the knife away. A giant wave lapped it up. It belonged to the ocean now.
-
“Tobio,” whispered Hinata, his voice sharp.
Tobio shushed him softly, pressing his lips to his forehead. “You’ll be okay.”
“Tobio,” Repeated Hinata, urgent.
He knows he will die, I thought grimly.
“Please, Tobio.” Whispered Hinata, closing his eyes, he breathed a ragged breath, like he held the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Kageyama pursed his lips and nodded.
“Please—“ a violent cough erupted from his mouth, blood splattered his chin, “Don’t blame yourself.”
Sobs racked Kageyama’s body. He clutched Hinata’s body, nodding his head.
“Please,” mumbled Hinata.
“I won’t.” promised Kageyama.
I stepped forward. I could feel his soul slipping and if the dead boy, Kageyama decided to bite him—well, I wouldn’t allow it.
“I love you, Tobio.”
Sucking in his breath the dead boy leaned forward and kissed Hinata’s lips, nose, and then forehead. “I love you, Shouyo.” He whispered into his ear.
A soft sigh escaped Hinata’s lip and I knew he was ready.
Two Decades Later:
I fear that I am turning into them more and more.
As I sit alone I can sometimes feel the thumping of a heart. I feel warmth and cold. I feel compassion for the humans. I feel things for myself.
Is this what humanity is about?
-
I hear the dead boy ponder these thoughts often. I wish to could ask him about it, maybe, together we could understand.