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Well, I did this for the 15 minute challenge over at temps_mort, but I need to figure out how to post there. So I'll just put it here for now.
The Forgiveness of Sleep
By stungunbilly
G
Weiss Kreuz, Yohji/Aya
15 minute challenge
Yohji dreams of icicles, blue-white daggers ranged above him in a cave below the earth. He wakes to the metallic pinging of the water heater down the hall and the distant swish of a shower running. The place beside him in bed is damp and cold, long empty.
He waits for a few minutes, watching blue shadows move across the wall, before grunting out a curse and grabbing for comforting tobacco. The cigarette tastes stale, like every other flavor in the air of his room.
The clock says 4 AM.
In half an hour Aya will meet Ken in a diner, pretending to eat badly cooked rice and mushrooms. They will exchange information, whispering harshly in a way that Yohji has tried to tell them will bring more attention than open chatter.
They never listen.
He sleeps, again, and once more blue ice awaits him. His lover is dancing on a field of snow, whirling jacket deathly white. Hair like new blood, eyes like shuriken that cut Yohji, who is cold and hisses.
All around, snow falling white like the end of all memory.
In the morning, Yohji will wake to warmth and yellow sun. He will smile at the unsmiling Aya, and smoke, and wait for night to return. Then they will kill. But for now, his dreams give him the safety of cold.
~
The Forgiveness of Sleep
By stungunbilly
G
Weiss Kreuz, Yohji/Aya
15 minute challenge
Yohji dreams of icicles, blue-white daggers ranged above him in a cave below the earth. He wakes to the metallic pinging of the water heater down the hall and the distant swish of a shower running. The place beside him in bed is damp and cold, long empty.
He waits for a few minutes, watching blue shadows move across the wall, before grunting out a curse and grabbing for comforting tobacco. The cigarette tastes stale, like every other flavor in the air of his room.
The clock says 4 AM.
In half an hour Aya will meet Ken in a diner, pretending to eat badly cooked rice and mushrooms. They will exchange information, whispering harshly in a way that Yohji has tried to tell them will bring more attention than open chatter.
They never listen.
He sleeps, again, and once more blue ice awaits him. His lover is dancing on a field of snow, whirling jacket deathly white. Hair like new blood, eyes like shuriken that cut Yohji, who is cold and hisses.
All around, snow falling white like the end of all memory.
In the morning, Yohji will wake to warmth and yellow sun. He will smile at the unsmiling Aya, and smoke, and wait for night to return. Then they will kill. But for now, his dreams give him the safety of cold.
~
