Comparative Study

Urei Sachi

'I tried to climb your steps,

I tried to chase you down,

I tried to see how low I could get to down to the ground,

I tried to earn my way,

I tried to change this mind,

You better believe that I tried to beat this.

When will this end, it goes on and on

Over, and over, and over again.'

-Lifehouse, Sick Cycle Carousel

Rambling: I don't care if Krad's homicidal. He's still a bishie. :D

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Comparative Study

It is a little before nine when Dark arrives.

Krad can tell it is him, even before he knocks on the door, because when Dark is close, Krad feels it. The thrill of it all excites Krad; it courses through his veins like an electric shock, opening his closed eyes and awakening his sleeping mind. Knowing Dark is just there is like the moment before the predator stalks its prey.

He knows he will always catch him, stubborn little Dark, even if he barely makes the effort to do so.

And, in the end, after he has him pinned against the wall, in five minutes he'll do whatever he wants, and then let him go.

Strange.

His Satoshi-sama doesn't question his actions --- not verbally, anyway, because a displeased Krad is not someone you would want to deal with, commander of the police force or not, genius or not, university graduate before the age of 13 or not.

He always knew Satoshi-sama was a very perceptive boy.

Too perceptive.

Not that he expected anything otherwise.

In Satoshi-sama's doorway, Dark kicks off his shoes, something the Niwa boy must have ingrained in him at one point or another (because Dark always claimed he was too cool for manners), and scowls at him because he can't scowl at anything else. Krad greets him with a few pleasant words, and he can almost see Dark tense up, can almost feel the goose bumps in his skin.

Krad, as a rule, never sounded pleasant unless he was going to do something Very Bad Indeed.

But Dark is an aggressive bastard, and he isn't one for conversations, so his patience is wearing thin quickly. He grasps the back of Krad's head, long, slender fingers tangling in soft blonde hair, and Krad can't help but think, wait for it, Dark is like that. Wait for it.

They could do it -- pass off as twins, he means, if one of them dyed his hair and wore contact lenses. But Dark's not the kind of person who's comfortable with the idea of looking like Krad, and Krad would drop dead before anyone came up to him with a bottle of purplish black hair dye (although it would be easier and more advantageous to kill rather than commit suicide).

He has long forgotten the stage wherein he asked how a person's eye color affected their view of the world. Do green-eyed people see only foliage and flora overgrown weeds choking what-could-have-been beautiful flowers, and does someone with grey eyes see only smoke? If you wore contacts, would something change? But his eyes were golden and they didn't reflect a thousand brilliant bursts of sunlight, didn't see everything as happy or cheery or ­what-the-fuck-ever the Niwa boy did. He just saw things, mostly from Satoshi-sama's line of vision.

He presses closer to Dark, touching his lips to the other's, chaste at first, but more fervent with each passing second. He wonders if this is what romance is really all about; does he love Dark? Maybe, in some part of his twisted, icy heart, he does, because they are each other's significant half (not in the way that Harada girl would like herself to be; Dark is no one's but his, the same way Satoshi-sama is his and his alone). With each ticking of an imaginary clock he tells himself that one day, even if it isn't now, he'll never let go again, he'll try to make Dark see things his way, and he'll ask him to stay just a little longer because he's just so tired of playing this game.

It doesn't make things any less enjoyable.

Dark pulls away and tries to control his frantic breathing. Kissing anyone else was never like this, not even he muses, staring at Krad through half-lidded eyes, counting the seconds between every single breath.

After all, he takes prides in his cautiousness, disguised in flippancy that slightly disgusted Satoshi, and, only occasionally, Daisuke.

Krad's eyes are amber like streaks of sunlight on a still lake, calm and peaceful but ultimately lonely and cold.

Dark's eyes are violet orbs that grow dim like the stormy sky before the most disastrous typhoon, ominous but not entirely hopeless.

Krad's mouth is always set in a grim line that curves upward only when he's about to do something dangerous, usually involving Dark and/or a killing spree. When he smiles, it is languidly seductive and infinitely misleading. An ice barrier, that is what it is.

Dark's mouth is always ready to offer an arrogant smirk, and it is as warm as a summer day, just as ice cracks under bathing in sunlight.

Krad rarely laughs, but when he does, it is… terrifying.

Dark frequently laughs, but sometimes it fake and inhibited.

Krad's skin is like white snow, beautiful to behold but easy to melt or mar.

Dark's skin is a slight golden brown, healthy and flushed, especially on nights when he's about to steal something he particularly likes.

Krad's fingers are cold, and Dark takes them in his hands and to his heart to warm them.

Dark's fingers are warm, and Krad loves the feeling of his cheeks pressed against them.

Krad is Krad, not Satoshi, although not fully able to break away from him.

Dark is Dark, not Daisuke, although he would very much like to be him.

Different, but still one whole.

Krad's secretly afraid that one day he would have to choose between his host and Dark but living a lie hurts even more.

That's why they don't speak of those things, even when Krad leads him to Satoshi's room, and Dark can only say "Krad" over and over again, awhile Krad can whisper "Dark" like a litany to his ears. It is slow, and he can feel the pain of pleasure all too well. Or is it the pleasure of pain? He is too far gone to tell the difference. It tears his heart a little more than it should, and Krad has to touch his chest and listen to his pulse, but he asks Dark to listen for him and tell him that it's still there, that it's always been there.

Dark does, and asks him, very softly, if it would always be like this. (Bitter, bitter)

Krad doesn't have an answer, but Dark doesn't need to hear anything else but his breathing and his heartbeat.

He still has him, he hasn't lost yet.

Don't go, he tells him, kissing Dark's hands with his cracked lips. Dark smiles at him )a little too empty for it to be considered as inviting) and Krad falls asleep, but not before noticing that Dark is looking outside the window and not at the ceiling.

Not like before.

The game always ends this way.

He curses and remains immobile on his side, thinking that tomorrow, he will try again, because he has not entirely lost, and isn't that what he is supposed to do? To hunt Dark down, then let him go? Satoshi-sama tries to find the logic in this, but Krad shakes his head at him and whispers, in that same silky, soothing voice he uses, that he will understand someday.

The sun still shines, as it was made to do, and there is always time for him to pick up the pieces and pounce on Dark, as he has always done, willingly or not.

It has been the only constant thing in his life.

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END COMPARATIVE STUDY

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O.O Don't worry, you're not the only one who's confused. Review:)