LOVE: UNLIMITED - D.K X READER

11 - ACATALEPSY

Daisuke was alone again.

The afternoon's orange faded into the slightest purple with careful grace. His slender fingers brushed over the keys of the instrument, then to his face - his lips - with instinctive passion. His skin was soft and smooth, yet somehow untouchable. The room was dimly lit, helping fan the flames within him. A dull ache pained beneath his ribcage; how long had he been in that room?

Kambe lifted his head, looking to the line of trees through the paned doorways to the outside. The hues of warm came in pulses, the chandelier toppling over it all and making it almost too bright for an almost-evening.

He'd been the saviour to a gunshot wound. He'd cared. He'd done things in the way he wasn't familiar with. He'd stopped his own job-force from doing things the easy way. He'd gone on an unneeded chase for a criminal thought uncatchable. He'd ran across a fucking highway. He'd become vulnerable, all for you.

Why? What made you so special?

Daisuke's features became weary. The lurching feelings within him ached. He could see it all too clearly - the vine of wick through his thoughts, winding deeper, wanting to be hit with one spark that ignites a network of gasoline, and burns him alive.

He was uncomfortable. That was the only way he could describe it; he was frustrated, but not rageful enough to be angry. He was yearning, but too uncertain to be pining. He'd pay all the money in the world to some unseen force just to understand why you make him feel like this.

The riches could trickle down the drain. Just like that, he'd be nothing but a civilian. The shimmers of gold and silver would no longer define him. He'd give it all up just to have the bliss of intelligence.

Daisuke tried, so hard, to think of any possible moment where things were different to any other woman. He hated it. He hated it so, so much. Every single possible moment he could antagonise you, he was left with disappointment. You were nothing like them. Like the leeches. They crawled all over him and grabbed onto his accessories, his riches; running away with the blood of something that once belonged to him. They wanted his greenery, his silver, his gold.

You wanted nothing but him, and himself alone.

Was he the problem? Clinging to a makeshift medicine when the real product was right in front of him?

No. No, no, no.

He couldn't let his walls down.

After the adrenaline shot through it all - after the rain droplets, icy and cold, fell upon him, he'd been left with nothing but an empty stomach.

But what was left empty was not his appetite. He knew that now.

His eyes drifted to the piano he sat in front of so eagerly. His fingertips lingered on the keys, wishing - praying for the release of pushing it down and letting the notes infiltrate his eardums. Blurring the lines between want and need.

Do I need you, or do I want you?

A possessive thought filtrated by good intention. Materialistic mindsets led to such doubts, plaguing the hope that nurtured his actions. His looks, nods, and words. He wanted to know more than anything what this was. A yearning for something even he couldn't reach - couldn't buy, or grab. Not knowing how to deal with this was breaking him apart. Bit by bit, he thought.

Each key was like a spike - a dagger through the doors of his heart, impaling him. He wondered if it would make him feel whole again. He wondered if it was worth it. Would it do nothing but shoot past it entirely? Was he too empty now? Too far gone?