Where the light cannot reach

warning: loss of memories, captivity, emotional manipulation, unhealthy relationship

 

 

When he woke up, he was greeted by the sight of light grey walls and translucent white curtain fluttering in the early morning breeze. He woke up sluggish, body heavy with a kind of fatigue that he couldn't explain, felt like sinking into the bed. Looking around - Where is this? - he doesn't know. It's unfamiliar. Why is he here?

What happened?

He tried; flinching when a sharp pain shot through his head. His head is fuzzy. Can't even pull out a semblance of a memory.

What happened?

Why can't he remember anything?

He can feel his breathing picking up in panic. He pushes away from the bed, looking down on himself. A white shirt; a size larger, likely belonging to someone else. It's material soft and silky, comfortable but jarringly foreign. The bed he's lying in is wide and plush, like he was put there by something or someone.

He felt out of place.

Where is this?

The next thing he notices are the markings on his wrists; what appears to be some sort of alien letterings on his skin. What are these? Scars? Though they are painless.

Rolling out of the bed, he walks around the place barefooted. The place he's stuck in is awfully spacious with seemingly random art pieces decorating the walls and corner of the hallways. In a glance they look harmless..--

(But what is this feeling?)

(They feel suspicious.)

The rest of the windows are all shut, covered with the same translucent white curtain as the one in the bedroom.

He has a vague feeling he's being kept in. But why? By who? For what?

The living room is in a similar state; closed windows, curtains drawn, empty couches. With the glaring exception of a bottle of red wine and a glass next to it.

Was there someone else?

It couldn't have been himself. And it wasn't anything that he partook in judging from the lone glass. Looking around, there wasn't anything else to help, not that he knows what is he looking for exactly.

(Anything, perhaps, that could help bring back at least some memories.)

There is a gaping void in his head and he couldn't find anything to fill it back up. He staggered on his feet as another vicious headache passes. His vision momentarily doubles from the pain. Shaking it away, he slowly made his way back to the bedroom, collapsing into the bed in exhaustion.

It wasn't at all a long or particularly strenuous trip but he felt drained. Odd, he doesn't think he's that easy to tire out.

Within his confused haze, he fell asleep.

 

 

He woke up again an indeterminate time later, seeing a shadow of something in his half-asleep stupor. Who? A tall male dressed in a black suit, looking out the window. He couldn't really tell, couldn't really remember whether he know them or not.

"You're up?" The man must've heard him moving. He pushes himself up into a sitting position, fully facing the other.

"..-Who are you?"

The other turns around though don’t appear surprised at the least, as if he had been expecting the question. "You really don’t know?"

The question struck him - he really doesn't know. Not the man, not even --

"-I don't know. I don't even know who I am. I can't remember anything." He's anxious - scared, even. Nothing is familiar and he's being plagued by a sense of vulnerability. Something is terribly wrong with him, he could tell at least that much from the strange red markings dotting his wrists. He feels like he should be elsewhere but he couldn't even recall where.

He is lost.

He looks up towards the other, pleading. "Do you know me? Can you tell me who I am?"

It just seems like a sensible thing to do; to rely on this man who's looking at him with recognition in those eyes (though something about them unsettles him, a different kind of emotion lurking in the corner). The man left his spot by the window, slowly walking towards him without breaking eye contact.

He flinched slightly when a hand came up to cup the left side of his face. It was quite…unexpected. He didn't know how to react to such gesture. Though it doesn't seem to be anything harmful, and only then he relaxes into it.

"Are you scared?" Of me.

He blinks, somehow the tone of the question sounded that way to him. He gave a small nod.

"You don't have to." The hand rubs across his skin in a gentle caress, trying to comfort him. "You're safe here."

He looks up into the man's dark eyes, seeing himself reflected within. His own hand crept up to hold the one cupping his face. Warm.

"Do you trust me?" Another nod. He had nowhere else to turn to. Even when there's a faint voice at the back of his head telling him no. The hand caressing his face turns to grab his hand around the wrist as the man kneeled before him. His wrist was slowly brought up to the other's lips, pressing a kiss right over the red markings painting his skin. The sudden gesture mildly shocked him, eyes widening in response.

"--What are you-?" His exclaim was abruptly cut short.

 

"-Ryuga."

"Eh?"

"It's your name, Ryuga." Hearing the name, his name rolled off the man's tongue brought a strange kind of feeling to him. Ryuga. A bell rang faintly in the corner of his mind.

"Who am I?" To you. Why are you looking at me like that? Like he is the only thing that matters to this man.

Gaze unwavering, like the man can see right through to his soul. "You are my precious person."

"..I am?" He didn't mean to doubt, but..-

"Yes." Then he supposed it's the truth. Spoken by this man who knows him, whose touch is oddly familiar to him, who has a hold on his soul through those dark eyes.

He is Ryuga, and he is someone important to this person.

"And you are?"

"Jinga." A cold ringing accompanied the name; a tang of blood on his tongue and heat coursed through his veins.

"..Someone important to me?"

"Yes." Final. Conclusive.

He bowed his head, hiding from those eyes. "I'm sorry..-I can't recall anything." Not even this man he supposedly held close to his heart.

"That is fine..-"

 

"--We have an eternity for that."

 

 

---

 

 

Desire is such a strange emotion. It is simplistic yet complex at the same time. The base drive that enables various organisms to keep on living on this wretched planet.

Such a thought crossed his mind as he silently stares at the man soundly sleeping on his chest.

The way the man looks at him - desperate, pleading. It awakens something within him.

 

"Say, what would you feel if I say I wanted to make him mine?"

"Nothing. Surely, you'd need my hand in that. The result would be quite amusing."

 

Sure enough. Though it was quite a work. It was a fruitful endeavour, and he got to provide a good source of entertainment for his beloved wife.

He slowly runs his fingers through Ryuga's hair, lightly petting him.

So unguarded and vulnerable. It won't even take a second to kill him like this. But that's not his goal.

A shift. Ryuga blearily blinks open his eyes. Oh, he's up.

"..-What's wrong?"

Sleepy eyes look up at him, seemingly measuring him. A soft sigh follows. "..You're here." Hm?

"Of course, I am. Why? Did you saw a bad dream?" One of Ryuga's hand came up to curl around his coat lapel, lightly tugging on one side.

"..-It was dark.., and empty. I was alone, scared. Don't know where to go, don't know what to do. It was relieving to know that you didn't left." Huh, there's this kind of side to him too. Like a child.

"I am always here." Watching, waiting. Even then, he always come to know the man's whereabouts. The Golden Knight. The man who is currently clinging onto him like a scared child.

A small smile returned. "Thank you."

He replies with one of his own before resuming his previous activity.

"Don't mention it."