Corrupted Dreams

Blaring Pains

I left the kitchen gripping my plate, heart pounding faster than my hurried feet could walk. This is the second time today I've stormed away from that man in a heated mess. And why? Just becomes of some stupid words! Before it had been easy. I didn't dwell too much on things, other than visitations in dreams, he was apart from my life. Now, yes I'd think about him occasionally, dare I say even miss him sometimes, but that was one thing. It was a whole other having Shirou press himself into my life, hovering like a vulture, making me sandwiches!

With a thud, I let the plate fall onto the desk, and in turn sank into the cushioned chair beside it. In an angry wolvish manner, I tore another bite from the sandwich. It was damn good. Memories plagued my mind as I swallowed stiffly, the spiced sauce sinking into my tastebuds. Trapped in a mechanical motion of eating, I thought about the two Emiyas I knew.

Shirou had more of a calm and certain temperance, much different from the staggering angst of Athru. They both annoyed me though. Even with the differences, they were definitely both Emiya. I pictured him from back then, making me food, caught up in the peace of his work... The memory of Athru entrenched me.

It was odd to see Emiya looking so homey, absorbed in something like making food. This trait surprised me in the man, though after recent events, watching him in a domestic environment was only a minor unexpectancy in comparison. My eyes made their way leisurely to the man's lips, then whipped away. I tapped my finger on the table in irritation.

"Stop acting so impatient," he said, walking forward with a slight limp. Emiya acted like he was fine, but there was an obvious strain on his body, and a tired look in his eyes. "Typically someone your age has grown up at least a little. Don't think it's time you start catching up?" My reply was a tight lipped smile as he placed a plate in front of me, before I looked down. I'd let him believe it was impatiens I was feeling, because the thought of explaining the truth made my stomach summersault. "No need to look so disgusted, it won't kill you."

He must have been referring to the frown on my lips, unintentionally directed towards the food he just prepared. I played along anyways. "Well with you handing me the food, I wouldn't be surprised if it did."

Emiya scoffed. "I wouldn't ruin perfectly good food even to poison my worst enemy. So don't worry, you're in the clear."

I grunted my amusement, shuffling around the food with my chopsticks.

"... Besides," Emiya continued softer. "You already know I don't want you dead."

My hand froze at the words, then continued their movement. "I suppose..." The event he was referring to flashed through me like a flood, leaving an odd prickle in its wake. When I looked up, the sight didn't help. His eyes were set on nothing in particular, and a smile hinted on his lips. I'm not even sure he was aware of it. I exhaled deeply, finding the nearest thing I could to barricade myself with; the food. Scarfing Emiya's work down, I changed the subject from the thoughts roaming both our minds. "It's not half bad, you know. The food." That smile thankfully turned into a proud smirk. That I could work with. Though, it didn't pull those thoughts away from my mind, or his really either. Stupid thing to think about really...

Only the crumbs of Shirou's sandwich remained. I pushed the plate away and the old memory. Abandoning thought, I yanked open a drawer, grabbing the whiskey hidden within it. Popping open the top, I took a swig of the succulent poison to cure the emotional swirlings of my stomach. I hissed as it simmered down my esophagus.

***

Exiting my room, I'd just freshened up after sparring with Diarmuid. I shoved my hands in the pockets of my sweatpants, as I walked along the cool tile floor. It was dark, the building at rest, and my feet we're taking me to Shirou's room. Then a thought came in, and I reset my destination.