Banana Fish Fictober 2024

Be The Light In Someone's darkness

I'm sorry that my chapters are a bit delayed, but I had a bad cold that stopped me from updating as frequently as I wanted to. I'll keep updating until I'm finished with all 31 stories. I have so many unfinished scenes, and I wanted to add them here.

This one's a hurt/comfort story about Eiji suffering from a terrible nightmare. Most nightmare stories are about Ash, but I've always wanted to write one about Eiji.

As Ash lay in bed, a piercing scream filled the room, jolting him awake. In an instant, he was on high alert, reaching for the pistol concealed beneath his pillow. However, his hand around his gun relaxed as he realized that the scream had come from Eiji.

Eiji had awoken with a start, his body shaking with fear. Tears flowed down his cheeks, and the grip on his shirt was so tight that his knuckles had turned as white as a sheet.

Ash went to his bed, wishing to help and comfort him. When he came closer, he saw that his hair was damp and droplets of sweat were running down his face. He tried to touch his hand, but Eiji flinched, and his body trembled even worse. Eiji raised his knees up to his chin and put his arms around them, still shaking.

Ash immediately withdrew his hand. He was only too familiar with this behavior. It was a position to protect yourself from harm. A way to make yourself as small as possible, be invisible, to blend out your own existence. If you became one with the room's darkness and interior, blending in perfectly, people wouldn't notice you. If they didn't see you, they couldn't harm you...

Only, with his handsome face, golden blonde hair, and rare green eyes, he would never go unnoticed. So, while everyone saw his beauty as a blessing, he saw it as a curse. Ash couldn't even remember how often he had cowered like that in the darkness, hoping to be overlooked and wishing someone would save him.

Yet, no one had ever come.

Until he met Eiji, that is. He had risked his life by jumping over a 10-meter-high wall with a rusty pipe and had saved him despite barely knowing him. No one had ever risked his life for him, especially not without asking for anything in return. So, he hoped he could save him this time.

But how could he do that if he feared his touch?

Of course, his touch couldn't comfort him. His hands were drenched in blood, and only knew how to cause pain and death—a killer's hands. Ash stared at his hands with disgust. How would such hands like his ever be capable of saving someone? Or providing comfort? That thought alone was ridiculous.

He desperately wished to make Eiji feel safe but wondered if he was even capable of doing so. He remembered how Eiji had comforted him during his nightmares and wished to do the same for Eiji, but looking at Eiji's torment now, he realized that he was utterly useless while the person he cherished the most was in pain.

Still, he desperately longed to make Eiji feel safe, to repay him for saving him from his nightmares, for his infinite kindness, patience, and warmth. But what was he supposed to do? Usually, he had nightmares, and Eiji was there to comfort him. Eiji always found the right words and gestures to save him. Maybe he could remember what Eiji had done to help him and try to do the same?

Imitating Eiji's behavior was all he could do. He had only learned how to use his hands as a deadly weapon. No one had ever taught him how to be kind, compassionate, and empathetic. Or how to comfort or reassure someone when suffering from a nightmare. Expect for Griff, maybe. However, he had been too small back then, and the memory was too faint to recall it now.

He slowly started learning with Eiji's help that touch came in different forms. Just like a camera, touch wasn't evil in itself. It depended on the wielder, the one who initiated them. So, he had learned kind gestures and gentle touch that contained warmth through Eiji. He always used soft gestures, a soothing tone, and reassuring words. He always felt terrible when he flinched at Eiji's touch, but Eiji was full of understanding and patience, saying that such wounds would heal over time but not overnight.