Good -- A Danti Fanfiction (COMPLETED)

Chapter 6

Dark's POV

I took both of his hands in mine and gazed deep into his eyes.

They darted everywhere, never quite meeting my own. 

They were so beautiful. Emerald green, and a sapphire blue. 

I leaned in closer, closing the gap between our faces. I felt his tension, but I knew that his body was stronger than his brain. Most peoples' are.

I began to place his hands around my waist and kissed him. I felt his body giving up and his arms creep around my neck. I smiled, and I felt him smile back.

Then I felt a sharp stab in my head. When I focused again, I was lying on my back, staring into the blue sky. But it wasn't blue anymore.

It was snowing. Soft flakes started to cover the ground around me and I felt them clinging to my eyelashes. I smiled, ignoring the pain in the back of my skull. 

I heard laughter next to me, and I rolled over to see him smiling at me. 

"I thought that you hated the snow." He giggled, all the blood rushing to his head.

Blood.

I sat up and looked at the ground around me. It was bright crimson, like a paint splatter on a blank canvas. I frowned. It didn't look right.

I started to smudge it, trying to get rid of the mistake. But it only spread.

Every time I touched it, it spread out in little tendrils. I frowned again, and attempted to cover the red snow with white, but it only bled through.

I stood and turned in a circle, trying to find more white, but it was all red.

My head was screaming with pain and I started to panic. I dropped down to my knees and started to scrub at the red snow with my sleeve. Tears threatened to cloud my vision, and soon they began to fall. I started muttering to myself, telling myself that it was fine.

I scrubbed harder, but the ground wasn't covered in snow anymore. Instead, the ground was a person.

No, a demon. And the demon was screaming, screaming for me to stop. He said that I was...

Hurting him?

No, I was helping. I was getting rid of the paint splatter. The red.

The blood

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up panting. This wasn't right.

I hadn't had a dream since I was 18 years old, the night Mark's father died. Mark had been consumed with grief and there was only one way to contain it; to let me harness it. It made me more powerful than I had ever been, and I had permanently gained control over a part of Mark's brain. Of course, the first to go were those stupid dreams. Honestly, I don't understand how humans can have those things  bothering you at all times.

But having one now? It just wasn't possible.

I rubbed my forehead with the palms of my hands, racking my brain for any remnants of the dream.

Another thing that was shitty about them? How fast they disappear. Dreams are like the fucking ninjas of the forest. I couldn't remember a single thing.

I stood up and walked into the kitchen, dressed only in a loose grey t-shirt and black boxers. 

I was leaning against the counter, sipping my coffee, when I heard something from down the hall. It sounded like it was coming from Anti's room.