Olikase Oneshots

Nightly Endeavors

Rattling and clattering rushed past the weight stemming against the rusty balcony rails. A shadow stretched out and ripped the mellow but heavy fog swaying through the trees and streets of the rural city. The rustic built resembled more that of a village, but buildings toppeled next to one another nonetheless. In this crowded scenery, there was silence. With nighttime to have sung everyone to sleep, quietness embedded all of those living.

However, far off at the end of the village, weak lighting from the inside painted a path through the glass door and Fukase jumped off the rails with his heavy boots strutting towards the inside.

He wasn't yet familiar with it, as he has taken the housing as his own merely a few days ago, but his instincts led him across the hallway, right into the master's bedroom. He kicked open the door with a loud thud and bursting laughter.

"Wake up! You need to hear this." Fukase jumped on the bed at the far end of the poorly lit room, shaken up in ecstasy over his previous adventure. His face twitched in surprise and short-bedded confusion to find the mattress empty. A pair of bloodshot eyes travelled across the room and caught up on a frail candle on the other side. The flame framed parts of the figure he was looking for.

Oliver froze in his throne of an armchair, with his arms barely wrapping close in front of his chest. Not only did Fukase bring in a chilly breeze, but he had to brace himself for what he had been forcefully preparing for all evening ever since he had woken up from another nightmare. The other bedside had been empty once again.

"Why were you out again?"

Oliver's voice was cold and choppy, as if an abandoned vinyl has been set back on their phonograph. He shuddered at his own tone but didn't back off. Eventually, he got up to switch on the light and take a look at Fukase. His face was distorted in irritation but let go of it once light engulfed the room. Uncertain of any further reaction, Oliver insisted to shift awkwardly in the middle of the room.

There was a blunt huff, and then silence again. Fukase scooted to the edge of the bedside.

"Nightly duties. You should be used to it by now." As if the previous atmosphere had been swept back under the carpet, a wide grin grew on Fukase's face and he started laughing. Oliver clenched his teeth in response to the ever unsettling echos.

"Speaking of which, you won't believe what happened! Officers actually baited us with innocent people. Haven't seen this open cruelty in a while."

Fukase continued to burst out in despicable laughter, and Oliver felt sick. He wasn't sure whether he would be better off to stay here and possibly faint or run to the bathroom. It was no rare occurrence, and even so, every single time he was confronted with the situation once again, he was overwhelmed with the grotesqueness of it.

Oliver's eyes shifted down to Fukase's chest. His clothes were splattered with deep red spots, while trails of blood continued to run down to his lap. It didn't look like the bleeding has stopped yet.

"You're injured."

Fukase looked down and shifted his shirt around. "That? Oh, that's nothing."

He casted another smile, but it was met with coldness once more. As much as he tried to deny the obvious anger coming from his counterpart, Fukase could still feel a differently reasoned distance towards him. He took off his coat and waited for Oliver to speak up. The latter inched forward and then waited again.

"Stop killing people."

"Huh, are you still dreaming?" Fukase scoffed and leaned back on his arm. The sight of it sent bolting lightning through the room, but Oliver clung dearly to the last bits of his patience.