Anime based off of: Higurashi no Naku Koro ni

When They Cry

"You, and me, together, forever." -Knowing

Vegas; where you hit it rich, where you lose it all. Where the poor dream of, and the rich curse. Where dreams come true, where nightmares begin.

This was all true. Vegas was simultaneously every aspiring human's dream and nightmare.

To some, it was the city of wonder, the place to be.

To others, it was where you go to die.

In an apartment near the heart of Las Vegas, a redhead waited, tying the chains of a pair of handcuffs around his boyfriend's wrists.

I'm sorry, his mind whispered. It's the only way.

"...Axel? What're you doing, Ax?"

"Shhh, don't worry, baby. Go back to sleep, darling. It's okay, you can trust me."

Just go back to sleep, angel, and everything will be fine.

When the boy woke up and saw his boyfriend staring at him from the door, he thought something felt horribly, horribly wrong.

When he saw the cuffs around his wrists and the look of determination on his lover's face, he panicked slightly.

But when he saw his boyfriend pocket a knife and gun, his eyes clenched shut in fear, and his heart broke. And he knew.

Tonight would only end in death.

"Let me go!" the boy shrilled, tugging at the handcuffs that held him in place. "Tell me what's going on or, or I'll kill you! Take me with you, or I swear to God I'll kill you!"

The redhead inhaled softly. Bit his lip. Tied the chain tighter. "If that's what'll keep you safe, then do it."

Then, he left.

Roxas screamed.

Hours later, when he returned, Axel found Roxas standing there, looking angry and betrayed and twirling a key in one hand, a pistol in the other.

It was a silver Voltran Jackal Air pistol, one designed without a child-safety lock. This wasn't one of those cutesy handguns you see the girls in the movies holding when they wanted to look intimidating. No. It was the gun that you'd get from a gang, after you knew what you were doing and got good at it, one half of an age-old tradition and doubling as a form of protection. In Vegas, you couldn't choose to be picky. Everyone was out to get you.

The gun had also been Roxas' 18th birthday present, from Axel.

"You left the key," he rasped. "I- I let myself out- you made the cuffs really tight, I got these trying to stretch far enough to reach the key-" he held out a wrist, which had red marks stretching over the skin. "I've already called the police, so we'll both get caught..." he murmured, eyes downcast.

"We'll go down together."

He grasped the silver gun; thumb sliding over the unscratched silver.

"You told me there'd be no lies, remember? And I trusted you. When were you planning on telling me that you- that we were being tracked? I knew you'd done some serious shit before we met, and I never, ever questioned it, but this..." he whispered, hair hanging over his eyes. Then, his face snapped up, face splitting into a wide, psychotic grin.

"I told you I'd kill you, didn't I?"

"I didn't want you to get hurt! You could have been killed!" the redhead bellowed, pointing with one bloody, scratched up hand. "Xemnas, Roxas, Xemnas! He almost killed you once, or do you not remember? And that was just because he figured being with you would make me defect from the Organization! Do you see what he did to me? Do you remember what he did to us? And you know he's always- always- He'd do anything to get you away from me!"

He lunged towards Roxas, hands outstretched, trying to pry the gun away from his shaking fingers.

"Stop! Stop it, Axel!" Roxas screamed, edging backwards into the corner. His hands drew up, scratching at his neck, sharp fingernails slicing the skin open. Maggots started falling out of the wound, hitting the floor with a sickening tkkk, crawling away, fall, fall, so many were falling- (sick, sick, living in your flesh and feeding off your blood-)

Everyone was trying to kill him; it seemed he had been right with his belief that nowhere was safe. Even Axel had betrayed him. (Axel, Axel, don't be sad...)

His chest heaved. Here he was, surrounded by enemies and cornered like a frightened rabbit. Pathetic.

Can't trust anyone, all traitors, the lot of them. Die, they all should just go die! his mind screamed, arms rising to scratch at raw wrists.

"Don't!" Axel shouted, but that wasn't Axel. ("No, no, no! Who are you?") Catlike pupils were staring at him; black slits widening in sickeningly familiar green orbs, beckoning now, whispering, and then-

Bang, bang, bang, went the gun.

Imposter! Monster, imposter, demon!

Roxas slid down the wall, cold silver falling to the floor with a crash, hands going upward to clench at his head, scratch, scratch, maggots falling down his neck onto the floor-

Demon!

And blood was still pouring out of Axel's wounds (there were three of them; two lodged in his leg and his stomach and the last one had shattered his sternum, splattering blood along the walls-).

ohgodimgoingtobesick

-And had started to pool around his equally red (blood-soaked) hair. Dead eyes stared accusingly, boring into his soul as though they could see all his sins. (Normal now, not catlike slits, what had happened? Because those eyes hadn't been human-)

Bang.

"GET AWAY!" scritch, scritch, scritch, went his nails at his neck.

"Yelling at a dead person now, Roxas? You're slipping," the shadows whispered, cold hands curling around his shaking shoulders in a ghostly paradox of him-

What have I done?

Footsteps, now, walking calmly towards him. Tap, tap, tap. Following him. (Cursed, cursed, you're all cursed.)

"Open up, this is the police!" the footsteps disappeared, ominous whispers shredding into sound-tatters in the nonexistent wind.

Bam, bam, bam, went the fists at the door. Coming to kill him, just like everyone else-

He slid to the floor next to his dead lover, panting, eyes wide and terrified, neck red and dripping. Hands scratched at wrists, (itchy, itchy, it's so itchy!) and maggots crawled... (dirty, filthy, get out, get out!)

"I love you!" he sobbed, breath coming out in shallow pants, stagnant air filling his lungs. "I love you, I love you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so very sorry—"

Then that scream again, high and guttural; unnatural and scared. Hands fumbled with a silver gun, and raised it to the owner's temple, while angels whispered high above, laughing. They were laughing down at him.

"Die," they whispered. "Do it, now. You killed a man. Pay the price."

As he pulled at the trigger, ("If I die, you promise you'll bring him back!") somewhere outside, a higurashi was singing its own mournful song.

（ ひぐらしが鳴く開かずの森へ

後戻りはもう出来ない)

(I always knew your death would lead to peace.)