Disclaimer: I do not own DN Angel. I do own this story.
Sakura-Angel: Sometime before Riku and Daisuke started going out. Just a short bit, based on a little idea I had regarding Dark and Riku's relationship. Written in twenty minutes. I am not kidding. Sorry if Dark seems out of character, but I like to think he's a big softie somewhere deep down.
Everlong
Pick a daisy, pull the petals, what can we allude?
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Dark wasn't really the kind of guy who had a lot of time.
Hah, well, okay, he was. Millenia, really, if you thought about it, but he didn't have his own time. It was all borrowed, all from the males of the Niwa family. He wanted time to be his. Wanted to have so much of it that he could waste it, that he could whittle away the hours doing nothing at all.
So one night, while Daisuke dreamt, Dark made time his.
It was easy enough, he was dreaming of Riku, his Riku, Phantom Thief Dark's Riku, so the basics were there. He gained control, slipping in one finger at a time, until at last the door was open.
He coaxed Wiz awake, telling the rabbit to transform into Daisuke for the night, long enough so that if Emiko or Kosuke came in, they wouldn't worry. Dark was nice that way.
When he was sure he was him, outside and inside, while Daisuke dreamt in the corner of his mind, he leapt from the window. The curtains blew out with him, as if bursting to reveal someone new, someone changed. If he'd ever watched those makeover TV shows, he would've caught the humor in this, but he didn't, and so he didn't.
He walked the barren sidewalk in Daisuke's pajamas, not caring if anyone saw. He could easily outrun anyone who dared to stare.
And he squirreled away his time.
He walked and walked and ran barefoot a little, avoiding glass from smashed bus stops and nasty clods of gum. His thoughts now drifted to Riku, but not so much that he would change back.
The summer night air was cool and sweet in the park where he lay down on a bench. His mind was blank, and he caught a flower between his fingers, plucking it from its roots.
Maybe he was old-fashioned. But give him a break! He was, what, a few hundred years old? Could he really help it?
He began to pluck the petals.
She loves me, she loves me not, she loves me, she loves me not, she loves me...
He had always been the romantic type. The years changed him, the few slips of allotted time he had always made him yearn for more. But he accepted the way he was. He held on, but always in his memories, because he could never really have anything he wanted.
She loves me not.
The second last petal gone. And there, the last.
He smiled at it, knowing what it spelled out. He exhaled fragile hope, scattering petals down his stomach.
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Riku Harada woke up the next morning with a yawn. She found it deeply ironic that people always seemed so tired upon waking.
She was about to tap Risa when she noticed - the balcony doors were wide open, curtains flowing in the breeze. She'd closed them last night... how did they open?
She sucked in her breath sharply with realization. Only one person could do that.
A silky petal floated past her nose.
She picked it up from her comforter in wonderment. There were no flowers with petals like this around.
She rose from her bed, seeing an unfamiliarheap of some sort on her table.
It was a pile of soft petals, all identical. And one long stem, with one petal remaining. Underneath - a message.
She loves me.