A/N: I have not seen VKG, but I know how it ends. So if there's anything about it that I don't refer to in here, don't mention, please! Thanks, and enjoy! ^-^
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"Where are you?" she sighed.
"I'm here, love," he whispered, brushing his hand gently against her check, as softly and delicately as a butterfly's wing.
She didn't respond, not to his touch or his words. Her fingers lightly traced along the leather surface of the high-backed chair in the center of the room, then dropped to her side as she moved to stand by the tall window, face illuminated by moonlight as her eyes stared longingly outward. It was snowing, cold and dark and on the verge of a blizzard, just as it had been the night he'd found her. No, not him, the one with the pale, silvery hair and the eyes an almost unnatural, deep shade of bluish purple, standing just beside her in the huge shadowed room, where the only light filtered in through frosted glass.
Her breath clouded on the window and slowly faded. She wondered if he knew yet. And was not so sure she wanted to see the reaction that'd accompany the knowledge; almost... afraid?
She shook her head slightly, finally, her only physical acknowledgement of his presence and response, but he seemed not to notice. "Not you," she breathed against the glass, fogging it again, so quiet this time she knew he hadn't heard.
"Your hair's longer," he said quietly, daring to reach out and thread a piece of silky, deep brown hair between his fingers. Odd as it was, he knew hair didn't normally grow that much overnight. Not if it belonged to a human...
"And you're acing differently. Did something happen...?"
She finally turned away from the window, eyes glistening with a glimmer of silver in the pure, white moonlight that framed her silhouette like a halo. And with one glance at those eyes, at the weary, pained look, yet somehow sharper than before, and touched with- regret?- he knew. She wasn't the same anymore.
"You... why?" he choked out, sounding rather strangled.
Those eyes flickered over his face, tainted be a faint hunger of a new sort, growing more and more confused. "What do you mean?"
His voice dropped again, but the cause was anger this time. "You gave in, didn't you? You've become one of them. I never thought... you of all people... Or maybe that's what you wanted all along. I saw the way you looked at them, at all of them."
Her face hardened. "You think... I never chose- you don't really know, do you?"
"I don't have to."
A harsh, terrible smile crossed her face, as far from beautiful as it could have been. "Who do you think you are to say that?"
"My name means nothing, even! And I mean nothing to you, if you chose this," he spat with disgust, eyes full of hatred. "I never was, and I should've known. It was always him, wasn't it?"
Her expression was impassive, but as she spoke, her voice was pained. "No, I didn't-"
"Dammit, why? You aren't... you'll never... You're nothing to me now. Go off with them, what do I care? I hate you now, I hate you. I'll kill what you've become, I- you!"
And he was there. Tall, with the dark, straight hair that swept around his handsome face and past his chin, the deep eyes gleaming somewhere between brown and wine red, clad in the white, suit-like school uniform. Standing silently just inside the doorway, his posture somewhat proud- though, considering, that wasn't out of the ordinary- and one of patient waiting.
"Come. He needs to be left alone, now," he said, softly, yet in a voice that was strangely compelling as well.
He could feel her eyes on him, but refused to look- now it was he whose eyes alighted on the calm, numb, icy world outside the comforting warmth of the building. The sound of her footsteps, echoing slightly and not far from hesitant, sounded in his ears.
A single breath, barely audible even in the still air of the room. The softest brush of lips formed his name.
His eyes slowly lifted, and he turned back from the window. She was paused, shifting weight from the ball of one foot to the other, halfway across the room, looking uncertainly over at him.
"I'm sorry."
He didn't say anything as he watched the girl he loved- no, used to love- take one final look behind her, then take his hand and walk away. He hated them both, now.
They disappeared through the doorway and were gone.
His hand slipped from where it rested on the windowsill to pound against the glass pane in a definitive fist. He wouldn't make that mistake anymore, even in his thoughts. He sure as hell didn't love her now.
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She couldn't help herself- even as they made their way down the hallway, she couldn't keep herself from glancing over her shoulder. She knew it hadn't gotten overlooked, but he didn't mention it, just lightly squeezed her hand.
A sudden blast of cold air and whirling snow nipped at the skin of her nose and cheeks, and she shivered involuntarily. Seeing this, he let go of her hand and instead put his arm around her; she leaned slightly against him, shielded from the worst of the wind by his tall frame as they slowly made their way across the campus.
She looked up at him, slightly confused, as she finally recognized the hulking shape of the building in front of them, looming up and contrasting with the monochromatic world. "Why...?"
"You live her now, remember?" He replied without looking down at her, but his tone was gentle. He let go of her again to take a few quick steps forward and open the tall, rather imposing doors of solid, golden brown wood.
She looked back one last time at the threshold, eyes seeking the familiar outline of the school and the other set of dorms, the location of the window she knew was his. The light was still off. She felt a pang of worry, then turned away from the numbing, cruel cold and followed him inside.
"Welcome home."
She glanced around apprehensively at the interior of the night students' dorm; at the vast room just inside the main room, with its huge windows, looking rather odd to her uncovered by curtains, unlike during the day; smooth, handsome furniture; carved stone stair case, just off to the side and curving slightly towards the center of the room; the few candles in holders along the walls, casting soft, wavering shadows over everything.
He darted around the room, swiftly lighting several more candles and setting them on a long, low table. Sitting on a carved wooden and leather couch, he patted the space next to him and held out a hand to her; she took it and settled onto the couch beside him.
As her fingers traced along the smooth, richly coloured leather, her mind wandered to the last time she had been here, in this room. She tried to push away the memory, but it continually tapped at her should until she let it wash over her. He had helped her then, too. He always had, had always been there, looking out for her. She loved him, too, she knew she did. Loved them both, but couldn't.
Had she made the right choice?
He wouldn't believe her if she said she loved him, anyways. Not now, not ever again. He'd never let on how much pain he was in; she knew him well enough to know he'd never show weakness- not here- but he needed her. And hated himself for what he'd become. She knew that, and had left him alone, she'd...
She let out a cry of distress, moving suddenly away so that she was resting half off of the couch, on the verge of hitting her shin on the table in front of her as she made to stand. But his hand gently caught hers, bringing her slowly back, the other stroking her hair reassuringly as he held her to him, seeming to know exactly what she'd been thinking. Glad for the comfort, she rested her head against his shoulder, the white fabric of his uniform jacket rough against her cheek.
"Don't worry about him. This is who you really are, who you always were- if he can't accept that, well... You and I both know he's not going to accept that. He'll try to kill you."
She stiffened even as she whispered, "No... he would never..."
"Don't delude yourself, love. We both heard what he said, and there's nothing that can be done to change that. But as for me, no, I'd never do that. We're the same now, you and I. That's all that matters."
Her eyes, previously focused on the thin, wavering flame of the candle on the table in front of them, closed for a moment, thinking over what he'd just said. They'd both called her that. Love. But now, when he said it, it felt... right. Familiar. And the way he'd comforted her, even realizing why... made her surer that she'd made the right choice.
She titled her head up to look at him, the candlelight flickering over the planes of his cheekbones, nose chin, and smiling slightly as his hand reached up to smooth a piece of hair away from her forehead. The other, which still loosely held hers, moved to intertwine their fingers.
"You know I'll never betray you. So now, now that we're the same... would you choose this?"
She could choose this, and she would choose this, even knowing what it would mean. They'd be closer than simply kin.
"Yes."
Her eyes slowly fell shut as a smile crept across his face and he claimed her lips.
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Not again, not again...
His body bent over double, a series of wracking coughs violently seizing him. His hands clutched at the hard, polished counter, blood filling his mouth as he bit down on his tongue to keep from crying out at the stabbing pains that clawed at his insides. He spat blood into the sink; several red and white tablets fell from between his lips and stuck to the wet surface, where they immediately began to dissolve, leaving red streaks trailing down the curved sides of the sink. The bottle slipped from slick, sweat-covered fingers and fell to the ground, where it shattered, sending its contents scattering in every direction across the tiled floor.
Damn. Not that it mattered anyways. His body would continue to reject them, again and again. Oh, it was all her fault! She left him, alone, to suffer, and to die- no, not die, just sink further and further into his insanity until it consumed him.
He would lose himself even faster now. Without realizing it, taking that little part of her into his own body- that sweet, rich, crimson part of her- had been sating his pain, and making him gradually stronger. But now, cut off from that... Only one fate could possibly await him now.
His body was at rest again, the pain gone for a little while more. Breathing heavily, he kicked aside the shirt he'd previously thrown aside, along with several of the stupid, useless pills, and straightened up, leaning heavily on the counter for support. Then, on second thought, bend down to pick up the discarded shirt, roughly clearing away the sweat that resiliently clung to the skin on his face and the back of his neck. Dropping it in a heap on the floor again, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror, rubbing a hand across weary eyes. The tattoo-like mark on the side of his neck rippled as he moved. He lifted his hand, fingers brushing over the thing black outline. Didn't that mean anything anymore?
Sharp violet eyes glared back at him out of the depths of the mirror, tinged with red and that same look as hers- hungry, desiring- but with him it was dangerous, savage. He hated what himself, because of that, and he'd never be accustomed to that reflection, the look in those eyes. Just like he'd never be used to her choice. He wouldn't let himself. He knew he'd never see her the same way again.
Damn you, damn you!
His hand slipped off the counter and he sank to the floor, the stone wall cold against his bare skin. Elbow resting against his bent knee, he let his head fall into his raised hand, spread fingers covering a closed eye. Her whispered name fell softly from his lips once, twice, his voice agonized and echoing through the tiled bathroom.
"Oh, love... where do you leave me now?"
His fingers moved from his face to his hair, pushing damp strands off his forehead, nails raking across his scalp and drawing lines of blood. It stung slightly, but he ignored the pain, instead almost welcoming it as a physical distraction. Bringing his hand back to where it was within his sight, he stared at his stained fingers for a minute, rather curiously, and then, hesitantly, with a trembling hand, brought them to his lips...