Wtf is this. D= Auuughh...THIS IS SO CRAP...Blehh...well, I wrote some Tryde x Devit since I have't updated Matchmakers in awhile cuz my muse is shot. But now I'm scared to reread this, so...I decided to force others to do so for me...XD
Don't worry. I'll update sooner or later.
Now everyone go read fics on the new Noah. Really. Go. Review. I keep track of them, so I'll know if you slack off. -ghostfingers-
Also, I'm going on vacay to Hkay (see what I did there =P) in about 2 weeks, so yeah...I'll prolly put everything on hiatus till I come back. But hiatus doesn't mean it's over, got that? I'll be away for about a month, then highschool...ugh...-nervous- well I'll be back in a month.
I better go write a Jasdero fic. I've been neglecting him, poor baby.
Warnings: Mushiness, OOCness...Snuggles...sappiness...-cry-
XxxX
He knows he can't protect him forever.
Devit swings his legs happily over the railing overlooking the city, not intimidated in the least by the fact that one twitch too far could reduce him into nothing more than a mess of bloody pulp on the concrete.
He's always been one for danger—to take risks and to use reckless methods in battle. Tryde knows he's fully aware of the probably fatal consequences of the actions he takes, but his overconfidence quickly swallows the reason up and sends it to oblivion.
Tryde walks up to him and wraps his arms around the wriggling boy's waist, resting his chin on Devit's shoulder. The younger tries to struggle, but seeing as he can't defeat his strength, quickly gives in to the cuddling. Tryde doesn't say a word to him, savoring the moment of peace, because tomorrow, he knows all that peace is going to come crashing down to the ground.
The War has returned. And the Earl is determined to put an end to it, with the Noah emerging victorious, of course. Devit is practically vibrating with excitement, Jasdero, not so much. Tryde is thankful that at least someone who has a significant role in his life has the intelligence to fear what the War will bring.
Because he knows Devit is not going to take this seriously. He knows he'll be reckless and childish as he always was, no matter how much he's grown or how mature he looks. He knows that even Jasdero might not be enough to keep him safe, because Jasdero is so easily shaken by his brother, and in time, he'll view the battle the same way as well. Tryde knows that Devit's just going to countinue fighting the war treating it as if it is nothing more than a game, always thinking that he'll win, never believing that the tables might turn, that his pistol might miss, that the excorsisst might somehow reach him and place a blade at his neck.
And then the blade will cut flesh, and all his blood will start pouring out and his twin gold eyes will start rolling back in their sockets as his body convulses in death. Red will stain his clothes, his skin, his hair and Devit will become nothing more than a corspe on the ground, a blood-drained husk on blood-soaked dirt, and the pistol will be useless, and Jasdero will cry and cry and cry and Tryde knows he wouldn't be able to anything, that all he can do is pray and pray and praypraypray that nopleasedon''ttakehimeaway—
"Tryde, you're squeezing to hard," Devit complains. The younger Noah wiggles a little in his grip.
Tryde blinks. Even after all these years of honing it, he still doesn't have complete control over his stength.
"Oh. Sorry." he replies apologetically, and loosens his grip.
Devit turns to face him and clicks his tongue. "You're worried." he accuses and pokes his face. "Why?"
Tryde smiles weakly and shakes his head. "It's nothing."
The younger Noah pouts. "Liar. Tell me." More pokes follow. His cheek is starting to get sore.
"Its nothing you need to worry about." says Tryde softly, and he reaches up to adjust his hairclip. It really isn't. If he tells Devit his worries, the twin will just laugh it off, or even worse, listen to him, and that way Tryde knows he's going to end up as a corpse, because Devit is not used to fighting cautiously and he'll definitely make a wrong move if he goes with that method.
Either way, Tryde knows Devit is not going to come out of that War alive.
And Tryde knows this is probably their last moment together.
"You're going all emo on me again." Devit growls, and Tryde finds himself blinking out of a daze. He looks at the sunrise bleeding yellow and orange together, before glancing down into miffed gold orbs.
"I'm sorry." he says. Devit scoffs.
"Yeah, yeah." The raven-haired knocks away Tryde's hands, not noticing when the other's eyes widen as he teeters on the railing. "I'm hungry. Let's go get breakfast."
Devit turns, leather grinding against metal and he makes that tiny squeaky sound that means its slippery. Tryde is afraid he'll fall, but he doesn't, and safely gets off the bar, taking the elder's hand and leading him toward the door.
Xxx
Today is the last day.
Tryde doesn't even know if this is the right thing to do. They go to Devit's favourite places, and do his favourite things. They eat his favourite foods and they talk about his favourite subjects. He's having fun, and Tryde is happy, but a part of him feels guilty, since, if this is Devit's last day, then shouldn't Jasdero be here, too? Jasdero is worth a thousand Trydes, afterall. But no, it's just him and Devit. He supposes it does not matter, since the two are one and the same anyway. But the feeling lingers.
He wants Devit to be happy. He always had, and always will. Tryde sometimes wishes Devit was never chosen as the host for Bondomu's Memory, that he could have lived a normal, happy life, protected by the excorsists and left alone by the Noah. He wishes the raven-haired didn't have to fight, didn't have to take the risks being torn apart by an alien substance that would infect them and rot their insides. He wishes Devit would never be in danger of being killed or losing the ones he cared about, and he wishes the younger never had to get hurt, and never had to experience War. Tryde knows Devit doesn't really mind, and he knows the raven-haired probably doesn't want to live normally, but all that's just under the influence of the Earl and Cross Marian's grudges. It's not really his fault.
Tryde knows that the way Devit thinks about everything always attaches to the Earl.
And he also knows it can't be helped.
But.
What he doesn't know is that Devit knows.
Devit knows something's not right with Tryde, because he rarely treats him this nicely and Tryde keeps eyeing him as if he's at a funeral or something. Pity, misery and longing rest in the elder's eyes and Devit does not like to be pitied at all. Tryde also spaces out more often today, and he keeps brushing Devit off when he asks, but somehow, Devit's determined that he's going to figure it out anyway.
The settle down on a bench in a secluded street and Tryde stretches himself out across it like a feline. He makes sure there was still enough room for Devit to sit down and under the twin's gaze and the city's quiet atmosphere his eye-lids get heavier and heavier.
XxxX
Tryde was breathing heavily, lungs burning, and muscles aching.
His blade was heavy in his blistering hands and the once tall city around them has been reduced to shambles. Excorsist and akuma corpses laid randomly around him, mangled bodies thrown here and there. Tryde had a gash on his chest as well as a wound on his shoulder. The said wounded shoulder also seemed to be dislocated, and the infection of innocence was festering around the edges.
He could practically hear it hissing.
It burned.
He took a tentative step forward.
It screamed pure agony, creaking in its socket.
Tryde ignored it. Because Jasdebi's side of the battlefield had grown eerily quiet and the absence of victory cries and curse words made his heart sink down to his stomach.
They had to okay. They had to be.
He wouldn't forgive himself if they weren't.
Tryde stumbles, but stabs his blade into the ground to catch himself. The pain in his shoulder is unbearable and black spots appear in his vision.
Slumping against his blade he tried to gather enough strength to countinue walking.
He had to find them.
He needed make sure they were okay, Devit and Jasdero too.
Experimentally, he takes another step. Seeing as he hadn't collapsed yet, and his arm didn't hurt just as much as it did before, he kept going.
He pulled his blade out of the ground and walked in the direction where the twins had been fighting.
It shouldn't be so far. They had been very close together when they arrived, so he should find them soon. Tryde shifts around an upturned piece of wall, slowing his pace around when there was more rubble. It wouln't do him very good if he tripped over them.
A couple of excorsist's bodies appear. Tryde notes with satisfaction that some are nearly burnt to a crisp and the disfugured body of the Third Excorsist lies mangled and disembowled a few feet away. That means Jasdero and Devit managed to defeat them.
But amoung the bodies, he can only see the woman, the third and a couple of Finders. He can't seem to find the vampire.
That fact makes him nervous.
That excorsist defeated them once. Could he do it again?
. Tryde kicks that thought out of his head. Thinking of defeat would probably jinx it.
He countinues walking.
After a few more feet, he meets another body, half-crushed by a large piece of building. It's the vampire.
Relief floods through him. That means the twins were alright.
Many remains of fallen and burnt buildings are cluttered around him, but he keeps searching, checking around broken slabs of concrete, and making sure he didn't miss any.
He whispered their names, as loud as he dared, hoping, praying that they'd answer, that if they were alive, they'd let him know, and send him some sort of a sign.
A flash of white from the corner of his eye, and he whipped his head around. White. Stark white, dirtied by stains of debris and blood and Tryde didn't even realize he'd move'd until he reached the scene.
Devit lay motionless on the ground, eyes open and unblinking, bloodied and broken, staring listlessly at the sky.
XxX
Devit throws a pebble at Tryde's face and snickers when the elder snaps his head up sleepily at the disturbance. Seeing as nothing was wrong he turns his glare toward the raven-haired.
"Devit." he chides. "What was that?"
"A rock." Devit says smugly. Then he turns serious. "What's wrong with you? You're all sad and boring today. You just took a nap on a bench, for Earl's sake."
Tryde sighs, pressing his hand to his forehead. The memory of Devit's mangled body was still fresh in his mind. "It's nothing."
"That's what you always say." Devit crosses his arms and pouts.
Tryde ignores him. "Forget about it."
The raven-haired eye's narrowed. "Why'd we go out today anyway? Don't we have like, oh, a fucking war tomorrow?"
"Don't remind me." Tryde muttered.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You know, that's very fucking annoying. Using the same answer for all my questions. I'm not so sure I like you anymore."
Tryde adjusts his hairclip. "Not now, Devit."
"Yeah? Well, fuck you."
The two sit on the bench somewhere in the middle of the city, human forms, of course, and they both say nothing.
After two long minutes of silence, Devit gives a heartfelt sigh. "I'm bored." he says tragically.
Tryde smiles thinly. "Should fix that, shouldn't we?"
"Will you tell me what's bothering you?" he feels arms wrapping around his waist again.
"No." Kisses trailing his neck.
He scowls.
"Then go fuck yourself." Devit(reluctantly)slaps away the cuddly hands. " If you won't tell me, then I won't talk to you."
Tryde sighs. "It's really not something you need to worry about."
"Then why can you worry about it?"
"Let it go, Devit."
They reach another stalemate.
"Are you sick?" he asks sketpically. Tryde never gets sick, with all those drugs and poisons his caretakers had fed him when he was young. He was practically immune to everything. But then, illness would explain the nap he just took.
"No." Tryde answers. Devit resolutely crosses his legs over one another. His shorts ride up a few inches, but he doesn't really mind.
He thinks about what other thing in this world that could worry someone as strong and powerful as Tryde.
"Did the Earl yell at you?" he tries.
"He's didn't yell at me." The elder answers.
"Was Tyki being a bitch to you again?"
"We get along quite well, now."
"Hmmm..."
The younger Noah places a fingertip on his lips, wracking his brain for more clues.
"Okay, then, did Road force you do her homework?"
"She didn't."
"Did Jasdero's chicken bite you?"
"What kind of question is that?"
Tryde rests his head in his palm, and leans a little on the armrest of the bench. Considering that it's still noon, there are not many people in the streets.
The silence in the air is so thick that it was practically tangible. Tryde doesn't want to start another conversation in case it leads to the wrong subject, but he doesn't want to leave the younger hanging like that. He tries to think up a sentence that could divert the twin's attention.
"Is this about the war?" Devit asks quietly.
Tryde's finger twitches. "No."
"It is, isn't it?"
"No." Tryde says a little forcefully, but Devit is not intimidated.
"Are you nervous?"
"Devit—"
"It's alright. Jasdero's nervous about it too—"
"Devit, shut up! I—it's just... don't talk about it." he can't stop the pleading edge creeping into his voice. Devit stares at him, confusion written across his face.
"Why not?" the question hangs heavily in the air. Tryde doesn't answer.
Now, Devit feels a little guilty. He can practically feel the gloom hanging over the elder Noah like a dark strom cloud, and his shoulders droop.
He sighs, and hooks his arm around Tryde's, leans his head on his shoulder and stays there.
No words are spoken, but Tryde understands that this is Devit's way of apologizing, and he brings up a hand and threads his fingers in his hair, stroking it affectionately.
"You're a fucking bastard." Devit says oh-so-lovingly. His fingers dig painfully into Tryde's shoulder. "You never tell me anything."
Now it's Tryde's turn to sigh. "I'm sorry."
Devit pulls away. "Don't apologize. Makes you look like a fag."
He smiles weakly at the insult, and pulls the twin into his lap, both ignoring some wide-eyed stares from a few civilians present in the street at that moment.
They sit together in that position for a little while, and Tryde lets his thoughts wander.
The day is coming to an end.
Soon, evening and night would fall, and tomorrow they'll all wake up into the battlefield. Blood will splatter, carnage will insue, and he knows that he'll lose the most precious thing in his life if he doesn't do anything about it.
The Earl ordered them to board the Ark to Russia, where an excorsist general and his subordinates awaited them. Tryde tried to conjure up some names, but none come to mind, so he leaves it at that. He knows Devit will probably get excited at the chance of crossing swords with a general, and once he's got that idea in his head, Tryde knows nothing will deter him from it. His shoulders sag. There had to be a way to save him.
"I call the General." Tryde says, and Devit looks up from under stubborn bangs.
"Eh? I thought you said not to talk about it."
"Don't talk about it. I'm just warning you off my prey." Tryde replies.
"Whaaaat? That's not fair!" Devit whines but seeing as Tryde is ignoring him, stops and starts sulking instead.
The elder simply hugs him tighter, pressing his lips to the crown of Devit's head before tucking it under his chin. The raven-haired squirms, but doesn't try to pull away. Tryde is somewhat thankful for that, because all this talk and thinking about tomorrow is putting a huge strain on his mental sanity, and he doesn't think it will hold if he keeps envisioning Devit's broken body every few minutes.
And Devit was oblivious to his worry for him, unable to catch onto Tryde's burden.
He knows he can't save him.
He can try and try and try, but he's sure to fail.
He knows that.
But he tries anyway.
XxX
=/
Sappy. =_= I think I'll go kill myself now. Once something better gets out, I'll delete this and replace it. Ugggh.
