I just wanted to be rid of SitT, to be really honest. I thought writing cannon-setting fics was a bit too limiting but then I actually realized how I feel more cozy and at-home with the cannon FFIV setting. And how I can't pull of present-tense. The title, pfft, I won't get charged, right? The song EXO sang in Immortal Songs 2 was just so..pretty..and appropriate for this fic!
Warnings.! This is rated M, and...HEAVILY CONCENTRATED WITH ANGST. OVERFLOWING WITH ANGST. AN ENDLESS FOUNTAIN OF ANGST. One un-angsty fic and here I am, back to angst-queen mode. So if you're already sick of angst, GET OUT NOW!
-Takes place during the reconstruction of Baron. Hope someone enjoys~
P.S. More fics to come...
It's Still a Dark Night
Countless times in the past hour, Cecil's eyelids crashed down. Heavy. Too heavy. Then they would open again. Then crash down again. This process repeated itself, countless times. The king, paladin, whatever he called himself - was tired. Unbelievably exhausted. Problems. Petitions. Letters. Reports. Investigations. Boons. There was too much of everything - the reconstruction, he was sure, will never end. Everything mixed together brutally, reduced his mind to a daze. The buzzing voices of officers and advisers were already distant, but still sharp to his ears. He tried to get his mind out of them. A break. Air.
Wind.
A certain person - a certain dragoon with ash-blonde hair and eyes that always saw right through him - came into his mind. Before pining took over, there was an immense comfort - like wind taking him far away, far from the mountain of problems and responsibilities. Like wind taking him to a...new place, where he could breathe something new and faraway.
His eyelids were threatening to crash down again, or longing to. As if closing his eyes to the present world would allow him to savor the memories more vividly. It was easy to let them crash down, but a part of him wanted to just...keep his eyes open and try to imagine Kain with him, beside him. Simply emanating that voidless sense of comfort and completeness he always gave, just by standing. Just by being there.
The midnight air was both harsh and stuffy. Unbelievably harsh. Too stuffy.
Harsh, maybe just because it seemed to carry Kain's existence, and all the memories linked to it; bitterly severed, bitterly missing the other half now that he's alone. Maybe because the dragoon's scent suddenly floods to his nose, knowing that it's both imagination and reality. Maybe because it seemed to carry every sign and trace of him; everything. The smell of polished leather, metal, and something more.
Stuffy, maybe because the man wasn't by his side. Maybe because there was an empty presence beside him that needed to be filled. Blowing in from the open window, it was nostalgic when Cecil tried to recall the last time he truly felt the wind.
The wind. The uncontrollable wind that blew wherever and whenever it pleases. The wind that never left anyone.
The twin moons were jewels in the dark, limitless sky. Silver and glittery, the moonlight streamed in, too, illuminating a small portion of his room. Cecil stood by the window, the moonlight and midnight air one as it hit his face. He stayed that way longer than he planned to, then one more second after that, then another. Moonlight and wind. For a split-second, Cecil almost believed that Kain was beside him.
Kain.
His absence held everything back. Half-dead, Cecil lived. Incomplete - the blank filling him, swallowing him whole. Countless times each night and day, Cecil would find himself looking for the dragoon everywhere. Somewhere. Looking for him, believing that he was still there somewhere in the empty space.
People around him moved on, when in his world everything was still and couldn't..even start again.
The bittersweet thoughts connected themselves one by one in his mind, and the feelings that defined them. Cecil's legs betrayed him, and he softly crashed to the floor.
His fingers twitched, and after three denials they ghosted over his own skin. Slowly, he tried to emulate the pressure from his memories, to feel them again. Slowly, carefully, gingerly. As if speed would rip off -
Rip off what? Cecil asked himself that, and his pale face twisted in mild frustration and longing mixed together as more memories uncoiled.
His skin - the blemish-less canvas, shadowed with the invisible tattoos of Kain's fingertips. The soothing pressure of the blonde's touches were gone now - gone, gone, gone - but the paladin could still feel it. Faultlessly. Every single caress, every single vibration. The rhythm of Kain's fingers and callouses as it mapped the territory of his body over and over like a conquistador. Like the course of strong water that lingered after a long swim, it refused to leave his body. Cecil's eyes closed - for longer, this time. He allowed himself to. For a minute, he just stayed like that - his long white lashes softly tickling the dark circles below his eyes. Countless nights like this - moonlight illuminating the lightless room, the midnight air chilly; but there was always a source of heat - played in his vision.
The golden strands fall from above, then down, down, until it's everything Cecil can see. Silky but cold, they also tickle his own flushed skin, covering patches of it like a veil.
Kain calls out his name - the smile, the sweetest demand in it resounds through every single bare, boring wall. Elated, possessive charges heating the tips of Kain's fingertips as they feel his skin effortlessly rip off the night's tedium. A layer of heat; shameless crimson creeps its way through Cecil's cheeks. In place, yet erratic. A beautiful testament of Cecil's delight. Of his impatience, his acceptance.
Cecil felt stuck in the past. The dark, moon-lit room, a painting. He, a figure branded on it, escape negative for he existed in it. Kain was ugly and erased; the empty space. The sighs, the pleas, the grunts, the screams wrapped in bliss were coated with memory's blurring layer. But it was still there, it stayed there. Floated, circled and circled like air filling in blank. Haunting him and comforting him at the same time. Yes, it was actually possible.
The walls were bare and boring, but decorated with pressure and memories only the both of them knew of. Invisible victories only the both of them shared, only the both of them could see. Cecil's hand gently and not-so-gently brushed against the surface, and more thoughts attacked.
The temptation was quick to ascend. It slid around him, imprisoned him, the misery and craving guided his fingers. Shaking, but certain of what they really wanted to do. It wasn't even just a desire; desire rose to need until his sanity was blown into the limitless sky. He freed his throbbing flesh from the tortuous restraints of his silk breeches. The paladin breathed deep and desperate at how many memories that single, ordinary touch re-opened.
Burning-hot and neglected, his erection was screaming.
Kain was skilled - he knows every single angle by heart, and all of Cecil's weak points are already laid out in his mind, like a list. Be it a flawless kiss, a fingertip in the right place with just the right amount of power, Kain always, always makes him feel a glimpse of paradise. The paradise his body was constantly craving and craving like a drug. No matter how teasing and incomplete each piece was, he needed every single one. Every time, the soft ripples leaves him begging for more.
Heat, both scorching and soothing. Except this time, it was incomplete. Torn in half. Cecil tried contemplating flying to the missing piece, but he knew better. He knew better. So his hand consoled his own neglected flesh, guilt torn off for every caress that passed. Sanity and confidence blown, swallowed by his need. His craving. My only comfort.
Every single night is naked, with all its imperfections. With all its debts. The scars branding themselves on their skin. The problems that would take lifetimes to solve. Their history that turned awry - twisting, blocking, shaking off the roads that were always crystal-clear and solid. It was reality, and neither of the sinners would take it any other way. Cecil never knew whether each kiss sculpts it to perfection or tears more pieces apart.
He concentrated on nothing but the escalating heat. Tried to drown out everything else, everything that wasn't connected.
Your fire,
Your soul,
Your darkness,
I want to feel.
Ash-blonde hair, hypnotic grey-blue eyes. The memory-stained walls, the midnight air and moonlight finely woven together until they were one in his vision. Fingers and two hands that knew all his weaknesses. A brain and heart. Countless smirks, smiles. Grunts, sighs, bliss-wrapped screams - the only music they both needed to hear. These notes and melodies wreathed together were all they needed to get through another day. The professions, the promises whispered under their breaths. Coming into the world, out of their hearts' confines.
He has every single piece, but he can't put even a pair together. It was like piecing together every single ripple, every single drop that parted from a wave.
Kain's smile tells him stories. Promises. His fingers bear them into their merciless reality. Each wave boosts them both slowly, slowly. A ribbon at a time. Each prickle of heat promising something more. The fire, the heat was never meant to end, and release always comes out beats too quickly.
His name silently burst out of the paladin's mouth, pure with longing. Vivid against the heat. Cecil debated in his head whether or not to clamp it shut.
Grey-blue eyes, the ice walls thawed down with passion and lust, pierce through his own. Hypnotizing, unavoidable. Cecil can never stop staring, drowning in their depth, even when he's already dizzy with it. Kain's smile, no matter how silent - his voice - adds something more to everything. His presence fulfills everything.
The dragoon returned to them, only to leave again. With no promise. Leaving Cecil without any hope to hold on to.
He returned to them, only to leave again.
Everything is searing-hot and blurry as Kain grinds them both to whiteness. At the explosion of stars and white, their screams are deafening against the still midnight air. The moon mixes with the sky. The million compressed lights spread to transform the midnight darkness into something beautiful.
It skyrocketed, made the sky burst. For seconds the paladin could endure it, but it soon became unbearable. White-hot heat engulfed him, and Cecil screamed, ripping off the brutal black silence of his room. Alone. The tingles and the after-tremors were softer than he recalled they should be. The sweet poison of this mockery soon clambered down, back to normality. Back to sanity, and back to the imperfections of the real world. Back to the paladin's problems, and back to the shadow and unoccupied presence whose owner couldn't be found.
Quenched, but not to the fullest, he lay there, weaker and less desperate.
And here I will remain,
Singing the song alone.
Waiting for your ghost to touch me again.
Mwahahahahaha, everyone's going to murder me, if they haven't died of vomiting yet. Kain took some stupid mountain leave, leaving our poor Cecil behind. (Don't ask me what the hell Rosa is doing.) Again, more fics to come...