"Abyss." he had said. The word echoed in Oz's head along with the chiming of a clock. His hands are held behind his back as he stares at the blade before him, its readiness to take his life almost palpable. The sword glints before his eyes as it moves to strike. Oz gently closes his eyes, waiting.
"Young Master! Noo-oo!" a voice breaks the echoing in Oz's head. The boy's eyes flash open and land on a view of Gilbert struggling in the grip of a cloaked figure.
"Master Oz!" Gilbert continues his struggle. "What sins has he committed to deserve such treatment?"
"Oz rips himself from his captor's grip and rushes at the sword wielder before him with a wordless yell, not even stopping to question why the image of a distressed Gil caused such an angry reaction from himself. He charges at the figure in front of him and tears the weapon from his would-be-killer's hand, surprising them both. The sword now in his possession, Oz spins around, facing his attackers. He spots Gilbert and runs at his servant's captor, almost blindly. Gilbert abruptly shifts his position.
"No! Master, its—!" Having stepped in front as if to protect the cloaked figure, the boy's exclamation is cut short as the sword rakes across his chest, wielded by his precious young master. Oz's eyes go wide as Gil's body begins to slump forward to his knees and finally, to the ground.
"Gil!" Oz screams, dropping the sword and reaching to the immobile boy. His scream turns into a strangled cough as his shirt collar tightens around his throat, his attacker grabbing him from behind. Oz winces as the hooded figure pulls his arms behind him again.
"Gil!" Oz screams again. He pulls against his captor's grip, his knees pushing against the floor as he futilely attempts to get to Gil.
"…Gilbert." Oz whispers, the name hanging in the air. He slowly stops his struggling, his head falling.
"Oz Bezarius." Another cloaked stands before him.
"Your sin…" The figure places a hand on Oz's forehead and pushes it back, causing a surprised gasp from the boy.
"…is your very existence."
There's a low rumble as a shadow begins to surround Oz. Dark, shadowy tendrils encircle his arms and legs, pulling him toward the ground. One twins itself around his neck, causing him to cough; one arm reaches up to pull on it. Through the shadow and darkness, Oz catches one final glance at a motionless figure on the ground. Screaming, he reaches out to it.
"Giiiiiiiiil—!" The shadow engulfs him, strangling his cry.
Silence.
Darkness.
A voice.
"…Oz."
Like a far off dream.
Oz!...sir?"
Desperate.
"Young Master!"
Oz bolts upright with a gasp. He collides with the figure before him, his gasp turning into a strangled cry. Oz's arms wrap around his comforter's waist as he sobs into his chest. Oz keeps softly whimpering his name.
"Gilbert." Oz cries, gripping the boy's shirt. "Gil."
"Shh. I know." Gil comforts, stroking the blonde's hair.
"I-I…I killed—" Oz stutters, burying his face into the other boy's neck.
"I'm here, Oz. Everything's okay." He tenderly strokes the blonde hair and softly presses his lips to it.
"N-no, I…" The cold, sleek metal in my hands. The ease of it slicing through his flesh. The terror. The fears of never seeing that face light up ever again. Oz presses a hand to his head in confusion, beginning to hyperventilate.
"Oz!" Gull pulls the younger boy off of him and leans downs to press their foreheads together. Emerald eyes slowly focus on empathetic gold ones.
"I'm here." Gil says again. "I'm alright."
"…Gil?" Oz's hand reaches toward the older boy's face, but hesitates in the air for a moment. Gil gives a slight, encouraging nod before he continues again, his hand landing softly on Gil's cheek. Gil smiles, leaning into Oz's hand a bit.
"These dreams!" Oz's head falls to Gil's shoulder, his hand still on his cheek. Another, larger hand places itself over his.
"I can't." Oz shakes his head. "I can't handle this! Gil, I—"
"Shh." Gil soothes. He places on hand behind Oz's head and gently lowers the smaller boy back to the bed.
Oz continues to hold Gil's face as if he fears he's still dreaming; as if Gill, too, would disappear into a shadowy abyss.
As Gil leans over the now laying boy, his unbuttoned pajama shirt falls open, revealing a dark scar. Oz sees and stops breathing as his right hand moves down to Gil's left shoulder. He slowly traces the now healed would with his fingers, tears slowly and silently streaming down his face. Toward the bottom, Gil's hand closes over Oz's, stopping its motion.
Gil brings Oz's hand up to his mouth and gently presses his lips to Oz's palm. He then takes the boy's hand and lays it softly over his scar, over his heart.
Oz stares up at Gil's face, as if searching for his own ability to forgive himself there. Gil reaches to brush a strand of Oz's hair out of the way and comfortingly kisses his forehead. His lips move to kiss each of Oz's tears. He pulls away for a moment, their eyes meeting again.
Gil slowly moves to place his lips on Oz's, as if giving the boy a chance to object. He doesn't.
Their lips meet slowly and gently at first. Oz closes his eyes, a warmth spreading through his body. Tears continue to fall and Gil soothingly wipes them away with his thumbs, never breaking their lipped embrace.
Their timid pace passionately begins to speed up. Oz's hands move to run themselves through the raven hair before him.
Eventually, Oz's tears begin to slow. Gil attempts to slow the kiss along with them. Oz sighs into Gil's mouth and grips the soft black hair, afraid of losing the older boy again. Gilbert takes Oz's hands from his head and brings them together between them. He tries to end their embrace.
"Nngh…no!" Oz desperately grasps Gil's open shirt and pulls the larger boy toward himself. Their lips meet again, their bodies colliding for a moment before Gil moves down to lie next to Oz on the bed. Their kiss never breaks.
Gil lovingly trails a hand down Oz's arm. He adjusts his position so that he is slightly above the younger boy, propped on one elbow. They pause the kiss for a moment, their eyes meeting. Gil wipes another stray tear from Oz's cheek with his thumb, and softly traces along the younger boy's bottom lip. Oz can taste the slight saltiness.
Slowly, Oz trails his right hand down Gilbert's neck. One of his legs wrap around Gil's in an attempt to hold onto him. It's not Gilbert's turn to run his fingers through Oz's golden hair.
Oz's hand rested at the base of the older boy's neck. He now moves to gently trace Gilbert's clavicle, pushing his already open shirt along with it. The fabric slides over Gil's shoulder and falls to his elbow.
Oz's hand accidentally brushes over Gilbert's scar again; his breath catches. He abruptly pulls away from the hiss, his eyes on the wound. His fingertips linger over it, barely touching it. Gil shivers slightly. Oz looks up into Gils's face, their eyes locking.
Gil moves as if to kiss Oz, but the smaller boy puts two fingers to Gil's lips, halting his motion. He looks back down to Gil's chest.
Oz hands slowly slide down Gilbert's torso to rest on his abdomen, afraid of moving too quickly. Oz moves down to touch his warm lips to the scar. He can feel Gil's heartbeat against them.
Gilbert places a hand under Oz's chin and lifts the boys head up. The blonde's eyes glisten again. Gil smiles down at him and Oz returns it with a small smile of his own.
Gil leans down to leave one final, long kiss on Oz's lips. When they finally pull away, Oz's eyes are drooping. Gil lies him down on the bed and lays a soft kiss on the boys cheek. Oz rolls over, a small smile on his face, half asleep already.
Gil sits on the edge of the bed for a long while, watching the boy sleep, his hand loosely grasping Oz's. When Gilbert finally moves to get up, the small hand tightens around his.
Gilbert smiles at the boy before him. He sits back down, on the floor this time, next to Oz's bed so as not to disturb him. Gilbert falls asleep, his head resting on Oz's bed, their hands still clasped together.