Disclaimer: The Final Fantasy X characters and universe are owned by Square Enix. I make no profit from this fanfiction.
Looking Out of Windows
Lord Zaon breathed shallowly, content merely to watch.
His feet hadn't been able to step past the door frame since arriving at the large study. That had been nearly five minutes prior, not that he minded. The fluorescent lights outside beamed through the humongous window, the only sources of illumination for the study. Zaon had never been able to understand his friend's passion for darkness. Perhaps it was the only place the ruler of Zanarkand could hide. The lights in the study shined so rarely.
Zaon's gaze never wavered. The sight of his friend could have held him transfixed for hours, resulting in screaming legs and feet, and dry eyes from a lack of blinking; It would have been worth it.
Brightened by the brilliant cascade of white hair running down to the middle of his back, the darkly robed figure stood before the ceiling-to-floor window. The sturdiness and strength holding Lord Summoner Yu Yevon's body erect showed him to be a leader anyone with eyes could see.
Did the man realize he was there, Zaon wondered as he searched the air for his scent. If Yu did know, the white-haired man obviously didn't mind the blatant stare. Legs slightly spread, arms crossed over his chest, Yu took in the eternal commotion that was Zanarkand. His gaze never wavered as well, just as the night failed to detour the life that clotted every centimeter of the city.
Zaon could have watched him for the rest of the night. He would have, had Yu's voice not sighed out his apparent awareness of Zaon's presence:
"Do you think Bevelle will ever have its way? Could you imagine. . ." Yu's smooth voice trailed off. Rarely was he ever able to complete that sentence outside of the council room. Zanarkand be destroyed? It was an absurd notion. Almost.
Dragged out of his interlude with a tinge of embarrassment, Zaon stepped into the study and behind a couch that sat in the center of the room. He rested his palms on the plush fabric and considered his words, before he said with caution, "No, I can't imagine it. And neither can Bevelle. We're too strong for them. Those heathens wouldn't dare."
"Heathens?" Yu turned around, a crooked smile shining on his pale face. "Need I remind you that your mother and father live in the empire? Ten years ago, you yourself pledged your allegiance to the said 'heathens' as a ranking officer in the Bevelle army. You weren't able to look at me without growling your hatred." He laughed lightly, and Zaon shook his head, grinning himself.
"Yes, well, I shudder to remember such a time. Growing older and hopefully wiser thankfully changes a person. Besides, I've have a wonderful role model to strip me of my coarse beliefs." He added a wink and Yu's grin turned fuller.
The summoner uncrossed his arms then and strolled up to the couch. He collapsed onto it, so near to Zaon's hands that he could have touched the summoner had he just reached out.
A whisper, Yu said, "Yes, time can definitely change a person. Regretfully, not always for the better."
The emptiness in his friend's tone struck the soldier. Time had definitely changed things. The most terrible change for Zaon though was the continuous degradation of their friendship. He couldn't even touch the strong curve of a shoulder that had been so familiar to him years ago.
Biting his lip to in turn bite down on his desire, Zaon walked around the coach and took up a seat a few meters away. With the light now on his friend's face, the dark lines of age and worry threaded over the summoner's pale skin. Yu was only fourteen years older than Zaon, but the distance now seemed eternal. Their friendship had managed to erode with every threat that came from Bevelle, with every day the summoner dined with his wife and raised his daughter. Of course, a young Yunalesca's rather obvious, unskilled, but embarrassing flirting in Zaon's direction, certainly couldn't have been helping matters. What confused Zaon to no end though was seeing Yu's startlingly possessive, but nonetheless confused eyes as he watched his daughter and previous lover's interactions. It confused Zaon since he wasn't exactly sure who the man was quietly trying to possess.
Or perhaps he himself was the cause of their breakdown; Zaon just couldn't let go. He wanted more than his friend was willing to give, and they both knew it.
Whatever the cause though, only distance grew between them. It hurt more than Zaon could have ever admitted to anyone, including the single man who the hurt surely would have meant something to. But as Yu's every smile bore more meaning than the summoner could have possibly realized, Zaon wouldn't said a word.
Of course, the subconscious usually had different things in mind.
"Do you remember our little plan we came up with so long ago? To just leave all this duty and commitment behind and never look back?" Zaon snorted, but Yu's smile had lessened to nothing. He couldn't dismiss the change in his friend's posture, no matter how much he wanted to. He sighed. "Not that the idea holds any merit now, mind you. I was just joking. . . It's just. . ."
The white-haired man smiled weakly then and waved a hand in the air to silence the other man's bumbling words. "My dear friend, don't strain yourself. To be honest, I came here for some peace and quiet. After all of our talks with the council today, I'm surprised either one of us has a voice anymore. Maybe. . . Maybe we could just appreciate some quiet for a while."
The words hurt. Zaon tried his best not to show it, never tightening his face or muscles. Yes, he was tired. Yes, his voice was cracking from a day of bickering. Yes, peace and quiet would have been welcome. Still, his friend's dismissal crushed what little spirit he had left that day.
Quiet. Terrible, inhuman, claustrophobic silence. Zaon collapsed back into his chair. His light armor bit into his flesh with the unstraight positioning of his body. Ah, there was a distraction, a nice, wonderful pull away from Lord Yu Yevon, the ruler of Zanarkand, whose presence permeated every single millimeter of his land, who commanded this sorry man's heart.
The minutes passed. Then a hour.
Without warning, Zaon jerked upright, his eyes flaring open, when a noise seemingly pierced his ears. Then the awareness of his surroundings hit him. How long had he been snoozing, he wondered, aghast and embarrassed. He looked forward and realized that the noise had come from Yu. The man was standing in front of the couch, looking down at him with the most curious and arousing expression Zaon had seen on his friend in years.
'By the gods, what did I miss?!' his mind cried.
The expression was gone in an instant, but for the same reason Zaon couldn't deny his friend's pain, he couldn't deny his passion either: He loved the man.
The summoner wrenched his gaze away and started toward the door. "It's time I get back to the wife before she calls the guard on me. Although it's her I fear more. Goodnight, my friend."
Passion. It had been there! There was no denying it.
Real logic vanished. By the gods, if there was even a chance, Zaon had to take it. He thrust himself off of the seat and stalked up to the other man. He grabbed a hand that was all too warm. Yu stopped instantly and turned his head.
There was surprise in his beautiful face, yes. Undeniable curiosity, certainly. But where was the passion, Zaon's mind begged.
Surprising himself, Zaon blurted out, "Don't you ever want to just get away? Just leave. . ." His voice couldn't add the 'with me'.
Yu smiled, secretive. Zaon was left dumbstruck. He would have given his title, his very soul, just to be able to know what was hidden in the recesses of his friend's heart.
Then the white-haired man murmured, "Never. I have everything I could ever want right here." After a gentle squeeze of the warm hand in his own, Yu released Zaon and walked out of the room.
Watching after his friend, Zaon rubbed his hand. It was a vain attempt to get rid of the tingling that had shot up his arm. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that his friend had been lying. Not that it mattered since it didn't change a thing.
"The man has no idea how much he's killing me. . . Or does he. . ."
Zaon couldn't have counted the minutes he stood there, gazing stupidly into oblivion, but finally he walked to the window that took up an entire wall. Zanarkand, the city that never slept, nearly deafened him with its life. He was sure that if he screamed, no one would have heard. Or cared if they did.
Shaking his head angrily, he muttered, "Eight years. . . You'd think I'd be over it by now." He placed his hands on the glass, high above his head, looking down to the depths below. His armor clinked against the glass.
Just let go. . . He just couldn't.
After a shaky breath, he breathed, "Goodnight, my dear friend."