Author's Notes

Oh? Third person? My old enemy, we meet again…

Just a small drabble/one-shot I've had written for a while now. Found it again when looking through one of my folders of in-progress one-shots. Badly written and rushed. Still too lazy to rewrite. Will never post this if I don't do it now. Must speak in incomplete clauses. Sentence fragments 4lyfe.

Disclaimer

I own nothing—the characters are the legal property of Nintendo. I merely borrow the characters to sate my sadomasochistic tendencies and therefore gain no physical material for having written any of this.

Warnings | Rating

Rated T for a slight bit of explicit language and a couple of (unbearably vague) sexual references.

Almost Lovers

Every breath comes slower than the seconds that crawl miserably by.

These seconds, of course, are not measured so much by the ticking hands of clocks but by the color of the skies beyond, measured less by the shrinking of the darkness and more by the delicate beating of Shadow's own cracking heart. Soon, he knows, this same wheezing heart will be nothing more than a handful of shards beneath Vio's boots, that his existence will be nothing more than a blend of precious memory and haunting nightmare.

Oh, but the seconds go by so slowly.

Vio's hand slides across the sheets and grabs at Shadow's fingers, cold seeping against warmth. Their eyes slowly roll to find each other's and Vio seems to promise with the tired frown in his eyes that Shadow is wrong, that he is not going to shatter Shadow as mercilessly as a hammer to glass. But Shadow knows, knew it even as Vio's sword slammed against the temple of the green Link, that Vio is only here to hurt him. Subdue him.

Kill him.

But that's okay. Because, deep down, Shadow has always known that Vio is here to betray him. Vio is simply too perfect and Shadow is simply too happy—what is good never lasts. All gods are surely demons in disguise.

Vio is most certainly a demon.

Vio's fingers tighten around his and Shadow can't stop the frantic beat beat-ing of his heart. Can't stop the dream that crosses his mind of staying here forever: lying side by side with Vio, fingers lost between them. He can't shake the idea of that knowing voice and those bright eyes and white teeth never leaving his side. It's no more than idle fantasy, of course, but he wants it anyway—wants anything other than the roaring in his chest that once dawn is upon them Vio will stand and Shadow will be left alone to scream.

He knows Vio can see him in a different light than any of the others—but what Vio saw in him was enough to send him away again, apparently, because Shadow knows the blonde will be leaving as soon as the sun touches the horizon.

But for now the sky is still dark. For now they can be alone. And as Vio turns on his side to press his lips to Shadow's shoulder, Shadow knows that this is meant to be just as it is meant to end. Besides. Knowing it will soon end won't stop him from rushing his fingers between those silken tendrils of hair, won't stop him from bringing Vio's lips closer. Won't stop him from needing his beautiful traitor-to-be just a bit more. And as Vio kisses him slowly, tantalizingly, Shadow tries to make himself remember how it feels—the soaring thrill of his heart bouncing in his throat, the wheezing sensation down his spine—because he knows tonight is his last chance.

Vio's lips are warm, a gentle embrace to greet Shadow's own like a soft breeze that one falls into on a hot summer's day. Vio is the warmth that makes one realize that one has lived one's life in the cold. Those tender fingers roll along Shadow's cheek, a soft and quiet gesture that nearly dares to speak of romance that beckons for him to touch back, to hold, to do something as rash as love…

And, dammit, Shadow wants to.

He wants to be like that with Vio! He wants soft kisses to be shared as a creamy sunrise splashes against the deep dark sky, wants to hold hands after legs spread and wrap around one another, wants to gently rub his fingers through soft strands of hair. Shadow wants Vio in ways that he shouldn't, because after all –Vio is surely nothing less than a god, and yet nothing more than a demon.

Vio pulls back to look at Shadow sadly, eyes speaking of stories and gentle memories, of dreams in a world where they could be. His gaze whispers of all the possibilities that Vio himself is going to crush, musings of a future that he is going to shatter like glass. Each harried beat beat-ing of Shadow's heart is filled with the same dreams, the same goddamn thoughts of a world without swords or winding towers—a world where they could be together.

But the thoughts are cursed, and dumb and damned as Shadow is he finds he needs to fill this lingering space between knowing the pain will come and the pain itself.

"Why?"

Vio shakes his head, eyes shutting as he tips his shut gaze down at Shadow. "You know."

Ah.

So that's how it is.

It is true, he does know, but Vio's voice weaving the simplest words between his ears doesn't alleviate the pain. Oh, he almost wishes he didn't know. To save the world? No. To save himself. Vio will betray him to hide away from Shadow's seeking fingers, to forget the life he's had here with Shadow—because Shadow knows that here, beside him, Vio has found a darkness within himself that the blonde cannot dare to let grow. He is a Hero, and Shadow is a Monster.

Monster he may be, but at least he would not wait for something as trivial as dawn to break his admirer's heart.

But Shadow can't help himself and he reaches up, forces their lips together and pulls the blonde to lie down upon him. Vio places his hands on Shadow's face and oh, Gods, it's like he's kissing his entire goddamn life goodbye.

But then again, maybe that's exactly what he's doing.

Shadow runs his palms down Vio's body, trying hard to memorize every contour of the blonde before he goes while Vio kisses him like he's trying to apologize for every wrong they both know he is going to commit.

No. They're both just waiting for the dawn before they break Shadow's heart.

Vio's lips fall away from Shadow's and he settles back down beside Shadow, closer now so that they're pressed together. Side by side, no tangled fingers between them, and Shadow finds his chest strangely devoid of the damned beat beat-ing of his own bleeding heart.

Because Vio has taken it, and now Shadow is doomed to be hollow.

Alone like that they lie until dawn comes and as Vio stands broad in the daylight, poor Shadow remains. Empty and silent—nothing more than a dark shape stretched across the sheets. Shadow has done the impossible: he has found the place between dying and dead, each second drawn out so that even as Vio leaves it seems that still they have a lifetime together in this damned room, so that is still seems as though Shadow has a lifetime to spend laying alone on this burning bed of theirs.

And then Vio is gone, and Shadow simply waits. After all, betrayal takes only as long as it does to lift a hammer, only takes as long as it does to break a glass heart—only a second.

Ah.

To think that they were almost lovers…