Title: Aro Explained

Author: Pentagramy

Pairings: AroXOC

Warnings: Light slash.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Note:

Summary: As Aro walks in Volterra at night, he thinks of his lover. The one who broke him into the psychotic mess he was today. And, suddenly, Aro's easy to explain. One-shot.


Aro Explained

A man sighed, white skin covering perfect features, raven shoulder length hair smoothly falling around his face, his past eye length bangs swinging around with each step. He donned a pair of navy jeans and a long sleeved navy polo with white for the color and cuffs while there were white/crème stripes around his middle, tan work boots adored his feet.

Aro of Vulturi in casual dress, he was.

The man hummed, walking slowly—even for a human—down the streets of night darkened Volterra. He sighed miserably as he pasted a certain old, worn apartment building. It was an apartment building five hundred years ago, too, he thought sadly.

It had new glass, new stone, and new doors. But it just couldn't wipe away that old damn spirit. Neither could his own room. Or the living space of the Vulturi castle. No, nothing could wipe away that stubborn little blonde boy.

Why was said boy so important? Because he built the Aro everyone sees now. And he'll tear that Aro down, too. He just had to figure out when.

Blazing hunter green eyes, bright blonde hair with an orange tint and streaks of other colors of blondes and oranges, tan skin, small doll like features… Dani. The small boy ran amuck in Volterra, and, when Aro finally found him, he was determined to die. He had no home but the small apartment he could barely afford. He had no family. He was deathly sick. His friend just found a home in the arms of a rapist.

He was suicidal.

Aro couldn't bring himself to kill the lovely, heaven sent daredevil. So he brought him home. The blood in that human boy sung to him like crazy. It was gorgeously lush, appealing to him like no other. His brothers suggested death by drink.

But Aro couldn't bring himself to do it.

That's beside the fact he loved to smell the boy. His scent was faint, so faint—like it wasn't there. But if everyone got to put their nose to his collar bone and pay attention… Oh, god, it was wonderful. Like the finest wine of the all the universes—there'd never be a better scent.

And, when he courted the boy, made him his own, there was no need to explain their relationship. Anyone could just look and see. The love and contentment around them oozed, even in the worst situations. Not that they meant it too; it just happened. They could be fighting like cats and dogs and they'd still ooze it.

Their fights never lasted, and Aro had courted the boy since he was fifteen. They were so perfect for each other. But on his sixteen birthday came up the subject of changing the boy.

Both were all for it, wanting to spend forever together. It was easy to see they did. All the brothers and guards of Vulturi wanted it. But the age of changing was tricky. The man himself had been changed at twenty-nine years of age. The boy wanted to be changed, at most twenty-one.

Though, the boy was sick, with a extremely dangerous sickness no one knew much of yet. It was leukemia. Aro clenched his fists in the present. Leukemia, he spat. God damned, no good…

They were settling for eighteen. Their only worry was about Dani joining the Vulturi. Aro was against it—he could get hurt. Dani was for it—he could help Aro. That was their only fight that year of sixteen. It led into half of seventeen, too. Why only half?

He found Dani dead after coming back from a hunting trip.

See, Aro's thoughts taunted him. See? You could've still had him if you changed him before that trip.

The boy left so many marks. He made Aro crazy, as the man freely admitted. He knew he was insane. He made Aro cold, too emotional, too uncollected. It was hell. He also made Aro not believe in incarnation. All he did in his time dealt with Volterra, Vulturi—which both, surprisingly, didn't take much time up—and search for Dani.

But he never found him. He made Aro lay in the bed they had shared at night—which was so old it was bound to give way soon—and think. He thought of the laughing smiles, the shining eyes, the little doll like body moving, running, the boy under him, a pink tongue flicking out playfully. He thought of that smile—not the laughed one, but the one as bright as the sun in July at noon.

He thought of untimely deaths, and apartments, of contentment and happiness. And, just then, towards the end he wonders…

When was the last time he wasn't crazy happy? Honestly happy? After the death?

He doesn't even need a figure to tick them off.


Pent: Okay, so I was thinking about Aro, and thought that a death of a lover would explain him. He just seemed like someone who would fall for a guy. So… Review.