A/N: Written on request for taekwonangel at LiveJournal. It is intentionally this short and complete, by which I mean it is not the first chapter of anything and will as such never be updated.
Prompt: Zelos x ?, song: You! Me! Dancing! by Los Campesinos.
Note: This does contain Zelos paired with an original female character, but as she isn't even named, I doubt you'll find her overly Sue-ish.
Enjoy the ficlet!
xxxxx
can't dance a single step
xxxxx
but I don't think right now that you care about anything at all
and oh, if only there were clothes on the floor
I'd feel for certain I was bedroom dancing
and it's all flailing limbs at the front line
every single one of us is twisted by design
and dispatches from the back of my mind
say as long as we're here everything is alright
Meltokio's club is hard to find for outsiders, but for those who have lived there all their lives it is only a matter of walking down a narrow alleyway and through a door painted roguishly red.
The music is ecstatic, garish, wildly colourful. There are no apologies here.
Zelos may be something close to royalty in his mansion, in the streets, in the hallways of the castle, but here he is only a boy with lovely hair and fluid limbs and a heart full of pain to dance away. No one says a word when he comes in. The wall of humanity on the dance floor does not give way for him. He must slide in like everyone else, writhe his way through the sea of twisting bodies, until he is immersed and lost. Here he is no one and everyone all at once. It is a rare solace.
He is a terrible dancer, but no one cares.
There is a girl. He has seen her before. She is small and soft with cascades of blonde trailing down her back, and a mischievous light in her eyes. She sways gently against him in contrast to the harsh pounding of the music. Her skirt is tiny and red, her lips glossy and pink, her shirt longsleeved and flowing and innocent white in spite of the expression on her face.
She does not know who he is. He can see it in her eyes, the frank interest and lack of fear. Nobody looks at him like that when they know what he's destined for. They are all too afraid to love him when they know he's going to die.
Zelos presses aginst her, unable to help himself against the crushing need for touch and acceptance. Her arms slip around his waist, spritely fingers dancing against his spine, mouth opening to tongue his nipple through his shirt. She is shameless in her desire, smiling sweetly against his chest and completely unafraid.
It is hot in the club. The air is sticky with sweat and desire and the heavy smell of freedom.
Their hips gyrate against each other smoothly, intuitively. His arousal presses against her belly. He knows she can feel it when she twists herself forward, crushing it between them and making him groan against her damp forehead. He knows she wants it when she takes his hand and leads him away through the swamp of bodies, through a door to a hallway echoing with emptiness and the absence of music.
Zelos takes her up against the wall, provocative little red skirt hitched up over her hips and her breath loud and desperate in his ear. He does not know her name, she does not know his. Neither of them know anything about each other beyond the texture of their skin and the taste of their kisses. He knows that neither of them will ask. They don't want to know. This is not about people, hearts, souls, or love. It is about lust and freedom and an understanding deeper than any conversation could give them.
He loves her a little for this. He is so sick of destiny.
xxxxx
In the morning he wakes up in bed, a manservant standing at the door wearing a long-suffering expression.
Zelos Wilder is Chosen.
The very title is a prison.
He thinks of the girl, and silently begs her to remember him when destiny comes for its due.
XxxxxX
A/N: I'm afraid to replay this game because I know I'll cry again at That Part and it'll break my hart. Oh, Zelos. You are such an amazing character.