She stays because she wants to. He lets her because he can.
They could both use the company.
bed of thorny roses
x
She visits him at night (she always does).
He feels slim arms wrap around his shoulders along with a pair of long legs hook loosely around his waist. Her long hair falls and embraces his bare body, her exotic scent filling his nose.
Moonbeams rest on the green strands, giving them an almost white appearance.
He can feel her breasts on his back and her breath on his neck. Her pale cheek rests on his shoulder.
He shudders at the sudden change of temperature. It's cold.
x
He's tired, and he hasn't changed out of his daily attire.
Today was full of press conferences, public events, and political discussions (he was never good at being smart or flamboyant).
He seeks respite under his covers, but he feels something next to him as he rolls over.
He sees eyes full of gold treasure and a bed of seaweed.
She reaches over to the back of his head, now free from its confines by a press of a button, and places the mask into her hands, tossing it up and down while he watches nervously, his fatigue now gone.
She lifts her head a bit to put the mask on and lays back. His stomach churns, and goosebumps form on his arms.
Her lips move as smooth as butter while her voice cuts into the air like a knife. "How could someone sleep with this on?"
x
She hugs him from behind as if he was her beloved Cheese-kun (her collection has accumulated, but he has yet to see one in his room).
She wiggles as she makes herself more comfortable, propping one of her legs onto his.
Her grip on him is a bit tight, but he doesn't squirm because she would just tighten her hold on him with that latent strength of hers that could crush (not that he could die, anyway).
(it was better than lying alone cold in bed)
"Have you ever made love?"
He cranes his neck around with a raised brow so that he could see her, but her face is covered by the fall of her hair. "No."
"Really? Not even to Massa-"
"No."
"Why not?" The point of her chin places itself onto his shoulder, her lips close to his ear.
He's silent, and she digs her chin into his skin.
"Have you ever made love?" He can feel her body tense, just for a second, before she nuzzles the back of his neck with her nose.
"I don't even know what love is."
He almost wants to turn around and shake her (how could someone who's lived hundreds of years not know?), but he doesn't. He's still.
"No one loves a witch." Her voice is bland, as if what she said was a simple matter of fact.
"Witches are humans too - or at least, they once were."
He turns around and sees her staring at him, and he thinks he almost sees her smile before she grabs all the blankets and threatens to kick him off his own bed.
x
He walks into his room to change after a full day of work and is greeted by her figure scantily clad in only one of his shirts.
"Do you not have clothes?"
He takes off his mask and places it onto his desk, far away enough from a lone slice of pizza so that it would not be stained with grease and cheese.
"Why can't I wear yours? It's not like you get to wear them anyway."
His hand hovers over the zipper of his jacket before he pulls it down, and she comes over and helps him unbutton his shirt. Her fingers hook onto the waistline of his pants, and he shoos them away.
"What's the problem? We've been sleeping naked together in bed."
He arches an eyebrow at her choice of words. It wasn't like they ever did anything besides her hugging him so tight (and just because he could tell that she was naked didn't mean that he saw her naked).
"Since when did you get my permission to move in?" He sees a look of mischief that appears often in her eyes, and he wonders if he should run out the room.
"You question my presence in your household but keep your mouth shut when a naked girl crawls into your bed."
"But you're not a girl," his Adam's apple moves as he swallows when he forces his eyes not to wander down, "you're you."
"What am I exactly?" Her eyes turn into ember, daring him to open his mouth.
(I... don't know)
x
He doesn't know why he tolerates her.
She's just... there.
He doesn't even know why she chooses him of all people as company. It wasn't like he was ever of any value to her as a person or item. He's not even home most of the time.
x
"What do you do all day?"
She's hugging Cheese-kun (his arm and shoulder feel a bit empty), and she's finally wearing her own clothes (but she looked better in his, the back of his mind thinks).
The remote is in her hand, and her thumb changes the channel and then stops. There are no good shows on right now, and a commercial break depicts a clip of smiling (Ele- ) Japanese.
She plops her head onto his lap and sees a sight, forest green eyes framed by dirt brown hair.
He's never had the opportunity to truly look at her, and she's... (beautiful).
He wants to trace the contours of her face and feel the length of her hair and doesn't realize that he's already doing it until she grabs his wrist with one hand and puts her other one on his.
"This hand, how many has it killed?"
He doesn't realize that his other hand was in her hair until he feels his fingers clench and tug. She doesn't flinch or make a sound. She stares.
She puts two fingers together and aims it at him and then her with a dramatic up motion
(if only her hand-made gun was real).
x
He wakes up and catches her watching him.
She doesn't even try to hide the fact that she is; she just keeps on watching.
x
She's looking out his window, her knees in the confines of her arms against her chest.
"How did it feel? To lose her?"
He almost doesn't hear her voice because it is as soft as a breeze blowing through a valley, much different from her usual monotonous tone.
"I-It hurt," he licks his suddenly chapped lips, "a lot."
(The layer of ice around his heart starts to melt, and the vision of pink roses and violet gems run through his mind).
"Do you still think about her?"
"Sometimes. Not as much as before."
He's breaking, and he's glad that she's not near him, that she can't see more of his vulnerability in his eyes, his body language – even if his voice sounds like static. He could pretend he was deaf.
"What was he to you?" He turns still, anticipating her answer.
"An accomplice, an equal."
"Were you guys...?" He doesn't exactly know why he holds his breath.
She quickly answers, "No," and adds on to it as if she were not satisfied, "We were simply business partners, and he needed no distractions."
"Did you love him?" He didn't know what burst of courage enabled him to ask such a personal question, but he was curious – curious about this mysterious woman that never left him with satisfied answers, only more and more questions.
She laughs under her breath, and he strains his ears to hear it. It sounds like the ring of old, dull church bells. "You ask too many questions, boy."
After, there is a moment of silence, and his eyes start to droop. But, before sleep swallows him, he thinks he hears something. He doesn't catch it though, and he doesn't particularly care.
After all, he doesn't have an eternity.
x
He tosses and turns in bed. He can't sleep.
He's sure that it's not because she decides to sleep in the guest room. He slept fine before her frequent, spontaneous visits.
He walks into the room she's occupying and, for some reason, releases a sigh of relief when he sees her figure strewn across the bed, her arm sprawled onto an empty pillow.
Pizza boxes litter the floor, and Cheese-kun is carelessly placed on the ground. He picks it up and lifts her arm, placing the beloved plushie before leaving her arm on top.
He closes the door.
x
"I wanna go outside."
He blinks once, twice. Thrice again, albeit slowly.
"I assume that you have been out already." He's walking around the house, picking up her trail of trash while she follows him like a persistent puppy.
"So, you wouldn't care if I went out?" She stands in front of him, her arms dangling at her sides as her eyes dare him to defy her.
"No, I don't suppose so. Why would I?" He walks around her and picks up her dirty laundry.
She blinks once, twice. Thrice again, albeit slowly.
"No reason. I just want you to go outside with me." This time, his eyes stare at her for a second before entering her surprisingly clean room.
"You do know that that's pretty impossible, right? Unless you want to go out with me as Ze-"
"No, I want you."
She points at him with a finger, and he's not sure why he's feeling uncomfortable. Was it because he couldn't remember the last time he had comfortably breathed fresh air? Was it because of her choosing of words? Was it because of her accusatory finger?
"Sorry."
(he wonders if he really is).
.
.
.
a/n: I really don't know if I'm going to do anything with this because I wrote this around last fall, but I can't seem to do anything with it. Plus, it's pretty different in all aspects from what I usually write. I really love this pairing and think it's a shame that there are barely any fics written for them, so I decided to share this piece (by the way, this is partly influenced by Cat In My Fridge's 'the other boy')! I'm still pretty much a new kid on the block when it comes to the CG archive, so I hope you guys will be very kind to me. Please share your thoughts on this to me. Thanks!