This is the biggest, most involved project I've ever undertook, again for Himi and Itsu. I could have never done it without their encouragement. Also, authors notes are indicated by numbers in parentheses, and they correspond to their respective numbers at the bottom of the page.
Warnings: Explicit sexual imagery, biblical references, explicit violence and gore.
Disclaimer: I actually know more about RO now, but these characters still do not belong to me.
When You See Your Doppelgänger
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Rapheres looked at Bartolomeo, tried to take his gaze, but couldn't find it. He never could.
"Barto, you're going to the biolab? Are you sure that's a good idea?" Bartolomeo finished tying part of his uniform and looked up, not into Rapheres' eyes—never into his eyes—but somewhere close. His nose or his forehead, maybe. Rapheres frowned, though Bartolomeo didn't seem to notice.
"Yes, why shouldn't I?" he retorted, as if Rapheres' intention had been to be rude. Rapheres eyes narrowed, something like worry or regret lacing them. He was trying to be serious; Bartolomeo's life could be at risk. He tried to tell this to Bartolomeo, his eyes speaking the words he was too cowardly to say aloud. But Bartolomeo wasn't looking at his eyes.
He forced a smile. "Well it's dangerous isn't it? You probably don't have enough stat points to survive."
Humour, bickering and teasing; Rapheres had to use it, more than ever recently. It was a sort of defense mechanism, something he could utilize almost like one of his spells, and he certainly had the dexterity to use it at any instance if need be. Bartolomeo was always so short, so indifferent with him. Rapheres needed this playfulness, because even if Bartolomeo wouldn't look him in the eyes, Rapheres could still latch onto something that connected them, however faintly. He could still share something that belonged to Bartolomeo.
All the priest gave him this time was a whack on the head. "Shut up, Raphe, no one asked you."
"Owly, you're mean~" Rapheres whined, clutching his head. Bartolomeo merely went back to his uniform, seemingly forgetting Rapheres was even there.
Sometimes the teasing didn't work. Rapheres' fingers dug a little further into his hair. It felt hopeless, if anything because he knew it hadn't always been this way. A tear fell from his right eye before he realized he was close to crying.
"What's wrong?" Bartolomeo asked quietly, not in a particularly caring tone, but a vaguely surprised one nonetheless. Rapheres' heart skipped a beat and he wiped the tear away quickly.
"That hurt," Rapheres lied, feigning exasperation.
"Don't be such a baby," Bartolomeo snapped.
"I'm not being a baby! You're being rude!" he shouted. Bartolomeo glared, the first true emotion he'd shown in weeks. Rapheres shrunk back before Bartolomeo even opened his mouth.
"Why are you always like this!" His voice was loud, and so angry. Rapheres tried not to let it deter him.
"I've always been like this and you never seemed to care until that time!" he rejoined, just as angrily. Bartolomeo stood abruptly, and for a moment Rapheres thought he saw his glare showed the intent to kill.
"How dare you bring that up." The quiet of his tone juxtaposed against the shouting match and the look in his eyes made Rapheres shiver in discomfort, and he looked away, really ashamed for a moment. Finally, Bartolomeo turned and made for the door. "I'm leaving."
Rapheres stood, eyebrows creasing. "Barto, wait! Let me come with you!"
Bartolomeo halted, and looking past Rapheres almost laughed in disbelief. "You're kidding, right? You know what happened last time."
With that and the sound of the door slamming, Rapheres was left utterly alone.
"Owly…"
"I'm not Owly, you half-wit."
"Huh? I'm sorry, did you say something?" Bartolomeo sighed and Rapheres grinned. "What is it, Owly, are we lost?"
"We wouldn't be lost if you would stop distracting me! I wish you hadn't followed me."
"You mean you wish you hadn't said I could come?" Rapheres ducked as a bible was aimed at his head.
"Shut up. We're making camp here. It's getting dark and I don't want to get more lost."
Without looking at Rapheres, Bartolomeo threw his things down and began taking out his blanket. Rapheres shrugged and grinned and followed suit. (Though he didn't seem to notice his bag had fallen in some mud.)
Hours passed and darkness fell over their makeshift campsite. Bartolomeo eventually went to find the bible he'd thrown and leaned against a tree, trying to read it despite the lack of light. Rapheres watched him with interest for a while, having nothing to do himself, but eventually bored of the silence. "If you keep doing that, you really will need those glasses," he warned playfully.
"I do need them," Bartolomeo murmured a little resentfully.
"What, to make you look smarter?"
"Bugger off."
"Why are you reading that, anyways?" Rapheres asked, and moved to sit next to Bartolomeo, who seemed a little uncomfortable but looked up to meet Rapheres' gaze.
"I want to know more about it. That's all." He turned back to the pages.
"What book (1) are you reading?"
Bartolomeo looked a little surprised and again looked at Rapheres. "Psalms. Have you read the bible, Raphe?" Rapheres grinned and couldn't see Bartolomeo's cheeks turn pink in the dark.
"A little. Mostly just the important parts. What part are you reading? Or trying to read, anyways."
Bartolomeo scowled. "Chapter 119. Samekh, verses 113 through 120.
'I hate double-minded men,
but I love your law.
You are my refuge and my shield;
I have put my hope in your word.
Away from me, you evildoers,
that I may keep the commands of
my God!
Sustain me according to your promise,
and I will live;
do not let my hopes be dashed.
Uphold me, and I will be delivered;
I will always have regard for your
decrees.
You reject all who stray from your
decrees,
for their deceitfulness is in vain.
All the wicked of the earth you discard
like dross;
therefore I love your statutes.
My flesh trembles in fear of you;
I stand in awe of your laws.'"
Rapheres felt a shiver run up his spine, goosebumps rising over his arms. Bartolomeo looked at him, could feel the wizard tremble as the man in Samekh had. They were closer now; Rapheres had moved near to see the text as Bartolomeo read aloud to him. But now when their eyes met their noses almost touched. Rapheres' heart went into overdrive, beating so quickly that he felt lightheaded, and he could feel Bartolomeo's breath become heavy against his lips. He leaned in, but Bartolomeo turned away.
"I've been trying to decipher this psalm," he said, voice somewhat raspy. "The speaker claims to hate double-minded men, but what exactly does that mean?"
Disappointed, Rapheres sighed and turned his attention back to the book. "Double-minded… It could be code for some sort of disease, like schizophrenia or multiple personality disorder. At the time of the bible's writing, people who suffered such afflictions tended to be condemned as practicers of sorcery." Bartolomeo glanced at Rapheres, the ghost of a smirk touching his lips.
"You know, I'm not sure what the bigger mystery is: why I haven't condemned you, or how your tiny brain could possibly hold that much information."
Rapheres smiled cheerfully at him. "Wha? What was that? The wind was too strong."
"Could it possibly be referencing a demon of some sort?"
"A double-minded demon?"
"Yes, perhaps a doppelgänger…"
"A doppelgänger?" Rapheres shifted, his hand resting on the tree behind Bartolomeo. "What is that?"
Bartolomeo swallowed and tried not to think about the fact that Rapheres had in effect moved himself even closer. "From the German doppel, meaning double, and gänger meaning walker. It's said that if a person sees their doppelgänger, they are certain to die."
"But what is it?"
"It's like an identical twin—a negative, of sorts. People have been said to see themselves and days later they die, and those who see doppelgängers of friends or family are cursed with bad luck."
Rapheres frowned. "What causes them to appear?" Bartolomeo paused; there was the sound of thunder in the distance.
"I want to know."
Suddenly, rain was pouring over them, and Bartolomeo took it as a chance to get away from his and Rapheres' close proximity. He jumped up, grabbing his bag and looked around for the nearest shelter. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness by then, and a short distance off he could make out a cave, the entrance pitch black and silhouetted against the shadowy dark of the surrounding rock. He walked towards it, holding his bag over his head to shield himself from the onslaught of falling water. The cave itself was bare, hard and cold, but it was dry. Satisfied, Bartolomeo again threw down his bag and turned around, expecting Rapheres to be waiting behind him. But Rapheres was nowhere to be seen.
The only indication of his shock was that his lips parted ever so slightly. He moved to the cave's entrance, one hand on the wall and the other clenched tightly, surveying the surrounding forest with urgency. Rapheres was still sitting at the same tree, his hand splayed over the bark and staring at nothing.
"Raphe!" Bartolomeo's eyebrows furrowed imperceptibly and his hands cupped his mouth so as to amplify his voice. "Raphe, what are you doing? Get over here!"
Rapheres blinked and looked up, suddenly aware that Bartolomeo was calling out to him. He stood, grabbed his bag and made his way slowly to the cave.
"What were you doing?" Bartolomeo asked. He sounded angry, but Rapheres knew he wasn't, not really. "You're soaked, you're going to catch a cold if you don't get out of those wet clothes." Bartolomeo went to his bag and grabbed his blanket before moving back to his companion. He reached for Rapheres' cloak, tried to take it off, prepared to dry him off himself since Rapheres seemed too senseless to bother. Rapheres put his hand on Bartolomeo's, held it still against his chest. Bartolomeo froze.
"Owly," Rapheres said quietly. His hair fell further over his eye than usual, typically messy caramel locks subdued and dripping rain down his face. He looked up, rubies meeting rain clouds, and saw faint fear in Bartolomeo's eyes. Rapheres held the priest's hand a little tighter and leaned in, nuzzling against his cheek. "It's okay," he whispered, and he could hear Bartolomeo's breathing become shaky as he pressed his lips to the priest's jaw.
"R-Raphe…"
Rapheres leaned back and their gazes locked, and that was everything the wizard needed. He could see it now as well as he could feel it whenever they were together—there was a spark there. It was faint, but not fleeting; Bartolomeo was frightened of feeling this way. "It's okay," he repeated, trying to reassure him as he kissed Bartolomeo's lips this time, free hand moving to touch the side of his face, to run fingers through white hair.
Bartolomeo was frozen and unresponsive, too shocked to even begin to fathom Rapheres' lips pressed to his, the fingertips gentle against his scalp, his own hand held to Rapheres' damp chest. To his relief, the moment was over quickly, and Bartolomeo breathed harshly as his hand and lips were released. "What…" Rapheres put a finger to his lips to silence him, using his other hand to begin undoing his own uniform. Bartolomeo's eyes widened in consternation. "Raphe… Don't…!" But before Bartolomeo could voice his wavering opposition, Rapheres' robe had fallen to the ground. His cheeks were flushed from the cold and his own boldness.
"You said yourself that I'll catch a cold if I keep my wet clothes on," he murmured and again moved closer, reaching out to grab the hem of Bartolomeo's uniform, leaning in so that their cheeks barely touched. "Will you dry me off, Owly?"
A few moments passed until with shaking hands Bartolomeo accepted this—whatever Rapheres was trying to do—and took his blanket and wrapped it around Rapheres, pulling the bright boy to him. His hair still dripped but Bartolomeo determined not to notice the wet spot growing on his shoulder. "You're freezing," he whispered, and it was true; Rapheres was shivering almost violently, but not even that could deter him from again pressing his lips to Bartolomeo's.
"Then warm me up," he replied tremulously, and it was not only the loss of heat which caused Bartolomeo to shiver but the closeness and the lowness of the wizard's tone. However, it appeared Bartolomeo did not have to do much, because Rapheres' hands already began to move on their own, working quickly to undo the ties of Bartolomeo's uniform. Part of him wanted to break from this embrace, too nervous and unprepared for such a large step in their relationship. But it was already too late to back out, for Rapheres was kissing at his throat as his hands brushed across the expanse of Bartolomeo's chest, nipples hardening from the cold and Rapheres' touch. His ministrations were quick, hands always moving somewhere new, as if he were afraid Bartolomeo would disappear at any moment, and if he could just feel as much skin as possible before that happened he could be satisfied. Finally, as Bartolomeo had been dreading, Rapheres' hand sunk a little too low, brushed somewhere that made Bartolomeo entirely uncomfortable, and he jolted back and into the wall of the cave.
"Rapheres, you can't," he said breathlessly, already aware of how on fire his body felt. It frightened him.
"It's okay," Rapheres murmured, and he watched the blood rush to Bartolomeo's face as his hand pressed more firmly against the priest's half-erect member.
"It's not," Bartolomeo retorted, hoping he sounded indignant but coming off as more flustered and weak. He raised his hands to Rapheres' shoulders, trying to push him away, but when Rapheres nipped his earlobe and stroked his hardening phallus, his objections lost their meaning and his thoughts their coherence. All that registered was the pleasurable feeling striking like electricity through his groin and all the way up his spine to his brain, where he was left dazed and lightheaded.
The wizard's hand moved faster against Bartolomeo, eliciting slight gasps and groans of angry gratification, but Bartolomeo no longer seemed capable of voicing his disapproval, and Rapheres would much rather watch his dear priest as he indulged in this beautiful, if not temporary, hedonism. Truly, Rapheres supposed he would never be given this chance again, unless pleasuring him was enough to enlighten Bartolomeo as to the ultimate righteousness of the love Rapheres bore him; however, the likeliness of such an occurrence was low at best, and Rapheres knew he had to make the most of this time.
Therefore, when Rapheres dropped to his knees before the priest in consummate worship, Bartolomeo could only bite his lip and try not to cry out. A hand so forthrightly fondling his erection was already more than he felt he could handle, and now the addition of Rapheres' supple lips made his knees weak and his vision spin. At first those honey-dew lips kissed: the base where Rapheres' nose touched wiry hairs, and then the tip, subtle fluids which Bartolomeo would prefer not to acknowledge staining Rapheres' lips and making them glisten. Still moving quickly, Rapheres licked his lips and shivered at the musky taste before impatiently taking him whole, his body already so prepared to do this for Bartolomeo that his throat did not protest the sudden intrusion. "R-Raphe…!" Bartolomeo cried, and dug one hand into Rapheres' hair, pushing against the top of his head to help him feel even slightly balanced.
Hearing his name cried so vehemently only seemed to excite him, for he hummed in return and, lips stretched tightly over the weeping phallus, bobbed his head, sending sweet vibrations throughout Bartolomeo's body and giving him that transcendent sensation of penetration. Unfortunately, Bartolomeo was not one to gratify himself even despite hating the church, and the intensity of this new ecstasy quickly overwhelmed him. He climaxed, his orgasm hitting him with a force so strong that he might have keeled over if Rapheres' hands hadn't been holding his legs in place. And he still sucked, swallowing Bartolomeo's seed with fervor until the priest was completely spent, and Rapheres helped him to the ground, placing a blanket beneath him. Breathing heavily, Bartolomeo finally looked at Rapheres, his eyes starry.
"What… about you?" he asked silently, noticing Rapheres' still untouched erection. The wizard grinned and leaned in, pressing his lips against Bartolomeo's, who could taste the musk that still stained them. Rapheres didn't say anything; he merely placed a hand on his own penis and began to stroke it slowly, his visible eye open and gazing into Bartolomeo's. He satisfied himself for a few moments and Bartolomeo considered looking away until his eye became insatiable with desire, his breath coming in short pants.
"Owly, would you…?" he groaned, and Bartolomeo realized with dread that Rapheres wanted him to touch him there. He wavered over the inevitable No, too frightened at the sudden impulse to comply, but he was freed from answering when the sound of several short clacks resonated against the walls of the cave. The temperature surrounding them dropped significantly, and Bartolomeo's and Rapheres' eyes moved slowly to the back of the cave, where darkness gave way to an ominous mist, and the two blanched as a staff topped with a hapless skull came into view.
"Barto…" Rapheres whispered urgently, and though Bartolomeo was still in a state of euphoria, Rapheres could see the gleam in his eyes.
"A Necromancer," he whispered in return. The thump of the staff increased, and finally the beast came into view, and they both suddenly truly regretted being naked.
Fighting the sting of his unattended erection, Rapheres quickly jumped to his feet and threw out his arms, his voice low and musical as he cantillated, "Telum Ignus, malum larvam mortis erades!" Bursts of fire formed in the air and flew towards the Necromancer, singeing its already weathered cloak. But the death demon seemed unaffected and easily cast back a Thunder Storm, shocking both boys with a discharge of electricity which made their vision spin. Before Rapheres could even think of attacking back, the Necromancer was already sending balls of fire in their direction, and the wizard could only barely manage to mutter, "Paries Glacies." A giant wall of ice shot up in front of them, and though it protected them from the death demon's attack, it melted quickly, and Rapheres shot Bartolomeo a hectic glance.
"Barto, please hurry and heal me!"
The priest blinked several times and before he could come to his senses, the Necromancer had teleported next to Rapheres, seeing that the wizard was distracted, and hit him relentlessly with his staff. Rapheres paled when red bloomed in his vision, and he bit his tongue to keep himself from crying out, instead lowly singing, "Tempestus Astrum." Dozens of beautiful stars rained down and Rapheres tried to be happy that somehow five of them hit the death demon, making it shriek as it withered and burned to nothingness, but he was burnt and bleeding badly, and Bartolomeo seemed too stunned to react.
"Barto," Rapheres croaked, and his voice gave out. He stumbled and finally fell over, his caramel hair stained deep burgundy and blood pooling on the ground around him before he lost consciousness.
Later, Bartolomeo would tell him coldly that soon afterwards he had come to his senses and realized that Rapheres was quickly dying. He stemmed the bleeding and mumbled, "Viator caelum, vigoratus cito (2)," so many times that his voice went hoarse.
The first thing Bartolomeo noticed upon joining his party was that they were both unavoidably stolid. This might have been a comfort to him—indeed, he might have felt quite at home, if not for one nagging fact: there was no beam of light among them, as he always paradoxically dreaded and anticipated in his parties with Rapheres. He was so used to Rapheres' talkative heroism and silliness that it really came as quite a shock when neither the boy assassin nor the girl wizard spoke a word to him besides the logistics of their plan. There was nothing frivolous in their mannerisms, and certainly nothing could induce them to carry a sunflower around on their heads. Bartolomeo pushed away his disappointment as they made their way underground.
Darkness was all the party could make out upon their forced entry. It took several moments to adjust to it, but when they did, what was visible was hardly comforting. Old, rusty pipes ran along walls covered in grime, and the linoleum-tiled floor was dusty and littered with refuse of all sorts. The young wizard, whose name Bartolomeo refused to recall, murmured something about it being creepy, but she went ignored as they made their way slowly into the corridor.
"It looks like this place has been cleared out for a while," the assassin remarked quietly.
"You know Rekenber is hiding something here," Bartolomeo retorted. Instead of smiling and tilting his head in a ridiculous fashion, the assassin glared at him.
"Then let's search the rooms," said he stiffly. He looked at the wizard and told her to stay close, for they would be done for if she were to die. She seemed slightly indignant at his insensitive manner of speaking, but nonetheless nodded solemnly in agreement. "And you," he continued, catching Bartolomeo's attention, "Don't go off on your own or do anything stupid. We don't know if there's anything dangerous here, but if there is, our lives are in your hands." Bartolomeo's eyebrow twitched, every fiber of his body screaming in defiance at being spoken to in such a condescending manner, but he too nodded curtly.
Most of the rooms they checked in the first wing were empty, or full of empty boxes and shelves and desks that had been turned over. All three of them could sense the chaos of the abandoned biolab, and they each felt a little grateful that they didn't run into any monsters. Soon enough they reached the end of the corridor, with sighs of discontent and disappointment.
"Maybe they weren't actually hiding something?" the wizard suggested softly. Bartolomeo sneered at her, but she couldn't see his expression in the dark.
"We have to look closer," Bartolomeo snapped. "There has to be something here."
The assassin stepped between Bartolomeo and the wizard, who looked quite offended, and glared at the priest. "What's so important that you have to find something here? Wouldn't it be better if Rekenber weren't holding those rumored experiments? If we don't find anything, maybe they're more innocent than we thought?"
Bartolomeo stepped back and was about to murmur something about not caring about Rekenber, when he felt the tile beneath his foot give way, and he almost stumbled to the ground in his surprise as the dead-end behind him split down the middle and began to recede into the opposite walls. Another corridor continued behind the secret door, this one darker still but ominously clean. Bartolomeo looked pointedly at the assassin before the three of them stepped into it, the assassin grumbling begrudgingly that they should all stay close.
There were several doors just inside the corridor, and Bartolomeo instinctively broke off from the group to quicken the search. The hall resonated with the sound of two doors opening simultaneously—the one Bartolomeo found, and the one the assassin and the wizard opened—and in the silence of the corridor the creaking was ominous enough without the addition of the wizard's sudden and terrified shriek; but Bartolomeo was preoccupied enough with the sight that met him in the room he entered.
A dead body lied on the operating table, its stomach cut open and the skin split and pulled out, revealing all sorts of intestines and organs that Bartolomeo couldn't honestly say he wanted to know. The smell was repugnant, but dull enough to suggest that it had been here for quite a long time. Bartolomeo felt bile climb up his throat and forcibly swallowed it down.
"Bartolomeo," the assassin solemnly said from across the hall. The priest shivered and turned away from the sight with a feeling of relief. He made his way to where the assassin stood next to the weeping wizard and knew that a similar scene lay behind the door those two had opened. He didn't want to see it.
"Let's keep going," he said quietly, and without waiting for their consent, Bartolomeo turned to walk further down the corridor.
Most of the rooms they entered had similar scenes, some more disturbing than others, but the truly foreboding fact was that these rooms were bereft of life, untouched for so long that dead skin was rotted and body parts were blackened without use and covered in a heavy layer of dust, while the corridor, dark though it was, clearly still had people walking through it. There were footprints in dust and few bloody spots on otherwise clean and tidy walls and floor.
"Don't walk so fast," the assassin said quietly, but Bartolomeo paid him no heed. This situation made him uncomfortable, and he sped ahead of his party so that they would not be able to see this weakness. "Wait!" the assassin called angrily. "We could be in danger!"
Perhaps it was inevitable that Bartolomeo would refuse to listen despite the alarming truth of the assassin's words, but this vice of defiance proved fatal when a door next to him opened, and although the vision before him was not grotesque—if not unnatural—he almost cried out in shock at the sight of it.
He saw himself.
There was the white hair, the round glasses; the clothes were different, strangely civilian, and so were the eyes—still rain clouds, but wicked and cunning, so unlike Bartolomeo's vacant and secretly kind ones. They reminded Bartolomeo of a winter storm, icy and tempestuous.
The mirror image reached out and grabbed him, pulling him into the room and slamming and locking the door behind them. At that moment Bartolomeo came to the horrified realization that this was not an illusion: he was face to face with his own doppelgänger. His teammates had apparently rushed to the spot in which he'd previously been standing and they pounded on the door and tried to break in. However, the doppelgänger whispered something that Bartolomeo could not hear and soon the assassin's and the wizard's urgent thrashing died, and all was so silent that Bartolomeo was afraid to breathe.
For several tense minutes, the doppelgänger merely stared at Bartolomeo, the ghost of a smile playing on its pale lips. The priest tried not to keep eye contact, for he felt as though, if it looked long enough, it could see right into his soul and witness all the turmoil and insecurity that Bartolomeo veiled with nonchalance and intellectual confidence.
"I've always wanted to meet you," the doppelgänger finally said, its tone compassionate and gentle.
"You're a demon," snapped Bartolomeo, eyes still averted.
"Oh, Bartolomeo," it murmured sweetly, as if to a lover, and the priest froze as its fingers tenderly graced his cheek. "You have no clue what I am." Bartolomeo was rendered speechless, and in a moment of complacency the doppelgänger turned his face towards its, and there, in those devious grey eyes, Bartolomeo saw everything he had always denied in himself. True happiness, and the capability of intimacy, and lust, and mostly the ability to admit to love. An image of Rapheres appeared in his mind, and it dawned on him that he knew exactly what this doppelgänger was (3). It saw the light of understanding in Bartolomeo's eyes and smiled at him. "Or maybe you do," it added slyly.
"Is that what all doppelgängers are?" Bartolomeo asked quietly, looking away again because he didn't like seeing everything he couldn't be. "Just manifestations of what your original is incapable of achieving; making up for all your original's inadequacies."
The doppelgänger's fingers pressed a little harder against his skin, and it leaned in so close to his face that Bartolomeo was filled with a sickening sense of dread. He couldn't help but see its sneer and, most surprisingly, its eyes reddened and turned malicious, like blood glands in its brain had erupted and the sanguine fluid was pooling there.
"You're a coward," it hissed, and Bartolomeo shuddered to feel its breath on his lips. "He gave you the ultimate declaration of love, and in return you blame him for making you weak. How much he must have suffered since that time, now that you refuse to even look him in the eye. You've forced him into an awful misunderstanding, Bartolomeo. He truly believes that he's angered you past repentance, and you surely pretend to be angry. But you can't hide the truth from me; you aren't angry, Bartolomeo. You're afraid."
The silver shine of a long dagger wavered into view, held fast in the hand that wasn't preoccupied holding Bartolomeo's face level with its, and the priest felt a chill run down his spine.
"Y-You're right. I should have…" he began breathlessly, wanting to say anything to keep this demon from slashing his throat right then and there, but he paused, and everything the doppelgänger had said to him before presenting the knife began to sink in, and Bartolomeo suddenly felt the sting of emotion in his eyes. "You're right," he repeated tearfully, closing his eyes to fight off the flood of feeling. "I never wanted to think I was dependent on anyone, and Raphe… He's – the only person in my life to ever make me question myself." His eyes opened and he stared into the doppelgänger's glowing red ones in earnest, trying to force down the humiliation he felt at the tears streaking down his cheeks. "But it isn't too late to fix this! I can try to – try to apologize, and it might take me a long time to get used to it, but maybe… maybe someday I can return his feelings."
His reflection smiled slowly, but the poisonous eyes still hadn't faded to grey, and the doppelgänger raised its dagger to Bartolomeo's quivering neck, condemning through gritted teeth,
"You had your chance."
Bartolomeo was too shocked to comprehend the pain at first, but a few seconds passed and he could feel his blood running down his neck, soaking into his uniform and staining it deep burgundy. Against his will he made disgusting gurgling noises as the blood from the slash in his neck overflowed his esophagus, making it almost impossible to breathe. And as Bartolomeo dropped to his knees with the sickening realization that he was dying, the only thing he could be aware of was that he hated how right the doppelgänger had been. He didn't even have the courage to say aloud the words that he screamed so adamantly in his mind, the words he had always felt deep down:
Raphe, I love you!
But the thought faded as the lights in his eyes went out, his heart slowing to a stop when there was not enough blood to support it. The doppelgänger stood over its original and watched the life seep out of him, pooling around him, and its eyes burned like fire.
"Now it's my turn."
Darkness had fallen hours ago, and the rain pounding against the window lit up in vibrant colour whenever lightning flashed through the sky, following its thunder loyally. Rapheres wished more than anything that he could relate to those brief explosions of light, but like a fool he had sat, stupefied when Bartolomeo had slammed the door of their shared lodgings. For several long seconds the pressure built behind his eyes and hating Bartolomeo he finally wept. But as soon as the initial reaction subsided, Rapheres became subdued and decided that perhaps it was better to hate himself than to hate Bartolomeo; after all, it was his fault Bartolomeo was so angry.
Trying to respect Bartolomeo's feelings, Rapheres stayed home and stared out the window. He watched the sun sink behind the horizon and the heavy blanket of clouds roll in; the first light drizzle, minute foreplay to the onslaught of rain that fell so suddenly that he couldn't help but remember the time in the forest; how his love for Bartolomeo had become hungry and insatiable, and hand splayed against the tree he had resolved to no longer try to restrain himself, that he had to be frank with Bartolomeo to make him understand. He never could have imagined that his plan would backfire with such devastating consequences.
Now Rapheres awaited Bartolomeo's return impatiently, thinking every few seconds that he should have been back by now, that this quest could not possibly take so long to complete. He refused to consider that something could have happened to Bartolomeo.
But as soon as dark thoughts began to surface and make him weary with worry, the front door slammed open, and Bartolomeo stood in the frame, soaking and panting. Rapheres started at the sight of him, but blinded by his relief that Bartolomeo had come home at all, a slur of questions ("What happened? Why have you been gone so long? Did you find anything?") escaped him as he walked towards the door before he had a chance to check himself. It was at this point that he noticed the horrid bloodstains covering the front of Bartolomeo's uniform, the putrid smell of slaughter hanging from him. However, when he came close enough, Bartolomeo cut him off quickly by grabbing him, and Rapheres' brows furrowed in confusion as the priest pressed their lips together without pretense. Rapheres grabbed his wrist, trying to make Bartolomeo release him, and was surprised to feel something there that wasn't before he left—a bracelet. It was skin tight, probably impossible to remove.
Anxious, Rapheres forced his head to the side and could hear Bartolomeo's heavy breathing rumbling in his eardrum. "What happened?" the wizard asked stiffly. Bartolomeo simply kissed his earlobe in response, nipped it and kissed his neck.
"Raphe," he said softly and longingly, and Rapheres couldn't help the shiver that ran down his spine or how goosebumps crawled along his skin at the feeling of Bartolomeo's lips. "Raphe," he repeated, and his voice lowered to a whisper when he said, "I love you."
Rapheres turned his head and stared into Bartolomeo's face in numb shock, and was surprised to find that Bartolomeo looked directly into his eyes. There was so much longing and devotion there that the wizard almost stepped away on principle. How long had it been since Bartolomeo had looked him in the eyes? At least two weeks; so what could have possibly happened on that quest to make him change his mind, and to such a high degree?
"Barto, please tell me what happened," Rapheres said urgently, but he was prevented from continuing, for Bartolomeo's lips again pressed against Rapheres', his tongue moving lightly against the wizard's. Loathing to protest when he had spent so much time fantasizing about this very moment, Rapheres decidedly pressed closer, parting his lips wider. The kiss was long and distinct in its tranquility, and when Bartolomeo pulled away, Rapheres realized that he had begun to tremble. Bartolomeo touched his quivering cheeks lovingly before pushing him further into the room and closing the door behind him.
Inside, the priest wasted no time, quickly moving his hands to Rapheres' shirt, and Rapheres lifted his arms as Bartolomeo pulled it over his head. Their lips met again, igniting a fire within them both. Unable to fight down the urgency rising in him, Rapheres' fingers tangled into Bartolomeo's hair, forcing their mouths so close that the kiss became painful, sparks of light dancing behind his eyelids. Bartolomeo did not resist, instead working on the clasp of Rapheres' pants while his tongue worked against the wizard's.
Impatient as ever, Rapheres broke from the kiss, dropping fluidly to his knees and bringing Bartolomeo down with him before lying on his back and lifting his hips, giving Bartolomeo the chance to completely undress him. Within seconds Rapheres' hands were gripping the fabric at Bartolomeo's shoulders, their tongues caressing until, noticing the strange coarseness of the priest's uniform, Rapheres pulled back. Bartolomeo did not seem to notice that Rapheres' attention had been turned elsewhere, for he leaned down and began sucking on Rapheres' neck, just above the pulse. The wizard shuddered, though not entirely from Bartolomeo's ministrations: he'd been so caught in the undertow of sensation that he'd failed to recall that Bartolomeo had come into their lodgings with clothes completely covered in blood.
"Why are you still wearing this?" he said, his tone quiet and uncomfortable, if not a little breathless. "That better not be your blood, Owly…"
Without waiting for permission, Rapheres ripped it open, his intention to undress Bartolomeo as quickly as possible and get that blood-stained uniform out of sight, but he stopped cold when a long dagger fell out from its safe place between Bartolomeo's clothes and skin, the cold point centimeters away from Rapheres' stomach, held in place only because the hilt was caught perpendicular to Bartolomeo's abdomen.
Rapheres stared, stricken with horror, as Bartolomeo calmly took the hilt of the dagger in his hand and held the point firmly against his chest. With a wistful little sigh, he said, "I didn't want things to have to be this way, Rapheres. It makes it all just so much more painful." Rapheres blinked and the confused consternation sunk in.
"Who… are you?" he asked, goosebumps rising over his skin when the cool metal of the dagger touched it. "You're not… you can't be Owly. This is all wrong –"
Hysteria rose quickly in Rapheres' stomach and he struggled to move away from whoever this imposter was. It was only when this Bartolomeo look-alike touched the half-soft phallus, previous excitement ebbing away with fear, that Rapheres remembered:
"It's said that if a person sees their doppelgänger, they are certain to die."
The realization failed to provide any comfort, and indeed only brought an icy feeling to pierce his heart as if this doppelgänger had decided to plunge its dagger into him.
Unable to stop himself, Rapheres' hands again moved to the creature's shoulders, perfect replicas of shoulders he had once adored, and fingers strayed over the horrid, blood-stained uniform. "This is his blood," he whispered, not a question but an affirmation. His face felt so numb that he didn't realize that tears had begun to stream from his eyes until the doppelgänger wiped his cheeks with soft thumbs.
"I didn't mean for it to happen this way. You were supposed to believe I was Bartolomeo, for I knew that would make you happiest. However," its grip on the dagger again firmed, and he held it threateningly against Rapheres' throat while its eyes glowed, the colour deep and sanguine, "I still intend to take what I came here for." Its hand became firmer against Rapheres' slackening erection, and Rapheres eyes narrowed.
"Get away from me," he growled, but quieted when he felt the tip of the dagger pierce the skin just above the pulse.
"I love you, Rapheres," it replied lowly, its fingertips tickling testicles. Colour rose in Rapheres' cheeks, his expression fearfully affronted. "How do you expect me to resist when you've offered yourself to me, so fully?" One of its fingers pressed decidedly against the perineum, and Rapheres was humiliated at his own sharp release of breath and how the blood began to rush back to his penis. Taking this unconscious reaction as encouragement, the doppelgänger's dry finger moved further back, rubbing against Rapheres' anus and irritating it. The wizard tried to tell it to stop, but his voice caught as it forced its finger inside.
Hissing in pain, Rapheres tried to jerk away and only managed to press the dagger deeper into his neck. He couldn't stop the tears that again pricked at his eyes. "Don't," he whispered, tremulous voice low and agonized. The doppelgänger smiled and pressed even deeper, eliciting a groan from the wizard.
"Don't what?" it urged, curling the finger inside Rapheres and watching the wizard squirm around it.
"Please—!" he cried, hips arching, but the doppelgänger only seemed to find the movement pleasing and continued to move its finger, in and out, a gross parody of the penetration it clearly had in mind as it began to shrug out of Bartolomeo's wasted uniform.
The likelihood of surviving this ordeal unscathed was so slim it verged on being negative. Rapheres realized this with a shudder and slowly tried to resign himself to it, steeling himself for the sin he must commit before plunging soberly into the undertow of sensation. In a single, swift movement Rapheres used one hand to force the knife away from his neck while simultaneously wrapping his other hand around the back of the doppelgänger's head and pulling its lips hastily against his own. For one fleeting, torturous moment Rapheres thought that the doppelgänger would kill him on the spot, but to his relief, its curiosity was heavier than its anger, and it kissed back, tentatively at first, but soon enough with such passion that it dropped its dagger to the ground in favor of grabbing Rapheres' wrist and pinning it above his head.
Lightheadedness eventually drew them apart, and gasping for breath, Rapheres looked into its red eyes with a furious determination that he had never before experienced. "Please," he murmured and ran a hand over its chest. "I want you to…" The hand ran lower, ghosted over the fabric covering its obvious erection.
"You want me to do what?" the doppelgänger again urged cruelly, its finger still moving inside the wizard. Rapheres bit back his fear and spread his legs, revealing himself completely to the monster dominating him and inadvertently pushing its finger farther.
With a shuddering breath Rapheres moaned, "Fuck me." Despite the quiet of his tone, the doppelgänger heard him clearly, and done with playing games, withdrew its finger and allowed Rapheres to help itself out of Bartolomeo's uniform, tossing it aside once undressed and positioning itself quickly against Rapheres' unprepared entrance.
Penetration at its basis was purely painful, and as the doppelgänger nudged its way inside, Rapheres could do nothing but bite his lip so that it bled to keep from shouting his torment. Rapheres' only comfort was that the doppelgänger was at least considerate enough to let him attempt to adjust before pushing itself deeper. However, it was little help against the dryness of the doppelgänger's erection rubbing against Rapheres' inner walls which clung and burned.
Finally, with a light thrust, Rapheres felt something tear and couldn't help the short sob that escaped him. Upon hearing the hysteric sound, the doppelgänger quickly reached for his penis, again slackening, and stroked it, its lips sucking gently on his neck. Though it slowly hardened, Rapheres determinedly focused on the pain, refusing to feel pleasure by the monster that had destroyed every feeling of happiness he had ever known.
He would not bend to the accursed lust of a creature so clearly evil in its intent, to have killed all Rapheres knew of love so swiftly.
Groaning, the doppelgänger moved a little faster, and Rapheres' only comfort was that his blood at least made each thrust slicker, and combined with its pre-ejaculate, the makeshift lubricant created a bearable tension. Rapheres rode out the deliberate rhythm and slowly allowed his breath to become shallow, his throat to reverberate with soft moans.
As soon as Rapheres began to relax, and the doppelgänger noticed his reluctant enjoyment, its rhythm picked up, and it leaned back, free hand trailing along Rapheres' chest and stomach and finally moving to his hip, clutching it tightly and tilting its head back, lost in ecstasy. Moaning at the simultaneous sensation of being masturbated and the sudden stimulation of the prostate, Rapheres hand unconsciously moved to his side where the doppelgänger had dropped the dagger and gripped it tightly, knowing the doppelgänger was no longer paying attention.
Crying out Bartolomeo's name, Rapheres lifted his arm, and just as the doppelgänger leaned forward to watch Rapheres, the wizard drove the dagger into its chest. There was the sound of bones cracking, and with the force of Rapheres' thrust the dagger broke entirely through the doppelgänger's torso, the tip of it sticking out of its back. Its eyes were wide and the same colour as the blood that oozed from its chest and soon spilled from its mouth. Rapheres eyes streamed as he felt the warmth of its blood drip onto his own chest. Slowly the eyes of the doppelgänger dulled into death, and wordlessly the wizard pushed the monster off of him, hissing at the friction of its penis withdrawing.
The pressure on the dagger split its skin further, and the flow of blood increased until almost its entire body was painted red. Rapheres tried to stand but ended up stumbling and falling back to the ground. Quietly it turned back to the corpse next to him and gazed at its back, the sharp point of the bloody dagger sticking out of it, and after several moments of serious contemplation, he reached under its stomach and grasped the hilt again, pulling until it came free. Head whirling, Rapheres pressed the tip against his chest, just above the heart. But as he plunged the dagger into himself, he thought that perhaps it wouldn't matter.
After all, his heart was already broken.
"The man had killed the thing he loved,
And so he had to die.
Yet each man kills the thing he loves,
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word.
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!"
The Ballad of Reading Gaol, Oscar Wilde
1 Each section of the Bible (eg, Genesis, Exodus, Mark, Revelation…) is referred to as a "book" of the bible. Within those books are chapters, and within chapters there are verses. To quote a section of the Bible, you write Book Chapter:Verse(s). (If you were to write the chapter and verses Bartolomeo shares with Rapheres, it would read Psalms 119:113-120.)
2 "Messenger of God, heal quickly."
3 Doppelgänger lore claims that doppelgängers and their originals are able to telepathically share thoughts and images.