Forsaken
Author's Note: This. Is. Yullen. Read it. Y-U-L-L-E-N. There will be no lemon (I suck at that) and lots and lots of angst (I don't suck so much at that). This has HOMOSEXUALITY in it. Read that. Go back. Read again. If your reaction is "Ew!! Gay!" Get out. No, really. Get out. I refuse to be subjected to ridiculous reviews that go "OMG U WRITE GAY STORY. GTFO!!" Or any rendition of that. So once again, I'm telling you. This is YAOI. GAY. BOY LOVE. Furthermore, this is YULLEN. If you are against: A. Yaoi stories. B. Yullen pairings. Please just leave.
On a brighter note, please enjoy the following story.
Disclaimer: One day, I'll write a story, publish it, and write fanfics on it so I can finally claim that the story is mine. But for now, no, this does not belong to me.
Warning: May induce... sadness?
He wasn't supposed to be alive.
The bloodied battlefield, where it no longer matter if you were Exorcist or Akuma, where bodies do not differ from one another, where so many lives were lost, the battlefield was the sole witness to his grief, his sorrow. He supposed he should feel pain, Lord knows he had taken more than enough hits to his body, but all he could feel, was a sense of numbness, a sense of loss.
Twenty four hours ago, they were occupied with preparations, last minute fine tuning of weapons, last minute upgrades of their clothes… No one harboured the notion that they would make it out alive. Lenalee had made coffee for all of them, and they had drunk it solemnly. Komui, for once, did not go into hysterics, his entire form subdued, more serious than they have ever seen. Even General Cross did not bother flirting, too busy conversing with his golem he was.
General Tiedoll had drawn portraits of everyone, handing the finished product to the Science Department where their last experiment was carried out, creating a formula that will freeze the artwork in time, so that when they are long gone and past, the World will still know that once upon the darkest hour, they existed.
Hevlaska, using her unique powers, had merged with every piece of Innocence inside her, revealing her role as the Keeper of Innocence, the one responsible to hold the Cube in its original form. The many gaping holes reminded them of the many casualties, and the countless Innocence Cubes that were still floating out there. Reminding them that the Heart was still out there, unharmed, their last bit of hope.
A distant chime of a forgotten clock roused them from their reverie, and one by one, they said their solemn goodbyes. No one bothered to wish another good luck, for it would be worthless.
By hook or by crook they had to win the War, even if it meant giving up their lives.
Faced with imminent death, there were no more 'what ifs'. Bodies had joined in a common dance, a dance of carnal pleasure. Whoever would have thought that their resident raven and dove would actually have feelings for each other, and it was mutual. It made sense, in a twisted way. They say opposite attracts, but they were so different, yet so similar…
Gender no longer matter now. Seeking warmth from each other's arms, for one moment in time, they had everything.
And they were willing to fight for that everything.
One made a promise to keep walking forward, one made a promise to die with no regrets. Both were stubborn, both were strong, both were fragile, both had each other, both believed.
So why only one remained?
Disbelief gave way to sorrow, to crushing agony of having lost the only reason left for him to survive. He expected to be one of the first casualties, and had given everything he had. It had been hours of liquid fire, pushing his already worn body to its limits, and further. He had saw his comrades fall one by one: Lenalee gave into her nightmares, and had taken the Noah of Dreams with her, into her world; Komui, her brother, perished while trying to protect his sister's cooling body. Lavi, gave up his choice to remain neutral, to remain the next Bookman, and fought with the Noah of Pleasure, using himself as a bait to impale the ever elusive Portuguese, he died in the enemy's arms, smiling.
Miranda had proved to be the strongest, much to everyone's surprise, her sheer will of wanting to protect what she had come to acknowledge as her family, had pushed her into Critical, giving her temporary control over Death itself. But the power was too great. She died before her Innocence expired, her body turned to ash, burned out from the exertion she had forced it to endure, giving the already dying Exorcists around her a few more precious minutes, before they too met their fates, but not without bringing their opponents down with them.
Krory, oddly enough, was the first to fall. He had allowed his mortal shell to die, and took on the form of pure blood, crushing the Noah of Bonds as easily as he had in the Ark. But this time, he couldn't return to his body. This time, he was gone for real.
The Generals had taken it upon themselves to face the Earl, who had grown ten times stronger after absorbing his precious Akuma, together with a united goal that one would bring the Creator down. Oddly enough, the one to deal the final blow was General Cross, his final words being "Rest in peace now, Maria" before the red headed womanizer closed his eyes one last time.
The Creator gone, the Akuma had shrieked and went into self destruct mode, taking out what was left of Finders, Scientists, Exorcists and Noah alike. The Noah of Lust was the only Noah who took her own life. The sight of her Master's corpse drove her to suicide, for she vowed not to die by any other's hands. The golden eyed cat found her grave on her master's chest.
When the dust cleared, the land was barren, barren save for one male, one Exorcist, who did not manage to die.
He had no plans to live on, hell, he made sure to get into as many battles as he could, just so he could be with his love, but Fate was not on his side, then again, it never was. Laughing bitterly, hysterically, he considered taking his own life, like the Noah of Lust, willing to die to be with the one she belonged to. But he couldn't. He just couldn't. Even now, as he stared into a broken mirror, far away from the battlefield, far away from the smoke, the gunpowder, the corpses, as he stared at the shell of his former self, he can't die. Not that he didn't want to, he just can't.
How many days had it been now? How many weeks, months, years? He did not need to eat, somehow, his body refused to crumble to dust. He gave up bleeding himself, even when his body was completely drained, he was somehow, still alive. He had returned to the crumpling building of the Black Order, desolate and deserted, all its occupants dead.
All but him.
He no longer lived reality, his days and nights were filled with ghosts of the past. He could still hear Lenalee's laughter, Komui's mad schemes. He could still see Finders milling in the cafeteria. He could still see the eccentric cook, Jerry, laughing that obnoxiously gay laugh and wielding a spatula. He could see it all, and he can't help but smile, before his eyes that sought frantically for that one face, and failed to locate it, and his dreams turned into nightmares.
The stone walls were no longer as dark, as rough. They were replaced by sterile white walls. His ghosts were soon replaced by new faces, humans with clothes that look so… foreign. They walked past him without seeing him; he walked past them without hearing them. Odd looking machinery replaced Komui's Komurins. They were square, with a reflective surface, and definitely did not go berserk, nor did it drink coffee.
Still, he lived, drifting along the hallways without a destination, trapped in a world of his own, trapped in the past, trapped in his nightmares. He watched them lived their lives, he watched them laugh, watched them cry, watched them live in such contentment and utter ignorance it made him sick, and he almost wished for the Earl to return, to cast his dark shadow over this bunch of sheltered fools.
And for a moment, he welcomed the surge of hate that ran through his veins for these people who never knew darkness. The hate drove the shadows of the past away, if only for a moment.
They avoided his room, his old room, they say it was haunted, it suited him just fine. It was his only home after all, he didn't want it invaded. He didn't want to see it painted white as well.
He could hear Lenalee's laughter again, he could hear Lavi's voice, he could hear all of them but the one voice he desired. Outside, the security guard shivered and held a metal cross closer to his heart. Inside, a forsaken past, forgotten even by death, smiled a bitter smile.
"I'm home."
Completed on 16th July 2009 at 5.30 p.m. Malaysian time.
UnBETAed.
Constructive Criticism most welcomed.
Flamers will burn.