Standard disclaimers apply.

Desire's Curse

Pandemonium reigned in the indoor stadium. The audience, which consisted of mainly teenage girls, wept and screamed hysterically as the silver-haired figure on stage gave voice to another one of his soul-wrenching songs. His songs were, more often than not, about undying or unattainable love; and they possessed the uncanny ability to tug at the heartstrings of any listener. He had the adoration of a million fans. No one among the crowd that night would have denied him anything he wanted.

But what he wanted, none of them could give. What he wished more than anything else in the world- which was for one particular person to be moved by his songs- he did not attain. Externally, he appeared to have it all- good looks, wealth, fame and the unreserved love of countless nubile ladies. He should have been happy, content or, at the very least, mildly pleased with all his achievements. But he wasn't. All that he had, he had never desired. And all that he desired now, was always going to be beyond his reach; no matter how much of his being was poured into his relentless attempts to achieve it. This anguish of being denied the only thing he had ever wanted was tearing him apart inside, driving him to the brink of madness. A madness that he was finding increasingly difficult to hold in check. The singer idly wondered whether any of his fans had ever felt the same way about him.

It was strange that he had even thought that, for he had never cared about the feelings of other people before. No one had ever mattered to him enough for him to care. No one, that is, until Izumi Takuto appeared in his life, captivating him with eyes that blazed from a wild, indomitable spirit within. It was madness, he knew, that gave rise to the feelings he held for the young soccer player with skin of bronze. A madness that he had welcomed; because, for the first time in his seventeen years of life, he had felt alive. For the first time in his life, his passions came into full boil, consuming his entire being to the extent that nothing else mattered. The feeling was intoxicating, like an addictive drug that only increased your craving the more you sampled it.

This feeling… Is it love? The thought scattered as the thunderous applause from the crowd shook the stadium. He stood under the heat of the spotlights, with sweat trickling down his expressionless face. Once again, he had delivered a flawless performance to a bunch of people who meant nothing to him. It was a good thing that he was adept in concealing his total indifference; otherwise, his fans would have deserted him a long time ago. But they were never attracted to him because of his character, were they? He had topped the other artistes in his field in the scandal category; and his photos, which usually depicted him in the company of one voluptuous actress or another, were often plastered on the front page of tabloids. No, his character was definitely not a drawing point; but fortunately for his career, his looks and songs were adequate redeeming features in the eyes of his fans.

No one ever knew the true person behind the impeccable, emotionless mask; for he had never chosen to reveal it to anyone. And he hadn't dared to reveal the real, intense side of himself to Izumi yet; for fear that neither of them could endure the consequences of it unscathed. He was acutely aware of the dichotomy within himself. One side of him held a naive, idealistic view of love- where affection and devotion came first and the happiness of the loved one was all that mattered. The other side of him, however, did not believe in that kind of 'true', self-sacrificing love. The love which this other side felt was more like an overwhelming hunger, dark and violent, that could only be appeased by fully possessing his heart's desire. Even if his heart's desire was destroyed in the process…

He had to exert more self-control now that Izumi, like an unwary animal oblivious to the trap it had stepped into, had begun staying in his apartment. He was in seventh heaven when Izumi initially made the decision to live with him (and the annoying Shibuya). At that time, he was confident of keeping a tight rein on his dangerous emotions; and had foolishly thought that he would be content with that chaste, physical proximity alone. Now, his desire had developed to the stage where it was pure torture to live with the person who had enslaved his heart unknowingly, and not being able to express his true feelings. 

Am I cursed with these feelings for the rest of my life? Is there no end to my suffering? Nanjo Kouji nearly wept with frustrated longing as the lights dimmed to envelope him in darkness.

* * * * *

"Ah, Mr. Nanjo! Congratulations on a truly remarkable performance tonight," praised Takasaka, a timid bespectacled man in his twenties, just as Kouji strode into the backstage. The teen idol did not even deign to acknowledge his manager's presence and continued to walk towards to his private dressing room. Takasaka sighed despondently and followed behind Kouji, the main cause of his recurrent stress ulcers and at least five of his nervous breakdowns. His young client, who had the tendency to get into every possible scrape imaginable, was never one to heed sound advice or do what he was told. The truth was that he was frightened of Kouji sometimes; and that fear was induced more by the singer's forceful personality than by his superior body size and physical strength.

When Takasaka entered the dressing room, he was surprised to see a tense and stupefied Kouji staring at a note on his table. He recognized the note to be the one Shibuya had written, informing Kouji that he had gone off on a date and most likely would not be back in the apartment until early next morning. There was nothing in the note that could possibly explain Kouji's reaction. Takasaka ventured a glance at Kouji's face and immediately wished that he hadn't. He resisted the urge to flee from the room, though perhaps that was partly due to the fact that his legs had taken up the consistency of jelly. He gulped nervously and squeaked, "Are you alright, Mr. Nanjo?" 

That seemed to have broken the spell, for Kouji quickly schooled his features and turned away. "If you have anything to say, say it now. Otherwise, leave me alone."

Takasaka was only too eager to dispense his duties and leave the room as fast as he could. "Don't forget your recording session at eight o'clock tomorrow morning. And I've also arranged a chauffeured car to take you back to your apartment. It's now waiting for you at…"

"There's no need. I'm using my motorbike," interrupted Kouji.

"But…"

"I need to go to the pub for a drink."

In the end, Takasaka could only concede to Kouji's wishes as usual. It wasn't until he reached home and was about to turn in for the night that he realized just how deadly a combination of Kouji, alcohol and a motorcycle could be. By then, it was too late to do anything about it anyway; so he merely guzzled down half a bottle of antacid and hoped fervently that Kouji had enough good sense to survive the night.

* * * * *

Fresh, red blood was oozing from the lacerations on his left arm and his battered motorcycle was lying sideways on the road. There were skid marks on the road where he had deliberately turned sharply to bring about his own accident. However, the conditioned reflexes he had developed after years of martial arts training prevented him from acquiring injuries that were serious enough to incapacitate him. His arms, though wounded, could still move, and his legs could still carry him back to the apartment. Since he saw the note Shibuya had placed on his table, his mind was filled with only one thought: Izumi is now alone. Alone in his apartment; unsuspecting and vulnerable.

The gods must be playing a cruel joke on him, to tempt him like this. For the past few weeks, he had mentally and physically exhausted himself with work so that he and Izumi would not be alone together. Although he had found Shibuya's presence as a third-party irritating most of the time, he was nonetheless grateful that the blond boy was around to dampen down his lust for Izumi. With that last safeguard gone, all that was left to stop him from committing the unforgivable act that he had incessantly dreamt about was himself; hence the attempt to injure himself in the spill just now.

Somebody please stop me. Kill me even, I don't care. Just do anything to prevent me from hurting Izumi! He could no longer control the demon inside him. It was a losing battle since the beginning.

A soft, seductive voice broke into Kouji's consciousness. "My, my. Such melodrama on a quiet night like this."

Kouji whirled to locate the person who had spoken so audaciously to him. A pale, tuxedo-clad figure was leaning comfortably against a lamppost. There was an ambiguity to the stranger's chiseled features that made it difficult to determine his or her true sex.

"Who the hell are you?" snapped Kouji, his eyes smoldering with hostility despite the inexplicable magnetism exuded by the stranger.

Immaculate fingers moved daintily to insert a lit cigarette between full, sensuous lips. "You can think of me as the answer to your prayers. You may have appealed to the gods, but I am the only one who can help you."

Upon hearing this, Kouji turned on his heel to walk away. He had no time to deal with the ramblings of a delirious drunkard. After he took the first step, however, his urge to leave abruptly vanished and he froze on the spot. Bewildered, he found himself turning to face the mysterious stranger again.

"Sorry about that." The stranger did not sound apologetic in the least. "I find it much easier this way. I usually do things a bit more subtly than this, but right now I just don't have the patience to persuade you to listen to me."

Kouji tried to walk away again but discovered that he did not want to do so anymore. "What did you do to me?" His voice sounded as harsh as nails on slate.

"I merely removed your inclination to ignore me completely." The pale stranger gently blew out a cloud of wispy cigarette smoke and smiled. "Now you understand the means by which I can help you. You should count yourself lucky that I'm even bothering myself with the likes of you. It's not often that I'm willing to do something nice for someone else."

Baffled, Kouji could only blink and seriously doubt the reality of the situation he was in. I must be dreaming all this. This is all a dream, and the weirdo before me is a figment of my imagination. Either that, or I've died without knowing it and this is the hell that awaits me. 

The stranger tsk-ed in exasperation. "I see that I'm still not getting through to you. How about this… let's talk about Izumi Takuto."

The change in Kouji's facial expression, from a disbelieving to an intimidating one, was almost instantaneous upon the mention of Izumi's name. If looks could kill, the stranger would have been reduced to a bloody stain on the pavement already.

"He would never requite your love, you know. He's incapable of it; be it to give or receive love. The hooks of despair have sunk into his heart so deep, contact with love of any form is agony to him." When Kouji failed to respond, the stranger continued speaking. "But then, it was his pain that originally attracted you to him, wasn't it? So why not hurt him more, to bring forth more of that fierce, mesmerizing beauty? Isn't that what you're trying to achieve?"

"That's not it!!" shouted Kouji furiously, his composure shattered. How did this stranger know so much about Izumi? "I love him! I'd do anything to make him happy!"

"Oh yes, you still have that hopelessly romantic streak inside you. However, your love for him will only make him suffer. If unconditional love can make him happy, he would be happy already; for that is the kind of love his foster parents had offered to him. But he had coldly spurned that love, preferring instead to live alone and apart from them. Fearing abandonment by them, he would choose to abandon them first. Do you not think he would do the same to you? That boy is damaged goods, I tell you. You can spare yourself a lot of anguish by…"

"Call Izumi 'damaged goods' again, and I'll kill you," threatened Kouji icily, his hands clenching and unclenching as he struggled with the stranger's preternatural control over him.

"Stop that, it's distracting. You know you won't be able to hurt me unless I make you want to hurt me; so you might as well halt those futile attempts of yours to slug me."

Kouji took a deep breath and let his hands fall limply to his sides. It was disconcerting to be manipulated at will in such a manner. Especially by a callous being that resembled a foe more than a friend.

"Let us now discuss the options available to solve your problem. It's why I'm here after all. Firstly, I can put an end to all your obsessive feelings towards the boy. You won't ever lose control of your emotions again over him. There will be no more insane fits of jealousy when other people touch or even just look at him. No more deep sorrow over the fact that he still closed his heart to you. No more burning need to hold and to kiss him…"

"Don't you dare mess with my emotions that way!" exploded Kouji. "I would rather die than lose what I feel towards Izumi!" Damn it, I'm so confused! I know that these feelings that I have for him is a curse- a curse that would destroy both of us. Then why am I still clinging onto them so desperately? I don't want to hurt Izumi, but I don't want to stop loving him either. Why can't I love him without causing him pain?

"Why can't you love him without hurting him?" The stranger, who obviously had the ability to read his thoughts, scoffed at his torment. "Oh, come now. I know love can sometimes make people blind and stupid; but you can't possibly be blind to the most glaringly obvious reason for that, can you? The one you love is a male, and he's not gay…"

"Do you think I don't know that?!" Kouji flushed with anger and his pent-up frustrations burst out into the open. "But even so, I can't stop loving him! Even if the rest of the world condemns this act as wrong and sinful, I can't stop loving him. Even if he hates me for it, I can't stop loving him." Kouji choked on the lump in his throat and fell silent.

The stranger studied him with cool pity. "Another option is for me to transfer these feelings of yours to another person. To a girl who would not only accept your love, but would also devote herself entirely to you. As you know, Izumi Takuto is devoted to his soccer and his younger siblings. You would never take first place in his heart, no matter how hard you try."

Kouji shook his head vigorously. "I don't want it to be anyone else. It has to be him. Why can't you just make him…?"

"I told you before. Despair has him. He doesn't belong to me."

"Then you're useless to me then!" Irrational rage gripped Kouji again. "And you claim that you can help me!"

"In my own way, I can." The stranger's dark pupils glinted with cruelty. "You would return to your apartment tonight and try to take him by force. He would fight you, and then run away from you. He would try to reject you by using an innocent girl who loves him. You would then harm her, and any person who tries to take him away from you, so that he would not dare to get close to anyone else again. He would remain by your side, and tolerate your touch; out of sympathy if nothing else. But his sympathy can't last forever, so you would try to chain him to you with guilt and need. You would severely injure yourself several times in your pursuit of him, so that he would feel so guilty that he wouldn't be able to leave you. You would make him need you and become dependent on you, so that he wouldn't be able to live apart from you."

Kouji stood as still and unresponsive as a statue, his eyes clouded over as the words exerted their effects on his subconscious. He came to a minute later and looked puzzledly around him. He could not remember why he was standing in the middle of the road, facing a lamppost that had cigarette butts littered around its base. The streets were deserted and there was no one else around. Only one thought whispered repeatedly in his mind. Izumi. Yes, tonight he would not allow the boy to ignore him any further. And may the consequences be damned.

* * * * *

Two figures standing on the rooftop of a nearby building watched the wounded young man below trudge purposefully towards his destination. Desire, the androgynous sibling of the Endless and the embodiment of sensuality, stood next to its twin sister- a pudgy, sallow-skinned woman with a gargoyle's face.

"Ah, these creatures never cease to amuse me," it observed with a chortle. "They choose to live in the hell they have created themselves."

Despair spoke up, her gravelly voice sounding like the final gasps of a dying man. "I never did have your penchant for human misery and suffering."

"You disapprove of my actions?"

"No. You perform your duty, just as I do. The difference is that you take too much pleasure in your work."

"I do, don't I?" Desire ran its fingers through its short, wavy black hair like a comb. "But you can't say that I have done poorly in this case. Although their relationship will always be rocky and full of tragedy, they will also gain from it some measure of happiness which they won't ever get to experience otherwise. The rest of the world might not understand the attraction between those two; but you and I do. Don't we, my dear sister?"

"For where there's desire, despair is never far away," sighed Despair sadly as she took out a silver hook and dragged it through her own flesh. She had no tears to shed, but she could bleed. And tonight, she would bleed for the two desperately lonely souls who were about to embark on a journey that would drastically change both their lives.

~ End of fic ~

Author's note: I hope I have succeeded in capturing the 'feel' of the Zetsuai manga, and I apologize to all the Sandman fans out there for my feeble (and somewhat inaccurate) depiction of Desire. Minami Ozaki's 'Zetsuai' is a comic that portrays very vivid and intense emotions; so for those of you who prefer subtle storytelling, this might not be your cup of tea. Comments and suggestions are welcomed.