I know I haven't been active in this section, and I apologize for that. But this was a birthday gift for sarahwashere on deviantArt, and I decided to upload it here, because, quite honestly, I actually liked it. (that and I was too lazy to edit it immediately, so it could be put directly on dA)
These are supposed to be drabbles, but they were written in chronological order (meaning you can read one after another, and they create a story). The titles of each section are taken from the songs I used to write that particular part.
I don't own.
And just a rule of thumb, the "he" in this *or the main character* is Genis. Just in case that gets confusing. Also (just in case this is confusing) 1- is obviously a flashback, 2-6 is when Genis is roughly 16/17, though there are a few months in between each scene (except for 3 and 4, they happen right after each other) . 7- is an Epilogue (as it says), and Genis is roughly 20/21 years old. if you have anymore questions on the ages/timeframe, please ask and I will try to explain it to the best of my ability
This is also unbeta'd please excuse any spelling/grammar mistakes. I WILL go back and re-read this a few times (and edit what I can find)
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1-Bother
He had desperately hoped it wouldn't turn out this way. It was a promise, after all, between friends. And promises were never meant to be broken. They could be tugged, and pulled, and cracked just to test their boundaries, but breaking them was forbidden.
He would have liked to think this promise could have been kept. He would have liked the reflection in front of him wasn't real. That it wasn't his face that was tearing up. Those tears? They weren't his. They were someone elses. He could still protect the promise. He could still believe in it. He could still believe in him.
In him and that warm, innocent, sad smile he always wore.
That he wouldn't wear again.
Or maybe he would, but then it would be too late.
The chain had been tugged to its limits. It was only a matter of time before it would rust from the tears. The tears he couldn't get rid of. The tears he knew the other wouldn't cry. Because why would he?
He had no need for those. For that.
He had no need to be human, whatever half of him had been, at least, in the beginning.
He knew this. Genis knew this, he wasn't stupid. He also knew the hands—the comforting ones from his sister, from Lloyd, Colette, and the others. He knew they meant well with their hands, with their gentle touches; a squeeze to the shoulder here, a pat on the back to try and snap him out of it.
He wasn't stupid.
He knew it wasn't enough.
2-Body Language
It had been peaceful once. The cheers hadn't been so loud, once. He could only guess what had happened, amongst the twirling dresses, and well timed steps. What had happened when the familiar redhaired idiot had dragged the flustered Summoner to the side, winking at various people along the way.
It was too easy to see what had happened. The dancing had stopped briefly, people had started noticing.
It was no longer that kind of peaceful.
But then he knew it wouldn't be, when the Ex-Chosen finally chose someone. The room had gone quiet, when he had dropped to one knee in front of her, and really, he had to give the redhead points for bravery.
After all, only they had known that he would choose her. Only they had known that he had gone through great lengths to be formal about it. He had even asked her grandfather. It was a small wonder the man agreed, but it was good.
Another step forward.
Starting with the question, "Will you marry me?"
It was no longer peaceful after that.
Not that he expected it to be.
The crowd had erupted into "Congratulations!" and "He chose her?"
But he could tell, even the others—the ones who hadn't liked his choice to begin with—were happy. The buzz of the crowd, the champagne being passed around with fervor, and the music starting up louder than ever.
It was almost too much. Which is why, he knew, his feet had carried him out. They led him through the glass doors, out to the gardens that had recently begun to flourish in the pleasantly warm weather.
Here. Here it was peaceful. Here, he could sit back, on one of the many secluded benches, and think.
The redhead would be happy now. That was good, Sheena would help him grow up, help him get grounded. Scold him too, the thought passed briefly, drawing a chuckle out from somewhere inside. The sound, though, was oddly lonely out in the night air. It was like something should have joined it.
He pushed the thought away, sighing softly, rolling his shoulders. It was good to be sitting, because, even though they had been friends, he had shared a few dances with Presea, and even Marta, though he was sure Emil had been thankful for that.
He let out another chuckle, then sighed.
It still sounded too lonely. Maybe it hadn't been a good idea to be alone. But then, it had been too stifling inside the ballroom. What could he do?
He let out a rough sigh, forcing himself up from the bench, almost in time to hear the shuffling of skirts, and the sound of awkward footsteps. He turned his head in time to see a flash of pale blonde hair stumble forward, and then the strong arm of one of his best friends catching her around the waist.
"Oh! I'm sorry!" He heard the familiar blonde apologize, only to have the brunette chuckle in response.
"You need to stop saying sorry."
"But…" the blonde didn't get much farther, her eyes catching onto him, sitting alone on the bench, "Genis!" she chimed, righting herself easily in her boyfriend's arm.
Or—not boyfriend, but they might as well be dating.
"Is this where you ran off to?" Lloyd asked, stepping forward, hand immediately resting on the small of Colette's back.
Genis only managed a rueful nod. His two friends exchanged worried glances, ones he was sure they didn't mean for him to see, and it made him feel that much guiltier for slipping out.
"Why?" Colette asked, making her way towards him before sitting down next to him in a flourish of baby blue skirts, and ruffles. He could smell the soft vanilla perfume she had decided to wear, but he pushed that thought away.
"Ah, it was…crowded." It was a feeble excuse, one he knew they would catch onto immediately.
"You didn't have any problems with it when you were dancing." He lowered his gaze at the curious sound of Lloyd's voice, "That isn't it, is it?"
Genis bit his lip, and felt Colette shift next to him, resting a soft hand against his shoulder. The vanilla smell overtook him for a moment, it was almost enough to make him scoot away, but he didn't. She would be worried if he did.
"It isn't." Colette cooed softly, "What…what is it, then?" The hand on his shoulder dropped to his hands resting in his lap, squeezing one.
Genis was vaguely aware of Lloyd lowering himself, until he was kneeling in front of him, concern clear on his face. But not just concern—trust as well, and that kind of brightness. The kind of brightness he didn't want to see, not now, "You can tell us anything, you know."
Yes, yes, I know that- he wanted to scream, but he knew he couldn't, and he wouldn't. Not at these two, who only had his best interest in mind. They were his friends, they deserved to know, and, if it had been any other time besides tonight, he would have told them.
But tonight, with the thick perfume choking his lungs, filling his sense, making him dizzy, and the lump blocking his throat, making it hard to breathe; he just couldn't.
So he stood, on shaky limbs, shrugging Colette's hand coldly off his own, shocking Lloyd with the quickness of his motion. He couldn't even utter out an apology as he lost his balance and fell back on his rear.
He just knew he needed for it to be not peaceful. He needed for it to be not loud. He just needed somewhere nice, and inbetween. He worked his way back farther into the maze of the gardens, through the blooming roses, hydrangeas, promptly ignoring the rustling of more than just leaves, and the quiet moans that accompanied them at key points.
He didn't want peace
He didn't want chaos
All he wanted?
His legs slowed to a walk, breath coming in pants as he tried to filter out the thick scent of vanilla, and flowers, and noise—noise—noise.
What did he want?
His legs gave, a moment later, but he ignored the roughness of the cobblestoned walkway beneath his feet.
What is it?
A clock somewhere in the distance began to chime, but Genis ignored it, closing his eyes tightly against the darkening world around him. Darkening naturally, yes, as it always did, every night but—
He still couldn't breathe.
He didn't know what he wanted.
What he wanted, on an occasion like this. An occasion that should be happy, but he wasn't, because something was missing, something that made his heart hurt more than it should. Today was a happy day in all sense of the word. Even after the short turmoil between the recently combined nations—they still came together for peace.
Peace, on this day. The day they were joined.
The day—
The day he died.
3-Cacada's Cry *WARNING GOES UP FOR THIS PART*
Hands gripped the edges of sweat soaked sheets. Gasps, cries, moans, mingled together in joined breaths. Heads bowed to meet each other, and cries cut off by the joining of lips, feather light, and deadly.
He knew this couldn't be real, as his hands tangled further into the sheets, afraid to touch the man above him, lest he be right. This couldn't be real, could it? But he could enjoy it while it was here, within his grasp…couldn't he?
He wouldn't be punished for this, would he? For enjoying the touch of someone he knew was—
He cut the thought off. Knowing that. Saying that. It would make this that much more fake. He didn't need it, because he…he wanted this.
He let out a strangled moan as the one above him worked a hand down along his body, removing his light cotton sleeping shirt with the lightest touch. He bit his lip in the same motion as the hand began tracing his sides, running across his stomach, ribs, in a way that would have been ticklish, had this been any other occasion.
Then the blond bent his head, hair tickling his skin, as open mouth kisses were pressed against his chest, tongue running out to taste skin.
He sucked in sharply when one hand brushed over his collarbone, then rose up, to trace the vein pulsing at the side of his neck.
The blond then raised his head up, eyes covered with bangs that were longer than he had remembered, and that alone was almost enough to second guess this. He watched the lips curl into a seductive smile.
Yet, something seemed wrong with it. It, and the lone finger tracing along the vein, both sent a churning wave of coldness into his lower belly, cooling whatever heat had been created.
The shock of cold, and uncertainty was enough to snap him out of whatever euphoria he had been trapped in. Now he could see, yes, this was a dream. It had to be a dream, a good one—or 'wet' one, as the Idiot Chosen had called them—but the churning, was it hope? Or was it fear?
Why was he afraid? Especially of this person above him, who had been touching him in such wonderful ways? Was that he had wanted, or would have wanted, at least at some point, in the waking world? Touches he knew he couldn't have, because the other was—
He cut the thought off.
It was too late, though, to stop the next wave of coldness, now it was seeping into his limps, making him shiver and quake beneath the other in ways he didn't want to. He tried hard to focus, on the finger tracing along his neck, his grip on the bedsheets, and the other hand, peculiarly lying off to the side, not touching him.
Not touching. Just there. A wave of worry flickered there, inside him. Why isn't he touching me?
He wanted to ask himself that, and write it off in a lust filled haze. But that was all but gone now, a small flame, flickering , barely enough to keep his insides warm. He wanted the flame back—full, encompassing
But it wouldn't come
And, eventually, the hand stopped tracing his pulse.
The lips moved in a question, one he couldn't hear, one that was soundless. Then the blond above him shifted, bangs falling off to the side—
Bandages
Bandages where the eyes should have been. Bandages, with…Blood? He was afraid to ask, the very thought sent another unwanted tremor through him.
The lips moved again, in another silent question. The limp hand twitched along with the movement, and he could have sworn he saw something he didn't want to see. There, in it's grip. Something that made his throat clench up in a painful way.
In a way that couldn't just be because of the hand there. The hand there—the fingers—gripping, one by one, then pushing down, down, down on his throat. Down, pressing into the mattress, until he couldn't go any farther, until the air flow was just scantly placed breaths with longer silences.
And the hand, twitching at his side rose up, in time with the lips, the soundless moving lips. The sheen of a blade, sharp, but old, and rusting at the hilt, was there, grasped between clenching fingers.
He wanted to scream.
But he couldn't.
4-X-Amount of Words
Eyes opened to complete darkness, chest heaving, shallowly, as something still pressed uncomfortably into his face, around his neck, restricting airflow. It took him a moment in his disoriented, half-asleep state, but he realized then, the pillow in his grip was the cause. He had been pressing it into his face.
Immediately he willed his arms to drop the iron grip, and let the pillow collapse next to him. Inhaling a ragged breath, he turned his head to the side, to the vacant bed on the other side of the room.
Then sighed.
Of course he was at school, where else would he be?
Another sigh
He turned his head back to face the ceiling, white, and bland; the same one he had stared at for the past two months. Something he knew was strange, given the fact that the holiday season was just around the corner, and only those who lived too far away, or were too focused on their studies, stayed behind.
The school was practically empty, thanks to that, and he knew he would have easily filed out with his others—namely his roommate, who had left just yesterday—but something had kept him rooted there. Something had kept him from telling the complete truth to Raine when she sent the letter asking if he would make it home in time for the holidays.
He sighed for a third time and forced himself up to glance at the clock placed across the room. It was barely 5AM; he had at least two more hours before he really had to go anywhere. But he knew sleep was out of the question, he didn't want to risk falling back into that…dream.
He shuddered as a brief image of the blind—he was sure he was blind, from the bandages and the blood—copy of Mithos. It made his stomach churn in painful knots, and his throat tighten up as he remembered the hands placed there.
Before he could reach up and touch his neck, however, he dropped his hand and swung his legs over the side of the bed. It would do him no good to think of such thoughts. A shower, breakfast, and then a trip to the library would certainly help.
He shivered when his feet hit the cold floorboards, but he ignored that too as he made his way over to the adjoining bathroom. After all, it was better to have a bathroom he only had to share with one other person, than a bathroom he had to share with the rest of the hall.
It was one of the many reasons he was grateful he was no longer a first year. He grimaced at the images that constantly battered around his mind, of mock fist fights, and soap fights, and all the constant jokes that had been played—and the ones that always escalated.
He grabbed a pair of cleanly folded pants, and a random shirt from his wardrobe, before slipping into the bathroom and locking the door. Another thing he enjoyed about the school during the winter season—the uniform was all but forgotten, and the students were allowed to wear whatever they wanted, as long as it wasn't too obscene.
After all, the number of students always lessened by the time the end of the year rolled around, and he knew, secretly, the teachers never really cared in the first place. It was mostly for protection purposes anyway—the white, almost lab coat-like 'jackets' they wore over plain white t-shirts, and khaki pants.
He turned the faucet on warm, and tested it with his hand, jerking his hand away as the icy cold water hit him. Of course it'll take a while to warm up he reprimanded himself, drying his hand off on a towel hanging on the rack on the opposite wall. The simple motion was reflected on the mirror hanging over the sink, and it almost tempted him to look.
But he didn't.
Instead he focused a small amount of mana into his hand, and allowed it to warm, before dipping his hand easily into the still-chilly water. Almost instantly the water warmed up, or at least, it was warm enough to be comfortable.
With that—and a silent mock-prayer to the deities because he knew he had just broken a rule, and for all he knew, a teacher could have a mana-reading machine located on this very hall that would pick it up and record it—he divested himself of his clothing and stepped into the warm water.
Once the water came up to a sufficient height—if he laid back, he would be fully submerged—he turned the faucet off and leaned back, closing his eyes.
He almost wished he hadn't.
The images were back again, of the Mithos-look alike, and the hands around his neck, and the lack of air.
He let out a sharp gasp and sat up almost immediately. He couldn't relax like this! Though he was secretly glad he was alone. His roommate, though nice, didn't need to know about—
He shivered and quickly grabbed the bar of soap, along with the washcloth hanging off the edge of the tub. He lathered the soap against his body, and quickly wiped it clean with the saturated piece of cloth.
His breath hitched for a moment when he ran it along his neck, but he ignored the reaction. It was just a dream. He wasn't physically hurt. He couldn't be, not from a dream. Though he couldn't help but notice how his hands moved just a little faster in their cleaning, and how he ignored the slight sting when he left his eyes open, and dunked himself into the sudsy water.
Who needs a long bath anyway? He tried to calm himself, standing quickly from the tub after he tugged at the drain, and stepping out onto the cold floor. Another shiver, but he quickly grabbed the towel he had used before. Wrapping it around his waist, he moved to the mirror, which had slightly steamed up due to the water and the that-much-colder air.
He almost wished he hadn't.
Because he could tell himself a dream was just a dream.
But he couldn't when the marks were actually there. The skin was slightly discolored in a shape that looked disturbingly like a hand print.
He swallowed. Then forced his head to turn away, grabbing his clothes, he tugged the articles on, glad that he had grabbed one of his turtlenecks to wear for the day.
After all, how could he explain a handprint that he didn't understand? He couldn't say it was from a dream, they wouldn't believe him. They most definitely wouldn't believe him.
If they did, then that would just make it worse
He tried to ignore how sick the thought made him feel.
5-You Picked Me
He turned his head away immediately when he saw their lips collide in a gentle kiss. But it didn't matter; he could see them in the reflection of the window, and at a much more intimate manner than he wanted to.
He was almost tempted to get up and leave, but then his sister would ask why he stepped out, and even if he had come up with an excuse, he would have to brush right up against them—the carriage they were riding in was small after all—and that would be no end of embarrassing.
He didn't want to embarrass his friends like that, especially since it was Emil (who didn't look like he was enjoying it that much anyway) and Marta. Or, well, Marta, she would never let him live it down. This was their first time in a while without a chaperon (even though technically said chaperon—a.k.a Raine—had just stepped out for a moment to converse with the locals about a flu that seemed to be spreading in the area)
And they thought he had been asleep.
Which, admittedly, he had been, up until a few minutes ago. Up until she had startled Emil by trying to make a more blatant move on him. He really had to wonder how Emil could deal with that, but he pushed the thought away quickly. They were happy, even with Marta's sometimes-forced advances, and Emil's never-ending embarrassment
They were happy
And that's what counted, right?
He didn't want to question why it made him feel so sick on the inside. So sick, and he didn't want to feel it. He didn't need to get sick on this journey, especially not—what was it? Emotionally sick?—Raine would worry, and he didn't need that.
But he couldn't move. He didn't have anything else to focus on.
"Marta," Emil's croaked whispered, snapped his attention them. It wasn't a distraction he wanted to have, but it would have to do, right? "We can't," another pant, "Stop it—okay? Genis is—he's right there—"
"And asleep." Marta cooed softly, probably seductively, if Genis knew anything about that, "Don't worry, he won't wake up."
"But what if…" Emil swallowed loudly, mid sentence, "he does? And—Raine, Professor Raine will be back soon and she'll…she'll kill us if she finds out…"
If Genis didn't know better, he almost sounded hopeful that she would stop.
"He'll learn eventually." Now Marta almost sounded angry, "She can't shelter him forever. He's only, what? A year? Two years? Younger than us."
"T-Two," Emil agreed, stuttering, gasping.
Maybe it hadn't been a good idea to focus on those two. Genis could feel his face begin to burn, and pretended to shift in his sleep, ducking his head down a bit farther so that his bangs hung over his face.
It startled the two enough, "See? He's going to wake up!" Now Emil sounded desperate, but his voice…did it deepen?
"No he isn't! You're just being paranoid." Marta didn't sound so angry anymore, just desperate, "Please Emil? Please? We've been dating for how long now?"
If Genis hadn't been so embarrassed about the situation, he would have thought it ironic. Normally it was always the man who wanted to go that extra step, not the woman. Usually too much coaxing was involved, or maybe alcohol, or something ridiculously romantic, like the candlelight dinners Regal always served to Raine—
Don't think about that! He shoved the thought violently to the side, That's even worse!
Because it was. It was…She was…his sister after all.
He shifted in his seat again, letting out a soft mumble he hoped was incoherent, and sounded like sleep-talk.
"S-See?" Emil tried once more, "He's going to wake up any minute now. And—" the end of his sentence was cut off by, Genis assumed, a forceful kiss.
"Again, you're being paranoid." Marta's breathy voice a moment later proved that assumption correct, "He won't wake up, and Raine won't come back, I promise." Her voiced smoothed out again, and he was sure, again, it was in her attempts to try and be sexy, "I promise, you understand?" He heard Emil's breath catch again, "You trust me, don't you?"
It almost seemed too odd that she said that.
"I—" it almost sounded too odd that Emil…hesitated. Or, no, had to answer that in the first place.
The words, too, sent a jolt of pain straight to his chest.
'Trust me.' So many had said 'Trust me', but…if someone truly trusted someone, didn't that mean they didn't have to say it? That if they did it meant that they knew the others wouldn't?
Another jab of pain, along with the sound of rustling clothes.
"Marta," there was an edge in Emil's voice now, "I said—"
"You don't trust me?"
"It's not that." More rustling clothes, "Marta, just, stop. I don't want to do this. Especially not here." The rustling clothes stopped.
"Not here? You mean, you might, if we're—"
She didn't get to complete her sentence. The carriage door cut her off, and then Raine's voice—
"What in the name of Martel do you think you two are doing?!" More clothes rustling, and then two bodies crashed into one another, rocking the carriage dangerously. He felt one of those bodies bump into his legs and immediately opened his eyes.
It was logical for him to wake up now right?
So he blinked, forcing whatever remained of his blush down, and looked around, making his eyes focus on—
He turned away, and coughed, feeling the blush spread again. Marta was at his feet, skirt hiked up inappropriate from the fall (he hoped).
"My little brother was in here with you." Raine didn't seem to notice he was awake, though, instead she continued ranting, "What would you have done if he had woken up while you two—you two—"
"P-Professor Raine," Emil tried to speak up, "I—we didn't—" he glanced down at Marta, only to blush and glance up. Directly at the youngest one in their group, "He's…awake now."
He didn't sound too proud of the discovery.
And honestly, Genis couldn't blame him. Coughing lightly again—this time Marta heard him, and tugged her skirt down to an appropriate length—he straightened up and mocked a yawn, "What…happened?" He asked, doing a once over of the carriage—of Marta still on the floor, of Emil pushed back at an awkward angle on the seat across from him, and of Raine, standing livid in the doorway—"Do I want to know?" He asked again, before coming to his own conclusion, "I don't, do I?"
Awkward silence followed, but it allowed enough time for Marta to crawl back in her seat—this time leaning against the window and not Emil's shoulder—Emil to straighten up, and slide all the way to where he was almost pressed up against the wall.
And Raine to slip back into her place, next to Genis, shooting both of them a death glare before leaning out the door and signaling to the driver, and then swiftly and promptly slamming the coach door.
Another moment of awkward silence passed.
No one decided to break it.
Not until they stopped at the inn where they would be staying for the night. After the payment for two, two bed rooms for one night, she turned to the small group, smiling in a way that he knew had to be unnerving to both Emil and Marta—
She said, sweetly, "Okay then, Genis and Emil, you will be rooming together for the night. Marta, you'll be with me."
They both shifted nervously under her scrutinizing gaze, blushes easily heating their faces. "And no bedroom swapping. Or sneaking out." She gave an extra pointed glare at Marta, "Understand?" They both mutely nodded their heads, "If I find either of you out of your bed at any point in time, you will be punished." Again a stiff nod from both of them, "Good. We'll be up bright and early tomorrow morning. We're still on time, but we have to make it to Meltokio before the dress rehearsal."
The two mimicked their previous nods, but a pointed glare from Raine stopped them mid-nod.
"Do you understand? Yes or no?"
"Y-Yes ma'am." Emil stuttered
"Of course." Marta agreed.
They didn't even chance a glance at the other as they made their way up the stairs, they didn't even nod to each other as the "goodnight's" were exchanged.
It was only when the door to his and Emil's shared room closed, that Emil's shoulders finally went lax.
"Thank Martel," Genis pretended he hadn't heard the other boy's barely whispered words, instead focusing his attention on unlatching the bag in front of him to pull out his night clothes.
If Emil asked about the carriage ride, and if he had heard anything, he wouldn't say a word. He would say he had been fast asleep the entire time, and Raine's shouting had woken him up.
After all, it would be embarrassing for the other boy, even now, after the fact.
That and—
And
It didn't hurt. Or at least, he tried to tell himself that as he walked towards their shared bathroom.
Because it didn't.
Their happiness—he was glad too, that they were together. He wasn't sad about it. He wasn't jealous that he couldn't be happy either. He wasn't sad that Marta didn't have to suffer like he had—like they all thought she would have had to, in the end.
It was good Emil was alive. It was good, and he was glad, because they were friends too.
And it didn't hurt.
No, of course not.
What hurt?
6-In Pieces
He couldn't understand what had led him there in the first place; all he knew was that the others would be worried again. Because he had done it again—he had left again, in the middle of a celebration when no one was watching, and everyone was. He knew he always had horrible timing with that sort of thing, the only person he could seem to escape from, was his roommate, but even then, he knew that must have been intentional.
Maybe that was another reason he liked school, because he could escape and not be followed by someone.
But he wasn't at school now; he would have to deal with it. He would have to deal with concerned, well meaning childhood friends, and his loving, but strict sister, worrying over what could possibly be the cause of this.
He wasn't going to be stupid and say They didn't tell her because he knew she would hear eventually, if she didn't just try and come find him herself—if she hadn't just noticed herself, and they just agreed to go after him that time.
It was only a matter of time before one of them came looking for him, to ask him why he was out here—especially now, since it was freezing cold—and why he didn't come back inside to be with everyone, to warm up, to mingle.
How could he say it Got too noisy?
That excuse wouldn't work.
For all he knew, everyone already knew about the excuse he had used last time, at the ball when the flaming redhead had proposed. It definitely wouldn't work this time, especially now, since, again, it was the redhead that brought the celebration. The redhead and Sheena, he didn't have anything against either of them.
It would just be coincidence.
And the crowds fault.
And the—happiness
He didn't like it, but he was proud enough to say, it didn't hurt as bad as it had before, because then they had celebrated the joining of the two worlds. They did that every year. And every year it hurt. And every year he had hid it well enough, because he had always been busy.
But now, it was just past Christmas, and only a few more weeks until Valentine's Day. This day was specifically for the redhead and his new wife. The redhead and Sheena.
And their happiness.
He was happy for them, too. He honestly was, he could feel it—his heart grew just a little warmer to see them together. To see that the idiot redhead was going to change for the better, and that Sheena had pushed past all her regret for times passed, and was able to stand on her two feet, with the Mizuho people supporting her as their new leader.
He was happy, but he couldn't stand the happiness. Like perfume, and flowers fresh in bloom. He didn't have either of those now, though, only the biting cold to wake him up and make him realize the cold hard facts.
Happiness was all of those things—perfume, and laughter, and warm nights, and cicada singing in the bushes.
It was corny, cheesy, he didn't want to think about it because it almost made him want to laugh, and that was highly inappropriate in a time like this. Because laughter might lead to crying, and he didn't want others to find him like that.
The last time he had cried in front of Raine, he had been thankful it was for something entirely different, and that they had been happy tears. These wouldn't be happy tears. They would be wet, and warm against his freezing cheeks. They would make his eyes red, and puffy, and irritated, above all else—they would be harder to hide.
Thinking about it won't help he took a deep breath of the stingingly cold night air, feeling the needle like pain as his lungs took in the frigid air, before he exhaled it out, watching it puff like smoke, in front of him.
He let his lips curl into a smile, and breathed in again. He could smell the faint scent of wood being burned from all the noble's houses nearby. If he squinted, he could even see stacks of smoke rising up from the slums.
Of course they'd have fires going he reprimanded himself for the mild surprise he almost felt, They don't want to freeze to death.
His own body shivered in a reaction to those words, I don't want to freeze either. He didn't want to, though, but common sense sang louder than normal, debating with the 'selfish' part of his brain until it won, and made his feet turn, swiftly, around in the snow—
Only to have a snowball come hurling at his face. He didn't even have time to duck before it made contact—he nearly lost his balance, but caught himself at the last minute. Righting himself, and brushing the snow off his face, he looked around, scowling.
Immediately his eyes locked on a vibrant head of red hair, and a smirk that would always be ingrained in his memory.
"Zelos." He stated as blandly as he could, watching as the other man steadily walked towards him, tossing a pre-made snowball in his free hand.
Genis almost wondered how long the man had been standing there, but he didn't get a chance to answer before the loud redhead cut him off.
"Hey, hey, brat, what're you doing out here?" Genis scowled at the use of the old nickname, but he couldn't noticing the tone. Curious and knowing, "Y'know it's like, negative fifty out here, right?" the redhead continued, halting a few steps in front of Genis, letting the snow ball drop to the ground with a plop.
"No it isn't." Genis corrected near immediately, "And I should be asking you that." The redhead just blinked at him, "It's your wedding—everyone's celebrating, what'll they do when they notice the groom isn't there?"
The older man blinked again, before closing his eyes, if Genis didn't know any better—or if he cared just a little more—he would have said the man was tired, or worried. Or some combination of the two, but he stayed silent and waited for the redhead to answer.
And he did, eventually, slowly at first, eyes opening, but to look at the cloudy sky, "They know I stepped out, do ya honestly think Sheena'd let me sneak out without her knowing?" He laughed nervously at his own question, but it was obvious when he continued, that he hadn't wanted an answer, "But yeah, anyway. They know I stepped out." A short pause, "They also saw you leave."
Genis grimaced inwardly, "Really?"
"Yeah." He didn't let him get much more than one word out, "Thankfully Raine didn't notice—or else she woulda stopped you before you could get this far." He ran a hand hastily through his now-messy braid, before dropping it once more to his side.
Their eyes met for half a second, his, searching, silently, for a reason.
Genis was almost glad.
"Again?" He sighed and hoped it sounded aggravated enough, "I know she's worried, but I just wanted to go out for a walk."
"Another walk?" He mentally winced again at those words. So they did tell him. "Yeah I know," Zelos confirmed his unspoken thought, "we all know. Raine said you didn't come home for Christmas, either."
"I had classes." That lie was easy enough to pull, he was used to saying the words by now, because he had to answer all those letters from everyone, "And besides, I was just about to go back."
Zelos raised an eyebrow, "Really?"
Genis nodded, "Of course. It isn't fifty-below-zero, but it is cold. I'm not stupid enough to stay out here until I turn into a human popsicle." He cursed the idiocy of the words the second they left his mouth, but something told him that saying 'freeze' especially with 'death' added onto it, would just worry them more.
He could still see the worry, though, flickering there, for half a second, in the other man's eyes, "That's good to hear," he chuckled for a moment before his voice turned oddly serious, "but they think you would."
Genis couldn't hide the sharp intake of breath at those words, the world around them was practically silent, of course he couldn't, "R-Really?" he couldn't hide the stutter either, though he tried to mask it as surprise, and before he could stop himself, the word slipped out, "Why?"
That made the redhead laugh just a bit more, but it wasn't humor that spurred it. It was biting, and almost as cold as the snow at their feet, "You honestly don't know?" Another rhetorical question that Genis couldn't answer, even if he wanted to, "It might as well be good that you didn't, at least it'd be something positive to tell Raine." He exhaled loudly and looked up at the sky, "I had to stop Lloyd and Colette from going after you again, they were literally half out the door before I grabbed 'em and said they shouldn't. They already tried, haven't they?" Genis felt himself nod, but Zelos didn't look at him, "It obviously didn't work, did it?" A shake this time, "Because they actually asked you if something was wrong, right?"
Genis swallowed, again, it felt all too loud in the silence between them.
Zelos lowered his head to look at him again, "And you didn't say a word. And ran off, and they found you later, telling Raine about some 'weird noises' you heard in the garden."
Genis blushed slightly at that. He still wasn't sure who exactly the couple was, but he almost regretted telling Raine about them, and the chaos that ensued shortly afterward. It had been distraction enough, though. The others hadn't questioned it.
"And then—I bet you didn't know Raine talked with your roommate, did you?" That made the younger of the two widen his eyes in shock, "She did, the guy didn't know who she was, it was on one of those days where you had class 'all day'. But apparently she told me that you never got any sleep, but you pretended to." He paused to let that bit of info sink in, "She also said you slept on the carriage ride, and on the boat ride, all the way here. And yet Emil said he never saw you fall asleep, but that you were up, reading a book each time he got up to use the bathroom when you two shared a room at the inn."
"That's because Raine wanted me to make sure he didn't sneak out." He blurted the words out before he could stop, and realize they really didn't make that much sense, "I slept on the way here, though." It was a second too late before he realized he had repeated the older man. But he could no longer take his words back, instead, he snapped his mouth shut.
Zelos gave him a look at that and sighed, "They said you did." He looked briefly to the side, "And again, you didn't visit for the holiday's." Before Genis could give an excuse for that one, he continued, "But that's because of classes, right? And because you would be meeting everyone again, here, in just a month." Again, Genis was caught off guard. He could only nod, dumbly. His reflexes were once again, too slow, when, a moment later, the redhead leaned down, foreheads bumping.
Blue met baby blue
"Convenient excuse, isn't it?" he whispered lowly, "Almost so convenient no one'd question it."
Genis swallowed in response, willing his legs to move back a step, "But…you did, didn't you?"
"Only for about five minutes." He answered surprisingly truthfully, straightening up again, "After that Sheena dragged me away to pick out silverware." He grimaced openly at that.
Genis wanted to laugh, "Really? Sucks for you."
"Eh, not really." He shrugged his shoulders, "We got an awesome set, which probably sounds really creepy coming from me." He let out a lighthearted chuckle, "Never thought I'd worry over silverware."
"Or get married." Genis added on, feeling his lips crack into a smile.
"—in the snow." Zelos added on, causing the smile to fall quickly off his face.
That was something he had heard about, Sheena had mentioned it a few times in passing when she came to Raine for advice on how to handle the redhead (they never outright said they were dating, before the engagement, but it had always been heavily implied. The only reason for secrecy was because she never wanted that kind of fame. Not yet anyway). They had always assumed Genis to be asleep, during those times, but Genis was sure she had visited Raine many more times when he hadn't been there.
Raine did happen to be good at that sort of thing.
"I suppose the journey really did help us," Zelos replied, this time quietly, to the night air. Genis wasn't even sure he was supposed to hear, until that sharp blue gaze was back on him, "didn't it?" That was aimed at Genis, and he knew it.
"Yeah, it did." He agreed, though it was short, and terse, and he knew the redhead noticed. "I mean, we wouldn't have even met half the people we did if we hadn't, y'know, gone on this journey. Things would be so different." He couldn't help but feel disgusted at how generic he made the journey seem.
Because it had been anything but generic.
How could it be? After all, he had found someone he—
But that person had—
He didn't allow himself to finish either thought.
"I suppose, yeah. I probably wouldn't've married Sheena either." The redhead man wasn't laughing though, he was eyeing him like he expected something else.
Genis didn't want to know what, but he jumped on what the redhead had given him, "That's true. Right now she's probably waiting for you, right? You can't miss out on another 'toast before midnight', since I mean, Raine said you were the one who insisted on that."
He looked mildly surprised, "Your sis told you that?"
Genis nodded his head and attempted to smile, "Yeah, something about 'some things you just can't change'. You still love alcohol."
"That I do." It was an easy answer.
But he still wanted something.
Genis let out another believable shiver, "Then we should be getting back." He lowered his voice a bit, making it quake in a way he hoped was believable, as he forced another shiver, "Jeez, I thought I was cold before, but now I can't feel my face. I'm heading back now."
He felt relieved when the older male let him pass, but at the same time he cursed his luck. Only three or four, maybe even five, steps separated them when the man spoke again. He already knew he wouldn't like what he said, he almost wanted to cover his numb ears with his gloved hands.
But he didn't.
"You really suck at acting, y'know that?" the laughter in the voice wasn't nice at all, he wanted to whirl around, wanted to say 'you can do better?' just to goad the man, even though he already knew the answer. Yes the man could act, better than anyone he knew, and it was horrible, and wrong, and it reminded him too much of—
"You miss him, don't you?" his voice was a great deal softer now, as he spoke those words. It almost hurt worse than if the man had been rough, sarcastic, demeaning. It was like he understood what had happened, as if he…knew.
He couldn't even think of a response to that.
And again, the redhead seemed to know, "You…loved…him, didn't you?"
Genis choked on his breath. He knew…that? He knew--
"No I—" The words died on his lips when he looked back at the redhead. His vision was going blurry but, the man didn't look confident about his discovery.
"No one else noticed, I think." He murmured slowly when Genis somehow got his mouth to close. "But you really did, didn't you?"
How could he answer that…?
Zelos chuckled at whatever expression he was making, "I don't expect you to answer that, just," he paused, as if uncertain, before sighing, "You might hate me for what I'm about to say, and I know it probably won't do you any good hearing it now." He paused again, and Genis blinked, trying to clear his vision, which had just become that much more blurry.
It was like the redhead was asking permission to continue.
And Genis' voice wouldn't work, he could only nod in the barest way, and hope the man understood.
"You almost did it." The words were simple, but confusing at the same time, "You almost saved him. I don't know why it was you—hell if I'll ever know, at least, completely anyway." He shook his head, almost disbelieving, "He did love you. It wasn't enough to save him in the end, unfortunately, but that was his own damn fault."
Genis couldn't see, again, Zelos was turning into a massive flesh and red colored blob, and he could feel his breath hitching, picking up, he almost wanted to sob. But he wouldn't, the lump in his throat was back, refusing to let him make any sort of sound.
He couldn't even tell if Zelos looked panicked or not, or if he had expected him to cry. After that, Genis didn't know what to expect either. He didn't just—Zelos didn't just…say things like that.
He never said things like that.
"I'd say you deserved better, but as much as I hate the guy, I know if he'd gotten his ass back down to earth, then maybe it could've worked out." A loud exhale, then the crunch of snow beneath a set of feet, and suddenly Genis could feel him—he couldn't rely on his eyes anymore—but he knew he was standing right next to him. "The thing I fucking hate the most about it, though, is him and Kratos—the damn bastard—shoving things on people, hurting people, even loved ones. It's wrong, it shouldn't happen, but it does." He felt a hand hover over his shoulder, "and it hurts like hell. Some people choose to forgive and forget—Lloyd did, with Kratos," he hummed in slight disapproval at the memory, "but then others, they're hurt. They stay hurt."
The hand on his shoulder squeezed.
"They don't heal. They don't move on," he continued, voice softening each time, but with an edge to it that Genis couldn't miss, "That's where you are." Suddenly the hand lifted from his shoulder, and he felt a heavy—almost painful—pressure on his head. Quick, and swift, and then gone; he didn't even have time to flinch.
"Get over it." The words were just as simple as before, "Even if it means crying again. You need to. I'm not some psychiatrist, and I can't make you feel any damn better than telling you the straight up facts, but—"
Genis didn't need to hear any more than that. The lump in his throat finally dissolved, and the first muffled sob leaked past his lips, out into the cold night air. He could feel Zelos tense a bit at the suddenness, and he wanted to stop the tears, after all, he had cried over this already, when it first happened, when—
But
It hadn't been enough.
And it hurt to think about it, but at the same time it was relieving. Relieving that he was crying again, and not avoiding, not suppressing, not saying I won't cry because—
He didn't even know how long he stood there, crying, in the cold, at some ridiculous hour of the night, when no one would be outside unless they were 'taking a walk', he only knew that after a while he couldn't tell what he was shaking from, and his feet were numb despite his shoes, and jacket, and warm clothes, and suddenly he was warmer, because of a large scarf, and he was higher too, like someone was carrying him—
And he faintly heard other footsteps, crunching against the snow, along with familiar voices, and concern. He was far too gone, though, to tell who exactly they were, his vision too blurry, his head oddly pounding, and his body so incredibly numb.
It still hurt, too, in his chest, near where his heart was supposed to be. But maybe he would believe in that saying—You have to get hurt, in order to get better. It wasn't scientifically proven yet, and it seemed insane if one thought about it at face value.
But there was nothing scientific about being carried through the snow, late at night, with friends and family, because it was a natural human instinct. A natural human instinct to love, be loved, and be hurt too. It couldn't be measured.
So when he felt himself slipping off at one point—he didn't even know where he was, if he was still being carried, if he had been passed off, or was under warm sheets back at the inn—he let it happen.
Because for once, he was sure, he wouldn't have nightmares.
7-Adam's Song (Epilogue)
He looked up from the book he had been reading just in time to see a small red haired boy—no older than two—stumble past, before tumbling, rather unceremoniously, to the floor. He would have laughed, had it been anyone else's kid, but he knew he wouldn't have the time to.
Even if he did, it would have been drowned out in ten seconds, and it would have made the impending tantrum last that much longer. If there was something he didn't want, it was that. He grimaced inwardly as the boy try to push himself up off the floor, and he outright cringed when he saw the boy open his mouth.
Sure enough, not even a few seconds later, a loud—no, not loud, piercing—wail erupted from the impossibly small body. Genis had to wonder where all that sound came from, but then he remembered all the embarrassing stories Raine had told him about when he was a baby—all of which, he had been forced to sit through when Raine had explained to Sheena the basics of taking care of a newborn—and he knew it wasn't impossible.
He couldn't help but wish the boy was just a little quieter, though. Just enough so that he could finish his book—he was just getting to the good part—then deal with him.
But he knew that wouldn't happen either.
So he sighed and, placing the book down on the coffee table next to the overly-elaborate couch, stood up, walking the short distance to where the boy had fallen. Almost immediately the boys wails fell, and he blinked, cheeks still soaked with tears, as Genis bent down and picked the boy up.
The boy instantly clung to the fabric of his shirt, unintentionally tugging at his hair in the process, which Genis tried hard to ignore and nearly failed, when the boy's gripped turned solely to his hair—he had to wonder why he had agreed to watch the boy again.
Oh right Images of the redhead and his wife—now pregnant with their second child—waving at him from the top of a recently finished cruise ship popped into his head. Sheena had always wanted to go on a world-class cruise ship, but had been afraid with such a small boy running around between her feet.
Also, when they had figured out she was pregnant a second time, they wanted to go before she was too far along.
Like a second honeymoon, Zelos had called it, before pegging him with babysitting.
Raine had agreed as well, saying something about 'learning experience', which Genis didn't really quite get, but he knew at that point it was just better to agree, and not be forced into it. He didn't need to make the next month or so any more of a hell than it already was.
Besides, he could use this time for his own benefit as well. Granted, during the day he almost always had to watch the kid, but he always went to bed around 8PM, leaving the rest of the night for whatever Genis wanted to do. Mainly being—research.
He was almost glad he had taken all those classes—even the ones over winter break, which Raine constantly reprimanded him about, since he had started the habit for a bad reason (he could still remember her shocked face when he had told her his reasoning)—he was nearly ahead of most of the upperclassmen.
At this rate he would graduate early and be able to graduate early and then—
he let out a loud yelp as the boy yanked on his hair, hissing as even extracting the boy's hand seemed to be more of a challenge.
"Mythos," he scolded through tear pricked eyes, "let go. Tugging on people's hair," he hissed when the boy did just that, "is not nice." The boy's wrist was so tiny in his own, fingers so easy to pluck off if he so chose to.
"naa?" the boy questioned in baby-speak (something Genis was still getting used to, but apparently was good at interpreting) grip loosening of it's own accord.
Genis wanted to relax at that, but he knew better. The boy could just as easily grab his hair again, so instead he maneuvered back over to the couch and sat down, holding the boy easily on his lap, "Yes, no. No pulling people's hair." He took one of the longer strands of the boy's fiery red locks, and gave it a tug.
The boy whimpered.
"See, Mythos?" he let the strand go immediately, "it hurts, doesn't it?" the boy nodded his head, "So don't do it to others."
The boy only blinked at him in response, before attempting to crawl off his lap. Genis kept him there, though, knowing full well the boy would just climb off the couch (Sheena was not going to be happy when she heard he had learned how to) and fall over again. He didn't want to get to a good part in his book, and just have to get up after two sentences.
"Daan, dann!" the boy started to struggle again, pointing rather amusingly at the floor, before putting on a pout Genis couldn't help but melt over.
It almost made him worry about the boy's future—he had to hope Sheena was the one to tell the 'birds and the bees' story, and not Zelos, the poor boy would probably be scarred for life because of that, and Genis really didn't like that prospect—but then…then…
He would be there, wouldn't he? To watch him? It wasn't like he was old or anything, or that he'd be aging anytime soon. In fact, he knew full well that he would outlive the boy by impossibly numerous decades. He would see his grandson grow up, as well, and though the thought of seeing another boy—similar in features, and just as young—running around at his feet seemed strange…
He wasn't adverse to it.
Maybe he would get used to watching children run and play. Or at least, children in this family, if he was lucky enough to find work in the area, which he knew would be easy enough with his connections, and study field.
He glanced down at the boy in his lap, who was staring up at him, chocolate brown eyes blinking cutely up at him.
Screw the book, I'll read it later.
He picked the boy up once more and set him on the floor, kneeling down to his height before asking, "What do you want to play?"
Mythos' face lit up at that, and soon Genis found himself being led into one of the backrooms, leaving the book alone, on the coffee table, cover-face up reading:
Butterfly Memorial
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Artist's (for the song titles I used) are as follows:
1-Stone Sour
2-Jessy McCartney Feat. T-Pain
3-Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni (lit. When the Cicadas Cry) by Shimamiya Eiko
4-Blue October
5-A Fine Frenzy
6-Linkin Park
7-Blink182
And since you read up to this point—please for the love of everything, REVIEW. I would really love to hear what people think of this.
*goes off to bed because it's almost 4:30AM in the morning and she has to get up at 8AM*