DISCLAIMER: I do not own Tales of Symphonia, its characters, its plot, etc.

NOTE: Features the pairing of Zelos x Lloyd.

Loving

"This town is colder now,

I think it's sick of us.."

- Snow Patrol, Stop and Stare

The man's crooked mouth formed the term with a spiteful twist, adding a particular sneer to the already dirtied word. Unfortunately, the enunciation hit Zelos's ears perfectly and the Chosen- ironically enough- saw red. Blinded with rage, he did something he had never done in all the years he had been in court; he lost control of his emotions. The man was down on the ground holding a bleeding nose before Zelos realized it, with only a throbbing fist left to further prove his deed. For a moment, the two stared each other down. Zelos was somewhat bewildered at the occurrence- and he wasn't the only one if the staring crowd was anything to go by- but he was so infuriated that he could not bring himself to regret it. All at once there were a million things he wanted to say and the desire to never again see the man at his feet. Disgusted, just overall disgusted with everything, he spun on his heel and strode out of the palace. He had better places to be.

"Tell me, Chosen-"

So much blood had flooded to his head that his ears nearly throbbed and he couldn't quite see clearly. Never before had he been so close to screaming, wanting to stomp his feet and lash out at anyone who came too near. Anger, however, was a fleeting emotion and soon his body was drained down until sorrow left a bitter taste in his mouth and stomach.

'You're losing your touch,' the nasty voice of his mind, the same one that pointed out his faults with the tone of his mother. 'You would never have dropped your mask before.'

"Shut up," he grit between clenched teeth, clutching at his head. "Just shut up."

He walked only so far as to find a hidden corner, an alleyway he had long since memorized the location of. Once there he finally let himself lean against the cold, stone wall. His head had not quite cooled but regret was starting to gnaw at him. He shouldn't have punched the man. He knew that. It simply wasn't done in court. There would have been better ways to handle it or at the very least, he should have ignored it all. He was no stranger, after all, to nasty comments, taunts, or insults. Once he would have convinced himself that they hadn't hurt at all, that nothing such people could say would do anything but slide off him, but Lloyd had long since shown him that such things did hurt, that such was ok because humans can hurt each other but also heal each other too.

Lloyd...

There was a heated triumph in the man's eyes as he spoke, "Tell me, Chosen, do you-"

He didn't want to think about it anymore, didn't want to complete that sentence. It made him sick to know that such had actually been said as though the words had been poison once they touched his ears. His knees gave way and his back scraped against the wall as he slid down to the floor. It shouldn't have mattered, he kept telling himself. It just shouldn't have mattered. But right there, right then, it had been enough to get under Zelos's skin, enough to make him want to hurt the man beyond all recognition. But it shouldn't have mattered.

"Tell me, Chosen," those meaty lips over-pronounced each syllable, "do you enjoy fucking that boy?"

Hatred hardened his heart and he slammed his fist against the wall, wanting to remember that crunch of cartilage that had followed. Damn it! It still enraged him just to think of it. Because... Zelos pressed the palms of his hands against his closed eyes, pressed so hard it hurt.

He loved Lloyd. Knew that more deeply, more profoundly than anything else he had in life and many times it had proven to be the one truth he had clung to in lonely days and nights. The brunette was everything that was good about Zelos. It was when he had admitted- to himself and to Lloyd- how he felt that he also learned what it was to hold something as precious, to cherish it. He had not fully comprehended how vulnerable a position that was. What they had was special and someone trying to taint that in any way made his whole being cry out against it.

"- fucking that boy?"

That was it. His hands twitched. That word. Such a horrible word. It held so many connotations beyond its definition.

What he and Lloyd had was pure and true and done with utter love.

It was not fucking.

Just closing his eyes, he could picture it. Picture the two of them together...

He let the memory of a heartbeat other than his own singing in his ear, a strong hand seeking out to grasp his, a warm mouth meeting his, drown him away into a simpler nature.