It hurts.
The cruel stares, the horrible whispers. Individuals whom had been considered good friends have turned on us, horrified and disgusted. To them all, we are filth, scum. It's simply unacceptable in every possible way, what we have. True love or not; we are mentally ill- being gay is simply abnormal.
They never let their evil words fail. Months after it was first discovered, they persist in letting us know that we are now unwanted. The children are warned away from us. We are excluded from activities, and are always punished in brawls. The worst, the very worst, is having the only people in the mansion who still hold respect for us kept away. They are always distracted, pulled somewhere else, so that we are alone.
We can only trust the four terribly kind souls. Without them, life would be incredibly unbearable, and even though they are kept distant, we still talk and go places and train like nothing has ever changed- it's wonderful.
But it doesn't stop the pain.
I know from the bottom of my heart that I love him, I truly do; no matter our ranks, our gender, our age- I care for him in a way no other could. I had always known I was "abnormal", from when I was fifteen and fighting to when I was sixteen and invited to participate in the universe-renowned tournament. He did too, thankfully. I can't imagine how hard it would've been if he was one of the people to scorn me.
Ah, but as cold and calculating as he appeared, he was... indescribable. Kind-hearted, loyal, caring, protective- I could go on forever, trying to define this man. To me, he is simply perfect, inside and out. I remember our first encounter; our love definitely was not at first sight.
I was walking into the large building that held the tournament. Blurs of people around me, rushes of sound, the distinct smell of burning- though that might of just been me. Unfortunately for me, I was still short, despite being a year and a half older than in my previous adventures. To think, almost being seventeen and still being five foot four!
Being short was not my disadvantage that day, however- it was my curiosity, anticipation and energy. I was not paying attention to where I was going and soon collided with a tall man. He stared down at me with slight annoyance, a large sword on his back glinting.
Another unfortunate fact was that, at the time, I only spoke Japanese. As I roughly apologized, I watched his blank expression dissipate into slight amusement. Back then, I was frustrated much too easily, and, of course, his laughter at my expense irritated me. Thankfully I was not an idiot; I collected myself and left to my room.
Soon after that, I started learning english from the blue-haired swordsman himself. I learnt a lot, and not just about language; I soon knew his name, his country, rank, age, everything. Yet I still disliked him a tiny bit, even if only for laughing at me on the first day.
As the year of the first tournament passed, however, we became fast friends. It turned out that ninety percent of the competition was friendly, and soon I was in my own little family. When the tournament ended, we all went home, but soon came back for another year of fighting.
It was great, being close to someone like him- his past is interesting and his personality is simply amazing. I somewhat shamefully found myself closer, and closer... until one day, I found the courage to tell him I was gay. Of course, being him, he had to beat me to the punch.
From there, it all progressed. We kept it secret as long as we could; only four individuals knew and thankfully accepted. Then we were found out, the hate for us blossomed, and here we are now.
At the moment, we're in the lounge, sitting in front of the large marble fireplace. Normally, under such circumstances, friends would be making a joke about my hair and it's resemblance to the flame. But no jokes about such things are made.
We're simply pressed together, him on the corner of the couch, me half on his lap. He's holding a book, slowly reading it, and I'm pretending to scan over it as well. Truthfully, I'm just enjoying cuddling up to him, with his arm around my waist.
But, as always, some of them are here to criticize. They sit on a couch across the room, stealing disgusted glances our way. Nowhere in the building holds sanctuary, except for the dorms. It gets boring, sitting in there all the time; so today, we have braved ourselves to face their whispers.
"He was a lord, to become king. Such filth!"
Marth scowls.
"And with the lowly mercenary- not to mention the age difference!"
Link's gaze holds no kindness.
"To think I respected them. They're unnatural."
Even Ganondorf sits with his former enemy; they're brought together by hate.
I try not to flinch every time they say something mean. I can't help it. I wonder how they can hate for no good reason, how they can just give up past friendships just because of one little irrelevant thing. It makes me sad to know I once cared for those people, and they once cared for me. Where does all of this anger and disdain come from?
Ike senses my discomfort and shifts a little, placing a gentle kiss upon my cheek. If only everything could be solved with a kiss.
Ganondorf snorts in disgust and promptly leaves the room, footsteps resonating heavily in the hallway. The whispers continue. I press myself closer to Ike, savoring his warmth and trying with all my might to ignore their words.
"It's sad, when someone with a future so bright suddenly turns gay."
Marth looks at us sharply before standing gracefully and making his way towards us, Link not far behind. I feel Ike tense up. He closes his book and slowly puts it down.
"You can't just turn gay."
I keep my voice even, suppressing my temper.
"I suppose you'll be telling us you were born that way."
I stand, not wanting to listen to their harsh words. My lover is soon behind me as we try to access the door to the hallway; the path is blocked by the duo.
"Please move."
Ike's voice is a cold growl as he laces a strong arm around my waist. All Marth and Link do is sneer in undisguised disdain. A small glimmer at the base of the Hylian's pointed ear captures my attention.
"You have your piercing on the wrong ear."
The blonde looks at me questioningly.
"You have it on the right side. That means you're gay."
A sudden weight violently contacts my right temple, sending me crashing to the ground. Pain explodes, making me disoriented; Marth kicks me in the stomach, once, twice, then another time in the face. I feel like I'm above everyone, watching the world spin impossibly fast. Noise in the background is muted, and with every beat of my heart comes a dull thump in my head.
I briefly hear Ike yell something out of anger. I notice a shimmering blue arrow has fixated itself on the ground near where I am. I stare at it, but the more I concentrate, the blurrier it gets; I cannot fathom where that arrow would have come from.
I look up and see Ike's face. He seems to be talking to me, but the world is still muted. He lifts me up gently, and all I can do is stare at his beautiful face with dumbfounded curiosity. Pain pulsates in every fiber of my being with each step my lover takes down the impossibly long hallway. I briefly wonder where he is taking me.
Suddenly, I find myself in a chair. I try to turn my head, but it feels oh, so heavy. I bend down, bury my face in my knees, and whimper. Ike rubs my back gently, not really soothing the pain. Through the haze, I overhear my lover's gruff voice challenge someone. They're yelling loudly, intensifying the pounding of my head tenfold.
Once again I'm in his arms and being led down the hallway. I want to talk, to ask him where we're going, but I know better than to try. My brain feels much too big for it's bone cage; I pant in an attempt to catch my breath. I am using up all my concentration on not emptying my stomach contents in Ike's arms.
Then I am put down on another soft surface- a bed, I think- and let myself fall unconscious.
The world slowly spins into focus. The first thing I notice is that my head hasn't stopped pounding- that and my stomach is still churning. I moan and roll over, only to fall off of Ike's messy bed and onto the floor.
"Roy! You okay?"
He leans over the bed, his face about a foot from mine. His blue hair is rumpled, and he's shirtless, which means he'd probably fallen asleep. I must have been out for a long time.
As a response to his inquiry I lift myself up onto my elbows and kiss him tenderly on the lips. When I pull away he helps me back on the bed, his blue eyes worried.
"How long have I been out?"
Ike puts an arm around me and pulls me closer.
"I'd say about six hours."
I sigh and bury my face in the crook of his neck.
"Beautiful. Where did you take me after they hit me?"
"To Doctor Mario. Your temple was bleeding where Link punched you, and I thought you might have a concussion."
Silence followed for a minute.
"Well, do I?"
"He wouldn't see you."
"Why not?"
"He said: 'I'm sorry, I don't treat queers.'"
I press myself as close to my lover as I possibly can, savoring the comfort that emanates off of him. It's truly hell, living here- I'd had a feeling we'd have to leave sometime soon. I can almost feel the anger pulsing underneath Ike's skin; it is clear our unfair treatment had gone too far.
After a long draw of silence, I voice my concerns.
"Where would we go?"
My mercenary sighs.
"I'd say home- but we'd be frowned upon in my country as well as yours."
More silence.
"What about Peach's land?"
Ike struggles with the idea for a minute.
"The Mushroom Kingdom?"
"Yes. Peach is our friend- she'd accept us. The residents of her land are also very nice and accepting. Remember when Toadsworth and Toadette came to visit?"
"But Mario and Luigi live there, too."
"Well, they're not that mean to us, and I'm sure we can stay clear of them."
The silence returns, and all that is heard is our steady breathing.
"I just wish I could go back home."
I pull away from Ike a bit, and look him in the eye. He's homesick- but who wouldn't be, after spending a year away from friends, family and the land you grew up in? Truthfully, I deeply wish I could go back home too, as well as visit Ike's country. But I can't fathom what would happen if we were to go back. Exile, rejection, maybe even death?
"At least we have each other."
He brings his face closer and presses his forehead against mine.
"We'll always have each other."
A/N: A short oneshot about harsh reality. Everyday, some people face these problems, whether better or worse.
R&R!