First shot at the Riviera fandom! Ahahaha. Anyway. I don't own any aspect of Riviera (except a copy of the game, ahahaha, but that's not exactly relevant) so don't sue for crying out loud. XD I know I have "Lawsuit Magnet" taped onto my back, but really. By the way, if it sounds familiar, I was heavily inspired by a Fullmetal Alchemist fanfiction I read on Livejournal quite some time back. Just a heads-up, so nobody thinks I tried to steal the idea--I'd love to have thought of it all on my own, but it's got some of that influence on it.
Anyway. Angst, alcohol usage, implications of Ein not being straight as an arrow after all. (Gasp, what a travesty! snerk ) Don't want to read it? Back button's where it always is. Enjoy!
Denial
He sat awake on the bed in Lina and Fia's living room, nursing the bottle of good wine Cierra had given him for his twenty-first birthday. "Something special to celebrate you coming of age," she'd told him, with a wink and a slightly suggestive quirk to her full lips telling him in her usual subtle manner that if he should so desire she might oversee more than just his initiation into the world of alcohol.
He'd smiled and thanked her, of course, pretending as politely and innocently as he could that he had no idea she was implying any such thing. It worked, if the slightly disappointed look on her face said anything—and Ein felt all the more useless. Riviera was nearly completely rid of all the demons it had ever provided any sanctuary to—with the exception of the Red Sage and the Blue Fool, the demon siblings who had promised to mend their ways and had gone about living like ordinary Sprites did. But of course they hadn't shown up—for all their accepting ways, the Sprites of Elendia would have been unnerved by the presence of two demons (and two strong ones, at that, for both had given Ein and company a fair run for their money) at the festivities the girls had organized in the angel's honor.
The wine glass he drank from was a pretty crystal affair—something Fia had found, cleaned, and given to him, because she thought he would like something nice to go with the newly acquired bottle of wine. He was surprised that all the girls hadn't simply just coordinated their gifts—though he hadn't really been expecting any, since the only one who ever gave him anything on his birthday had been… him.
No. He was set to drink himself stupid on the night of his twenty-first birthday, and he was damn well going to do it too. There was no point in dwelling on his hair, the color of golden wheat ears in the sun, or his beautiful carmine eyes, or his incredible grace in motion and battle alike—NO!
Ein put the wine glass down on the bedside table and rubbed his temples wearily. It was high time he found himself his own place to live in Elendia, if there was room anywhere. Still, though, Fia and Lina living just up the stairs kept the nights from becoming cold and silent, the way they had been before he'd met him. Before they had become friends.
Frowning at the onrush of memories, he downed another glassful. The buzz kept him pleasantly fuzzy—for a while. And then of course the memories came straight back, only the emotions were so much stronger and he felt more than once that he might just cry. He didn't, but it didn't keep him from refilling his glass for the fourth time that night. "Cheers," he called, absently, raising his glass and draining it.
The bottle was half-empty. His face burned, as if he was constantly blushing, and he could hear that voice murmuring about the stupidity of what he was doing. He couldn't bring himself to disagree—after all, that voice was always right. Almost always, anyway. "I can't believe you didn't see it," he sighed, half relieved and half sadly. "But then again I wouldn't have made a very good lover, would I? So maybe it's a good thing that you didn't see it." And maybe you wouldn't have liked me that way anyway, so the point is utterly moot.
He hiccupped and drew a breath, it hitching with something that sounded like a sob. "I love you, dammit. And I can't believe you never saw it after all that time I spent with you, but… but it's okay. You lost your emotions when you became a Grim Angel, after all, and mine were my own to control and not any of your problem." His voice was still surprisingly clear, he thought hazily, and as if out of reflex he took another sip of wine. His head didn't clear at all, of course.
"I wish you were here with me. I wish I could talk to you again, like you did when we were still just children growing up in Asgard under the eyes of the Magi. Before Hector, before Malice, before this terrible mess." He drank the remainder of his fourth glass and put it down, his hands shaking. "I wish I could see you again."
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The clock on the wall chimed midnight, tones muted for the sleepers on the second floor. The wingless angel didn't notice at all, face flushed red with the effects of alcohol and his vision hazy. Every time he would turn to look at the clock Ledah blocked his vision. Once, twice, three times—wait, Ledah?
"L-ledah? What… what are you doing here?"
Carmine eyes studied him for a moment, and then the angel spoke. "You're a mess, Ein. What are you doing?"
"I'm allowed to do this. I'm old enough now. Leave me be." The wingless angel had given up on the cup and simply drank from the bottle now, dribbling a little of it down his chin in his haste to further inebriate himself. His slurred words produced a frown on the other Grim Angel's fair features.
"… Happy birthday, Ein. Still, though, even if it is your twenty-first birthday, you shouldn't be ending it like this…"
"Why are you here, Ledah? I thought I wouldn't see you again…"
Ledah's disapproving expression didn't change. "Didn't you want to see me? You've become a splendid young man, Ein. Don't do anything you'll regret."
"You sound so old." The words were playful, but their heavily slurred delivery only produced a rather sad smile on the other angel's face. "What do you mean by 'something I'll regret'?"
"That hangover will be a killer, for one."
"That's it? I'll just drink the rest of the bottle, then."
"Ein… don't do this to yourself. What good will getting so drunk you couldn't swing Einherjar if you tried do you?"
Ein tipped the bottom of the wine bottle up and let the last dram of wine flow down his throat. "Why do you care about that?"
"… Because I worry about you, Ein."
"Since when?"
Ledah's expression was unreadable, but something in his eyes told the wingless angel that he wasn't kidding. "Since I fell in love with you, even though technically my emotional capacity was gone. Since I understood that this wasn't just ordinary camaraderie that I felt around you. Since the day I came to realize that you were someone important to me. Must I say more?"
"I thought you still couldn't feel, from becoming a Grim Angel." Blithely, Ein let his tongue probe around the inside of the lip of the wine bottle, trying to find a few last drops of the alcohol.
"… Why did you choose to stay up late on your birthday getting drunk? What was the point of this?" the crimson-garbed angel demanded suddenly, ignoring the question.
Putting the bottle down unsteadily, the wingless angel laughed. The sound was bitter. "I don't know. I guess there's no actual point in it. I just miss you. I love you, damn it all to Hel!"
"… Is that so bad?" Ledah asked softly.
Ein had never been so drunk before that he'd cried. Indeed, he had no notion even of the concept of a weepy drunk—on the days that Cierra drank a little too much, she didn't cry, she simply laughed too much at everything even if it wasn't funny. Yet now the tears came, great salty drops that trailed down his cheeks and spattered the sheets of the bed he was supposed to be sleeping in. "I love you," he managed between sobs. "Ledah, I love you, and I never told you, and it's too late isn't it?" He hiccupped, and somehow managed to fix his gaze onto Ledah's beautiful carmine eyes. "It's too late, isn't it Ledah?"
The other angel shook his head and smiled. "It's not, Ein. You should go to sleep. You'll feel better when you wake up."
"But it is too late!" the wingless angel insisted. "It's far too late, and I was stupid and never even told you. And now there's no point in telling you, not when I'll wake up in the morning and remember that you've been dead for almost four years."