Author's Note: Hello there, this happens to be my attempt at indulging my discomfort zone. This is not my first FanFiction, but it is my first in this realm and I have done what I could assume is my best with nervous fingers. I suppose it's a one shot that could be left open ended or close ended depending on who is reading it. So, if it were something that readers want to see more of from a new author, I'd take on the challenge of attempting it.
I rated it M as a precaution in case future chapters were added, and because I wasn't quite sure if the darker nature would count for the Maturity. Well, I suppose that is all, and I hope that I have done at least something correct even if it's just one sentence or word, by putting this out there. I accept constructive criticism, however comments left simply to berate myself or writing with nothing to offer in the corrections department will be deleted. I understand not everyone will enjoy, like or appreciate what I have to write and I highly respect that opinion. However, if that were the case, do just keep it to yourself unless you have something constructive to offer that would better my abilities. I hope that those who come along do find enjoyment and leave a review or simply just come along and read it. Have a great day.
Three candle lights burned low and those dark eyes shimmered with their reflections. This is how it was now, a crystal tumbler warming in the palm of a calloused hand as dwindling flames lit the den. Soft acoustics played delicately across the walls and obsidian eyes stared off into blackness. He could miss things, because at one time, he had things. Just like the candlelight that was fading. He could watch it fade and bring it back to life in a mere set of seconds. But he longed to miss something that wasn't auburn curls or whiskey eyes. So he let them die so he could miss it. The light. The darkness enveloped him as the warmth of the firewhiskey settled down his throat.
When his chest constricted with the last passing drop of the burning liquor, he wondered depressingly if he'd ever let something last. Whether it was a dream in the dead of night or the wonderful taste of alcohol that soaked his tongue and made him long for her taste again. Just one thing to last in his life would sate him until death. He'd watched those around him that he grew up with sate themselves. Whether it was with riches that lasted and would continue to last until their spawns were grown, or if it was with love in a partner that had bore children for them. He could feel low, because he'd felt high. And truly one couldn't feel the latter without once experiencing the former.
It wasn't until the snow began to fall when that sting began to crawl its way through his limbs; making his fingers shake and crooked teeth to clench. Everything in this life comes slow, and seems to fade all too quickly. With one mistake, one misstep or one wrong word, It could all be gone and there was never a way to bring it back. At least not back to where it was before it had been ruined. When he rose to his long lanky legs and stepped into the chill of the dead of night, the aches in his joints screaming at him to go back to the warmth. But he didn't deserve the warmth. After what he'd done throughout his dreadful life. After what he'd done to that sweet skin that was so soft against his roughened.
He didn't see those lips anymore when his tired lids closed at the break of dawn. No, now he saw those long legs strolling along the banks of the Black Lake; her auburn hair blowing in the freezing breeze and he wanted to run to her, wrap her in his robes and pull her lithe frame against his; allowing his warmth seep into her body. Her soul. But everything he touched either died or disappeared. For the better, he assumed. Because how could he be better than anything out there? He couldn't. He was nothing to compare to, unless death was the former or pain. Nowadays it wasn't his heart that hurt when her voice rang through the halls. It was his entire being, as if the staccato that burst from her lips was a full body torture device to him. So he sucked down more of that sweet burn and let her go all over again.
The cruelty of his love was his fate; it was the biggest of his faults. A searing blade to anyone who came with reach of him. He had been told once before that he dives too deep too fast and allow the ocean to drown him in a sweet dance. He didn't listen back then, and he hadn't listened this time either. This was who he was, fierce with loyalty and demanding in passion. He couldn't change, and there wasn't a drive there to make him want to. It was a cruel, cruel thing to be, he knew. But a part of his psyche loved it. Fed off it and starved him in the process. It raked its nails down his back leaving fresh wounds for him to lick; it stretched the hole in his chest with long bony fingers as a reminder of whom he was. A black hole.
When those dragon hide boots shuffled back into the stone confines of his chambers, wrist joints too sore to twist and peel clothing off, the lanky frame that was his shell fell face first into his sheets. Too wide nostrils burned with that sweet smell. It was disgusting, his stomach churning at the scent. His head beginning to spin he flipped to his back and stared once more up at the ceiling watching the shadows dance and taunt him. Passionate shadows that writhed and moaned his name, that swirled around with eyes closed and lips parted with ecstasy. No matter where he turned, stepped, looked, she was there. With those plump pink lips and those whiskey brown orbs that widened at the sight of him.
Those shadows would continue their dance of incessant passion until dawn broke through the one window in his chambers. He'd hear that soft whisper of his name until the bustle of students hit the hallways and seeped through the cracks of his doors. When his eyes finally fell shut, the fireplace would re light itself with the face of a longtime friend reminding him sweetly to rise and prepare for class. It was a constant checking in on since he let her go and the bitterness that quaked through him begged for it to end. Because what was the reminder for? To show him that at least one thing hadn't been ruined? Or to show him that he in fact did ruin everything and to make himself an exception to the rule.
Being another day without sleep, the temper that made him famous through these magical walls, did nothing to try and hide. Scathing words brought first and second years to their knees with salty streaks on innocent cheeks. Stiff knuckles cracked when demanding attention against stiff oak wood, and shoulders creaked with every slam of the heavy door. A gentle but firm warning caressed his ears from the same wrinkled lips that tried to motivate him in the early hours of the day. And when the hand that belonged to that withered old body touched his shoulder with the softest of squeezes, he allowed his eyes to close and relish the feeling.
My boy were the only words he allowed her to speak before he wrenched that shoulder away and gave her his back. He didn't need the pity though what she was offering was far from it. Those dreadful claws that held the hole in his heart open abandoned their post and reached out for those brittle fingers once more. Wanting one more thing to taunt him with, the pathetic ness that it would bring, the loathing that would wrap around him, those fingers wanted nothing more than to wrap him in it for eternity. But he didn't want that anymore, he'd never wanted it.