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Title: God
Author: Eeevee
Disclaimer: Purely fanwork. No money has been made. Property of it's creators.
Author's note:
I would like to quickly say this set contains two drabbles and a ficlet. However, they were written without aid of the internet (while I was trapped on a Disney cruise... I think I'm scarred) or the series itself, so forgive any glaring errors. They were also all written without any knowledge of the manga and before episode 12 of the anime series. There will be some discrepancies. Lastly, they have been proofread by myself but not beta-ed.
Yoite could feel Rokujo peering at him beneath thick, black lashes. His green gaze was so obvious, despite his attempts to hide it. The boy then blinked and turned his eyes towards the dark, spangled sky. The silence settled comfortably over the pair, leaving only the crickets to sing their conquests and glories.
It was hard to believe that the jaded, confused soul sitting next to him could possibly hold the fate of the world inside of him. It was equally hard to believe that the lanky, cold-eyed boy had become Kira, Yoite reflected. He knew what people saw in him… a monster. And that's what he was.
Yet, somehow, Rokujo was different.
Yoite leaned back further, putting weight on his palms and kicking his heels up a little higher. His trademark hat was crumpled fabric under his long, thin fingers and his hair brushed his face. He could feel the wind even though his jacket but it didn't bother him.
"Hey, Yoite, do you ever wonder what it'd be like to be normal?" Rokujo quiered, then added pensively, "I mean, really normal. Go to school, cram for exams, and grow up."
The other boy didn't even blink or pause, "No."
"I used to try." Rokujo admitted, reaching down to pet his cat. The animal rumbled in pleasure as he rubbed its triangular ears in soothing circles. "To be normal, I mean."
Yoite didn't answer.
"But that was stupid."
"Of course it was." Yoite finally answered, frowning. He turned to fix his bottomless stare on the younger boy. "Kira is terror and power; you are knowledge and wisdom."
A ghost of a smile lit up the boy's pale face, "Then we compliment one another."
Yoite growled softly. "I didn't say you were soft. Remember your promise, or your friends will pay."
A dry crackle rose from his chest at his threat, and he turned his head to hack out a dry, painful cough. The action made him double over, clutching his chest and wondering dully when his misery would end, his existence snuffed. Perhaps if he never existed, then he would never really die. A trickle of warm, crimson dribbled down his chin and he wiped it away with heedless fingers.
He had begun as a tiny flame, with a passionate seriousness to do his duty. And just like fire, he was a tool to be used by man. As Kira he raged into an uncontrollable yet barely contained inferno. His cold, calculated rage at him, at humans, and at the world drove his devastating path. Now, now he was a gutted flame. He nestled in the ashes of destroyed bridges and homes alike, breathless and helpless. Suffocating slowly, oh so slowly.
"If I were normal I wouldn't be your friend." Yoite could hear Rokujo's tongue stumble over the word friend, just as his own mind had difficulty with the exact same word.
Hastily he snatched up his hat and rocked to his feet off the porch's edge. He turned slightly and barked, "Have your end of the bargain ready."
Rokujo nodded, not moving, his big, green eyes watching. Yoite turned to head off across the dark courtyard, a sure, quiet voice followed him.
"I am your friend."
He didn't pause.
"And I'll grant your wish because I'm your friend. If that is what you wish, then I want to grant it for you. Even if… if it hurts me."
The taller boy paused in the shadows, partly to catch his precarious balance and partly to consider the words. Impatiently he whirled around and promptly lost his balance again. Before he could catch himself a small, warm body tucked itself against him. Small, bird-like fingers pressed warmly against his cold, wasting wrists, steadying him. He could feel his heartbeat, erratic and feeble, and he could feel Rokujo's, calm and strong.
He tried to tear himself away only to find he couldn't escape. Warmth spread across his chilled, dying flesh. It radiated out from his captured lips and caught fire to what he had thought to only be burnt wasteland.
Hissing, he pushed the smaller boy away roughly, careful not to make eye contact. Staggering, he pressed fingertips desperately to his burning lips and dug his other hand into the fabric around his chest.
"We'll get the book tomorrow." The promise rang out calmly from behind him. He didn't dare risk a glance back. He was too busy struggling with? For? Against? The fleeting, trembling spark that was rising in his chest.
A spark that warmed rather than consumed.
One that he instantly loved yet hated with an equal passion.
And one that had only one master.
"Rokujo." He whispered to himself. His sinful savior, his beautiful betrayer.
His creator and destroyer.
His God.
