THE TASTES OF HER WERE BITTER
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Every Mode Of Sensation
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A/N: Sections in italics are Zechs/Noin. When I write 'BGM' I mean I was listening to these songs and/or the lyrics inspired this story. In this case it was the lyrics and the first three sections are indeed excerpts from said songs.
BMG: Distant Voices, Razorblade Suitcase, Bush
Straight No Chaser, Razorblade Suitcase, Bush
Synapse, Razorblade Suitcase, Bush
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Bring on the night
Let the cold moon burn instead
...habits die real hard...
And the coat she wore
could not conceal the scars
If I destroy myself
I can shine on
Sooner or later lovers lose
In truth the self destructive veins
...have found a way to keep the gifts that
MAIM
Cause I'm gonna find my way...
If I destroy myself I can move on
I'm gonna find my way...
If I destroy myself I can go on
I'm gonna find my way...
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Always be there, face I live with
...
There's nothing like losing you
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Just...full...of...
What we choose to forget
Hell is where the heart is
Where the heart is
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Charcoal jacket thrown against a wall, boots slumped on the floor. He pulls her head back, scalp stinging with the force of his hand in her hair. Teeth scraping her lips, fingers impressing themselves into her skin. She pushes away; his hand rips away her shirt. The ruined white disappears in the darkness. Her naked back ripples in gooseflesh against the glass. Hands grasping, cupping and kneading. Scratches along her hips, thighs, neck. Belt released, slipped off, dropped.
Shuddering moan.
The door opens.
And he walks through, the collapse of his breath back down his throat, down, down, flattening the pulse of his heart.
And the movements are still violent, the display of perspiring flesh, of passion exponentially explored.
He moves himself into a crumpled lean against the door, shivering with the unreleased gasps.
Legs wrapped around a narrow waist, foot arching tensely, hair draped against a marble counter. Her face, her flushed and eager face. Turning. The spasmic motion to the side, the suddenness of completion gripping her expression. Just as she turns, just as she opens the pleasure-closed eyes. The blurred vision, the suddenness...of him.
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"You would never do this to me, would you?"
And the rough cloth slid through his hands, silk and cotton passing his fingers. "You would never use these on me?"
There is a slanted smile. The almost blank gleam in eyes a darkened plum. "Would you like me to? I could use them for someone else..."
Stare. Calm scrutinization. A turn. A hand passing through once again, this time met by the cold of steel, metallic chains, padded leashes, lined restraints...Restraints.
"Would you ever do that to me?" The strain of his neck, the golden skin.
Shaking off a moment of rapt concentration, of keeping calm. "No."
He releases the sustained sigh. Uncertainty reverting to absolute assurance. "You only love me?"
"Yes." She circles his waist with her arms, pressing herself against his thin chest. "And I would not do that to you..."
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...and yet.
They're standing in the same room. The floor split into its black and white diamonds. He stands against a wall, unmoving. She sits wrapped in the charcoal jacket. And that other man...with his violent eyes desaturated to a dull colour, his face is pressed against the glass. The slide of it would be so simple...to just slip a single finger up, to spread both palms upon the surface, to force open...
"Why?"
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He has yet to understand. The colors, the palates in her preference have never leaned to faded. Pale flax, shades of indeterminable cobalt...she was never one for dulled golds and stunted indigo. Abrasive, sudden, inexplicable. Bruises favored her. The bursts of auburn, the weathered textures, plums and lilac, scents of freshness rarely preserved in stiff shaped vessels.
He was not her preference. The tastes of her were bitter and the mere hint of sweetness softened her edges, wore at her senses until she quivered and held no objections. And he could not understand what it was, could not understand how he was unable to achieve it. The sweetness, the dominating form.
He asked, he pleaded...but never knew WHY...
-
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...slide.
Sensitivity caressed every nerve, every chance mode of sensation.
From her, from the one who would never lack an answer...
THERE WAS SILENCE.
"Why?"
...the outside air. The moistened temperature of autumn, of a fall. The striking breeze, the cut of cold splayed across his chest, his bare feet. It had been so simple. There had not been the moment of guilt...or the misinterpretation of love.
...and yet.
"Why?"
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"I love you."
"Do I love you?"
"I know."
"But do I yet lie?"
"I know these truths."
And she turns to him. "Yes, but have I married my falseness to your beliefs?"
"I trust you."
She says no more. Her head rests upon his chest and she can hear the beat, the pound of his life. It has to be true. She has to believe in it as being the one single truth she can give him. His heart, his blood presses beneath her hands.
And there must be a reason...
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He sheds the question, rolls mentally away from the bleeding relationship torn to bitter strands across the room.
She sits, feet tucked beneath the chair. And he stands. And there is the single question.
"WHY?"
He presses shaking hands down against rough brick, a near petting of the barrier. A glance towards the street, the dimmed nightlife wandering past. He will not be much missed. He would be forgotten...most likely...most pleadingly he hopes.
...and yet.
"Zechs..."
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"Noin, I'll be late today. I'll call you when I head back."
"Alright. I'll be waiting."
Hand reaches for the disconnection.
"Wait." His wary smile comes across the screen. "I love you."
She swallows, her own thin stretching of lips and disconnects from his smiling love.
A hand snakes around her neck, vanilla scent envelops her, a heated kiss upon her skin.
"I love you."
And this time the responseless silence is meant for her.
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...a single step over. And down, down...the sound of flesh ripping, of the bones unraveling does not reach high enough...and she doesn't see it...or at least he hopes that she does not...his eyes tear and as the contact shatters his mind...he prays for her not to see the broken body...
He turns with sharpness away. Disbelief, insecurity, betrayal, hate, love, despair...it all rushes up in an instance, choking him with an embittered rope.
"You promised me that you wouldn't do this to me! Why? Why?" And he has shaken her shoulders, her hunched and resigned shoulders.
"I love, Duo." And tears. "Zechs, I love him."
The clatter. The breath of wind enters the room. The sliding doors are open. The night casts chill over the both of them.
Sirens in the distance...
Her eyes fly alert, the glistening orbs dilated with fear.
"Duo?"
She stands.
"Duo!"
In her voice enters the uncertainty.
"DUO!"
Out the opening, a run across the balcony with soft-soled feet following behind her.
Shuddering breaths, pants uneven. Unsteady hands digging into the brick.
Down...down...a glance of lights. Flashing red, a flash of blue...the vibrant colours. The dead-white of police, of emergency.
The freshness of plush vermilion.
The crushed body outlined...photographed...lifted.
Covered by a faded black.
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"He's dead."
"How? He---"
"He's not coming back to you. You have to let go."
Collapsing against her, he sobs. "How...how can I?"
"I'll help you."
"But, I love him."
"And I love you." Her tender face looks at his. "If you love me back, I'll help you forget him."
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Hand upon her shoulder. Then the immediate holding within his arms.
"It's going to be okay, Noin. I promise it's going to be okay."
Her heart's been broken. Tears bathe the ground, the alarms, the sounds, the glare of death-lights permeate through her ears and eyes.
He reaches with one hand to cover the eyes of a ashen, shocked existence. Grief rains over, despite the disaster failing to clearly register through a victimized expression...
Zechs just holds her. Forces her to yield to his softness.
And there is no release from the sounds of her weeping.
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A/N: He in bold means Zechs, while the other 'He' is Duo. Apologies for the oblique quality of this as well as for its obviously confusing meter and arrangement. If anyone's wanting to know the entire, cut and dry story/explanation for/behind this one-shot, feel free to drop me a line if you happen to find me online. Aim/Yahoo: teinteverte, MSN: Or feel free to stop by my livejournal!