Disclaimer- I don't own Cowboy Bebop.
Vicious/Gren.
Enjoy :)
"I never said that I would love you."
Vicious was naked on the cot, smoking one of Gren's cigarettes. Gren's fingers twitched, the mere sight of nicotine tempting him.
He had never asked Vicious to.
Gren raked a hair through his tangled hair, hoping to tame it.
"Who's Julia?"
Gren was only asking out of tired curiosity, a morbid need to know whose stand-in he was. It made Vicious angry, his asking, and he knew it. It was why he asked.
Vicious kissed him them, one of the only times Vicious ever did. It was to make him shut up and stop thinking, and Gren was in so deep that it worked.
Gren dimly wondered how slowly he would've died if that scorpion had bit him, because it surely couldn't be any more painful than this.
Gren knew he was pathetic when a war was the happiest thing that had ever happened to him. When he thought of Titan he didn't think of bullets or enemies or blood, he thought of being roughly handled and dark nights and the longing for the saxophone.
He had often wondered why his parents had named him Grencia, because with a name like his he could never being anything but gay. Or so Vicious said once while his hands were holding Gren down, a cruel smile on his face.
When Gren closed his eyes he saw a dark sky and felt the sand blowing into his eyes, stinging him and leaving him with a unpleasant taste.
The prison bed was hard beneath him and the blanket was too thin, leaving him cold and shivering and naked. This was the third night he hadn't slept, the third night in a row that he had lain in this poor excuse for a bed and wondered if there was a way he could end it, because this was true hell, not that war, that war was nothing compared to this.
People started noticing his fatigue, if only because he no longer pretended when he was pinned against a wall or pressed against the cold metal of a bathroom stall. They offered him pills, sleeping pills they said, and he took them because he just wanted to sleep and forget the walls of sand built up around him.
Gren loved the water. Water was nothing more than a resource on Titan, and finding it was worth nothing more than a quick drink. He had heard that Titan used to be nothing but water, an endless sea of ice. He wondered how long it had taken to dry up.
When he was in the shower he could feel the cold pinpricks of water on his skin, relentless no matter what he looked like, no matter how soft his body was getting or how wide his hips were. In the shower he could forget how despicable everyone thought he was, a spy, and traitor, and half-woman at that.
He longed for the sax, to play freely, to breath in tendrils of smoke as he played to his heart's content in a sleazy little bar. Even he had to deserve a bit of happiness like that.
And he got that happiness, playing in the Rester House. It was dark and seedy and everything he'd ever wanted. When Julia walked in, the first woman he'd seen since fleeing to Callisto, he just smiled and played his sax. She was beautiful, but he didn't want her. He didn't want anyone.
It was only after she broke open the music box did he care again. His life was thrown back into turmoil, and he was surrounded by dark nights and windstorms and black crows.
And it sucked ass.
"I am both, but I am neither."
Even with the cruel smirk on his face, it was painful to say those words, because hearing himself say them made them so utterly true. It was hard to see the shock on Faye's pretty face, hard to see her glance down, unnerved.
He faked his way past it, wishing she would just scorn him instead of continuing to talk to him, making him oh-so-aware of the breasts pressed against the bathrobe.
He wished he had more sake, because life was hard.
Going back to Titan was the best decision Grencia had ever made.
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