Author's Notes: This is the quickest I've -ever- written a story! I got home from school and just started writing something random. I was hyper, and I wanted to write an angstyish fic.. go figure... Also, in my story, I spell it Inouva. I've seen his name spelled many different ways, and on the back of my English version of MKR, it says Inouva, so that's how I'm spelling it for the sake of this story.
Disclaimers: Magic Knight: Rayearth belongs to CLAMP, not to me.. Too bad too... But the point here is that you shouldn't sue me, because I have no money to give you. I'm not CLAMP, I'm not rich off of awesome anime/manga stories. I'm actually broke because of them.
Warnings: Yaoi. Yes, that means that in my story, I have paired Zagato and Inouva together. Get over it. There's also a suicide attempt. Yes, my fic is dark and evil and morbid. You don't like? Don't read.
Obsession
The blade was icy, the sharp edge resting lightly upon the pale skin. Slender fingers wrapped around the hilt of the dagger, concealing the intricately carved handle and the slight jewels molded into the weapon. The skin indented slightly where the edge lay, not yet breaking the skin. To the enigmatic and abused mind of the seemingly soulless person, the beauty of the dagger, the intense love for the twisted shard of metal was building above the lust for life.
His life. A thing granted to him years ago, that which he loved so fully, and yet now he wished to take away the gift that he had been given, to return his soul to some exile where his temptations would not crunch upon him.
The fingers wrapped around the weapon tightened, the man's knuckles turning white. Pressure was applied, pushing the blade towards the vulnerable jugular vein, buried someplace beneath the skin upon his slender neck. At some point, the pressure became too great, and the skin snapped like worn leather. Luckily, the blade had not been positioned correctly in the first place, the metal that probed past the skin unable to reach the lifeline, unable to spill a deep crimson river.
The man's jaw dropped, the blade being tossed aside as though it were a snake. A shaky hand grasped his neck, clenching the wound, the slight blood that trickled towards his chest. Sharp golden eyes wandered along the floor, the sharp jade and ivory tile. There lay the dagger, the deep maroon hue of the hilt contrasting greatly with the white decor of the room. The golden optics swelled at the sight, the crisp droplets of crimson splattered upon the edge of the knife. He had attempted suicide.
It was not that he despised life, in fact, he loved the ideal of living, the opportunities that arose, the responsibilities he undertook. He was a machine, nothing more, nothing less. He was supposed to have no feelings, no emotions, he was to work and do as he was told. For many, many long years he did just that, forgetting the very essence that made one human. Emotion.
He was not human, though. He was a beast, a Seijyu. A man with a monstrous soul. He was not supposed to want, to desire, to feel.
But he could feel, and the throbbing pain beneath his clenched fingers explained that to him. He knew that pain was not the only thing he felt. He knew it every time he found those dark eyes of that which he desired, the thin waves of ebony that cascaded down a pale face. He knew he wanted the forbidden fruit, and it would kill him for the simple fact that he could not have the one thing he desired most.
Inouva's head snapped up suddenly, a sharp intake of air catching at his throat as the door opened. He was still kneeling upon the tile, in the center of the room. He'd been there for quite some time, hours perhaps. He'd lost track. Golden eyes shifted cautiously towards the door, the man preparing his best mask for the various things he might see.
"I assume you have an explanation for this," the dark voice hissed out. The ebony cloak settled to the ground, brushing mere inches from the dagger, resting innocently upon the slick surface.
Inouva glanced towards the man, his Lord, his Commander, his Leader. His one obsession. The hand about his neck remained there, crimson stains peeking out from between his fingers. Zagato remained emotionless, his slight glare shifting from the weapon towards the man kneeled upon the ground.
Inouva couldn't handle it any longer. He wanted the knife back. He wanted to stab the twisted piece of metal so far into his heart that death would swoop down upon swift wings and carry his abused soul away. His golden eyes drew away from the gargoyle placed before him, away from the dagger, towards the highlighted surface beneath him. The various glares caught upon the ivory surface attracted his attention, causing his mind to easily forget Zagato's words.
The silent man deepened his glare, taking a step towards the other. In an unusual display of emotion, Zagato kneeled down next to Inouva, one pale hand drawing out of the shroud of fabric to lift the younger man's chin. Inouva gasped slightly, his hand still wrapped about the wound. He looked up towards the man before him, attempting to find his voice.
"Sol Zagato...?" The questioning was apparent in his rough tones.
Zagato ignored his name, swatting away Inouva's bloodstained fingers so that he might view the wound himself. Blood was still slipping away, yet it was obvious that the cut had not been deep. Zagato was curious how the boy acquired the mark.
"Explain." It was not a question, not a request, but a demand. Inouva could hear the annoyance laced within the baritone vocals. It shook him to the bone.
"Attempted suicide. Sol Zagato, I can assure it will not happen again." The young man's chin lifted slightly, showing his emphasis. He was once more the right-hand man to the most powerful man in Cephiro. This meant nothing to the one who held that powerful, unfortunately.
"Why?" The annoyance had left, replaced with an unmistakable emotion, one that caught Inouva off guard. Caring, perhaps even stretched far enough to be called genuine worry. White hair spilled about the slender features as Inouva stumbled back slightly.
"I.. " He had no explanation, not one that would pass his lips. To explain that he desired a forbidden romance with his Lord and Master, a man who already had a woman in his life, it was far too foolish. Instead he was forced to lie. "I.. " Damn. He couldn't do that either. His eyes were shut as he ignored the throbbing in his neck, the wrenching in his chest. It was all so painful, as though his senses had been enhanced.
He was beyond unprepared when the chilly feel of skin brushed his cheek. He was even more unprepared when his eyes snapped open, and he saw the unmasked, unbridled emotions playing upon Zagato's features. He could see the worry, the fears, the insecurities that the man hid on a normal basis. Inouva also saw something more, yet he was unable to define it fully.
"Inouva..." Zagato spoke the man's name in such a careful manner, as though the word itself could shatter at any moment. It was then that Inouva saw it. It was the look Zagato gave Emeraude, the lust and desire that laced in those dark optics when his heart was seeking sanctuary. It was love, as far as Inouva could tell.
Another gasp threatened to grasp the younger boy, yet it was caught in his throat, placing pressure on the wound. "Sol Zagato..." He could not hide the fear that rested within him, nor could he explain it. He had longed for that look for years, he had dreamt of seeing those feelings carved in the face of the man he loved, and now that he had obtained it, he wanted to run.
In one all too swift movement, Zagato had banished the gap between both men, once more leaving the smaller being speechless. Golden eyes were closed as a warm embrace wreathed about him, much like the hug of death, yet so much better. Zagato lightly held the boy, surprising even himself with the odd emotions he felt.
After a few seconds that seemed to drag on for decades, Zagato shifted back slightly, only enough to see the wound. Inouva shivered lightly. He could feel the warm wisps of breath from the gothic man beside him tickling his cheek. He didn't know what to do any longer. The wrenching in his chest had gone extreme, yet he was enjoying himself. It was a complete contradiction to everything he had assumed to be true about blossoming romance.
His thoughts were banished as an odd warmth hit his wound. Zagato's tongue grazed lightly over the cut, picking up the dried and drying blood easily. Inouva almost gasped at the sight, at the very idea, yet even with the stinging sensation he earned, it was so amazingly different that he allowed Zagato to clean his wound in such a wild manner.
All too soon, Zagato had moved away, stood up even, the folds of fabric falling neatly about him as they always had. Inouva looked up, frowning as he saw the mask, the emotionless hues painting the man's face once more.
"Sol Zagato..?" Inouva's mind was cryptic with the questions he desired to ask, yet he feared their results so strongly that he remained silenced.
Zagato glanced once more towards the dagger, the crimson stains upon it now dried. "This will not happen again."
Inouva nodded, seemingly to shrink into the tile, a mouse bowing down to the lion. Zagato nodded back, taking the answer well enough. In one fluid movement, the man had spun about, and was easily heading out the door once more, boots clacking upon the tile.
Seijyu Inouva sighed heavily as he remained upon the tile. Were things any different? He could not be sure. He wasn't even sure it had all happened. The slender fingers grasped about the dagger lightly, golden eyes staring at the twisted blade of metal in sick interest.
Disclaimers: Magic Knight: Rayearth belongs to CLAMP, not to me.. Too bad too... But the point here is that you shouldn't sue me, because I have no money to give you. I'm not CLAMP, I'm not rich off of awesome anime/manga stories. I'm actually broke because of them.
Warnings: Yaoi. Yes, that means that in my story, I have paired Zagato and Inouva together. Get over it. There's also a suicide attempt. Yes, my fic is dark and evil and morbid. You don't like? Don't read.
Obsession
The blade was icy, the sharp edge resting lightly upon the pale skin. Slender fingers wrapped around the hilt of the dagger, concealing the intricately carved handle and the slight jewels molded into the weapon. The skin indented slightly where the edge lay, not yet breaking the skin. To the enigmatic and abused mind of the seemingly soulless person, the beauty of the dagger, the intense love for the twisted shard of metal was building above the lust for life.
His life. A thing granted to him years ago, that which he loved so fully, and yet now he wished to take away the gift that he had been given, to return his soul to some exile where his temptations would not crunch upon him.
The fingers wrapped around the weapon tightened, the man's knuckles turning white. Pressure was applied, pushing the blade towards the vulnerable jugular vein, buried someplace beneath the skin upon his slender neck. At some point, the pressure became too great, and the skin snapped like worn leather. Luckily, the blade had not been positioned correctly in the first place, the metal that probed past the skin unable to reach the lifeline, unable to spill a deep crimson river.
The man's jaw dropped, the blade being tossed aside as though it were a snake. A shaky hand grasped his neck, clenching the wound, the slight blood that trickled towards his chest. Sharp golden eyes wandered along the floor, the sharp jade and ivory tile. There lay the dagger, the deep maroon hue of the hilt contrasting greatly with the white decor of the room. The golden optics swelled at the sight, the crisp droplets of crimson splattered upon the edge of the knife. He had attempted suicide.
It was not that he despised life, in fact, he loved the ideal of living, the opportunities that arose, the responsibilities he undertook. He was a machine, nothing more, nothing less. He was supposed to have no feelings, no emotions, he was to work and do as he was told. For many, many long years he did just that, forgetting the very essence that made one human. Emotion.
He was not human, though. He was a beast, a Seijyu. A man with a monstrous soul. He was not supposed to want, to desire, to feel.
But he could feel, and the throbbing pain beneath his clenched fingers explained that to him. He knew that pain was not the only thing he felt. He knew it every time he found those dark eyes of that which he desired, the thin waves of ebony that cascaded down a pale face. He knew he wanted the forbidden fruit, and it would kill him for the simple fact that he could not have the one thing he desired most.
Inouva's head snapped up suddenly, a sharp intake of air catching at his throat as the door opened. He was still kneeling upon the tile, in the center of the room. He'd been there for quite some time, hours perhaps. He'd lost track. Golden eyes shifted cautiously towards the door, the man preparing his best mask for the various things he might see.
"I assume you have an explanation for this," the dark voice hissed out. The ebony cloak settled to the ground, brushing mere inches from the dagger, resting innocently upon the slick surface.
Inouva glanced towards the man, his Lord, his Commander, his Leader. His one obsession. The hand about his neck remained there, crimson stains peeking out from between his fingers. Zagato remained emotionless, his slight glare shifting from the weapon towards the man kneeled upon the ground.
Inouva couldn't handle it any longer. He wanted the knife back. He wanted to stab the twisted piece of metal so far into his heart that death would swoop down upon swift wings and carry his abused soul away. His golden eyes drew away from the gargoyle placed before him, away from the dagger, towards the highlighted surface beneath him. The various glares caught upon the ivory surface attracted his attention, causing his mind to easily forget Zagato's words.
The silent man deepened his glare, taking a step towards the other. In an unusual display of emotion, Zagato kneeled down next to Inouva, one pale hand drawing out of the shroud of fabric to lift the younger man's chin. Inouva gasped slightly, his hand still wrapped about the wound. He looked up towards the man before him, attempting to find his voice.
"Sol Zagato...?" The questioning was apparent in his rough tones.
Zagato ignored his name, swatting away Inouva's bloodstained fingers so that he might view the wound himself. Blood was still slipping away, yet it was obvious that the cut had not been deep. Zagato was curious how the boy acquired the mark.
"Explain." It was not a question, not a request, but a demand. Inouva could hear the annoyance laced within the baritone vocals. It shook him to the bone.
"Attempted suicide. Sol Zagato, I can assure it will not happen again." The young man's chin lifted slightly, showing his emphasis. He was once more the right-hand man to the most powerful man in Cephiro. This meant nothing to the one who held that powerful, unfortunately.
"Why?" The annoyance had left, replaced with an unmistakable emotion, one that caught Inouva off guard. Caring, perhaps even stretched far enough to be called genuine worry. White hair spilled about the slender features as Inouva stumbled back slightly.
"I.. " He had no explanation, not one that would pass his lips. To explain that he desired a forbidden romance with his Lord and Master, a man who already had a woman in his life, it was far too foolish. Instead he was forced to lie. "I.. " Damn. He couldn't do that either. His eyes were shut as he ignored the throbbing in his neck, the wrenching in his chest. It was all so painful, as though his senses had been enhanced.
He was beyond unprepared when the chilly feel of skin brushed his cheek. He was even more unprepared when his eyes snapped open, and he saw the unmasked, unbridled emotions playing upon Zagato's features. He could see the worry, the fears, the insecurities that the man hid on a normal basis. Inouva also saw something more, yet he was unable to define it fully.
"Inouva..." Zagato spoke the man's name in such a careful manner, as though the word itself could shatter at any moment. It was then that Inouva saw it. It was the look Zagato gave Emeraude, the lust and desire that laced in those dark optics when his heart was seeking sanctuary. It was love, as far as Inouva could tell.
Another gasp threatened to grasp the younger boy, yet it was caught in his throat, placing pressure on the wound. "Sol Zagato..." He could not hide the fear that rested within him, nor could he explain it. He had longed for that look for years, he had dreamt of seeing those feelings carved in the face of the man he loved, and now that he had obtained it, he wanted to run.
In one all too swift movement, Zagato had banished the gap between both men, once more leaving the smaller being speechless. Golden eyes were closed as a warm embrace wreathed about him, much like the hug of death, yet so much better. Zagato lightly held the boy, surprising even himself with the odd emotions he felt.
After a few seconds that seemed to drag on for decades, Zagato shifted back slightly, only enough to see the wound. Inouva shivered lightly. He could feel the warm wisps of breath from the gothic man beside him tickling his cheek. He didn't know what to do any longer. The wrenching in his chest had gone extreme, yet he was enjoying himself. It was a complete contradiction to everything he had assumed to be true about blossoming romance.
His thoughts were banished as an odd warmth hit his wound. Zagato's tongue grazed lightly over the cut, picking up the dried and drying blood easily. Inouva almost gasped at the sight, at the very idea, yet even with the stinging sensation he earned, it was so amazingly different that he allowed Zagato to clean his wound in such a wild manner.
All too soon, Zagato had moved away, stood up even, the folds of fabric falling neatly about him as they always had. Inouva looked up, frowning as he saw the mask, the emotionless hues painting the man's face once more.
"Sol Zagato..?" Inouva's mind was cryptic with the questions he desired to ask, yet he feared their results so strongly that he remained silenced.
Zagato glanced once more towards the dagger, the crimson stains upon it now dried. "This will not happen again."
Inouva nodded, seemingly to shrink into the tile, a mouse bowing down to the lion. Zagato nodded back, taking the answer well enough. In one fluid movement, the man had spun about, and was easily heading out the door once more, boots clacking upon the tile.
Seijyu Inouva sighed heavily as he remained upon the tile. Were things any different? He could not be sure. He wasn't even sure it had all happened. The slender fingers grasped about the dagger lightly, golden eyes staring at the twisted blade of metal in sick interest.