Serpent

Summary: What they have is demented, black as the darkest heart, burnt like the scorched ashes of fire. What they shared is twisted, knotted vines of desire snaking out to twist and curl together. But no matter how tainted it was, no matter how much they denied it, no matter how many times they tried to run away – it still remained.

O Death, rock me asleep,
Bring me to quiet rest,
Let pass my weary guiltless ghost
Out of my careful breast.

-George Boleyn.

(In his dreams, he holds a red rose.

He grips it tightly; he closes his fist and crushes the flower viciously.

His nails rip through ripe petals, tearing them off piece by piece.

But thorns dig into his palm, sinking into his flesh. And scarlet, scarlet blood begins running, rich and bubbling…)

He did not give a damn. He did not care in the slightest.

The whole scene was quite enjoyable, and he rather regretted that he wasn't the one finishing off that smug bastard.

With an impassive face, a sneer twisting on the corner of his lips, the silver haired man known as Gin watched Shuichi Akai vanish from the world.

(The rose.

Where was it? He wasn't holding it anymore.

Where had it gone?)

In silence, the man reached for his holster, lifting out his silver gun. Holding the weapon in his hands always gave him a sense of power.

Almost fondly, he ran rough fingers over the gun's body, his eyes shut closed. He knew every curve and edge crafted on the gun, and every scratch etched into the sides. As his cold green eyes slowly opened, a memory of the past began whispering in his ear, urgent and insistent.

The dark haired man's gaze fell upon Gin's gun, his eyes hardening. "You killed her with that."

Gin smirked. "So what if I did? It was my job, after all. And I'm sure you are perfectly fine without that sniveling bitch." He extended the gun five inches away from the FBI agent's chest, moving closer and closer.

"I'm sure," Gin continued in a self-satisfied drawl, "that you wouldn't mind being killed with the same weapon." His steps halted to a full stop, and he came close enough to Shuichi Akai so that their faces could almost touch. The gun's barrel was pressed firmly into Akai's chest, exactly where his heart was.

The black haired man made no move to defend himself, much to Gin's frustration. Cold, bitter hatred burned in Akai's piercing blue eyes. "Kill me if you want."

Gin sighed dramatically, his tense position suddenly relaxing. "Must you be so compliant? It's no fun this way." His breath gusted onto Akai's face, unexpectedly warm. The other man fought back a shiver. Looking at his surroundings, Gin's face wrinkled in disgust as he observed the rotting alley around him. "I can't believe you had the balls to track me all this way. It became quite annoying after a while, so now I have to do some spring cleaning."

Akai only smiled, the daredevil grin spreading across his face. "Not used to doing the dirty work? Hmm, it's good to know that you're out of practice, then."

There was a click as Gin cocked the trigger, a growl rising at the back of his throat. "Shut the hell up. I'm not soft like you – I'm not weak," he spat viciously.

The FBI agent didn't bat an eyelid – in fact, he looked actually amused. He was one of the few who were capable of pissing Gin off in a matter of seconds. Gin never seemed to react to anyone or anything – but when Akai was there to challenge him, the man's anger was woefully transparent. Some of the insults, however, much to his disgust, actually hit home. The grief of losing Akemi rushed into the dark haired man's mind, and he murmured, almost to himself, "Is there anything wrong with being in love?"

Hearing Akai's question, Gin snorted with distaste. "How naive. I've always thought 'Rye' was a somewhat-intelligent person, not a brainless fool." He thrust the gun's muzzle more firmly against the other man's chest, chuckling as Akai scowled at him.

"It's been one year since you killed her, you know," Akai threw at him. "I'm sure you're celebrating."

"Indeed I am," Gin rolled his eyes, "if I actually remembered, that is. But I never gave a single thought to shit like that. I've shot down more people that your stupid brain can keep track of."

"Yours can't either," Akai retorted. Gin offered no response, and continued to glare at the other man.

Silent rain began ushering in the night, sleek drops shhh-ing out of the grey clouds. Raindrops drizzled in a misty blur, almost invisible. As if caught in a spell, the two men were still, transfixed by the abrupt weather change.

Akai was the first to speak. "Well, beloved enemy of mine?" he leaned forward, his breath ghosting over Gin's face, "aren't you going to kill me?"

(Ah, there was the rose. All wrinkled shriveled and crumpled, petals wrinkled and destroyed.

There was the crimson blossom, crushed underneath his own feet.)

Akai's hands shrugged themselves out of pants pockets, a seemingly casual movement. Suddenly in half of a second, fingers snatched the gun out of Gin's hands, and turned on its master. Gin stiffened, shocked at himself. When had he become so careless?

Akai smirked when he saw the stunned expression flash across the criminal's face. "My, my, and who's the one out of practice now?"

Gin felt the cold metal meet his forehead. He cursed under his breath, trying to think of a way out of the corner he was in. Usually, he carried an extra gun or two, but this evening was an exception. He was supposed to rendezvous with one of his co-workers in a public meeting place, and it was better to hide one gun instead of many. Of course, of all the days…!

The FBI agent leaned over, his body brushing against Gin's as he leant over to whisper into the silver haired man's ear, still pressing the gun into the other man's temples. Murmured velvet words slid out of his mouth, low and soft, "Nice try. Hurt me, chase me, bend me, break me – it doesn't matter what as long as you're here." Akai locked his ice blue eyes firmly into Gin's ivy green ones. "Our little play-dates are fun, aren't they, dear, dear Koibito-san?"

"Fuck you," Gin hissed between clenched teeth. "You goddamned son of a bitch, I'll kill you. I'll tear apart your limbs; I'll make you regret every stupid thing you've done. I'll-"

"I'd expect no less from you. Considering the memories we treasure together." Akai paused, glanced at his watch, and grinned. "Our time is up, Koibito-san. I have to go." He slowly began backing away towards the direction of his parked car at the street-side curb, his gun still trained on the silver haired man.

Gin sneered nastily, gloating in triumphant, "Coward. You can't kill me."

Akai Shuichi smirked again. "Next time we meet, I wager one of us will be injured. The time after that, one of us will be dead. Today's only the beginning." He smiled cheekily, "I'll miss you until then, my beloved rival."

And then he left, the rain continuing to whisper behind him.

(Even though the rose's stem and petals lay scattered on the ground, the thorns still remain in his hand, piercing his skin.

Blood oozed out of the wound, faster and faster in torrents, in floods.)

Gin jerked himself out of his reverie, out of the mixed mingling of memories and dreams. His throat was dry, and it felt as if something was caught in his throat.

Akai Shuichi was gone and never would come back. And perhaps Gin didn't care in the least.

(But in his dreams, the blood still continued to pour and gush out in an endless flow… he felt so dizzy, and pain took over his body, clutching him with a cold, cold hand, squeezing the soul out of his heart. The pain finally abated…

When he eventually lost himself in oblivion…)

Maybe he would grieve later, once this shit was over. The game wasn't fun anymore.

Not without his beloved enemy.