Author notes: Ok this is my first TB fic, and also my first fic ever written in english, an since it is not my first languageI apologize in advance for any grammatical or spelling mistake I probably comitted.I had no time to look for a beta reader, if I ever write again, I'll make sure to find one.
This is specially dedicated to Pikacheeka, for being such a wonderful writer and a very special person I really admire and appreciate even if I'm not so close to her. I hope you like it, and I hope this is not as bad as I think it is. I'm a very simple writer, but nevertehless it was written for you and because of you, since your fics made me love this couple. I'm sorry this was supossed to be your valentine's gift, almost two months late..hehe.
Pairing: IsaakxDietrich
He folded the newspaper, parting his lips slightly, allowing a sigh to escape from his thin lips. Suddenly that uncomfortable feeling of loneliness appalled him. Standing up, he walked to the window; trying to lose his mind as his sight followed the possible route that demonchild of his had taken hours ago. He had not paid attention to Dietrich's farewell at all.
Why? Isaak could not really tell; he only knew that being with him was dangerous in those moments for both of them, especially for him, since Dietrich had seemed to be in perfect control the last time they had discussed. The memory of last night gave him a bitter sensation, provoking him to look unconsciously for a cigarette in the inner pocket of his coat. He slowly lighted the cigarette being caressed by his fingers, taking it to his lips in an almost apprehensive manner. The smoke filled his lungs until the need for oxygen forced him to open his mouth, the air replacing the smoke little by little while his eyes were half closed, picturing the perfect image of Dietrich yelling to him. He had wanted to silence him, to slap him; but his patience had been more than he had expected.
He hated being alone, years ago he had been abandoned by his loved one, and madness had continuously menaced him, even now he was not sure if he had been stronger than insanity. However salvation had come, it had been days after that future priest had left him that he had found a god, his decadent and dying god, but nevertheless his. So if Cain was still there, why was Isaak felling again abandoned as a lost child? The answer was simple, because back then his eyes hadn't met the owner of that soft auburn hair, creamy skin and chocolate deep eyes.
A second sigh abandoned his lips. Irritated, the man, if he could be named so, got away from the window to wander all over the room until that unsettling sensation of loneliness stopped him. The mere word was driving him mad, piercing his mind every second. Finally, he decided to go to his room with the first bottle of liquor his hand found, cursing in low voice Cain, since he was the reason of his current state. But that was a lie; the sharp pain from last night and the coldness of his last moments with Dietrich were all caused by himself. But Cain doings on the matter could not be denied.
He had walked to the now empty bedroom. His eyes were closed as he let the subtle scent of his sweet sin filled his being. He remembered how they were sitting in the living room; Dietrich and Cain were playing poker, while he was resting in the sofa. Suddenly the silence was broken by Cain, who was getting bored because he was losing to the boy. His voice was soft as usual, but there was something in his tone that discomforted Isaak, and he was right, those words were going to bring him grief.
-Dietrich, would you like to go on a mission to Albion?-
The boy raised his sight from the pair of cards he was still folding, and then he slowly showed his five cards with complacence, three queens and two kings. Dietrich smiled pleased; he always enjoyed being over Isaak and Cain, feeling pleasure in proving he was more than a mere child. Not even his naming as a high ranking official had satisfied his necessity for being acknowledged.
Cain gave him an irritated look; he didn't like the smirk in Dietrich's lips, nor his pretentious ways.
-So, are you taking this mission or not Marionettenspieler?-
-Who's coming with me? - The icy reply from Cain accentuated Dietrich's smile, nonetheless his manners were educated and his question was prove that now he was taking the matter seriously.
-Nobody, if you leave, you'll do it by yourself. This will be your first individual mission-.
Those brown eyes shone for a moment before his face became the perfect mask of indifference, his lips curled slightly before looking in Isaak's direction. The mage was trying to convince himself that Cain was not serious, Dietrich was twelve, but sometimes he felt as if that little genius was not ready to be left by himself, or maybe it was just that he found detestable the idea of being without the boy for more than some hours.
Apparently Cain knew this as well since he turned his head to face Isaak, smiling at him in a sweet and fake way which sickened Isaak the most. Both were looking at him, one of them asking in silence for his opinion, while the other was daring the mage to oppose him. Isaak gave Cain a disgusted look before turning around; just before leaving the room, he remembered Dietrich was still waiting.
-You should go, after all you're not a child anymore, are you?-
Isaak did not wait for an answer, prefering to be alone he went to the studio, trying to control his growing anger towards Cain, who had planned that mission without him, and with Dietrich for being as stupid as to believe in their leader. Things were never simple with Cain, and they were usually anything but what they seemed to be.
He carelessly closed the door behind him before taking a glass from a table, pouring the amber liquor while muttering for himself something about being tired. His body collapsed on the chair, trying to drift away from his own conscience. The feeling of two arms wrapping around his neck brought him abruptly to reality, so his eyes opened immediately. But when he tried to turn around the weight of the person hugging him prevented him from doing so.
-What do you want? I already told you, you're free to part. So leave me alone-.
Ignoring Isaak's comment the boy behind him smiled against the cold and hard skin of his protector's neck, brushing it with his lips. A chill crossed his back, but Isaak kept his cool façade, removing slightly, after all he did not want to have a fight with Dietrich. He was going to part to Albion, most surely in a dangerous mission that Cain had planned. And his liege was eager to test Dietrich, not worrying about the possible consequences, which only mortified Isaak to the point of exasperation, since he could do nothing, not being able or willing.
-Do you love me?-
Those words stopped him from thinking. He wasn't sure if he had heard correctly, maybe it would have been more correct to say that he wanted to believe that his mind was playing with him. That was not a question at all; it was a statement, softened by the pretension of being a question. Isaak knew Dietrich too well to understand that his protégé was not really interested in an answer, or so he thought, so when he heard that childish voice again, he was perturbed.
-Do you love me?-
His voice was still low, but a certain note of anxiety could be distinguished in it with no effort. It was as if the boy was almost pleading for a sign, for an indicative that he was precious to the man he was holding in his arms, clinging to him as if he were his lifeline. Suddenly the proximity of their bodies bothered Isaak, who stood up pushing the boy hastily. He didn't want to admit it, but those last days he had done his best to keep away from the youngster, knowing perfectly that if he was to reach for him, he would never let go. "I will hold him tightly.. To the point of suffocation.." He kept telling to himself each time he thought about Dietrich. Isaak was thinking so intensely that he didn't notice the glossy appearance of those brown eyes he adored so much.
-Why?-
Isaak blinked as he heard that question, facing the younger one this time. He frowned, not understanding anything at all. For some reason he could not explain why Dietrich was more sensitive and gloomy than before. But suddenly his eyes were burning with something similar to hatred; Isaak smiled, his little child had gotten angry.
-Why? Why must it be him and not me? – He hissed while walking to the older with his fists clenched.
-He doesn't deserve it, he sees you as a mere servant, a toy which he can throw away any time soon. You don't love him, you only crave for him, and your lust drives you mad about him. I dare you to deny you love me and that I'm the one suited to be your lover-.
-Stop saying nonsense you little brat- Isaak was panicking, that striking honesty from Dietrich was the last thing he had expected- you know nothing about me or my relationship with Cain. You might feel that you're old enough and mature but you are no more than a kid, a ridiculously jealous child. How could I ever love you?-
His words were harsh, but he couldn't care less about it, he had to turn Dietrich down, giving him a chance would have been the end of it. He needed distance; the sole presence of the younger one was intoxicating him to the core. But before he could reach the door the cause of his anxiety was there, getting between the end of his despair and him. Those lips were impossibly soft; he had always compared them to rosebuds, but finding the comparison too clichéd, he had pushed them to the depths of his mind. Now that kiss was meant to be his most bittersweet memory, proving only that they were not only inviting but also sweet.
That contact lasted only some seconds, since the mage pushed the boy away. He gave the boy a glacial look before slapping him. Dietrich's face reflected his anger; his lips curled in a cryptic expression lingering between cruelty and suffer.
-When are you going to accept that I've grown up? What do I have to do? Do you expect me to be taken to a brothel so a whore can take my virginity? Is that so, father? I've heard that at Mme Clochard's there is all kind of exotic beauties who could please even the finest tastes-.
Now Dietrich was being pitiless. Isaak had spit on his candid demonstration of love, so there was no reason to be nice anymore. It didn't matter if he wanted to cry, if he wanted to tell him that he could never part from his side, that even if Isaak was to throw him away, he would always come back, knocking the door and demanding to be received until being accepted again. But Isaak had been offended by those questions, not knowing how to answer properly, but anger was raising within him. He couldn't understand why Dietrich thought he could speak to him in that way.
-What could I expect? Do you want so much to lose your virginity?-
Isaak forced him to sit on the table, retiring the belt with one movement. His gaze met Dietrich's, only to find that the boy was shocked, he could have even tell that he was frightened. A dull smile crossed his lips before he separated from the young one. The mage walk to the door, placing his hand on the knob.
-Prepare your luggage, you're parting tomorrow-.
-But Cain said…-
-This is not about Cain or the mission, you're parting to Lutèce(1). Since you're so eager to meet Mme Clochard and her brothel, you'll be there for a week. Do you want to lose your virginity to prove me you're a man? Then do it-.
He had not seen the kid after that; he would have wavered about his decision. Dietrich was not meant to be his, or so he believed. That was why he had decided to exile his precious child; he was far too young and innocent. Dietrich would always believe he was worse than he actually was, unable to see how really pure he was. So if Dietrich was to be tainted, it wouldn't be him who would do it at first.
His head rested on the pillow for a moment before he opened his eyes again, by that moment Dietrich surely wasn't as inexperienced as he used to. And he was feeling worthless, but it didn't matter anymore, the only thing that mattered was that he hadn't been able to answer that simple question. But truth, as it is said, is rarely pure and never simple.
Why?
The word kept haunting him unceasingly. His right hand moved to his temples, rubbing them slightly without any comforting effect. Suddenly he remembered some lines from a book he had read long ago, which described his current thoughts.
How can so much beauty hide such a bruised and steely heart, and why must I love him, why must I lean in my weariness upon his irresistible yet indomitable strength? Is he not the wizened funereal spirit of a dead man in a child's clothes?(2)
He recited softly, the bitter taste of those words sipping into his soul. He hadn't answer, and most probably, he would never do.
1 Name given by the Romans to nowadays Paris.
2 The vampire Armand by Anne Rice