Pairing: Ritsuka/Soubi, alternating POV's, a bit more Soubi-centric
Rating: Light R, for disturbing imagery. I think.
Status: Oneshot; complete
Summary: How fragile is the human body… and how beautiful as it breaks.
Author's notes: Consider this an AU of sorts. Though it's the same characters and situations, I did take some artistic liberties… also, kinda/sorta songfic. Finally, constructive criticism is very welcome (but please keep in mind I'm a first-time fanfic writer)!!
Disclaimer: All things Loveless belong to KY
Prose written in 'Boldface' indicates lyrics, taken from "Song" by William Blake, "I'm Looking Forward To Joining You, Finally" by Nine Inch Nails, "Sick of Myself" by Matthew Sweet, "Love of the Claddagh" by Jillian Godsil, "Prosthetics" by Slipknot, and "Aedh tells of the Rose in his Heart" by William Butler Yeats, respectively.
EDIT (25/05/2008): Made a few minor changes and fixed some stuff up.
The Dark Jewels
Again, he came. When I didn't want him to. When he wasn't invited here. Disturbing my mind, infecting my thoughts. Insanity looms nearer as he haunts me. I dreamed again of him. He teased mercilessly, smiling and laughing, skipping away when I reached. He calls me his lover and it makes me ill. There is no humanity in me left, yet obsession is still there. Obsession must not be a human trait.
I am obsessed with him, the golden child. There will be no relief until one of us is dead, lying in a pool of blood. I want him to understand that I am not his gentle, devoted lover. I am not his angel. I am his nightmare. I am my nightmare. Those who say that there is a fine line between love and hate are indeed correct. He will pay for the tempest inside of me.
He caught me in his silken net
And shut me in his golden cage
He loves to sit and hear me sing
Then, laughing, sports and plays with me
Then stretches out my golden wing
And mocks my loss of liberty
I remember a time, a happier time, long ago; he and I, always together. Stolen kisses and gentle embraces. Whenever the subject of love or passion came up, the colors shifted in his eyes, like a jeweled kaleidoscope, and there is no color in the rainbow to describe that particular shade of beauty.
He was a fallen angel, my fallen angel. A creature of darkness, which had made something of himself, become a better man, to be by my side.
He understood my pain, my isolation, my fury towards Fate for giving me this life, this destiny. This illusion. This road filled with bloodshed and tears and desolation, leaving me hollow inside. Only he could fill these empty places, bringing me respite, and peace of mind.
Once upon a time, he stood by my side and protected me. But as times wore on, day after day of witnessing misery and suffering, death and sorrow, a tempest grew inside of him. And one day… one day, finally, he snapped.
Thought he had it all before they called his bluff
Found out that his skin just wasn't thick enough
Wanted to go back to how it was before
Thought he lost everything
Then he lost a whole lot more
A fool's devotion
Swallowed up in empty space
The tears of regret
Frozen to the side of his face
His hands are always present in my feverish dreams, small and white, smooth and strong. It is odd, but they remind me of violets; violets, which are the symbol of faithfulness.
All these tormenting memories inside my head, but I remember, vividly, the first night, the only night, I heard him play the piano. I'd stood in shadow, afraid to breathe, afraid to be discovered, and watched him as he coaxed from the pristine instrument a wailing, sad melody. In my dark corner, I had trembled and tried to control my ragged breathing, watching him.
Always from the shadows, watching him.
Sometimes I awaken from my dreams, the feeling of his cold hands trailing a path of fire on my neck, where the thorns reside, like a ghost memory that makes me ache for him.
I remember, one stormy night, when he had first seen my tattoo, a gryphon; commonly a symbol of wisdom and strength, and had commented on the beauty of its design. Uncharacteristically, his impulsive compliment had made me somewhat shy.
There was a fierce look in his eyes as he had told, in a voice filled with passion, yet underlined with a thread of steel, that gryphons take only one mate. And that, like the wolf, they mate for life.
I do not understand this burning need, this storm brewing inside of me. I am often lost, confused, held in limbo by love and hate. And he is always there with me, giving me peace, driving me mad. He will be my undoing. Like a moth to a flame, I am drawn to him. And I know, he knows, he leads me down… unbound.
You don't know how you move me
Deconstruct me
And consume me
Sometimes, I can hear him call my name, his long lost words whispering slowly to me, his velveteen voice a haunting melody. Always I turn, fully expecting to see his lithe form before my eyes. The mind plays cruel, cruel tricks on the eyes. I feel like the dry Arabian deserts, too long denied the sight, the smell, the touch of him. He is my mirage, always taunting me, always out of reach.
Never real.
A long time ago, during his impassioned moments of inspiration, when there was still beauty in the world, I remember him drawing us. Portraits of our future, a testament to our ever-lasting love. Our claddaghs always prominent in his sketches, a testimony to our commitment, the love which was supposed to last endlessly.
I remember his joy and his pride, that rainy night, long ago, when he had bestowed upon me something so dear to him. "This ring," he'd said, "will show the world my devotion to you. The crown is for loyalty, the hands for friendship, and the heart…" His eyes had then turned into an exquisite honey color, a whirlwind of emotions raging inside.
"The heart is for love."
"Held together by storm and tempest, fused together by a passion so strong it defies death, it defies life. So embedded in my every fiber, in my very being, you are, that blind, I will see you. Maddened, I will be restored by you. And soulless, I will be possessed by you."
Always and ever
My love ever true
Always and ever
Shall be my love for you
While I give you my heart
Let you never break it
While I give you my fealty
Let you never shake it
Yet I give you my thirst
And I ask you to slake it
In Love, in Friendship let us reign
His hands had reached out to me, fingertips frozen white, the sun behind him giving him the appearance of a golden angel, and desperation shining in his eyes. He whispered pleadingly, never giving up, warming me with his hope and his light.
"Give me your hand, Soubi. Please, give me your hand!"
Somehow, my hand was suddenly held protectively within his fierce grip, as he pulled me up and ahead, away from the danger and death that lurked behind. Rescuing me again, as always, my angel, my savior.
It was not the first time we had faced death, that cold winter morning so long ago. But this time had been different. This time, I had felt Death's foul breath on my shoulders, His shadow on my soul, His laughter ringing in my ears. Had it not been for him, I would be nothing more than ashes on the horizon.
And now, like an old friend, I welcome the darkness. The darkness hides that which wants to hide, allowing shadows to shroud the sinful secrets of the night. I am one such secret. But soon, I will crawl from beneath its veil, and I will claim what is rightfully mine. Soon, the tempest inside will cease, and Elysium will greet me with open arms.
Soon.
It itches, it seethes, it festers and breathes
My heroes are dead, they died in my head
Thin out the herd, squeeze out the pain
Something inside me has opened up again
Confusion clouds my mind, a haze of uncertainty and slowly mounting rage boiling inside of me. I lift his palms to my face, studying his hands, and see in my mind's eye the blood running down, down, past his wrists, down, past his elbows, down, down, down. Dripping wetly onto the marble floor, staining the pristine white.
Drip, drip, drip, like the tempo of his heart.
His fingertips are gone. Just gone. Neatly severed, below where the ovals of his fingernails used to reside.
Gone. Gonegonegonegonegonegone…Gone!
Screaming the mantra inside my head, I hang my head low and close my eyes in shame, allowing the indulgence of guilt to swallow me whole.
Looking up, into his violet eyes, I see a world of hurt and pain, and a thousand other emotions I can't name, I don't want to name. The wounded bird I see in his eyes looks too broken down to ever fly again.
The tempest is brewing. I can feel the sky, something raging, something falling, something breaking. Because I made their angel cry.
I hear a soft, broken whisper, but I cannot tell if it is he speaking, or I.
"Walk the fire and kiss the flame. Revel in the beauty of the world. There will still be moments you can pretend. Moments you can dream of rain. You can pretend you are innocent again."
"But only moments."
The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told;
I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart,
With the earth and the sky and the water, re-made, like a casket of gold
For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart
Thanks for reading!!