Title: Silent Knight
Author: Mellodramattic
Pairings: some Kaworu/Teru.
Warnings: Angst, sexual themes, mild language, hinted child abuse.
Summary: He is Teru, and they adore him, and they take care of him, and when they make a fuss, he knows it is with simple love. But it didn't begin that way. It never does, does it?
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Aikaryu, Kamijo, Hizaki, Jasmine You, Teru, Yuki, or Versailles-Philharmonic Quintet-. I merely write drabbles; this one is for the fifteenth birthday of my soulmate, Hannah N. Johnson.
SILENT KNIGHT
by Mellodramattic
He is a guitarist.
He is the subordinate: the little boy in his even smaller shorts. They color and recolor his hair, and sometimes he barely recognizes the same silly boy from the past -- for him, that boy exists no longer. That boy is a child's mere invention, the long-ago nightmare of an idol.
He is Teru, and they adore him, and they take care of him, and when they make a fuss, he knows it is with simple love.
But it didn't begin that way. It never does, does it?
----
He is 7, and they beat him for his abnormality, his insolence.
He was an unwanted creature, the bastard production of that foolish woman-- he never knew her name either, what did it matter to him? For he was no more a part of them than they were of him. All he needed to remember was the painful smack of the belt, the numbness of the spade. He doesn't bother to keep track of the bruises.
It was only of truly miraculous circumstance that they decided to end him, to throw him out of the car and beneath the bridge. Yet as he lay, slowly sinking in the water, without a struggle, he quietly hears a trickle of music--
Why do people believe in God?
When he is rescued by strangers, they are surprised to see his happy tears.
----
He is 12, and each night he is blessed with nightmares.
Blazing fire, red carpet -- a symphony accompaniment, and a court of beautiful roses: prince and princess. He is frightened of the swirling silver eyes; more so than ever he had been of his tormentors.
"What is your name, my dearest?" they moan to him, begging, pleading, and he has nothing to give them; for he always gives all he has, and each time crumbles from the inside. And yet they still demand of him, still violate, and so--
He calls himself Teru.
And when they shower him with gifts, he finds a cheap, white electric guitar.
And he begins to believe in God.
-----
He is 17, and he is Teru, and Kaworu calls him an artist.
"You're going to be someone important," Kaworu croons to him that low, husky voice as he traces Teru's naked hipbone with fumbling fingers (for he had not the elegance of a guitarist).
"Is that right?" laughs Teru in that babyish giggle, for Kaworu teases often. "Be cautious, then -- perhaps I am a prince in disguise. I might have you jailed for doing such things to me." But Kaworu's eyes are quiet, serious, and Teru stops laughing.
"Perhaps you are," whispers Kaworu seriously, his breath hot on Teru's mouth, and then he grins and leans down for a kiss; so Teru says nothing, and -- as was his job -- obliges.
[That night he wakes and dares sleep no more, for he fears his Majesty's blazing decadence, and hypnotic silver eyes.]
-----
He is 22, and he pretends he's onstage, but really he's back in the smelting furnace; only this time it's their car, and he's laughing in irony, and it smells of burning flesh and roses.
"Are you alright?!" they scream, the fools, the lost boys, and he ignores them; for once, his life is in his hands, for once he is able to act. He quietly walks out on them, quietly ruins his brilliant musical career, and there is enough music playing through his head that he cannot hear them. How convenient -- a blackness on his eyes, and he slumps to the ground, and the drums shatter bones.
When he wakes up next he's in a white room, a room of suffering, a room of irritating beeps, and his eyes are unaccustomed to the brightness; it hurts. It takes him a second to see the men dozing in the ridiculously uncomfortable plastic chairs, and when he does he realizes with a shock that it is them, his court--
And when Kamijo smiles and reveals normal irises, Teru agrees to play for him.
----
He is the little prince, the prodigal son, the monarchy's near-forgotten prodigy, lapdog. He is their plaything, their masterpiece -- To this future, sings the Prince, the King; to this future repeats quiet Teru to himself, and smiles. And finally--
silent knight.
