The Joys of Constancy and Inconsistency
***
Zero had a talent for pleasures that never lasted long. He didn't like them, per se, but they were all he could see and create. He was not some DaVinci, who may have died, but whose name had lasted for centuries through his artwork.
When a snowstorm would pour down white until everything was covered, all picturesque and fresh, Zero knew something would taint the scene. Either a person wouldn't notice the view, and create a chaotic path of footprints and churned-up earth, or worse, they would, and feel the need to corrupt all that innocence by spilling blood and corpsesandnaivebittenboys- The snow wouldn't stay clean, in any case.
Sometimes, after destroying another Level E, his hands would tingle to build and birth something that wouldn't result in pain. Whenever that sensation occurred, Yuki would enter the Chairman's kitchen to see some plate of pastries resting on the counter. Maybe they'd be painstakingly decorated éclairs, or red-bean mochi. And she'd devour them in a gluttonous frenzy, reasoning to herself that sweets like these were only good for a couple days, and she was doing the maker a favor by making them disappear as quickly as possible. Wasn't the fast consumption a compliment to his skill, that the treats were so good, they didn't last longer than a couple hours?
She'd see Zero after the plate had been stripped bare, and Yuki always assumed his bitter expression (more bitter than usual) came from her not leaving at least one snack for him.
And when it was Yuki, herself, who was the next to change…
The fact that nothing seemed to last around Zero made him appreciate the fact Kaname was an unchanging constant. Perfect, perpetual Kaname. He was there, and he'd be there long after Zero was dust. It gave the security of knowing one pleasure remained, and wouldn't be trampled or swallowed by the unappreciative unaware.
***
Kaname hated being surrounded by pleasure unchanging. Maybe because those things were usually ancient, and ancient made him think of Ichiou. Ichiou, who worshiped at the altar of constant beauty, with his art collection, and his traditions. Ichiou, who was a constant himself, who wouldn't die. Ichiou, who had no problem with targeting a child as the vessel of his unnatural desires.
It was almost enough to make Kaname scream with frustration, clichéd as that might be. Because he wanted change, so badly he could almost taste it. He wanted little fleeting moments of joy and grace, not an eternity of the same aesthetically-pleasing pieces that were a monument to everything that was smothering him.
Once, after a particularly bad meeting with the Council of Elders, Kaname had returned to his room nearly gagging with the horror of consistency. In a moment of temporary weakness, he had seized a vase countless centuries old, and thrown it against the wall. The sound of eternity smashing had made him grin, almost hysterically. He'd rebelled against the sameness, and won. But the next night, he'd returned from class to see another antique in place of the old, with a note from Takuma. The note simply mentioned how his good friend had noticed the original item missing, and had replaced it with something sent by his grandfather.
Upon being asked how he liked the newest addition to his roomprivatesanctuary, Kaname forced a very strained smile and thanked Ichijou for his thoughtfulness. The vice-president shrugged off the bad feeling he received from the pureblood's response, chalking it up to some political matter that was holding Kaname's attention.
For Kaname, it was almost worrying how much he depended on Zero's ever-different presence to keep him sane and afloat in a sea of bland forevermore. But what was more worrying was how Zero wouldn't always be there for Kaname to depend on to keep changing. Not if Kaname didn't take drastic action immediately and make it so. The idea of breaking routine to ensure ages of novelty from a beloved lover was appealing on so many levels.
***
Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Knight, nor do I make any profit off of it.
