A/N: Here you go, as promised.
Enjoy!
And leave a review, please. Right now, it's only thanks to you guys and of course, Sagakure-sama and LeaNicolaie-sama that I can even think straight enough to type! The pills are messing with my moods. Luckily enough, now I'm pretty cheerful! –idly wonders who she'll write the emo-ness properly in this sugar-rush-type state-
Notes:
One:
The song is Diamond crevasse by May'n. I suggest you look up this version - Shinkuu no Diamond Crevasse - on Utube, since it a bit more soulful and it's the version I intended for Kana to sing.
Look for the one by MacrossFrontierOST, it's really good quality etc etc…
Here's the translation - - -
This is the first part:
"When I was in love with God
I never expected such a farewell would come
If I could never feel your touch again
Then I'd want you to embrace me again for the last time at least
It's long long good-bye…"
And now the second set…
"Goodbye, goodbye, over and over again
I tell myself as best as I can
Waving my hand. It's only graceful, right?
Now, I want strength…"
And the third part…
"I met you, the star shined and I was born
I love you, therefore I am. (Could also be interpreted as: Since/Because I love you, I am/exist)
Waiting for a hopeless miracle, what will become of me?
Through my tear-stained vision the planet's twinkle is gone…"
Suitable, no?
And it doesn't help that I'm hopelessly obsessed with May'n!
Two:
'by hook, or by crook' is a saying that means 'by any means necessary,' or 'one way or another' –regardless of whether they be fair or foul.
Three:
'Aphrodite' is the Greek goddess of love and beauty. She is the equivalent of the Roman 'Venus,' and even in line with the Egyptian goddess, 'Hathor.'
Four:
Vintage Dom Perignon and the Platinum club sandwiches made with 30-month air-cured Iberico ham, came from a lovely tea I had a last year at Cliveden House, in Berkshire, England, with my dad, my 'mom' and my bf, Jason…
It was kinda pricy, around five or six hundred Euros per couple. But the food was beyond amazing, so it was only to be expected that it would cost beyond the average price of tea.
-shrugs-
T'was yummy and definitely worth every penny –I mean, shilling….
Lol
It may come up again…
Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Knight, Blackberry, Chrono Crusade or Shinkuu no Diamond Crevasse.
Love Game
~ Chapter Ten ~
"What'd I tell you, Ass~arin?" A sweet, childish voice sang in a victorious tone.
"I hadn't doubt you for a moment, my lord…." Placated a deep voice that rang with satisfaction.
A snort.
"Obviously not…" The bi-coloured-eyed boy on the large, black recliner drawled.
"Obviously," Agreed the other, ignoring the sarcasm of the statement. "It has all come to pass just as you predicted…"
Mismatched eyes flashed.
"Yes, my gentle, kawii nephew has gone on a killing spree," A rounded face turned towards the physically elder male and beamed crazily. "I can't wait to see the look on his face when he realizes it…!"
Asato shook his head wryly.
Ah, what a master to serve…
"Plus," Continued the smaller. "How do you think he's dealing with the tragedy that 'ended' his lover's life?" He made quotation marks in the air; the action unbelievably adorable when performed by such a sweet-faced cherub.
"Badly," Answered the elder with a sinister grin. "Very badly…"
Rido giggled wickedly.
"Though, I can't help but wonder… is he crying…?" was Asato's enthusiastic question.
"That's all he's probably doing this pass while!" Responded the boy cheerfully.
After enjoying a good laugh at the other Kuran male's expense, the elder of the only two Ichijo's in existence sobered up.
"So, are we allowing him time to…"He inquired vaguely.
"To what?"
"Make funeral plans and actually see that empty coffin sink beneath the surface," Ichiou clarified.
The demented grin he got in turn, was malicious enough to give even him chills.
"Of course~!" The young vampire chimed. "The sight of such; of his beloved being offered up to the darkness of the cold, unforgiving earth should be enough to cement his feelings of hopelessness; despair… It'll drive him closer to madness, if not aid the complete breaking of his spirit. A funeral will help subdue that damn brat and can you imagine how tasty he would be just then? How wonderfully weak; vulnerable he'll feel just then?"
Asato nodded.
Oh~ He could more than imagine…
"Delicious…" He purred; eyes darkening with lust and flashing scarlet in the next second as the violating images of a certain pureblood filled his head.
"Yes…" Teased Rido mockingly as if speaking to a dense child, "Very delicious, Asato! Very, very delicious…"
The councilman scowled deeply, pulling a bark of laughter from the psychotic little boy.
"In any case, I'm just eager for the endgame," Said the Kuran. "I want to see Kaname's face when I devour his little Princess. And then," He took a deep, shuddering breath. "And then I'll gobble him up too! But not all of him, and not all at once…"
Asato raised a brow…
"I want to make him suffer enough so that one day, millennia from now –because we both know he's persistent and it'll probably take that long to break him- he'll finally, finally shatter into smithereens and beg, beg me for death! Don't you want see that?"
"Yes, I do," Was all Ichiou said for a long time, relishing into the feeling of building lust and anticipation rising within him. He would soon triumph over Kuran Kanamé-sama, and when he did…
He moaned softly in his throat was a shudder ran through his frame.
Oh~ how he looked forwards to the day when he could plunge his fangs into that tender, supple column of the flesh of that delicious neck, and his manhood into the soft, succulent body…
Oh~ how scarcely could he wait to pillage the sweet ever-blooming chastity of luscious vampire and feel in give way under the dripping, flushed, blunt tip of his cruelty…
'What would feel like,' He wondered as he peered at the rose bush in the window box of the one he sat besides. '…to have you all for myself…'
And with the image of a crying Kuran Kanamé at the forefront of his mind and ever-plaguing his thoughts, he reached out with his large, masculine left hand and plucked but a single white rose…
Seated opposite of him, Kuran Rido smirked in a way that seemed utterly wrong on a child's face. But then again, he was no child, now was he?
The door opened just then, and in strolled Fuuka Kisaragi; curly, shoulder-length honey-coloured hair and mint green eyes glowing softly in the moonlight.
"The car is ready, Ichijo-sama," She murmured reverently.
She was all too aware of her master's companion's status, strength, and scheming cunning…
Asato nodded, before turning to his master at the sigh he heard.
"You're leaving? So soon?" Purred the cocoa-haired boy in mock disappointment.
"I'm afraid so. Or would you rather I stay-" Ichiou had scarcely his began his suggestion when he was interrupted by a venomous, "No!"
He smirked, reveling in his tiny win. Hey, it wasn't every day that he managed such a feat; minuscule or not.
"I mean," Amended the child casually, "While I am touched that you would offer to stay here with little old me, when you could be out there taking steps towards claiming your prize, I would want to delay our plans any farther. It has been ten years, Ass~arin; I am growing tired of this useless child's body. Especially when the end is so close I can taste it; taste him…"
"Very well," The blonde male replied and knelt on his right joint with a single hand over his heart before taking a small hand in his own, he placed a chase kiss atop it.
"Take this," Rido chimed, offering the other male a vial of eerie, crimson liquid made purely of crystal and was top with a diamond, vampire bat. "Can I assure your aide in the Association will come through?"
"Of course, my Lor-" Asato's note of grateful affirmation was cut short as a whiff of the elixir tickled his nose. His eyes flashed scarlet and he made a low, surprised, but ultimately needy sound in his throat.
A laugh echoed above him, and his eyes travelled up towards the unrepentant face of his master. The royal winked teasingly at him, sticking out his tongue whilst giggling the entire time.
The physically elder glanced down at the item that lay oh-so-innocently in his palm.
The top hadn't been sealed; closed, so that none of its precious cargo would be spilled, but not sealed, so that none would be able to sense or scent what it was.
With an exasperated sigh, he slipped it into his pocket and mentally noting down a reminder to seal to on the way to the facility where that boy was being kept. He straightened, nodded politely to his still cackling king and walked away; off to fulfill yet another phase of one of the most insidious plots in the history of their race…
-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-
Shirabuki Sara sat perched elegantly in her Alexander Roux,Rococo style, hand crafted chair. The stunning, intricate carving featured openwork scene of hunting dogs taking down a stag on the chair's back and the boars' heads emerging from the padded arms, to the open scrollwork on the legs and shotgun cartouche on the seat.
Tilting her head to the right; liquid gold locks gathering to one side, she observed the calm man seated opposite her with a satisfied abet mildly inquiring gaze. She could smell the scent of that man on him…
Curious; she had thought him dead.
Perhaps he was Ichijo Asato's mysterious master? And if so, what had he promised the elder of the council in exchange for that decade-long loyalty? She was certain the other had practically everything he could ever desire, already. Hum… Lower ranked vampires were known to be greedy… Perhaps his blood? No… too simple…
What was his motivation?
Perhaps…
'…No…' She breathed mentally in disbelief.
Smirking, her eyes narrowed in victory as her sharp mind delivered the answer she'd been seeking ever since the last time she'd entertained Ichiou as her guest.
Yes… Of course. Why hadn't it clicked before? That is why Asato's master's plan would work, that is why he had come to her and that was why it was so kind of her curiosity to make her agree. She'd had an inkling of intuition whispering in her ear the past while; breathing the answer in her ear. She had just been too daft to pay it any mind.
It all came down to the fact that they had the same enemy: the ever-lovely Lord Kanamé Kuran…
That man wanted to take revenge on the woman that had rejected him by eliminating her happiness. Meanwhile, here was she, desiring nothing more than anything else to be Queen of Vampires.
But there was a common factor that stood in the way of both their desires…
Juri Kuran had committed suicide –something Sara had her own suspicions about- and so that man had no-one to take out his wrath on. Except… she had a son; the only spark of her that was left of her and her happy family; the boy that was the result of her rejection. And Sara couldn't be Queen because that all-powerful, heavily guarded jewel was in her way.
The destruction of that said same factor would ultimately bring about the fulfillment of both their desires. So, in light of that, it made sense to pool their efforts and work together, right?
Suddenly, life was getting interesting…
"So, my Lady," Began the noble after a polite sip of the Earl Grey tea before him. "Have you done as your servant humbly requested? My master is anxious to move forward…"
"I have…" She breathed with casual flare. "You asked for a relative of the Kiryuu family, right?"
"Indeed," Affirmed Ichiou.
Still, the pureblood woman said nothing.
"But…?" Inquired Asato, sensing that there was something more the Sara craved to know.
"But tell me, what role does that new Level-E play? How are you going to satisfy the promise of power you've made to me?" She deserved to know at least that much. She was a woman, of course, and women were curious beings…
"My Master has a plan…" That was his answer? Hum, he'd told her the exact same thing before.
"No, Ichiou-san…" She clarified; eyes flashing scarlet to deliver her serious sentiments to the other in the most subtle and prominent of ways. Purebloods were notorious for their dominance of the society of the Night; ceasing control of any situation easily, despite the gilded cage that was forced upon them through their birth. Nevertheless, the noble was suspiciously silent as she continued, "I would very much love to hear this 'plan' of you and your master's creation; and please, don't hesitate to be detailed in your explanation…"
Her tone was calm and formal; present, pleasant and pointly. It was everything a lady should be; polite, detached and yet amused. And yet… her scarlet eyes left no room for Asato to do anything but tell her everything; being as clear and yet, concise as possible –he wanted to escape the suddenly stifling sitting room with his head upon his shoulders and not on her hand crafted mantle, after all…
-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-
"I see…" She breathed at length.
Ichiou nodded; taking a deep, silent draught of his tea. Still, it did nothing to calm his raging mind.
"It is… ingenious," She settled for. "But I wonder…"
"Yes?"
"How am I to be Queen if the council still exists, and if I am not in line for the throne; should one arise from what's left after those perfectly wicked trees, from those perfectly wicked seeds you two are sowing complete their tasks…?" Her icy, dull grey-blue eyes flashed crimson as she asked, "Must I have your carefully groomed trees chopped down before they can bear fruit? I can use it to fuel the fire upon which I can roast you and your most vulnerable Lord. And then, I can build my empire upon the ashes that remain, you know…"
Asato fought not to waver under her intense gaze. He and Rido had discussed this after all, but, it had lead to results that would undoubtedly stick Ichiou between a rock and a hard place.
Making false, only half-true promises to a keen-eyed pureblood was definitely not on his list of 'things-I-want-to-try-before-I-die.'
As matter a fact, if he didn't do this just right, it would probably be his cause of death!
Clearing his throat, he spoke.
"Well, the council as a whole; elders such as myself included, have decided that we would happily relinquish the majority of power of state to monarch, if one we dub competent enough was to arise from the appropriate lineage," He spoke smoothly; words spilling past his lips as if they were nothing but the most honest truth. "Whether it be through birth, or marriage…"
"Ah…" She breathed in acknowledgement. "But I am not of the 'appropriate lineage.' And while I am a pureblood, only a Kuran may take the throne."
"Well, it had been decided that you would marry either my Master or Lord Kuran… Neither of them would oppose your reign or any of the decision made therein, my Master since he has no interest in ruling-"
"And Kaname-san because he would be in no condition to…"
"Precisely," He responded. "And it would be a marriage of convenience; neither would demand anything of you."
She smirked, "Your Master because he lacks interest…"
"And Lord Kuran because he would be in no condition to…"
"I see," Was all she said.
An empty silence filled the room, as both occupants catered to the needs of their stomachs.
And really, how could anyone resist the array of treats laid out before the pair?
Éclairs, tarts, scones, pies, mini canapé versions of platinum club sandwiches made with 30-month air-cured Iberico ham… Each dish was delicious, available in a multitude of varieties, and was undoubtedly beyond expensive –well, for anyone working for anything less than fifteen hundred thousand Euros a month.
"Pray do tell, Ichiou-san," She drawled with faux nonchalance after their tea wares had been cleared away, as she slipped on a glass of vintage Dom Perignon. "I how am I to marry if I am already engaged to Lord Ouri?"
"Yes, about that," He began in reply. He took a slip of the infamous 'King of Champagne' for courage, before continuing. "My Master sent a message for you: 'Figure it out yourself, I can't do all the work, little girl…' His words; not mine."
Sara was vaguely amused.
-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-
He'd been so close, so close to the precious blood!
Red. Red. Red. Red. Red. Blood…
But then that idiot man with his gun… He started shooting at him!
He stopped him from getting to it.
To the sweet, delicious, thick blood…
How dare he!
Still, the unstable ex-human had had no choice but to run away; away from that thing that wanted to stop him. That wanted to stop him from getting to it; the blood.
But it needed him~ just as he, it.
Couldn't that stupid, stupid man not hear it calling to him?
Singing in that tender, enrapturing voice?
Coyly teasing his senses?
The lovely draught encasing him in a world painted red? A perfect world?
Oh! He couldn't wait anymore! He had to have it! He had to!
Abandoning self-preservation in pursuit of the blood; sweet, sweet, innocently captivating blood that was always on his mind –never too far- wicked, beautiful blood that taunted him all the time, he turned. Within seconds of pivoting, baring his fangs to his pursuer to finally get the blood, a sharp 'bang' filled his ears with white noise, his mouth opened, foam and saliva bubbling past parted lips, his chest was assaulted with intense, searing pain concentrated on one point…
Claws latched onto a head as a willowy body arched and spasmed; the enzymes in the bullet catalyzing the effects anti-vampire poison being released.
Clearly disgusted by his squirming prey, Takamiya Kaito delivered another bullet; burying the lead into the head of the nauseating creature.
'It's always more disturbing,' he acknowledged mentally, 'when the beast was once on your side…'
Yes, the Level-E was once known as Ezra Thompson; a vampire hunter, and a member of a disarranged branch family of the Kiryuu Clan.
Finally, the thing ceased it movements, and in the moment before it exploded into a flurry of sand, an entire, jovial and yet wretchedly short human life flashed rapidly within its once amethyst eyes –a trait he inherited from his mother's side of the family; that ever-powerful clan of silverette hunters.
A sweet childhood in a humble cottage; a loving, huntress mother and an understanding, nurturing father…
An emotionally chaotic adolescence; the typical and expected results of vampire hunter duties clashing with teenage hang-ups and amateur romances…
Collage; the welcoming door that allowed him entry into adulthood, and the place where he meet her…
'Katharina…'
The fleeting, nanosecond-long image was painful, but even more so was the mere glances of their wedding day, their honeymoon, the news that they about to welcome their first child… She would have to raise the babe all alone, but suffer it to b so, rather than to have hurt her or the infant.
'Thank you, Kaito…' These were last thoughts of the dying man.
But that all happened in a mere flickering moment, and in the next instant, the man that once was proud, true and about to embark on the greatest of journeys; fatherhood, was no more than granules of death upon the ground.
Mumbling complaints under his breath, the ruthless hunter proceeded to follow the orders given to him, and collected the remnants of the kill together in the solid, white gold urn he'd been provided with. It was a pretty thing; etched with Latin phrases and vines of lilies and… carnations, was it?
He shrugged; he didn't care one way or another. It could have been etched with pansies and have a nice variety of Kaito's favorite curses on it, and he still wouldn't give a damn. All he had to do was get this back to the Head of the Association before the guy wet himself, or entered menopause.
-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-
The members of the council were led to a pair of elaborately carved cherry-oak double doors. As they came to a stop before them, the faint singing of a well-trained woman's voice could be heard.
"Kami-sama ni koi o shiteta koro wa
Konna wakare ga kuru to wa omottenakatta yo
Mou nido to furerarenai nara
Semete saigo ni mou ichido dakishimete hoshikatta yo
It's long long good-bye…"
Or at least, what sounded like a woman's voice…
Everyone, absolutely each and every member of the council, every single member of the aristocracy, and even the members of vampire society at large; common class vampires, knew that their esteemed ouji-sama was a male soprano. Yet, the fact that he was blest with such a high pitched voice was not scorned or spurned. As a matter a fact, it was welcomed; embraced, as such was a rare thing indeed. And rarity, rarity and/or uniqueness were the amazing traits that made purebloods so desirable; put them at the top of the hierarchy of their species. Yes, rarities were very good.
"Sayonara sayonara nando datte
Jibun ni mujou ni iikikasete
Te o furu no wa yasashisa da yo ne?
Ima tsuyosa ga hoshii…"
Yet, as well as that fact was known, was the fact that since he ceased performing kabuki, the Kuran seldom sang. So, in light of things, the group stood silent outside the wooden barrier and listened attentively –but mind you, not too attentively, not after what Ichiou-sama had shared with them all...
The soft notes, perfect crescendos and heartbreaking words sang so passionately awoke some kind of empathy within their stone-cold hearts; lighting a flame of compassion they'd all long since thought dead. For a moment, they regretted every malicious deed they'd ever committed and wished they'd done otherwise. Shame colored their cheeks as adoration and awe at what just his voice was able to do filled their eyes. Of course, they knew what going on. It was one of the many ways the Kuran Ancestor had been able to take charge of their race. For the more bestial of them, he struck terror into their hearts and taught them the true meaning of evil; with that legendary scythe he'd been known as 'Reaper: Taker of Souls,' an everlasting grim, malicious and vengeful spirit who knew not the meaning of mercy. Even the humans he so loved knew of his endless cruelty and he was both feared and respected by them as such. However, for those amongst them whose human nature stood out, he was as sweet, kind and innocent as a new born babe; and as lovable, beautiful and delicate as a young maiden -expertly playing on their sensibilities. The latter, was perhaps exactly what he was doing now. And though they'd been warned, and knew of the history well, the voice was just too…hypnotic…
"Anata ni deai STAR kagayaite atashi ga umarete
Aisureba koso I areba koso
Kibou no nai kiseki o matte dou naru no?
Namida ni nijimu hoshi no matataki wa gone…"
After a few long moments of silence, when he was absolutely sure Kaname was done, and that the council members had regained their conscious selves, Takuma inhaled deeply, and then rapped gently on the left door.
"Come in…" Breathed a soft voice from beyond the wooden barrier.
They entered, and we greeted with the site of a splendidly decorated meeting room. The walls were a rich cream with dusk-coloured trimming and offset with a deep rose hue drapes. The contrast of colour intensity was striking. And when based with a posh white granite titled floor with tri-coloured, sunset-toned flecks, the result was even more captivating.
There were a suite of thirteen Louis XVI Beauvais style, gilt wood tapestry seats. Twelve of them were armchairs 'à la Reine' with arched crestrail over an oval backrest called "chapeau de gendarme", all within beaded, leaf-tip carved arms raised on fluted legs with acanthus carved tapering that terminating with topped feet. They were placed in a semi-circle around a low Birch table upon which rested a bouquet of fresh white orchids in a glass, hourglass-shaped vase - around which a gold-tone ribbon that visually tied it together with the rest of the décor was tied. The last of the seats was a sofa with a straight crestrail above a rectangular back and all the unifying traits of its familiar chairs. It was placed a small distance away, but facing the opening of the arc of chairs. Before it was a similar abet smaller and equally low-laying table made of the same light-tone wood. And on this couch, with his legs crossed elegantly his knees and his ipod touch resting on his lap as he casually removed the earphones from his ears… Here sat Lord Kanamé Kuran.
"I was wondering how long you would have stood outside…" Came the semi-amused drawl from the visually composed man on the couch. But, thanks to the nearly tangible grief in the pureblood's wavering, barely controlled aura and the anguished way he had sung the heartbreaking words before, all present knew that the Kuran was anything but composed. And, if one looked closely enough, beneath the thin layer of the typical pureblood façade of calm, control and class; eloquence, indifference and influence; beauty, strategy and power, there was pain. There was agony. There was a never ending anguish in those shimmering garnet orbs that seem to permeate and hang thickly like a fog in air; stinging the eyes of all the lesser evils present.
Takuma smiled tenderly with sympathy at his companion as he bowed.
"Kaname-sama…"He began and then, with a rigidly cordial sweep of his right arm, "The Vampire High Council…"
Eyes swirling with barely concealed emotion, Kaname responded in an attempt at a dry abet teasing tone, "I am aware, Takuma. I have eyes…"
He would have returned the blonde's smile if he was sure it wouldn't come out strained and crooked.
Still, his companion knew he was simply trying to kid around with him and so beamed his leader the brightest smile he could; a vain attempt to lighten his friend's mood. Yet, for all the green-eyed teen's efforts, it didn't ease the ache in the cardinal orbs.
"Your voice is lovely as ever, Kanamé-sama…" Asato whispered with reverence as he stepped forward to accept the offered his hand.
His eyes were but rapt worshippers at the altar of Kaname's entire body as his lips pressed themselves against the sweet-smelling flesh.
He was immediately forced to fight down a bestial moan.
Asato could already see it: after all, he had only imagined it a million times…
The tender, succulent flesh; rosily flushed beneath his fingertips…
The glazed, burgundy and folly-red eyes;swirling with a dangerous mix of lust and loathing…
The gasps of startled ecstasy, groans of searing poignancy, growls of empty threatening; the devastation that would enter that voice when he finally, finally claimed that unwilling but oh-so-alluring body that would arch oh-so-prettily and gracefully into his touch…
That perfect, otherworldly beautiful face; contorted into the most simply fascinating expressions as the despair pulled him further and further into its depths…
'Oh, yes… such sweet, captivating delicacy…'
And then, then came Ichiou's fantasies of breaking that smooth, faultless skin and drinking deeply from the ever-after cursed wound. Drinking until there was barely enough to keep the beautiful and enthralling Prince alive, and those rosy cheeks flushed and fresh – watered with tears from the tempest of his eyes…
'After all, it won't do to end his misery too quickly...'
He nodded mentally to his thoughts. It would be such a waste!
And if there was one thing that Ichijo Asato was not, it was wasteful.
As he pulled away, ever-respectful pilgrims that his pale-coloured orbs were, they lowered before ever-sharp rosewood could catch their visual violation of the milky skin, well-dressed limbs and porcelain countenance of their owner.
Smiling graciously, the stunning brunet watched attentively for any sign that betrayed the physically elder man's intentions. The young man was sure that Asato wouldn't dare attempt to bite him; not after restraining himself all those years, and most especially not in public. However, whilst that may have reigned true, what remained was the fact that the elder of the two remaining Ichijo's was planning something. Something that Kaname feared more than anything else; that Kaname had lay awake the previous night worried might prevail this day…
Nevertheless, for all his attempts at composure, the pureblood had to fight down disgust as he felt eyes defiling his form. But, he refused to say anything. That would be allow Asato the advantage of knowing he could bother him; get to him at all. And that would be detrimental in this sort of gambit because any type of weakness could be interpreted as an entirely different thing completely.
'Yes,' Kaname thought warily. 'I know why you all are here…'
They were here to arrest him. Or rather, 'take him into one of their care.'
Yes, because they thought he was mad.
Because he'd allowed Zero to attack him…
Because he lost his temper and killed all those people…
Because, Kaname knew, on some level, he was more than just idly wondering if they were right. On some level, he was nearly positive they were. Nearly, but his doubts were enough so, that when they –that 'civilized' Council of beasts- announced his guilt and encaged him, he would not fight. No, because he needed to be locked away. He was a danger to Yuki, to Chairman, every student at this Academy –whether in the Day or Night Class-, and most likely anyone he came into contacted with. He was sick; mentally unstable and emotional disturbed –he knew that much and was strong in these most unfortunate of convictions.
The evidence of that was at that very moment either struggling to survive the pandemonium on the streets, or being thrown into a mass grave...
He was a delusional fool of a pureblood vampire absurdly in love with a deceased vampire hunter who had enamored the pureblood so much and led him down the path of no return; insanity, with this preposterous version of a love story. A clearly ludicrous idea, no?
A pureblood and a hunter…
It was doomed to fail.
So why did he continue to hope?
Obvious and most logical answer: He was crazy.
…Utterly and completely nutty, batty, cracked, screwed up in the head.
And yet…
A long-suffering sigh escaped his sinful lips.
And yet he had to hold back the tears when he recalled it all:
Kisses; caresses; whispered, devoted lies and fleeting, miserable thoughts that could only lead to agony, all under the cloak of the night…
Sighs; glittering eyes; faux, all-too beautiful passion and tenderness that Kaname knew he couldn't possibly deserve…
Safety in those strong arms…
Peace from that soothing, boyish voice…
Love shinning through those amethyst eyes…
No, Kuran Kaname was a murderer; he did not deserve the sweet bliss brought by that angel.
To add to the madness of the entire situation, said hunter managed to make said prince refuse to believe that the other was dead.
He lived on in Kaname's damaged conscious; ever-breathing, ever-present and ever-haunting the young man's every waking, slumbering, loitering –every single moment of every single day…
It was driving him mad.
No, it had already driven him mad…
'How cruel, Zero…'
-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-
He sat lifeless in that chair.
Lifeless, on that dull maya or perhaps glaucous blue, velvet-lined fauteuil from late eighteenth century Italy; its gold-glided wood carved with Hermes interlaced with stars.
Takuma stared; eyes moist as he observed his best friend's figure, and filled with but two main emotions…
Bafflement; ever-present, and worry; ever-growing…
The being sat sideways; slim abet strangely and yet beautifully feminine hips and toned, pert ass perched on the left of the seat, whilst his right elbow –upon which sat his head- and shoulders –which were slouched uncharacteristically- were rested on the right of the cushioned-back of the fauteuil. His slender, gently muscled midsection was but a diagonal sweep of luscious, painted flesh across the canvas of the chair. His left hand was draped casually or even lazily across an uncovered, very nude lap. His legs were crossed but bare; most of those long, lithe lengths of creamy, flawless skin were very much visible from the parting of the thin, nearly transparent, gauze-like, white cotton robe with its delicate lace finishes–which though tied more or less tightly (as tightly as Takuma could tie it taking his leader's, for lack of a better word, non-cooperation) was in serious disarray. The blonde had been the one who had helped Kaname undress, bathe and re-dress himself in his catatonic state, and found the sight of the material falling off a perfectly rounded shoulder, to pool charmingly in a characteristic sensuality most unusual. Unusual, because the brunet would usually never let his skin be bared so fully and yet had allowed such for the past three weeks. He had allowed such disarray much too long in the blonde's opinion, and with that thin, golden line on the horizon, dawn was soon in coming, marking the twenty-second day since Kaname's isolation had begun.
It had been a month since Zero's death…
Takuma put down the tray of food on a table near to his lord's bed; frowning heavily at the two other untouched trays of sustenance. He need to get the other to eat; by hook, or by crook. He couldn't allow his best friend to continue with his behavior; it was definitely ensuring the victory of certain individuals, and though Takuma wasn't too sure of which side he stood, seeing Kaname reduced to his… Wasn't just unsettling, it was heart-breaking!
He recalled then, that after hearing the news of Zero's death, Kaname had surprised them all with a strange, surreal calmness. He had comforted Yuki, offered his condolences to the Chairman and Yagari-san, and then promptly had Siren aid him in arranging funeral plans so that the three aforementioned individuals could, 'grieve in peace,' and not have to worry about anything. And then, as if things weren't bad enough, Siren returned from the lawyers with terrible news…
It seemed, (after careful contemplation and deliberation on the part of the Chairman and Yagari-san), thanks to power increase, the pureblood had unwittingly been at the heart of the greatest environmental disaster of all of recorded history, and had laid waste to the entirety of Japan in a pair of enraged fits. Millions of people's lives had been destroyed; all they had ever known or worked for had been reduced to nothing but rubble. Countless persons were injured. And even more humans had died.
To top it all off, not one vampire of Level-C and up had perished.
And thanks to the customary charms on their sprawling estates that stretched for miles upon miles upon miles, the enormous manor homes, gargantuan mansions, colossal villas and towering places of business were all mostly unharmed. Cross Academy itself, was the only heavily charmed place that had suffered any damage and that was only because it was the epicenter of the power flow.
Other than that, Level-D's, Level-E's; ex-humans, as well as humans… they were dead.
In short: only the weak and defenseless had suffered, died and had their families torn apart by the sheer magnitude of it all… No, they were still suffering; tormented by all the horror that had unfolded so suddenly and stolen all that they held most dear so, so quickly.
After that, he'd gotten up silently, gone to his room, and locked the door.
Hours later, when Takuma had gone to check up on his ever suffering companion, he'd found him in a state in his shower; Zero's voicemail recording playing over and over from his Blackberry a small distance away as he practically took off his skin…
Flashback
As Takuma entered his best friend's chambers, he had immediately been over-whelmed with the smell of blood.
Tempting, tangy and thick…
Sweet, subtle and succulent…
Like a forbidden wine of which none were to even view (when exactly would anyone see an injured pureblood, anyway), far less for taste! And yet, there is was, and in vast amounts too. The velvet scent caressed his nostrils and washed over him like an all-consuming wave, breathing motive to the most sinful of his vampiric bases, arousing them and taunting them… drawing them ever-closer to the surface –to his presently wavering control.
He could see it; miles of usually flawless skin, marred with the etching of his dark desires. His face too, the face of that boy; it would contort with such grief and anguish…
His eyes widened at that.
'Boy!' He cried mentally in shock. 'That "boy" is my best friend! Not a toy to be played with! And even if he wasn't, no-one deserves to be treated that way!'
But, his vampiric alter ego would not hear any of it. It begged him to reconsider, to picture the way those stunning carmine eyes would glow with tears!
It coaxed him to imagine the way they would widen in shock at the betrayal, brim with moisture as he tried venomously to deny it, and then glaze over with sheer agony as the truth of it all sank in.
Disturbingly amused, that part of him wondered for a short, unforgivable moment whether the tears that would eventually fall would be because of the physical pain of the rough violation of both the Prince's neck and his most untouched place, or the emotional distress for being betrayed by his closest companion.
And it was that thought that gave him the strength to fight.
'Never…' He assured himself. 'Kaname will never have to fear me…'
He'd promised after all.
Yes, he had. He'd sworn that with all he possessed, he'd never do anything to make his precious friend look at him like he had that night…
The sobbing; heart-wrenching weeping of that seemed as if it was not of this world that echoed so abysmally throughout the entirety of those dark chambers…
The way he'd stumbled as he fought to reign in his instincts…
The way he, shivering with effort had managed to crawl into the bathroom…
The sight of that boy; curled into a tiny, wailing ball under the scorching pelting of the shower…
The harsh, red welts that marred the once soft, perfect back…
The desperate way the boy clawed at his throat as his eyes seemed to beg for comfort, deliverance, strength…
"K-Kaname-sama…!"
Takuma had called out to him in worry, but just then, the boy turned and heaved; body purging itself of the disease he had been forced to ingest…
The lone, strand of innocently gleaming, crème-colored sick that clung to that delicate, gently-rounded cheek…
The sinking sensation of disturbia that filled him when he realized just what it was…
And the reward for him finally figuring it all out; for him finally fitting the pieces of the puzzle together, pieces he had so often denied…? It was the sight of profound, shinning garnet orbs that sporadically flashed scarlet with the reflection of the entire world's misery lying in their depths… They stared at him; blaming, punishing, begging him for a way out, an end to the agony of the soul that cried out behind them.
They pierced him, frightful and pained, and damning him to remember them forever more…
It was this memory, the recollection of those eyes; that gaze, that served to help him stand tall just then.
To vanquish the inherited torturers that begged for blood, flesh and tears.
Breathing deeply, he shut the doors behind him and locked them. The dull click that echoed within the vastness strangely reassuring… The doors to the Kuran's chambers didn't have any anti-vampire aspects, nor were they charmed; no, they obviously couldn't be as they would disturb the very person –hyper sensitive as he was- they were meant to protect; shield from the world. And even if they would be useless against vampires, such large doors posed as a symbolic defense, pure physical intimidation that was made more intimidating by the knowledge of just who rested beyond them.
Takuma's stomach plummeted, for even as he rose above his primal needs, if he could smell the blood, it was a given that pretty much any vampire in this dorm would recognize the scent of this blood anywhere and know that their leader was weakened.
The younger Ichijo was well-known throughout their ranks for his control, and with the way he'd wavered, and had been ready to rip screams right out of his best friend mere moments ago, that did not vote well for Kaname's safety.
For there was no questioning that it was definitely Kaname's.
But how?
What had happened?
What had been done to him for there to be all this blood?
…No. What had Kaname done to himself?
Takuma was no idealistic fool; despite the fact that some persons thought him as such. He knew what his friend was like; his attitudes, mannerisms, masks… His was also acutely aware that despite it all, the other was fragile; so very fragile, when it came to emotional matters. And with Zero's death, coupled with the sheer nightmarish results of Kaname's loss of control, and to top it off, Aidou's betrayal all weighing on his conscience?
Takuma could barely with-stand the unfathomable cruelties he knew Kaname would unleash on himself in 'punishment.'
Though, why the other always sought to blame himself for such things that were clearly beyond his control was just beyond Takuma. Completely baffling as it was though, it was what the Prince excelled at. Perhaps, it was the result of that self-disgust and self-loathing that drifted through those wary amaranth orbs…?
Well, whatever it was, it terrified Takuma to wonder what that beguiled boy had done to himself. Would it be mental torture? Physical self-abuse? What would it be this time?
Heart leaping and thudding and performing all sorts of painful gymnastics in his chest in its fright, the blonde cast aside his vampiric instincts and followed the scent to Kaname's bedroom, and eventually, his bath chambers.
The sight that greeted him in both places was one that would haunt him for the rest of his life…
So much blood…
On the walls…
The floors…
Takuma had thought it was horrifying to see it staining the carpet, but the sheer amount of it on the sheets of the bed and on the canopy was enough to turn both completely crimson. Even worse, was the heavy staining on the titles in the main corridor of the bathroom. Oh, how they both reminded him so vividly of that night…
In the shape of hand prints, claws marks and as splatter; it was so plentiful in amount that there were puddles –yes, puddles- of it, painting every surface and filling every crack and crevasse.
It was difficult, dragging himself closer to where he was sure that Kaname was. Not physically, no, not at all; his sick body was glad that he was getting closer to the blood. But emotionally…?
Oh! How the blonde feared what he would find! And worse yet, with his control so questionable at that point –vow or no vow; one should always be realistic at these times- he feared how he himself would manage the increasingly overwhelming, scarlet perfume, and if he was truly in any condition to be of help to his precious friend.
Be if he didn't; who would?
No doubt Ruka or Shiki or one of the others would happily volunteer, but would they be able too? Would they be able to withstand this… this world painted red?
And what's more, would they be able to reach Kaname –the true, gentle, ever-hoping soul- lost within all that despair? Would Kaname let them? Want them to?
And really, that's what it boiled down to. Without Kaname explicit trust, -not fondness or even affection, but trust vast enough to leave his life in another hands… without that, it was a lost venture; the boy would not respond to that person. So, in the end it left him; only him, to be the knight that rescued his maiden-hearted companion from himself; his nightmares.
Because that silver knight with the amethyst crest knew not what dragons he needed to slew, nor was he here to be able, not anymore…
He probably never even had the chance; the time pair shared had been too short, too sweet and too isolated from the sheer truth of the world. Poor Zero -May he rest in peace- probably hadn't known anything of his lover's internal suffering; his anguish; his muted tears and silent screams in the faux stillness of the night.
And as Takuma stood; shell-shocked and still for the longest of moments; gazing at the sight before him, he couldn't help but wonder if it was a good –no great, thing.
At the very least, he'd have never bared witness to such a bloody scene as the one Takuma's disbelieving eyes gave him preview to.
Flesh torn from yet animate corpse and hanging from the ivory bone, muscle shredded away in grim chunks, the twisted gleam of the perfect ivory skeleton that peeked out from gapping holds in a once perfect figure, blood painting a tragic portrait of desolate wretchedness upon what was left of that fair expanse, limbs mangled and spread eagle in mind-numbing surrender, glassy eyes that bled tears opening windows to reveal an empty, weeping soul…
And it was all framed so beautifully with not just long, matted locks of mocha; heavy with crimson moisture, but also with interlocking wines of fully blooming black roses. Or rather, white roses painted black with blood.
Collapsing to his knees as they buckled and gave way, he decided that yes, it was very, very great that Zero hadn't known; hadn't had his soul burdened with grief, been filled with despair at knowing nothing could be done to save; heal that boy. Nothing…
Kaname had been a doomed, cursed existence from the day he was conceived…
Of that, Ichijo Takuma was certain.
End Flashback
The blonde could still hear the message; hauntingly echoing from the cell phone that hung from a vine that had curled and grown upwards.
Dangling innocently from the top of the destroyed shower stall, Zero's moody voice had drawled inexpressively: "I can't come to the phone right now. Why? 'Cause I'd don't want to. Why? 'Cause I probably don't like you. How can I be so sure that I don't if I have no idea who this is? Well, for one, I'm me; I'm awesome like that and so, I gotta know. And two, if I did, you probably be talking with the real me instead of hearing this crappy recording. Don't leave a message with your complaints. And if it's you Chairman, or even you, Yuki; you know where I live, and where my usual hangouts are - unfortunately. So why the hell are you calling?"
A beep ended it all, and really, had it been another situation, Takuma would have laughed at the lengthy abet typical, anti-social, Zero-type rant.
Takuma remembered how he'd felt his heart stop and shatter, and his soul tear. Crawling forwards, he'd cradled his best friend close and begged, begged Kaname to drink for God's sake: drink his blood because so help him if anything happened to Kaname –if he dared to leave him, there was no telling what he would do.
But Kaname wouldn't drink…
Frantic, confused, unsure of what to do and unwilling to leave the Kuran alone for a millisecond: he'd pulled out his cell and called the Chairman, who, upon arrival had swiftly slit his wrist and force-fed the Kuran with kisses. Those platonic touches of lips so intimate and forbidden that seemed to be the only saving grace of the obviously suicidal teen wrapped in those slim, dainty arms that belied so much strength.
Stunned by the man's ingenuity and care, Takuma had watched in awe as the elder pulled the rapidly further weakening body to his. And with the delicacy and tenderness that only a parent could have, Kaien had drawn the necessary fluids from his wrist into his mouth several times over, delivering them cautiously –Kaname was still a pureblood, no matter how fragile he was at that point, and still had the ability to change him if he so much as accidently nicked him with one of his fangs, or if the man ingested too much of the other's saliva- and kindly as possible. Takuma was truly thrown by how easy it was for the ex-hunter to commit such a forbidden act; and all for the sake of that affection; friendship between him and the Kuran heir.
Kaname had tried to fight it, he really had, but even he couldn't deny what was needed. Though, the younger of the two Ichijo's in existence suspected that the pureblood probably didn't want any blood because he either wanted to die with Zero, die for his sins, or inflict as much physical agony on himself as possible –whether as punishment for said 'sins,' or because he unconsciously wanted to cancel out the emotional agony. In the end; through nearly unintelligible, murmured protests and curses, painful spasming and a great many tears, Kaname slipped into unconsciousness and was bathed, dried of and dressed by the sadly smiling legendary ex-hunter. And when Cross had tucked the Prince in, the shaky press of lips to the too-pale forehead had not gone unnoticed by the noble.
It was then he wondered the depth of fatherly fondness the elder blonde carried for the Kuran, and just how it had developed.
Hours later though, in the dead of the night; around one in the morning, Takuma had sensed a slight twitch of consciousness and had decided to check up on his slumbering lord. He had found him awakening; readying himself to be difficult and deny the truth of the day's nightmares…
Flashback
Ichijo Takuma leaned on one of posts of the canopy bed.
At that moment, all was still, and he could fully appreciate the striking beauty of the gentle soul that was Kuran Kaname; his sheer exquisite splendor.
The lovely person with whom Takuma had once been in love…
Once, much too long ago for him to recuperate more than the barest twinge of melancholy that it hadn't worked out; that he hadn't even the courage to say it outright. Still, he was sure Kaname knew. He had never given any verbal indication of knowing, but he'd realized he hadn't needed to when the torturously platonic kisses upon his cheeks, affectionate looks and tender hugs slowly diminished in their occurrences.
Yes, Kaname had known, and had tried his best to make his subtle rejection as painless as possible. But even for all his efforts, the blonde's heart had still pined oh so helplessly for many a year after.
And then he'd met Shiki…
Blinking back the blush and swell of elation that came with the faintest thought of his beloved, Takuma turned his spring green eyes; made darker by the dim, to the fluttering canopy.
Still, he had to admit that it all didn't mean he couldn't admire those long, melted locks of dark hair that words like 'brown' and 'chocolate' seemed to do no justice; spilling about in seductive curls on the fresh, downy sheets… that soft, glowing skin; bandages or no bandages it was simply radiant, and the majestic, soul-rendering beauty of that usually masked face; this person had obviously challenged Aphrodite, and won…
Chuckling softly to himself, he wondered just when he had started to be able to think of Kaname like this and not feel his heart wrench sharply in his chest.
Ah, the things that his introverted darling, Sen-chan did to him; the things he'd done to his stinging heart. Honestly, if he'd thought that he'd been head over heels in love with Kaname, he had obviously not understood the true meaning of the phrase.
A whimper caught his attention, before he could stray too deeply into his cocooned, proverbial love nest.
"Kaname…?" The Night Class' Vice Dorm President called softly as he took a seat beside the shaking male upon the sheets.
A sharp breath reached his ears and the young man jolted; head snapping painfully towards his friend.
Twin gasps escaped them.
The brunet, for he didn't even sense Takuma nearby.
The blonde, because his dear Kaname's tortured eyes were brimming with bloody tears and it once more served to increase his concern for him.
But, at that moment, Kaname defied all logical acceptance of the day's events –as predicted- and asked him but that single question that only served to further intensify the noble's worry a hundred fold.
"Tak'ma, why won't…" He gasped. "-Zero ans'er meh…?" He completed his slurred, innocent inquiry.
Takuma's heart sank.
'Oh no…'
"I kep'…calling," He'd gasped out in a strangled, breathy, quivering tone. "…calling…a-an' calling…and I-" He broke off hacking up his lungs and whatever blood continued to circulate through him.
"Kaname please," Pleaded the blonde as he gingerly caressed the frail chest used a silk handkerchief to whip away the bit of blood that slid down the pureblood's chin and between the crevasses of his fingers. "Don't speak: you need all your energy to heal!"
"I-I…I no care…" He slurred in retort.
Takuma scowled.
"I don't want to hear it!" Ichijo cried. "I care," He stressed. "And after what you just pulled…" He sucked in a deep breath to calm himself. Bangs shadowing his face as he lowered his head; shoulders hunched as he gathered one of his dear friend's hands in his own. One of those frail hands that had hurt, and clawed and etched the misery their owner felt, into his very flesh. "What were you thinking?" He ended in an uncharacteristic hiss as his smarting eyes bore into the other.
"I am… quite aware of th-the supposed tragedy," A gasp. "-that supposedly happened; I…I know what you said earlier, but really!" And it was here that Takuma realized that the fool was forcing himself again, his words picking up speed and gradually becoming slurred and losing the clarity that he had so fought for –miracle that it was that he conscious after all he'd done to himself and with only that short nap to revitalize him. "It's im-impos'ble! Zero cou'dn't haf just-! He cou'n-! No! He's nuh…he…" Kaname sucked in a quivering breath; trying to sort out what he was trying to say and lessen the unintelligible nature of his speech. At length, continued, but it was in that same husky, rasping voice, "He's… not… dead." He spoke very carefully; pronouncing everything slowly. "He is…not! He…can't…be; h-he, he was… I gave it to him, I… my blood… he… strengthen'd by my blood…Takuma. So it's impossible." The other was clearly delirious from blood loss.
"Kaname…?" He tried again; he needed to stop him before he over-exerted himself.
"I-I mean… Really, a rogue pack of Level-E's? Zero would absolutely never allow himself to fall to his demise after four years worth of struggling; of surviving!" He was forcing himself not only into coherency, but also trying to sit up. Though, he abandoned the latter with a pained cry when his body protested, and fell back onto the sheets.
Still, he had probably torn something, because the gauze and linen on his chest was steadily becoming stained with his blood.
"Kaname?" The blonde tried more forcefully; that man would kill himself if he didn't calm down!
"Besides, the Association has them all under control!" His strangled voice pointed out; shaking hands clutching to the sheets as if they were his lifeline. "They have a list and everything! And-"
"Kaname~!" Takuma cried at length in supreme exasperation. He couldn't let the fast-paced rant continue. The Kuran needed to be grounded to the facts, and fast –before he could stress himself further.
But the other refused to listen.
Luckily, before Takuma could do more than open his mouth in another fruitless attempt, a piercing voice silenced the Kuran instantly.
"Kaname-kun!"
The boy jolted harshly and followed up with a miserable coughing fit.
As he gasped; finally catching himself, however, he found that he was the target of a sharp and keen glare.
Ichijo watched, amazed, as his best friend flushed heavily and lowered his head submissively; a flood of tears blossoming in his eyes. A contrite look replaced the agonized expression on his face.
The Chairman sighed heavily and gave the younger blonde a pointed glance.
Takuma stood and excused himself without complaint, mumbling that he would go get the first aid kit and fresh bandages.
End Flashback
He had no idea what words had been said, what looks had been shared, and no clue as to what the Chairman had done, but by the time he had headed back up stairs with a determined and worried Yuki in tow, he'd found Kaname clinging to Chairman and shaking with effort. He had probably been trying to hold back more tears…
Unfortunately, Yuki had not listened to his strict instructions to wait on one of the couches that were half-hidden by the stacks in private library. So, when he entered the bedroom silently to rest the necessary things upon the vanity –as it would probably be disruptive to head all the way the alcove to the left of the bed where Kaname's desk was- Yuki entered behind him and ruined all the Chairman's efforts.
And just when it seemed as if the Prince's last thread of resistance to the truth was snapping…
As soon as Yuki's concerned cry reached Kaname's ears, he'd straightened, feigned composure, and effortlessly put his dear girl's fears to rest.
He'd been a closed book after that.
Two weeks after, when he'd gone to visit Kaname at that place, he'd found him curled up on the window seat; eyes closed, chest still and practically lifeless. He remembered that at that moment, a million thoughts; emotions had run through his mind.
Was Kaname ill? Upset? Experiencing shock?
Was he slipping into clinical depression?
Was the pureblood finally falling into the inevitable blackened abyss of insanity that they all feared would one day consume the kind-hearted, gentle Kuran Kanamé they all knew and loved? And so, was he now catatonic?
Had he somehow slipped into a coma?
Had Kaname somehow managed to kill himself?
Each one had been worse than the last, and Takuma swore his heart had all but stopped at the last one.
Frantic, he'd immediately checked for a pulse and let out a relieved sigh when he registered a faint one. He called to his friend for a long while, before giving up when he realized that he would not get a response. He'd lifted him out of bed; nearly tripping as he'd obviously over-estimated his leader's weight –Kaname needed to stop treating mealtime as optional- as carried the teen off to the bathroom. He'd ran a bath with sharp citrus bath oils and used only similarly scented shampoo, conditioner and such, in hoping that the strength of their essence would awaken his friend from the daze he was in.
But it was to no avail…
Despite all his efforts, two days passed quickly, and gradually, over the time, he'd realized that Kaname's state began to border comatose.
His companion would not speak, even if you spoke to him; he would not move, unless you moved him; he would not sleep, useless you passed your hands over his eyes to close his eyelids and called Zero's cell phone –so he could hear his voice. The final was the only thing that lulled him enough for him to slip into semi-restful sleep.
…Or rather, as close to it as he could come…
At night, the pureblood Prince was constantly plagued with nightmares. They were terrible, vivid things that had him screaming and weeping for hours at a time, and left him even more reserved and lost the next day.
But he just couldn't allow the Kuran to continue this way! He had provided his grandfather with all the information he needed to imprison -no, protect- the pureblood, so that Kaname would be watched and cared for. Not so that his friend could slip into the chasm of his own mind more and more with each passing day!
Approaching his leader as if he was a wounded animal that could snap and attack at any given moment if it felt it was threatened in anyway, Takuma braced himself…
…But was caught off-guard by the look on Kaname's face…
It was as lovely as usual, that much was true; framed by lengthy, silken mocha locks, its fair smoothness and flawlessness, full, tempting lips of palest pink, rosy-stained cheeks and striking, aristocratic features offered no doubt of that fact. But, nestled amongst thick, long, ever-so-slightly curled, sooty lashes that should have been classified as deadly weapons, in those glassy, cardinal and wine eyes that flirted with eternity and the ethereal, was an astounding nothingness; a sheer emptiness that threatened to spilt Takuma's soul in two from merely looking at it.
It was mind-numbing…
"Kaname…?" Called the blonde gently in a soft voice; as if by speaking too loudly, his master would shatter and disappear completely.
The man didn't respond; didn't nod; didn't even blink.
"Kaname?" Takuma murmured again; crouching and then slowly reaching out with the intention of placing a hand on the other's crossed knees.
The reaction he'd been probing for the longest while came, but it was not the one he'd hoped for.
The teen twitched sharply; body jolting as if he'd been shot and a quivering left hand fisted and came up protectively in front of his chest. His acme up to, and were tucked under a slim body as his best friend's entire frame folded into itself; shoulders hunching, right hand wrapping around a too-thin abdomen, forehead nearly touching knees.
"D-don't…" He murmured. "No more, Oji-san. Please. I swear I'll be good."
Takuma paled, an 'oh crap' look over-taking his features.
"No, Kaname," He breathed gently as he tender messaged the curls atop that well-loved person's head. "It's Takuma, Takuma… I'm your best friend, remember? I won't hurt you…"
"N-No…" The body beneath the blonde's palm shook. "NO!" Roared the pureblood suddenly as he began to thrash. "Don't touch me! Don't-!" A sob broke the catatonic state the Kuran had been in only moments before, and those eyes that Takuma had never wanted to see gaze at him in that way, pierced through him and speared through his soul in accusation…
The ends never justify the means.
-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-
A/N: There it is. Again, I deeply apologize for the wait. I had started on this chappie a few weeks ago, encountered the feared writer's block, and then ended up in the ER. Actually, I was hospitalized up until a few hours ago, and so I hadn't really the time to finish the chapter –even though my writer's block lasted like what? Six, seven hours?
These sedatives, sleeping pills, and weird-ass meds are killing me…
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