Watercolor
By: Miroir du Symphonie
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Chapter Rating: PG-13
Chapter Warnings: Slight Language, Citrus
Pairings: Roxas x Sora, Xemnas x Saïx, Marluxia x Larxene
Disclaimer: Sora, Roxas, and all other characters are the property of Square Enix. I just happen to play with them on occasion, and I do claim ownership to the plot.
A/N: Well, here we are with Chapter 13! Not much to say on this chapter, except that there's a very philosophical/metaphorical reason for the chapter title. It's one of those things that makes no sense in the beginning but when someone explains it, you go "Ohhh..." and feel stupid.
I'm rambling...
Okay, things to watch out for: the near-bipolar behavior of one of the characters, fatherly!Zack, pushy ukes, incest (on top of what we already had? Miroir, you minx...) and an important revelation is made at the very end of the chapter. I'm sure most of you would have already guessed the "revelation" by now, when you read it. I made it rather obvious...but it's in black and white now, ne? -smile-
Please review, and enjoy. Oh - my clock tells me that I am a good two and a half hours late, but happy Fourth of July, everyone!
XIII: Shot Glasses
Cloud sat on his bed with a sigh, idly staring up at the ceiling. A small duffel bag of things he would need for the weekend sat next to him, and he was waiting for Reno to pick him up. With all of his homework finished in record time and his things packed, he had nothing to do. Except think.
And thinking was bad.
He was almost relieved when there was a rap on his door and Zack stuck his head in. "Hey Spike, you busy?"
"Not really."
"Can I come in?"
"...sure."
Closing the door behind him, Zack straddled Cloud's desk chair and sat, motioning his head to the bag. "Going somewhere?"
"Yeah. I'm spending the weekend with Reno."
"Hmm. Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about, Spike."
"What, so I can't go?"
Zack looked surprised. "I meant Reno, not the trip."
"...oh." Uncomfortable, the blonde picked at his blankets, not wanting to look at his cousin. The man noticed, but chose not to comment, instead beginning to speak.
"Look, Spike, you know Aerith and I don't make a habit of telling you what to do. And...I don't know if you've ever thought about it, but there's a reason why we're your guardians and didn't adopt you. She's not Aunt Chrissie, and I'm not Uncle Nicky—"
"You know, if they were alive, they'd kick your ass if they heard you calling them that."
"Yeah, I know, right?" The violet-eyed man couldn't help but grin. Christina and Nicolas Strife had earned a reputation for being very anal about things. Not that they weren't nice people—they had treated him well, and had been kind and understanding and all that jazz—they were just...uptight. Very, very uptight. Sometimes he guiltily found himself glad that a plane crash had taken their lives—they wouldn't have liked the fact that their son was a cross-dressing homosexual. He shuddered to think...
"Anyway," Zack continued, getting serious again. "When we got married, and moved in together and whatnot...we weren't very sure about stuff, you know? Like kids and junk. I mean, I was getting promoted really quickly at work, so we weren't too worried about money, but I didn't think I'd have enough time to be at home for any baby and keep my job—even though Aerith wanted a kid."
"But then Gramps called and told me that Chrissie and Nicky had died in the plane crash and left you alone, and the funeral was that same day."
Cloud smiled, a sad, wistful smile. It was the only time he had ever seen Aerith wearing black.
"We had to rush to make it on such short notice, but eventually we got to the cemetery—and there you were, fifteen and standing in a corner by yourself as they buried your parents. You looked lost, Cloud. Really, really lost—you made Aerith cry, did you know that?"
The blonde shook his head.
"Well, you did. Anyway, as soon as the whole thing was over I called Gramps back. He said that they were looking for someone to take care of you, and I didn't want my cousin going to any orphanage. So we talked about it, Aer and I, and got a lawyer and shit...and here you are."
The man stopped to gather his thoughts, and Cloud shifted positions, his legs beginning to fall asleep.
"So yeah. We didn't adopt you because we didn't want to be another set of parents. I mean, I was the one who shoved handfuls of sand down your pants at the beach when we were younger and watched you run around screaming—it would be sort of creepy being your dad after that, right?"
Cloud winced at the memory. The feeling was not a pleasant one.
"And that's why after you turned 16, we stopped telling you what to do. Sure, we watched to make sure you weren't doing drugs and stuff like that, but we never told you that you couldn't do what you wanted—within reason. You've always been mature for your age, even since we were little together. But...we're still your guardians, Aerith and me. And we're kinda worried about this Reno business—"
"Zack, everything is fine. I don't know why everyone is getting all worked up about it."
"Cloud." Zack's voice was a dead monotone.
"Yes?"
"He had you in a dress."
"Why does everyone keep bringing that up?"
"Spike—it's not the dress itself, you have to understand that. I wouldn't mind if you woke up one morning and came down to breakfast in Aerith's clothing as long as you were happy doing it. But I saw the footage of the banquet that the news aired—I saw you with him, talking to all those people, and I saw you fighting. And I didn't see happy until you started fighting."
He remained silent.
"You're not happy, Spike."
"Yes, I am—"
"Then look me in the eye and tell me that you're happy."
"...I..."
"And you and I, there's a new land...angels in flight...a sanctuary, my sanctuary, where fears and lies—"
Cloud snapped his phone open at the familiar ringtone, guilty relief sending slight shudders through his body. "Hello?"
"I'm outside, yo. Come down."
Click.
"I have to go, Zack," the blonde said, picking up his bag and getting up, wincing as pins and needles pricked at his legs.
"Enjoy your weekend, Spike. And...think about what I said, ne?"
"Whatever."
Unnerved as he was, he gave the violet-eyed man a kiss on the cheek before tramping down the stairs. Zack watched him go, hoping that he would stay safe. He smiled as a familiar brunette poked her head into the doorway, wearing an inquisitive expression.
"So, how did it go?"
Getting up and walking towards her, he buried his face in her hair and inhaled the scent of lilies, the familiar softness calming him somewhat.
"I don't know, Aerith. I just don't know."
"This is where we're staying?"
Personally, Roxas thought that Sora pulled off the goldfish expression quite well, if it wasn't for the dangerous side effect of fly-catching. So, living up to his ominous and life-threatening duties as Sora's lover and protector, he selflessly performed the risky procedure known as mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
Needless to say, it worked.
As the brunette dumped his bag on the floor and excitedly began to explore the nooks and crannies of their hotel room, Roxas took a moment to pat himself on the back. Sora seemed truly happy here, as he bounced around, picking up things for inspection before putting them down and moving on to the next thing that caught his fancy. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen Sora so happy...
Something precious inside of Sora—some hidden strength that the smaller twin probably didn't know he possessed—had slowly been slipping away. These months since that hot, sticky July night where their love had crossed a boundary and taken on a new facet had been hard on Roxas too—watching Sora deal with bigger and bigger obstacles and picking him up when he fell. There was so much stuff weighing down their relationship despite its newness, like a shoe that had been broken in too quickly. Sometimes...he hated to admit it, but sometimes it felt like they were little more than brothers with benefits.
He knew it wasn't Sora's fault, nor was it his. He just hoped that they'd be able to use the time this weekend to reconnect a link that he'd just realized was broken.
"Three munny for your thoughts, Roxas?"
"Hmm?"
"You looked kinda spacey for a minute there. Are you alright?" the smaller one asked, brows knitted in worry. Instead of a reply, he simply pulled Sora closer, inhaling the scent of rain, fresh paper, and spice that made up his lover.
"Could...you do me a favor, Sora?"
"Anything."
"Can you not think of me as your brother? I mean...just for a weekend?"
The brunette squeezed him, gentle but firm. "Sure, if that's what you want. So, what's the plan for today?"
Pleasantly surprised that his lover hadn't asked for a reason, he kissed him on the cheek and flopped onto the king sized bed. "I was thinking a night in, actually."
"Really now?"
"Yeah. I mean, tomorrow we can go out and stuff, but maybe room service and a movie?"
"I'd like that. And then maybe," there was a hint of mischief dancing in those azure eyes, "We could break in the bed."
A spark of heat flared in Roxas' stomach and networked rapidly throughout his body, burning his nerve endings as it seared a blazing path to his core. "Oh, really?"
"Yeah. I mean, look at the size of it." Leisurely, Sora made his way across the room, jumping on the bed beside him and dangling his legs off the edge. "It's fucking huge. Almost impractical, how big it is."
The blonde suppressed a moan as the brunette stretched out on the duvet, clearly exaggerated noises of satisfaction welling from his throat. "Ooh, this feels nice. Silk and crushed velvet. How very...sensual, don't you think?"
Roxas swore to god that if Sora kept saying those things—he barely realized that his own hand had wandered between his legs as he watched Sora contort himself. His eyes were wide and glazed clear blue, pouty pink lips curled into a smirk, shirt riding up to expose a strip of pale skin that just begged to be touched. "All this space, baby. A lot of extra room to try new things, don't you think—mmph—"
Finally, Roxas lost it.
The two didn't get to that movie until much, much later.
He'd made the preparations. He'd bought the supplies. He'd informed the right people. He'd schemed, planned, plotted, and arranged. He had play-by-play books, backup plans, and strategies for every possible avenue. The operation had been planned with the precision of a general going to war, and all the factions were in place. He was ready. He was prepared. He would go to all costs, display the ultimate strength, push himself to his greatest limits...
...to press the call button.
Haven't I been here before? He thought sarcastically as he stared at those evil ten digits, illuminated by the backlight of the phone.
And see how well it turned out last time? Just press the goddamn button, we don't have all day!
Rolling his eyes, he hit the green decal and put the phone to his ear, listening as it connected and began to ring.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Saïx. It's Xemnas."
"So says the caller ID," the bluenette said dryly, his melodious voice invoking familiar reactions inside of the silver-haired boy.
"Ha. Ha. Listen, um, about the date..."
"Yes?" There was a hint of hesitancy in Saïx's voice.
"Are you busy tomorrow night?"
"...I have no plans, no. Why?"
Xemnas took a deep breath. "Would you do me the honor of taking you out for dinner?"
"Really, now?" The bluenette sounded bewildered and trying to cover it up, but it was all over his voice. The silver-haired teen couldn't help but smile. Saïx could be so cute sometimes.
"Yes." And before he lost his nerve, he added, "I like you a lot, Saïx. And I just want one ni—evening with you."
Oh god, please don't notice that, please don't notice that...
"You won't try anything?"
"Nothing you don't want," he breathed out, inwardly kicking himself for the slipup. He didn't want the blue-haired boy to get ideas about his intentions. "I promise."
There was quiet on the other line for a few minutes, and he hoped he hadn't screwed up too badly—
"Fine. I'll go. I did promise, after all."
He smiled widely, happy that Saïx couldn't see it. He had a reputation to hold up, after all. "Great! I'll pick you up at seven, then?"
"Seven is fine."
"Good. You won't regret this, I promise."
"...good luck proving that."
Click.
The dial tone droned in Saïx's ear for a full minute before he dully snapped his phone shut. "I want to know what the hell his game is..."
"Going somewhere?" A voice leered over his shoulder.
"Damn it, Zexion, don't do that!"
Zexion leaned against the counter, smirking and munching on an apple as Saïx tried to slow his racing heart. "I heard you making plans. Going somewhere?"
"I have a date tomorrow night," the bluenette said, feeling oddly daring. His brother looked like he was in a good mood. One periwinkle eyebrow raised in slight surprise.
"Funny, that. Because I do too."
"Really?"
...since when does he date?
"Yes. And the shirt I want to wear isn't clean. So, I'll overlook the fact that you didn't ask me for permission to go on any date if you do my laundry. Clear?"
He sighed. Honestly, he should have expected something like that. Zexion looked way too happy. "Crystal."
"I'm glad we have an understanding." He tossed the apple into the trash. "Oh, and if you see something you like, I'll be nice and let you borrow it. Your clothes suck."
Zexion tramped up the stairs, Saïx staring after him, well and truly baffled.
Seriously, what's up with him?
He set the tray down on the bedside table, running a gloved hand through his brother's hair.
"Kadaj, how are you feeling?"
No response.
He was worried about the teenager. Both of them were. Kadaj had slept all of yesterday, awoken, and hadn't touched the food that they brought him—not even the bubble tea that he adored so much. He wouldn't let them turn on the lights, and wouldn't let them dress him. He simply lay in bed, staring at the walls, and it was chipping at both the medic and the brotherly sides of Yazoo. This wasn't like Kadaj—usually, the youngest would have been active by now...
Damn you, Nii-san. Damn you to hell.
Loz wasn't much better. He wouldn't leave Kadaj's bedside, absentmindedly toying with the younger boy's covers and also staring into space. Apathy was like poison in his gaze—guilt and hurt mixed to form a brew more potent than any absinthe in those emerald eyes. The two painted a pitiful picture, such that it almost drove the oldest to tears.
"Little one, you must eat something."
No response.
"Kadaj—"
"Go away."
He speaks. Ah, progress.
"I brought you your favorite bubble tea—don't you want some?"
"I'm not hungry."
Yazoo shot Loz a pleading glance.
"Look..." the middle child started awkwardly, never knowing what to say in such a situation, "You have to eat eventually. Or else you won't get better. You want to get better, don't you?"
No response.
Alarmed, they looked at each other. He felt the beginnings of panic stir within him as Kadaj kept his silence.
"You do want to get better, don't you, Kadaj?" Loz pressed, anxious.
No response. Oh god no, no, not this...never this...
This had never happened before. Sure, this wasn't the first time Nii-san had demanded payment for their mistakes in the form of their youngest, but Kadaj usually slept for a day or so and then woke up—talking and eating and ready to go back to work. But it had never reached this point. He felt the level of panic escalate and he cast about for something, anything to say.
"Kadaj, don't—"
"What do you want from me, Yazoo?" The teen suddenly burst out, tears of frustration shimmering in his grass green eyes. "Do you want me to lie to you about it? Because I'm not going to! I'm tired, brother. I'm tired of killing innocent people for a purpose that I don't even understand. I'm tired of seeing my siblings work themselves to death, trying to be perfect for someone who doesn't appreciate it. I'm tired of being ordered around by a crazy, pedophilic man who likes to hurt me for his own amusement. I don't want to be hurt anymore, Yazoo." Kadaj's small arms came to wrap around himself, tears escaping from their tortured prison. "I don't want this to continue."
A frosty, sick misery struck at the deepest parts of Yazoo's heart, and silently he began to remove his clothes, leaving them in an untidy pile on the floor. He slipped into bed with Kadaj, gathering the boy into his arms and letting him sob—frigid, unwelcome understanding bleeding into him and blurring his vision. A stronger pair of arms encircled them both, and then Loz was there, silently offering comfort.
He rained kisses on his little brother's cheeks, tasting his tears and knowing that at this moment, words could do nothing. Their youngest was finally broken, lost in a cold and unforgiving world that didn't want him. And all because of the man who lived upstairs, the one who had captured their hearts with his promises and then shattered them, laughing as they clattered to the floor—piece by shivering piece.
They were all each other had. It had never been this obvious.
Yazoo didn't realize that he was crying too until Loz's large hands caressed his face, smudging the salty trails that had gathered there. Kadaj's face was buried in the damp skin of his neck, his body shaking and quivering with the force of his cries.
"I can't..."
"Please don't do this, Kadaj."
"I don't want to stay, Yazoo. I can't do this." He clung even tighter, a contradiction to his words as Yazoo rocked the teen back and forth. "I don't have a reason—"
"I'm in love with you, little brother."
He realized this was true as soon as the impulsive words escaped from his mouth, unidentified feelings that had been lurking deep down somewhere making their presence known. He already knew how he felt for Loz, and what Loz felt for him, but Kadaj...
His youthfulness always made Yazoo see him as innocent. Like the white, gleaming snow, something pure until tainted by the ghosts of fingertips. But that innocence was gone, long gone, broken and bloodied between harsh hands and dark wood—so what was to stop him from giving what their youngest needed so badly?
They were all he had, after all.
A quick glance into expressive jade eyes—so much like his own—told him that Loz felt the same way.
"We're in love with you, little brother. That's reason enough, don't you think?"
Kadaj's eyes were wide and disbelieving, a small shred of something good slowing his tears. "You don't mean that."
Loz's hold tightened in reassurance, and the oldest smiled. "I do."
"Yazoo...I..."
"Don't think about that now." He was surprised when the silent Loz decided to speak up, drawing the covers over the three of them. "Sleep. You need it."
"Will you be here when I get up?" Kadaj asked as he lay down, rubbing at his bloodshot eyes.
"Yes." He ran a reassuring hand up and down Kadaj's arm.
Loz stared at him over their brother's head, cradling the teen protectively to his chest as the youngest slowly drifted off. "You never told me you loved him."
He couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. "I didn't recognize it for what it was, I guess. And you never told me, either."
The middle child smiled.
"You've been taking care of him." He gestured to the sleeping boy. "You need sleep, too."
"I know...but I can't help thinking that maybe I shouldn't have dropped that bombshell on him, not just yet."
"Well, at least he'll stay alive long enough to find out if you meant it."
And with that, Loz closed his eyes.
Mildly shocked at his brother's morbid words, he lay down next to his brothers, throwing an arm over Kadaj's lithe frame as slumber took him over.
For hurting my brothers, especially Kadaj—maybe not now, but you will pay for this if it's the last thing you ever do. I love them, and I won't have you hurting my family. This will end soon...
Sephiroth.