Author Notes: Look... this is the chapter where Hikaru has his own say. There will be more... and in a way, his 'feeding' sort of reminds me of Soul Reaver and how Raziel feeds. Which is kind of how I wanted it. And yes... for all of you who are wondering... there is some lemony, brief love going on between Sephiroth and his lover, Ansem... *Watches as everyone scrolls aaall the way down to read the love scene..smirking.. she made it depressingly short.*

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Hikaru's Obsession

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Hikaru thumbed the button on his jacket idly, watching in a glowing sphere as Sephiroth lay sprawled out on his bed alone. Ansem was with him, but of course slept in a seperate bed with an invisible, very tangible wall between them. Hikaru's creation. He couldn't bear to see them together. They were to remain apart at night. They could remain together, under Hikaru's physical and magical scrutiny. The Paradise moved through the clouds as he tapped the table in his cabin, gazing furiously into the globe, his yellow eyes flashing brilliantly. The silver-haired man's mouth moved. Sephiroth was speaking.

He wouldn't see them together. He would have liked to just kill Ansem. But Ansem couldn't die. He was important. But Sephiroth was also important. Important only to Hikaru... he obsessed with him, enjoyed the pleasurable game of toying with him. He would have had him by this time today if it weren't for Ansem's arrival.

He smirked softly, shrugging his shoulders as he leaned back. It wouldn't matter. Ansem would be delivered. The Essence would be pleased, as would all things good and evil, light and dark.

No longer would he bow to the will of the Essence. He would be a free soul. Feld, that self-righteous miserable bastard, was only a mold in which he could place himself. Since then, he became independent of his host and in essence Feld was eliminated. Hikaru took his place. He ruled... unleashed the Darkness into the first world. He alone controlled the Doors now, and held the fragile lives of Sephiroth and Ansem in the palm of his hand.

They had no idea what was beyond Hikaru. Sephiroth's hatred was amusing. The Essence couldn't care less if Sephiroth lived or died. It was Hikaru's servitude that took the edge out of the Essence's customary brutality and kept Sephiroth alive. By rights, the man should have long been dead the moment the last breath passed out of his body in his own world. But, by hook or by crook, Hikaru snatched his soul from the ethereal winds of the darkness and pulled him through in Between Space.

There, he could only stand by as the Essence ordained Sephiroth's fate. The Heartless thrived there, beyond the reach of any Door or Keyblade, and hunger terribly and feast upon any spirit to wander into their midst. Bound to a wall by wire, in a realm where no sun shined - it always poured miserably. There, in the darkness, the Heartless fed and tore and devoured all that made Sephiroth a sentient thing.

In a timeless space, Sephiroth's torment lasted for so long. Yet in Inner Space terms, his time spent would equal only about a day. Hikaru was never quite fond of Between Space. Never fond of what was done to Sephiroth for so long.

In one way, Hikaru loved to be hated and loathed. It made it more challenging to try to win your adversary over.

On the other hand... Hikaru ached to touch. To feel. Warmth. It was denied him, as his flesh wasn't entirely living either. He was the physical equivelent of stone - compromised only by his unique sensitivity. He never quite ate or drank, or produced hormones or anything of that nature. So how could he want those things anyway?

"I just do," he murmured lovingly, a pain striking a chord so deep inside his being it brought heat burning through his fingers and arms. "I want it... passionately. Your love...brave warrior. Hate me, but do it honestly... you can't deny what I want. Not for long. I'll have it, before our time runs out..."

After a moment, his jealousy abated. He sighed, letting the wall trickle away into nothing. Visibly, so they would notice. Hikaru was not by nature a very cruel man... not really. He'd let them have their time. Certainly they'd spent enough time apart. As he had predicted Sephiroth sat up, stood up, and moved suspiciously toward the other side of the room, his hand extended experimentally. Encountering no painful boundry, he spoke again.

Ansem moved into view. Before anything else was revealed, Hikaru thrust his hand out, knocking the sphere off the tables, watching it shatter on the floor into silver and gold sparks which vanished into smaller atoms, beyond view. Into nothing.

The pain was still there even though he had destroyed the vision of them. Why did I let them together? Hikaru thought, clenching his hands, before knitting his fingers together, resting his chin against his thumbs. He stared at the wall, before he stood up. He was decided. That's right. He kept forgetting...

He'd get Sephiroth. Soon enough. But at the moment, he was hungry. He cracked his limbs slowly, taking a breath as he felt his body crumble and lose its shape and form as his spirit left it. The room tilted awkwardly, turning a faded tinge of blue-green so bright it was nearly blinding, like looking at a world carved purely out of moonstone. But as the light was bright, shadows were deep and many in between.

The walls distorted, the furniture twisted into odd, grotesque shapes. He walked toward the door, passing through it with only an extension of his will. He felt the fibers of the door slide over his spiritual essence as though he not one whole solid thing but many smaller particles. These he manipulated, moving without being seen along the corridors of the Paradise.

He slipped purposefully into a cabin. There slept a harmless man, dozing on his bed in his day-clothes, dancing blue flames encircling his being that signified his living spirit. From the fabric and materials of the solid world, he gathered together the elements to create himself. From the air, the wood, the earth - they came to bring about his form. He filled it, drawing more and more until he stood, whole, clothed as before, with an unmistakable hunger gleaming in his eyes.

Hikaru glided to the bedside. His victim continued to sleep. His manifestation was a silent process, marked only by the faint white glow that surrounded him during the event. He clasped his left hand over his chest, before his left hand relaxed and moved over the oblivious sleeper.

A glow encompassed his fingers, trickling white-green powder falling and hissing softly through the clothes, into his flesh, seeking out hungrily that which Hikaru hungered for constantly. They attached themselves to the very cells of the man who slept, drawing out the vital energy. Unknowingly, the man yielded spirit stuff that filled Hikaru and preserved the mold of his essence for a longer period of time.

When he was through, the man was not living, nor dead. He was a husk. A living shell, an organism driven by no purpose or need. Death would come... swiftly, perhaps, well before dawn. In a sense, it was spiritual or psychic vampirism.

Maybe someday, they'll all understand... Sephiroth...Ansem... everyone who ever knew me. He smiled bitterly, tucking his arm across his chest and the other hand against his mouth as he shivered.

Sephiroth... you will belong to me... your cries will fall on deaf ears at the loss of your poor Ansem... so enjoy his bed while you still can...

* * * * *

The truth was, Sephiroth and Ansem were not in the throes of passion. Sephiroth secured Ansem to him close, under a tent of blankets. They spoke in low voices, barely audible than a whisper but so close that they heard each other clearly. The dawn was a ways off yet. So was their judgement...

"We need to convince them somehow that you didn't kill that dragon," Ansem hissed, tugging at his shirt with a soft sigh. Then his eyes hardened, their golden depths blazing with fire. "It's that man's fault!"

"Hikaru," Sephiroth told him. "He's not the kind of person you wish to meet alone in an alley. He's got me stuck with him... well, he did, until you came along. Now we're both stuck."

"What about Varafel?"

"What?" Sephiroth blinked, turning to peer down into his face, clearly perplexed. "That woman?"

"No, the...the dragon. The golden one. They have her trapped but maybe if we rescued her and Raven, they could help us get loose."

"If we're caught, though..."

Ansem shushed him, tapping his chin with his index finger with a smirk. "Verafel is telepathic. Shh... maybe I can alert her to my mind and get her to talk to me."

Sephiroth silenced, watching as Ansem closed his eyes, relaxing against his chest while he freed his mind and sought for the not quite familiar thought patterns of the golden dragon.

They came alive like a lattice of small wires. Their blaze attracted him, and spoke with the simple, to-the-point sentences of a child's mind.

Stranger that speaks to me, who are you?

*Just Ansem. It's me. Are you okay?*

My wings won't move for me and my teeth are clamped shut. It's hard to breathe.

*Don't worry. Can you speak to Raven right now?*

She is sleeping. Her mind is not open to conversation when she's unconscious. I do not know where she is, either.

Ansem chewed his lip. His brows knitted together and Sephiroth patiently said nothing, watching and waiting for him to lend his idea. Finally Ansem responded again.

*I think I have an idea... Varafel, listen to me carefully. When I tell you, I want you to start acting very savage or sick. But it won't be awhile yet...*

When Ansem relayed the plan, he sat up, throwing the blanket away from his head as he sucked in fresh air. His face was flushed from being under the fabric for so long. Sephiroth smirked up at him, tucking a hand behind the back of his head as he squirmed deeper against the pillows.

"Everything all set now?" he cooed, half-teasing and half-loving.

"Yes... taken care of completely," Ansem murmured, leaning forward and surprising his love with a firm, possessive kiss. Electricity passed through them, rendering them to shivering still figures illuminated by moonlight. Touches passed between them, now Sephiroth left hand gripped Ansem's right.

"I've missed you," Sephiroth said, his eyes softening, filling up with tears that leaked from the corners of his eyes. "Kiss me like that again. We'll get out of this. Together."

"Forever..." Ansem closed his eyes, pressing close with tingling apprehension and kissing lips. With each passing second, they prolonged each kiss, teasing with tongues, fingers pressing and kneading. Clothing didn't have a chance against it, and fell free in due time.

Ansem smiled, sure as the sun would rise later in the morning. He slipped his fingers over Sephiroth's warmed flesh, watching his face change, his mouth tighten expectantly until his tongue moistened his mouth, gasping softly with the feeling of experienced hands running over his torso, molding softly over his hips and then between his thighs at last.

Ansem paused at his tears, only to find Sephiroth's fingers trying to continue what he stopped. The blue-eyed man exhaled slowly, speaking in a hushed moan. "I'm... a little frightened," he said. "Too much to take this the entire way... but ... don't stop touching..."

Ansem smiled, obliged as he kissed him, their stiffened manhoods crushed together as they moved with feverish patience that dwindled. Their breath puffed, chests heaving as quick, maddening touches raped them into thoughtless haste until they cried out and their tremulations rattled their senses into oblivion.