His name was Kuja.
He had beautiful hair, silver with a seemingly purple tint, giving a color I'd never even seen before. He had eyes like cerulean and the fair complexion of an angel. He had the body of a man in the shape of a woman.
He was an angel. An angel of some sort, I was sure. Perhaps an Angel of Death? Oh, but you couldn't see it in those eyes of his. The only hint that he might be evil was given when he spoke. There was something wicked to his voice, that you might not notice in light of every thing else.
You might be paying too much attention to the way his hands moved gracefully and placed upon his exposed hips, or how a delicate feature would touch that face of his with a beauty that could rival any woman's.
His lips were especially tempting. For at first, that was what I focused on when he spoke. That's what caused me to miss that awful tone he used, and only listen to the sound of his voice as I watched the words escape those beautiful lips of his.
This might sound odd to you, but he was my brother. At the time, I didn't know it. Had I known it then, I might've been disgusted with myself, I would've stopped thinking such nonsense, but nothing can change what happened between us already.
Nothing could spare my mind of the thoughts of him I had, always. For a time, I tried to distract myself with a girl, but it was no use, I always came back to him.
How he truly felt about me, I can't say. I was his brother, he was a lost child. He might've known that, I had no idea. I couldn't even begin to guess what he might be thinking. Those eyes of his certainly were no window into his soul.
For all I know, he might've been with me because it felt good, or because it was fun, or something of the sort. At first, I was merely attracted to him, and who can blame me? He was so gorgeous I thought of him instead of the pretty female companion I traveled around with, seeking him out to defeat him.
But soon enough, I realized I didn't just want the fun stuff, I loved him. I wanted the cute stuff, too.
Unfortunately, all I could ever have was the 'fun stuff' – I never got the cute stuff. I only had him when he was pulling me away by the tail, or the hair, or the wrist when he was being nice, and into a room where we might have some privacy.
I only had me holding him while the others were knocked out, lying there, wounded, bleeding, dying, perhaps, but he was the one I ran to. He was the one I held close and cried for when I thought I had hurt him too much.
I had a few times with him, and I'll tell you about them, if you like.