Heartlessness
Chapter 6
Coriander
His mind was buried in his work. Open books sat scattered around his study, pages of notes laid on his desk in no particular order, a chalkboard with drawings and formulas that would boggle the mind was pressed against the window, and the apprentice sat as his desk muttering to himself. He flipped through a book, the title Studies of the Heart, as he scribbled notes with his other hand.
Xehanort tried to bury himself in his work. He wanted to present his own research to his master about his findings of the heart so that once his thesis was complete he could begin experimenting. However, he needed it to be perfect. One wrong equation, one false word, any minor mistake could make his work all for nothing and rejected. The power of ones heart. He believed it was stronger than just on a biological sense, pumping blood and keeping the human body alive. No, the heart was much more than that. He was sure of it. He was going to prove it. He was going to show his master, his colleagues the truth behind his brilliance. He would show her.
The apprentice stopped. Whenever his mind lingered to that silly girl it made him lose precious time on his work. It plagued him like a sick addiction that he could not break from. His body would tense and and his heart would move faster. There was an ache in his core that he could not deny but needed to desperately contain.
Aerith, the young girl that ensnared him like some vicious siren from mythologies. Had Xehanort not been a man of facts he would have assumed she was. However, he could not find any reason that mind and body could not resist the urge to think about to her. What could he logically blame?
No answer satisfied him. He pushed back the feelings and buried himself in his work until he felt sleep overtake him. He went to his bed and rested, knowing once he was unconscious he could not think about her anymore... or so he wished.
He dreamed of her and it had not been the first time but it did not happen often. His dreams were disturbing though. He found himself over her, lying her down on his bed. His bed that he slept on! He was on top of her and he found his hands touching her in a way he would never thought about during the day because it disgusted him to even think about this girl. Yet, in his dreams he had her under him, moaning his name as he stripped her and fondled her soft skin. He forced her to do things that would satisfy him. The pleasure she gave him made his body react, becoming too hot for him that he needed to strip himself as his body perspired.
Everything she did to him brought out a feeling that he never enjoyed so much before, pleasure. A pleasure so different than being smarter than others and proving it. No, this pleasure was undeniably better. His body pulsated when he forced her to please him, gripping her brown locks in his fist, pulling tightly on her. Her gasps and moans were like ecstasy for him. His pulse rushed, blood becoming warmer.
He threw her back onto the bed, her hair spilling across the pillow. He rested on top of her, crushing her with his body. He took her hands, entwined them with his. His lips found her skin and he bit down hard, leaving marks after each kiss. Her whimpers and moaned, filled his ears and it urged him further on. Her licked her skin, the taste like a sickly sweet honey. Her pulse quickened and he tore at her skin, ravaging her like an animal.
She moaned his name into his ear, a delightful tickle to him. She enjoyed it as he knew she would. He took possession of her mouth, forcing his entry to it and taking in her sweet nectar. He explored her mouth, his tongue scraping her teeth. He bit down on her lower lip before sliding his hands behind her back and head to push her closer to him. The hand on her back raked down, clawing her her soft skin and she let out a moan of agony. Sweet desperate agony for him.
Here, she was his and his alone. No one would ruin this moment.
He shifted, moving into position to do what he needed to do. He wanted her more than anything, this way and only this way. Her begging for him to finish, desperate, needy, and above all only his. Each time he moved she screamed for him, his name in desperate want for him. All he could think about was making her his. This was his desire.
SLAM!
Xehanort awoke with a start, breathing heavily and his body trembling. Sweat was soaking him and he was ghostly pale. He felt a cold breeze enter his room and found his window open. He cursed to himself for he had forgot to latch it properly. He shut it now and latched it but he was wide awake now and his body was aching. He swore aloud this time. Angry and frustrated that it was a dream and nothing more.
His mind was too enraptured with her to do any type of research. In a fit of rage he slammed his fist into a wall. The pain spread from his knuckles throughout his hand and up his arm like a shock wave. He looked down and watch blood burst from his skin as his red hand began to bruise as well. The need for her died as the pain now overtook him. He staggered down the hall to find things to clean his wound.
Once he found a medical kit, he began to bandage his wound. However, being that he only had one hand to work with it was done haphazardly. It would have to do. With his wound cleaned, the young apprentice was eager to dive back into his books and continue distracting himself with his work. He had to make sure he did not think of her.
No, he would not think of her. He would not think of how her dress clung to her curves. How her legs looked long and slender and how he wanted them wrapped around him. He would not think of her her brown locks tangled in his hand as he pulled it back as he sucked on her sweet, soft, tempting skin.
Xehanort cursed several times over. Feeling the tingling sensation begin again. Would he ever be rid of this infernal temptress? He needed relief. He hoped the cooling air would bring it to him and take away the perspiration that had formed on him.
He walked out without so much as bumping into anyone. He was grateful. He was not in control of himself and did not want to look like a stuttering fool in front of his master or the other apprentices. If they saw how he was acting he would be a laughing stock. The collective, brilliant, and superior Xehanort would be a fool all because of a stupid girl.
He walked in a brisk pace, hoping no one would catch him leaving. He did not want anyone to inquire why he was leaving although he was sure he could think of an excuse on the spot. Walking allows me to process algorithms faster. Yes that was a good excuse if he needed one.
The young apprentice walked into town. He avoided any looks from passers. Keeping his head up and avoiding any forms of communicating with them. The cool air was comforting as it brought the heat in his body down but it did nothing to the impure thoughts in his head.
He could have hit something again. Pain evaporated those thoughts but like any distraction it as only a distraction until he found her creeping in his head again. He repeatedly cursed at himself for being like a one of those lovestruck fools he had seen in the town. Last thing he wanted to do was spout poetry or sing horribly off key to a woman while bringing he gifts. He would be damned before he did that.
Realizing his thoughts needed to be satisfied, the young apprentice decided to catch a glimpse of the siren. Although he was reluctant to do so, he believed if he sated his urge to see her it would be enough.
He arrived in the now quiet marketplace. It was late evening by now. He was sure this was the spot he saw her last time. Of course that was a long time ago. He looked from around the corner of an alleyway between a set of buildings, one a general store and the other a restaurant.
There she was, counting the meager coins she made by selling her flowers for one munny a piece. She seemed content with the small amount she gathered. Xehanort thought she was a fool and needed a decent job that actually paid. If it weren't for her friends she would probably be living out on the streets.
She tucked the coins in her nearly empty basket of flowers. She turned heading in his direction. Xehanort hid back in the alley, hiding so she would not see him. Seeing her was a mistake, plain and simple. His body was on fire and no amount of the evening air would cool it down. His blood was racing and he could feel his heart beating against him, threatening to explode.
He peered from around the corner and saw her slowly walking toward him, humming softly as she did. He brown boots padded scraped against the ground. Her dress, oh was he thankful, was shorter than normal but still modest coming down just past the knee. He listened to her coming nearer and he was certain he was about to do something completely and utterly foolish.
The moment she was align with him in the alley, Xehanort grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her into the alley. The girl was caught off guard and could not respond fast enough as she was being pushed against the wall of one of the building by the young apprentice.
Aerith looked up at her attacker and gasped as he pinned her to the wall. He glared at her with icy eyes. She could not speak for she lost all air in her when he flung her to the wall.
"You," he said. "What have you done to me!"
No more logic. No more calculated answers. Xehanort could not handle the fact he could be smitten with someone. Wanting someone with such lust that it drove him insane.
"I haven't done anything!" Aerith said.
"You are lying!" he snapped at her. Aerith winced. "You are causing this... this illness in me!"
It was an illness to Xehanort because what it was doing was everything he was not. He was not a man driven by a passion or feelings. He was superior to her in every way and yet she was not infected by this sickness in any way.
"Let go of me," Aerith threatened. "I'll scream if you do not."
Xehanort glared and then let her go but not before shoving her against the wall again. He began to leave but turned around and pointed and accusing finger at her.
"You... are making me do these things." Things he was not prone to do.
Aerith stood up, chin high. "You are doing them yourself. Don't blame me because you are a weak-"
The word weak hit a nerve with the young apprentice. He grabbed her again, this time by the throat and shoved her hard into the wall. His fingers tightened.
"You think of me weak?" he hissed. "Allow me to show what you do to me."
He pressed his lips to hers. Xehanort never kissed a girl before but he dreamed, or did he dream, of doing this to the girl. It was not a good kiss by any means. Aerith tried to resist but her head was against the wall. His tongue parted her lips and enjoyed feeling her squirm under him as he pressed his body to hers. His hot body against her and she could feel him aching for her and it frightened her. She hit him several times before he grabbed on wrist and pinned it to her side.
He found her bottom lip and began biting it, causing her to whimper. It was music to his ears. He hoisted her up against the wall sliding her his hand under her to grab her thighs so that he could hold her into a good position.
Aerith began to push him away, fighting him as best as she could but in her position was in was no good. She spotted the bandages hand. Thinking quickly, Aerith hit the hand as hard as she could. Pain surged through Xehanort and he dropped Aerith as he backed away to grab his throbbing hand. He looked at the girl who attempting to flee. He could have easily reached out and stopped her, pinned her to the ground and continued his fantasies.
He did not. Not because he felt any remorse. No, it was because the pain in his hand as too distracting and his lust filled desires were at the moment purged from his mind. She was gone and she left behind her basket with the coins and flowers scattered all around. He looked down and saw small sprigs of white flowers. No wonder she only made one munny a piece. He reached down and took hold one of flowers before quickly making a swift exit. Lingering here could be trouble especially if she told someone.
Xehanort was confident she would not. If she did he was sure he would be able to deny it but she would not say a word because she never told anyone of their moments together before. Perhaps she secretly enjoyed it all the same. Maybe Xehanort as a complete fool to believe that but regardless that brief moment was enough to satisfy his need. For tonight anyway.
As he settled back in his room, sitting at his desk, he placed the knew flower at the corner of his desk. The coriander flower was a decent memento, for tonight, because he gave into it's meaning: lust.