Discover Top Posts Tagged with #seen-true-evil

FIC:

To: @seen-true-evil

From: @windsorgirllove

Hello! For your gift I went with your Eric/Mira prompt, and I hope you enjoy longwinded talks about emotions! There will be a second chapter some time in January, because I ended up writing a lot more than I am prepared to edit right now, but I hope you enjoy!

AO3 LINK

They were alone in their apartment. Sean was over at Sigma’s getting some upgrade or other. The two of them were in the bedroom. Eric stood very still as Mira traced her finger along his shirt.

She paused over a seemingly random spot. "Right... here."

#zero escape #zero time dilemma #eric/mira #seen-true-evil #windsorgirllove #zecret santa 2020 #submission

FIC:

To: @gaulemtypefemale-dm-l-016

From: @seen-true-evil

This is a Zecret Santa 2020 gift for @gaulemtypefemale-dm-l-016. Sorry it’s so short and almost entirely late, the work has been hectic. Also sorry if it’s not as heartwarming as I wanted it to be,

I’m fullfilling the “Aoilight: after the second nonary game” prompt with some kind of christmas cheer I hope?

___

The din of a mall on christmas is deafening, three different types of christmass songs blaring out of speaker system, mothers ushering their children to be quieter as they scramble around to be the next one on Santa’s lap, disgruntled shoppers trying to get the last off their christams lists for family and friends, shop clercks chirping celebratory remarks, entirely too tired and overwoked. Even in that chaos, Light can hear Aoi’s quiet remark.

#zero escape #9 hours 9 persons 9 doors #gaulemtypefemale-dm-l-016 #seen-true-evil #santa/snake #zecret santa 2020 #submission

Fic: Another mission

To: @seen-true-evil From: @eatingfireflies

This isn’t actually very festive, but I hope you have happy holidays, @seen-true-evil!!

Dio and Brother talk; tw for description of a dead body, religious guilt :”D

AO3 link

When angels fell, God needed to lift no finger to punish them. All He did was deny them His presence–their existence made to bask in His light in perfect adoration, to wilt like a plant without the sun.

So with the Myrmidons and so with Dio.

For his most recent infraction, Brother ceased daily communications for a whole month and that was when Dio finally understood what Hell felt like.

They were born for Brother, after all, and a world without Brother was a life with no purpose. Dio had disobeyed the rules before; he’d left the compound without permission numerous times, talked to outsiders unrelated to his mission brief, and drank alcohol with them in pubs. He hadn’t thought talking to a woman was that bad, and she was the one who started talking to him first, but the time for morning commune found Dio with pounding temples and silence from Brother’s end.

Not only Brother, but his brethren were silent as well. No new missions, no invitations to worship together, not a word from the acolytes who brought a tray of food to Dio’s room at regular intervals–as if they would catch Dio’s bad deeds by association. He might have done the same had he been in their shoes and resentment didn’t belong in Free the Soul, but those people didn’t know about Hell. They knew nothing.

A month after the silence, long days and hours spent alone with his thoughts and the comfortless tenets of his beliefs, Dio heard knocking on his door and wondered if the Elders hadcome to tell him about a new level of hell.

Or perhaps they simply meant to kill him; why else would they pay a visit in the middle of the night? Dio hesitated before opening the door and whoever it was remained silent after the initial knock, but he knew the person was still there. And they knew that he knew.

His heart was pounding in his chest when he pulled the door open and he let out a gasp when he saw an old man with dark tinted glasses. Dio stepped out of the way as the man wheeled his chair inside the room.

‘We have a lot to talk about,’ said Brother.

A long time ago–more than a century, in fact–there was a man who loved his brother. But his brother was impulsive and short tempered, and no one was surprised when he was murdered.

Delta hadn’t been surprised either. The authorities ruled his brother’s death as suicide, but the truth was whispered among those who feared for their own lives. Standing alone in the morgue and staring at the bruised and bloodied corpse of his brother–teeth missing from a mouth that would never smile again, death-clouded eyes that remained open as if in silent accusation–he swore he would bring the world down with him if he had to.

Dio had never talked to Brother in person before. The Elders said he was old and nearing death–the man in front of him might be getting on in years, but he seemed spry enough. Logic would dictate this was not Brother, perhaps a stand-in or an impostor, but the man hadn’t actually introduced himself as Brother. Dio had simply known, the idea lodged in his brain without him realising.

'But we have already talked about a lot of things,’ said Brother. 'Have we not?’

'Not in the past month,’ said Dio. He couldn’t keep the anger from his voice and he didn’t care. 'No.’

'Indeed.’ There might have been a trace of a smile on Brother’s lips. 'And did you learn anything in that month?’

Dio had been wondering what to do with himself; standing over Brother felt rude but as very few members have ever seen Brother in the flesh there was no protocol on what they were supposed to do in his presence.

'I–’

'You may sit down,’ said Brother.

Pulling out his desk chair to face Brother, Dio wondered if the man could read minds.

'How do you think we’ve been talking to each other all these years?’ said Brother, with a real smile this time.

'You know everything about me,’ said Dio. He found more shame than comfort in the thought, no matter how Brother was supposed to be accepting of all flaws and impartial in his love.

'I won’t say I can read personalities,’ said Brother.

'But the All-Knowing–’

'The human flesh is not only a burden but a limitation.’ Hearing Brother’s voice felt strange after many years of conversing with him mentally. Where Brother’s mental voice was detached, his physical voice sounded more expressive and had an urgency Dio felt the need to reciprocate. 'A problem we share, it seems.’

The idea of Brother having flaws was verging on heresy and Dio wondered once more if he was dealing with an impostor.

'Faith spreads like an idea.’ Brother shook his head. 'Like stories. They must change in the telling to better fit the audience. An omnipotent and omniscient god gives people comfort, and that’s why such a god exists.’

'You’re not fooling me,’ said Dio. 'I won’t be swayed from the faith.’

Brother didn’t say anything and Dio was having a hard time reading his expression–he didn’t even know where the old man was looking because of his glasses. There was perhaps a downward tilt in the line of Brother’s mouth, but Dio couldn’t be sure.

Dio rested his forehead on one hand, letting his hair obscure his face. 'I didn’t mean to do any of that.’

'And what was it you meant?’ Had Brother sounded angry, much like the Elders whenever Dio broke the rules, Dio would have laughed and made excuses. But Brother was patient and seemed truly interested in what Dio had to say for himself.

'Once we have achieved our goals I wouldn’t make those stupid mistakes any more,’ said Dio.

'Is that what you want?’

Dio sat up straight and looked at Brother in the eye–or at least what would have been his eyes had they not been obscured. 'I never wanted to disappoint you.’

There were many things Brother could say that would hurt and Dio braced himself against sharp words, but the old man only nodded.

'You were all made in the likeness of my brother, you know that,’ he said. 'In homogeneity I thought you would find harmony, but it appears you are perfect in your imperfection.’

'What do you–’

Brother turned away from Dio, facing the side of Dio’s room where a window would have been had it not been bricked up to prevent him from sneaking out. 'You’re too similar to Left.’

Righteous anger was a powerful drug and caught in its grip, Delta had a hard time trusting other humans. After all, they were the ones who killed Left, who obscured the truth about his death, and who did nothing to bring the case to justice. The world was already a hostile place, but with the anger came hatred and little room for sympathy.

He stood at a distance because that’s where society had pushed him, and he watched humans live their lives with something close to scorn.

Decades later, after many discarded lives and new bodies, Delta learned he could wrap Left’s memory in living flesh and wondered about the possibilities. Where would his microcosm of a hostile world take a life that ended too early?

Could he create what could have been?

'There is something I need you to do,’ said Brother.

This was familiar territory. As a Myrmidon, Dio had a lot of experience receiving mission briefs from the Elders, but he’d never heard of Brother giving them directly to operatives. He stood up and bowed, hoping Brother wouldn’t notice his shaking hands. 'I listen and I am yours to command.’

'Jumal will brief you on the details later,’ said Brother, referring to one of the Elders. 'But I want you to understand how important this mission is to the cause.’

'Yes, Brother.’ The teachings of Free the Soul placed the human personality in the brain, but Dio wasn’t sure about that. He didn’t think the cold wash of sadness that made it hard for him to breathe was something he felt in his brain.

'Only you can do it.’ Brother reached out and placed a hand on Dio’s still bent head.

Dio gasped when he realised the sadness was coming from Brother. The weight of it almost bringing Dio to his knees and he had a hard time focusing on Brother as he spoke of a metal compound in the moon, the plans Dio needed to disrupt.

In the back of Dio’s mind, he kept hearing whispers of apology in Brother’s voice.

Be it a human clone or a robot child, the subject needed to face various and increasing levels of adversity or the experimental study would be incomplete; Delta knew this. The chances of the subject surviving this mission was low and the thought had made him pause before giving the subject his order, the once-familiar taste of sorrow settling at the tip of his tongue.

Perhaps death was an inevitability for Left after all.

#zero escape #virtue's last reward #seen-true-evil #eatingfireflies #zecret santa 2019

To: @akane-crashkey From: @seen-true-evil

Hopefully I was able to deliver on the angst front! Just couldn’t pass up AoiLight prompts, writing this was a christmas gift for me in itself, but this is a gift for the wonderful person who was up for suffering this holiday season. Eat a lot of good food, stay out of the cold!

Ao3 Link

—— Finding Snake was easy, he never really hid himself, after all how many blind harpists are out there? Finding him was easy, approaching him — incredibly hard. What could he say? How could he try to explain the mess they are in if he doesn’t fully get it himself? What can he do, to soften the blow?

Snake, no, Light looks forlorn as he plucks the strings of his harp. The audience is in awe, entranced as usual by the musical magic he weaves, but Aoi has been watching closely for far too long, always far too observant for his own good. The melody is different from his usual compositions as well, something more melancholic, an accompaniment to a thin line between Light’s brows. He looks the same as he did when they met for the second time, almost a year ago. Pale and delicate, a watercolor painting of a person, serene and peaceful, but Aoi doesn’t have to imagine the steel core hiding inside, a steel wire as quick to suffocate as to produce a musical note. Only that one faint wrinkle laid across Light’s forehead is enough to tell Aoi that something is very, very wrong. The first time Aoi sees him play, he thinks he might choke on the guilt he feels constricting his entire body, slithering like a coiled snake around his throat. He orders a cup of coffee, black, two sugars and listens to Light play. He doesn’t dare to make a sound to announce his presence and once his cup is empty, he fades away into the streets, promising himself to approach Light the other night. Nights come and go and there’s even less resolve in Aoi’s actions. Where there was one line, now there are two. Where gray lashes fanned out over bone white cheeks now are deep shadows, lead heavy. His hands are still quick and deft, but there’s a slight hesitance to them, a minor twitch here and there. Something only Aoi could see. Aoi sips his coffee, not feeling the taste and wonders, for the thousandth time. Why does he still waste time with his music when he should be searching for her, day and night? Has he already lost hope? Decided it was a lost cause? Of course not. Aoi doesn’t have the guts to meddle with SOIS investigations, doesn’t have courage to trail Light more than he already does, but Aoi is sure, Light is doing anything that is possible to find his sister. It’s almost an accident when Light finally notices him. A waitress at the cafe is very insistent in her flirtations and as Aoi finally blows up to tell her off, between words he notices that the music has stopped. Mortified, he looks at the harpist, who’s eyes, still unseeing, are open in sheer shock. His devoted fans murmur to each other as he stands up, knocking his stool over, seemingly not noticing it clatters to the ground as he tries to zero in on the direction of a familiar voice. Another waitress runs over to him and in the quiet that hangs in the room after the initial clatter, Aoi even through the frantic thump of his heart hears what must be words of concern she offers Light. Light tells her something quietly, sternly, and she looks over the audience, looking, searching for something, someone. Obviously, searching for Aoi. Aoi feels like he can’t breathe. He runs. He doesn’t come again for a week. He spends it running in circles, muling over and over in his mind the words to use. What would make it easier? What would make Light understand? What would make Light forgive him? What would help them both? Still, after an entire week spent clawing at the walls, he has nothing. He curses himself inwardly and under his breath as he waits in the alleyway behind the cafe’s back door, waiting for Light to finish his performance. What comes out of his mouth when he notices a familiar figure is “Hey”. Just that. That is enough to make Light swivel around in the direction of the sound. He pivots on his heels, turning to face Aoi and Aoi thinks he should just run again. Run and this time never come back, move to a different country, forget anything ever happened, drink until he can’t remember his own name, not to mention some Machiavellian world saving plot. Because Light looks positively broken. Dark shadows under his eyes turned to puffy bags. His skin without the warm lighting of the cafe looks sickly gray, almost the same shade as his hair. His posture is guarded, uneasy when he calls out. “Aoi?”, he sounds unsure. His hands fiddle with the cane strap. Aoi saw it before, but he has never seen Light use it. Seeing him with it is like a punch to the gut. Clover would have been there, Clover would have held his hand, guided him, Clover would… “Yes. I’m sorry”, Aoi croaks out, overwhelmed. he expects to be punched, yelled at. He expects shock or disgust. What he doesn’t expect is Light approaching him in what looks like one fluid stride and crushing him in an embrace. His cane is pressed hard between Aoi’s shoulder blades, but he doesn’t notice, because this time he’s actually suffocating. Light’s grip is strong, Aoi knew it would be, somehow, but still it’s unexpected and throws him off entirely. He can hear someone apologizing, over and over again, breathless and rasped and it takes him a moment to realize that it’s his own voice. Light doesn’t seem to hear, but he doesn’t let go either, so all Aoi can do is wait. Light’s words are a whisper, a ghost laid over the shape of Aoi’s ear, “Where is she?” and Aoi feels like he’s falling, like his legs would give out if not for the Light holding him, still holding him so close despite everything he did. “She didn’t tell”, and there’s so much bitterness in these three words. The weight of the world. Light lets go, instead gripping Aoi’s shoulders, his fingers porcelain white from exertion, Aoi is sure his bones would splinter and shatter, but he knows, he deserves the pain, he deserves so much worse. He just places his own fingers over Light’s. One of his hands is colder than the other one, skin smoother, Aoi notes absentmindedly stroking his thumb over the vice grip. “You should come back with me”, Light says, and he looks pained and relieved at the same time. Like a thorn in his side is gone, but the wound it left is still bleeding and hurting. When Light lets go of him, Aoi follows. He’s sure there will be bruised imprints of fingers on his skin, but it’s the least of his concerns as he runs after Light. He’s almost as adept at navigating the city as he is in the close quarters of a ship. His cane clicks on the ground before him, but he’s moving quickly, surely in long strides and Aoi at times has trouble keeping up. Light weaves between alleyways and buildings, following a path he has surely walked on many times, he doesn’t talk, he doesn’t check if Aoi is following and Aoi is sure, if he wanted to, he could have just stopped. Waited until Light’s back disappeared behind another corner, and he would never be seen again. He wants to, god knows he wants to. Light leads him to a small apartment block. He unlocks the gates with a magnetic key and holds the door open for Aoi to enter. He does it again with the door of his apartment. Aoi isn’t certain how he’s trusted enough to let him in, if it’s even a good idea for him to enter someone’s home, but the lock clicks into place behind his back and there’s no way to run now. Light places his cane into an umbrella stand beside the door and shrugs off his coat. He’s silent and Aoi wants to scream. “Why am I here?”, he asks instead and in the quiet of the apartment his voice is a crack of thunder. Light turns his face to him. His face is unreadable in the dim lighting of the entryway, shadowed even more by his hair. “I don’t know”, he says, “Why are you here?” It’s absurd. Aoi wants to scream, he wants to curse, wants to laugh. “Why are you here? Why have you been watching me, following me? Thinking I wouldn’t know, thinking I wouldn’t notice. Well, I did. Not without help, but I still did. So… why are you here, Aoi Kurashiki? Shouldn’t you be running from the law? Living a happy life with your beloved sister who you fought so hard to get back?”, Light doesn’t sound angry, if anything, his voice is an admittance of defeat. Aoi wants to laugh from how stupid he is. Aoi wants to cry from emotion overwhelming him. “Akane is gone too”. Saying those words feels liberating. Saying those words is admitting defeat as well. Light doesn’t respond. Instead, he grabs Aoi’s shoulders again and levels their faces. He doesn’t look, but the shadows dissipate at this angle and Aoi can see his face clearer, the expression is almost pleading. “Tell me everything you know”. *** And Aoi does. Granted, he doesn’t know a lot. There’s been another game and there’s going to be an apocalypse and another game after that. In this time, at least, but maybe not in the others. Not if Akane can help it. Not if her plan works out. And it certainly will, Aoi repeats over and over, trying to convince himself as well. Light listens intently through his explanation and at some point they move into the small kitchen and Light puts on a coffee pot. His hands are noticeably shaking, but Aoi doesn’t mention it. He can’t stop talking, the words bubbling to the surface and overflowing in an unstoppable spill. He talks and talks about the plots and plans and the hurt, the hurt of being left behind, and he barely even notices a warm mug pressed to his fingers. It’s pink and has a picture of a rabbit on it. Certainly Clovers. In it — black coffee, two sugar cubes, he’s sure. And those little details throw him off. First, the level of care Light put into the gesture. Did he ask the waitresses at the cafe about his usual order? Did he just guess? Second, the mug itself. Now that Aoi looks around, he notices more details about the flat. It’s small, probably cheap as well. There’s not much furniture, but what is there is uncharacteristic for someone like Light. There’s a pink fuzzy blanket thrown over the sofa, a flowery apron on a hook in the kitchenette, fashion magazine cutouts stuck to the fridge with magnets. Aoi feels himself choke up and the words get stuck in his throat. “I am sorry” is all he manages, after a prolonged silence. Light turns away, pouring his own cup, “You keep saying that, but what exactly are you apologizing for?” It would have probably felt better if Light actually punched him. Aoi takes his time, composing himself to provide an answer, but he realizes, halfway through the cup that he’s not sure. “I’m sorry for not telling you sooner” is the only thing he comes up with. Light hums over the rim of his mug. “I suppose you could have done that. But I am sure you have enough on your plate to not bother with my feelings”. And it’s true, Aoi never cared before, not at all, he would do anything, hurt anyone to get whatever he wants, using and discarding without remorse, but it’s Light. Aoi knows exactly how it feels to love and lose someone. How anger poisons your entire being, a desire for revenge, retribution and hope, hope against hope that it can be fixed. He knows exactly what it’s like to lose someone so important, and he doesn’t enjoy being at fault for that in the slightest. “I should have stopped Akane”, he says, hoping his real feelings come through. Light hums again, tracing the edge of the counter top with his fingers. “But could you?” And Aoi laughs. He feels like his whole being is cracking open, letting out a hysterical noise, half-laugh half-sob. “No”. He could never stop her, he would never stop her, his sister is the most important person in the world to him and now she’s the most important person in the grand scheme of the world as we know it surviving and how could he be so selfish as to interfere? Still, he can’t feel good about that. Not when he has to lose her again. Not when other people have to lose their loved ones. Not when Light’s face is so somber, deep half-moons of eye bags betraying his exhaustion. “It’s funny in its a own way, you know”, and Light actually has the nerve to sound amused, or at least as amused as he ever gets. “That our little sisters get to save the world while we have to spend the rest of our time here, just waiting for the inevitable”. Aoi doesn’t really have the heart to tell him. That they won’t be saving this world, they will be saving the other one, the next one, some other one they’re not in. Some world with another Aoi and another Light and another and another until the loop is closed, until every mistake is fixed. “You don’t have to lie to me, Aoi. You don’t have to tell me as well. I can’t hear her. Can’t feel her anymore, couldn’t for the longest time. She’s either far away where I can’t reach her or dead”, Light laces his fingers together, that one final word coming as easy and calm as all the others, as if admittance of his sister’s possible demise doesn’t bother him at all. “But if she’s alive, will I ever see her again?” Aoi tries to remember, the glimpses and glances of the plan he could collect. He is not sure. He isn’t sure, and he doesn’t want to say it out loud. Instead, he gathers all his strength and smiles, as sincerely as he could. “Depends on if we can survive the apocalypse”. *** Aoi visits Light frequently after that. At first, they don’t talk much, but there’s still comfort in finally having some company for both of them. Someone who would understand. Someone who knows because they felt it too. The bizarreness of the experienced shared doesn’t weigh that much. Aoi comes to the cafe to listen to Light play still, but after he follows him home, and they share coffee or tea and Aoi watches Light compose or listens to him reading or reads to him. They cook together and eat together and sometimes even watch movies, even if Aoi is annoyed at audio descriptions. Aoi insists on helping whenever he can, reveling in being useful, almost as if it’s his penance, and he doesn’t ask questions. In turn Light doesn’t ask any either. It’s the smallest things Aoi notices again, while Light surely looks less weary and exhausted, instead he’s getting restless, angry. There’s no outward anger in anything Light does, he’s as levelheaded as he is usually, but the unconscious movements betray him. It’s a quiet simpering rage of a drinking glass held too tight to the point it shatters, embedding shards in Light’s skin, it’s snapped chopsticks and torn shoelaces, a door slammed shut and a window thrown open. Aoi would pick up the pieces, when Light, confused at his own force would look bewildered. Aoi would carefully remove pieces of glass from pale hand and go over the cuts as gently as he could, another apology. Light doesn’t even react to the pain, he just looks surprised and laughs wistfully that he’s thankful it was his “real” hand. Skin doesn’t grow back on prosthetics, he mentions, it would require repairs. Aoi wants to punch him sometimes for treating himself so recklessly, but instead, when he feels his own exasperation rise, he reverts to his old self, arrogant and foul-mouthed, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”, he almost spits, as he puts the first aid kit away. “It’s not me, it’s this apartment”, Light muses, closing and opening his palm, checking the fresh bandages. “It’s worse than a coffin”. *** The decision to move in together is Aoi’s idea. Light can’t bear to stay in the house where everything reminds him of his sister and Aoi needs a new place as well. he mostly spent his nights at Crash Keys headquarters or even in his car, faced with the same problem as Light. Too many things at his personal place reminding him of Akane. Its quick work, quicker than Aoi would have ever expected. Neither of them owns much they would like to bring together and with two flats left behind, full of their sister’s things, they move on. Crash Keys has enough money for Aoi to get them both someplace nice, but they both agree on a two bedroom apartment not far away from the cafe Light still works at. Moving farther away seems impossible, because there’s still hoped, still hope they will return. Someone has to stay behind and wait, says Aoi, terrified of Light not agreeing, but in the end they both stay. The days flow by. Aoi only leaves the house to work, but insists on driving Light to SOIS headquarters for his own job. They don’t talk about the specifics. Light is sure Aoi is doing something barely legal again, Aoi is sure Light is working really hard to not catch him scheming. It’s an unspoken agreement between them that no one interferes with anothers day job. In the evenings, when they both get home, it’s the same old routine. Cooking together, reading or movies, Light writes music while Aoi slaves over spreadsheets. Comfortable silence and comfortable companionship and not an object in sight to remind of their shared loss. Ignoring the world while drowning in day to day trappings seems easy, almost natural. So when Aoi wakes up, choking on his sobs from a nightmare of fire and ash for the first time in months, he’s genuinely surprised. Even more he’s surprised when he notices Light standing in the doorway to his bedroom, concern clearly painted on his face. Damn his perfect hearing. “Go to bed, Light”, Aoi grouses, clearly upset at breaking their unspoken arrangement of not bringing emotions up, even if unconsciously. “Can I lie down with you?”, Light asks and before he can hear Aoi protest, moves over to his bedside. Aoi just shuffles over, against his better judgement clearing some space. Light acknowledges it and hums, laying on top of the covers beside Aoi. He lies on his back, unseeing eyes watching the ceiling and Aoi watching his face, moonlight making his hair and eyelashes glint silver, a thin line between his brows never smoothed back, thin lips slightly parted on words he chooses to say. “You know I don’t blame you, Aoi?”, his voice is soft, so soft and yet so certain and final. A reassurance Aoi so desperately needed, but could never accept. “If I saved Akane then…”, he starts. “You couldn’t have”, Light cuts him off, “I was there, remember? It was futile.” Aoi chuckles, oh, futile, she loved that word. Futility. What better way to describe their predicament? “But you still did everything to save her, you risked your life for her”, Light continues, “It’s natural to feel that way, but it’s not your fault. You did everything you could”. “Wasn’t enough”, Aoi croaks out, tears still in his eyes, “Was never fucking enough”. And then Light moves, turns and wraps his arms around Aoi’s middle, over the blanket. Still, it’s warm. It’s soft and reassuring just like his words and it makes Aoi realize, how long he was waiting for something like this, holding his breath to finally have someone who understands. Someone who wouldn’t blame him as much as he blames himself. “You know I risked your life too, I risked Clover’s life for fuck’s sake. How can you not blame me? I am the reason she’s gone”, Aoi hides his face in the crook of Light’s neck, so the other boy won’t see him cry. Light’s hand worm their way under the blanket, clutching Aoi tighter. “Is it your fault then that the world is ending?”, his embrace is so warm as he strokes soothing circles along Aoi’s back. “As I see it, the world would end one way or another. And if you’re right then six billion people would die. Eventually more, if society isn’t rebuild. And it’s your sister who’s trying to prevent it at least for someone someplace. Somehow Clover is important for this as well and I have to come to terms with it, as should you. If anyone is to blame for this, it’s certainly not you”, Light talks and his breath is ghosting against Aoi’s cheek. Aoi can’t hold back his sobbing anymore, “How can you be so kind to me?” “Somebody has to be”, and Light’s smile is an impression against Aoi’s skin, “Now go to sleep and I will be here when you wake up”. When Aoi falls back into sleep, lulled into the darkness by the gentle touch, he dreams of nothing. *** It’s pathetic, Aoi tells himself. Pathetic, the way he clings to Light after that night, looking for warmth, for that same kindness, gentleness he was never allowed. But Light concedes with ease, as if it’s perfectly natural for him. He lets Aoi hold his hands, even in public on rare occasion they go out together. Aoi’s things are long strewn around Light’s bedroom and it’s not even a question that they’re going to share a bed. Light returns home more often to find Aoi on his side of the bed, face buried in the pillow, sound asleep. He doesn’t say anything, just tucks the blanket around Aoi’s shoulders and joins him, eventually, when he’s done with the chores for today. It’s disgusting, Aoi thinks to himself, when he steals a bite out of Light’s plate, when he doesn’t give it a second thought to thread his hand through Light’s hair when he’s reading something to him, some obtuse poetry he woudn’t understand even if he was listening, not too preoccupied by staring at the shape of Light’s lips, moving over syllables, when Light sighs into the gesture, closing the book, saying something about his hair growing too long and something about Aoi maybe cutting it for him. Disgusting, in a way Aoi’s heart thumps as he agrees all too eagerly. It’s miserable, Aoi decides for himself, that now he’s not only waiting on his sister, he also waits to see Light return every day. How scared he is whenever Light is late, even a little bit, how he panics and his mind runs in circles, imagining all the terrible awful things that come with working for a government agency, with being who Light is and when the lock on the door clicks, Aoi knows Light notices him practically run over to the entrance, to see him, to ensure he’s okay, he’s not hurt, he’s fine. To see Light smile and apologize for worrying him, even if it’s Aoi who has been paranoid. *** It’s hard to not get angry at Light sometimes. He’s entirely too selfless, too reckless in how he treats himself. It’s hard not to get annoyed with Aoi’s insecurities and fears. They don’t fight, because hurting another human being seems unfathomable to both of them. Maybe because they remember other times, things they did then. Maybe because they know what they’re capable of. Aoi slams a glass into the wall and Light turns at the sound. “What happened? Are you hurt?”, he’s so concerned, always so fucking concerned about Aoi’s well being, always so attentive and ready to help. “Why the fuck are you still here?”, Aoi fumes, because it’s unbearable. To be cared about so much, to be held in such regard, to be treasured and understood when all he deserves is pain. When he would have killed Light a thousand times just to save Akane. When he would have destroyed the world just to see her again. So selfish, so greedy, so evil. Light looks perturbed, “Do you want me to leave?” “Yes, yes, yes please, FUCKING PLEASE”, and Aoi is screaming, he’s not sure why, but he’s screaming, because he can’t take this anymore, even this question is intolerable. Even now Light cares about what he thinks, what he wants, he cares so much. “I will leave, but you have to be honest with me”, Light stands up to approach him, but there’s glass on the floor, there’s glass and Aoi moves to step over it and close the distance first, “What is wrong with you?”, without profanity, it’s not as meaningful of an echo, but Aoi still remembers the words that got them here, living in the same space, sharing their hurt, surviving together. “I think I am in love with you”, he doesn’t stumble over his words, they come easily because he thought them over and over again in the passing days, driving himself up the walls of their tiny apartment. Light’s expression changes, but Aoi can’t tell what it means. He never saw it before. He doesn’t want to look either, averting his glance to study the low glint of broken glass. His throat feels like it has been stuffed with the same sharp shards as well. They stand across from each other and if Aoi would outstretch his arms, he could touch Light’s face. Trail fingertips across his pale skin, thread through his hair which Aoi knows is silky soft, even if cut a bit unevenly by his own hands. He keeps his hands down, clutching at his sleeves. It’s Light who reaches out first. It’s his hands on Aoi’s face, one is always a little bit colder than another, they cradle his jaw and smooth over his cheeks ever so gently, as if afraid to hurt. Always so careful. Aoi despises that. Craves it more than anything in the world and despises it all the same. “Don’t do this to me”, Aoi bites out, but it doesn’t seem like Light is listening. His fingers fly over his skin, and he’s reading Aoi like a book, other faint lines of his pained grimace. “Please don’t fucking do this to me”, Aoi repeats as fingers fly over the shape of his mouth, following it gently with butterfly caresses. It’s almost as if Light wants to touch him, it’s almost as if he actually cares. Aoi should move away, but he’s frozen in place, caught between wanting to snap out of this ridiculously intimate gesture and wanting for it to last forever. “Stop!”, he screams, not sure if he means it. This time Light flinches as if struck, torn away from his reverie, his face a kaleidoscope of conflicting emotion. But instead of pulling away Light brings him closer, a mirror of embrace from an alleyway all those months ago. Crushing, bruising one, a ghost of a breath over an ear, warm, soft in contrast with a suffocating grip, “I said I will be here”, Light says, and he sounds as sure as he is always, like he already knows the right answer to every question, the right solution to every problem. Aoi feels himself shake in his grip. “I am staying.” These words are enough to make Aoi feel the ground fall away from his feet and it’s all so familiar, it’s all the same, except this time there’s a feathery touch of lips on his neck as Light mouths words into it. “I don’t think I am ever able to lose someone I love ever again”, Light’s words sear themselves into Aoi’s skin, and he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “And if the world ends, I will still be here for you”. It’s pathetic, it’s disgusting, it’s miserable to love and be in love, Aoi thinks, but as he moves to press his lips against Light’s, he thinks that maybe it’s what he deserves after all.

#zecret santa 2019 #seen-true-evil #akane-crashkeys #submission #santa/snake #zero escape #9 Hours 9 Persons 9 Doors