To be honest, I just stopped caring.
I often spent my nights lying awake in the bed we had once shared together, squinting my eyes in the darkness, hoping uselessly that if I looked just a little bit farther, I might be able to see those two glinting emeralds, shining strong and pure out of the darkness, filled with the green flames that so defined his fiery temperament. I would lay there, clutching the sheets that still faintly bore his scent, inhaling them deeply, with increasing desperation as the sweet smell slowly faded and drifted away as the days wore on. Lonely nights passed in endless succession, accumulating slowly into weeks. Hours stretched before me like a dark and lonely road, no end in sight.
I would turn over on one side and thought I had felt the familiar, soft sensation of those golden locks between my fingertips. Startled, I jumped into full awakeness, only to find the blankets twisted in my clammy palm instead of that beautiful, fragrant hair. Angrily, I wrenched the coverings and sheets from the bed, flinging them onto the cold stone floor, rolling myself over and burying my face in the pillow. I wondered if it was possible to suffocate myself. I wondered if it was even necessary. Living without him had already seemingly robbed me of breath.
The bitch kept calling me, kept me working alongside that useless bastard. I felt my insides boil, churning with an angry fire, and even that reminded me of him. It was more his style to be furious, to lose his calm; I couldn't count the number of times I had seen red flames engulf the paleness of his cheeks, lighting them in a hateful blush. I managed to keep my cool, my anger was glazed over with icy calm. I made sure the hatred was never apparent on my face, quite the opposite of how my little rat would have behaved, the passionate boy whose every emotion was spelled out on his features in language so plain that no one had difficulty deciphering it.
I grew careless. I didn't want to serve her, I had no will to succeed. The fate of the kingdom held no interest for me, as any hope of mine for a redeeming future had died with him. Evermore the subservient king, I still continued to play the part, the role of Beryl's icy minion; Lord Kunzite, whose heart was buried in a glacier so thick that no feeling could penetrate it.
Oh, how little they knew. And how surprised they may have been to learn that the glacier had been melted by a fire so beautiful that even I couldn't contain and protect it. It was a fire meant to burn in its own right, to be glorious and beautiful and impermanent and so very, very fragile. And as it flickered and went out in my own embrace, it took a part of me with it, leaving a crack in the iceberg. And I would never be able to get that back.
Truthfully, I wouldn't have wanted to, anyway.
I think Beryl knew. How could she not have known? How could she not notice the sudden poorness of my performance, the dullness of my actions? The bitch had to have known this would have been the result, and yet she took him from me anyway. She murdered him. If it weren't for her and that damned prince ...
But no. No use reflecting on what cannot be changed.
Except the memories of him are the only thing that keep me alive. Ironically, they are also what slowly kill me. The reason I wake up in the middle of the night to find myself with my arms wrapped around nothing but air, the reason why it still takes several minutes every day for it to register that he is gone.
I'm giving up.
He would have done anything for me. Anything. I only needed to nod my head or give him a knowing look, and he would jump at the opportunity to please me. And yet here I am, his teacher, his elder, his protector and lover, and I don't even have the strength to go on living without his presence. And I wasn't strong enough to save him. And even at the end, I was unable to be completely honest with him.
"Oshitaishite orimashita, Kunzaito-sama."
And I never responded. Couldn't. I was choked by my own icy demeanor. Unable to protect him, unable to save him, hell, I wasn't even able to tell him that I ... loved him.
The fire went out, and whatever fire he had burned within me was also extinguished. And now I continue to fight the damned senshi, those silly little girls, too strong for them to take me by their own power and too tired to exert myself enough to wholly defeat them. If I spend my time concocting their end rather than submerging myself in grief, I will eventually win against them and have gained nothing, because without him, I have nothing. If I succumb to them and let them or Beryl herself take me by their own will, I will have died without honor, proving myself to be the coward I was when I didn't save him, nullifying any worth in myself or my love.
And yet I want so badly to die, if dying means we can find one another.
And so I made the choice. I let fly a powerful trademark blast of energy, knowing full well the attack would fail and be rebounded. And yet I was still surprised as it flew back to pierce me. The pain blinded me, but only for a moment, or at least I only consciously recognized it for a moment. My thoughts had already turned back to my missing and so badly needed love, and as I felt my last breaths rising to escape and my heart pounding fatally beneath my breast, I melted the ice that had so covered my emotionless voice and gasped for him to take me, take me wherever your spirit is. Oh gods, please. Please take me there.
The pain burst to the forefront of my mind once more, blinding me, everything melted into white-hot light. I felt my body give way. Felt it die around me.
And then there was nothing but solid darkness.
I cursed myself needlessly for ever thinking that a demon like myself would find redemption, would have any hope in death. I, who had never had either in life, becoming so presumptious as to expect some sort of retribution for a twisted life of pain? Of course there would be no salvation, not here. Of course our souls would never again meet. It was more than either of us deserved.
I was back in the nightmare once more, shrouded in the darkness and the hate, once again straining my eyes in desperate hope but finding nothing beyond the inky black.
Nothing.
And then I felt it.
A warm hand had pressed against the cool skin of my shoulder, the delicate fingers radiating pleasant embers against my flesh. I blinked and saw a pair of green jewels, more perfect and more valuable than any gemstone ever found beneath the earth's soil. Framed by long and gentle lashes, set in a face of smoothest porcelain, the milky complexion broken only by a rosy flush across the cheeks. Copper waves streaming down around him, like a liquid, molten fire, with curls delicately tucked behind his ears.
He's too beautiful to be a demon, and yet too real to be an angel. Too close. Too utterly sensual and desired to be anything close to pure.
He reached out to touch my face, tracing the line of my jaw with those soft and slender fingers, and immediately I captured the wrist with my hand, pressing the palm to my lips, kissing it deeply.
Oh, my little rat. My impossibly beautiful treasure.
He smiled then, lovely, seductively. "I heard you call for me," he breathed, and the soft tenor of his voice was such a sweet and lovely melody, one I thought I'd never hear play again.
I pulled him into my embrace, sinking down with him, cradling him against me. I buried my face into his silken hair and whispered, "I thought I had lost you."
He smirked, making a tiny scoffing noise, that familar and adorable arrogance creeping into his voice. "Lost me? Impossible." He craned his neck upward and nibbled lightly on my ear. "I don't think there's anything in heaven or hell that could keep me from you for very long," he whispered smugly. Pulling away, he gazed up at me with those deceivingly innocent eyes. "And I think you rather enjoy that little factor."
I chuckled softly, genuinely, for the first time in what feels like years. He smiled up at me for a brief moment before bringing that beautiful mouth up to my own, kissing me, soft but hungry. "I love you, Kunzaito-sama," he breathed against my mouth.
And for the first time, I pulled away, very seriously. "And I, you," I said solemnly, meaningfully, as his eyes widened with a surprised and wholly satisfied look of deepest pleasure, before our lips met again.
Honestly, I couldn't care about anything more.
I often spent my nights lying awake in the bed we had once shared together, squinting my eyes in the darkness, hoping uselessly that if I looked just a little bit farther, I might be able to see those two glinting emeralds, shining strong and pure out of the darkness, filled with the green flames that so defined his fiery temperament. I would lay there, clutching the sheets that still faintly bore his scent, inhaling them deeply, with increasing desperation as the sweet smell slowly faded and drifted away as the days wore on. Lonely nights passed in endless succession, accumulating slowly into weeks. Hours stretched before me like a dark and lonely road, no end in sight.
I would turn over on one side and thought I had felt the familiar, soft sensation of those golden locks between my fingertips. Startled, I jumped into full awakeness, only to find the blankets twisted in my clammy palm instead of that beautiful, fragrant hair. Angrily, I wrenched the coverings and sheets from the bed, flinging them onto the cold stone floor, rolling myself over and burying my face in the pillow. I wondered if it was possible to suffocate myself. I wondered if it was even necessary. Living without him had already seemingly robbed me of breath.
The bitch kept calling me, kept me working alongside that useless bastard. I felt my insides boil, churning with an angry fire, and even that reminded me of him. It was more his style to be furious, to lose his calm; I couldn't count the number of times I had seen red flames engulf the paleness of his cheeks, lighting them in a hateful blush. I managed to keep my cool, my anger was glazed over with icy calm. I made sure the hatred was never apparent on my face, quite the opposite of how my little rat would have behaved, the passionate boy whose every emotion was spelled out on his features in language so plain that no one had difficulty deciphering it.
I grew careless. I didn't want to serve her, I had no will to succeed. The fate of the kingdom held no interest for me, as any hope of mine for a redeeming future had died with him. Evermore the subservient king, I still continued to play the part, the role of Beryl's icy minion; Lord Kunzite, whose heart was buried in a glacier so thick that no feeling could penetrate it.
Oh, how little they knew. And how surprised they may have been to learn that the glacier had been melted by a fire so beautiful that even I couldn't contain and protect it. It was a fire meant to burn in its own right, to be glorious and beautiful and impermanent and so very, very fragile. And as it flickered and went out in my own embrace, it took a part of me with it, leaving a crack in the iceberg. And I would never be able to get that back.
Truthfully, I wouldn't have wanted to, anyway.
I think Beryl knew. How could she not have known? How could she not notice the sudden poorness of my performance, the dullness of my actions? The bitch had to have known this would have been the result, and yet she took him from me anyway. She murdered him. If it weren't for her and that damned prince ...
But no. No use reflecting on what cannot be changed.
Except the memories of him are the only thing that keep me alive. Ironically, they are also what slowly kill me. The reason I wake up in the middle of the night to find myself with my arms wrapped around nothing but air, the reason why it still takes several minutes every day for it to register that he is gone.
I'm giving up.
He would have done anything for me. Anything. I only needed to nod my head or give him a knowing look, and he would jump at the opportunity to please me. And yet here I am, his teacher, his elder, his protector and lover, and I don't even have the strength to go on living without his presence. And I wasn't strong enough to save him. And even at the end, I was unable to be completely honest with him.
"Oshitaishite orimashita, Kunzaito-sama."
And I never responded. Couldn't. I was choked by my own icy demeanor. Unable to protect him, unable to save him, hell, I wasn't even able to tell him that I ... loved him.
The fire went out, and whatever fire he had burned within me was also extinguished. And now I continue to fight the damned senshi, those silly little girls, too strong for them to take me by their own power and too tired to exert myself enough to wholly defeat them. If I spend my time concocting their end rather than submerging myself in grief, I will eventually win against them and have gained nothing, because without him, I have nothing. If I succumb to them and let them or Beryl herself take me by their own will, I will have died without honor, proving myself to be the coward I was when I didn't save him, nullifying any worth in myself or my love.
And yet I want so badly to die, if dying means we can find one another.
And so I made the choice. I let fly a powerful trademark blast of energy, knowing full well the attack would fail and be rebounded. And yet I was still surprised as it flew back to pierce me. The pain blinded me, but only for a moment, or at least I only consciously recognized it for a moment. My thoughts had already turned back to my missing and so badly needed love, and as I felt my last breaths rising to escape and my heart pounding fatally beneath my breast, I melted the ice that had so covered my emotionless voice and gasped for him to take me, take me wherever your spirit is. Oh gods, please. Please take me there.
The pain burst to the forefront of my mind once more, blinding me, everything melted into white-hot light. I felt my body give way. Felt it die around me.
And then there was nothing but solid darkness.
I cursed myself needlessly for ever thinking that a demon like myself would find redemption, would have any hope in death. I, who had never had either in life, becoming so presumptious as to expect some sort of retribution for a twisted life of pain? Of course there would be no salvation, not here. Of course our souls would never again meet. It was more than either of us deserved.
I was back in the nightmare once more, shrouded in the darkness and the hate, once again straining my eyes in desperate hope but finding nothing beyond the inky black.
Nothing.
And then I felt it.
A warm hand had pressed against the cool skin of my shoulder, the delicate fingers radiating pleasant embers against my flesh. I blinked and saw a pair of green jewels, more perfect and more valuable than any gemstone ever found beneath the earth's soil. Framed by long and gentle lashes, set in a face of smoothest porcelain, the milky complexion broken only by a rosy flush across the cheeks. Copper waves streaming down around him, like a liquid, molten fire, with curls delicately tucked behind his ears.
He's too beautiful to be a demon, and yet too real to be an angel. Too close. Too utterly sensual and desired to be anything close to pure.
He reached out to touch my face, tracing the line of my jaw with those soft and slender fingers, and immediately I captured the wrist with my hand, pressing the palm to my lips, kissing it deeply.
Oh, my little rat. My impossibly beautiful treasure.
He smiled then, lovely, seductively. "I heard you call for me," he breathed, and the soft tenor of his voice was such a sweet and lovely melody, one I thought I'd never hear play again.
I pulled him into my embrace, sinking down with him, cradling him against me. I buried my face into his silken hair and whispered, "I thought I had lost you."
He smirked, making a tiny scoffing noise, that familar and adorable arrogance creeping into his voice. "Lost me? Impossible." He craned his neck upward and nibbled lightly on my ear. "I don't think there's anything in heaven or hell that could keep me from you for very long," he whispered smugly. Pulling away, he gazed up at me with those deceivingly innocent eyes. "And I think you rather enjoy that little factor."
I chuckled softly, genuinely, for the first time in what feels like years. He smiled up at me for a brief moment before bringing that beautiful mouth up to my own, kissing me, soft but hungry. "I love you, Kunzaito-sama," he breathed against my mouth.
And for the first time, I pulled away, very seriously. "And I, you," I said solemnly, meaningfully, as his eyes widened with a surprised and wholly satisfied look of deepest pleasure, before our lips met again.
Honestly, I couldn't care about anything more.