Yep...I actually did it. Here we have an rp yaoi/shounen-ai pairing that is...Zack/Rem. Rating around PG-13, though just barely. This is more romantic-y, besides.
P.S. And if there are typos...SHOOT THEM.
I can’t stop watching him. As we walk, as we fight, as we rest…my eyes inevitably find him, seeking, needing…desperate. I’m never far from him, never out of his sight, nor do I ever let him out of mine. He grumbles about it, I know, jokingly irritated by my steadfast presence. There are times when he wants to be alone with the girl, with the others, away from me and my devotion. I let him go, but it is like losing my humanity all over again.
I didn’t feel until I found him. Didn’t bother to feel. Emotions were a waste of time, an annoyance. To speak was to delay the death of my enemies, to care was to expose myself to attack. To even consider admitting to anything but my instincts was naïve, even foolhardy…I never questioned anything I did, or took the time to regret the things that I didn’t do. I had been a true Fiend, devoted to nothing but power and hunger and blood, free of such things has want and worry and weakness.
But then I had to face him, find him…realize that he was like me and yet not, everything I could have been but had never had the courage to attain. Inhuman…and yet so human it hurt to be around him, a sweet, aching agony that I could no longer let go of. He laughed when I could not, smiled where I didn’t dare to, lived and felt and existed when I was nothing but a harbinger for a doom that had been discarded.
He was everything I wanted to be, and everything I couldn’t have.
I don’t like this feeling. I don’t…truthfully, I can barely stand living this way. But I can’t find it within myself to let him go. It is more than just loyalty and duty; more than the need for help; more than even my guilt for the mistakes I made when we met. It is…something I can’t explain. Something I no longer understand. Maybe I knew what it was, centuries ago when my hands weren’t capable of killing.
All I’m aware of now is that I every time I lay my eyes on him, I ache inside with a need that is a breed of hunger I’ve never felt before. I want…some of what he is. I want him inside me, that part of him that is so outstandingly human. Inside in more ways than one. I want him to look at me the way he looks at Amata. I want to be there when he smiles and laughs, so that maybe…maybe I can regain what I lost. I don’t know why I feel that only he can give that to me…
I don’t want to be this way, but the feeling is becoming more precious every day. I play my part of the stoic demon, ignorant of the realm of the heart and the emotions, watching the world go by with the calm face they expect to see. I help them, I walk with them, I talk with them, I journey with them…but he’s the only one I see. The only one I stay for. I could have left so long ago, found my own way back to my wasteland of a world…and yet I didn’t.
Instead, I stayed here…stayed so that I could walk behind him and watch with hungry eyes, just as I am doing now. We’re on yet another journey, the purpose of which I never bothered to learn; I had simply followed, as I always did. The others talk and joke nervously, a few evening striking up a short, somewhat one-sided conversation with me, but they don’t expect more than that. It’s how I’ve always acted, after all, so why should they think of it as anything else?
Why should they ever suspect that I need him so badly that I’m nearly dying of it?
"Yo, Rem, we’re stopping for the day!"
I halt abruptly, somewhat shocked that we reached a highway inn without my noticing, though my face betrays nothing to my fellows. Instead, I school my rebellious thoughts and aid in the acquirement of dinner and boarding, my…unique appearance doing wonders for the innkeeper irate over so many guests arriving so late in the evening. We are settled throughout several rooms in no time, the others making their gradual way into the large dining hall.
Of course, I do not follow. Hungry though I might be, there is no place for me at their table.
Instead, I remain in the room designated for my use—I have been without a roommate ever since Ced’s complaints about being unable to sleep due to the consent glow from my body. I am…glad. I don’t want anyone to be present while I try to gain some modicum of understanding in regards to my…feelings.
Sighing uncharacteristically, I lean against the wall near the window, looking out into the darkening night. Inky and thick, the moon is making its absence pointedly known, the few stars shedding naught but meager light, though it is still enough for me to see by. Hills dotted with woodland spread in all directions, the sight so incongruous to me that I have to pause and marvel at it, at a world that is still green and growing and alive. Even now, months, nearly years after the fact, I still cannot come to terms with my change in situation; how I am here, away from the wasteland of a world that I had created myself.
The only thing that seems normal, comforting even, is…
"Zack…," I breathe, feeling almost scandalous calling my Master by the man’s true name, rather than the title he deserved. It is a rare, precious treat that I reserve only for times when I am alone, when I can rationalize this sensation into oblivion, try to forget how it is nigh eating me alive…
But fate, it seems, enjoys turning my little moments of human weakness into situations that I can neither rationalize nor escape.
To my credit, I don’t jump. Rather, I grow very, very still. I knew my distraction had been dulling my senses, but to be completely unable to sense him walking up behind me…a true testament to the effect his presence has on me. No matter where we are, or what we are doing, I feel no danger from him—not since the first time, and never again. Instead, I am put at ease, made calm…soothed, even, in a way I still cannot explain.
He is looking at me strangely, puzzled by my silence. I am always so prompt with my responses to him…some subconscious urge to keep talking, to be able to hear his voice. He grants my silent wish, leaning against the wall on the other side of the window and crossing his arms.
"Got something on your mind?" He inquires with a raised brow, his expression a familiar one; that particular face communicates clearly that he expects answers, and will wait however long it will take to get them.
Amazing, sometimes, how I can read him when all other human interaction remains an unsolvable enigma.
"No," I lie after a time, turning my eyes back towards the night, wishing I could be there, hidden in the darkness…and yet, at the same time, elated beyond description that he and I are alone. I don’t understand this, nor do I comprehend how I can feel it, but…I do. I do, just the same.
"A likely story," he replies with a grin, but, lacking any kind of response from me, he sighs, shaking his head in an almost big brotherly fashion. "So, why didn’t you come down for dinner?"
I look back at him, my carefully neutral expression somehow communicating perfectly my distant echo of bemusement. He reads this, reads it when no one else seems even remotely capable of it.
"Okay, okay, stupid question, but it isn’t like you can’t at least sit with us," Zack continues, looking almost…exasperated with me. And, at once, I can’t stand it.
"I will join you for breakfast," I immediately reply, aware that I want…something. Something indescribable, more so than my need for him, every moment of every day. Something that tugs at my chest, that makes me weak and uncertain, that makes me…
"…what happened to ‘Zack’?"
I pause. So he had heard me…and only now he realizes the difference between his name and my title for him. He has seen my secret, my dependence, or at least some small part of it. I have to ask myself: what am I suppose to do now?
And the sad, pathetically human answer is this: I just don’t know. So I don’t answer, instead turning my gaze ever-so-slowly back to the window, and the darkness, and the endless uncertainly of my wayward heart.
"You know…," Zack begins again after what felt like an eternity, his voice strangely indecipherable, his face hidden from me. "You’ve been hanging around me more than usual lately. I can hardly get any time to myself. It’s almost like you’re always watching me, which is distracting as hell."
I don’t know move, I hardly breathe. I always tried to act so normal…had he noticed, regardless of that? Did he know? Was I exposed and vulnerable, like a defeated opponent on an uneven battlefield? I hated that feeling, the sensation of submission and exposure gnawing terribly at my demonic instincts…and yet, at the same time, I revel in it. I revel in the fact that I don’t have to be terribly, inhumanly strong. That I can…feel again.
If I could recall what these emotions were, I would give them names such as fear and hope, anxiety and want.
"Is there any particular reason for this? I mean, if someone is stalking me, I’d love to know why."
A reason? There are countless reasons! His smile, his laugh, his eyes, his hands, his stride, his jokes, his words, his strength, his heart…
"…no," I whisper, almost completely unaware of how my voice has fallen, of the way my eyes have deepened to a molten gold, heated instead of cold, young rather than old. Almost as if I really was eighteen again, a boy rather than a Fiend, a person rather than a tool.
"…a likely story."
And, like that, he’s all around me, strong arms enclosing my embarrassingly slight shoulders, my head actually resting against his neck. I hadn’t noticed before now…he’s so much taller than I am, by nearly half a foot. And I’m slighter, my innate power coming from something other than muscle mass, while he is actually built to wield his heavy sword. He is…warm, alive, his heartbeat almost agonizingly clear to my ears, his breathing deep and calm while mine seems to have ceased entirely.
My first instinct is to retaliate, to defend myself from this unexpected attack, but I don’t. I remain where I am, frozen with my arms rigid at my sides, unable to move, to even think clearly. There is only one thought in my head that is not muddled and confused, and it is speaking in words that I barely understand.
"You know, I like a straight answer from people that I care about," Zack murmurs in a low, familiar voice, somewhere between joking and serious, scolding and kind. I shudder at this, the movement barely perceptible…but, with me in his arms, I know he feels it. I know…but all I can do is continue to tremble, my muscles loosening every second that his body touches mine. "I’m sure I can handle it."
Relief, coursing through me far faster than I would have ever thought possible. It is like the world is spinning all around me, ending all over again, and all I can do is desperately hold on, hoping to survive it once more. But it’s not the world…it’s me, my heart, my dead and dying human heart, ceasing it’s unbearable entropy as someone who can smile in spite of…everything, holds me close.
Slowly, slowly, and overcome with more emotion than I can possibly comprehend or describe, I let myself relax. My arms move bare inches at a time, stuttering and uncertain, but going just the same. My hands, so often stained with blood, clasp around him, tight yet gentle, my breath tumbling from me as I let myself fall into his embrace, weaker and stronger than I have ever been.