Gelico
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Summary
'I can't bear being this happy.'
'When I committed this sin, I felt pure. More pure than I ever have in my life. How can I be sorry for it?'
“What do you want?”
It surprises Viktor when the question comes out of his own mouth. Jayce looks over to him, not sure if he’s actually being spoken to, but Viktor’s openly staring at him. He has been, unashamedly, for the last few minutes, but the Golden Boy is already trying to get smashed not even half-an-hour into his own party so sue him if he’s anything less than gawking.
“A glass of milk.”
What?
“I’m sorry?”
“Milk.”
“Milk?”
Jayce nods, as if it’s the most simple ask in the world.
Viktor huffs a laugh before he can even catch himself, the edge of his lip quirking up while his teeth are on full display. He flags down the bartender, “Two milks. Make mine a little sweet.”
“Sure, you want a syrup or…?”
Viktor looks over at Jayce, who’s now the one unabashedly staring at him, his posture straightened like before, but with a little bit of a tilt.
Viktor smiles. “Butterscotch.”
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“It unexpectedly suits you.”
He strides to her then. One large step, two, crowding her space until she can barely breathe with how fast he was suddenly there. Just like his voice, just like his stare. He is taller than her by a couple of inches. Not the most impressive feat, but he somehow made it seem all the more menacing when he stood so close to her. His gaze comes up from her belt, drawing to the hem of her jacket and along the path up her collar.
She doesn’t understand why he’s putting so much importance on this. For one, her eyes are a light brown. While blacks were often next to browns on the color wheel, they weren’t necessarily complimentary. Though maybe, for such beings devoid of color, they thought everything went with black or white. After all, there was nothing else to compare it to. Though, when he finally reaches her with that unflinching stare, she can’t help but think how truly beautiful he was made with the choice of deep emerald against the silky thick black of his hair. White really did make everything stand out more.
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Summary
Sometimes he would linger for only a few minutes, other times for what seemed like hours. No one cared of course. After all, this was where he was supposed to be. No one could question the diligence of the espada. Orihime especially.
A job, a job, when did it stop being a job?
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How many moments would you choose if you had to reflect on your life? Orihime would choose five. Five chances at love, five chances to find a light. Ulquiorra would choose five. Five was logical. One for every 20 years of a lifespan that peaked before its time.Five.
Five moments dotted across one single lifetime; a detailed account of growth told from passionate highs and vulnerable perspectives to say everything in-between.
[Tags updated with every chapter]