Work Text:
No matter how many times, I'm sure,
Yes, no matter how many years pass, I'm sure,
It's just that we will end, together with a goodbye...
*******
There was a gentle knock on his door. He refused to let his eyes open. If he did, the sun shining outside will just remind him of how he is still alive. As he slowly woke, his chest moved up and down while he breathed. There was nothing soothing coming from it. He was breathing poison instead of oxygen.
The knocking never ceased. Now, a feminine voice followed. “Young Master? Are you awake? May I come in? I brought breakfast.”
Gusion wanted to throw up just from the thought of eating. He groaned inwardly while pulling the blanket over his head. He hoped this thick blanket would block out any noises. The blanket wrapped around him like some cocoon, separating him from the world.
But this servant is relentless, “I’m sorry, Young Master. I must insist on you to have breakfast. You haven’t eaten for two days. His Grace ordered me to make sure you eat at least a bite of bread.”
His Grace... Gusion repeated the words in his head with disgust. If he had not appeared in his life, Claude would have-
“No.” Gusion’s cocoon tightened around him. He pushed the thought further away into the depths of his mind. The thought was crumpled like a paper ball before he threw it into the fire.
Let’s not speak of him. Not now.
“Goose! Goose! Come here! Check out this toy I got.”
Shit. Where did that voice come from? Gusion gritted his teeth and his hands went to press themselves on his ears. The servant’s knock still rapped on his door. He wished she would just give up already and leave him be. Her knocking alone was enough to make him wish for death, but now with HIS voice penetrating his memory.
“You’re actually proud of this? How old are you? 3?”
“There’s no age limit to having fun.”
“You’re right. There’s no limit to your childishness.”
“Hey!”
“Young Master?”
“SHUT UP!” Gusion screamed, throwing the blanket off him. He whipped his head to the door. “Just shut up! Leave me alone!”
Tears were streaming violently down his cheeks. His chest heaved up and down, gulping air to calm the raging flames. The flames were burning at his chest. It sucked all the oxygen from his lungs, leaving him breathless as he choked for air. He felt like drowning despite being on dry land.
“Mornin sleepyhead. Dexter and I got you that blueberry muffin you love.”
His hand went to claw at his pillow. His trembling body stayed frozen on the bed as his ears were tortured by Claude’s voice. Instantly, he could see that brown pompadour with a clean side cut. The hairstyle he once commented looking stupid. Gusion hissed as if a serpent had injected venom into his body, falling on his side on the bed. He should not have said that. He should never call Claude’s choice of style as stupid.
Especially when such appearance now left a mark in his memory.
Silence claimed its home in his room. Gusion no longer heard the servant from the other side of the door. She must have left from his outburst. Though, she or someone else will return to pester him again. The servants would rather leave him be but it was his brother, Duke Aamon Paxley, that made them do these tasks. He knew his brother cared for him, but Gusion wished Aamon would just stuff his nose in those paperwork rather than forcing Gusion to eat.
Food, water or words of comfort were the last things he needed. Gusion vomited anything that touched his tongue. Water tasted like they scooped it from the sewers and their so called attempts to calm him sounded like thousands of flies buzzing in his ears.
But then again, if Gusion truly wanted to be left alone. He turned to the door. The servant must definitely place down the tray before turning away. Gusion could just take the tray and throw away the food then place the tray back outside. They would think he had finished eating and would stop bothering him.
The plan proved itself to be a bigger chore when he realized he had to get up from bed. Gusion sighed heavily before swinging his legs to the side. He pushed himself off the bed and staggered to balance his body. Every joint in his body was cracking from days worth of staying immobilized. Gusion’s feet shuffled to the door, moving sluggishly.
He stopped when he caught something in the mirror. Gusion narrowed his eyes at the ruined doppelganger staring back at him. The doppelganger’s brown hair was messy. Dark shadows and bags underneath his eyes were prominent thanks to the sickly shade of pale skin. His lips that were once the talk of young girls for being so rosy and kissable now cracked and dried. A hint of blood could be seen.
Gusion stared at the doppelganger’s brown eyes. He remembered how others explained them to be glimmering with mischief and curiosity. The elders said they feared if his eyes ever befell on them. It would mean someone is about to have their books turned to doves or have a toad underneath their hats by the youngest Paxley.
Gusion blinked at the mirror. Funny, he failed to see such light in them. Those eyes looked dull, almost dead. They were hazy as if a shroud of fog covered them. Gusion turned away from the mirror and resumed his walk to the door.
The lock made a click before he opened it. Gusion dropped his gaze to the silver tray on the floor. Other nobled would be upset by the act of placing food on the ground like how one would feed a dog, but for Gusion, he did not care. He would not even care if the servants placed his meal in a dog’s food bowl. He never had the appetite to eat anyway.
Gusion studied the prepared meal as he walked to his desk. Eggs, bacon and a slice of bread, the typical. The greasy smell of bacon wafted into his nostrils. Instead of making his mouth water, Gusion’s hand flew to his mouth as he gagged. He could feel the bile climbing up to his throat. Quickly, the tray was dropped onto the desk and Gusion made a mad dash for the bathroom.
The bathroom’s silence was easily broken by his loud gags and heaves as he vomited. Gusion clutched onto the brim like his life depends on it. His throat was burning from the bile rushing through. His stomach had been empty for hours and hours of starvation. He was unsure what came out but at the same time, did he care?
Once the fit was over, Gusion laid limp on the toilet. His forehead rested on crossed arms as he panted for breath. The vomiting had left him more tired than he had already been. No one would believe he was the Gusion Paxley. The most energetic human being on this side of Moniyan, who has been reduced into a weak slug. No, he felt like a used rug.
What would Claude think if he saw him like this?
“Damn, my boyfriend is pathetic.” Gusion heard the voice speaking in his mind. He knew it was not Claude but the voice was painfully identical. “Is this really that rowdy, rude boy I fell in love with? Wow, that’s embarrassing. I thought you assassins are heartless.”
“Claude…”
“Guess break-up wasn’t a bad idea.” Claude scoffed while shaking his head. Gusion watched him turn, giving his back to him. When he started to walk away, Gusion pushed himself from the toilet.
He grunt in pain from the impact on the floor, but did not give a care as he feebly crawled towards Claude. “Claude!” His weakened voice desperately screamed with one hand outstretched. “Don’t go. Please!”
Claude paused at the door. Without even sparing him a glance over his shoulder, Claude shot the final bullet.
“Goodbye Gusion. I hope we never cross paths again…”
“CLAUDE!”
**
“Your Grace?”
Aamon looked up from the tome he was studying. His eyes meant no harm yet still managed to make the poor servant shiver. Not to mention the eyebags made his gaze twice more threatening than it should have.
The servant noticed Duke Paxley was waiting for him. He shook his head and fixed his posture. The scrolls of papers were held tight in his arms.
“I-I brought the scrolls you requested from Elder Luiz.” He stuttered when he spoke. Slowly, almost carefully, the servant walked over to Aamon. The duke sat himself on an armchair facing the fireplace. In his hand he held a half-empty glass of red wine. The duke was never a drunkard but he tends to drink a lot whenever he needs to work overtime.
Aamon downed the remainder of his wine and placed the glass on a table beside him. The servant gave him the scrolls. He returned with a brief nod as a thank you. The servant gave a bow before leaving.
Usually, he would tend to the scrolls as soon as he received them. But for tonight, Aamon had no motivation to study them. The scrolls were meant to carry some answers to this quest. For tonight, they felt like weights. So, Aamon placed the scrolls to the side before pouring himself another glass of wine.
The buzz was filling his head after god knows how many glasses he had. Well, he still got halfway to go with this single bottle. Aamon could just finish it all but his reputation as the Duke will be damaged, most definitely. He was not a stranger to hangovers and headaches (even on normal days he suffered), but as head of the family, Aamon is the one who needs to be the most level-headed.
Especially when…
His eyes rolled over to the scrolls on the table. Elder Luiz was known to be well-acknowledged in history and archive. If Aamon needed an answer from the past, he was the only one he could trust. His title as Duke surely helped him get these without triggering any fuss. Elder Luiz tends to ask way too many questions if asked for assistance in his archives, but facing Duke Paxley, the elder would have to think twice unless he did not mind the young duke’s threatening gaze.
Aamon’s finger was twitching to grab the scroll but a small voice in his mind stopped him.
Your conquest placed Gusion in misery, It said without a care of the painful twinge on Aamon’s heart. You claimed to care for your brother and yet managed to ruin his life. Was he not happy before you appeared?
“He sure was…” Memories flashed in Aamon’s muse.
Even though he ordered a servant to release Gusion from his cell, Aamon never abandoned him. When the sky grew dark and the people returned to their chambers, Aamon lurked in the shadows to find his brother. He visited taverns, interviewed locals and even dared himself to look at posters of wanted criminals. If the previous Duke Paxley had not given him such strict magical training, Aamon would not have been able to summon a clone to take his place in the office.The last thing he needed was the Elders panicking of their missing duke.
It gave him enough time to locate Gusion. After countless days and nights of travelling, Aamon spotted Gusion in a place he least expected that boy to be - a rundown town in the West Desert.
Gusion may be rebellious and a brat, but he still has high standards. To see him living inside one of the shack-like houses shot millions of questions into his head. That is, until Aamon found the reason why.
One day, Aamon returned to the small town after abandoning it for weeks due to work. When he arrived, he saw his brother leaving one of the buildings which he assumed to be a tavern. Gusion was out of his usual purple wardrobe. He was dressed in a simple, red-checkered shirt and jeans that were ripped at one knee. Aamon tried to approach but quickly decided otherwise when another person left the tavern with Gusion.
If that boy ever stepped foot in House Paxley, Aamon could already hear the Elders’ whining. Aamon eventually learnt the boy’s name was Claude.
Claude had nothing attractive about him. His face resembles a pre-pubescent teenager, though looks always deceive age. He was not buffed but still got more muscles than an average stick. Claude had no manners, always laughing at a volume that made Aamon dying to shove his boot in his mouth. Whenever he drank at the tavern or had dinner with Gusion in diners, Claude would place his feet on the table and lean back in his seat until he was only balancing with the back legs of his chair. He was rude and gave no respect to the adults around him.
Not to mention having a monkey for a partner.
All these things gave Aamon a swirling headache. How could Gusion be attracted to this type of kid?
And yet, he continued to witness how infatuated Gusion was with Claude. Even when Gusion was yelling angrily at Claude for being pranked on, Aamon noticed those loving shimmer in his eyes.
The love proves its existence even stronger once Gusion’s secret was revealed.
Aamon groaned, leaning his head back on the chair. He could feel the painful heaviness settling in. It made his head throb.
Are you satisfied? The voice never ceased its taunts. Even if you rescued Gusion from the curse mark, the Gusion you have is no longer the same one you raised.
“I’m aware of that.”
His hand flew to the bottle and poured himself one final glass. Aamon downed the wine in one gulp, not caring how the alcohol burned his throat. He placed the glass with a little too much force on the table before standing up. His steps swayed from the alcohol fogging up his system, but Aamon still managed to make his way out of the study.
As he walked down the corridor, Aamon’s mind never stopped thinking about the image he saw in that small town.
Gusion is always bitter with the Paxleys, especially with the mistreatment he got. Aamon would be more than happy to side with his brother, but his duty as the head of the family got in the way. Even in his silent rebellion, Aamon was no different than those Elders. Hence, Gusion’s cold shoulder towards him was no surprise.
But, with Claude, Aamon saw something he thought was forever gone. Gusion smiled.
It was not his usual snarky grin or venomous smirk. It was a genuine smile full of warmth and happiness. Gusion was happy. He was happy being by Claude’s side. And when he laughed, Aamon was convinced that he was dreaming it.
Contrary to his thoughts, Gusion’s joy and contempt were real. The little brother Aamon grew up with as a child was still alive. He would do anything to have it stay.
You damn well ruined it instead…
“WILL YOU STO-” Aamon flinced, realising how loud he was. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. This is the middle of the night. Everyone is asleep except for the likes of him. Once his nerve was settled, Aamon continued his walk. Where to? He was unsure. Probably his own bed chamber, though sleep was out of the agenda.
His feet wandered as much as his thoughts had. Aamon did not even notice where he was taken until he realised the door he stopped at. Seeing the delicate carvings and fading remnants of a small child’s handprints, Aamon could only grit his teeth to stop this pain of guilt.
Surely he was possessed, because in the next minute, Aamon turned the doorknob.
He was unsure what he expected to see when the door opened. He definitely was not hoping to see Gusion curled up on the bed. With his knees close to his chest and both arms wrapped around them, the once energetic Paxley now looked the most feeble. If Gusion heard the door open, he did not react to it. His head was still kept down. Aamon sat on the bed beside him, as he tried to figure out what to say. He is walking on thin ice right now. One wrong step and he will fall into the cold water below.
Aamon took a deep breath. His hand was hesitating to be on Gusion’s shoulder but he feared Gusion might crumble.
“It’s past midnight…” He slowly started. “You should be asleep.”
Aamon dared himself to stroke back Gusion’s bangs. His brother’s shoulders tensed up but slowly started to relax.
“Not tired.” Came the muffled answer. Gusion never lifted his head when he spoke. “I just...I can’t sleep.”
“Got something in your mind?”
Aamon instantly regretted that question when Gusion’s shoulders jerked up. There was a muffled sound and Aamon hoped he misheard that sobbing. Gusion moved his head but never looked up. Aamon’s hand dropped from Gusion’s head to his shoulder.
“You know,” He said. “Getting things off your chest can help you sleep. Let your head get cleared. If there’s something bothering you, little brother, you can tell me.”
Gusion hugged his knees even tighter. His hands were gripping tight on his pyjama pants. He was unsure if Aamon should know, but at the same time, his brother probably already guessed it before he even made the decision to ask.
Gusion was about to open his mouth when Aamon spoke before him, “Is it about Claude?”
The name made Gusion pursed his lips tight. Instantly his heart started to tightened itself, shrinking from the guilt and sadness. If death by being heartbroken is real, then Gusion would accept it willingly. At least the demon Kalon won’t be revived right?
“I wish I could see him again,” He whispered with a heavy voice. “I wish I never lied about the curse mark.”
Aamon raised a curious brow as Gusion continued. “He already saw the curse mark but I said it’s just a tattoo. When the curse mark hurts me, I told him it’s just a magical drain and I need to rest for the day. If I had told him sooner, this wouldn’t have happened.”
Claude’s grinning face in his memory broke the dam on his eyes. Gusion buried his face back in his arms as the sobbing jerked his body. “He wouldn’t have left me if I just told him the truth.”
The older Paxley frowned. “So you knew about the curse mark before?”
Gusion shook his head. “No, I don’t even know what it was. I thought it’s an actual tattoo I got after a night of drinking. I never expected it to be anything concerning.”
“I see…”
“Aye Goose…” Claude called out to the daydreaming Paxley. Gusion looked down to Claude lying on his lap. “You know I won’t let anything hurt ya, right?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Nothing. I’m just saying-”
Claude’s words got interrupted by Gusion leaning down to kiss him. When he pulled back, Gusion had a sweet smile on him that made his eyes squint.
“I know you’ll always protect me, idiot.”
Aamon bit his bottom lip when Gusion was trying hard to cover his distress. The tousled brown hair looked even messier. Aamon glanced at the trays on a coffee table by the small lounge near the balcony. All the food the servants had delivered only had smile bites off them, or was hardly even disturbed. His brows went taut with worry as he glanced back to Gusion.
“Hey, Gusion-”
“Big brother…”
Aamon stared at Gusion who slowly looked up from his arms. The once bright eyes now glistened with tears and puffy from the God knows how hours he had been crying. Shadows gathered below from sleepless nights. His nose was red from all that rubbing whenever Gusion tried to wipe away the snot when a fit was done.
The last time his brother was like that was way back when they were small children. Gusion was no older than a toddler. Afterwards, his little brother tried his best not to cry over anything even when he tripped while running.
Seeing Gusion like this again after so long, made Aamon gripped tightly on the bed sheet. To the one responsible for this, they will definitely die by his hands. Even if the culprit is his own ancestor.
“...do you think he’ll come back?”
Aamon blinked away from his thoughts. He turned to Gusion. “Pardon?”
Gusion looked indifferent, though there was a new shine in his eyes. It slowly broke through the miserable layer.
“You told me this curse mark exists because of Valentina’s contract with Kalon.” The older Paxley nodded. “If we could find the Heart of Anima, we can remove the seal. Am I right?”
“Yes…” Aamon shook his head to clear his mind. “Though, we still don’t know where it’s location is. Not to mention there’s bound to be some....competition…”
“I don’t care.” Gusion quickly said. “I’ll fight for it, no matter what. As long as I can get this thing off me, I won’t let anyone get in my way!”
“Gusion-”
“If I can remove this thing, then Claude will come back to me.” Gusion turned to Aamon. A hopeful glint outshined everything else. “He’ll forgive me once he sees that I live.”