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A white haired youth sat unmoving on the edge of the bed. Facing a window, the early morning light illuminated his pale skin and white hair, long strands cascading down slim shoulders like a waterfall.
The pale dawn casted a light shadow behind him, falling across the bed. If he had any audience, his silence made him appear untouchable. He seemed contemplative, almost melancholic.
Pink eyes reflected the scene through the glass panes, a pastel sky with a milky yellow sun shyly peaking over the horizon, the quiet before it set the sky on fire. Small wisps of clouds slid lazily across the colorful canvas, idle with nowhere to be.
The room was so quiet, like this was a world just for him. As if he was the only existence within this bubble. The world held it's breath for him, waiting for him to move, like it couldn't bear to continue without him.
White eyelashes quivered like flower petals as the youth lowered his eyes to his hands. He rubbed his fingers along the back of his hand, sliding over smooth pale skin.
Some muffled sounds came from beyond the door, voices and then footsteps as trainees started their days. Running in this cycle of life and death, everyday they're shown just how temporary and insignificant they are. Yet they keep running. Because it was their insignificance, and it was up to none but themselves to judge their uselessness.
Zong Jiu thinks it was kind of like that for him, back in the real world. His world. After he lost dexterity in his hands, unable to pursue the magic he loved so much. That had been his insignificance, his blight. He tried to find cures all to no avail, he'd learned to live with barely functioning hands. It was better than nothing, but the swiftness and details required by sleight of hand would be foreign to him then. It had been frustrating to see a deck of cards and know what he was capable of doing, but no longer able to.
And then he'd ended up here. He'd learned the rules, survived his first instance, stepped into a casino, played his tricks and restored his hands. They were better than ever, dexterous and nimble and his livelihood fell back into the palm of his hands.
Zong Jiu looked down at the card in his hands now, passing it back and forth, watching it disappear and reappear between thin and elegant fingers.
He's not one to believe in fate or destiny, luck is essential in a place like this, but it's not something he relies heavily on either. All those fickle things that human beings believe in, that happen on a whim indiscriminately but without care of anyone. Coincidences, especially in this place, are not to be trusted.
But, was it any of those that brought him here? Was it fate, destiny, luck, or a coincidence that he ended up in such a situation. It certainly wasn't his own doing, it'd be impossible in his world.
If any of that existed and had truly influenced his appearance here, in any other scenario Zong Jiu would still be living day to day, struggling with feeling in his fingers. Perhaps he'd be in his residence now, another cup having shattered on the floor, frustration bleeding into his expression as he leaned down to pick up the pieces.
Was he lucky then? That, in the end, he ended up here? No one else would think so, he was sure. Who in their right mind would think being stuck here was a lucky thing?
Living with your life on the line at every turn, death breathing down your neck, the worth of your life judged by something who knows nothing of you. But Zong Jiu likes it. It's fun, exciting, and he's always been good at making use of the hand he's dealt. He's constantly made to form new plans, think on his feet, keep his head attached. Zong Jiu is a magician and everyone's eyes are on him. Every time he steps into an instance, it is his new stage and he will command it.
An elegant hand lifts, held against the morning light as the sun starts rising beyond the horizon. The light turns the edges of pale flesh pink as pink eyes squint against the glare.
Like this, in a lone room facing the window and his back casting a shadow, he looked inexplicably small, and lonely.
Zong Jiu felt the presence before the touch, arms wrapping around his waist and cold hands moving slyly under the hem of his shirt. Fingers caress his stomach with care as a chin rests upon his shoulder, a steady weight latching on behind him. "What are you thinking so hard about, my dear?" The low voice cooed into his ear, a snaking tendril with thorns so tender it wanted to sink into his flesh and constrain him tightly.
"How annoying you are." He tried to elbow the figure behind him, but No.1 wouldn't budge. A thumb smoothed over his belly button before the hands reappeared from under his shirt, one coming to rest on his wrist, rubbing gently along the skin as the other reached up to carefully move Zong Jiu's hair aside. A kiss was dropped on the back of his neck, before another followed. Soft lips brushed along the sensitive skin on his nape, the occasional press of teeth making Zong Jiu twitch.
"Is my little magician getting lonely without me around? I'm always devastated when we have to part." Zong Jiu could hear the pout in No.1's voice, but paid him no heed. He ignored the other for a few moments, simply closing his eyes and feeling their close proximity. A hiss was drawn from his lips when No.1 gave him a particularly harsh bite, causing Zong Jiu to whirl around and shove him back.
No.1 was pressed into the mattress with a huff of amusement, mirth gleamed in his eyes even when the sharp edge of a playing card was pressed up to his neck.
A sharp retort rested on Zong Jiu's tongue but died before he could give voice to it. Uncaring of the potential murder weapon against his throat, No.1's hands reached up and gently guided Zong Jiu down so that he was closer. A smile brushed against his lips as the devil ignored the card digging into his skin and leaned up to press their lips together. It was harsh and biting, the drag of tongue and the sensual hand at his nape causing Zong Jiu to loosen his grip and the card fluttered gracefully to the ground.
"Baobei, you're thinking unnecessary things. You're here aren't you? And that's that. You're here, and you're with me. What else could you think about?" It was murmured between their mouths, a soft intimate thing. Zong Jiu didn't deign to give him a response, it was a quiet type of morning and constructing vocals was too draining of a task. He didn't want to break whatever this peacefulness was between them. The kisses turned softer, tender, loving.
He leaned forward into No.1's embrace, a shiver working its way down Zong Jiu's spine when the other took it as an invitation to continue marking his neck. He'll allow it this time. It's just too nice a morning to ruin.
Even without looking, he could tell No.1 was sporting a self satisfied smile. The bastard.
A hand leisurely trailed down his spine, bringing chills in its wake, before he was pulled flush against No.1, arms tight around him like No.1 wanted to swallow him straight into his chest.
"My little magician." The other man coaxed adoringly into his ear, pulling Zong Jiu ever closer.
The room descended into darkness as the curtains suddenly fell, blocking out the rising sun. A devilish grin took place on No.1's face in the dark, teeth digging into a pale milky shoulder as cold hands worked their way under clothing.
Was it fate? Destiny? Luck? Or mere coincidence that they would end up so wrapped around each other. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. Whatever force that may or may not have led to Zong Jiu initially smashing that hammer into the NPC's head didn't matter. What did matter was that he had done it and ever since that moment there was no going back.
If he was being a little honest to himself, it wasn't so bad.
Zong Jiu could only tighten his grip on their intertwined hands as he was pulled, again and again, back into No.1's orbit.