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(Love is…
There was a time in his life when he'd been stripped of all purpose but one forced upon him should he wish for survival. A time where his mind, yet able to comprehend the complexity of human life and emotion, far too young to do so, had become almost still in a state of ever present fear, forced into a state of continuous adrenaline as he killed and trained and killed and trained and then killed some more. Those he called friends and those he did not know even the name of.
He wondered, after he came out on top only to gain nothing but a footing on thin ice, still at the danger of being disposed of, if he had ever truly befriended anyone. Was it childish innocence that pushed him into doing whatever he was told to spare himself pain, or was it merely his own selfishness and emptiness that made him kill without a thought, with a smile frozen on his face.
He thought—no, knew—that it was the later.
He gave up, it was simply that. Gave up both hope and ruth, because there was simply no meaning behind them anymore. Not to him, at the time. He surroundered himself to chase after someone he will never have, was aware that he won't, but it was all he was left with anymore. The reward of his survival, the one he will fight for, even if it was in vain.
For himself, he'd done everything for, and he can't be blamed. Or so Byakkomaru says, when he holds him down, hands enclosed around what would've been the demon's neck but is clearly not. He sees his own eyes staring back at him, his own lips formed into a serene smile. There's blood and gore around them, the sight and smell so real, but that's not what sparks fear through him. His true fear is something else.
His deepest darkness was himself.
"What's wrong with being a killer?" The demon says and laughs at him, "Nothing. Not for you. Survival is the primary instinct for all beings. It just so happens that you are so empty, that it's the only thing you fight for."
He does not say anything, and merely tightens his grip until he feels that unreal pulse stopping. The demon continues to smile, and once there's no breath left, the tangible body underneath him fades into black smoke.
"Seems like I was mistaken." Byakkomaru grins, when he appears in his true form, "You adore him so much you'd kill yourself so readily, look past whatever torment I'd put you through in order to save him. Perhaps I should've taken a different form."
When he's kneeling on the ground, feeling pain shoot through his body as blood pools down from his wounds and just barely conscious, what strength is left in him is used to hold Guren desperately closer. He feels wetness on his cheeks, his tears falling when he realises with mind-numbing relief that he'd done it, he'd saved Guren from that demon.
But it's not him, he thinks, that truly saved him.
It's Guren who saved them both.
… suffering when you're unable to feel it.)
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(Love is...
They banter quite often. Little jeerings here and there that either end with Shinya laughing and Guren scowling, or Shinya pouting while Guren smirks. It's an accepted part in their relationship, Shinya's endless teasing and jest, Guren's sharp comebacks to them that vary from sarcasm to a painful blow of his elbow in his side.
There are times that only begin to occur after her death, where these playful derisions become something more. Something harsher, more complicated, more hurtful. It's rare, very much so, because Shinya is calm and patient, but there are things even he can't handle. He just can't, when he sees Guren touching what can only bring destruction in his path.
There's cold rigidity in Guren's voice when he tells him to stay out of his business, and it's like a snowstorm started from within him, because it's first time that those words sounded so much like Guren meant them, every single syllable.
But they go back to how they were. Shinya is more than happy when they do, because he's been worried, so very worried that that would the end of it, the end of the times Guren would let him stay by his side. But Guren is the same the next morning, scolds Shinya for being late to the assigned place they are beginning their mission in before telling everyone to get into position. Not an apology, and Shinya wonders if it's because Guren doesn't see that argument as a rift between them, or that he doesn't care enough to.
He decides it's the later, because it makes him feel better that way.
The mission starts and they fall in sync immediately. Shinya feels the smile curl on his lips, his heart singing with excitement. It's a kind of thrill he feels only when he fights alongside Guren, and he never feels anything like it anywhere else, in any other situation. No, this is a thrill only Guren can bring him.
His eyes catch Guren's from a distance momentarily, and he still wonders how he's able to keep his attention on the battle instead of becoming mesmerised by the grace of each of Guren's movements when he fights. Nimble and statuesque, sure of its strength.
The mission ends with their victory, but not without damage. It's rarely without damage.
Somewhere throughout the fight, a vampire manages to land a blow on Guren, one strong enough to dislocate his shoulder.
Sayuri's already by his side by the time Shinya reaches him, his heart pounding even as he maintains his calm demeanour. Guren is kneeling on the ground, sword sheathed and a hand placed over his injured shoulder.
It's scary, he thinks, every time he sees him get hurt. He knows it isn't serious, can be fixed by his demon's power, yet he still has to ask, barely able to conceal the true worry he feels behind his smile.
"You're okay, Guren?" He asks, voice softened.
Guren rolls his eyes, both at Sayuri's fussing and the concern Shinya is unable to hide in his voice, and scoffs, "You think something like this can do me in?"
"No." Shinya answers with a lighter smile, feeling more at ease when he sees him being his usual gruff self. It means that he indeed is okay, though Shinya is sure he must be feeling some pain. Muscle dislocation is quite awful, Shinya knows from experience.
Still, Guren gets up effortlessly, and his smile widens a little when he does. "Good work, sir." He sings, and wonders if it's because of how flawlessly the mission, but instead of giving another scoff in reply, Guren smirks and walks past him, but not without stopping for a moment, looking at him from the corner of his eyes with a glinting violet gaze, and tease him with that same smooth twist of lips.
"Good, you know your superior."
His heartbeat seems to go a little faster and there's a strange heat on his face at those those words that sound almost charming in their deliberate arrogance, the lieutenant colonel shoving his good shoulder against his when he goes. He ignores it in favour of sighing and making a mocking remark of how Guren's so unschooled, everyone knows who position is higher, and then it goes back to their usual banters.
He ignores his feelings, because it's always safer and easier that way. Because this closeness that they have right now is enough, he reasons with himself that it is, even as his heart screams at him that it's not.
… a friendship caught in passionate flames.)
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(Love is...
He knows there are things he doesn't see, is not allowed to see. Knows there are things Guren doesn't show him, might never do. Knows that he will always be kept within a safe distance, a wall of doubt and grief and suspense separating him from that person, the one who has come to be more important to him than his own existence. The first one to do so, indeed. He knows that behind the veil of their army's renowned hero, behind the mask of an adoptive father, lays a shadowed garden of devious intents.
He knows, knows even more. But for him who lived in a prison of emptiness for so long, who saw that person—a mere boy at the time, a boy who would shine bright even should heaven cast its light—as the very embodiment of good in his lonely life, such knowledge is worthless when he could still try. Still try to claw his way up that impossibly tall wall of of his cage until he reached that small window at the top, even as he felt the grime eating away at him, fingers scratching until they were bloody and broken.
Still, where hope laid there was also strength. For a veil could very well be hiding a magician's enticing trick that would leave the crowd at awe with his brilliance, would cast a spark of sorcery upon an otherwise grey life. For a mask may also hide brokenness, hide ugly scars left by the blades of despair, that which could be healed if only one pulled off that cover.
And so, Shinya does not regret, does not doubt. Because where he belongs is next to Guren, even as he often has to press against that tall barrier between them, raise his voice at its highest so he could be heard. Even if Guren did not make an attempt at putting that barrier down, and only immersed himself more in the dark. But Shinya would still reach out, would still scratch and claw and try, would still remain ever loyal by his side, no matter the amount of danger that would come.
Because sometimes, he sees Guren eyes trail away in sadness, in fear and in suspense. Sometimes, he hears him, hears the cries he doesn't let out in harsh anger and those he does against his shoulder. Feels that, above anyone else, Guren himself is doubtful, is afraid.
And for those times and every other time, Shinya continues to stay.
… the acceptance of the other, whatever he is.)
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(Love is...
There's fire around him, burning bright as a vampire's eyes, bringing down majestic walls and turning them into ash. There's fire in the cries of the soldiers, so desperate for a victory at the fingertips of their hands, longing for it. There's fire within him, urging him to ignore the spiking pain and the exhaustion numbing his body, pushing forward and not stopping, refusing to stop.
He won't stop fighting until either the heavens decide it's his time, or he sees him, he sees Guren, and only then will he allow himself to rest.
So he continues. Shoot, cut, kill. Bring victory, bring Guren and everyone else back home safe. He has to, no matter what.
But there's only so much strain his body could handle. His knees give in and he collapses on the stained marble floor, somewhere within the falling castle of Sanguinem. Tears gather at the corners of his eyes when his legs fail him, buckle and touch the ground once more when he tries to stand. The tears nearly escape him when he realises he's already out of strength, and he begs Byakkomaru to give him a way to run again.
There's so much chaos around him, and he's so alone.
"You fool," his demon snarls in disgust, "How much do you think you can last if you keep running around and barely avoiding fatal blows?! Do you expect me to give you more strength when I'm trying to fix you?!"
His teeth grind together. He ignores his demon's words, and tries again. Again. Again.
He fails.
His body is too damaged right now. He can't go on.
For a moment, he wonders if he's going to die. But he's not, he knows he's not because there's a familiar figure with what seems to be a cloak of scarlet flying around it rushing towards him, kneeling down to wrap an arm of comfort around his shoulders.
"Shinya-san," Mito says, urgent and breathless from adrenaline, "Are you okay?" Her delicate face is bruised, hair fallen down, and there's a thin stream of blood coming from her temple, but despite the battered figures of them both Shinya is sure.
They're winning.
But Shinya can't bring himself to feel anything from that thought. Not yet, not when…
He's a little light-headed now, but he forces himself to regain his focus.
"Guren," he says, lips trembling a little when he hears the hoarseness of his voice, "Where's Guren?"
There's a hint of a pleading in his voice, like he's begging without saying the words.
Please say he's still there.
He dares to meet Mito's eyes then, fearing to see them downcast with grief. But those lilac eyes are as gentle as her smile. She opens her mouth, and Shinya is already feeling the heavy weight of relief settling within his chest, but she suddenly closes it. Her eyes seem to brighten then.
"Look."
She points to his left. Shinya follows her gaze, and sees him.
He sees him. He sees Guren, and he's running towards them, followed closely by Yoichi and Shinoa, but Shinya is unable to focus on anything but him then.
Guren is okay. Guren is free. Guren is safe.
And it's that feeling of elation, mixed together with the exhaustion of both his mental and physical state that he no longer minds, that makes him go completely unhinged and throw himself at Guren the moment he's kneeling before him, clinging to him desperately with what little strength he has left.
The next moment, his body is encased in warmth as Guren's arms wrap around him, holding him closely in his embrace, and his tears fall freely with a small sob.
"Crybaby." Guren chides him, but his voice is soft and gentle, his smile pressed against the crown of his head. Shinya doesn't answer, though he wishes he could, but he's too tired. So he stays quiet as he rests his head on Guren's shoulder, silently smiling at Shinoa and Yoichi when they gaze at him with relief. He's happy they have survived, too, so happy.
He welcomes the approach of slumber when it greets him, closes his eyes, and thinks he feels lips kissing his head just before he drifts off.
… finding home in someone.)
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(Love is...
Guren sparks passion in him the way no one else could.
He'd been the one who drove him to try harder with the pull of rivalry, the one who thrilled him in the art of slaying vampires, the one who introduced him to the concepts of friendship, of heartache, of selflessness and affection. He'd been the one who enchanted him with a spell that perpetually embedded itself in Shinya's very being, made him long and lust and want.
And tonight, for what felt like the first time, he feels like he's enticing him, exciting him in the same way.
Guren's hands are on him, touching him, and they are clumsy from need and rough from desire, and Shinya is breathless. He barely hears the sound of his shirt's buttons snapping when Guren pulls it off him, closing his eyes when his bare torso presses against his lover's. Their kisses are messy and deep and maybe a little painful too but he doesn't mind. He moans against them, feels the callousness of those hands when they strip him completely and then travel all over him, bruise his hips when he's pushed down into the bed.
That night, Guren introduces him to a new kind of passion, and it's unlike anything he's ever felt before.
There's pleasure, so much pleasure, and it's everywhere. His lips when Guren kisses him, his neck when he bites him there. Inside him, and that particular sensation makes him let out noises he never knew he could make.
And amidst the ecstasy, the heat and the carnal greed, Guren slips their fingers together and holds his hand, meets his eyes and drowns him in his gaze as he whispers words against his lips that make him cry. Cry because this was happiness, this was everything he'd wanted, and he couldn't wish for more.
… when the heart completes its song, once defected and now absolute.)