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Winter and loneliness had always come hand-in-hand for Zelos. The sight of snow pulled his darkest memories to the forefront, which was to be expected, but he hadn't anticipated having to unravel that part of himself so soon, and certainly not on this journey. But Flanoir was the city of snow and ice, and he almost wished that Lloyd had asked him to accompany everyone else to Altessa's rather than stay the night here, of all places.
Almost.
He'd admit it felt nice— welcome, even, to be trusted, when they had every reason to look at him with skepticism. In fact, if Lloyd hadn't trusted him, it would have been not only justified, but the correct choice, considering his dubious alliances. Even still, he found a cold comfort in their blind faith, regardless of whether or not it was all artificial at best. Tomorrow, he'd turn his blade on them, and the only thing about it that was up for debate was how much remorse he'd feel in the end. Bad options faced him on every side, and his worry radiated like a bonfire through Flanoir's endless blizzard.
Zelos mused over it all from the comfort of his room, watching the snowflakes flutter in the evening sky. He saw echoes of his mother in the white-turned-red, and it wasn't until he forced his consciousness back to reality— his reality, and not some phantasm of days long past—that he realized that the only glow of red in his line of sight was his bangs hovering in the limits of his vision.
Pulling himself away from those memories felt like stepping out of his own grave. He exhaled, light and breathy, even in spite of the heaviness suffocating the air around him, and he was beginning to wonder whether any of this was worth all the trouble. He could easily end it all here, drive the blade at his side through his gut and twist so someone like Lloyd wouldn't have to. But just as it would end his life, it would kill any chance he had of reconciliation, of being the hero.
Not that he ever wanted that, anyways. It was better, he supposed, than just giving himself up into a peace he didn't deserve, letting the nothingness claim him for good, and that kind of unease was a cold, tangible feeling comparable to skin against snow.
He reclined against the Inn's wicker chair, and finally, he tore himself from his own nightmare to stare, instead, at the cotton sheets of the bed, the little table in the corner of the room, the dingy wallpaper plastered down to the grain of the floorboards. He'd admit the atmosphere was quaint and cozy, something unfamiliar after the chill emptiness of the manor he'd grown up in, and the comparison alone made him feel ill.
And suddenly, the familiar rhythm of the night's lodging was disturbed by the thunder of footsteps echoing down the hall. Too boisterous to be Colette, not practiced enough to be Sheena. Unless it was simply the innkeeper doing rounds or something of a similar benign nature, it could only mean—
A series of rough, serrated knocks against the door confirmed his suspicions.
"Zelos," Lloyd's voice steeled him in place; there was an impatience to it that sounded foreign, a gloom that rivaled Flanoir's snow-studded sky.
Then Zelos recomposed, pulled the mask back over his eyes, a game that had become his everything. He could turn up the charm, mould himself back into a shape that would fit the circumstances, just as he always did, and Lloyd would be none the wiser.
"What's up, bud?" he replied with too much enthusiasm, pushing down his anxieties and the nausea that followed. The only thing he could say about Lloyd with full certainty was that he was wholly unpredictable.
A silence, uncomfortable at best. "I need to talk to you," Lloyd countered from beyond the door, a flimsy barrier between them that shrouded Zelos' apprehension. Slowly, he rose, hovered a palm over the handle, and beckoned Lloyd inside.
"So? Pretty unlike you to just barge in here. I'll have you know, one of my hunnies was just—"
"Zelos," Lloyd rasped again, but this time, it felt like a warning. "I… this is important."
Zelos hmphed under his breath. "So important you'd interrupt my 'me' time? You're killing me, bud."
"Can you– can you stop that already!?" Lloyd snapped, and in minutes, he'd already unwound the knot that Zelos had worked himself into. Zelos' haughty expression twisted to an indifferent frown, and he gestured vaguely for Lloyd to continue.
"I know. I know, Zelos, that you're working for someone else."
Zelos should have anticipated this— expected it, even, but Lloyd's words left him blindsided. His entire mind clouded itself with shoulds, about if-when-if he'd end up he'd end up double-crossing them all, but now, he hadn't seen this confrontation coming. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he felt stupid.
So he let out a laugh, even if it wasn't genuine, but what about him was anymore?
"You're throwing around some pretty big accusations there, bud."
There was a flare in his eyes that could have rivaled the morning sun. Lloyd's stare could turn him to ashes, and if he hadn't broken the gaze, it might have.
"Even now, you can't be honest with us?" Lloyd began, before shaking his head and amending his words. "—with me?"
Zelos had been caught, like an animal, a bird, an insect. He levelled himself all the same, but carefully considered his next response. Lloyd wouldn't kill him tonight, but he might tomorrow.
"What would you do if I said you were right?" Zelos replied, and by now, he'd worked himself back over to the window, as if to shroud himself in the falling snow. How fitting.
The look on Lloyd's face hurt worse than any dagger, any knife. Any betrayal, any trap. "I'd ask you why."
"And I would say," Zelos spoke, examining the lengths of shadows, looking at anything but Lloyd— "that I side with the strongest, and there are multiple contenders here."
"So it's not just Cruxis," Lloyd articulated through gritted teeth. "Us, Cruxis, and?"
There was no use lying anymore. Lloyd had him by the proverbial neck, even from as far away as they were.
"The Renegades." Zelos swallowed, felt the way his throat bobbed at the sensation. "In the end, I guess I'm probably a traitor to all of you, aren't I?"
Lloyd stepped forward, emotions sapped dry. By now, they were an arm's length apart, and even if he thought often about being this close to Lloyd, now, he didn't want it.
"We trusted you. I trusted you," Lloyd spoke, and there was so much red, so much snow, and Zelos couldn't tell how much of it belonged to his own memories anymore. He told himself that this would have happened either way, but why here, why now?
"Then that was your mistake, I guess," Zelos answered flippantly and tried not to sound as cornered as he felt. Animal in an ambush. Bird in a cage. Insect in a trap.
"How could you—" Lloyd began, and he was nearly pressed up against Zelos by then, too close, feeling each other's breaths against their respective cheeks. Slowly, Lloyd balled a fist and rested it over Zelos' beating heart, and from this distance away, Zelos could see there were tears in his eyes. There might have been some in his own, too, but he couldn't stand to untangle that thread. It was too much.
Lloyd pressed his head into Zelos' shoulder, and it was a sick, sad sort of intimacy, one Zelos certainly wasn't accustomed to. Part of him wanted to comfort the other boy, but he was the cause of both Lloyd's misery and his own—something like that would only be cruel.
"Do you still trust me, Lloyd?" Zelos shot back, voice low and hollow. "Even now?"
For a moment alone, there was no answer, only the pressure of Lloyd's damp eyes against the fabric of his vest. Lloyd then glanced up, gloved hand still resting upon Zelos' chest, and the agony in his gaze could have taken him apart there and then.
"I don't know," Lloyd drew out the words slowly, as if he were washing blood from a blade. "Should I?"
"If there's still any part of you that trusts me," Zelos said, bringing the tips of his fingers up to rest against Lloyd's back, "then wait for tomorrow before you make your final call."
Lloyd trusted him—at least, he did, once. Whether that trust was deserved or not, he wouldn't dare question, for he already knew the answer. But Lloyd was here, in so much pain, all because of him, and even Zelos knew it wasn't fair.
Zelos, in all his flaws, decided to make another mistake—he did the only thing he knew how and pressed their lips together.
He expected Lloyd to push him away, to shoot back in disgust and anger—after all, Zelos, the traitor, was kissing him as if he were one of his flighty little one-night-stands. But this time, it was more than that, even if he could never explain it. Lloyd hurt, and something in Zelos did, too, but something in all of this lessened the ache.
Love always drowned out the pain. Not that this was love, or that anything else Zelos had ever done with a warm body pressed against his was love either. But whatever it was, it suffocated that part of him he hated, all those traitorous places of himself he never wished to visit again. But he was here, kissing Lloyd, because for a moment, it made the pain stop.
Lloyd pulled away with a gasp to catch his breath, his lips slick with shared saliva and need. He looked up at Zelos with those frightful, doe eyes, and before Zelos could apologize, Lloyd leaned in to kiss him again.
Zelos relished in it and all the feelings their sudden bout of intimacy sparked in the pit of his chest, and with their lips twined Zelos realized that he wanted this. Something about it all was different than anything he'd ever known, even as he worked through the same motions he always had. But Lloyd cared. Lloyd needed him, and it was then he began to wonder if he needed Lloyd, too.
The moment they broke away, Zelos grappled a hand around him and heaved him to the bed at the heels of their feet, pulling against Lloyd's shirt so that Lloyd was hovering over him. His hands splayed opposite Zelos' rolling curls with knees resting on either side of his waist, as if pinning him in place (animal, bird, insect). There was a clumsy stillness between them as they caught their breath, Zelos staring up at Lloyd with wide, rhinestone eyes, and Lloyd looking down as if the kiss had sucked the air out of his lungs.
"You… you wanted to know if I still trust you?" Lloyd whispered, but Zelos didn't want him to continue. He just wanted more of this, whatever it was.
"If you say yes," Zelos began, the words pulling at the corners of his mouth, "I promise I'll never make you doubt it again."
Zelos needed to hear those words, and he could only hope he didn't sound as desperate as he was there and then. He hoped on his knees to whatever was out there, whatever false Goddess he knew would have only looked upon him with disdain, that Lloyd answered in his favour, because Zelos needed someone to believe in him more than he believed in himself.
Then Lloyd leaned in, and if he hadn't planted another kiss against his lips Zelos would have thought he was about to press a knife to his throat. All he could think about as his tongue rolled against Lloyd's lower lip was that he would have deserved that more than he deserved this.
"I want to trust you," Lloyd spoke against the corner of his mouth, and Zelos could feel the pricking of bitter tears against his cheeks. He couldn't tell who they belonged to anymore.
"One more chance," Zelos said, and his words came out needier than he intended. "Just one more chance. Please."
Zelos' hand roamed across Lloyd's chest, pulling him closer by the heat of his shirt. By then, their bodies had become nearly interwoven with one another, a needle and thread stitched into knots that felt like home. He'd shed his gloves, savoring the feeling of raw skin snaking under Lloyd's shirt to caress the flesh that lay beneath, and Lloyd only leaned into the touch.
"Then I'll trust you one more time," Lloyd breathed, tangled in Zelos' lips. When there were no more words left, they moved to speaking with their hands instead, roaming along their bodies as if they were guarding each other close.
They were both too far gone by the time Zelos realized how much he needed this. Tomorrow, he knew what he would do—which choice he'd make.
-
Lloyd slept in Zelos' room that night and woke up alone the morning after. By the time he'd crafted enough stamina to pull his shirt back over his unkempt head of hair, he hardly even registered that Zelos was long gone, and in his place was a Cruxis crystal and a note scrawled in messy, aimless handwriting.
His eyes blurred, flitting over the fragmented text until he finally began to process the reality of it all. Today was the final battle, and only time would tell whether Lloyd had just made a grave mistake.
Lloyd,
Thank you.
I won't let you down again.