Work Text:
Fear.
Sol Badguy, bounty hunter, Hero of the People, the one Prototype Gear, at the height of his rage, recklessness and strength—
Had feared him?
Ky swirls the milk of his trusty Earl Grey, idly watching the white mix in and assimilate into the black. The expensive gold spoon in his fingers the furthest thing possible from the deadly weapons his battered hands had grown used to hold with the years. The distant days where he chased Gears with abandon, a cold, uncaring beast slaying through the battlefield without any regard for his own safety.
Sol— he never had listened, not even on the very end of their Holy Orders days. Ky used to claim Sol would never take him seriously, but he realizes, with Sol’s declaration, that Ky would never truly go all-out on him; that he had seen in Sol a rival, a comrade, a soldier— not a Gear. Not a monster to be rid of. Ky would’ve never attacked him the way he did those other Gears, letting go of his own humanity when facing the monstrosities that had threatened their extinction as a race. And— after the dust had settled; he had learnt just how unfair Destiny had been with them. How they were also victims of the cruelty of Fate. Even so— Ky had never thought of Sol as something that needed purging, that required the blade of Justice itself to smite Judgement— and Ky was no man to bring down divine judgement upon anyone, even less someone as well meaning at the core of his soul as Sol— important and indispensable, to him, and the world.
Ky raises a crimson cup to his lips, blows air into it, lowers it into the matching plate, plays with the golden rim, tracing patterns into the edge. There really wasn’t a way to describe what he and Sol had— what they currently have. They weren’t the same as when they met anymore. Since then, Ky had learnt to respect Gears, accept them, met and married the love of his life and, not soon after, brought his beloved son into the world— all of them pillars of his life, the reason he kept going no matter the cost. Sol had raised his son, and even though he hadn’t given Sin the best treatment— Ky swore to never forgive Sol for it, as everything he learnt about those days made his skin crawl and spark deep anger and frustration— he truly became a second father to the boy. A first father, even.
And Ky wonders.
What could’ve been. If he had been there for Sin. If he had protected Dizzy better. If he had chased Sol, as he did when he was younger. What would’ve happen had he never let go of his shadow. If he had ever crossed that line, invisible, yet knowingly toeing at the very edge of it, dancing around the sparks of something more, breaths mingling and hearts racing with the adrenaline of the brawl.
It was never— romantic. It was—is—complicated. In fact— were there words to describe what they have? They had never even kissed. Or held hands, for that matter. Nothing couples would’ve done. Not like Sol was that kind of guy, anyways. But— Ky had held Sol closer than he had held anyone else, shaking with the doubt he hadn’t been enough to protect him. He had spent countless quiet nights, sitting knee to knee, guitar softly strumming foreign tunes next to the campfire, wondering if they’d live to see another day. They had locked eyes multiple times, a million questions unsaid, hearts ablaze, static in the air. They had never been together , in that sense, but Sol had always been there, they had always walked besides each other. Ky could not imagine his life without Sol’s fiery tantrums, his insubordination, his carefree attitude, his footsteps leading the way, his unconditional mutual trust and the, honestly, very necessary clash of ideals. Ky had been a naive fool— and even though he had stayed optimistic, back then, he needed the very foundation of his world shaken in order to become half of the man he was now. He owed him his life , quite literally, and thought quite highly of the man— lived ignoring the loud heartbeat thundering behind his ears at the very idea of Sol for years on end.
Gods, he muses. Is this what pining feels like? Is this what longing feels like?
He marks a cross to the heavens, thinking of Dizzy, his shining light. All of these repressed, long forgotten feelings didn’t have a place between him and his loving wife.
He drinks from the cup, the bitterness of tea brewed for too long overtaking his senses. He winces at the taste of his distracting thoughts ruining the blend his sweet wife had put together specially for him. He drinks, stomaching it, burning his tongue along the way, wondering if he would ever get over the scorching guilt he hid in a tiny cage in the deepest corner of his heart, one which he threw the key of long time ago. He wonders if Dizzy had seen through him, had stared into his soul and had seen hesitation, secret smiles, dusted cheeks with admiration and unsaid confessions.
Of course she has.
She’s always had eyes that pierced through any and all defenses he ever had. He loves her for that, and a thousand other reasons. He wonders if he would ever forgive for his dishonorable feelings, unbecoming of a King, of a Husband, of a father. Feelings he would never overcome— too late to act on them, too late to let them go. He wonders if he would bring them to the grave with him, or if he would ever let them overtake him, in a foolish strike of boldness and impulsive, blinding passion.
A knock on his door.
Ky shakily exhales, his burnt tongue stinging with shame, grounding him back into reality. He allows for the intrusion—
“Ky-san, is something the matter?”
—The honey sweet, warm voice of his wife blesses the room, and he freezes, remorse settling in alongside the poorly blended sugar at the bottom of his cup.
“Not at all,” he croaks, unconvincingly.
Dizzy’s gaze softens, some kind of understanding flashing through her ever-loving, observant eyes. Gods, he truly didn’t deserve her.
“Is this about Sol?”
Ky’s grip on the cup tightens, a flicker of dread cooling further down his veins. Dizzy locks the door gently, closes the distance, brushes away strands of silky hair off his eyes, cups his cheek with adoration and patience.
“I saw you two sparring earlier,” and— of course she did, he did leave a gigantic crater on the ground, after Sol had reeled him up. “I hadn’t seen that expression on you before.”
Ky idly wonders what kind of face he had made.
“You only show that side of you when he’s around,” she continues, something he can’t quite pinpoint down tinting her voice in colors and tones he’s afraid he’s never heard before. “I would lie if I said I wasn’t a bit jealous, but,” Dizzy raises his chin up, forcing eye contact, which Ky hadn’t noticed he had been avoiding, “You looked dashing , my handsome King.”
Ky feels like crying.
“You don’t need to feel bad about it,” she breathes out. “I know how much you care about him, about us.”
Ky feels horribly bad about it, nonetheless.
“You simply have so much love to give ,” she whispers, close to his lips. “I know you won't leave us, that you will always protect us. We’re family— and Sol is part of it.” Some indescribable sorrow slips in her voice. “He has a place in your heart I’ll never fill,” and, before Ky recoils in disgust of himself —
“But that’s ok.”
Dizzy kisses him, a show of her unwavering faith in him, a reassurance of her endless love and kindness.
“I don’t mind sharing,” She laughs playfully, “that is, as long as I get to keep the top place on the list.” A blinding smile blooms in her face, inviting and reassuring.
Ky buries his face on her bosom, Dizzy’s hands easily carding through his ponytail, undoing it, just as she undoes him, always building him up again.
“You’ll always be my King,” she murmurs against his scalp. “I’ll always be your Queen.” She kisses the crown of his head. “I love you, darling.”
Words fail, quiet sobs trapping the ‘I love you, too’ on his throat before he can muster a reply.
“I love you,” Dizzy repeats, softly, playing with his hair. “I love you, I love you. I really do.” She emphasized every word along with a gentle kisses, dotting a path down to his forehead, into his eyelids, his nose.
“I’ll say it as many times as you need,” She whispers against his lips.
A soft blanket of silence envelops them with the gentle, chaste kiss, gifting Ky time to sort through the decades of excuses, discard them into the wind.
“I love you, too,” he finally manages, embraces her, brings her closer, melts his worries into her shirt. He lets his heart bleed and mourn, lets his mouth run off, her words the lost key to the deepest corners of his soul.
“…And I love him ,” he confesses, ashamed.
“…I know,” she reveals, a Goddess incapable of hatred or malice.
“ I love him,” he repeats, indescribable sadness washing over him— as if repeating it would change the meaning of those words, would make them less real, a dream he could wake up from.
“I know,” she repeats, ever observing, the storm inside his husband’s eyes clearing slowly, letting the sun shine through the clouds and bathe the landscape of his heart with warmth.
“And I love you,” Ky swears, pulling away to lock his eyes with hers. It has the weight of a vow, just like their wedding day. Just as filled with pure, unbridled love, and adoration.
“I know.” ‘I do’ . She understands. She allows.
“I’m sorry,” he chokes out with renewed guilt.
“You don’t have to be,” she laughs softly, as if it were easy, as if it were normal, as if fighting it would be a foolish deed. As if she had always known, as if he had never needed forgiveness, because there was nothing to be forgiven for in the first place. Its liberating, freeing. Chains he had never noticed were there, rusted away thanks to the kindness of her soul, breaking and slipping off his heart, her gentle puffs of breath in his face like wind blowing through the trees in the middle of Summer, her rhythmical, quiet laughter like chimes clinking newfound melodies thanks to the breeze.
“ Thank you,” and the cracks on Ky's heart fill with thick gold, melding it from the pain.
“You’re welcome”, Dizzy beams, ready to pour gold into the cracks of his beloved's heart any day he ever needed her to.