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If only he wasn’t standing on the balcony. If only the moon wasn’t a backdrop against which his ethereal features outlined. No, not only outlined. His silky white hair puts the wan aura of the moon to shame; his velvety green skin radiates with divine beauty: a sublime, heavenly quality no material of the universe could compare to. He graces the world with his presence, a world that isn’t worthy to look upon such perfection.
If only I haven’t traded my own divine vessel for a mortal shell, I wouldn’t be inadequate in every way compared to him. If only I had the time and patience to hone the barbaric skills needed for my mission, instead of trapping my essence in a prison of unlimited potential. A prison that both chained me and set me free.
Strength is the only language that mortals understand. Kill or be killed. Rend or run away. A cycle of brutality that we have sworn to end, together.
I can’t help smiling at a memory of a story, from a mortal book nonetheless. A pitiful attempt at capturing the finer emotions these lowly creatures lack in abundance. Still, the setting of the night and the beauty of my soul-twin remind me of it.
I clear my throat, and he turns his head downwards, in my direction, although judging by its slow and deliberate movement, he felt my presence the moment I have arrived.
“Aren’t you going to ask me to refuse my name?” I tease him.
Zamasu raises an eyebrow, confused, but intrigued.
“Is this a new game you have invented?”
“Maybe. Call it reading behind your back.”
He scoffed. “Please don’t tell me you have been tainting your aesthetic with mortal literature.”
The corners of my lips curl up into a smile. I liked it when Zamasu is cross with me. It gives his presence an air of authority he would keep for the mortals. They greedily hog it for themselves, like all other fine things the universe bestows upon them, to which they give no appreciation whatsoever. Now Zamasu’s indignation is mine and mine alone.
I hover up a little, stopping short at the railings of the balcony. My head is level with Zamasu’s chest.
“Please stop fooling around,” he says warily.
“Only if you don’t say the magic word.”
“I do not understand you.”
And indeed, Zamasu’s delicious confusion has returned. He cocks his head to the side, silky hair tumbling down over his shoulder. His inquisitive gaze, his parted lips, his brows that once more shift up his forehead give him the impression of innocence. The picture of serene perfection, a painting of the most sublime grace in a blood-stained frame. I used to think this was how I liked him the best. But it took one little incident to change my mind.
If only I hadn’t broken his favorite china cup. If only he hadn’t been cross with me on that day. Then I wouldn’t have seen, I wouldn’t have felt his rage turned against me. A shiver ran down my spine. It was the first time in my life that I truly accepted anyone to be above me. And now here I am, below him in a physical sense, but that’s not enough. I wipe blood from my face with the back of my hand, trembling with lust at what I am about to do.
“You want me to stop fooling around?” I drawl. “Fine. Make me.”
I wanted to be more subtle, to do it slowly, but I can’t take back my words now.
Zamasu frowns in disapproval. I can’t stop my face from stretching into a grin. He might think I’m gunning for a sparring session. Maybe he thinks my bloodlust is still lingering with me, even after a long day of giving it free reign. Whatever is going around in that pretty head of his, I relish the fiery gaze shot down at me. Like blades of justice, they cut into my soul, making me want to repent and be cleansed of my sins. But as all good things, it doesn’t last long.
If only he didn’t extend his hand towards me. If only the touch of his skin didn’t tempt me more than bathing in the glory of his divine fury. I reach out with my own hand, sullied with blood and dust, and take the offer. A shock, like a surge of electricity, zaps through my body, making my heart thump a heady beat.
“Come inside already,” Zamasu says, and pulls me up and across the railing.
I relish his touch for as long as I can, holding on to his soft skin. Warm. Gentle. Everything he is not with the mortals. That’s when I realize that there’s a level of pleasure beyond being judged, one that makes my desires swell in my chest, that compels me to let go of his hand so slowly it is more of a caress than a cessation of us connecting.
I have started with being bedazzled by his divinity. Then I wanted the wrath of an amalgamation of godly body and soul. Now, I understand that those states are not exclusive to me. That Zamasu can share them with the lowliest of beings we despise so much. But the level above all, his kindness, he reserves it for me only.
“Well?” Zamasu asks, eager to know the secrets of my soul. “Is there anything you would like to share with me?”
I take a steadying breath, and let my face slack into a nonchalant expression.
“A tea, perhaps.”
“Do I have to order you to join me?”
I snicker. No, you have to do no such thing. You only have to give me my cup in a way that your hand accidentally brushes mine. You only need to take my breath away and look at me with your kindest, most worried expression, the one that says I am your everything.
I could tell you all about my feelings, but they wouldn’t make much sense to you. I know. They wouldn’t make sense to me, were our roles reversed. You don’t know how it feels to have lost so much, and to be reminded of it every day when I look at you. You don’t know the depths of my yearning, the pull to be one again with what I have robbed myself of. Or perhaps, if you do know, you have the generosity not to put it out on the table. You’re not vulgar like that. I am.
Still, I choose to behave in your presence, to savor the stolen moments of pleasure that your company provides. Little gestures I haven’t appreciated enough. No, please, never change. Keep giving me more, be more kind, more gracious, for me and for me only.
In the end all I can say is, “No. You don’t have to order me to do anything. Just… be here for me.”
“I always am,” he says, and I fear that not even my darker skin tone can hide the burning blush that engulfs my face.