Work Text:
The blistering sand crunched underneath his feet. There were no more hours left. No more minutes or seconds left till the inevitable: the death of one of them. The wind brushed past his face, salty and bitter, dragging its weight against his skin, pulling his dark hair backwards, trying to rip it out of his skull feebly. His feet sunk into the ground, and he hoped that it could envelop him, that it could tug him downwards and let him suffocate in the thick particles. He hoped to feel the sand go coarsely down his throat, to feel something other than the overwhelming sense of helplessness he bore each time he saw Trixian on the other side of the ring. For a few moments, time seemed to fade into nothing. Memories were sent into an abyss of darkness, burying them with no intent for them to be rediscovered. They stared at each other, everything and everyone soundless: every word screamed at them now quiet, every breath shared between them louder than ever. Reminiscent of the moments they had shared, the acts of love they had given to one another.
He looked down to his side, his hand that once held Trixian’s face, held the man closer to him, held him, now held a dagger; an instrument of war, a killer in itself. He could feel tears appearing in the corners of his eyes.
He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t. But he had to.
Trixian only looked forwards. He couldn’t bear to look at anything else, not the roaring crowd, not the elevated walls blocking out all to most of the natural sunlight, and most definitely not his fathers glare from the lower stands. He only looked towards the man who could bring him such a small yet powerful piece of comfort. He wasn’t stupid, he knew he would be dying because of Zeypher, but he ignored it. He was far more than content to die like this. After all, he had spent the last night he would ever be alive for with him. He had spent the entire night in his arms, snuggling up to the man who would be the cause of his demise, letting his murderer bury his face into his hair, letting his Zey love him. He was armed with only a small, blunt dagger, as was the older man. They were both sweating, breathing shakily and their gazes were only locked on each other.
Grey eyes looking into teal ones.
The smallest hint of sorrow hidden in the both of them. Not big enough to be seen by others, but large enough to be seen by the other.
Grey eyes softened and the lashes framing them fluttered gently, trying to bat away tears that threatened to fall.
He knew what he had to do.
And he knew he was going to do it.
He also knew he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself for it.
And he wouldn’t have to.
He raised the dagger in his hand, giving it one last look before looking up to Trixian.
Teal eyes widened in fear.
He raised it even higher, plunging it deep into his chest. A small cry of agony escaped past his lips, blood doing the same.
It dripped onto the sand, staining it a deep bloodshot red. He fell to his knees, before using what was left of his wilting strength to pull it out of his body. He fell face first into the sand, blood seeping out of the gaping wound.
Trixian screamed.
The noise rung out, startling the crowd surrounding them, and it didn’t stop there. He stumbled across the ring, begging his legs to move quicker through the damning cinders. He cried out his loves’ name, for all to hear. He ignored the repeated whistle, a warning to stop moving, and kept running. But he wasn’t fast enough. He was never fast enough. He would never be fast enough. The patch of blood underneath him continued to grow.
When he reached Zeypher, his body was lukewarm.
He kneeled down besides him, his hands gripping his arm and shaking him, trying to turn him around.
‘Zey? Zey!, Zeypher!,’ He shouted, tears dripping onto Zeypher’s body. In mere seconds, his hands were stained a sickening red. He softly pushed Zeypher onto his back, wailing at the sight of him: Face contorted in agony, blood trickling from the corners of his mouth. His chest was shallowly rising. His hands no longer balled up into fists of pain and were slowly uncurling, signifying that death was brushing over him. Just like the breeze of wind; Brushing through his tangled hair like the fingers of a fond lover, who was helping him fall asleep after nights of restlessness.
‘Zeypher Archniod!, Zeypher!,’ everyone seemed to grow louder and louder at his cries. Cheering and laughing, enjoying the act of sorrow being shown through those ragged screams. Trixian took ahold of his face and held him. He couldn’t move at all, body frozen in horror. He knew he was already close to deaths door. He knew the fact long before he had gotten to Zeyphers’ body. But he couldn’t accept it.
So knowing this, he held the man against his chest gently.
For one last time.
Holding his limp, lifeless body in shaky arms. Bracing a beautifully broken face against scratchy wool.
Trixian bowed his head and sobbed quietly into his hair. His tears were accompanied by a pained whine, shuddering breaths cutting the noise in half.
‘You liar.’ He whispered gently. An agonised smile appearing on his face.
‘You told me you wouldn’t die for me,’
‘You’d be scared if I had told you the opposite.’ It was a mere whisper: a croak of a voice. Yet it was still his.
And he was right. Trixian was terrified of loosing Zeypher. His zeypher. His Zey. His love.
All Trixian was able to do was sob as Zeypher Archnoid died in his arms. Gasping breaths were choked out of Zeypher’s lungs as they formed slurred words.
‘live for me trixie.’
…
‘I love you.’
And with that, he left their world without a trace of guilt- sure he did know he’d be nothing more than a trauma. And he would’ve been a fool to think otherwise. But all he knew was that his baby was safe, and that was all that mattered. But for now, all he was, was gone.
Gone with the singular stab of a dagger. A dagger that lay discarded in the sand.
What would Trixian do if he couldn’t be with Zeypher?
How could he live for him when he never wanted to stay alive in the first place?
His Zeypher, his world, his everything, his boy, his dear, his Zey. He couldn’t bear to think of the possibilities. He would be forced into a long and tedious marriage, being made to produce an heir with someone he truly hated, and being used for his fame for more years to come. He glanced at the dagger, stained and dripping with blood-cold, unforgiving blood. Zeyphers blood. He saw the future without Zeypher beside him and felt sick to his stomach. He wouldn’t leave his side. He wouldn’t go on with his life. He couldn’t.
So he did what the man lying in his lap, cold blood seeping into his clothing, had done mere minutes prior.
Ignoring Zeypher’s desperate request, he leaned forwards quickly, barely noticing the bellowing soldiers that had began to rush towards him, grabbing the dagger and smiling.
It wasn’t a wild smile- one cracked and torn up with trauma- it was one of pure sincerity and care, yet his eyes were a different story.
They seemed to burn with an overwhelming sense of rage. Fury towards the industry that they had been placed in. Towards the people who had made them get so close to one another- just to rip them apart in the cruelest, most barbaric display that humanity itself would fail to comprehend. Towards it all. The crowd had begun to chant his name and he couldn’t take it anymore. It was too much, it was too loud, it was too painful. He knew where the human heart was, he had studied medicine and anatomy for years before having his dreams crushed by the steel toed boot of his father after all. It almost seemed to ironic to him. Zeypher had gone to such lengths to keep him safe and alive yet all of his plans had failed miserably.
Before he could even raise the weapon up to his torn heart, he heard a gunshot ring through the air.
It pierced through his skull almost immediately.
Zeypher didn’t see him die- obviously, he didn’t. He was dying.
Not dead.
Although he wished he had been.
Each and every time he woke up, he wished he was gone.
He desperately wanted to know how life would’ve ended up if he was the one to die on the sand that day.
But now, as the cold winter wind breezed through his hair, he could only think of the man he’d lost. The boy who was his everything- his Trixian.
His love, his one and only, his jewel.
His muse.
His darling.
His baby.
As he stood on the ledge, he could only hear Trixian’s voice, hear the pained cry rip from his throat as they shot him. He also heard his last proper words.
‘Remember the plan.’
He had never even managed to say a simple confession of love before being brutally murdered.
He heard the sweet voice that coaxed him into the arena hours before it opened to plan out his sacrifice.
He remembered the times when they danced, drunk as ever and blinded underneath the blaring fluorescent lights. The times where they ran through the rain. The times they held one another close- so tightly knot together that they seemed to block out the outside world, that had ripped them apart countless times before and wasn’t afraid to do so again.
He remembered feeling salty tears trickle down his face that weren’t his.
How he wished to be able to wipe those blobs of crystal off of his darlings’ face and hold him close and tell him that it was merely just a silly game.
Zeypher’s hand let go of the freezing banister. Down below him the only thing he could see was blurring, fluorescent lights. Rain started to drizzle from the greying clouds, that overshadowed the moon, blocking out its glowing light.
He hoped Trixian would forgive him for this.
Perhaps he would not.
But there was a chance he would.
After all, he’d be able to know sooner or later.
And with that thought in mind, he smiled.
He looked down once more and saw nothing but big, fake, fluorescent lights.
Seeing none other than the pretty face of his Trixian, that had begun to pixelate with each and every second.
It was at that moment that he realised he couldn’t do it.
He was too scared- apprehension gaining the upper hand and taking control of his every thought.
He couldn’t do it- he just couldn’t- his everything had given up his life for him and he would so selfishly give it away because of his sorrow?
He wouldn’t do it- he couldn’t.
Zeypher began to turn around, icy ground slippery against his bare feet, his fingers fumbled for the banister and tripped.
Screams far louder than he’d ever imagined to hear rip from his own throat escaped past his lips in milliseconds, leaving his throat raw.
He didn’t want to die.
But he’d used up all of his chances.
Trixian had died for him and he should’ve lived for him.
He should’ve lived.
He should’ve fucking lived.
He was so pathetic.
Soft, ethereal snow fell upon his shoulders, melting into his clothes yet leaving no dampness or discomfort. Gentle hands, graced with skilled fingers, brushed over his face like the wind had done that fateful evening. A smile appeared on his face at the tender touch, and he tried his best to cuddle up to the overwhelming warmth with how…weak he was?
Whoever it was that had been holding him, was so warm.
So, so warm.
Like a small fire, embedded in the snow, but sparked to linger eternally.
The pads of their fingers were so soft.
So, so soft.
They ran down his skin gently, as if afraid to harm him in any way.
It was until that moment that he heard the man’s voice.
Yet it wasn’t just any man- it was the man whom he believed to share his very heart and soul with, the man who he never truly got to call his.
‘You weren’t meant to come here y’know. It was too early…’ Zeypher laughed feebly at this.
‘I know- i know. But what more could i have done? My only reason to live had left me.’ The other man chuckled at this statement heartily, sighing as he saw tears starting to spring up from closed eyes.
‘I know you wanted to leave.’ He continued, voice shaking with every word he uttered.
‘But I doubt you wanted it to happen that way.’
‘Neither of us wanted it to happen that way zey.’
‘Yet it still happened.’
He continued to speak, words blunt yet tone soft enough to be cut in half with a mere piece of paper.
‘Perhaps in another world, you would’ve been the one holding me as I went- or maybe you wouldn’t have been. Maybe in another universe entirely, we would’ve never stepped foot onto the sand.’
‘Maybe we would’ve been happier than we ever were there.’
‘Maybe..’ he continued once more, smiling oh so gently, and running his hands through Zeypher’s hair.
‘Maybe we would be married, or we could just be with one another without the knowledge of our end.’
‘Maybe, this time around- just maybe, we’d love each other freely. We’d simply just adore one another endlessly, until we knew every scar on the others body, or memorised the sound of each others voice, or even learnt how to use the others heart in a way to ensure it didn’t break.’
Zeypher was sobbing. He wished they could’ve done all of that. He had begged with fate enough times. But now that the words were said to him by his one and only, he wished that they had been able to accomplish all of that and more so badly.
So so badly.
‘You can’t stay here forever y’know,’ His voice was soothing, and so were his fingers as he tried to wipe away the endless tears- and it almost seemed like he was trying to wipe away all the pain.
All of the agony, all of the sorrow, all of the suffering and all of the grief.
Every burden he had to keep on his back, every moment that crushed his very being, every memory that smashed his heart into little tiny pieces far too broken to be replaced;
It felt like he was trying to wipe them away.
Replace the pain with comfort.
It was a feeble effort yet, amazingly, it still seemed to work.
Zeypher relaxed into his arms easily, puling brokenly like a babe. The man cradled him almost, hands supporting every shattered bone in his body.
‘You’ve got to go back eventually.’ It was at that moment that Zeypher finally opened his eyes and saw the beauty that lay before him.
The man was far beyond stunning.
He was in a tight white suit, shiny blond hair curling around his shoulders, eyes as gorgeous as the rarest indicolite on earth. His skin was the softest imaginable, almost like silk, and to Zeypher it was the perfect shade of sienna, and he could caress it all day endlessly. There was a small patch of fair skin near the edge of his collar, that crept up to the nape of his neck sneakily, but just made him even more beautiful than he already was.
God was he perfect.
He was beyond perfect in Zeyphers’ eyes.
He was his Trixian.
His trixie.
His star.
Shining so brightly, so blindingly, so beautifully under the falling snow.
‘Why can’t I stay though? I came here to see you did I not?,’ he asked, voice cracking with each word, vision blurring with each passing second.
He wanted to stay so badly.
So so badly.
But he knew he couldn’t. It wasn’t his time yet. And it wouldn’t be for quite a long time to come.
‘You know why zey,’ he uttered with a pitiful expression, undermined by his golden smile.
‘You know I tripped don’t you? So that’s why you’re making me go back isn’t it?’
‘My darling you were never meant to come here in the first place for years to come.’
Maybe a second chapter will come soon idk