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Zuka didn’t even remember exactly how they had met. Only a blurry image: an office, papers, dry formalities n the announcement that from now on they were partners, obligated to fight side by side.
But what he remembered most was something else: how, upon leaving the office, he felt someone else’s presence behind him. Noisy, annoying, even irritating to some extent. Darkheart followed after him like a shadow that could never be gotten rid of.
Darkheart couldn’t be described in a single word, — there was everything in him all at once, he was... excessively chaotic, almost unbearable. B. Zuka genuinely didn’t understand how someone like him had managed to become a colonel general. To him, it seemed like something beyond reality.
Only a few months passed before they grew close. Too close. Sometimes Zuka felt like he was forgetting how to breathe without him, It terrified him.
He remembered: darkheart was mortal. Sooner or later, he would die, leaving behind an emptiness in his heart that nothing could ever fill. Darkheart had taught him to cherish the moments, but he had never taught him how to live when those moments with him were gone.
блядство****
Zuka’s hands were covered in someone else’s blood; his equipment had already been put away, as if nothing had happened. Darkheart stood behind him: close, far too close, and, placing a hand on his shoulder, quietly laughed mockingly.
"Boom, one more mission behind us, Zuka!" — His smile was far too sincere for someone who had just taken someone’s life. — "How about we celebrate at my place? I don’t live alone, though… but that won’t bother u, will it?"
Zuka stopped listening after that. He had never wondered where exactly darkheart lived. His imagination pictured something extravagant: a palace, no, a mansion where everything was turned upside down. His home had to be chaotic, just like its owner. Seeing his home meant understanding him a little more deeply — this possibility intrigued the god.
"I agree. I have nothing to do today."
***
The house turned out to be… ordinary. That surprised him. No extravagant colors that caught the eye, no strange furniture... Nothing unusual. Although, what could one expect from an ordinary small apartment on the outskirts of Blackrock? In Blackrock, everything was generally gray n gloomy.
The long hallway was covered with paintings and clocks of all sorts of shapes, as if time flowed here in every direction at once. Among the clothes, Zuka noticed a lilac coat that clearly didn’t belong to Darkheart. wife? girlfriend?
A slight, unpleasant feeling pricked inside him. Not jealousy, absolutely not. Just a strange disappointment: why didn’t he know anything about Darkheart’s personal life? Then again, Darkheart hardly ever talked about himself at all. Zuka could have counted everything he knew about his partner on the fingers of both his hands. Darkheart was a mystery that was pleasant to unravel, stretching out the pleasure.
His thoughts were interrupted when a foreign palm clasped his hand and pulled him forward.
Out of the corner of his eye, Zuka noticed a lilac figure in one of the rooms n a small blue one beside her. Not just a partner… but a full family? This didn’t fit the image Zuka had created in his head. darkheart in no way resembled someone who was even remotely interested in family life.
Darkheart sat him down at the table and pulled out a wooden box of alcohol. Zuka didn’t understand why Infernals were drawn to alcoholic drinks; he had always found their taste empty, even sour. yet… perhaps it wasn’t about the taste. Maybe he had simply never tried to truly taste it. Maybe he just didn’t like it. Who the hell knew.
Dark poured Zuka a shot, while he himself, not bothering with formalities, put his mouth directly to the neck of the bottle. The glass quietly clinked against his teeth as he took a greedy gulp. It didn’t bother him at all; on the contrary, there was something deliberately attractive about it.
b.zuka merely watched in silence, noting to himself that, at least, his own tolerance for alcohol remained intact. That was… very convenient.
Time passed unnoticed. One bottle replaced another, conversations blurred, losing their shape. After the second bottle, Darkheart was no longer sitting upright: he dropped his head onto his folded arms, mumbling something under his breath. The words became tangled, broke apart, and disappeared halfway through.
Zuka looked at him a little longer than he should have. He had never seen him like this. Not loud, not sarcastic, not annoying, but … weak? vulnerable? real?
There was something almost forbiddenly intimate about it, as if he had accidentally witnessed something that was usually hidden even from those closest to him.
"Zuka-a-a…" — Darkheart drawled, lazily stretching out the vowels. He knew how annoying it was, n, of course, never missed an opportunity to bother the deity.
"What?"— Zuka replied dryly.
"Come with me… I’m tired of sitting here."
Zuka gave a short nod. Darkheart got up, swaying, and led him down the hallway on unsteady legs. Into the room where the lilac figure had previously flashed before Zuka’s eyes.
"Illumina! I missed you so-so much!"
The girl didn’t even turn around. Zuka stopped in the doorway, involuntarily lingering on her. It was difficult to make her out from behind, but her white hair, cut into a bob, immediately stood out. And a horn — one, just like Darkheart’s, but white.
Zuka had often wondered why Darkheart had only one horn instead of two, like ordinary Infernals, but he had never asked. Now the question resurfaced in his mind.
She looked as though she had stepped out of a faded fresco. A long chiton fell softly over her figure, while her skin, with a faint lilac tint, gave her a quiet, almost divine glow. In contrast to Darkheart, she seemed like his complete opposite: calm against chaos, silence against noise, yin n yang, in the end.
"do u need something, Darkheart? or did you come to bother me again?" — she said without turning around, continuing to brush strokes onto the canvas.
Her voice was even, almost lifeless
A little farther away, Zuka noticed a child — a small boy, intently moving a pencil across a sheet of paper. His horns reminded him of his own, even the color was the same blue, but they were softer, with barely noticeable protrusions.
"Come on, Illi, we just want to chat. oh, btw"— he lazily waved a hand, — this is my very good friend — Zuka-a-a!"
Only now did Illumina turn around. She calmly set aside her palette and carefully looked Zuka up and down. Zuka did the same.
"Hello, Zuka. I’m Illumina,It’s nice to meet you." — the words sounded polite, but empty, as if there was nothing behind them.
"Likewise," — he replied shortly.
Silence fell. It was filled only by the quiet rustling of the pencil against the paper.
"are you… darkheart’s wife?"
The silence cracked. At first, two pairs of eyes stared at him, and he even noticed Illumina becoming slightly embarrassed n then Darkheart suddenly burst out laughing, doubling over and clutching his stomach. The laughter was loud, sincere, almost tearful. Illumina, without looking at her brother, merely tiredly circled a finger beside her temple.
".... No. We’re sibling.”
"and this is?.."
"My son. Rocket." — She slightly nodded toward the boy. — "why does this interest u?"
"i… thought you were his wife, and that this was your child. I’m sorry, that was extremely awkward."
Darkheart was still chuckling, wiping away the tears that had welled up.
"can I ask a question?" — Zuka added after a short pause.
"ofc.”
"what’s with ur horns?"
Silence again. A different one this time: oppressive. The boy got up and walked over to his mother, hugging her and sleepily burying his face against her. She gently picked him up.
"We’re twins,"— she answered in an even voice. — twins often share one pair of horns between them. It’s a genetic defect." There was no emotion in her expression. No explanation beyond that followed. Illumina looked more like a robot than an Infernal. Her emotions were far too limited compared to her brother’s.
"and now, excuse me, Zuka, I need to put my son to bed. I hope you have a good time."
"Darkheart," — her voice became slightly sterner, — "just try destroying my workshop."
She gave her brother a short, heavy look and left. And only now did Zuka realize: the smell of paints, canvases, brushes scattered around. They had been standing in her workshop this whole time. Damn it.
The situation seemed painfully awkward to Zuka. He almost had no doubt that he had made the worst possible impression on darkheart’s sister. The thought unpleasantly scratched at him from the inside.
Darkheart behaved as if nothing had happened, once again grabbed his hand and pulled him toward a small sofa beside the easel. It turned out to be too cramped for two, when Zuka sat down, he almost immediately felt the warmth of another body beside him. The closeness was intrusive, devoid of their usual distance, and therefore embarrassing.
Darkheart dropped his head onto his shoulder and continued mumbling something incoherent, the words dissolving into drunken indistinctness. Then he lazily snapped his fingers right in front of his face.
"Hey, Zuka-a-a, are you even listening to me?"
Zuka automatically nodded. In reality, he wasn’t listening at all. All his thoughts were still returning to that awkward scene, to the lilac coat, to Illumina’s gaze. It was… disaster.
"Zuka," — Darkheart suddenly said more quietly.
He raised his hands and cupped Zuka’s face, forcing him to turn toward him. His fingers were warm, slightly rough, and held him with surprising confidence.
"u’re a god, right? Have you ever kissed anyone?"
The question knocked the ground out from under him. Zuka froze. If he was being honest — no. He had never been interested in romance. it wasn’t only because he was one of the swords. It just… never worked out.
"No," — he answered shortly.
"Want to try?"
Zuka’s cheeks instantly flushed. It was absurd! Ridiculous. Completely in darkheart’s style.
and yet—
"…let’s go."
He expected something awkward, abrupt, and even unpleasant. He even closed his eyes for a moment, preparing himself to endure rather than feel. But instead, he felt an unfamiliar softness.
The kiss was cautious. A light touch of lips, uncertain, like someone acting at random. There was no pressure, only an almost childlike attempt to understand how it was even done.
Zuka slowly opened his eyes. Darkheart was too close. So close that every little detail could be seen: the shadow of his eyelashes, uneven breathing, the strange concentration that was usually absent from him.
The kiss was repeated. Once. Again. This time a little longer and bolder. And again. Gradually, persistence appeared in it. Impulsive, just like darkheart himself. It was as though he were learning on the go, catching the other’s reactions, adapting, trying again.
Zuka caught himself no longer trying to pull away. It was embarrassing to admit that he actually liked it.
"you’re pretty good at this, Zuka," — Darkheart quietly chuckled, pulling away for a moment. — "uou know, for someone who’s never kissed anyone before."
And that was… unexpectedly pleasant. It was rare to hear anything from him besides mockery.
How long did it last? Zuka didn’t know, couldn’t understand. Moments stretched out, losing their boundaries.
Until—
— "What the hell?…"
The voice struck sharply, bringing everything back into place. Illumina stood in the doorway. The same lilac figure, now no longer calm at all. She pressed a palm to her forehead, clearly holding back her irritation.
— "I left you alone for fifteen minutes…" — she slowly said,— "…and you’re already kissing?"
There was no answer, and a few seconds later they were simply thrown out the door, which was theatrically slammed shut behind them.
They never talked about it again. Never. Zuka thought that Darkheart, being drunk, hadn’t remembered what happened at all. And perhaps… that was for the best.