019; VOICE POST.
I'm getting a little tired of this place. Nothing really ever changes here.
[ Some shuffling, and then it cuts off with a long, even pause. ]
-- What the hell, Rikku. Did you sign me up to do bitch work?
[ Some shuffling, and then it cuts off with a long, even pause. ]
-- What the hell, Rikku. Did you sign me up to do bitch work?
Not this time.
Giovanni had changed his tune a teensy bit, had tweaked it into something a little bit different, except it was never really different when it came to him. It was the same fucking bullshit, and Heine was going to take it in stride -- not because he had to, but because he wanted to. Because this was stupid.
Because he didn't have a choice.
So he waited, with both guns out and with his body leaned back against the corner of a building. He didn't really want to kill Giovanni, not exactly, because it was pointless bullshit, because he didn't see the fucking point if it wasn't permanent. But Giovanni had never been the type to particularly care either way, and if this was what it came down to, fine.
He still wasn't going to get shit from Heine, though.
His shoulders dropped on a long release of air, and dark eyes flicked up toward the unusually bright skies stretched above him. ]
Reply
When it started, there was no way out of it.
But it wasn't just standing and waiting that was part of the error. That was more like a consequence in the error of his thinking, because the only mistake Heine really made was in thinking that Giovanni couldn't crack into that shell and get to where it hurt the most. It was in thinking that just because it was unavoidable, it didn't have to matter.
It always mattered. Now, now more than ever, because Giovanni had a goal that he could fulfil, Giovanni had intentions that didn't have to come second to his devotion. Giovanni could get ( ... )
Reply
He'd been expecting that, to some extent, and this time, his muscles remained relaxed, calm, even with the hard and ready tension boiling just beneath the surface. His head tipped back until strands of white hair were brushing along the brick, and then one more breath, and then another, and then another.
He didn't move, though. Not yet. The chains to his guns clinked threateningly together, a reminder to what had happened the last time they'd played this game, with Giovanni playing hide and seek on the other side of another object.
Another breath. He could taste him in the air. ]
You don't think I see it, do you?
Reply
Reply
[ The response came immediately, right after the word "Heine" fell from Giovanni's lips. And he wasn't really talking for any particular purpose, wasn't saying shit to get the other worked up, because he didn't care like that, because he didn't give enough of a fuck to be able to. He was saying it because it needed to be said, because maybe he was a little bit exhausted of this, and maybe he just didn't want to fucking do this anymore.
His heart beat steady and quiet beneath his ribcage, and Heine's fingers loosened around the guns in his hands as he tipped his chin toward the direction that Giovanni was in. He still wasn't moving. ]
I used to think you did this shit because you got off on it, but it's not about that, is it? That's not the real reason.
Reply
His arms, until then limp at his sides, slowly raised until the twin barrels stared up at the sky, watched the clouds that couldn't temper the brilliance of the sunlight. Neither of them cast a shadow; just about midday. The hardest time to hide.
He felt like he was being watched, and inclined his head to look towards the corner that Heine lingered beyond; his imagination perhaps, because he couldn't see him yet, knew he wouldn't have peered around yet. They were just playing, for now. ]
And what's the real reason, Heine?
Reply
Because it's easier to forget this way.
[ And then there was silence again. Heine didn't really have a whole lot to say, because he never did, because he didn't speak a lot in general, especially not when in came to Giovanni. A ripple of tension ran through him, then, and he inhaled deeply, inhaled his scent and his taste, and it was permanent, it was unforgettable.
His Mauser and his Luger slid back down into his holsters, and the chains clinked noisily again as they were put into place.
And then he moved. Finally.
Heine slid over the ground, around the corner until he was facing Giovanni, until he was barely even feet from him, until he could press gloved hands against the wall on either side of him.
He leaned in close, fingertips pushing hard into the brick as his lips grazed barely over his cheek before he reached his ear. ]
You want to kill me? Fine. Fucking do it.
I don't give a shit.
Reply
And then Heine was coming closer, and Giovanni stopped breathing, his guns clicking when his fingers flinched on their smooth surface. Like before, he thought, and something jolted through his stomach like he'd just been stabbed, like Heine had ripped jagged metal up through his flesh like he had once before.
He breathed again, slower, and throat clicked when he swallowed.
Fucking do it, Heine said, and Giovanni wasn't someone who needed to be told twice. In the full face of Heine, with their proximity and looking at the only thing that thrilled him, the only thing that frightened him, he put away his guns ( ... )
Reply
[ The word was ground out between clenched teeth as he was slammed back against the wall, muscles tensing but not fighting back, but not pushing him away, but not really resisting, because. Because, well, he didn't need to, didn't have a reason to yet, and it was the same old deal with them, the same fucking routine they always went through.
Heine would have laughed if Giovanni weren't pressing down on his throat, and his head slammed back hard against the wall as he tipped his chin, staring at the other with lidded, focused eyes.
Whatever. Whatever. ]
You think this is gonna help? Really?
[ And he shifted his weight some, fingers tracking up his sides before they were digging roughly into the material of his jacket.
He still wanted to laugh. He still didn't. ]
You can fucking kill me all you want, Giovanni, but you still won't ever, ever, ever get to touch me. There's nothing you can do that will fucking hurt me.
You can't do shit to me, and you know it.
Reply
His grip on Heine's throat lightened just a little, fingers brushing down over his skin and the bandages that now hung loose at his collar, and then he dropped it down to Heine's hip, curving against the bone and muscle there. His fingers slipped between the belt and Heine's pants, jerking him close. Easy to gouge reach into him, if he wanted.
But it got to him, in its own way - the way Heine put it, the way he made a point of it: there's nothing you can do that will fucking hurt me. ( ... )
Reply
It wasn't because of Giovanni this time, though, wasn't because he was being shoved or pushed into it. It had more to do with the fact that the other's hand had dropped, and that was okay, that was fine, even if he could feel his fingers digging into the flesh at his waist, even if they were moving to slip past his belt to jerk him forward. But the gun against his collar, the metal scraping over metal, that was enough to nearly make him wince.
The hard muscle in his jaw tightened, and his fingers gripped onto his jacket tighter, before they were falling away to rest limply at his sides. Giovanni wasn't really saying anything yet, though, but Heine caught the little flicker of irritation that ran through his expression, and he would have smiled if --
If it weren't for the other dragging him forward to press his lips against his own.
This was familiar.
His breath stuttered out from his lungs in a surprised, slightly strangled noise that he would kill himself later for making, and ( ... )
Reply
If Giovanni wasn't going to die, if even death meant nothing, he had nothing to be afraid of. It didn't just liberate him to kill Heine. It liberated him for a lot of things. So many things. ]
That's a little strange.
[ He didn't give an inch of space, his grip tightening on Heine's belt until his fingers throbbed and the leather band cut off circulation. His other hand moved to nudge the gun under his chin - pinning his skull to the wall where it had smacked firmly, dragging his hips closer, getting him off balance. His breath played across Heine's jaw when he leaned in, tongue brushing ( ... )
Reply
Because he didn't have control. Right. No. Of course not. He didn't.
But he couldn't really help it, all the same, and he would have fallen forward into the other when his hips were tugged forward if it weren't for the gun pressed up against the underside of his chin, pinning him back somewhat into the wall.
This was more irritating than anything, though, and Heine rolled one shoulder back until it brushed against the brick behind him. ]
Quit fucking ar --
[ And then he cut off abruptly, his breath hitching just slightly when he shifted his weight, when he shifted on the ground beneath him, his hips now pushed flush against the other's. It was kind of like an electric shock, like a ( ... )
Reply
[ His voice was low, thick and flat in the silence. Like the hard thud of something hitting the ground it was there, murmured firm and almost reprimanding on Heine's skin, fucking hungry for it, painting it with his breath; such a contrast to the ragged edges of Heine's voice, the roughness there. How badly they fit together sometimes, but that was alright. Giovanni could carve an edge that would match his own ( ... )
Reply
Reply
He was starting to get afraid of the gun. Giovanni saw in the way he brushed it aside, in how he applied the pressure on his wrist. It'd been so easy to say it. It'd been so easy for him to think it wouldn't matter, and now it did suddenly, because he was getting distracted, letting things slip through, not wanting to think about what Giovanni's other hand was doing.
Was that it?
If that had been a bluff, didn't it make sense that Heine's apathy was also a bluff? ]
... I'll take that as a yes.
( ... )
Reply
Leave a comment