(no subject)
Originally posted at akai_kitsune on Feb 22/07.
Title: Walk on the Stars
Fandom: Tales of the Abyss
Word Count: 1296
Spoilers: Guy's past.
Summary: Pre-game ficlet; Guy teaches Luke how to walk.
"Take my hands."
Luke hesitated for a moment, but at Guy's urgent, encouraging look, he finally shifted on the bed to face him, hands stretching out to grasp his servant's. Guy gently adjusted his grip to make it just a little more comfortable for both of them, and slid off the edge of the mattress, rising to his feet and turning to face him. "Okay, we'll try balancing first. Put your feet down on the floor."
"O... okay..." The younger boy followed his example, edging forward and kicking his legs off the side of the bed, inching towards the carpet below.
"You can't hesitate when you speak," Guy warned, his tone soft to keep it from sounding like he was scolding. Servants couldn't scold their masters, and he'd been given permission to correct - nothing more. "If your father hears you stumbling over your words, you'll have to stay inside longer."
Luke's eyes narrowed at that, determination filling his gaze. "Right. It won't happen again."
Guy smiled faintly, almost proud for a moment before he stopped himself. He urged the boy forward until there was no longer enough mattress beneath to support him, and he slid down, feet hitting the floor with a soft thump. Instantly Luke's knees buckled, and he gasped in surprise, hands tightening. "G-Guy--!"
But Guy was already there; somehow he'd tugged his hands free of the iron grip and moved them beneath his arms, as if he'd expected such a fall. He held Luke close, supporting him, saving his knees from an unfriendly case of rug burn.
Smiling a bit sheepishly, Luke lifted his hands to cling at Guy's shirt, eyes lowered. "... Sorry... I guess I'm not used to this."
"You can't remember how," Guy shrugged, the words clipped, unaccusatory. "There's no helping it. That's why we're taking things slow."
Luke nodded silently, tilting his head forward, resting it against Guy's chest. There was a long, uncomfortable pause.
"... Master Luke?"
"Guy, I told you, you can-"
"Stand up," the servant hissed urgently in his ear, and Luke suddenly found himself on his feet, Guy's hands supporting him at the waist, his own grip moved to the elder boy's shoulders, a scant second before the door opened.
"On your feet already?" Duke Fabre called in, his stiff form blocking most of the doorway - though they could both hear the curious, muffled whispers of the maids whom he'd probably caught eavesdropping.
Luke pursed his lips, thinking for a moment, then nodded, lifting his chin as a duke's son should. "Yes, Father. Guy's helping me walk today."
"I can see that." The duke's eyes looked him up and down, studying him, then shifted his gaze to the one still holding him upright. "Make sure he improves his posture before he's ready to leave here," he instructed. "I won't have the next heir to the throne slouching like a commoner."
Guy's hands tensed at Luke's side, causing the young man to blink. He was inwardly grateful that he was facing away from the duke, and that Luke couldn't read the carefully controlled expression he wore. "Yes sir. We'll work on that once he can stand on his own."
"Good." Fabre nodded his approval, then gave a faint, brief smile to his son. "Continue to improve, and you'll be free to explore the mansion as your home, as you once did. I have confidence in you, son."
Luke's eyes widened, and his lips instantly curled into a broad grin, nodding enthusiastically and almost losing his balance in the process. "... Yeah! I mean, thank you! I won't let you down."
Guy felt slightly ill, but he didn't let it affect him. He waited until the door closed behind the duke, then murmured, "How are your legs? Can you stand without me holding you up?"
His confidence wilted a little, but Luke licked his lips and gave a hesitant nod. "I'll try. But keep your hands there, just in case."
Returning the request with a slight nod, Guy loosened his grip, feeling the younger boy's body tense as he felt the full weight of his upper body. His knees very nearly gave in again, but he found his balance in time, wavering unsteadily but staying on his feet. He lifted his head again, gaze seeking approval. "Hey, I did it!"
Guy indulged him with a smile, hands lifting again to take Luke's in his own, stepping back a little to balance him from further away. "Alright... try just standing like that for a while, to get used to it. Otherwise you'll just fall over when you try to take a step." At Luke's disappointed pout, he added, "It's a good start, though. You're doing fine."
Luke merely nodded at that, satisfied, at least for a moment. Once he'd balanced enough - in his opinion, anyway - he added eagerly, "Okay, can I move yet?"
Unable to really help it, Guy's smile shifted to a faint but visible grin, and he let go. Luke's eyes widened, wavering on his feet for a moment, but once he realized he was standing on his own, the smile returned in full force. "Guy! Guy, look, I'm standing up!"
"I'm looking," Guy chuckled faintly, hands at his sides, waiting. "Now try taking a step forward."
Luke grinned, moving his foot. And promptly fell over.
Guy was there before he could hit the floor, supporting him, holding the boy gingerly against his chest. He withheld a sigh - he'd known this would take much longer than Luke had been hoping.
Luke sounded disappointed, the voice muffled in Guy's shirt. "S... sorry. Can I try again?"
"You can always try," Guy murmured, shifting positions, moving to stand behind Luke. He wrapped an arm around his waist, his other hand rested on his young master's shoulder. "I'll be right here, okay? Just take it slow."
"Slow," Luke echoed, as if to remind himself, and relaxed a little, feet shuffling against the floor. He moved like a clumsy kitten, but it was obviously new to him, and progress was progress, however slow. His body felt warm and calming against Guy's, and he had to fight back a wave of unease at the closeness.
Things were changing, somehow. It bothered him more than he could say.
Stop it, he wanted to snap, to growl, to scream. Stop getting so close to me. Stop treating me like an ally. Stop pretending I'm your friend. I'm a servant. A -servant-. You're a nobleman, nephew to a king. I'm -nothing-. Treat me like nothing!
Make it easier for me to hate you, dammit!
"Am I doing good, Guy?" Luke asked after a while, once they'd made it about halfway across the room. Guy blinked, having not even noticed, and realized he wasn't supporting the boy as much anymore. Luke's expression clearly stated that he thought he was doing marvelously, yet at the same time he wanted a second opinion.
He wanted Guy's opinion. Because to Luke, it meant something; it was worth something.
... Stop it. Stop it, Luke.
"You're doing good," he murmured, his cheek rested daringly in the crimson hair of his charge, on the source of so much hatred and devotion, neither of which he'd ever really wanted, yet was somehow forced to endure. "You're doing great."
You're doing too much. You've always done too much.
You're doing too much to me.
He knew, at that moment, that it had to end. He had to stop, to break ties with Luke and ask for another job within the household. If Luke would not stop changing, he would have to be the one to make that choice.
He also knew that he could never, ever go through with it, not in a million lifetimes or beyond.
Title: Walk on the Stars
Fandom: Tales of the Abyss
Word Count: 1296
Spoilers: Guy's past.
Summary: Pre-game ficlet; Guy teaches Luke how to walk.
"Take my hands."
Luke hesitated for a moment, but at Guy's urgent, encouraging look, he finally shifted on the bed to face him, hands stretching out to grasp his servant's. Guy gently adjusted his grip to make it just a little more comfortable for both of them, and slid off the edge of the mattress, rising to his feet and turning to face him. "Okay, we'll try balancing first. Put your feet down on the floor."
"O... okay..." The younger boy followed his example, edging forward and kicking his legs off the side of the bed, inching towards the carpet below.
"You can't hesitate when you speak," Guy warned, his tone soft to keep it from sounding like he was scolding. Servants couldn't scold their masters, and he'd been given permission to correct - nothing more. "If your father hears you stumbling over your words, you'll have to stay inside longer."
Luke's eyes narrowed at that, determination filling his gaze. "Right. It won't happen again."
Guy smiled faintly, almost proud for a moment before he stopped himself. He urged the boy forward until there was no longer enough mattress beneath to support him, and he slid down, feet hitting the floor with a soft thump. Instantly Luke's knees buckled, and he gasped in surprise, hands tightening. "G-Guy--!"
But Guy was already there; somehow he'd tugged his hands free of the iron grip and moved them beneath his arms, as if he'd expected such a fall. He held Luke close, supporting him, saving his knees from an unfriendly case of rug burn.
Smiling a bit sheepishly, Luke lifted his hands to cling at Guy's shirt, eyes lowered. "... Sorry... I guess I'm not used to this."
"You can't remember how," Guy shrugged, the words clipped, unaccusatory. "There's no helping it. That's why we're taking things slow."
Luke nodded silently, tilting his head forward, resting it against Guy's chest. There was a long, uncomfortable pause.
"... Master Luke?"
"Guy, I told you, you can-"
"Stand up," the servant hissed urgently in his ear, and Luke suddenly found himself on his feet, Guy's hands supporting him at the waist, his own grip moved to the elder boy's shoulders, a scant second before the door opened.
"On your feet already?" Duke Fabre called in, his stiff form blocking most of the doorway - though they could both hear the curious, muffled whispers of the maids whom he'd probably caught eavesdropping.
Luke pursed his lips, thinking for a moment, then nodded, lifting his chin as a duke's son should. "Yes, Father. Guy's helping me walk today."
"I can see that." The duke's eyes looked him up and down, studying him, then shifted his gaze to the one still holding him upright. "Make sure he improves his posture before he's ready to leave here," he instructed. "I won't have the next heir to the throne slouching like a commoner."
Guy's hands tensed at Luke's side, causing the young man to blink. He was inwardly grateful that he was facing away from the duke, and that Luke couldn't read the carefully controlled expression he wore. "Yes sir. We'll work on that once he can stand on his own."
"Good." Fabre nodded his approval, then gave a faint, brief smile to his son. "Continue to improve, and you'll be free to explore the mansion as your home, as you once did. I have confidence in you, son."
Luke's eyes widened, and his lips instantly curled into a broad grin, nodding enthusiastically and almost losing his balance in the process. "... Yeah! I mean, thank you! I won't let you down."
Guy felt slightly ill, but he didn't let it affect him. He waited until the door closed behind the duke, then murmured, "How are your legs? Can you stand without me holding you up?"
His confidence wilted a little, but Luke licked his lips and gave a hesitant nod. "I'll try. But keep your hands there, just in case."
Returning the request with a slight nod, Guy loosened his grip, feeling the younger boy's body tense as he felt the full weight of his upper body. His knees very nearly gave in again, but he found his balance in time, wavering unsteadily but staying on his feet. He lifted his head again, gaze seeking approval. "Hey, I did it!"
Guy indulged him with a smile, hands lifting again to take Luke's in his own, stepping back a little to balance him from further away. "Alright... try just standing like that for a while, to get used to it. Otherwise you'll just fall over when you try to take a step." At Luke's disappointed pout, he added, "It's a good start, though. You're doing fine."
Luke merely nodded at that, satisfied, at least for a moment. Once he'd balanced enough - in his opinion, anyway - he added eagerly, "Okay, can I move yet?"
Unable to really help it, Guy's smile shifted to a faint but visible grin, and he let go. Luke's eyes widened, wavering on his feet for a moment, but once he realized he was standing on his own, the smile returned in full force. "Guy! Guy, look, I'm standing up!"
"I'm looking," Guy chuckled faintly, hands at his sides, waiting. "Now try taking a step forward."
Luke grinned, moving his foot. And promptly fell over.
Guy was there before he could hit the floor, supporting him, holding the boy gingerly against his chest. He withheld a sigh - he'd known this would take much longer than Luke had been hoping.
Luke sounded disappointed, the voice muffled in Guy's shirt. "S... sorry. Can I try again?"
"You can always try," Guy murmured, shifting positions, moving to stand behind Luke. He wrapped an arm around his waist, his other hand rested on his young master's shoulder. "I'll be right here, okay? Just take it slow."
"Slow," Luke echoed, as if to remind himself, and relaxed a little, feet shuffling against the floor. He moved like a clumsy kitten, but it was obviously new to him, and progress was progress, however slow. His body felt warm and calming against Guy's, and he had to fight back a wave of unease at the closeness.
Things were changing, somehow. It bothered him more than he could say.
Stop it, he wanted to snap, to growl, to scream. Stop getting so close to me. Stop treating me like an ally. Stop pretending I'm your friend. I'm a servant. A -servant-. You're a nobleman, nephew to a king. I'm -nothing-. Treat me like nothing!
Make it easier for me to hate you, dammit!
"Am I doing good, Guy?" Luke asked after a while, once they'd made it about halfway across the room. Guy blinked, having not even noticed, and realized he wasn't supporting the boy as much anymore. Luke's expression clearly stated that he thought he was doing marvelously, yet at the same time he wanted a second opinion.
He wanted Guy's opinion. Because to Luke, it meant something; it was worth something.
... Stop it. Stop it, Luke.
"You're doing good," he murmured, his cheek rested daringly in the crimson hair of his charge, on the source of so much hatred and devotion, neither of which he'd ever really wanted, yet was somehow forced to endure. "You're doing great."
You're doing too much. You've always done too much.
You're doing too much to me.
He knew, at that moment, that it had to end. He had to stop, to break ties with Luke and ask for another job within the household. If Luke would not stop changing, he would have to be the one to make that choice.
He also knew that he could never, ever go through with it, not in a million lifetimes or beyond.