Fic: Like An Ocean Jealous of the Fish
Title: Like an Ocean Jealous of the Fish
Fandom: June the Little Queen
Pairing: Sezru/Yuri
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Yuri dreams. Sezru waits.
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“Come with me,” Sezru says.
No, Yuri wants to say but couldn’t. His limbs feel heavy, and he’s pretty sure two of his ribs are broken. There’s a numbness in his tongue and blood in his eyes and he can’t, for the life of him, do anything about it. No, he repeats in his mind, No.
“Come with me.” Sezru says again, an insistent note in his voice. For once, he sounds human.
Yuri smiles. For that alone, Sezru deserves a reward. So he parts his lips and tries to force his vocal cord into working order again, to say the refusal out loud, because he owes Sezru that much. An indiscernible sound escapes his parted lips, like a grunt, but it’s nowhere near a real word. He could only hope Sezru understand though, because he doesn’t think he has energy left for anything else.
When darkness tries reaching for him, he embraces it, closing his eyes and shutting down his senses. Only the color of black as far as his eyes can see, and he has never been gladder to welcome it before. The last thing he knows is a soft touch of a hand against his cheek, feeling surprisingly gentle, and then no more.
-
“You shouldn’t have saved me.” Yuri says.
He’s sitting on a bed, legs covered in blankets, while his hands weakly fend off the healer’s attempt at assessing his wounds. It never actually needs this long to heal someone, but considering how allergic Yuri is to the power of Darkness - which is the source of the healer’s (and everything in the Kingdom of Darkness’) power - the healer had opted to treat him manually, using herbs and other magicless means. It might take longer, but there’s still possibility he could recover.
Except for his eyes, that is.
The healer is not sure about the cause, and Yuri would never volunteer the information; but whatever it was, it’s causing Yuri to lose his sight, and only magic could heal that.
Which, considering Yuri’s resistance to said magic, is not good at all.
“You really shouldn’t have saved me.” Yuri says again. There are tears running down his cheeks, even when his eyes are firmly closed. Especially because his eyes are firmly closed. “You really shouldn’t.”
Sezru doesn’t answer.
Later, the healer would tell him the tears are just the eyes’ attempt to protect themselves, to cleanse themselves, and had nothing to do with the amount of pain Yuri’s experiencing.
Later, Yuri would sleep a dreamless sleep, aided by a sleeping draught, oblivious to the tears tracks drying on his face.
Later, Sezru would sit by Yuri’s bed, listening to Yuri trash and move about in a restless sleep.
But for now, Sezru just watches, and wonders.
-
Yuri hums, sometimes. Never a full blown song - just a mumble, a whispered melodious note, and nothing more. Coming and going, with no discernable pattern Sezru could find. But they’re beautiful, and nice to listen to.
Even if Yuri kept pretending Sezru wasn’t there at all.
It’s only much, much later Sezru realizes they’re all funeral hymns.
-
Sezru finds himself visiting Yuri’s room every now and then, against his better judgment. No matter how beaten Yuri was when Sezru found him, Yuri’s still a member of the Light clan; powers incompatibility aside, there’s also the matter where Dark Kingdom and Light Palace are still at war. A former Light Seer living in the guest room of the Castle - instead of the dungeon - is bound to raise questions and more than a little suspicion.
Sooner or later, a problem is going to present itself.
But for now - but for now, he just watches, and sees, and observes, and tries not to do more.
“You could try to go out. Leave this room.” Sezru had told him.
“No, really. It’s okay.” Yuri had said. “My presence had caused enough uproar as it is. No need to agitate anyone further by going about in the Castle, don’t you think?” Yuri had smiled then; he had smiled a smile that’s just a bit too cheerful for it to be genuine. And the tone he had been delivering it with speaks of authority, of experience, and not just a guess.
Somebody’s been around disturbing Yuri, and Sezru hadn’t known about it.
There’s enough power in Sezru’s hands; if he wanted anyone disappear, it wouldn’t even take a second. And considering his status as the Prince, none would ever punish him for it.
Except the King himself, that is. But these days, Shaosien is always too wrapped up in his own head to be much threat to anyone who isn’t a Queen of Light.
Sezru had thought his status alone would be enough protection for Yuri.
But powers incompatibility goes both ways; and fear has always been a great motivator.
Sezru really should’ve known better.
-
Splattered red smear decorates the walls of the room, filling the air with the metallic scent of blood. Messy and brutal, with nothing left to recover, whoever did this clearly had a flair for dramatics.
Sezru walks to the far side of the room, where a seemingly broken body of a human lies unmoving in a pool of blood. The person's fair hair and once pristine white clothes stand stark in contrast to the dark red color of blood staining them. From where Sezru’s standing, it doesn't seem like the person is breathing at all.
He crosses the room and crouches in front of the figure on the floor, his fingers immediately checking for the pulse in the other's neck. Faint, but it's there. He's still alive.
“Yuri-oppa.” Sezru says. No answer. Yuri doesn't even stir. “Yuri-oppa.” He repeats.
Still no movement.
“Kill them.” Calm. Cold. Collected. Unaffected. Like it's just any other order.
“Yes, Sir.” The guards salute at once and leave, leaving him alone with a barely alive Yuri Schaver.
He hooks one arm behind Yuri's back and the other under his knees, before he easily lifts him off the ground and starts to lead the way to his private quarter. He doesn't want to take chances. There's no guarantee such 'incident' wouldn't happen again. Besides, it would be easier to watch over him if they are sharing the same space.
(Just like it would be impossible for Yuri to keep rejecting him. )
-
This time, when Yuri’s searching hand blindly finds Sezru’s, Yuri doesn’t even sigh. He just slumps back into his bed, a bandaged arm covering his face.
“I should’ve known.” Yuri mutters, sounding defeated and not a little pained. “June has always been bad at letting go. Figures you would take after her.”
June.
Talking about June should’ve opened another can of worm, like pouring salt on an open wound, like tearing out a half-dried scab - you can run, but you can’t hide. Here’s my wound, and here’s the salt, so why don’t you try pouring the salt over it…?
But.
But Yuri’s other hand, still clasped in Sezru’s own, is very, very warm; he could feel Yuri’s blood running through his veins, could hear the faint heartbeat deep in Yuri’s chest, could see Yuri take in air for his lungs; Yuri’s here, alive, and very much real.
“No.” Sezru says, quiet. “Unlike June, I never learned how.”
Yuri doesn’t reply.
-
“Don't.” Yuri warns him.
Sezru’s hand is only mere inches from the cloth covering Yuri's eyes, Yuri's own hand holding his wrist to prevent him from advancing further.
“I want to see your eyes.” He says earnestly, not making an attempt to retrieve his captured wrist.
Yuri's hold tightens-not enough to hurt him (Yuri's still too weak for that), but the pressure is enough to let him know that Yuri means it.
He doesn’t budge. “Let me.”
A frown between Yuri's eyebrows. “Why?” he asks. “There's nothing to see.”
For you, and for me.
Sezru doesn't answer. Instead, he draws his hand back, letting it fall to his side. “Yuri-oppa. You cannot keep this up forever.”
“Funny,” Yuri says, “It's almost like you actually care.”
The soft sound of the door creaking closed is the only sign of him leaving.
-
He's Pretty, the girls in his class used to say, while giggling to themselves, every time Yuri passed by. Even June, who never paid any attention to anything that wasn't Sezru, had turned her head and actually looked at him long enough that Sezru himself had noticed it too.
He doesn't know enough about beauty in its relation to human physique, never curious enough to find out about it. But still, his exposure to his male classmates and their general topic of conversation would inevitably introduce him to the concept of beauty and where it is applied to.
Lucia is, according to them, exceptionally beautiful; the most beautiful girl in the institute. Yet her coldness makes people keep a certain distance from her. They admire her, they want to get close to her, but they also do not wish to get burnt. Just like a sculpted ice, one of his classmates comments. It is something to admire, but not something to touch or to possess. Unattainable.
While June, on the other hand, according to them, is boyishly beautiful - in the sense that she's tomboy enough and strong enough to be considered a boy, yet her pretty face keeps reminding them that she's, in fact, a girl. She's like the sun, one of his classmates jokes. Even if you clearly express that you don't want her to be there, she will still follow you around; even if you hide behind a shade, you still feel her scorching heat. There's no use running away. The easiest way to deal would be just to succumb to her.
And than there's Yuri.
For some reason, talking about Yuri always brings a flush to his classmates’ faces. He only finds out later from June’s female friends that it is considered unmanly and embarrassing for boys to ever apply the word ‘pretty’ to the member of their own gender. Even if it was only a matter of fact.
-
“You never ask about your friends,” Sezru says.
Yuri’s sitting by the edge of his bed, his back on the door, hands clasped together on his lap like a prayer-except Sezru knows Yuri has long since stopped believing in Gods and Fate and any other Higher Powers.
“I figure if it really matters, then you’d eventually tell me.” His voice sounds… not exactly hoarse, more like scratchy, perhaps, like he actually hasn’t spoken in a long time and barely remembers how.
Sezru supposes that’s not exactly that far from the truth-on both accounts.
“Don’t you miss them?” he walks closer to the bed slowly, his leather boots making soft noises every time they touch the ground.
“I do.” Is Yuri’s curt reply. There’s no infliction of emotion there; just an honest truth to a question that shouldn’t have invited such a bland answer.
Sezru observes him quietly. “Would you like to go see them?”
Yuri turns his head slightly to the side, almost as if he’s trying to confirm Sezru’s presence in the room. ”And you’re actually going to let me.” A wry smile appears on Yuri’s lips. He doesn’t even sound sarcastic or biting anymore; he just sounds - and looks - resigned, like he has lost all the will to fight.
“I can try.”
That much is true; he knows he can, knows the King would give him at least this; but the thing is… the only problem is that he doesn’t know if he would.
Judging by the way Yuri’s smile ups a notch, the other boy knows that as well.
“Nah, don’t bother. It’s not like I can actually see them, anyway.” His fingers brush the cloth covering his eyes, touching it tentatively, carefully, before he lets his hand fall into his lap.
What Sezru hears is, It’s better for them to think I’m dead rather than letting them see me like this.
But Sezru has been around his friends enough to know they would rather hear Yuri’s alive - in whatever condition he’s in - than to find him dead. He also knows June enough to assume she’s still searching for Yuri, ignoring any indication and suggestion to the contrary.
“Self-pity doesn’t become you, Yuri-oppa.” His tone is still as emotionless as ever, but even him could hear something different in it - something that doesn’t belong.
Yuri’s head tilts slightly to Sezru’s general direction. There’s smile in his lips; tight around the edge, but a smile nonetheless. “Stop doing that,” Yuri tells him, “Stop making me think you actually give a damn.” Please.
He takes a step back.
A long time ago, June’s old lady used to say how people can sometimes only look at what they think they see, and not the reality as it is. That some people are not ready for the truth. That sometimes, the knowledge may bring more harm than good.
He just never expects Yuri - dependable Yuri, logical Yuri, cynical Yuri - to be one of those people.
Because the truth is? Sezru’s not hiding anything. He lays up everything out in the open when he’s around Yuri, that Yuri’s sure to stumble upon a piece of Sezru’s if only he bothers to even so much as take a blind step.
But he never does; he never does, and Sezru’s not even sure what he’s doing anymore - waiting around for something that would never, ever, happen.
“I’ll take my leave, then.” Sezru says, stepping further back, eyes anywhere but where he wants them to be. He closes the door quietly, wondering why he feels suffocated all of sudden.
Maybe Yuri’s finally getting his Light power back, and that’s why it makes Sezru uncomfortable to be in the same room as him just now.
Except even in the darkest part of the palace, so sacred no light could ever hope to enter through, he feels it still.
He tries not to think anything of it.
He fails.
-
“What are you doing?” Shaosien asks of Sezru.
Sezru glances down. He’s perched at his favorite windowsill high above the court room, swinging a leg idly.
“The human.” The Demon King clarifies. “What are you intending to do about him?”
Sezru hesitates. “I’m…not sure.” And is surprised at the unexpected honesty he hears in his own voice.
Shaosien looks at him then; really looks at him, and Sezru only knows this because of the change of focus of energy in the room; they’re all focused on him now - not malicious, nor are they probing. They’re just…there. Watching. Curious, but wary. Intrigued, but nothing more.
“I see.” Shaosien says, and leaves it at that.
-
Sezru’s not really sure whether Shaosien knows that Sezru has access to his past memories, dated back to his first breath till Sezru was separated from him by Inosia.
Inosia.
The Greatest Queen of Light, the one who sealed the last Demon King four hundred years past. The story of their battle is written in history books all over the country, in great many details. Their tale is so famous it’s become a legend, something passes down from generation to generation.
Yet nobody knows about the history between the two -- about the time they spent together, of the things they found in each other, and most importantly, who they really were to each other.
He who was blind and stupid, and she who was cold and cruel.
It was doomed from the start, the sentence keeps playing whenever Sezru recalls Shaosien’s memory. It was doomed from the start. It was doomed from the start.
Sezru never does understand it; not even when he remembers June and their time together. Not even when he recalls Lucia and their little dance. Not even when he remembers June’s old lady and everything she had ever taught him.
He doesn’t think he would ever understand it.
Then he picks Yuri up, and Sezru is - Sezru is.
He never thought anything could ever hurt this much.
It was doomed from the start.
-
“What were you trying to do?” Sezru asks.
Yuri is sitting on the edge of his bed, his head tilted toward the open window, where the silhouette of the fullmoon can be seen. Other than a slight tilt of his head, Yuri doesn’t give any other indication that he’s heard him.
“The healer told me about the probable origin of the cause to your blindness.” Sezru explains. “Something you forgot to tell me?”
Yuri’s answer, when it comes, is soft and low, nearly a whisper. “I thought you knew.”
“What?”
“After all, you were the one who found me. I didn’t exactly have the time nor the means to clean it up.”
Before he even knew it, he has stood in front of Yuri, hands balled tight into fists. “You’re saying you clawed your own eyes out?!”
Yuri lifts his chin up, apparently taken by surprise at Sezru’s sudden close proximity. “I-“
“Why?”
Yuri shivers. It’s then Sezru realizes the gush of cold wind from the window. Then with a wave of his hand, he automatically shuts it closed without ever looking away from the figure in front of him. The one who used to be his mentor. The one he used to think was the strongest person after June.
The one whose body is still shivering despite the lack of cold air in the room.
“I was tired.” Yuri admits. “I was tired and desperate and wasn’t exactly thinking straight at the time.”
At the very least, Sezru thinks, Yuri knows it was actually stupid. “What were you afraid of?” he asks, mindful of his tone.
“I was-“ he stops. His lips part, but no sound comes out, and Sezru realizes he’s thinking whether or not to tell the truth. Then he clears his throat, a determined set to his jaw, and says softly, “I figured that if I didn’t have my eyes anymore, then I would stop seeing people dying in my dreams.” He clears his throat again. “That I’d finally stop seeing the future. ”
Yuri’s fingers are clasped together on his lap, but it does nothing to hide the tremor he’s experiencing.
Sezru watches him carefully, his mouth parted in surprise and just a little disbelief. It’s not that he didn’t know Yuri could see the future. It’s more that he doesn’t care enough about it to find out more. Besides, it’s not like Yuri liked to flaunt it around either. For someone who held quite a high position in the Light Palace, Yuri sure liked pretending he was anything but.
He just never thought it was actually because Yuri feared his own power. That it would be enough for him to claw his own eyes out.
“Did it work, then?” Sezru asks, soft, careful.
Yuri lets out a startled laugh. But it sounds dry and bitter and hysterical and everything that is wrong in the world.
“Yes, if the purpose was to make me see it every single time. Even when I’m wide awake. ” He makes as if he’s going to laugh some more, but he only presses the heels of his palms over his eyes.
Sezru hesitates. Then he puts a hand over Yuri’s face, not really touching, before he lets his middle finger press down on the cloth covering Yuri’s eyes, right between the eyes.
“Is that why you wear this thing?” he asks, voice rough and scratchy as it finally - finally - dawns on him. “So that you can tell whether you’re awake or not?”
Yuri smiles - easy as a blade cuts through skin, and just as painful. “More so I can remember that I’m, in fact, not dreaming. Because - guess what? Even blind people dream in full colors. ”
Even with a cloth separating his finger from Yuri’s skin, he’s still warm. Even shivering as Yuri is, he’s still warmer than Sezru could ever be - could ever hope to be.
Human sure are warm creatures, aren’t they?
And such a master at deluding themselves.
“What would happen then, if I… do this?” he hooks a finger under the blindfold, and pulls.
The cloth falls away, but not before Yuri throws himself and reaches a hand out blindly, trying to take it back only to get a handful of Sezru’s shirt instead. He crashes into Sezru without meaning to, and the momentum leaves them overbalanced and fall onto the floor, with Sezru trying to cushion both their fall.
“Yuri-oppa,” Sezru says quietly, once they’ve regained their breath, one arm around Yuri’s trembling shoulders while the other on the small of his back, “Are you still dreaming now?”
He can hear his own heartbeat, a calm contrast to Yuri’s erratic one. Ba dump. Ba dump. Ba dump. Ba dump.
But Yuri doesn’t answer; if anything, his trembling gets worse, harsh tremor wrecking his whole body, until Sezru could feel himself shuddering with him. Yuri’s fists, thin and bony as they are now, still gripping the fabric of Sezru’s shirt tight like a lifeline. From his position, he could only see the top of Yuri’s head as Yuri buries his face on Sezru’s chest.
“Yuri-oppa.”
It feels like a dam has just broken; every emotion Sezru has never seen on the other boy suddenly on display; there’s wetness where Yuri still buries his face on Sezru’s shirt, warm and spread uncontrolled, accompanied by quiet sobs.
“Yuri-oppa.” Sezru says, quiet. “Yuri. Yuri. ”
For a long time, they stay like that; Sezru with his back on the floor, Yuri a wrecked mess on top of him. No other word is uttered, other than the occasional Yuri from Sezru. It would be a while before Yuri exhausts himself to sleep, before Sezru picks him up, careful, and relocates him to the bed.
It would be a while yet before Sezru could bring himself to leave.
-
“Where’s he?” June says. Demands, really.
In an abandoned ruin of a church just south of Rohini Institute, June is waiting for him, the Spenta Mania gleaming in her hand.
Sezru doesn’t even mean to be here. For whatever reason, the portal that’s supposed to bring him to the glorified Rain City spits him out in Light territory instead. Near the holy institute, no less.
Seeing June here though, the holy Rod in her grip, the magic circle under her feet, it is painfully obvious she is the reason.
“With me.” Sezru tells her.
June inhales sharply. Bites her lower lip. Lets her eyes bore into Sezru. “Won’t you let him come home to us?”
Ah.
Without even looking away from her, he opens the portal gate with a flick of his wrist. “Goodbye, June.”
“Wait!”
Sezru pauses. Looks at her; at the genuine worry in her face, in the depth of her eyes. At all the things she tries and fails to convey.
Won’t you come home to me?
She may be a queen - a very powerful one - but she’s also just a human -- a little fact that must have been forgotten way too often by people in the wake of her powers. And just like any other human, she also feels anger, hurt, love, loneliness.
She likes you, Yuri had said a lifetime ago.
Looking at her now, at the look on her face, the open desperation in her eyes, Sezru thinks he may even believe Yuri. Even too late as it is.
“No, June. I’m done waiting.” Sezru says, quiet, quiet, quiet. “Maybe you should, too.” And then he steps back, letting the portal gate swallow him whole, June’s look of forced indifference the last thing he sees before everything goes silent again.
-
“I saw June, today.” Sezru says.
“I’m sure it must have gone real well.” Yuri says.
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Yuri-oppa.” Sezru closes his eyes. Remembers the look on June’s face. That even though it’s Yuri she’s asking for, her eyes says you, you, and only you.
“Just like talking doesn’t suit you, I imagine.” Yuri says dryly.
What June wants, June gets; it’s always been that way when they’re growing up. Season changes, plants grow and wither, but June stays the same.
It takes years before Sezru finally understand, that what June wants, and what June needs, are not necessarily the same thing. That June always gets what she needs, but rarely gets what she wants. That getting one, would make her obsessed with the other.
The Light Palace-no, June-needs Yuri; but June-and June alone-wants Sezru.
Yuri-Yuri was Light Palace born and breed; his very existence is defined by the power of Light. He hated the place enough to run, but he also liked June enough to stay. And that-that should’ve meant something.
And then-and then there’s Sezru.
“Would you please stop bleeding your emotions all over the place?”
Sezru blinks. “What?”
Yuri sighs. “And to think I used to wish you would show a little more emotion.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Ever since I came here-or maybe since I lost my eyes, I still can’t decide which-my power has been overly sensitized. And you’re-“ Yuri clears his throat, “-projecting. And I can’t stop myself from picking it up.” He pauses. And then adds, “ I tried.”
Sezru stares. “You’re saying you’ve been reading my thoughts?”
“No. I’m saying I’ve been reading what you’re feeling-not what you’re thinking.” Yuri frowns. “For some reason, that sounds kind of worse.”
A lump is lodged in his throat. ”How long?”
Yuri shrugs - a forced casual gesture, since his shoulders are real tense. Sezru doesn’t even need to strain his eyes to see. “I’m not sure. But I just noticed it when you moved me to your room.”
“You-know this is my room.” His tone gets weird at the end, like he couldn’t decide whether to make it a question or a plain statement.
Yuri clears his throat again. He looks uncomfortable, Sezru realizes. “The thrum of residual energy here is-familiar. Unlike that last room you placed me in.”
Sezru just --can’t breathe.
“And how’s your-eyes?”
A wry twist to the corner of Yuri’s lips. “Wouldn’t you love to know.”
Sezru looks at him.
But those (tightly-shut) irises never look back at Sezru.
-
“Won’t you absorb me anymore?” Sezru asks.
Shaosien looks at him. “What’s the point?”
“I still have half your power.” Sezru says.
Shaosien turns away. “Doesn’t matter. Absorbing your power would mean I would also absorbing your experience, and I can’t have that. Not right now.”
Sezru hears I don’t want to forget her.
Inosia. Inosia. Inosia. Ino--
Sezru stares at him. “For a race that’s supposed to be cold-blooded and ruthless, we sure care a whole lot, don’t we?”
Shaosien closes his eyes. “It only appears so because they care a whole less than they used to.”
Sezru remembers June, and the way she always looked happy for him; the way she made a point to always hover around his orbit, and blind to everything else-including Yuri.
“That-doesn’t even make any sense.” Sezru says.
Except it is.
-
Yuri sighs. “Look, how many times do I need to tell you I was-am-not trying to kill myself? There’s a difference between trying to take away one’s own life, and one’s own power.”
And then there’s also trying to take away one’s power because it would lead to one’s death.
But all Sezru says is, “Sure.”
-
Once, just once, Sezru goes back to the Light Palace through the Darkness Room under the Scrying Ground. One would think after the incident last year, this gate would be closed; but noooo. Or maybe none knows about it, since the three persons who know about its existance are never the ones to tell.
When he appears out of the painting, however, Lucia is standing against the opposite wall, clearly waiting for him.
Not so unguarded, then.
“Sezru.” Lucia says. Even now, long after he’s gone, she still falters when she says his name. Wonder what else hasn’t changed.
“Lucia.” Sezru doesn’t smile.
“I understand you have Yuri Schaver under your protection.”
Under your protection. The way she phrases it, it almost as if-
“Pardon?”
But she keeps on as if he hasn’t opened his mouth at all. “It’d be better if he wasn’t alone. The way he is these days, he’s just gonna repeat this incident again-and there’s no guarantee he would fail this time.” There’s a smile on Lucia’s lips, small and painful and just a little bit self-deprecating. “Please don’t let him return here. Thank you.”
Sezru could only stare at her. “Lucia-“
“You should go back.” Lucia says. “June would go crazy if she saw you here.”
Before h even knows it, he’s already gripping her upper arms, forcing her to look at him. “Are you okay?”
“No, Sezru.” Lucia says, that painful smile still in place. “No one of us are okay-most of all June. And that’s way you should go an never come back.” She tilts her head. “Tell him not to worry, too.” This time, the smile she rewards him with is a little more genuine.
In the distance, he could hear the distinctive footsteps of the Red Knights’ boots.
“Luc--” Sezru begins, but the look on Lucia’s face stops him.
He turns away. “I’m sorry.”
With a last glance at Lucia, Sezru goes back inside the painting. This time, when he gets out in the other side, he burns the gate behind him and watches until it leaves nothing but blackened ashes behind.
-
“Don’t you find it ironic--that the greatest Queens in the history were the ones who, in one way or another, had an affair with their greatest enemy?” Yuri asks.
Sezru only looks at him.
“I myself find it tragically amusing.” Yuri says, a little smile gracing a corner of his mouth. “Since it would mean their motivations to win the war were not so noble, after all. That the reason they were trying so hard was because they wanted to prove they were stronger, that they could overcome their own conflicted emotions.” Yuri laughs. It’s not a nice laugh. “And so far, the Light Palace had won it all.”
Then he smiles at Sezru with eyes that couldn’t see. “Want me to tell you the end result for this war?” he says cheerfully. “After all, I see the future, you know.”
Like he could ever forget.
Yuri’s physical injuries are no longer visible, but it would be a while yet before his sight could ever recover-if at all.
Not that Yuri seems too brokenhearted about it. Just the opposite, in fact.
Sezru closes his eyes. tries to picture June and her smile in his mind. But when he opens his eyes, all he could see is Yuri and his unseeing blue-grey eyes and the way he never lets Sezru get close.
“No.” Sezru says. He looks right at Yuri. “No. The future is not set in stone, after all. So long as I keep trying, I know I could win it.”
This war, and you.
“You do realize even if you lost, you wouldn’t get a point for effort, right? No matter what?” there’s a complicated twist to the corners of Yuri’s lips, one that Sezru doesn’t know how to interpret.
“I never did learn how to give up.” Sezru says, never breaking eye contact.
Yuri turns away-but not before Sezru sees the faint flush to his cheeks.
And Sezru. Sezru is-
There’s hope for him yet.
.
.
.
fin
Fandom: June the Little Queen
Pairing: Sezru/Yuri
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Yuri dreams. Sezru waits.
.
.
“Come with me,” Sezru says.
No, Yuri wants to say but couldn’t. His limbs feel heavy, and he’s pretty sure two of his ribs are broken. There’s a numbness in his tongue and blood in his eyes and he can’t, for the life of him, do anything about it. No, he repeats in his mind, No.
“Come with me.” Sezru says again, an insistent note in his voice. For once, he sounds human.
Yuri smiles. For that alone, Sezru deserves a reward. So he parts his lips and tries to force his vocal cord into working order again, to say the refusal out loud, because he owes Sezru that much. An indiscernible sound escapes his parted lips, like a grunt, but it’s nowhere near a real word. He could only hope Sezru understand though, because he doesn’t think he has energy left for anything else.
When darkness tries reaching for him, he embraces it, closing his eyes and shutting down his senses. Only the color of black as far as his eyes can see, and he has never been gladder to welcome it before. The last thing he knows is a soft touch of a hand against his cheek, feeling surprisingly gentle, and then no more.
-
“You shouldn’t have saved me.” Yuri says.
He’s sitting on a bed, legs covered in blankets, while his hands weakly fend off the healer’s attempt at assessing his wounds. It never actually needs this long to heal someone, but considering how allergic Yuri is to the power of Darkness - which is the source of the healer’s (and everything in the Kingdom of Darkness’) power - the healer had opted to treat him manually, using herbs and other magicless means. It might take longer, but there’s still possibility he could recover.
Except for his eyes, that is.
The healer is not sure about the cause, and Yuri would never volunteer the information; but whatever it was, it’s causing Yuri to lose his sight, and only magic could heal that.
Which, considering Yuri’s resistance to said magic, is not good at all.
“You really shouldn’t have saved me.” Yuri says again. There are tears running down his cheeks, even when his eyes are firmly closed. Especially because his eyes are firmly closed. “You really shouldn’t.”
Sezru doesn’t answer.
Later, the healer would tell him the tears are just the eyes’ attempt to protect themselves, to cleanse themselves, and had nothing to do with the amount of pain Yuri’s experiencing.
Later, Yuri would sleep a dreamless sleep, aided by a sleeping draught, oblivious to the tears tracks drying on his face.
Later, Sezru would sit by Yuri’s bed, listening to Yuri trash and move about in a restless sleep.
But for now, Sezru just watches, and wonders.
-
Yuri hums, sometimes. Never a full blown song - just a mumble, a whispered melodious note, and nothing more. Coming and going, with no discernable pattern Sezru could find. But they’re beautiful, and nice to listen to.
Even if Yuri kept pretending Sezru wasn’t there at all.
It’s only much, much later Sezru realizes they’re all funeral hymns.
-
Sezru finds himself visiting Yuri’s room every now and then, against his better judgment. No matter how beaten Yuri was when Sezru found him, Yuri’s still a member of the Light clan; powers incompatibility aside, there’s also the matter where Dark Kingdom and Light Palace are still at war. A former Light Seer living in the guest room of the Castle - instead of the dungeon - is bound to raise questions and more than a little suspicion.
Sooner or later, a problem is going to present itself.
But for now - but for now, he just watches, and sees, and observes, and tries not to do more.
“You could try to go out. Leave this room.” Sezru had told him.
“No, really. It’s okay.” Yuri had said. “My presence had caused enough uproar as it is. No need to agitate anyone further by going about in the Castle, don’t you think?” Yuri had smiled then; he had smiled a smile that’s just a bit too cheerful for it to be genuine. And the tone he had been delivering it with speaks of authority, of experience, and not just a guess.
Somebody’s been around disturbing Yuri, and Sezru hadn’t known about it.
There’s enough power in Sezru’s hands; if he wanted anyone disappear, it wouldn’t even take a second. And considering his status as the Prince, none would ever punish him for it.
Except the King himself, that is. But these days, Shaosien is always too wrapped up in his own head to be much threat to anyone who isn’t a Queen of Light.
Sezru had thought his status alone would be enough protection for Yuri.
But powers incompatibility goes both ways; and fear has always been a great motivator.
Sezru really should’ve known better.
-
Splattered red smear decorates the walls of the room, filling the air with the metallic scent of blood. Messy and brutal, with nothing left to recover, whoever did this clearly had a flair for dramatics.
Sezru walks to the far side of the room, where a seemingly broken body of a human lies unmoving in a pool of blood. The person's fair hair and once pristine white clothes stand stark in contrast to the dark red color of blood staining them. From where Sezru’s standing, it doesn't seem like the person is breathing at all.
He crosses the room and crouches in front of the figure on the floor, his fingers immediately checking for the pulse in the other's neck. Faint, but it's there. He's still alive.
“Yuri-oppa.” Sezru says. No answer. Yuri doesn't even stir. “Yuri-oppa.” He repeats.
Still no movement.
“Kill them.” Calm. Cold. Collected. Unaffected. Like it's just any other order.
“Yes, Sir.” The guards salute at once and leave, leaving him alone with a barely alive Yuri Schaver.
He hooks one arm behind Yuri's back and the other under his knees, before he easily lifts him off the ground and starts to lead the way to his private quarter. He doesn't want to take chances. There's no guarantee such 'incident' wouldn't happen again. Besides, it would be easier to watch over him if they are sharing the same space.
(Just like it would be impossible for Yuri to keep rejecting him. )
-
This time, when Yuri’s searching hand blindly finds Sezru’s, Yuri doesn’t even sigh. He just slumps back into his bed, a bandaged arm covering his face.
“I should’ve known.” Yuri mutters, sounding defeated and not a little pained. “June has always been bad at letting go. Figures you would take after her.”
June.
Talking about June should’ve opened another can of worm, like pouring salt on an open wound, like tearing out a half-dried scab - you can run, but you can’t hide. Here’s my wound, and here’s the salt, so why don’t you try pouring the salt over it…?
But.
But Yuri’s other hand, still clasped in Sezru’s own, is very, very warm; he could feel Yuri’s blood running through his veins, could hear the faint heartbeat deep in Yuri’s chest, could see Yuri take in air for his lungs; Yuri’s here, alive, and very much real.
“No.” Sezru says, quiet. “Unlike June, I never learned how.”
Yuri doesn’t reply.
-
“Don't.” Yuri warns him.
Sezru’s hand is only mere inches from the cloth covering Yuri's eyes, Yuri's own hand holding his wrist to prevent him from advancing further.
“I want to see your eyes.” He says earnestly, not making an attempt to retrieve his captured wrist.
Yuri's hold tightens-not enough to hurt him (Yuri's still too weak for that), but the pressure is enough to let him know that Yuri means it.
He doesn’t budge. “Let me.”
A frown between Yuri's eyebrows. “Why?” he asks. “There's nothing to see.”
For you, and for me.
Sezru doesn't answer. Instead, he draws his hand back, letting it fall to his side. “Yuri-oppa. You cannot keep this up forever.”
“Funny,” Yuri says, “It's almost like you actually care.”
The soft sound of the door creaking closed is the only sign of him leaving.
-
He's Pretty, the girls in his class used to say, while giggling to themselves, every time Yuri passed by. Even June, who never paid any attention to anything that wasn't Sezru, had turned her head and actually looked at him long enough that Sezru himself had noticed it too.
He doesn't know enough about beauty in its relation to human physique, never curious enough to find out about it. But still, his exposure to his male classmates and their general topic of conversation would inevitably introduce him to the concept of beauty and where it is applied to.
Lucia is, according to them, exceptionally beautiful; the most beautiful girl in the institute. Yet her coldness makes people keep a certain distance from her. They admire her, they want to get close to her, but they also do not wish to get burnt. Just like a sculpted ice, one of his classmates comments. It is something to admire, but not something to touch or to possess. Unattainable.
While June, on the other hand, according to them, is boyishly beautiful - in the sense that she's tomboy enough and strong enough to be considered a boy, yet her pretty face keeps reminding them that she's, in fact, a girl. She's like the sun, one of his classmates jokes. Even if you clearly express that you don't want her to be there, she will still follow you around; even if you hide behind a shade, you still feel her scorching heat. There's no use running away. The easiest way to deal would be just to succumb to her.
And than there's Yuri.
For some reason, talking about Yuri always brings a flush to his classmates’ faces. He only finds out later from June’s female friends that it is considered unmanly and embarrassing for boys to ever apply the word ‘pretty’ to the member of their own gender. Even if it was only a matter of fact.
-
“You never ask about your friends,” Sezru says.
Yuri’s sitting by the edge of his bed, his back on the door, hands clasped together on his lap like a prayer-except Sezru knows Yuri has long since stopped believing in Gods and Fate and any other Higher Powers.
“I figure if it really matters, then you’d eventually tell me.” His voice sounds… not exactly hoarse, more like scratchy, perhaps, like he actually hasn’t spoken in a long time and barely remembers how.
Sezru supposes that’s not exactly that far from the truth-on both accounts.
“Don’t you miss them?” he walks closer to the bed slowly, his leather boots making soft noises every time they touch the ground.
“I do.” Is Yuri’s curt reply. There’s no infliction of emotion there; just an honest truth to a question that shouldn’t have invited such a bland answer.
Sezru observes him quietly. “Would you like to go see them?”
Yuri turns his head slightly to the side, almost as if he’s trying to confirm Sezru’s presence in the room. ”And you’re actually going to let me.” A wry smile appears on Yuri’s lips. He doesn’t even sound sarcastic or biting anymore; he just sounds - and looks - resigned, like he has lost all the will to fight.
“I can try.”
That much is true; he knows he can, knows the King would give him at least this; but the thing is… the only problem is that he doesn’t know if he would.
Judging by the way Yuri’s smile ups a notch, the other boy knows that as well.
“Nah, don’t bother. It’s not like I can actually see them, anyway.” His fingers brush the cloth covering his eyes, touching it tentatively, carefully, before he lets his hand fall into his lap.
What Sezru hears is, It’s better for them to think I’m dead rather than letting them see me like this.
But Sezru has been around his friends enough to know they would rather hear Yuri’s alive - in whatever condition he’s in - than to find him dead. He also knows June enough to assume she’s still searching for Yuri, ignoring any indication and suggestion to the contrary.
“Self-pity doesn’t become you, Yuri-oppa.” His tone is still as emotionless as ever, but even him could hear something different in it - something that doesn’t belong.
Yuri’s head tilts slightly to Sezru’s general direction. There’s smile in his lips; tight around the edge, but a smile nonetheless. “Stop doing that,” Yuri tells him, “Stop making me think you actually give a damn.” Please.
He takes a step back.
A long time ago, June’s old lady used to say how people can sometimes only look at what they think they see, and not the reality as it is. That some people are not ready for the truth. That sometimes, the knowledge may bring more harm than good.
He just never expects Yuri - dependable Yuri, logical Yuri, cynical Yuri - to be one of those people.
Because the truth is? Sezru’s not hiding anything. He lays up everything out in the open when he’s around Yuri, that Yuri’s sure to stumble upon a piece of Sezru’s if only he bothers to even so much as take a blind step.
But he never does; he never does, and Sezru’s not even sure what he’s doing anymore - waiting around for something that would never, ever, happen.
“I’ll take my leave, then.” Sezru says, stepping further back, eyes anywhere but where he wants them to be. He closes the door quietly, wondering why he feels suffocated all of sudden.
Maybe Yuri’s finally getting his Light power back, and that’s why it makes Sezru uncomfortable to be in the same room as him just now.
Except even in the darkest part of the palace, so sacred no light could ever hope to enter through, he feels it still.
He tries not to think anything of it.
He fails.
-
“What are you doing?” Shaosien asks of Sezru.
Sezru glances down. He’s perched at his favorite windowsill high above the court room, swinging a leg idly.
“The human.” The Demon King clarifies. “What are you intending to do about him?”
Sezru hesitates. “I’m…not sure.” And is surprised at the unexpected honesty he hears in his own voice.
Shaosien looks at him then; really looks at him, and Sezru only knows this because of the change of focus of energy in the room; they’re all focused on him now - not malicious, nor are they probing. They’re just…there. Watching. Curious, but wary. Intrigued, but nothing more.
“I see.” Shaosien says, and leaves it at that.
-
Sezru’s not really sure whether Shaosien knows that Sezru has access to his past memories, dated back to his first breath till Sezru was separated from him by Inosia.
Inosia.
The Greatest Queen of Light, the one who sealed the last Demon King four hundred years past. The story of their battle is written in history books all over the country, in great many details. Their tale is so famous it’s become a legend, something passes down from generation to generation.
Yet nobody knows about the history between the two -- about the time they spent together, of the things they found in each other, and most importantly, who they really were to each other.
He who was blind and stupid, and she who was cold and cruel.
It was doomed from the start, the sentence keeps playing whenever Sezru recalls Shaosien’s memory. It was doomed from the start. It was doomed from the start.
Sezru never does understand it; not even when he remembers June and their time together. Not even when he recalls Lucia and their little dance. Not even when he remembers June’s old lady and everything she had ever taught him.
He doesn’t think he would ever understand it.
Then he picks Yuri up, and Sezru is - Sezru is.
He never thought anything could ever hurt this much.
It was doomed from the start.
-
“What were you trying to do?” Sezru asks.
Yuri is sitting on the edge of his bed, his head tilted toward the open window, where the silhouette of the fullmoon can be seen. Other than a slight tilt of his head, Yuri doesn’t give any other indication that he’s heard him.
“The healer told me about the probable origin of the cause to your blindness.” Sezru explains. “Something you forgot to tell me?”
Yuri’s answer, when it comes, is soft and low, nearly a whisper. “I thought you knew.”
“What?”
“After all, you were the one who found me. I didn’t exactly have the time nor the means to clean it up.”
Before he even knew it, he has stood in front of Yuri, hands balled tight into fists. “You’re saying you clawed your own eyes out?!”
Yuri lifts his chin up, apparently taken by surprise at Sezru’s sudden close proximity. “I-“
“Why?”
Yuri shivers. It’s then Sezru realizes the gush of cold wind from the window. Then with a wave of his hand, he automatically shuts it closed without ever looking away from the figure in front of him. The one who used to be his mentor. The one he used to think was the strongest person after June.
The one whose body is still shivering despite the lack of cold air in the room.
“I was tired.” Yuri admits. “I was tired and desperate and wasn’t exactly thinking straight at the time.”
At the very least, Sezru thinks, Yuri knows it was actually stupid. “What were you afraid of?” he asks, mindful of his tone.
“I was-“ he stops. His lips part, but no sound comes out, and Sezru realizes he’s thinking whether or not to tell the truth. Then he clears his throat, a determined set to his jaw, and says softly, “I figured that if I didn’t have my eyes anymore, then I would stop seeing people dying in my dreams.” He clears his throat again. “That I’d finally stop seeing the future. ”
Yuri’s fingers are clasped together on his lap, but it does nothing to hide the tremor he’s experiencing.
Sezru watches him carefully, his mouth parted in surprise and just a little disbelief. It’s not that he didn’t know Yuri could see the future. It’s more that he doesn’t care enough about it to find out more. Besides, it’s not like Yuri liked to flaunt it around either. For someone who held quite a high position in the Light Palace, Yuri sure liked pretending he was anything but.
He just never thought it was actually because Yuri feared his own power. That it would be enough for him to claw his own eyes out.
“Did it work, then?” Sezru asks, soft, careful.
Yuri lets out a startled laugh. But it sounds dry and bitter and hysterical and everything that is wrong in the world.
“Yes, if the purpose was to make me see it every single time. Even when I’m wide awake. ” He makes as if he’s going to laugh some more, but he only presses the heels of his palms over his eyes.
Sezru hesitates. Then he puts a hand over Yuri’s face, not really touching, before he lets his middle finger press down on the cloth covering Yuri’s eyes, right between the eyes.
“Is that why you wear this thing?” he asks, voice rough and scratchy as it finally - finally - dawns on him. “So that you can tell whether you’re awake or not?”
Yuri smiles - easy as a blade cuts through skin, and just as painful. “More so I can remember that I’m, in fact, not dreaming. Because - guess what? Even blind people dream in full colors. ”
Even with a cloth separating his finger from Yuri’s skin, he’s still warm. Even shivering as Yuri is, he’s still warmer than Sezru could ever be - could ever hope to be.
Human sure are warm creatures, aren’t they?
And such a master at deluding themselves.
“What would happen then, if I… do this?” he hooks a finger under the blindfold, and pulls.
The cloth falls away, but not before Yuri throws himself and reaches a hand out blindly, trying to take it back only to get a handful of Sezru’s shirt instead. He crashes into Sezru without meaning to, and the momentum leaves them overbalanced and fall onto the floor, with Sezru trying to cushion both their fall.
“Yuri-oppa,” Sezru says quietly, once they’ve regained their breath, one arm around Yuri’s trembling shoulders while the other on the small of his back, “Are you still dreaming now?”
He can hear his own heartbeat, a calm contrast to Yuri’s erratic one. Ba dump. Ba dump. Ba dump. Ba dump.
But Yuri doesn’t answer; if anything, his trembling gets worse, harsh tremor wrecking his whole body, until Sezru could feel himself shuddering with him. Yuri’s fists, thin and bony as they are now, still gripping the fabric of Sezru’s shirt tight like a lifeline. From his position, he could only see the top of Yuri’s head as Yuri buries his face on Sezru’s chest.
“Yuri-oppa.”
It feels like a dam has just broken; every emotion Sezru has never seen on the other boy suddenly on display; there’s wetness where Yuri still buries his face on Sezru’s shirt, warm and spread uncontrolled, accompanied by quiet sobs.
“Yuri-oppa.” Sezru says, quiet. “Yuri. Yuri. ”
For a long time, they stay like that; Sezru with his back on the floor, Yuri a wrecked mess on top of him. No other word is uttered, other than the occasional Yuri from Sezru. It would be a while before Yuri exhausts himself to sleep, before Sezru picks him up, careful, and relocates him to the bed.
It would be a while yet before Sezru could bring himself to leave.
-
“Where’s he?” June says. Demands, really.
In an abandoned ruin of a church just south of Rohini Institute, June is waiting for him, the Spenta Mania gleaming in her hand.
Sezru doesn’t even mean to be here. For whatever reason, the portal that’s supposed to bring him to the glorified Rain City spits him out in Light territory instead. Near the holy institute, no less.
Seeing June here though, the holy Rod in her grip, the magic circle under her feet, it is painfully obvious she is the reason.
“With me.” Sezru tells her.
June inhales sharply. Bites her lower lip. Lets her eyes bore into Sezru. “Won’t you let him come home to us?”
Ah.
Without even looking away from her, he opens the portal gate with a flick of his wrist. “Goodbye, June.”
“Wait!”
Sezru pauses. Looks at her; at the genuine worry in her face, in the depth of her eyes. At all the things she tries and fails to convey.
Won’t you come home to me?
She may be a queen - a very powerful one - but she’s also just a human -- a little fact that must have been forgotten way too often by people in the wake of her powers. And just like any other human, she also feels anger, hurt, love, loneliness.
She likes you, Yuri had said a lifetime ago.
Looking at her now, at the look on her face, the open desperation in her eyes, Sezru thinks he may even believe Yuri. Even too late as it is.
“No, June. I’m done waiting.” Sezru says, quiet, quiet, quiet. “Maybe you should, too.” And then he steps back, letting the portal gate swallow him whole, June’s look of forced indifference the last thing he sees before everything goes silent again.
-
“I saw June, today.” Sezru says.
“I’m sure it must have gone real well.” Yuri says.
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Yuri-oppa.” Sezru closes his eyes. Remembers the look on June’s face. That even though it’s Yuri she’s asking for, her eyes says you, you, and only you.
“Just like talking doesn’t suit you, I imagine.” Yuri says dryly.
What June wants, June gets; it’s always been that way when they’re growing up. Season changes, plants grow and wither, but June stays the same.
It takes years before Sezru finally understand, that what June wants, and what June needs, are not necessarily the same thing. That June always gets what she needs, but rarely gets what she wants. That getting one, would make her obsessed with the other.
The Light Palace-no, June-needs Yuri; but June-and June alone-wants Sezru.
Yuri-Yuri was Light Palace born and breed; his very existence is defined by the power of Light. He hated the place enough to run, but he also liked June enough to stay. And that-that should’ve meant something.
And then-and then there’s Sezru.
“Would you please stop bleeding your emotions all over the place?”
Sezru blinks. “What?”
Yuri sighs. “And to think I used to wish you would show a little more emotion.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Ever since I came here-or maybe since I lost my eyes, I still can’t decide which-my power has been overly sensitized. And you’re-“ Yuri clears his throat, “-projecting. And I can’t stop myself from picking it up.” He pauses. And then adds, “ I tried.”
Sezru stares. “You’re saying you’ve been reading my thoughts?”
“No. I’m saying I’ve been reading what you’re feeling-not what you’re thinking.” Yuri frowns. “For some reason, that sounds kind of worse.”
A lump is lodged in his throat. ”How long?”
Yuri shrugs - a forced casual gesture, since his shoulders are real tense. Sezru doesn’t even need to strain his eyes to see. “I’m not sure. But I just noticed it when you moved me to your room.”
“You-know this is my room.” His tone gets weird at the end, like he couldn’t decide whether to make it a question or a plain statement.
Yuri clears his throat again. He looks uncomfortable, Sezru realizes. “The thrum of residual energy here is-familiar. Unlike that last room you placed me in.”
Sezru just --can’t breathe.
“And how’s your-eyes?”
A wry twist to the corner of Yuri’s lips. “Wouldn’t you love to know.”
Sezru looks at him.
But those (tightly-shut) irises never look back at Sezru.
-
“Won’t you absorb me anymore?” Sezru asks.
Shaosien looks at him. “What’s the point?”
“I still have half your power.” Sezru says.
Shaosien turns away. “Doesn’t matter. Absorbing your power would mean I would also absorbing your experience, and I can’t have that. Not right now.”
Sezru hears I don’t want to forget her.
Inosia. Inosia. Inosia. Ino--
Sezru stares at him. “For a race that’s supposed to be cold-blooded and ruthless, we sure care a whole lot, don’t we?”
Shaosien closes his eyes. “It only appears so because they care a whole less than they used to.”
Sezru remembers June, and the way she always looked happy for him; the way she made a point to always hover around his orbit, and blind to everything else-including Yuri.
“That-doesn’t even make any sense.” Sezru says.
Except it is.
-
Yuri sighs. “Look, how many times do I need to tell you I was-am-not trying to kill myself? There’s a difference between trying to take away one’s own life, and one’s own power.”
And then there’s also trying to take away one’s power because it would lead to one’s death.
But all Sezru says is, “Sure.”
-
Once, just once, Sezru goes back to the Light Palace through the Darkness Room under the Scrying Ground. One would think after the incident last year, this gate would be closed; but noooo. Or maybe none knows about it, since the three persons who know about its existance are never the ones to tell.
When he appears out of the painting, however, Lucia is standing against the opposite wall, clearly waiting for him.
Not so unguarded, then.
“Sezru.” Lucia says. Even now, long after he’s gone, she still falters when she says his name. Wonder what else hasn’t changed.
“Lucia.” Sezru doesn’t smile.
“I understand you have Yuri Schaver under your protection.”
Under your protection. The way she phrases it, it almost as if-
“Pardon?”
But she keeps on as if he hasn’t opened his mouth at all. “It’d be better if he wasn’t alone. The way he is these days, he’s just gonna repeat this incident again-and there’s no guarantee he would fail this time.” There’s a smile on Lucia’s lips, small and painful and just a little bit self-deprecating. “Please don’t let him return here. Thank you.”
Sezru could only stare at her. “Lucia-“
“You should go back.” Lucia says. “June would go crazy if she saw you here.”
Before h even knows it, he’s already gripping her upper arms, forcing her to look at him. “Are you okay?”
“No, Sezru.” Lucia says, that painful smile still in place. “No one of us are okay-most of all June. And that’s way you should go an never come back.” She tilts her head. “Tell him not to worry, too.” This time, the smile she rewards him with is a little more genuine.
In the distance, he could hear the distinctive footsteps of the Red Knights’ boots.
“Luc--” Sezru begins, but the look on Lucia’s face stops him.
He turns away. “I’m sorry.”
With a last glance at Lucia, Sezru goes back inside the painting. This time, when he gets out in the other side, he burns the gate behind him and watches until it leaves nothing but blackened ashes behind.
-
“Don’t you find it ironic--that the greatest Queens in the history were the ones who, in one way or another, had an affair with their greatest enemy?” Yuri asks.
Sezru only looks at him.
“I myself find it tragically amusing.” Yuri says, a little smile gracing a corner of his mouth. “Since it would mean their motivations to win the war were not so noble, after all. That the reason they were trying so hard was because they wanted to prove they were stronger, that they could overcome their own conflicted emotions.” Yuri laughs. It’s not a nice laugh. “And so far, the Light Palace had won it all.”
Then he smiles at Sezru with eyes that couldn’t see. “Want me to tell you the end result for this war?” he says cheerfully. “After all, I see the future, you know.”
Like he could ever forget.
Yuri’s physical injuries are no longer visible, but it would be a while yet before his sight could ever recover-if at all.
Not that Yuri seems too brokenhearted about it. Just the opposite, in fact.
Sezru closes his eyes. tries to picture June and her smile in his mind. But when he opens his eyes, all he could see is Yuri and his unseeing blue-grey eyes and the way he never lets Sezru get close.
“No.” Sezru says. He looks right at Yuri. “No. The future is not set in stone, after all. So long as I keep trying, I know I could win it.”
This war, and you.
“You do realize even if you lost, you wouldn’t get a point for effort, right? No matter what?” there’s a complicated twist to the corners of Yuri’s lips, one that Sezru doesn’t know how to interpret.
“I never did learn how to give up.” Sezru says, never breaking eye contact.
Yuri turns away-but not before Sezru sees the faint flush to his cheeks.
And Sezru. Sezru is-
There’s hope for him yet.
.
.
.
fin