[original] shore
A/N: My muse finally gotten the best of me. Though the plot is in the making, this couple has been around forever in my mind. And their story is but a seam in the biggest web I've ever woven. A reminder: the setting is a fictional universe, not a concrete location.
dylan x jay
shore
The wind grabs at wisps of nightfall blue, orderly combed prior to his stepping outside. The weather is cold for a spring day in Saen; normally he'd be greeted by meek sunlight and a clear sky, but today seems to be an exception. The slender branches of willows bordering the waterside sway in salute as he walks pass, the hem of his robe tickling his ankles as he crosses the courtyard. There is a small dock by the lake, a thin sliver of grainy sand expanding from its shore to under its depths.
There, his Knight awaits.
"Dylan."
A boy(-not-yet-a-man), leaning against a tree trunk, back facing him, turns his head to regard him with an calm gaze.
"I told you not to come today."
Dylan smiles, baring white teeth that glisten despite the mundane colors overhead, and motions for him to approach. He does so, wondering why he is obeying instead of reprimanding. Once he has arrived by his Knight's side, the other points across the lake.
"See, Jay, the birds are returning."
He directs his attention towards the indicated direction, eyes falling upon a flock of geese poised for takeoff. With a swift movement of their long, stretched wings, one by one they depart into the horizon, shrinking into specks before disappearing completely.
"They were leaving."
Dylan ignored his comment. "We'll find her, we'll find Yuna. No worries. Isn't that what I promised?"
Jay feels something tug at his stomach. Perhaps pain. His reply has an edge of bitterness to it. "Why bring this matter up now? I don't feel like discussing such things, today."
"Forgive me," Dylan replies, gently grasping Jay's hand and lifting it to his lips. "My savior."
Jay is stunned but does not show it; his Knight's actions do not provoke any physical reaction from his part. Instead, a internal turmoil spins and gnaws, and he feels the blood draining from his face. He's not used to these demonstrations of affection--no matter how many months it has been since this search began. Such unfamiliar, foreign, irritating habits Dylan has; Jay will never grow accustomed to his touch. It is neither a sibling nor a friend's touch. These actions speak of devotion and sincerity, sacrifice and sacrilege.
Either way, he will not let himself fall prey to his unguarded emotions. So he pulls the walls up, barricades the doors, fills in the gaps and imperfections.
He pulls away, if not softer than he would have liked. His words are as dry as desert's bones, though, and he can at least be satisfied with this.
"You didn't need to come today. Please excuse me," and he tears away from the other like wet paper does.
He can feel Dylan's eyes follow him as he goes, and a shudder shakes awake from within his skull's confines. A frightening thought births.
And what if, what if, what if.
He spins around and hesitates briefly. Maybe this is reconsideration. Maybe this is reevaluation. Maybe this is acceptance.
"Come by tomorrow. I'll be ready by then."
Dylan's face lights up with a smile, or perhaps it has never really faded.
What if this is more than devotion. What if this is not a sacrilege.
Jay thinks, perhaps, it is not a bad thing, being unaccustomed to Dylan's touch.
(perhaps leaving the floodgates open was not a mistake)
end.
dylan x jay
shore
The wind grabs at wisps of nightfall blue, orderly combed prior to his stepping outside. The weather is cold for a spring day in Saen; normally he'd be greeted by meek sunlight and a clear sky, but today seems to be an exception. The slender branches of willows bordering the waterside sway in salute as he walks pass, the hem of his robe tickling his ankles as he crosses the courtyard. There is a small dock by the lake, a thin sliver of grainy sand expanding from its shore to under its depths.
There, his Knight awaits.
"Dylan."
A boy(-not-yet-a-man), leaning against a tree trunk, back facing him, turns his head to regard him with an calm gaze.
"I told you not to come today."
Dylan smiles, baring white teeth that glisten despite the mundane colors overhead, and motions for him to approach. He does so, wondering why he is obeying instead of reprimanding. Once he has arrived by his Knight's side, the other points across the lake.
"See, Jay, the birds are returning."
He directs his attention towards the indicated direction, eyes falling upon a flock of geese poised for takeoff. With a swift movement of their long, stretched wings, one by one they depart into the horizon, shrinking into specks before disappearing completely.
"They were leaving."
Dylan ignored his comment. "We'll find her, we'll find Yuna. No worries. Isn't that what I promised?"
Jay feels something tug at his stomach. Perhaps pain. His reply has an edge of bitterness to it. "Why bring this matter up now? I don't feel like discussing such things, today."
"Forgive me," Dylan replies, gently grasping Jay's hand and lifting it to his lips. "My savior."
Jay is stunned but does not show it; his Knight's actions do not provoke any physical reaction from his part. Instead, a internal turmoil spins and gnaws, and he feels the blood draining from his face. He's not used to these demonstrations of affection--no matter how many months it has been since this search began. Such unfamiliar, foreign, irritating habits Dylan has; Jay will never grow accustomed to his touch. It is neither a sibling nor a friend's touch. These actions speak of devotion and sincerity, sacrifice and sacrilege.
Either way, he will not let himself fall prey to his unguarded emotions. So he pulls the walls up, barricades the doors, fills in the gaps and imperfections.
He pulls away, if not softer than he would have liked. His words are as dry as desert's bones, though, and he can at least be satisfied with this.
"You didn't need to come today. Please excuse me," and he tears away from the other like wet paper does.
He can feel Dylan's eyes follow him as he goes, and a shudder shakes awake from within his skull's confines. A frightening thought births.
And what if, what if, what if.
He spins around and hesitates briefly. Maybe this is reconsideration. Maybe this is reevaluation. Maybe this is acceptance.
"Come by tomorrow. I'll be ready by then."
Dylan's face lights up with a smile, or perhaps it has never really faded.
What if this is more than devotion. What if this is not a sacrilege.
Jay thinks, perhaps, it is not a bad thing, being unaccustomed to Dylan's touch.
(perhaps leaving the floodgates open was not a mistake)
end.