HIDAN/KAKUZU ♥♥
That's right, they're back!
Now with added angst.
This is for the lovely lilydescend ♥ a million thank you's!
Title: High Alone
Rating: R-language, sexuality, mature themes
Pairing: Hidan/Kakuzu
About: Told in fragments. A love story, but not at all.
Expect: Angst, darkness, tragedy, hatred
Don't Expect: Fluff, love, happy endings, a coherant plotline
High Alone
[one] [immortality]
Kakuzu once said to Hidan, eyes misted over with sake and sex that he wanted to forget everything. That he still remembered, even after hundreds of years, that he still remembered too much.
“I haven’t,” he paused, look beyond Hidan, as if he was talking to no one at all, “lived long enough to forget.”
Hidan had thought about it for a moment and then decided that he didn’t give a shit. He knew, he knew that Kakuzu wanted more from him. But what did he expect? Theirs was no tear-soaked love story. More like blood-soaked. Hatred. That’s right, there’s that word again.
“Why the fuck are you telling me?” Hidan leapt up from the bed, sneering coldly, “Who am I, your wife?”
Kakuzu turned away and stood, slowly, achingly slowly. Hidan left the room, air grating and cold against his bare skin.
[two] [hatred that’s all]
Hidan hates Kakuzu. He feels no regret, feels nothing in using his body, using it for his own twisted lust. He feels everything too sharply, every sensation, every pinprick of lust shot through his body, hot and tempered like blood.
Hidan hates Kakuzu because of this. He hates the way Kakuzu still feels and needs. He hates the way Kakuzu needs him. He hates Kakuzu.
And this is what he tells himself. He does not tell himself that he hates the way he needs Kakuzu.
[three] [rest in peace and do not linger]
Hidan says that he cannot remember anything. That’s right, he tells Kakuzu, nothing at all. He knows that Kakuzu wants him to remember, wants to know. Wants him to say that yes, he had a mother too; yes he remembers the first time he killed. Wants him to feel.
But Hidan does not feel; he hates and he kills and he takes. He takes from Kakuzu, takes away his chance to say to Hidan, yes, yes I am like you too. Hidan does not feel; Hidan lives.
Hidan does remember his mother, of course he remembers his mother; what kind of fucked up person doesn’t remember his mother? He remembers his mother’s dark eyes and her harsh words and her hands, balled into fists, white and shaking or clamped around his arm, fingernails hard and sharp. And he knows that nothing would make Kakuzu happier than those words. And that is precisely why he says only no you pussy, why the fuck would I remember my mother? She was probably a bitch.
And she was too. He remembers.
[four] [fuck you]
Every night-almost, not quite-Kakuzu and Hidan will use each other. Hidan, twisted and glittering with malice like something dark and beautiful, uses Kakuzu to fill his aching, charging lust. He will tear at Kakuzu’s stitches, rough and uneven against his hard back and Kakuzu will not cry out but instead he will simply push harder against Hidan, teeth clenched and body shaking with power and need.
Hidan does not think that it is wrong; he knows that he is already too far-gone to care. He will shed Kakuzu’s blood through scrapes and bites, because there is no other way to do it.
Kakuzu says nothing now; he knows that Hidan does not want to hear anything.
[five] [hold me hold me]
Hidan does not like arms around him. He fights them, ripping and tearing at the skin, anger strong and hot in his throat, body twisting and burning. He will never be held, no, of course not. He is not a child and he is not a lover. He is a fighter, a killer, and a murderer. He does not hold, he only lets go and pushes away. So he says, again and again to himself when the night is too dark or the day is too bright, when he doubts his anger.
Kakuzu never tries to hold him, obviously not. Even Kakuzu who (and it is a surprise, still even to Hidan) is the sensitive one, even Kakuzu does not desire to love or to hold.
But Hidan will hold on to Kakuzu, even though he will also deny it. He will hold onto him with fists that are bloody and shaking, hold onto him as if he was holding onto a thrashing blade, something jagged and unbreakable, something to cause pain with. Something to brandish like a weapon.
He holds him with his words, incisive and unforgiving, holds him with his touch, and holds him with his anger and his pain. And this is not what he tells himself.
[six] [this is not love]
Kakuzu has heard the word love before, Hidan is sure of it. Hidan is also sure that Kakuzu loves. Kakuzu loves money and wealth, only because it is so real, so substantial. Kakuzu loves intricacy, Kakuzu loves rewards and Kakuzu loves killing. Something he even thinks that Kakuzu loves him.
Hidan loves nothing and no one. Hidan has never been told the word love. Hidan is pretty sure that he doesn’t even know what love means. And yet he sees it all around him. Kakuzu smiling over his gold, Itachi’s careless mentioning of his younger brother, Deidara’s eyes, glittering as he breathed life into clay. But this is not love, not to Hidan. To Hidan this is simply ambition. This is force.
Hidan knows he is forced to be with Kakuzu, forced to want him and forced to need him. Maybe it is for the best- maybe force is enough.
It’s how he's operated all his life after all.
[seven] [death or something like it]
It’s a good thing they go down together, because neither of them would really be able to live without the other one. Hidan thinks that yes, he would kill more if he didn’t have Kakuzu. Not a bad thing, really, although it does hurt to kill people the way he does and he isn’t as much of a masochist as he lets on.
Kakuzu, he is not sure what Kakuzu would do. But then, Kakuzu has been through so many partners before…Hidan doesn’t know if he’s ever done this with any of them though. He wouldn’t be jealous.
Because he hates Kakuzu. Yeah, he fucking hates that bastard. But he’s been over this before. Too many times to really believe himself.
[eight] [we’ve come full circle]
Hidan once said to Kakuzu, eyes misted over with fury and unfulfilled lust, that he remembered everything.
“Every fucking minute of my life.”
He did not meet Kakuzu’s eyes- he could not. Kakuzu didn’t say anything. Hidan continued, voice harsh, the tone all-wrong.
“I don’t want to forget. I need it. Need it to keep hating.” He snarled, leaping onto Kakuzu’s sturdy body, ready to draw blood. “See, we both remember,” he lowered Kakuzu’s mask, “See, we’re the same aren’t we? You and I.”
And he hated himself. He hated himself but he hated Kakuzu more, hated him for answering, voice low and distant; “No, no we are not the same.”
They were not the same.
This is not a love story.
[end]
Thanks for reading, hope it was enjoyed :P
One last hurrah before I have to plunge into exams and projects...ughhhh..
-tallah ♥
Now with added angst.
This is for the lovely lilydescend ♥ a million thank you's!
Title: High Alone
Rating: R-language, sexuality, mature themes
Pairing: Hidan/Kakuzu
About: Told in fragments. A love story, but not at all.
Expect: Angst, darkness, tragedy, hatred
Don't Expect: Fluff, love, happy endings, a coherant plotline
High Alone
[one] [immortality]
Kakuzu once said to Hidan, eyes misted over with sake and sex that he wanted to forget everything. That he still remembered, even after hundreds of years, that he still remembered too much.
“I haven’t,” he paused, look beyond Hidan, as if he was talking to no one at all, “lived long enough to forget.”
Hidan had thought about it for a moment and then decided that he didn’t give a shit. He knew, he knew that Kakuzu wanted more from him. But what did he expect? Theirs was no tear-soaked love story. More like blood-soaked. Hatred. That’s right, there’s that word again.
“Why the fuck are you telling me?” Hidan leapt up from the bed, sneering coldly, “Who am I, your wife?”
Kakuzu turned away and stood, slowly, achingly slowly. Hidan left the room, air grating and cold against his bare skin.
[two] [hatred that’s all]
Hidan hates Kakuzu. He feels no regret, feels nothing in using his body, using it for his own twisted lust. He feels everything too sharply, every sensation, every pinprick of lust shot through his body, hot and tempered like blood.
Hidan hates Kakuzu because of this. He hates the way Kakuzu still feels and needs. He hates the way Kakuzu needs him. He hates Kakuzu.
And this is what he tells himself. He does not tell himself that he hates the way he needs Kakuzu.
[three] [rest in peace and do not linger]
Hidan says that he cannot remember anything. That’s right, he tells Kakuzu, nothing at all. He knows that Kakuzu wants him to remember, wants to know. Wants him to say that yes, he had a mother too; yes he remembers the first time he killed. Wants him to feel.
But Hidan does not feel; he hates and he kills and he takes. He takes from Kakuzu, takes away his chance to say to Hidan, yes, yes I am like you too. Hidan does not feel; Hidan lives.
Hidan does remember his mother, of course he remembers his mother; what kind of fucked up person doesn’t remember his mother? He remembers his mother’s dark eyes and her harsh words and her hands, balled into fists, white and shaking or clamped around his arm, fingernails hard and sharp. And he knows that nothing would make Kakuzu happier than those words. And that is precisely why he says only no you pussy, why the fuck would I remember my mother? She was probably a bitch.
And she was too. He remembers.
[four] [fuck you]
Every night-almost, not quite-Kakuzu and Hidan will use each other. Hidan, twisted and glittering with malice like something dark and beautiful, uses Kakuzu to fill his aching, charging lust. He will tear at Kakuzu’s stitches, rough and uneven against his hard back and Kakuzu will not cry out but instead he will simply push harder against Hidan, teeth clenched and body shaking with power and need.
Hidan does not think that it is wrong; he knows that he is already too far-gone to care. He will shed Kakuzu’s blood through scrapes and bites, because there is no other way to do it.
Kakuzu says nothing now; he knows that Hidan does not want to hear anything.
[five] [hold me hold me]
Hidan does not like arms around him. He fights them, ripping and tearing at the skin, anger strong and hot in his throat, body twisting and burning. He will never be held, no, of course not. He is not a child and he is not a lover. He is a fighter, a killer, and a murderer. He does not hold, he only lets go and pushes away. So he says, again and again to himself when the night is too dark or the day is too bright, when he doubts his anger.
Kakuzu never tries to hold him, obviously not. Even Kakuzu who (and it is a surprise, still even to Hidan) is the sensitive one, even Kakuzu does not desire to love or to hold.
But Hidan will hold on to Kakuzu, even though he will also deny it. He will hold onto him with fists that are bloody and shaking, hold onto him as if he was holding onto a thrashing blade, something jagged and unbreakable, something to cause pain with. Something to brandish like a weapon.
He holds him with his words, incisive and unforgiving, holds him with his touch, and holds him with his anger and his pain. And this is not what he tells himself.
[six] [this is not love]
Kakuzu has heard the word love before, Hidan is sure of it. Hidan is also sure that Kakuzu loves. Kakuzu loves money and wealth, only because it is so real, so substantial. Kakuzu loves intricacy, Kakuzu loves rewards and Kakuzu loves killing. Something he even thinks that Kakuzu loves him.
Hidan loves nothing and no one. Hidan has never been told the word love. Hidan is pretty sure that he doesn’t even know what love means. And yet he sees it all around him. Kakuzu smiling over his gold, Itachi’s careless mentioning of his younger brother, Deidara’s eyes, glittering as he breathed life into clay. But this is not love, not to Hidan. To Hidan this is simply ambition. This is force.
Hidan knows he is forced to be with Kakuzu, forced to want him and forced to need him. Maybe it is for the best- maybe force is enough.
It’s how he's operated all his life after all.
[seven] [death or something like it]
It’s a good thing they go down together, because neither of them would really be able to live without the other one. Hidan thinks that yes, he would kill more if he didn’t have Kakuzu. Not a bad thing, really, although it does hurt to kill people the way he does and he isn’t as much of a masochist as he lets on.
Kakuzu, he is not sure what Kakuzu would do. But then, Kakuzu has been through so many partners before…Hidan doesn’t know if he’s ever done this with any of them though. He wouldn’t be jealous.
Because he hates Kakuzu. Yeah, he fucking hates that bastard. But he’s been over this before. Too many times to really believe himself.
[eight] [we’ve come full circle]
Hidan once said to Kakuzu, eyes misted over with fury and unfulfilled lust, that he remembered everything.
“Every fucking minute of my life.”
He did not meet Kakuzu’s eyes- he could not. Kakuzu didn’t say anything. Hidan continued, voice harsh, the tone all-wrong.
“I don’t want to forget. I need it. Need it to keep hating.” He snarled, leaping onto Kakuzu’s sturdy body, ready to draw blood. “See, we both remember,” he lowered Kakuzu’s mask, “See, we’re the same aren’t we? You and I.”
And he hated himself. He hated himself but he hated Kakuzu more, hated him for answering, voice low and distant; “No, no we are not the same.”
They were not the same.
This is not a love story.
[end]
Thanks for reading, hope it was enjoyed :P
One last hurrah before I have to plunge into exams and projects...ughhhh..
-tallah ♥