[VK] Shades of Grey - Prologue
Title: Shades of Grey
Rating: M/NC-17
Warnings: dark themes, violence, non-consensual sex, nothing too graphic
Word Count: 7,554
Characters/Pairings: Zero, Yuuki, Kaname, and introducing my Original Character (OC), Misaki
Notes: For further understanding of this story you can read this rant and this profile of Misaki.
Sounds of swift and strong footsteps could be heard as the hard soles of shoes scraped against the stone pavement.
The bells were ringing in slow and steady rhythm.
The sound rang throughout the surrounding of the grand church standing on the foot of the mountain, announcing the event that was about to take place within its sanctuary.
Those dark polished shoes belonged to a tall young man with silvery hair billowing in the wind as he moved with such deadly poise and grace that was as visible to the eyes of the mortals as to the eyes of the immortals who laid their eyes upon the man, even as he was in the motion of donning the black coat over his sharp grey suit.
The man who was standing on the altar was wearing the tuxedo perfectly in the way no one could possibly imitate, the very same way no one could imitate the way he carried himself with undeniable confidence and authority as he stood in front of the church. His distinctive dark red eyes turned towards the entrance as the familiar tune of wedding march started playing to see two figures appearing at the end of the pathway to the altar.
The hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel was tugging agitatedly at the silk grey tie around his neck as his foot pressed the gas to the full, making the engine groaned in response before increasing the speed of the sleek dark-colored vehicle through the country road.
The new arrivals were wearing contrasting colors; one was covered in white while the other was covered in black. The one that was wearing black was a middle-aged man although his appearance didn’t betray his age, the usually tied back hair was loose and the ever-present glasses were discarded for this special occasion. He had his arm linked to the figure in white whose sight of her managed to make everyone who was present to catch their breath in admiration.
He was no exception.
He threw his tie carelessly onto the empty seat next to him and continued to fiddle with the upper buttons of his shirt as if it was constricting him to breathe, but his face remained blank and emotionless, not giving away his tumultuous emotion.
He was present, despite his feelings in the matter. He was there, despite his presence wasn’t entirely welcomed. He could not just leave her; he could not leave her side just because someone else was going to take his place next to her. He stood at the far end of the pew on the side of the bride’s friends and family.
He gritted his teeth, trying not to think as he drove like he was being chased by demons, not decreasing his speed for the slightest bit as the car made a sharp and dangerous turn on the freeway. He had a death grip on the steering wheel that turned his knuckles white.
She was beautiful.
She had always been to him. She was the very representation of white and everything it held.
Purity.
Innocence.
She was everything that he was not and he was keeping it that way, regardless she was no longer the Yuuki he grew up with, but she was Yuuki nonetheless with her painful belief and acceptance to others who didn’t deserve it.
He ignored the calls that were coming through his cell, letting it vibrate harmlessly on the leather seat next to him and letting it be ignored throughout the drive. He could make few and several guesses whom it might be, because not many people had the number of his phone, but not a single one of them made him want to answer the phone.
He kept his eyes on the radiant bride in her simple, yet elegant flowing white wedding gown. He barely noticed the tune that followed the bride, barely noticed the man accompanying her to the altar, barely noticed the man waiting for her at the altar. In his eyes, there was only her, because he knew this would be the last. This would be the last time he would ever gaze upon her this way.
He arrived on the airport in a record-breaking time, bringing the vehicle into a smooth halt in the driveway. He slid out of the driver’s side and let the valet take his car to the airport parking area as he stepped into the building, leaving the tie and the phone in the car.
He ignored the painful ache in his heart as they were declared man and wife. He could barely return the smile given his way as she found him among the others, despite how much he tried to be invisible. He could finally smile when those expressive eyes seemed to brighten at the sight of him, but he wasn’t oblivious that the glow that surrounded her wasn’t caused by him.
He managed to offer his congratulations to the newly married couple. He even managed to shake the Kuran leader’s hand and look straight into his eyes. He knew that he didn’t need to say anything, because the man knew what this single gesture meant.
He was relinquishing her to him.
The word of gratitude held more meaning than the other platitudes given to others who offered their congratulations to the Japanese monarch.
He walked to the counter and placed his order without the slightest hesitation, even though the only thing that he brought along was everything on his person. There was only one destination in his mind. And within few minutes he was already boarded on the flight to Paris, France in the first class cabin in order to avoid sitting next to people.
He remained until the reception, an action that surprised many. However, from the sad gaze directed at him by the father of the bride, he knew that not everyone was surprised nor fooled by the façade he was wearing throughout the affair.
He didn’t know how time passed by, he had lost track of time since the day started, long before he finally did what he was expected to do: leave.
He watched indifferently as Kuran took his wife to dance their first dance, moving with the usual grace as he twirled the beautiful woman before him. They were perfect for each other.
Then being the gentleman he was, Kuran gave her away to his father-in-law who took the bride to a round of father and bride dance. He could see the look on his adoptive father’s face as he danced with his proclaimed daughter. He appeared nothing like the dangerous hunter he used to be known of, trying to hold back the tears.
In a bold move on her part, instead of dancing with any other high-ranked guest, she approached the place where he had been standing unobtrusively as if she had been looking for him all along and asked him for a dance, telling that he owed her one from their previous days that were almost like hazy memories that weren’t quite actually real.
He tried to sleep through the flight, but the memories of the day kept plaguing him even in his sleep. He always went back to that moment where he danced with her for the very first time in a long time.
Her small and soft hand still had its firm grip as she pulled him slightly forcefully that reminded him of those days when she always pulled him by the hand whenever he barely felt the need to move. He felt a ghost of a smile over his face at the reminder that Yuuki wasn’t completely gone.
When they finally got to the middle of the clearing, he pretended to know nothing of dance and she followed his lead by guiding his hands to her waist and intertwining their hands, and slowly they moved to the music playing in the background.
She was warm and soft against him. She felt real against him that dispelled the thought of this being merely a dream. There were few words exchanged but eventually it was lost in the moment. There were only two of them for those few precious moments.
There were only Yuuki and Zero.
He couldn’t hide his relief when the announcement came through the communication channel from the captain that they were landing on Charles de Gaulle. He ignored the slight discomfort as he rose from his seat for the past long hours, knowing that he would recover in no time. He donned his coat as he was exposed to the cold air that greeted him as he stepped out to the Paris air, breathing in the comparably warmer air.
After that surreal moment, he could no longer stay, knowing that it would cost his everything to stay any moment longer than he should. He didn’t say anything to her; he didn’t leave any message to her of his leaving, because he knew if he did, he wouldn’t be able to leave.
She had made her decision. He had made his long before her. It was about time for him to live by the consequences. And the time must be now.
He navigated his way through the busy streets of Paris, blending in with the pedestrians that wouldn’t be possible back in Japan with his distinctive features. He let the foreign chatter wash over him, his mind easily translating the snatches of conversations around him. He was just another person here.
When he turned his back to her, he didn’t let him look back and kept himself going with firm, decisive steps away from her.
He stood before a door that became familiar to him by now, with the cursive dark writing against golden panel on the wall next to the door to indicate the number of the apartment. He raised his hand to rap his knuckles none too firmly against the door. He could hear a feminine voice calling out for him to wait in French, the sounds of approaching footsteps and the faint click of the locking mechanism before the door opened to reveal the occupant of the apartment.
Clear blue eyes found pale silver eyes.
“Zero.”
All the thoughts that had been haunting him seemed to fade away into the background as if it was mere distractions of little consequence. His tense posture visibly relaxed as if the weight was removed from his shoulders.
“Misaki.”
*
*
*
Afterwards he was found walking side by side with the young woman in a slow, leisure pace through the small streets that were less crowded than the main streets, allowing them space and distance from other Parisians walking by.
They barely exchanged words or glances, simply walking along in companionable silence. They had pulled their coats tighter around their body, protecting them from the cold. In March, Paris was still considerably chilly, although with occasional appearance of the sun that warmed the days. This wasn’t one of those rare days.
It was still warmer than in Japan and it helped him to be more at ease, being away from the place he was too familiar with. Paris provided the comfort and relief he needed whenever he felt the burden upon him was too great to bear. He was fully aware that the reason why it was Paris of all cities was this person next to him. At this, he subtly shifted his gaze to his companion.
She didn’t seem aware of his attention; her eyes that resembled the sky at its clearest were shining brightly as they drank the sight around her as if she was seeing it for the first time, her cheeks were slightly flushed as it was exposed to the chill, her lips were formed in a small, content smile. She was one of few people who actually could feel comfortable around him, and one of few he felt comfortable around.
Considering how they started, it was completely unexpected, but at the same time, it might be expected. When she approached him first to ask for his help, he had been wary of her. When he eventually decided to take her offer, striking a temporary alliance until both of them achieved their purpose; he didn’t completely trust her still, especially she seemed to have the ability to bring out the worst of him with her blunt words that usually ended up having them exchanging hurtful words to each other.
However, he found out that despite the scathing remarks he gave her, there were truth lying beneath them and he hadn’t been that honest to himself or to anyone the way he was to her. She had seen the worst of him, yet she never looked at him any differently, never laying judgment, never giving pity, only giving him the look that she understood. She understood as well or even better than himself what he went through, because she went through the same thing. They shared similar fate, with the only difference laid on the way they handled it.
When they both achieved what they wanted, they remained. They remained even after there was nothing left to keep them together, even when the reason why they were together was already gone, but letting go was the last thing on their mind. They knew that they wouldn’t find anyone else who actually understood the way they understood each other. And so they remained, even as their paths diverged.
He assumed the position of the leader of Hunter Association and she continued her studies in Paris, France. His duties as the leader of the Association in Eurasia made him travel often back and forth between the two adjacent continents and he made a habit of making random visits to her whenever he happened to be nearby. French became one of the first foreign languages he learned and became fluent in.
She had the appearance of an ordinary girl, with the typical combination of blue eyes and blond hair that was shared by many others. She could be easily overlooked if she wanted to and she usually preferred it that way. If he didn’t know any better, he would have done so. She was not overly tall, but not petite, either. She didn’t have to raise her head too much to look at him, something she had remarked casually in passing. She wasn’t into fashion, but living in the city of fashion nevertheless made her at the least fashion conscious --and indirectly, him--, the coat she wore over her clothes fitted her nicely.
She gave him some sense of stability, some sense of control, but he knew that it wouldn’t last. The suppressed feelings and thoughts were still there, hovering at the edges, waiting for its time to break out and surface. He had tried to keep himself together for the past months since he said those words to Yuuki that they would never work out --a truth that they both already knew-- and for her to let go, because as long as she held on, he couldn’t let her go and they would only fall into downward spiral of destruction. He wasn’t surprised when she finally told him that she was getting married to the Kuran and gave them his blessing. His mind told him that it was for the best, but his heart could yet follow.
“Uh oh, should’ve brought my umbrella.”
Her words broke him away from his thoughts. She was looking at the sky, her hand stretched out, palm outward, catching droplets of water and he knew what it meant as he followed her gaze to the swiftly darkening heavens. Paris was also well-known for its erratic and sudden downpours, and he knew from experience, in no time, if they didn’t hurry for shelter, they would be drenched to the bone. Both of them were looking around trying to find the closest shelter, but there were none, leaving the only option to return to her apartment.
“Let’s hurry then,” she nudged him as they increased their pace before the heavy rainfall caught them, but before halfway to their destination, the wind and the rain picked up. Noticing that her coat wouldn’t provide enough protection from the rain, he took off his coat, pulling her closer and placed it over their heads. She only gave her a frown of disapproval but said nothing, holding the coat over them, instead and concentrating on keeping up with his long legs.
He was suddenly aware of the close proximity between them. They always kept certain distance to each other, wary of each other’s preferred personal space. They rarely intruded on them; they respected and trusted each other not to. He felt the heat of her body through the material of their clothes as their shoulders brushed against each other by accident. He caught a whiff of mild fresh, flowery scent from her that reminded him of field of flowers in the mornings and the scent of something else beneath the fragrance she wore. He wondered faintly why he paid notice to such things and forced himself to get rid of the improper thoughts, focusing on reaching the apartment as quick and dry as possible.
They managed to get to the apartment building, sighing in relief the moment they stepped their feet in the dry hallways, safe from the heavy downpour. Despite their best efforts they were pretty drenched, especially the lower half of their body that was barely shielded from the rain, added that in their haste they stepped into several puddles of water. Misaki immediately raised the temperature in the apartment she shared with her friends after taking off her wet boots and coat at the door.
“Please, come in,” she gestured to him. It wasn’t his first time coming to her apartment, but he didn’t allow himself the familiarity to get in uninvited, especially when she had roommates, whose presence in the apartment he didn’t find.
“They went home for the holidays. They didn’t during the winter holidays, after all,” she didn’t fail to notice his questioning gaze, even as she was appearing from her room with fresh towels. Her friends often chose to stay during the two weeks holidays allocated for university students, knowing that Misaki had no one to spend the holidays with.
“They’re good people,” he said, the sentiment was sincere, and he knew that she knew, seeing a slight smile on her lips.
“They are,” she agreed, then looked apologetic, “I’m afraid I don’t have anything for you to change into.”
“It’s alright. It’s nothing, really.” He had been through worse, having been in much more extreme and less pleasant conditions. She gave him the look he recognized as to the look of reading under the lines, listening to the words unspoken with the slightest tilt of her head.
“I’ll make us some warm drinks. Would you like the usual?” She easily changed the course of conversation before he could feel uncomfortable. These small things never failed to make him truly grateful for having her companionship. He only gave her a small nod and was returned with another smile before she went to the kitchen to make their drinks.
The absence of her presence by his side suddenly left him cold and empty, as if she had been a source of light and warmth to him and being deprived of her presence made him return to the state he was in before he stood before the door of her apartment. He walked to the windows overlooking the streets where he could watch her figure from the corner of his eye, not wanting to spoil the furniture by sitting on them in his wet clothes. He leaned on the windowsill, his arms crossed, and eyes watching absently the movements underneath.
He usually could set aside all the matters troubling him while he was on his visits to her by asking for her advice or by pretending for a while that there was nothing troubling him, but he couldn’t do that now, not when the matters were too close to the heart. It would always be there, despite his best efforts to ignore it, to pretend it wasn’t there at all. This was one of those.
He ran his hand through his face and hair, a gesture that became his habit whenever he was weary or frustrated with himself. He felt his composure starting to fray, to his dismay. The last thing he wanted was to lose control and fell apart.
That was why he couldn’t help his reaction, turning sharply when he felt another’s presence next to him, momentarily forgotten where he was, so absorbed he was in his musings, but eventually relaxed when he realized who it was. She didn’t fail to notice his initial reaction, a concerned frown grace her features.
“Here,” she handed a steaming mug filled with golden brown liquid, by the scent alone he knew it was the way he liked it.
“Thanks,” he accepted the tea offered to him, the warmth was biting against his cold hand. She merely nodded and stood next to him, setting her gaze to the sight of the falling rain through the glass. For a while they only stood there, he avoided looking her way, barely drinking his tea.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Somehow he had seen this coming, his lips quirked slightly at the corner when he was proven right. She had done well so far, holding back all the questions she might want to ask after finding him on her doorstep in such a state. He had no doubt that she already knew the reason for his abrupt visit. She didn’t seem surprised when she laid her eyes on him. Then again, when you were gifted with foresight, nothing would easily surprise you anymore. And in the end, despite all the considerate gestures, she remained the same straightforward person he first met.
“…Today was the wedding,” he started, but stopped, not quite ready to elaborate. Unconsciously he took a deep breath before he continued,
“It was Yuuki’s wedding,” he paused, suddenly he felt as if a great weight settled upon his chest, “She’s married to him now.”
With those words, the memories he tried hard to suppress immediately came flooding his mind with the moments involving the woman he had loved for a long time, the days that had long gone and out of reach. Those memories invoked all the feelings he had bottled up, filling him with such a torrent of emotion that threatened to knock him off his feet. Unconsciously he gritted his teeth, the hand holding the mug was shaking with suppressed emotions, threatening to break it into pieces. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to regain his composure.
“And I gave them my blessing,” but he continued still, wanting to speak his mind. He faintly recognized the bitterness in his own voice that sounded foreign to his ears. He realized that a part of him was appalled and angry of the idea of giving up Yuuki to that man without much of a fight, and another part of him had completely and willingly submitted to it.
He was tired.
He was tired of fighting against everything. He was tired of fighting for everything. He had nothing he could call his own. Not even his life. In the end, he was tired of having to own anything, only to have them taken away from him.
The realization left him feeling numb and hollow. He could no longer feel the pain or the anger. He could no longer feel anything.
Faintly he could hear someone calling out his name over and over. When he failed to give any reaction, he felt something tugged him strongly to make him turn towards the person. A young woman with golden hair and blue eyes looked him with such real concern that made him suddenly felt the need, the desire to feel again.
He didn’t think. He didn’t let himself think; instead, he let his instincts take over. His senses were suddenly heightened, making him painfully aware of the flecks of silver in her eyes, of the gentle waves of her golden hair, of the curve of her lips, of the smooth skin of her exposed neck and shoulder, of the burning heat from the skin where she touched him, and of the underlying scent he finally recognized. A certain scent that sent a rush of excitement and hunger coursing through him. A familiar ache started to grow within his chest.
Blood.
Her blood.
*
*
*
Misaki was trying to break him away from his stupor, the lack of reaction and the blank look in his eyes made her worried and admittedly, afraid. She had never seen him in such state. She had seen him in various states: from apathetic, devoid of any emotion to filled with such rage and hatred, but there was always life in his eyes. Never had she seen those silver eyes so dead, so empty.
Until there was a sudden glint in his eyes that she didn’t recognize, followed by a spreading red in his pupils.
Suddenly she found herself being pushed back against the cool glass roughly, the mug fell from her fingers and made a dull thud on the wooden floor and before she realized what was happening, all she was aware of was the sharp pain on her neck that made her cry out, instinctively closing her eyes shut to block the pain. Through the pain, she registered strong pressure on both of her arms that was keeping her pinned against the window. She tried to wiggle free blindly, only to have her body pressed by something solid and warm and her neck pierced deeper -by fangs, somehow her mind managed to supply that information.
The first thought that crossed her mind was how much it hurt.
She had once given her blood to him, but only from her wrist because he was reluctant to take any blood even in his condition back then and because she didn’t dare to give her neck to him. It had hurt, naturally, considering how thin her wrist was and how many bones and muscles were around the veins, but it was nothing compared to this. It might be because she wasn’t given time to react or to prepare herself or because of the forceful way he seemed to feed on her. His fangs sank deep into her veins, trying to seize as much blood as possible, whereas before he was more gentle and careful not to sink his fangs too deep.
She had tried to push him away from her: pushing him with her hands, pounding on his chest with her fists repeatedly, fueled by panic and fear at the sudden and rough treatment. However, it was like hitting a brick wall; he was firm and unyielding, giving no indication that he felt her resistance. She kept trying in various ways until her throat felt hoarse and her fists hurt of continuous attempt of breaking away from him, but eventually, her strength was waning. She slumped weakly against the solid surface behind her, her hands fell limply by her sides, her breath became shallower and her vision swum dangerously, making her unable to stand upright if it wasn’t for him pressing her up.
She tried to fill her lungs with as much oxygen as possible, almost desperately, wanting to clear her mind of the sudden haze. If she wanted to get out from this situation, she had to be able to think, she had to stay awake and to know what was happening to her. The haze made it nearly impossible to know what was going on, she could hardly see and hear and feel, so she didn’t see that he had stopped taking her blood or feel his heated breath upon her skin or hear the sound of something tearing apart.
Only when she felt herself completely exposed to the chilly March air, the cold seeping through her skin unhindered, her senses were jolted awake. She realized with surprise and horror that she was completely bare without a single shred of fabric on her body. She was slammed down roughly on the floor, driving the air out of her lungs. She felt him before she saw his larger but no less bare frame hovering over her.
“Ze..ro…,” she tried to call out his name, to stop him, but she was too weak, her voice came out only in a whisper.
Her eyes widened in absolute dread and her heart seemed to stop beating in her chest when he caught her lips in a kiss. Her first reaction was to close her mouth, but it was too late, his tongue already slipped into her mouth. The unwanted intrusion made her want to gag; she could still taste the faint coppery taste of blood, her own blood, and that didn’t make her feel comfortable at all.
She brought up her hands blindly in front of her, hitting his chest, his shoulders, whatever part of him that was in her reach with the remains of her strength, only to have her wrists caught in a firm grip and pinned down on the sides of her head. She tried to free them from his grip, but the more she struggled the more he gripped her wrists until she felt they might bruise. She was barely able to breathe or to think; she could see darkness hovering on the edges of her vision. Eventually she had no strength left to fight him off.
She inhaled a sharp breath the moment he pulled away from her lips, now slightly swollen from his rough kiss, filling her oxygen-deprived lungs. He continued his trail down her throat, landing open-mouthed kisses that made her inwardly scream of the wrongness of the situation. She bit her lips, scrunching her eyes shut, refusing to acknowledge what was happening to her, but the feel of his heated mouth landing open-mouthed kisses on her exposed skin, the feel of his wet tongue trailing down her body, his calloused hands caressing and seizing her soft flesh were too real, too real not to be true.
This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She dug her nails deep into the carpeted floor, her knuckles turning white as everything fully dawned on her.
This wasn’t Zero she knew. Zero wouldn’t do this to her, not to anyone. And not like this, not like this.
Those thoughts were running in her head as she felt his mouth and tongue and teeth scraping against her exposed skin, leaving marks on her body. It was rough and possessive, almost feral, as if he was purely driven by instincts with the only purpose in mind to devour and possess her completely. A pained gasp escaped her lips everytime his ministrations went too rough on her frail body, but she could not deny the feel of pleasure that came along the pain.
The sensation he brought upon her was too much for her too bear, she could feel her vision getting blurry, her consciousness slipping away. She was breathing heavily, her breasts rose and fell rapidly as she tried to fill her lungs with air. She could hear her own heartbeat loud in her ears, beating wildly against her ribcage. She felt as if she was burning inside and out, beads of perspiration decorated and glistened her skin along with the red marks scattered all over her abused body.
She knew she couldn’t hold out any longer. She would lose her consciousness anytime soon, and she never welcomed it as much as now, willing herself to be taken away from this nightmare. When she felt a sharp, searing pain tearing into her, threatening to rip her apart; her body jerked upwards, her eyes widened, her lips formed a silent scream then, her body shuddered and stilled.
Before darkness pulled her under, the last thing she saw was raw pain and longing behind wild silver eyes.
*
*
*
Harsh breathing rang loud and clear across the expanse of the silent apartment. A figure could be seen crouching on his hands and knees. His body was completely bare, glistening with sweat; his shoulders moved up and down rapidly with every breath; his silvery bangs fell over his eyes, obscuring his expression. Beneath the lean figure was another figure with a smaller frame, lying on her back. Her hands were on the sides of her head, her palms up; her head was thrown sideways against the carpeted floor; her long golden waves were spread messily, some fell on her cheek, framing her delicate face; her eyes were closed. There was no sign of movement.
Slowly, the silver-haired man’s breathing evened out, leaving complete silence reign over the area, save for the sound of pouring rain outside. He seemed to blink his eyes few times, as if trying to clear his mind of whatever haze he was in. When his gaze fell upon the still form beneath him, his eyes widened in utter shock.
“No. No. No!” His silver eyes could barely believe the sight that greeted him. The sight of a bruised and battered form of a familiar young woman.
He was horrified to find their state of undress, but was more horrified to find the state she was in. His sharp eyes didn’t fail to notice the unhealthy pallor of her skin; the angry, red marks on her body that seemed to glare at him, the familiar twin wounds on her neck and the faint spatter of red between her legs. He looked at himself, at his hands that started to tremble violently with the horrible realization that he was the one who did it to her. He reached out his hand, pressing his trembling fingers on her neck to find the precious sign of life, fearing for the worst.
He could barely breathe until the tips of his fingers found a faint -but otherwise unmistakable- thrum of her heart. He exhaled a relieved breath to find her still alive. However, her pulse was still too weak and her breath was too shallow. He gritted his teeth angrily, unable to hide his disdain to himself. He endlessly cursed himself for letting himself lose control.
What a fool he was! What an utter, complete fool!
She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve this from him. This was the same with taking advantage of her. After everything she had done for him, being the person he could come to and the person to confide in… And this was how he repaid her?
He had betrayed her trust by doing this to her. He would be no different than the people who had hurt her. He would not be any different than the people he despised most.
Never had he felt such anger and hatred towards himself until this very moment.
Forcefully he repressed his turbulent emotions. He could wallow in his self-pity later, right now, she was much more important. The first thing he did was to recover their clothes that were scattered across the living area, his was still intact, while hers was badly damaged, most likely his doing. He tried to keep his emotions under control, but it was proven difficult when everytime he turned around he kept seeing the signs of his failure, the evidence of the unforgivable things he had done to her. Their mugs were upturned on the floor, surprisingly intact, its content spilling out. The windows were slightly stained red due to his forceful bite on her neck. The clothes she wore were completely torn apart and thrown haphazardly.
In the end, he decided to use the bathrobe he found in the large bathroom to cover her bare body. He didn’t dare to do anything else, even though he wanted to treat her bruises and injuries, but he couldn’t trust himself anymore, not with her. After she was decently covered, he gently lifted her up, mindful of her abused body. She was so light and still in his arms that he was afraid that she would break anytime. He carried her to her bedroom, easily finding his way to the bed in the darkness of the room. He carefully laid her down on the bed and pulled the covers on her, his gaze inadvertently fell upon her.
He was the complete opposite of Midas who turned everything he touched into gold; he turned everything he touched into ashes. He would only bring pain and sadness, chaos and destruction. He was no different than an angel of death. He kept hurting people around him, those who only cared for him.
Everyone.
Yagari who lost his right eye. Cross who was forced to give up his dreams of peaceful coexistence in the Academy and return to the job he hated most. Ichiru who gave his life for him. Yuuki who was always forced to choose one and hurt the other. And now, her.
He knew it was best for him to leave and never to appear before her ever again, but he found it excruciatingly difficult. She was not as a constant presence as Yuuki during his rougher years, but she always managed to be there whenever he needed her, even by mere words or presence. He liked the feeling when he was around her, when he could drop all pretenses and ignore the burden upon his shoulders. He had grown to like himself….
Until now.
He distracted himself, before his mind took a darker turn. He pulled out a small round tin container from the inside pocket of his coat and opened the lid. Inside laid several white round tablets that were unlike blood tablets that he regularly took. They were blood replenishing tablets. Hunters were required to bring this along with them, in case of the hunters or the vampire preys being bitten. He turned the container between his thumb and forefinger, hesitating on how to give the tablet to her. He had gone over several options, and only found one best way to do so.
He picked up one of the tablets and put it into his mouth. He reached for a glass of water he placed on the nightstand and drank the water, but didn’t swallow it. Without missing a moment, he leaned down and gave her the tablet through his mouth, ensuring the tablet went down her throat. It wasn’t without great difficulty for him to pull away from her lips, but he managed. His hand longed to touch her for the last time, but he stopped himself, it was the very same hand that had violated her.
Finally he moved from her side and returned to the living area to start cleaning up the mess. When he rearranged the shifted furniture to its proper place, he accidentally found a stain on the carpet, and by the scent alone he already knew that it was her blood. The reminder nearly brought him on his knees and throw out all of the contents in his stomach. He felt incredibly repulsed of himself. He had to leave, he had to leave now.
Before he could hurt her any further.
Zero stood up immediately, and before he could let his doubts influence him, he set his jaws and shoulders and left the apartment, barely leaving any signs that he had ever been there.
*
*
*
The closed eyelids slowly opened, revealing the blue depths hidden behind them. Those usually clear blue eyes seemed unfocused, not completely seeing their surroundings. The owner of those eyes remained motionless on the bed; the only movement coming from her eyelids fluttering weakly as if that alone took a great effort.
On her way to regaining her consciousness, she felt herself being pulled away from the dark, murky depths to the surface, from the utter and complete warmth and comfort to something else entirely. Her eyelids felt heavy, and so were her hands, her legs… Her whole body felt incredibly heavy, as if it wasn’t her own. She managed to slowly pry her eyes open with great difficulty. She could barely see anything at the first time, but slowly she was able to make out the outline and the color of her surroundings.
It took her a while to realize that she was in her own bed and in her own room. But the problem was, she didn’t remember going to bed and she certainly never felt this way when she woke up from her sleep. Usually she woke up refreshed, but she woke up feeling weak and tired.
Was she sick?
It was the only explanation she could think of why she was on the bed and feeling this way. Wanting to make sure that it was the case, she carefully hoisted herself up, using her hands as leverage, but nearly stumbled in her effort when her hands gave way, barely able to hold her weight. Eventually she managed to sit up on the bed, leaning greatly to the backboard.
A frown appeared on her rather pale face when she noticed that she was in a bathrobe and wearing nothing beneath, suggesting that she just finished bathing. She never went to sleep before changing into her clothes. Everything didn’t make sense to her.
The more she tried to remember, the more her head seemed to spin. In response, she tried to shake her head, only to find a painful twinge from her neck. Her hand went out to the source of the pain instinctively, pressing the sore muscles. The slight pressure on her neck brought her flashes of memories and overwhelming sensation of something sharp pricking her neck deeply that almost made her double over, gasping and flinching in pain. Then, she remembered.
She remembered everything.
She remembered how he suddenly took her blood by force, sinking his fangs deep into her neck and drinking her blood with such fervor that threatened her to faint. But faint she didn’t, she was awake enough to realize what was happening to her and helpless to stop it. She remembered the feelings that went through her: the pain, the fear, the dread, the helplessness, she remembered the rough and possessive treatment on her that left marks and bruises on her body as if she was experiencing it all over again. She let out a strangled sound, muffled by her hands covering her face when she recalled that sharp, searing pain before she was completely unconscious. She didn’t need to confirm with her own eyes to know what the source of the pain was, the pain she felt from between her legs was enough.
However, through all the painful memories, one memory managed to stand out among the others. The memory of silver eyes filled with such raw pain and longing that struck her hard and deep. She knew the look very well, if not too well. She knew how it felt, how it made her want to forget, how it made her desperate for something to fill the void, to lessen the pain.
She remembered the empty look in his eyes when he told her of what happened. And somehow, she understood.
She knew how it felt to lose someone dear to you when you had few people you could consider as such. For Zero who was used to everything dear to him taken away, forced to watch only from the sidelines, losing Yuuki to Kaname was still hard, regardless of the knowledge that it was for the best. It was the same with losing everything for Zero.
She was his escape.
She thought bitterly, she had always been his escape, she had known that since the very beginning. She was where he went to whenever he wanted to forget, to pretend. She had expected it, but she couldn’t help to feel sad or hurt everytime he mentioned Yuuki. And she couldn’t deny the thought that he might never actually see her then. He might be seeing someone else in her.
Oh how she envied that pureblood princess, she chuckled sadly.
She had seen this coming for a long time, but she had dismissed it. It never occurred it would happen. It never occurred to him that the Zero she knew would go that far. For an Aruda, she was certainly naïve and short sighted, she must be aware that the possibility of this happening existed, despite the chances of it happening was little to none.
If Yuuki was Zero’s weakness, Zero was her own.
Although she knew this, although she knew they were never meant to be, she couldn’t help but to hold on to him, wanting his strong, steady presence by her side that never failed to make her feel safe and protected. And now, she wouldn’t have that presence by her side anymore.
She looked at her hand on her lap, sadness graced her features. A lone tear trickled down her cheek onto the back of her hand, followed by another… and another. She hugged her knees to her chest carefully; her small shoulders shook as she cried silently. Her body felt achingly sore, but it was nothing compared to her heart’s pain and anguish. She cried for the loss of her innocence, and for the loss of Zero.
Rating: M/NC-17
Warnings: dark themes, violence, non-consensual sex, nothing too graphic
Word Count: 7,554
Characters/Pairings: Zero, Yuuki, Kaname, and introducing my Original Character (OC), Misaki
Notes: For further understanding of this story you can read this rant and this profile of Misaki.
Sounds of swift and strong footsteps could be heard as the hard soles of shoes scraped against the stone pavement.
The bells were ringing in slow and steady rhythm.
The sound rang throughout the surrounding of the grand church standing on the foot of the mountain, announcing the event that was about to take place within its sanctuary.
Those dark polished shoes belonged to a tall young man with silvery hair billowing in the wind as he moved with such deadly poise and grace that was as visible to the eyes of the mortals as to the eyes of the immortals who laid their eyes upon the man, even as he was in the motion of donning the black coat over his sharp grey suit.
The man who was standing on the altar was wearing the tuxedo perfectly in the way no one could possibly imitate, the very same way no one could imitate the way he carried himself with undeniable confidence and authority as he stood in front of the church. His distinctive dark red eyes turned towards the entrance as the familiar tune of wedding march started playing to see two figures appearing at the end of the pathway to the altar.
The hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel was tugging agitatedly at the silk grey tie around his neck as his foot pressed the gas to the full, making the engine groaned in response before increasing the speed of the sleek dark-colored vehicle through the country road.
The new arrivals were wearing contrasting colors; one was covered in white while the other was covered in black. The one that was wearing black was a middle-aged man although his appearance didn’t betray his age, the usually tied back hair was loose and the ever-present glasses were discarded for this special occasion. He had his arm linked to the figure in white whose sight of her managed to make everyone who was present to catch their breath in admiration.
He was no exception.
He threw his tie carelessly onto the empty seat next to him and continued to fiddle with the upper buttons of his shirt as if it was constricting him to breathe, but his face remained blank and emotionless, not giving away his tumultuous emotion.
He was present, despite his feelings in the matter. He was there, despite his presence wasn’t entirely welcomed. He could not just leave her; he could not leave her side just because someone else was going to take his place next to her. He stood at the far end of the pew on the side of the bride’s friends and family.
He gritted his teeth, trying not to think as he drove like he was being chased by demons, not decreasing his speed for the slightest bit as the car made a sharp and dangerous turn on the freeway. He had a death grip on the steering wheel that turned his knuckles white.
She was beautiful.
She had always been to him. She was the very representation of white and everything it held.
Purity.
Innocence.
She was everything that he was not and he was keeping it that way, regardless she was no longer the Yuuki he grew up with, but she was Yuuki nonetheless with her painful belief and acceptance to others who didn’t deserve it.
He ignored the calls that were coming through his cell, letting it vibrate harmlessly on the leather seat next to him and letting it be ignored throughout the drive. He could make few and several guesses whom it might be, because not many people had the number of his phone, but not a single one of them made him want to answer the phone.
He kept his eyes on the radiant bride in her simple, yet elegant flowing white wedding gown. He barely noticed the tune that followed the bride, barely noticed the man accompanying her to the altar, barely noticed the man waiting for her at the altar. In his eyes, there was only her, because he knew this would be the last. This would be the last time he would ever gaze upon her this way.
He arrived on the airport in a record-breaking time, bringing the vehicle into a smooth halt in the driveway. He slid out of the driver’s side and let the valet take his car to the airport parking area as he stepped into the building, leaving the tie and the phone in the car.
He ignored the painful ache in his heart as they were declared man and wife. He could barely return the smile given his way as she found him among the others, despite how much he tried to be invisible. He could finally smile when those expressive eyes seemed to brighten at the sight of him, but he wasn’t oblivious that the glow that surrounded her wasn’t caused by him.
He managed to offer his congratulations to the newly married couple. He even managed to shake the Kuran leader’s hand and look straight into his eyes. He knew that he didn’t need to say anything, because the man knew what this single gesture meant.
He was relinquishing her to him.
The word of gratitude held more meaning than the other platitudes given to others who offered their congratulations to the Japanese monarch.
He walked to the counter and placed his order without the slightest hesitation, even though the only thing that he brought along was everything on his person. There was only one destination in his mind. And within few minutes he was already boarded on the flight to Paris, France in the first class cabin in order to avoid sitting next to people.
He remained until the reception, an action that surprised many. However, from the sad gaze directed at him by the father of the bride, he knew that not everyone was surprised nor fooled by the façade he was wearing throughout the affair.
He didn’t know how time passed by, he had lost track of time since the day started, long before he finally did what he was expected to do: leave.
He watched indifferently as Kuran took his wife to dance their first dance, moving with the usual grace as he twirled the beautiful woman before him. They were perfect for each other.
Then being the gentleman he was, Kuran gave her away to his father-in-law who took the bride to a round of father and bride dance. He could see the look on his adoptive father’s face as he danced with his proclaimed daughter. He appeared nothing like the dangerous hunter he used to be known of, trying to hold back the tears.
In a bold move on her part, instead of dancing with any other high-ranked guest, she approached the place where he had been standing unobtrusively as if she had been looking for him all along and asked him for a dance, telling that he owed her one from their previous days that were almost like hazy memories that weren’t quite actually real.
He tried to sleep through the flight, but the memories of the day kept plaguing him even in his sleep. He always went back to that moment where he danced with her for the very first time in a long time.
Her small and soft hand still had its firm grip as she pulled him slightly forcefully that reminded him of those days when she always pulled him by the hand whenever he barely felt the need to move. He felt a ghost of a smile over his face at the reminder that Yuuki wasn’t completely gone.
When they finally got to the middle of the clearing, he pretended to know nothing of dance and she followed his lead by guiding his hands to her waist and intertwining their hands, and slowly they moved to the music playing in the background.
She was warm and soft against him. She felt real against him that dispelled the thought of this being merely a dream. There were few words exchanged but eventually it was lost in the moment. There were only two of them for those few precious moments.
There were only Yuuki and Zero.
He couldn’t hide his relief when the announcement came through the communication channel from the captain that they were landing on Charles de Gaulle. He ignored the slight discomfort as he rose from his seat for the past long hours, knowing that he would recover in no time. He donned his coat as he was exposed to the cold air that greeted him as he stepped out to the Paris air, breathing in the comparably warmer air.
After that surreal moment, he could no longer stay, knowing that it would cost his everything to stay any moment longer than he should. He didn’t say anything to her; he didn’t leave any message to her of his leaving, because he knew if he did, he wouldn’t be able to leave.
She had made her decision. He had made his long before her. It was about time for him to live by the consequences. And the time must be now.
He navigated his way through the busy streets of Paris, blending in with the pedestrians that wouldn’t be possible back in Japan with his distinctive features. He let the foreign chatter wash over him, his mind easily translating the snatches of conversations around him. He was just another person here.
When he turned his back to her, he didn’t let him look back and kept himself going with firm, decisive steps away from her.
He stood before a door that became familiar to him by now, with the cursive dark writing against golden panel on the wall next to the door to indicate the number of the apartment. He raised his hand to rap his knuckles none too firmly against the door. He could hear a feminine voice calling out for him to wait in French, the sounds of approaching footsteps and the faint click of the locking mechanism before the door opened to reveal the occupant of the apartment.
Clear blue eyes found pale silver eyes.
“Zero.”
All the thoughts that had been haunting him seemed to fade away into the background as if it was mere distractions of little consequence. His tense posture visibly relaxed as if the weight was removed from his shoulders.
“Misaki.”
*
*
*
Afterwards he was found walking side by side with the young woman in a slow, leisure pace through the small streets that were less crowded than the main streets, allowing them space and distance from other Parisians walking by.
They barely exchanged words or glances, simply walking along in companionable silence. They had pulled their coats tighter around their body, protecting them from the cold. In March, Paris was still considerably chilly, although with occasional appearance of the sun that warmed the days. This wasn’t one of those rare days.
It was still warmer than in Japan and it helped him to be more at ease, being away from the place he was too familiar with. Paris provided the comfort and relief he needed whenever he felt the burden upon him was too great to bear. He was fully aware that the reason why it was Paris of all cities was this person next to him. At this, he subtly shifted his gaze to his companion.
She didn’t seem aware of his attention; her eyes that resembled the sky at its clearest were shining brightly as they drank the sight around her as if she was seeing it for the first time, her cheeks were slightly flushed as it was exposed to the chill, her lips were formed in a small, content smile. She was one of few people who actually could feel comfortable around him, and one of few he felt comfortable around.
Considering how they started, it was completely unexpected, but at the same time, it might be expected. When she approached him first to ask for his help, he had been wary of her. When he eventually decided to take her offer, striking a temporary alliance until both of them achieved their purpose; he didn’t completely trust her still, especially she seemed to have the ability to bring out the worst of him with her blunt words that usually ended up having them exchanging hurtful words to each other.
However, he found out that despite the scathing remarks he gave her, there were truth lying beneath them and he hadn’t been that honest to himself or to anyone the way he was to her. She had seen the worst of him, yet she never looked at him any differently, never laying judgment, never giving pity, only giving him the look that she understood. She understood as well or even better than himself what he went through, because she went through the same thing. They shared similar fate, with the only difference laid on the way they handled it.
When they both achieved what they wanted, they remained. They remained even after there was nothing left to keep them together, even when the reason why they were together was already gone, but letting go was the last thing on their mind. They knew that they wouldn’t find anyone else who actually understood the way they understood each other. And so they remained, even as their paths diverged.
He assumed the position of the leader of Hunter Association and she continued her studies in Paris, France. His duties as the leader of the Association in Eurasia made him travel often back and forth between the two adjacent continents and he made a habit of making random visits to her whenever he happened to be nearby. French became one of the first foreign languages he learned and became fluent in.
She had the appearance of an ordinary girl, with the typical combination of blue eyes and blond hair that was shared by many others. She could be easily overlooked if she wanted to and she usually preferred it that way. If he didn’t know any better, he would have done so. She was not overly tall, but not petite, either. She didn’t have to raise her head too much to look at him, something she had remarked casually in passing. She wasn’t into fashion, but living in the city of fashion nevertheless made her at the least fashion conscious --and indirectly, him--, the coat she wore over her clothes fitted her nicely.
She gave him some sense of stability, some sense of control, but he knew that it wouldn’t last. The suppressed feelings and thoughts were still there, hovering at the edges, waiting for its time to break out and surface. He had tried to keep himself together for the past months since he said those words to Yuuki that they would never work out --a truth that they both already knew-- and for her to let go, because as long as she held on, he couldn’t let her go and they would only fall into downward spiral of destruction. He wasn’t surprised when she finally told him that she was getting married to the Kuran and gave them his blessing. His mind told him that it was for the best, but his heart could yet follow.
“Uh oh, should’ve brought my umbrella.”
Her words broke him away from his thoughts. She was looking at the sky, her hand stretched out, palm outward, catching droplets of water and he knew what it meant as he followed her gaze to the swiftly darkening heavens. Paris was also well-known for its erratic and sudden downpours, and he knew from experience, in no time, if they didn’t hurry for shelter, they would be drenched to the bone. Both of them were looking around trying to find the closest shelter, but there were none, leaving the only option to return to her apartment.
“Let’s hurry then,” she nudged him as they increased their pace before the heavy rainfall caught them, but before halfway to their destination, the wind and the rain picked up. Noticing that her coat wouldn’t provide enough protection from the rain, he took off his coat, pulling her closer and placed it over their heads. She only gave her a frown of disapproval but said nothing, holding the coat over them, instead and concentrating on keeping up with his long legs.
He was suddenly aware of the close proximity between them. They always kept certain distance to each other, wary of each other’s preferred personal space. They rarely intruded on them; they respected and trusted each other not to. He felt the heat of her body through the material of their clothes as their shoulders brushed against each other by accident. He caught a whiff of mild fresh, flowery scent from her that reminded him of field of flowers in the mornings and the scent of something else beneath the fragrance she wore. He wondered faintly why he paid notice to such things and forced himself to get rid of the improper thoughts, focusing on reaching the apartment as quick and dry as possible.
They managed to get to the apartment building, sighing in relief the moment they stepped their feet in the dry hallways, safe from the heavy downpour. Despite their best efforts they were pretty drenched, especially the lower half of their body that was barely shielded from the rain, added that in their haste they stepped into several puddles of water. Misaki immediately raised the temperature in the apartment she shared with her friends after taking off her wet boots and coat at the door.
“Please, come in,” she gestured to him. It wasn’t his first time coming to her apartment, but he didn’t allow himself the familiarity to get in uninvited, especially when she had roommates, whose presence in the apartment he didn’t find.
“They went home for the holidays. They didn’t during the winter holidays, after all,” she didn’t fail to notice his questioning gaze, even as she was appearing from her room with fresh towels. Her friends often chose to stay during the two weeks holidays allocated for university students, knowing that Misaki had no one to spend the holidays with.
“They’re good people,” he said, the sentiment was sincere, and he knew that she knew, seeing a slight smile on her lips.
“They are,” she agreed, then looked apologetic, “I’m afraid I don’t have anything for you to change into.”
“It’s alright. It’s nothing, really.” He had been through worse, having been in much more extreme and less pleasant conditions. She gave him the look he recognized as to the look of reading under the lines, listening to the words unspoken with the slightest tilt of her head.
“I’ll make us some warm drinks. Would you like the usual?” She easily changed the course of conversation before he could feel uncomfortable. These small things never failed to make him truly grateful for having her companionship. He only gave her a small nod and was returned with another smile before she went to the kitchen to make their drinks.
The absence of her presence by his side suddenly left him cold and empty, as if she had been a source of light and warmth to him and being deprived of her presence made him return to the state he was in before he stood before the door of her apartment. He walked to the windows overlooking the streets where he could watch her figure from the corner of his eye, not wanting to spoil the furniture by sitting on them in his wet clothes. He leaned on the windowsill, his arms crossed, and eyes watching absently the movements underneath.
He usually could set aside all the matters troubling him while he was on his visits to her by asking for her advice or by pretending for a while that there was nothing troubling him, but he couldn’t do that now, not when the matters were too close to the heart. It would always be there, despite his best efforts to ignore it, to pretend it wasn’t there at all. This was one of those.
He ran his hand through his face and hair, a gesture that became his habit whenever he was weary or frustrated with himself. He felt his composure starting to fray, to his dismay. The last thing he wanted was to lose control and fell apart.
That was why he couldn’t help his reaction, turning sharply when he felt another’s presence next to him, momentarily forgotten where he was, so absorbed he was in his musings, but eventually relaxed when he realized who it was. She didn’t fail to notice his initial reaction, a concerned frown grace her features.
“Here,” she handed a steaming mug filled with golden brown liquid, by the scent alone he knew it was the way he liked it.
“Thanks,” he accepted the tea offered to him, the warmth was biting against his cold hand. She merely nodded and stood next to him, setting her gaze to the sight of the falling rain through the glass. For a while they only stood there, he avoided looking her way, barely drinking his tea.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Somehow he had seen this coming, his lips quirked slightly at the corner when he was proven right. She had done well so far, holding back all the questions she might want to ask after finding him on her doorstep in such a state. He had no doubt that she already knew the reason for his abrupt visit. She didn’t seem surprised when she laid her eyes on him. Then again, when you were gifted with foresight, nothing would easily surprise you anymore. And in the end, despite all the considerate gestures, she remained the same straightforward person he first met.
“…Today was the wedding,” he started, but stopped, not quite ready to elaborate. Unconsciously he took a deep breath before he continued,
“It was Yuuki’s wedding,” he paused, suddenly he felt as if a great weight settled upon his chest, “She’s married to him now.”
With those words, the memories he tried hard to suppress immediately came flooding his mind with the moments involving the woman he had loved for a long time, the days that had long gone and out of reach. Those memories invoked all the feelings he had bottled up, filling him with such a torrent of emotion that threatened to knock him off his feet. Unconsciously he gritted his teeth, the hand holding the mug was shaking with suppressed emotions, threatening to break it into pieces. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to regain his composure.
“And I gave them my blessing,” but he continued still, wanting to speak his mind. He faintly recognized the bitterness in his own voice that sounded foreign to his ears. He realized that a part of him was appalled and angry of the idea of giving up Yuuki to that man without much of a fight, and another part of him had completely and willingly submitted to it.
He was tired.
He was tired of fighting against everything. He was tired of fighting for everything. He had nothing he could call his own. Not even his life. In the end, he was tired of having to own anything, only to have them taken away from him.
The realization left him feeling numb and hollow. He could no longer feel the pain or the anger. He could no longer feel anything.
Faintly he could hear someone calling out his name over and over. When he failed to give any reaction, he felt something tugged him strongly to make him turn towards the person. A young woman with golden hair and blue eyes looked him with such real concern that made him suddenly felt the need, the desire to feel again.
He didn’t think. He didn’t let himself think; instead, he let his instincts take over. His senses were suddenly heightened, making him painfully aware of the flecks of silver in her eyes, of the gentle waves of her golden hair, of the curve of her lips, of the smooth skin of her exposed neck and shoulder, of the burning heat from the skin where she touched him, and of the underlying scent he finally recognized. A certain scent that sent a rush of excitement and hunger coursing through him. A familiar ache started to grow within his chest.
Blood.
Her blood.
*
*
*
Misaki was trying to break him away from his stupor, the lack of reaction and the blank look in his eyes made her worried and admittedly, afraid. She had never seen him in such state. She had seen him in various states: from apathetic, devoid of any emotion to filled with such rage and hatred, but there was always life in his eyes. Never had she seen those silver eyes so dead, so empty.
Until there was a sudden glint in his eyes that she didn’t recognize, followed by a spreading red in his pupils.
Suddenly she found herself being pushed back against the cool glass roughly, the mug fell from her fingers and made a dull thud on the wooden floor and before she realized what was happening, all she was aware of was the sharp pain on her neck that made her cry out, instinctively closing her eyes shut to block the pain. Through the pain, she registered strong pressure on both of her arms that was keeping her pinned against the window. She tried to wiggle free blindly, only to have her body pressed by something solid and warm and her neck pierced deeper -by fangs, somehow her mind managed to supply that information.
The first thought that crossed her mind was how much it hurt.
She had once given her blood to him, but only from her wrist because he was reluctant to take any blood even in his condition back then and because she didn’t dare to give her neck to him. It had hurt, naturally, considering how thin her wrist was and how many bones and muscles were around the veins, but it was nothing compared to this. It might be because she wasn’t given time to react or to prepare herself or because of the forceful way he seemed to feed on her. His fangs sank deep into her veins, trying to seize as much blood as possible, whereas before he was more gentle and careful not to sink his fangs too deep.
She had tried to push him away from her: pushing him with her hands, pounding on his chest with her fists repeatedly, fueled by panic and fear at the sudden and rough treatment. However, it was like hitting a brick wall; he was firm and unyielding, giving no indication that he felt her resistance. She kept trying in various ways until her throat felt hoarse and her fists hurt of continuous attempt of breaking away from him, but eventually, her strength was waning. She slumped weakly against the solid surface behind her, her hands fell limply by her sides, her breath became shallower and her vision swum dangerously, making her unable to stand upright if it wasn’t for him pressing her up.
She tried to fill her lungs with as much oxygen as possible, almost desperately, wanting to clear her mind of the sudden haze. If she wanted to get out from this situation, she had to be able to think, she had to stay awake and to know what was happening to her. The haze made it nearly impossible to know what was going on, she could hardly see and hear and feel, so she didn’t see that he had stopped taking her blood or feel his heated breath upon her skin or hear the sound of something tearing apart.
Only when she felt herself completely exposed to the chilly March air, the cold seeping through her skin unhindered, her senses were jolted awake. She realized with surprise and horror that she was completely bare without a single shred of fabric on her body. She was slammed down roughly on the floor, driving the air out of her lungs. She felt him before she saw his larger but no less bare frame hovering over her.
“Ze..ro…,” she tried to call out his name, to stop him, but she was too weak, her voice came out only in a whisper.
Her eyes widened in absolute dread and her heart seemed to stop beating in her chest when he caught her lips in a kiss. Her first reaction was to close her mouth, but it was too late, his tongue already slipped into her mouth. The unwanted intrusion made her want to gag; she could still taste the faint coppery taste of blood, her own blood, and that didn’t make her feel comfortable at all.
She brought up her hands blindly in front of her, hitting his chest, his shoulders, whatever part of him that was in her reach with the remains of her strength, only to have her wrists caught in a firm grip and pinned down on the sides of her head. She tried to free them from his grip, but the more she struggled the more he gripped her wrists until she felt they might bruise. She was barely able to breathe or to think; she could see darkness hovering on the edges of her vision. Eventually she had no strength left to fight him off.
She inhaled a sharp breath the moment he pulled away from her lips, now slightly swollen from his rough kiss, filling her oxygen-deprived lungs. He continued his trail down her throat, landing open-mouthed kisses that made her inwardly scream of the wrongness of the situation. She bit her lips, scrunching her eyes shut, refusing to acknowledge what was happening to her, but the feel of his heated mouth landing open-mouthed kisses on her exposed skin, the feel of his wet tongue trailing down her body, his calloused hands caressing and seizing her soft flesh were too real, too real not to be true.
This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She dug her nails deep into the carpeted floor, her knuckles turning white as everything fully dawned on her.
This wasn’t Zero she knew. Zero wouldn’t do this to her, not to anyone. And not like this, not like this.
Those thoughts were running in her head as she felt his mouth and tongue and teeth scraping against her exposed skin, leaving marks on her body. It was rough and possessive, almost feral, as if he was purely driven by instincts with the only purpose in mind to devour and possess her completely. A pained gasp escaped her lips everytime his ministrations went too rough on her frail body, but she could not deny the feel of pleasure that came along the pain.
The sensation he brought upon her was too much for her too bear, she could feel her vision getting blurry, her consciousness slipping away. She was breathing heavily, her breasts rose and fell rapidly as she tried to fill her lungs with air. She could hear her own heartbeat loud in her ears, beating wildly against her ribcage. She felt as if she was burning inside and out, beads of perspiration decorated and glistened her skin along with the red marks scattered all over her abused body.
She knew she couldn’t hold out any longer. She would lose her consciousness anytime soon, and she never welcomed it as much as now, willing herself to be taken away from this nightmare. When she felt a sharp, searing pain tearing into her, threatening to rip her apart; her body jerked upwards, her eyes widened, her lips formed a silent scream then, her body shuddered and stilled.
Before darkness pulled her under, the last thing she saw was raw pain and longing behind wild silver eyes.
*
*
*
Harsh breathing rang loud and clear across the expanse of the silent apartment. A figure could be seen crouching on his hands and knees. His body was completely bare, glistening with sweat; his shoulders moved up and down rapidly with every breath; his silvery bangs fell over his eyes, obscuring his expression. Beneath the lean figure was another figure with a smaller frame, lying on her back. Her hands were on the sides of her head, her palms up; her head was thrown sideways against the carpeted floor; her long golden waves were spread messily, some fell on her cheek, framing her delicate face; her eyes were closed. There was no sign of movement.
Slowly, the silver-haired man’s breathing evened out, leaving complete silence reign over the area, save for the sound of pouring rain outside. He seemed to blink his eyes few times, as if trying to clear his mind of whatever haze he was in. When his gaze fell upon the still form beneath him, his eyes widened in utter shock.
“No. No. No!” His silver eyes could barely believe the sight that greeted him. The sight of a bruised and battered form of a familiar young woman.
He was horrified to find their state of undress, but was more horrified to find the state she was in. His sharp eyes didn’t fail to notice the unhealthy pallor of her skin; the angry, red marks on her body that seemed to glare at him, the familiar twin wounds on her neck and the faint spatter of red between her legs. He looked at himself, at his hands that started to tremble violently with the horrible realization that he was the one who did it to her. He reached out his hand, pressing his trembling fingers on her neck to find the precious sign of life, fearing for the worst.
He could barely breathe until the tips of his fingers found a faint -but otherwise unmistakable- thrum of her heart. He exhaled a relieved breath to find her still alive. However, her pulse was still too weak and her breath was too shallow. He gritted his teeth angrily, unable to hide his disdain to himself. He endlessly cursed himself for letting himself lose control.
What a fool he was! What an utter, complete fool!
She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve this from him. This was the same with taking advantage of her. After everything she had done for him, being the person he could come to and the person to confide in… And this was how he repaid her?
He had betrayed her trust by doing this to her. He would be no different than the people who had hurt her. He would not be any different than the people he despised most.
Never had he felt such anger and hatred towards himself until this very moment.
Forcefully he repressed his turbulent emotions. He could wallow in his self-pity later, right now, she was much more important. The first thing he did was to recover their clothes that were scattered across the living area, his was still intact, while hers was badly damaged, most likely his doing. He tried to keep his emotions under control, but it was proven difficult when everytime he turned around he kept seeing the signs of his failure, the evidence of the unforgivable things he had done to her. Their mugs were upturned on the floor, surprisingly intact, its content spilling out. The windows were slightly stained red due to his forceful bite on her neck. The clothes she wore were completely torn apart and thrown haphazardly.
In the end, he decided to use the bathrobe he found in the large bathroom to cover her bare body. He didn’t dare to do anything else, even though he wanted to treat her bruises and injuries, but he couldn’t trust himself anymore, not with her. After she was decently covered, he gently lifted her up, mindful of her abused body. She was so light and still in his arms that he was afraid that she would break anytime. He carried her to her bedroom, easily finding his way to the bed in the darkness of the room. He carefully laid her down on the bed and pulled the covers on her, his gaze inadvertently fell upon her.
He was the complete opposite of Midas who turned everything he touched into gold; he turned everything he touched into ashes. He would only bring pain and sadness, chaos and destruction. He was no different than an angel of death. He kept hurting people around him, those who only cared for him.
Everyone.
Yagari who lost his right eye. Cross who was forced to give up his dreams of peaceful coexistence in the Academy and return to the job he hated most. Ichiru who gave his life for him. Yuuki who was always forced to choose one and hurt the other. And now, her.
He knew it was best for him to leave and never to appear before her ever again, but he found it excruciatingly difficult. She was not as a constant presence as Yuuki during his rougher years, but she always managed to be there whenever he needed her, even by mere words or presence. He liked the feeling when he was around her, when he could drop all pretenses and ignore the burden upon his shoulders. He had grown to like himself….
Until now.
He distracted himself, before his mind took a darker turn. He pulled out a small round tin container from the inside pocket of his coat and opened the lid. Inside laid several white round tablets that were unlike blood tablets that he regularly took. They were blood replenishing tablets. Hunters were required to bring this along with them, in case of the hunters or the vampire preys being bitten. He turned the container between his thumb and forefinger, hesitating on how to give the tablet to her. He had gone over several options, and only found one best way to do so.
He picked up one of the tablets and put it into his mouth. He reached for a glass of water he placed on the nightstand and drank the water, but didn’t swallow it. Without missing a moment, he leaned down and gave her the tablet through his mouth, ensuring the tablet went down her throat. It wasn’t without great difficulty for him to pull away from her lips, but he managed. His hand longed to touch her for the last time, but he stopped himself, it was the very same hand that had violated her.
Finally he moved from her side and returned to the living area to start cleaning up the mess. When he rearranged the shifted furniture to its proper place, he accidentally found a stain on the carpet, and by the scent alone he already knew that it was her blood. The reminder nearly brought him on his knees and throw out all of the contents in his stomach. He felt incredibly repulsed of himself. He had to leave, he had to leave now.
Before he could hurt her any further.
Zero stood up immediately, and before he could let his doubts influence him, he set his jaws and shoulders and left the apartment, barely leaving any signs that he had ever been there.
*
*
*
The closed eyelids slowly opened, revealing the blue depths hidden behind them. Those usually clear blue eyes seemed unfocused, not completely seeing their surroundings. The owner of those eyes remained motionless on the bed; the only movement coming from her eyelids fluttering weakly as if that alone took a great effort.
On her way to regaining her consciousness, she felt herself being pulled away from the dark, murky depths to the surface, from the utter and complete warmth and comfort to something else entirely. Her eyelids felt heavy, and so were her hands, her legs… Her whole body felt incredibly heavy, as if it wasn’t her own. She managed to slowly pry her eyes open with great difficulty. She could barely see anything at the first time, but slowly she was able to make out the outline and the color of her surroundings.
It took her a while to realize that she was in her own bed and in her own room. But the problem was, she didn’t remember going to bed and she certainly never felt this way when she woke up from her sleep. Usually she woke up refreshed, but she woke up feeling weak and tired.
Was she sick?
It was the only explanation she could think of why she was on the bed and feeling this way. Wanting to make sure that it was the case, she carefully hoisted herself up, using her hands as leverage, but nearly stumbled in her effort when her hands gave way, barely able to hold her weight. Eventually she managed to sit up on the bed, leaning greatly to the backboard.
A frown appeared on her rather pale face when she noticed that she was in a bathrobe and wearing nothing beneath, suggesting that she just finished bathing. She never went to sleep before changing into her clothes. Everything didn’t make sense to her.
The more she tried to remember, the more her head seemed to spin. In response, she tried to shake her head, only to find a painful twinge from her neck. Her hand went out to the source of the pain instinctively, pressing the sore muscles. The slight pressure on her neck brought her flashes of memories and overwhelming sensation of something sharp pricking her neck deeply that almost made her double over, gasping and flinching in pain. Then, she remembered.
She remembered everything.
She remembered how he suddenly took her blood by force, sinking his fangs deep into her neck and drinking her blood with such fervor that threatened her to faint. But faint she didn’t, she was awake enough to realize what was happening to her and helpless to stop it. She remembered the feelings that went through her: the pain, the fear, the dread, the helplessness, she remembered the rough and possessive treatment on her that left marks and bruises on her body as if she was experiencing it all over again. She let out a strangled sound, muffled by her hands covering her face when she recalled that sharp, searing pain before she was completely unconscious. She didn’t need to confirm with her own eyes to know what the source of the pain was, the pain she felt from between her legs was enough.
However, through all the painful memories, one memory managed to stand out among the others. The memory of silver eyes filled with such raw pain and longing that struck her hard and deep. She knew the look very well, if not too well. She knew how it felt, how it made her want to forget, how it made her desperate for something to fill the void, to lessen the pain.
She remembered the empty look in his eyes when he told her of what happened. And somehow, she understood.
She knew how it felt to lose someone dear to you when you had few people you could consider as such. For Zero who was used to everything dear to him taken away, forced to watch only from the sidelines, losing Yuuki to Kaname was still hard, regardless of the knowledge that it was for the best. It was the same with losing everything for Zero.
She was his escape.
She thought bitterly, she had always been his escape, she had known that since the very beginning. She was where he went to whenever he wanted to forget, to pretend. She had expected it, but she couldn’t help to feel sad or hurt everytime he mentioned Yuuki. And she couldn’t deny the thought that he might never actually see her then. He might be seeing someone else in her.
Oh how she envied that pureblood princess, she chuckled sadly.
She had seen this coming for a long time, but she had dismissed it. It never occurred it would happen. It never occurred to him that the Zero she knew would go that far. For an Aruda, she was certainly naïve and short sighted, she must be aware that the possibility of this happening existed, despite the chances of it happening was little to none.
If Yuuki was Zero’s weakness, Zero was her own.
Although she knew this, although she knew they were never meant to be, she couldn’t help but to hold on to him, wanting his strong, steady presence by her side that never failed to make her feel safe and protected. And now, she wouldn’t have that presence by her side anymore.
She looked at her hand on her lap, sadness graced her features. A lone tear trickled down her cheek onto the back of her hand, followed by another… and another. She hugged her knees to her chest carefully; her small shoulders shook as she cried silently. Her body felt achingly sore, but it was nothing compared to her heart’s pain and anguish. She cried for the loss of her innocence, and for the loss of Zero.