[personal profile] clandestine_terrors
Title: Incurable 2/4
Author: [livejournal.com profile] sphinxofthenile 
Fandom: FFVII - Advent Children
Pairing: Reno/Kadaj
Rating: PG-13
Warning: angst
Summary: Thirteen years have passed since he first saw the child.
Sequel to Angel in Hell. Song The Boy Who Destroyed The World by AFI.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

"Once there was boy who had a vibrant glow, 
but as it goes, someone took it from him.
One day through the rain I heard him meekly moan, he said
"Will you wrap your arms around me, as I'm falling?"


The first thing I learned was how his laughter had changed. The beautiful sound of tiny silver bells was replaced by something malicious and strangely hollow.
I barely had the time to realise what was happening and I found myself in the middle of a fight, and although I gave my best, it wasn’t long before I fell to the floor. Defeated and fighting for every breath, my eyes never leaving him.
He was still breathtaking.
His hair was longer, his face still perfect like that of a doll, but his features lost their childlike softness, the body not frail and small anymore, but strong and graceful. Hips swaying with every step in the enticing way proud felines walk, knowing they have no enemy to fear under the sun.
But it were still his eyes that changed the most. I remembered how they used to be, clear, curious, innocent. Now there was nothing else in them but obsession. Destructive, demented, cruel obsession burning in eerie green and cold blue, azure fading into emerald.
My wounds hurt like hell, but seeing him like this hurt even more. What had happened to the sweet child I had kept treasured in my memories? This beautiful young man was a stranger, even worse, an enemy.
Tortured. Twisted. Tainted.
I shook my head as my vision started to blur, and saw him throwing two ID cards to the ground.
Tseng and Elena.
"Sonofabich.” I hissed, but the glance he shot me silenced my voice like he had stepped on my throat with those heavy boots. It was so full of hate his mako eyes seemed to be aglow with it, and I knew that unlike me, he hadn’t forgot a thing.
It were those eyes boring into me I saw last before my consciousness slipped away from me.
Once more, we were back to that damn forest, this time looking for the Chocobohead to make sure he was all right and hadn’t gotten himself killed by the silver-haired trio. Rude’s voice was quiet on the other end of the phone, and I felt painfully exposed and alone.
I just knew splitting up wasn’t a good idea even before I heard the voice.
"Haven’t you learned anything?” I gripped my EMR and spun around to face him, every muscle ready to fight.
But he just stood there, leaning casually to a whitely glowing tree and watching with those perceptive cat-like eyes. Arms folded over his chest, he deceptively seemed to be relaxing, but his words came out as whiplashes.
"Liar. Coward. Two-tongued sleuth.”
The worst thing was that he had every right to talk to me like that. Have I not betrayed his trust in me? But I kill people for a living, I breach others confidence in me. I am a Turk.
But then why did it hurt so much?
My voice was strange to my own ears, it was so soft, almost pleading. His voice was full of hatred.
I knew he could’ve killed me if he wanted. I’ve fought him at Healin. He could’ve killed me back then too. But he just stood there, leaning to the tree and looking away, his arms now hanging helplessly at his sides.
Why didn’t he move to fight me?
My hand was still clutching my EMR, my senses on high alert, and he was just staring off into space like some monstrously beautiful statue. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper, like the breeze moving past the leaves.
"I’d waited… Waited the next day and the day after. Then I was growing… worried… Worried that they did something to the one person who promised to come back…"
His voice died in his throat, and I felt a pang of guilt.
"Never thought you’d do that…”
Was that my voice? That hoarse whisper? That admission of weakness? Fuck it. If there was ever a time to cast that academic shit away, it was now. Why not tell the truth before he drives that vicious-looking sword through my heart?
He turned back, hatred and anger lighting up his eyes to the point where they didn’t seem to be burning, but blindingly shining like the sun… He opened his mouth to say something, but he never did. In the deafening silence my broken words seemed to echo.
"I’m sorry, kid. I’m so sorry.”
For a moment, time seemed to freeze. My eyes took in his form and suddenly it seemed I can see everything, every tiny detail. The moonlight on his hair. The barely-there wrinkles on his leather outfit. The little pieces of dirt clinging to his boots.
For a moment I could tell the blue from the green in his eyes.
And I stepped close and put my arms around him. His whole body tensed, then melted into the embrace. Our lips met, cheeks pressed together, more like a part of the desperate attempt to be close, to end the years of pain and hate and sadness, than an actual kiss.
A moment to mend past and present, healing things that should’ve never been.
Then our lips started to move slowly, tasting, longing, hurting; and his lips tasted like poison, like sin, sweet, intoxicating, and I suddenly found myself wanting more.
I slid my tongue into the wet cavern of his mouth, and it was like tasting life itself, addictive, dangerous, half bliss and half pain. Strangely, my hands never wondered his body, they stayed holding him close as lips gently caressed lips and tongue slid against tongue, breaths melting souls into one, and bodies telling all the things that were left unspoken.
How long did it last? It felt like moments and hours at the same time, leather pressed to cloth, skin to skin, just tasting, just breathing, just being.
He was the one breaking our kisses, laying his head on my shoulder, eyes closed, the grip of his arms never weakening, and he was whispering small things in my ear softly through his tears, dulling my senses like a strange lullaby.
We slided down to the warm earth, leaning to the very same tree he was standing at before, and one of my hands found it’s way to the silver veil of his hair, stroking to soothe and comfort… He was still a child, a child…
I felt tears stinging my eyes, but I held them back. I am a Turk, and Turks never cry. I tilted my head to the side and rested it on top of his, breathing in the heavy scent of soil and night, and his wonderful smell.
It was only then that the situation finally sunk in. Instead of doing my job I, Reno of the Turks sat under a tree, holding my enemy I was supposed to fight and kill if given the chance, and I felt the need to protect him instead. I felt the sickening taste of bitter laughter in my mouth, and reached out to wipe away the tears from that soft, pale skin.
"Reno?” His voice was weak and trembling, and I looked into his eyes once more, afraid, pleading, but he shook his head a little and forced out a smile.
"I hate you.”
We both knew it wasn’t what he was about to say, but it didn’t matter. He laid his head back on my shoulder and I pressed my lips to his forehead. His skin was cold, it was his soul that was feverish, and I felt the same dread I felt when I first learned about Rufus going down with Geostigma.
There was just ain’t no cure for that fever that was going to burn him up.
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