|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Thu Aug 11, 2011 10:58 pm
He'd been living with Lycander for almost three weeks now, and still Requiem found himself wondering about their differences. There were so many, after all, and sometimes he sat and thought about it, tapping his chin in a rather scrutinizing manner when he was supposed to be reading or helping out cleaning. By any sense of the world, their friendship should not have worked - yet strangely it did, each one working to help the other. He supposed they sort of balanced each other out; Lycander with his cheerful, outgoing, mile-a-minute nature, and Requiem with his calmer, quieter, and more stoic attitude. They went back and forth, never arguing, but rather bouncing one personality off of the other.
At first it had been awkward - at least for Requiem, though he had a sneaking suspicion Lycander had not had the same feelings as he had. Requiem had lain awake for several hours the first night, his mind working to comprehend the strange and new living situation he had just gotten himself into. Gratitude that his roommate was someone he knew and actually got along with, and who did not mind his race, but wariness followed the gratitude, wondering if it would work out.
And so far it had. They at least had furniture now, a nice, simple living room set, some dishes, and some decorations for both the kitchen and the living room, seeing as how Lycander rarely wanted to be productive when the loft was so plain. Surprisingly Requiem found that to be accurate as well; he tended to get more done the more the apartment was made livable through various paintings, wall-hangings, and other things. And true to his word, Lycander had somehow managed to squeeze an entire piano against the far wall of the living room, beneath the windows that overlooked the street. It was not very big, nor very fancy, but Requiem loved it all the same and spent a good portion of most mornings playing it. Not only that, but he found he rather enjoyed Lycander's company - strange, since Requiem was so used to being alone he had thought spending time with people would make him feel uneasy. But it hadn't, and Requiem, to his surprise, found he liked listening to Lycander's easy chatter. All in all, the past three weeks had gone very well.
But that changed when Requiem woke, quite abruptly, on a Friday night. For a few moments he lay there in bed, staring up at the ceiling, which was decorated in a myriad of tiny glowing stars, thanks to Lycander. He had enchanted it to look as if it were the night sky when evening fell, which gave the entire room a soothing feeling. This particular night, however, Requiem felt anything but soothed. His chest felt abnormally tight, his breathing labored, and as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, found that his bedsheets were twisted around his legs, damp and tangled. He kicked himself free, about to open the door, but then he stopped suddenly, his hand on the knob.
He did not want Lycander to see him like this. Not after everything had fallen together so well. Lycander had made a point of telling Requiem that he was quite all right with him being a Majin, and had so far proved this, but he had not seen Requiem during one of his times of hunger - a time like right now. He would doubtless be unnerved by it, perhaps disgusted and maybe a little frightened. Requiem, after all, could barely suppress the cravings.
It felt strange, having an episode now. He had thought, in a fit of stupidity, that maybe they had gone away, since he had not had one in three weeks. But it had been a fluke; a flaw in his genetics or the universe, a skip in time that had somehow been overlooked. And now they were back, this one hitting him so hard and so fast it was like being whacked in the stomach with a baseball bat.
But he needed water, and there was none in his room. Gritting his teeth, Requiem pushed his sweat-sodden hair away from his face, slipping from his room and padding silently down the hall to the bathroom. It took a great deal of effort, Requiem half staggering, but he finally managed to get inside, shutting the door silently behind him. He turned on the faucet, dousing his face with the cool liquid, and tried to breathe normally; his breaths kept coming out in short, staccato pants, and Requiem turned, his back against the wall as he slid down to the floor. He closed his eyes, trying desperately to suppress the blackness crawling up from his stomach, seizing his heart and attempting to burst out of him. His fingers were gripping his arms so tightly that his knuckles were white with the effort, and Requiem's midsection felt as though something was trying to gnaw its way out of his torso. His throat dry and raw, his lips feeling chapped, he kept his eyes closed, trying to block out anything and everything.
I'll be all right, came the desperate chant. It's okay. I'll be all right. I'll be okay.
It will all be over soon.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Aug 12, 2011 5:31 pm
The last three weeks had been wonderful, in his books. He had a fantastic roommate, a splendid living space, and wasn't alone. Sure he had his family and always met new people, but his last apartment had only been him. And it did get rather lonely at times. It was nice having a roommate again. And even better that said roommate was Requiem. Someone he was good friends with and liked being around. The other young man wasn't quite as enthusiastic as he could be on a daily basis. Nor was he as social. But Lycander liked it. Enjoyed the differences in their personalities.
In fact, ever since he managed to get a piano into the apartment (as he said he would), he had found himself reading quietly just to listen to the music Requiem produced from the keys. It was relaxing and even the chatter a mile-a-minute redhead needed a break from said chatter. He even found he was able to sit and write stuff in a small leather bound journal that he kept. A gift from his father a while back. Lycander found that just writing things down on how he felt, what had happened that day, or whatever he thought of at the time was soothing.
Their apartment as a whole was starting to feel more homelike with each day and new piece of furniture or item they needed. Lycander was pretty sure they had everything they needed now, large furniture wise. Probably a few small miscellaneous things they would need to still acquire, but nothing pressing or urgent. And then there were their rooms. Lycander was quite delighted to have enchanted Requiem's ceiling to mimic a night sky with twinkling stars when the sun set. His own room was similarly enchanted.
Tonight, he'd stayed up fairly late reading a book before dragging himself off to flop in his bed. He'd fallen asleep fairly quickly. Yet something roused him from his sleep. Muttering something under his breath, he simply stuck pulled the covers up over his head and tried to fall back asleep. Which wasn't working. A soft noise made him still and listen. Not hearing it again, he stretched out and threw back the covers to sit up in his bed, arms crossed while he frowned about the room. What was bothering him? He felt...strangely restless now, like a part of him was aware that something wasn't quite right tonight. Which was BS since he didn't have such a sense like that. Something subconscious maybe?
Groaning and rolling off the bed, he padded along to the door of his walk in closet. Entering this, he walked across to the second door on the other end. This one would lead into the bathroom. His intent had been to, ironically, splash some water along his own face and see if the cold water chased away the feeling he had. However as soon as the redhead slipped into the bathroom he found himself wide awake in the matter of a blink.
"R-Requiem....?" Something was definitely wrong alright, he just couldn't put his finger on it. Instead, his lean pajama bottom clad frame stood there stupidly, staring at his roommate. Maybe he should just back out and leave him to some privacy. Except, Requiem looked like he was in pain. And Lycander couldn't quite shift the gears of his normally sharp mind into fully functioning. So instead, he took a step towards Requiem, concern and worry plastered all over his face as well as a slight bit of fear. Had something happened to Requiem? Was he having second thoughts about being roommates? Damnit! What had they done the past several days that could have the pale haired young man on the floor like he was?
"A-Are you...alright?" He took another step towards him, not sure what to do to help.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Aug 12, 2011 8:25 pm
It was one thing for Requiem to have an episode by himself. Alone, he could almost handle the cravings, wracked with pain and a deep gnawing feeling in his stomach. Alone, he could sit or lie on the floor, listen to his music, and wait it out.
He did not have to worry about hurting anyone when there was no one around, after all.
Through the haze of his raging emotions, Requiem heard the door open. No, he thought desperately, drawing in a shuddering breath, his throat feeling raw, his breathing labored. No, no not now, not now -
"Requiem?"
Lycander's voice sounded as if it were very far away. Requiem squeezed his eyes shut, drawing his knees up to his chest, his arms wrapped around his midsection. A fresh wave of longing rose in his chest, blackness swirling around him as Lycander stepped closer. Requiem could smell it on him; the scent of his heart, hear the slow, rhythmic beating, as loud to him as the sound of a drum.
It felt as if an animal were raging within his midsection, fighting to consume him. He clung desperately to his sanity, trying to block out the scent of water and clean soap emanating from Lycander's skin. All he had to do was reach out and touch him...
His fingers slowly moved towards the redhead until Requiem's fingers grasped Lycander's wrist. Almost immediately he could feel the flood of magic pour into him, whispering seductively to him, and Requiem gasped, his eyes flying open.
It felt...wonderful. Warm and tingling, making his entire body tremble with the fluttering, rippling magic and life force. But this was Lycander. Lycander.
His only friend.
With every ounce of self-control he could muster, Requiem jerked his hand away from Lycander as if he were on fire. He gave a small shudder, crying out in pain, hot shame burning into his cheeks with a reddened flush, and he pressed himself up against the wall to make himself as small as possible. He felt sick; repulsed by his own madness, the fact that he had succumbed to his weakness. He had tried to siphon the life force of Lycander; a young man who Requiem had almost thought would be his best friend.
Lycander would hate him after this.
"Don't...touch me," Requiem managed to get out, his voice hoarse. He dropped his head onto his knees, hugging himself tight enough around his waist to make his knuckles turn white. Where was his music? Why had he left his headphones in the bedroom?
I'm all right. I'm okay.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Aug 12, 2011 10:00 pm
His frown increased as the haze of sleep lifted more firmly. What was wrong? He didn't know what to do and kept taking small steps closer. Requiem looked like he was in pain. But what was causing the pain, Lycander couldn't even begin to imagine. Did he need to call the hospital? Or call for help? Think, Lycander!
"Requiem, what's wrong?" He was close now, close enough to see the sweat sheen along his friends skin. Hear the harsh breaths. "Do you need me to-"
Yes he'd seen Requiem's hand moving closer, fingers inching along. He'd payed it no mind, concern for his friend overriding any other sense that may have come from this. In fact, Lycander helped and moved his hand closer to those searching fingers. When Requiem's fingers did wrap around his wrist, Lycander was not prepared for the following drain. A similar startled gasp escaped the redhead as his emerald eyes widened. He knew what this was then, or was pretty certain he knew. Something he'd heard, or maybe read about. Hell, he didn't know for sure where. But he did know he'd be asking about this later.
Lycander felt light headed all of a sudden and could feel the drain. A smooth, flowing magic tinted with warmth, like the flame of a candle. Majin. His mind whispered the word, like those that spoke in hushed tones and looked down upon those not so human. He felt his knee connect rather painfully with the bathroom floor before his hand was released. The redhead managed to scramble back a few paces and unceremoniously end up on his butt. Spots of light danced around his vision and that light headed feeling was stronger. But...Requiem. The amount of pain and shame he saw on him made something inside Lycander clench. "I-I...."
Think, goddammit! He racked his brain for any possible thing he could think of. The redhead couldn't stand seeing Requiem like this, looking like a beaten and abused animal. What can I do? He felt useless, not able to do anything but sit and stare, breath a little heavier than usual.
Waitaminute! Scrambling to his feet like a bat out of hell, and probably only succeeding in making Requiem think he was appalled by him, Lycander ran back through the door he'd come thourgh. Back through his closet, into his room and out the door of his bedroom. The witch darted around the living room searching and failing. To the kitchen next, where he slid along the floor. Curses not in there either! Twisting and booking it towards Requiem's bedroom, Lycander stumbled and bounced off the door frame in his attempt to enter his roommates room. I asked you once, what you needed. He thought, glancing around the room. Bed was his first spot to look, though judging by the twisted sheets if they had been on there, they weren't any longer. Which led Lycander to dropping on the floor and glancing under the bed- Ahah! Snagging what he was seeking, Lycander quickly got to his feet only to have that reeling dizzy feeling threaten to take him back down.
"Curse that." He muttered and stumbled back to the bathroom. This time he went through the other door, panting slightly before sucking in a deep breath, then letting it back out again. Slowly, he approached Requiem and knelt down in front of him. He knew he'd been warned not to touch him, but Lycander ignored the warning. Reaching over, he carefully and gently placed the headphones over his friends ears. Music. That is what you said so softly that first day.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Aug 12, 2011 10:24 pm
He didn't even want to look at Lycander. Didn't want to see the look of abject horror on his face, didn't want to see the fright in his eyes, the way he would now move away from him, take that automatic step back, flinch at every movement that Requiem made.
Lycander's magic had tasted amazing; warmth and sunlight and cinnamon, everything that Lycander himself was. And Requiem hated himself for liking it, for craving it, for wanting to reach out and devour the beating life force that rested within his friend's body. It had been like this his entire childhood; the auras of humans were different from Majin, of course. It was a constant taste in his mouth, a faint scent in the air that would never go away as long as he was what he was.
And now...now Lycander would be disgusted by him. And Requiem could not blame him.
He heard his roommate push himself to his feet, getting up and out of the bathroom as fast as he could. Requiem closed his eyes, drawing in a ragged breath, knowing that Lycander would not return. Now that he had seen Requiem in his worst state, in his true state, there would be no living together. He should have known that it would not work out, should have anticipated this happening. He was not meant to live with others, to have friends. All of the self-loathing rose with his still rampaging hunger, blackness tinging his vision, his head spinning.
But then...what was that? The door being flung open, a clatter of footsteps, and then someone - Lycander? - was kneeling in front of him. Requiem was about to shout at him, yell for him to leave him alone, but something came over his head, pressing down on his ears. Requiem's mouth snapped shut abruptly.
...music.
The soft strains of violins, followed by the delicate notes of a piano and the deep, resonating cello, like dark chocolate melting over fruit. Requiem raised his hands, clamping them tightly over Lycander's, still holding the headphones in place, as if to keep the music slipping through his mind. There was no drain this time, however; Requiem's eyes fluttered, half lidded lashes beaded with sweat flickering. Slowly...very slowly...he felt the hunger recede, the blackness beginning to fade from his vision. His stomach, which had been gnawing and biting with its unyielding cravings, slowly quieted. Requiem gave a shuddering gasp, drawing in air as if he had never before taken a breath, his fingers curling around Lycander's.
After several minutes (nearly ten, perhaps), Requiem felt strong enough to let go, his knuckles white. He pushed the headphones off, feeling sticky with sweat and slightly dizzy, lifting his gaze to meet Lycander's.
"...I'm sorry," he said, in a voice so low it was barely audible. His words were hoarse, as if he had not spoken in a very long time. "...I'm sorry, Lycander."
Requiem lowered his eyes, turning his face aside so that Lycander would not see the haunted look on his face; the dull deadness, the hollow remorse at betraying someone who had once been a good friend; the only real friend that Requiem had really had.
"I'm sorry," he said again, feeling as if the words were inadequate.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Aug 12, 2011 11:45 pm
Lycander was thanking whatever spout of wisdom had possessed him that first day in the apartment to question Requiem on any 'special' needs he may need due to his Majin nature. He'd never forgotten it. The stubborn will to fit the piano in their apartment was proof enough of that. And now, he was forever thankful for it. Because he was able to help his friend.
The redhead calmly and quietly held the headphones over the Majin's ears, not even wincing when his hands rose up to be placed over his own tightly. Sure thoughts of that drain he'd felt before crossed his mind, but Lycander cared more about his friend than acting like a scared little rabbit over it. So he held the headphones there, Requiem's fingers curled around his. Aside from moving closer, letting Requiem's knees rest against his chest and make it easier for him to keep his hold, Lycander sat still and waited. His emerald gaze was hooded and still concerned but patient. And no where was there any scorn or disgust. Only the deep concern of one friend over another.
Finally, after some amount of time that Lycander hadn't been paying too close attention to, Requiem pushed the headphones off. The witch kept the headphones in his hands, regarding the golden gaze that met his. For a long moment, he didn't respond to the apologies, mulling them over.
"You're sorry. Times three. I'd say that makes up for not warning me about such incidents as this. Whatever this is. That was feeding before, wasn't it?" He huffed softly and blew a strand of hair out of his face before reaching over and forcing the other to meet his emerald gaze. "Apology-ies, accepted. And don't try and say otherwise. I'm not mad. Or disgusted. Or whatever anyone else might think of Majin. I'm not them." He said the last slowly and firmly. It was true. He was not them. Did not judge and did not have a heart attack over their close friend having a moment of weakness. Yes, Lycander new it could have been dangerous. But he trusted Requiem. He said as much to the pale haired young man. "I know what to do next time, Requiem. I'm not afraid of this part of you. I trust you."
Lowering his hand, Lycander offered the Majin a small smile. "I trust you, Majin. As my roommate and a close friend." He paused and then added with more amusement. "And I think something sweet right now is very much needed." For multiple reasons. One being that yes, he'd just had a power drain and would need sustenance to recover. His magic would probably be a little off tomorrow. Later. Whatever. Twenty-four hours and he'd be good as new. "And you," he poked gently at Requiem's chest, "have a little bit of explaining to do. Like what this was, exactly. And how often to expect them."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 13, 2011 10:29 am
It was strange, how warm Lycander's hands had felt beneath his. Warm and solid, so unlike the cold, clammy ones that Requiem's were. Lycander's were filled with his life force, the magic flowing through his veins; they beat with his energy - so very alive. Requiem's, at the moment, were trembling violently, and he felt very weak and shaky. A mixture of emotions kept raging through him; the most prominent of these being hot, sickening shame. A shame that curled in his stomach, twisted around in his mind, made him not want to look at the young man who'd once been his friend. Requiem had never once taken magic from someone, not even his parents; for years he had struggled desperately against the cravings. But, then again, he had never once been so near a human when he was having one of his episodes. Lycander had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Those same fingers - the ones so warm and full of life - touched his chin, jerking his head around gently, but firmly, and Requiem found himself staring into Lycander's emerald eyes. It startled him, the force of his grip; it was not painful, but there was something about it that wouldn't let Requiem move away. His breath caught in his throat, along with the protests that were about to fall from his lips.
That couldn't be right. Lycander's words could not be true, there was just no possible way. Not disgusted? Impossible.
And yet... and yet, no one had ever once said anything like them to him before. There was a ferocity in Lycander's eyes, mixed with a calm resolution, and that tell-tale, familiar quirk of his lips upwards in a small smile as he dropped his hand. It was all very...Lycander, yet at the same time it was a new side of him, one that Requiem had not seen before.
"That's..." he started to say, then stopped, failing to find the right words. Nothing seemed adequate, or even half of what he was feeling. Everything seemed so surreal, out of place.
Requiem swallowed hard, trying to force the words back into his throat. Finally he reached out, his fingers closing around Lycander's wrist in a silent gesture of gratitude, squeezing gently.
"I'm sorry," he said again, voice hoarse. "For...not telling you, I m-mean."
He supposed he'd been too proud. Requiem had not thought it necessary to tell Lycander of his issues, mostly because he had not wanted to frighten his only friend. He was capable of handling these things on his own - or at least, he thought he was.
Lycander's finger prodding his chest jolted him back to the present. Requiem managed a weak smile at him.
"...I'll tell you over some ice cream," he said.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Aug 13, 2011 2:40 pm
The usual warm and bright spark that always lit his eyes was absent tonight. No childish amusement or playfulness. For once, they looked like the man Lycander could be. Confident, assured of his choices, and firm in what he said. There was no lie in the words he spoke and the darker more intense emerald of his eyes was only emphasis of this fact. The redhead did not, for one minute, find anything appalling or disgusting about his friend. Why would he? Requiem was Requiem. Roommate, friend, and Majin. Lycander knew from the first day that living with a Majin would be dangerous. Yet he'd never cared. And still didn't. Trust. Lycander had seen who Requiem was, not what he was. And it was Requiem, not the Majin everyone else saw, that he put his trust in.
The small smile slowly grew into a typical warm, Lycander smile when Requiem's fingers closed around his wrist for a second time. The witch didn't even think about the fact it was the same wrist he'd grabbed the first time. No, he simply moved his other hand to curl it around Requiem's.
"Well, apology accepted. Again. And I can understand why you wouldn't have said anything." He squeezed his hand. "Have a little faith in me, though. I'm not like the others." The last was added a little softer. And just as quickly, he shifted gears again and kept a firm hold on Requiem's hand as he stood, pulling the other young man up with him. "Right. Ice cream it is then. Oh, here." Lycander offered the headphones to his roommate before finally releasing his hand.
Giving Requiem an unreadable look as he regarded him, Lycander smiled and walked out of the bathroom, giving his roommate the chance to do whatever he needed to do before following. The redhead flipped on one of the lights as he went towards the kitchen, mind flashing from one thing to another in the blink of an eye. He pulled out two bowls for ice cream as well as spoons. That feeling he'd had before had not gone away yet. Not the one that had woken him up to begin with, but the part of him that tightened at seeing how upset Requiem was with himself. True, he cared very much for his friend. But this felt deeper than that. Which he wasn't sure he wanted to focus too hard on right now. Not until he had more sleep and less Majin freak outs working against him.
Shoving that aside for later, Lycander went back to dishing out the ice cream. "Which kind of ice cream do you want?" He called over to his roommate, scooping a hefty few globs of strawberry cheesecake ice cream into one of the bowls.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Aug 14, 2011 9:00 am
Requiem was staring up at Lycander as if seeing him truly for the very first time. Just when he had thought he was finally getting used to his friend; just when he had thought that he understood the other young man, Lycander surprised him. Under normal circumstances, he put off a very playful air, easily amused, moving a mile a minute and always cheerful. But right now - right now it was not the same. There was no cheery smile, no lighthearted teasing; only a strong-minded, determined witch who knew what he was doing.
It surprised Requiem, and it frightened him a little, mostly because he was not sure how to deal with this other side of Lycander. He had grown accustomed to Lycander only being slightly ridiculous, yet still endearing with his constant shows of affection and fondness for his friends and family, his naturally happy nature. This side of Lycander was more confident than Requiem had ever seen him - the strength of character that he was clearly more than capable of acquiring if the situation warranted it.
Lycander's fingers curled around his own, and Requiem started a little, feeling a tingling sensation ripple up his arm unexpectedly. Flustered, trying to figure out where it had come from, he flushed a deep red, still feeling rather weak. He let Lycander pull him to his feet, slipping the headphones over his neck and shoulders. Pausing for a moment, however, as Lycander disappeared out of the bathroom intent on finding ice cream, Requiem looked down at his head, frowning a bit. It still felt very warm, and he could not quite figure out where the tingling had come from. It was not a drain of Lycander's magic, though; it felt much different than that. Warm and pleasant, something that made him feel comfortable.
Strange, he thought.
He pushed any musings of it away, however, and followed his friend out into the kitchen, wincing a little at the sudden bright lights. Lycander was bustling around getting bowls and spoons. Requiem watched him move, absently tugging at the hem of his pajama shirt. He tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly as he scrutinized the other young man, then reached up, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Whatever you're having is fine," he said politely, then stepped into the living room, sitting on the couch and drawing his knees up to his chest again. He sat in silence for a few moments, waiting for Lycander to join him, very quietly and rather hesitantly "...why are you so nice to me?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Aug 15, 2011 7:41 pm
He'd seen the deep flush to Requiem's cheeks as he slipped out to give him some privacy. And still was thinking about it. Lycander had to admit he'd been somewhat pleased at seeing such a deep red appear. But it also confused him. Maybe that drain had done more than make him a little light headed. It must have sapped some of his common sense and brain power as well. Then there was the little feeling that was firmly rooted someplace in his gut. Oy, he hoped this ice cream fix helped.
"Alright." Lycander called back pleasantly, to cover up any unusual silence that may have befallen him since entering the kitchen. He scooped out an equally generous portion of strawberry cheesecake ice cream into the second bowl before placing the lid back on the container and placing it in the freezer. Plopping a spoon in each bowl, the redhead maneuvered out of the kitchen and into the living room where his roommate was currently curled on the couch, legs drawn up. Lycander sat down a little more heavily than usual, thanks to being tired on top of a drain. That ice cream was looking better each second he stared at it.
"Here." He offered the second bowl to Requiem. "Strawberry cheesecake." One of his favorite ice creams. And desserts. Though his absolute favorite dessert was probably German chocolate cake. Maybe he'd send mom a message and see if she could bake one? Or bake one himself. Thought for later.
Lycander used a spoonful of ice cream as his silent excuse for not answering Requiem's question right away. Why was he so nice to him? That was a difficult one. The immediate answer (and easiest) would have been because they were friends. But that one didn't feel right, which was why he didn't answer quickly. In fact, he didn't answer for a while, enjoying the sweet taste of the ice cream. His gaze was fixed somewhere around the vicinity of the TV.
Slowly, he lowered the spoon back to the bowl and didn't scoop up any more ice cream this time. He finally looked over to the witch and Majin sitting next to him. "Because I like you. As a friend and a living being. I don't judge a person by appearance or what they are. I've seen the kind hearted guy you are. Seen that there is no difference between a human and a Majin except what we label as differences. You are a fantastic person, Requiem. Why would I want to treat you badly?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Aug 16, 2011 9:23 pm
Requiem felt more comfortable around Lycander than he did his own family, and anyone else he had ever spent any time with. But at the same time, the flash of...something that had started from his fingers and flitted upwards, warming his skin and his face felt...different, somehow. And Requiem could not figure out what it meant. He kept looking down at his hand, as if it would suddenly start talking to him and tell him what he was feeling. There was an odd sort of squirming feeling in his stomach, and he was feeling unexpectedly flustered, though he pushed all of this aside to reach up and take the bowl from Lycander.
"Thank you," he murmured, and cradled it between his palms for a moment, looking down at the pink and white ice cream. He dipped his spoon in and brought it to his mouth, taking a small, tentative bite. It was just as delicious as it sounded, and for a few moments neither of them spoke, eating silently. Requiem's gaze slid sideways when Lycander spoke, meeting his eyes a little hesitantly.
The answer was simple and straightforward; there was no laughter in the witch's eyes, no teasing or playful bantering. Instead there was a quiet strength to his words that impacted Requiem even more than the music that Lycander had retrieved to soothe his craving.
So forward, Requiem thought, his cheeks flushing that deep red again, and hastily he turned to look at his bowl, the ice cream slowly melting inside. He took another spoonful, slowly savoring the taste, and suddenly he was ravenous, eating bite after bite until it was done. Licking the spoon, Requiem finished and let it drop back in, setting the empty bowl on the coffee table and returning to his previous position; knees drawn up, arms wrapped around his middle.
"...you're a good person," he said quietly.
He felt very tired. Now that he was calmer, the cravings gone, Requiem realized just how exhausted and worn out he was. Sleep was threatening to overtake him, his lashes fluttering, and without realizing what he was doing, Requiem felt himself drift sideways, his head falling onto Lycander's shoulder. Softly, so softly that it was barely audible, no more than the whisper of a hint, he said "...and I like you too" just before his eyes slowly closed.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Aug 18, 2011 4:50 pm
Faintly, his mind wondered if he should keep a score card of how many times a day he could make his roommate blush. Lycander was going to blame his pale hair and skin on how easy it was to catch the flushed hues to his cheeks. Of course, every time he noticed them now, all he could think of was how there was a warm tingly feeling inside having been the cause of those blushes. They were adorable. Especially on Requiem. In that almost sweet and innocent sort of way. Which, the redhead figured you could argue was sort of true.
"You're welcome." He said with a little more of his usual cheer, though it was still lacking. Probably would until he'd gotten some sleep. Considering he'd woken up suddenly and then had a magical drain. Frankly, he was still trying to figure out how he had as much energy as he did. Must be the extra reserves I usually have. That thought amused him greatly. Who'd have thought? All that overly enthusiastic energy came in handy!
Lycander quietly ate his ice cream, letting Requiem absorb what he'd said. It was all true and felt right to the redhead. And curses he'd caught sight of another one of those blushes! His roommate tried to hide it, but Lycander had seen a glimpse of it before he turned. And it only ignited that feeling that his exhausted body couldn't comprehend. It means something...I know it does. But what? And...why...? Alright even his own mind agreed he sounded stupid right now. The feeling wasn't bad. Quite the opposite. So why couldn't he just enjoy it while it was there and not worry? Clearly because he knew it meant something but lacked brain cells to use in determining what that 'something' was.
His gaze flickered over to Requiem as he placed his bowl on the coffee table. The redhead had his own spoon in his mouth and was not able to respond right away to the first quiet reply he got. Removing the utensil from his mouth, Lycander smiled and started to say something just as Requiem's head fell lightly against his shoulder. Blinking, Lycander leaned a little closer to see if his roommate was still breathing. The very soft words he heard were proof enough that the Majin was indeed breathing. Still smiling, he leaned back and quietly went back to finishing his ice cream, no effort made to move Requiem. He didn't have that much left in the bowl and finished it fairly quickly. However now he faced a new problem. Did he move or remain where he was? The particular debate that warred in his mind went on for several minutes with Lycander sitting there very relaxed and not bothered by the fact Requiem had fallen asleep like that.
After several - alright more like fifteen minutes of sitting there, Lycander finally sighed heavily. A part of him dearly wanted to stay there, which confused him. Or maybe it didn't. Damnit he was confusing himself! But the deciding factor that swayed his choice was how he thought Requiem would react upon waking. If he stayed there and the Majin woke to find himself sleeping on the redhead, he'd probably freak out a little and be super embarrassed. Which Lycander didn't want to do to him. So it was with great reluctance that he slipped off the couch, carefully lowering Requiem's head onto the cushions. Grabbing both ice cream bowls, he carried them to the kitchen and flipped off lights as he headed wearily back to his own room. Once there, he collapsed on his bed and felt the full force of just how drained his body was.
Will have to work on that one... He thought hazily as that dark oblivion tugged him deeper and deeper. His final thoughts before he couldn't stay away any longer were on those funny feelings and trying to figure out what they could possibly mean.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
