Spriggan Fan Fiction ❯ Contemplation ❯ Contemplation ( Chapter 1 )

A/N: Ooh, I just realised that by not mentioning their names except during the dialogue I managed to represent how in essence they're just two people in love, without the attachments & baggage their identities bring. Go me!

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Contemplation
by Shella

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Summary: Jean doesn't fear his own death, but the thought of Yu's destroys him. The words are never spoken, but they're there, defying who they are and who they have to be. (yaoi short fic, OminaexJean)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: yaoi (male homosexual intimacy)
Archive: Please, take it - maybe then I'll be able to find a place with more Spriggan fanfiction
Disclaimer: The movie Spriggan & its characters are not mine. The people who do own them know who they actually belong to, so I won't bother listing them.

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Long limbs entwined, pale and tanned. Soft sounds and delicious smells. The bright/dark noises of the night, just on the edge of hearing; the whisper of deep breaths luxuriating in the afterglow of exertion. Sweat and love curling through the air, a scent exuded purely to be enjoyed by those in on the secret of its origin. Unbound blonde hair trails over shoulders and contrasts with battle-scarred skin the colour of cocoa.

"Ominae…" The word is quiet, barely more than a breath, but the tongue and lips that shape it seem to find a beauty in each vowel and consonant that perhaps has not been revealed before.

The owner of the name tilts his head slightly, the better to hear his lover's quiet words. His arm shifts a little, to curl more closely around the other's waist.

"We have cheated death before..." A low voice, contemplative … puzzled. "Why is it different this time?"

A coal-black brow furrows slightly. "What do you mean?"

There is a pause. The speaker seems reluctant, yet determined. As though he is forcing himself to bravery. As though he will be vulnerable, revealing the parts of himself easiest to wound, but something he shouldn't be feeling - trust - is compelling him to speak. "…I am not afraid of my own death." A statement of fact, not a boast. A lead-in for the words that follow. "I am a Spriggan, I fear neither pain nor dying. But…" And here he stumbles, inarticulate, but so expressive it doesn't matter. "Ominae … I am afraid of your death." Such sincerity in soft French tones. "I don't want to lose you. I don't think I could stand it. And this … this is what I don't understand."

Stillness permeates the room. Even the sound of breathing is muted, if still existent at all. Dark-chocolate eyes are focused on the head pillowed on his shoulder. "Jean … you … I had no idea." There is an honest kind of astonishment in the words that belies his youth. The hesitance and uncertainty with which he continues contribute to this impression. "But … although I wasn't expecting it … it doesn't feel strange to hear you say that." Slightly wondering, now, as though he doesn't fully understand it himself, as though he only just came to the realisation then. A pause. Then, "Maybe … maybe because I think I feel the same."

"What does it mean?" A whisper that seems at once confused and awed by the emotion just expressed. "It doesn't make any sense."

"I know. I think that's why I trust it … why I trust us."

Pale limbs cling closer to the body beneath in a possessive gesture, but the words are spoken in a defeated tone, almost dead with resigned grief. "There can be no `us', Ominae." It is inescapably true, and just as inescapably painful. "Not while we are what we are. We cannot risk so much."

"Then I don't want to be me." An answering embrace presses them tightly together passionately, almost desperately, and the paler of the two starts, taken by surprise both by the gesture and by the stubborn insistence in the Japanese voice. "I don't want you to be you. Just for a little while, I want to forget everything - I want us … to be us." He kisses him, fierce and strong and defiant, and there is a moment of indrawn breath as they feed off their mutual desire.

A bitter sigh as he is released, and golden brows furrow. "Don't you think I want that too?" He would be sulking if it wasn't such a sombre moment. "But I know that if that happens … if I allow myself to escape…" They both feel it. Escape … Just one word, but it calls up such a powerful vision, a dream of freedom where they can be themselves, with no obligations and no responsibilities any more than any free man - without the weight of the world's safety on their shoulders. "…I might not be able to come back."

"You will. I won't let you stay there without me."

A slight chuckle, and the familiarity, the intimacy of the moment seems to overwhelm all other considerations. "You are selfish, Ominae."

"I know. But so are you." The mix of flippancy and sincerity in his voice speaks of a connection even stronger than has already been verbalised. He presses a kiss to the other's brow, tangling tan fingers in luxurious wheat-gold silk.

Eyes of blue steel soften and close. "I am … I am so selfish I can't bear the thought of anybody else having you." Another pause, and the voice that continues is cautious, but trusting. "Yu … it is too dangerous to say what is true in my heart." A heartbeat's interlude, just enough to see the point coming. "But you already know, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do." Quiet elation brims beneath the surface of the teenager's words.

"Than stay with me now."

He holds him close. "As long as I can."

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End

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