Ficlet: Doubt
Title: Doubt
Characters/Pairing: Guy and Luke (Young Asch)
Summary: Fourteen year old Guy and ten year old Luke
Word Count: 816
Rating: G
Warnings!: Thoughts of revenge, taking a look into Guy's mind...it's a scary place;; There's not fluff here, just some very bitter feelings
The cold steel hovered just an inch from the tender flesh of his exposed neck as the cool leather grip of the sword grew hot in my tightly clasped hands. So easily I could end this child's life. Kill in cold blood. I could so easily leave that redheaded bastard, that was my enemy, feeling the same coldness that coursed through my veins.
My shoulders trembled as my heart raced with anticipation for the final slice of the sword. Adrenaline and my hatred for that man was already urging me on to do it. The single swipe. Kill him.
I pull back, the blade arching away before sliding all too slowly back into its sheath.
The young, redhead lets out a muffled mew in his sleep. Eyes deep, emerald green and hair so red...no crimson. Crimson. In color and in name. How I detest that man and his offspring who lay here now asleep in his bed unaware of my hidden motives.
I can only curse the self control that I cling to so dearly. The perfect time. The perfect revenge. I have to be patient.
Luke mumbles something in his sleep and only a second later I hear my name fall gently from his lips as his brow furrows against some unseen demon he has conjured in his head, “Guy...no, help...me...”
My heart flutters more as I feel a warmth spread from the center of my chest, pacifying my anger. I bite my tongue. Why? Annoyed at the weakness I shake my head free of the doubts I feel swell inside and turn hastily towards the door. I need to cool my head and settle my now pounding heart.
...*...*...*...*...
The sheets of my bed are cold against my skin, having stripped down to nothing more than a pair of boxers and a shirt. The feeling is welcoming, but I shiver all the same. My adrenaline rush has finally ebbed and I close my eyes more than eager for sleep to envelope my tired body.
It feels like not even an hour has passed before I feel movement at the edge of my mattress. Slowly, but with all the alertness expected of a trained soldier, I peek open an eye. Bright green ones stare back, wide and just as alert. I blink. They are staggeringly close, a tiny nose to go with them almost rubbing against my own.
“A-ah...Luke?” Words are good. But is that the best I can make out? Kinda pathetic...
“I...had a nightmare...” he manages as his tiny arms clench tightly at the pillow he has coddled against his body like it's his only defense.
I sigh and roll my eyes, too tired to argue or send him back down the hall towards his room. Defeated, I do what is expected of me and scoot over allowing enough room for the boy.
All too eagerly, he scrambles onto the mattress and snuggles down into the covers. As I settle back down I bite back the small ounce of shame I feel prickle at the nape of my neck. Here I was holding a sword to his neck less then an hour ago, and now I'm letting him cuddle up to me in my bed.
Talk about two-faced.
When had I become like this?
How?
Surely at the age of six I hadn't developed this deep rooted craving for revenge. I mean...I was just a child. Granted I've grown up quicker than most boys my age being only fourteen right now...but still...
I know Vandesdelca's influence is strong on me, however I prefer to ignore that fact. The slightest thought that I might in some way be somehow controlled crushes me and suffocates me. I don't want to think about that. Don't want to dwell on it.
Tiny arms wrap around my waist lightly and throw me out of my thoughts. Luke is asleep now, his dreams had made him toss and turn until he was facing me and, deciding to substitute me for his cast aside pillow, he has begun to cling.
This is a common scene. Him and that pillow have come to my bed many a nightmare. I've become used to these visits and, though I hate even the thought of it, I think I enjoy them. It feels that only when Luke is clinging to me like this that I can truly find some solace in sleep. His warmth so close seems to lull me and soothe my mind. Could it be because of that old saying, “keep your enemies closer”? Or is it something else? Maybe...
Unconsciously, I reach out and stroke his vibrant red hair as I curl around his tiny frame.
I have to stop thinking about this. I am way overdue for it.
“...sleep well, Luke.”
A murmur of a reply. “Mm...Guy...”
...*...*...*...*...
Characters/Pairing: Guy and Luke (Young Asch)
Summary: Fourteen year old Guy and ten year old Luke
Word Count: 816
Rating: G
Warnings!: Thoughts of revenge, taking a look into Guy's mind...it's a scary place;; There's not fluff here, just some very bitter feelings
The cold steel hovered just an inch from the tender flesh of his exposed neck as the cool leather grip of the sword grew hot in my tightly clasped hands. So easily I could end this child's life. Kill in cold blood. I could so easily leave that redheaded bastard, that was my enemy, feeling the same coldness that coursed through my veins.
My shoulders trembled as my heart raced with anticipation for the final slice of the sword. Adrenaline and my hatred for that man was already urging me on to do it. The single swipe. Kill him.
I pull back, the blade arching away before sliding all too slowly back into its sheath.
The young, redhead lets out a muffled mew in his sleep. Eyes deep, emerald green and hair so red...no crimson. Crimson. In color and in name. How I detest that man and his offspring who lay here now asleep in his bed unaware of my hidden motives.
I can only curse the self control that I cling to so dearly. The perfect time. The perfect revenge. I have to be patient.
Luke mumbles something in his sleep and only a second later I hear my name fall gently from his lips as his brow furrows against some unseen demon he has conjured in his head, “Guy...no, help...me...”
My heart flutters more as I feel a warmth spread from the center of my chest, pacifying my anger. I bite my tongue. Why? Annoyed at the weakness I shake my head free of the doubts I feel swell inside and turn hastily towards the door. I need to cool my head and settle my now pounding heart.
...*...*...*...*...
The sheets of my bed are cold against my skin, having stripped down to nothing more than a pair of boxers and a shirt. The feeling is welcoming, but I shiver all the same. My adrenaline rush has finally ebbed and I close my eyes more than eager for sleep to envelope my tired body.
It feels like not even an hour has passed before I feel movement at the edge of my mattress. Slowly, but with all the alertness expected of a trained soldier, I peek open an eye. Bright green ones stare back, wide and just as alert. I blink. They are staggeringly close, a tiny nose to go with them almost rubbing against my own.
“A-ah...Luke?” Words are good. But is that the best I can make out? Kinda pathetic...
“I...had a nightmare...” he manages as his tiny arms clench tightly at the pillow he has coddled against his body like it's his only defense.
I sigh and roll my eyes, too tired to argue or send him back down the hall towards his room. Defeated, I do what is expected of me and scoot over allowing enough room for the boy.
All too eagerly, he scrambles onto the mattress and snuggles down into the covers. As I settle back down I bite back the small ounce of shame I feel prickle at the nape of my neck. Here I was holding a sword to his neck less then an hour ago, and now I'm letting him cuddle up to me in my bed.
Talk about two-faced.
When had I become like this?
How?
Surely at the age of six I hadn't developed this deep rooted craving for revenge. I mean...I was just a child. Granted I've grown up quicker than most boys my age being only fourteen right now...but still...
I know Vandesdelca's influence is strong on me, however I prefer to ignore that fact. The slightest thought that I might in some way be somehow controlled crushes me and suffocates me. I don't want to think about that. Don't want to dwell on it.
Tiny arms wrap around my waist lightly and throw me out of my thoughts. Luke is asleep now, his dreams had made him toss and turn until he was facing me and, deciding to substitute me for his cast aside pillow, he has begun to cling.
This is a common scene. Him and that pillow have come to my bed many a nightmare. I've become used to these visits and, though I hate even the thought of it, I think I enjoy them. It feels that only when Luke is clinging to me like this that I can truly find some solace in sleep. His warmth so close seems to lull me and soothe my mind. Could it be because of that old saying, “keep your enemies closer”? Or is it something else? Maybe...
Unconsciously, I reach out and stroke his vibrant red hair as I curl around his tiny frame.
I have to stop thinking about this. I am way overdue for it.
“...sleep well, Luke.”
A murmur of a reply. “Mm...Guy...”
...*...*...*...*...