[ti]private[/ti]Stormfall

After they plummeted to the ground, the cocoon of safety around Kazuki parted, large wings and a familiar grasp letting go as he pushes back into the fray, opening his eyes to the finale. Memories hazed into a flurry of adrenaline- and then it was over.

The harmonized clang of shattered manacles and crumbling steel towers sound the end of the battle.

Kazuki stumbled back, distantly aware of a small, repetitive dinging sound- his HP dropped to slivers. The hum and rustle of a paper bird on his shoulder, unfolding into a boon that dutifully tucks itself into his inventory. His skin crawled with the aftershocks, heart still jumping as if he hadn’t stopped throwing himself at the monoliths. He unclenched his fists—fingers trembling as sparks weave over torn muscle to dissipate into the air—and curls his fingers around Verai to steady himself. There was a press; fatigue hitting the other man swiftly, and Kazuki planted his feet harder into the ground, trying to keep him upright.

A handful of system pop-ups were followed by a waterfall of crowd reactions. People hollered in celebration, others collapsed and starfished on the ground, and more could be seen at the fringes, quietly deliberating.

Mudsdale arrived, toting a yawning Waffle on her back. The last two survivors of his team. They looked damn well on the verge of collapse.

Verai’s words were soft by his ear, careful not to shatter the world around them, but cracking the calm buzz that had kept Kazuki afloat through the recent ordeal.

His hand squeezed where it wrapped around Verai. “Yeah.” The first word out of his mouth felt dry. “Let’s get out of here.”

Despite the commotion, it felt all too silent as he initiated the fast travel, whisking them back to Precipice—home.

The budding thrum in his head abated as they emerge at the foot of the shrine, the air crisp, the area void of life save for the two of them. Verai’s hand on him twitched, gently pried as if hesitant; Kazuki no better as he observed him, refusing to let go until Miu took over. Until the battered warrior collapsed willingly, among his own.

“Barely,” Kazuki corrected, before tossing all sense of grace to the wind and listing backward, collapsing on the grass with his limbs spread out. The impact barely registered; every muscle in his body already ached, adding a drop to an ocean of pain was nothing.

He chuckled. “Didn’t think I’d get such a workout from a game. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like this.” He’s so tired he can hardly breathe. His voice, raspy as it slips from his lips, holds no complaints. Bloodlust sated.

A dull thump by his head signaled Mudsdale’s approach, the overgrown horse lying down by his side, but not before tilting her back to deposit her rider. Something soft landed on his chest, Waffle unfolding until he’s also belly up, tiny legs sticking out. Kazuki stifled a laugh upon realizing the cat was still snoring, completely undisturbed. Dead to the world.

He’d join him if there weren’t other pressing matters.

His hand found its way to Waffle’s belly, patting the soft fur. What was the move here? There weren’t many. He could easily ignore it; throw everything under the rug. They barely knew each other, after all. They had never met.

“You weren’t supposed to kiss me, you know.”

Even now, he can’t wrap his head around it. “I was betting it’d piss you off, make you fall or log out.” Anything to make him stop. To get his self-destructive ass out of Zapdos’ crosshairs. Kazuki scoffed. “And I know you didn’t do it for the bonuses — so, what gives?”

‘I wasn’t aware kissing gave bonuses.’ Kazuki laughed. “You can be such a little shit sometimes.” Not unwelcome; rather, delightfully surprising when it happens. Verai played a convincing straight man. Play being the key word.

Kazuki does get his answer, though it wasn’t exactly — satisfactory. A little half-baked, but he could feel it truthful. He could remember the taste of that impulse.

“I revoked my pledge to kill god for it, what do you think?” Which is not something he ever expected to say, but here it is. He had done it earnestly, at Verai’s behest, with manful hesitance. And in the aftermath, he dredges no regret.

Waffle kicked his fingers, apparently sick of the belly tickles. Still asleep, the kitten rolled over, caught by Kazuki’s palm before being set down on the grass by Mudsdale’s hooves, the horse curling around him to sleep.

“You don’t sound like you regret it either, even after all the shit I said.” All the shit he’s done. Kazuki’s mouth twisted. “I shouldn’t have brought up your kid. It won’t happen again.” In this game he forged between them, there are no rules, but certain blows were unacceptable. Shameful. He had breached that boundary line.

He shouldn’t be surprised that Verai forgave him, but it still astounds him — the gentleness of it all. The kindness extended to a stranger with no hesitance, ulterior motive, or backhand. And Verai, while kind to a fault, is no idiot; he chooses this having weighed the cost.

It is an art that Kazuki has yet to grasp; one that, at best, he can behold. Or sneer at.

“I didn’t want you to understand. I was trying to—trying not to get you involved. That was the point.” His hand curled into the grass around him. The blades were dry, and as he pressed, they crumbled in his grasp. It didn’t surprise him anymore: things being ruined by his touch. “Everything about this Parasite has been because of my own dumbass decisions. If I’m getting rid of it, I’ll do it myself.” If. What an interesting, novel little word. When had he switched from despising this condition to brandishing it?

A puff of breath came from his nose, the edge of his mouth twitching at Verai’s admittance. “Friends, huh? Don’t think I’ve ever agreed to that.” He didn’t sound displeased, however.

And perhaps he could have left it at that. Let the matter lay to rest, having his kind-of answer, his undeserved forgiveness, and for once, give Verai a well-earned break.

But instead he bit back a groan, pulling himself off the ground. A shuffle as he moved to cover the sun from view.

“I’ve asked you this before, but you didn’t answer me then either. Said you had to go.”

Hands pressed into the dirt on either side of Verai’s head, killing the flowers there, steering clear of his skin. “Maybe I wasn’t clear enough. Let me try again.”

Kazuki curled over Verai, his hair a familiar cage, cutting the man off from the rest of the world; smothering the scent of fresh air and flowers in favor of blood, sweat, and lingering storms. Green eyes stared down to the peace over his pale features, fervently searching for something.

“What do you want from me, Ver?” he asked quietly.

The words were small. He watched Verai’s mouth wrap around them, his eyes dilating; the abyss swallowing Verai whole.

“Whatever that entails?” he hummed, leaning down, his breath brushing Verai’s lips; endlessly, infuriatingly pleased. There was a boundary, but Verai kept a loose leash, and Kazuki had always delighted in this: testing how far he can pull a string until it snaps. Pushing him down, cornering him: finding how much he can get away with, and being surprised by the extent.

And right now, Kazuki could break him. If he were to act on that answer, he probably would. There had never been a middle road when it came to Kazuki; the weight of his devotion was always in extremes — too little or too much, driving away Ada and many others.

Verai — whose story stuck in the back of his mind; whose attachment to him was tenuous; who knew little of him, but said yes anyways — would be no different. The man was strong only in battle and integrity.

His words were correct, and everything else was wrong.

“You have no idea what that entails. Don’t make promises you don’t understand,” Kazuki hissed, gently butting his forehead against Verai’s; endeared, frustrated.

Annoyed, as he pulled back. Kazuki did not enjoy depriving himself. “I’m sick of playing guessing games, Ver. If you don’t want anything to change, then fine. If you want us to get together, then fine. But I can’t know unless you tell me.”

A claw latched onto his arm, nails biting into ink — a welcome pain. Kazuki did not flinch, the suddenness of Verai’s retaliation and the hiss of his voice met only with the slight narrow of his eyes. Given his full attention, as always.

He listened as Verai defended himself; explained himself with the most peculiar justification. Who did not want to ask something of their partner? To make demands. It’s how Kazuki understood the people he was with. There was always something: his looks, his fame, his wealth — his bed. And he never faulted them for it, because he made his demands as well.

Give and take. Push and pull. Pull until it snaps.

He was still hovering over him, straddling Verai as he lay on the grass, baring his heart — offering it gently, as if expecting little, despite how blatantly and crudely Kazuki hoards him.

A slow exhale. His shoulders fell. His hand found purchase around the shackle on his forearm, pulling it, pressing it back down with its twin. He remembered he wasn’t supposed to touch him. He couldn’t even follow his own rules.

“Fine. You want to try me?” He grinned. “Then try me.”

This could be an incredibly stupid decision. It’s definitely rash. It could mean nothing, or it could be another brutal leap of faith. But he was wanted, and he wanted in turn.

“If you won’t tell me what to do, I’ll have to figure it out as I go.” One hand carded through Verai’s hair slowly, pulling it from his face. Cradling his cheek, a thumb on his jaw; Kazuki leaning down as he spoke, his words brushing Verai’s lips. “And if I fuck up, you better clock the shit out of me.”

The sky above was clouded, but without the rumble of a storm, there was no need to rush. He kissed him slowly, gratefully. Insatiably.

While most people would find the threat of having their arms broken a bit of a deal breaker, Kazuki could only snicker, stifling a laugh, his eyes bright with satisfaction over the perfect response.

There were no violins on his end, his music taking the form of the Shrine’s low hum, the shuffle of bodies against grass, and the sounds he could pull from the man under him. He did not need a symphony to feel at peace; to feel hope. He could feel it under his fingertips. It was warm, and beat like a pulse.

He hummed at the sound of his name, though it wasn’t until he heard Verai’s request that he stopped trying to rid him of breath. (It was fun to test him even in this.) He made his annoyance known, nipping as he pulled away.

“What?” he raised a brow. “Tired already?”

To be fair, Verai did look breathless enough as it was.

And he literally just got back from fighting a war in the sky.

Kazuki snorted, but got up, freeing Verai of his weight. “Fine. Come on, then.” His hands moved, sliding over forearms and wrists to lock into palms. He pulled him up.