Needs, Kuja/Zidane Title: Needs Author: Adrian Fandom: Final Fantasy IX Rating: PG-13. I APOLOGIZE. Length: 1435 words Prompt: Kuja/Zidane: breath control - "need me more than you need breath"
Pale, slender hands tightened around a neck that would have been more like his own if he wasn't too busy being wrapped up in lies. Perfectly manicured nails rested against the skin there, not yet digging in, not yet drawing blood.
Zidane reached up and grabbed Kuja's wrists. He wasn't normally scared of his "brother," but there was something in his eyes today that he didn't like. Something dark, that whispered of roses made only of thorns. He narrowed his eyes up at the other Genome. Kuja's hands weren't that tight around his neck, but he knew well enough that Kuja's mood changed faster than he'd be able to predict. He kept his hands there for a safeguard, though he had some doubts as to whether he'd be able to stop Kuja from whatever it was he was planning.
Part of him had doubts as to whether he'd try to. He had submitted to this, after all, hadn't he? He'd come here of his own free will. Of course, he'd had some internal reason, some inner monologue preaching about how there was good in Kuja, that they were family, that it was the right thing to do. But it was so much more than that. This had nothing to do with right or with wrong. It had everything to do with Kuja's ever-darkening gaze, his soft voice, the way he walked as if the very world was his toy. There was something alluring there, and even Zidane hadn't been able to resist that, in the end.
But he hadn't ever planned to be here with Kuja's hands around his throat, either.
Kuja's lips curved up into a smile, though there was nothing pleasant there. Zidane had seen him smile and mean it, and he was beautiful when he smiled like that.
Sick realization washed over him as he realized that the older Genome was beautiful when he smiled and didn't mean it, as well. The realization was too much, and his hands started to tighten on Kuja's wrists. This couldn't continue like this. This was not how people treated each other! Just because Kuja thought he could control the world didn't mean he could just do whatever he wanted to Zidane, too! He had to get out of this bed, had to convince his brother that people weren't toys, had to...
Zidane's hands weren't the only ones that moved. Kuja let his hands tighten just a little around Zidane's throat. Darkness flashed through his eyes, and his smile faded. Zidane couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. It hit him, suddenly, that even if he got Kuja to let go, he was still the one laying here on his back. Where was he really going to go?
"Going somewhere, little brother?" Kuja asked. The darkness in his eyes flowed through his words as if it had always belonged there.
The blond Genome hated that tone. That condescending, Angel of Death, end-of-the-whole-world-and-I-love-it tone. He could feel himself getting angry, just hearing one sentence spoken like that.
"Let go of me!" he said from behind his clenched teeth. He didn't fight too hard, yet. He was physically stronger than Kuja as far as he knew, but Kuja definitely had the advantage at the moment. And anyway, he wasn't sure what else his brother could do to him. Kuja was a sorcerer, wasn't he? Who knew what kind of magic his hand could work.
"No," came the reply, soft and predictable.
Kuja leaned down, closer, closer. He moved to speak into Zidane's ear, "If I let you go, Zidane, you'll run away from me and never come back."
Zidane's eyes went wide for a second before his eyebrows knitted together and he frowned. The frown was evident in his voice as he replied, "Why would I run away from you?" It might have been a dumb question, and he was walking on dangerous ground here. There was something he was missing, something he couldn't catch lying there in Kuja's tone. What was it...?
Kuja laughed at that, and sat up again. "Oh, little brother," he whispered, "even you cannot be so naive, can you? Even you, Zidane..."
The silver haired Genome's hands tightened again, quickly and without warning. Zidane finally had enough of this, whatever it was, and he actually started to struggle for real. He knew that Kuja had a tendency to be not only completely nuts, but as dramatic as possible while being completely nuts. This was probably totally normal to Kuja, but it was anything but normal for Zidane.
"See what I mean?" Kuja said. His tone stayed soft, but there were barbs in his words, some deep hurt that Zidane really couldn't understand.
"Maybe if you....didn't have your...hands around my...neck..." Zidane said, shooting anger right back at Kuja. He hadn't realized how tight Kuja's hands had become until he tried to talk. Suddenly, breathing was a challenge. His own hands pulled at Kuja's, but they seemed so useless.
Kuja ignored his reply and let his hands tighten another couple of centimeters.
"Why..." Zidane managed.
"You have to need me, Zidane," Kuja whispered back at him. There were a million words conveyed by so few, and something struck a chord in the blond Genome. He stopped struggling, and their eyes met.
Does he really think I came here because I don't need him?!
Kuja leaned down close again, so close their mouths were almost touching. "Need me more than anything," came the words, so predictable and so unexpected and so like him. "More than you need your beautiful little canary. More than your ideals. More than this world."
Zidane couldn't find the words, and he felt his will to fight Kuja somehow...disappearing. His vision blurred, and he pulled at Kuja's hands again, one last attempt to hang onto consciousness...
"Need me more than you need breath."
Zidane's hands dropped and he closed his eyes, though not entirely consciously, and managed a choked whisper. "I need you."
Kuja let him go and sat up, though he didn't move away. He let his hands rest on Zidane's chest, waiting almost patiently for his brother to open his eyes.
Zidane finally did so, and the blackness at the corners of his vision retreated. He fully intended to glare up at Kuja, to demand some explanation beyond pure and simple insanity, to goad Kuja into one of his obnoxiously overdone speeches about his motives, but when their eyes met again, he found that he wasn't even angry.
Kuja's darkness wasn't all fueled by insanity. There was a level of insecurity there, a need to be needed. All that narcissism was hiding so many fears, and Zidane knew it. He knew it in an offhand way, a way that would never allow him to put words to any of this. He'd searched for so long for somewhere to belong, somewhere to call home. In a way, weren't they really the same? Didn't they want the same thing?
"Zidane, I..."
Zidane raised a hand and put his fingers on Kuja's lips. He wasn't really sure it would work; Kuja was really hard to shut up. But, for once, the older Genome's mouth closed, and he said nothing further. They stayed like that for a full minute, just looking at each other, needing each other without really saying it.
It was Zidane that broke the silence.
"You're dumb if you think I don't need you," he said, frowning. Seriously, if that was all this was about...
Kuja tilted his head. He brushed some of his hair out of his eyes and considered this. He narrowed his eyes a little, obviously not entirely convinced.
Zidane moved to sit up. Kuja considered refusing to allow this, for a moment. In the end, he did allow it, though he didn't move away from Zidane entirely. Zidane sat up as much as he could and let his arms wrap around Kuja. Kuja stiffened, not expecting it. But then, he had told Zidane to need him, had he not.
"I'll show you how much I need you if you keep your hand off my neck," Zidane said.
Kuja was quiet for a moment. Finally, he said, "You had best be convincing, little brother."