Trio Maxwell-Chang (trio) wrote in fictionaltrio, @ 2007-08-12 00:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | fujimiya ran, kaneko kei, naoe nagi, shades of grey, weiß kreuz |
[Weiß Kreuz] Scar
Title: Scar
Author: Trio Maxwell-Chang
Fandom: Weiß Kreuz
Pairing or POV: Kei/Nagi
Written for: petermaxwell
Special Note: swordmaster_aya's point of view about nagi_naoe
He finally trusts himself to sleep beside me. Or perhaps it is merely that he trusts me. I am unsure, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is staying awake in the still hours after midnight and watching him breathe. The sheet slips low, and I am loathe to raise it. His body may be a well-thumbed map to me, but I will never tire of gazing at it... even if the scars do hurt.
I read once that perfection may only be achieved through imperfection, that within the flaws, there is grace. He shifts restlessly, flopping over onto his stomach, and I see the most hated scar of all. It disappears beneath the low-slung sheet. I could push the sheet lower, if I wished. Even he isn't that light a sleeper, and after so long of growing used to my touch, there are times he doesn't even wake when I cuddle against him, spooning my body to his. If I wanted, I could trace that scar. But I don't want to.
I kiss it sometimes, when we make love. It is supposed to be a delicate reminder of how beautiful he is to me, even with the scars. I think he understands that, even though we've never discussed it. I never tell him that it is the only place on his body marred by true ugliness, and that the fault lies not with him, but with his tormentors. The touch of it always leaves my stomach burning with the hollow need for vengeance. Hollow, because it is unrealized, and can never be anything else. The offenders were dead by his hands long before I ever saw the scar. But still it burns, a need I'll never fully be rid of. I am a vengeful man, and those who hurt my lover hurt me.
He mutters discontentedly, shifting in his sleep, and I ease down beside him, carefully turning him so that he curls up against my body, his cheek pillowed on my chest. I settle my arm into place around him, my wrist just skirting the edge of that hated scar. His body may be a well-thumbed map, but there are still places I will only visit reluctantly.
~End~
Word Count: 369