Angel Hunt and Streifen in Roleplay

+ Alternate Universe 04 +

Life, Death and Rebirth

C H A P T E R O N E : P A R T 11

Pink flecked white eyes snap open and for a moment, the Angel doesn’t know where he is. His chest rises and falls rapidly in tune to his racing heartbeat, his dual toned gaze flicking about the darkened room. It takes only a few moments for it to come back to him and as the events of the day wash away the confusion, full lips slowly turn to a frown. As his breathing begins to slow, he rolls onto his back, spending a few minutes staring at the low ceiling above before pulling his arm up and setting the back of his hand against his head.

He’d had another dream… only for the first time in months, waking here in this house, in a bed that isn’t his own, wearing clothing that isn’t his own , and without Haniel here besides him to lend the comfort he’s never quite able to take, it feels… hollow and lonely in a way he already hates.

He’d taken the blonde up on his offer of a place to sleep for the night, finding himself unwilling to seek out Central so he could return home just yet, especially after everything that had happened. He spent some time alone in this room, simply sitting in the dark trying to process it all before exhaustion overtook him and even now, after waking again, he’s still not sure if he wants to believe it because the alternative is just... well, he can’t bring himself to think of the alternative right now. He just doesn’t have it in him.

But whether what he’s learned is true or not, he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do now, especially after all of this. How can he simply return to the Heavens, return to Haniel and go on with a life he’s no longer sure he even has? Will he even be able to do it now, knowing what he knows and seeing what he’s seen? And even if he were to just leave this place before he’s gotten any real answers, he knows he won’t be able to live with himself by walking away. Not before he’s found out what’s happening to him and why it’s been done in the first place at least. If he could do that, he wouldn’t be here. If he could do that, he never would have gone into Central and applied for travel a second time. Hell, he never would have applied for a first time.

God, why… why did he apply the first time?

Sighing heavily and sliding himself up, Jun pushes the blankets from his lithe body and twists fluidly to the side. Bare feet touch hardwood, his hair freed of its braid tumbling downward, the ends settling at his lower back. The slightly oversized shirt he’d been given falls from a shoulder as he straightens and he moves without sound from the room into the dark hallway beyond. His footfalls come to a stop when he’s only two steps from the guest room door, the nearby scent of the Seeker tugging his head to the side. Jun spends a minute staring at the closed door of the adjacent room from over a narrow shoulder before he pulls his eyes away, resuming his steps in the opposite direction that will take him into the main living area beyond. With an easy turn in the dark as if he’s done it hundreds of times in the past, he steps into the kitchen and to the nearest cupboard, wrapping tapered fingers around the handle to pull it open. A frown forms when he doesn’t find what he’s looking so he moves onto the next, then the next, and then the next after that.

Before long, the commotion pulls Zephyr from his room as well and stepping out into the darkened area, he finds the white haired Angel standing with his back to him, stark in contrast to the surrounding gloom. His head is bowed and his hands are wrapped around the marbled ledges on which he leans, his toned arms supporting the near entirety of his lithe frame. Every cupboard door is hanging open around him but Jun’s gaze is cast down at the empty countertop, his long bangs obscuring the features faced away.

“I wanted some coffee,” the Higher says quietly, “but I couldn’t find it because it’s not where it used to be…” A rueful smirk forms on his mouth as his fingers pull from the counter, his weight shifting with fluid ease as his hand slides upwards to rake layered bangs back. It wasn’t that he couldn’t find it, it’s that he realized he’s never been in this kitchen and wouldn’t have known where the coffee was to begin with, let alone if it had even been moved.

“I had another dream…” he continues as he slips his fingers from his hair, allowing his head to fall back as his eyes travel up to settle on the shadow patched ceiling above. “I’m so tired of feeling like this. Every night I can’t do anything but watch myself bleed out in your arms. Every night I don’t even have the strength to lift my hand and touch you one last time or tell you that I love you, or how sorry I am for getting myself killed…” he tried, god but he tried but all he could do was choke on the blood that was in his mouth, his words and his voice utterly failing him. “When I wake up, it always seems to hurt more than it did the last time.” Sliding his hand up to his chest, he presses his fingers against his heart as he drops his head.

“It isn’t even the pain, it never is. What hurts… is that you aren’t there. I wasn’t strong enough to stay alive and it cost me everything. It cost me you-” emotion cracks his tone and early dawn flecked white eyes close, his voice falling to little more than a strained whisper. “But it’s not me is it? It’s not me so I don’t want them.” Jun’s shoulders hunch in the slightest, his body crumpling a little more with every word he says. “If these aren’t my memories, I just don’t want them anymore.”

Zephyr: Noise from the kitchen slides into the memory playing out in the Dark’s mind, the sounds tugging him away from the private, two person dance party he and Jun had thrown for themselves after moving in. Long, unbound strands of gradient shaded hair shift around bare shoulders as he lifts his head from his knees, blinking slowly in the shadow-strewn room. For a minute Zephyr remains still, working to pull himself together, steadying the shaking of his hands before wiping at the darkened skin beneath his colorless eyes to erase any lingering traces of his grief. He can’t sleep in this house. He hasn’t been able to since Jun died, the memories they shared here together relentlessly assailing him over and over. Easing his back away from the headboard, the blonde slips from the bed, leaving his shirt where it’s draped over the footboard, pages from the reports he’d picked up earlier left scattered on the duvet. The door opens without a sound and bare feet are silent on the wooden floors as he pads down the hall.

He finds the Angel beside the island, unbraided hair obscuring his face as he stares down at the empty counter. His slim frame is still wrapped in the sweater the Dark handed him earlier, one of his own from the guest room closet, the garment large enough that it’s slipped down to reveal a creamy white shoulder. Quiet words begin to issue from the other man, the hurt evident in every syllable widening the ache in Zeph’s own chest. Despite the cold that’s formed in his core over the years since Jun died, it bothers him to see someone so similar to his boyfriend in pain, to hear the emotion raw in his voice, and he can’t seem to stop himself from closing the distance between them. One hand reaches out with the intent to settle lightly on the Angel’s shoulder, but instead fingers thread into snowy hair, carefully combing through the strands in a comforting motion he’d enacted countless times with his Jun.

“I’m sorry,” he says gently, his voice almost lost to the sound of the rain outside. “I understand that you may not want the memories, but I don’t know how to separate them from you. Those fake memories we saw might be removable, but the locked memories are the core of you, even if you can’t see most of them.” While the supports of the false memories were obviously unnatural, the ones holding up the locked ones were the complete opposite, and he knows from experience that it’s a bad idea to tamper with them. “If I tried to erase them, I’m not sure if the fake or more recent memories could sustain you . You may end up as little more than a walking shell.” It’s a risk he’s not willing to take.

Jun doesn’t reply, simply remaining where he is, and as the silence lapses, Zeph pulls his fingers away and leans back against the island. His colorless gaze spans the cabinets, some filled with neat stacks of dishes and others completely empty. “There’s no coffee.” Sadness laces every word, and he can’t seem to find the energy to mask it. “There’s no food at all because no one lives here anymore.” The leftovers he’d placed in the fridge earlier are the first edible anything that has been within these walls for nine years. Maybe he should sell this place, let someone else make happy memories here. He and Jun had certainly made many, and some unhappy ones, too, before the end. Now only ghosts remain, and somehow it almost seems like a disservice to the home they had made. But even as he thinks of it, he knows he won’t ever be able to actually part with this place because this is all he has left, and his heart simply isn’t able to bear any further loss.

White hair shifts as the Angel looks at him, pink flecked eyes meeting light gray for a long moment before Jun slowly turns enough to set his back against the island as well, their bare shoulders brushing as they both stare at the cabinets. “Did you have a dream about coffee?” The Seeker finally asks, and the shorter man shakes his head. “No specific memory where you drank coffee in this house?” Again a negative response is given and a frown slips over the Dark’s mouth. “Where did you think the coffee would be in here?” The Angel points to one of the cabinets and he’s right, yet… that can’t be. This Jun’s possession of his Jun’s episodic memories, memories of specific events, are one thing, and he understands all about how they can be copied and handed out to others because he does it all the time. But if his knowledge of the cabinet wasn’t due to a particular event, then it must be a semantic memory, which would be impossible. Semantic memories are very elusive because they’re a record of facts, more like simple recall than the movie-like way episodic memories are stored. They’re highly specific to the individual due to the way the brain encodes them and can’t be forced into another. Even procedural memories can be transferred if it’s something that was learned step by step and repeated often, like fighting stances or tying shoes, but never semantic memories. There’s no way this Jun would have that knowledge, even as a clone, because his mind would have to be exactly the same, cell for cell, thought for thought, and that’s impossible. He would have to be his Jun, reincarnated or somethi -- The thought is snapped off abruptly. Some of the humans may be on about that nonsense, but given the fact that the only thing they ever got right about the afterlife are ghosts--which half of them don’t even believe exist--he’s not about to let himself go down that road. Still, this Jun should not have those semantic memories...

“I think,” Zephyr speaks to distract himself from the unsettling thoughts, looping back to what was said earlier, “the memory is worse each time because the steel plating encasing it is corroding and any protection it was giving you is failing.” Each recurrence will seem a little more real and less like a dream and the associated emotions would dig in deeper. With the loss of the safeguards, what had begun as an unsettling fiction will eventually turn into a very real sensation of death. Again and again the Angel will feel the pain he described, the same pain and impending sense of loss his Jun must have felt as he bled out in his arms. His chest aches at the thought of it, pressing down against his heart as if to smother it completely and he almost welcomes it if only to stop the agony shredding it from within. “I’m sorry his memories are hurting you.” And he is. He’s sorry this Jun has to feel it all without any choice and he’s sorry his Jun had to die in the first place. He was the one who recklessly dragged them both onto that battlefield. He was the one who was careless with the one he loves and it cost him everything. All the light in his world extinguished and it’s completely his fault.

“Those memories…” the Dark confesses, a ragged edge to his tone. “They hurt me, too.” Even after all this time ...

Jun: The tall Higher frowns, unable to look away from the man at his side and feeling a sudden aching pull inside his chest for the emotion, the sadness, the regret so plain in the Dark’s quiet tone.

Ever since the dreams began, his focus has been on his own feelings, his own pain, his own sense of loss because up until a short while ago, he believed them to be something his mind had created out of weakness. They weren’t real as far as he was concerned, they weren’t real and neither was the blonde who has always been present in every single one. But after all of this he’s learned that somehow, what he’s been living through hasn’t been some creation his subconscious mind has made up, but is in fact what is becoming more likely, the stolen memories of somebody else. Someone who shared his name, someone who looked near identical to himself, someone who apparently existed before he came along, someone who shared a life with the one standing next to him now.

He knows from what he experiences in every dream or vision how much that someone loved the blonde, he feels it every night as he dies, every moment he’s awake afterwards and every time another snapshot is forced into his head. He’s felt it in his heart, so much so that it hurts him when he wakes to find that it’s not real, it hurts him as it stays with him throughout his day -even long past the time when the details of the dreams have faded into obscurity. Every day for months that feeling has only grown stronger and as the dreams become clearer, his need for that someone he didn’t even know existed up until a short while prior has become more and more urgent. It’s the urgency of these feelings that continued to draw him to this planet no matter how many times his intent would become derailed, or how many talks he had with Haniel that would suddenly push all his desires away. It’s this feeling, this desperate aching need that has grown inside of him that’s always prevailed.

Even now his heart aches despite learning that these feelings might not be his own, that the love he feels belongs to another. They are still present here inside of him despite it all -almost overwhelming in every way and growing stronger with every second that passes by.

But no matter what his feelings are, he knows now that they don’t truly belong to him and he has no right to intrude on a life that wasn’t and never will be his own. Hours ago he had thought that the blonde whose arms he dies in and this man standing nearby might be different people, but the more they speak and the more he learns, the more he becomes convinced that they are truly one and the same. That coldness he felt when he first arrived was the reason he thought them to be different, but he’s becoming sure that he didn’t feel that way because they are different people, but because he, himself is not the same. That love that he’s felt for these months, that unshakable, deep all encompassing love… it is here in the other man, it’s just not here for him.

It never was, and it never will be.

With a sigh, Jun pushes his lean frame away from the counter and turns to face the Dark, taking one step closer to him that minimizes the small space between their bodies. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, his pink flecked gaze again locking with deepening black. “I’m very sorry for all of this.” He’s been so focused in on the how and why of everything since entering this house that he hasn’t once stopped to think what his presence might be doing to the tall blonde and he’s ashamed of it. More ashamed of it than he can say.

“I’ve spent this entire time thinking only of myself.” Not aware that he’s doing it, tapered fingers rise up and brush through loose strands of white gold, “Typical of my people, isn’t it?” he smirks apologetically, his fingertips sliding over to ghost along the other man’s cheek, “Once I found out you were real, I should have left. I have no right to be here. I have no right to do anything I’ve done to you and I’m sorry for it.” If he hadn’t gone back on his promise to Haniel, he never would have stepped foot on this planet or ended up in this house as an unwanted presence, and in turn, he never would have hurt the Seeker the way he seems to have. “It wasn’t my intention to cause you any harm.” His only intent had been to set things right in his own head and while he never imagined that he’d find out everything he’d been dreaming about was an actuality, he still should have left the instant he found it to be.

Because he didn’t, that pain and sadness that’s surfaced in the other man is entirely his fault. Because he didn’t, he’s hurt someone that for months he’s loved desperately, someone who deserves better than what his thoughtlessness has brought.

“In my defense, I only wanted answers,” Jun continues, his fingers sliding from the blonde’s face and dropping downward, the tips brushing along the line of the taller man’s neck as he begins to slowly pull his hand back. “but I don’t want them if it means it causes you any more-“ the Angel’s words snap to an abrupt stop, his dual toned gaze caught by a small slip of discolored skin showing through long strands of coal dipped white gold draped over Zephyr’s bare shoulder. Sliding his hand over without any thought lent to the action, he slowly pushes the strands away to reveal a jagged scar marring otherwise perfect skin. Brows furrow as he traces the edges of the puncture wound, the small dip in tightly bound tissue accentuated by a splash of raised skin around the border where the smooth meets once torn flesh.

This scar… he knows this scar.

A harsh hiss slips free of the blonde’s mouth when the metal tipped wood pierces, long fingers jetting back in a futile attempt to reach the arrow that now protrudes from his shoulder. Another loud streaming whistle breaks the air even as I reach out to yank the one I love forward, spinning us both around while my weapon flies up to deflect. As the second arrow ricochets off my curved blade and bounces into the bush before us, I turn immediately to wrap gloved fingers around his free hand and pull him quickly out of the small clearing towards the thick cover at our sides. Sweat soaked white gold strands fall over closing gold eyes as he grips the front of his shoulder, the pain filled grunt leaving his mouth when his side hits the large tree tearing at my heart.

I recall my weapon in an instant as I step around his slouched frame, my fingers reaching out to touch gingerly at the sleek shaft embedded deep in his flesh. [Shit ----, I’m going to have to push it through] I tell him, trying hard not to let the concern I feel surface in my voice [because if I pull it back it’s going to take a huge chunk with it…]

The blonde doesn’t answer immediately, his breath leaving him slightly heavy and a few moments passing before he finally nods a go ahead. I slide one hand up to the arrow’s base and he grits his teeth to stifle the sound that wants to leave him when I snap the back end of the arrow off and discard it to the side. I’m trying to do this as quickly as I can to minimize the pain I know he feels, so I wrap my fingers around the broken shaft as my free hand slides over to his uninjured shoulder, pressing down in an attempt to distract him before I shove the arrow completely through. Letting go of the stunted shaft I slip my hand swiftly to his front, ripping the foreign object out even as urgent lilting words spill into the air from my mouth, the Angelic magic sliding over the open wound like a close knit net and halting the crimson liquid from its steady flow.

Blazing eyes open to meet my worried pink as I squat the rest of the way down onto my knees, discarding the bloodied and broken arrow off to our sides [Hey,] I whisper as my gloved fingers reach up to grasp onto the sides of the his face, keeping his wavering gaze locked with my own in hopes to ground him in some way [I can keep it bound for a few hours so you have to stay with me okay?] It’s only a patch and kind of pathetic, but my magic was sealed all those years ago when I was and even though I had Haniel as a teacher back in the day, I’m not nor will I ever be able to access more than the basics no matter how many years I end up living in the end.

[Listen to me,] I continue, with a light squeeze when I see him falter, my words and my presence bringing his blazing gaze back up. God, I can see it in him already, that loss of control, the rage building… we’ve gone through this a few times in the past –lessons I was taught about what can happen to those in his faction by a loss of control through harsh hands and harsh words that in the end, hurt him more than they’ll ever hurt me. I don’t want him to suffer through this again just because I’m not strong enough to do more than a patch, so I keep talking, hoping that I will be able to somehow bring him back from the brink I can see him teetering on. [If you lose your shit over a flesh wound when there’s still more of them out there, I’m not going to share any pancakes with you when this whole thing is over, you got it?] A partial grimace forms on his mouth at my teasing words and to further my point, I lean in and press my lips against his, pulling him into a short but very fierce kiss.

[I’ll take care of it,] I tell him the instant I pull back, slipping my bloody hands from his face before straightening to look down, [try not to move until I get back...]

The memory crashes into the Higher with the force of a freight train and tearing his fingers back with a gasp, his eyes slams shut, his hands rising up to tangle in long strands of pure snow as he grips tight while his lithe body curls forward, his forehead hitting the Seeker’s bare chest. “I shouldn’t have left you.” And while his whispered words are spoken aloud through clenched teeth, he’s clearly not focused –watching himself instead behind clamped lids as he turns from the blonde and darts back into the heavy foliage after the unseen enemies he knows to be lying beyond. “I knew what was going to happen but I left you anyway. God, I’m so sorry I left you, I was just trying to keep you safe.”

Zephyr: Pink flecked white eyes become glassy and vacant the moment the memory descends, and even if he weren’t a telepath who specialized in such things, the abrupt change and the sudden pause of the fingers tracing the scar on his shoulder would clearly announce that the Angel is no longer fully present. With equal speed, the Dark shifts his own awareness into Jun’s mind, navigating through the backlash with a precision and skill honed by long practice. If he can see how these memories slip past the barricades, maybe he can get a better idea how to protect Jun from them. He spots the bright red-orange glow of the corrosion on his first pass down the lines, burning through the steel plating and thick chains like acid. Fully half the protections are destroyed in just the few heartbeats that he watches, long enough to spy the memory contained within. A different battlefield, but one whose outcome would leave both him and Jun with lasting scars.

Distantly Zephyr hears the gasp that tears from the shorter man’s lips, the sharp sound laced with pain. Fingers knotted in long strands, Jun curls inward until his forehead connects with the Dark’s chest, the words that work their way from between clenched teeth strained and on the edge of desperation. Long arms wrap around his slim body, the action as natural as drawing breath. Jun is upset, and it’s his place to comfort him, the fact that this isn’t his Jun, that this Angel is almost a stranger doesn’t once cross his mind . Instead his black-stained cheek rests against snowy white, colorless eyes closing as he gently holds the other man close. Just as it had been every other time in the last several hours where they’ve been so physically close, this feels right in a way he hasn’t felt in ten years. He can’t describe it in any other way, it’s simply something so organic, so ingrained and instinctive that somehow it’s comforting.

“It’s not your fault,” the Seeker reassures the Angel quietly. “That whole day… and those that followed, we both made choices that we paid for.” Paid in blood and tears and heartache. What he’d done to Jun during that rage had nearly destroyed them. “After it all we were stronger, though.” Thanks almost entirely to the patience and efforts of his boyfriend. He had been nearly lost to the guilt and shame of the harm he’d caused, drowning so deeply under the weight of it all that he couldn’t forgive himself enough to begin the healing process. As it always was in the aftermath of a rage, Jun had been the one to hold them together, to insist that he wasn’t responsible for what he did when he lost control. His boyfriend had never blamed him, no matter how terrible the wounds he carried or how much it must have hurt him emotionally to be so abused. “No matter what we went through, we always came out stronger.”

Until one of them didn’t come out, and broken and heartsick, the one left behind tried so hard to escape.

Tried and failed, over and over, someone always appearing at just the right time to rip him back from the edge of Eviternity. Back into a world as colorless as his eyes, one without smiles or laughter or any kind of happiness. For the past ten years he’s been just as dead as his boyfriend, slowly filling with a cold that’s all but crystallized his core, but failed to ice him out from the pain. It seems to alternate between the aching numbness that allows him to complete his responsibilities each day, and the jagged, piercing sharpness that finds him at night. Together they work to slowly strip away what’s left of him, and there’s nothing left inside that even wants to fight it. Maybe it’s the only way he’ll finally escape.

A ragged breath issues from the one wrapped in Zeph’s arms, and he gently tightens the protective circle, the Angel melting further into him in response. “You don’t need to apologize to me.” Jun begins to shake his head, but the Dark overrules him. “You didn’t ask for the memories or the pain, and you have every right to seek out answers.” Answers that if he can give, he will. To do any less would be a dishonor to his Jun, and that’s not something he can allow, even at expense to himself. Maybe once they can figure out what’s happening to the Angel and how to stop it, at least one of them can leave this house happy.

“None of this is your fault.” He has a good idea of whose fault this all is, but Jun wasn’t very receptive of his claims that Haniel and Saiyuri are one and the same, so for now he doesn’t even bother. He has no proof to offer other than all the times he’d listened to Jun speak of the events leading up to his trial, how Saiyuri had become more and more reckless regarding the secrecy of their relationship, and when it caught up to them, Jun was the one who was tortured and sealed for it. Eventually those memories may slip free of the protective barriers and reveal themselves to the Angel as well, and that should be all the proof anyone would ever need to see that Haniel is simply a mask Saiyuri wears when she feels like it.

None of the tall Selestarri’s words seem to be reaching the other man, and he frees one arm to slip his fingers beneath Jun’s chin, slowly tilting his head upward until dual colored eyes meet their rapidly darkening counterparts. “You didn’t hurt me by coming here or by talking about the past.” Zephyr’s voice is firm, but gentle, leaving no room for protest. His hand slips down to grasp the Angel’s, lifting it to press against his heart. “It hurts no matter where I am or how many years have passed, not because you came looking for answers.” Beneath the other man’s hand, his skin warms, the sensation slowly spreading throughout his chest. “I think it will always hurt, everyday that I spend without him.”

The eyes that look into his are filled with emotion that flickers through so fast he can scarcely follow, so intense and familiar despite their incorrect color. He feels as if he knows these eyes, as if they’ve done this many times before even though his flawless memory ensures him that he has not. On its own accord, his free hand slips upward to cradle the side of Jun’s face, the pad of his thumb ghosting across lips whose shape he knows by heart. He has touched them, kissed them, been kissed by them so often that he can’t begin to count. Just as it feels when he’s been close to the Angel’s body, this feels right as well, right down to his very bones. Jun freezes, hand still pressed against Zeph’s bare chest, still radiating that spreading warmth. For a moment that seems to stretch forever they remain still, each caught deeply in their closeness. “You wanted coffee,” the Seeker finally whispers, his face mere inches from the shorter man’s. “Maybe we should go get some…”

Jun: it’s the gentle hold that pulls him back from the depths, the comfort lent to him, the touch of the taller man’s cheek against his hair as his body is folded in strong arms that seem to smooth over the edge of pain he can’t help but feel from the assaulting memory so easily. Kinder words and reassurances than he deserves are given to him and when his hand is taken and pulled upward, the feel of the taut muscle beneath that velvet skin under his fingers washes what was left of the hurt away. He can feel the Seeker’s heartbeat beneath his palm and as it had been earlier, the familiarity seeps back into his senses, completing him in a way he hasn’t been for months. He realizes in an instant that the comfort he’s always so desperate to have upon waking, the comfort Haniel is never able to give him has finally been found.

This is what he’s been missing… this presence, this body so close to his own, the feel of this perfectly toned muscle, this heart beating in tune with his own, these eyes burning into his very soul, and this scent that was and always will be his and his alone… everything he loses when he dies night after night is here in front of him and the feeling of happiness that realization brings is indescribable.

He’s finally found what he’d been looking for since the dreams began; he’s finally he’s found everything he lost.

But the feeling is taken from him when Zephyr speaks of the other Jun, reminding him in that moment that he’s not the one that should be here and never was, and that what he feels he lost never belonged to him in the first place so he couldn’t have just found it now. The knowledge of it causes a heartache so strong to streak through his lithe body that he’s unable to keep the emotion from showing -even if only for a second, in his pink flecked white eyes. No matter what the taller man says to the contrary, he knows he’s attributed to his pain by being here and the shame he feels from that rises back up to the surface all over again. The Higher is about to pull away when the Dark’s hand slides out to cradle his cheek, the pad of his thumb ghosting over his lips to freeze his movements and instantly wash everything that had come prior away.

How often has he longed to feel the touch of the blonde over the last couple of months? To feel in person what always remains with him when he wakes, to be touched by hands he’s only known when his eyes are closed? Every night and every morning since they began, and every moment that has followed throughout his days. He’s longed so desperately for something he never thought he’d find and now that he has, he can’t help but long for it even more.

“Coffee…” Jun whispers in return, his dual colored gaze pulling from the Seeker’s black and dropping down to his mouth. He’s struck again with that feeling of familiarity, so strong and overwhelming, as if he and the other man have been in this position many times before –their bodies close and faces even closer, the velvet soft skin beneath his fingers warm and inviting and these lips… he knows these lips so very well. He knows how soft they are, the fire they bring when he tastes them and the electricity they spark just beneath the surface of his skin with the smallest graze or touch. He’s kissed them so many times in the past, he’s sure of it and while a part of him knows that it can’t be true, that it was the one whose memories he’s found himself in possession of who has done all this and not himself, a louder, more pressing part of him can’t find it in himself to fully acknowledge that fact or even care. “…would be a good idea to get.” Yet even as the words leave him, he finds himself no longer able to resist what everything in him is crying out to do, his fingers pressing a little tighter against the taller man’s chest as he leans up in the slightest and the minimal space separating them closed in an instant when his full lips find Zephyr’s own…

[B A C K] + [M A I N] + [N E X T]

The Angel Hunt story has been written by Nezumi LacSeul and is (C) 2004 - Present. All Streifen characters belong to Evphaedrielle. Please don't use, steal or borrow any part of it or take in whole.