|Pieta made flesh for my salvation
Author: Pixieblade PM
Chigusa's thinking about Rakan see v.4 for the image of him holding Rakan in his armsRated: Fiction K+ - English - Angst - Chigusa & Rakan S. - Words: 540 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 8 - Published: 07-17-09 - Status: Complete - id: 5224703
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Title: Pieta made flesh for my salvation
Series: Silver Diamond
Rating: K+ for Chigusa's gloomy thoughts
AN: Re-read v.4 - love that one pic of Chigusa holding Rakan
I remember holding him in my arms when we first came through. If it weren't for the steady, shallow breaths that left his chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm I might have thought he was dead.
'Pieta.' It was a word Kou found in that machine book of Rakan's. Pity. Piety. Lamentation. The sacrifice of God. God's son in his mothers' arms. Human salvation and loss. Godly love vs. human love.
I am neither God nor Human. Monster. Demon. Evil. Yet he lets me hold him, cradle his sleeping form and brings light to the darkness. He says I am not a monster, but humans do not bleed the way I do. They laugh and love and feel. I'm not sure what any of that means; let alone how to do any of them.
"My most precious." He is my Prince- maybe even my God. If there are no other words for it this…sensation...could be called love. He makes me want to remember, want to feel what laughter and sadness and friendship mean; I only know hate. But when he cries I feel…something; a burning in the back of my throat and a constriction in my chest. I swallow reflexively because my mouth keeps going dry, I smile because I'm not sure what else to do and I speak without thinking because I don't know what the words mean beyond the definition.
I want him; to be with him every moment of every day and night, to protect him, to see him smile and get confused and angry and cry. I like the taste of his hot, salty tears as they slip down his smooth cheeks. I liked it when he got so mad he slapped me- the stinging burn as his hand connected hotly with my jaw. I like the way water drips off of his hair, tiny rainbows of shattered brilliance that fall to the crack, dry, flesh of the earth and ooze like blood into each and every crevice; swallowed by this damaged land. I like the feel of his weight pinning me to the surface of this world, enveloping my heart in his gentle, trembling hands, tenderly coaxing life back into its frozen depths.
I like the way he makes me want to live.
I guess, maybe, this might be what they call love. Whatever it means I'm not allowed to die yet. I have to live, to show him these new feelings he's making me experience.
"Rakan, because of you I know what love is."
Dead silence slithers across the room as he blinks up at me sleepily, a small, patient smile on his lips. Tentative fingers brush away the hair from my eyes, "That's good Chigusa, that's very good."
His lids slip shut again and its just us in the dappled flower light and I sigh contentedly.
'Good' is enough for now. As long as he's here with me, it's enough.