A/N: Set after Hagi and Saya first left the Zoo. It doesn't really affect this story, but I followed the background information of the manga (by Asuka Katsura) more than that of the TV, which has some slight differences.
Wall of Silence
"I've seen that life touches us with pain, and we change, becoming strangers to ourselves. Tell me, what happens along the way? How did I lose you along the way?" -Wall of Silence, the October Project
Saya could never forgive herself for what she did to Hagi, pulling herself further away from him every time, so that his smile shrank and his eyes looked a little less adoring; so that it was more work than feeling, and more battle than romance; less of a choice and more of a necessity. When they left the zoo he had tried to hold her hand, and she had avoided the clasp of his fingers, clutching the hilt of her sword instead. The first inn they stayed in had granted them separate rooms instead of twin beds, and he had been surprised, she could tell, although not enough to complain.
Sometimes she longed to hold him (be held by him?) the way she used to; sometimes she thought about the taste of his lips and something inside her would ache. Sometimes she wanted to curl up and cry into him and not worry that she'd seem weak, because this was a war they were fighting, and she had caused all of it. Still, despite all her resisting, there were some awful unbearable moments where she crumbled and gave in to that last temptation – her defenses were all cracked and useless and she was tired and wanted nothing more than to be back at the Zoo, enjoying life the way she used to; the way they used to, before she screwed everything up.
And in those times he would pull her against his chest and run his long fingers through her hair, breathing so slowly and softly it was nearly a hum, nearly a lullaby; she would listen to his strange, alien silence, then sniffle and despise herself all over again. Sometimes she fell asleep that way (and Hagi didn't even have sleep to escape to, it was all her fault, her fault) – and sometimes she thought that maybe she could feel his lips on top of her head or, or against her cheek, very very softly. But it wasn't a kiss, they wouldn't ever share that kind of kiss again (kissing was a very silly thing, and didn't they know it). Never, never, she wouldn't allow it, she didn't deserve it, it was better that way.
He would keep her in his arms and cradle her, more comrade than lover, more father than bridegroom (wasn't that what they intended for him to be?). They were in love once before, but the time for love had long passed; love died on the day Diva escaped, died the day Hagi's heart stopped beating for the first and last time; died the day Saya realized she was a monster.
Monsters can't love. They just aren't meant to.
She hoped, rather weakly, that the same went for people who weren't born monsters, but were turned into them instead. Hagi still looked at her too tenderly for comfort; sometimes he still held her hand for too long, or he would blush when she pulled on his collar and sucked his blood, shivering because by now the sensation of nearness was foreign to them both, although they always did their best to pretend it was the cold (and she was so, so thirsty, she couldn't help it).
His face was always grim and determined when she drank him (er, his blood), face set, eyes gloomy; he would try desperately not to wince. He never complained. He would give her every drop if she asked for it, and knew it too. (More food than friend?) He was heartbreakingly handsome, even if he was pale as a ghost and didn't eat or sleep much anymore – she would rest her face against his skin a moment longer than needed, willing herself not to throw away her walls, not to lose herself again in delusions of a happy life and love eternal. He would cup her chin in his pale fingers and lean forward until their noses were touching, and then he would whisper, "No matter what, my feelings will never change, and never will."
She did not need to ask to know what those feelings were – didn't he think she knew that already, wasn't that the whole point of this distance, anyway? She wanted to return his affections, but that would be deception, because how could anyone love her if she hated herself? There was no room for passion on the battlefield; no need for love when blood and rage delivered better results. A cold shoulder was more efficient than a warm embrace, and that was the truth.
She would look at him, and see all her sins reflected in his eyes. She would put his hands down, gently, resisting the urge to press them against her lips, to trace them down her back, anything to keep them near her; she would shake her head and say, "I appreciate it, Hagi, really. Thank you. But the time for that has long gone. Our goal now is to defeat Diva. That's all."
"Of course." Gentle and polite and obviously badly hurt, he would stand and pull her up as well, carefully, and then he would bow (suddenly more servant than comrade, more so than ever before, and it was awful, awful, awful). "Goodnight, Saya."
She returned the kind words with a tip of her head and no sound, turning so that she didn't see the pointed misery in his eyes as he left the room (and they had never cared this way before). She put her hands over her ears and lay down, ignoring the little screams that echoed inside her, the pain between her ribs that sang of how her heart was cracking.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading it. :D I'm really not too sure about Saya's voice in this piece, but I had fun writing it. Any comments would be greatly appreciated.