At the Lighthouse

An old entry for a contest/challenge at the GS_Yaoi livejournal.

Fixed as of April 5, 2009: redundancy issues, changing tenses, lame humor.

Standard disclaimers apply.

I guess could get used to this. Not that I should, I mean. But it's...oddly pleasant. Despite the fact my arm is completely numb and dead to the world, I'm awake and aware of the guilt that I seduced an innocent boy, and the gnawing, horrible knowing that Menardi will absolutely butcher me when I come back is just starting to set in over my hangover.

Maybe I shouldn't go back, and get myself properly adjusted to this.

...And leave the fate of the world hanging in the hands of Menardi, Felix, and Alex. I've confirmed for myself that I'm a complete and utter idiot, but I'm not yet a suicidal one. (Or, maybe I am—damn it. I really did screw myself over this time.) Granted, I do travel with two horridly violent women, one quiet kid who likes to sew things, and a feminine pimp. I mean, well-groomed man with a "tasteful" wardrobe, coughcough. If I don't die on the way, they'll do me in, sooner or later.

Of course, knowing all this doesn't help much with the current sticky situation I'm in.

...I did not just use sticky. Give yourself a kick in the ass later for that one, Saturos.

I guess this is the time when I promise to myself never to drink hard liquor before bed—before anything—but just being in this sort of situation just makes me want to drink even more.

I had a failproof battle strategy, honest. At least, I thought it was failproof going in and during my first few drinks. After about six, though, I began thinking maybe it had a few small holes I could've repaired before throwing myself into seducing-and-attempting-to-kill-Isaac. I only really succeeded in getting Isaac into my bed and giving myself a brain-splitting hangover.

I'll admit it upfront: I failed to kill him. Pretty obvious, judging by the fact that I'm now rambling to myself because I refuse to acknowledge that I failed to kill him and ended up sleeping with him. This is just too absurd. (I think I'm still in shock.)

The idea was to get Isaac drunk enough, make him think I was going to wash away his anxiety with a friendly romp under the covers and stealthily stab him somewhere vital in a preferably dark alleyway outside and leave him to die. But, as things go, it went sour.

I didn't think I would be so confident that the plan would go off with a hitch that when Isaac suggested a drinking competition I actually accepted. I know I'll give myself hell for doing that. Horrible, horrible idea. I should've snooped around the bars in Tolbi more. I had no idea what they were serving us when Isaac garbled to the bartender to give us some of the "hard stuff." Neither did Isaac, apparently, but I still contend that I am still all the worse off for all of this.

I'll have to agree with Menardi on this one: I am such an idiot.

So now, I'm doomed to my fate, in a rather uncomfortable mattress in a dingy little cheap inn, with one of the quite possibly Fated heroes snoring on top of me.

If he doesn't kill me when he wakes up, Menardi will when I limp back to her and the others. Or maybe Alex will try to strangle me with his hair because I just got laid when he hasn't in months. Either that or I'll pitch myself off a cliff or go throw myself into the Karagol. Or maybe I'll give myself one of those honorable deaths by splitting my stomach open with my sword...

And of course, while I'll musing over possible inconspicuous suicides, Isaac began to stir.

If Proxians believed in panic, I would have been an incomprehensible, gibbering wreck of nerves.

Isaac made a strange gargly noise and rolled off of me, groping for a pillow. I scooted away to the other side of the small bed, taking a few deep breaths. It does happen to be quite hard to breathe properly when your sworn enemy is sleeping like a log on top of you, using you as a human pillow. Not that I would expect you to know (nor did I ever think I would expect myself to know, but that's something I've bemoaned over plenty already...)

A tense silence hovered over us as Isaac's heavy breathing evened out to the point it was barely audible. I hate to admit it, but I was clutching the blanket in front of me (in nonexistent terror), worried about what would happen should I turn over to face him.

I heard something that sounded suspiciously like a sigh and froze, wishing there was a high precipice conveniently nearby so I could chuck myself from it. Never listen to Alex's hare-brained schemes, Saturos. Never. I should have never, never made his stupid, idiotic plan my own. He probably knew this would happen, even if he was also completely sloshed at the time, that unforgivable girly pimp


I felt myself slowly give in to shock. My eyes were wide, my fingernails digging into my skin, my thought processes mostly involving (how shameful; I'm not even sure why I'm telling you this, I must have sincerely thought I was going to die at the time) the words just kill me now oh save me please no someone anyone please.

"Saturos," Isaac said again, a little louder. I resisted the urge to mewl in absolute horror and fling myself at the door in an attempt to escape. I was not prepared for this. I hadn't been prepared for it the night before. Not only that, I had no idea where my weapons or my clothing were. Oh Mars. If I made it out of this alive, I would have to walk back to camp in absolutely nothing save for perhaps a blanket with no weapons, no armor... Although those socks hanging on the doorknob seemed rather familiar...

I jerked as I felt him suddenly touch my shoulder. "Ack!"

"So it really is you..." Isaac murmured. I felt the bed shift as he sat up, and I could feel that blue-eyed gaze on my back. "I wasn't dreaming."

My tough Proxian mask finally started working after a few sharp kicks in the ribs. "And what does that mean?" I asked him in what I hoped was a challenging, cocky sort of voice. I plucked up the courage to turn over and face him, but I didn't think my spine was in good enough shape to get up yet, so I didn't bother with trying. "That good, or something?"

I am officially a sinner; I used a phrase from Alex's bag of cheesy come-ons on a kid I'm not entirely sure I took advantage of. Maybe he took advantage of me. Either way—smite me now.

"I just thought..." Isaac trailed off, staring at me. I'm worried that I was blushing; red shows up horribly on blue skin, not that I care what he thinks now, really. "I thought we were enemies."

"We are," I affirmed evenly, forcing myself to glare. I was squinting; my eyes hurt. "Last night was just... an accident."

"Was it?" He blinked at me, fiddling with the blankets covering his lap. Swallow, Saturos, swallow. (My mind didn't just jump off the dirty cliff with that one.) "Didn't seem like one."

I chewed on my tongue discreetly for a moment before answering. Unnervingly observant, this kid. That was not an accident. An alcohol-induced event-gone-wrong-in-a-somewhat-good-way, more like. I guess that second-sight of his or whatever the hell it was kept him alive this entire time. And probably kept his liver from exploding after last night. "It was supposed to be an attempt at your life. It just went a little downhill."

Why did I tell him that? I supposed it was because Menardi would kill me anyway, so Isaac would be doing me a favor by slicing my head off my neck. At least I'd go out with the image of a beautiful person scorched into my retinas.

"Really..." Isaac seemed more amused rather than taken aback or angry. I felt oddly relieved. "Quite an ill-planned one."

"It was Alex's idea," I responded hotly. Partly true. I'd just made the plan my own. Worst idea ever, or worst idea ever? "If it were mine, you would be deader than a doornail right now."

"I'm sure." He actually smiled, in a startlingly cheerful, blissfully innocent sort of way. "It was fun, though. Always nice to be friendly with enemies, even if it was just for one night."

"You'll be thinking about this the next time we really square off." I said huffily, slowly pulling myself up. My back. Just what were we doing last night? Do I want to remember? Just thinking about thinking about what I did to get myself into this mess made me blush up to my ears. "...At the lighthouse."

Isaac's gaze flicked down to his hands. Those hands really had a lovely texture to them, I admitted silently to myself. Especially when they were palming my ribcage and back with the utmost care... I bit back the girly sigh. "Yes, the lighthouse..."

I had a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, and it wasn't because of the evening's liquor. I felt horrible, like I'd finally fulfilled my role as the true villain in this sad storyline. And now that I think about it, all the "good" villains in those flimsy novels were the ones who messed with the minds of the heroes through doing things like this, illicit, temporarily romantic affairs that warped the lines of friend and foe. By bedding Isaac, I may have just ensured the success of our travels through crushing his fragile psyche, which all sounded a lot more melodramatic than it ought to have. He'd carry it with him to our next meeting, and it would weigh down on not only his mind but also his heart.

Those thoughts would tag along with me too, unfortunately.

"I... should probably go..." Isaac mumbled, picking himself up off the bed gingerly. I sighed and averted my eyes, feeling guilty.

Once I knew he had his pants back on, I dared to look at him again. "Isaac, what happened here stays here, you understand?"

He smiled at me in a wistful sort of way. "Yeah, I know. We have our roles to play."

I nodded solemnly, giving my head a good splitting ache. "The hero and the villain. We can't put aside those distinctions for very long."

The golden boy chuckled, pulling on his undershirt. "Whatever reasons they were for, Saturos, I have to admit they produced enjoyable results. And, Sol, I'm going to burn in hell for saying that."

The way he added the last part made me crack a small smile. I watched as he pulled on the remaining articles of clothing with surprisingly no (really) perverted thoughts in between.

When he had put on his yellow scarf, he turned to stare at me strangely. I simply gazed back. Would he drop the act and draw his sword to slash me open as I sat in bed, utterly defenseless? Would he turn his back on me and forget what happened? Was he going to profess his undying love for me? (I brutally and ruthlessly squashed the little part of me that screamed yes!.)

He walked over to my side of the bed and reached out with one hand. I flinched as his gloved fingertips slid over the skin near my eyes, trailing them upwards into my disheveled hair. (I would kill myself for this horrible bedhair alone.) He was handsome; coming across such a beautiful boy was rare even in all my travels throughout Weyard.

"If it's going to all stay here, then..."

Before I could retort with something considerably intelligent, he leaned down and planted his lips on mine, fingers curling around the back of my head to keep me from escaping. It was peculiar. I wouldn't have guessed him to be the sort, but I didn't fight him in the slightest.

When he pulled away, his fingers slipped out of my hair, his gaze distant though his eyes were pointed at me. "At the lighthouse, then."

"At the lighthouse." I croaked back in reply, my lips moist and parted. My throat didn't feel like properly working, and my brain was practically in shambles. The way he kissed people could be his secret weapon. He didn't need a sword, all he could do was stick his tongue down your throat and you were utterly ruined. (I know your dirty mind is wandering. Stop it.)

His eyes came back into focus—flinty and determined, like any proper leader—and then he turned on his heel and swept out of the room, the door clicking quietly shut behind him, nearly catching the tail end of his scarf. I was left alone in the chilly room with my thoughts.

At the lighthouse.

I would be there. If just to see him, even though we were now enemies again.

"I'm such a damn sap," I muttered, hauling myself out of bed with a wince. To finish it all off, I could return to Menardi and have her slaughter me, so that my last thoughts would be with the boy with the golden hair and sparkling blue eyes. Isaac really knew how to turn a situation in his favor. Having my own comrade do me in, not that she would have argued with his logic in any other sort of situation, either.

I only realized that my wallet had mysterious disappeared during the night (or perhaps this morning; Isaac had proved himself to be quite the sneaky one) when I went downstairs and found out he had left me with the inn bill.

Oh, yes, Isaac. We truly are sworn enemies again. You do not leave a Proxian with a bill after a one night stand that left him with bitter, angsty feelings.

I will have your head, Isaac. Until then, I'm going to scrounge around for loose change.