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Lovelessly Beautiful

By Chesiere Cat

Lovelessly Beautiful

Byakuran does not know love. He does not know what love is aside from the sound and the literal meaning of the word. He only knows how to appreciate beauty just like how he appreciates those beautiful flowers that he knows are so easy to crush. He enjoys and takes too much from the fragility of things that he secretly yearns for something that can last for eternity.

And as he read those cheesy stories in which two main characters declare eternal love for each other, he was…curious.

Love, love, love…the word seems too ideal and too ridiculously unrealistic for him.

Love, love, love…is the meaning of this word far too deep for someone like him to comprehend?

He…who is supposed to be the god of the new world he wishes to create. Is it…unable for a god to be in love?

Not that he wants to. He is just curious. Yet…

"You're hopeless, dear pristine angel."

The mocking voice that he well-remembered coming from an equally mocking lips keeps ringing in his ears even if the source of that still ringing voice is now sleeping. Violet eyes narrowed as they drifts to the beauty sleeping soundlessly in his bed – tainted all over with blood and semen.

His captive is so beautiful. And even more so when he loses control, screaming and moaning in both pain and pleasure as Byakuran generously bestows him the agonizing ecstasy. It is such a pleasant sight when his captive squirms, panting and shivering with needs only he can help satiate even though those mismatched eyes keep protesting, and those petal-soft lips always retaliate him with sweet sarcasm.

It is so easy to say 'I love you' even not knowing the true meaning of it. It is so easy to whisper the loving words like sweet nothing into his captive's ears like a chanting to encourage the beauty to become more submissive as he proceeds their dance even further. Mukuro-kun is persistent on maintaining his mask, smiling and smirking as if he does not care.

Still, Byakuran can see through his façade. It is so obvious whenever he whispers the magic words to him, softly and gently, that Mukuro-kun seems to double his defense as if fearing to be discover of something – some secrets – he does not wish to have it be discovered. But the more he tries to protect it – that secret – it becomes even more obvious that it is his weak point. And Byakuran is one to feast on the other's weakness.

He attacks and takes advantage of the other's delicacy.

Because…whenever he places his strong arms around him and whispers those words over and over with gentleness, the illusionist's façade may seem to strengthen at first but then, as he keeps chanting – and sometimes with a finishing touch of tender kisses and caresses – the façade shatters like broken shards of glass and his prideful captive is reduced to a pliant doll in his arms.

"I love you. I love you. I love you."

He whispers even if he himself believes that their daily routine is loveless.

"I love you. I love you. I love you."

But he keeps whispering because despite torturing and making his captive bleed, he also comes to appreciate when Mukuro is all submissive and strangely quiet. The blue-haired beauty always excuses himself later, smirking and saying that he was just too tired to play so he let Byakuran have his way. But Byakuran knows it is not just that.

One point in time, he has asked Mukuro, out of curiosity, what love is. And…

"You're hopeless, dear pristine angel."

That is why the beauty's answer keeps ringing in his ears.

The illusionist is his captive yet he captivates him with so many mysteries aside from his alluring beauty that he has become so addicted he cannot get enough. He cannot imagine now living a day without drinking from those sweet, sweet lips.

It is sinful for an angel to be addicted.

Byakuran's lips break into a brilliant smile as his 'object of affection' flutters his eyes open.


"Good evening, Mukuro-kun. How are you feeling?"

The leader of Millefiore's smile grows wider as his captive's gaze travels from his smiling face toward something he has been doing while waiting for Mukuro to wake up.

"You must like what you see."

You can never be wrong if you are a god.

Mukuro knows what love is. He knows what it is like to be loved and maybe…to love. Yet he pretends he does not know. It is easier to pretend to hate – hate everything in the world and even the world itself – so that no one knows how much he yearns for the thing called 'love'.

His soul is so old but his current body is still fresh…so fresh the memories of this boy that seem more like waking nightmares are so vivid. The yearning, the pain, the loneliness, they are all so clear as they blended into the older memories of this soul as the soul and the new body merged.

He is cursed.

To live so long is not a blessing but a curse. And even more so to spend eternity in sheer loneliness in which darkness is his only friend.

Because…only in darkness that this cursed soul can whisper…the secret, truth that he does not want anyone to hear.

He does not care if he bleeds. Pain is a friend he is so accustomed to. But he does care if he were to cry. Because these eyes are supposed to be empty…of any traces of tears.

To love is to show weakness. And to love is to be painful. Even though, he secretly yearns for the love he can never have.

"Do you know what love is?"

An angel once asked him – an angel whose outer shell is so white he likes to mock his whiteness despite knowing the actual core of this angel is so black as his wings stain with death and blood.

There is no way he will answer, for he promises himself to pretend that he does not know even if he keeps on mocking.

"I love you. I love you. I love you."

He hates the sound of those words as the loveless angel whispers them to him. He hates it knowing what effect they have when their melodic sound caresses the depraved, blackened core of his too old and lonely soul. Loneliness has not much effect when he is to live on in solitary until the act that seems to fake love pretty close enough shatters the illusions of everything.

Another illusion that shatters illusions, for merely illusion it can be.

Mukuro knows the difference between desire and love. He knows it very well the pleasure of skin gliding against skin and the natural need that the act makes erupted. He knows it is also of lust that he is covered in blood and bruises all over given Byakuran's sadistic nature that is so fond of having his victim dyed…in crimson.

Yet he is tired. It is too tiring to defend himself when Byakuran has learned how else he can be broken. And even if he tries to put his guard up and verbally fight back - for that is the best he can do as of now – he knows the other knows.

Over and over again, and he is weakened. Sometimes, he becomes too much submissive that he wants to bite his tongue and die out of shame. But the pristine angel who wants to play god won't allow that. And if he happens to try and bite himself, Byakuran will make sure he is beautifully gagged.

So he tries to maintain his remaining pride as much as he can, pretending that he has never lost a single shard of it.

And when he sleeps, his spirit cannot wander. Since the barrier being set up solely for him forbids it, he sinks deeper and deeper into his own consciousness…only to dream…of those words, those gentle touches and warm embraces that he should know best…are all lies.

His shell has already broken – even further than the abused body he now possesses.

Yet, as he opens his eyes…

"You must like what you see."

And sees marshmallows being lined up into a heart with number '69' inside, he can't help but stare …until his lips curve into a smile.

He won't show Byakuran that he is affected.

"It is lovelessly beautiful."

Because he does not want to lose this game.



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