locrian rhapsody

Every touch burned his skin.

Sora winced as Setzer gripped his thighs tightly, nails embedding deep crescents in their wake. He shivered, and Setzer moved to kiss him, rough and overbearing.

It tasted of ash, spots coloring his vision.

The world spun, and Setzer pulled back, Sora gasping for air. In the dim and crowded room, he watched as the man pulled back, unhooking his cloak. Out of habit, he laid it gently over Sora’s shoulders.

A mantle fit for a king.

He ignored the burning in his eyes as Setzer pulled him close again, bruising and biting, all-consuming and never-ending.

There was a missing piece to them, and Sora tried to make up the difference, offering all his worth beneath Setzer’s hands. He winced, the pressure never letting up.

Setzer whispered out a name, and Sora shivered, teething tearing into his bottom lip. Blood filled his mouth, and Sora cried out, arching in Setzer’s embrace.

The cloak weighed heavily on his shoulders. He knew that he would never be enough.

With an intimacy that tasted of regret, Sora wondered what a heart of acceptance could bring.

“It’s rotted.”

Sora’s head leaned against the wall heavily as he struggled to breathe, his left arm cradled close to his chest. His skin stung, crying out for him to let go, but Sora held on.

He managed a small nod to the man, the pain clouding his senses. “Y...Yeah… thanks…”  

Shoes clacked against the floor as the man approached him. Sora didn’t have the energy to look up at him, wincing as a leather-clad hand grabbed his arm. His skin tore, nothing more than wet paper in the man’s hold, bloodied and bruised.

His companion hummed slightly, loosening his grip. He reached forward with his other hand, fingers digging into Sora’s injury. Sora cried out softly as the man pulled out a row of stitches, the objects clinging on weakly to frayed threads.

“You put on the wrong part,” he said softly, throwing the bloody threadwork to the ground, pieces of Sora’s skin following. “It’s hurting you.”

The pain was overwhelming, but Sora swallowed, willing back his tears.

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sora rasped out, the world blurry and moving. He felt a phantom touch on his shoulder, his view coming back into balance. “T-This is mine… I just… I just need time to adjust... “

He glanced down. Sinew was all that kept his arm together, the floor decorated with remnants of his flesh and bloodied stitches.

“You’re a horrible liar.”

Sora said nothing.

The man gently pressed his fingers against Sora’s arm, a gasp falling from his lips. The man stared at him, almost kindly. “You suffer over rotted scraps that hold no meaning.” He rubbed circles on the span of skin that wasn’t decaying, his fingers cool to the touch. “Why is that, Sora?”

Sora said nothing.

His body was exhausted, and his throat burned. His skin itched and ached, and Sora was tempted to let his arm go, let it fall to the floor, and scatter its remains everywhere.

(Maybe then he could feel as if he still existed.)

Fingers brushed his hair back, and with bleary eyes, Sora raised his head, the man searching for an answer.

In the hall of empty corridors, Sora could provide none.

The air smelled of acid.

Setzer emptied another gallon outside the building, liquid tar splashing at its borders. Off at the side, Sora sat with the cloak in his arms, picking at loose threads.

A thread came undone, Sora watching as it slipped from his fingers, the wind carrying it away. The sound of plastic hitting the building made him turn to see Setzer kneeling near one of the doors. He gripped the fabric tightly.

Soon, this place would go up in flames, becoming nothing more than a distant memory.

How many more times did the world have to fill with ash before he lost his name?

“Sora.”

He turned to see Setzer now standing a small distance away. He offered him a hand. There was a glimmer of old kindness in his eyes, and Sora’s heart seized on itself painfully.

Everything burned horribly.

“It’s almost like a dream, isn’t it?”

Everything was suffocating.

Setzer stepped closer. A smile graced his lips, the moonlight bathing him an ethereal glow.

“Join me?”

Once, it had been a love sewn from the strongest of threads.

Now, as Sora placed his hand in Setzer's, he wondered if his fantasy would ever end.

“Your eyes don’t shine the way they used to.”

Sora chewed on his straw, watching the river. Ephemer’s reflection changed today as well. “What do you mean?”

Ephemer leaned against the railing, staring up at the sky. “The dreams that you always mentioned. The bonds and the clouds—” Sora bit his straw harder “—the stardust, all that stuff.” He looked at Sora, quietly watching him as always. “You don’t mention anything anymore.”

Sora shrugged. “Sorry, I'm just—"

“You look like someone else.”

His heart froze. The straw slipped from his lips and into the river. Sora's hands gripped the railing tightly, palms sweaty. He tried to look over to his friend, but he couldn't. 

The river shimmered, and Sora found brilliant red and blue eyes staring back at him.

He felt Ephemer move close, arms wrapping around him. Silver hair tickled his face as Ephemer stood to bury his nose in Sora's neck, breathing deeply.

Sora couldn't move.

“I wonder who's flesh you borrowed,” from the corner of his eye, Sora saw Ephemer staring up at him, eyes dark. "Who's skin is it that you parade around in?"

He couldn't breathe.

“Why is that, Sora?”

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe—!

The river shimmered. In the water, he sees a body, sleeping peacefully, undisturbed of its rotted flesh.

He opened his mouth. “Cl-Cl—”

“Ju—st! Kidding!” Ephemer leaped off him, and Sora collapsed against the railing, hands trembling to hold him up. He turned to see Ephemer rubbing his head bashfully. “So, what did you think of my acting, Sora?” He smiled at him, cheeks dusted red. “Was it too much?”

Sora blinked at him. He glanced back at the river. Nothing. “Acting?”

“Yeah,” Ephemer tugged at his red scarf lightly and gracefully bowed to him, “I get to be the prince of a super dreamy realm in the next play.”

“Oh… Oh!” Sora laughed nervously, pushing himself away from the railing, away from the river. “Yeah, that… that makes a lot of sense!” He smiled the best he could, doing his best to shake off the last dregs of unease.

Ephemer clasped his hands together, staring up at Sora hopefully. “So, I was wondering if I could go over to your place? Maybe get a bit of help with some of the costumes?”

Sora nodded quickly. Sewing always helped distract his mind. “Yeah, yeah, I’m down for that.”

Ephemer nodded happily, his silver curls bouncing with the movement. Sora laughed at the sight.

“Ready for the finale?” Ephemer asked, holding out his hand.

For a moment, Sora hesitated, the unease crawling back. But he shook it off, placing his hand in his and nodding. “Lead the way, my dreamy prince!"

They laughed, the leaves crunching beneath their feet as they made their way back. Ephemer entwined their fingers and hummed, swinging them gently.

“Idealism is a color better suited for you.”

Sora turned to him and raised a brow. “Another line from the play?”

A smile graced his friend's lips, and as the sun lightly bathed Ephemer in light, Sora thought he almost looked like an angel.

The responding laugh was soft, a tinkling chime in the wind. “Something like that.”

Fingers combed his hair back, a hand tilting his head gently toward the light that streamed in from the windows.

The wall was hard against his back, chipped pieces of wood digging in as Setzer hummed to him softly.

“From this angle, they almost look golden…” he smiled sadly, leaning forward to kiss the crown of Sora’s head. “I wonder when they became so dirty.”

He said nothing, closing his eyes as Setzer pushed closer, his hand moving to grip his neck painfully. A thumb swept across his eyes, but Sora kept them shut.

“Sora... Sora...” he called out softly, flush against him. Sora shivered when Setzer licked the shell of his ear. “Open your eyes… look at me…”

His hands shook. His heart trembled.

Sora opened his eyes, and Setzer smiled, pushing his thumb lightly under Sora’s eyes.

“How ugly they’ve become.”

Cold fingers prodded at the skin around his eyes. “It’s gotten worse.”

Sora stared up at the man weakly, fighting to keep his eyes open. Everything had begun to bleed into one, and Sora tried to focus on the blurry shape of his companion.

Another trail was traced across his face, touch featherlight.  

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

Sora settled his hand over his heart. “No—ouch!” His hand moved to hold the sore spot on his forehead, glaring at where he felt the man’s presence.

“Did that hurt?”

Out of stubbornness, Sora looked away, wincing as his body reacted negatively to the sudden movement. He paused for a moment. And then, “A… A little… I think. I don’t really know…”

His body was lifted, the man cradling him close. On instinct, or maybe desperation, Sora leaned his head against the man's chest, finally allowing his eyes to close.

No heart beat beneath his ear.

The embrace was warm.

He felt a hand grip his chin, tilting his head up. A rough thumb brushed across his eyes.

“I’m going to help you.” The light was bright as Sora’s eyelid was pushed up. “Offer a new perspective where meaningless fantasies will no longer rot out your heart.”

The man pushed his finger in and under his eye, Sora arching his back and crying out.

There was no pain, but the sensation was odd and numbing as the man carefully rolled out his eyeball, his rough fingers never losing their gentle touch.

Sora squirmed, eye shutting and face feeling sticky.

There was the sound of glass shattering, then the man’s fingers were back on his face, moving to his next eye.

“One more.”

He clutched at the leather of the man’s jacket tightly as the process was repeated again, his vision disappearing completely and face growing warmer and wetter. Labored breaths left him as he tried to find his bearings, the fingers cool in his eye socket.

Your eyes remind me of shooting stars.

A sob escaped him as the man pulled his fingers out, leaning down to brush his lips over Sora's closed eyes reverently. Sora buried his head in the man’s chest, wisps of the past beneath his skin and eating him away.

“Cloud… Cloud…”

The world was dark, not a star in sight.

“Our pasts haunt us,” Setzer said, silver hair framing his face beautifully. For once, Sora sat before him, Setzer kneeling at his feet. The grip on his leg was tight, but not yet painful. A hollow laugh sounded from Setzer’s chest.

“I see him in you… in every breath and every light,” he said quietly, blunt nails digging into Sora’s skin. Sora didn't flinch when blood rose to the surface. ”I wonder if I should have left you to burn instead of him.” He kissed Sora’s knee, breath hot against his skin. “Wonder if I should have defied his wishes and left you to rot in his place.”

Sora released his grip on the wooden crate and reached down, cradling Setzer's face. He stared into his eyes kindly, despite the tremor in his veins. “I know.”

I wonder the same.

Their intimacy was cold.

Sora wondered if he could ever dream of love again.

The sun was warm on their skin.

Sora turned his head to Cloud, already nodding off. “Hey, Cloud… aren’t dreams kind of nice?”

Before he could answer, Setzer interrupted him, laying on the ground next to them. “If there’s a chance of winning, then of course they are, Sora.” He winked at Cloud. “Isn’t that right, my golden king?”

Cloud rolled his eyes, but a smile still graced his face. “Yeah. Something like that.”

The wind was gentle, the grass brushing against them softly. Sora stared at the two men before him, heart brimming with love.

He smiled, eyes slowly closing.

Yozora stared at Sora’s face, the teen sleeping quietly. He reached forward, his hand phasing through.

“I don’t know why you still try.”

He glared at Ephemer, who laid next to Sora comfortably. He moved closer to Sora, placing a hand over his heart gently, making contact.

Yozora did his best not to roll his eyes at the scene.

The prince really knew how to get under his skin in the worst ways.

Ephemer looked over to him, cold and soulless.  “You’re not of this world,” he said lightly.

“I know.”

“And yet—”

“I know,” Yozora snarled, wishing he could strangle the prince.

Ephemer smiled at his ire, “As long as you know your place.” He turned back to Sora, smile losing its edge. “Soon, it’ll all be over, Sora.” He leaned down to place a kiss to the crown of Sora's head, moving off the bed.

“Yozora.”

He looked to the prince, disdain heavy on his tongue.

“Finish with the dreams,” Ephemer touched the red bandana around his neck fondly, eyes kind. It had been one that Sora had made him. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

The door clicked shut, and Yozora turned back to Sora, who slept without a care in the world.

A part of him felt awful for the pain they were putting Sora through. But one glance at the marks left behind on Sora’s skin, and Yozora knew that their end goal would make all the difference.

He leaned in close, hand hovering over Sora's heart, fingers trembling as his form began to lose shape.

“I’ll see you soon, Sora.”

It was a pleasant dream.