They’re Made For Each Other - Blog Posts

It's Us Who Made This Mess

Part Three, at last; the bitch that didn't allow me to have any good ideas for a week straight only to suddenly give me a burst of inspiration so strong that I managed to write this whole thing within one sitting. So if that's why this is the worst one, I apologize if that is the case lmao.

Content Warnings: It's the alleyway scene, so Vere jokes about eating you. Canon-typical swearing and mentions of death. Vere has a panic attack and there is a very, very brief implication of accidental self-harm.

Other: And the overuse of italics returns! Word Count: 2k

This work may be edited in the future if I discover any previously missed typos or content warnings. This work will not be cross-posted anywhere and I will make a direct announcement if that ever changes.

The streets behind the Wick were as dead as the bar was crowded. A cold breeze cut through the humid air. The further they walked, the more muffled the Wick's racket became, until the only sounds were their subtle breaths and footsteps.

He stopped at an alleyway. They were alone. Nobody would bother them; nobody would play witness. His shadow stretched over the cobbled street in the moonlight, practically devouring the outsider whole.

"You had questions. Ask." His breath misted in the cold air as he spoke, "Quickly. I've got a show to attend. Heavenly lutist, as I'm sure I mentioned."

He already knew for a fact that he did. He simply wanted to test them; to see if they ignored everything he said earlier or is they only ignored his warning.

They were clearly peeved by his attitude---they had been since he met them, actually. But clearly they needed information, and he was happy to provide some. Of course, it would only be vague details, but if all went according to plan, it would be enough to bait them into telling him a secret or two of their own.

He expected the outsider to ask about the Senobium. Or about him, at least. Instead, they wasted his precious time by asking about the others. As much as he disliked thinking about most them---other than Ais, that is---in general, something about the outsider's curiosity of them had him particularly irked.

Vere didn't want to look too closely into why their interest in the others pissed him off so much. He just told himself that it was because he was in a hurry, and they were wasting his time.

It didn't take long for him to grow bored of it, letting out a growl. "Don't you dare ask me about another soul. I haven't got all night for idle gossip."

"But I wasn't finished asking---"

"You get two more questions. Make them count."

He wasn't actually planning on counting any questions. The poor thing just happened to look somewhat cute when their brows scrunched up in frustration.

Their eyes narrowed slightly, exasperated, as they asked their first question "Leander told me that the Senobium imprisons people. Did he mean you?"

Of course, he gets stuck talking about Leander anyway. "Leander's a moaning fool with a throbbing victim complex. He loves to see himself as a savior, but the only difference his cronies and the Senobium's stooges are the uniforms."

A subtle wince spread over their features, showing some mild concern at his words. Fair enough, considering where they're apparently sleeping tonight---if they make it out of the alleyway alive, that is.

"You're asking who, when you should be asking why." Maybe that will be enough o a hint for them to actually ask about him directly.

"Says the asshole counting my questions." Their scowl returned to to their face.

Vere only smirked in response, and they rolled their eyes at him.

They sighed. "Fine. Why were you imprisoned?"

"For the same reason they'll disappear you given half the chance; I'm something special." He gathered up his hair, pushing it behind his back and craned his neck, inviting them to have a closer look. "See this collar?Looks unremarkable, doesn't it?"

They didn't say anything. Instead, they started reaching towards the buckle.

Wrong move.

His hand lashed out, grabbing their wrist before their hand could get too close. He could've easily snapped their bones, but he chose to be merciful, and instead only held their wrist with just enough pressure to scare them a little.

It was the second mercy he's granted them tonight. And not matter how interesting they were, he wouldn't be granting them a third chance. Really, they were lucky he was even generous enough to offer them the second.

He tutted like a scolding teacher. "Don't you know better than to touch without asking?"

"You didn't ask first, so why should I?"

He grins. "because I said so."

"That's not very fair."

A surge of anger began to slowly rise through him at that. "Fuck fairness. Life's not fair."

If life were, he wouldn't even be here, talking with the pesky little outsider. If life was fair, he wouldn't even be Eridia. Shit, Eridia probably wouldn't have even existed. If life were fair, then he wouldn't have been imprisoned by those fucking mages. If life were fair, he wouldn't have killed you that day. If life were fair, you would've died from either old age or some incurable illness, because he would've been able to protect you from an unnatural death.

He closed his eyes, silently pushing his rage to the back of his mind. He's had years to hone and sharpen it into a weapon deadlier than he was, and it wouldn't do him any good to waste it on one, insignificant human when there were plenty others more deserving of it.

"Patience… I'll tell you when and how you can touch me." He opened his, staring into their startled ones, getting another view of the agony writhing around their soul. "Behave, or I'll make you bleed."

"…Is that a threat, or a promise?"

It was both, but he didn't say that out loud as he released their wrist. They began to smooth down the bandages covering their arm, glancing at him though the corner of their eye.

"Are you saying that's what'll happen to me if the Senobium finds out I'm… different? I'll be collared?"

"Doubtful. they keep me around because I'm the best at what I do."

They were looking him straight in the eye now. "And what, exactly, do you do so well?"

His answer wasn't hesitant in the slightest. "Killing. As long as I wear this collar, I'm made to hunt the Senobium's dizzying array of enemies: Monsters, Soulless, noisy dissidents who grow overbold… I'm bound by their will until the day I die."

He liked to pretend that he was only saying that last bit for dramatic flair. He didn't like to acknowledge just how little hope he had in any chance of freedom.

"That's… awful."

Hah. They have no idea.

"It is, isn't it?" He internally shook off his brooding mood, "And that's all you're getting from me. I really must leave now. I'll be late."

"That's it? Why'd you bring me out here if you weren't going to explain anything?!"

He laughed, allowing it to sound a bit more like his genuine laughter as opposed to the smooth chuckle he's been practicing over the years. "Isn't it obvious? I wanted to lure you out here alone so I could eat you."

They tensed up immediately. "You're lying again."

They were only half-right. Less that that, really. There's been a pit of hunger that's been growing within him since he was captured, and flesh was usually one of the best ways to sate it, even temporarily.

"And you're asking far too many questions for hiding so much."

They quickly hid their hands deep into the pockets of their cloak. "What makes you think I'm hiding anything?"

"Would you like me to list the obvious indicators first?" He asked sarcastically, staring pointedly at their arms, "The bandages, to be specific. Not exactly subtle, after all." He glanced back up at their eyes, "I'll be going… unless you're willing to share some morsels with me?"

As much as he talked about wanting to be elsewhere, he really wasn't actually planning on leaving until he got something out of them.

They hesitated. "I can't tell you anything."

He felt his ears flatten on his head. For fuck's sake. "Wrong. You can start with what you are."

They step backwards, trying to get away from them, bumping into the wall behind them. Vere moves forward in lockstep. They try to turn, but instead of a way out, they only find his arm, trapping them against the wall.

Finally, they were right where he wanted them.

He reached for them, lifting their chin and forcing them to meet his eyes.

"Would you believe me if I said the eyes are the windows to the soul?" Their eyelid twitched, and he smiled, "Cliche, I know, but let me tell you a little secret..."

He leaned in, close enough for his eyelashes to flutter against their cheek.

"There's nothing you can hide from me."

He was staring straight into their eyes now. Straight into them. Straight into the sweet, agonizing suffering that wrapped around their soul the way a ribbon wrapped around a box of chocolates.

"The betrayal, the loss of hope, the sheer desperation that drives you still to search and search to no end…"

All that from which he listed only came from the more recent suffering they've endured. It was almost like a thick shield, hiding both the true nature of their soul and the strange, seemingly ancient suffering that seemed to be latched deeper in.

"I could give you something new to live for…"

It was a dangerous promise, but it wasn't like they could do anything to force him into keeping it.

They swallowed, skeptical and afraid. He didn't mind their lack of response; it only allowed him to focus on looking deeper.

The ancient strand of suffering was particularly enticing; like nothing he's ever seen before. He could practically feel it trying to pull him closer.

"All that suffering has made your soul so irresistible…"

He searched deeper through the wall of suffering, just trying to catch a better glance at what was being hidden behind all the betrayal.

Then, at last---

A chain-leash clinking as he was escorted through the dim, dank hallway.

A door hinge creaked as a cell was opened, revealing a familiar figure chained to the far wall.

An order to kill.

The sounds of screaming and bones snapping and flesh ripping.

The sound of someone's last breaths

--- he had his answer.

He was wrong. This strange, ancient suffering; ancient betrayal… he had seen it before.

He saw it in your eyes as you died in a puddle of your own blood that day.

His blood froze. His heart started to speed up. The fur on his tail began to stick up.

No. No, no. Nonononono---

"Y-You're late… the l-lutist!"

Their---your---panicked little reminder was enough for him to snap out of it.

He blinked, desperately attempting to recompose himself before you noticed anything was off. "Shame."

He let go of your chin and backed away. You slumped against the wall, now gasping for air.

He would only hope he didn't look the same way; frightened, panicked, as if his fight-or-flight response just kicked in…

He wracked his brain, trying desperately to find something to say or do that wouldn't give him or any of his emotions away; then he heard Leander' voice, calling out your name, echoing through the empty streets.

Once he noticed that it grabbed your attention, he quietly made his way to the shadowy back end of the alleyway, disappearing into the shadows before you could even blink.

-=-=-=-=-=-

He didn't run for too long; he knew the city well enough to find somewhere both decently distanced from the alleyway and hidden enough for it to be unlikely for someone to stumble on.

He found himself behind a bakery, trembling; his heart pounding so loud he was almost afraid that the stray cat sleeping in the gutters above him was able to hear it. Chills raced through his blood. His chest heaved from lack of air, but his lungs refused to let any more in. He felt dizzy, and had to slump down to the muddy ground in order to avoid falling over.

He hated this feeling. He could only recall feeling it twice: the first being after he killed you, and the second being when a century had passed without there being even half of a solid chance of real freedom.

Even though he didn't get the feeling often, he still hated it. The fear. The loss of control. The weakness…

He needed to get his shit together. Preferably before his claws accidentally dug deep enough into his arms and drew blood again, since it was too late to stop before he could feel the tears forming.

But no matter how he tried to aim his thoughts into a different direction, they always circled back to you.

You're here.

You're not supposed to be here.

You're here.

You're not supposed to see him like this.

You're here.

You can't be here.

You're here.

You need to get away, they're going to take you again.

You're here.

You need to get away, they're going to make him kill you again.

A trembling, almost manic laughter broke through his teeth, accompanied by breathless sobs.

In the beginning, he wanted nothing more than to see you again. But as time passed, he was happier that he hadn't been able to see you; that you couldn't see him in the state he was in. Nothing more than a particularly exotic and useful pet for some bastards who were too afraid of getting their own hands dirty.

He never did manage to figure out why it was you they ordered him to kill that day; if it was mere coincidence, or if it was intentional.

And if it was intentional, did they already know you were here? Were they already planning to grab you?

He growled involuntarily at the thought; both at the image of them keeping you locked in a cage for them to do as they pleased, and at the fact that he would be powerless to stop it.

And the worst part of it all? For whatever reason, you were apparently planning of walking right into their cruel, merciless hands; desperately searching for something that, apparently, nobody else in this damned city would be able to provide.

Amongst the chaos whirling through his head, he tried to find a solution to your being here:

He could ignore you completely, but somehow he felt like that wouldn't work.

He could try to free himself again, take revenge, and try to fix what he had done to you; heal that betrayal-inflicted wound that he apparently dealt so deep that it still stuck to your soul well over a century and who-knows how many lives later.

He could try to free himself again, take revenge, and then leave you, so that he'd never have to risk hurting you again, and you wouldn't make him weak again.

Or, he could try to free himself again, take revenge, and then devour your soul so that you'd never get to live another life ever again. It would be cruel, sure, and it would probably hurt, too. But somehow, it might just be the most merciful option for both of you…

He focused on these ideas until, finally, he felt his heart stop hammering and his lungs start to take in the appropriate amount of air. He was no longer trembling, though he felt his nerves vibrating as he made himself stand.

He felt restless and his head hurt. He needed to tear into something---into someone---before he made his way back to his dungeon for the night.

He was irritated by the mud clinging to his clothes, hist tail, his hand, and now his face as he wiped the tears from his eyes. But he couldn't bring himself to care about that.

The only thing he could care about right then was his potential plans.

He had no idea what he should do. But he swore to himself that he'd make his choice by tomorrow morning.

For now, it was the best he could do.

< Part Two | Good Ending (WIP) > | Neutral Ending (WIP) > | Bad Ending (WIP) >

First Reo defending his title as the #1 Nagi glazer

Then Nagi confirming to be the biggest undercover simp ever

Goodbye Nagireo😔. You'll always be the most homosexual pair in "straight" anime to ever be created.