Hyacinth wanted to ask Marcello why he'd come all the way down to Purgatory Island to ask him that, robed and hidden in that thick black cloak. He wanted to ask him why it mattered to him. He wanted to say a lot of things, but Angelo was finally sleeping, and he couldn’t bring himself to speak.
What difference was it that Angelo had been the first person he had ever kissed? He hadn’t had much opportunity at Trodain, not with any of the ones who had attracted his attention. A few of the castle maidens had flirted with him, but he’d always turned their affections aside as politely as he could, not wishing to cause them any pain. But Angelo had been different, all of that charm hiding a secret that Hyacinth was still amazed he’d been able to bear. Why shouldn’t he be his first?
Marcello reached between the old rusted bars and pulled Hyacinth’s hair so that the two were looking into each other’s eyes. All of that ferocity and rage that Angelo had lived with his entire life was boiling out at him, now, a curse that he wasn’t immune to, and he found himself sweating despite himself.
This wasn’t about him at all, and he knew it. It was about Marcello wanting to take something from his brother. It was about... about what? Was Marcello actually envious of him? Or did he hate his brother so badly that he hated the thought of him having been happy with anyone?
His breath was sour as he leaned in close, and his kiss was brief and sharp, so sharp that after he pulled away Hyacinth had expected to taste blood. But just as he had expected to hear more hatred he was gone, on the elevator to the surface again, no doubt preparing more of the coup that they had unwillingly been a part of.
He sank back down onto the ground, glad that none of the others had woken up for Marcello’s visitation, and settled next to Angelo, running his dirty fingers through the templar’s silvery hair. He did not think he would be able to sleep that night.
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timeasmymeasure
First (DQ8, PG-13, Hero/Angelo, Hero/Marcello)
Date: 2011-11-01 12:45 am (UTC)Hyacinth wanted to ask Marcello why he'd come all the way down to Purgatory Island to ask him that, robed and hidden in that thick black cloak. He wanted to ask him why it mattered to him. He wanted to say a lot of things, but Angelo was finally sleeping, and he couldn’t bring himself to speak.
What difference was it that Angelo had been the first person he had ever kissed? He hadn’t had much opportunity at Trodain, not with any of the ones who had attracted his attention. A few of the castle maidens had flirted with him, but he’d always turned their affections aside as politely as he could, not wishing to cause them any pain. But Angelo had been different, all of that charm hiding a secret that Hyacinth was still amazed he’d been able to bear. Why shouldn’t he be his first?
Marcello reached between the old rusted bars and pulled Hyacinth’s hair so that the two were looking into each other’s eyes. All of that ferocity and rage that Angelo had lived with his entire life was boiling out at him, now, a curse that he wasn’t immune to, and he found himself sweating despite himself.
This wasn’t about him at all, and he knew it. It was about Marcello wanting to take something from his brother. It was about... about what? Was Marcello actually envious of him? Or did he hate his brother so badly that he hated the thought of him having been happy with anyone?
His breath was sour as he leaned in close, and his kiss was brief and sharp, so sharp that after he pulled away Hyacinth had expected to taste blood. But just as he had expected to hear more hatred he was gone, on the elevator to the surface again, no doubt preparing more of the coup that they had unwillingly been a part of.
He sank back down onto the ground, glad that none of the others had woken up for Marcello’s visitation, and settled next to Angelo, running his dirty fingers through the templar’s silvery hair. He did not think he would be able to sleep that night.