Title: The Night My Heart Flew Away

Source: untitled

Genre(s): angst, slash

Rating: PG

Characters: Jian and Lucile

Word Count: 486

Summary: He had killed a man he thought he could love, and lost the one he thought he had. Love and lost came upon him like the biting cold of the mournful breeze. On that one fateful night...

Note: written for thebwgchallenge

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" No guilt, no mischief, no malignity, no misery, can be found comparable to mine. When I run over the frightful catalogue of my sins, I cannot believe that I am the same creature whose thoughts were once filled with sublime and transcendent visions of the beauty and the majesty of goodness. But it is even so; the fallen angel becomes a malignant devil. Yet even that enemy of God and man had friends and associates in his desolation; I am alone."

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He looked at himself in the mirror, not exactly pleased with the sight that met his gaze but unable to move his eyes away.

”I’m sorry, Jian.”

The words were still fresh in his mind, just as the crimson drips of a life forever lost slithered through his fingers in sheer mockery of his borrowed existence.

The kid had looked at him like he was the worst criminal on earth. His eyes, red and swollen from the bout of frightened tears, had shown all too clearly what his trembling lips were unable to say.

“Lucile, you didn’t see anything.” His own flaring eyes had softened at the sight of his heart working up a storm from the mound of dirt they had once christened as their own secret paradise. “You didn’t see…anything.”

He had sobbed. The damn kid just sobbed. He was crying like there was no tomorrow. Like his tears were the only thing left in him to give away.

“He was hurting me, Lucile.” His knees met the ground in a second, his eyes staring blankly into space. “Maestro was hurting me.”

“But why do you have to—to—”

“Keep him here?” He felt a tingle of delight seeing the kid close his eyes and clutch a hand tightly to his chest, as though holding on to his strength, his sanity. He smiled. “Because I didn’t want to miss him so bad. I did love him, you see.”

“You are insane,” came the whispered accusation, bloodshot eyes hardly able to meet his gaze head on.

Jian all but marveled at the thought. “What, are you…scared of me now?” he asked, his voice more taunting than sympathetic. “Are you gonna hate me now?”

Lucile had not answered—or at least, not properly. He saw him cast another wary glance upon the severed head on the ground, and the second following that, the kid was running away. Far away, deep into the night. Into the darkness of the woods shrouding this place from all other eyes.

His arms had ached to confine the kid in a detaining embrace. But he dared not touch him. He dared not feel pity for him now that he knew his secret.

He dared not remember how much he loved him—and felt like he still did, despite everything that has transpired.

“My heart has just flown away…away…” He whispered into nothingness as he kept his eyes on his own decrepit reflection in the mirror, his blood-stained hands tightly clutching the severed head to his chest. “I guess, you’re all I’ve got left now, Maestro.”

He smiled and marveled at the thought, like there was nothing else that mattered. Not the cold night breeze seeping through his skin, nor the heady stench of death it brought into the hut.

“…away…away…”

Never the tears that silently fell from his eyes as he muttered a woeful litany to his own grave.

“…away…”

end