Elfëa
02-04-2003, 03:57 PM
Hmm... this isn't edited or anything, but I think it goes PG-13.
WARNING - CONTAINING KISS BETWEEN TWO MALES!
to those who cannot take slash ;)
plus I hope it's not against rules here.... :confused:
The Rain
I’m drawn to you.
Like a moth to a flame.
And I desire you
Nothing more. I am
But drawn to you.
I am your butterfly.
Your flame burns me,
Ever consuming,
To colourless ash.
He stood in the grey rain. The water poured down on him, leaving his black hair in flat tangles around his head. He held his chin up high; raindrops hit his brow. The water run down his hair; it reached the insides of his cloak. The robes he wore underneath were drained. Coldness swept over his skin; it should have made him shiver it didn’t - his pride prevented it.
He lifted his chin even higher - he was not going to cry - hoping his face was as emotionless as his. Green eyes locked with his grey ones. Grey and cold were – as if they knew but hatred. His stare disgraced him, made him lose his strength. He had always held that power over him.
He stood and gazed him in the drowning rain. His gaze felt cruel on his skin. So cold – it made him shiver inside. He remembered time when there had been emotion in his eyes.
The rain flattened his blond silver locks against his head. Even in the drenching rain he looked graceful. His face was like angel’s – pure and beautiful. Full of power. It showed no emotion and it hurt to look at him. ‘It is not allowed for man to be so beautiful’ someone said once. He knew it. And he knew the price. But it was too late.
The contrast of his pale features against his black cloak, lined with silver, was amazing. Hiswealth showed in his clothing. In the cloak he wore, he looked even more like Morningstar. As if Lucifer himself had risen from the Hells.
He remembered time when his eyes had burned like the fires of Hell. Now the coldness dwelt in the grey depths. The coldness that surrounded him froze the people who tried to approach him. He had tried as many had before him. And he had gotten close. So close. And the fire had burned him. There was nothing left anymore, but a cold goodbye. And there was had no one to blame but himself.
The rain fell down his face, making patterns; following the trails of un-cried tears. Raindrops flooded down, stopping on his lips. They burned still, with the memory of his lips. His whole body still ached for his. Ached for the memory. The memory of the kiss in the rain.
Once before they had stood there, in the rain, their gazes locked. Entwined; emerald green eyes near tears and burning grey ones. His face had been emotionless, but he had seen his eyes burning. And foolishly lied to himself. Or had he? He could not see if it ever had been otherwise.
They had stood here, in the cold rain. He found himself staring his face, instead of his eyes. The rain had washed of the blood, but he could still see traces. He had felt his gaze on his skin and looked up into his grey eyes. Burning with emotion. And he had seen something he had not expected… a question. A question he was afraid of. He knew the answer; it burned his heart. He had fought against his pride and turned his eyes away. Scared. He knew how easily he could burn.
The rain had poured on him, wrapped him inside. He dared not to look back at him. He had felt his presence, known he hadn’t gone. Yet he was unable to move.
His hand touched his shoulder. He shivered unintentionally. He turned him around, held his chin and made him look at him. In his grey eyes stars kindled in the depths. Grey eyes, like the rain they stood in for that eternity. His face wasn’t emotionless. His eyes searched him, his eyes. He had closed them, softly – as in answer.
He was conscious of his body, so close to his. Warmth in the cold rain. He tried to focus his thoughts. The fight against his emotions had been a doomed from the start. He could feel the falling raindrops drawing down his face, from his brow, his cheeks; raindrops on his lips tasted bitter sweet water. His cold hand holding his chin, burning against the cold skin.
He had lowered his head and kissed the raindrops from his lips. He still remembered how his lips tasted: the tingling taste of blood, from the corner of his mouth, cold winter mornings and fire. How could someone so cold hold such fire in him?
He had lift his head and looked at him. A flicker of unidentified emotion crossed his face, then it was hidden again. Now he knew what that flicker had been – fire.
The coldness in him grew but he had let himself forget in the passionate embrace. That was all he had to offer. He knew, but still he had longed for more.
Now it was all gone.
The memory wavered around, haunting and his tears mixed with the rain. He looked in his eyes for the final time and mouthed “I hate you.”
His voice, cold and grey, hung in the flooding night: ‘Goodbye.’
WARNING - CONTAINING KISS BETWEEN TWO MALES!
to those who cannot take slash ;)
plus I hope it's not against rules here.... :confused:
The Rain
I’m drawn to you.
Like a moth to a flame.
And I desire you
Nothing more. I am
But drawn to you.
I am your butterfly.
Your flame burns me,
Ever consuming,
To colourless ash.
He stood in the grey rain. The water poured down on him, leaving his black hair in flat tangles around his head. He held his chin up high; raindrops hit his brow. The water run down his hair; it reached the insides of his cloak. The robes he wore underneath were drained. Coldness swept over his skin; it should have made him shiver it didn’t - his pride prevented it.
He lifted his chin even higher - he was not going to cry - hoping his face was as emotionless as his. Green eyes locked with his grey ones. Grey and cold were – as if they knew but hatred. His stare disgraced him, made him lose his strength. He had always held that power over him.
He stood and gazed him in the drowning rain. His gaze felt cruel on his skin. So cold – it made him shiver inside. He remembered time when there had been emotion in his eyes.
The rain flattened his blond silver locks against his head. Even in the drenching rain he looked graceful. His face was like angel’s – pure and beautiful. Full of power. It showed no emotion and it hurt to look at him. ‘It is not allowed for man to be so beautiful’ someone said once. He knew it. And he knew the price. But it was too late.
The contrast of his pale features against his black cloak, lined with silver, was amazing. Hiswealth showed in his clothing. In the cloak he wore, he looked even more like Morningstar. As if Lucifer himself had risen from the Hells.
He remembered time when his eyes had burned like the fires of Hell. Now the coldness dwelt in the grey depths. The coldness that surrounded him froze the people who tried to approach him. He had tried as many had before him. And he had gotten close. So close. And the fire had burned him. There was nothing left anymore, but a cold goodbye. And there was had no one to blame but himself.
The rain fell down his face, making patterns; following the trails of un-cried tears. Raindrops flooded down, stopping on his lips. They burned still, with the memory of his lips. His whole body still ached for his. Ached for the memory. The memory of the kiss in the rain.
Once before they had stood there, in the rain, their gazes locked. Entwined; emerald green eyes near tears and burning grey ones. His face had been emotionless, but he had seen his eyes burning. And foolishly lied to himself. Or had he? He could not see if it ever had been otherwise.
They had stood here, in the cold rain. He found himself staring his face, instead of his eyes. The rain had washed of the blood, but he could still see traces. He had felt his gaze on his skin and looked up into his grey eyes. Burning with emotion. And he had seen something he had not expected… a question. A question he was afraid of. He knew the answer; it burned his heart. He had fought against his pride and turned his eyes away. Scared. He knew how easily he could burn.
The rain had poured on him, wrapped him inside. He dared not to look back at him. He had felt his presence, known he hadn’t gone. Yet he was unable to move.
His hand touched his shoulder. He shivered unintentionally. He turned him around, held his chin and made him look at him. In his grey eyes stars kindled in the depths. Grey eyes, like the rain they stood in for that eternity. His face wasn’t emotionless. His eyes searched him, his eyes. He had closed them, softly – as in answer.
He was conscious of his body, so close to his. Warmth in the cold rain. He tried to focus his thoughts. The fight against his emotions had been a doomed from the start. He could feel the falling raindrops drawing down his face, from his brow, his cheeks; raindrops on his lips tasted bitter sweet water. His cold hand holding his chin, burning against the cold skin.
He had lowered his head and kissed the raindrops from his lips. He still remembered how his lips tasted: the tingling taste of blood, from the corner of his mouth, cold winter mornings and fire. How could someone so cold hold such fire in him?
He had lift his head and looked at him. A flicker of unidentified emotion crossed his face, then it was hidden again. Now he knew what that flicker had been – fire.
The coldness in him grew but he had let himself forget in the passionate embrace. That was all he had to offer. He knew, but still he had longed for more.
Now it was all gone.
The memory wavered around, haunting and his tears mixed with the rain. He looked in his eyes for the final time and mouthed “I hate you.”
His voice, cold and grey, hung in the flooding night: ‘Goodbye.’