Dream Fragments

[electrumicity.livejournal.com]

Title: Dream Fragments
Fandom: apurgatorium, Gundam 00, Damienverse
Pairing: Lyle/Allelujah, Lockon/Hallelujah, Lockon/Allelujah/Lyle, Lockon/Allelujah
Rating: PG-13
Notes: A series of drabbles from some Word Wars in chat. Also, number 5 isn't Purgverse, it's from a FFX/G00 crossover. >_>; Also, just remembered that Alric owes me a beer. Yes, this is related.



1) "When you finally understand what it meant, the truth will leave your lips. Not as words, but a sound at the back of your throat."

Things were never as he expected them to be. That seemed to be a rule of Purgatorium, one that'd never change no matter how much happened or how much time passed; in fact, the more time passed, the truer that rule seemed to be. Allelujah had first arrived at the city with a certain set of ideas and ideals in his mind, and his time had simply served to dismantle most of them piece by piece, recreating it into something that he didn't always fully understand.

Hallelujah was the cause of most of it, sure. Everything about him was unexpected: truly become a person of his own, his relationship with Grimmjow, but most importantly, his relationship with Lockon. Allelujah never knew much about love before, but he'd always assumed that romantic love was, of course, between two people. Now, however, Hallelujah and Lockon were involved just as much as himself and Lockon were--it was something that he never even remotely thought of before, but there it was. Love became something that encompassed more than two people; it was three, now.

That he'd been getting used to that idea wasn't helping his current situation any. His relaxing ease with the idea of loving more than one person in that way, as he tried to avoid any feelings of jealousy, was only leading to more confusing thoughts, namely involving one Lyle Dylandy. He'd been getting closer and closer to the man over the course of the past few months, going from acquaintances to Allelujah considering him his dearest friend and the person most important to him outside of Lockon and Hallelujah. There was love there, yes. What was making it so much complicated was that he was slowly beginning to realize that it wasn't just some kind of simple, brotherly sort of love. It was more than that. It was similar to what he felt for Lockon, and the more he thought about it, the guiltier he got. It didn't make it go away any sooner, though.

It made sense, he supposed. Lyle was...Lyle, and he'd fallen for the man's kindness, compassion, charm, and honestly? The fact that he was an adorable loser. The older man had sniped his heart just like Lockon had in the past, and he was going to have to deal with that fact now. He didn't know how to, however. Was he supposed to tell Lyle? Lockon? What would come of that?

If he opened his mouth, the words weren't going to come out properly. He was sure of that. Allelujah was terrified of messing things up within their relationship; between him and Lyle, him and Lockon, Lockon and Lyle. It was a recipe for disaster. But every day, it was nagging at his mind more and more.

Something had to be done. Just to get this off of his mind. Even if nothing came of this, he had to say something. And so he found himself at the door of Lyle's room, knocking, heart already in his throat.

When the door open, he tried to speak. "Lyle, I---" And nothing else came out.

Still, by the look on Lyle's face, he realized he didn't need to say another word, because it seemed that the man somehow already knew. The smile told enough.



2) "there's just one thing missing / one thing missing here is love / i like the way you move in the dark -- i like the tension, the tension and the spark."

It didn't start as love. Far from it. Their first time "together"--truly together, him in control and not Allelujah--was hilariously enough, in the same place that his first time with Grimmjow was in. On top of the altar in the church. Somehow, perfect and befitting his name, which was the butt of many a 'screaming it during sex' joke. He didn't even remember why they had done it, what had led up to it, only that he'd had Lockon every which way on top of the cold stone, not even thinking that he was cheating in Grimmjow (because he barely even understood relationships at that point, perhaps?).

From there, it just went on. No one else knew, because Grimm would either kill him or leave him, neither of which he particularly wanted. Lockon was simply...Lockon. And having the pale body under him, marked up by /him/, bruises and bitemarks mapping the skin, was something that he wasn't going to let go of anytime soon. Every little sound the older Meister made, every grunt at yanking at his hair too hard or wince at sinking his teeth a little too hard into him--it was all music to his ears.

And then Grimmjow left, but he still had Lockon. So he continued. Allelujah was bothered by it at first, but even that was going away, and he seemed to reluctantly accept what was going on as long as the two of them were happy. Lockon had always been an idiot to Hallelujah, but at least an attractive one, so he wasn't going to let this one go.

It was somewhere along the line of rough thrusts and harsh kisses that he realized how possessive he was getting. Beyond simple possession, even, to the lines of what he thought he might have had with the since-left arrancar. Thinking about it more and trying to make sense of it was only infuriating Hallelujah more, something that led to a lot more winces from the man underneath him, though maybe that was okay. He'd make him suffer, because he was making him feel this way. Hallelujah yanked his head up by the hair, crushing their lips together as they reached the peak of their dance and shoving him back down to the bed afterwards.

When his mind finally came to, he looked down, but Lockon was simply smiling at him with that little serene sort of look, despite that his lip was bleeding almost profusely and that there were almost a dozen fresh bruises and bite marks on him.

Hallelujah gave him a punch as he climbed off of him, ignoring the chuckles. This was supposed to be a bad thing, not a good one, so the fatass needed to stop making him feel happy.



3) "I believe that love is the answer / I believe that love will find a way"

"I wonder if the sky here is the same as it is back on Earth," Allelujah mused aloud to his two companions as they sprawled on the rooftop of their home on the upper level, blanket underneath them as well as pillows under their heads. It was becoming a tradition at this point, once a week or so coming up to the roof to lay around and stare at the stars, chat, and sometimes just fall asleep there. "For all my time spent up in space, I don't know much about constellations, so I can't even pick that stuff out. It's kind of embarrassing, now that I think about."

Lockon reached over to give his hair a ruffle, chuckling at the pout on his younger lover's face. "Don't worry, I don't know anything either. What about you, Lyle?" He glanced over to the man in question, who had been looking at them until then. Lyle shrugged and shifted his glance up to the sky, raising his hand to gesture and point to different parts of it. "There're things that should be there... there... and a certain star there, but they're not here. It's just a blanket of stars."

"Maybe they didn't want to discriminate against anyone living in different worlds, so they just made it...neutral?" Lockon suggested, earning him a thwap over the head by his brother.

"Yeah, because the gods of this place really care deeply about offending people's feelings about what the sky looks like," Lyle said sarcastically in return.

Allelujah could only laugh, giving the both of them a shove. "Boys, come on. Stop being children. We didn't come here to fight."

"Yes, mama," both Dylandys chorused in union.

They remained there for some time, aimlessly chatting about the events of the week, things coming up, some random gossip, whatever came to mind. Sometimes their conversations ended up running deep, but for now, it was just the usual talk. Not that it was a bad thing--it was incredibly comforting, no matter how simple the talk was.

Hours passed before they knew it, not knowing even what time it was, but none of them really cared. If they slept in, they slept in. "Mmm...getting kinda sleepy," Allelujah murmured, yawning afterwards. "Think I'm going to nod off now...don't feel like moving... You can carry me or we can sleep here."

Lockon only gave him a snore in return as he held Allelujah a little closer to his chest, and the younger Meister could only give Lyle an amused, sleepy smile. "I guess that answers it. You're staying up here too, right?"

"Don't I always?" Lyle scooted closer, letting his own arms wrap around Allelujah as well, resting somewhat on Lockon too. "Otherwise you wouldn't be able to sleep because you'd be missing me too much."

"Keep telling yourself that," came another sleepy murmur, before Allelujah closed his eyes and drifted off.

Lyle stayed awake for a little while longer, watching him and Lockon closely. It was funny, how no matter what happened, happiness or tragedy in this world, they'd always find themselves cuddled up here on the roof just the same; that, maybe, was their answer to everything.



4) Cell phones

Though they had all been given communicators for work-related purposes, each of the Meisters had their own personal cell phones as well, for personal use. Allelujah barely ever used his, not having anyone to call. Every so often, Lockon would give him a ring, but even then it was usually just a "Let's get together and hang out", barely even a conversation.

It was fun to fiddle with all of the features, though. There were a multitude of ringtones available, ranging from little sound effects to parts of songs both new and old. Certain ringtones could be applied to certain people as well, and he wasted some time assigning specific tones to everyone on his address list (basically, everyone onboard the Ptolemaios).

One day, a discussion with Lockon made him find out that the older Meister did the same with his phone. Curious as to what tune Lockon had assigned him, he waited until he was facing the other way before pulling out his phone, dialing the number.

There was a pause, then a buzz, before Lockon's phone began to blare out a song.

~You're just too good to be true / Can't take my eyes off of you...~

Both men were silent as the phone played the very old tune. Lockon looked at Allelujah, down at his phone, back at Allelujah, back at his phone—then grabbed it and shut it off.

"You heard nothing," he grumbled.



5) "The people and the friends we have lost, or the dreams that have faded... Never forget them."

He often came down to the beach when he could, slipping away from the others in order to get some time by himself to think. With Sin defeated, things had been peaceful—almost too peaceful. Allelujah had never thought about what his life would be like after defeating Sin, because there wasn't supposed to be a life after that. He was supposed to have died. But here he was, and here they were, alive and well and Sin gone for good.

The Eternal Calm. He'd brought peace and respite to Spira, and kept his life while doing so. But he and his guardians knew well that it still didn't come without sacrifice. Allelujah may have not lost his life, but he'd still lost something important.

The (former?) summoner brought his fingers to his lips, letting out a shrill whistle, remembering what Lockon had taught him in the past.

Practice it, and when we get separated, you can just whistle for me. I'll come running immediately.

But there was nothing. Another whistle, and still nothing. He wasn't sure what he was expecting to see. A familiar head of brown hair breaking through the surface of the water? It'd been a month already. How long was he going to be hung up over this? Allelujah sighed as he sat down next to the water, pressing his palm into the wet sand and watching as water pooled around and over it. A month, and it still wasn't any easier. The heartache was familiar; he'd felt this way once before, one night in Bevelle so many years ago, when reality hit him and he realized that his mother was never coming back. And once again, Spira was celebrating, and here he was, nursing a broken heart.

"...you bastard, " he murmured, clutching the wet sand. "Come out of nowhere, make me fall for you, then disappear. I'll beat you senseless if I ever see you again."

The sun was already beginning to set, and he knew that Lyle was going to run around like a headless chicken worried sick if he didn't get back to the village soon, so he stood up, ready to go back.

One last whistle, just because...and a pause, before he turned around, walking away from the shoreline. He almost thought now, just maybe, he heard a faint whistle in return, but he knew it was just wishful thinking.



6) Not a morning person

Allelujah was not a morning person. Not in the least. Waking up was hard enough, getting out of bed even harder. Lockon would often have to literally drag him out of bed almost every morning, threatening to dump a bucket of ice water over his head if he didn't get up and dressed already ("Though I don't mind if you walk around naked, as long as you stay in the room, but since you're going out..."). He still didn't know how he had managed in the SSO with the six-in-the-morning wakeup calls, but now that he had a little leeway, he was taking full advantage of it.

The Meister groaned as he shifted a little in bed, the first realization upon awakening was that his head ached. Hangover? Was he drinking last night? He tried to think back, though his mind was still fuzzy. ...Right, he had. He'd been playing poker with Lyle. Poker, poker...Hallelujah had insisted... ...Strip poker? Right. Not that they'd go all the way. Granted, he couldn't remember anything past a few hands, and a few garments off. Why couldn't they be playing strip Monopoly or something? Oh, right, because anyone else would be naked within the first five minutes.

He tried to turn around to get more comfortable, but realized that a pair of arms were wrapped tightly around him. Okay, that was normal. Lockon was as clingy as he was. While his sleepy mind continued to try to make sense of things, he felt something move near the foot of the bed, something small crawling up towards the pillows. Allelujah cracked his eyes open when he felt a small tongue licking his cheek, unable to help but smile at the puppy. "Hey. What're you doing in here?" he asked, knowing that he always closed the door to his and Lockon's bedroom at night.

Neil gave a small bark, which was enough to stir the man he had in his own arms. "What the...go away and stop bothering me, Neil," the man mumbled. "If you pee on my pillow again, I swear..."

...

Well, damnit.



7) Experiments and needles

Looking at the vial of crimson liquid didn't give him the same comfort as it did a year ago. No, to call it simply comfort would to be ignoring all the other feels it brought. Pride, persistence, and even fear. This medicine was going to be his greatest work yet, a formula to cure that which had yet to be cured, and above all, a personal savior.

Damn Purgatorium for ruining all of that.

Damien carefully rolled the vial back in forth in his palm, watching the play of candlelight off of it. To think that a mere year in a dreamlike world could change him so much—change him so much—to the point where what he once saw as a cure was now a deadly poison, a weapon to murder. A mere year to change what he had been so intent on doing before he left, and now, he was left lost and unsure of what to do now.

Asellus wasn't here. What did Cosmas have left? Did it matter? No, it did, and he knew it. He still had his own life. And who was he to take that from him?

The scientist laughed as he glanced across his lab table, at the herbs, chemicals, beakers and syringes, all extensions of himself. It didn't make any sense anymore, no. Cosmas was not the monster he once thought he was. Was he? No, not anymore. Was he willing to take that risk? Yes, he was. Because he knew that somehow, whether she was real or not, Asellus' ghost would haunt him past death if he actually completed and used this medicine on himself.

A year of work on what lay in his hand. A year of work on what lay in his head.

Pride. To escape Purgatorium was to repent for one's sins.

Without another thought, he flicked his wrist hard, sending the vial flying into the nearby stone wall. The glass shattered, red liquid splattering the wall and slowly dripping down, making him think of blood that he prayed he would never see spilled again.

He'd taken that chance, and could only hope he'd chosen correctly.