Only to See the World Burn

Cute.

Cute enough to break.

Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

"Little fox, you look like you’ve become more addicted." His lips pull themselves up as he holds the boy close, his hands running gently through golden hair.

"If this is an addiction, then it’s a s****y one." He laughs, the twist in his expression hidden in strands of hair, the smile of a demon.

"But look at you, Dis, you’re holding me so close.” The irony of it all was as his arms fell to his sides, he knew other arms would encircle him instead. He knew that as the seconds, so fleeting and precious, passed by, the other would only become more involved, more obsessed. That as time passed more strings would cling to Dis as if he were a marionette, and Rama would have him dancing like a puppet. 

Obsession. An unhealthy, otherworldly obsession.

Rama could hear the clicking in his ears, or was it screaming?

Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

Waking up to a sleeping face, calm and innocent. Feeling the desire to destroy and protect, a mixture of feelings that didn’t match together, made him confused, intrigued, and all the more obsessed.

"Engrave your memory into me." He murmured, his fingers bringing hair to his lips and then brushing it along his skin. The urge to tug, to burn, and the urge to hold him in his arms all swirled around in Rama’s head. What would he decide, this time? A mischievous smirk pressed into his features and he leaned close, his breath tickling Dis’ ear. "Make me stay."

And Rama laughed because not too long ago, the same words left his lips. Or were they different? 

Stay.

The one who would leave, and the one who was left. It didn’t matter, did it? The back of his fingers trailing along the boy’s cheek, he tucked some hair behind a pale ear before another chuckle left his lips.

In one moment, he was there, his hands fumbling with Dis’ body, hesitant and gentle. And in the next, he was gone.

Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

“I haven’t seen you here in a while.”

The metal of Rama’s swords clinked together as he crossed his legs, the cigarette rolling inside his mouth. “I’ve been a little occupied.”

"Obviously not with the usual."

A corrupted smile settled along his lips, as his mind drifted off to a boy sleeping in his bed. 

"No." He replied, taking the cigarette and pressing it into smooth wood. "I’ve found something much better."

Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

Dull. Everything was dull. 

Silver eyes, half lidded, looked into a face twisted in agony. The palm of his hand holding the man only by the head, he watched with boredom and disinterest as legs kicked back and forth.

"Let me go!" A voice cried, and all he could do was tilt his head. 

"Why?" He asked curiously, his fingers digging into sunken cheeks.

"I don’t want to die!"

"Why?" The ends of his mouth spread and he had the smile befitting of a Cheshire cat.

"I have people to return to!"

Why? A flash of blonde hair, pale skin. Lips that opened and uttered the softest, hesitant cries. Moans stifled by skin, eyes closed tightly. Brown, green, blue. Always changing, yet always the same.

"You think I care?" With a chuckle, fire sparked at his fingertips, blue and hot. Screams echoed, rolled in the dead of night, a little tune for Rama to hum on his way home. Home? Yes, home. Back to a lump in the covers, a harsh voice and small, brittle bones.

As the body covered itself with flames, Rama hummed his little tune. Hummed until his hand could rest at his side again, the remains of a body only ashes to be swept away by the wind. 

Bending down on his knees, he slipped another cigarette in his mouth and chewed slightly on the end. He wondered, with a faint curiosity, what Dis’ ashes would look like. He wondered what last song he would sing, like a lark on the branches of a tree, pushing out its chest in its frantic little breathes. They must be beautiful screams, those screams.

His obsession, already overwhelming him, only grew larger. He wanted to see the boy soak in blue flames, see him whittle away to nothing. 

But then that’s all there was - nothing.

Just like the empty space of which the ashes should have been.

Is that what Rama wanted?

Nothing?

Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

Sitting up one morning, Rama looked out the window to the city outside, quiet in its morning light. He knew at night the buildings would burn, and he would hear those melodic screams, but for now, it was quiet. It was quiet as his fingers pulled through golden locks of hair again, and he pushed out another breath of his cigarette. 

"Dis, honey." He cooed mockingly. "It’s morning."

A body sluggishly moved inside the sheets, and soon a head poped up, eyelids heavy as pupils were barely seen between them. ”Yeah, I can feel that from your breath. It stinks.” Dis mumbled as he sighed against Rama’s shoulder, drowsy with sleep.

"You’ll get used to it." Rama rumbled from the back of his throat, watching with his normal fascination as Dis’ eyes focused, then, slowly pulled away. As they drifted to the hickeys that left dark spots on Rama’s pale skin, and his entire body froze.

Those hickeys weren’t his. And as Rama felt the air freeze around him, he only took another puff of his cigarette, keenly aware of Dis’ penetrating gaze as he took everything in silently. Silently, as he rolled off the bed, already putting on clothes as he made attempts at leaving.

"Hey, what’cha up to -" Rama began, bringing an arm out to bring Dis back into his bed again only to laugh when the clock was thrown at his head and a door was slammed quickly afterward. 

Leaning back against the headboard, he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, the smile on his face again.

It was times like these, where he couldn’t help but tease the boy, if just a little.

Tick Tock. Tick Tock.

Death or life? Rama lies on his back, a cigarette in his mouth as he looks out into the night. Hands dance along his skin, and lips press against his chest, but he only shakes his head.

"Not tonight." He says, and instead he brings the boy close. 

Should he bring his arm around his neck, or burn him?

Dis’ fascination with fire, and Rama’s ability to control it.

In a weird, terrible way, maybe they were meant for each other. In the flickering flames of the night, as they both stared into the ashes of those lost, things broken, they both held that thirst.

That thirst of seeing everything going up in flames.

And maybe, when the world disappeared into the ashes brushed away by the wind, Dis would stay beside him, together laughing at the mess they had made.

Tick Tock.