Disclaimer bit: This story contains references to boy/boy love and deals with characters that are not of my creation. I do not own Marron Glace and Gateau Mocha, but I do own the universe as we know it. Keep that in mind, mmmkay?

Beautiful Dangerous
By Fala

Gateau watched, his breathing slow and muted, his heart humming a deft legato within his ribcage, his eyes, unblinking and locked upon the moon-bathed figure who was but an achingly short distance away.

White fabric
White flesh
White moon
White Marron

Were it not for the silvered shadows that snaked along the folds of Marron’s clothing, and the youth’s mane of shining obsidian hair, Gateau might’ve fallen under the illusion that Marron had become one with the moon.

Marron appeared to be practicing what could’ve been Tai Chi, Tae Bo, Ballet, or all three. As one foot left the ground, and both hands excelled the level of his head, all of Marron’s true grace and beauty betrayed him. At that moment, even Gateau found himself forgetting that Marron was very much a man, rather than some playful sylph or nubile maiden from a fairy tale. In fact, it would have appeared, to the casual observer, that Marron was not even human at all. Such a lowly, base mortal could never possess such otherworldly beauty and pulchritude. But Marron did.

Whilst the poised figure was centering his weight onto his left foot and holding his balance perfectly, a note of alarm sounded within his mind, like the delicate ‘ping’ of thin glass tapped with the tip of a knife. The air felt heavy around him, like the burden of a thousand hungry eyes and their gazes; He was being watched.

His hand slipped smoothly into the sleeve of his cheongsam and took hold of a ward. He then turned in the same, lightning-fast way that a spooked cobra does.

“Show yourself,” he ordered in a quiet, dangerous voice, his shining inky eyes narrowed and possessing a threatening silver gleam in the moonlight.

Damn! Busted, Gateau’s mind swore. He sighed and stepped out from behind the old oak tree.

Upon seeing the familiar (handsome) visage, Marron’s expression softened and he lowered his hand, tucking the ward away, “Gateau,” he said simply, neither to his unwelcome accomplice, nor to himself. More to confirm the presence of the blond warrior than anything else.

“Don’t surprise me like that. I could have killed you. What are you doing awake at this hour?” Marron inquired, his right eyebrow quirked in query. Gateau swore that Marron’s soft voice was very faintly tainted with concealed annoyance. Not that Gateau blamed him. He probably wouldn’t appreciate being spied on either.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Gateau answered, a little unsure of himself. Everything he had planned to say seemed to have burst apart into glittering, animated shards that scurried about like ants on a hot sidewalk. Every time he tried to piece his thoughts together, they broke apart again and scattered into nothingness. Gateau suddenly found himself with a horrifyingly blank mind, and an unsettlingly incredulous stare upon him.

Marron waited patiently, while Gateau struggled to gather his thoughts into one efficient un-neat pile, seeing as that was the best he could do.

“Well, let me ask you this,” Gateau asked, buying himself some time, “Why are you out here at this hour?”

“Oh, this is a weekly exercise I have to do in order to enhance my magical abilities,” Marron explained, “It helps me to improve my balance, my focus and my concentration. Spellcasts of the Eastern Magics require all three.”

“Uh huh”, Gateau said, pretending to listen to Marron while slowly piecing his thoughts together. He knew what he wanted from Marron, no problem. The tricky part was, how to ask for it in way that Marron would understand/be interested in. But what was Marron interested in? He certainly didn’t seem to have any hobbies. He always spent his time reading, studying his damn magic.

MAGIC.

Of course!

Before Gateau could really stop himself, he bitterly thought aloud, “So, is magic more important to you than love?”

Marron’s shocked expression made Gateau realize he’d just said that to his face. Gateau had often found himself frustrated with Marron because the guy was always into some book or another, and totally ignoring everyone around him (namely Gateau). If Marron was reading, nothing Gateau did could take him away from that. Maybe he wouldn’t be so damn antisocial if he spent more time with his friends than with his books. Marron reading might as well have been Marron unconscious. Or Marron frozen in liquid nitrogen. Or Marron drunk. Yep, if the world was coming to an end, or the sky was falling, sit Marron down with a book and everything would be Hakuna Matata for him.

“Sorry Marron,” Gateau said quietly, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

But Marron’s next words shocked Gateau into thinking Marron might as well have struck him in the face.

“No, you’re right.”

Gateau turned abruptly, regarding Marron with wide, curious blue eyes, “Come again?”

“My magic is the reason why I’ve been pushing you away,” Marron said softly, a definite sadness dampening his words, despite whatever indifference his smooth expression projected. He averted his eyes.

“What do you mean?” Gateau asked, his own voice sounding foreign and hollow to him.

“I have been studying the Eastern Magics for almost my entire life. I excelled to the highest level of Magehood at a very young age. But it was not enough for me. I continued to seek out new knowledge, despite the fact that there was none. Promising scholars who continue to study, though they know very well that they have nothing more to learn, transcend into a new, potentially dangerous level of magic user. This is called a Core Mage.”

Gateau shrugged casually, “I see. And let me guess, you’re one of those, right?”

Marron nodded grimly.

Gateau shrugged, “So you’re done with your studies, you’re an awesome Mage, as awesome as they come, and you’re still young. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You don’t have to worry about your studies anymore, so why don’t we... uh...” the words caught and tangled in Gateau’s throat. Somehow, he just couldn’t bring himself to speak those words to Marron. Not yet. Especially when they were pushed down with the weight of what was very possibly a final rejection. Oh gods, how such a thought tore at Gateau’s heart...

“Gateau, it hurts me to tell you this. It hurts me deep,” Marron said, lifting a hand and letting it rest lightly over his heart as if confirming where the pain struck him so profoundly, “But it is high time that you knew. I should have told you the truth long ago,” Marron paused only long enough to take a deep breath before continuing, “A Core Mage is not simply a magic user who is advanced in his studies or especially devoted. A Core Mage is one who is... obsessed. One who has been corrupted by his fascination; a slave, and a house to it. I lost myself within my studies long ago. You know that my specialties are Fire Magic and Stun Spells. I buried myself so deep within my studies, that I became one with them. Fire itself is now a part of me. My blood engenders it, it coils around my heart, and is infused within my very being, hence the title “Core Mage”. I can never be touched, Gateau. Not by a lover. Most of my skin is thick enough to contain the heat that my inner body has come to house, but in places where my skin is thinner, for example, my lips...” Marron paused, his speech becoming unsteady. He drew in a harsh, shuddering breath, “A single kiss could stun you into temporary, or even permanent paralysis. And if you were to... make love to me...” Marron’s voice quavered slightly before he swallowed in an effort to steady himself, “...that... would most certainly kill you.”

Gateau released a breath that he didn’t remember holding. He felt cold, hard, and empty inside. His heartbeat was sluggish and painful, and he swore he felt himself shaking in his boots.

“...I hate myself for what I’ve become,” Marron continued, a faint tone of disgust tinging his already dark voice, “but I am what I am, and nothing can change that. I will never let myself take a lover, for I will certainly end up bringing harm upon them, though unintentionally. I could not and would not forgive myself if I hurt someone I loved. You have no idea how painful it’s been for me, pushing you away like this. You have no idea how much of a temptation you have been to me, throughout the years. But, I just... don’t want to lose you.”

Marron’s voice trailed off and faded into the chilly night air until it vanished, leaving the two stock-still figures alone with their awe, and themselves. The world seemed to melt away, only to come crashing down upon them in a cold, leaden mass. Yet they stood, as if frozen within Ice and in Time itself. Gateau then broke the cold, hard silence with a single frail wisp of a question.

“Marron... Why didn’t you tell me before...?”

Marron simply shook his head and closed his eyes, “I couldn’t,” he said, in the voice of man making a last confession whilst lying upon his deathbed, “I could never tell anyone of my... condition, lest they come to hate and fear me for it. I didn’t want you to run from me. I couldn’t bear that.”

“Then why didn’t you at least have the decency to give me an answer?” Gateau inquired, slightly annoyed that Marron thought him so shallow, so cowardly, that he would avoid Marron because of something that wasn’t really his fault, “You could have at least said ‘No’ or ‘Feck off, Gateau,’ or something like that instead of leaving me in the dark all this time. Or did you get a kick out of watching me get down on all fours for you?”

Marron looked up, his dark eyes wide, “No that’s not it all at all.”

“Then WHY, dammit, didn't you just give me one word? One little ‘no’ and I would've left you alone.”

“Exactly,” Marron said in a voice that was soft with hurt, “If I’d said ‘no’, then you would have left me alone. You would have given up on me and looked for love somewhere else, leaving me alone with my... curse,” Marron averted his eyes again, “I was being selfish, Gateau. I understand that now. I wanted you to come back to me, time and time again, to make me feel wanted. In all honesty, Gateau. No matter how I reacted to your efforts outwardly, deep down, I truly liked the attention you were giving me.”

Blue eyes went wide as that last feather-soft confession left Marron’s lips and came upon Gateau like thunder. The warrior couldn’t help gawping at the little Mage as snippets of the conversation whirred through his mind; “You have no idea how much of a temptation you have been to me...” “I truly liked the attention you were giving me...” “I just...don’t want to lose you...” Marron had just confessed that he actually liked Gateau and that he probably would’ve returned his affections if he’d been able to do so without endangering him. That was a bombshell in itself. Gateau found himself staring in dumbstruck silence at the magic user, who looked absolutely miserable. That is to say, as miserable as Marron could look. At any given time, Marron held an air of aloof indifference, and his stoic visage was flawlessly unreadable. Yet tonight, the lines of his smooth expression seemed to have drooped, if only slightly. His eyes were not closed completely, but the rings of dark, glittering oil that served as Marron’s irises were hidden behind a healthy fringe of feathery lashes. His brow twitched slightly, as though the normally effortless task of bottling his emotions required a profound struggle tonight. Gateau couldn’t remember a time when Marron had ever looked so ashamed. So... hurt.

One moment Marron was staring at the ground in thick, embarrassed silence, feeling as though his fiery blood had turned to ice. The next, he found himself pressed against the warm, sturdy body of his warrior friend as two muscle-bound arms held his frail form in a surprisingly gentle embrace. No. He could not be this close. One thing would lead to another, and then he would end up... No!

Marron pressed a hand to Gateau’s chest, intending to push him away, but found he could not. His cloying desire choked any convictions he might have had, and he found himself actually leaning against Gateau. As for his hand... What started out as a forceful rejection instantly transformed into a gesture of soft affection. Marron let his head rest against Gateau’s chest, next to where he’d placed his hand, and felt Gateau’s arms bring him even closer. The warrior’s words were soft and gentle, like a caress as he inquired of his companion, “And what if I told you that I would love you anyway?”

Marron’s qualms and common sense snapped back into clarity and he looked up at Gateau, his eyes sad, “Gateau, believe me when I say that it hurts me to reject you, but it is the only way. I will never put your life in danger, no matter how strong our desires might be. I cannot be your lover.”

“Lover?” Gateau smiled and would have chuckled if the situation had been a bit more laughable. This was hardly the time for mirth, so he kept his voice smooth, “Marron, you make it sound like love is all about sex.”

Marron looked confused, “But, I thought you-”

“Ssssh,” Gateau admonished gently, stroking Marron’s hair so as to soothe away any remaining qualms he might have. Marron sighed and finally allowed himself to lean into the embrace. His eyes slipped shut and he found himself silently enjoying Gateau’s gentle touch. Even as the soft pleasure was flooding Marron’s sensible mind, a vision tiptoed through the mists of self-indulgence, its brilliant broadcast overpowering them...

Faintly hungry lips scattering feathered kisses along the lines of his neck and collarbones as strong but ever so gentle fingers provide their own contributions elsewhere. Quiet, pleasured moans escaping from two pairs of parted lips. Bodies entwined and moving wave-like against each other. The lips become ravenous, seeking more than the mild, delicate flavour of pale, fair flesh. They leave, only to make a welcome return upon an almost expectant mouth. Cloyed by heated pleasure and overwhelming desire, his lips part and his mouth is enslaved. The foreign protrusion emits an almost beacon-like warmth as the warm cavity is explored and dominated. His world and his worries melt around him as he willfully submits to his own treacherous desires. Then pleasure yields to power, and a heat far more intense than that of his passions surges through his body like summer lighting, and lays siege upon the welcome intruder in a searing, blinding massacre. Wide eyes watch in horrified fascination as his companion writhes within the envelope of flames he is trapped in, screaming blue murder, until he is nothing but a quaint little heap of dark ashes upon the floor. Struck dumb, he numbly extends one shaking hand and scoops up a portion of the shining black ashes. They slip fluidly through his fingers much like the life of his ardent companion. The ashes fall back to their home pile, tiny remnants of the holocaust called ‘Love’...


“No!”

Gateau nearly fell backwards as Marron brusquely pushed against him, forcing himself away from his counterpart. The older man looked as though he’d been slapped in the face as he regarded Marron, who was still shaking at the memory of that hideous vision.

“Marron...”

It lacked the tone of an interrogative statement, but it was more a question than anything else. It was an outreach. It was desperate.

“No...” Marron lamented coldly, despairingly, feeling as though the blackest walls of the darkness night were closing in on him from all sides...

He ran.

Through an endless forest of murk and melancholy, he ran.

Uttering a constant chain of whispered defiance, he ran.

“No... no...”

Marron felt the forest earth, submissive and loamy beneath his feet. He felt the presence of the night sky, cold and uncaring above his head. He struggled for breath in shuddering gasps that could have been sobs. Errant ribbons of hair brushed his face, drying what could have been tears.

Leaving behind a thunderstruck friend and a very inviting offer of expansive love that could have stretched to the heavens and beyond, he ran.

~!~!~!~!~!~

Gateau awoke with a sick/dizzy/achey feeling, like he’d been swimming in a raging ocean, struggling against the waves. The previous night, Gateau had been pelted with the truth, and hours had passed before he could even close his eyes, let alone seek out the soothing, subliminal spell of sleep.

Moaning, he rose from his bed of earth and moss. The sun was just beginning to announce its ascent with pale golden fingerprints as evidence, gracing the silver-lilac morning sky.

Feeling absolutely lousy in more ways than one, Gateau picked himself up off the ground and went in search of a clear stream so as to splash some cool water on his face. After a few minutes of walking, he finally came upon what he’d been looking for. However, a stream was not all that he found...

He darted behind a nearby bush.

Shining one, permit me, o please... to gaze mine last upon thy beauty...

Marron was meditating. The fact that he was deep in a trance of some sort was evident from the absolute tranquility that anointed his porcelain features. His eyes were closed, and he was standing in the stream...

No...

He was standing on the stream. The toes of his simple white shoes were lightly touching down upon the water as if the liquid were firm, tiny ripples pooling out from where silken shoe met stagnant stream. Marron’s arms were held out at his sides, like the wings of an angel, as he was turning in a slow, easy circle upon the the water’s glittering surface.

Marron’s speed increased slightly, his turns going from slow and easy to deft and delicate. Just when he was nearing the point at which speed threatened grace, his feet left the water altogether.

What immortal tongue could speak such fair, poetic symmetry...?

Gateau held his breath and watched in wonder as the white-clad man fluidly rose up above the earth. As he drifted upward, gentle sunbeams caressing his nimble body, Gateau felt his heart crying tears of blood...

Marron’s legs turned and followed each other like spokes in a spinning wheel. His arms arched gracefully above his head like courting serpents. His shining white garments followed his body, his clothing yielding and flowing like a cool eddy of water.

Within the embrace of early dawn, you shimmered...

Marron performed his stellar dance with impossible ease, as though he were present in that place between asleep and awake, where one can still remember dreaming. Every move he made seemed to leave music in its wake. The air was soon filled with a silent song, a choking rhapsody that brought tears to Gateau’s eyes.

These he hastily brushed away, and shaking, got to feet. Gateau stalked moodily away, corrupted by a rank bitterness that pierced his very core.

Such beauty that is not and will never be mine to say “I love you” to.