CONFLICT, by Yaeko

Nothing had been happening. The days passed, eventless in their simplicity. Nothing could disrupt the calm days of summer. The Sorcerer Hunters were spending their short, rare vacation at the Stellar Church. In all reality, it wasn’t even a vacation. It was more of a short lapse in-between a debriefing and an assignment. The Stellar Church was particularly busy, and, happily, no one had had the time to tell the Sorcerer Hunters what to do next. So they spent their days in their separate rooms, or walking around together in town. Well, in reality, four of the five of their number did so. Marron opted to staying inside, still not wishing to go anywhere in particular. He spent his hours sitting in the sunlit courtyard at the end of the hall opposite his room. He preferred it to his quarters, which here quite dark, and depressing.

Depressing, of course, not being a good thing for Marron in his state. Gateau had rescued him, so to speak, from a painful and destructive ordeal, during which he had taken to cutting himself with a jewel-hilted stiletto knife. Marron had fallen asleep in Gateau’s arms that night at the inn. Nothing had really happened between them, as far as Marron could see, but the older boy had stayed nearby to comfort him. It touched Marron deeply to think that Gateau cared so much for him, but he wasn’t sure he was comfortable with the way the man showed it. It made him uncomfortable to think of the feeling of Gateau’s calloused hands moving over his naked shoulders. He didn’t like it, remembering it, that was. At the time, it had been extremely comforting, even pleasurable, but in retrospect, he was frightened. It reminded him in an unholy way of the terrifying events that had occurred nearly a month ago, an abuse to his person which he could certainly never forgive, nor understand. But the main effect of their night spent together - innocently - was that Marron had stopped the injury to himself. The cuts were healing, slowly but surely. It had been almost a week since the last time he had done it, and he didn’t really consider the knife anymore. Out of respect for both Gateau and himself, he had removed the stiletto from his robes, and, not yet having the courage to cast it away altogether, had tucked it in a pocket in his rucksack.

On the eve of the third day, Marron walked quietly out of the flowering courtyard, rich with the sunset, and into the building proper. He followed several long hallways down towards one of the largest rooms in the Stellar Church, a banquet hall. The room, rather dim, lighted by hundreds upon hundreds of candles, held ten long tables, at which were seated most of the denizens of the Church. All of Big Momma’s employees sat at these tables, about to begin their supper. Marron floated into the room following a few other people, Haz Knights who looked only slightly older than he. He spotted his brother at one of the tables, flanked by sisters Tira and Chocolate Misu, and walked over to them. He came to his usual chair across from his brother to find Gateau already seated to his right. He pulled out his chair and sat down, not bothering to say anything because, in reality, he hardly ever spoke anyway, no matter what his mood. Somewhere at one of the tables at the far end of the room, Marron thought he spied his father, who might or might not have been in town. Deciding to say something, he asked, “Oniisan, is that Father over there?” “What?” asked Carrot, turned around and craning his neck to follow Marron’s gaze. “Where?” But the big man Marron had spotted had gotten up from his seat and was striding over towards their table, a wide smile on his face. When he reached the table, he clapped Carrot hard on the back and said, “My boys! Glad you saw me, Marron, or I might not have come over. Mille Feiulle was just trying to convince me to come over. I, um, wasn’t really sure you would want me meddling.”

‘Of course he doesn’t want to meddle, he’s never meddled,’ Marron thought angrily. Mr. Glace had abandoned his sons for several years. It hadn’t been his fault, they told themselves, he had been completely swamped by the Stellar Church during that time, but it still stung. But now that the Glace brothers were in the service of the Stellar Church, as well, it provided them with a few more opportunities for them to see their patriarch. Not many, but more than they had for the past six years. Marron couldn’t help but think that, even if Onion Glace knew what had happened to his son, he wouldn’t have gone out of his way to enter Marron’s life. “No way, Dad!” Carrot said happily. “We’re always glad to see you!” Looking at the Misu sisters over Carrot’s head, Onion asked, “And how are the two sweetest girls on the Spooner Continent?” Tira and Chocolate both giggled, and chorused, “Fine, Mr. Glace.” Onion nodded to Gateau, who nodded back. “I’ll see you boys later,” he said kindly. “Hopefully before you get shipped off again - timing is horrible, isn’t it!”

After Mr. Glace had walked away, Carrot said, “You didn’t say anything to Dad, Marron.” “No,” said Marron shortly. He didn’t particularly care if his brother was angry at him. At the moment, he felt very isolated, and so very far away from everyone else that it didn’t seem as if other people’s emotions were quite real. He couldn’t quite understand it. It was as though he were hearing Carrot’s anger from a mile away, or through a wall, and it wasn’t as true as it usually was.

Dinner went by as an uneventful meandering, the conversation ranging from weather, to people they had seen in the city during the day, to old childhood memories. Marron hadn’t seen anyone in the city, because he hadn’t *been* to the city, and he wasn’t keen on piping up about his childhood memories, because he only had a scant few that were pleasant in the least. So he kept quiet. After dessert - something all too sweet for Marron’s taste, he didn’t eat any - Marron got up and drifted out of the room, along with many of the other diners. Some stayed behind to talk and gossip, including the rest of his Sorcerer Hunting team.

Once Marron got to his quarters, he undressed and lay down in his bed. He tried to sleep, but it was no good. He didn’t feel as though he could ever sleep again. The past thee-and-a-half weeks had left Marron with a good many sleepless nights. He rolled over and reached under his bed. He retrieved his rucksack and took from it the ruby-encrusted stiletto knife. He dropped the bag back under his bed and sat up in the dark. He moved to bring the knife down on his skin, but found he could not. Instead, heaving a deep sigh, he lay back down again, and rolled on his side, clutching the flat edge of the knife to his chest. He was almost calmed by its cold presence, long and piercingly cold against his flesh, pressing tighter against his body each time his chest rose.

Not much later, maybe only half an hour after he had taken the knife from his pack, the door opened. A small sliver of light shone in. Marron felt it fall across his naked back, sort of warm in some way. “Marron?” It was Gateau. “You... You didn’t seem well at dinner, so I thought I should come and check on you.” His voice was quiet and kind, with a definite tone of affection embedded in it. “Are you alright?” Marron didn’t answer. “You were unnaturally quiet,” Gateau pursued. “I-I was worried. I thought you weren’t... I mean, you are cutting yourself anymore, are you?” When Marron didn’t answer again, Gateau approached the bed and leaned over Marron’s body. “God, Marron!” he gasped. “You’re sleeping with that knife.” Gateau bent over Marron’s lithe frame to extricate the knife from his friend’s grasp. “This has got to stop,” Gateau said, dropping the knife on the ground with a clatter. “It has,” Marron said quietly, extending his arm limply for the blonde to examine. “Then...” said Gateau, bewildered upon seeing no new gashes in his arm. “Nothing has happened, Gateau.” There was an interminable silence. It seemed to last for hours. In reality, it probably lasted about fifteen minutes. The hush was broken by a deep sigh from Gateau, and the rustle of bedclothes.

The breath caught in Marron’s throat as he realized what had happened. Gateau had slid into bed with him - *under* the sheets. He let out a gasp as he felt the cloth of Gateau’s pants slide against his thigh. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move. He was utterly in shock. He felt the hands, moving over him - caressing his neck and shoulders, his back. The older man was spooning him from behind. Gateau moved his hands subtlety across Marron’s chest, down his stomach... down... His big teammate was planting kisses all along the base of his neck, and on his shoulders. It was a strange feeling to Marron, the absolute terror mixed with a certain enjoyment... Gateau passed down to his leg, and was stroking his thigh. Gateau’s loving hands moved too far... Then Marron recalled the rough hands that night some time ago, in the meandering darkness. The hands that had invaded him so roughly, against his will. With a choking, gagging noise, Marron threw himself off the bed and onto the floor on the other side. He took with him the bed sheet, and sat, cowering, on the cold, hard floor with the sheet wrapped around him. He was shuddering, weeping behind his hands, which he had thrown up about his face when he felt the touch at his shoulder. He backed away violently, scuttling away on his hands and feet. “Marron,” pleaded Gateau in a horrified whisper, “I-I... I’m sorry... I thought it was what you wanted.” “You don’t understand, Gateau,” he breathed, his voice hardly even audible. His chest was still heaving with his sobs, and with fear. He didn’t know if he could deal with this. “What?” the man asked earnestly, really not understanding. Neither Marron nor Carrot had ever told the rest of of their team what had happened to the youngest Glace boy. Marron didn’t answer. “Marron - *What*?” Gateau asked. It came out more harshly than he has meant it. Quickly he added, “Whatever it is, I want to know.” “You can’t possibly know,” he replied miserably, half sobbing. The tears slid down his pale face. “I want to know! After last night, I thought... I thought it would be OK...” Marron stared at the man, his golden eyes angry slits. “That’s all it is to you...” he choked. “I *love* you, Marron, and if you really don’t want me anywhere near you, I feel I should know why.”

“I *can’t* do it, Gateau!” he exclaimed in a whisper. “I - can’t - do - it.” “You’re physically not able!” Gateau exclaimed quietly. “Then I’ll love you anyway, Marron, it doesn’t matter.” “NO!” Although it was filled with all his force, Marron’s voice was hardly more than quiet. He didn’t know, didn’t understand, why he couldn’t make his voice louder. Was it his fear? His anger? His confliction? He had no idea. “Then *what*, Marron?” Gateau looked utterly hurt. Marron looked at the floor, trying to quell the tears that were in his eyes. “I can’t be touched,” he said. “It’s not what I mean... I... I can’t stand it, Gateau!” “What’s *wrong*, Marron?” he asked. Marron had never seen Gateau so conflicted, so hurt, so passionate. “I can’t stand to be touched! I want it ” - here he stopped, interrupted by a strangled sob - “but it hurts *so* much. When you were... In that bed with you, Gateau, I cannot say that I didn’t want to give over to it... But it hurt *so* - so - much. I felt like I was going to die.” “Why, Mar-” “Like - I - was - going - to - *die*!” Marron interrupted. “Why!” he cried. He was still leaning over the bed, not having the courage to approach the sobbing boy. For a long time, what seemed like years, Marron could not answer. He just cried, unstopped, for minutes on end. When Gateau finally thought Marron might just snap, his tears subsided and the boy spoke. “Gateau, do you remember that night... nearly a month ago, when I didn’t come back - come back with dinner?” “Yes, and you hugged me?” finished the blonde, making sure their nights were one and the the same. Marron nodded, tears glistening in his expressive, golden eyes. “Of *course* I remember. It was like heaven - you touched me. I thought I couldn’t get happier.” Marron almost smiled, but found it was impossible. His lip twitched with it. “Yes. I even surprised myself there... But...” His tears began anew. “The reason - the reason, Gateau, that I didn’t return until the next morning was because - I - I was stopped. Attacked, I mean.” There was a pause. Gateau could only just see Marron’s golden eyes, and his milk white skin, far away near the back wall of the room. “I was raped, Gateau.” He drew in a racked breath. “Some one - some stranger... Took me by surprise and held me down - in a, in a strangling hold - while he *forced himself on me*. Now you see why I can’t do it, Gateau. I *absolutely* cannot bring myself to touch you back, to let myself enjoy it. It’s horrific to me. I fear any sort of touch. Love seems impossible to me. It’s all about abuse, Gateau! Nothing is about love. It’s about getting what you want from someone, even if” - he began to choke again on his own sobs - “even if you have to strangle them and ra-rape them to do it...”

Gateau was silent for a long time, watching the beautiful boy’s entire body quiver with suppressed fear. “I was laying there, that night, praying he would leave, praying he would fall dead, something, I don’t know. And that night you came to me - at the inn - I was so afraid, so hurt, I couldn’t do anything but pray that you wouldn't go away. It-it was like I was in shock, and I couldn’t stop myself from wanting you... But now I can’t stand it, not in the least.” He choked back another cry. “It seemed, while I was laying there tonight, just now, that I couldn’t pray at all. I wanted you gone - I wanted you off me so much that-that I was paralyzed with fear. It was like that night - I couldn’t do anything to stop you, only this time it was my own fault. I was stopping myself from stopping you.” Still the blonde man did not speak. In fact, he could hardly move. “You see, I *was* praying for you to leave, to stop, but I also didn’t want it to stop. But, Gateau,” he finished wretchedly, “it - *hurt* - *so* - much... and I still... I still wanted it. Oh - God -” But he couldn’t say anything else. He curled up in silent sobs, his shoulders shaking tremendously. After another long silence on both parts, Gateau finally spoke. “I...” He took a deep breath. “Then I forced myself on you, too.” The look of horror in his eyes was so extreme. “I don’t know what I can do, Marron. I’m *so* sorry... *So*, SO, sorry... I will never be able to forgive myself for this. It’s - It’s inexcusable.” Marron looked up slowly, his face absolutely still. “Gateau, you - Don’t blame yourself -” “How can I not!” he asked, enraged. “I’ve soiled my dream. I’ve hurt what I held dear, and, Marron, I don’t think I can deal with it. I don’t know if I...” Marron’s blank face suddenly contorted into a look of absolute fury. “You FUCKING IDIOT!” he shouted. “It’s not your GODDAMN FAULT! WHO ARE YOU SHITTING? YOU’RE NOT THE ONE TO BLAME. IT’S THE FUCKING BASTARD WHO RAPED ME!!!” His voice had risen to a level Gateau had never heard it at before, the anger in his eyes was uncontrolled and unparalleled. “YOU didn’t do this to me!” Marron screamed. “YOU didn’t do anything to me against my will! It was all the fucking sick, twisted SON OF A BITCH who RAPED ME, DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT!” “Marron, I -” Gateau began in a meek voice. “How thick are you?” he screamed. “YOU DIDN’T DO THIS TO ME!” Marron’s voice suddenly became a muted whisper once more. His eyes quivered with tears, and yet they held a faraway, kind look in them. “It wasn’t you, Gateau. If it wasn’t for you, I... No, you helped me more that you ever - *ever* - hurt me. It was nothing you could stop, Gateau. It was some horrible, horrible twist of fate. It hurts, yes, even now, even still, more than any other injury I have ever had. But it isn’t - anything - you - could - have - stopped.” And now it was Gateau who couldn’t move. He simply watched, stunned, absolutely in shock, as Marron stood up, the sheet in his arms but no longer around his body, and walked slowly back to the bed. Without even touching Gateau, without looking at him, he lowered his exquisite body back onto the mattress and lay down. Gateau didn’t dare touch the beautiful, wondrous boy.

They both lay there, in total silence, each glorying simply in his nearness to the other.

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