Viral Love

I stayed a good distance back from Hojo, watching him limp his way toward the end of our long journey. I tried and tried not to be impressed by him, but failed.

He’d completely immobilized me. My nerves still twanged uncomfortably from all the manipulation of my pressure points. My abdomen just screamed in pain. Yet, even with how I felt, I knew he could have done much worse. The cold black fire in his eyes told me how close he’d come to just killing me.

All these weeks I’d pushed him around, feeling superior because of my incredible abilities. He’d even caused me to have many of those abilities. I’d found it soothing to use the horrible talents he’d given. Contemptuous, I’d demanded he do what I tell him, even first drank his blood without his permission.

He’d let me do what I pleased. He’d been kind to me despite everything. At the time I’d believed he tried to make amends that way. Apparently I’d figured wrong. He’d let me do as I wanted simply because it didn’t bother him if I wanted to be dominant.

He suddenly stopped. He put a hand to his head. I watched him turn aside and vomit bloody bile onto the mossy ground. He retched until he dry heaved. Then, he staggered upright and continued walking.

Tough little fucker. I admired that, too.

Shiva, but I hurt all over. I wasn’t in any condition to fire-storm Quinn, and I doubted Hojo was either. I quickened my pace, though it made me feel like I might vomit, too. In a minute I reached his side. “We can’t go into town like this,” I said quietly.

Hojo stopped dead. He blinked rapidly. “I suppose not. What do you suggest?” His tone, even and without emotion, made me feel like a lower life form.

“We can camp right outside Nibelheim, rest up, and go after Quinn in the morning,” I suggested. “It’s going to take us awhile to…recover.”

Hojo shot me a look and started walking again. I hung back a little, my eyes drawn to his ass. I couldn’t help it. No matter what I tried to think about, I kept letting my eyes go back to those firm, leather covered muscles. Really, for the first time I admitted I had a personal attraction to him.

I’d enjoyed kissing him in Kalm.

Was that my motivation for pushing him into Dio’s arms? I couldn’t stand the idea that I might want him, so I tried to ruin any chance I had to screw him? Before yesterday, he’d have let me fuck him, even welcomed it. Now, he’d probably throw an eppy and outright attack me.

How could I even entertain the thought of fucking him?


We stopped at a sheltered, deeply forested area right outside of Nibelheim. Melting ice from the mountain formed a brilliantly cold stream above our campsite. We drank our fill of it and stretched out on the cold ground. A few minutes later, Hojo sat up and began cleaning blood from his face and neck, silent in his work.

I watched him take his glasses off and lay them aside. He carefully splashed water on his olive-tinted skin, then rubbed with the pads of his fingers. His hands looked so delicate. I would never have credited him with the force they could so easily display. His son had the same sort of beauty.

Hojo dipped his head in the stream and cleaned his hair with sand. Finished, he shook excess water away and stripped off his borrowed top, balling it up for a pillow. Putting his little spectacles in a loose fist, he breathed deeply. In moments he slept.

He looked vulnerable in sleep. With those eyes closed and all the tension gone from his face, he almost looked childlike.

The temperature dropped, aided by the wind coming off Mt. Nibel. Hojo began shivering violently. He woke, groaned, and rolled onto his side, facing away from me.

I inched over to him, but stopped well outside his personal space. “If you’re cold, you can lay against me,” I offered.

Hojo sighed. “That’s very generous of you, Valentine,” he said, and I didn’t hear any sarcasm. “But, it isn’t a good idea. Thank you, though.”

He was rejecting me.

I stared at his slightly curved back, at the goose flesh and twitching shivers. Hojo was so cold his teeth rattled, but he didn’t want my warmth. He always wanted my warmth.

And that was what drove home how I’d hurt him. He didn’t want me to touch him even when it would make him more comfortable.

It stunned me how awful I felt. He’d trusted me, and I’d violated that trust with little thought. It was bad, very bad. I’d gone long past the worst of my resentment towards him, and had used him like an ally, just like he wanted. Then, I’d thrown our alliance to the side in favor of a quick answer and a night alone.

Guilt was familiar to me. I knew that animal very well.

As I took off my cloak, I suddenly realized how he’d come to pay for it. He’d gone in the fabric store to see if a cloak could be made for me. When he inquired, the woman inside must have looked toward the street to see my measurements, and recognized me. A happy coincidence, but it wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t thought I needed a cloak. He somehow knew I felt naked without one.

Just a thoughtless act of kindness from a mad man. Like plucking needles from my transformed body and putting cool leaves on my back. Like trying to spare my clothing, and looking for scrub bottoms when I balked at the hospital gown. Like making me eat when I didn’t want to, and trying to help me come to grips with my demon problems.

I covered him with my cloak, remembering how I’d hated him for his gentle hands. A man capable of doing so much evil should be rough. But no, Hojo wasn’t rough until pushed. He didn’t rely on brute force.

Hojo’s body went a little stiff. Slowly, his hand came out of the cloak. He felt the texture of the deep red fabric, and I knew he must be thinking about my tastes in clothing. But, he didn’t decline the cloak. Gradually, he relaxed. A short time later I heard him falling into deep sleep.

********************************************************************************

…strange how a cloak he’d only had for a few days could already smell like him…

I slept about four hours, then relieved him. He didn’t argue about needing rest, just took his cloak back and stretched out in the dirt. I watched him breathe, upset I still found him attractive. Fine, he’d made two gestures of reparation, two very fine gestures, actually. He finally felt bad for throwing me at Dio. Good start, but not enough.

He began to dream. I watched his eyelids jerking. He groaned and clutched at his belly. I knew he had to hurt there. I’d piled one bad hit after another there deliberately, of a mind to give him agony. But, the sound of his pain didn’t make me feel any better.

I could make him feel really good if he’d only give me half a fucking chance, but oh, no! No, he had to pawn me off on the first muscle bound freak he could.

I wondered if he’d yet thought about where Quinn must be staying. I doubted it. If he’d come to the same conclusion I had, he’d be vocal about his displeasure. Really, we had to be headed right for the Shin-Ra mansion. Despite its ruinous appearance, it stood sturdy, and it remained the largest, most modern building in Nibelheim. Quinn would have wanted to take advantage of all the electrical hook-ups and the indoor toilets, like any good city boy.

The ghosts of the past I shared with Valentine would echo most strongly in that ostentatious house.

I checked my nose. Healed, thank Shiva.

Valentine groaned again, louder this time. “Don’t…shut the…lid, Hojo!” he gasped out. “Don’t shut me…away and forget about me.”

Maybe he did intuit where we had to go. I resolved not to let him enter into the cellar no matter what. If he saw his coffin after all this time, who knew what he’d do? He could destroy it, use the pieces to stake me, or crawl back in the thing and return to sleeping for another thirty years.

I thought about another time I watched him roll around in agony, clutching his stomach. Perhaps he dreamed of that day, prompted by the similarity of that pain and this one.

He’d bled so prettily, with such dignity, his pleading, crimson eyes matching the river that spilled between his fingers. Even in impending death he had to be perfect.

I took out the pipe I’d bought at the opium den and packed it. This should kill his pain.

“Valentine,” I said, nudging him awake. Those beautiful eyes… I could cut them out and have them for always…

He sat up. “Is it time?” he asked, gazing around in confusion.

“No.” I held out the pipe and my bracelet. “Hold the fire materia under the pipe.”

“What is this?” he asked. “Opium? You think I can function under the influence?’

“We have hours before daylight. This will relax you and kill your pain.” I pushed the items toward him again.

I saw him get ready to deny he was hurting. But, he stopped before the words even came out. Sighing, he took the pipe and used the materia properly, heating up the sticky drug.

It made me smile, watching him. He wasn’t a natural drug user at all. He held the pipe awkwardly and had to work to get proper heat under it. Still, he did well enough that fifteen minutes later he couldn’t have told me his name. He dropped the pipe, collapsing with a small but genuine smile on his lips.

“Better?” I asked him.

“Yes,” he answered softly. “Nothing hurts. Not even my mind hurts me.” He closed his eyes, still smiling while he sighed.

Against my will, I felt myself softening to him. If he’d only just open up to me and pay attention! I could handle rejection. I’d grown accustomed to it. But, I couldn’t handle being dismissed.

He wouldn’t remember it if I soothed him…

No. I couldn’t afford to touch him. If I touched him, I’d cave.

I picked up my pipe and sat for my turn at watch. I almost pitied anything that dared attempt to bother me and the maddening Turk…