11-

 

 

The Swordrush family was known for its grace and intelligence, its wisdom and battle prowess. Blessed with genetic muscle memory, they could remember any activity their blood ancestors had done or learned, emulating it both effortlessly and perfectly. It was refusing to share this ability that had led to the clan’s massacre. And, it was this coveted capability that had allowed a tiny population to escape the annihilation.

 

Aidenai Swordrush was no exception. He could kill you with his ancestor’s knowledge of the forty-seven different ways to smash someone’s spinal column with an index finger, dance every gavotte and foxtrot imaginable, and nail shingles on a roof like there was no tomorrow without even having to sift through his brain. His muscles, unless otherwise commanded, would immediately snap into action for him.

 

So really, there was no excuse to jump in the air and fall flat on his ass, as far as Aelar could see. It didn’t matter if he’d appeared out of the shadows and pinched the man’s butt- Aidenai was a Swordrush. He wasn’t supposed to be capable of falling down.

 

Astonished turquoise eyes stared up at the once-familiar figure grinning above him.

 

“Locke?!” He frowned. “No…Aelar? What are you…”

 

“Hello again, Pretty,” Aelar purred, and Aidenai stared at him. “You must be a hell of a kisser to have Locke flustered enough to not take our body back.”

 

Aidenai blushed. It was absolutely, sinfully adorable. Aelar was almost tempted to change his name from Pretty to Cute, but one more glance at his actual face and he was firmly sticking to Pretty.

 

“Ah, yes. I was going to talk with Locke about it, but-”

 

“He ran away like the frantic freak he is,” Aelar finished with a bitter grin. “If you couldn’t tell by ME being around, Locke likes to run away from things.”

 

“I gathered that.”

 

“Well done, Pretty. I always knew you were more than looks,” Aelar leered at him, and Aidenai smiled that pathetic fake smile at him. It seemed plastered on his pale lips. Oh well, Aidenai figured it was bound to happen. “Anyway, I’m not here to hit on you, I’m here to tell you this. Ready?”

 

Aidenai waited. When Aelar didn’t say anything, he blinked. “Yes?”

 

“The kid’s an idiot. Unless you strap him down and have a nice long chat, without me having to get involved, he’s just gonna keep kissing and running. Understand?”

 

“I believe so,” Aidenai nodded. “Thank you.”

 

“No problem. It’s kinda why I’m here, after all,” Aelar beamed at the white-haired assassin. “Next point! I’m gonna go sleep with Sage, so don’t get offended.”

 

“Uh-” Aidenai attempted to interject, but Locke’s counterpart just plowed through.

 

“Obviously I’m not Locke so you can’t get pissed at him, and Sage…hmm?” Aelar looked up when Aidenai stood up, glaring at Other-Locke.

 

“He’s not going to like that,” Aidenai stated.

 

“I’ve done it before,” Aelar grinned wolfishly. “He’ll live, trust me.” An amused light caught in his red eyes, and black hair framed his face as he tilted his head to the side. “You really have no idea what a twisted kind of freak Locke and I are, do you?”

 

“If you told me, I’m sure I would.”

 

“HAH! Tell you?! Where’s the fun in that? Oh, no, I’ve gotta try and corrupt you ‘till your pretty white coat turns pitch black,” Aelar smirked. “Me’n the kid used to have conversations about this sort of shit, back in the day. He doesn’t really know it, but there’s some rules I’ve got to follow because of it. One of them’s that I don’t give away his secret-secrets, you know, things that aren’t overgeneralizations like ‘Locke’s a paranoid freak obsessed with preserving his freedom’, or ‘Locke hates vegetables but would kill most anyone for a bowl of chocolate ice cream’.”

 

“I already knew that last one, actually,” Aidenai added.

 

“Who doesn’t?” Aelar countered, still smiling. “Now, I know Locke’s gonna be pissed off at me. That’s one of the reasons I do it…well, aside from the fact that it’s SAGE. Damn that man’s fine.”

 

“And you never see that you’re using him?” Aidenai queried, a strange smile on his lips.

 

Aelar blinked at him, then quirked an eyebrow up. “Which ‘him’? Locke, or Sage? Or both, maybe?” He took a step forward, the blue paint under his left eye glinting in the low lighting of Aidenai’s too-clean apartment. “Am I using you, too?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Aidenai’s answer cut to the point like a metal arrow, piercing Aelar in the heart. He took a step back, surprise knotting his stomach. “Well, Pretty. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

 

“I haven’t even started yet,” the assassin smiled falsely, biting out his words. “I understand and accept your presence, and support Locke’s decision to keep you around. But, that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” The smile widened, and it felt like he was ripping the wound open more. “Good night, Aelar.”

 

“Pretty.” Aelar stated, bowing his head in a quick goodbye, and simply leapt out the window (Aidenai seemed to be keeping it open for them nowadays. A polite, almost considerate notion towards them if he’d ever seen one).

 

He walked away from the assassin’s apartment with a bitter taste in his mouth. Oh yes, Aidenai was definitely Locke’s type through and through- stubborn, intelligent, powerful, attractive, and most importantly un-bullshit-able. They’d be the perfect fit for each other- neither would be able to get away with a damn thing, they’d drive each other crazy but understand each other implicitly, and have plenty of wild make-up sex.

 

For Aelar, however…his thoughts always curved back around to a certain blue-haired man who was almost as lecherous as himself.

 

It was supposed to be simple, as far as Aelar could remember. Locke and company had just gotten back from a mission, it had been Dante’s Finding Day, and drunken partying had ensued. Aelar had been restless, Sage had been horny (as always), and…well, THIS had happened.

 

It wasn’t good to find yourself replaying memories instead of watching the present. It wasn’t useful to anyone to get a stupid schoolgirl crush on your body’s prominent personality’s best friend. It complicated things; shifted morals weren’t as reliable, and Aelar was pretty damn certain which direction his had shifted to.

 

Damn annoying slut. It was all his fault.

 

Why? Because he’d actually LISTENED when he’d told the blue-haired boy his name was Aelar instead of Locke. Because he’d only started actually flirting when AELAR showed up, not Locke, because all that time, for those few hours, it had yet again just been Aelar Colai’da.

 

He hated to admit it, but he was an absolute recognition whore. Then again, going nearly thirteen years without the person in control of your body even knowing your name could do that.

 

Aelar found himself standing in front of The Hidden Flute’s back door again, simply staring at the wooden portal as the familiar, constantly replayed memories circled him once more. Every touch, kiss, and whisper was cataloged in his seemingly limitless memory, coveted beyond even the hazy glimpses of life before the collar that Aelar kept safe from Locke’s already troubled mind.

 

The door swung open, and an astonished Dante gaped at him. “What are you WEARING?”

 

“Where’s Sage?” Aelar asked, Locke’s ‘protect Dante’s already tarnished virtue and innocence’ protocol standing proudly against his natural inclinations towards devilry and being naughty.

 

“Still inside. Think he’s still hitting on Palma,” Dante snickered, and Aelar grinned in return. Just like him- slut to the end, regardless of a future political career or not. “What’s with the face paint?”

 

“Just felt like looking different,” Aelar stated, flicking his wrist nonchalantly. Dante’s green eyes traced the movement, but he simply nodded.

 

“I’m going to bed. See you tomorrow, Locke,” Dante called, turning onto the main street that ran by The Hidden Flute as he held a hand in the air. Aelar mimicked the motion, quickly wandering inside to find the object of his grudging affections.

 

To Aelar’s surprise, he was sitting in the booth, moping. It was the only word that could really be applied to the blue-haired man staring morosely into a blue mug full of…well, Aelar couldn’t see what, but he was definitely hoping it was alcohol. True, Palma was sitting on the other side of the booth, but her olive eyes were more empathic and concerned than anything flirtatious.

 

“-course not,” Aelar overheard Sage grumble. “What’d you think I would do, just-”

 

“Oh! Locke!” Palma called, standing up quickly, and Sage’s head snapped up at the girl’s sudden outcry. “Chocolate?”

 

“Do you have anything stronger?” Aelar queried. “Like, alcoholic?”

 

“Don’t-” Sage began, but one stern look from Aelar had him blinking stupidly and shutting up.

 

“Vanilla with something alcoholic in it,” Aelar said quickly, and occupied the spot Palma had just vacated, trying to not feel nervous. But damn it, it wasn’t working. From what he could see, Sage was drinking hot chocolate.

 

Aelar had always known Fate fucking hated him.

 

“Well, Sweet, what can I help you with?” Sage yawned.

 

Fate wanted to kill him with rusty nails, apparently. Sage appeared five feet from passing out from exhaustion.

 

“You just HAD to pick tonight, didn’t you?” Aelar sighed, shaking his head. “My one chance, and you’re a fucking Frontline night guard.”

 

“Locke?” Sage asked, and purple eyes blinked, finally focusing on the almost-familiar man in front of him. “Uh, Sweet? What are you wearing? Not that I’m complaining, mind you, but it’s a little…out of character.”

 

“Are you drunk?” Aelar demanded.

 

“…No…?” Sage was definitely looking at him funny now, that calculating buzz whirling around purple eyes.

 

“DAMN IT!” Aelar snapped. “Are you tipsy? Even SLIGHTLY intoxicated or uninhibited?”

 

“Sweet, if you want me to be, I am,” Sage grinned at him.

 

Aelar grinned back. “Seoru, that answer is outstanding.”

 

Sage chuckled. “You haven’t called me that since that-”

 

Wide purple eyes stared at him.

 

Aelar just grinned back, red eyes practically sparking.

 

Sage glared back. “WHY are you drunk?”

 

“I’m not,” Aelar smiled.

 

“Then what ARE you? Obviously not Overloaded, else we’d all be flying chunks of ex-people, and I don’t think even you are stupid enough to try Crazygrass-”

 

“I’M FINE, Sage,” Aelar grinned, rolling his eyes and knowing he was enjoying this too much.

 

“Did that bastard Aidenai do something to you?” Sage snapped, eyes turning fierce. Aelar snorted. Sure, he’d practically flicked off Sage’s mother before, but that didn’t constitute invoking the amusingly overprotective Wrath of Sage.

 

“If he had, he’d be dead,” Aelar answered truthfully, smirking.

 

Sage stared at Aelar. “Holy fuck. You’re pregnant.”

 

Aelar smashed the blue-haired man’s head into the back of the booth with a quick punch to the face. “I’M A MAN, MORON!”

 

“BUT YOU’RE ALL GLOWY! AND…AND…HAPPY!” By now, Sage was pointing at him, wide purple eyes soaking in everything…and slowly they changed, a fuzzy sort of awareness growing in his face. “You’re that other Locke.”

 

Aelar smiled at him, a warm, heated smile that Sage could probably feel all the way down to his toes. “Hello again, Seoru.”

 

And Sage just STARED, hypnotized by the alternate version of his best friend. “I…”He paused, clearly frazzled enough he couldn’t think of what to say. Knowing Sage, that had to be very, VERY frazzled.

 

With a smoothness of motion Aelar was fully aware Locke didn’t possess, he slid out of his seat, holding out a hand for Sage. Without a moment’s hesitation, he took it, and Aelar could feel a pulse just as fast and frantic as his own beating.

 

Aelar smiled at him. “Call me Aelar, please,” he whispered.

 

Sage smirked- or was it a smile that came? - back at him. “I think I can manage that.”