Hold my Heart {Lana & Zalgiman}

He doesn’t see her because she’s behind him. The sound of her voice stops him mid-step. He’s not expecting it - her - to be seen. Not like this. He’d hoped… That by hiding all the marks away that he could make them not exist. That she wouldn’t ever know.

Zalgiman sees in her eyes that she doesn’t really see it at first. The marks. The symbols of his failure. He can’t cover them, there’s just too many. Where would he start? He glances toward the door to the room designated as his and he thinks briefly, majestically of running away. Being in the room that he doesn’t know or recognize and… What? Hiding?

He looks down at his feet. “I’m fine.” He reassures her though it has to be a lie. There’s no way that anyone could be ‘fine’ and look like this. He hasn’t noticed, but the wound on his shoulder is bleeding through the wet bandage and dripping down his arm.

Thoughtlessly he tries to distract her. He doesn’t matter, so… surely she’ll let him change the subject back to what she wanted. He doesn't even notice her struggling with the desire to get closer to him. “What kind of toppings do you have here in America? Any sort of meat really is good. Egg?”

She can't even contemplate the idea of egg on pizza. The moment she looks at his shoulder bleeding, she says, tears shedding down her cheeks, "You're bleeding, my love. Come with me; my first aid things are all in my bathroom."

Truth be told, Lana is panicking quietly in her head. Why was he acting so cavalier about this? Who had hurt him like this? What if the wound is really bad? She'll have to get an ambulance for him. She'd have to stay with him the entire time. They'd take an awful lot of interest in him considering he just landed in the country. They might take him away from her for all kinds of reasons. She can't allow that. Can't allow them taking away the light in her life.

But as she opens the door, it appears that her room, the primary bedroom, is required to walk into in order to get to her bathroom. The bedroom is the one room in the house that looks lived in, although she'd cleaned for the sake of not giving Zalgiman the wrong impression about her ability to take care of herself. There's no photos of herself hanging up on the wall. No art, no posters, nothing. What there are instead are bookshelves overflowing with books. There are so many books that there's a small stack on the floor waiting for a new shelf to file into. They range from a wide variety of genres, to classic literature to poetry to Japanese light novels and manga.

"In here," Lana says, opening the door to her bathroom. It's a palatial thing. It has a tub big enough for two people to soak in with water jets sufficient to emulate a hot tub, a shower, and a mirror that's so wide that it's excessive for just the two people that the bathroom's intended to serve. The faucets and soap dispensers are automatic and motion-activated, like the kind you'd see in restaurants or shops. Lana colors a little when she realizes the laundry hamper in her bathroom has a bra hanging over the edge, but she ignores it when she sees the bandage on Zal's arm, opening up the closet instead. There's more towels, but there's also a well-stocked first aid kit with gauze, painkiller medication, isopropyl alcohol, and more beyond.

Lana gets to work trying to help him. Except that she's not really that well trained in dealing with anything more than the occasional burn on her skin from spilling ramen broth or tea, or the occasional cut or bruise, and so when she takes a wetted towel to wipe the blood away and she gets a good look at the wound and how deep it is, she knows then it's far out of her league. That she shouldn't touch it, shouldn't treat it.

If this was Savior, I could be helpful, she thinks so bitterly to herself then. I could heal him. But this is the real world, and...

Fresh tears fall from her eyes. She seems so suddenly despondent then herself. "That wound's bad, Zal," she murmurs. "I--I should take you to the hospital, but if I do, they're going to take you away from me. They'll think that I hurt you or that you were kidnapped. I--I can't do anything right."

She doesn't even know why she'd said the last phrase until it dawns on her how much she feels it's the truth. She finds herself desperately wishing that she knows anything about helping him in this moment. That she became a doctor instead of studying programming and literature. That she was someone, something, useful. When all she is is Lana Branfeax.

A parasite wriggling on her dead parents' fortune. That's all she'll ever be.

Zalgiman watches her in the mirror as she tends his wound. Touching the cut delicately to clean it of the blood that drips down his arm. It’s such a gentle thing. He hardly notices that she’s touching him at all really. If he weren’t looking in the mirror, if he couldn’t see it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have known that it was happening. He’s just as surprised when she pulls back and looks at him with tears in her eyes. She’s so upset. For him?

No.

She’s worried about the doctors. The police. It’s not him that’s the concern, it’s the fact that he’s a nuisance. His injury is an inconvenience to her.

Leadenly he shakes his head. “No hospital.” He says gently, and looks at the wound for the first time since he’d bandaged it earlier. “If it is kept clean, if the bandage is changed regularly, it will heal.”

He looks at her, his eyes lacking any real emotion. He feels so empty inside. Distantly he wonders what’s nearby. Outside. He hadn’t been looking out the window on the way here so he doesn’t know.

“It will be alright. You don’t have to tell anyone. I will be fine.” He looks at the kit and motions toward some of the gauze. “You can use the gauze, and some tape. Cover it up.” At least then she wouldn’t have to see the wound.

content warning: mention of suicidal ideation

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"Will you be okay, though? If I don't get you to a hospital? Maybe I could find a doctor that's willing to make a house call. We have a number of doctors like that around here." Lana is still crying even as she goes to follow his instructions. "I just want to make sure you're okay, Zal. I'd..."

I wouldn't have a reason to live anymore if you were gone.

It's a chilling thought that stops her in place for a moment as she has the tape in her hand. She closes her eyes. She tries to remember the things that makes her happy, that make her feel warm. It's all Zalgiman, only Zalgiman. His smile. His silver eyes. The kindness he gives her. The gentle way that he kisses her. That hug at the airport earlier was... It was so nice. It made her feel whole in a way she seldomly ever does. Just to have him in her arms. Just to be his.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I just want you to be happy and healthy with me, and I didn't even think of finding a doctor for you. I thought of everything else but the important stuff," she derides herself. Her eyes open and she looks up at Zalgiman, still teary-eyed. "Can you forgive me?"

What she says, in response to his own dismissal is like lightning through a clear blue sky. He’d been standing there, fully expecting that she was more worried about the questions she’d be asked about his health than about making sure that he was actually healthy. When was the last time that anyone had cared about him? When was the last time that someone put their own thoughts or feelings aside for him?

It made his heart crack open just a little, and he was reminded suddenly of that night on the roof. The night when he’d promised himself that he’d protect her. That he’d try to make her happy. Because she was so nice to him; even when he didn’t deserve it. He remembers that feeling, like a sliver of light had wormed its way into his life. It warms him now, and pulls him slowly from the fog of his depression.

“Lana.” He says her name gently, touching her hand where it’s on his shoulder. He smiles softly. “I would not go to a doctor for such a small thing. There is nothing to forgive. You could not have a doctor ready for me anyway. You did not know I would arrive with an injury. It is a small thing.”

He reaches out a hand to touch the bottom of her chin. A motion he’s done in the game before. It’s easy to fall back on old habits. “Really. There is nothing to forgive.”

It's not the first time he's smiled at her since they'd met in the flesh. But seeing him smile at her and put his hand on top of hers is like watching the sun come out from behind the skies again, just like the old song--

You are my sunshine
My only sunshine
You make me happy
When skies are gray

His hand is under her chin. Her lip wobbles just a little. He's touching her. He's touching her. She remembers again that he's her promised one, that he loves her, that he wouldn't be cruel or unkind to her like so much of life is so often. It's a warm and wonderful ecstasy then that replaces her feelings of despair. He'll be okay, because he's telling her so. He has so much love to give her. That little touch is a promise.

"You're the most important part of my life, Zal," Lana murmurs softly, staring into his silver eyes. "Nothing else matters like you do to me. I--"

She gulps, summoning up her nerve now. He's here in the flesh. Touching her. Looking at her. Smiling softly. The final threshold for these words to pass.

"I love you. So very, very much."

All she wants is a pretty toy. You know how to do that. All you have to do is smile and nod and do everything she wants you to. It’s finally something you’re good at.

"You're the most important part of my life, Zal. Nothing else matters like you do to me. I-- I love you. So very, very much." There’s a little hesitation in the middle. A little space where her words almost don’t breach her lips. He sees nothing but sincerity in her, but he’d been fooled before hadn’t he? Utterly. Completely. The scars that Marsward had given him would haunt him for the rest of his life.

You’re mine. Forever. No matter where you go or what you do.

He lets his hand trail over her jaw, touching her for the first time like he had in the game. His heart ached far more than his body did. It bore a pain that no amount of medicine or doctoring could fix. “You are the most important thing in my life too Lana.”

He had nothing else. Marsward had made certain of that.

There was no whisper in his mind this time when he pulled her toward him, wrapped his arms around her and embraced her. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of lavender. She was all he had. This slender thread of something that he didn’t recognize and didn’t understand.

Maybe, just maybe. This time he wouldn’t fail.

She's in his arms. It feels like then that, for the first time in her life since the day of her parents' accident, she's no longer afloat, no longer drifting, no longer lost at sea. He embraces her. He tells her she's the most important thing in his life too. Her love confession still hangs in the air for her, her soft little words so earnest in her expression and yet still falling short of what she wants to convey to him.

But she remembers where words fail, where poetry fails, a poet once said that a kiss is sufficient. And she's ached for that little kiss. That thing she resolved not to push onto him until there was a better moment, but now...

She leans away from him, just a little. Enough to look into his eyes, her own sparkling with all of her emotions. Here he is in her arms. Her hand goes to touch his cheek, to gently reach for the closest strands of his hair with her fingers. He's lovely in every measure, lovely beyond measure. Her perfect one. Her promised one.

Her eyes half-lid as she leans in. Drawn to him, leaning into his space. She's reminded then of that kiss on the rooftop. The one where she asked him if he'd love her forever. The kiss where she felt all of the pain in her life would cease the moment he said yes, the moment that their lips touched and lingered there in each other's company. She knows now that her pain will, in some way, never stop, but so long as she has him... it will go away. Because he is her promised one, the man fated to save her over and over again from the darkness that she's fought so long on her own. Fate-given to her so that she can continue to live, fate-given to her so that he can be safe and happy.

"Can I kiss you?" she murmurs, pausing only an inch shy of his lips. She wants his consent for their kiss. Wants his love, wants his passion beyond that, but a yes will open the door for them both.