alusion (because the world needed it)

torn away

i wrote this in, like, an hour.  angst is gr e a t.  also, sniperisms and kimminescence
category: oneshot
word count: 1088

With Alucard off hunting, things got boring very quickly.  Sometimes Gusion couldn't help but wonder how the hell he used to get through days before he met the demon hunter, to which he was reminded of his rigorous hours he'd spent training.

The 'good old days'.

Not to say he still didn't train anymore.  He did, but just not as much.  After all, why train when you could cuddle with your boyfriend?  The latter was a much better option.  But what happened when the latter wasn't an option?  It left training and, somewhat begrudgedly, that's what Gusion had been doing for the past days in Alucard's absence.  The routine became repetitive; wake up, eat, go out and train, come back, laze around, sleep.  Repeat.  Yes, it wasn't exactly that schedule, but one gets the point.

Gusion was currently in that "laze around" section.  Sprawled out of the couch, he was blankly staring at the black printed letters on the page of a book with his thoughts anywhere but on that book.  He wasn't one for reading, what could he say?  Alucard could, and would, read for hours on end in his free time if he'd wanted to.  Such an act was practically impossible, though, due to Gusion bugging the blonde after an hour or two, but there were rare cases where Gusion had just snuggled up close to Alucard and just fell asleep.  Ah, how much Gusion wished he could be doing that right now.  He missed Alucard, the warmth of the other as he pressed up against him, the way Alucard held him in his grasp as he fell asleep, the way Alucard--

The knock on the door startled Gusion out of his thoughts and he blinked in surprise.  Hardly anyone ever knocked on the door, and Alucard had never knocked to get in before.  Perhaps, though, it'd be an attempt of a surprise for Gusion, since Alucard would assume he wouldn't expect it.  A grin split onto his face and Gusion carelessly tossed the book on the coffee table as he quickly stood up and rushed to the door.  Eagerly, he opened the door.  "Gods, what took you so--"

Gusion's words faltered.

It wasn't Alucard.

Why did the person in front of him have Alucard's sword and bloodied coat?

"Evening, sir,"  The man started, voice a monotone.  "It is with regret that I have been sent to give you unfortunate information.  On the day of the The Seventeenth of April of the current year, High-Ranking Demon Hunter Alucard was sent on a solo mission.  In the action of his duty, a fatal blow was delivered upon him.  Before death, the High-Ranking Hunter managed to complete his mission at the cost of his life."  A pause.  "This is confidential information not yet released to the public.  This news is only to be delivered and spoken amongst those with a relationship with the High-Ranking Demon Hunter, and his valued possessions only given to such people.  As the only non-deceased person, such items are to be given to you, Gusion Paxley."

Gusion didn't even have ability to cringe at his last name.  His mind--what?  Rushing, rushing, words jammed together, scrambling to figure out the puzzle his mind had made in front of him.  Coming together with the speed of a drifting feather towards the floor, Gusion blinked, a lump in his throat almost preventing him from speech.  "W-What?"

A flash of sympathy flashed onto the messenger's face before it was suppressed.  "You are the sole remaining person with a relationship to Alucard.  In his death, you-"

"You're lying!"  The proclamation was wild, thrown out, and Gusion's breathing was short breaths, irregular, abnormal.  Alucard couldn't be dead.  Alucard couldn't be killed by demons.  It was impossible.  He had never been defeated.  A few demons couldn't have taken him down, let alone even give Alucard a threatening blow.  Alucard was too good for that.  Alucard was--is!  Not was, is, because Alucard was still alive, this was all some fucked up prank pulled on him.  That blood wasn't blood, it was some dye that was staining Alucard's jacket, and...

"I promise you I'm not lying."  The messenger responded, still in that horrid monotone, that horrid lack of emotion.  And then the sword, bloodied jacket hanging on the top of its hilt was offered to him, put forward within his grasp.  Gusion merely blankly stared at it.

"This is has to be some fucked up--"

"My message has been delivered."  The messenger cut Gusion off, placing the sword in front of Gusion and letting it go, making the mage grab it lest it and the coat fall.  "I give my condolences."  With that, they turned began their journey back, leaving Gusion there, left with a bloodied coat and sword.

His grip on the items were initially soft, but as the reality sank in, his grip tightened, eyes welling up with tears as he slowly sank down onto his knees, blurred vision fixated on thr objects in front of him.  This couldn't be right.  This had to be a fucked up dream fueled by his unnecessary worry.  It had to be, right?  But why hadn't he woken up yet?

Oh, gods.

Tears began to fall.

It couldn't be a dream.  This broken feeling, this hollowness, it wasn't something experienced in a dream.

Alucard.

His silky blonde hair, blue eyes on par with the color of the ocean, a beautiful smile that shown brighter than the full moon on a cloudless night, touch warmer than the beams of sun.  His laugh more beautiful than a violin's song, the sound of his voice something Gusion continuously craved.

Alucard was his everything.

And now?

Gusion gasped for breath, his body ranked with sobs as he squeezed his eyes shut, head falling forward and pressing onto the only items he had left of his love.

Something to essential was ripped away from him.  The very being his live had come to revolve around stolen.

Why?

It was unfair.  Was everything he lived to be ripped away from him?  Family gone, left him for dead, Alucard was the last person he truly had left.  Had been.  There was no one, now.

Memories swarmed him, times between them--their first kiss, flirtatious remarks, mornings waking up within his arms.  Happiness.  Gone.

Was there no god willing to prevent such a thing?  Was there no god who cared?  Or, perhaps, was Gusion's suffering enjoyment to this god?

Gone.

Never coming back.

Dead.

Left.

Alone.