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kinkfestTitle: when there's nothing left to burn
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nekokoban
Rating: PG
Warnings: Raven spoilers
Word count: 228
Prompt: Pandora Hearts, Gilbert Nightlay/Oz Vesalius, reunion after separation, "God it was strange to see you again..."
Gil's hands don't tremble as he finishes wrapping the bandages around Oz's thin chest. The ruins don't offer much in the way of shelter or comfort, but he takes off his coat anyway, laying it over the unconscious boy. It covers him easily, from collarbone to hips and then some. Carrying him in from the courtyard had taken no effort at all, to the point where Gil had been forced to check that he'd not walked in with empty arms.
Oz's face is still and waxy-pale; most of the blood has been cleaned away (Sharon's lacy handkerchief sacrificed for the task), but there is a mottled purple-red bruise at the corner of his mouth that is swollen and painful-looking. He is still wearing the clothes from that damned ceremony, and it still fits him perfectly well: other than his injuries, he has not changed one whit. Gil is the one who's different, brooding on this creature he's become, so shaped and twisted by the years that he can hardly recognize the boy-child he used to be. There is no reason to believe Oz would have any reason to know who he was.
He looks at Oz again, sleeping and unmoving. Like this, he looks so very small; Gil could circle Oz's wrist easily with his fingers.
The thought pains him, and he looks away.
Author:
nekokobanRating: PG
Warnings: Raven spoilers
Word count: 228
Prompt: Pandora Hearts, Gilbert Nightlay/Oz Vesalius, reunion after separation, "God it was strange to see you again..."
Gil's hands don't tremble as he finishes wrapping the bandages around Oz's thin chest. The ruins don't offer much in the way of shelter or comfort, but he takes off his coat anyway, laying it over the unconscious boy. It covers him easily, from collarbone to hips and then some. Carrying him in from the courtyard had taken no effort at all, to the point where Gil had been forced to check that he'd not walked in with empty arms.
Oz's face is still and waxy-pale; most of the blood has been cleaned away (Sharon's lacy handkerchief sacrificed for the task), but there is a mottled purple-red bruise at the corner of his mouth that is swollen and painful-looking. He is still wearing the clothes from that damned ceremony, and it still fits him perfectly well: other than his injuries, he has not changed one whit. Gil is the one who's different, brooding on this creature he's become, so shaped and twisted by the years that he can hardly recognize the boy-child he used to be. There is no reason to believe Oz would have any reason to know who he was.
He looks at Oz again, sleeping and unmoving. Like this, he looks so very small; Gil could circle Oz's wrist easily with his fingers.
The thought pains him, and he looks away.
