Roderich was bound and bloody, his pristine white uniform torn and tainted with the deep crimson color, his glasses askew, his hair jumbled and messy, his face caked with dirt. And there he sat, on his knees, every bit of power ripped from his being. But he did not bow his head, did not hunch over and cough up blood miserably. Instead, he kept his back straight, staring on with a vicious glare, letting the blood seep from his lips. His eyes were cold, yet lit with the burning fire of hatred. His hands were tied behind his back, rendering them useless for any form of attack. Yet he did not need to attack physically, anyways. He was just fine with his mouth and eyes.

In front of the battered man was a smug albino, his eyes glinting in bloodlust. It matched his deep crimson eyes perfectly, and as he raised the tip of his sword under the other's chin, the color turned darker in the dim light. "You should have believed me the first time, Roddy."

"And you expect me to believe you now?" The calm-spoken words reverberated throughout the whole, empty room, making the flickering candles waver as if a gust of wind was sent by. The albino frowned, tapping his sword lightly under the chin.

"That's a brave thing to say to someone with a sword pointed towards your throat."

"You wouldn't kill me if your words were true."

The albino growled, tapping a bit harder at the chin, then traced a small cut across the other's jawline.

"I can still hurt you."

"You can," Roderich admitted, yet unafraid. "But that does not mean you will break me."

The room was filled with the sound of clanking metal as the sword fell to the ground between Roderich's knees, and the albino swiftly knelt down to grab hold of the cravat around the other's neck. He took one hand and grabbed hold of Roderich's chin firmly, his crimson eyes blazing into the beautiful, confusingly powerful violets.

"I can still break you," he said. "I can break every little slim finger you have, and you will be unable to play your precious piano. I can break your legs, and you will no longer walk. I can break your arms, you wont be able to lift anything up."

"Yet you cannot break my soul, Gilbert. And you never will."

The albino rested his forehead over the other's, their lips brushing ever so slightly.

"I don't need to."

The vicious grip on Roderich's cravat was gone, and he could feel a strong arm snake around his waist. A shiver ran down his spine at the gentle touch, and he scowled.

"I don't need to break your soul, Roderich. I just need to break everything else. And then, all you can do is lean on me. I will play you your music, not your hands. I will take you from place to place, not your feet. I will pick you flowers, not your arms. You'll need me, Roderich. I do not need to break your soul. Just everything else."

"Unhand me."

"Why?"

Gilbert tightened his grip, pulling the other closer to his chest. Their lips continued to brush together, so light it could hardly be called a kiss.

"I want you."

"I will not give myself to you."

"Then I will steal you."

And with that, the lips were forced together. A one-sided love burning passionate in one end, with the other end remained motionless, uncaring. All Gilbert would feel was coldness pressed against his lips, as if he were simply biting into a block of ice. And yet, with such little emotion coming from the one he loved, he took guilty pleasure in the coldness. He let his tongue and lips roam those perfect pink lips, let his teeth nibble and bite, and enjoyed the soft coldness from them. He did not care for the emotion. He did not care that the other felt nothing for them. And no, he did not care that those beautiful violet eyes were wide open, not giving any sign of enjoyment. It didn't matter. He did not care. Not at all. Not even when those beautiful violets eyed him in disgust.

"Believe me," he whispered hotly over the lips, diving in for another kiss. He let his heart soar into every movement, every caress, every tongue-dip, every bump of their noses, every groan. The hand around the other's waist gently stroked his side lovingly, pleasure coursing through the albino every time he felt that dip on the other's back. He let go of the perfect lips and trailed kisses over the open wound on the aristocrat's jawline from where the sword traced, lapping off the seeping blood and reveling in the metallic taste. A taste that was purely Roderich.

"You're insane," Roderich growled, a disgusted look trailing over every feature of the albino. "Eating my blood? You disgusting cannibal. Unhand me."

"No," was the simple answer the albino gave. He went back to those swollen lips and kissed harder, earning a muffled protest from the other, which only gave him access to slip his tongue into the other's mouth. He worshipped ever nook and cranny his tongue brushed over, tasting Viennese sweets coated with blood, and even as he did this, the other made no move. Did not fight back, but did not return the favor. Just stared with those judging eyes, as beautiful as they were, and Gilbert did not care. He didn't care that those eyes despised every movement he made. Not at all.

Gilbert broke the kiss, panting. "Believe me, damnit."

"Why should I?"

The Austrian did not make any expression, his voice devoid of any emotion he could possibly be feeling. This did not help the albino.

"Every single thing that I've ever done has been either for you, or because I was forced to do something. You just don't get it. I fucking love you, Roderich, can't you just believe me?"

Roderich paused, just as his lips parted slightly, for a dreadful amount of time, letting the tension press down on both parties.

"No."

And the process repeated, teeth clanking together, heartbeats throbbing in separate rhythms, unable to fit together. And even when it was all over, the picture was burned in both of their memories.

Roderich never learned to love and trust Gilbert.

And Gilbert never learned to let go.