#jechtxauron

Their current situation be damned, the horribleness of it and their looming destination, but hell if Jecht wasn’t going to commit this moment to memory, imprint it there in full and remember it for as long as he lives.

Because he’d seen some things, some truly awe-inspiring, jaw-dropping moments during this journey but this…

It almost compares to the Moonflow (or more specifically, Auron at the Moonflow, his mind supplies helpfully, making him smile at the memory), and yet…

Not.

Though the masses and masses of Pyreflies are sight in and off themselves, lighting the ruins like a sea of stars, Jecht’s gaze is drawn somewhere else completely.

Auron.

The younger guardian’s face, despite the taut lines of grief and dread that have been steadily growing more obvious since the moment they reached the foot of Mt. Gagazet, is lit with open wonder and awe, his eyes wide and dark as they take in the Pyreflies floating and weaving around them, mouth hanging slightly open in breathless astonishment.

And damn if it isn’t one the most beautiful things Jecht has ever seen.

He watches as Auron almost reaches out at a passing Pyrefly, almost touches the tips of his fingers lightly to it, before stilling his hand, letting the Pyrefly float lazily past and around him, followed by its brethren. Auron’s eyes follow them for a while, Jecht can tell, a soft, reverent look in the russet depths.

It makes something twist in Jecht’s chest, and in quick strides he moves to the younger guardian’s side.

“How ‘bout that, huh?” he grins, his voiced awed as he presses tightly against the shorter body, and as Auron looks down, their hands are clasped, fingers laced together before he knows how that even happened.

Auron turns his face back up, eyes still wide with an unfathomable expression in them as he looks at Jecht. “How about that, indeed.”

“You ever seen anything like this?” Jecht asks, though he feels the question might be a bit redundant considering the look on Auron’s face.

As expected, Auron shakes his head. “I could never have even imagined anything like this.” He looks back down, free hand lifted palm up as another Pyrefly circles it briefly. An almost gentle but solemn smile plays at the corner of his lips.

“Tell me about it…” Jecht mumbles, watching as the Pyrefly twists around Auron’s hand, almost resting on it for a moment. Of course, he’s not necessarily talking about just the scene around them.

The Pyrefly swirls mournfully away and Auron looks back up at Jecht, looking almost like he’s about to say something.

He never gets the words out.

Jecht’s hand, the one still not holding Auron’s, comes up to hold the side of the warrior’s face, fingers curling into the silky ink-black hair at the back of his head to hold him still as Jecht leans down to cover his mouth with his own.

Auron lets out a gasp, perhaps in surprise, perhaps in something else, and his hand flexes in Jecht’s, fingers tightening and squeezing harder. His other hand comes up, too, mirroring Jecht as it buries itself, familiarly, in the mop of the blitzer’s hair.

There’s a hint of almost desperation in the kiss, in the way Auron’s mouth responds to Jecht’s, in the way their bodies, as if naturally, gravitate and press against each other. It’s deep and heated, but gentle, devoted, with an edge of the awe for their surroundings.

Jecht commits it, too, to his memory in full detail.

Auron’s skin is warm when Jecht pulls back to rest his forehead against his, and screw how sappy it sounds, but he’s going to cherish this forever.

“C’mon”, he says eventually says, feeling Auron’s answering sigh of an exhalation against his lips, before pulling the younger guardian along by their still-clasped hands. “Can’t let Braska fight all the fiends by himself.”

Auron stared at the ceiling of the high Dome. The night was dark around him as he lay on his back in the small camp. Next to him, he could hear the even breathing of Braska and Jecht. Both were fast asleep, had been for hours.  Having finally reached Zanarkand, and moreover the Dome, the weariness from their travelling had quickly caught up with all of them. Yet he alone could not find the warm comfort of sleep. At first the young man had tried, tossing and turning uncomfortably until Jecht had elbowed him between the ribs and gruffly told him to get some sleep or at least stay still so others might. So he had given up and settled on his back to stare at the ceiling. That way perhaps his body would get some rest, even if his mind couldn’t. And indeed, there was to be no break for his weary thoughts. Over and over he was forced to play the events that had taken place earlier that night in his head.

“Huh? What do you mean no Final Aeon?”

They had finally reached Zanarkand and met Yunalesca, but acquiring the Final Aeon had proved out to be quite a lot more difficult that any of them had imagined. Surely not even Braska had known to expect the solution that was offered to them. Auron could still hear the soft voice of Yunalesca saying:

“You must choose the one whom I will change...to become the fayth of the Final Summoning.”

They had all been too shocked to decide right there and then. Though Auron himself still resisted the idea of Braska sacrificing his life, they had agreed to sleep on it and return with the answer tomorrow. Tomorrow would still be too soon, he had though, but said nothing of it. And then, as they were leaving to prepare a camp for the night, Jecht had blurted out the most unexpected thing.

“Make me the fayth.”

Vaguely amused, Auron remembered how his jaw had almost hit the floor right then. Though Jecht had changed during their journey, this was something he had never expected from him. Braska however had not seemed very surprised and had only smiled a sad but thankful smile. Auron had objected to the whole idea, of course, but it seemed to him it was already decided between Jecht and Braska. Though they both cared for him deeply, his opinion mattered little if Jecht truly had made up his mind.

Getting more irritated at the situation with every thought, Auron shifted his weight uncomfortably. He didn’t want to just shrug his shoulders and say, ‘Hey, have it your way, good luck’, but what else could he possibly do? Jecht wasn’t hearing his - he had to admit it - somewhat childish pleas to turn back now, that way forcing Braska to think of another way to defeat Sin. And Braska, well, he was so hell-bent on finishing his pilgrimage and destroying Sin that he wouldn’t even consider telling Jecht no, so long as the other man knew what he was getting into.

Maybe, a tiny voice inside his head insisted, maybe you’re just jealous. Maybe you’d like to be Braska’s fayth instead, and that’s why you don’t want Jecht to do it.

Stubbornly, Auron shook his head no, but was forced to reflect upon the thought. Yes, he would gladly die for his Lord and if everything depended on it, he would be the fayth for the Final Summoning, but jealousy had nothing to do with his current state of mind. It was simply the fact that he loved both his companions too dearly to let either one of them die, let alone both, when ultimately it would prove to be futile. Sin would just come back and their deaths would mean nothing.

Auron wanted to scream. It all seemed so unfair to him that he wanted to strike out at someone, preferably Jecht, for making such an absurd decision. Glancing sideward at the sleeping form of the man, the warrior resisted the urge to deal a swift punch at him, and instead got up and decided to go outside. The night’s sleep was lost either way, and he figured it would be best if he went outside and took his rage out on some boulder of rock before he really would hurt Jecht.

 The chill of the night air took away the edge of his anger, leaving him only with a dull, gnawing feeling of anxiety. Wrapping his robes tighter around him against the cold ocean breeze, Auron started away from the Dome, kicking small rocks as he went.

“Make me the fayth.”

Even out here, his thoughts wouldn’t give him peace. The warrior quickened his pace, as if that way he could leave them behind. But they swirled around him like the Pyreflies that eternally habited these ruins, seemingly intent on driving him mad.

“Make me the fayth.”

“Shut up”, he muttered through his teeth.

“Make me the fayth.”

“Shut up, Jecht!” he growled, this time out loud.

“Make me the fayth.”

“Damn you, Jecht!” he cried out in frustration. “It shouldn’t even be you!”

“I shouldn’t be what?”

Startled by the sudden voice behind him, Auron flinched slightly. He spun around to see Jecht standing at the entrance of the Dome, only few paces behind him. At the sight of him, emotions came rushing to Auron, and without thinking, he took it all out on Jecht.

“The fayth!” he nearly spat. “It shouldn’t be you to become the fayth! This isn’t even your world!”

Jecht crossed his arms over his broad chest. “So that’s what it’s all about, huh? I’m a foreigner, so I’m not good enough to become your Lord Braska’s Final Aeon?” It was more of an accusation that a question.

Auron stared at him, dumbfounded.

Jecht looked him square in the eyes and continued, “You think you’re better suited for the job, being a warrior monk and all? Think you’ll do any better than me just because you’ve had all that fancy priest training and I haven’t, hm?” He was angry now, as well - angry enough to attack Auron’s personal history.

They stared at each other, Auron confused, Jecht enraged. After a while, Auron’s shoulders slumped and he bowed his head.

“No”, the warrior sighed and weakly shook his head. “That’s not it at all...”

Still Jecht didn’t stop glaring at him. Auron swallowed. “I admit I would gladly die for Braska, and if it came down to it, even be his fayth. But this is not about that. Nor is it about me not believing in your ability to be the fayth, because I’m sure you’d be a fearsome one.” Here, his tone wavered a bit, a watery, pained almost-smile quirking the corner of his mouth before he continued bitterly, “And even if I did believe you couldn’t do it, it wouldn’t matter to you or Braska.” He swallowed again. “Yes, it pains me that my opinion on this matters none to either of you. But even that’s not why.”

Defying the flood of emotions that threatened to wash over him, Auron raised his eyes to meet Jecht’s. He felt his throat close. “Jecht, I care about you. I don’t want to see you die a meaningless death. And that’s what this madness ultimately is, no matter what Lord Braska thinks. Sin always comes back, Jecht, don’t you see that? No matter how many summoners and guardians give their lives, it will always come back.” He felt tears stinging in his eyes.  He blinked them away. “It’s bad enough to see Braska, my Lord and friend, die in vain. How do you suppose it will make me feel to lose you?”

His voice faltered on the last words. Angry with himself for getting so emotional, Auron turned away from Jecht. He had never been the one to let his feelings get the best of him. Why did it have to start with Jecht, of all people? Suddenly he was painfully conscious of the icy-cold night breeze that made his breath linger visible in the air. He wrapped his arms around himself, more for comfort than warmth.

The sudden, warm hands on his shoulders almost made the warrior jump. The amount of emotions that flooded to him at Jecht’s touch was almost overwhelming. He made a half-hearted attempt to shrug the blitzer off, but the hands would not move. Instead their hold got more reassuring and soothing. Gently, they forced the young man to turn around. Auron was suddenly aware of the tears running down his face, but was too tired to fight them anymore. He kept his eyes averted even as his body was completely facing Jecht’s.

“Auron. Look at me.”

The voice was soft, without a hint of anger to it. Yet Auron still couldn’t bring himself to meet Jecht’s eyes. However close they might have gotten, he still wouldn’t let the blitzer see him cry. That way I’ll come out of this at least with some dignity left, he thought, and immediately wondered what good dignity would do him when the two people who mattered most to him would be dead. He wanted to slap himself for being so selfish.

Auron was startled out of his thoughts as Jecht reached out a hand to his chin and gently raised his face up. Almost absent-mindedly, the blitzer traced the line of Auron’s jaw with his thumb. His eyes were dark in the twilight and held a look Auron couldn’t read; perhaps something between apologetic and pleading. Suddenly the warrior felt embarrassed for his outburst. He felt he had to offer some explanation.

“Jecht...I...“, he started hesitantly, but was cut short as Jecht captured his mouth with his own. Auron’s breath caught in his throat and he gasped. Jecht’s mouth tasted sweet and salty at the same time and the sensation of it sent shivers down Auron’s back. Recovering from the shock of being interrupted, he gradually began to return the kiss, his hands tentatively sneaking to Jecht’s shoulders. Their tongues caressed each other gently, tasting the mixture of flavours that mingled in the kiss. The blitzer’s stubble tickled Auron’s cheek as their faces brushed together.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, their lips parted. A light blush displayed itself on Auron’s cheeks as their eyes locked. Jecht’s gaze was dark, yet tender, while Auron’s eyes still gleamed with tears. Wordlessly Jecht placed his hands on the sides of the young man’s face and gently wiped away the wet streams from his cheeks. A bewildered look spread across Auron’s face as he recalled his tears, but Jecht only smiled reassuringly and pulled the young man into a loving embrace. His arms snaked loosely around Auron’s shoulders and tangled in his raven-black hair while the warrior’s head rested against his shoulder.

Breathing in the scent of Auron’s silky hair, Jecht hesitated briefly before speaking. “Do you remember the first time we held each other like this?”

Auron smiled and nodded. The Moonflow. How could I forget?

Jecht could almost feel the heat on the young man’s face against his shoulder. He grinned momentarily and continued, “Remember what you said to me? You said that you’d stay with me ‘til the end, and that you’d support me through this. Now I need to hold you to your word.” The blitzer pulled away from the embrace and held Auron at an arm’s length. The look in his eyes was serious when he spoke, “I need you to support me through this, as well.”

A look of uncertainty flickered across the warrior’s face. He looked Jecht in the eyes for a short moment before nodding slowly. Satisfied with that, Jecht smoothed a hand over Auron’s cheek, before placing it on the young man’s chest, over his heart. “I’ll always be here.”

Sensing finality in Jecht’s voice, Auron shook his head fiercely. “Jecht...no...”, he started, but Jecht placed a finger on the young man’s lips, silencing whatever it was he had been about to say. Auron shot the blitzer a pleading look, but he only shook his head. His eyes held a look of fierce determination as he once more lowered his mouth on Auron’s. It was almost a feather-light brush of lips, convincing both of them that everything was going to be alright in the end. Slowly the kiss ended, and for a while longer, the two men leaned on each other in complete silence. Then Jecht turned around and strode back into the Dome without looking back.