alusion (because the world needed it)

for who you are

He hated himself for the vile appendage, hated it even moreso. He didn't even want to imagine what Gusion's reaction towards it would be--it terrified him. Gusion had become an important figure in his life in these past months, someone Alucard had grown to love, so if.. if Gusion were to react horribly, regard Alucard as he would a demon.. It'd hurt. A lot.

Not that Alucard would blame him.

No, Gusion would be justified in that hate, that disgust when Alucard was to take off his gauntlet and reveal his demonized arm. It'd be hard to get over, but Alucard would. Somehow. Someway. And, truly? He'd rather get it done with now, rather than later. The prospect was terrifying--yes, Alucard, a damned Demon Hunter who'd faced hordes of demons without a single ounce of fear, that same person--as of now, and he couldn't bare even thinking how much worse he'd feel later on, further into their relationship without telling Gusion about his arm, how much worse that rejection would feel. So, now, he was here.

The sun's final rays of light were seeping past the opened windows, the evening's cool breeze passing through the window and making the curtains quietly sway with its coming. The wildlife outside was quiet, calming, and eliminated the need for conversion between the two males.

Nonetheless, Alucard broke the silence.

"My right arm..." He trailed off, a heavy weight already pressing against his chest, pain already forming from an interaction that had yet to begin, words inevitably yet to be said. He could feel it, the weight if Gusion's gaze moving downwards, looking at his gauntleted arm. Words seemed to die in his throat, so he instead let out a shuddering breath, left hand moving over, grabbing onto the cool metal of his gauntlet. Actions spoke louder than words, after all. It took more courage than he'd expected, more will than he'd thought, to finally resolute himself, grip tightening on his gauntlet, giving it a yank and sliding it off. He averted his gaze, not wanting to see the rough patches of only inky black skin, nor the claws that were once human fingers. Already, that bile was forming in the back of his throat, and he squeezed his eyes shut. Words roughly began to tumble out from his mouth, "I understand--I understand if you think different of me. I get it. I hate it--myself--too, I despite it, but, please--please, understand, I never wanted this, I didn't ask for this, they--they, the demons, they-" Alucard cut himself off with a choked noise, eyes sharply widening as he flinched away, the hardness of the countertop he'd been leaning against digging into his back.

Touch.

Gusion had touched it, went to grab the clawed hand-

"I-I'm sorry, I should've asked-" Gusion's gaze went up from his arm and met his eyes.

Oh, Creator, Gusion's eyes.

Hate: that's what Alucard had expected to find within Gusion's eyes. Disgust. Loathing. Pity. He found none of that, none of those. Instead.. Instead there was care, concern, worry. If he had hurt Alucard. Gusion. Hurting him. Such a concept was preposterous, laughable, really, because, if ever, Alucard would probably be hurting him, especially with his arm-

Those said eyes widened, and Alucard found Gusion speaking once again. "Alucard--I'm sorry, I hurt you, didn't I? Shit--you're crying-"

He was crying? Alucard didn't even realize it. "No--no, you're fine, I just-" Didn't deserve it. He didn't. His arm--it was demonic, it was everything he stood against, he fought against, he hated, and Gusion had went to hold that demonic hand, his demonic hand.

"It hurt, didn't it? I'm sorry, I should've asked-"

"It didn't--it... It was the opposite, I'm sorry, I..."  Alucard paused, having to take a breath before continuing.  "It's been--years?--years, since anyone beside me has touched it, I'm not.. I'm not..." His voice was dangerously close to cracking, and he desperately tried to blink away the tears, and failed miserably, only more tears swam up to replace the ones blinked away.