Anonym sagte: You know i never thought i would have wanted to see more of this pairing but now i do (why, guys,why) - Sometimes Malzahar returns to his old personality, to the human we once was. This moments only last some hours before the void takes over him again, those were the moments Kassadin appreciated the most, since the other told him stories of his past and family, and always asks him to lift him from the curse of the void (with any method, even death) if he ever does something he'll regret
The first time it happened, Malzahar was hysteric. The weight of his sins, his pledge to the void, and the guilt of his murders all came crashing down upon one—now despairingly human—mind. He had felt confused, deprived, and worthless all at once—cheated of the one thing that had justified his actions and made his life worthwhile.
At the time, the prophet had nearly killed himself, and Kassadin had nearly let him.
These days, however, Malzahar simply takes what little graces life still grants him. His few moments of humanity are rare, but cherished—and he spends almost all of them reminiscing in Kassadin’s arms.
Today, his head rests in Kassadin’s lap, dark brown hair falling in wisps around his face. Today, his eyes are a deep blue, glassy and dark—no longer streaming void-given light—and they stare up at Kassadin with silent appreciation. And today Kassadin, his mask off and his breathing slow, looks back at him with a half smile and a heavy heart.
"You’re so human, sometimes," Kassadin says, "did you know??"
Malzahar gives him a look that says, quite obviously, ‘No, Kassadin, I hadn’t noticed,’ and Kassadin almost laughs.
"Not now—I mean when you’re possessed," he explains, and Malzahar’s brow furrows. "You act remarkably human, even then."
Malzahar blinks back owlishly, “Do I really??” His voice is sad, regretful, and Kassadin brings a hand up to rest on the other man’s head. Malzahar leans his head into the touch, almost cat-like in the way he seeks comfort from his sins. Kassadin hums an affirmation.
"You kissed me the other day," he notes absently, his fingers playing with Malzahar’s hair.
"I kissed you while I was possessed??" Malzahar inquires, a small frown gracing his lips. He pauses as he thinks. "… But I haven’t even kissed you as ‘myself,’ yet."
Kassadin chuckles, quiet and warm, because it’s true; Malzahar has yet to kiss him while ‘human.’ The thought isn’t a terrible one, and he finds himself replying “You could now.”
The prophet’s robes shuffle as he sits up. “Really??” he says, curious.
Kassadin nods, and Malzahar scoots himself forward, closer to Kassadin’s body.
His hands were warmer than they were before—almost burning—and Kassadin thinks that he likes these hands of Malzahar’s much better. They cradle his face with a carefulness, reverence, and loneliness that Kassadin can relate to.
The void doesn’t stir, and when Malzahar kisses him—as chaste and innocent as he did the other day—Kassadin feels like he’s floating.
They sit there, breathing the same air, for what seems like an eternity. Malzahar’s lips are slightly parted, and Kassadin’s so close he can feel the other man’s heartbeat. When the prophet finally pulls back from the other man completely, his eyes are wide and his face is flushed—Kassadin thinks he looks almost boyishly young.
Malzahar lays back down, his gaze thoughtful. He brings a hand up to touch his lips, and smiles. It’s a long time before either of them speak again.
"… You remember what I told you, Kassadin??" Malzahar asks quietly, his eyes closed. "About what I want you to do if I ever get too… out of hand??"
Kassadin hums softly. It’s not something he likes to think about.
"And… You’ll do it??" Malzahar continues, hesitantly, and Kassadin lets out a heavy sigh.
"Yes," he says eventually, running this hand through the other man’s hair once more. "Of course I will."
"Thank you," Malzahar murmurs back, his voice small. "Thank you so much."