[There's a moment there, between the heartbeat during which Janus looks at him, and the next where Janus turns around, that Arel feels like he's dying. He's never cared about it before, never cared to think of how it'd feel like.
Now he knows. He's pretty sure he knows.
If he could activate the spell again, he would, and drives his hand straight through his own chest.
Instead, he follows Janus into their dorm, stops at the door, watches. He doesn't feel any more alive as he watches, discovers more about what Janus has been hiding from him. Reminds him of all the things he's hiding from them, only - his are so much worse.
He can't help himself; the way he moves is automatic. He steps forward, forward, curls a hand around Janus' arm, no spell no nothing but skin on skin, and pulls Janus gently to turn around. The plastic bag crinkles in their hands.]
Janus, what are you doing? [His voice is soft, scared, confused. What - in what he said, made Janus think they had to get rid of it all? Or is the idea that they're turning Arel on that repulsive? He didn't think so, didn't want to think so, but -
He pulls back, swallows hard.]
I'm sorry, okay? I made a mistake. I just - you. I shouldn't have taken them. It's your property, and I get if you don't want to wear them anymore now that you know it turns me on to think about you in them, but. You don't have to get rid of all your stuff. Please.
[what the actual fuck, janus thinks. except it's janus so it's more like: basic nonsense. there's a hand on their arm and the feel of skin on skin is suddenly grating— they aren't accustomed to being touched by anyone besides their family, except by people who were obligated to hurt them, and that suddenly seems more true than ever.
janus isn't usually an impulsive person. usually, they know what they think and what they want, which rules pertain, what their objectives are. it's so out-of-character, so unfamiliar to them to be reacting on mindless instinct, blind hurt, and childish spite that they don't even know they're doing it. or maybe they'd realize it's embarrassing for a new and fragile part of their identity to be treated like a shallow sexual kink, like what they've been reading about on the internet, white men who will only let black girls flog them despite knowing who holds the true power in the world outside, or people who like to get hurt because there's something wrong with their minds, or when normal sex becomes boring, people are boring, volume by numbers; boring people become intolerable. they'd believed arel, when he said it was better to wait until you liked someone. if you were lucky enough for them to like you back. it seems like bad advice now, like pity.
it makes sense, suddenly, arel coming back looking relaxed, with subtle bruises all over, putting pictures of his muscles on the internet. his emily, his others, who comment on the pictures of his muscles on the internet. janus has no idea how it makes sense, but it definitely does. just because they can't string it together in words doesn't mean it doesn't make sense.]
You can have it, [janus says. they want arel to stop touching them but they don't want to seem scared of it, so they bring the back over, press it into arel's hand, then let go like it's nothing. it'll spill all over the floor. maybe the mascara will break open and stain everything.] I don't want it anymore. You don't have to pay me back. It's free.
[it feels true.] I'm going out. You can have the room tonight.
[It's like a bruise on Arel's heart. Blood clogging, a dark halo around his arteries, squeezing at them. He takes the bag but it feels surreal, like a dream where he and Janus have not made any strides since they met.
Arel fucked up. He fucked up bad, and he's fucked Janus up. He broke something, he broke Janus, took something from them that he had no right to take. If only - if only he could take it back.]
Janus -
[It's too late. Janus is already walking out the door, not looking back, like they're putting all of this behind them, like there's nothing else to say. There's so much to say - what it means, what is is, how can Arel help?
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Now he knows. He's pretty sure he knows.
If he could activate the spell again, he would, and drives his hand straight through his own chest.
Instead, he follows Janus into their dorm, stops at the door, watches. He doesn't feel any more alive as he watches, discovers more about what Janus has been hiding from him. Reminds him of all the things he's hiding from them, only - his are so much worse.
He can't help himself; the way he moves is automatic. He steps forward, forward, curls a hand around Janus' arm, no spell no nothing but skin on skin, and pulls Janus gently to turn around. The plastic bag crinkles in their hands.]
Janus, what are you doing? [His voice is soft, scared, confused. What - in what he said, made Janus think they had to get rid of it all? Or is the idea that they're turning Arel on that repulsive? He didn't think so, didn't want to think so, but -
He pulls back, swallows hard.]
I'm sorry, okay? I made a mistake. I just - you. I shouldn't have taken them. It's your property, and I get if you don't want to wear them anymore now that you know it turns me on to think about you in them, but. You don't have to get rid of all your stuff. Please.
no subject
janus isn't usually an impulsive person. usually, they know what they think and what they want, which rules pertain, what their objectives are. it's so out-of-character, so unfamiliar to them to be reacting on mindless instinct, blind hurt, and childish spite that they don't even know they're doing it. or maybe they'd realize it's embarrassing for a new and fragile part of their identity to be treated like a shallow sexual kink, like what they've been reading about on the internet, white men who will only let black girls flog them despite knowing who holds the true power in the world outside, or people who like to get hurt because there's something wrong with their minds, or when normal sex becomes boring, people are boring, volume by numbers; boring people become intolerable. they'd believed arel, when he said it was better to wait until you liked someone. if you were lucky enough for them to like you back. it seems like bad advice now, like pity.
it makes sense, suddenly, arel coming back looking relaxed, with subtle bruises all over, putting pictures of his muscles on the internet. his emily, his others, who comment on the pictures of his muscles on the internet. janus has no idea how it makes sense, but it definitely does. just because they can't string it together in words doesn't mean it doesn't make sense.]
You can have it, [janus says. they want arel to stop touching them but they don't want to seem scared of it, so they bring the back over, press it into arel's hand, then let go like it's nothing. it'll spill all over the floor. maybe the mascara will break open and stain everything.] I don't want it anymore. You don't have to pay me back. It's free.
[it feels true.] I'm going out. You can have the room tonight.
no subject
Arel fucked up. He fucked up bad, and he's fucked Janus up. He broke something, he broke Janus, took something from them that he had no right to take. If only - if only he could take it back.]
Janus -
[It's too late. Janus is already walking out the door, not looking back, like they're putting all of this behind them, like there's nothing else to say. There's so much to say - what it means, what is is, how can Arel help?
But it's too late.]