[There's a drum going through Arel's body. It can't be his heartbeat, too fast too violent too broken, not the steady 75 he's used to - 130 when working out. It's erratic, skipping time, hurting Arel in his chest, his fingers, his head.
He wants to be numb. He wishes he could be numb. He doesn't know if he'll ever be numb again, or if he's doomed to be a walking bruise, blood too close to the surface, nerve-endings too sensitive.
Janus is in their room when Arel walks in, drops his books with a loud noise on top of his own desk. He rubs at his chest, at his sternum, just above the start of his Kali tattoo. It still hurts, feels like it's burning him from the outside in. He sits on Janus' bed, by the edge, hands on his knees.
There are tears in his eyes. He doesn't know what to say, but hopefully Janus is ready to listen.]
You remember when I talked about Emily before? How I talked about her in the past tense? I thought - Janus. [He turns to look at them.] She died. Four years ago, she died.
[usually when arel interrupts them reading, it's nonverbal. more of a, oh, i incidentally wandered in half-dressed kind of a situation than an explicit request for the hunter to stop doing what they're doing. they're reading crime and punishment right now, and it's a slow, unhappy slog fraught with morally repugnant behaviors. janus isn't sure why it's supposed to help anybody to read this so
frankly they're quite welcome of the distraction. the book snaps shut when arel sits on he end of their bed, and janus studies him. nods, when he asks if they remember. nods, abot the past tense. they are not surprised that death was the cause of separation, four years ago. but there's no pretending with the last part, those three final sentences. janus has an impeccable poker face, but their eyebrows climb steadily up their forehead. it's a good, clean shock at first, and that's all.]
Is she hurt? [janus asks, because that's the first thing. whether you ask maslow or the clan.] Is she safe? [they put their book down and sit up like a cat, hands on the bed between their knees.]
She's not hurt. [He shakes his head. She was just as beautiful and flawless and he remembered her. Eyes like pools he could drown into, hair smelling of Jasmine and honey, lips full and pouty and begging to be touched.
But different.] She's not safe.
[She can't be. She's a Hunter. He can't say that, can't say these words without risking everything he's worked so hard for. She's not safe, because if he catches wind that she's alive, he'll come back for her.]
She's not herself.
[It's this part. It's this part that sticks Arel's tongue to the roof of his mouth and makes him throb all over. He'd dreamt of this. Of seeing her again. Of being able to hold her again, feel her skin against his. He'd never dreamt she would be more Kali, less Emily. Her memories of them gone, replaced by fragments, words spoken in the dead of night.
Arel lets out a soft, broken noise. Not really wanting to, but unable to keep it in. When he lifts his eyes to Janus' again, he lets himself lean in, burying his face in their neck, arms wrapping around them. Human contact. Reassurance that not everything is lost. The underlying desire to just. Hold and be held, especially by Janus. Words he can't say out loud.]
[in the meantime, the little hunter is thinking hard and fast. myths are afoot. what the fuck might she be? it's too soon to ask— janus came into a new superpower recently, tact, and they know that it's not the best time now to drill down for details. when they were small, janus' mothers had sometimes pressed them too early for details about lost duels, training exercises that had gone badly, their childish tears at night.
and this seems somewhat more serious than that, so.
janus is actually thinking about what if arel was dating a messiah, when suddenly there are arms around them. warm, patterned over with elaborate tattoos. suddenly, they can smell the deodorant and cologne off his skin and the warm bulges of his biceps press in, his chest big enough for a panther to bask on. janus holds their breath, surprised, and then— there's nothing clean about the sense of gratification now, the greedy pleasure of stolen chocolate. and just like candy, guilt melts through seconds later.
but janus doesn't make this about them! that's not for another week or so. instead, they carefully pull their folded arms out from between arel's body and their own, where they'd automatically raised their hands up a moment go, like when you give a cat a hug. they wrap arel's shoulders up carefully in their grasp. despite the many social impairments they have going on, they know how to administer hugs. their mothers had done well by them in some ways.]
It's going to be okay. [janus squeezes. medium pressure.
[she's back, janus thinks. the hug is enough to make them stop thinking like a hunter, for a moment, and more like a sixteen-year-old with their first crush. shit.] You're going to be okay. I know that's hard to believe but um. She's-- she's proof of miracles. [janus holds him tighter.]
[Arel isn't crying. Janus hugs him, and it feels natural. Arel fits there, in their arms, which is a strange thing to think when his brain is full of Emily. Emily and her wall of stone and her memories locked away. Arel and his sledgehammer.
Janus and the tone of their voice and the pressure of their fingers. Arel shifts, lips against the exposed skin at the base of Janus' throat, just below the bird tattooed there. He closes his eyes, swallows as he leeches warmth and comfort from Janus' fingers digging into his skin and the surprising softness of their words.
Arel chuckles, bitterly, at the mention of miracles. She's so far from a miracle. So much more terrible, so much more beautiful and violent and perfect. He presses his fingers against the notches of Janus' spine, at the top of his back.]
[janus is enjoying the hell out of this hug. possibly some of the warmth radiating out of their shirt collar is because the tips of their ears are turning red. it's a little hard to breathe, and not even the uneasy pang of knowing they're kind of. exploiting arel's moment of weakness is enough to squash it down.
but it does move janus to be generous, too. to give back for all that they're taking, for the little hershey tokens of arel's affection even if it's given under duress. (they try not to think about how they're only a harpy.)] I'll take you flying later, if you want, [janus blurts out. they think they can feel every contour of arel's mouth on their neck, but that's crazy, considering what they know about touch discrimination and how to withstand torture.
it's not very helpful, that they've never gotten much further than this, being held and-- sort of— kissed, and squeezed, when they fantasized about being one of arel's girls or boys. tentatively, janus touches his hair.] You have to take care of yourself before you can take care of her. Whatever that looks like.
[If he was asked, Arel would admit he's also enjoying this hug. There's something desperate in the way he wants to pull Janus to his lap, hold them closer, run his hands down along their sides, see it if makes them shiver.
It feels impossible that he's thinking this right now. It feels like his mind is broken in two; one half screaming about Emily, the other about Janus. He shouldn't have - shouldn't have leant in, shouldn't be holding him, shouldn't let himself have this. He knows, at this point, that his feelings for his roommate are not completely pure; they haven't been since he realised he would happily take Janus to bed. And now here he is, touching Janus like he's allowed. When Emily is here, alive and going by through the reminder of his voice.
He's being unfair. To both of them. Letting out a muffled noise, he presses closer. Presses his lips to Janus' neck in a kiss, meaning it, his hands moving, fingers finding their hair, at the nape of their neck. He breathes in deeply, eyes burning with unshed tears.]
I don't know how to take care of myself, Janus. [He only knows how to survive.]
janus is already shivering. later they will wonder why it is that arel only needs to kiss them when he's upset about his great love coming back from the dead, why he only wants their underwear, and they will come to no flattering conclusions. but right now in the moment, their mind is caught up trying to decide which they prefer: to be kissed on the mouth or the neck, the passion of grief or the casual interest of pizza on the beach. their heart pounds. they worry for a moment that arel can hear it. suddenly it makes sense, the stupid things people do for infatuations. thrown fights, desertions, unwanted pregnancies, bad poetry. broken hearts.
foolish promises.]
Then I'll take care of you, [says the least qualified sixteen-year-old on the planet.
you can drop janus on an arctic island with a bag of supplies and they'll be all right for a month, but that probably isn't the kind of care that arel means. still: janus' heart is moved, their skin throbbing wildly under arel's hands. who wouldn't do anything, for such a handsome person when his voice is thick with unspent tears.] I swear. [they hold arel, imagine that they can feel the piercings in his nipples through their shirt, and feel their ears start to burn hotter.] I--um. If you need anything, I'll go get it for you. Anything.
[If only Janus knew. If only he knew how special they are to Arel; how he's turning to them when upset because of trust, because there is nobody he's comfortable around enough to show this side of himself. If only he understood.
But Arel is awful at speaking his mind and trusting himself with words. And he's scared - scared of hurting Janus, of imagining too many things, too many looks and unsaid words between the two of them. He doesn't want to upset a delicate balance - is scared of losing Janus by using the wrong words.
But when Janus says these words, I'll take care of you, Arel inhales sharply, pulls back suddenly, his eyes wet with tears as he looks at them, his lips parted as he takes it in. Their positions should be reversed. Arel is the older one; the adult with a crush on someone too young for them, under the usual 'half your age plus seven' rule of thumb. He's the one with the issues, and he's the one with Emily, the one with actual knowledge of how life works, besides knives and murders and missions. He shouldn't be the one needed to be taken care of.
But the sincerity in Janus' voice. Arel reaches out, cupping Janus' face like he cupped Emily's face earlier, his lips trembling on a heavy exhale. It sounds like a promise, what Janus is saying. They probably don't even realise it, and Arel leans closer, rests his forehead against Janus', brings his other hand up to frame the other side of Janus' face, fingers pressing behind the jut of Janus' jaw.
[it's not janus' first kiss. maybe it's not even their second. but none of the other ones have felt like this before, sweet fire racing to janus' face and stomach, their heartbeat trying to outpace it, a glut of butterflies in their belly winging away even faster still. time dilates; the kiss is forever and janus can't breathe. their head full of white noise, and they think a lot of crazy thoughts that are less crazy for a child raised as a soldier, that they would do anything for this person to see him smile again, to see his eyes dry, that they could do anything, a totality of duty and dedication and willing sacrifice that is at once frighteningly indoctrinated and simply sixteen.
they don't think about emily. about what they want or should; about fair or unfair. this is more than they thought they'd ever get, ever, and after the butterflies and the cardiac sprint and the bellows puffing hotly in their face, it's a tidal wave. it's every metaphor they've never bothered to read.
that's to say, they're kissing arel back. a little clumsy but not badly, lips pursed hungrily on his lips and eyes mostly closed, just open once or twice mostly to check they're doing it properly, their arms moving up higher around arel's neck, like in the romantic movies that janus doesn't remember having watched. and because chinatown i guess is rather useless in moving this thread forward now the tag is ending, but if you need more to respond to just let me know.]
[He isn't sure that it is what Janus wants. It occurs to him, that maybe Janus is kissing him back out of obligation. But his own heart is going crazy, beating against the bruise on the inside of his chest that Emily left. It's too much and also not fair, he's taking advantage of Janus, taking more than what he was offered.
His fingers spread out, down along Janus' terribly long neck, touching for a moment longer, kissing for a moment longer, before he pulls away, softly, softly, their lips sticking together before they're free of each other. Arel opens his eyes. He can't breathe suddenly.]
I'm sorry. [It's not the right thing to say, even if he means it. But it needs more than that.] I don't - you deserve better than this. Than me. I just. Really wanted to do this.
right now, they wish mainly that arel hadn't stopped. it's disorienting, the way that the older man pulls away, as if somehow in those three seconds janus had started to use arel's breath and hands as new measures of reality. this is ground, arel's solid shoulders. this is sky, the wind of arel's breath. this is gravity, the warmth of him pulling janus tight.
janus is very slow to take their hands off him. one arm and then the other. they fold their hands on their lap, their heart crashing, head abuzz. they don't know why arel stopped. why he's sorry. are they like that with the blond boy from his instagram? the wolf girl with the enormous eyes? does he apologize after kissing them? janus wonders if they hadn't kissed him back well enough, if they should have used their tongue. if this is a special technique for getting people to ask.
janus keeps their face as blank as they can, watching arel's. they don't know the ritual. they don't know the right thing to say, to make arel want it again. but they can't afford not to speak, and their mouth is still tingling. their neck still tingling.]
Why are you making this such a big deal?
[it's definitely the wrong thing to say. later, they'll know.]
[Why is he? Because he cares. Because the last person he's allowed to have feelings for was murdered. Because he doesn't want to treat Janus the way he does Robert, or Charlie. Because he doesn't want Janus to be a friend he fucks.
He inhales, sharp and hurting when the air hits his lungs.]
Because it is a big deal, Janus. Isn't it a big deal to you?
[It's as if Janus thinks that they don't matter to Arel; another notch on the bedpost, so to speak.
His head is too jumbled for this conversation and he's pretty sure he's completely screwing up - that he's already screwed up.]
[yes? no? should it be? janus doesn't say anything, sensing it's too late. they wish they had been paying more attention. it had gone too quick. by now you'd think they'd be used to it, not being allowed to have something. it feels more unfair than it is. like being told your daimon is a harpy. janus remembers that when that news used to weigh on them, their moms would remind them to think of flying, so that the humiliation and grief was worth it.
they try to think of kissing arel the same way. moments in the sun for assassins in the dark. they're careful to keep their hands loose on their lap, their mouth relaxed. they've been working on their tells since they were twelve. they're here to protect arel. they can let him think the world is safer than it is, so they can let him think that not kissing is fine.]
[Arel blinks. Surprise etching over his features.]
Like a date?
[He ought to say no. They've shared coffee before - hot beverages, anyway - and they've had breakfast together, even sometimes lunch, when their schedules align and they see each other in the mess hall. Arel's not tried really hard to separate his time with Janus from his time with his friends, but he realises now that it still happened.
[it wasn't meant to be like a date, but janus doesn't really understand why they don't want that, never mind know how to put words to it. but that's the moment it clicks for them: arel loves a goddess and now she's here. and that's why arel had kissed them and he'd rather do a coffee date. they don't know why that seems unnerving, why they'd rather be like charlotte or rob.
(unbeknownst to them, the two of them will be disagreeing about something else next week anyway.)
being a harpy is much less complicated than arel.]
Sure, [janus says. then they touch arel's shoulder because that seems like a friendly thing to do, and gets up from the bed.] Let's go.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
action; pre-fight
He wants to be numb. He wishes he could be numb. He doesn't know if he'll ever be numb again, or if he's doomed to be a walking bruise, blood too close to the surface, nerve-endings too sensitive.
Janus is in their room when Arel walks in, drops his books with a loud noise on top of his own desk. He rubs at his chest, at his sternum, just above the start of his Kali tattoo. It still hurts, feels like it's burning him from the outside in. He sits on Janus' bed, by the edge, hands on his knees.
There are tears in his eyes. He doesn't know what to say, but hopefully Janus is ready to listen.]
You remember when I talked about Emily before? How I talked about her in the past tense? I thought - Janus. [He turns to look at them.] She died. Four years ago, she died.
[The next breath he takes hurts.]
She's here. In the Academy. Alive.
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frankly they're quite welcome of the distraction. the book snaps shut when arel sits on he end of their bed, and janus studies him. nods, when he asks if they remember. nods, abot the past tense. they are not surprised that death was the cause of separation, four years ago. but there's no pretending with the last part, those three final sentences. janus has an impeccable poker face, but their eyebrows climb steadily up their forehead. it's a good, clean shock at first, and that's all.]
Is she hurt? [janus asks, because that's the first thing. whether you ask maslow or the clan.] Is she safe? [they put their book down and sit up like a cat, hands on the bed between their knees.]
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But different.] She's not safe.
[She can't be. She's a Hunter. He can't say that, can't say these words without risking everything he's worked so hard for. She's not safe, because if he catches wind that she's alive, he'll come back for her.]
She's not herself.
[It's this part. It's this part that sticks Arel's tongue to the roof of his mouth and makes him throb all over. He'd dreamt of this. Of seeing her again. Of being able to hold her again, feel her skin against his. He'd never dreamt she would be more Kali, less Emily. Her memories of them gone, replaced by fragments, words spoken in the dead of night.
Arel lets out a soft, broken noise. Not really wanting to, but unable to keep it in. When he lifts his eyes to Janus' again, he lets himself lean in, burying his face in their neck, arms wrapping around them. Human contact. Reassurance that not everything is lost. The underlying desire to just. Hold and be held, especially by Janus. Words he can't say out loud.]
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and this seems somewhat more serious than that, so.
janus is actually thinking about what if arel was dating a messiah, when suddenly there are arms around them. warm, patterned over with elaborate tattoos. suddenly, they can smell the deodorant and cologne off his skin and the warm bulges of his biceps press in, his chest big enough for a panther to bask on. janus holds their breath, surprised, and then— there's nothing clean about the sense of gratification now, the greedy pleasure of stolen chocolate. and just like candy, guilt melts through seconds later.
but janus doesn't make this about them! that's not for another week or so. instead, they carefully pull their folded arms out from between arel's body and their own, where they'd automatically raised their hands up a moment go, like when you give a cat a hug. they wrap arel's shoulders up carefully in their grasp. despite the many social impairments they have going on, they know how to administer hugs. their mothers had done well by them in some ways.]
It's going to be okay. [janus squeezes. medium pressure.
[she's back, janus thinks. the hug is enough to make them stop thinking like a hunter, for a moment, and more like a sixteen-year-old with their first crush. shit.] You're going to be okay. I know that's hard to believe but um. She's-- she's proof of miracles. [janus holds him tighter.]
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Janus and the tone of their voice and the pressure of their fingers. Arel shifts, lips against the exposed skin at the base of Janus' throat, just below the bird tattooed there. He closes his eyes, swallows as he leeches warmth and comfort from Janus' fingers digging into his skin and the surprising softness of their words.
Arel chuckles, bitterly, at the mention of miracles. She's so far from a miracle. So much more terrible, so much more beautiful and violent and perfect. He presses his fingers against the notches of Janus' spine, at the top of his back.]
She's a goddess, Janus.
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but it does move janus to be generous, too. to give back for all that they're taking, for the little hershey tokens of arel's affection even if it's given under duress. (they try not to think about how they're only a harpy.)] I'll take you flying later, if you want, [janus blurts out. they think they can feel every contour of arel's mouth on their neck, but that's crazy, considering what they know about touch discrimination and how to withstand torture.
it's not very helpful, that they've never gotten much further than this, being held and-- sort of— kissed, and squeezed, when they fantasized about being one of arel's girls or boys. tentatively, janus touches his hair.] You have to take care of yourself before you can take care of her. Whatever that looks like.
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It feels impossible that he's thinking this right now. It feels like his mind is broken in two; one half screaming about Emily, the other about Janus. He shouldn't have - shouldn't have leant in, shouldn't be holding him, shouldn't let himself have this. He knows, at this point, that his feelings for his roommate are not completely pure; they haven't been since he realised he would happily take Janus to bed. And now here he is, touching Janus like he's allowed. When Emily is here, alive and going by through the reminder of his voice.
He's being unfair. To both of them. Letting out a muffled noise, he presses closer. Presses his lips to Janus' neck in a kiss, meaning it, his hands moving, fingers finding their hair, at the nape of their neck. He breathes in deeply, eyes burning with unshed tears.]
I don't know how to take care of myself, Janus. [He only knows how to survive.]
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janus is already shivering. later they will wonder why it is that arel only needs to kiss them when he's upset about his great love coming back from the dead, why he only wants their underwear, and they will come to no flattering conclusions. but right now in the moment, their mind is caught up trying to decide which they prefer: to be kissed on the mouth or the neck, the passion of grief or the casual interest of pizza on the beach. their heart pounds. they worry for a moment that arel can hear it. suddenly it makes sense, the stupid things people do for infatuations. thrown fights, desertions, unwanted pregnancies, bad poetry. broken hearts.
foolish promises.]
Then I'll take care of you, [says the least qualified sixteen-year-old on the planet.
you can drop janus on an arctic island with a bag of supplies and they'll be all right for a month, but that probably isn't the kind of care that arel means. still: janus' heart is moved, their skin throbbing wildly under arel's hands. who wouldn't do anything, for such a handsome person when his voice is thick with unspent tears.] I swear. [they hold arel, imagine that they can feel the piercings in his nipples through their shirt, and feel their ears start to burn hotter.] I--um. If you need anything, I'll go get it for you. Anything.
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But Arel is awful at speaking his mind and trusting himself with words. And he's scared - scared of hurting Janus, of imagining too many things, too many looks and unsaid words between the two of them. He doesn't want to upset a delicate balance - is scared of losing Janus by using the wrong words.
But when Janus says these words, I'll take care of you, Arel inhales sharply, pulls back suddenly, his eyes wet with tears as he looks at them, his lips parted as he takes it in. Their positions should be reversed. Arel is the older one; the adult with a crush on someone too young for them, under the usual 'half your age plus seven' rule of thumb. He's the one with the issues, and he's the one with Emily, the one with actual knowledge of how life works, besides knives and murders and missions. He shouldn't be the one needed to be taken care of.
But the sincerity in Janus' voice. Arel reaches out, cupping Janus' face like he cupped Emily's face earlier, his lips trembling on a heavy exhale. It sounds like a promise, what Janus is saying. They probably don't even realise it, and Arel leans closer, rests his forehead against Janus', brings his other hand up to frame the other side of Janus' face, fingers pressing behind the jut of Janus' jaw.
And he kisses them.]
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they don't think about emily. about what they want or should; about fair or unfair. this is more than they thought they'd ever get, ever, and after the butterflies and the cardiac sprint and the bellows puffing hotly in their face, it's a tidal wave. it's every metaphor they've never bothered to read.
that's to say, they're kissing arel back. a little clumsy but not badly, lips pursed hungrily on his lips and eyes mostly closed, just open once or twice mostly to check they're doing it properly, their arms moving up higher around arel's neck, like in the romantic movies that janus doesn't remember having watched. and because chinatown i guess is rather useless in moving this thread forward now the tag is ending, but if you need more to respond to just let me know.]
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His fingers spread out, down along Janus' terribly long neck, touching for a moment longer, kissing for a moment longer, before he pulls away, softly, softly, their lips sticking together before they're free of each other. Arel opens his eyes. He can't breathe suddenly.]
I'm sorry. [It's not the right thing to say, even if he means it. But it needs more than that.] I don't - you deserve better than this. Than me. I just. Really wanted to do this.
[It still feels like the wrong thing to say.]
lmk if this is too arelmato
right now, they wish mainly that arel hadn't stopped. it's disorienting, the way that the older man pulls away, as if somehow in those three seconds janus had started to use arel's breath and hands as new measures of reality. this is ground, arel's solid shoulders. this is sky, the wind of arel's breath. this is gravity, the warmth of him pulling janus tight.
janus is very slow to take their hands off him. one arm and then the other. they fold their hands on their lap, their heart crashing, head abuzz. they don't know why arel stopped. why he's sorry. are they like that with the blond boy from his instagram? the wolf girl with the enormous eyes? does he apologize after kissing them? janus wonders if they hadn't kissed him back well enough, if they should have used their tongue. if this is a special technique for getting people to ask.
janus keeps their face as blank as they can, watching arel's. they don't know the ritual. they don't know the right thing to say, to make arel want it again. but they can't afford not to speak, and their mouth is still tingling. their neck still tingling.]
Why are you making this such a big deal?
[it's definitely the wrong thing to say. later, they'll know.]
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He inhales, sharp and hurting when the air hits his lungs.]
Because it is a big deal, Janus. Isn't it a big deal to you?
[It's as if Janus thinks that they don't matter to Arel; another notch on the bedpost, so to speak.
His head is too jumbled for this conversation and he's pretty sure he's completely screwing up - that he's already screwed up.]
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they try to think of kissing arel the same way. moments in the sun for assassins in the dark. they're careful to keep their hands loose on their lap, their mouth relaxed. they've been working on their tells since they were twelve. they're here to protect arel. they can let him think the world is safer than it is, so they can let him think that not kissing is fine.]
Okay, [they say finally.] How about coffee then?
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Like a date?
[He ought to say no. They've shared coffee before - hot beverages, anyway - and they've had breakfast together, even sometimes lunch, when their schedules align and they see each other in the mess hall. Arel's not tried really hard to separate his time with Janus from his time with his friends, but he realises now that it still happened.
He ought to say no.]
Sounds like a plan to me.
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(unbeknownst to them, the two of them will be disagreeing about something else next week anyway.)
being a harpy is much less complicated than arel.]
Sure, [janus says. then they touch arel's shoulder because that seems like a friendly thing to do, and gets up from the bed.] Let's go.