( It is as obvious as the red laced in blood how painfully wrong they are for one another. Even if he gave the guy a golden ticket and brought him down to the Fortress, who is he to cage a bird of paradise and condemn him to a life beneath the waves? Without color, without purpose, without sun. Wriothesley has never been dishonest, only slightly misleading, and for that, he has taken responsibility. Which mostly has consisted of interacting with him as little as possible. Sexuality is one messy spectrum, romance is another so when they fuck you in tandem, one can imagine: it's not easy to juggle. He's past the experimentation phase and he certainly doesn't want to make Kaveh of all people an open-field subject. The fact is: it will never work out.
The sluice gate at the bottom of the ocean is as strong as the one he keeps in his chest, even when it bubbles the moment he enters the bar and sees the familiar face, sucking faces with some other. This wouldn't be an issue if he wasn't used to Kaveh pouring himself onto him. Maybe he's over the infatuation? So this works for them. Logically, he should feel static about the encounter because he no longer has to worry about crushing all of Kaveh's hopes by himself. His job is easier now.
So he walks directly towards them and pretends he didn't see anything. He raises his hand towards the bartender and calls out his order. )
[ It's been quite a nice night so far. A frustrating day with his mother and step-father led to Kaveh deciding to spend the evening at a bar, and he was already several drinks down by the time he was approached by the young man in whose lap he is currently perched, a tongue down his throat and a hand rubbing slow against his crotch under the concealing edge of the table.
On any other day, Kaveh will argue until he's blue in the face that he's not the sort to engage in PDA, but he's drunk and far from home and with any luck he'll never have to see any of these people again—
At least, that's how he rationalizes it for himself right up until the moment when he hears a distinctly familiar voice from just behind him.
Something deep in Kaveh feels immediately sick. But he pulls back with a slow, blinking chuckle, a nudge of his mouth against his companion's before he turns his head, looking up at the newcomer with dazed carmine eyes. ]
Well, if it isn't the lord of the dead himself, visiting us from the underworld. Perhaps you'd like to join us, Your Grace?
[ One hand gestures lazily at another chair set into their table, although he's cut off from whatever he wants to say next with a pleasured, humming chuckle as a pair of lips latches onto a neck already decidedly marked up with bruises and bites. ]
( The overall impression he receives consists of gazes gawking at his nasty, protruding scars along his neck, face, and arms. Only people whose families have ever gotten a visit from him might recognize him.
This is a bad idea. He's pretty much aware of how logic turns to shit when Kaveh gets drunk yet he's seething so hotly he thinks his alignment with Cryo could melt. He lets a chuckle pass him, too, then grabs the drink from the bartender. )
Yeah, I didn't think you were still in Fontaine.
But you know my answer.
( The other man is going to kiss him up until he forgets all about him, right? Is this the plan to get himself laid at last? Good for him. Wriothesley takes a swig of his drink and refuses the offer to sit. )
You keep having your fun, I'll go find mine. It was good seeing you.
( In about 48 hours Kaveh will be abroad the aquabus heading directly to the desert again. His time in Fontaine will dissolve like grains of sand through the winds, but he'll be free. )
You're quiet. It's making me nervous.
( The bridge to the entrance is the last scene inmates get to see. For many, it is the last gleam of daylight they will ever get to see. The last saline breeze misting from the drop ahead, or the waterfalls. Perhaps Kaveh will understand the gravity of his position and how important it is. He waves at the operator while they await the lift. It is important to note how Wriothesley rarely breaks the rules and Kaveh is the second, maybe third person he bends them for. )
[ It's certainly true that Kaveh's plan is to be on his way home in two days' time. But if he's honest, that's a plan he's had many times now. He keeps changing his mind, canceling and sending yet another missive back to Alhaitham to let him know he's staying with his mother a little longer.
Of course, he doesn't realize the significance of Wriothesley allowing him to visit the prison... but the prison warden is not the only one breaking rules. Kaveh is breaking plenty of his own by even being here. He knows the other man isn't interested in him, isn't interested in men at all... and yet here he is, putting time into a relationship that can never be.
It's a friendship, of course. But it's a friendship he shouldn't be keeping. Not when he wants more.
Lost in his thoughts, he's quiet until Wriothesley's voice cuts in, making him start as he looks back up at the other man. ]
Ah... yeah, I guess you could say that. It's been weird, being with my mother for so long.
[ Attached: a photograph taken in a bathtub filled with bubbles and water both, although neither does much of a job to hide Navia's naked body, back arching in the same pleasure that has her biting her lower lip as she peers into the camera. The hand not holding the device can be seen disappearing into the water, leaving at least something to the imagination.
A few minutes later, a text: ]
I'm having one of those days, monsieur. My fingers are serviceable enough, but we both know you would fill me so much better, no?
( His hands are swollen from his session at the gym the last couple of days. Not that people can immediately tell since he wears the wraps around his knuckles, but his fingers still have some bruising beneath the visible skin. The past should stay in the past. This isn’t the time to be experimenting on someone, right? He’s happy how he is, unattached and unconcerned.
Navia saves the night. He’s on his bed, somewhere in a lower area from his office. He gets a nice view of his project, darkness tinted in blue. )
A man can only dream. What has you feeling this hot a fine Tuesday night? You’re not going to make me beg to show off more, right? It’ll make me cry.
[ How long has it been now? Using each other for stress relief, a quiet agreement that involves feelings on the side of neither, only the physical act of intimacy to shake off the worst of their frustrations.
Her father would be mortified, but she's not thinking about that right now. Instead, she's laughing, a warm chuckle on her lips as she reads what Wriothesley has to say in reply. And, mm, it seems she chose the right day for it— the frustration practically drips from the sarcasm in his words. ]
Woe betide the woman who brings His Grace to tears. But this woman also has her reputation to consider~
So let us meet halfway, Wriothesley. Tell me what you want to see.
[ Kaveh's not sure he actually managed to get any sleep. Several times over the course of the night, tossing and turning in his bed, he pulled up his phone and opened his contacts; at one point he even got so far as to start a new text to Wriothesley, plan in mind to admit the truth about what he saw and to apologize.
Instead, he put his phone down and rolled over yet again.
Closed his eyes against the sting of tears.
Fucked his hand to the memory of Wriothesley's voice moaning in pleasure, low and melodic and rough.
And again.
(He's disgusting.)
When light creeps in through the window, he thinks seriously about sending a text claiming illness, to postpone their meeting for another day.. But if he doesn't have his professionalism, at the very least, then he has nothing left at all.
So, he gets out of bed. He's still limping, and there's nothing to be done about the dark circles under his eyes or the puffiness around them from far too many tears shed in the dark, but he cleans himself up as well as he possibly can before heading back to the Fortress. The guards are prepared for him, allowing him in without too much of an issue— a trip down into the bowels of the earth later, he knocks on the warden's office door, limping his way inside.
The only defense he has left is pretending that nothing happened, and so he offers a small smile— except he's never been good at hiding his feelings, and it trembles on his mouth, eyes red-rimmed and aching with the threat of more tears— as he moves up to where the other sits at his desk, taking a seat in one of the chairs set up for visitors. ]
I'm sorry about yesterday. [ His voice is quiet, rough-edged and thick with the emotion he's trying so desperately to shed. ] It was unprofessional of me to leave so suddenly. I just— I wasn't feeling very well.
( Violation is an ugly thing to experience and Wriothesley isn't embarrassed by the contents or nature of whatever Kaveh witnessed. They're all adults here. He's sure Kaveh shares plenty of his pictures with others if he is to judge him based on a previous misstep. He's angry because Kaveh took all the trust they managed to build and burnt it with his curiosity. What else did he see? What else is he willing to turn to ashes?
He gets little sleep that night, mainly because he's trying to calculate a budget and drafting a contract for them to review. Part of him hopes for a split of a second that Kaveh cancel their plans altogether. He can find other talent and another architect to help him, rather than having this tremor in his chest. He thinks about him all night and scrolls up his messages with Navia trying to cleanse himself. He can't even get hard. Not tonight.
Stranded in himself, he searches for another light come morning. He takes a hot shower, gets changed, and sits at his desk patiently. Each time the clock hand strikes a minute mark, he swears the time gets slower.
This makes him sigh and rub his eyelids in before hearing the knock on the door. )
Come in.
( Kaveh appears to have gotten even less sleep than him. His appearance only confirms his guilt and Wriothesley glances, tea cup in hand, sipping. )
Good morning.
( They have no time to deal with unresolved issues. Now he's here for work. He bypasses all the pleasantries from the previous day. )
I hope you're feeling better today. If at any point you're unable to keep going, have Sigewinne take another look at your ankle. As promised, you can use the shower in my bathroom. Will you be able to complete the tour in your current condition, or should we talk numbers?
[ Wriothesley is cold. Kaveh, focused only on his own feelings, doesn't understand it. He can only assume that the other is upset by his abrupt departure yesterday, which— which is fair, really, isn't it? He took off for what probably seemed to the other man like no reason at all, and—
Fuck, he's going to cry again. Kaveh takes a breath, tries to pull himself together enough to offer the prison warden a proper smile. ]
I've been walking for a while, so I'd prefer to talk numbers for now. We can finish the tour after I've rested a little, if you don't mind. [ It may not be a sprain, but it's a twist just bad enough that even after a night of rest, it's hard to put pressure on for too long. He just needs a little time— not that he's particularly relishing the idea of sitting here in awkward quiet with Wriothesley, either, especially when the other is colder than the Vision fastened to his jacket.
And Kaveh is here to work, but he can't work like this, not when they're supposed to be friends
(not when his heart hurts to have Wriothesley acting so distant, not when all he wants)
(he wants)
(he—) ]
Your Grace, I— I don't think I'm the right person for this job. [ The words burst out from between his lips before he can stop them. So much for his fucking pride as a professional. ] If you want, I can recommend some of my cohort from back in Sumeru, or help you find a suitable architect from Fontaine. I'm sorry for wasting your time, but— I think it's better to put a stop to this now, before we sign any contracts or. Or anything like that.
[ His fingers curl tight into the fabric of his pants. He can't cry. Not now. ]
[ A week after Kaveh is escorted from the Fortress of Meropide, a letter arrives for its administrator. ]
Your Grace Duke Wriothesley,
In some ways, text feels impersonal. This would be a conversation better had in person, but I admit that I don't particularly want to see you right now. I'm sure you don't want to see me, either.
I've spent the week thinking over some of the things you said. In the heat of the moment that day, I feel that some things were misconstrued or misunderstood, and in the anger between us, I didn't have a chance to explain my intent. I'm writing to do that now, so that we might bridge the gap between us.
But before I do any of that, I want to apologize without explanation or reason.
I invaded your privacy. I acted immaturely. I said things I shouldn't have said and didn't mean. For all of those things, I'm truly sorry.
I want to explain again that I wasn't looking at your messages with ill intent. Nor was I deliberately trying to keep it from you. I understand how it looks: I ran away, and I didn't address it until you did. But perhaps you can understand that I was embarrassed, and ashamed, and hurt, even though I had no right to be. I avoided the topic not out of an intent to lie to you but
[ there's some smudging, perhaps from water; some unreadable text before the careful handwriting picks up again ]
I was embarrassed, and I was trying to protect myself. Because I realized in the middle of the whole thing that I have feelings for you. And I know, I get it.. you don't go for guys. I tried not to let myself get so emotionally involved, but
I guess I couldn't help myself in the end. I'm sorry for that, too. It puts pressure on you that you never asked for.
I don't know what happens from here. I certainly don't expect you to employ me. Perhaps I've fucked our friendship up beyond all repair, too. I understand, if I have. Maybe it's even for the best. But I'll make good on my promise: before I leave Fontaine, I'll put together a list of architects who will be able to help you with the renovations.
( He keeps the written contract in a cabinet along with Kaveh’s letter, a final, proper burial until the end of time. He likes to archive everything, but somehow this doesn’t feel right. Relationships of any kind were never easy, and Wriothesley prefers keeping vulnerability to himself.
I have feelings for you.
He runs Kaveh’s words over and over in his head while he’s stirring his tea. Even after all the rejections and after seeing his lifestyle conditions, Kaveh still lets himself fall for this? An apology is only valuable if the person lifts themselves to those standards, and perhaps it’s because Kaveh is younger that he let himself explode as wild as he did. Regardless, it isn’t an excuse to hold Wriothesley responsible for his feelings.
But Wriothesley is kind of a hypocrite just not for the reasons Kaveh pointed out. He lifts his cup of tea to sip it, lifting his eyes across the table, towards Navia. )
[ Whatever Navia was saying, it wasn't anything important, not when compared to the distracted look in Wriothesley's eyes, the way he looks up over his cup as he lifts it, asking for clarity on words he didn't hear her speak. His Grace, Duke Wriothesley, the Administrator of the Fortress of Meropide, who in Navia's entire time knowing him has never let a sentence slip past his ears unheard. Her head tilts, silent for a moment as she considers the look in those eyes.
Ah, Navia thinks.
Her smile is gentle as she reaches across the table, slim fingers threading over his wrist, sapphire eyes gentle and without judgement. She understands that look. It's one she has worn a great many times herself. Especially lately.
(Her heart aches with it, but that's neither here nor there.. Not right now, when he needs her support.) ]
Who is she, Wriothesley? [ Implied in her gentleness is the more important question: Why is she causing you so much pain? ]
( Who would have thought he'd be touching this letter again so soon. It's another whole week before he's compelled to sit down, pen in hand, rubbing his temples while he's staring at the blank canvas. He's probably not in Sumeru anymore, so he uses the same address listed on the letter. It's probably his mother's place. )
Kaveh,
I hope this letter finds its way to you whether or not you're still in Fontaine. It was the only address listed. I get it, feelings can make people act out of line, and I respect those feelings. At least, I try. I appreciate your coming forward with your reasonings, and I accept your apology. I don't know if I would be able to trust you with my privacy for a while, though. All mends with time is what they say.
Ah. Don't bother with the list. I wouldn't want unknown entities coming down here and vetting is lengthy. A wide network of organized crime still exists, which is how we end up with smuggled goods here from time to time.
If you still want the job, you got it. If you're still willing to travel back to Fontaine, I'll be waiting. Besides, it'd be annoying to write a new contract with someone else's name on it.
PS. I'm also sorry if I acted more than cold with you. I was also not in a good place. I hope you'll forgive me, too.
You know, Traditionally, a post-script goes after one signs their name. But I forgive you. How could I not?
[ This whole thing was his fault anyway, not Wriothesley's. ]
I'm still in Fontaine. My ankle has been healing annoyingly slowly, and the journey back to Sumeru City isn't an easy one. So if you'll have me for the job still, I'll take it.
I'll use the shared bathrooms. I'm not interested in invading your privacy any further.
( In a place like this, day and night have no difference so he can only hope Kaveh does make it out in the morning. He won't press him about arriving to work on time, anyway, not when these mistakes are weighing heavy on his shoulders. To be the cause of Kaveh's tears is shredding him to pieces, but he has taken an infinite vow to keep to himself. Is it self-destruction or protection? To Wriothesley, it's his way of life and as much as it hurts, it's as natural as breathing at this point.
It's a boner killer, to say the least.
Perhaps if he hadn't said anything, if he kept to himself even more minutes ago, he wouldn't have triggered Kaveh's mind to realize how awful this idea was. They would have been kissing still, grinding themselves into oblivion. Kaveh's moans will be something in his dreams for a while now, even if this is turning into a sticky nightmare. )
Kaveh...
( But the door shuts and silence welcomes him again. Kaveh might be the only person to tell him to do something to which he properly complies. A cold shower is due once he's in his room, to clean himself off from sweat and precum, and wash away the stupidity overtaking him. He'll skip his meal tomorrow as a punishment for taking advantage of him. Even Wriothesley isn't so much of a saint that he'll turn himself into Neuvillette but any sort of punishment will right the balances in his mind. Perhaps he'll even meditate.
The ship is vast past his window. It's odd knowing Kaveh is there, so he pulls the curtains across to hide the view. Only the dim light of the Pneumousia power lights his phone when he's texting Navia in bed. )
This isn't going to work. Ever. I just did some of the worst, fucked up shit ever.
[ The text is unexpected, if only because Wriothesley has been particularly bad about replying to her messages lately. Navia had hoped— even allowed herself to believe— that his relative silence was a good thing, that he had finally given himself over to what he wanted,
but this?
Sitting up in bed, she wraps her robe a little more tightly around her, blinking at the words as she takes them in once, and then twice, and then once more— and before she even replies, she slips out from under the covers, reaching for something comfortable to wear. (This, after all, will be a late-night journey to the Fortress, she knows that now.)
Casual dress donned, hair pulled back, Navia sits on her bed to tug on her boots, only then pausing to type a reply to the Duke. ]
Are you alright?
[ Surely, she thinks, it can't be as bad as he's imagining it to be. Considering everything Wriothesley and this other man have been through— well, at least as much as the Duke has told her, anyway— she has to think it would be pretty difficult to do something that would drive away someone who has proven that persistent. ]
I shouldn't pursue him, Navia. It's no good. We got drunk. I got him drunk and we kissed. It was a bad call. If he were to quit tomorrow, I'd understand.
( He might as well fess up for what the situation is and why he can't go back to change it. All he can do is live with the vision of Kaveh yelling at him, crying, for what was once again a mistake on Wriothesley's part. He turns on his bed to face the ceiling before he sends her another text. )
I took advantage of him, Navia. I have no excuses.
( He's unaware she's currently dressing up to be on her way here. She's allowed to come in and go as she pleases and the guards know her. There's no hoops she must go through to visit him. Though, there is something else that needs to be said. )
Sorry for not responding to you for so long. I had nothing to say on the matter.
[ Weeks pass. Maybe two, maybe three, maybe more. Kaveh has lost count. The days he spends diligently working, drafting and restructuring the Fortress one segment at a time, going to the surface for materials, avoiding Wriothesley as much as he can outside of where he's required to see him— and thankfully, the warden seems to be avoiding him too. His nights are spent wrapped up in Mael's arms, still avoiding Wriothesley— only this time, in his mind rather than physically, filling his mind with anything else he can other than him.
They're using each other, Kaveh and Mael. Mael for a better room, a more comfortable bed; Kaveh for an easier sleep. And it goes like that for some time, for those few weeks, but it never quite works— for Kaveh, at least. Mael is living it up among the inmates, his clout and name only improving for being linked with their star architect visitor. But every night, Kaveh still has to bite back Wriothsley's name when orgasm finds it, still wakes up having to chase the Duke out of his dreams. He has no idea how he's fallen so hard, but there's no running from it, he realizes, only living through the heartbreak.
So he breaks it off with Mael.
It doesn't go well.
When he knocks on the door to Wriothesley's room in the dark hours, he looks worse than he did on the night when they last stood face to face— his favorite shirt is ripped, he has a busted lip and a black eye, and his forearms are mottled and dark with bruises. And when the door opens, he has no idea what to say at all— he just steps forward into the other, praying he'll catch him as he falls. ]
( As far as he's concerned, Kaveh is merely here for work so Wriothesley treats him as any other worker whenever they do discuss anything. His silence and avoidance shouldn't be taken as a sign that he doesn't care, though. In his off time, he's researching everything he can find on Mael and what he's in for. The file sheds light on what all the crawling rumors say about him. Wriothesley gives everyone a fair chance here, so he does little to judge most of the people who are sent down.
Wriothesley doesn't show it, but he keeps a close eye on Mael's activities throughout the weeks. So long as it makes Kaveh happy, really, who's he to tell him who he shouldn't be seeing or fucking?
He's reading more files in his room that night, at the desk he has set up just for minor research like this whenever he's not in his office. The tea is at his side, he's focused on his checklist for the week to come, what materials to order for Kaveh. His mind is mostly Kaveh lately, a beacon of light flashing throughout his day, warming up his daily routine.
So it's a surprise to hear someone knock at his door so late at night. Every nerve in him is wired, adrenaline is rampant through his veins when he yanks the door open and defensively. He doesn't expect to find Kaveh's body falling to his arms like this, bruised and bloodied. Sigewinne is probably asleep and the nursery is too far. )
Kaveh, what the fuck happened?
( The way anger seethes through him makes him hazy. He sees a pile of broken bones beneath him owned by someone who truly deserves it. Once someone uses up their chance, it's over for them. He scoops Kaveh up on his arms, closing the door behind him. He trusted his Fortress would treat guests better than this, but did it have to be Kaveh?
He lays him on the bed and immediately goes to the bathroom to grab a first aid kit. He sits on the bed next to him, brushing back his hair to expose his forehead, to examine him. )
Where does it hurt most? Do you want me to take you to the surface to a hospital?
[ Somehow, some small part of Kaveh still thought he'd be pushed away upon Wriothesley opening the door and seeing him there, no matter his current physical state; there's relief for him to find that that's not the case, gratitude, exhaustion as he's pulled into the other's arms and taken across to his bed, laid out and, in a blink, back with a first aid kit.
It's shock, he realizes vaguely, the way time seems to blend together and disappear when the Duke isn't here to ground it.
He can't find the words to speak until well after Wriothesley's third question, and he slowly shakes his head as he considers it, eventually croaking out: ] No, I don't need to go to the surface. It's not... he only landed his punches on my head twice— I stopped the rest. [ Of course, he doesn't mean stopped the way the boxer would have; he lifts his arms to show him as he lets his mind go back to the first and second question. What hurts the most?
What happened? ]
Everything hurts. But... [ He's quiet for a moment or two. Having never known that Wriothesley saw him with Mael that morning, he can only wonder if the other man has any idea at all that they were fucking. It's not like the rumor mill is quiet in this place, but—
Fuck. Kaveh's eyes well with tears, and he reaches up a hand to swipe at them— wincing when he forgets to be careful around his black eye. His eyes are somewhere else— the ceiling, or one of the walls, anywhere but Wriothesley's face— as he sighs. ]
I've been seeing one of the inmates. Not dating or anything, it was... I guess you could say we were using each other. Him for a better place to sleep, me to... to try and move on, like I promised you I would. I broke it off tonight, though. I realized that there's no point in trying to force myself to move on, because I'm in love with you and that just won't go away, so I just... I have to live with it. And that's okay— [ He manages a weak laugh. ] Well, it wasn't okay with him. I guess he wasn't ready to lose his meal ticket.
[ It's several hours later that Wriothesley receives a text. Not from Kaveh, but from Navia. ]
I thought it might be best to let you know that I currently have your Sumerian architect asleep in my bed. He doesn't know I'm telling you where he is. He didn't ask me not to, but
He was inconsolable; I could barely get a word out of him that wasn't "dead" and some name I have never heard in my life. I gave him some calming medicine so he could sleep.
( He organizes everything in the hours Kaveh is gone. Keeping busy to avoid thinking or realizing most of his personal items are still under the depths.
His bed gets the fresh sheets, he showers off the day and then gets into bed, just to see Navia’s text.
Every pulse is at his throat as he jumps out of bed to grab his jacket, and scramble on to put on pants. Then he pauses— would he even be welcomed? He’d probably make him freak out more. )
Navia. Thanks for looking out for him. I was going to head up myself if I didn’t hear anything in the coming days.
I doubt he wants me near him. I’m glad he’s in good hands.
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sempiternals2023-11-16 11:24 pm
𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙨
The sluice gate at the bottom of the ocean is as strong as the one he keeps in his chest, even when it bubbles the moment he enters the bar and sees the familiar face, sucking faces with some other. This wouldn't be an issue if he wasn't used to Kaveh pouring himself onto him. Maybe he's over the infatuation? So this works for them. Logically, he should feel static about the encounter because he no longer has to worry about crushing all of Kaveh's hopes by himself. His job is easier now.
So he walks directly towards them and pretends he didn't see anything. He raises his hand towards the bartender and calls out his order. )
I'll take a Stormy tonight, please, and thanks.
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On any other day, Kaveh will argue until he's blue in the face that he's not the sort to engage in PDA, but he's drunk and far from home and with any luck he'll never have to see any of these people again—
At least, that's how he rationalizes it for himself right up until the moment when he hears a distinctly familiar voice from just behind him.
Something deep in Kaveh feels immediately sick. But he pulls back with a slow, blinking chuckle, a nudge of his mouth against his companion's before he turns his head, looking up at the newcomer with dazed carmine eyes. ]
Well, if it isn't the lord of the dead himself, visiting us from the underworld. Perhaps you'd like to join us, Your Grace?
[ One hand gestures lazily at another chair set into their table, although he's cut off from whatever he wants to say next with a pleasured, humming chuckle as a pair of lips latches onto a neck already decidedly marked up with bruises and bites. ]
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This is a bad idea. He's pretty much aware of how logic turns to shit when Kaveh gets drunk yet he's seething so hotly he thinks his alignment with Cryo could melt. He lets a chuckle pass him, too, then grabs the drink from the bartender. )
Yeah, I didn't think you were still in Fontaine.
But you know my answer.
( The other man is going to kiss him up until he forgets all about him, right? Is this the plan to get himself laid at last? Good for him. Wriothesley takes a swig of his drink and refuses the offer to sit. )
You keep having your fun, I'll go find mine. It was good seeing you.
( Civil, right? Civil and cold. )
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𝙁𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙈𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙞𝙙𝙚
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You're quiet. It's making me nervous.
( The bridge to the entrance is the last scene inmates get to see. For many, it is the last gleam of daylight they will ever get to see. The last saline breeze misting from the drop ahead, or the waterfalls. Perhaps Kaveh will understand the gravity of his position and how important it is. He waves at the operator while they await the lift. It is important to note how Wriothesley rarely breaks the rules and Kaveh is the second, maybe third person he bends them for. )
Do you miss home?
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Of course, he doesn't realize the significance of Wriothesley allowing him to visit the prison... but the prison warden is not the only one breaking rules. Kaveh is breaking plenty of his own by even being here. He knows the other man isn't interested in him, isn't interested in men at all... and yet here he is, putting time into a relationship that can never be.
It's a friendship, of course. But it's a friendship he shouldn't be keeping. Not when he wants more.
Lost in his thoughts, he's quiet until Wriothesley's voice cuts in, making him start as he looks back up at the other man. ]
Ah... yeah, I guess you could say that. It's been weird, being with my mother for so long.
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A few minutes later, a text: ]
I'm having one of those days, monsieur. My fingers are serviceable enough, but we both know you would fill me so much better, no?
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Navia saves the night.
He’s on his bed, somewhere in a lower area from his office. He gets a nice view of his project, darkness tinted in blue. )
A man can only dream. What has you feeling this hot a fine Tuesday night? You’re not going to make me beg to show off more, right? It’ll make me cry.
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Her father would be mortified, but she's not thinking about that right now. Instead, she's laughing, a warm chuckle on her lips as she reads what Wriothesley has to say in reply. And, mm, it seems she chose the right day for it— the frustration practically drips from the sarcasm in his words. ]
Woe betide the woman who brings His Grace to tears. But this woman also has her reputation to consider~
So let us meet halfway, Wriothesley. Tell me what you want to see.
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𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥
Instead, he put his phone down and rolled over yet again.
Closed his eyes against the sting of tears.
Fucked his hand to the memory of Wriothesley's voice moaning in pleasure, low and melodic and rough.
And again.
(He's disgusting.)
When light creeps in through the window, he thinks seriously about sending a text claiming illness, to postpone their meeting for another day.. But if he doesn't have his professionalism, at the very least, then he has nothing left at all.
So, he gets out of bed. He's still limping, and there's nothing to be done about the dark circles under his eyes or the puffiness around them from far too many tears shed in the dark, but he cleans himself up as well as he possibly can before heading back to the Fortress. The guards are prepared for him, allowing him in without too much of an issue— a trip down into the bowels of the earth later, he knocks on the warden's office door, limping his way inside.
The only defense he has left is pretending that nothing happened, and so he offers a small smile— except he's never been good at hiding his feelings, and it trembles on his mouth, eyes red-rimmed and aching with the threat of more tears— as he moves up to where the other sits at his desk, taking a seat in one of the chairs set up for visitors. ]
I'm sorry about yesterday. [ His voice is quiet, rough-edged and thick with the emotion he's trying so desperately to shed. ] It was unprofessional of me to leave so suddenly. I just— I wasn't feeling very well.
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He gets little sleep that night, mainly because he's trying to calculate a budget and drafting a contract for them to review. Part of him hopes for a split of a second that Kaveh cancel their plans altogether. He can find other talent and another architect to help him, rather than having this tremor in his chest. He thinks about him all night and scrolls up his messages with Navia trying to cleanse himself. He can't even get hard. Not tonight.
Stranded in himself, he searches for another light come morning. He takes a hot shower, gets changed, and sits at his desk patiently. Each time the clock hand strikes a minute mark, he swears the time gets slower.
This makes him sigh and rub his eyelids in before hearing the knock on the door. )
Come in.
( Kaveh appears to have gotten even less sleep than him. His appearance only confirms his guilt and Wriothesley glances, tea cup in hand, sipping. )
Good morning.
( They have no time to deal with unresolved issues. Now he's here for work. He bypasses all the pleasantries from the previous day. )
I hope you're feeling better today. If at any point you're unable to keep going, have Sigewinne take another look at your ankle. As promised, you can use the shower in my bathroom. Will you be able to complete the tour in your current condition, or should we talk numbers?
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Fuck, he's going to cry again. Kaveh takes a breath, tries to pull himself together enough to offer the prison warden a proper smile. ]
I've been walking for a while, so I'd prefer to talk numbers for now. We can finish the tour after I've rested a little, if you don't mind. [ It may not be a sprain, but it's a twist just bad enough that even after a night of rest, it's hard to put pressure on for too long. He just needs a little time— not that he's particularly relishing the idea of sitting here in awkward quiet with Wriothesley, either, especially when the other is colder than the Vision fastened to his jacket.
And Kaveh is here to work, but he can't work like this, not when they're supposed to be friends
(not when his heart hurts to have Wriothesley acting so distant, not when all he wants)
(he wants)
(he—) ]
Your Grace, I— I don't think I'm the right person for this job. [ The words burst out from between his lips before he can stop them. So much for his fucking pride as a professional. ] If you want, I can recommend some of my cohort from back in Sumeru, or help you find a suitable architect from Fontaine. I'm sorry for wasting your time, but— I think it's better to put a stop to this now, before we sign any contracts or. Or anything like that.
[ His fingers curl tight into the fabric of his pants. He can't cry. Not now. ]
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𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐
Your Grace Duke Wriothesley,
In some ways, text feels impersonal. This would be a conversation better had in person, but I admit that I don't particularly want to see you right now. I'm sure you don't want to see me, either.
I've spent the week thinking over some of the things you said. In the heat of the moment that day, I feel that some things were misconstrued or misunderstood, and in the anger between us, I didn't have a chance to explain my intent. I'm writing to do that now, so that we might bridge the gap between us.
But before I do any of that, I want to apologize without explanation or reason.
I invaded your privacy. I acted immaturely. I said things I shouldn't have said and didn't mean. For all of those things, I'm truly sorry.
I want to explain again that I wasn't looking at your messages with ill intent. Nor was I deliberately trying to keep it from you. I understand how it looks: I ran away, and I didn't address it until you did. But perhaps you can understand that I was embarrassed, and ashamed, and hurt, even though I had no right to be. I avoided the topic not out of an intent to lie to you but
[ there's some smudging, perhaps from water; some unreadable text before the careful handwriting picks up again ]
I was embarrassed, and I was trying to protect myself. Because I realized in the middle of the whole thing that I have feelings for you. And I know, I get it.. you don't go for guys. I tried not to let myself get so emotionally involved, but
I guess I couldn't help myself in the end. I'm sorry for that, too. It puts pressure on you that you never asked for.
I don't know what happens from here. I certainly don't expect you to employ me. Perhaps I've fucked our friendship up beyond all repair, too. I understand, if I have. Maybe it's even for the best. But I'll make good on my promise: before I leave Fontaine, I'll put together a list of architects who will be able to help you with the renovations.
I guess that's everything.
Sorry.
Kaveh
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I have feelings for you.
He runs Kaveh’s words over and over in his head while he’s stirring his tea. Even after all the rejections and after seeing his lifestyle conditions, Kaveh still lets himself fall for this?
An apology is only valuable if the person lifts themselves to those standards, and perhaps it’s because Kaveh is younger that he let himself explode as wild as he did. Regardless, it isn’t an excuse to hold Wriothesley responsible for his feelings.
But Wriothesley is kind of a hypocrite just not for the reasons Kaveh pointed out.
He lifts his cup of tea to sip it, lifting his eyes across the table, towards Navia. )
What was that?
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Ah, Navia thinks.
Her smile is gentle as she reaches across the table, slim fingers threading over his wrist, sapphire eyes gentle and without judgement. She understands that look. It's one she has worn a great many times herself. Especially lately.
(Her heart aches with it, but that's neither here nor there.. Not right now, when he needs her support.) ]
Who is she, Wriothesley? [ Implied in her gentleness is the more important question: Why is she causing you so much pain? ]
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Kaveh,
I hope this letter finds its way to you whether or not you're still in Fontaine. It was the only address listed.
I get it, feelings can make people act out of line, and I respect those feelings. At least, I try.
I appreciate your coming forward with your reasonings, and I accept your apology. I don't know if I would be able to trust you with my privacy for a while, though. All mends with time is what they say.
Ah. Don't bother with the list. I wouldn't want unknown entities coming down here and vetting is lengthy. A wide network of organized crime still exists, which is how we end up with smuggled goods here from time to time.
If you still want the job, you got it. If you're still willing to travel back to Fontaine, I'll be waiting. Besides, it'd be annoying to write a new contract with someone else's name on it.
PS. I'm also sorry if I acted more than cold with you. I was also not in a good place. I hope you'll forgive me, too.
- Wriothesley.
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Traditionally, a post-script goes after one signs their name.
But I forgive you. How could I not?
[ This whole thing was his fault anyway, not Wriothesley's. ]
I'm still in Fontaine. My ankle has been healing annoyingly slowly, and the journey back to Sumeru City isn't an easy one. So if you'll have me for the job still, I'll take it.
I'll use the shared bathrooms. I'm not interested in invading your privacy any further.
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𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿
It's a boner killer, to say the least.
Perhaps if he hadn't said anything, if he kept to himself even more minutes ago, he wouldn't have triggered Kaveh's mind to realize how awful this idea was. They would have been kissing still, grinding themselves into oblivion. Kaveh's moans will be something in his dreams for a while now, even if this is turning into a sticky nightmare. )
Kaveh...
( But the door shuts and silence welcomes him again. Kaveh might be the only person to tell him to do something to which he properly complies. A cold shower is due once he's in his room, to clean himself off from sweat and precum, and wash away the stupidity overtaking him. He'll skip his meal tomorrow as a punishment for taking advantage of him. Even Wriothesley isn't so much of a saint that he'll turn himself into Neuvillette but any sort of punishment will right the balances in his mind. Perhaps he'll even meditate.
The ship is vast past his window. It's odd knowing Kaveh is there, so he pulls the curtains across to hide the view. Only the dim light of the Pneumousia power lights his phone when he's texting Navia in bed. )
This isn't going to work. Ever. I just did some of the worst, fucked up shit ever.
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but this?
Sitting up in bed, she wraps her robe a little more tightly around her, blinking at the words as she takes them in once, and then twice, and then once more— and before she even replies, she slips out from under the covers, reaching for something comfortable to wear. (This, after all, will be a late-night journey to the Fortress, she knows that now.)
Casual dress donned, hair pulled back, Navia sits on her bed to tug on her boots, only then pausing to type a reply to the Duke. ]
Are you alright?
[ Surely, she thinks, it can't be as bad as he's imagining it to be. Considering everything Wriothesley and this other man have been through— well, at least as much as the Duke has told her, anyway— she has to think it would be pretty difficult to do something that would drive away someone who has proven that persistent. ]
Tell me what happened.
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( He might as well fess up for what the situation is and why he can't go back to change it. All he can do is live with the vision of Kaveh yelling at him, crying, for what was once again a mistake on Wriothesley's part. He turns on his bed to face the ceiling before he sends her another text. )
I took advantage of him, Navia. I have no excuses.
( He's unaware she's currently dressing up to be on her way here. She's allowed to come in and go as she pleases and the guards know her. There's no hoops she must go through to visit him. Though, there is something else that needs to be said. )
Sorry for not responding to you for so long. I had nothing to say on the matter.
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𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎
They're using each other, Kaveh and Mael. Mael for a better room, a more comfortable bed; Kaveh for an easier sleep. And it goes like that for some time, for those few weeks, but it never quite works— for Kaveh, at least. Mael is living it up among the inmates, his clout and name only improving for being linked with their star architect visitor. But every night, Kaveh still has to bite back Wriothsley's name when orgasm finds it, still wakes up having to chase the Duke out of his dreams. He has no idea how he's fallen so hard, but there's no running from it, he realizes, only living through the heartbreak.
So he breaks it off with Mael.
It doesn't go well.
When he knocks on the door to Wriothesley's room in the dark hours, he looks worse than he did on the night when they last stood face to face— his favorite shirt is ripped, he has a busted lip and a black eye, and his forearms are mottled and dark with bruises. And when the door opens, he has no idea what to say at all— he just steps forward into the other, praying he'll catch him as he falls. ]
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Assault. Robbery. Domestic violence. Illegal trade.
Wriothesley doesn't show it, but he keeps a close eye on Mael's activities throughout the weeks. So long as it makes Kaveh happy, really, who's he to tell him who he shouldn't be seeing or fucking?
He's reading more files in his room that night, at the desk he has set up just for minor research like this whenever he's not in his office. The tea is at his side, he's focused on his checklist for the week to come, what materials to order for Kaveh. His mind is mostly Kaveh lately, a beacon of light flashing throughout his day, warming up his daily routine.
So it's a surprise to hear someone knock at his door so late at night. Every nerve in him is wired, adrenaline is rampant through his veins when he yanks the door open and defensively. He doesn't expect to find Kaveh's body falling to his arms like this, bruised and bloodied. Sigewinne is probably asleep and the nursery is too far. )
Kaveh, what the fuck happened?
( The way anger seethes through him makes him hazy. He sees a pile of broken bones beneath him owned by someone who truly deserves it. Once someone uses up their chance, it's over for them. He scoops Kaveh up on his arms, closing the door behind him. He trusted his Fortress would treat guests better than this, but did it have to be Kaveh?
He lays him on the bed and immediately goes to the bathroom to grab a first aid kit. He sits on the bed next to him, brushing back his hair to expose his forehead, to examine him. )
Where does it hurt most? Do you want me to take you to the surface to a hospital?
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It's shock, he realizes vaguely, the way time seems to blend together and disappear when the Duke isn't here to ground it.
He can't find the words to speak until well after Wriothesley's third question, and he slowly shakes his head as he considers it, eventually croaking out: ] No, I don't need to go to the surface. It's not... he only landed his punches on my head twice— I stopped the rest. [ Of course, he doesn't mean stopped the way the boxer would have; he lifts his arms to show him as he lets his mind go back to the first and second question. What hurts the most?
What happened? ]
Everything hurts. But... [ He's quiet for a moment or two. Having never known that Wriothesley saw him with Mael that morning, he can only wonder if the other man has any idea at all that they were fucking. It's not like the rumor mill is quiet in this place, but—
Fuck. Kaveh's eyes well with tears, and he reaches up a hand to swipe at them— wincing when he forgets to be careful around his black eye. His eyes are somewhere else— the ceiling, or one of the walls, anywhere but Wriothesley's face— as he sighs. ]
I've been seeing one of the inmates. Not dating or anything, it was... I guess you could say we were using each other. Him for a better place to sleep, me to... to try and move on, like I promised you I would. I broke it off tonight, though. I realized that there's no point in trying to force myself to move on, because I'm in love with you and that just won't go away, so I just... I have to live with it. And that's okay— [ He manages a weak laugh. ] Well, it wasn't okay with him. I guess he wasn't ready to lose his meal ticket.
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𝕐𝕠𝕦'𝕧𝕖 𝕘𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕞𝕖 𝕒 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕠𝕟
I thought it might be best to let you know that I currently have your Sumerian architect asleep in my bed. He doesn't know I'm telling you where he is. He didn't ask me not to, but
He was inconsolable; I could barely get a word out of him that wasn't "dead" and some name I have never heard in my life. I gave him some calming medicine so he could sleep.
Wriothesley, what happened?
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His bed gets the fresh sheets, he showers off the day and then gets into bed, just to see Navia’s text.
Every pulse is at his throat as he jumps out of bed to grab his jacket, and scramble on to put on pants. Then he pauses— would he even be welcomed? He’d probably make him freak out more. )
Navia. Thanks for looking out for him. I was going to head up myself if I didn’t hear anything in the coming days.
I doubt he wants me near him. I’m glad he’s in good hands.
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