sempiternals | How could your heart be stolen by a human?

[ 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.

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?

[ 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.

( Solace is found in Wriothesley’s quarters, where nobody else enters, where no inmate could survive even if they were to make it in somehow. It is the safest place in the whole prison. It’s also the coldest. In the heart of the Fortress the loneliness is inescapable.

Kaveh’s face is lit from the side lamp, casting warmer hues on Sumerian flesh and accentuating the ugly, marring bruising and impacted areas. The surrounding area of his eye socket is swollen to the bone, darkened and tender.

Wriothesley uses the cloth in the first aid kit to clean off the sweat from his face, careful around his busted lip. He has patched himself up countless times and knows his way around wounds, but Kaveh— he’s fragile. He’s breakable. And Wriothesley isn’t sure if he’s able to pick up the pieces for him.

He infuses the cloth using cryo, leaving it over Kaveh’s eye and that side of his face so it can reduce the swelling.
He’s using cold hands to massage Kaveh’s, rubbing down every finger and down his palm, pausing as soon as Kaveh spill something unexpected.
He feels it in his heart, every word is processed through heated beats that render him speechless for the time being. He swallows dryly— how can he laugh at a time like this?

Wriothesley’s lips twitch with a smile, but he angles his body away just so he can further calculate what he should do next. Dismissing Kaveh of his duties would indeed break the contract but Wriothesley doesn’t have an issue with that. He’ll happily pay him so he can live somewhere that is safe.

He glances down at him, as if sneaking the gesture while taking his hand again. It’s the end of Mael as he knows it. )

You confuse me, Kaveh. Everything I thought I knew of myself.

[ With his story explained, Kaveh seems to have exhausted himself; he's out of words, and he lies back against the bed in relative silence, letting Wriothesley apply the frozen cloth to his face, the hands gently working against the bruising on his.

And he'd argue, if he were to know Wriothesley thought of him as fragile, argue that he's survived near-fatal trips in the desert and even injured himself to help others before, that he's done plenty of patching up in his own time— it's just that this is different, this was—

It felt like Mael would have killed him, if he could. All over a fucking dorm room.

A tear leaks from his unswollen eye, and Kaveh reaches up his free hand to brush it away in frustration. The amount of tears he's shed since being in this place— it's like he's absorbing the saltwater out of the very air itself. (Alhaitham would tell him that's impossible, but fuck him, Kaveh's too miserable to hear it.)

But Wriothesley is talking, finally, answering Kaveh's diatribe— or not, or saying something else entirely different, and his voice is soft, and gravel, and gentle despite an anger brimming somewhere beneath it that he can sense, despite the troubled edge to its words.

And yet, what he says... ]

I... do? [ Whether it's because he's finally, finally learned to stop hoping, or because the pain is too much for his brain to properly compute what Wriothesley has said, Kaveh finds himself genuinely confused in response to the other's words, tilting his head as he looks at him through one eye for a moment or two. Then, sympathetically: ] I'm sorry.

Edited 2024-01-10 21:11 (UTC)

( It's no time to go over Kaveh exploring his freedom to see and fuck whoever he wishes, or Wriothesley's duty as the Administrator to put an end to the man. He would have never imagined a few flirtatious lines from the past would have landed Kaveh here. It should have all been left up there, in the fantasy of something that would never come to be.

There is much he wishes to learn about Kaveh. From his family life to all the unimportant details making him who he is. He should have known better than to let him have a room like other staff, pushed into a life he's not accustomed to for the sake of rules. For that, Kaveh paid the price with his pretty face, with his resilience.

Wriothesley lifts the cooling cloth from his face. Beauty still shines through the marring reds, purples, and even blacks decorating his features. )

Don't be sorry, Kaveh.

( It's clear he's not in the right state of mind to have an important conversation after his confession. He's not sure the confession could have been real for that matter. Deep inside, though, Wriothesley knows it is. Kaveh would have left for Sumeru long ago.
And just like some idiot, he keeps coming here, to the most unlikeable place in Teyvat just to get rejected and battered like some ragdoll. Wriothesley pulls up the heavy bedsheets over his torn clothes, leaving the cooling cloth by his side in case he needs it for his arms or other parts of his face.

Then he gets up. )

I'll get you some water. Do you want me to make you some hot tea while at it? It could help with your swelling.

[ Maybe he's not in any state for a proper conversation— and he's really not; he doesn't even realize that he's admitted that he's in love— but Kaveh still notices the way Wriothesley seems to withdraw a little when he asks the question, when he apologizes. And when the warden stands up, Kaveh's hand reaches out, fingers curling around the other's wrist before he can stop himself. He blinks, and then looks up at him quietly for a moment before he nods. ]

I'd like some tea, yes. Please. But—

[ The rest of the words feel thick on his tongue, heavy, but he has to say them, even as his head screams in abject agony about it— about everything. ] I've missed you, [ he whispers. ] I know you don't— and that's okay, I don't care about that. I just.. I miss seeing you and spending time with you. Every moment I was with him, it... it was all a lie.

[ His fingers unwind, and his hand drops, the blonde managing a small smile as his eyes close. He said his piece, and while they're far from okay, at least Wriothesley knows everything. ]

You can get my tea and water now.

[ Another soft chuckle, even though it hurts, because he sounds like some kind of royalty ordering the other around, now. ]

( He's going to sink every fleeting emotion wiring his brain until they become one with the Fortress itself, forever secluded from others. He can't possibly spill a whole tangent on where his heart is when he barely understands it himself. It's not worth making Kaveh cry again, that's the last thing he wants to see.

He always fails, somehow.

Not even Navia cries this much around him.

Yet Kaveh still has that grip of strength to hold onto him, literally and figuratively. His touch is ardent, it paints color in the depths of his consciousness as if he were coming alive for the first time. Despite the wild take off his heart endures, Wriothesley looks at him as coldly as usual. He's so used to wearing his poker face, that even a smile coming from him can be misleading in the end.

I want him for myself.

He closes his eyes as he works in a deep breath, sighing. His crimes are long forgiven in the eyes of the court, but Wriothesley still lives with the fact his temper and sense of justice can lead him to murky places. The blood in his hands is part of him. Perhaps if he truly did open up, Kaveh would realize this is impossible, too. )

I miss seeing you, too, Kaveh. I'm sorry about everything that happened.

( His kisses weren't lies, but it doesn't make the fact he had him get drunk right either. )

You gonna be good while I get your stuff?

I'm always good, [ is what Kaveh mumbles instead of focusing on the nicer thing that Wriothesley said, the part where he's sorry, because if he focuses on that he has to think about the bad, and right now he doesn't think he can handle that, not with the physical pain plaguing him from all angles. It's kind of a joke answer, though, and so after a moment he adds: ] I'll be fine, I promise.

[ He smiles gently at the other, trying for some sort of reassurance despite the pounding in his head, before he closes his eyes again to try and get some sort of rest while he waits for him to come back with tea and water.

Maybe it was a mistake to come straight to Wriothesley in his current situation. He can't be sure. As the warden of the prison, it's his jurisdiction, but the tension between them has been so much it feels in some way like a mistake. He can tell that the other man is barely holding himself together, and he hates that he's done that to him— even though what's happened tonight wasn't really his fault. He blames himself, and that's enough.

Maybe he just never should have come to the Fortress in the first place. The thought makes him feel sick to his stomach, though. Not just because he's done a lot of good here, but because—

Ugh. This whole thing is such a mess.

He curls up against himself, trying to chase the thoughts away. ]

( At least Kaveh can find some humor in the brutality passed, which Wriothesley is quite fond of. Morbid humor or anything deemed too soon to joke about is a forte of his. Even Neuvillette expresses disapproval of this.

He'll have to figure out how he should handle the Mael situation. This is his second chance, of course, but he can't risk hurting anyone else again. There are parts of this Fortress only Wriothesley is aware of and perhaps Mael needs a strong case of solitude to reflect...And a beating.

Part of him finds a sense of relief, though, that Mael won't be getting in his way of Kaveh. He comes back with the aforementioned tea and water only to find Kaveh curled up. It's the same side of the bed Wriothesley normally ends up sleeping in. He sets the water and tea down on the table, sitting next to him on the edge again. )

I have a special salted powder to add to baths that can relieve the tension and swelling. I can get one going for you if you want, at least until you're able to see Sigewinne tomorrow. How about it?

[ It's strange, how he can see the humor when Wriothesley's there, make weak jokes, even laugh, but the moment the other has left, he's curling in on himself, in his own head and unable to leave it again— And it's only when he hears the clink of glass and cup against the table and feels the weight against the bed that he unfurls, wincing every inch of the way. It hurts, even if he's trying not to show the other how much.

The Duke offers him a bath with some special salts, and Kaveh nods. He hasn't seen his face but he can feel how taut the skin is, how heated, and he's smart enough to know that's bad. And his arms— well, he's trying not to look at those too much, too. A bath sounds good, is probably clever for him to take, especially with something medicated in the water,

but—

Kaveh sits up (more wincing, although he tries to hide it as much as possible) and reaches for the water, taking a few deep drinks before he finally looks back into Wriothesley's eyes. ]

I'd like a bath, Your Grace, but.. [ He scrunches his nose— wince— and drops his gaze again, embarrassed about what he needs from the other. He's not a damned child, and yet— ] would you stay in the room with me while I do? I'm not— I'm not trying to hit on you or anything I just— I don't really wanna be left alone right now.

Take it easy.

( Wriothesley would comfort him via a back rub or squeeze of the shoulder, but with how bruised his face is he rather not risk touching any other tender area in his body. Hydration is the most important.

He knows a heavy confession is underway with how Kaveh's eyes become. He has seen this look on him before, so yearning and warm, but in a way painfully afraid. Then, when he hears his request it kind of makes sense. It's not like he hasn't seen men naked before. Wriothesley swallows the thought, eyes averting for a moment while he contemplates agreeing. )

Ah, stay with you in the bathroom?

( Having an honor to gaze upon someone as beautiful as Kaveh is one thing. He's having second thoughts about telling him about his confusion. Perhaps those sentiments weren't clear enough and he did get hit on the head...)

That's fine, Kaveh. I'd be glad to accompany you.

( He can't stand it when Kaveh's wishes begin to feel like he's begging. Wriothesley wants him to be comfortable, to be free of any of those demons in his head. )

I'll set it up for you while you have your tea, how's that sound?

And please, Kaveh.

Just call me Wriothesley.

[ Once the question is asked, Kaveh reaches for the tea instead, replacing the water with it at his lips— and then immediately pulling it away because the heat of the cup hurts the cut there. He'll have to wait and drink it a little after, perhaps; with an apologetic smile, he puts it down, and listens to the other, nodding as Wriothesley clarifies that he'd like him to stay in the bathroom. It feels stupid, childish even, to have to ask— but that doesn't stop the relief from being genuine when the other man agrees. ]

Thanks, [ he says, and then adds: ] Although I may have to finish the tea after. It's a little hot for my mouth right now.

[ He's so busy explaining that he very nearly misses the way the other invites him to call him by his name again, and if Kaveh were sitting any closer to the edge of the bed, he'd probably fall right off. He certainly wasn't expecting that from the warden, nor does he feel he's particularly earned it in any way, but... ]

I— alright, Your Gra—— Wriothesley.

[ After so long, it feels foreign on his tongue, but nice. He may be past getting his hopes up, finally into the acceptance phase of rejection, but it's still nice to be granted the use of a name rather than a title, isn't it? Especially as a friend. ]

( The bathroom is just past the small homedesk near his bed. It’s large and comfortable, easily able to house three people at once. A large tub is just to the side of the showering area, polished and coppery to match all the rustic metals through the Fortress.

He can’t help his the swarm of goodness in his abdomen knowing Kaveh wants to use his name again. As he pours the salts and oils in the rising water, soapiness begins to bubble over the surface.
He can’t deny being curious what Kaveh is like naked. He knows he’s bound to like anything he sees if he’s going by the pictures sent to his phone before.

He shouldn’t be thinking this way, but he can’t help it. As they are now, he knows Kaveh wouldn’t accept these feelings coming so seemingly out of the blue.

He sits at the edge of the tub, swirling the soup and water until everything is to the right temperature, filling the tub nearly to the brim.

He peeks out to the room again to see him. )

Are you able to walk? Bath’s ready.

[ While Wriothesley is filling and readying the bath, Kaveh is resting, drinking more water and trying to keep himself calm. He can hear the other in just the next room, but he still feels as if the shadows are ready to jump out at him; he sits on the edge of the bed, trying not to move around too much for the sake of his aching arms and face, until the warden's face peeks around the corner and asks if he can walk.

The blonde nods, rising onto shaky legs and moving through to join Wriothesley in the bathroom. And where Kaveh might normally turn to the older man and tell him primly to look away while he undresses, or in (vastly) different circumstances put on a show of his actions for the other's enjoyment, perhaps his lack of clarity of thought is obvious in the way he just lifts his hands to the bottom hem of his shirt, tugging it up—

only to stop part of the way with a muttered, heated curse. ]

...My wrists won't move quite right. [ Kaveh's voice is suddenly choked with emotion, and if the Duke looks at hi cheeks, he'll see them flaming bright red with embarrassed shame. He can't even undress himself— ] Maybe a bath was a bad idea, I can't—

( As if Kaveh doesn’t already wear the most confusing pieces of clothing, they’re mostly shredded from him now after his attack. Wriothesley only looks at him as long as Kaveh makes it safely to the bathroom, then he willingly reads into his wishes and turns away to tidy up something else.

The lack of movement is what makes him take a peek, and there is Kaveh. Miserable and helpless. His body shows far more bruising under this light, promptly reminding Wriothesley exactly how many times he’s going to punch Mael in the face. )

Oh… I see. I already went through the trouble so, if you don’t mind me helping you.

( He walks over to him and behind as he tries to figure out where the pieces of fabric meet and end. The shirt is beautiful on his body, hugging him on the right curvature, drooping on the right areas. Wriothesley swallows.

It seems easier to roll the expanse of the top over his shoulders, it’s wide enough that it can slide down his body and he could simply step away from it. His blond hair is potent against his skin on his back, and soft as he is, he likes the amount of muscle layering between every defined line.

He goes to toss the shirt in the trash so he can compose himself, then returns in front of him. His eyes roam down to his pants, which he begins dutifully undoing, unbuttoning, unzipping as careful as he can. )

Is this alright?

[ When Wriothesley's lips part in a quiet "oh", Kaveh's own open to apologize once more. It must be annoying for him, to make tea for someone who can't drink it, then to spend the time drawing a bath for the same some... who then is unable to even get into it. But instead of Kaveh managing to find an apology, he instead is greeted with firm— but gentle— hands at his back, a statement that Kaveh only just manages to remember to answer with his consent before they get to work removing his shirt.

Archons help him, Wriothesley is undressing him— It would be hot, too, if he weren't so embarrassed of his own sudden inability. As it is, it's humiliating instead, and Kaveh finds himself staring at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything other than what's happening between them. ]

Yeah. [ His mumble is hoarse when the warden asks the question, relying on the accidental dual meaning of the question to tell a breath of an untruth. Does he consent to Wriothesley removing his pants for him? Yes. Is he happy about it? No. Nothing about any of this makes him happy. The man of his dreams is standing in front of him, undressing him, doting on him, caring for him—

like a child, because he's an idiot who can't fucking move right because he got himself beaten to a pulp as he's been by someone whom he thought he could trust.

Kaveh's breath catches, but he manages to keep himself together this time. Somehow. ] I'm sorry for all this, [ he mumbles, though. ]

( He can’t say he has ever undressed a man before, let alone one this stunning to look at. Wriothesley is slow about it, taking every meticulous motion into consideration of Kaveh’s bruising. He’s unsure where else he could be hurt. )

Don’t be sorry.

I don’t mind helping you, Kaveh.

( He looks into vermillion eyes, studying every intricacy about them. Even his eyelashes. Then he clears his throat, glancing down to carefully lower his pants and underwear until they’re free to drop on the ground. Wriothesley doesn’t look away from Kaveh’s cock letting hang after it’s free. At least it’s one attractive cock.

He then clears his throat and guides him to the bath. )

He did a number on you. Did he do anything else besides hitting you?
I’ll have to file a report for this incident, that’s all.

[ Kaveh's a little too distracted by his own pity party to realize that Wriothesley is studying every little part of him as he undresses him— probably a good thing, because he would ask questions regardless of how bad he's feeling, and now is probably not the best time for them to have that exact discussion.

He lets the other man guide him into the bath, and then gingerly steps in, sinking with a soft sigh into the foam and water; the soothing nature of the salts seems to cut through him quickly— or maybe it's just the placebo effect, but either way, he likes it. For a moment, his eyes close, and he leans back a little, trying to make sure his whole torso is submerged.

As for the warden's question... Kaveh thinks on it in silence for a moment or two, trying to recall the incident. Even now it seems blurry and far away, like he saw it through a kamera lens instead of his own eyes— ]

No. He tried, after he beat me up. So I kicked him in the balls and ran.

( At least Mael didn’t go further, but he’s still has hell to pay after he sees Kaveh’s condition improving. The bruising and swelling on his arms is something to cringe at, everything appears tender to the touch, every vessel busted around the areas that received the blunt force.

Wriothesley sits at the edge of the tub so he can rest his back against the metal wall, looking across from it at Kaveh as he slowly sinks.

There are some shampoos and conditioners on the other side next to Kaveh, and soaps. He keeps varying amount of them for when Navia visits. Her hair volume eats up a lot. )

Well, not him or anyone can get you here, so there’s no need to worry.
You can sleep here the next few days if you’d like until I figure out what to do with him.

( Kaveh never mentioned his name, and Wriothesley purposely leaves it out of the conversation, too. With all the gossiping that happens it’s no surprise he knew about them already, but he rather not make Kaveh feel ashamed for his choices. Besides, it’s not like Mael deserves having a name at all in this life. His second chance is on the brink of nonexistence. )

How does the water feel?

[ The shampoos and conditioners and soaps are certainly noticed, and would probably be helpful— but in his current state, there's not a lot that Kaveh can do about them other than be surprised— until he remembers, with a bitter twist in his gut, about her, and how much time she must spend here. He tries to shake it out of his head, though— he has bigger things to worry about here than his unrequited feelings. So for now he just leans back further into the bath, letting his hair get wet, but not submerging himself so much he can no longer hear Wriothesley, given the man is still talking.

And he's talking sense, too. Kaveh's probably over-worried, asking him to join him in the bathroom; they're in Wriothesley's personal quarters right now, and there's no place safer in the entire fortress. (Kaveh knows. He's seen the blueprints.) It makes sense— surely there's any number of people all the time who want for the warden to be dead. His space needs to be as safe and secure as possible—

Which is why is also makes sense that Kaveh should sleep here, given his own life is currently under threat, but... ]

W-Wait.

[ He sits up again with a wince, eyes wide as they look up at the other man. ]

Wait, if I sleep here, where will you sleep? And— he— [ Kaveh's voice gets smaller, the shame creeping across his expression again. ] you know who he is?

( The water will do its job as intended, soothing all the tensions in Kaveh's battered body, seeping to his bones. Wriothesley doesn't expect him to actually scrub or bathe properly given his condition.

Wriothesley pauses briefly, wondering if Kaveh is having some sort of cramp that would make him ease down into the tub further, but soon keeps on talking. Stark is the difference between how a troubled mind can poison itself versus a healthier one.
He lifts a leg over the edge of the tub so he can rest comfortably in the shape of a '4.' )

I haven't decided between the floor or the couch. We'll have to see what I'm in the mood for when the time comes.

( He really likes teasing Kaveh, huh. )

Maybe I do.

[ Wriothesley's teasing should make him feel better. It doesn't— instead he finds himself torn between the guilt at kicking the man out of his own bed, and the wonder and horror at just how far the rumor mill actually has spread. He decides he should focus on that first, argue with the other about the sleeping arrangements later if he must. ]

I guess he wasn't exactly quiet about it. And once his friends knew... the rumor mill in here works pretty fast, huh?

[ It's said with an attempt at a smile, but Kaveh's face crumples, and he leans back into the water, trying not to show how pathetic he feels right now. ]

He'd made passes a few times and... and that night, I was just drunk enough and just upset enough to accept. There weren't any feelings or anything. We were using each other— I said that, right? He liked the fact that as an inmate, he was sleeping in a fancier room than the others. He liked that he could get under the skin of any Sumerians here by telling them he was fucking the Light of Kshahrewar. For me it was just...

[ He closes his eyes, but keeps talking— apparently the salts are not only loosening the tension in his bruised muscles, but also the anxiety building in his throat. ]

I'm sorry. I know it has to be awkward, trying to maintain a friendship with someone who can't stop feeling. I was doing my best. I still am, I want you to know that. You can date as many pretty girls as you want and I'll support you the whole way because— because when you love someone, that's what you do, right? I just want you to be happy, Wriothesley.

( Wriothesley does not recall asking, but here he is, internally cringing at the mention of Kaveh's intimacy with Mael. It was one thing to stumble into their sleeping, sated bodies after that night but another entirely to hear the words come out of Kaveh's mouth. He wishes he could unhear, unsee all the imagery of Mael's hands all over his body. One way or another, he'll be paying for it later anyway. )

I...Don't really need to hear it, Kaveh. It's not illegal to be sleeping around with inmates so long as you're aware of the underlying risks. Given this situation, I heavily advise against it for your sake. There's always the surface you can visit for those types of escapades.

( He clears his throat, adjusting the collar on his shirt so he can feel the cool air soothing his neck from increasingly getting hotter. He really looks forward to lecturing Mael, to give him a scare that'll make him wish he were dead instead. )

It's fine. I'm content at the moment and I don't date. I also learned that happiness on its own is a fickle reality. I don't exactly trust the idea of happiness, but it would be nice to have, I suppose.

Nothing is ever as it seems even in a perfect world, but you can have perfect moments and still reap the same amount of nourishment. Frankly, those moments tend to be the most trustworthy.

( Kaveh didn't actually hear him back when they were talking in the bedroom, did he? He had to summon so much to lift those words to existence and now he has to do it again? )

For example, I'm not happy about you went through, but I am happy to talk to you again.

Y-Yeah, I... [ Kaveh's eyes open, and he looks up at where Wriothesley is perched on the edge of the tub, a small smile on his lips as he considers the other man. ] I think I'm done screwing around for a while anyway. [ It's not like it was really bringing him any joy or making him feel better, not when he would go to bed dreaming of the man in front of him now instead of any of his errant partners.

He winces to do it, but one hand comes up, fingers finding and threading through the warden's. He heard the words before, but the other feeling the need to say them again perhaps means he didn't acknowledge it well enough, and so he squeezes his hand— another wince— before letting go to drop it back into the bathwater. ]

I'm happy to talk to you again too. I missed you a lot. It felt weird— I'd see you, and I'd want to go and tell you something that happened, you know, not about work, and. I couldn't, and... I dunno, I didn't like it.

[ He hasn't felt this way in years, not since he ripped up that paper and taped it back together in misery after the fact. ]

But you know... if you see happiness as something fickle and don't trust it, then you'll never let yourself really have it. Isn't it important to go for what you want? Life isn't that long for those of us who aren't gods...

𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎

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