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

[ As Wriothesley answers him with perhaps more words than he's ever heard the other speak in a row (unless talking about the Fortress), Kaveh is quiet, only listening, only watching the gentle surprise in those ice blue eyes. He doesn't even open his mouth until the other man declares that he's done, and even then the words come after a lift of Kaveh's hand, a gentle stroke of his thumb under the scar that underscores his right eye. Even then, he doesn't know what he's going to say until the words fall from his lips. ]

I'm angry with you. [ In spite of his declaration, his voice is still soft, still gentle, fingers still soft as they stroke over the skin. ] You did mislead me. You told me time and time again that there was nothing— while you were struggling with this.

[ His hand trails down, fingers tracing over the line of the other's stern lips. ]

You should have told me before. We could have figured it out together. I'm not quite as fragile as you think I am, you know.

( The silence before the storm isn't as bad as he thought in his mind. Kaveh had thrown at him so many loud words in the past, so many tears, he didn't expect this flavor of anger to land so tender on him.

This is the type of emotion Wriothesley can better understand. Quiet just like the middle of a field covered in snow. Before he knows it, the cold is biting into his bones. Kaveh isn't as harsh as that. )

There is still nothing, Kaveh. My issues aside, our lives are on completely different paths. I didn't think you were fragile, but as a friend, I didn't want to dump any more hurt than necessary. Yet every time, I seem to bring you nothing but tears and regrets.

( He takes Kaveh's wrist on his hand to move it away from his lips. The touch leaves him with tingles on it, it's a sensitive area. )

I've never been in a relationship, much less with a man and what I feel is something I should figure out on my own. We should avoid any type of disaster even if I think I'd want you.

[ "There is still nothing," Wriothesley says, but Kaveh's heartbreak goes from something quiet to something frustrated as the other man explains that he has apparently just decided for both of them that this isn't something that would work, that it would be a "disaster". His hand is pulled away from the other's mouth, and Kaveh lowers it again, and for a few moments he doesn't know what to say.

Then, he glares up at him. For once, his eyes are free of tears, but frustration shines there, alive and well. ]

Has it occurred to you that while you figured it out, lying to me the whole way, that you were hurting me worse than you would have if you'd just told me what was going on? You tell me you can't do this, but you kiss me like you love me. You decide unilaterally that we wouldn't work, when you don't even know what it takes to make a relationship work.

Why are you running away from me?

[ Try as he might, he can't hide the hurt in that last question, and after a moment his gaze drops from Wriothesley's face again. ]

You say all that as if you think it wasn't painful for me, either.

( The frustration is mutual in blue eyes, blazing like dry ice and cutting deep. Wriothesley shifts up on the bed so he can sit up. Of course, it hurt turning his back on him. It hurt deleting those pictures, it hurt turning him down over and over. If Kaveh had simply quit, left, and moved on, none of this would be something Wriothesley had to weigh in.

It hurt seeing him with the man at the bar. It hurt more seeing him with Mael just when he felt he could get somewhere with him. Or within himself. Maybe Wriothesley needs a man he can specifically experiment on without fear of hurting them. )

And you're the expert in relationships? You can't possibly think you can try to fill in my inexperience while simultaneously looking down on me like that. It makes you sound like the type of scholar you tend to dislike.

I know my way around other relationships. Professional ones, or friendships, to some extent, and even those aren't easy for me.

( Save for Neuvillette, whom Wriothesley has come to respect ever since his trial. After he became the Administrator, it took a heap of years to be where he is with him. Even then, he doesn't tell Neuvillette everything. He doesn't tell Navia everything.

His expression softens, and the bruising on his face is another reminder of how wrong Kaveh's presence fits in a place like this. Wriothesley would never ask him to stay. )

You have a life on the surface.

I never said that. I believe that it hurt you too. But here's the thing, Wriothesley: you chose that hurt. You chose to hurt me, and you chose to hurt you too— you chose, I didn't even get the option of a choice.

[ Kaveh echoes the other, sitting up in the bed. He doesn't want to argue with him from a lying-down position. (It feels weak.) And at the same time, he's wondering: what about it has hurt the other man? If he's still trying to figure out his feelings, like he said, if he's still confused, then what about it is hurting him—? ]

Why are you putting words in my mouth? I never claimed to be an expert, either. And I'm not looking down on you! I don't think anyone is an expert in relationships. Don't you get it? They're not meant to be easy. Two people can be perfect for one another and it can still find a way to break.

[ Tears spring unbidden to his eyes, and he looks away. He's not crying for Wriothesley; he doesn't want the other man to think he is. ]

If something perfect can break, maybe something imperfect won't. The thing is, you'll never know until you try. Where I live— it doesn't matter. What matters is...

[ And for a moment, he trails off, frowning. There's something about the whole thing that just isn't adding up, isn't making sense in his head.

He takes a breath. Looks up at him once more. ]

Tell me how you feel about me.

You chose to keep approaching me even after I had said no, Kaveh. You can't pin that on me.

I'm not, that was sarcasm, but you shouldn't render down what I feel based on how much or how little experience I have in the field. Are you crying?

( He asks the moment Kaveh turns to look away from him. This is the worst. One wrong turn and they're back into the weeds, lost through the forest and yelling into the canopies without a way of finding themselves walking on the same path. Wriothesley slips out of bed so he can flick on more lights in the room. )

It matters.

( He says while making eye contact before pulling out some fresh clothes to change into. He stops by the bathroom door, offering a frown as he stands by the frame. )

I wish you lived here.

How could I not? In words you'd say one thing and in actions you'd say another. Of course I was going to pursue it. But that was my choice, just like you made yours— so you can't pin that hurt on me, either.

And I'm not rendering down your feelings! I'm telling you that you've acted based on assumptions that you could well be making incorrectly because you have nothing to base them on but your own conjecture. Any scholar trying that would be laughed out of the Akademiya— and no, I'm not!

[ A lie, but he's not about to explain the mess of his parents in the middle of this discussion, is he? Not that it is a problem, because Wriothesley is telling him it matters, dodging his question but practically answering it in the same breath, standing next to the bathroom door as he says—

Kaveh pushes himself out of bed and storms across the floor to the other's side. Lithe fingers press into Wriothesley's chest, push him back against the doorframe. Crimson eyes are bright— still with unshed tears, but also with determination. ]

Tell me how you feel about me.

Great. Nobody's fault, then. That makes this easier. You can go ahead and laugh at me. I shouldn't have to write you an essay to go over everything.

( He briefly closes his eyes when he sees Kaveh slip out of bed and storm his way over. His voice rings between the metal walls around them, penetrating and echoing yet going nowhere else. There are no pipes that would make sound travel outside this room for all of their privacy's sake.

He's not going to explain how he murdered his foster parents, either, even though it's an important point of contention.

He falls utterly quiet whenever Kaveh makes it in front of him, pushing him against the frame. Wriothesley folds his arms below Kaveh's hand, adding an extra barrier between them with his jacket and extra clothes folded over his forearm.

He's beautiful even on the verge of tears when he's happy or angry. So if he tells him, what then? The other issues don't magically disappear off of the table. )

I really hate repeating myself. I don't want you in anybody's arms but my own.

( He really did hate seeing Mael in bed with him, but even Wriothesley knows it's not worth of a death penalty. )

Asking anything more from you would be inhumane. You're already very familiar with this place, and that's all I'm going to share. Now, do you mind? I want to get dressed.

I'm not laughing at you! I'm trying to make you see why you're being ridiculous about this!

[ And maybe he'd press that angle more if Wriothesley didn't say something to make it even clearer, all without saying the actual words Kaveh needs to hear. And maybe he could argue, say that he's not repeating himself, because he's not actually saying it, he's just saying—

But what he does say rips Kaveh in half right at the core, even without his being fully honest. The blonde is silent for a moment or two, even as he's asked to step back so the warden can dress— No, actually, what he's asked is "do you mind?"

and you know what?

Kaveh does mind. ]

Then don't let me be in anyone else's arms. [ The words are softer than anything he's said so far, but decisive, and he ignores the request to instead slide his arms over Wriothesley's shoulders, behind his neck, standing a little taller to catch his mouth in another kiss. It lacks the dreamy sleepiness of earlier, something hurried and desperate about it, as if the blonde is praying to the Seven that he'll be answered. ]

I don't have anything else to say, Kaveh.

( Kaveh is a scholar, a genius at that, he shouldn't have to listen to the words when everything is spelled clearly between words. Wriothesley is still trying to determine his own emotions so giving Kaveh the clear-cut answer he so desperately wants is still universes away.

He's not running from him, but from himself, and how frightening it is to leave his emotions in the hands of another. He's not handing out his heart on a silver platter just because someone asks him to.

Words muffle between their lips as Kaveh rushes his arms around his neck. Is this truly the right way to communicate when the conversation is over? Wriothesley tries to lean away from his kiss so he can at least voice whatever else is on his mind.

Kaveh...

He mutters as their lips collide more. Wriothesley pushes him back against the other side of the frame with the same energy, though most of the impact is cushioned by his arms wrapping up around Kaveh's waist. His breath is harsh against him and he pulls away after some labor.

This isn't right. It's not right that Kaveh keeps breaking his boundaries when there's a heap of issues to settle. As much as he likes kissing him, something about this is reasonably bitter. )

I need you to stop.

[ For a moment, it seems like it will be okay. That he's been forgiven the trespass he took to get them here and that maybe, where words failed them, the feelings between them can speak. But then Wriothesley pulls himself out of the kiss, tells Kaveh in no uncertain terms to stop— and the blonde does. He pulls himself away, folds his arms over his chest as if it will somehow fix everything, takes a deep, shuddering breath. ]

Okay. Alright. I get it.

[ Why, why does he keep fighting so hard for this? Every single time, all that happens is that he winds up alone and hurting, and Kaveh has spent his whole fucking life being both of those things, and he's tired of it—

He straightens up, and whatever tears he would usually cry don't come. Not this time. ]

I'm sorry. That wasn't like me, and I shouldn't have done it. I, um... you go ahead and change. I'll go back to my room, and— get ready for work, and once I've cleaned these I'll drop them back off to you, okay?

[ Maybe it really is just time for him to stop. ]

I'll see you later, Your Grace.

( There's a red line between persistence and betrayal and he knows that perhaps to some extent, he deserved betrayal. This is Kaveh handing him back the karma for subduing him with alcohol and kissing him. That's why it feels like poison, it feels like all the wrong steps are being taken just so they can race to the finish line.

He's hurting, too, especially as he watches everything built over the night collapse in front of him and leave him at ground zero. If he's going to live it up in his room again while he's still bruised to hell, he'll need to deal with Mael as soon as feasibly possible. )

Please see Sigewinne before you go back to work.

( He lets the rest of his words choke right under his tongue. He's unsure what else he's supposed to explain when he already said enough. He told Kaveh essentially the same thing he told Navia. Clearly, Navia's way of doing things isn't what's right for Kaveh, and what Kaveh wants isn't something Wriothesley can readily provide.

To think he'd ever hear the words "Your Grace" and feel them carve out a hole in his heart.

He grabs breakfast after he showers and changes with newly found rage specially made for Mael.

More guards are moving around the factory area and Kaveh's grounds, too. Surely it's because Wriothesley is upping the security after the incident.

Thanks to his network and Gardes, Wriothesley gets through the piping leading to the room where Mael's guys live in. It's no wonder he preferred Kaveh's room, but that ends today. )

Sorry, ladies.

You, come with me. We're going on a field trip. It'll be fun.

[ When Kaveh gets to the Infirmary, it's to be told that in NO UNCERTAIN TERMS is he going back to work that day. Instead, he ends up spending it alone in his room, sketching miserable image after miserable image until he gives up and buries himself in a pile of pillows and blankets. Sleep doesn't come easy either, though, and the architect spends the night tossing and turning trying to chase it, and by the time he goes back to work the following day, his bruises have faded, but the circles under his eyes are dark on a pale face.

He washes Wriothesley's clothes, and he's halfway through drying them when Mael comes into the communal laundry, flanked on either side by a lackey, and Kaveh's heart sinks into his stomach when he recognizes the other man, something almost impossible to do through the extent of the bruising on his face, and the sickening sneer twisting it into something ugly and cold. ]

Look who we have here, boys, [ he drawls, strolling into the laundry with the two of them a step behind, drawing invisible circles around Kaveh as the blonde seeks a way out. ] It's the guard dog's favorite bitch.

Leave me alone, Mael—

[ Lips press to his ear— shh— and Kaveh feels something sharp at his throat. He swallows, larynx bobbing against the blade, trying to steady his breathing as the criminal breathes instructions in his ear. ]

Here's what's going to happen, bitch. You're going back to the Warden, and you're gonna tell him you lied, alright? That you couldn't keep your whore legs shut and somehow poor Mael got caught in the middle—

I said leave me alone! [ Kaveh shoves against the grip holding him, and things are suddenly moving too fast for him to comprehend. There's the flash of a knife— he dodges— blinding pain in an explosion across his chest, a splash of blood— Mael's lackeys are wide-eyed with panic— shit! this wasn't meant to happen, boss! you said we was just scarin' him!— they run— Mael lunges again and this time Kaveh is fast enough, eyes closing and a flash of green coiling around the man's feet like a vine, tripping him.

Kaveh runs.

And for the second time in three days, he knocks on Wriothesley's door, injured. ]

( He'd counted at least ten bruises on Kaveh's arms and face combined, so Wriothesley gives him twenty. In another circumstance, he would let his Gardes handle any incidents and punishments, namely consisting of solitary confinement.

This, Mael understands, is more than personal, and even Wriothesley can't hide the fact from him. Mael doesn't need the wording to understand the meaning behind each of his punches and perhaps if Kaveh hadn't confessed, he wouldn't have hit him this hard.

When he's back in his room for the day, he treats his fists first thing. Impacting bones that much does a number on him. From permanent scars and gashes cutting over his knuckles, to the bruising of punching itself. Even after they're wrapped and hidden behind the black bandages he wears, his fingers still show signs of bruising. His knuckles are still prominently swelled. )

Kaveh?

( He fastens the last bit of bandage before he exits the bathroom to open his door. Then something else takes over. Muted silence ringing between his ears the instance he's met with Kaveh drenched in blood. At first, he thinks it might be a red shirt he's wearing if it wasn't for the punch of iron hitting his nostrils. It's a smell he's far too familiar with.

A sight he hasn't seen in a long, long time.

Wriothesley moves quickly, pulling Kaveh in to guide him to the bathroom. He's not as dexterous with his beat hands. He drops the rolls of bandages and forgets about them, moving on to grabbing the first aid kit before the situation slowly permeates his brain. After a minute, he begins to listen again, searching Kaveh's face and examining for more injuries.

This is why. This is why they can't work. Or why Kaveh doesn't belong here. He shouldn't have to bleed to prove his point, Wriothesley never wanted it to come to this. He would ask what happened, but something else is far more pressing. )

We need to clean your wound immediately. Would you please have a seat?

( There's a chair in the bathroom near the powder area by the sink. )

Can you move your arms? I'll have to cut your shirt so I can see better.

Was it him? Yes or no.

I'm okay. I'm okay, Wriothesley.

[ Kaveh says it at least three times, but the words seem to fall on deaf ears. He's probably been hurt worse in the desert before, if he's honest, and he wants to tell the other man as much, but there's something between them in this moment, something fogging the warden's vision as he grabs Kaveh with swollen hands to drag him into the bathroom, to sit him down and ask if he can move, a flood of instructions and questions falling over him before he can event complete the first.

And in Wriothesley's eyes, something that frightens him, something faraway and distant and cold.

For now, all Kaveh can really do is let himself be swept along with the deluge of ice, so he lifts his arms to answer one question, and nods to answer another, and doesn't speak to answer until the other man is already working on it, knowing there's no point trying to stop him or slow him down.

Only once his shirt has been cut off does he open his mouth again— and then close it again, not really sure what to say. He could try to lighten the air, make a joke, say maybe he'll have a sexy scar now too. He could ask if it's as bad as it looked at first, now that he can see it more closely. There are a lot of things he could say or do— but none of them feel right.

Instead, he just says quietly once more: ] I'm okay. I got away.

( The gash isn't as deep as the amount of blood makes it seem, that much is revealed after Wriothesley uses multiple small towels to absorb and clean it off. Antiseptic is diluted in some water to not cause Kaveh a worse sting, and then he covers it with cotton squares and bandages, visibly calmer.

Eyes flicker towards Kaveh's face as he loops the bandage around his torso for a snug fit. It will become a sexy scar, surely, not that Kaveh needs it to accentuate his allure. He could stand in the middle of the room doing nothing and still draw in Wriothesley's gaze. )

Did he do this, Kaveh?

( He asks again, taking in a long breath to fill his lungs and release all the tension building pressure in his mind. He already gave Mael his two chances. He's not waiting for Kaveh to get hurt again, or worse. In the Fortress, Wriothesley can make his own rules if he wishes, or he can bend them on a case-by-case basis. )

Tell me what happened.

...Yeah. He did.

[ This time, Kaveh confirms it out loud, rather than simply nodding. A guaranteed answer for the other man who earlier was too caught up in his own head to see through the rage and worry to the blonde's nodding. At least now Wriothesley seems to be breathing again, his gaze more focused as he looks back up at Kaveh's face.

He asks for details, so Kaveh gives them. ]

I was in the laundry, and he came in with two of his friends. He was circling me, taunting me, and when I told him to leave me alone, he put something sharp— I guess it was probably a knife— against my throat and threatened me. Told me I had to fix everything so he was right with you again. I shoved him off and then he came for me, and...

[ He frowns. This is where things start to get a little hazy. ]

I think he was trying to stab. But I moved, and I got this instead. His friends panicked and ran away. They said something, I don't remember what. And he came at me again, so I used my Vision to trip him.

Then I ran, and I didn't stop until I got here.

[ He's been dry-eyed since their last fight, and it seems to continue even now, his expression tired but not weepy as he looks up at the other. ]

Did I... do the right thing?

( Indeed, Kaveh nodding was previously missed due to his vision going red. Now, with the confirmation, he can better prepare himself psychologically to welcome back justice into his own hands. )

You did the right thing, Kaveh.
I want to propose you something. You don't have to agree to it, but just know it comes from a place of care.

( He glances down, too, lost amidst the haze of vivid rage still. To think Mael was attempting to snuff out the life out of Kaveh for no reason at all, he hates the thought of it. )

I want you to stay here with me, at least for tonight and maybe tomorrow night. If you need anything, I can assign you a personal escort until this incident is filed properly. After that, you're free to do whatever you'd like like usual.

How does that sound?

[ Kaveh is quiet for a moment as the question is asked of him. He understands why Wriothesley is asking it, too— and of course, there's an immediate, aching urge to say yes. He's scared, after all— terrified; while he may have gotten the upper hand over Mael this time, it doesn't mean he will next time. Staying here in the warden's protection makes the most sense.

But last time he was here, they woke up... like that, and Kaveh promised himself it wouldn't happen again, and... ]

I... I think we'll need some ground rules, if this is what we're going to do. [ His voice is quiet, possibly quieter than Wriothesley has ever heard it, as they feel their way over the words. ] But... I agree that it's the best idea we have right now.

( He’s fully prepared to actually take the couch upstairs in his office so Kaveh can take over his bed. He, too, is offering his safety with additional precautions in mind to prevent them from having another argument.

Kaveh’s voice is so quiet, it makes Wriothesley wonder if he’s reluctantly asking for rules. He helps him up so they can continue their conversation in the bedroom. )

I’m all ears. Anything you need.

[ He smiles as he's helped up, and then moves alongside him in silence for a moment or two, trying to think of how to say what he needs to in words— without causing another fight between the two of them.

After a moment, he tries: ]

Could we... bring in a mattress or something for me to sleep on? I don't think either of us should sleep on the floor or the couch. But I also... it's probably not best if we're sleeping next to each other again, is it?

[ Although the truth is that he would in a heartbeat, if push came to shove. He can't help himself in that way. ]

( He pulls out the chair from his small desk in case Kaveh rather use it than sitting on the bed. As for Wriothesley, he gives him plenty of space as he stands off to a side, leaning on a wall.

It’s as he expects, though part of him hoped Kaveh would want him in bed together. )

Of course. I’ll have someone bring one in for you.

Anything else?

[ Noting the chair pulled out for him, Kaveh takes it— he sees what Wriothesley is doing, and appreciates it— appreciates it more when the other agrees to have a bed pulled in for him.

And then he's asked if he needs anything else, and he frowns, shakes his head. No, there's really... he should be fine, as long as he can sleep and do his work...

He pauses, chews on his lower lip for a little. ]

Could we talk?

( The follow up question feels like a surprise. For some reason, he also didn’t expect Kaveh to dive into a talk of any gravity when he clearly needs the rest more than anything. At least his bruises have mostly faded, but the violence left on him is still obvious. Stress piles on like the ceiling slowly inching down until there’s nowhere else to run to. )

Of course.

[ He can see the stress practically bearing down on Wriothesley in response to his words, and he offers the man a small smile as he shakes his head. ]

Don't worry, [ he says, and then he drops his gaze away from the other man's for a moment. ] I'm not going to ask you to say much. I just— after our last fight, I thought that I should probably...

There are things about me that I feel like I should tell you. If only to... I'd like you to get to know me better.

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