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

( Wriothesley's features are stern as he waits for him to finish talking, namely due to the fact he's trying to hold back the information about that pillow specifically. His poker face is handy in these trying times, but really, who's to say Kaveh might find it somewhat distasteful for Navia to keep holding onto Wriothesley's pillow?

He walks across so he can sit on the chair by the desk, giving Kaveh his space. So he did hear a lot of their conversation, then. )

I wasn't going to wait and find out. He threw away his chance to repent the moment he put a knife to your chest.

It was my throat.

[ The words are quiet, his breath hitching on the admission. He knows he told him before, but it was in the middle of Wriothesley's rage, in the eye of that storm as he tried so desperately to calm him down. And perhaps more important now, because in his own naïveté there was a part of Kaveh that never believed that Mael really wanted to kill him— until now, faced with that truth and with the other man's motivations.

Kaveh's arms fold, wrap back around his own arms as far as they can reach, as if hugging himself to offer some weak sort of comfort. ]

I just thought of it as a threat. I keep forgetting... somehow, in my head, the part where he did that, and the part where he actually attacked me after.. they're separate, and...

[ His eyes squeeze shut on a sniffle. ]

He's dead because of me, Wriothesley.

What?

( The new information paints another gnarly picture in the turn of events. His mind must have muted a lot of what Kaveh had mentioned that fateful night, but blood is blood regardless of where it comes from.

So Kaveh is confessing this again only fuels the dormant rage still left in him. Wriothesley stands abruptly, watching Kaveh on the bed as proof that his decision is right. )

He’s dead because I killed him, and I have no idea what it will take for you to understand, Kaveh. It was him or you. I know my inmates, I give everyone a fair chance and he lost his. Simple as that.

( He sighs harshly and sits back down, pinching the bridge of his nose. )

Sorry. If you want to blame yourself for anything then blame yourself for breaking his heart, but leave everything else to me.

[ He's silent, shocked a little, as Wriothesley pushes himself up off the bed so abruptly, and for a moment he's worried he's somehow done something wrong, but then the other sits again, and something settles in his stomach, allowing him to breathe once more. ]

I understand. [ The words come quietly, even as the blonde knots his fingers together so tightly that they start to go white at the joints. ] I don't like it, but I understand. This is...

[ He closes his eyes, the words heavy on his tongue. When someone has already been removed from society at large, when there's nowhere else for them to go, and they somehow fuck up badly enough to be a danger to others yet again, then...

No. Surely he can't just accept it that readily? Human lives are meant to be precious, something to be treasured and cared for. Death should never be an option, not even for someone like Mael—

But if not Mael, than who? If not Mael, the blood spilled on the metal floors of the Fortress would be his—

Kaveh's knees curl up against his chest, arms hugging them close, face pressing into one of them as he starts to cry, body shaking with the sudden effort. He understands, but he doesn't want to. He knows why it happened the way it did even as he craves another solution where none exist. His heart hurts— ]

I understand. [ His voice, between sobs, is hoarse and weak. ] I wish I didn't.

( He's miserable looking at Kaveh crouch and shrink into himself like this, mumbling the same words over and over. That's when Wriothesley approaches him, slow enough to give Kaveh the choice of whether he would want him any closer or not. He sits next to him on the bed, angled towards him as if he were offering himself for him to rest against. Since Kaveh claims to understand, Wriothesley doesn't try to drive up the point anymore. He hopes he truly does grasp where his actions come from. )

Do you want me here for the night?

[ Perhaps Wriothesley will find some relief in the way Kaveh leans into him immediately, the blonde unfurling just enough that he can curl himself into the other man instead, pressing his face into his shoulder and fingers reaching to cling to his clothes. That same comforting scent washes over him, the one on which he's been relying all this time, and he sighs, feeling himself start to relax even as the tears continue to roll down his cheeks.

To the question, the blonde can only nod. What he wants, he thinks, is to go home— the word in his mind equated without realization to Wriothesley's quarters in the office, the other's strong but gentle hold. But it's too late in the day to travel back, and so surely this is the next best thing. ]

Please. [ With a sigh, he shifts back on the bed, clutching fingers trying to tug the other with him. ] Stay here with me.

( It's the scent of tea leaves seeping for an extended period, the finest of the bunch. Or the dried, ground aromas across Teyvat, releasing their dew the more they steam and become a permanent part of his natural musk. Bold and masculine. He sighs as Kaveh leans against him, but before he's able to tug him towards the bed, there's some tension. )

Okay, I will. Let me take off my boots first.

( So he leans over, unclasping every latch and unzipping the two, sliding off the pieces until he's comfortably free of them. Then he crawls over Kaveh's body to rest at his side, inching close until they share a pillow. )

Do you still want to live in the Fortress?

[ In response to Wriothesley's question, Kaveh is silent just for a moment— and then, he nods, coiling himself in a little closer to the other now that they're sharing a pillow, his face moving to press into his shoulder, just breathing even more of him in. ]

I do, [ he whispers. ] I know that means... I know I'm gonna have a lot to get used to. I... as much as I don't like it, I understand that... that it's how things have to be, and... and it's not as if you do it all the time, and...

[ He takes a slow, deliberate breath, cutting himself off before he can begin to ramble. He still has a long, long way to go for him to even start being okay with it— but he's trying. ]

Can I ask you something, Wriothesley?

( He holds his breath for the time being, unsure if his future with Kaveh is entirely off the table now. His extreme handle on the Fortress is inevitable, if another situation like this may arise. He knows there’s other inmates who would do anything to be in contact with Kaveh, too. Who wouldn’t?

He wraps his arm around him, closing his eyes and then opening them again whenever he prompts the question. Now that’s one way to make him anxious. )

What is it?

I, um.

[ Kaveh's sure there was something else he was going to ask. He's positive, in fact. But as soon as he's prompted to speak, whatever it was is gone, replaced by a wandering thought that slips in between all the rest, loud and questioning and demanding in a way he can't get away from.

And in the face of that question, he... ]

I just.. I don't understand. You were with me those whole days. When—

[ Does he even want to know this? ]

When did it happen?

( It’s a simple enough question - not as serious as Wriothesley feared it might be. However, he also wonders how the answer will affect Kaveh— the less he knows the better. They’re already here, so he might as well come out with the truth so they can truly be on a clean slate. )

That same night. After you fell asleep.

[ Kaveh is quiet for a long time as he pieces the events back together in his head. His memory of that night is already a little hazy, given everything that happened. But what he remembers... ]

You didn't come to bed. You were sitting in the shower. You...

[ There'd been something wrong. He remembers that now. Something in the way the older man had curled around him, wet and all, and invited him to sleep all day.

(But they didn't sleep all day. They slept... for some time, Kaveh still doesn't know for how long exactly. And then—)

The blonde frowns, his gut twisting in displeasure, something ugly grasping cold fingers at his heart and telling him to run away.

(But he's run away twice already, and it did nothing for him.)

Instead, he takes a shaky breath. ]

The next morning, you. We... [ He chews on his lower lip. ] Why then?

Edited 2024-02-19 13:08 (UTC)

I wasn’t going to let him live another day after seeing what he did to you.

And what would have been of you if he decided to slit your throat that same night.

( He thinks Kaveh may still not grasp the true danger he was in- or how dangerous Mael truly was to others, too.

He knows that’s not what he’s asking, and even Wriothesley isn’t sure what pushed him over the edge. Perhaps the lingering adrenaline and desperation to have him before he lost him to another. He’s also quiet for a moment. )

It was then or never. I didn’t want to lose you to another fling.

[ Perhaps he doesn't understand the severity of the danger, even now. The idea of going to bed and never waking up again, throat slit in his sleep, is a horrifying one, though, and certainly helps in the ongoing process of his starting to contextualize the whole series of events. Wriothesley was protecting him, was protecting everyone who lived in the Fortress, from someone dangerous and unhinged. And Kaveh still hates it, hates that it was necessary, that there wasn't some other way. But he understands, too.

That doesn't answer the actual question though, an admission that takes a few beats of silence longer, and as the words slip from the duke's lips, Kaveh once again is quiet, taking his time to process, to let the words settle on his heart.

He pulls back just enough that Wriothesley can see the wet, red-rimmed mess of his eyes, alight as they are now with a quiet sincerity. ]

Stupid. [ He doesn't really mean that. ] You were never going to lose me. I never stopped being yours in the first place.

( The silence is somewhat uncomfortable at first, but hearing Kaveh address him with such an endearing insult does put Wriothesley at ease. A soft smile greets him, relieved of all the tension accumulated in the night. Perhaps he should elaborate more: )

I didn’t want you fucking anyone else.

[ Kaveh's expression sifts from something gentle and earnest to something bordering on amused, the blonde shaking his head slightly as he leans up to poke Wriothesley's cheek. ]

Jealous.

[ That's all he says before he shifts to curl into him again, face nuzzling into Wriothesley's chest, eyes closing against the tired, aching sting left by hours of crying. ]

I'm not gonna. Just so you know. I know I've got some learning to do and some adjustments to make and.. and it's gonna take me some time to be okay with it, and you know, but. But I meant what I said. I'm yours, I want you to be mine.

I won’t confirm or deny.

( It’s borderline embarrassing, and it takes him back to the night he witnessed Kaveh making out with some stranger in a bar. If he didn’t claim him, where else would he have gone? With how many people?

Eyes closed and resting the exhaustion, he keeps a heavy arm around Kaveh’s waist, dozing off with a smile. )

I already told you I’m yours.

[ Fortunately for Kaveh, Wriothesley's refusal to confirm or deny his claim is on its own a confirmation. The blonde, however, says nothing of the sort, instead just curling tighter into the older man's hold. ]

I know we still have some things to figure out but.. I feel.. I'm glad, Wriothesley.

[ He curls in a little closer, head getting more comfortable in its position against the other's chest, a soft yawn on his lips. ]

I only woke up a little while ago, but I'm tired again.

Mmhm.... ( The warmth Kaveh provides is more than enough to knock him out entirely and fast, without any remnant of worry after coming to their conclusion. There is some doubt, there will always be, in entering a relationship for the first time. He's not quite sure where some lines end or begin, or what boundaries they should be setting for one another.

He's not sure if this means he trusts Kaveh entirely, either. There will always be a part of Wriothesley who only knows Wriothesley, like the one who knows everything about his past identity.

He wakes up before Kaveh and slowly sneaks out of bed to use the bathroom, brush up, and put on his boots again. He wants to at least tell Navia some good news: like the fact they didn't fuck using her guest bed. That alone should require some praise. )

[ Like Wriothesley, Kaveh falls asleep fast, into a steady, dreamless sleep; he sleeps easily through as the other man gets up to use the bathroom and speak to Navia, curling into the pillows with a sleepy smile when the other slips out of the bed.

Navia is padding around quietly the kitchenette when Wriothesley emerges, wearing a simple, demure blue nightgown accented with lace here and there. She looks almost like an awakened princess, and yet the cup of tea placed in front of him is something she prepared, and there's a delicious, buttery scent from the oven for which she is also responsible.

She smiles up at Wriothesley, and her expression is steady without being overly dependent on congratulation or comfort. (Although she hopes, as she always does, that things worked out well— especially given that they stayed together in her room, as far as she knows, until morning.) ]

Good morning, monsieur. [ Her tone is the same: warm, kind, gently detached from the situation, lest she need to pivot one way or another. ] How did it go, last night?

( He’s pretty sure he has fucked her wearing that gown, but his thoughts are innocent as ever, ignited by the hunger towards freshly baked goods filling up the kitchenette.

He smiles at the readied tea and happily inhales that scent too. The calm is unlike any other, especially as he sips. )

Your bed is still clean.

It was good, I hope. I think it will be good now.

( There’s never any telling with Kaveh, but what matters is that they belong to one another now. Just as he had wished all those weeks ago. )

Thanks for everything, Navia. I mean it. I don’t think I could have done it without you.

[ She laughs, a bright and warm sound, if still quiet to respect anyone still sleeping in the house. As Wriothesley sips, she moves to the oven to take out two loves of brioche, moving the tray over to the counter to let them cool enough that she might cut them into slices.

To his words of thanks, she leaves her task for just a moment to stand herself on tiptoes, press a kiss to his cheek. ]

I'm just glad things worked out. You deserve some happiness, and you've worked for a long time for this.

[ And perhaps, if he looks closely enough, he'll see he's not the only one who's earned some of that happiness for themselves; Navia has a couple of dark bruises at her collarbone, evidence of what she was up to during the evening, once leaving Wriothesley and Kaveh to their own devices. She doesn't mention it for now, though, wanting to focus on her friend's situation instead.

With the brioche cooling, she cuts a few slices of it, putting it on a plate with a knob of butter and a small serving of jam, and then that on a tray with more tea, and juice. ]

Here. Take him breakfast in bed.

( At some point when she's placing down the fresh brioche on the table, Wriothesley notes the markings on her clavicle, peeking from the softened fabric like something treasured. He can't help but feel a smile on his lips, sipping the tea while she prepares the breakfast. )

He did most of the work.

( He picks up the tray of goods, including both their teas on it and leaves her with a similar kiss to her cheek. It's a parting sort of kiss, knowing their time for casual sex has concluded.

He walks into the room silently, though the items on the tray do make slight rattling noises as he's placing it down on a corner of the bed. The scent alone could probably make the dead lift from the graves, anyway. )

Kaveh, are you awake?

Then it's all the more reason that he deserves breakfast in bed. [ Navia's tone is light, teasing, an affection in her voice reserved for very few; and the smile doesn't leave her face even as he disappears back into the bedroom.

Kaveh, for his part, is starting to stir— yes, mostly due to the scent of baked goods and tea that has just wafted into the room— stretching with a yawn and rolling over as his eyes blink open, a slow, lazy smile of content finding his lips as he looks up at Wriothesley standing next to the bed.

Half-asleep as he is, he reaches out as if to draw the other to him (which wouldn't be wise with the tray now sitting on the bed); in the moments of new wakefulness, at least, his troubles are temporarily forgotten. ]

You know, [ he mumbles, ] this pillow smells like you.

Hey— careful. There’s stuff here that could get spilled. Sit all the way up.

( Then he’ll have the room to lounge with him, lifting the tray over their thighs to share. There’s plenty of time for the two to tangle up back in the Fortress.

Settled comfortably now, he adds two sugar cubes on his tea, then picks up the butter knife to spread the jam over the fresh bread. He gives Kaveh a glance, biting down some amusement in the fact he’s able to pick out his scent that easily. )

Huh. Maybe that’s because it’s my pillow.

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