[ And what do you say to that? What are you supposed to say? Carver knows better than to promise nothing will happen to him. Safety isn't something you can promise. There's no guarantee of it. He thinks Frost had the better idea, when he promised Carver vengeance if something else happened - retribution, instead of protection. It fit then.
Not here, though. He doesn't know what this is, what words to apply. It just - is.
Carver squeezes Larus's wrist again. Not hard, just to hold onto him. A reminder, maybe. Something physical to keep the connection steady. ]
[ It's not quite what he thought Carver would say, and as reassuring as it's supposed to be, it just fills Larus with a deep sense of dread. A foreboding that he can't shake. He still thinks about killing Frost, in that moment, and maybe that, too, won't ever go away. He'll always want some kind of revenge, though it's more to satisfy his own pain than anything else.
Maybe he's always going to be that selfish.
Rather than speak, he nods and steps back to disengage. He's feeling vulnerable again, like anything else Carver says could wound him, and Larus tries to backtrack, stepping around the things he should be saying to him so he can remain quiet. He doesn't pull away completely, letting his wrist stay in Carver's hold, but he does turn his attention outward, wanting something else to focus on. ]
[ There's something tenuous about this moment, how they're circling each other. The give and take of it, balanced on a knife's edge. One false move and this thing could break. But Larus is right, in the end.
[ It is obvious, and for that reason, Larus says nothing.
He's quiet, turning the grip Carver has on his wrist so he can grasp his hand, and it's like this that they descend to the ground floor, Larus' senses immediately on high alert. They walk a few blocks before he thinks it might be better to break in somewhere (like always) rather than risk taking Carver back to Daphne's apartment. But there's also something lingering in the back of his mind as they walk, and Larus, honest as he always is, feels he needs to voice it. ]
You don't have to stay with me. If it gets too dangerous, you should go where you're safest.
[ Larus wants to argue that fact, but in truth, he doesn't know anything about what it is they're facing. ]
Usually. We still don't know what's happening though.
[ That isn't going to stop him from holding on to Carver and moving through the streets, tightening his grip just a little as they round a corner. The shadows are growing thicker again, but he doesn't hear anything unusual. Just Carver's pulse and a few of the people around them. So, all Larus does is look ahead. ]
[ Larus tightens his grip and with anyone else, Carver thinks he would have laughed and then swung vicious out of pure reflex. Here, he allows it without a word of complaint. Worse—far worse—he thinks he likes it.
These things happen. He keeps pace, watching the shadows. ]
Somewhere sturdy, with no windows. We need to get inside.
All Larus can think about is another basement, which has him abruptly turning them down a narrow alley in the direction of some of the slightly more trafficked areas. There's an outside cellar door he's aiming for, keeping note of their surroundings so they don't get blindsided by more shadows or vampires—whatever they are. All the noise is distracting, and he has to let go of Carver to break the lock once they get where they're going, dragging the heavy door up like it's nothing at all. ]
We should be good here.
[ A confined space, only so many exits to defend if they need to. Larus will follow Carver inside and slam the door shut before overthinking any of it. ]
[ If it were just him, or one of his brothers, Carver wouldn’t have thought so hard about it. But he’s seen Larus in the aftermath of burning and there was nothing glorious or godly about it. He thinks uncomfortably of how Bossie died and then immediately tucks that away into a box. It won’t happen again, none of it, so focus.
Focus.
He follows Larus inside without a word, scanning the space. Good enough for now. ]
They usually fight in groups? [ he asks finally. ] Back home, they do that?
[ It's a little dim and musty, but otherwise, it seems like it'll work for what they need. Larus moves through the dark easily, searching for a light, and when he flicks it on, it's only bright enough to keep them tripping over things in the dark. The area is half-finished, rugs piled up in a corner and a mattress on the floor on the opposite side of the room.
He isn't sure what this place is used for outside of storage, but he doesn't care. ]
Sometimes, [ Larus answers, sitting on the steps that lead up to another door. ] But usually if they're only planning to kill. They live together though. Nests of them in places where the sun can't get them.
[ Carver leans back against the wall, sticking close to Larus. It’s funny, he thinks, how easily they fit back into these patterns. They’ve fought together now. If they worked at it, if they practiced, they could get it seamless. Maybe they will one of these days. ]
The rotters do that, [ he says after a moment. ] They don’t sleep, don’t fight, not like that. But they move in groups. Don’t know why.
[ They're close, but maybe not close enough. Larus can't allow himself to think like that right now, trying to settle himself as he glances over at Carver. ]
Maybe it's just what the dead do. [ Never mind he belongs in that category. ] Or maybe it's their way of trying to be human.
[ He doesn't know. Isn't sure he'd ever enjoy living in a world like the one Carver is from. How would he survive as he is now? By being careful, probably. By never taking more than he had to or not killing if he could help it. It's an odd thought to have, keeping him silent for several minutes before he decides to ask. ]
Do you think it'd be the same between us if we'd met in your world?
[ That gets a faint shrug. Who knows why the dead do anything? They’re hungry. They can hear and smell even after they’re rotting and falling to pieces. It defies the old logic. It just is. ]
Some of them remember how to hold things. Open doors. Shit like that.
[ Another mystery of a dead and dying world. The silence builds and Carver doesn’t break it until Larus does. The question isn’t unexpected, in the end. Carver shifts, watching Larus for a long moment. Taking him in, all of him. ]
No, [ he says finally. ] I would have killed you before you ever saw my face or knew my name.
[ Again, he's silent. Swallowing it, pulling it apart in pieces and still wondering. That's all he ever does when he's with Carver, he realizes. He wonders. What a different life could be like, if they'd even have whatever this is. If they still have it. That moment on the roof, the feel of Carver's mouth against his... maybe that's all it's ever going to be, and it's a strange ache he contends with even as he stands and moves closer to him. ]
You broke them too. [ His voice is soft, fingertips grazing along the length of Carver's forearm. ] Here, I mean. Every time we're together.
[ He assumes as much, and the pain of it fills him, wishing he didn't feel anything but trying to accept that this is what it is now. These things just are. ]
[ Carver swallows hard, watching Larus, and doesn’t flinch away from the touch. It’s light, trailing over the fabric of his jacket, and Carver holds as still as he can. Afraid that Larus will stop if he moves.
Pathetic, Carver. Even now, he can hear Pope’s voice in his ear. That cool rebuke.
Carver shivers. He doesn’t move. ]
Wanting things is dangerous. You can’t be selfish.
[ He hadn't meant it in a negative light, just a statement of fact. Larus had broken so many rules already, but he doesn't have anyone else to answer to except himself. And as he thinks about that, his hand moves to rest against Carver's chest. All of this because he wants to be close to him, and he doesn't even know if they should be anymore. ]
Everyone always wants something, Brandon. I don't think that makes you selfish.
[ Maybe if he wanted things all the time? Larus has never known him to be that way, and he doubts he ever would. He's watched him struggle with even the most simple of requests, which is why he continues to press a little more each time. ]
[ This time, Carver can’t hold Larus’s gaze. He doesn’t flinch away from the touch, but he looks away. Sets his gaze in the shadows and holds it there on some distant horizon like that’s going to change anything. ]
[ If anything, that only has him pressing even closer to Carver. He can feel his warmth, the sound of his heart beating. The way his chest rises and falls steadily under his palm. Larus doesn't need to be looked at to know. ]
It's just you and me, [ he says softly. I'm yours. ]
[ In another moment, Larus might have pulled away, but he needs this, he thinks. He needs Carver, and that's as selfish as it can get, slipping his own arm around him to hold him close. Sink into his warmth. There are things that need to be said, probably, but he remains quiet for a while, resting his head against Carver's until he can't stay silent anymore. ]
I won't leave you.
[ A promise he shouldn't make, but it's all he has to give. ]
[ Carver keeps his eyes closed, pressing against Larus. They’re so close like this. And maybe it’s fitting they’re holding each other now, in the aftermath of a fight. Maybe that fits them better than the uneasy stillness where they try to explain themselves, to understand the other.
This part, at least, feels simple.
Carver keeps his eyes closed. He breathes, and he holds Larus close. ]
[ He still wants to understand him. Maybe, some day, he will, but for now, he leans into this, holding Carver a little longer before pulling back. Larus watches him, his free hand lifting to gently touch the side of his face. There's always more to talk about, but — ]
When was the last time you slept?
[ There's a difference in Carver that he notes every time he's without sleep too long, the edge of his thumb caressing the shape of his cheek. ]
[ Maybe means probably longer, pressing his thumb a little more firmly against Carver's skin before dipping forward to kiss the corner of his mouth. Larus doesn't move for a moment, lingering there as he soaks in Carver's proximity. ]
Then rest. I can keep watch for a while.
[ It's not as if he has anything better to do, and if something happened, he'd rather have Carver alert and not dead on his feet from exhaustion. ]
[ It’s tempting just to do what he’s told. Easy, even reflexive. Carver shifts so he can bump their foreheads together. Taking comfort from the closeness, from having Larus holding steady against him. ]
There are more out there. I should stay up with you. Keep watch.
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Not here, though. He doesn't know what this is, what words to apply. It just - is.
Carver squeezes Larus's wrist again. Not hard, just to hold onto him. A reminder, maybe. Something physical to keep the connection steady. ]
I can take it. Whatever comes.
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Maybe he's always going to be that selfish.
Rather than speak, he nods and steps back to disengage. He's feeling vulnerable again, like anything else Carver says could wound him, and Larus tries to backtrack, stepping around the things he should be saying to him so he can remain quiet. He doesn't pull away completely, letting his wrist stay in Carver's hold, but he does turn his attention outward, wanting something else to focus on. ]
We should find somewhere safe to stay.
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They aren't safe here.
Carver exhales. ]
It wouldn't be safe for you where I'm staying.
[ He doesn't say why. It's obvious, he thinks. ]
C'mon. We'll find something.
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He's quiet, turning the grip Carver has on his wrist so he can grasp his hand, and it's like this that they descend to the ground floor, Larus' senses immediately on high alert. They walk a few blocks before he thinks it might be better to break in somewhere (like always) rather than risk taking Carver back to Daphne's apartment. But there's also something lingering in the back of his mind as they walk, and Larus, honest as he always is, feels he needs to voice it. ]
You don't have to stay with me. If it gets too dangerous, you should go where you're safest.
[ Even if that's with a man he wants to kill. ]
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[ That makes it simple, in the end. ]
I'll see it through with you. I've survived worse than this. It's better with a team. Yeah?
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Usually. We still don't know what's happening though.
[ That isn't going to stop him from holding on to Carver and moving through the streets, tightening his grip just a little as they round a corner. The shadows are growing thicker again, but he doesn't hear anything unusual. Just Carver's pulse and a few of the people around them. So, all Larus does is look ahead. ]
Where do you think we should go?
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These things happen. He keeps pace, watching the shadows. ]
Somewhere sturdy, with no windows. We need to get inside.
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All Larus can think about is another basement, which has him abruptly turning them down a narrow alley in the direction of some of the slightly more trafficked areas. There's an outside cellar door he's aiming for, keeping note of their surroundings so they don't get blindsided by more shadows or vampires—whatever they are. All the noise is distracting, and he has to let go of Carver to break the lock once they get where they're going, dragging the heavy door up like it's nothing at all. ]
We should be good here.
[ A confined space, only so many exits to defend if they need to. Larus will follow Carver inside and slam the door shut before overthinking any of it. ]
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Focus.
He follows Larus inside without a word, scanning the space. Good enough for now. ]
They usually fight in groups? [ he asks finally. ] Back home, they do that?
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He isn't sure what this place is used for outside of storage, but he doesn't care. ]
Sometimes, [ Larus answers, sitting on the steps that lead up to another door. ] But usually if they're only planning to kill. They live together though. Nests of them in places where the sun can't get them.
[ He's never bothered asking why. ]
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The rotters do that, [ he says after a moment. ] They don’t sleep, don’t fight, not like that. But they move in groups. Don’t know why.
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Maybe it's just what the dead do. [ Never mind he belongs in that category. ] Or maybe it's their way of trying to be human.
[ He doesn't know. Isn't sure he'd ever enjoy living in a world like the one Carver is from. How would he survive as he is now? By being careful, probably. By never taking more than he had to or not killing if he could help it. It's an odd thought to have, keeping him silent for several minutes before he decides to ask. ]
Do you think it'd be the same between us if we'd met in your world?
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Some of them remember how to hold things. Open doors. Shit like that.
[ Another mystery of a dead and dying world. The silence builds and Carver doesn’t break it until Larus does. The question isn’t unexpected, in the end. Carver shifts, watching Larus for a long moment. Taking him in, all of him. ]
No, [ he says finally. ] I would have killed you before you ever saw my face or knew my name.
[ It comes out soft, and a little sad. ]
We had rules. Only Leah ever broke them.
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You broke them too. [ His voice is soft, fingertips grazing along the length of Carver's forearm. ] Here, I mean. Every time we're together.
[ He assumes as much, and the pain of it fills him, wishing he didn't feel anything but trying to accept that this is what it is now. These things just are. ]
Is it really so bad to want things for yourself?
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[ Carver swallows hard, watching Larus, and doesn’t flinch away from the touch. It’s light, trailing over the fabric of his jacket, and Carver holds as still as he can. Afraid that Larus will stop if he moves.
Pathetic, Carver. Even now, he can hear Pope’s voice in his ear. That cool rebuke.
Carver shivers. He doesn’t move. ]
Wanting things is dangerous. You can’t be selfish.
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Everyone always wants something, Brandon. I don't think that makes you selfish.
[ Maybe if he wanted things all the time? Larus has never known him to be that way, and he doubts he ever would. He's watched him struggle with even the most simple of requests, which is why he continues to press a little more each time. ]
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It has to serve the group.
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It's just you and me, [ he says softly. I'm yours. ]
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Carver closes his eyes tight. Then, silently, he pulls an arm around Larus's shoulder. Words - there are no words. He never knew the right ones. ]
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I won't leave you.
[ A promise he shouldn't make, but it's all he has to give. ]
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This part, at least, feels simple.
Carver keeps his eyes closed. He breathes, and he holds Larus close. ]
I believe you.
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When was the last time you slept?
[ There's a difference in Carver that he notes every time he's without sleep too long, the edge of his thumb caressing the shape of his cheek. ]
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Does it matter?
[ But he knows it does the moment the words are out. Carver closes his eyes again, reaching out to put his hand on Larus's arm. ]
Don't know. Two days ago. Maybe.
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Then rest. I can keep watch for a while.
[ It's not as if he has anything better to do, and if something happened, he'd rather have Carver alert and not dead on his feet from exhaustion. ]
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There are more out there. I should stay up with you. Keep watch.
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