[ Larus gently knocks their foreheads together, having picked up the habit from Carver, and it's just what they do. How they are. He doesn't know what that means, but at least he can have Carver next to him for a little while, tilting his head to brush a kiss against his mouth. ]
I think it'll help.
[ But Larus remains still, kissing him again because he can. ]
[ It's an old, affectionate gesture. Doglike, unspoken, something he shared with his family. And now he and Larus do that, share it, know each other. There's no taking it back.
He shifts to cup a hand to the back of Larus's neck, sighing, and kisses him back. Not hard. ]
Okay.
[ There's no one else here he'd trust to keep watch while he slept. ]
[ There's tenderness in the gesture, and he doesn't know what to do with that. Rather than overthink it, Larus pulls away and takes Carver's hand, only going so far as walking over to the mattress before sitting there. It has some decent spring, but like everything else in this place, it's musty. Not that it matters since it's better than sleeping directly on the floor.
Having let go of Carver to sit, all he does is look up at him with an unspoken invitation: he can lean on him if he wants. ]
[ How many times has he slept in shittier places than this? On the ground, gun in hand, ready for anything? Too many, Carver thinks. He liked it best when he and Shaw were back to back, or — in the old days — when Matthew was between them. Shielded, their family at hand. It felt safe even when it wasn’t. And then Carver wonders how often Larus did the same — sleeping rough, if he slept at all.
Enough, Carver thinks. Often enough.
He doesn’t fight it. Just sits down next to Larus and leans against him without a word. He closes his eyes. ]
[ Larus leans back, gently slipping his hand to retake Carver's so his fingertips brush along the outline of his knuckles through his gloves. Even like this, he can still feel the warmth of him, and he turns most of his attention to what might be happening outside or inside the building despite the desire to listen to Carver's breathing and fall into its rhythm.
Given the lack of windows, it's difficult to tell what time it is. Or how long they stay like that—an hour or two, at least. There is the slightest jerk of his head when a scream hits close to the cellar doors, but it fades quickly after, the grip on Carver's arm easing when he realizes they're safe.
Rather than say anything, he presses closer and rests their heads together. ]
[ The strange part is that he does settle, falling into a state of rest even if he doesn’t sleep. Carver slows his breathing down and piece by piece, he settles. Larus holds steady, a constant presence, and it—
It settles, for a little while.
Carver stirs with a start when Larus does, reaching instinctively for his gun. But Larus doesn’t move like they’re about to get attacked, just —
Holds him.
Oh, Carver thinks, adrenaline still spiking, and remembers to breathe.
Someone outside, [ he answers, low and quiet. ] But they're gone now.
[ Running away, maybe, but Larus doesn't know for certain what that had been about. And it could be daylight out now, a thought that slips in even as he sort of nuzzles against him.
There's always something about this sort of intimacy that strikes him as unusual. Possibly because he'd never really had it in his life aside from fleeting moments, or perhaps it had just been too complicated. It still feels complicated, conflicting sometimes, and that's more to do with himself than Carver. More things to talk about, and he's already so tired of talking. ]
[ Bring able to hear things like that might have saved them some pain back home, Carver thinks — jealousy spiking for a moment. If he and his brothers could hear a heartbeat, could tell when the approaching bodies were human or not. God, it could have helped them. And then Carver wonders if he’ll be able to do that one day, if Frost keeps giving him blood.
That’d be something, wouldn’t it?
Carver exhales, pressing against Larus. Needing that closeness, maybe. ]
[ For a moment, he doesn't answer. All he does in those seconds is turn enough to curl his arm around Carver and breathe in, trying to accustom himself to all the new things about him. His pulse, mostly, and even as he begins to find some familiarity in that, there's that sting of betrayal that creeps up again.
There's no room to think about it, and yet, it might just haunt him the entire time things are like this between them. ]
I'm not sure. [ He tries to listen to what might be outside. ] Morning, at least. It's hard to tell without looking.
[ Larus settles again, this time focusing only on Carver. His heartbeat, his voice. He already misses the way it used to be. ]
Chaos, [ he says eventually, his hand dropping against Carver's thigh to stroke along the top of it. ] I can control it now, but when I was first turned, I thought I was going crazy. [ There's a pause. ] It's useful for some things. I don't know if it's worth it though.
[ He likes it, Carver realizes. When they touch like this, how they hold each other. He shifts so he can trail his fingers over Larus's arm. Idle touches for now, just to do them. ]
[ He thinks he can imagine that. A world full of the dead, no real life left in it aside from what people make of it. There's a soft hum that accompanies the way Carver touches him. As always, he wants to be as close to him as he possibly can. ]
Almost a year, I think. I didn't really keep track of time until after that. [ He sighs. ] It feels like there's no real reason to.
[ There's a noticeable shiver that slips through him when Carver's skin brushes along his own. He's so warm, and though they've stayed pressed together for a while now, Larus is so close to just climbing into Carver's lap. At least he's distracted enough by Carver telling him how old he is not to do it.
Thirty-six? He never would have guessed that. ]
It's easy to forget those things. [ It's said softly, and the silence lingers before Larus speaks again. ] I was twenty-two when I died. It's only been a few years since then – I think. I don't know.
[ He doesn't know if he likes that or not, and in the end, he decides to follow through with shifting and straddling Carver so he's practically in his lap. His fingers find his hair, noses touching as he soaks all of this in. ]
I haven't been one in a long time. [ And I'll be older than you one day, he thinks. ] Does it matter?
[ Something about that hurts him in a way he isn't prepared for, fingers tightening in Carver's hair before he remembers that he doesn't want to hurt him. Maybe it's just easier if this is all that they do, but then, he doesn't think he could ever go back to anything else. No matter how much pain he suffers. ]
Don't say that. [ His voice is quiet. ] I need you to stay with me.
That doesn't mean you're dead here. [ It spills out of him before he can swallow it, conscious of the shiver that tears through him. ] I can feel how alive you are.
[ And they would have time, wouldn't they? As long as they stayed in this place, as long as they didn't leave. ]
[ Carver smooths his hands up Larus’s sides, watching him. Just watching him. If they’d met anywhere else, they would have killed each other and thought nothing of it.
But they didn’t. And that’s the trick, isn’t it? They met here, in this place. ]
[ If he returns home, he's certain he'll die in some way before his time—either because Casimir did something stupid or because Sun killed him. Larus doesn't want to think about that, but it's a reality he faces every time another day passes in this place. Would he go home? Does he even want to now? ]
[ Somewhere else. Carver tips his head back, breathing out slow. He wishes, suddenly, that it didn't feel like such a fever dream. Things never get better, not for long. It's just an endless cycle of fighting, enduring, and fighting again. You live for the in-between moments.
[ Larus has to take the time to exhale. If he could see Sofie again... ]
She already thinks I'm dead. [ And he hasn't gone back to see her either. ] I don't know if there's really anything else worth going back for.
[ He'd wake up to the dark, to the smell of blood and the pain of Sun digging his fingers into his eye. He'd suffer more than he ever would here, no matter how many times Carver unintentionally broke his heart. It doesn't stop him from leaning forward though, gaze focused on nothing but him. ]
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I think it'll help.
[ But Larus remains still, kissing him again because he can. ]
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He shifts to cup a hand to the back of Larus's neck, sighing, and kisses him back. Not hard. ]
Okay.
[ There's no one else here he'd trust to keep watch while he slept. ]
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Having let go of Carver to sit, all he does is look up at him with an unspoken invitation: he can lean on him if he wants. ]
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Enough, Carver thinks. Often enough.
He doesn’t fight it. Just sits down next to Larus and leans against him without a word. He closes his eyes. ]
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Given the lack of windows, it's difficult to tell what time it is. Or how long they stay like that—an hour or two, at least. There is the slightest jerk of his head when a scream hits close to the cellar doors, but it fades quickly after, the grip on Carver's arm easing when he realizes they're safe.
Rather than say anything, he presses closer and rests their heads together. ]
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It settles, for a little while.
Carver stirs with a start when Larus does, reaching instinctively for his gun. But Larus doesn’t move like they’re about to get attacked, just —
Holds him.
Oh, Carver thinks, adrenaline still spiking, and remembers to breathe.
He shivers. ]
What is it?
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[ Running away, maybe, but Larus doesn't know for certain what that had been about. And it could be daylight out now, a thought that slips in even as he sort of nuzzles against him.
There's always something about this sort of intimacy that strikes him as unusual. Possibly because he'd never really had it in his life aside from fleeting moments, or perhaps it had just been too complicated. It still feels complicated, conflicting sometimes, and that's more to do with himself than Carver. More things to talk about, and he's already so tired of talking. ]
You should try to rest more.
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That’d be something, wouldn’t it?
Carver exhales, pressing against Larus. Needing that closeness, maybe. ]
What time is it?
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There's no room to think about it, and yet, it might just haunt him the entire time things are like this between them. ]
I'm not sure. [ He tries to listen to what might be outside. ] Morning, at least. It's hard to tell without looking.
[ Which he isn't going to do. ]
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What's it like, being able to hear everything?
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Chaos, [ he says eventually, his hand dropping against Carver's thigh to stroke along the top of it. ] I can control it now, but when I was first turned, I thought I was going crazy. [ There's a pause. ] It's useful for some things. I don't know if it's worth it though.
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It would be, where I'm from.
[ It's said simply. ]
How long did it take you to get control?
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Almost a year, I think. I didn't really keep track of time until after that. [ He sighs. ] It feels like there's no real reason to.
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We stopped counting years after Matthew died.
[ Hadn’t felt like much point in remembering, so they didn’t. Carver traces the ridges of Larus’s knuckles, gaze distant. ]
I think I’m thirty-six now, but I don’t know for sure. It got a little fuzzy for a while.
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Thirty-six? He never would have guessed that. ]
It's easy to forget those things. [ It's said softly, and the silence lingers before Larus speaks again. ] I was twenty-two when I died. It's only been a few years since then – I think. I don't know.
[ And part of him doesn't care. ]
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Still. Carver huffs a little, nudging his head against Larus’s. ]
Shit. You’re still a kid.
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I haven't been one in a long time. [ And I'll be older than you one day, he thinks. ] Does it matter?
[ It never felt like it had. ]
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No, [ he says after a moment. ] Guess it doesn't. You'll live a lot longer than I will, anyway.
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Don't say that. [ His voice is quiet. ] I need you to stay with me.
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I'm human. I already died.
[ He says it as gently as he can. ]
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[ And they would have time, wouldn't they? As long as they stayed in this place, as long as they didn't leave. ]
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But they didn’t. And that’s the trick, isn’t it? They met here, in this place. ]
You think this place will last?
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[ If he returns home, he's certain he'll die in some way before his time—either because Casimir did something stupid or because Sun killed him. Larus doesn't want to think about that, but it's a reality he faces every time another day passes in this place. Would he go home? Does he even want to now? ]
If it doesn't, we can find somewhere else.
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He shivers. ]
What about your sister?
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She already thinks I'm dead. [ And he hasn't gone back to see her either. ] I don't know if there's really anything else worth going back for.
[ He'd wake up to the dark, to the smell of blood and the pain of Sun digging his fingers into his eye. He'd suffer more than he ever would here, no matter how many times Carver unintentionally broke his heart. It doesn't stop him from leaning forward though, gaze focused on nothing but him. ]
But if you don't want me to stay... [ He won't. ]
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