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. ]
I miss her all the time, [ he says, not looking away from him. ] But I'm not the same person she knew. He died years ago.
[ Too soft, too naive. Too trusting. Even now, he might be repeating those mistakes all over again, but Larus can't seem to help it, letting his fingertips stroke over the curve of Carver's cheek as he parses through what else to say. He sighs. ]
[ It changes you, Carver thinks silently. He presses into the touch. Death, dying, going to war. Watching your world end. It kills pieces of you. And no one ever gets that back. ]
Yeah. I do.
[ He shifts a little, and presses a kiss to Larus's palm. ]
[ Part of him wants to disagree with that. How much more would Carver keep from him? But he swallows it down in favor of this moment, watching the way Carver kisses his hand and feeling an ache spread all the way through him at the sweetness of it. He can't think, and maybe he shouldn't.
His fingers curl against the curve of Carver's cheek. ]
[ He knows what Leah means to Carver, knows what family means to him. Perhaps, once again, it's selfish to believe that Larus could just make a place for himself there with them, but hadn't Carver asked him that already? Weren't they supposed to rely on each other?
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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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[ It comes out quiet. Carver meets his eyes straight on. ]
I want you here. But I know what it feels like to miss a sister.
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[ Too soft, too naive. Too trusting. Even now, he might be repeating those mistakes all over again, but Larus can't seem to help it, letting his fingertips stroke over the curve of Carver's cheek as he parses through what else to say. He sighs. ]
You know me.
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Yeah. I do.
[ He shifts a little, and presses a kiss to Larus's palm. ]
And you know me.
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His fingers curl against the curve of Carver's cheek. ]
I would choose you.
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But he owes his sister too much. He owes her everything, as the last one of their family left standing. ]
I can't leave my sister. I can't, Larus.
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[ He knows what Leah means to Carver, knows what family means to him. Perhaps, once again, it's selfish to believe that Larus could just make a place for himself there with them, but hadn't Carver asked him that already? Weren't they supposed to rely on each other?
Leaning in, Larus gently kisses him. ]
I would go with you. Wherever that might be.
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