[ He's falling back into the darkest parts of his mind, pitch black and all-consuming. A familiar voice taunts at him, torments him, jeers at him that he'll never escape. So as long as he breathes and lives, he will always be cursed to suffer the same pains and losses. After all, none of this is new to him. He's taken lives to entertain rich men, he's lost the people closest to him, he's been swallowed up by these exact emotions in the past and present.
That fragile thread in his head threatens to snap, just like the others before it. This might be the last one, he's not sure. He could go down that obsessive spiral again, or he could end it before it came to that, or—
He startles at the stroke to his face, the sound of his name. And then he stares at Nehan. He'd been on the brink of collapse, a crumbling ledge, a precipice of the greatest of heights. He could fall, and that would be that, but seeing Nehan, feeling him, hearing him, he steps back.
That arena had seen him make the most selfish of choices. Maybe the guilt will gradually destroy him, erode what's left of his soul over time, but he'll stand by those decisions.
Without a word, Aventurine wraps his arms around Nehan to yank him in for an embrace. It's desperate and not especially gentle. It might even have left bruises in its wake if he'd been at his full strength, but right now, all he can do is hold on. ]
[ He's drawn into an indelicate squeeze, stiffening slightly in alarm. But it eases; he slowly, carefully hooks his chin on Aventurine's shoulder and rests there, loosely wrapping his arms around his middle, like he might break him otherwise.
It strikes him as a bad idea, even as he does it. He rarely allows himself to comfort anyone—part of him considers that an unkind word or cruel smile right now could drive Aventurine away forever, before he starts relying on Nehan too much. That's all it would take. But he can't bring himself to try, swallowing thickly as he gets the life half-squeezed out of him. He can barely say anything at all.
Because it was supposed to be an easy week. Lazing around in hot springs before doing research together in some vain hope for answers. He wasn't supposed to be hurt like this again. How many times has it been now? How many more times would it be? His thoughts project a fury he never voices.
( No one should be allowed to do this to you anymore. ) ]
[ It takes some effort not to sag his weight entirely against Nehan. Aventurine busies himself by focusing on the rise and fall of Nehan's chest against his and the faint heartbeat he can feel between them. If they could stay this way forever, he wouldn't mind, and he presses the uninjured side of his face against gray hair.
He tries not to think about how he'd done the same to golden hair just a day before.
And then the furious thought comes, followed by the demand. Both of them constrict at his heart. It leaves him feeling more light-headed than before, and the painful aches surrounding his person shift into something sentimental. Delirious and exhausted, having died and then come back on the edge of death once again, Aventurine speaks before his thoughts speak for him. ]
As if I can help it. They're using you because of how I feel about you.
[ He's at least sturdy enough not to topple over, balancing Aventurine with an arm at the small of his back. Without thinking, he shifts his head minutely, just enough to let him rest against his hair at a more comfortable angle. It runs very counter to what he says. ]
Then stop feeling that way.
[ It's his stupid, bleeding heart that got him into this mess. Nehan can make some assumptions now on what happened: Aventurine thought he'd been kidnapped, helpless, and did something to protect him from harm. But— ( You could've let me die. ) It would've spared him the heartache of a choice that left him in such obvious tatters. He wouldn't have resented him for it. ]
[ The scoff he lets out practically sends him into a coughing fit, but he manages to settle down after a cough or two. He'll grumble a response under his breath instead, something that sounds an awful lot like 'stupid idiot' before focusing on the question. ]
They made us fight in a tournament as a team of four. If we didn't cooperate, the people closest to us would be in danger.
[ The arms around Nehan loosen a bit, no longer squeezing as they come down to a relaxed hold instead. Aventurine's reluctant to speak about this to Nehan of all people, tone strained, but they're not exactly in the habit of hiding things from each other. Especially not at this point. ]
We fought in two rounds. They resurrected my sister for the first one, [ he says this with gritted teeth. ] Maybe it's because she's been gone for so long, but... I wouldn't let myself believe it was her.
[ DON'T JUST CALL HIM AN IDIOT. Aventurine is the idiot.
Or maybe they're both idiots. Since he's injured, he graciously allows this insult to slide. ]
Your sister... [ He's mentioned her on a few occasions now. Someone who'd sang him lullabies and looked after him when he was a child, who he'd clearly adored. He'd held some hope that she was alive, but he's not surprised to hear otherwise. ] You're right though. It wasn't her. ...All these places and experiences prey on your memories and weaknesses.
Anyway, it feels a little easier to discuss now that he knows none of it had been real. The memories continue to linger at the forefront of his thoughts, every sensation and emotion as clear as if it had been real, but Aventurine pushes back against them. ]
I killed her, [ he admits, voice small. ] Even if it wasn't her, I couldn't let her stay like that.
[ If in some universe that world, that island, still exists, he wants it to be without her. ]
We... ended up breaking a rule. [ He'd been outraged at Cloud at the time, but he sees no reason to blame him for it now. ] As punishment and for the second round, they made us each choose between two people who to fight and who to spare.
[ Who is the idiot who had a choice between spiting a half-dead furry who can't run, or Topaz?
Even if it wasn't really his sister, having to kill an image of her—to grant her mercy—couldn't be easy. He shuts his eyes a moment, silent as he listens and brushes his knuckles down Aventurine's side and up again, mindlessly comforting. Though there is a little pause in the motion, like a record skipping, when he explains the next part. As if having to kill the specter of his dead family weren't enough. ]
And that's why you thought someone had kidnapped me.
[ It's surreal to be important enough to be anyone's hostage, an upswell of uncertain emotion in him that he tempers in his voice. He thinks of the relief in Aventurine's expression when he first woke, despite everything. ]
I'm fine. Even if it were real, I... [ He would've rather died than be used against him? ] You didn't have to worry about me. [ He would've been a lot less angry than fake!Topaz was. ]
[ Okay, but it would have killed him to hurt Nehan.
A memory creeps forward here, brief but excruciatingly detailed as the images flicker past each other, one by one. It's his sister, tendrils coming out of her, then Topaz with the same, and then the others. All of them no longer mentally present, an absence of self in their dull, lifeless eyes. The memory fades as quickly as it had arrived, just a glimpse into what he'd seen. ]
I didn't want... [ he lowers his face, places his forehead against Nehan's shoulder ] ... them to turn you into something mindless.
[ Something to be used and then disposed of. Something that he couldn't save his sister from, fake or not. It's not dissimilar to Nehan's furious thought from before. They've both had their lives decided for them, made the hard decisions in order to survive, and that's enough. They've done enough. They've given enough. ]
The memory grips him, and he's staring down a dull-eyed blonde woman, the first time he actually gets to see Aventurine's sister at all, but only the shell of her. Then another girl, who must be some companion to him—the one who'd become this in his place. He's only jostled back into the present when he feels the heavy weight of Aventurine's head on his shoulder, heartbeat rising, pointlessly angry. Largely adoring. ]
...You should've.
[ He's 'free' these days, but he doesn't remember how to be more than an object anyway, the trigger of a gun—he'd slip right back into it if it kept them safe. It's easier. It's thoughtless and he doesn't have to worry about things like the future and surviving and at this point he's realizing that he'd have no regrets dying for Aventurine at all.
Whatever the hell this is? This is hard. The careful leash of his emotions loosens a fraction, and he holds him a little tighter, frustrated. ]
[ It might be better that they aren't facing each other. Aventurine can't control the way his expression twists with grief and agony. His throat feels tight, as does his chest, and he remembers the way that the gun that had been meant to save him had been lowered between his eyes instead.
A fitting turn of events for someone like him who had learned to use others in exchange for his survival. ]
I died in the second round.
[ And he'd both welcomed it and feared it. It had been quick and mostly painless, better than anything he deserved, and he'd even had the time to witness someone trying to save him at the very last second. Admirable, but laughable. It's so easy to slip back into his self-deprecating thoughts, but he has more to tell. ]
But I was given another choice. I could choose to live again, or I could choose to let my sister take my place.
[ He inhales with a tremble, and his arms loosen even more around Nehan, like he's ready to be shoved away for what he's about to selfishly admit. ]
[ He'd asked because he suspected this much, but something hooks deep in his chest and pulls. Of course he died again. Why wouldn't he. How many times does that make it, now? When is it going to stick?
He shrugs Aventurine off his shoulder so he can slide a hand up his throat, covering that brand with his fingers. Nehan is not forceful—he only lightly holds up Aventurine's jaw with a forefinger and thumb so he can look him dead in the eye. ]
Good.
[ He doesn't hold any ill will towards his sister—she surely deserves to live just as much. Perhaps she lived a cleaner life, with kinder decisions, a pond without chance to be polluted. But there's something just—too devastating to accept about Aventurine scrapping tooth and nail for so long only to die now, right at the cusp of living for himself, for finding meaning in an existence razed and made barren of it.
Or maybe Nehan's just being selfish, too. ]
Did you think she'd resent you? That I would? [ Nehan is resigned to a great many things, but he doesn't change his mind easily once it's set. It's good that Aventurine survived. There's little to sway him from that. He pauses before pressing a kiss against Aventurine's forehead, the edge of his voice dropping off. ] Don't kid yourself. That's your own guilt. What I want is for you to live.
[ He should choose himself. He should be selfish and happy and alive. ]
[ It's almost dizzying, the rush of emotions that crash over him as Nehan holds him and says the very words that he had longed to hear. Every single one of his insecurities had built themselves up, climbed their way into his head to sink into his unstable mind in an attempt to sweep his feet out from under him. He'd feared the worst because he's only known the worst, and it would have been just one more thing to swallow into the chasm of his rotten being.
He's questioned this final decision of his ever since returning. He can still feel his sister tugging at the sleeve of his shirt, crying that it wasn't fair that it was him and not her. But Aventurine had held fast to what had made him come to his choice in the first place, and he hears it now, out loud, from the source himself. ]
... Me too, [ he says, barely audible with how softly he whispers it. ] I want to live.
[ For this. For a thousand more moments like this. Aventurine understands, for the first time, why it is people are born. It's not just to die at the end of their journeys. It's to have a journey in the first place. It's to be able to experience what he's experiencing right now, a press of lips against his forehead and someone he deeply cares for telling him what he'd been too afraid to admit before. Too afraid to consider if he could deserve such a thing.
But with this, he'll live.
He reaches up with hands that no longer shake to cup Nehan's face carefully, like there's nothing else as precious as this. As highly sought-after, as valuable, or as cherished as this. He presses a single kiss against those lips, tender and affectionate, before pulling back with a request. ]
[ He's never had to convince anyone besides himself to live—the only person he'd still cared for before the cult was... happy. The kind of carefree soul that relished a new morning. It's always Nehan who's being pushed along, dragged, whether it's by a leash or fate or revenge or guilt.
So it's a strange, potent relief to hear that Aventurine wants to continue struggling. And it is a struggle, living, so he doesn't know what urges him on to encourage anyone else to try. Maybe it's fear. He doesn't want Aventurine to die again. Or maybe it's the... something, a feeling he hasn't put a name to, that buzzes through him with absolute conceit when he shuts his eyes and they kiss again without any biting and ribbing scattered throughout.
Or it's the disarming and baffling sweetness with how Aventurine handles him, like he's holding something of value. The way he says please instead of making demands. It's kindness and obvious affection. It makes him want to say yes, but he swallows thickly, something heavy and scratchy in his throat, crowding out any attempt at words.
He doesn't leave just yet, hooking the fingers of his weak, numb hand into Aventurine's shirt as he looks at some aimless spot between his neck and shoulder. When he can't figure out how to reject him, or spit out the words to even try—he looks torn for a second, then nods briefly, drawing back in to rest their heads together again, nuzzling in until he's comfortable.
He'll stay for now. They can be together for a while, at least. It's more than either of them usually gets. ]
[ Maybe this, too, was a gamble, but he's not supposed to be making those as often these days. So, he thinks of it instead as what it should be, a natural progression between two people who have come to rely on each other. It sounds simple that way, even plainly obvious, and it's so incredibly normal for the average person, but for someone like Aventurine who has rarely had the chance to create genuine relationships, it's uncharted territory.
It's new and exciting, a different kind of thrill-seeking that has him looking forward to each day while terrifying him at the same time. His own fingers curl around the front of Nehan's shirt, a small tremble to his hand and an old habit any time he's afraid. After all, who'd know better than Aventurine the obstacles they're likely to face in the coming days? What suffering they've yet to blindly run into?
But in the end, they're all obstacles to overcome, and he's overcome them before. He'll do it again.
Right now, what he chooses to focus on is the warmth that spreads in his chest at Nehan's nod, how the two of them curl back into each other as if this was always their destination. It takes his mind off of the pain and uncertainty, and he pulls Nehan down onto the bed with him until they're lying as comfortably as they can on this rather uncomfortable hospital bed.
He'll get some more rest. And like the other times he's spent sleeping next to Nehan, his sleep will be quiet and dreamless. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
That fragile thread in his head threatens to snap, just like the others before it. This might be the last one, he's not sure. He could go down that obsessive spiral again, or he could end it before it came to that, or—
He startles at the stroke to his face, the sound of his name. And then he stares at Nehan. He'd been on the brink of collapse, a crumbling ledge, a precipice of the greatest of heights. He could fall, and that would be that, but seeing Nehan, feeling him, hearing him, he steps back.
That arena had seen him make the most selfish of choices. Maybe the guilt will gradually destroy him, erode what's left of his soul over time, but he'll stand by those decisions.
Without a word, Aventurine wraps his arms around Nehan to yank him in for an embrace. It's desperate and not especially gentle. It might even have left bruises in its wake if he'd been at his full strength, but right now, all he can do is hold on. ]
no subject
It strikes him as a bad idea, even as he does it. He rarely allows himself to comfort anyone—part of him considers that an unkind word or cruel smile right now could drive Aventurine away forever, before he starts relying on Nehan too much. That's all it would take. But he can't bring himself to try, swallowing thickly as he gets the life half-squeezed out of him. He can barely say anything at all.
Because it was supposed to be an easy week. Lazing around in hot springs before doing research together in some vain hope for answers. He wasn't supposed to be hurt like this again. How many times has it been now? How many more times would it be? His thoughts project a fury he never voices.
( No one should be allowed to do this to you anymore. ) ]
Don't let anyone use me to corner you again.
[ First the dreams. Now this. ]
no subject
He tries not to think about how he'd done the same to golden hair just a day before.
And then the furious thought comes, followed by the demand. Both of them constrict at his heart. It leaves him feeling more light-headed than before, and the painful aches surrounding his person shift into something sentimental. Delirious and exhausted, having died and then come back on the edge of death once again, Aventurine speaks before his thoughts speak for him. ]
As if I can help it. They're using you because of how I feel about you.
no subject
Then stop feeling that way.
[ It's his stupid, bleeding heart that got him into this mess. Nehan can make some assumptions now on what happened: Aventurine thought he'd been kidnapped, helpless, and did something to protect him from harm. But— ( You could've let me die. ) It would've spared him the heartache of a choice that left him in such obvious tatters. He wouldn't have resented him for it. ]
What did they have you do?
no subject
They made us fight in a tournament as a team of four. If we didn't cooperate, the people closest to us would be in danger.
[ The arms around Nehan loosen a bit, no longer squeezing as they come down to a relaxed hold instead. Aventurine's reluctant to speak about this to Nehan of all people, tone strained, but they're not exactly in the habit of hiding things from each other. Especially not at this point. ]
We fought in two rounds. They resurrected my sister for the first one, [ he says this with gritted teeth. ] Maybe it's because she's been gone for so long, but... I wouldn't let myself believe it was her.
no subject
Or maybe they're both idiots. Since he's injured, he graciously allows this insult to slide. ]
Your sister... [ He's mentioned her on a few occasions now. Someone who'd sang him lullabies and looked after him when he was a child, who he'd clearly adored. He'd held some hope that she was alive, but he's not surprised to hear otherwise. ] You're right though. It wasn't her. ...All these places and experiences prey on your memories and weaknesses.
[ It's cruel, but effective. ]
no subject
Anyway, it feels a little easier to discuss now that he knows none of it had been real. The memories continue to linger at the forefront of his thoughts, every sensation and emotion as clear as if it had been real, but Aventurine pushes back against them. ]
I killed her, [ he admits, voice small. ] Even if it wasn't her, I couldn't let her stay like that.
[ If in some universe that world, that island, still exists, he wants it to be without her. ]
We... ended up breaking a rule. [ He'd been outraged at Cloud at the time, but he sees no reason to blame him for it now. ] As punishment and for the second round, they made us each choose between two people who to fight and who to spare.
no subject
Even if it wasn't really his sister, having to kill an image of her—to grant her mercy—couldn't be easy. He shuts his eyes a moment, silent as he listens and brushes his knuckles down Aventurine's side and up again, mindlessly comforting. Though there is a little pause in the motion, like a record skipping, when he explains the next part. As if having to kill the specter of his dead family weren't enough. ]
And that's why you thought someone had kidnapped me.
[ It's surreal to be important enough to be anyone's hostage, an upswell of uncertain emotion in him that he tempers in his voice. He thinks of the relief in Aventurine's expression when he first woke, despite everything. ]
I'm fine. Even if it were real, I... [ He would've rather died than be used against him? ] You didn't have to worry about me. [ He would've been a lot less angry than fake!Topaz was. ]
no subject
A memory creeps forward here, brief but excruciatingly detailed as the images flicker past each other, one by one. It's his sister, tendrils coming out of her, then Topaz with the same, and then the others. All of them no longer mentally present, an absence of self in their dull, lifeless eyes. The memory fades as quickly as it had arrived, just a glimpse into what he'd seen. ]
I didn't want... [ he lowers his face, places his forehead against Nehan's shoulder ] ... them to turn you into something mindless.
[ Something to be used and then disposed of. Something that he couldn't save his sister from, fake or not. It's not dissimilar to Nehan's furious thought from before. They've both had their lives decided for them, made the hard decisions in order to survive, and that's enough. They've done enough. They've given enough. ]
So I didn't let them.
no subject
The memory grips him, and he's staring down a dull-eyed blonde woman, the first time he actually gets to see Aventurine's sister at all, but only the shell of her. Then another girl, who must be some companion to him—the one who'd become this in his place. He's only jostled back into the present when he feels the heavy weight of Aventurine's head on his shoulder, heartbeat rising, pointlessly angry. Largely adoring. ]
...You should've.
[ He's 'free' these days, but he doesn't remember how to be more than an object anyway, the trigger of a gun—he'd slip right back into it if it kept them safe. It's easier. It's thoughtless and he doesn't have to worry about things like the future and surviving and at this point he's realizing that he'd have no regrets dying for Aventurine at all.
Whatever the hell this is? This is hard. The careful leash of his emotions loosens a fraction, and he holds him a little tighter, frustrated. ]
How did it end? What happened to you?
no subject
A fitting turn of events for someone like him who had learned to use others in exchange for his survival. ]
I died in the second round.
[ And he'd both welcomed it and feared it. It had been quick and mostly painless, better than anything he deserved, and he'd even had the time to witness someone trying to save him at the very last second. Admirable, but laughable. It's so easy to slip back into his self-deprecating thoughts, but he has more to tell. ]
But I was given another choice. I could choose to live again, or I could choose to let my sister take my place.
[ He inhales with a tremble, and his arms loosen even more around Nehan, like he's ready to be shoved away for what he's about to selfishly admit. ]
I chose myself.
no subject
He shrugs Aventurine off his shoulder so he can slide a hand up his throat, covering that brand with his fingers. Nehan is not forceful—he only lightly holds up Aventurine's jaw with a forefinger and thumb so he can look him dead in the eye. ]
Good.
[ He doesn't hold any ill will towards his sister—she surely deserves to live just as much. Perhaps she lived a cleaner life, with kinder decisions, a pond without chance to be polluted. But there's something just—too devastating to accept about Aventurine scrapping tooth and nail for so long only to die now, right at the cusp of living for himself, for finding meaning in an existence razed and made barren of it.
Or maybe Nehan's just being selfish, too. ]
Did you think she'd resent you? That I would? [ Nehan is resigned to a great many things, but he doesn't change his mind easily once it's set. It's good that Aventurine survived. There's little to sway him from that. He pauses before pressing a kiss against Aventurine's forehead, the edge of his voice dropping off. ] Don't kid yourself. That's your own guilt. What I want is for you to live.
[ He should choose himself. He should be selfish and happy and alive. ]
no subject
He's questioned this final decision of his ever since returning. He can still feel his sister tugging at the sleeve of his shirt, crying that it wasn't fair that it was him and not her. But Aventurine had held fast to what had made him come to his choice in the first place, and he hears it now, out loud, from the source himself. ]
... Me too, [ he says, barely audible with how softly he whispers it. ] I want to live.
[ For this. For a thousand more moments like this. Aventurine understands, for the first time, why it is people are born. It's not just to die at the end of their journeys. It's to have a journey in the first place. It's to be able to experience what he's experiencing right now, a press of lips against his forehead and someone he deeply cares for telling him what he'd been too afraid to admit before. Too afraid to consider if he could deserve such a thing.
But with this, he'll live.
He reaches up with hands that no longer shake to cup Nehan's face carefully, like there's nothing else as precious as this. As highly sought-after, as valuable, or as cherished as this. He presses a single kiss against those lips, tender and affectionate, before pulling back with a request. ]
So please stay with me.
no subject
So it's a strange, potent relief to hear that Aventurine wants to continue struggling. And it is a struggle, living, so he doesn't know what urges him on to encourage anyone else to try. Maybe it's fear. He doesn't want Aventurine to die again. Or maybe it's the... something, a feeling he hasn't put a name to, that buzzes through him with absolute conceit when he shuts his eyes and they kiss again without any biting and ribbing scattered throughout.
Or it's the disarming and baffling sweetness with how Aventurine handles him, like he's holding something of value. The way he says please instead of making demands. It's kindness and obvious affection. It makes him want to say yes, but he swallows thickly, something heavy and scratchy in his throat, crowding out any attempt at words.
He doesn't leave just yet, hooking the fingers of his weak, numb hand into Aventurine's shirt as he looks at some aimless spot between his neck and shoulder. When he can't figure out how to reject him, or spit out the words to even try—he looks torn for a second, then nods briefly, drawing back in to rest their heads together again, nuzzling in until he's comfortable.
He'll stay for now. They can be together for a while, at least. It's more than either of them usually gets. ]
no subject
It's new and exciting, a different kind of thrill-seeking that has him looking forward to each day while terrifying him at the same time. His own fingers curl around the front of Nehan's shirt, a small tremble to his hand and an old habit any time he's afraid. After all, who'd know better than Aventurine the obstacles they're likely to face in the coming days? What suffering they've yet to blindly run into?
But in the end, they're all obstacles to overcome, and he's overcome them before. He'll do it again.
Right now, what he chooses to focus on is the warmth that spreads in his chest at Nehan's nod, how the two of them curl back into each other as if this was always their destination. It takes his mind off of the pain and uncertainty, and he pulls Nehan down onto the bed with him until they're lying as comfortably as they can on this rather uncomfortable hospital bed.
He'll get some more rest. And like the other times he's spent sleeping next to Nehan, his sleep will be quiet and dreamless. ]