The God Eaters

by Jesse Hajicek

Not sure whether to be embarrassed or amused, Kieran took the bowl of food he was offered and busied himself with eating for a little while. After the first bite, it was no longer a pose. He was pretty sure he couldn't have made fried liver and some boring vegetable taste so good. He wolfed down half of it before he was willing to stop long enough to talk. "What was I saying?"

  "I don't know, it was Iavaian. The thing that spooked me is you weren't mumbling, like people usually do when they talk in their sleep. You sounded like you were lecturing."

  "Weird."

  "This whole place is weird."

  "Yeah, but..." A sudden spike of worry hit him, as he realized Ash might want to leave. And where could they go? And what if Ash associated him with the weirdness, wanted to ditch him, he'd been a huge burden lately --

  Before he could say anything, Ash reached out to rest a hand briefly on his knee. "It's all right.

  It's a friendly weirdness, I think. Look at how fast you're healing. It likes you."

  I'm going to have to say something soon, or do something. To make sure he knows how much I want him to stay with me. But can I make that kind of -- it's a demand, really, can I demand that of him? No, I can't ask, because if staying made him unhappy, and my asking made him do it anyway --

  "Kai, it's all right," Ash insisted. Responding to the feeling, not knowing its source. Kieran resolved to set it aside for now, think it over when Ash was asleep or something.

  After they'd finished with the liver and eggplant, Ash juggled the two halves of the squash out of the hot embers. He'd sprinkled sugar on them, but they were still not very good. Kind of dry and stringy.

  "You really need butter to do this right," Ash explained. "I thought of using a bit of deer fat, but decided against it."

  "Gah. Good call."

  "Maybe we'll find a bee tree, get some honey, that would've worked."

  "Well, I'm eating mine anyway. I'll have yours if you don't want it. Pass it over." He polished off both portions, right down to the charred skin. Finally, his belly felt full for the first time in -- he couldn't remember how long. "Now this," he said, "is life."

  "Don't get too comfy. You've still got some stitches in you."

  Kieran moved away from the pillar and took off his sling so Ash could get at his back. Probing at the scar with his fingers to find out how many stitches were left, he found that it didn't hurt unless he really dug in. "This is bizarre. It hurts a lot less now than it did -- what, four hours ago?"

  "Not even that. I think it was a bit after noon when I started pulling the stitches, and the sun's still at half-mast. Yeah, something around here is definitely healing you. Oh. Bad thing." He tugged at a stitch with his fingers. "You've totally healed up around the thread."

  "Just go ahead and haul it out."

  "If you say so." Ash's breath washed across his shoulder, and then he felt a slight scrape of teeth, and a sharp needling sensation. This was repeated three times in the same spot before it was followed by a tug, and Ash switched to fingers to pull the loosened thread the rest of the way out.

  "That didn't hurt much."

  "It didn't bleed much, either. Just little dots. When I did it before, it ripped the scar some. Ready for the next one?"

  "Quit asking me. Just do 'em all."

  Now that he was full of good food and feeling nearly healthy, he found he was far more bothered by the feeling of Ash's mouth on him than he'd been before. Definitely getting better. Well enough to --? He was abruptly unsure how Ash would respond if he turned around and kissed him. They were comfortable together, true, glad together, good friends, there was trust. But for all he knew, Ash had been feeling filthy and regretful about that night -- might not be remembering it as lovemaking, but as a seduction. They hadn't discussed it. Even if he still wants me, he'd probably rather not do anything right now. He's had to deal with spit and blood and pus and vomit. And I'm not real clean just presently.

  I'm making excuses. I'm scared. This is idiotic. I know he cares for me, loves me -- I know that, right?

  The other day, when I said I loved him, he didn't say it back.

  Ash paused in the middle of working on a particularly tricky thread. "Are you all right? Is something bothering you?"

  "Just because you're an empath doesn't mean you get to eavesdrop while I'm thinking."

  "Oh. Hell. I was, wasn't I? I'm really sorry."

  Kieran sighed, wishing he'd phrased that better. "Just get it done, will you?"

  That was the last thread on his back. Then Ash came around to work on the front, and that was even more disturbing. Kieran couldn't stop imagining warm breath and grazing teeth moving upwards from there, in along his collarbone, up his throat. His hands made fists to keep from reaching out, and he wondered why he was stopping himself.

  Seven stitches later, Ash picked the final scabbed thread out of his teeth and held it up, and Kieran breathed a sigh of relief that it was over. Relief and regret.

  "What a day," Ash said. "I saw a hill of gold, got a history lesson, squidged around in guts, and ate scab."

  Uncomfortable as he was, Kieran couldn't help grinning. "That was fun, what do you wanna do now?"

  "You should bathe." A hesitation, Ash's smile faltering as he realized he was being rude. "I don't mean you smell, it's just, when you've been ill --"

  "No, I do smell, I can smell me."

  "And if you wait any longer, you'll have wet hair when night comes."

  "Yeah."

  "Sorry, I'm usually more tactful than that. Don't be mad."

  "Don't be such a drama hog. Of course I'm not mad." Feigning exasperation, Kieran got up and lurched off toward the pond. When he reached it and looked back, he couldn't see Ash in the entrance of the temple. Ash was making no effort to watch. He really wasn't interested.

  Well, naturally. Like you're such a prize, Trevarde. Why would anyone want to look at your skinny yellow ass?

  Dropping his blanket-kilt, carefully setting his compass on top of it, he waded in. The water was warmer than he'd expected. Just cool enough to offset the hot sun. His legs looked sickly-pale under the surface. Weeds and mud squished between his toes, making him wonder how he'd get out without ending up with mud shoes.

  He was tempted to swim out to the middle, but wasn't sure he had the strength to get back again if he did. Instead, he skirted the edges, beginning to enjoy the water despite his self-pity. About halfway around, he found a place where the mud gave way to sand. This shallow beach, he discovered, ran twenty feet out, then suddenly dropped off. He didn't test the drop-off; he was sure weeds would wrap his ankles and drown him. It was sickening to be so weak.

  Sitting crosslegged on the sand, so that the water was chest-high, he pulled the string off his braid. A bunch of hairs came with it. Strands kept coming out as he unraveled the braid, wrapping around his fingers, so he imagined that when he got it completely undone the whole thing would fall off, leaving him bald. Of course, that didn't happen. He ducked his head a few times, working his fingers in, and each time had to pick loose hair off his hands.

  "Hey."

  Ash's voice startled him. He twisted around, shoving his wet hair back. The redhead was standing on the edge of the grass where it met the sand, rifle slung over his shoulder, offering a lump of soap. When he saw he had Kieran's attention, he tossed it underhand.

  Kieran caught the soap neatly. "Going hunting again? We've got enough to last us a week."

  "Nah, I thought I'd kind of stand watch."

  "Oh."

  "There might be, you know, various toothy critters. Not that you couldn't take 'em, normally, but

  --"

  "Yeah, okay."

  Ash sat down with the rifle across his knees, and made a show of gazing off into the distance.

  Funny that I didn't sense him coming closer. I'm not wearing that compass charm he made, true, but didn't I used to have a better sense of where he is? I guess we don't have that connection anymore. No, what am I thinking, it's because I'm in water.
Why am I hunting reasons to be unhappy? What am I trying to push away?

  Turning his back on Ash, more to hide his expression than from modesty, he went to work with the soap. His skin was two shades lighter when he was done scrubbing it. When he washed his hair, the lather turned gray, and grit got caught under his fingernails.

  He lay back to rinse off. Watched his hair swirl above him, deep black clouds streaked with milky soap-water. Then he did the whole thing again. As he did, he was aware that he was stalling. Because now would be a very good time to open the subject -- all those difficult subjects

  -- what sort of relationship they had, whether to stand by confessions made in strange circumstances. Once it was given a label, it could no longer be changed or denied. And if it turned out to be a bad idea, things could get so much worse...

  Leaving things unspoken wasn't really an option anymore, though. It was all too obvious. He just knew he was going to botch everything, but if he acted like it didn't matter, that would be a kind of botch as well. It shouldn't have been so confusing. He couldn't figure out why the thought of being the one to reach out seemed so sick. Why he felt he ought to convince Ash that he was -what, unworthy? Dangerous? Wasn't that a kind of arrogance?

  So he wasted time, trying to think of what he wanted to say, finding all his words scrambled and useless.

  Eventually he started to get chilled. He tossed the soap up on the bank. Ash set the rifle aside and offered the spare blanket, the one he'd washed earlier. Kieran wrapped the blanket around his waist and wrung out his hair. When he looked up again, Ash had a comb.

  "Thanks." Kieran reached for it, but Ash didn't hand it to him.

  "I'll do it for you."

  "Oh. Okay." For the zillionth time that day, he sat with his back turned and let Ash mess with him.

  It was a beautiful day. They were free. He was miraculously healed, when by rights he should have been dead. It was stupid to brood. So how come he had to drag out memories of almosts and false starts and mull over them like some crippled soldier wearing out his old battles?

  If I try to explain, I might drive a wedge between us. I don't really have to say anything now, do I? Maybe it can wait. Maybe it's an insult to him to assume he doesn't understand. Maybe I don't want him to understand.

  The comb paused. "Kieran, what on earth is the matter?"

  "Eavesdropping again?"

  Combing resumed, but stopped again after only a few seconds. "But you seem so unhappy. Can't I help?"

  "You are helping."

  "Then why does it seem like it's me you're unhappy with?"

  Kieran studied his oversized, knobby hands where they rested on his oversized, knobby knees.

  He hated the whole clumsy overgrown body he was stuck in. As he tried to find a way to answer that wouldn't make his decision for him, his stomach began to roil as if it were full of rattlesnakes. His voice came out whispery: "You're not the problem."

  "Then what is?" After a moment, Ash's hands touched his sides. Sun-hot arms slid around his waist; a faintly stubbled cheek rested against the sensitive new scar. Lightly, painlessly. Helpless to refuse, Kieran leaned back into the embrace.

  And there goes the option of leaving the subject alone. Oh shit, I'm going to blurt and babble, aren't I? Kieran's head started to hurt, right in the middle of his forehead. "It's hard to explain."

  His own voice sounded strange to him. "I guess I'm just -- I'm confused. That's all."

  "Tell me. I'll help you figure it out."

  "It's not -- can I use your own words on you? Is that fair?"

  "Go ahead. I won't be angry."

  "Then... I need to know how you feel about me." He winced, when he heard himself say that. I sound pathetic.

  Slowly, Ash let go. He moved to where he could see Kieran's face. "You don't know?" He sounded incredulous. "I love you. I thought you knew. I guess I've been a coward. I should have shown it more. I love you."

  The words were like physical blows, with the weight of quiet intensity Ash put into them. Kieran felt his expression go strange as he met Ash's eyes, was caught by blinding blue. His headache spread all across his forehead, his whole head felt too tight. "Say it again."

  Ash's smile was lopsided. "I'm stupidly, helplessly, crazy in love with you. I'd do anything for you. I want to belong to you, like a name, I want to be a thing people have to know to know you.

  I don't understand why that's hurting you."

  "I don't... I don't know either." To his shock and dismay, his voice broke.

  "Kieran?"

  "I'm not -- shit, I'm sorry --" He put his hand wonderingly to his face, disbelieving, as a hot spill of wetness streaked down the side of his nose. Next, to make matters worse, came a hiccuping sound that he realized was a sob.

  "Please tell me what's wrong. I didn't mean to hurt you."

  Kieran could only shake his head. He clamped his hand over his mouth to contain the mounting pressure of this feeling, these noises, but they wouldn't stop. He couldn't see. He couldn't think.

  He wasn't ready. Showing teeth, clenched in a futile attempt to silence himself, he reached blindly and blundered into Ash's arm, wrapped his fingers around it. Reached out with his heart's hand, not to do harm but simply to make contact. Show me. Show me you know what kind of poisonous animal I am, before you say those things.

  Through that touch a flood of feeling poured. So good it was agonizing. How could anyone stand it? How could Ash ever feel something that pure for someone so wrecked?

  "Say it again!" Kieran ordered, hating the way his voice wobbled and fractured.

  "I love you, I want to make you happy, I'll do anything."

  "Why, Ash? Why -- why me? Of all the people in the world -- you couldn't have found someone worse, don't you know what I am?"

  Ash's voice was low and sweet, trying to calm him. "Yes, I know what you are."

  "And what I've done. All the things I've done."

  "I see why you did those things. Maybe you had alternatives, maybe in hindsight you can think of what they were, but at the time -- do you need me to forgive you? Would that help?"

  "There are things no one can forgive me for."

  "Stop. I don't blame you. I don't have the right to judge you, but I'm the only one who really knows you, and I say you're not a bad person. Sometimes you're a very good person; the rest of the time you're just trying to stay alive. But you're not bad. That's the truth." When that only made Kieran cry harder, he grabbed Kieran's chin and made him look. His eyes were pale and bright as sunlight on water. "You deserve to be loved. I'm going to keep saying so until you believe me. I think you're wonderful. You're strong and smart and funny and brave, and so gorgeous it breaks my heart to look at you. There's no one else in the world remotely like you.

  Do you know why it drove me out of my mind when I thought you were dead? Not just because I missed you, not just because I wanted you to be alive, but because something totally unique had been destroyed. As if the tallest mountain in the world just one day fell down, or the deepest lake just dried up. I cried because I missed you, but I lost it because the world missed you. Missed out on you. That's how important you are."

  "I can't believe that." It was easier to talk now, though the tears were still running.

  "You don't have to. I'll believe it for you."

  "And when you change your mind --"

  "I won't."

  "You should! I can't be trusted, I don't know why you keep trusting me, it's going to get you killed, what if I get you killed?"

  "What if it's worth it?"

  Kieran jammed his eyes shut, hiding from the clarity of Ash's stare. He drew a shuddering breath. It was a while before he could speak, and even then he couldn't answer what Ash had said. "This is so embarrassing. After all the times I called you a crybaby." He dragged his wrist across his eyes, examined the wet streak on his skin so he wouldn't have to look up. "I've been such a rotten person. Don't tell me I haven't -- I was a contract killer, for fuck's sake, I mur
dered people I didn't even hate! I want to atone for it. Don't just forgive me outright, Ashes, let me earn free of it."

  "That's fair."

  "I'm afraid to touch you. I'm afraid I'll spoil you. You're so pure, and I'm such a fucking cesspit."

  "No."

  "I'll dirty the one clean thing I ever knew."

  With a sad smile, Ash took up his hand and kissed the knuckles. "If that's the case, well, the truth is it goes the other way. The closer you get to me, the cleaner you become. Look back on the time we've known each other. Look at the changes."

  Gathering his thoughts, looking honestly at memory, was harder than it had ever been. But he forced himself to see clearly, and it was true. His cynicism had been eroding ever since he'd first seen a gawky nameless white boy staring at him on the train. It had become impossible to lie to himself, shout himself down. "I'm too raw now," he said. "I used to say you care about things too much. I'm starting to do that too."