"Should have seen me trying to get out of wearing a helmet," Hiraeth said, and nudged Keith's side as if looking for a laugh. Keith failed to deliver. "Well, we met out there. She was a nurse, and she wasn't bone then. She was a flower, sunlight and warmth, someone who'd seek the sun. I died before her."
Keith swallowed at the thought. "Could humans see your body as it really is, after you died?"
"Heavens, no," Hiraeth said lightly. "We live lies far beyond death."
Shaking his head, Keith slumped a little. Somehow, that was even more a depressing thought, though he should have been able to guess it. It'd have been in the news long before now, otherwise.
Hiraeth pressed a little closer, cheek on Keith's shoulder now. "She had changed vessels when we met again, so I assume she died too. But she'd changed affinities as well. Flower for bone. Reaching out for protecting. The war wasn't kind to anyone. I haven't asked her if she died during or after—most of us don't like remembering how that feels, regardless."
He sounded mournful and lonely, a familiar feeling that made Keith's heart ache in sympathetic echo. Keith was quiet for a moment. "I don't know if she did or not," he said finally. "I couldn't tell. It was just… very big in her memory regardless. The war, I mean, though death too. I don't think I could have gotten to her true self without going through it."
"The war was like that," Hiraeth said. "It tires me out just to remember it."
"Sorry."
"It's fine," Hiraeth said, and gave him a small, intimate smile, almost sad.
"But I think," Keith said, pushing through, trying to get some positivity out of this, "one of the things I realized in there was how it's… those two things might be two sides of the same coin. Bones are still alive when they're in someone living. They grow—bones still grow, you know. If some gets cut away, it'll eventually rebuild itself. It's not… inherently dead. And yeah, I mean, she was in the grave, but it got… compared to? Paralleled? It had some way of being matched up with needing to plant a seed. Putting something in the ground so it could grow…"
Hiraeth's smile hadn't faded, but it didn't widen either. He put a fingertip over Keith's mouth, gentle. "I can't explain her metaphors, the things you saw there, and wouldn't even if I understood it. But she and I, and a lot of people like us, we've lived through some things, my darling. Living itself leaves scars. Lots of pain and lots of loss. I don't think either of us would be entirely who we are without the memory of those days. She wasn't so desperate for privacy and quiet and space, even as a nurse there, and…"
"And?"
Hiraeth shrugged against Keith. "Well, who knows," he said. "All she is, that's downstairs right now. Maybe she'll be flower and light again someday, or maybe she'll stay bone and shield. And me, all that I am exists right here, right now, and is lying in your arms. Do you need to know more?"
Keith shook his head, finally. "No," he said. "I guess not."
And he didn't. He'd seen all that, but they weren't for him. They were her mysteries: her mysterious metaphors, her mysterious symbols. All he had been there for was to find a way to let her find herself again.
And maybe that was important too. If his psychic powers were opening more, it might be good to keep in mind that other people weren't his to understand. That he could try to help them, but that didn't make it his business to know everything about them.
Even if he did want to know. He wanted to understand the forest, the graveyard, the evenly-spaced flowers, what grids meant to her. Why bone and caves and cracks. But he could ask her someday, if they became friends properly.
If he lived through the next few days.
His heart clenched in him. His mood, starting to rise, caught that thought like a gust of wind and buffeted him backward. He opened his mouth, drew a hitching breath, tried to find the words to explain what he was thinking.
"I'm scared," he blurted instead, and heard his voice come out wobbly.
"Oh…" Hiraeth blinked slowly, sympathy washing over his features. "Oh, sweetheart. I know."
"I don't know what to do," Keith added weakly, gazing at him, locking those soft silver eyes to his, looking for answers.
"Oh," Hiraeth said again, and leaned in and kissed him.
The kiss was soft and not demanding, a brush of a soft wet mouth over his. Keith shuddered with the rush he felt, his lips tingling, almost itching with how new the sensation was.
He closed his eyes and just let Hiraeth kiss him. For now, he wasn't thinking anything except how badly his mouth wanted to be kissed, how much he wanted to feel close to someone, how good it felt to feel lips brushing his and a hand starting to caress his jawline and the taste of someone else's mouth on his—
A sudden knocking from downstairs, loud and hammering, tore him out of the moment. He jerked back, sucking a sharp breath in, eyes wide. Hiraeth, too, had gone into alert, frozen with his eyes fully open.
When the knock came again, Hiraeth let out a shaky laugh and sat up. "Food," he said. "It's dinner."
It sounded like gibberish for a second, and then he remembered. Hiraeth had ordered in. He rubbed at his face, trying not to scrub too overtly at his mouth, and nodded mutely.
"I'll be—I'll be right back, my darling, don't you mind it," Hiraeth said, and the gaiety in his voice sounded a little forced and too fast, embarrassed. "Hang on."
Keith nodded again. His face felt hot to his own touch, and he sank down, rolling his face into Hiraeth's pillow as Hiraeth went clattering down the stairs.
He huffed the scent in the pillow, vaguely aroused and mortified and not able to decide whether he was grateful or not that the interruption had come. It'd be so easy to let himself get carried away and just try to feel better…
Hiraeth came back with a paper bag heavy with food. The spicy scent filled the air, and Keith knew he should sit up and act as though everything was normal, but he couldn't bring himself to move. He felt as if he was barely keeping himself from spilling out all over and if he moved, he'd start falling out.
Even breathing felt almost like too much of a risk.
"Food's here," Hiraeth said, and then when Keith still didn't, couldn't, move, his voice came again, more hesitantly. "Are you okay? I didn't mean to upset you. I just wanted to kiss you, and you looked like you could use… hey, come on." The futon shifted under his weight, a hand coming to press against Keith's back. "You should eat something. You'll feel better."
"I can't," Keith muttered.
"Even if you don't feel hungry now, when you start—"
He wanted to run away. "Not that," he managed. "I just, I should go, I can't. I can't kiss you. I can't kiss anyone. Not when Lucas is trapped somewhere…"
Hiraeth took hold of Keith's shoulder and rolled him over. Keith tried to drag the pillow with him, keep it over his face, but he didn't seem to have any strength. Hiraeth peeled his hands away from it and tossed the pillow to the end of the bed.
"Enough of that," Hiraeth said lightly. "You're not going anywhere. There's strength in numbers, and I think it's best if all three of us stay in one place."
"I can take her room downstairs. I just…"
"I won't make a move on you, not if you don't want me to," Hiraeth said firmly. "The room down there's fine for a doll body, but I wouldn't shove an adult man in there, Keith, not and expect you to get the sleep you need. Trust me a little. I won't do anything you don't want." And then, more gently, "I'm sorry for upsetting you."
Keith groaned miserably, embarrassed and ashamed and more upset about how he was acting, but he couldn't seem to find a way to stop. The pit of his stomach was churning, empty bile sharp in his throat again, his heart pounding. "I do want to," he said. "But I can't. I can't believe I let myself forget him for even this long."
Hiraeth watched him for a few seconds, then patted his cheek. "I'm getting out your food," he said, "and you're going to eat it, and we're going to talk."
"I don't want—"
"You're a mess, darling my love," Hiraeth said, seeming
to see no incongruity in tossing pet names around in the middle of all of that rejection. He got up, and Keith pondered bolting—but that would be an even more embarrassing way to act than he already was.
Hiraeth was back again before he had the chance anyway, handing him a plastic fork and a takeout container of butter chicken over rice. "Eat this. Whatever else happens, you need to fuel that body of yours. You spent a lot of energy today. No wonder your mood's going all over the place."
It was almost too reasonable. For the second time that day, he wasn't sure he could eat, but took the food obediently.
This time, though, it turned out that he was starving. Once he put a bite in his mouth, even with his stomach upset and his mood miserable, he felt a pit of hunger open up, and he ate almost too quickly. Hiraeth nodded understandingly, picking at his own food.
It gave him something else to focus on, at least. The burn in his mouth was that of spices, not the tingle of someone else's kiss, and he didn't need to talk yet, not with his mouth full.
Hiraeth waited patiently, though, and Keith was just scraping up the last of his rice with his fork, watching the plastic tines bend as he pushed them to try to capture grains between them, when Hiraeth said, "You're in love with your Lucas, aren't you?"
chapter fourteen
That last bite suddenly had a great deal of difficulty moving down his throat. He stared at the mostly-empty container, the glistening sauce, and finally nodded, unable to look up and meet Hiraeth's eyes.
"Thought so," Hiraeth said, with a smiling sigh.
"What's that supposed to…"
"It means I thought so." Hiraeth put his half-finished container to the side on the desk and came to sit with him again on the bed. Keith felt himself grow tense and knew Hiraeth had seen it, but Hiraeth didn't acknowledge it. "It sounds like it's complicated."
Keith swallowed. That last bite was still struggling, fighting for room in his tight throat with air and pain and words. "Yeah," he said. "We haven't ever… We don't talk about it. At all. He knows I'm into guys, that much is obvious, but I don't… I haven't said anything about my feelings to him, and he hasn't said anything about it to me. I don't know if he never realized I was into him, or if he's straight and just really cool with it or what. And…"
Hiraeth made encouraging noises, nodding at him. His eyes were focused on Keith, pupils flared wide with focus, as if he was trying to see what Keith was saying as well as hear it.
"And, I mean, he's dead," Keith added in a rush. The words came out with shame and guilt. "I can barely touch him. So we couldn't… Even if he were interested, it's just… Even holding his hand, I can't feel more than just a little pressure, so it's not like, I mean, even if he were interested…"
Another nod, though Hiraeth laughed softly. "I mean, sex isn't the entirety of a relationship, darling," he said. "As much as I personally love it. But I've had lots of sex without relationships, and lots of relationships without sex. I fall in love easy, Keith, and I promise, just having that kind of relationship can be… well, worthwhile. If it's one you want."
"I know, I know," Keith groaned, as embarrassed as he was guilty. "I mean, I haven't gone out with anyone, so maybe I don't know. But I feel like I'd… need, or at least want, and he can't… and we haven't talked about it, can't because he can't, and he's… not… here." The last came out awkward and halting, and Keith stared at the back of his own knuckles. A scab had formed on one from his frantic flight away from the house, falling and barely catching himself. He contemplated picking it.
Hiraeth was relentless. "And your heart is breaking."
Keith nodded, swallowing hard.
"I didn't mean to throw you into a tizzy, my darling," Hiraeth said, and brushed some of Keith's hair back. He smiled at Keith, brows creased. "I didn't kiss you to upset you—I rather like your Lucas too, and whether or not he can or can't, or will or won't, I know how important you are to each other. I shouldn't like to feel like I was putting myself between you two. But… he seemed pretty all right with giving us a chance together, at least after that first day, and more than aware of this little thing we've had building between us, and I thought he shouldn't mind if you could take some comfort in me tonight."
They stared at each other, Keith processing Hiraeth's words slowly—too slowly.
Hiraeth's gaze dropped finally. "I could use some myself," he admitted softly. "But I'd be happy to comfort you in other ways, Keith. I like you."
The words struck him like darts. I to the face, like to the throat, you to the heart. Keith drew a ragged breath in. "I want to," he mumbled. He felt his cheeks go even redder, his voice hitch thickly in his throat. Even admitting that much felt both heady and awful. "I want to kiss you, I want more, and no, he won't mind. He often… he encouraged me to go ahead, and that's kind of, it's not the best to hear when I want him too. But I get it, and, but—but he's in danger."
Hiraeth kept petting his hair, slow, gentle strokes, soothing. "We can't go after him tonight, Keith. We talked about that."
"I know," Keith said. "I know. I know we have time now, for whatever we want. But it feels… frivolous."
That wasn't a strong enough word, but he couldn't seem to find a strong enough word. It felt worse than that, as if he was taking advantage of Lucas's absence to make the move on someone else.
He liked Hiraeth, liked Hiraeth a lot. Liked his enthusiasm, his joy in the world, his desire to help, his ability to be serious and light in turns. Liked that however immortal he was, he wasn't remote. He was immediate and here and living like life was still too short.
But Hiraeth was still someone he'd only just met. However quickly they'd come to feel for each other, they didn't know each other. Lucas and he had spent five years literally tethered to one another, sharing all their grief, all their hopes, seeing everything through together.
To treat that like something holding him back, to treat his loss like freedom…
"Can't do it while he's there with you because it feels like you're being unfair to him, unfair to what he can and can't do, unfair to how near he has to stick with you," Hiraeth guessed, eyes fixed on Keith again. "And can't do it while he's not there with you because if he's not there with you, something's wrong."
Keith began nodding again, and couldn't seem to stop, head just bobbing as though simply agreeing with this could possibly explain everything without him having to say anything else. Still, he tried to find the words. "This isn't an opportunity to have fun without him," he managed finally. "It's—he's supposed to be with me. He died for me. He's haunting me."
"That's not your fault. You didn't ask to be haunted."
"It's not a fault," Keith said, hit in a raw spot. He'd tried to never think about that, after the first few months. He'd tried so hard. Lucas had saved his life. So what if he'd got powers he didn't want, had everyone think he was a freak, needed years of help that never actually addressed what was really going on, never had any privacy.
That was a small price to pay for his life.
And Lucas wasn’t free either. He had it the worse; he was a ghost, and couldn't leave the person he was haunting. He'd never asked for it either, and he'd never wanted to die. Even so, he'd always acted as though it was just how things were. He'd never blamed Keith.
Both of them just did their best to try to play cool about it.
Hiraeth said, careful, "You don't blame yourself for his death?"
"Of course I blame myself!" Keith burst out. "But it… it is what it is, and he's… we spend all our time together. We can't not, but that's not his fault either. He didn't ask to be haunting me! And now he's not and I'm alone and he's trapped somewhere and that's my fault too…!"
Voice gone very soft, Hiraeth said, "It's not your fault. You were helping me save a friend I love very much."
"Before that, though, I got into it all because—a stupid dream—"
"Because you have powers," Hiraeth pointed out, "and were trying to be responsible about that?"
Ke
ith shook his head, scrubbing at his face with his forearm. Even as he found himself winding tighter, he felt some kind of fight going out of him, leaving behind nothing but a sick, self-hating anxiety. "There's—there's no point in this."
"It's okay," Hiraeth said, his voice still soft, almost tentative. He inched closer. "I'm not trying to argue you into a relationship with me. I'm a scoundrel, you know, but not that kind."
"Yeah," Keith mumbled, his voice raw. "I know that."
"But it seems to me that the way things are between you two, it's not a situation that can last indefinitely," Hiraeth said, gentle. "He's okay with you seeing other people, but you're not okay with it. And there are things you want to do, experiences you want to have, but you're stopping yourself from it with anyone at all. It doesn't have to be me, love, but—"
Shoulders sagging, Keith shoved the takeout container away, pushing it onto a clear part of Hiraeth's floor. "I just don't know what to do about all this," he said. "And I'm scared that no matter how hard we try, it won't matter."
"That we won't get him back?"
"Yeah," Keith said. "Or that if I do, it won't be right. That… that since his bond to me was broken, it won't work right anymore. That he won't haunt me and will get… lost or… how can I do anything while I'm thinking like that?"
"Ah, my sweetheart, I knew you were terrified." Hiraeth leaned over him, and Keith briefly thought he was going to claim his mouth again. But Hiraeth leaned up instead, kissed his forehead, soft and warm and lingering. "Please take it for what it is. I like you and wanted to make you feel better. Don't worry about it further than that."
Keith ached. Slowly, he nodded. "Okay," he said.
"I can sleep downstairs, if you won't be comfortable with me here."
"No, I want…" he cleared his throat. He felt as if it'd be easy to restart the discussion all over, arguing about wants and needs and what they both longed to do. "I want you to stay. Is that okay? I don't know if I can… I don't know what I'll… I want the company anyway."
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