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estdeus_innobis2013-07-16 02:47 am
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The years flow by like water, and one day men come home again. Part II
From here. Iblis freed Micah!Tez from his bond to Management, and then gave him an unexpected gift.
*
"You had a riding crop once. I remember."
I drop my head forward again, and I look at him through my lashes. I remember looking at him like before.
"I don't remember that. But I would like to, I think." I eat my pie, tart berry and sweet pastry. "Eat your pie," I say, smiling, "and then find somewhere you can remind me of lots of things like that."
[ac: sex, some blood, as you might expect. Schmoop warning! ;)]
[closed]
*
"You had a riding crop once. I remember."
I drop my head forward again, and I look at him through my lashes. I remember looking at him like before.
"I don't remember that. But I would like to, I think." I eat my pie, tart berry and sweet pastry. "Eat your pie," I say, smiling, "and then find somewhere you can remind me of lots of things like that."
[ac: sex, some blood, as you might expect. Schmoop warning! ;)]
[closed]
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"I can look after you, too," I say stubbornly. I can now. I could normally if he'd let me, much more than I do.
"I think I do love you. I think I have for a long time."
I look at him and tug him in against me. "Thank you," I say very gently against his hair. I won't - won't be sick, or cry, or anything like that, because I won't spoil this. He means it now, he does, he does. (For a long time?) I am crying, though I didn't want to, sort of snuffling against him. "It's alright," I say, "I'm happy," and I am, it's stupid but I am. I never asked him to, I didn't. I never asked him to love me. I don't need it. I do. "I love you so much," I say thickly. I sound exactly like a child, not - whatever I am.
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"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before," I say, because that's why he's crying, isn't it? "I don't know why I didn't. I wish I remembered." I hold him against me. "There are all these pieces of me missing, and I don't remember why I've hurt you. I should try to fix myself." I should, for him.
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I force myself to stop crying. It's very hard. "I'm so glad you love me." Does the rest of him, the shut away parts, or is he only able to now because they're not there? But this is part of him too, isn't it, so some part of him must, and it'll be alright because I'll always know that, even if he doesn't, I'll always remember this. My face is sticky, and I wipe it with my arm.
It's not fair for him not to know. "You chose to forget things because - " for me. "So we could be like this. If you want to be fixed, you shouldn't stay like this for me." Stay like this for me. I won't ever say it, I won't. I would have said it to Val. Everything's so confusing.
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"It's alright, love. It's alright." He must be so tired. It's been so long. All those thousands of years. "I'm here, I've got you." Saying the stupid useless things that lovers say. "You can rest, you can rest if you want to." I did, in the dark, after I died. "I'll be here."
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When I wake it is dark. I blink, confused, and then a great grey weight settles on me.
"Oh," I say, a soft sound of despair. "Oh, no."
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Some time when it's dark he moves. "Oh. Oh, no."
I think something is broken inside me, something small and far away right now but I think it was an important part, before it broke. "I'm sorry," I say, low and miserable. I mean it for - too much. He'll want me to let go of him soon.
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I can't offer anything. Anything I offer would be stupid and useless. But I can hold onto him, can't I. I can do that while he cries for - everything. Himself.
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"I should go," I say at last. I sound so weary.
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"You should stay here," I say. "It is not safe for you back at the carnival. Management will be unhappy." I make myself stand up. In the dark I can still smell the flowers blooming in the grass. It was a stupid kind of magic, not half as practical as giving him furniture, a dry roof. An idiotic boyish whimsy. I shake my head, feeling sick.
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I stand up with him. The grass he made is soft under my feet and I wonder how long it will last. "I'll be here. If you," need me, "want me." I'm not going away now. I want to ask if he'll be alright.
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"I know," I say. I wonder if I burned this body again if it would take some of this feeling away. I do not think so. "Beware of Greeks bearing gifts," I say, and laugh, a strange dry sound. Then I walk out, naked and bloody. It is hardly as if I can be in danger now.