( Doesn't take a genius to figure out what happened last night, even if details are floating in and out of dreamland. He's hungover, therefore he drank too much, and there's an unread notification from Noctis in his communicator's inbox written in a tone he can only read as fretful.
Scrolling up, Cain's message is there, too. Awkward. Concerned. Though Cain doesn't like to show it, they're emotionally connected. Friends, partners, whatever—it doesn't need a name, not when they like what it is so far. That's a problem now. He doesn't want to make this serious again Cain's will, and his stomach roils considering the weight of the story he knows he has to tell him, and not for his own sake; Cain deserves to know. Because what if this gets deeper? What if their bond becomes a friction-locked rivet too strong to break without excess force and heat?
Jonas doesn't know much about Cain. Not verbally. Not with words when prolonged looks, gentle strokes, and fervent kisses have given the foundation for what he can build the rest of their relationship on. But he knows enough to extrapolate more information using common sense and his own psychology.
Cain comes from a hard place from hard circumstances, from a frozen rock devoid of entertainment. Cain is also a soldier, run so ragged he has scars to show for all the abuse he's been through. Mentally and physically, he's become steeled, and while part of that is his own nature, the majority of it, Jonas knows, is lottery. Cain's been exposed to things no one should be exposed to, forced to use his body as both a weapon and a simple mechanism for self-satisfaction. Cain's had to watch others do the same, learning almost by example, enough that he can silence the alarms that would be, to Jonas, deafening. And while Cain is abrasive, blunt, and occasionally brutal, he is also misunderstood. Like him.
When he was assumed to be bad by appearance or by reputation, first impressions didn't matter. He hated that, even though he believed it was people's right to discard him. This means that Jonas strives, though reluctantly and not without complaint, to give others in his situation opportunities to show themselves. He wasn't given the same graces, and now it's too late for him to prove to anyone he's worth more than he was given. What Cain has given him through constant company, sharing it with his whole body, is this impression: Cain is kind. He is gentle. He is protective. He is thoughtful. He is enthusiastic. He is passionate. He is hurting.
Cain is a dog on a chain forced to fight while his tail is still wagging. Beyond the snarls of bared teeth, the squared up intent to win, and sharp claws that never retract is a mutt in a box left alone in the rain.
[Jonas reaches out to him first. Of course he does. It's only as he's demonstrated himself to be all along — a kindness and warmth in the open span of his arms, not held back by pride or worse impulses of cruelty. Cain doesn't know what this conversation is going to entail, but it would take a lot for him to ever shut Jonas out. At least, a lot more self-restraint and discipline than he possesses.
He likes talking to him too much. Being around him.]
( When Cain responds, Jonas' stomach tightens. He feels nauseous, and he knows it's anxiety joining hands with his hangover to make him feel worse.
God, he can't keep doing this. He has to just say it. )
Yeah but it's fine I deserve it from drinking almost that whole bottle
I told you I was gonna say something to you eventually You remember that right? That's ig this conversation And it's not you, it's nothing bad about you, but I want you to know that like However you respond to what I'm gonna say is okay Okay? I'm sorry it took me this long
Yeah okay Thanks and if you need time afterward just do whatever I promise I won't take that hard Let me get my thoughts together
( What a fucking doozy. Should he try to meet with him in person instead, or immortalize this in writing?
One would be fairer to Cain, who takes his time with emotion. Naturally, he selects it. He can't fool himself into believing he's doing this entirely for his friend's sake, though; he doesn't want to see anyone right now. He wants to sit alone on his ship, blast music, and try not to think. )
( He crying before he begins to type the second half. It's mostly stress, and some of it's mourning, but he doesn't try to halt it or wipe it away. It's going to come regardless.
He's tired, sick, and sad: A combination his mother considered worthy of attention and affection. If only she were here now. For him, but also for Cain. And for Noctis.
Everyone needs her kind of gentle love. )
Before I got pulled through the wormhole, I was nowhere I died when I was 18 and I don't know how much time has passed since then I seem alive now, I don't know how that's possible bc my body was taken and the rest of me was trapped But I'm not entirely sure like What's going to happen later if that makes sense? How far I can go and how long it'll take before reality realizes I'm actually not supposed to be here Or if I've been given a second chance with everything yk?
I know it's a lot I had to tell you Cain because I don't want to like force you to stay with me when I could just fucking disappear idk Hopefully I'm me again and I'm alive and not some dream or ghost like Reze thinks we are You just deserve to know like Noctis knows You get the choice and I think that's super important We've spent a lot of time together and I've really come to care about you Cain It wouldn't be fair to just assume you're good with it Like to continue on normally
[It must be serious, the way Jonas is treating the subject. It must make a difference in everything — to a degree that Jonas is expecting it to change the way they've interacted so far. That part isn't easy to face; he doesn't dislike how they've been with each other. It's a nice distraction from all the other shit going on, from being thrown into yet another mission he never wanted to sign up for. It's been nice in so many ways, and he's not stupid enough to miss that most of those reasons are because of Jonas himself.
Jonas is so kind. He's kind the way Abel is, was, and that's probably part of why Cain's found him impossible to resist. It's probably why he wanted him so badly that first time in his ship — because it felt natural to fall into, because Jonas's eyes are so gentle and his smiles so warm. There isn't a mean-spirited bone in his body, at least none intentionally built out of the foundation of his spirit. He's so different than Cain.
When the lengthy explanation finally comes, he takes a moment to sit with it, reading in silence. I was nowhere. Understanding slots into place; Jonas had something like that back then too. That he was doing the same thing over and over, that it was the first time he'd felt real...
I died when I was 18.
Fucking hell. How? Why? Who fucking did it?
The suggestion of Jonas disappearing is a new, cold fear he doesn't expect to grip him as tightly as it does, like a hand in his chest that only squeezes as he goes on reading the remainder. Jonas cares about him — he stares at those words on the screen so long they start to lose meaning.]
It's okay. Thanks for telling me.
[He's so careful about typing that with proper grammar and everything.]
( Blubbering at his messages, touched Cain hasn't sent him away—rather done the complete opposite by inviting him in—Jonas thumbs the screen where the location pin sits starkly red against a background of grey.
Four sentences, short and to the point. But four of the most thoughtful he's ever read. All of them are intended to comfort him, as is Cain's presence, and his body moves before he can even consider holing up and hiding. Jonas would rather be with his friend and partner, feeling safer in his vicinity. )
Yeah I do, thanks I'll be over in a sec
( He doesn't act withholding; there is no "cool and aloof" with Jonas, as Cain originally suspected weeks ago. He doesn't take his time to get to Cain, and in fact, he stumbles into a jog to arrive sooner, ignoring how stupid he looks on uneven terrain with his hood barely obscuring wild bedhead and reddened eyes.
The familiar sight of Cain's tent, set apart from the rest, makes him choke on a dry, eager sob. Stubbornly refusing to announce himself or do anything more than pull the zipper, swat at the door, and push inside. )
Fuck off— ( Spat at the mesh that catches and pulls on his jacket's button, next breath more of a panicky shudder inward than anything that'd be useful for his lungs. )
[He wasn't doing anything important before Jonas sent his original message to talk. Turns out there's really not much to do at all when you're Security, and the violent, scavenging creatures are no longer trying to eat people — so he's had more idle time than he'd like. More than he ever had with the Alliance.
It means he's there at the entrance of the tent when Jonas arrives, waiting expectantly, reaching to assist as that mesh gets caught on the way inside. Cain doesn't move to close the zippered door first; he doesn't speak, either, despite the weighted silence that hangs between them for the space of a moment.
Bad with words anyway, he just pulls Jonas into an embrace. It's well-intentioned even if it feels a bit stiff at first, like he hasn't had much practice, forming a tightly secure link around Jonas's shoulders and strength easily felt despite the attempt at relative gentleness. With Jonas in his arms, he can't see his face — so he just pushes his head in and against Jonas's own to communicate instead.
When he does speak, his voice is a little muffled by messy hair and that hoodie.]
You're real to me right now.
[Alive.]
Edited (i forgot a whole word ) 2026-01-03 07:38 (UTC)
( There's little chance to get a good look at Cain before he's embraced, a good thing when he looks as raw as Jonas feels. )
Cain, ( he croaks against his hair. Hair he's pushed his face into and smelled so frequently now that he thinks he could pick his friend out of a lineup blindfolded. ) You are, too.
( While the arms around him are gentle, Jonas' are far from it. They wind around Cain tightly, sealing him against his body, squeezing warm torsos together so he can feel twin, living heartbeats. It's amazing in its own right, as is the total lack of desire to perform any sexual act for Cain now, despite sex being the foundation on which their relationship was built.
There's love here, Jonas feels it. Hungry for it, his face seals against Cain's neck where hair feathers at its shortest, and hot tears dampen skin there. )
I-I thought... I'm so sorry. I thought you'd... That you'd leave me. Noctis said you wouldn't. He... ( He had more faith in Cain than he did.
Staring at whatever part of his friend he can make out with wet eyes so close to the source, he realizes how painful that realization might be, and digs his fingers into hard muscle to prevent him from pulling away. )
[He's sturdy enough to weather Jonas's desperation in the embrace, adjusting only to ensure that his arms form a more secure circle around the other man. He can't... remember the last time someone held him like this, if he's honest — without that undercurrent of physical desire sitting beneath, an expectation he's never exactly dissuaded. But Jonas's grief is so fierce it pushes everything else out; Cain's affection is automatic, one of his hands lifting to cradle the back of a warm head.]
Hey, hey, it's okay.
[Noctis said that? The realization is vague in the moment, but it's not like he blames Jonas. As if he could blame Jonas given what he's just shared.]
Look, I know I haven't really... been honest with you. Probably doesn't feel like I'm that trustworthy. [A snort, though softened somewhere into Jonas's warm shoulder.] So I get it. But I'm not gonna ditch you like that. That's not who I am. I mean, do any of us know if we'll really be here forever?
[Maybe he's dead too. Maybe he died on the Reliant with his blood smeared across the console, all over himself, and this is some strange and inexplicable afterlife. If so — it could be a lot worse.
His arms tighten, just a little. A snug reassurance that holds on until Jonas is ready to let go.]
Take it a day at a time. [How long had he been telling himself that?] Promise I'll keep you alive while we're here, too. Whatever way you need it.
( Cain holds him tighter, and Jonas understands that this is what their relationship has always been. Protective and encouraging. Creative and open-minded. Fun. Caring. It's never been unserious. They showed their dedication in other ways. Now, it feels impossible that they'd have ever turned each other away.
Jonas coughs another sob into Cain's shoulder, then tries to take steadying breaths. He's allowed to sink in and take comfort in his body, and it's offered freely; he has to oblige. )
You are trustworthy. ( It's a little blown-out, but his voice doesn't crack or sound uncertain when he says it. ) I do trust you, I just... I underestimated us. This. It made sense not to ruin the fun, but it's... it's still fun. I've never had this much fun with anybody.
Please don't let go of me, ( he adds in a pleading whisper.
While he'd prefer his mother's and father's arms, Cain's and Noctis' are now, surprisingly, a close third. Tied for how good they make him feel about himself and his prospects. With them, he is alive, and hearing they're determined to keep him that way is so meaningful it makes him kiss the side of Cain's neck.
His mouth trails up to his ear, pressing there, before his nose sinks into soft, black hair. )
[It's not the time or place to argue against Jonas's statement of his character, but there's something that sits a little tight in his chest, hearing it — a wish that it could be true. A desire to make it true, if he can.
The hold he has around Jonas doesn't yield at all, remaining as securely firm as necessary while Jonas succumbs to the tremor of those emotions. The kiss against his neck, against his hair, are both soft shows of affection that only snarl deeper past Cain's cool demeanor and make it harder to pretend he doesn't care.
He does. He cares about Jonas so much in that moment it's scary, because he thought he would never do this again, and especially not so fucking soon. He wonders if it means something that he found Jonas so quickly after Abel, or if it's a bad idea even to follow that thought. He doesn't want to think about anything else right now. It's easy to set aside, at least, when Jonas needs him more.]
I won't. C'mere, let's sit down.
[The shuffle is a little awkward, but he backs up enough to drop down onto the edge of the cot and takes Jonas with him, into his lap, arms never loosening the circle of their embrace. His cheek bumps against Jonas's warm shoulder where he inhales the clean, familiar, boyish scent of him.]
We don't have to stop having fun. As long as you want, okay? I mean it.
( Any order from Cain is one Jonas willingly follows. It, therefore, takes no effort to guide him to the cot and onto his knees over Cain's thighs. He's still clinging like a child, despite feeling ancient, weary, and aching, squeezing at all the fabric and flesh he can feel against him. )
Yeah? That's... That's a pretty long time, man, ( he chokes on a laugh against Cain, the gust disturbing hair he continues to nose into.
Never has a man smelled so good to him. Cigarettes and musk, and whatever he uses on his head and body. Calming in its familiarity, but invigorating in its newness. )
Months? Or... years? I'm talking, like... forever. You could stay with me, you know? Like this, or however you want. I just don't ever want to be alone like that again. Talking to the same cardboard cutouts of people again and again and again. ( No souls, no futures, just pre-recorded videos playing until the film runs out and the tape gets scrambled... Has Cain ever felt like that?
As though he's just heard his partner respond in the affirmative to a question unasked, Jonas clutches Cain harder. Far harder, with his hands and arms and knees and thighs, like he can crush the meaningfulness of this moment into him. )
[It is a long time. He can't even comprehend it, the way Jonas has described — wonders if he should ask or if it might only spiral him deeper into feelings he'd rather not revisit, better set aside and distracted from the anguish he's endured. Jonas is holding onto him tightly enough that it would take a lot to break the embrace, but he's not that interested in trying right now.]
Yeah? I mean, so what? It's just forever.
[A shift so he can slip his arms around Jonas's waist amid that desperate clinging, folding his hands together. He keeps his head pillowed against Jonas's shoulder, eyes closed in a moment of unthinking contentment. Maybe he'll consider the implications of his agreement later, but right now he doesn't care for much but the continued physicality of their hold.]
I thought I was dead when I woke up here, too. Really freaked me out. Not that I'm saying — it sounds like you had it worse. It's just been a lot easier since then, because of you. So... if I can pay that back, then I will.
( That's right. "It's just forever." Having experienced eternity, overwhelmed, tears dampen black hair. This time will be different. It simply has to be.
Because it's not only his life relying on it, but Cain's, too. )
Hey, no... no, baby, you can't, like, downplay that. I know how scary that is. ( Leaning back enough to butt his forehead against Cain's, gazing at him with watery eyes, he finally understands the true impact of this moment: this isn't just fun, it's a core need for them both.
It's escapism, but it's the most precious display of cathartic solidarity he's only ever felt with Cain and Noctis. They're all lonely, confused, and scared. They're all seeking love and finding it in the unlikeliest of places. This is survival, too; building a small, strong safety net of fingers to hold each other within. He and Cain are catching each other right now. From freefalling to being tightly anchored to something good.
Kissing into Cain's hair, his arms retract enough that his hands can stroke concentrated heat down muscular sides. One slips easily beneath the hem of a tight, black shirt, intent on feeling scar tissue on a hard abdomen he's seen but never commented on. )
We're both here now. We're safe now. That's, like... pretty amazing odds, right? ( Gently, with a trembling thumb, that only recently healed skin is petted, and needing a deeper connection to this moment, Jonas relaxes into his partner's lap, knees widening over strong thighs. ) Know how many times I didn't get to meet you, and now... on my, like, final run, you're with me?
You don't know how important it is to me that you're here. That you survived.
[God, the way Jonas is talking... the way he's talking like it matters, that he matters, even if his life has only ever been inconsequential to someone else's goal, to someone else's plan — maybe Jonas understands what it's like to feel small and useless. There's so much more he wants to ask about that experience and how Jonas even ended up in it at all, but there's another part of him desperate to retain this quiet moment of connection, too.
Their foreheads bump together; Jonas's hand ventures underneath his shirt, causing Cain's breath to catch, muscle flinching reflexively at the warm caress over scar tissue. It doesn't feel like much more than pressure, and he's not ticklish, but there's something intimate about it still. Like Jonas recognizes a wound that almost killed him and is soothing it, though it's already healed. The emotional pain beneath it certainly has not.]
... Yeah. [His chest feels tight. It's harder for him to articulate his feelings compared to Jonas, but his hands can communicate his affection, at least, as they roam over Jonas's back in comforting strokes.] You're not going anywhere. I promise I won't let that happen.
Are you okay?
[An exhalation as he leans back enough to find those pretty eyes, because Cain doesn't want this to turn around on his own problems. He's here for Jonas right now.]
( Looking down over Cain from his elevated seat on muscular thighs, Jonas admires him. The way Cain's hair falls out of his face when his face is turned up. The softness of Cain's expressions when he gazes at him. The strong shoulders Cain uses to keep him supported when his legs feel fucking boneless.
Is he okay? No. God no, of course he isn't.
Will he be okay? )
Yeah—you're here. ( Voice low when it grows softer in delivery, palms flatten to grip Cain's bare waist beneath his shirt. Fingernails dig lightly into sensitive skin, then slide down to the waistband of the tight pants he nonetheless spreads his touch under.
Sustained eye contact makes his skin burn, uneven breaths still spilling against Cain's skin, but the quality of them is different now. They're laboured not by grief but by arousal and by the coming together of warm bodies that need to remember they're alive. Exhilarating, healing, just from feeling Cain's chest and stomach move against him.
And he doesn't waste any time, squeezing past strong hips to separately touch the back and front of him. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
un: ward
Scrolling up, Cain's message is there, too. Awkward. Concerned. Though Cain doesn't like to show it, they're emotionally connected. Friends, partners, whatever—it doesn't need a name, not when they like what it is so far. That's a problem now. He doesn't want to make this serious again Cain's will, and his stomach roils considering the weight of the story he knows he has to tell him, and not for his own sake; Cain deserves to know. Because what if this gets deeper? What if their bond becomes a friction-locked rivet too strong to break without excess force and heat?
Jonas doesn't know much about Cain. Not verbally. Not with words when prolonged looks, gentle strokes, and fervent kisses have given the foundation for what he can build the rest of their relationship on. But he knows enough to extrapolate more information using common sense and his own psychology.
Cain comes from a hard place from hard circumstances, from a frozen rock devoid of entertainment. Cain is also a soldier, run so ragged he has scars to show for all the abuse he's been through. Mentally and physically, he's become steeled, and while part of that is his own nature, the majority of it, Jonas knows, is lottery. Cain's been exposed to things no one should be exposed to, forced to use his body as both a weapon and a simple mechanism for self-satisfaction. Cain's had to watch others do the same, learning almost by example, enough that he can silence the alarms that would be, to Jonas, deafening. And while Cain is abrasive, blunt, and occasionally brutal, he is also misunderstood. Like him.
When he was assumed to be bad by appearance or by reputation, first impressions didn't matter. He hated that, even though he believed it was people's right to discard him. This means that Jonas strives, though reluctantly and not without complaint, to give others in his situation opportunities to show themselves. He wasn't given the same graces, and now it's too late for him to prove to anyone he's worth more than he was given. What Cain has given him through constant company, sharing it with his whole body, is this impression: Cain is kind. He is gentle. He is protective. He is thoughtful. He is enthusiastic. He is passionate. He is hurting.
Cain is a dog on a chain forced to fight while his tail is still wagging. Beyond the snarls of bared teeth, the squared up intent to win, and sharp claws that never retract is a mutt in a box left alone in the rain.
He wants to bring him inside. )
Hey, can we talk?
no subject
He likes talking to him too much. Being around him.]
yeah
you still feeling sick?
no subject
God, he can't keep doing this. He has to just say it. )
Yeah but it's fine
I deserve it from drinking almost that whole bottle
I told you I was gonna say something to you eventually
You remember that right?
That's ig this conversation
And it's not you, it's nothing bad about you, but I want you to know that like
However you respond to what I'm gonna say is okay
Okay?
I'm sorry it took me this long
no subject
don't apologize
it's all right
you don't need to tell me anything you don't want to, j
but i'll listen
and won't judge.
[How could he possibly?]
1/2
Thanks and if you need time afterward just do whatever
I promise I won't take that hard
Let me get my thoughts together
( What a fucking doozy. Should he try to meet with him in person instead, or immortalize this in writing?
One would be fairer to Cain, who takes his time with emotion. Naturally, he selects it. He can't fool himself into believing he's doing this entirely for his friend's sake, though; he doesn't want to see anyone right now. He wants to sit alone on his ship, blast music, and try not to think. )
2/2
He's tired, sick, and sad: A combination his mother considered worthy of attention and affection. If only she were here now. For him, but also for Cain. And for Noctis.
Everyone needs her kind of gentle love. )
Before I got pulled through the wormhole, I was nowhere
I died when I was 18 and I don't know how much time has passed since then
I seem alive now, I don't know how that's possible bc my body was taken and the rest of me was trapped
But I'm not entirely sure like
What's going to happen later if that makes sense?
How far I can go and how long it'll take before reality realizes I'm actually not supposed to be here
Or if I've been given a second chance with everything yk?
I know it's a lot
I had to tell you Cain because I don't want to like force you to stay with me when I could just fucking disappear
idk
Hopefully I'm me again and I'm alive and not some dream or ghost like Reze thinks we are
You just deserve to know like Noctis knows
You get the choice and I think that's super important
We've spent a lot of time together and I've really come to care about you Cain
It wouldn't be fair to just assume you're good with it
Like to continue on normally
no subject
Jonas is so kind. He's kind the way Abel is, was, and that's probably part of why Cain's found him impossible to resist. It's probably why he wanted him so badly that first time in his ship — because it felt natural to fall into, because Jonas's eyes are so gentle and his smiles so warm. There isn't a mean-spirited bone in his body, at least none intentionally built out of the foundation of his spirit. He's so different than Cain.
When the lengthy explanation finally comes, he takes a moment to sit with it, reading in silence. I was nowhere. Understanding slots into place; Jonas had something like that back then too. That he was doing the same thing over and over, that it was the first time he'd felt real...
I died when I was 18.
Fucking hell. How? Why? Who fucking did it?
The suggestion of Jonas disappearing is a new, cold fear he doesn't expect to grip him as tightly as it does, like a hand in his chest that only squeezes as he goes on reading the remainder. Jonas cares about him — he stares at those words on the screen so long they start to lose meaning.]
It's okay. Thanks for telling me.
[He's so careful about typing that with proper grammar and everything.]
Come here? If you feel like it.
[A GPS pin drop.]
no subject
Four sentences, short and to the point. But four of the most thoughtful he's ever read. All of them are intended to comfort him, as is Cain's presence, and his body moves before he can even consider holing up and hiding. Jonas would rather be with his friend and partner, feeling safer in his vicinity. )
Yeah I do, thanks
I'll be over in a sec
( He doesn't act withholding; there is no "cool and aloof" with Jonas, as Cain originally suspected weeks ago. He doesn't take his time to get to Cain, and in fact, he stumbles into a jog to arrive sooner, ignoring how stupid he looks on uneven terrain with his hood barely obscuring wild bedhead and reddened eyes.
The familiar sight of Cain's tent, set apart from the rest, makes him choke on a dry, eager sob. Stubbornly refusing to announce himself or do anything more than pull the zipper, swat at the door, and push inside. )
Fuck off— ( Spat at the mesh that catches and pulls on his jacket's button, next breath more of a panicky shudder inward than anything that'd be useful for his lungs. )
no subject
It means he's there at the entrance of the tent when Jonas arrives, waiting expectantly, reaching to assist as that mesh gets caught on the way inside. Cain doesn't move to close the zippered door first; he doesn't speak, either, despite the weighted silence that hangs between them for the space of a moment.
Bad with words anyway, he just pulls Jonas into an embrace. It's well-intentioned even if it feels a bit stiff at first, like he hasn't had much practice, forming a tightly secure link around Jonas's shoulders and strength easily felt despite the attempt at relative gentleness. With Jonas in his arms, he can't see his face — so he just pushes his head in and against Jonas's own to communicate instead.
When he does speak, his voice is a little muffled by messy hair and that hoodie.]
You're real to me right now.
[Alive.]
no subject
Cain, ( he croaks against his hair. Hair he's pushed his face into and smelled so frequently now that he thinks he could pick his friend out of a lineup blindfolded. ) You are, too.
( While the arms around him are gentle, Jonas' are far from it. They wind around Cain tightly, sealing him against his body, squeezing warm torsos together so he can feel twin, living heartbeats. It's amazing in its own right, as is the total lack of desire to perform any sexual act for Cain now, despite sex being the foundation on which their relationship was built.
There's love here, Jonas feels it. Hungry for it, his face seals against Cain's neck where hair feathers at its shortest, and hot tears dampen skin there. )
I-I thought... I'm so sorry. I thought you'd... That you'd leave me. Noctis said you wouldn't. He... ( He had more faith in Cain than he did.
Staring at whatever part of his friend he can make out with wet eyes so close to the source, he realizes how painful that realization might be, and digs his fingers into hard muscle to prevent him from pulling away. )
He was right. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
no subject
Hey, hey, it's okay.
[Noctis said that? The realization is vague in the moment, but it's not like he blames Jonas. As if he could blame Jonas given what he's just shared.]
Look, I know I haven't really... been honest with you. Probably doesn't feel like I'm that trustworthy. [A snort, though softened somewhere into Jonas's warm shoulder.] So I get it. But I'm not gonna ditch you like that. That's not who I am. I mean, do any of us know if we'll really be here forever?
[Maybe he's dead too. Maybe he died on the Reliant with his blood smeared across the console, all over himself, and this is some strange and inexplicable afterlife. If so — it could be a lot worse.
His arms tighten, just a little. A snug reassurance that holds on until Jonas is ready to let go.]
Take it a day at a time. [How long had he been telling himself that?] Promise I'll keep you alive while we're here, too. Whatever way you need it.
no subject
Jonas coughs another sob into Cain's shoulder, then tries to take steadying breaths. He's allowed to sink in and take comfort in his body, and it's offered freely; he has to oblige. )
You are trustworthy. ( It's a little blown-out, but his voice doesn't crack or sound uncertain when he says it. ) I do trust you, I just... I underestimated us. This. It made sense not to ruin the fun, but it's... it's still fun. I've never had this much fun with anybody.
Please don't let go of me, ( he adds in a pleading whisper.
While he'd prefer his mother's and father's arms, Cain's and Noctis' are now, surprisingly, a close third. Tied for how good they make him feel about himself and his prospects. With them, he is alive, and hearing they're determined to keep him that way is so meaningful it makes him kiss the side of Cain's neck.
His mouth trails up to his ear, pressing there, before his nose sinks into soft, black hair. )
no subject
The hold he has around Jonas doesn't yield at all, remaining as securely firm as necessary while Jonas succumbs to the tremor of those emotions. The kiss against his neck, against his hair, are both soft shows of affection that only snarl deeper past Cain's cool demeanor and make it harder to pretend he doesn't care.
He does. He cares about Jonas so much in that moment it's scary, because he thought he would never do this again, and especially not so fucking soon. He wonders if it means something that he found Jonas so quickly after Abel, or if it's a bad idea even to follow that thought. He doesn't want to think about anything else right now. It's easy to set aside, at least, when Jonas needs him more.]
I won't. C'mere, let's sit down.
[The shuffle is a little awkward, but he backs up enough to drop down onto the edge of the cot and takes Jonas with him, into his lap, arms never loosening the circle of their embrace. His cheek bumps against Jonas's warm shoulder where he inhales the clean, familiar, boyish scent of him.]
We don't have to stop having fun. As long as you want, okay? I mean it.
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Yeah? That's... That's a pretty long time, man, ( he chokes on a laugh against Cain, the gust disturbing hair he continues to nose into.
Never has a man smelled so good to him. Cigarettes and musk, and whatever he uses on his head and body. Calming in its familiarity, but invigorating in its newness. )
Months? Or... years? I'm talking, like... forever. You could stay with me, you know? Like this, or however you want. I just don't ever want to be alone like that again. Talking to the same cardboard cutouts of people again and again and again. ( No souls, no futures, just pre-recorded videos playing until the film runs out and the tape gets scrambled... Has Cain ever felt like that?
As though he's just heard his partner respond in the affirmative to a question unasked, Jonas clutches Cain harder. Far harder, with his hands and arms and knees and thighs, like he can crush the meaningfulness of this moment into him. )
No takebacks.
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Yeah? I mean, so what? It's just forever.
[A shift so he can slip his arms around Jonas's waist amid that desperate clinging, folding his hands together. He keeps his head pillowed against Jonas's shoulder, eyes closed in a moment of unthinking contentment. Maybe he'll consider the implications of his agreement later, but right now he doesn't care for much but the continued physicality of their hold.]
I thought I was dead when I woke up here, too. Really freaked me out. Not that I'm saying — it sounds like you had it worse. It's just been a lot easier since then, because of you. So... if I can pay that back, then I will.
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Because it's not only his life relying on it, but Cain's, too. )
Hey, no... no, baby, you can't, like, downplay that. I know how scary that is. ( Leaning back enough to butt his forehead against Cain's, gazing at him with watery eyes, he finally understands the true impact of this moment: this isn't just fun, it's a core need for them both.
It's escapism, but it's the most precious display of cathartic solidarity he's only ever felt with Cain and Noctis. They're all lonely, confused, and scared. They're all seeking love and finding it in the unlikeliest of places. This is survival, too; building a small, strong safety net of fingers to hold each other within. He and Cain are catching each other right now. From freefalling to being tightly anchored to something good.
Kissing into Cain's hair, his arms retract enough that his hands can stroke concentrated heat down muscular sides. One slips easily beneath the hem of a tight, black shirt, intent on feeling scar tissue on a hard abdomen he's seen but never commented on. )
We're both here now. We're safe now. That's, like... pretty amazing odds, right? ( Gently, with a trembling thumb, that only recently healed skin is petted, and needing a deeper connection to this moment, Jonas relaxes into his partner's lap, knees widening over strong thighs. ) Know how many times I didn't get to meet you, and now... on my, like, final run, you're with me?
You don't know how important it is to me that you're here. That you survived.
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Their foreheads bump together; Jonas's hand ventures underneath his shirt, causing Cain's breath to catch, muscle flinching reflexively at the warm caress over scar tissue. It doesn't feel like much more than pressure, and he's not ticklish, but there's something intimate about it still. Like Jonas recognizes a wound that almost killed him and is soothing it, though it's already healed. The emotional pain beneath it certainly has not.]
... Yeah. [His chest feels tight. It's harder for him to articulate his feelings compared to Jonas, but his hands can communicate his affection, at least, as they roam over Jonas's back in comforting strokes.] You're not going anywhere. I promise I won't let that happen.
Are you okay?
[An exhalation as he leans back enough to find those pretty eyes, because Cain doesn't want this to turn around on his own problems. He's here for Jonas right now.]
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Is he okay? No. God no, of course he isn't.
Will he be okay? )
Yeah—you're here. ( Voice low when it grows softer in delivery, palms flatten to grip Cain's bare waist beneath his shirt. Fingernails dig lightly into sensitive skin, then slide down to the waistband of the tight pants he nonetheless spreads his touch under.
Sustained eye contact makes his skin burn, uneven breaths still spilling against Cain's skin, but the quality of them is different now. They're laboured not by grief but by arousal and by the coming together of warm bodies that need to remember they're alive. Exhilarating, healing, just from feeling Cain's chest and stomach move against him.
And he doesn't waste any time, squeezing past strong hips to separately touch the back and front of him. )
I'm ready. I'm... I want you.