Welcome to Gaia! ::

After everything, of course Ian would come up with the perfect nickname, after Shiloh had spent ages and ages trying to think of one. He shook his head again, his eyes puffy and red but they were dancing, his smile as genuine as Ian’s.

“You are brilliant but I’m not calling you that,” he laughed again, pushing his face gently with his fingers, but he left them there, not moving his hand. He sighed, not of resignation like Ian expected, but out of contentment. He couldn’t even begin to describe how good it felt to be sitting with Ian, to be talking to him and actually have him hear him, to hear Ian answer him back. Ian looked confused by his answer, and Shiloh couldn’t help but grin at him, shaking his head again.

“Whoa, whoa, slow down there, Mr. Brilliant, I said we didn’t have to keep it a secret, not that you get to have your way with me in front of everyone. What kind of girl do you think I am?”

Shiloh squeezed his hand, giving him a little nod.

“But I’m sure,” he said and he meant it, because he was sure, whole-heartedly. He was determined to live and love the rest of life to its fullest, regardless of what anyone thought.

Shiloh was better prepared for the kiss this time, no longer blubbering like an idiot and he saw to it that he properly enjoyed it, tilting his face up to kiss Ian back, reveling in the taste of his lips, in their soft and dewy warmth against his. Oh how he’d missed this, how he’d missed just touch at all, how he’d missed Ian. When Ian pulled away, he sighed again, definitely in utter contentment.

“Yeah, same,” he breathed, eyeing Ian with the same amount of cheekiness. “You’ve got that extra bit that I love too you know.”

He was still grinning devilishly when Ian’s hand found his face, his fingers gentle against his skin as he carefully laid his head on Shiloh’s chest. Shiloh nodded again, glad for the new vantage point as he lifted his arm, moving slowly to run his fingers over Ian’s hair, petting the softness and again just taking it all Ian. He’d almost lost all of this.

“I’m sure, Ian,” he said a little more seriously, setting his jokes aside as he stroked Ian’s hair.

“I think they said a week, I’m assuming as long as everything goes well.” He grimaced a little, making a face at the thought of being cooped up in a bed all week. “I guess it’s not bad though… Considering.”

He was sure he didn’t have to finish what he was considering, and he forced a little smile at Ian as he smoothed his hand over his chest.

He hadn’t even realized he’d said the word, thinking nothing of it as Ian said nothing and instead laughed against his lips, pressing in for one kiss after another as if to make up for lost time. Shiloh wasn’t complaining, he’d missed Ian just as much and though he was sure the attendants might have other opinions on what constituting resting, Shiloh figured as long as he was still in bed, he was resting enough. It’s not like he could go anywhere anyway, in moving around he’d felt the soft straps against his legs, tethering him to his bed.

He supposed his injuries were of the nearly fatal sort.

But Ian pressed a kiss to the top of his bandages, and it seemed to hurt a little less, giving him something else to focus on than the dull ache of his head and body. He should have been floating on a cloud, loopy, but the medication hadn’t settled yet, and Shiloh was glad, he wanted to answer Ian honestly, and with a clear head.

“I’m sure,” he said again, smiling, his hand still idly moving over Ian’s hair. It was soothing for him, and his face relaxed.

At least it was until Ian admitted he wanted some time alone with him, and Shiloh knew what Ian meant by alone, away from the infirmary, away from the pod room, away from other people, just the two of them, but he couldn’t help the laughter that slipped out of him.

“I bet you do, I can just imagine how that party will go,” he teased Ian.

It felt so good to laugh, to smile, and he unfurled his fingers as Ian pressed his lips to his wrist again, trailing them over Ian’s cheek.

His tone softened.

“Yeah, I am. I told you I wasn’t going anywhere.”

The kisses against his wrist were incessant but Shiloh adored each time Ian’s lips met his skin, every touch reminding him that this was real, that he was really here, that he was no longer cold, and alone.

But Ian looked tired, as Shiloh studied his face, and he frowned, wondering how much sleep he’d actually gotten over the past few weeks, if any at all. His fingers stroked Ian’s cheek gently, as if he could brush some of that weariness away and convince him that everything was okay. It wasn’t okay, things were far from okay but they were okay, they were both here and that would make things okay. He meant it every time he said it, and this time had been no different – he had no intentions of going anywhere.

Ian straightened up, and Shiloh felt the light kiss against his forehead, and he smiled, giving the straps a small tug.

“Probably so I don’t venture off into the night with a tall dark stranger,” he teased, looking them over himself. They weren’t uncomfortable or anything, padded and soft against his skin but he wasn’t sure they were necessary, he could barely lift his arm, let alone hope to walk out of here. “But they said I can have a wheelchair in a couple days… Do you wanna play chauffeur?”

His tone was light, and as teasing throughout because it was easy, easy to focus on just being light-hearted and happy and avoid thinking of what had happened for too long, avoid sinking into the deep and suffocating mire that had become his life. Ian was his lifeline, one of them, a hand that reached out and pulled him from the sinking sand, that made him want to survive and face tomorrow. Shiloh wasn’t sure, or even really aware of, when things had changed, when he gone from being satisfied with living his tomorrows for himself, to wanting to live them so he could share them with someone else.

He had always thought he was a good person, but he wondered if maybe he’d been selfish, thinking only of himself, and of others only superficially. He joked and he laughed and he helped but he really never let them in, never let them closer than was necessary. His laughter had always been a defense, but more and more with Ian it was becoming a sign of him letting his guard down, letting him in.

“When was the last time you slept?” he asked, quieter, jokes aside.

Shiloh felt much the same way, keeping the connection with not out of some deeper need but simply because he could, simply because it meant that he could, that Ian was really there. It was the best sort of reminder, and he chuckled at Ian’s answer, delighting at the feel of his fingers twined in his hair.

“The ‘innocent’ man asks me if he can fit in my bed,” Shiloh grinned but he looked genuinely perplexed, trying to shift his weight around the bed, testing just how far he could move, and how much space there was. Trying, being the key word, as his bandages were wrapped so as to keep him mostly still, to avoid disturbing the many stiches layered beneath them and his movements weren’t much more than useless flopping. It didn’t matter, however, because he could see it in the way Ian’s body sagged, by the way his eyelids drooped, heavy over his handsome green eyes, and by, obviously, the way he carefully admitted to not having gotten very much sleep at all.

“You need sleep,” he said matter-of-factly, and that was all there was to it, Shiloh’s tone stubborn. “Maybe if you, let’s see, if I lean like this and you shimmy like… Hm. Do you think you can lift me a bit without uh, wrecking the attendants’ hard work? I don’t think they’ll be pleased as it is but maybe if it’s Robert, he’ll understand.”

Right, Robert. Robert who didn’t know… But as Shiloh looked at Ian, the man exhausted from having kept watch over him, from worrying over him, he remembered what he’d said and he intended to stick to his guns. No more being a baby about this.

“Squish in,” he grinned again, shifting himself over.

Shiloh made a face, shaking his head. “They’re not cute, and that’s not even me having anything against the word cute. They feel like I’m wearing paper.”

He’d be glad when he was fully healed, and not confined to the infirmary’s bed, or required uniform. He’d be glad to be rid of his bandages too, which itched even if the medication had taken away the pain underneath, and there was no reprieve until an attendant came by to change them. For now, however, he was glad to forget these things in favoring of enjoying Ian’s company, leaning back against Ian as he settled in beside him and secured himself in.

“Hi,” Shiloh breathed back, the laughter evident enough in his smile without him having to make a sound. Ian’s fingers were warm against his face, and his body warmer still and Shiloh melted into him with a happy sigh – he didn’t ever want to let go. He shifted again, and it was awkward, jimmying himself against Ian and the bed to get comfortable, difficult to manage when bound by bandages and bed restraints but he did, tilting his face a little bit so it was right next to Ian’s.

“I missed you too,” he admitted, his voice just as quiet as he leaned in, not doing anything but resting impossibly close, happy to just be impossibly close, to feel Ian’s breath on his skin, the smell of him filling his nose. “It hurt… To miss someone that much. I don’t think I‘ve ever felt that way before but I’m just really glad I don’t have to miss you anymore.”

Shiloh had had options, but none were ones that he would consider. As much as it hurt, it was infinitely better to feel, to hold onto missing him as though it were the last vestiges that he’d been alive, the last tether between him in that world. No one else on the other side had seemed to care, one way or the other, at least those that were human.

In Shiloh’s mind, there hadn’t been any other options, because he refused to think of finality, of staying in a realm where he didn’t exist, where Ian didn’t. It felt like he’d just barely met the man but that didn’t mean he’d grown any less attached, that he hadn’t fallen for Ian, and fallen for him hard, even if he was too naïve to realize it. All he knew was that he’d needed to get back to him.

Back to this, as Ian pressed his lips to his, not soft or sweet but desperate and needy, a gesture that summed up their feelings far more than words could ever hope to get across. Shiloh wanted to move more, to hold Ian properly, he wanted out of this hospital bed and back to his room, he wanted to go back to the way things were, and to start pretending that none of this had happened.

He was panting when Ian pulled away, his breath short and shallow but it wasn’t loud enough to hide the sound that Ian made, to hide that the façade that Ian had carefully crafted was crumbling around him. Shiloh curled around Ian the best he could, leaning his head against Ian’s, pressing a kiss to his hair.

“It’s okay, Ian,” he whispered softly, his hand stroking Ian’s arm. “I’m not going anywhere, no one can stop me from coming back.”