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 Posted: Sat May 10, 2014 8:46 pm
It didn't occur to Harland how much he needed Alistaire's hand in his, until it was there. It felt like all the time in the world passed before Alistaire put his hand in Harland's, his shaking fingers. Harland could have wept.
He smiled again.
"Not when you?" Harland asked, kneeling beside Alistaire so he could see him better. "Hold on to that thought, not sure you're well," Harland said, suddenly concerned. Very slowly, and very carefully, he straightened and said, "If it's alright with you... I'm going to kiss you on the top of the head, and I'm going to go get you a bottle of water from my room," Harland said. He was going to make it a habbit of telling Alistaire beforehand, so he didn't startle him or ask for too much.
"And I won't ask for promises," Harland said, "but for what it's worth, I believe that if you want me to, we could get there one day. You and me." If Alistaire let him, he'd do exactly what he said: the kiss on the top of the head, the bottle of water.
And he'd jog to get the water, because he desperately didn't want Alistaire to be sick from dehydration. Even if the kiss on the top of the head couldn't happen.
If Alistaire had asked him those words aloud, if he'd asked if he was still in love with Ian, Harland would have said yes. He was glad Alistaire didn't ask him, because that was only part of the truth. Harland had, since falling in love with Ian, been trying to let go. It wasn't going to happen. Ever since that night, when Ian started to grow distant, he knew that Ian was gone.
He just didn't expect to meet anyone else.
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Posted: Sat May 10, 2014 8:56 pm
A cascade of emotions, a torrent of long buried memories, feelings long hidden away. It was like drowning, only without the water, and Alistaire struggled to keep himself afloat, to keep his head up so that he could just breathe properly, that he could just breathe and keep breathing.
Alistaire closed his eyes.
"Kiss me," he said again, only this time the words came out half a whisper, and both of them knew what he meant by them. It was the only thing he did know, because he sure as hell couldn't comprehend anything else, couldn't decipher the riddle, couldn't put the pieces in the puzzle where they were supposed to go.
His trembling fingers gripped Harland's tightly before Harland left, and Alistaire sat there on his bed, his entire body shaking, and it was still too hot in the room, too enclosing. He lifted a hand and clawed at the tie around his neck, yanking it off entirely and unbuttoning the collar of his shirt beneath it. The buttons on the vest came next until it was loose, and he shrugged out of it, setting both it and the tie on his bedside table. He pushed up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows and, unable to sit still, pushed himself to his feet, pacing the floor of his room in erratic motions.
His face was still crimson. Alistaire's still bare fingers pressed against his own cheek, feeling the heat of them radiating outwards, and he stumbled towards his desk, bending over it and gripping the edge of it so hard his knuckles were white.
What do you want?
What do I want?
"For what it's worth, I believe that if you want me to, we could get there one day. You and me."
"Come on, Ali, you know you want it."
"No," he breathed aloud, his voice hoarse. "No, no, no, no, you don't have control over me not anymore, no."
I don't have control over anything anymore, not even myself.
There was a crash; he'd over turned his chair, knocked over a pile of books. Whenever Harland came back, it would be to find Alistaire kneeling on the floor of his room in front of his desk, bent over with his hands curled into fists that pressed against the floor of his room.
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Posted: Sat May 10, 2014 9:08 pm
Harland was only too grateful to comply, this time, with the whispered instruction. He lingered a moment longer than he'd meant to before he ran out to get the water. Literally ran, because at this point he was more than a little concerned about Alistaire, and he didn't want to leave him alone for too long.
Harland ran without stopping to his room, unlocked it, got water and his face towel from the hook on which it was hanging by the door as a second thought, ran back, and-- was that a crash? It'd better not be from Alistaire's room; Harland sped up, all of the alcohol pushed aside in his system by now from the adrenaline and the hope and the terrifying mix of feelings.
Harland was suddenly infinitely grateful he'd returned to his regular workout routine a while back, and he pushed into the room to see the books all over the floor and the chair knocked over. And, most importantly, Alistaire kneeling on the floor. Harland bent low, and in his soft, calm voice, started to talk to Alistaire: "An bhfuil to go maith? An bhfuil pian... Are you alright, are you in pain?" Harland started, first. Then: "I'm going to walk over to you, and I'm going to get you to drink some of this water," he said.
He also poured some onto the face cloth, folding it, making sure it wasn't too wet. Just damp. Damp, and cool. "May I cool your skin off a little, mo chroi?" Harland asked, softly. He kneeled beside Alistaire, waiting until he had permission.
"And if you want to-- only if you want to-- tell me what's hurting you?"
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Posted: Sat May 10, 2014 9:18 pm
He was barely aware of Harland's presence until he heard his voice, soft and worried in his ear. Alistaire swayed a little, his eyes unfocused, and when he heard the gentle lyrical tones of Gaelic floating towards him, he seemed to jolt a little, his expression flickering.
"Water," he mumbled, and turned towards Harland in a surprisingly uncharacteristic childlike gesture, wetting his dry lips with his tongue (though, since his mouth was dry as well, this didn't do much to help the problem). The dizziness had reached a breaking point; he bit back the urge to vomit, forced the nausea back down into his throat with a hard swallow.
"Every time I close my eyes," said Alistaire hoarsely. "Every time I try all I see is her."
He didn't elaborate, merely moved closer to Harland, his hair sticking to his forehead, sweat dampening his brow. It wasn't a verbal concession, nor a physical one, but rather a look of almost desperation in Alistaire's eyes, a burning confusion.
He nodded his head.
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Posted: Sat May 10, 2014 9:24 pm
The instant Alistaire agreed, Harland slid one muscular arm around Alistaire and gently pulled him closer so that he could cushion Alistaire's head against his shoulder, cradling him there to give him a sip of water with his free hand. With the other, he wiped the sweat away from Alistaire's forehead, gently trying to cool his skin down. He was trying very hard not to gently rock Alistaire, despite that being his strongest instinct.
"Who do you see, mo chroi?" Harland asked, his voice soft.
He'd said he hoped he could hold Alistaire, one day, but this wasn't quite what he'd meant. Harland watched carefully, giving Alistaire sips of water as he could and dabbing the cool cloth to his face tenderly, to make sure that he could set Alistaire against the bed gently if there were any signs that the close proximity was becoming altogether too much.
Until then, Harland would continue to hold him up.
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Posted: Sat May 10, 2014 9:42 pm
And there it was again; the searing warmth that spread outwards from Harland's body and onto his own, sending confusing, cold shivers up and down Alistaire's spine. Panic crawled into his stomach, making his hands shake, but he reached for the water anyway, letting it soothe his dry mouth.
Too close too close too close
He tried to breathe.
Too close too close
Alistaire dragged himself away from Harland with considerable effort, pressing a hand to his mouth. For several seconds he thought he might throw up right then and there, his face a terrible shade of pale, his shirt sticking to his back; but then he took a deep shuddering breath.
"My next door neighbor," he whispered faintly. His hand had stayed in place over his mouth and the words came out slightly muffled. "Senior year."
"Don't tell anyone, Ali.
It'll be our secret."
And there it was, in the open; or at least, a part of it was. He wasn't sure he could actually say what had happened. But it was the first time he had ever even admitted that there was a problem, that something had happened to cause a string of events that had led him to Deus. Even after saying it, he wanted to snatch the words right back into his mouth, humiliation and shame flooding every inch of him, mingling with the anger, because the anger was always there. At himself, at Ian, at their parents, at her, at everyone.
Everyone, it seemed, except Harland.
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Posted: Sat May 10, 2014 9:52 pm
Harland didn't stop him, or interfere, when he crawled away. Harland made sure the bottle of water went with Alistaire, and offered him the cloth, too. He listened to what Alistaire said, through the muffling, and his brow furrowed again as he thought about what aht meant, then. Next door neighbour? He wondered what had happened, if that was the person who'd hurt Alistaire so badly that he now had to fight tooth and nail to undo the damage that had been done.
Harland would go to war for that kind of crime.
"Did you want to tell me about it?" he asked, after again a long and quiet pause. His voice was always so soft, when he talked to Alistaire. Low, and soft. He looked away, muscles in his jaw clenching. Harland didn't have much of a temper, mainly, but the thought that a human being had reduced another to this kind of pain and desperation made him livid, and he didn't want Alistaire to see that. He reached up and with fingers shaking from adrenaline and exhaustion, Harland undid another of his buttons, and fanned the shirt against his skin.
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Posted: Sat May 10, 2014 10:26 pm
He had turned away from Harland, pressing his forehead against his bed, and the panic had subsided a little, Alistaire's fingers curling around the bottle. He brought it to his lips and took another swallow before pressing the cap back on and setting it down, trying to settle his stomach.
He no longer felt pleasantly buzzed. Instead a dull ache had settled into his skull, replacing the loopy lightheadedness that had stemmed from the alcohol. Alistaire twisted back around so that he was leaning against the bed facing Harland, his hands in his lap.
"Not much to tell," Alistaire said roughly. His eyes followed the line of Harland's throat to where his shirt gaped open, the freckles across his tanned skin, and he had started to come back to his senses now, started to build the walls again because he was desperate to hide himself away, to not show that weak and shameful side of himself that had been pushed forward without him wanting it to.
He couldn't bear the thought of everything so open, where Harland could see all of his failures and all of his messed up life because weirdly, strangely, this man in front of him was unlike anyone he'd ever met before; someone who lacked judgment, and lacked arrogance.
In other words, the complete opposite of Alistaire himself. And no matter how much he tried, no matter how much he pushed himself, he would never be able to be like that - open and friendly and caring about the world in which he lived.
"Kiss me," he whispered. "Please."
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Posted: Sat May 10, 2014 10:38 pm
Harland watched the transformation with a heavy heart. Of course it wouldn't be that easy; Alistaire wouldn't just be cured like they were living in a fantasy book -- not that he read many of those, he was a nonfiction kind of guy. Harland shifted so that he had one knee bent, hugged one arm around it and pulled it to his chest as he watched Alistaire, hoping that the man would recover.
If he had any say in Alistaire's internal struggle, he would have begged him not to rebuild the walls, not just then. They had time, they were alone. So long as no one else could see, just hold out a little bit longer. Don't go away, he'd beg. I'm not ready for you to leave again, when you just got here. But he didn't know, couldn't know, exactly what Alistaire was thinking.
He just waited, patiently and silently, as Alistaire seemed to compose himself.
He looked a lot more sober, now. A lot less dizzy. Harland knew that fear, anxiety, they could do that to a person no matter how buzzed and happy they were. Harland was surprised by Alistaire, for what felt like the hundredth time that night. He'd never expected this. Not at all.
He nodded, though he still couldn't help but look sad, and unfolded himself from how he'd been sitting, so that he could approach Alistaire slowly, and slip one hand under his chin, cradling Alistaire's head and tilting it just slightly so that he could look Alistaire in the eyes, first. Harland looked like he was trying to read them, find some piece of information, some explanation--
And then, he tilted his face towards Alistaire, aiming to press his lips to Alistaire's like a question: his lips would be soft, not calloused like the rest of him (thankfully, how would lips become calloused) and the way he kissed would be slow. Not hungry, or particularly intense, and Harland's brows would knit together as he kissed Alistaire. It would be the first time he'd kissed anyone in longer than he could remember.
And it would make his heart race. His other hand would slide towards Alistaire, looking for his hand, wanting to thread his fingers through Alistaire's like Alistaire had done earlier, when they tried to play a simple child's game. Still, if Alistaire let the kiss happen in the first place, he didn't want to risk Alistaire feeling more sick after it; what if the kiss was too much to handle? Harland would have to move away sooner than he'd like.
He started to, reluctantly, pull away. In less intense circumstances, he probably would have made a joke You can have as many kisses as you want, just don't hurl on me
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Posted: Sat May 10, 2014 10:57 pm
He expected a no.
That was what he had gotten earlier, not just from Harland, but from everyone before then. Of course, the question had been different, meaningless, and at the time Alistaire hadn't cared, hadn't given a damn what other people had thought of him.
Until now.
He had expected a no, let's wait, or maybe a no, I can't.
It wasn't what he got.
Harland moved in front of him and Alistaire's breath hitched in his throat, his eyes widening. Automatically he shifted, his back against the bed because there was no where else for him to go, no where else for him to hide, for him to back away from him.
- gentle fingers, against his chin -
And then Harland's lips were against his own and Alistaire drew in a sharp breath unintentionally, a gasp that fluttered out and was muffled by Harland's warm mouth. His hand lifted, a knee-jerk reaction, but it didn't go anywhere, floundering a little before he pressed his palm flat against the floor, and it was warm, warm warm -
Harland's hand touched his, not hard, giving him a way out if he wanted; but after a second or two, Alistaire moved his own, threading his fingers through Harland's in a light, tremulous grasp, his whole body shaking.
He felt Harland begin to pull away, the warmth starting to leave, and the panic rose in Alistaire's throat because he couldn't tell if he was relieved or disappointed, because this was not like being touched like he had been before, this was not like anything he'd ever felt before; this was a surge of emotions, a crash of confusion and heat and warmth and everything.
Alistaire lifted his free hand, curled his fingers in the front of Harland's shirt and pulled him back, surging upwards to press more firmly into the kiss, fighting the panic and the fear and the anxiety, focusing instead on the reassuring warmth of Harland's lips against his own.
Ali.
Hey, Ali.
He broke away with a gasp, his chest heaving, his face flooding with color. Alistaire pressing a hand against his rapidly beating heart.
"I..." he said, and it came out a rasp, his throat feeling dry. "I..."
He couldn't say it.
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Posted: Sat May 10, 2014 11:18 pm
Harland's only concern at that moment had been Alistaire's consent; he never wanted to take anything that wasn't freely offered, never wanted to force Alistaire to progress at a rate faster than he was comfortable. Harland had almost all the patience in the world. He could wait. But maybe it was something about the way he'd asked, the way Harland thought he looked vulnerable still. Open. A chance to kiss the person he wanted to most, the version of Alistaire not trying to throw quick walls up to protect himself.
Harland squeezed Alistaire's hand in his, firmly but briefly, as if reassuring himself or maybe Alistaire that he was right there, that he was only there so long as Alistaire wanted him to be. Naturally, but... the offer was what counted, to Harland. Harland, startled as Alistaire pulled him back and kissed him of his own volition, it was Harland's turn to have his breath catch. His voice rumbled in his throat, surprised, and then pleased. The look of worry melted for a second, to contentment, and longing.
Until Alistaire was pulling away again, leaving Harland's hand automatically reaching out as if he was going to try to catch Alistaire. Harland tucked his falling hair behind one ear, and sat cross-legged again, his face flushed and his heart racing. "Somethin' ye need to tell me, mo chroi?" Harland asked.
He was worried Alistaire should be resting, sleeping maybe, now that they'd got him to drink some water. Still, he didn't want to cut him off, if there was something he was working up to say. Harland's free hand, the one not supporting his weight, reached up and he brushed his own lips idly, almost as if in a trance, remembering the way it felt to kiss Alistaire. He smiled to himself.
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Posted: Sat May 10, 2014 11:32 pm
He couldn't say it. He couldn't let Harland know that that right there, the warm and gentle kiss from this Irish cowboy, had been his first kiss, at least in the way that first kisses counted (and Alistaire did not count the ones from her). There was something so very simple about it, and yet he could still feel Harland's lips on his own, the pressure of them, the heat, and his cheeks were scarlet as Harland settled down in front of him.
"That was..." he started, and then stopped.
A mistake? You wanted this.
You wanted to know what it felt like and you got your answer.
Now what?
What do you want?
He closed his eyes again, forced his breathing into submission, suppressed the panic. His head was throbbing, but his thoughts were a tangled mess that he couldn't undo, and he wasn't even sure that he wanted to. Terrifyingly, he also very much wanted to kiss Harland again, watching his fingers move across his lips with an almost dazed expression - but that couldn't happen, not yet.
"Yes," Alistaire said quietly, his voice raw. "I think it's time for me to sleep."
It was not a dismissal, but a strange sort of acceptance, rather. Wordlessly he stretched out his hand towards Harland, waiting for him to take it, and though his fingers were trembling, his gaze was fixed breathlessly on Harland's.
The message was clear enough.
I need you to guide me through this mess in my head.
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Posted: Sun May 11, 2014 12:29 pm
Harland was concerned that whatever Alistaire had to say was fatal to whatever had happened tonight. Still, it looked like if it was the sword of Damocles, it wasn't about to drop. Whatever Alistaire was about to say, he clearly wasn't ready to say it just yet. Harland would wait.
And he'd do this best not to fear the worst. Harland listened to Alistaire's breathing as a measure of how the man was doing. He was still under control, so much so that Harland really felt hope. "Sleep's a good idea," Harland agreed, immediately a lot less worried about how he'd broach the subject.
Harland looked at Alistaire's extended fingers the way someone might look at an extended hand when they were hanging off a cliff by the last vestiges of their strength and will-- an emotion that somehow mixed affection, desperation, gratitude, concern, exhaustion into one look.
Harland reached his hand out, and threaded his fingers through Alistaire's again, but he wasn't sure what to do yet. He was afraid of reading things wrong, he didn't know what to do or how to say the right thing. He felt supremely clumsy, in this moment. He was torn between wanting to excuse himself so that Alistaire could be comfortable for bed, and wanting to stay so that he could get the man settled and sit next to the bed until he fell asleep.
Harland just wanted to make sure he'd be okay, and he had this strange urge to stay watch over Alistaire while he slept, lest someone snuck into his sleep and cursed him with nightmares. Harland stroked his thumb across Alistaire's hand again, slowly, gently, trying to figure out what Alistaire wanted.
He may as well just ask. "Am I goin'?" he whispered, "I don't much like the idea of leavin' before I know you're safe asleep, but... can't imagine that's much fun to sleep in," he said, gesturing to the shirt with a nod of his head. "Unless ye sleep fully clothed?" Harland asked, the corner of his mouth quirking up.
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Posted: Sun May 11, 2014 12:53 pm
He didn't know what he wanted, and this was the fact that scared him the most.
For someone who was used to be in control; someone who was used to getting his way, someone who was used to being in charge of both himself and the situation around him, this was something entirely new and it was terrifying. It was uncharted territory, forbidden territory. It was always Ian that had been the easy flirt, the one that people flocked to, the one that people wanted to hug and kiss and be around, never Alistaire.
He'd never admit to the envious pangs that had always settled into his stomach, which was why he had no idea of what to do now, after this.
Harland's fingers were warm and calloused as they slid against his, and Alistaire's breath hitched in his throat. He pressed his lips together, fighting the anxiety, and then slowly got to his feet, clumsy, not at all his usual graceful self. He pulled Harland with him until they were standing face to face again, though Alistaire's gaze was averted, his cheeks crimson.
"No," he said, and he hated the way his chest felt so tight, the way his head spun in circles around him, trying to make sense of his decisions and his own chaotic emotions. "No, you're not leaving."
It was easier to focus on Harland's actions than his own; to say things that were about Harland than about himself. He let go of his hand long enough to reach down and unlace his shoes, pulling them off and setting them carefully by the closet. Next came the socks, placed in the hamper, and then his belt, which he undid and slid off with a click, draping it over the bar in the closet.
He felt terribly exposed, in spite of the fact that he was still wearing his slacks and dress shirt, though the sleeves were rolled up and the top few buttons were undone. A bout of anxiety washed over him, and Alistaire stumbled towards the bed, trembling fingers yanking on the sheets to pull them back.
"This is fine," he said, the words coming out too quickly. He still couldn't look at Harland yet, reaching to drag the chair from his desk back upright and set it next to the bed. He crawled beneath the blankets and turned on his side, facing away because his breath was caught in his throat and his chest was tight with anxiety.
"Turn off the light," he said, and then, the words stumbling, hitching in his throat, "And sit down."
Don't leave. Not yet.
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Posted: Sun May 11, 2014 2:33 pm
Of all the people to have to open up to, Harland was probably hands down one of the safest; he was never the kind of person to take without asking, or to push without necessity. He was the kind of person whose natural pace was incredibly slow and thoughtful. Harland let himself be pulled in, amused in a good way as well as distracted by the warmth of their bodies this close to one another.
He was loving this for every second it was worth, because he didn't know when Alistaire would feel up to it again. Automatically, Harland tensed to catch Alistaire if he stumbled. Harland was glad to hear that he wasn't leaving.
As Alistaire set off to take his shoes off and put his things away, Harland righted all the fallen books from the earlier fall. Wordlessly, Harland made sure to keep his back to Alistaire until he slipped into the bed, and climbed in still in his shirt and slacks.
Harland turned the light off and blinked in the darkness for a few seconds, before making his way over to settle in the chair, hands clasped together in his lap. "Your majesty," Harland joked, again. "Want to hear a story? From my home," Harland offered, "if that sort of thing'd help you fall asleep."
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