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 Posted: Sun May 11, 2014 8:18 pm
Two days.
It had been two days since the night in his room with Harland, and two days since Alistaire had actually talked to the other man, which was entirely of his own doing. Not because he hadn't wanted to (though he tried not to think about that), but because the mess inside of his head made it difficult to understand anything that had happened that night.
He hadn't slept well, that was for certain. Alistaire had woken up several times during the night, a combination of the sweltering heat and the alcohol. Each time he'd been dizzy and disoriented, trying to figure out where he was before he remembered that he was in his room, on his bed, with Harland asleep in the chair beside him. His hand was still (embarrassingly) cradling Harland's, Harland's skin hot against Alistaire's hands, and each time Alistaire had almost pulled away.
Each time he had fallen asleep before he'd been able.
In the morning, he'd gotten up before Harland had, feeling slightly sick at the way his clothing stuck uncomfortably to his skin, sweat making his hair plastered to his forehead. He'd written a note - all it had said was I'll be in touch. (without realizing the irony of his words) - and then had practically run from the room to the showers, desperate to get clean again.
And now, two days later, he still hadn't called Harland. He supposed it was rather rude, not calling, but it wasn't as though he hadn't wanted to.
He tried to pretend that it had been a one night thing; that the vague, dream-like memories he had of that night, tinged by the alcohol and a considerable amount of stress had made him do stupid things and say a hell of a lot more than he had meant to.
But that did not stop him from remembering the touch of Harland's hand against his own, feverishly hot, or the press of warm lips, and he flushed now just thinking about it, his fingers clutching the phone in his hands while he sat on the bed in his room. It was back to its orderly self, clean and organized and neat, exactly the way he was used to.
His thoughts, on the other hand, were not, not even the slightest.
Alistaire tugged absently on the black tie around his neck and pressed a gloved thumb to the screen of his phone to turn it back on.face your demons Text to Harland Leander Belle:Come over. Quote: Text to Harland Leander Belle:Please.
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Posted: Sun May 11, 2014 8:43 pm
Harland was sitting at his desk with a cup of lukewarm coffee at his side. Sugarless coffee, no milk either; it was better that way, so it didn't develop a weird sweet skin when he left it too long. He still wrote by candle light, read by candlelight too; he was sketching the inside of the Titan they'd fought, and sketching references of the barriers, the grenade, the symptoms of the bugs that had crawled out of his skin.
For research. He labelled every one of his sketches with detailed information about the tactic they'd used to slay the creature, and about the price they'd paid in the aftermath. The quarantine. He ran a hand through his sunny hair, exhausted. A crumpled note on his desk read I'll be in touch. The note had been scrunched into a ball and nearly (or altogether) thrown away more than once, only to be reopened and smoothed and unfolded again every time.
Two days since he'd gotten that note, and he was still sore.
His cell lit up, as though Alistaire could hear his thoughts, the screen flashing. Harland looked at the screen, clicking it open. Come over the first text said. Harland clicked the screen off, and set his phone back down, returning to his sketches. His stomach hurt. He felt like he was going to throw up.
Two days of his worst fears being true. I told you that you'd be left alone in the dark, used.
"Lig dom," Harland said, his voice low, "agus fan ciúin." He rubbed at his temples. He'd be lying if he said it didn't hurt. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't been hopeful that it wouldn't be like this.
Every time he moved and his muscles ached from sleeping in that chair, he remembered.
The screen lit up again.
Please.
Harland grimaced at the screen, and turned it off again.
Twenty-five minutes later, Harland would arrive, barefoot and with his bandanna on, cowboy hat around his neck. This time he wasn't dressed as nicely as he normally was. Jeans, a light summer longsleeve shirt. He had only just managed to convince himself to actually go when he was summoned, two days later, like he was a dog at Alistaire's beck and call.
Needless to say, he wasn't in the best mood. Not that it showed particularly. He leaned against the door frame again, rapped his knuckles on the door.
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Posted: Sun May 11, 2014 8:55 pm
It took him longer this time to come over, longer than it had the previous times, to the point that Alistaire was almost certain that Harland wasn't coming at all. He supposed he deserved it; after all, two days without any contact after a heated evening spent together (in spite of the fact that the only "real" physical contact that had happened was a kiss and some shaky hand holding) would make anyone irritated.
It was less about the physical and more about the mental, however, as much as he tried to deny it. Harland had gotten under his skin, had read so deeply into the recesses of Alistaire's mind that he almost felt bare in front of him, as though all of his walls and protections had been stripped away.
It was a terrifying feeling, letting go.
He was already mostly dressed, but in the time it took for Harland to come over, Alistaire finished getting ready for the day, dressed in a pair of charcoal gray slacks, a dark green vest, and a black dress shirt with a black tie, a silver tie pin holding it in place. The gloves were on his hands, as usual, and he was just finishing buttoning up the last button when there was a knock at the door.
His stomach twisted, in spite of Alistaire having attempted to mentally prepare himself for the arrival since he'd sent the text in the first place. Alistaire smoothed down his tie with slightly shaking fingers and made his way slowly to the door, padding across the floor in feet covered in black socks without shoes.
When he swung open the door, there was Harland, leaning against the frame as casual as could be, and Alistaire momentarily lost what he'd meant to say, the words catching in his throat. He swallowed hard, color creeping into his cheeks, and stumbled over his greeting.
"Mr. Belle."
His attempt at being calm and collected failed miserably, Alistaire's voice rather hoarse. He gestured rather uselessly for him to come inside.
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Posted: Sun May 11, 2014 9:28 pm
The instant Alistaire opened the door, and Harland saw his face, he remembered, and he understood: the Alistaire that stood before him, the one whose hand he held all night, was not the one he'd first met. And the one he had suddenly learned to care so much about, the one he was falling for, was the one who remained. It was that easy, Harland let go of the pain he'd been letting build inside him, and was just happy to see him. That was all. Happy.
It had just been a kiss, a few kisses on Harland's part, it was true, but that wasn't something he just went around doing. As much as he loved to charm people, he was never interested in them. This time, it seemed like he couldn't help but be fascinated.
Harland smiled his sunny smile, and placed his cowboy hat against his chest, taking it off, bowing his head to Alistaire. "Forgive me for being so slow gettin' here?" he asked, quietly. Forgive me for thinking I shouldn't come at all, the distantly guilty look on his face added. Harland smiled wider when he realized that Alistaire was wearing a green vest, too.
"Glas; your favourite colour," he said, nodding at the vest.
Harland followed Alistaire's motion and padded inside, his bare feet silent. He looked around the room as though he was in a museum, faintly afraid to touch anything lest it crumbled. "So I was thinkin'," he said, as he looked around the room, "Was it tea? Or maybe the shower? I mean I assume your phone met some sort of watery fate, t' keep you silent these past couple days." He turned to smile at Alistaire, clearly teasing him.
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Posted: Sun May 11, 2014 9:43 pm
He needed to not be so distracted, but Harland's bright smile was making that difficult, Alistaire's eyes inadvertently tracing the curve of his lips as they tilted upwards. He realized he was staring a beat too late, and hastily rearranged his features, forcing his gaze back up to Harland's pale green eyes - though that didn't really make it all that easier.
Alistaire shut the door behind Harland and locked it again, trying to keep Ian out yet again; though his brother had been absent as of late, holed up who knew where in his attempts at getting through his own demons in life. Not that Alistaire particularly minded this; it made it easier somehow, without Ian in the picture.
Ian, his mind whispered to him, Ian. The man this man is still in love with.
He forced that thought away.
Focus on the present. Focus on the here and now.
Focus.
Harland's comment seemed to startle Alistaire out of his reverie; he glanced down at himself, as though he'd forgotten what it was that he'd been wearing in the first place. "Ah," he said, and smoothed a hand down the front of his vest, curling his gloved fingers against his stomach. "It's the only one I have," he said, keeping his tone light. "I haven't exactly found time to go shopping yet."
He wasn't wearing any shoes, which was weird; his feet looked somewhat bare without the traditional cowboy boots to cover them. Alistaire dragged his gaze back up to Harland's face and flushed, all attempts at keeping his cool and not getting emotional going out the window.
"I had a lot to think about," he said tightly, his voice hoarse.
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Posted: Sun May 11, 2014 9:57 pm
It wasn't the same, the way Harland felt about Ian. In fact, it had been so long since they'd had much of anything to do with one another that Harland figured what he loved about Ian was just a spectre; an imaginary creature he'd made up. It couldn't possibly resemble the real Ian.
It was too bad his memory was so sharp, so that every detail was constantly repeated so that he could never forget. Everything he lived, he lived in the now. It was hard to let things go, that way, and yet Harland always tried to find a way. He didn't like to chain anything down. He knew Ian would never be back. It was okay. It hurt, but so did a lot of things.
What would hurt a lot more was if Alistaire's thoughts had told him that Harland would be better off far away. "Oh?" he asked, trying to keep his smile up. It fell to pieces, gradually, and he looked towards the window to try to hide it. His breathing was pained, chest tight again.
All he wanted was to do what was right. Why was that so hard? "And am I here because ye came to a conclusion?" Harland asked, softly, afraid of the answer he wouldn't put off any longer.
☆≼Look, cowboy, why don't you just turn around and go back to your room? Or, better yet, go find the gorgeous chick with the cute face and the blue eyes. Go see if Lilac wants to play Scrabble, or something. Just don't take his s**t if you don't have to,≽ Coyote told him, sternly.
It was funny. After the dreams he had, the strange and vivid ones, Coyote was almost never against him any more. It was as if they were actually a willing team. Harland smiled, internally, and told him that it'd be just fine.
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Posted: Sun May 11, 2014 10:10 pm
The face Harland was making; the slow slip of his smile as it fell away from his lips, the quiet voice that rumbled from deep in his throat, all little details that made him so uniquely Harland, and for a moment Alistaire forgot what he'd been going to say, forgot any words entirely.
What do I want?
I don't know anymore.
You know some things. Like how you wish you could talk Ian out of his stupidity, or that you wish you could forget all of the things about her, or that you don't like touching people or dirt or messes, but somehow you seem to be learning how to get through all of that. And why is that?
Why have you started being able to do those things now, of all times and places?
His head had begun to throb again. Harland had turned away from him, staring out the window, and Alistaire reeled in a sharp breath, feeling slightly dizzy. He took a step towards Harland.
"I want you to teach me," he said quietly. "I need you to teach me what we've already started: how to interact with people, how to...get over this particular issue in my life. How to...touch people. You're the only one that can help me."
He took another step. Harland's presence, as usual, radiated a warmth that spread outwards, making it harder to concentrate. Alistaire took another breath, and the rest was said with his face a crimson red, burning, searing his cheeks.
"And I want you to wait for me."
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Posted: Sun May 11, 2014 10:27 pm
Harland turned as Alistaire approached, and as soon as his eyes met Alistaire's he remembered what he'd said to Harland that night. That it wasn't his fault. That he hadn't killed her. Harland wanted to reach out, to cup Alistaire's jaw in one hand and pull him closer to kiss him again. Slowly, maybe even slower than the last time, so that even when he had to let go he'd still have the taste of that kiss on his lips.
The price he'd have to pay to teach Alistaire those things was staggering; he'd made himself so willingly vulnerable that he'd likely keep falling in love just because Alistaire could reach a part of him he'd sealed off from the rest of the world long ago, without even realizing it. He spent so much time in books, in working out, in drawing and thinking and analyzing that he didn't even know he was a hermit.
He hoped that he could help anyway.
"Is that all, mo chroi? Done," he said, his voice gentle as it was that night before. "Waitin's kind of my specialty," Harland added, the corner of his mouth tilting up. "I've got one kiss to get me by, I can live off that."
Harland thought of something. "Should take up dancin'," he joked. "No better way to touch and to learn to trust than that."
In all seriousness, he had absolutely no idea what to do to proceed now. So, of course, the Irish fake cowboy did exactly what he always did: he approached the problem simply, and plainly. "Alistaire, you know I can't think straight now that you're on my mind all the while? I truly ... feel for you," he said, employing the vague turn of phrase nevertheless. "An' I was wonderin' if maybe... ah, well, why not go for broke-- I was wonderin' if you'd be so kind as to suffer through a date."
"With me," Harland said, as if that was somehow unclear. He turned bright red.
☆≼On second thought, no. You are never talking to the ladies. Never, ever again.≽ Coyote said, exasperated and yet somehow amused.
Harland had literally no idea what the hell he was doing, at this point. All he knew was that he wanted to be there for Alistaire, wanted to be with him. He didn't want to be a teacher, or an assistant, or just a friend. Harland knew what he wanted, now. Or at least he hoped he did.
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Posted: Sun May 11, 2014 10:38 pm
Mentioning the fact that they'd kissed when Alistaire was trying not to think about it only made him think about it more, about the gentle touch of fingers against his chin, tilting his head up, and the light feeling in his stomach as Harland had leaned into him, lips warm and slightly chapped, just the right amount of pressure and yet not enough all at once.
Every word Harland spoke seemed to set his nerves alight; Alistaire felt slightly dizzy with the implications of them all, at the plain and simple way that they'd presented; yet the heaviness that accompanied them was a stark contrast. Everything was so straightforward with Harland Leander Belle; everything was said so easily, so that whoever was listening wouldn't have to work to understand them.
Alistaire did not have that luxury.
He opened his mouth and then shut it again, his mind trying frantically to put the pieces together, to make the puzzle whole, except all he could think about was Harland standing in front of him with that intoxicating warmth of his, and the words that fell from his lips like drops of fire.
"You're..." he said, slightly dazed. "You're...are you asking me out, Mr. Belle?"
There was a pause in which he knew this was the only and obvious answer to a question that hadn't needed to be asked because Harland had already said it as plain as day. Yet Alistaire was nothing if not careful, and there was nothing he wanted more at this moment than a reassurance that he had not misheard Harland.
He'd spent years cultivating the walls around himself, the cold and calculating facade, and yet with a few simple words, Harland seemed capable of tearing them all down.
After a long moment, he said quietly, "I am not a good person."
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Posted: Sun May 11, 2014 10:56 pm
Harland was somewhere between trying not to laugh at being called Mr Belle again, and being gravely serious. He was keeping himself fairly calm, riding that edge of hope that maybe Alistaire would accept the proposition, even though he hadn't yet.
He hadn't said no yet, either, and that was what kept Harland optimistic. "I have met you before, you know," Harland joked, in response to being told that Alistaire was not a good person. "An' I've seen good in you, mark me," he defended Alistaire. Defending Alistaire to Alistaire was a weird feeling.
Harland was pretty confident that he was asking for the right thing, or as right as he could figure. With his memory the way it was, he did remember all the times Alistaire had tried to get under his skin, find his pressure point on that first meeting.
But Harland wasn't budging, he wasn't backing down, and most importantly to him, he didn't believe for a second Alistaire wasn't a good person. Interested in self-preservation, sure; some huge trust issues, yeah; but promising. Brilliant. Handsome.
When Harland looked at him, he felt an overwhelming desire to press Alistaire against the door and kiss him. He smiled to himself, but obviously didn't move a muscle.
"Aye, Alistaire. One date, that's all I'm askin' for though; if ye decide that I'm too borin' or maybe you need Mr Clean or, I dunno, a woman with soapy sponges for skin, then the one date'll have to do," he said. "I'm gonna believe in you until I draw my last breath, mo chroi," Harland said, cheerfully.
"So... yes? Maybe?" Harland set his hat down for a moment, on the chair, and ran a hand through his wavy hair. "If the answer's no, I'll still do my best t' help ye get used t' touchin' others," he said, "in case... in case there was someone for whom you were learnin'." He said.
"Wouldn't want to let 'em down," Harland added, with a wink and probably his saddest smile yet.
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Posted: Sun May 11, 2014 11:04 pm
It was a habit, calling people by their last names, one that Alistaire had long cultivated over the years and had yet to actually break out of. It was a knee-jerk reaction, an automatic trigger in his head, and a large part of it was to keep his distance from others; to hold the formality rather than let his guard down and get close.
His guard was already down and he was already close. Too close, in fact, because at this distance, Alistaire could have counted the freckles on Harland Leander Belle's face if he wanted to, though his eyes kept flicking between Harland's face and his mouth, unable to rid himself of the hazy memories of the night two days ago.
"If there's good, it's buried deep," said Alistaire. "I have little to pride myself on in terms of good."
But the question was still there, hanging in the air for him. It was like a weight, but not exactly an unwelcome one; a bemusing one, filled with endless possibilities and terribly frightening reactions that could all stem from one simple action.
What do I want?
I want...
"Okay."
The word escaped his dry throat before he could stop it. Alistaire's face was burning but he stood there in front of Harland with his chest tight and his heart in his throat. He licked his lips, trying to wet them from the sudden dryness, and his fingers clenched a little, curling into his gloved palm. At first his eyes were averted from Harland's, but this meant he was staring at Harland's mouth again, so he dragged his gaze upwards, forcing himself to meet Harland's eyes.
"Yes."
What the hell did I just get myself into?
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Posted: Sun May 11, 2014 11:12 pm
Harland whooped and very ungracefully did a little one-two punch gesture of success. He was extremely thrilled and that had gone swimmingly. No, it really hadn't, it had been stressful and Alistaire still seemed thoroughly convinced that he was a bad person or something but Harland was determined that wasn't the case. "Not so deep," Harland said, finally done his tiny moment of glorious excitement, "Can see some right there," Harland added, leaning in and nodding at Alistaire's nose. "An' there," Harland continued, tilting his head and looking Alistaire in the eye, suggesting that good was in his eyes. "An'... hmm, I could be just a simple Irish boy, but I think I see a whole lot of good riiiight there," he said, leaning so that he was looking at the side of Alistaire's neck.
He was grinning ear to ear.
"An' I'm lookin' forward to taking every last inch of it on that date," he said, legitimately excited.
How did one go on dates on Deus. Not exactly the most romantic conditions.
In fact, Harland suddenly realized he hadn't been on a date since he left New York, and even then the date he'd been on had been a monumentally boring idea.
"Say, was there a reason you wanted me to meet you today, anyhow?" Harland asked, remembering that he was still sort of just standing in Alistaire's room, as if he'd been the one to get them together just so he could ask for a date.
He hadn't been. Alistaire'd texted him finally, so..?
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Posted: Mon May 12, 2014 6:44 am
Harland's cheer was embarrassing, not for Harland, but for Alistaire, who was not used to such enthusiasm being directed at him. He'd moved closer, though, and now his eyes were fixed on his, and Alistaire couldn't quite breathe properly, couldn't look away.
He felt a light brush of air, a gust of breath from Harland on his neck very briefly before the other man moved away, and Alistaire flushed a darker shade of red, fumbling with his gloves just to have something to do with his hands.
"Then you're not looking properly," he said flatly, but truth be told Harland's grin was dazzling and it was very difficult to concentrate. He wouldn't say it, couldn't say that the prospect of a date - a date - was sending simultaneously thrills of terror and confusion and curiosity and fascination reverberating throughout him.
What is it that you do to me that makes me so interested in you? he wondered, dimly aware that Harland's question hung in the air and that he had lapsed into silence, still staring at Harland. How is it that someone like you has managed to break through my walls so easily? What's so different about you? What makes you tick?
And why on earth would you ever be interested in a devil like me?
"The lesson," Alistaire choked out, his other answer - I wanted to see if that warmth was still there - was forced back down, his ears reddening. "I...I wanted to continue our lessons."
I wanted to feel that warmth again.
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Posted: Mon May 12, 2014 7:32 am
Harland, buoyant with enthusiasm because Alistaire had just said yes, was still thrown off guard by the thought of getting what he wanted. Which, in this moment, was both acceptance of a date and an opportunity to touch Alistaire again. "I think this is where Coyote'd say, 'Maybe, but you're lookin' fine," Harland joked, with a wink.
☆≼Not to him, I wouldn't. Misrepresentation. I'll sue.≽ Coyote said, dryly.
I'd like to see you try, was Harland's overwhelming enthusiastic response.
"Hmm, sure," Harland agreed. He was already feeling warm. This room seemed to heat up way too fast when he was near Alistaire. "In here, or did you want to go for a walk? We could go to the beach," Harland said. Surely somewhere there'd be a nice spot where they didn't have to sit around all the scavenging hunters. Not that he wanted to drag Alistaire out in front of everyone, he was sure that would change the tone of the lessons altogether, but it might be nice.
His stomach grumbling quietly. He hadn't eaten yet today. He refused to mention that.
"Could see how long we can walk while still holding hands," he said, sunny grin still in place, only half joking.
He really did want to be able to hold Alistaire's hand. As ridiculous as a notion that seemed. He wasn't really a public affection kind of person, Lilac being the one exception. Harland would happily scoop her up and swing her whenever he saw her, but it was different.
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Posted: Mon May 12, 2014 7:47 am
The comment made his ears turn pink. "There's something wrong with your eyes, then," Alistaire muttered, finally dragging his gaze away from Harland and staring resolutely at his hands. The fingertip of one glove was wrinkled, and he absently smoothed it out with his thumb, needing at least one thing in his life to still be neat and organized, even if his thoughts refused to cooperate.
The thought of going outside - of going outside with Harland - made him freeze. For a moment, he seemed unable to speak, the panic welling in his throat, and he knew that the first time they had had lessons, it had been in the darkness beside the dormitory building, but it was different; that had been at night, in the shelter of the shadows, protected from prying eyes by the fact that most were already asleep. This was mid-morning, where other hunters would be awake and training, where they could watch them with cold eyes and lofty stares.
Alistaire pressed a hand to his chest, trying to ease some of the panic that had risen, trying to force away the sudden bout of fear and anxiety.
"Private," he choked out. "I want to keep you private."
He seemed not to realize that what he'd said could probably have been misconstrued as an entirely different meaning, his mind working furiously to replace all of the fear with something cold and detached instead, but it wasn't working. The pieces of the wall that he had built were crumbling, and he couldn't build them back fast enough.
Warm warm warm warm warm why are you so warm
"We...we can open the window," said Alistaire roughly, his throat dry. "T-to let the breeze in."
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