Welcome to Gaia! ::

Whether he wanted it to or not, life (of course) marched resolutely onwards. And withg life came duties. Horace couldn't sit in his room forever, waiting for Jan to finally say it was okay for him to visit. But as the (Admittedly few) days had stretched, Horace found himself falling into the familiar hole of 'maybe he doesn't want me to come over' and 'maybe he didn't actually miss me or need me and I'm not good enough'. With the tumble downwards came, of course, the guilt - the feeling that those were thoughts he should not be thinking. Horace shouldn't feel this way about a man who'd hurt him and he did. He wished he could forget and just go back to before.

At least, Horace thought, he'd possessed the foresight to arrive before his partner for underwater duty and bring a book. Lately, he hadn't been reading any romance novels and had picked instead a sort of sci-fi space opera. It was a book he'd read many times before, the first in a series he'd never bothered to finish. He blanaced it on one knee as he read, ignoring the sound of the door opening. Horace hadn't recognized the name on the roster and therefore felt disinclined to invite any sort of conversation.

When his duty companion spoke, he jolted and the book fell haphazardly to the floor. He should not have been surprised, they worked on the same small island. But he was surprised, and nervous, and anxious, and a thousand other mixed-up feelings that made his heart feel like it was in his throat. All of his insecurities were shoved back a bit as Horace swallowed noisily and jumped up, possessed by the unshakeable need to be closer, to make sure that Jan was actually real.

"Jan," he breathed, bending down and cupping hands that shook slightly around the other man's face. His hands slid down to press against Jan's chest and Horace before wrapping his arms around the other man. "You're real." Horace would deal with his misgivings, his uncertainties, his guilt and worry later. For now, he just wanted to be close. He breathed deeply, smelling that familiar floral scent (he'd liked the other one better, but both scents were Jan).

Horace made a small, pleased sound at the feel of Jan's fingers in his hair. It felt normal; it felt like nothing had happened, like Jan hadn't been locked away for months. He wanted nothing more than to ******** forget. He was afraid, of course, even now, even though he'd deserved what happened. Jan missed him, but could he believe it? His arms tightened around Jan for a brief moment before he released him. But still, Horace remained kneeling in front of him, reluctant to move back.

"I loved you there," he said of the dream. A ghost of remembered frustration and pain moved across his face. "-though I do not know if that was me or the knight, and it was... hard. I was not a knight at the end." He'd been overtaken by shadow. And Horace remembered how he'd wanted the grail, wanted to have it all and had ended up with nothing.

"I wish you had written more - I had so many things to ask you; I still do." A muscle in his jaw tensed. There were things Horace needed to say - about lies and America, and the things he needed to keep sane. He sighed. "I wish we didn't have duty."

His mouth quirked up at the corners. The fastidious Jan had sported a tattoo and been quite a lot more.... fuzzy than normal. "I thought the tattoo wasn't so bad, though I prefer you as you really are." He tried now to think about the mark on his own chest - it hadn't been there in the dream, of course, and his hand had flown to it upon awakening. For a brief moment, he'd hoped it had been a dream too.

Horace's hand reached out to rest of Jan's thigh, fingertips stroking idly at his wrist. He looked up sharply at the mention of being podded, then laughed, a little forced. "I hope you do not get podded agian, as well. It was very... lonely. What did you do while you were there? Because you could see and write and I visited your pod many times, and..." He trailed off, taking a deep breath.

"I... I understand if you don't want to answer many questions, but... can I say one thing? I n-needsomething." Horace tripped over his words like a schoolgirl confessing to her frist crush.

He breathed out slowly. "There was no America - that's true. But I feel like there were other... obstacles, regardless." He wondered if it would be like that in every sort of dream reality or ******** it was. "I couldn't stay away," he said softly. The pod, Jan inside the pod - he'd had time where he had wanted to rip out all of the wiring or to shake and shake until Jan woke up. But mostly he'd been... sad.

The brow raise just made Horace more nervous. "I still l-love you-" his mouth tripped over the word as if afraid to bring it out into the light of day. "And I know that you d-do not, but.." Here he faltered again, wondering how he was supposed to leap over such an insurmountable hurdle. "Please, Jan, please don't lie to me anymore. I will take anything that is true, but I can't handle more lies." His hands clenched and he ignored the way his left hand felt different, would always feel different. He thought, maybe, he could be strong enough if Jan just didn't lie to him anymore.

Horace sighed and let himself, for a just a moment, lean his cheek against Jan's thigh. He wanted to believe, he wanted... We construct fairytales... and we accept them. But he felt as though his lie detector was in constant malfunction where Jan was concerned. He looked up. "I don't think I could take it if you lied to me again." And Horace stood, pressing a hand to Jan's face. "About anything. I know you can't... can't love, so don't tell me you do - if you don't miss me, don't say 'I miss you', if you don't feel it, please, Jan, don't fake it. Not for me." Leaning down, he kissed Jan, resisting the urge to linger there like it was home.

He straightened and slowly walked over to his chair, picking it up. (He hated the metallic, screeching drag of the things.) Carelessly, he dropped it near Jan's, close enough that he could sit or touch or anything he wished. In spite of everything, perhaps because of everything, he did not want to be any further apart than he had to. Leaning over, he pressed a kiss into Jan's shoulder, breathing in his scent - and he, once again, tried not to remember how that smelled mixed with the scent of his own blood and the sea spray that beat against the shore near the cave. It made his hands shake.

"Did you finish tidying, Jan? Ah... do you think I could come visit you soon?" Maybe, Horace thought for a fleeting, fatalistic second, eve if he were signing his death warrant with those words, maybe it wasn't so bad.

Horace always liked the way Jan leaned into touches; it encouraged him. And, right now, it frustrated him. While he found himself perfectly happy (happy was the easiest way to describe it, a simple word he could pretend encampassed everything he felt, even if it was inadequate) just being near Jan, he wanted more. Horace wanted to burn new memories in his mind to replace the most recent ones of Jan. He hadn't slept with anyone while Jan had been gone, both unable to bring himself to betray the man and simply uninterested. Now Jan was back, and Horace was nervous, and he was scared, but he wanted him.

"I would rather," His fingers dipped just an inch under the edge of Jan's sarong and under the waistband of his shorts. Not too far. "-not have that happen again, either." If it was preventable. Horace still had insecurities, he always would, especially now that he couldn't rely on Jan's feelings to bind him. Well, he'd never been able to rely on that, but Horace had not been aware until recently. Someday, he'd need to ask about America, about the stalking and try to extract a promise... The thought made bile rise in his throat.

Horace barely controlled a flinch at the way Jan said 'break'. He remembered the way the shards had cut into his back, even if they'd left no marks. His first instinct was to point out that Jan rather held fault in that mess as well, but he held it back, fingers digging briefly into Jan's skin. He forcefully relaxed himself. "I would've helped, if you'd asked, Jan." Though he'd been in no condition to help, but had instead been more of a mess than Jan's room. It was funny, he thought, that he'd managed to tidy his mind like Jan had tidied his room.

"If you need anything, just ask." His fingers still moved, stroking Jan's skin absently. "I missed you."

"I-" Horace swallowed his words, any possible protest. He wanted to talk about the things he couldn't stand for, the things that would break him in ways physical things couldn't. But with every word Jan spoke, every subtle emphasis, a strange guilt seeped in; Horace felt himself slipping. Jan was right, as usual, as always, wasn't he? If Horace hadn't... if he had handled everything with more grace, more tact, said the right thing and not the wrong thing... Maybe everything would've been different. He only ever got what was coming to him.

Jan cupped his face, lifting it up, and Horace did not resist. That Jan had missed him... maybe it would make everything alright again. If he just tried hard enough, it would be okay. It was okay because it had to be. Horace bit his lip for a second, trying to suppress the shudder that went through him as his throat was touched. He swallowed.

"I'm sorry."