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 Posted: Sun Dec 04, 2016 9:51 pm
Beginning of November 2016
Their dinner was eaten under the stars that night. By the time they got around to actually having something to eat, the sun had set into the deep blue that reminded Michael of Caspian’s eyes, and the moon and stars were out and shining. The mountains were just as good a place to see the night sky as being out at sea was, and Michael thought it was perfect that the back porch opened up to the mountains around them, looking over a steep drop over the edge and into the valley below.
It was too hot to light a fire, but cool enough for them to sidle up next to each other on the couch once they’d finished eating, talking and joking about whatever came to mind, before finally making their way back to the bedroom. Clothes already littered the floor from before. Michael hadn’t even bothered getting fully dressed after showering earlier, but instead walked around in his boxer briefs, much to Caspian’s entertainment and his disappointment.
He wasn’t sure when they finally settled down long enough to fall asleep, and it was probably only due to sheer exhaustion that they ended up falling asleep in the first place, but Michael knew it was probably well after midnight.
No longer than a few hours later, Michael woke with a start, sweat already beading and falling down his face as he gasped for breath, sitting up in bed, hand lifted to his face, as the moon and starlight poured in through the over large window and across the room.
The images were fleeting, consciousness already chasing the shadows of his memories away. He was grateful for that, but it was a pain because he wasn’t sure if he’d been moving around too much in his nightmare induced state, and felt bad for the possibility of waking Caspian, who had been draped over him when he’d drifted off.
His heart was still pounding, his head spinning, and after wiping his face with the back of his hand, he lowered it to clutch at his chest, as if physically trying to make his heart stop beating so rapidly. It was just a dream. They were more frequent these days, and it was taking him longer to convince himself that it was all in his head, but it was just a dream. —————— They’d at least had the foresight to change the sheets before going to bed, which, as it turned out, was necessary for a variety of reasons, one of which being that the first set had torn. Curling up together, exhausted, warm, safe, and happy with Michael’s arm around him, Caspian wearing one of Michael’s shirts (which practically dwarfed him), he found it very easy to slip off to sleep.
And for once, he didn’t have nightmares. It might have been due to the fact that Caspian was simply so exhausted that his mind lapsed immediately into a hazy sort of stupor, but it might just have been a result of being so endlessly pleased. The first day at the cabin had been wonderful, to say the least, and he was intensely worn out and satisfied by the time his eyes finally closed.
He was woken up, however, not too long later.
Michael’s sudden gasp and the jerking motion of his body upright made Caspian jolt, his eyes flying wide. He scrambled blindly in the silvery moonlight streaming in from the wide window, Caspian bleary eyed and hazy as he got tangled in the sheets, his chest heaving for breath.
“Michael - “
It was an instinctive response, honed because of nightmares, that his first act was to make sure that Michael was okay. Caspian finally managed to make his head turn in the right direction, a hand reaching out to find Michael’s arm and curl around it.
“Michael - you okay? What’s wrong?”—————— One would think that he should have been exhausted enough to just fall asleep without having any nightmares to worry about, but of course he woke up anyway. Not only that, but he’d managed to wake Caspian up in the process, to which he cursed guiltily under his breath, but not before nearly jumping out of his skin as Caspian’s hand found his arm. He’d been so distracted with trying to calm himself that he didn’t even hear Caspian’s call of his name the first time.
“S-s**t, sorry…” he quickly apologized, his voice rough but quiet as he stared somewhere towards the end of the bed, his fingers clawing desperately at his chest, almost enough to leave scratches. He knew he was a bit of a hypocrite when it came to nightmares; he insisted on Caspian calling him if he ever woke up from a nightmare, so he could talk him through settling back down, but of the times he called Caspian, well… it was rare and not for lack of nightmares.
“I’m - fine,” he quietly gasped, shaking his head. “Just… nightmare… sorry,” he explained, closing his eyes to calm himself more. He felt pathetic for reacting as he did, which again made him feel like a hypocrite because he didn’t think Caspian was pathetic at all when he called him at night.
But Michael was, well… he was Michael. He was ten years older, was taller, stronger, had more experience, so of course a stupid nightmare shouldn’t affect him like it did.
“Sorry,” he said again, forcing his hand away from his chest so he wouldn’t actually hurt himself, and instead impulsively ran his fingers through his hair several times to distract himself with the movement.
“Probably shouldn’t have eaten so late,” he forced a small, humorless laugh. —————— Tousle haired and heavy eyed, Caspian’s voice was roughened by tiredness and sleep. “It’s okay, what’s the matter? Are you…”
But he trailed off, because even before Michael said it, Caspian already knew. His vision was clearing enough now from the haze that he could see what Michael was doing, and one of Caspian’s hands reached out and gently but firmly pulled his fingers away from his chest, tangling them with his own. He held them to his own chest, gathered them there securely with own hands wrapped around to keep them steady, only letting go long enough to allow Michael to run his fingers through his hair.
Caspian inched closer, close enough that he could lean forward and nuzzle his face against Michael’s upper shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to the warm skin there.
“It’s okay,” he said softly. “I’m here. You’re here. We’re okay.”
It was a mantra by now, one he often told himself when he wasn’t strong enough to call Michael. Caspian pressed another kiss, and then another.
“We’re okay. You’re okay.”—————— He could feel his face burn with embarrassment, hating that he was acting this way in front of Caspian. Was this the first time he’d had a nightmare and was woken in front of him? He was having a hard time remembering. He was a thirty year old man who should be able to handle nightmares. Caspian was a different story because he was much younger and it wasn’t his fault for being so affected by them, and yet Michael couldn’t seem to catch his breath long enough to actually be okay.
“Sorry,” he mumbled again, settling only slightly as Caspian pressed a kiss and then another to his shoulder. “I know. I’m okay,” he promised, if only to make Caspian stop worrying about him. He could barely even remember what the dream was about, but he had a feeling he’d seen it before.
There’d been pain and screaming and death, not unlike the attacks from youma and negaverse officers he’d witnessed and experienced more recently, but this was something dug up from the past.
He wasn’t sure if it was being at the cabin that drew out those memories, or if it was because he was so content with his life right now, that his own subconscious had to ruin everything.
Even as Caspian pressed kisses to his shoulder, and even though he’d taken his hand to hold to his chest, Michael still felt on edge, as if something was going to happen, and he couldn’t bring himself to look at Caspian.
“I’m okay, I promise.” It was half truthful. He would be okay, he hoped. He just needed some time. “I think I just need some fresh air,” he added after a moment, carefully pushing the covers back so he could gently pull himself away, not wanting to get Caspian involved with this nonsense. —————— He let go of his tight grasp of Michael’s hands to slide one of his own across Michael’s shoulder, fingers trailing across his upper arm and lower. Caspian could still feel the trembling, the tension as tight as a wire through Michael’s body; whatever it was that he had dreamed of had made him unsteady and disoriented, something that made Caspian’s heart clench in his chest.
He felt the bed shift a little, and Michael was pulling away. A frown flitted across Caspian’s face, followed by a look of uncertainty, his fingers falling away.
“Fresh air is good,” he said lightly, as Michael eased himself away. The shuttered look was back on his face, and Caspian knew it all too well by now. Michael was shutting down, shutting off, pushing him away for whatever reason; embarrassment, maybe, or frustration, or anger, or some combination of all three. Caspian didn’t fight it, letting him get up, still kneeling on the bed.
He waited until Michael was out of sight, counted to five on his fingers, then got up and padded resolutely after him. Caspian didn’t bother to put on pants or a jacket; the teeshirt came down to his upper thighs, and though the neckline was loose enough to keep slipping over his shoulders, they were the only two in the house. He didn’t have to worry about running into Peter on his way to the bathroom or Cassie getting up early.
He was also not going to let Michael run away from him tonight, Caspian quietly but determinedly following him.
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Posted: Sun Dec 04, 2016 9:56 pm
He felt bad about it, he really did, about not being able to explain himself to Caspian, or letting his embarrassment and frustration and old nightmares get the better of him. He was an adult, he reminded himself again, and he was fine on his own. Nightmares were something he should be able to manage now, and he was there to be strong for Caspian when he had nightmares.
He wanted Caspian to look at him as someone who was brave and fearless, someone to look to for help, not someone who was crippled by fears that didn’t make sense.
Michael wandered down the hall, his hand trailing along the walls for support, descended the staircase to the main living area, and just as he’d said he was going to do, he pushed open the back door to make his way out onto the deck.
It was still relatively warm out, although the temperature was much cooler than it was down the mountain in the city. There was also a breeze that had picked up, clouds rolling across the sky here and there, blotting out the moonlight for several seconds at a time. The rustling of leaves and insects were all around, and a lone owl could be heard hooting softly in the distance.
After everything that they’d gone through, Michael knew he was still shutting Caspian off from knowing more about him. Probably because he was afraid, a coward, not wanting the young man he loved to look at him with pity or disdain. Poor Michael and everything he’d gone through, as if he wasn’t able to afford to buy himself a good life, or pay to get over things that no longer mattered because they happened years ago.
He knew he should be more concerned about the negaverse and his family being involved and Caspian being involved. Nightmares from that future still cropped up on occasion, but everything had changed. That horrible future was no longer as believable as a reality. In that future he hadn’t been in love, hadn’t even met Caspian.
But he also knew that the nightmares, and then those he knew being taken and tortured that New Years; that was what caused his most recent downward spiral that prompted Peter to move in with him and babysit him so he wouldn’t do anything stupid.
Michael placed his hands on the railing, gripping tightly to the wood as he peered out into the darkness of the valley below, before slowly lowering himself to sit on the deck, and then laying down on his back, his legs sliding through the open rungs to hang over the edge, his arms stretching out on either side of him.
He would go back and apologize to Caspian in just a few minutes… he just needed some time to breathe and distract himself with the world that was still alive around him. —————— As he’d thought, Michael went to the deck.
One of the benefits of being small and light on his feet was the ability to be quiet, and Caspian was aware of just how easily he could accomplish this. It was simple to follow his boyfriend down the stairs and towards the deck without being noticed. He would never have admitted that his slight stature and litheness allowed him to be waifishly shadow-like (even if he was aching all over, for good reason), but here, in the dark hours of the early morning (it had to only be around three or four), he wasn’t noticed at all by Michael.
Half of that, Caspian knew, was simply Michael’s preoccupation with his thoughts. Caspian stood beside the door to the back deck, watching Michael standing there, Caspian lurking just out of sight. The sound of the door opening would certainly alert Michael to his presence, and for now all he wanted to do was watch.
There was something painful about the way Michael was gripping the railing. Something quietly agonizing, as though his thoughts were too much to handle. Caspian felt a tightness in his chest, an ache he couldn’t control as it swept through him, eyes following the tense line of Michael’s shoulders, stiff and bent.
It wasn’t until he lay down that Caspian moved.
He opened the door as quietly as he could and slipped out, the overlarge shirt flapping around his thighs. Caspian padded over to where Michael lay and calmly, silently, folded himself down beside his boyfriend, legs crossed and his hands in his lap. The shirt slipped a little, revealing a pale shoulder, a newly formed bruise where his tattoo was.
“What are you thinking about?”—————— Too lost in his own thoughts, Michael only noticed Caspian when he settled himself next to him, his voice like a breath of fresh air, but still sudden enough for him to open his eyes in slight surprise. He should have known Caspian wouldn’t just let him wander off on his own; he was much too stubborn for that, especially after everything they’d been through together, that night included.
Michael didn’t say anything at first, but shifted himself so he could lift his arm and slide it to lay over Caspian’s lap, over his legs and under his arms as he folded up on himself, twisting his arm just slightly so he could press his fingers into Caspian’s thigh.
“I’m thinking about a lot of things, actually,” he admitted, glancing up at his meddlesome, but overly caring boyfriend for a few moments, before returning his gaze up to the sky, partially hidden directly overhead by overreaching tree branches. He hadn’t bothered finding more clothes other than his underwear to pull on, not seeing the point of more since they were the only people around for probably quite a while.
He ran his hand absently along the outside of Caspian’s thigh for a few long moments, before figuring what he’d said wasn’t that great of an answer, but Caspian probably wasn’t going to prod too much. Michael had been doing a lot of opening up recently, which caused an increase in anxiety that he felt. Caspian said he liked knowing more about him, but as always, he never made Michael feel obligated. He always told him to take his time, that when Michael was ready, he would listen.
Sometimes Michael wondered if it would be easier if Caspian prodded more, but then again he might just retract back into his shell if pushed too hard.
“My nightmares have been getting worse,” he finally mumbled, glancing away embarrassedly. “I used to have them under control until a few months ago, and then they all just started coming back. Or… at least I thought I had them under control.” There were a lot of things different in his life now, and he couldn’t help but wonder what made everything in his subconscious shift.
“I don’t remember the dream very well,” he offered, before Caspian could ask, his throat tightening around the words that he forced out, his hand gripping onto Caspian’s leg, but he wasn’t able to look at him just yet. His free hand lifted and reached over his waist, hand placed against the old burns there. “But I know it…it has to do with when I got this scar… When I got my team killed...”
He cleared his throat then of the building emotion, his hand on Caspian's thigh gripping a bit tighter. “Sorry… you should be sleeping. You've been having a lot of trouble, right? You should try to sleep as much as you can.”—————— The shift to move his arms to accommodate Michael’s was instinctive, automatic; Caspian lifted his own and then settled them back down once Michael’s was propped over his lap, fingers brushing his thigh. For a few moments, it was silent, the only sounds that of the breeze rifling through the trees, leaves rustling. There was a faint, distant hoot of an owl, and Michael’s voice was quiet, as though he didn’t want to disturb the atmosphere around them.
Caspian waited, because he knew Michael wouldn’t stop there, not when he knew that Caspian was waiting for a more in-depth explanation. The embarrassment was also expected; Michael’s intense privacy and his tendency to shut down if pushed too far meant that he was also very self-conscious about what he chose to reveal - or didn’t reveal. Caspian supposed there was a fear of judgement somewhere in there as well, anxieties that Michael did not want to face.
He couldn’t say that he blamed him, not when Caspian himself had the same sorts of fears and anxieties.
Michael’s hand was tightening on his thigh, as though trying to brace himself, the words torn from some inner, darker place inside of him. Caspian remained silent for a few moments, his hair ghosting around his cheeks, watching the lines of Michael’s face, though it was turned away from him. His gaze traced down to the scars, and Caspian had followed them with his fingers before, pressing his palm against the burn marks, shaping them and wondering why there were there and trying to remind Michael that he didn’t care about the scars.
The attempt to dissuade him was second nature, Caspian knew. And the bypassing of it was also second nature, especially since Michael’s hand belied his words, his grip tight enough that it was almost forceful, though Caspian didn’t move or seem to show any discomfort at this.
He was quiet for another minute, considering.
“...what happened?” Caspian asked quietly. “With your team?”—————— Michael couldn’t hide the way he flinched, shifting almost uncomfortably, his fingers gripping probably tight enough to bruise at this point. He knew Caspian would eventually ask, or he would back himself into a corner like there where he had to explain. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to explain, he was just very conscious of his own guilt and shame and what Caspian would think of him.
It surprise him a little, that Caspian was the only person he could think to even want to tell. Not even his father who had read the reports and more or less knew what had happened. Definitely not his brothers, who still looked up to him on occasion, although he had to question just how much they looked up to him now.
He couldn’t bring himself to look at Caspian, carefully controlling his breathing as he swallowed down the lump of emotion that tried surfacing again, willing himself to tell Caspian. It didn’t have to be everything, he knew, but enough. Caspian hadn’t left him yet…
“It was my fault,” he confessed, his voice still quiet but as clear as he could manage. “We were on a search and rescue mission. We’d done dozens of them, assisting the ground troops, especially near the coast. We were good. Efficient. We were told we had good intuition,” Michael explained, his hand gripping at his side about as tightly as he gripped to Caspian’s thigh.
“We thought we found a group of soldiers that went missing about a week prior. The signals of distress were clear. I had a bad feeling about it, but the commanding officer with us wanted to check it out, so I followed orders and flew us closer… None of us realized it was a trap… we were shot down…” he explained, not intending to leave anything important out, but also not wanting to linger on the subject. He wanted Caspian to know, but details weren’t necessary.
“Our commanding officer was killed on impact. There were three others in the helicopter and they all got out relatively uninjured. Matt and Riley came back to get me out of the cockpit, even though it already caught fire, but I was trapped and they had to cut me out of the harness. I told them to leave me and get out, but they refused. Matt…” he paused to take a steadying breath, “... he helped get me and Riley out, but the engine finally blew. Sometimes I can still feel his hands pulling me free from the fire, and I can still hear his screams.”
Michael knew his breathing was becoming more labored, his heart pounding in his chest as he allowed himself to recall the events of that day. He knew he was still gripping tightly to Caspian’s leg, but it was as though he were speaking from underwater, the fear and despair swallowing him whole.
“Ethan must have thought it was mercy to end his suffering and shot and killed Matt before the fire could. I don’t know what I would have done if I had the choice. He told me later how it haunted him, how he felt as though he’d died then as well, how he couldn’t handle those memories any longer. It was my fault they came back for me, and it was my fault for not trying harder to get Ethan help before he killed himself.”
“And Riley,” he he quietly continued, not even realizing the reason his vision blurred was from tears that welled up. “He was with me from the beginning, when I was just out of the Academy. He defended me when everyone would compare me to my father, or think I was given anything not based on my own merit. He looked out for me, transferred ships with me, volunteered to go on missions with me. He used to joke about how I wouldn’t last long without him.”
“That b*****d told me he l-loved me. I didn’t… didn’t know they were his dying words. I was barely conscious… I was in pain… H-he refused to - let me go, even when we - were rescued,” Michael sobbed quietly to himself now, pulling his shaking hand away from his side so he could hide his face under his arm, embarrassed for getting so worked up over something that happened over five years ago, and guilty for what happened, and ashamed for pulling Caspian, whom he now loved with all his heart into this mess of his past.
“T-that b*****d knew he was - dying. And he held me and - and kissed me - and ******** told me he loved me. Even - even with medical help, t-they told me he wouldn’t have survived. He was too - badly injured. Too much - internal - bleeding. He d-died holding me. I d-didn’t know… It was m-my fault…” —————— It felt silent around them, save for the quiet sounds of nature, the rustle of a tree branch, the sweep of a bird somewhere. Caspian did not speak the entire time that Michael did, his expression unchanged from the calm one he wore, and he didn’t move, almost sure that if he did, the feeling of the moment would break and Michael would realize that he didn’t really want to talk about this at all.
But he needed to talk about it. And Caspian needed to hear it, however hard it was.
Somehow, the story did not make him angry, but it made his heart ache in a way that he couldn’t quite explain. Every little detail was committed to Caspian’s mind, from the devastation in Michael’s cracked and breaking voice, to the names of those that had survived and hadn’t survived, to the shame and embarrassment that he could see and feel in Michael, as thick as ice in his veins.
He was quiet for a long time after Michael finished speaking, because there had to be time to process, to think, to comprehend, and to understand. This was not a moment in which Caspian could simply laugh things off or try and persuade Michael through smiles or kisses or words like it will be all right, because it wasn’t something that one just got over.
Things like this did not just disappear after one night of saying it aloud, and Caspian was terrified of saying the wrong thing, of doing the wrong thing.
Slowly, he reached for the hand on his thigh, Caspian’s fingers carefully and gently sliding over Michael’s. He fitted them into the spaces between Michael’s, because they were meant to go there, curling them together. It wasn’t an attempt at pulling his hand away, but letting it rest where it was, Caspian simply holding it with his own. His other hand reached out and, tentatively, carefully, pressed his palm against the burn scars on Michael’s chest, hovering because he didn’t know if this was pushing it too far.
“Michael,” said Caspian quietly, “Listen to me.”
Somewhere in the distance, there was a soft hooting, a rustle of wings. Somewhere else, a skittering across the ground indicated a deer or a rabbit had possibly moved by, the sound distinctly animal in nature. A breeze rustled through, shifting Caspian’s shirt again and brushing over their bare skin.
“It was not your fault,” he said, slowly and clearly, because even if Michael would never believe it, he needed to say it for the truth of it. “They came back for you because they respected you. Because they cared for you. Because they loved you.”
His voice broke on the last word, fractured slightly, but he swallowed hard and kept going.
“You can’t fault yourself for that, just as you can’t fault them for that. They weren’t going to leave you behind.”
Caspian’s fingers pressed a little more securely to Michael’s scars, his expression quiet and pained.
“You wouldn’t have ever left me behind, and I would never leave you behind. The whole save yourself mentality is bullshit. Sometimes it doesn’t work out - do you really think they could have lived with themselves if they hadn’t come back? If they had just let you die?”
His voice softened again, Caspian’s throat aching.
“Riley came back because he loved you, and I would have done the same thing. He knew what it might cost him, and that doesn’t make it any less painful, or less real, or less of anything. But he wasn’t about to let you die, because he loved you, and that doesn’t make it your fault.”
Caspian took a small breath, one shoulder rising and falling. “It just makes it painful.”
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Posted: Sun Dec 04, 2016 9:59 pm
Michael felt himself shaking his head slowly in denial as Caspian spoke, stubborn and not wanting to believe that Caspian might actually be right, that it wasn’t his fault for what happened, that it wasn’t his fault that he was the only one of the five left alive.
“I can’t…” he sobbed quietly, keeping his face hidden behind his arm, not wanting Caspian to see him in even more of a mess than he was. Caspian was too damn patient with him, too understanding, said too many of the right things, as if he knew exactly how to help Michael carry the burden that he refused to let go of.
“I can’t lose you…” he finished, the past still haunting him, but the present weighing down on him like it never had before, knowing that there were some things he would not be able to do, knowing that something could happen and he might not be able to save Caspian or his family.
“That - night we were attacked. I knew how - Riley must have f-felt,” he quietly cried, his hand gripping onto Caspian’s fingers that laced between his. “Y-you were dying and - all I could do was watch.”
If Olga and Peter hadn’t been there to help, he was certain that Caspian would have died. It still bothered him, and he never wanted to be in that position again.
“You can’t leave me… I don’t know - if I can handle losing someone I love again.”
This wasn’t fair to Caspian, and Michael knew it. He was afraid that knowing about his past would mean that Caspian would start to compare himself to what Michael had lost, but there was no way to compare Caspian to anyone else, and given the choice between them, Michael was sure Riley would have understood his desire to be with Caspian. —————— The hand on Michael’s torso shifted, slid up until Caspian’s palm was pressing against Michael’s sternum, fingers brushing his collarbone. Then they moved higher, and touched Michael’s wrist, and very firmly, but gently, Caspian tugged to pull his arm away from his face, wondering if Michael would let him, or if he would resist because of how he felt he looked.
He bent his head, Caspian pressing a kiss to Michael’s upper arm, and then, gently, to his forehead, his lips brushing tenderly over Michael’s skin.
“You lost someone you loved,” Caspian said quietly, and he hadn’t leaned away. “That’s not something you can just get over, I know that. But you’re not going to lose me. I’m not going anywhere, and you can’t spend the rest of your life not being with me or not loving me because you’re afraid you’ll lose me. That’s not a life, Michael.”
He disentangled his fingers from Michael’s hand, Caspian sliding both of his hands to rest on either side of Michael’s face, thumbs smoothing over his damp cheeks. He bent, his forehead resting against Michael’s, and the moment felt both fragile and painful, Michael’s agony like a physical wrench in Caspian’s heart.
“You will live,” he said quietly. “And I will live. You and I will be together, always. I want you forever, Michael, that’s not something that’s just on a whim. I’m not going to die, I’m too ******** stubborn to leave you, and like hell I will go anywhere without you by my side.”
He dragged in a breath, his hands shaking slightly.
“I’m sorry you lost someone you loved,” Caspian whispered. “I’m sorry he never got to see who you became and that you never got to see who he would become.”—————— Never in a million years would Michael have expected this exact moment to happen. Under the stars in the mountains with Caspian, both of them barely clothed, in love, and Michael telling him about the past that was barely covered in the reports that were filed. How was he supposed to know that one day, this stubborn young man would save him from his misery, that he would reach down to him in his pit of self-loathing to try and pull him out?
He never wanted to fall in love again, but he fell in love with Caspian. He loved Caspian, more than he could put into words, and it terrified him because he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle something happening to him.
Michael felt Caspian’s fingers shift sliding away from the burn scars along his side, moving up to brush against his chest, touch his wrist and gently tugged his arm away from his face. Caspian’s lips were then pressing against his arm, then his forehead, speaking soft words of condolence and understanding.
Promises were being whispered to him, a quiet determination that made it impossible to doubt their authenticity. Caspian meant every word he said, Michael knew that, could feel that. It still scared him, knowing that something still could happen, but he also knew he couldn’t stop loving him just because he was afraid.
“I don’t deserve you,” Michael mumbled softly on a soft hiccup of a sob. His heart was still pounding painfully in his chest, and while it still ached with the grief of his past, it also throbbed with adoration. His hands lifted, one reaching up to place over Caspian’s hand on his face, while he reached out with his other to touch Caspian’s hair, fondly sifting his fingers through tousled dark hair.
He felt ashamed and embarrassed and scared that this might change things between them. The more Caspian knew about him, Michael was convinced the less he would like him. Maybe not right now, but in a matter of time. For someone who could fake confidence with the best of them, Michael felt absolutely pathetic.
Michael closed his eyes to the words Caspian whispered, letting them seep into his heart and soul, letting them continue to heal him.
“You must think I’m pretty lame, crying all the time,” he grumbled quietly after a few minutes of just trying to breathe and opening his eyes to stare up at Caspian’s stupidly beautiful face. “Thank you, for being with me. For loving me. You always seem to know what I need...” Michael looked up at him with still somewhat wet eyes. He drew in a deep, settling breath, and carefully leaned up to kiss him.
He sat up all the way then, reaching out to slide his arms around Caspian, and pulled him into his lap to hold, bending his head down to press his face against Caspian’s neck.
“I’m sorry for putting all this on you… my past I mean,” he said guiltily, lifting one hand to scrub at his eyes and wipe at his face. “You’re the only person I’ve ever told. And now you know…” —————— ”I don’t care,” was the immediate response, Caspian’s voice still quiet and gentle. “I don’t care if you think you don’t deserve me. You have me, isn’t that what matters? Regardless of how much you think or don’t think you deserve, you have me.”
Michael’s hands were both tentative and gentle as they slid across his own fingers, threaded through Caspian’s hair. He smiled down at him softly, unmoving, and then shook his head, because he knew how much this meant to Michael. The weight of everything - guilt, shame, embarrassment, pain - was heavy in his heart and in his soul, and getting rid of that was like trying to get rid of a growth that had wound itself around his body. It would take time and energy, and that wasn’t something so easily fixed.
“You’re only lame when you try and act younger than you are,” Caspian said, with a note of teasing in his voice, but his heart slammed into his chest a moment later as Michael leaned to kiss him, his pulse fluttering, Caspian sighing into it.
“I love you,” he mumbled against his lips, and then Michael’s arms were around him, dragging him into his lap. Caspian wound his own arms around Michael’s torso, holding tightly to him, hearing the muffled voice against his neck.
“Stop,” he whispered, and his tone was gentle. “I’m glad you told me. You don’t have to apologize, Michael. Just...I’m here, okay?”
He held on tighter, rocking slightly in Michael’s lap. “I’m here.”—————— Sometimes he wished Caspian would get mad at him, or tell him off when he behaved like this. It would be easier to handle than these quiet words of understanding. But Caspian kept surprising him, time after time. Even though Caspian wasn’t there, and even though he was just now hearing about little bits from Michael’s past, it still felt as though Caspian was forgiving him, was absolving him of his sins and failures. He’d thought this before, and it always surprised him and made him feel weak and unworthy, but at the same time light and hopeful.
“Are you calling me immature?” he mumbled against Caspian’s neck with a pitiful, wet sounding laugh. “When have I tried and acted younger than I am?” he wondered thoughtfully, but only because he didn’t want to be lame. If it was something he could avoid doing, then he would do his best.
Still, now that he’d finally, finally told someone about what happened, Michael felt as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and he clung to Caspian as if his life depended on it.
And in many ways, his life did depend on Caspian.
He pulled one of his hands from around Caspian’s back, lifting it and drawing his face back to be able to scrub once more at his eyes, fingers brushing away the wetness that lingered on his cheeks. Whether or not he deserved him, Caspian was right. Michael did have him.
“You… asked what I was thinking about…” he said, his voice hesitant and still a little strained from the emotions that overtook him, but feeling much better now that Caspian still insisted that he wouldn’t be going anywhere, that he wanted Michael forever.
“There was something… something else I was thinking about…” —————— ”You haven’t,” said Caspian, and there was gentle laughter in his voice. “I was just messing with you. You are very much your age, and sometimes...sometimes that scares me, because sometimes I think that you’ll remember that you’re ten years older than me and that I’m only twenty, but…”
He gave a shrug, the shirt slipping down his shoulder again. “I still love you, and I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”
Everyone else’s opinions could go to hell, as far as Caspian was concerned. It was only Michael that made him anxious at times, because what if he changed his mind? What if he decided that Caspian was too young for him after all? It was a worry that, in spite of all the reassurances, Caspian couldn’t help but feel.
Caspian turned his head a little and pressed his lips warmly against Michael’s cheek, then his head, burying his face in his hair and breathing him in. He smelled of soap and forest air and faintly of citrus, Caspian closing his eyes against the familiarity of it all, of the way he felt in his arms. His lips found the corner of Michael’s eye and he kissed away a few stray tears before pulling back again.
“What else?” he asked, lifting a hand and gently smoothing fingers down Michael’s cheek.
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Posted: Sun Dec 04, 2016 10:01 pm
“I don’t care,” he insisted, shaking his head when Caspian voiced his concern about being only twenty and Michael being ten years older. “I don’t care how much older I am than you. I never will, Cas.” He knew it was a scary concept, and that people would look at them as if their age difference was wrong or that it wouldn’t work out between them because of their differences, but Michael couldn’t bring himself to care about what other people might think.
Not when he knew he wanted Caspian for the rest of his life.
That should have been a scary concept, and yet it wasn’t. Not any more. Not when the thought of Caspian always being with him settled his heart and his mind the way it did.
He could feel Caspian’s lips on his face, warm and familiar, washing away his loneliness and sadness he’d been carrying for years. He didn’t think those feelings would ever go away completely, not as long as he could remember what happened and what he’d gone through, but every kiss from Caspian was a balm that helped to heal him a tiny bit at a time.
“I was thinking…” he said softly, the hand he’d used to scrub at his face lifting to place over Caspian’s hand, gently locking their fingers together. “Earlier… when we first got here, and I was telling you what you said that night you got hurt,” he explained quietly, peering curiously up at Caspian, easily remembering the depth of his eyes as he’d placed both of his hands along Michael’s face, and the promise of the words spoken to him, whether Caspian realized it or not.
“Tonight, when you told me ‘don’t go anywhere’, ‘don’t leave me,’ and ‘stay with me always’... well…” Michael hesitated, and it was his turn to swallow thickly, his chest tight as his heart continued to pound against it.
“It sounded like you were proposing to me.”
The words came out as barely a whisper, because what a fool he would be if he completely misunderstood. And yet, part of him was absolutely sure that he’d seen the resolution in Caspian’s eyes as he spoke, even if it wasn’t necessarily his intention at that moment. —————— ”Every time you remind me, it becomes a little easier to remember,” Caspian said softly, fingers still tender alongside Michael’s face. He liked - loved - the feel of rough stubble against his fingertips; there was something pleasant and relaxed about a Michael Gallo who didn’t feel the need to be as clean shaven as he had been when Caspian had first met him, not to mention attractive.
Michael’s fingers curled around his own, and Caspian smiled, tangling them together, fitting his to the spaces in between Michael’s. He felt another breeze drift by, tousling their hair and sending the scent of freshness and forest across his senses; it was a beautiful night, after all, and he had always loved the outdoors, even more so being here, like this.
It sounded like you were proposing to me.
Every part of Caspian froze in place.
His mind seemed to have stopped, the gears grinding to an abrupt and sudden stop. Caspian sat there, staring wide-eyed at Michael, his lips parted and his heart hammering so hard in his chest that it was almost painful. ALl the thoughts he had had in his head seemed to dissipate, and whatever he had thought Michael was going to say, it had not been that at all.
Propose.
It sounded like you were proposing to me.
Caspian’s mouth opened and shut, then opened again. And then, all at once, scarlet blossomed across his cheeks, burned its way across his face until he was blushing so hard and so furiously that the change in color was almost startling.
“I - “ he stammered, and words, what were words? He couldn’t remember, couldn’t think. Yes he wanted Michael desperately for the rest of his life, and maybe he’d privately entertained thoughts of the future, but for Michael to have grasped onto that from what he had said, what he hadn’t intended - what he had - he didn’t know anymore -
“I - um - w-wait - but - but would you even - w-want - s**t - um - “—————— Michael still felt the weight of the emotions that had washed over him as he told Caspian about his past, even as he looked up at him, his heart swelling as he could see the darkening of Caspian’s face in the moon and starlight, the breeze gently sifting through their hair.
He still felt as though he hadn’t done nearly enough in his life to deserve someone like Caspian, to deserve to be loved and given all the patience and compassion the world could ever offer, but he wanted Caspian in his life. Desperately. Without any doubt or hesitation.
It was endearing, the way Caspian stuttered and flushed, the way his mouth gaped open and closed, unable to form a proper sentence. Michael could understand the reservation, knowing that Caspian might not have even meant what he’d said. Maybe Michael was looking into the words and the emotions swirling in Caspian’s eyes too much.
Slowly and gently, Michael leaned forward to press his mouth against Caspian’s, kissing him softly, warmly, knowing that he would continue stammering if he didn’t do something to calm him down.
“And,” he continued, his voice still quiet as he broke the kiss, although his lips still brushed against Caspian’s. “I was thinking… that if you meant to propose to me… when I said I give you my heart and my life, today and always… I was saying ‘yes,’ Cas...” —————— He was still trying to comprehend everything, his mind feeling as though it was going both too slow and too fast all at once. Thoughts were cascading through him, crashing into one another, a mixture of emotions clustering their way inside of his heart and his head so that each one overlapped with another and he kept stammering and he knew Michael was probably staring at him -
Michael’s mouth came against his, warm and firm and sweet, stopping Caspian mid-sentence. He felt his heart stutter in his chest, a soft sound inadvertently escaping him as his eyes fluttered automatically shut, Caspian’s fingers pressing loosely against Michael’s torso.
His lashes were still half-lowered when Michael pulled back, Caspian’s pulse rabbit fast. He swallowed hard, the brush of Michael’s lips both intimate and tender all at the same time, and he felt his hands shaking with all that he was trying to understand.
I was saying yes.
Something was bursting in Caspian’s chest; an ache or a throb or something that seemed to expand through him, making it difficult to breathe. He felt the first beginnings of heat around his eyes, a stinging sensation that he couldn’t control, and he dragged in a sharp, stunned breath that felt as though it was rattling in his throat, Caspian unable to tear his gaze away from Michael’s face.
“Are - “ His voice came out rough and disbelieving, hoarse with all the emotion he was holding onto. “Are you - serious - Michael are - a-are you - “—————— Never in a million years did Michael think he would find someone who made him as happy as Caspian made him. Never did he think he would want to promise his life to someone, to live with them, to live for them, as he lived for himself. Someone who gave him a reason to live. And Michael knew, maybe much longer than he realized, that Caspian had to be the one.
Everything they’d been through, every argument, every misunderstanding, every heartache they caused each other, from Caspian’s recklessness to Michael’s inability to allow anyone else in his life, had led up to this. And it was only the beginning, Michael was sure.
It was terrifying and exciting, his heart pounding, his hand shaking as he gently, but a little compulsively, ran it up and down Caspian’s back as he held him in his lap.
“And then when you asked me to prove it…” he said just as quietly, his eyes locked onto Caspian’s. “I knew what I wanted to say, but… I wasn’t sure… so,” he paused, drawing in his own breath to steady himself. “So, I was thinking… if you did mean it… if you meant to propose to me… and you wanted me to prove that I meant it when I said yes… then I thought...”
There was another pause, Michael’s chest swelling, “Caspian Meriadoc Lyons, will you stay with me for the rest of our lives? I can’t promise it’ll be easy, but I do promise to always love you, with all my heart and soul… Will you marry me?” —————— Michael’s hand was steadying, a familiar weight against his back. Caspian bit his lip, if only to keep himself from bursting, to keep the emotions that threatened to spill at any moment at bay. He was trying to wrap his mind around the fact that this was real, that this was happening, and yet he couldn’t quite seem to get that far.
Michael Gallo - studious, quiet, withdrawn, intensely private, self-deprecating, ten-years-older Michael Gallo - was considering Caspian’s words as a proposal. Was saying yes to what Caspian had said, and it felt like the entire world was at his fingertips, just barely out of reach, because this couldn’t possibly be true. In what world could Caspian have ever gotten this fortunate? In what lifetime could this ever have been allowed to happen to him without breaking his heart?
It was ridiculous. Outlandish. It felt unreal, surreal, like he was living outside of his own heart and mind and body.
Michael’s voice was ringing in his ears.
It was actually happening.
He couldn’t breathe.
A half-choked sound of disbelief escaped Caspian’s throat, and the first few tears began to slide down his cheeks, Caspian letting out a startled sound halfway between a sob and a laugh.
”Yes,” he managed to gasp out, and his voice broke on the word. “Please, ********, yes, yes, I - want to marry you, Michael Gallo, I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
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Posted: Sun Dec 04, 2016 10:03 pm
He didn’t he was holding his breath. He didn’t realize just how important it was that Caspian actually said yes back to him. He didn’t realize how much it meant to him that Caspian understood how he felt, how serious he was about it, that he wasn’t just saying it to say it. Michael didn’t play games like that, not when his own heart was involved, not when it had been broken before, not when he never thought it would be repaired.
But Caspian was there, slowly healing him, one kiss, one gentle touch at a time. Each soft word of compassion and kindness seeping into Michael’s broken heart and spirit, making him whole again, as if they were fusing together, healing each other.
Michael could see the emotion in Caspian’s eyes, on his face, even in the dark. He could see the tears springing in his eyes, falling over his cheeks, and he felt his own heart skip happily at the sound of Caspian’s half sob, half laugh.
He couldn’t help the smile, soft and warm, that found its way onto his lips. Michael lifted his hand to brush at Caspian’s hair, holding him close as he drew in a shaky breath.
“You make me so incredibly happy, Cas,” he murmured as he leaned close to gently press their lips together, his own eyes stinging stupidly. He had just been crying, there was no need for more, and yet these were tears for a completely different reason. —————— It was slowly coming together in Caspian’s mind. Fragments and pieces that were being put into place, until the bigger picture was beginning to form.
Married. He was ******** marrying Michael Gallo.
It seemed painfully unreal, as though any minute someone was going to come by and yank the carpet out from underneath him. Or someone around the corner would suddenly yell, “just kidding, it’s actually a huge joke” and then run away, leaving him broken-hearted and devastated.
But no, Michael was whispering against his lips, soft and sweet, and it was real. Michael was kissing him, warm and firm and reassuring and it was real.
It was all so incredibly, wonderfully, sweetly real.
Caspian kissed back, almost desperately hard, as though the world was centered around this, and maybe it was, one of his hands rising to slide into Michael’s hair, feeling the scrape of stubble against his jaw. He drew back after a few minutes, his face wet, and his breath stuttering in his chest.
“I love you,” he mumbled, and kissed Michael again, unwilling to stop, pushing against Michael, whispering against his mouth, over and over because he couldn’t stop. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”—————— Somewhere in his heart Michael wondered if everything he had revealed to Caspian about his life and his past was exactly what he needed before he could allow himself to move forward, to open his heart fully to the person he loved so desperately. Somewhere in his heart he knew that had he not told Caspian about what happened, why he was so closed off and afraid to open up to anyone, to let people in for fear of losing them, he wouldn't have been able to follow through with what he’d just asked Caspian to do.
To marry him.
There was a time, admittedly not too long ago, that Michael was convinced that he could never let anyone into his heart. He was a lost cause, not worth the time or effort, destined to be a perpetual bachelor because why would anyone want to deal with his shitty personality or painful past? Why would someone want to be with someone broken beyond repair?
But Caspian was different. Caspian had always been different. He'd had every opportunity to walk away, but he still held on despite everything.
“I love you,” he whispered back against Caspian's lips, his arms shifting to hold him as they say near the railing of the deck, Michael's legs still hanging over the edge from when he'd laid down earlier, but there was plenty of room for Caspian to remain comfortably in his lap.
He wasn't sure how long they stayed out there, or even when they first left the room after he'd been woken by his nightmare, but the color of the sky was slowly shifting from inky black and dotted with stars, to the beginnings of a sunrise. The quiet noise of insects were soon replaced with birds that were waking, and dew had settled over everything, making spider webs and leaves and blades of grass shine and shimmer in the light of dawn.
Michael had his arm up against the rungs of the railing to allow Caspian to lean back more comfortably as quiet words and soft kiss after kiss were shared between them, both exhausted but neither seeming to want to break the wonderful spell they'd apparently fallen under.
“Look,” he said softly, his eyes heavy but still shining with emotion and so much love, nodding over Caspian's shoulder towards the sunrise that started coming up through the center of one of the valleys below.
“I still don't want to move,” he admitted with a quiet laugh, despite being obviously tired from staying up almost all night, leaning forward to press his face against Caspian's neck, his hand gripping a little more tightly to one of the railing rungs to keep them upright. —————— At some point in time, Caspian had shifted in Michael’s lap, so that he was sitting facing him instead of being sideways, his legs on either side of Michael, arms twined around his neck. Everything around him felt warm and sweet and so terribly, incredibly real and unreal at the same time, as though the life he had been living was now shifting into something else entirely, something he couldn’t quite grasp yet but that was right there in front of him.
The sun was beginning to rise, and Caspian managed to tear his gaze away from Michael’s face and his mouth from Michael’s long enough to look. His lips were tingling and warm; he felt drunk with all that had happened, his heart so full that it felt fit to burst, and he tilted his head to bury his face in Michael’s hair as Michael pushed his own into Caspian’s neck.
“It’s beautiful,” he mumbled, massaging fingers through Michael’s hair. He pressed a kiss to his temple, his other arm resting around Michael’s neck and shoulders. “You’re wonderful.”
He was tired, but the thoughts of all that had happened were inside of his head, cascading over one another, and the tiredness was overshadowed by an adrenaline and a warmth that had yet to be abated. Caspian caught Michael’s face in both of his hands, palms pressed to his cheeks and unshaven jaw and tilted his head so that he could kiss him again, long and slow and passionate.
“Then don’t move,” he mumbled. “Stay here.”
Thumbs smoothed along Michael’s face as Caspian’s hands slid down his neck, lips brushing against Michael’s with every word spoken, and the too-large shirt he wore slipped again, down a slim shoulder.
“It’s sunrise,” he whispered. “Stay here and love me...fiance.”
It felt exhilarating to say.—————— “You’re wonderful,” he stressed with a soft laugh, completely content as he felt Caspian’s hand sifting through his hair, and soft kisses against his face. He lifted his eyes as Caspian, with his hands on his cheeks, tilted his head back, melting once more into the warm, passionate kiss. His heart was still pounding, and he didn’t know when it would let up, but that didn’t matter because he was with Caspian now and that was all that mattered.
This was what he wanted, what he realized he wanted to live his life for. This bond he had with Caspian transcended anything he could have imagined before, and he was determined to hold onto this for as long as they both lived.
A small smile found its way onto Michael’s face, his lips twitching as Caspian’s lips brushed against his. He moved his hand away from the railing, the other lifting as well so he could wrap his arms around Caspian, holding him close, palms pressing firmly against his back.
“I’ll stay with you always, Cas,” he said quietly in response, having no intention of breaking this moment between them. It was the first sunrise they were sharing on the first morning of being engaged.
There was no ring to show for it; only their warm, heartfelt emotions, and quiet promises, but Michael thought that should be enough.
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