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Followup To: [B-] a hell of our own making {Albite x Faustite}

"Hey, firebrand," and maybe it was the barest edge of blood-loss that made Faustites hair look like the worlds most sinful halo of fire. The way it wreathed out from under his hood, spiraled into flat-ironed locks that looked just sooo..."you're cute."

Sooo damn pretty. Not what he'd meant to ask! But close enough --- if close enough was a grand canyons distance off from his original aim.

"But you're cute all the time, heh, even black n blue n red all over --" could he have turned that into a joke? Maybe. "Yanno, cause of - I mean, between the fire, bruising, n blood? Whatever, you wanna go out after all-uv-this is done?" words waived along like too many float tubes clogging up a lazy river. Waru found the ability to slide himself back further onto the sturdy glass-top, a splay of abs n clotting wounds; watched Faustite tick over materials with a half lidded interest.

He almost wanted to forgo the necessitates, he would live, he was sure. Even without the press of heat to fix what he'd unwittingly instigated. Though the heat would've been nice....

Which got him thinking about how there were so many places they could go be together; as the sun set and the people of the city got up well into the evening in order to avoid the cloying heat of endless blacktops n concrete-sided hellscapes. There were rooftop raves, fireworks shows, the whole shebang!

"Shoulda-coulda-wouldah-ow!" sharp, sharp, s**t - ohkay - needles were sharp! He'd forgotten that! His bad, totally, entirely - cause Faustite had warned him! If he'd been paying half as much attention to the words coming out of that mouth as he had to the way really pretty way said mouth moved; tight lines that leaked exasperated sayings he deemed adoring; even with the press of a knee begging his silence and the brief sting of (what was that, lidocaine? One-ah-the-cains, probably.) liquid under his skin followed by soothing numbness.

Cuase his beloved was kind. Carved him open n sewed him closed all with the same sorta care. Waru would'a done equal for Ei's throat, but hell, what was there for that sorta near-dying? Arnica? An ice pack -- <********, he'd ask if there was something he could do to kiss it all better, after - divided his mental bandwidth between breathing in ways that wouldn't ******** up Faustites sewing temp, and finding ways to speak an actual answer that held some sense to it. Cause there were a million places he wanted to go: London, Paris, Home! He was feeling romantic, always, one miscalculated makeout wasn't enough to kill him or his mood, and? Faustite deserved a good time.

That much was as constant as true north or the sun rising. Giving his boy good times.

"Stuck with me now, soon to be forever, n me and my still living a** wanna go tooo..." deadened points of pressure he could just barely make out, no barb to whatever delicate movements Faustite was working through, just the occasional tug and his own attempts to hold rock steady beneath them while resisting the urge to press back against that knee. Maybe he could've tricked his boy into moving it lower -- apply some heat and pressure down his spine in a 'glad you aren't youma s**t' massage --- maybee -- "...fireworks display. You're the brightest thing in my life, but?"

Finding a place to stare up into the heavens n watch explosions, that was both badass and romantic for sure!

"Have you been to this cities version of the garden district? S'all.." and now he was thinking of colorful jellied cubes on spears, fried prawn chips, mochi! "..delicious...colorful and delicious. Like, lots of asianic street fare and stylized roofing."

Sure as the hellfire n brimstone waiting on the other side of his next life. So Albite agreed fully. Was proud of himself even for being so spot on about such things. Foreverness, and whatever that really meant when held up against the stark glare of reality in the mid-day light.

"Mmhnmm..." became a warm huff trailed up the end of a sigh when suffering only the barest twinge of hurt as he shifted and stilled naturally beneath the threaded pull and snip of Faustite working him over with skilled hands.

It was almost nice, just laying there and being cared for. Tended to all tenderly. He nearly changed his mind right then, when feeling Faustite up and leave with the sort of gentling that made him want to lace his fingers in the hooks of the cincher n grate edge alike, and demand a proper massage instead.

But -- fourteen was a long time ago, wasn't it? Or maybe not long enough?

"Mhu-hmn-up-n-goin...." he rolled the syllables into a slow careful stretch of tired limbs tagged onto a wide smile that was soft at the edges as he searched his own a** for his ******** henshin in a handpen. Really hated losing that thing all the time; front pocket, side, back -- Waru was almost tempted to search Faustites non-existent pockets while he was at it. Coulda gotten a less bloody minded smile plastered on his boys face right quick, "Hah, fourteen, huh? S'been a minute then. Good. Means we can be awed together. There's nothing like seeing a new sight with an old feel to it -- makes it familiar and fresh all in one. Like fireworks, yeah? We'll eat off the end of someone's awning, piss into their begonias in the aftermath...make some nice old woman very happy for buying up all her ube n queso ice-cream dumplings on a stick..." oh, heck, there it was, but if he didn't need it...

"Wait -- do I need a shirt, or can I just-" the words be himself sat unspoken, cause he wasn't sure if they'd have access to faustite once they were topside, or if they'd spend the next few hours as 'Alburnt and Eion' "-how run through a blender do I look, exactly? Like, is it sexy? Or will people call the cops and the emt's?"

real medical' later on. Had his love - should've encouraged him to sear the worst of it off so they could skip the headache n hazard of their illustrious medical wards, "thought the gun'd be enough, but apparently my Fiance's extra kinky in the sharpest sorta ways."

Drawled with a tinge of pride, and eternal power came easy as a shudder now, all those dark silk thoughts that wound him up as easy as they'd fled him before. Left his uniform pristine - much to his annoyance - <********, questionable magical bullshit - but he supposed he should be grateful to the cosmic tailor this one time! Especially since it meant he could go out looking qausi un-mauled.

"S'cuze me?" and Faustites sighed words had almost gone unnoticed neath his own muddled thoughts, save the lovely glow that appeared in his clawed grasp, held out and away like it might scald him to hold it too long -

Oh

Ooh.

He wondered if Alice felt such awe? Staring at bottles and tiny cakes with caution that became wonderment, curious if one or the other held poison minus the labeling. Not that his sidetracked tangential mind mattered much in the face of what was clearly an order; not a suggestion. A generous offer Albite wasn't keen to refuse, for all that he wanted to go out still, and yet --

Albite's magic crawled up unbidden in a gentle bind, free of retribution, alive like it had a mind of his own while it's celestial body reached for that deceptively thin wrist, eyes full of blue washed in blazing orange. Albite was hardly as aware of it as he was the starseed that was being presented to him, barely felt the tattoos dancing sleekly free along his own skin to lace where his fingers caught purchase over the long sleeves that hid his favorite shade of black on Ei's body.

"Feed it to me."

evil Would ever his heart not swell for this? Unlikely. Considering how hard his boy had tried.

Albite thought he could taste it — all that try — thought that if he stole a kiss instead of the proffered treat that he would’ve found it there, tucked behind Faustites grit teeth like something to be savored. He would’ve known the flavor of that energy, and fed it right back into his beloved like the worlds headiest ‘thank you’, just for the attempt — and this one time?

He wouldn’t push.

Wouldn’t goad for more. No higher spirals or sheerer drops off ridiculous cliff sides worth seeking here. Not when the barest look he got was all plea and flecked with damning blues; such a tiny little starseed, such a deeply consuming thing.

“It’s fine Ei, just remind me sometime that I owe you…like…*yanno*…’owe you, owe you’,” what little sense the words themselves made? He tried to convey the rest with his eyebrows, broke that tension with a waggle and leer that contained both softness and edge in contrast, because next time? The fight would go differently. The play would be noted, known, categorized for its specific sort of roughness, and he’d have murdered any useless untrustworthy fears that lingered in the back of his silly Senshi hindbrain. He couldn’t cull the magic, but he could show Faustite a damned good time tailored exactly to his liking!

An experience. Whatever he needed that to be.

Said as much, while he curled phalanges, sinew, muscle covered with flesh. Wrapped them round the sharp bright *soul* where it sat in his palm under a shared heat. It was light enough to have been a simple piece of glass — nearly as cool to the touch, he would have thought it as much if not for that telltale flutter of *life*. His to crush. To share. To take. Such a precious gift that Ei was giving him despite the hardship — what little he’d seen that he *knew* of, except everything that was the briefest flash of Schorl had been twisted, yellowed, *wrong*. Nails on a the minds chalkboard compared to his boys sweet considerations—

“Love you,” Albite felt the look he leveled Faustite with, full bodied rush of heat, just as good at getting him going as a fresh shot of espresso would’ve been. How saying the words made it easier to brush a kiss over the dark stained hand cupping his; with pretty veins black beyond the peek of wrist and coal dusted skin.

Made it easier still to swallow —- tuck the glow of ocean over his tongue and crush it between his teeth, marveling at all the ways he’d once been shy of these sorts of things.

It was something magical, to feel less like an open knife wound delicately stitched shut and more like a gently tenderized piece of meat. Sore, yes but alive. He savored that, the caffeine kick and espresso shot sear of 'I'm up' that coursed his veins like an aftertaste he couldn't pin down the flavor of...

He dissolved into giggles then, for the well deserved smack, the humm of sting that rippled in its aftermath; only to leave Albite sighing soft surprise into Faustites hair while the lingering rush got soothed over by the embrace.

He thought that was better.

Oh-so-much-better!

Moments that were like new, every time. The simple things that caught his attention and made him smile; little flickers of a flinch, kisses dampened by mystical drowning pools mid-winter—- an unexpected hug. If he held him for a moment longer than was necessary? Took his due with returned affection, flexing under the familiar weight that would soon be a constant thing — steel, flesh, fire, *his*. To sleep beneath, unalone, to never have to leave the morning after.

Albite pressed a ridiculous grin into that heat straightened mane. Awash with joy for exactly how ******** he was; pleasantly, in the best damn ways he could imagine being, considering how completely in love he was.

“Gladly,” it was undeniably fun to pull the fever pitched form clasped in his arms with him, toppling backward over the desk's thick glass edge and sprawling out onto a festively lit rooftop: lined with red lanterns and grates that belched fragrant steam. The flavors in the air were filled with far less city stink, scents more akin to hot-pots, grilled pork, and open fish markets.

“Now, let’s see some fireworks Ei!” except Albite seemed far more eager to wheeze extra unnecessary words than he was to let go, and why should he have wanted to? The sky was up. His boy was in his arms - there was gravel digging into the un-bodiced part of his lower middle spine — everything was perfection! He was already seeing fiery stars, had been all night long, actually, if he thought about it n hard enough….

*Everyday's fireworks with you.* How corny would that have been to say out loud? Very. He recognized that, smothered his lingering smile into bountiful black curls that smelled faintly of his own soap, and the barest hint of warm metals.

He'd never tire of watching Ei's magic. The trippy dissolve of flame-grate and deadly claw into soft flesh and human tones. He'd always miss the fiery eyes--

Albites molasses slow thoughts clung like a distraction, tasted sweet if he kept them to himself and savored the idea of it for later; endless secretive compliments that he could slip in, like granules of sugar in his tea. Like a knife between the ribs. Showing Eion fireworks on the daily. Lighting up all those empty shadow-cast skys with something brighter than the under-darks false sun. They'd rattle the dilapidated bones of that place, shake the dust off the Rift itself and broil it all into vibrantly blinding light.

It should've been alive.

The Citadel, the City, their ramshackle-home and every cracked bit of ancient squalor surrounding it. All those spaces Albite planned to make familiar and shove life into; no matter how unnatural, no matter if it killed him. It was simply one more thing well beyond his reach that he desired, in spite of reality screaming that the place'd never see whatever former glory had graced it centuries ago.

Not that 'former' mattered as much to him as 'current' did. Old bones, new paint. Tired ghosts, and youmafied bodies existing amongst their living selves.

The quiet that stretched was, for once, enough. There was contentment in all the little things; the way every ache faded into nothingness, empty background noise that was warm beneath Eion's recline. He liked him right there, ever in reach. He liked being useful, for once. If only as a well padded mat rolled supine that his boy could cozy up on while they stared up into the sky.

"We'll have fireworks too," spoken like a promise, easy assurance aimed at the starburst colored sky, "like those Disneyworld events? Like-----fourth of July on Spice." The firm nod became a nuzzle, then a lung stretching sigh as he shifted to adjust his hold. "It'll be like a second rising Sun. Even those ******** on the Moon will be able to see it." blinked spots of color and flash from his gaze, only mildly curious as to the utter lack of larger sound he'd expected from such a spectacle. Though the hoop and hollar of everyone bellow, poppers, cracklers, s**t that whizzed by and filled the dimmer alleyways with brightly colored smoke. "Heh..mh'sooo gonna run the bill up on Lepidolite. Might beg Jetblue n Aquatots favors during all the setup. Get help from as many people as I can, just to make it easier on us."

*Kinky —*

Waru let the intonation slide easily between them, cool as silk sheets, he caught the hint at more. Could envision fireworks of a different kind; he’d catch their reflection in Faustites eyes — in Eions — the night after, the next day, make a whole week of seeing stars lazily shift before his eyes in his beloved's form.

Snorted some soft humm of interest between watching skyblown distractions and ticking Eions points of order off, pleased for the continued progress with the Youma while cataloging the brief bout of silence that followed. He could almost hear Ei’s thinking, loud thoughts that spiraled, that Albite sought to soothe with a well placed hand at the small of Eions back, thumbing that thin line between fabric and flesh; the other petting through curls to feel the silk of them where the strands wrapped easily as fine threads round each individual digit. Enamored with the idea that Eion would never truly suffer flyaways or frizz — for however long he lived.

“You’re doing well Ei, no matter what? It’ll be divine.” spoken like surities, like truth, could’ve bonded with his boy in the dead of night n pouring rain — entierly alone — and it still would’ve been just as good, because in the end? No one else mattered as much as the long warm frame curled close enough to slumber in his arms. All the ways Eion gave him softer moments that felt like such a reward, and he couldn’t help the fondness spread cross his own face for receiving it unasked.

The smile that sat upreterbed by the new kernel of carefully placed knowledge. Glittering thing. And he could’ve pried — turned over earth and worms to rip open the coffins of Eions past and rob those graves blind…

All those dead things.

If he pried? Well, it had to be with a purpose, and right then? His only purpose on the planet was to be as comfortable as possible under that sprawling neon sky; catching sparks that pressed towards grand finales in purples and greens, in red blooms and azure flares.

“M’hh, having fireworks is such an American thing, yanno? Where I was from it was tourist stuff, things for clubs. My sister told me bout a fire they had recently in one—” easy rambling laid over slow breaths, and he thought that Faustite was talking in years; of lost chances and final times— the sadness for that a far heavier weight than the body lying atop his, grounding him to the here and now — just this — nothing else, “—but we never used to go when we were little, back home. It was for adults and drinking. Heh, and those fancy cruise ships off the coast? The big celebrations were always in the city — Douala, which was like, what — a two or three hour drive?”

Certainly not the thought of having never had Eion. Of diverging paths and all the horrific luck that’d led to this happenstance instance. It wasn’t fair to Eion if he was glad of it. If things could’ve been different though?

If he could’ve had all the same with none of the sacrifice? Except it wouldn’t’ve been the same. They wouldn’t’ve been the same. He knew that. In the rare parts of his brain that resided in cold hard reality instead of sun soaked optimism. He knew. Couldn’t pin better or worse outcomes on unknowns and what if’s. Al he had, ‘was’.

“Here though? Fireworks for everything, for nothing at all, any reason to celebrate is reason enough. It’s my favorite part of all this — that any reason is enough — every small success, every little sacrifice? Fireworks worthy Ei, all of them. Big, small, it doesn’t matter — because it’s all important in the end. Ah, has worth? That sort of thing.” Let his fingers dance, nails rough over nape and through fine baby hairs, scratching ever so gently what was usually caught in protective collar and thick brocade; so much cloth and steel rough that delicate throat…

“Do you remember what your resolution was back then? Could make some new ones now — doesn’t have to be New Years to do it. Can be just because.”