fic: This Modern Love (chapter 5)
Sep. 27th, 2010 02:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bonnefoisTitle: This Modern Love [5/6]
Day/Theme: 9. 10. I loved him more for his weakness
Series: FE 9/10 AU
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Modern AU. Past meets present as Soren finds out the finer aspects of enforced blind dates and carpentry by-proxy. Surely, his life isn’t going to be the same. Eventual Ike/Soren
Wordcount: 4012
Author's note: SECOND TO LAST CHAPTER. I split it into two parts, last chapter and epilogue to make it more easily readable. Hope everyone has enjoyed the ride~ Sorry for the wait -- stuff came up, yadayada.
V. Tell Me Facts
There were no serious repercussions to the fall, other than some nasty bruises. However, there was one looming threat that came day by day: Ike's imminent departure. Already the bookshelves and repairs had been, new ones sanded and fished and now they stood proud and tall. Ike had even done some parts not to his contract, such as oiling a few squeaky doors, carrying books after the last disaster with the stairs, and fixing the bathroom door, which had a distressing habit of sticking, so that every so often, Mia would have to save the poor, trapped person.
"Well, that's the last one," Ike said. He wiped his forehead, the tied cloth around his forehead having long been surrendered to the wash. Soren ran his fingers over the wood, as if he were truly fascinated by them, and not just trying to feel Ike's touch by proxy and feel what he had felt. They were well made shelves, sturdy constructions that would surely last years, of course. Somehow he wished they were a little more poorly made, so much that Ike might have to come fix them again every week or so.
Of course, this was foolishness and he pushed it aside in his mind, mentally cursing the stupid Flutter which made him think of such wasteful ideas. He stared ahead, and willed himself not to take the side glances he so wished to.
"Good. The work is very satisfactory. I'll see to it that your check is sent as soon as possible," Soren said, his gaze not leaving the shelves. Soren stood there, an awkward moment. He wanted to say something else, but the words escaped him. Something felt too final about this, about waking up every day and realizing that he wouldn't catch sight of Ike or eat lunch with him or come 'simply to see his progress' which was in no way 'checking him out' as Mia accused.
Despite the inner struggle, he realized that between the desire to be near and the desire to run away, the urge to be close was winning over.
"I... have things to do," Soren said finally.
"Mmhmm. See you later," Ike said absently. His thoughts were already elsewhere. Other jobs he had to do, and everything else in his life which Soren wasn't a part of.
Maybe even other people.
Soren worked through a monotonous numbness through the day. He kept looking up when people would pass by, only to realize that he wouldn't catch a glimpse of blue hair, and rolled up sleeves, or muddy boots which meant he'd have to vacuum that night twice as much, even if it wasn't his job.
The week that passed was slow and tedious. Each day dragged on, the time seemed lengthened by the lack of any contact. Soren was sullen, and snapped at his coworkers even more than usual. Ike hadn't called. Soren had long given in to the inevitability of the existence of The Flutter, and was now focusing his irritation on other things – namely, the idiotic things it was making him do. Especially flagrant was his sullen, desperate stalking of his phone. He was becoming a cliche of the clingy woman, and it was not pleasing. Heather and Mia's jokes that he'd gotten jilted certainly weren't helping.
Apparently, according to Ranulf, Mia and Heather's advice he was to 'go out' and 'date other people' and 'make him jealous.' Soren despised that they'd even assumed they were 'a couple' even if they actually might have gone on a date (or three, possibly, depending on definition.)
But these suggestions were tossed aside without even a thought. Other people didn't interest him. Ike was the only person who had awakened such...things inside him, the only person he'd ever given a damn about.
What would he do if Ike simply disappeared, if all this had meant nothing to him?
Go back to his fallow state, the cold cynicism. Already it was creeping in. He was a constant battle of differing views, a mess being torn in two.
As for why he couldn't simply call himself? The truth was he'd tried. He'd lifted the phone, told himself he would calmly talk to him like a sensible adult, but muttered a wrong number when he heard a cheerful girl respond and promptly spent the rest of the day brooding.
It wasn't until just the day before the scheduled meet that Ike called him back. He mentioned a person he wanted Soren to meet, and Soren's chest felt tight at the possibility of the girl who might be his girl.
And that was something Soren just didn't know how to deal with.
--
Soren waited at the corner. Instead of meeting him at his house, Soren agreed to meet him halfway at the corner near the library because he had some banking issues to deal with, and he needed to deal with the headache of financial aid yet again. He was more than a little discontented by the time Ike came up, having not slept well for the week, and of course, financial aid wasn't the most relaxing thing to deal with. There was a woman beside Ike. A cheerful girl with short brown hair. She seemed entirely too young for him, and certainly too small for him. (Of course, she was only an inch shorter than Soren himself, but it was the principle of the matter.)
The door swung open.
"Jump in, Soren!" Said the girl.
"This is my sister, Mist," Ike said.
"I didn't notice the resemblance," Soren said, not quite able to keep the edge out of his voice.
"I follow more after mom's side," Ike said.
"I see," Soren muttered.
"Hi, Soren, nice to finally meet you!" She smiled. Soren managed not to grimace. Actually smiling back was beyond him, however.
"Ike has said so much about you. Well, for him at least, between guttural grunting and rib-snarfing."
"Not my fault you always come when the game is on," Ike said.
Mist playfully punched his arm, apparently not that hard. "You and your sports games! I bet you'd marry them if you could," Mist said.
"Maybe," Ike said.
"Oh wow, the touchdown dances of love," Mist said. "It'd be a match made in heaven."
Soren looked up sharply. He objected to that, in the most silent and sullen way possible.
"Actually, you sound sort of like the weird mumbly hangup caller we got the other day," Mist said.
"A coincidence," Soren said, keeping his gaze on the road ahead. He now recognized her voice as the girl he had talked to that day. Ike wasn't taking him to meet his girlfriend, he was taking him to meet his family.
Soren wasn't sure if that made it better – either option made his chest tighten up until he felt like he could barely breathe.
"You know, you really look like him," Mist said conversationally.
"..What?"
"Ike's friend, when he was little."
"You were way too young to remember that," Ike said. "I was only five at the time, and you were even younger."
"That’s not true!" Mist protested. "I can remember! Just because I was young doesn’t mean I can’t remember. You went on all summer about going back for that boy, but after the car accident and mom... you just stopped."
"I don’t remember it at all," Ike said.
"You lost a lot of memories after the car accident. You didn’t even recognize Titania the second time you met her," Mist said "Anyways, dad told me about it, so even if I don't remember everything I'd know what I was talking about!" Mist said.
"...friend?" Soren said, a tremor in his voice.
"There was this kid who Ike used to play with that lived next door. He was always holding onto the back of Ike's shirt and he was always protecting him from stuff. Dogs – he was really afraid of them, and bullies, that kind of thing. I think mom snapped a picture once, it might be in the boxes up there."
Aren’t you going to go back home? You can come home with me if you want. Mother won’t mind, I’m sure of it.
Soren’s mouth felt suddenly dry. He remembered the feeling that had overtaken him when Ike had helped him up, the sheer familiarity of it all. He felt like trembling, like running away. His hand rested against the door. A simple flip and he'd be out at the first stop. An emergency. He could make up an emergency.
His first friend. The only person who had ever shown him any love. The little boy next door. What were the chances he’d ever meet that boy again? What were the chances that a final piece of that long sought puzzle would ever be found?
I have finally found you.
His body had known before he had. Muscles had memory, didn’t they? What an illogical occurrence, but it was undeniable.
"Is something wrong, Soren? You just got quiet."
"No," Soren said mechanically. Memories of the past were swirling around inside him, he fought for composure.
He'd wait until he got to their residence, excuse himself to the restroom and fake a call of some import.
The rest of the ride was quiet, as Mist turned on the radio, and some girl sang about tears falling to her guitar. She was between them in a child's seat, kicking up her legs in time to the radio. It made her frilly yellow knee length skirt ride up, but she didn't seem to mind such things.
Soren barely dared to look back to Ike, unsure what to think of this. He just kept looking at the road, the yellow lines blurring. It wasn't a long drive to their apartment, though. Soon enough they were at the drive with its yellowed grass and cracked drive. Ike's pickup looked at home with the rest of the cars in varying amounts of rustiness. Some of them seemed more rust than car.
Ike's apartment was about what one would expect, with some occasional touches of femininity which had obviously been Mist's doing. There were strange touches indeed: a contrast of a hooked, colorful rug and a very ugly beat up couch; stained wooden crates which posed as furniture, and a welcome mat with daisies on it.
"Pardon me, I need to wash my hands," Soren murmured and headed down the hall. The bathroom was mostly white, slightly yellowed with age and rust. Like the other room, there were minor touches of Mist's influence, such as a purple box of Kleenex with flowers on it. He leaned into the sink and splashed cold water on his face, his mind going to earlier times. It veered – one moment a child sharing sandwiches, the next a similar moment in the restroom of the restaurant on their first...encounter.
All these years he'd been holding himself up. He'd been chasing a dream, almost not believing he'd ever find the sum of that dream, even as he searched, and yet....
Soren wrapped his arms about himself. He didn't cry, and hadn't since he was a child – an infant but the emotions, the feelings he'd been numbing himself to for the past years were washing over him.
It caught in his chest. He could barely breathe. All he wanted was a moment to curl in a corner and be again that fragile, yet strong boy who had survived at the cost of his heart. He'd had a hint of warmth, once. A hand to guide him, a hint of happiness. Despite every time of telling himself that he could do without, that he could live alone, in his own walls, he knew that all he wanted was that boy again.
He counted down the moments which he could stay and not have the awkwardness increase tenfold.
He wasn't ready for this. The only possibility was to retreat and regroup for the moment...at least until he could deal with these new revelations.
He stepped out and looked to Ike – his Ike along, just as a niggling feeling had suggested so many times.
"There was a call...I'm afraid I must excuse myself," Soren said. His voice lacked the commanding, cold tone he usually used towards patrons with late fees, or noisome types. He looked up, tired at Ike, wondering if he'd read him, know him like he had as a child.
Every time Soren was sad, Ike comforted him. If he'd been able to cry then, Ike would've wiped his tears, told him to be strong, to not worry.
Would he now?
Mist came in from the kitchen. "What? You're leaving? Aww, but you just got here! I had a great meal planned, and the rest of the family was going to come, too!"
"You're better off without her cooking, honestly," Ike said.
"I heard that!"
Soren almost smiled at their exchange. The bonds of a family. A close one, not with long cold tables and long sharp fingernails. Not with the subtle manipulative guilting, the expectations.
"Another time," Soren said. "Things....things that must be attended to. I'm sorry."
Soren ducked his head and walked towards the door.
"I can drive you–"
"No, it's fine," Soren said. "I'll...be fine. Don't worry."
He left before Ike could protest more, feeling a heaviness, a sadness weighing him down as he walked down the hall. A part of him hoped to hear Ike calling out to him, but he did not. Instead of going straight home, he walked down the streets. Unaware of the growing cold, the darkening sky, he went on. As if he were the automaton he had forced himself to become all these years, and not the living, breathing feeling creature which was bursting forth from the metal shell, as if shedding a cocoon.
It was a lengthy process, and felt as if rusty metal was scraping against his nerves. He barely felt the coming cold, numbing his skin as he walked on into the growing twilight.
–
When he finally returned, the chill became apparent. He brewed some tea for himself, and rubbed at his arms to try and warm himself. This time it would be Chamomile for the nerves, not the usual unadorned Green tea he drank cup by cup when he needed to write a paper. He took out vitamins and herbal supplements, and downed them and waited for the calming effect. Magnesium, Vitamin B, Valerian. He wasn't one for Valium because that would require going to a therapist and he didn't need to pay a stranger four-hundred dollars an hour to tell him to take a few pills and then come again to bleed more from his wallet.
He didn't need anyone to tell him he was a fuckup; he already knew this much already.
Soren thought of pulling a large blanket and curling up in it.
He'd gotten a family, eventually. A weak, spineless brother and a mother whose hold on sanity was fragile at best, and the knowledge that his father had found him so repulsive as to abandon him with a woman who despised him. Little comfort, that.
He'd been a coward to run, of course. He'd face Ike later, when he was more composed. If he had stayed, he might have broken down, which would be unacceptable. He sipped his tea and willed the pills to work faster, as if he could make anything happen simply by willing it.
(Could he? He had willed and wished for Ike for so very long. To have him appear after he'd all but given up.)
There was a knock at the door. Soren shifted his glance, and considered simply ignoring it. He had been stretched too thin this week, and was too tired to deal with Ranulf or Skrimir's inanities. The knocking continued.
"Soren? I know you've got to be in there," Ike said gently. And yet, there was an edge to his voice. Worry? Perhaps.
"I could be someone else," Soren said quietly, defeating the purpose.
"I can't picture you clubbing," Ike quipped.
"And if I wasn't here, what would you do?" Soren asked.
"Stay on your doorstep until you return," Ike said. "Maybe call some more, even though you haven't picked up."
Soren rested his hand against the door. "...Even if I took a long time to return?"
"As long as it took," Ike replied.
Soren stood there a while, his head against the door. Finally, with shaking hands he undid the locks – every chain and opened the door.
"You just left all of the sudden, I was worried," Ike said.
The concern on his face made the thrumming intensify inside him.
"I'm sorry...I was feeling unwell and couldn't continue," Soren said. He mentally cursed himself as he did. His excuse had been different, and placed together they looked like the lie they were.
Soren stared at the face which had aged in all these years. The past and present had met and meshed together into one moment in time. Theirs. Ike didn’t have to know. Finding him was enough. Keeping ahold of him for the rest of their lives would be enough. Maybe some part deep in Ike had remembered, which is why he'd made the effort, and reached his hand out to him again.
"I’ve finally found you...."
"I didn’t know I was lost," Ike said. "Didn’t I just see you yesterday?"
Soren drew back, hurt. He bit his lip. He was too tired for sharp comments.
"Soren, relax, I'm teasing. It was you, wasn't it?" Ike said gently. "Mist and I searched the whole attic and finally found this."
Out from his pocket he brought out a small photograph. Its corners were curled with age, and it had yellowed. And yet, it was still so clear. A thin boy with red, wary eyes and charcoal black hair clinging to a young, rough boy with blue hair. His tiny fists were balled up, holding tight to Ike's shirt in that picture. He'd even ripped a few shirts trying to keep a hold of Ike whenever Ike would go on.
Unable to speak, Soren just nodded.
"I'm sorry I didn't realize sooner," Ike said.
"I didn't know from the beginning either," Soren said.
"I always did feel a bit connected to you," Ike said.
"Yes...I as well..." Soren looked down.
"I've never really had a connection like this with anyone. Ranulf kept setting me up and I never was interested. At least until you," Ike said.
"Ike, I..." Soren shook his head, the words unable to come out.
"Hey...come here," Ike said. "You're shivering."
"It's just the cold," Soren said. "I don't tolerate cold well."
"Is that really all?" Ike asked.
"No....I'm a wreck," Soren said. "It's nothing new."
"You've always looked pretty strong to me. Well, not physically..."
Soren looked to him, trying to read him. Wondering if Ike could really see him anymore, like he used to. Time had passed, they'd grown to different people.
"I survived," he murmured.
"That's the point," Ike said. "But everyone needs to crash once in a while. We can't be pillars."
Soren didn't respond. A sigh. In a second, Soren felt strong arms about him. He froze, muscles tight from the instantaneous reflex of touch aversion. And yet he felt himself relaxing, almost as instinctual as the tensing. He rested his head against Ike's chest.
"It's going to be all right, Soren."
His hands smoothed Soren's hair, gentle strokes which had a calming effect. When Soren looked up to him, it was with the desperate, pleading eyes of a child. He clung to Ike's shirt.
"Don't leave."
"I'm not–"
Soren leaned up and pulled hard on Ike’s shoulders, Ike followed the unsaid command and Soren gripped his chin and pulled their mouths together. And they touched and kissed and Soren felt the wall against his back and the welcome feel of Ike’s weight pressing him down. He didn’t have to say it. He didn’t have to say a word.
I have been searching my whole life for you. You were its meaning, the balance and joy. You are mine.
When the kiss ended, they rested, forehead to forehead, a soft nuzzle.
"I...wanted this for a long time," Soren said.
"Mm. Me too. I'll stay tonight if you want," Ike said.
"Please stay," Soren said.
"I'm not going anywhere."
"I mean..in the future..."
Don't leave...please.
Ike smiled. "Like I said, I'm not going anywhere."
I'll be back tomorrow, I promise!
"A moment, please," Soren said. He went to his room and came back with two blankets, the large dark wool blanket with bands of red and the thinner one underneath to keep the scratchy wool from his skin.
The heat wasn't very good in his apartment, but the price made him keep it regardless. One could always layer on blankets or clothing if need be. Or space heaters could be purchased – though he had lacked the funds for that quite yet. Ike was on the couch, and Soren brought the blankets out. He sat by Ike, a slight distance between them and wrapped them both up in the blanket.
"You're staying out here?"
"Yes," Soren said.
They were wrapped up tight together in the blanket, and Soren felt warmth flood through him, not just his skin but his insides. He'd been cold for so very long, it felt a strange glow, a melting.
Ike stroked his cheek, and they slowly shifted positions, until Soren was laying on the couch, with Ike leaning over him. This kiss was less desperate, more exploratory. His lips parted just enough for their tongues to brush against each other. The sensations were new, a gentle floating as opposed to the crashing shocks on nerves that the first was.
"Mmm....You taste like ribs, and you're heavy," Soren said. Ike grunted, and pushed himself off until he was kneeling beside him on the floor.
"This couch is really small," Ike said.
"It was a good deal, and I don't exactly need a lot for company."
"Do you have anything bigger?" Ike asked.
"..my bed is marginally so," Soren responded.
They looked at each other, saying nothing for a moment. Finally Ike broke the silence.
"We don't have to go any farther than you want."
Soren wanted to properly research this...new aspect to his life. However to kiss, to touch, that wouldn't require certain implements, or preparation. He wanted to feel Ike, fingertips over every bit of skin, inhaling the scent of him with every breath.
"I don't know anything about love...physical or emotional," Soren confessed.
"Then we'll learn together," Ike said. "I'm not exactly that experienced myself."
They wrapped the blanket around them, and Soren was reminded for some reason of bridal trains, of wedding rituals in other cultures he had unearthed in his studies and filed away with dour indifference.
But this time, he considered the romanticism without simply dismissing it and pushing it aside as foolishness. He felt Ike's hand in his as he walked towards the short hallway to his room, which for some reason, felt much farther now, or perhaps it was just their unhurried walk. Soren leaned against Ike as they walked.
If I'm a fool, then so be it, he thought. At least he'd be a happy fool.
Day/Theme: 9. 10. I loved him more for his weakness
Series: FE 9/10 AU
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Modern AU. Past meets present as Soren finds out the finer aspects of enforced blind dates and carpentry by-proxy. Surely, his life isn’t going to be the same. Eventual Ike/Soren
Wordcount: 4012
Author's note: SECOND TO LAST CHAPTER. I split it into two parts, last chapter and epilogue to make it more easily readable. Hope everyone has enjoyed the ride~ Sorry for the wait -- stuff came up, yadayada.
There were no serious repercussions to the fall, other than some nasty bruises. However, there was one looming threat that came day by day: Ike's imminent departure. Already the bookshelves and repairs had been, new ones sanded and fished and now they stood proud and tall. Ike had even done some parts not to his contract, such as oiling a few squeaky doors, carrying books after the last disaster with the stairs, and fixing the bathroom door, which had a distressing habit of sticking, so that every so often, Mia would have to save the poor, trapped person.
"Well, that's the last one," Ike said. He wiped his forehead, the tied cloth around his forehead having long been surrendered to the wash. Soren ran his fingers over the wood, as if he were truly fascinated by them, and not just trying to feel Ike's touch by proxy and feel what he had felt. They were well made shelves, sturdy constructions that would surely last years, of course. Somehow he wished they were a little more poorly made, so much that Ike might have to come fix them again every week or so.
Of course, this was foolishness and he pushed it aside in his mind, mentally cursing the stupid Flutter which made him think of such wasteful ideas. He stared ahead, and willed himself not to take the side glances he so wished to.
"Good. The work is very satisfactory. I'll see to it that your check is sent as soon as possible," Soren said, his gaze not leaving the shelves. Soren stood there, an awkward moment. He wanted to say something else, but the words escaped him. Something felt too final about this, about waking up every day and realizing that he wouldn't catch sight of Ike or eat lunch with him or come 'simply to see his progress' which was in no way 'checking him out' as Mia accused.
Despite the inner struggle, he realized that between the desire to be near and the desire to run away, the urge to be close was winning over.
"I... have things to do," Soren said finally.
"Mmhmm. See you later," Ike said absently. His thoughts were already elsewhere. Other jobs he had to do, and everything else in his life which Soren wasn't a part of.
Maybe even other people.
Soren worked through a monotonous numbness through the day. He kept looking up when people would pass by, only to realize that he wouldn't catch a glimpse of blue hair, and rolled up sleeves, or muddy boots which meant he'd have to vacuum that night twice as much, even if it wasn't his job.
The week that passed was slow and tedious. Each day dragged on, the time seemed lengthened by the lack of any contact. Soren was sullen, and snapped at his coworkers even more than usual. Ike hadn't called. Soren had long given in to the inevitability of the existence of The Flutter, and was now focusing his irritation on other things – namely, the idiotic things it was making him do. Especially flagrant was his sullen, desperate stalking of his phone. He was becoming a cliche of the clingy woman, and it was not pleasing. Heather and Mia's jokes that he'd gotten jilted certainly weren't helping.
Apparently, according to Ranulf, Mia and Heather's advice he was to 'go out' and 'date other people' and 'make him jealous.' Soren despised that they'd even assumed they were 'a couple' even if they actually might have gone on a date (or three, possibly, depending on definition.)
But these suggestions were tossed aside without even a thought. Other people didn't interest him. Ike was the only person who had awakened such...things inside him, the only person he'd ever given a damn about.
What would he do if Ike simply disappeared, if all this had meant nothing to him?
Go back to his fallow state, the cold cynicism. Already it was creeping in. He was a constant battle of differing views, a mess being torn in two.
As for why he couldn't simply call himself? The truth was he'd tried. He'd lifted the phone, told himself he would calmly talk to him like a sensible adult, but muttered a wrong number when he heard a cheerful girl respond and promptly spent the rest of the day brooding.
It wasn't until just the day before the scheduled meet that Ike called him back. He mentioned a person he wanted Soren to meet, and Soren's chest felt tight at the possibility of the girl who might be his girl.
And that was something Soren just didn't know how to deal with.
--
Soren waited at the corner. Instead of meeting him at his house, Soren agreed to meet him halfway at the corner near the library because he had some banking issues to deal with, and he needed to deal with the headache of financial aid yet again. He was more than a little discontented by the time Ike came up, having not slept well for the week, and of course, financial aid wasn't the most relaxing thing to deal with. There was a woman beside Ike. A cheerful girl with short brown hair. She seemed entirely too young for him, and certainly too small for him. (Of course, she was only an inch shorter than Soren himself, but it was the principle of the matter.)
The door swung open.
"Jump in, Soren!" Said the girl.
"This is my sister, Mist," Ike said.
"I didn't notice the resemblance," Soren said, not quite able to keep the edge out of his voice.
"I follow more after mom's side," Ike said.
"I see," Soren muttered.
"Hi, Soren, nice to finally meet you!" She smiled. Soren managed not to grimace. Actually smiling back was beyond him, however.
"Ike has said so much about you. Well, for him at least, between guttural grunting and rib-snarfing."
"Not my fault you always come when the game is on," Ike said.
Mist playfully punched his arm, apparently not that hard. "You and your sports games! I bet you'd marry them if you could," Mist said.
"Maybe," Ike said.
"Oh wow, the touchdown dances of love," Mist said. "It'd be a match made in heaven."
Soren looked up sharply. He objected to that, in the most silent and sullen way possible.
"Actually, you sound sort of like the weird mumbly hangup caller we got the other day," Mist said.
"A coincidence," Soren said, keeping his gaze on the road ahead. He now recognized her voice as the girl he had talked to that day. Ike wasn't taking him to meet his girlfriend, he was taking him to meet his family.
Soren wasn't sure if that made it better – either option made his chest tighten up until he felt like he could barely breathe.
"You know, you really look like him," Mist said conversationally.
"..What?"
"Ike's friend, when he was little."
"You were way too young to remember that," Ike said. "I was only five at the time, and you were even younger."
"That’s not true!" Mist protested. "I can remember! Just because I was young doesn’t mean I can’t remember. You went on all summer about going back for that boy, but after the car accident and mom... you just stopped."
"I don’t remember it at all," Ike said.
"You lost a lot of memories after the car accident. You didn’t even recognize Titania the second time you met her," Mist said "Anyways, dad told me about it, so even if I don't remember everything I'd know what I was talking about!" Mist said.
"...friend?" Soren said, a tremor in his voice.
"There was this kid who Ike used to play with that lived next door. He was always holding onto the back of Ike's shirt and he was always protecting him from stuff. Dogs – he was really afraid of them, and bullies, that kind of thing. I think mom snapped a picture once, it might be in the boxes up there."
Aren’t you going to go back home? You can come home with me if you want. Mother won’t mind, I’m sure of it.
Soren’s mouth felt suddenly dry. He remembered the feeling that had overtaken him when Ike had helped him up, the sheer familiarity of it all. He felt like trembling, like running away. His hand rested against the door. A simple flip and he'd be out at the first stop. An emergency. He could make up an emergency.
His first friend. The only person who had ever shown him any love. The little boy next door. What were the chances he’d ever meet that boy again? What were the chances that a final piece of that long sought puzzle would ever be found?
I have finally found you.
His body had known before he had. Muscles had memory, didn’t they? What an illogical occurrence, but it was undeniable.
"Is something wrong, Soren? You just got quiet."
"No," Soren said mechanically. Memories of the past were swirling around inside him, he fought for composure.
He'd wait until he got to their residence, excuse himself to the restroom and fake a call of some import.
The rest of the ride was quiet, as Mist turned on the radio, and some girl sang about tears falling to her guitar. She was between them in a child's seat, kicking up her legs in time to the radio. It made her frilly yellow knee length skirt ride up, but she didn't seem to mind such things.
Soren barely dared to look back to Ike, unsure what to think of this. He just kept looking at the road, the yellow lines blurring. It wasn't a long drive to their apartment, though. Soon enough they were at the drive with its yellowed grass and cracked drive. Ike's pickup looked at home with the rest of the cars in varying amounts of rustiness. Some of them seemed more rust than car.
Ike's apartment was about what one would expect, with some occasional touches of femininity which had obviously been Mist's doing. There were strange touches indeed: a contrast of a hooked, colorful rug and a very ugly beat up couch; stained wooden crates which posed as furniture, and a welcome mat with daisies on it.
"Pardon me, I need to wash my hands," Soren murmured and headed down the hall. The bathroom was mostly white, slightly yellowed with age and rust. Like the other room, there were minor touches of Mist's influence, such as a purple box of Kleenex with flowers on it. He leaned into the sink and splashed cold water on his face, his mind going to earlier times. It veered – one moment a child sharing sandwiches, the next a similar moment in the restroom of the restaurant on their first...encounter.
All these years he'd been holding himself up. He'd been chasing a dream, almost not believing he'd ever find the sum of that dream, even as he searched, and yet....
Soren wrapped his arms about himself. He didn't cry, and hadn't since he was a child – an infant but the emotions, the feelings he'd been numbing himself to for the past years were washing over him.
It caught in his chest. He could barely breathe. All he wanted was a moment to curl in a corner and be again that fragile, yet strong boy who had survived at the cost of his heart. He'd had a hint of warmth, once. A hand to guide him, a hint of happiness. Despite every time of telling himself that he could do without, that he could live alone, in his own walls, he knew that all he wanted was that boy again.
He counted down the moments which he could stay and not have the awkwardness increase tenfold.
He wasn't ready for this. The only possibility was to retreat and regroup for the moment...at least until he could deal with these new revelations.
He stepped out and looked to Ike – his Ike along, just as a niggling feeling had suggested so many times.
"There was a call...I'm afraid I must excuse myself," Soren said. His voice lacked the commanding, cold tone he usually used towards patrons with late fees, or noisome types. He looked up, tired at Ike, wondering if he'd read him, know him like he had as a child.
Every time Soren was sad, Ike comforted him. If he'd been able to cry then, Ike would've wiped his tears, told him to be strong, to not worry.
Would he now?
Mist came in from the kitchen. "What? You're leaving? Aww, but you just got here! I had a great meal planned, and the rest of the family was going to come, too!"
"You're better off without her cooking, honestly," Ike said.
"I heard that!"
Soren almost smiled at their exchange. The bonds of a family. A close one, not with long cold tables and long sharp fingernails. Not with the subtle manipulative guilting, the expectations.
"Another time," Soren said. "Things....things that must be attended to. I'm sorry."
Soren ducked his head and walked towards the door.
"I can drive you–"
"No, it's fine," Soren said. "I'll...be fine. Don't worry."
He left before Ike could protest more, feeling a heaviness, a sadness weighing him down as he walked down the hall. A part of him hoped to hear Ike calling out to him, but he did not. Instead of going straight home, he walked down the streets. Unaware of the growing cold, the darkening sky, he went on. As if he were the automaton he had forced himself to become all these years, and not the living, breathing feeling creature which was bursting forth from the metal shell, as if shedding a cocoon.
It was a lengthy process, and felt as if rusty metal was scraping against his nerves. He barely felt the coming cold, numbing his skin as he walked on into the growing twilight.
–
When he finally returned, the chill became apparent. He brewed some tea for himself, and rubbed at his arms to try and warm himself. This time it would be Chamomile for the nerves, not the usual unadorned Green tea he drank cup by cup when he needed to write a paper. He took out vitamins and herbal supplements, and downed them and waited for the calming effect. Magnesium, Vitamin B, Valerian. He wasn't one for Valium because that would require going to a therapist and he didn't need to pay a stranger four-hundred dollars an hour to tell him to take a few pills and then come again to bleed more from his wallet.
He didn't need anyone to tell him he was a fuckup; he already knew this much already.
Soren thought of pulling a large blanket and curling up in it.
He'd gotten a family, eventually. A weak, spineless brother and a mother whose hold on sanity was fragile at best, and the knowledge that his father had found him so repulsive as to abandon him with a woman who despised him. Little comfort, that.
He'd been a coward to run, of course. He'd face Ike later, when he was more composed. If he had stayed, he might have broken down, which would be unacceptable. He sipped his tea and willed the pills to work faster, as if he could make anything happen simply by willing it.
(Could he? He had willed and wished for Ike for so very long. To have him appear after he'd all but given up.)
There was a knock at the door. Soren shifted his glance, and considered simply ignoring it. He had been stretched too thin this week, and was too tired to deal with Ranulf or Skrimir's inanities. The knocking continued.
"Soren? I know you've got to be in there," Ike said gently. And yet, there was an edge to his voice. Worry? Perhaps.
"I could be someone else," Soren said quietly, defeating the purpose.
"I can't picture you clubbing," Ike quipped.
"And if I wasn't here, what would you do?" Soren asked.
"Stay on your doorstep until you return," Ike said. "Maybe call some more, even though you haven't picked up."
Soren rested his hand against the door. "...Even if I took a long time to return?"
"As long as it took," Ike replied.
Soren stood there a while, his head against the door. Finally, with shaking hands he undid the locks – every chain and opened the door.
"You just left all of the sudden, I was worried," Ike said.
The concern on his face made the thrumming intensify inside him.
"I'm sorry...I was feeling unwell and couldn't continue," Soren said. He mentally cursed himself as he did. His excuse had been different, and placed together they looked like the lie they were.
Soren stared at the face which had aged in all these years. The past and present had met and meshed together into one moment in time. Theirs. Ike didn’t have to know. Finding him was enough. Keeping ahold of him for the rest of their lives would be enough. Maybe some part deep in Ike had remembered, which is why he'd made the effort, and reached his hand out to him again.
"I’ve finally found you...."
"I didn’t know I was lost," Ike said. "Didn’t I just see you yesterday?"
Soren drew back, hurt. He bit his lip. He was too tired for sharp comments.
"Soren, relax, I'm teasing. It was you, wasn't it?" Ike said gently. "Mist and I searched the whole attic and finally found this."
Out from his pocket he brought out a small photograph. Its corners were curled with age, and it had yellowed. And yet, it was still so clear. A thin boy with red, wary eyes and charcoal black hair clinging to a young, rough boy with blue hair. His tiny fists were balled up, holding tight to Ike's shirt in that picture. He'd even ripped a few shirts trying to keep a hold of Ike whenever Ike would go on.
Unable to speak, Soren just nodded.
"I'm sorry I didn't realize sooner," Ike said.
"I didn't know from the beginning either," Soren said.
"I always did feel a bit connected to you," Ike said.
"Yes...I as well..." Soren looked down.
"I've never really had a connection like this with anyone. Ranulf kept setting me up and I never was interested. At least until you," Ike said.
"Ike, I..." Soren shook his head, the words unable to come out.
"Hey...come here," Ike said. "You're shivering."
"It's just the cold," Soren said. "I don't tolerate cold well."
"Is that really all?" Ike asked.
"No....I'm a wreck," Soren said. "It's nothing new."
"You've always looked pretty strong to me. Well, not physically..."
Soren looked to him, trying to read him. Wondering if Ike could really see him anymore, like he used to. Time had passed, they'd grown to different people.
"I survived," he murmured.
"That's the point," Ike said. "But everyone needs to crash once in a while. We can't be pillars."
Soren didn't respond. A sigh. In a second, Soren felt strong arms about him. He froze, muscles tight from the instantaneous reflex of touch aversion. And yet he felt himself relaxing, almost as instinctual as the tensing. He rested his head against Ike's chest.
"It's going to be all right, Soren."
His hands smoothed Soren's hair, gentle strokes which had a calming effect. When Soren looked up to him, it was with the desperate, pleading eyes of a child. He clung to Ike's shirt.
"Don't leave."
"I'm not–"
Soren leaned up and pulled hard on Ike’s shoulders, Ike followed the unsaid command and Soren gripped his chin and pulled their mouths together. And they touched and kissed and Soren felt the wall against his back and the welcome feel of Ike’s weight pressing him down. He didn’t have to say it. He didn’t have to say a word.
I have been searching my whole life for you. You were its meaning, the balance and joy. You are mine.
When the kiss ended, they rested, forehead to forehead, a soft nuzzle.
"I...wanted this for a long time," Soren said.
"Mm. Me too. I'll stay tonight if you want," Ike said.
"Please stay," Soren said.
"I'm not going anywhere."
"I mean..in the future..."
Don't leave...please.
Ike smiled. "Like I said, I'm not going anywhere."
I'll be back tomorrow, I promise!
"A moment, please," Soren said. He went to his room and came back with two blankets, the large dark wool blanket with bands of red and the thinner one underneath to keep the scratchy wool from his skin.
The heat wasn't very good in his apartment, but the price made him keep it regardless. One could always layer on blankets or clothing if need be. Or space heaters could be purchased – though he had lacked the funds for that quite yet. Ike was on the couch, and Soren brought the blankets out. He sat by Ike, a slight distance between them and wrapped them both up in the blanket.
"You're staying out here?"
"Yes," Soren said.
They were wrapped up tight together in the blanket, and Soren felt warmth flood through him, not just his skin but his insides. He'd been cold for so very long, it felt a strange glow, a melting.
Ike stroked his cheek, and they slowly shifted positions, until Soren was laying on the couch, with Ike leaning over him. This kiss was less desperate, more exploratory. His lips parted just enough for their tongues to brush against each other. The sensations were new, a gentle floating as opposed to the crashing shocks on nerves that the first was.
"Mmm....You taste like ribs, and you're heavy," Soren said. Ike grunted, and pushed himself off until he was kneeling beside him on the floor.
"This couch is really small," Ike said.
"It was a good deal, and I don't exactly need a lot for company."
"Do you have anything bigger?" Ike asked.
"..my bed is marginally so," Soren responded.
They looked at each other, saying nothing for a moment. Finally Ike broke the silence.
"We don't have to go any farther than you want."
Soren wanted to properly research this...new aspect to his life. However to kiss, to touch, that wouldn't require certain implements, or preparation. He wanted to feel Ike, fingertips over every bit of skin, inhaling the scent of him with every breath.
"I don't know anything about love...physical or emotional," Soren confessed.
"Then we'll learn together," Ike said. "I'm not exactly that experienced myself."
They wrapped the blanket around them, and Soren was reminded for some reason of bridal trains, of wedding rituals in other cultures he had unearthed in his studies and filed away with dour indifference.
But this time, he considered the romanticism without simply dismissing it and pushing it aside as foolishness. He felt Ike's hand in his as he walked towards the short hallway to his room, which for some reason, felt much farther now, or perhaps it was just their unhurried walk. Soren leaned against Ike as they walked.
If I'm a fool, then so be it, he thought. At least he'd be a happy fool.
