datadiving | CALL ME OUT, 2019 EDITION

[ He worried Greg, didn't he? He remembers, a little. He feels guilty about it, a new weight in his chest.

(He's never wanted to be an inconvenience, to be in the way.)

He doesn't feel like talking much at the best of times. This isn't one of them. Instead of speaking, he squeezes his friend's hand in return, struggling to stay awake instead of going back to sleep again. ]

[Greg should let Bairre rest. He has every reason to be exhausted right now. Greg shouldn't push him.

Greg does not let Bairre rest.]

Never do that again.

[His voice comes out in a rasp. His throat was worked raw from crying earlier.]

[ He winces visibly, like he's been struck - it shows on his face - but he doesn't argue against it. How could he? If their positions were swapped, he'd probably say the same thing, just quieter.

Greg's voice sounds awful. He hates that. He hates knowing, too, that he caused it. ]

Sorry.

[ It's barely there. He's still finding it hard to breathe. Apparently, if you're going to get struck, at least hitting the ribcage is better than, say, the lungs, but it still isn't a walk in the park. ]

[It's hard to be upset with Bairre. Especially because he understands that Bairre did what he did for his sake.

Greg goes quiet for a moment.]

...If anything ever happened to you... I don't know what I would do with myself.

[ That hurts twice over. He doesn't know why there's an echo of some past pain, some past guilt there.

He wonders if they've had this conversation before. Or maybe there was something else...he doesn't know. ]

...I couldn't...let anything happen to you.

[ He doesn't know how to fit everything he's feeling into words. Greg was always so much better at that than him.

But he feels the same, he wants to say. If anything happened to his friend, he wouldn't know what to do either. ]

...I can't stop you.

[Because he knows he would do the same, in Bairre's place. If it came down to Greg or Bairre, he'd choose Bairre, every time.]

But not - not at the cost of yourself. Please. Without you, I - that wouldn't be called living.

[ He doesn't know what to say to that. Anything he could possibly have thought of is stuck in his throat; he feels like crying. He thinks he is, a little.

Saying 'sorry' again feels so meaningless. Instead, he twines his fingers with Greg's and holds onto his hand with something like desperation, like he doesn't want to let go.

He hopes it's enough. He hopes it can say even a little of what he can't.

(He hopes it can say even a little of what he's never had the courage to; that he loves him, that he doesn't think he can stop.) ]

[Greg has cried out most of his tears while Bairre slept, but even now, he feels his eyes ache.

He squeezes Bairre's hand. Bairre is real and solid and going to be fine. He has to tell himself this over and over until he can believe it.]

...You're irreplaceable to me, Brumm.

[He has always been quicker to lean on his words than Bairre is, but they still don't feel like enough.]

...So are you, Grimm.

[ He doesn't know what else to say, or do. He's tired and he's not thinking straight (amazingly so), so before he can second-guess himself, he lifts Grimm's hand to...

Well, it's something like a kiss - he's too exhausted to put much effort into it, but still, it exists. A quick brush of contact that he definitely can't excuse as getting carried away.

Doesn't really want to, to be honest. It's too much effort, especially right now. ]

Edited 2019-09-22 07:06 (UTC)

Don't -

[Grimm's voice is pained.]

Don't do things like that if you don't mean them. If it's only me that feels this way, I...

[Because he loves Bairre. He loves him more than life itself, and he can't hide his feelings anymore. Even if they aren't returned.]

[ At first, he thinks he's done something wrong, for that to be Grimm's immediate reaction. He practically flinches, drawing away, because if that's too much, then he shouldn't -- can't-- show anything else.

He's about to apologise, to say that it's nothing, that he should forget it, that it's not important. And then Grimm continues, and...

What else can he say? There's no words to express his feelings, even if he was good at them, even if Grimm was silent and he was not.

(He remembers never saying much; too afraid, or too busy, or simply not wanting to bother him in the face of the Ritual, that all-encompassing flame. Worrying that his love for him would be a burden, yet another chain.

In the wake of that, all of this feels like a second chance.

He doesn't know how much he deserves it (he doesn't think he deserves it) but hearing the pain in his master's voice, he can't do this again -- living alongside him without expressing it.)

Instead of speaking, or apologising, or anything else, he pushes himself to sit up, because even if it hurts, this is more important.

Before he can lose his nerve or second-guess himself, he pulls Grimm as close as he dares, and kisses him. ]

[As always, Bairre is better with actions than words. And this action says far more than anyone's words ever could.

Grimm freezes in shock, before returning the kiss as desperately as he's wanted to all this time. His arms slide around Bairre, gentle and mindful of his injuries, but he can't keep himself from holding Bairre. It might actually kill him.

When he pulls away, it's only to whisper:]

How long?

[ It's a shock to his senses, feeling how earnestly that kiss is returned. Right now, anything could happen, and he wouldn't care at all. His fingers catch on Grimm's shirt in response, curling into the fabric, unwilling to let go; equally as desperate, in his own quiet way.

(He remembers a dream, soft and hazy, unreal; kissing him, being kissed, hands curling into his cloak. A vision of something he shouldn't wish for and couldn't have.

Still; he'd dreamed anyway, sometimes. He'd wondered if Grimm had ever passed by in sleep, had ever noticed.

He doesn't know what would be worse; if he hadn't, or if he had.)

'How long', Grimm asks, and he flushes. He knows he is; he can feel heat blooming across his face.

(It would be easier to define the time when he didn't love him, if only because they hadn't really known each other yet. Across two different lifetimes, it's difficult to count.) ]

I-...Mrm.

I don't remember. [ His voice is soft. ] It's been -- such a long time.

I loved you back then, too. Before.

[ And just like before, they'd met, and he'd fallen hopelessly in love with him. ]

Me too. Since we were young, and - before.

[It was cruel to impose his feelings on someone when his end was fated. Grimm had felt strongly on that. The loss would be painful enough for Brumm already - the last thing he wanted was to cause further harm.

Even if he saw the way Brumm looked at him sometimes. Even if he desired nothing more than to reach out for him and draw him close - he would not. Could not.]

...it doesn't feel real. That you could return my feelings.

[What they had was precious to him. He wouldn't dare disturb that.]

Edited (words.) 2019-09-25 17:15 (UTC)

[ Thinking of each other more than themselves, more than their own desires, and keeping away in the end.

He doesn't know if it turned out well. But that love had lasted, even with his memory gone; longing for something, for someone, that he missed. Even that would never leave him.

Brumm laughs, weak and soft. He should be happy. This is what he's always wanted, what he'd dreamed about (when he'd allowed himself to).

He doesn't know, then, why he's crying, why this is so painful, why he's so sad. Why, in the face of this, everything seems so overwhelming. ]

I dreamed about it. Sometimes. But I thought--

[ --that I wasn't good enough, not for you. That you deserved someone better, brighter, more able to match you. That it was easier to love you from a distance because then I wouldn't know for certain, that I could dream, because it would be worse if you loved me back but we couldn't--

He doesn't finish his sentence. It drops off into nothing. ]

Mrm. It doesn't...feel real to me, either.

[ He hasn't quite let go of Grimm. He finds that he doesn't really want to. ]

Edited 2019-09-25 17:29 (UTC)

[Regrettable as it is, Greg has to let go with one hand so that he can gently wipe Bairre's tears away. If only he had extra arms.]

We were both a bit foolish, weren't we?

[So convinced that the other could never return their feelings, never even noticing the other pining away.]

Forgive me for my blindness.

There's...nothing to forgive. I...

[ Loving him, having that love be returned, is enough. Being able to show it is enough. More than enough.

He blinks away tears. He doesn't quite know where they come from, but he can't seem to make them stop, and to make up for it he wraps his arms around Greg and buries his face in his shoulder. ]

Mrm...sorry.

[ For what, he doesn't know. For never saying anything, for thinking so poorly of him, for that ache of guilt and grief from his past life he doesn't quite remember. Or it's for smaller things, like getting his shirt wet, for ending up in here at all.

Maybe it's just all of those things at once. But he doesn't want to let go of him, not yet. ]

There's nothing to be sorry for.

[Greg gives up on trying to wipe Bairre's tears away and just holds him close. He can cry on his shirt, he can hold him until visiting hours end and nurses show up to kick him out. He can hold onto Greg for long than that, because he's certain no human power could force him to let go.]

...You're warm.

[Maybe it's the flame in both of them, or maybe it's just that being unable to hug him for so long felt painfully cold.]

...So are you.

[ Some part of him will always yearn for that warmth, feeling lost without it. Even just being close to him makes him feel warmer.

(Grimm had been an intrinsic part of his life, before; losing the memories of him hadn't replaced the part in his heart he felt he was missing.

He doesn't want to think about that. He doesn't--)

He knows he'll just repeat the same things over and over, like he's unable to say anything else, if he keeps talking. He'll think in circles, too, over and over.

Instead, he draws Greg down into another kiss (always down with him, even when they're both seated he's shorter; he'd find it funny if it wasn't like this. Maybe he'll find it funny later), so they can both concentrate on something else more pleasant for a while. ]

CALL ME OUT, 2019 EDITION

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makes new icon specifically for this, cries about it

cries in gay

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