You’ve got that power over me

[annihilist]

Characters: Devin Parker and the Fool
Date: Early June
Location: Devin and the Fool's apartment
Situation: It's been a rough month for Devin, and the Fool comes back from the Dreaming walkabout
Warnings/Rating: Mentions of a lot of alcohol; depressed vampire coping badly; more added as needed

It has been over a month since Devin found himself abruptly alone in bed, the Fool vanishing from right beside him one sleepy morning. They had only just moved into this apartment where they'd both have more space and where together they were building a future together. These walls are the most tangible expression of their relationship they have, of Devin's slowly growing willingness to not guard his heart so closely. These walls should bear witness to their shared happiness.

Now, the apartment just feels hostile and empty. Devin hasn't unpacked anything else since the Fool disappeared and a pile of boxes sits in one corner gathering dust. There are too many painful reminders for him to deal with in those boxes when the apartment itself is already overwhelming - but he's stayed. They knew this would happen. They knew this was inevitable. Devin knew and yet he clearly did not know well enough. Bobby's betrayal had ravaged his ability to trust in his own feelings; this is something entirely different and at once more and less painful. His lover yet lives, but he's gone and Devin feels his absence like a knife to the heart, over and over and over again. As much as it pains him to stay, he cannot help but think it would be worse if he left so soon. The Fool had plans for decorating and had yet to set up his studio and there is so much space. The unadorned and the empty are less cutting reminders of his loss than if they'd fully settled in.

Holly and Luthien vie for control of his lap when he settles heavily on the couch for sleep each night, and that's something. They take the edge off more than alcohol does, sometimes, and that's helpful. He still has a job he's supposed to go to and he cannot be getting wasted if he's to care properly for the libraries. After an absence, Devin got his schedule changed so he works nights almost exclusively, allowing him to avoid most people and the prying, caring eyes they bring. Spending time among the shelves is more steadying than he thought it would be; these books are like old friends, and they do not ask anything of him but to be handled respectfully and returned to their place.

Even so, he's drinking a lot more than he should. Not enough to become belligerent, but with his stupidly high tolerance he's going through most of a case of hard liquor in a week. If nothing else, it's an expensive way to grieve, and in truth it doesn't help all that much. Devin sleeps restlessly and eats more sporadically than is healthy-- but he's trying. If he lets the hollow ache of loss take over, he'll likely never come back out of it. Whatever the future brings, Devin knows for a certainty that he'll never be the same. He has not the strength to pretend he is anything less than shattered.

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[afoolsgold]

The Dreaming, it seems, is as fickle and cruel as any human being. This will be knowledge enough to make the Fool reconsider his affectionate regard for the capricious plane, but that will come later. Later, after he opens his eyes and finds himself laying on dusty sheets in an empty bedroom.

Something is wrong; this much he knows immediately, although he cannot put his finger on what. His memories come back to him in a sleepy trickle: a boat off the coast of the Outislands, but also a curious studio within a cafe on a busy, alien street. A journey across the sea to Clerres, and touching minds with an immense being vast as any dragon. The pain of leaving Fitz behind, and—

Oh—! (Suddenly, all too suddenly, what had been mired in fog becomes clear.)

“Devin?” His voice is quiet, hoarse from something like sleep; the Fool is a little unsteady on his feet as he pushes back the blankets and stands upright, catching himself on the headboard with one hand.

[annihilist]

Devin is staring sightlessly at the low coffee table in front of him when a sound breaks the haze of absent, miserable thought. It's a rhythm he's intimately familiar with, and yet one that has been lacking in the apartment for weeks: the slow, steady beat of a human heart. He freezes, heart leaping dangerously towards hope, desperate for it to be true and still holding his breath in disbelief. And then a voice follows and Devin is up on his feet and darting to the bedroom in an instant. Had he been holding anything he would have dropped it.

He pulls up short in the doorway like he's smacked into an invisible wall, shock on his face and sorrow shining from unshed tears in his eyes. The Fool is standing there in front of him like a dream (please gods don't be a dream, not again), and the wave of relief and joy tangled up in the lingering burden of grief leaves him paralyzed on the threshold. He's moving again before his brain has really had time to process, gathering the Fool into a tight embrace. Devin is just present enough not to make it bone-cracking, but his fingers hook white-knuckled into his lover's clothing to get the surest purchase on him. The Fool is solid and warm and real, this isn't the hallucination of a despairing mind or a too-vivid nightmare, and holding him again is-- everything. A tiny, broken noise escapes his throat as Devin tucks his head against the Fool's shoulder and neck, closing his eyes as he gets a little lost in simply feeling.

[afoolsgold]

Devin’s fingers find purchase in soft white silk—the Fool’s usual bed clothes—which yield under his grip, cool and smooth and without the coat of dust that lines everything else in the bedroom. For the Fool himself, that glimpse of tears is enough to answer the many sundry questions that had been crowding at the forefront of his mind: yes, he had been gone, and for enough time for Devin’s heart to break.

They had both known the risks when they took this mad leap together, but that doesn’t make the reality of it any easier to bear.

He slips his arms securely around Devin’s shoulders and lets his cheek fall against his lover’s soft dark hair, and for a moment that embrace is protection enough against the dread that continues its slow, clawing ascent up from his gut. The Fool squeezes his eyes shut and swallows, then makes himself say the words: “How long?”

How long was he gone?

[annihilist]

Holding the Fool is an enormously effective balm for Devin's heartache, but the grief doesn't completely evaporate like he might have guessed it would. He's elated and yet he still hurts, and currently he has no space to examine the reaction. Right now he can only be here with his partner. All unnoticed, he's trembling with the sheer force of relief, and he's trying to get his tongue to cooperate in forming an actual reply. It takes a few shuddering breaths for Devin to be sure he won't simply break down when he opens his mouth.

"Almost six weeks," Devin answers, voice rough and quiet. So: not terribly long, but long enough that Devin was starting to brace himself for accepting that his lover would never return. Long enough for him to think of too many things left unsaid, to begin giving up on a future that included companionship.

He wonders then if the Fool experienced any time at home or if he's just come fresh from his trauma at Aslevjal again, if they're both standing raw and grief-stricken for reasons both shared and vastly different, and Devin does his best to pull together threads of composure. If the Fool has re-lived what happened to him or has it so near in his memory, Devin wants to help. Even if he's struggling with the depth of his own feelings, he wants to give as much comfort as he receives. Weakly: "Are you okay?"

Neither of them are okay, really, but broadly speaking things might not be vastly horrible beyond what separation has wrought.

[afoolsgold]

Six weeks. The Fool exhales a sound somewhere between a sigh and a mirthless laugh, and turns his face into Devin’s hair. Six weeks of missed time that could easily have been months, or years—or centuries. The Dreaming could have brought him back to an Aifaran that didn’t have Devin in it. In the grand scheme of things, six weeks of lost time is a blessing; it could have been much worse.

And yet—

“Are you okay?”

“I’m...” he begins, then grows quiet while a heavy well of feeling rises up within him, tightening his throat and blurring his eyes with tears. It is strange and alien to arrive here again with such pain and grief and agony and loss still fresh in his mind—and to have a year’s worth of catharsis descend upon him, all in the same moment. It makes him laugh again, weakly, and draw back enough to blot at his eyes with his sleeves. “I have no idea,” he admits, looking up to meet Devin’s eyes. “The past has its claws in me again, but seeing your face is a balm for my spirit.” Gently, he reaches up to stroke his fingers across Devin’s cheek. “I’m so sorry I left you alone.”

[annihilist]

Devin has kept his own tears from falling but his eyes still shine too brightly when he meets the Fool's amber gaze. It's a thin shred of stubbornness that holds them at bay; they've fallen plenty enough since the Fool vanished. He studies his lover's face intently for a few moments, wondering and cherishing and immensely grateful. The confirmation of his suspicions doesn't help with the jumble of emotion, but at least it isn't a surprise. Given the lives they both lead in their home worlds, it is no wonder that the Dreaming does not choose a peaceful moment to bring them to this place. Perhaps it's a remnant of the original spell that sought out heroes, twisted to remind them sharply of who they are at their core. At their best, and at their worst, and the lengths to which they will go to in the face of insurmountable challenges.

To the apology, Devin swallows the knot in his throat and shakes his head once. "It's not your fault. There's nothing either of us could have done." Losing this bond they have was always inevitable; it is only a question of when, and who will depart first. No matter how low Devin has sunk over the past weeks, he would not change this for anything. He would rather have the Fool at his side, come what may.

He rests his forehead against the Fool's, breathes shakily. "I missed you-- so much. More than--" His voice cracks. More than he has ever missed anyone else, in a way that frankly scares him a little. Deep breaths. "We're here now. That's-- that's what matters most." Some kind of bright side. He could be content to just stand here holding the Fool for a while, but: "What do you need?"

[afoolsgold]

The question almost catches the Fool off-guard, and he stares back at Devin in bemused silence until, finally: “A cup of tea would be wonderful.”

A simple earthly pleasure, and a task to keep his overwrought lover’s hands and mind occupied as the waters of this emotional deluge begin to recede some. The Fool needs a moment to collect himself anyway, and to take in the state of their apartment, such as it is. Boxes of his belongings remain unpacked where he left them when they first took occupancy of this place together; it pains him to see the evidence of Devin’s grief so clearly on display here, but if their places were reversed, the Fool would undoubtedly have lapsed into depression in his own way.

Holly wastes no time in trotting up to the Fool and vaulting herself up onto his shoulder where she belongs, and the Fool smiles fondly at the little creature, stroking the underside of her chin as she purrs. “I hope she didn’t give you any trouble,” he notes to Devin wryly, but already he has begun to wander towards the window for a glimpse outside, to see what about the city has changed in his absence.

[annihilist]

Tea. Something simple that Devin has done a thousand, thousand times in his life. He can do that, even if letting the Fool out of arm's reach is-- difficult. Clinging forever seems like a good way to fill his schedule, but the rational part of him acknowledges that moving forwards will serve them both better at the end of the day. He almost follows his lover to this window, briefly rooted on the spot by a surge of helplessness. And then he breathes, lets it out slowly, and picks up his feet in the direction of the kitchen.

The apartment is not messy, per se. Dust on nearly everything, boxes of emptied bottles stacked by the door, a plate in the sink. Pillow and blanket on the couch, pantry nearly empty. A life put on hold, seen more clearly now that he has reason to move again. At least he's wearing clean, if rumpled, clothes. The city outside is not much changed, for much of the upheaval that has transpired in the Fool's absence happened elsewhere. Truthfully, Devin hasn't kept as close an eye on the situation as he usually would, even to distract himself. It might be possible to see tension in the busy streets - people aren't taking as much time to linger and window shop.

Soon, Devin has water in the kettle and turned on the stove; retrieves two mugs with faintly trembling hands, measures out leaves as he tells himself there is no need to rush. He can hear the Fool's calming heartbeat whenever Devin takes eyes off him. And when he does finally step away from the kitchen to rejoin his lover, Luthien trots at his heels, chirping happily about the turn of events. "Not at all," Devin says quietly, taking his lover's free hand, seeking out the reassurance of touch. His gaze drops, presumably to the inan rubbing up against their legs. "She made things-- a little easier. They both did. Especially sleeping."

[afoolsgold]

The tension in the air outside is only noticeable in how people on the streets bend their shoulders and rush about as though they dread being caught outside for some reason. The Fool frowns, but then he feels Devin’s hand on his and instinctively laces their fingers together, turns away from the window to take hold of the tea cup.

“Thank you,” he says absently and sips from the warm cup, leans his slighter frame into Devin’s side so that they touch and draw comfort from each other’s presence. For a moment he lets the silence rest between them uninterrupted.

“...Especially sleeping.”

He flinches, the movement creasing his brow. Of course, Devin’s nightmares... “The Dreaming can be cruel,” he says softly. Wordless, he brings Devin’s hand up to kiss his knuckles, then lowers it, holding his hand over his heart. “I suppose there is no way to guarantee that this won’t happen to us again in the future.”

[annihilist]

Not just nightmares but the absence of another made Devin's sleep fitful. The warm weight of two fuzzy creatures on his chest and legs or tucked against his side was too comforting to relocate them, and sleep came easier when he was already laying down and being purred at into dozing. Whether they knew what they were doing is hard to say and he appreciates it all the same.

Devin presses a kiss into the Fool's hair, closes his eyes for a moment. "Not that anyone is aware of," he agrees, sighing. He sounds a little resigned to being tossed hither and thither by the Dreaming, but not at all regretful. "Strangely enough, knowing that from the start actually made me less resistant to the idea of a relationship," Devin admits.

This is not a statement he can make without further explanation, and after a pause to straighten the words in his own head Devin continues. "I bury things so I don't have to deal with them; you know that. I never really learned how to do anything else but run from problems, from losing people. Always wondering if lingering too long would bring catastrophe down on someone's head. But even when someone I cared about died at the end of a long and fruitful life, it hurt just as much and I still didn't know what to do with that." He has not yet learned how to process his grief, though Aifaran has resulted in some growth. A thoughtful frown pinches his brow. "Back in my world I spend almost all of my time finding ways to hold off the inevitable, instead of just-- being present." Devin looks down to meet his lover's eyes, covers the hand over his heart. "With you, knowing we'd be separated eventually, no matter what we did-- I thought 'why the hell not'. I don't know why that made such a difference, but it did. Even if I wasn't-- remotely prepared. I wouldn't change my decision."

Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Devin has never had something so precious before, someone he cared for so deeply. More deeply than he thought he was even capable of any longer. That seems worth the pain, for once.