#zaya's silly lil thoughts

[fistsoflightning]

mune ga hachikire-sōde

my chest is about to burst.

                          gatheredfates’ [30 day WOL challenge] | prompt: letter 

just a lil bit of catharsis for me… sort-of kind-of a follow up to holy! also @to-the-voiceless​ i am So Sorry for this, thank you for letting me take the linkpearl idea from this fic but also i’m really sorry for the angst again??? that playlist you made for harudewah. i am Still losing my mind over it.

also CW: a’dewah definitely has an anxiety/panic attack and it’s. kinda hard for me to read through and i was the one who wrote it? just take caution since emotions are Messy!

[ao3 mirror] (the word count rounds to about 7.5k!)

“but i find that lately i've been crying like a tall child…  

...please, hurry, leave me, i can't breathe

please don't say you love me

mune ga hachikire-sōde

one word from you and i would

jump off of this ledge i'm on, baby

tell me "don't", so i can crawl back in”

- first love/late spring, mitski

it’s barely three nights after the last visit to the cabinet that a’dewah finds himself again holed up between shelves and books, studying potential ways for g’raha to infuse the damned auracite with his blood, and a’dewah has only just realized that his hands are shaking and he has a craving to teleport to doma on a whim. a small craving for salmon muffins tickles the back of his mind, but he shoves it aside.

“i suppose i should have expected this,” he sighs to no one in particular, a small wave of magic stopping the shivering in his fingers. if only he could heal away the rest. magic can only keep him running for so long, and to extend one’s waking hours like he does would be considered harmful at best and eventually fatal at worst, should he keep doing so.

whatever must be done to keep myself from doing something stupid.

it’s not hard to see him falling back into old patterns—of tiring himself out so he doesn’t think too hard about what he doesn’t want to dwell on, of slipping further and further into both avoiding his feelings and drowning in them. his old friend; that familiar hollow, needy feeling that chews at his sanity yet again as he keeps writing down formulas that might save g’raha from doing something rash that will absolutely earn him a beating from… well. a number of people in the future. that tiny, loud, intriguingly horrible idea that sits in the center of the empty warmth burning low in his chest like a lantern running on its last bits of oil.

an angry, huffy exhale escapes his otherwise tightly sealed lips. hells, that hollow feeling shouldn’t even be there in the first place; it’s not as if he had no source of comfort here on the first—he doesn’t need haruki’s attention like some fragile flower, he could just ask zaya or wyda for a hug if he really needed the warm feeling. he shouldn’t be needing to constantly argue with himself whether he should write a letter, or call, or do nothing at all.

really, what he should do is stop thinking about it, but here he is, squeezing his eyes shut and keeping his hands planted on the table. he shouldn’t want what he nearly destroyed this much, and yet—

greedy, he chides, forcing himself to hold the quill tighter so that it presses into the callus forming on the side of his finger; a quiet, grounding pain. not even elwin sounds this silly. ‘wanting’. he doesn’t particularly care for arcanima, but if it helps him in the game of tag he’s playing with his own feelings for what feels like the millionth time in his life…  

a’dewah keeps writing. reaches out for a book to his left, only flicking his eyes over for a moment to see the cover he needs, and then he sees the kanai-anzen omamori sitting on top of the very book he’d been meaning to crack open next, waiting from when zaya quietly snuck over to sit with him for a few bells.

great.

the prospect of slamming his head into the damned table and giving himself a dire enough concussion so that someone in this library gets the guts to drag him to chessamile and have her put him to sleep—preferably for a long, long time—grows more enticing every moment his brain spends convincing him that making a small, short call wouldn’t be so bad. so does the idea of finding a pouch of dream powder and using as sugar in his chamomile tea later even though he knows how lengthy a lecture he’ll receive from g’raha, alphinaud, y’shtola and lunya if he does try it.

y’shtola would be disappointed in me; looking for a simple way out instead of pushing forward, he thinks, lifting his quill from the page and glaring at the small ink pool in his usually neat (doman) handwriting. he’s still not accustomed to writing with a quill but eorzean shopkeeps don’t carry calligraphy brushes, especially not ones small enough for his needs. 

but someone in kugane might, he thinks and gods he just needs to get it over with otherwise he’ll never make it to tomorrow night with his sanity intact.

he leans back in the hard, wooden chair, running a hand through his too-tightly tied up hair until his fingertips brush the edges of his linkpearl earring, searching for the one that cools his burning hands like diving into a river. once he finds it, it’s almost too simple to thumb open a connection despite the larger-than-usual tug on his own aether, the gentle chiming as he waits leaving him to wonder if this was going to be another one of his mistakes. he takes a sip of his (cold, stale) tea, steals a glance back down at the damned arcanima circles, stares back up at the glass ceiling of the cabinet and counts the stars as he waits, still pushing away the wanting that suffocates his heartbeat.

the monotonous chimes give way to a whole lot of static and the quiet rustling of leaves in the wind, and a’dewah almost thinks he’s used the wrong linkpearl until a tired, gentle voice like lazy river water whispers, “hey, can you keep this quick? it’s kinda late, and i’ve had a pretty long day.”

“ruki,” a’dewah breathes out, sitting up straight in his chair as haruki gives out a small ah of surprise. his tea is definitely cold, but he feels warmed anyways, a jolt of energy restoring the clarity to his murky thoughts. “sorry, is it a bad time?”

“a little, but i really thought you were hana-chan, or tsukiko—sorry, mune fell asleep while we were out and i was a little preoccupied.” for a connection made across worlds, the quality isn’t all that bad—a result of zaya’s very long search for a good linkshell to gift him, probably—and through it he can hear running water, maybe a few splashes and the click of haruki’s sabatons against stone as he walks slowly. he’d have sped up, if a’dewah were actually there to see him. he must be at the docks of the enclave, walking home with mune cradled in his arms. “what’s up?”

“nothing, really. i just—” needed to hear your voice. wanted to take a bit of your time. craved the warm feeling that fills my chest anytime you laugh or call me sunshine. “i have a bit of down time, and thought i’d see if you were, uh, free to talk? we—last time i was dragged into treasure hunting before i’d got to catch up with you, so i was thinking we could, well, just talk.”

“for you? of course,” haruki says, and a’dewah nearly breathes out a sigh. “just lemme get mune in bed and we can ramble about our days, or… weeks? hey, is it night there too?”

a’dewah nearly says yes, but the chirping birds and first light outside the windows of the cabinet tell him otherwise… but if he says it’s early morning, like very early, will haruki just tell him to go to bed like everyone else? he lays his head down flat on the table, staring at the quill loose in his hand and the incomplete formula on the parchment in front of him longingly. he doesn’t want that. ah, and again; wanting.

“no,” he lies, steadying his voice. a little half-truth wouldn’t hurt him… hopefully. “it’s a little later than dawn, but it’s still morning.”

“er, sir a’dewah?” just his luck; moren comes around the side of the bookshelf, eyes worried and moss green hair tied into a bun—it seems the warmer weather was getting even to the recluse librarian. “the exarch requests you do sleep soon, partly on lady lanya’s behalf? i… don’t quite know how he knows your whereabouts, but he said something about requesting the help of a “hagane-san”... d-do you think he’s in need of chessamile’s sleep draughts again?”

a’dewah stifles a groan, because moren had thoroughly blown a massive hole in his lie and haruki would have heard him. plus—since when did lunya and g’raha know about his sleeping issues? why is g’raha threatening him with hanami? why is lunya so worried about him? he lifts his head from the table, somehow pulling himself together enough to smile back at moren.

“send him my deepest regards, and that i will as soon as i’ve finished here.” a’dewah points to the linkpearl earring gleaming lightly in the dim candlelight and then to his pile of papers, and moren nods before scurrying off, presumably to wherever g’raha is watching him from. gods, if he didn’t fear lunya’s wrath, he might have strongly suggested g’raha stuff it.

haruki pipes up after moren’s footsteps recede into the sounds of dawn, more worried than chiding when he says, “dewah—”

“i know, ruki, sorry, i was just—i’m in the middle of a formula and got stumped so i called instead,” a’dewah says sheepishly, picking up his quill and writing down a few more calculations before capping his inkwell. less so being stumped and more so not wanting to do it, really, but that was for him to know. “i’m getting out of the library, don’t raise your voice, remember mune has better hearing than you.” he always forgets that he isn’t a child anymore, somehow, with a booming voice and bigger lungs to talk with.

he hears a small sigh, the creaking of leather and a small squeak of metal hinges on a door accompanying it. almost amused, but still a little annoyed, and he can hear the new clack of metal boots hitting wood much clearer, the echoing distance quieter as haruki heads inside. “...go to bed; i’ll talk to you as much as you want once you’re in bed, ‘kay?”

“keep talking to me while i get back to the pendants,” he tries, a little desperate as he starts to clean his table, re-shelve the books and pick up his research. “and i promise i won’t make a stop at spagyrics to get g’raha more sleeping draughts.” a false threat; he’s not going to invite chessamile to worry herself over two miqo’te scholars losing sleep, but he… he needs haruki’s voice. wants the background noise as he makes a long walk to the other side of the crystarium, not wanting to risk aethernet travel bungling up his work. “just any old story will do.”

“sure,” haruki says, resigned and soft enough to make a’dewah feel like melting. “hey, something kinda funny happened in kugane today…”

as a’dewah quickens his stride so that he might cross the crystarium faster, passing by the aetheryte crystal that can’t take him home no matter how hard he tries, haruki regales him with the story of mune running off (worrying) and finding a great big green chicken (even more worrying) that was apparently the pet of a gigantic man named yojimbo (oh, he’s heard this tale before, with different names) and haruki having to chase him down, eventually running into hildibrand, nashu, and some poor sekiseigumi they dragged along for the ride who were also looking for yojimbo. at one point, he breaks his sentence to whisper good night to sleeping mune, whispering even softer than before and a’dewah finds himself whispering the same thing as he climbs up the steps and passes the manager of suites without even a hello. it doesn’t matter; he’s not loud enough for mune to hear him or know that his dad is talking to his uncle across the rift, and somehow that hurts more than the bruise he gets when he trips over the last step to the third floor.

“i suggest staying far away from anything involving hildibrand,” a’dewah says as he cracks open the door to find an empty suite awaiting him; wyda and tehra’ir had left for eulmore. duscha and valdis accompanied y’shtola back to rak’tika, while lumelle and elwin trekked back to the inn at journey’s head by alisaie’s side. everyone else is… on the source. “he has a knack for getting everyone into trouble.”

haruki laughs, the bright sound covering the rattling wind against the windows—it must be a summer storm rolling in for it to be that violent in less than an hour. “i know; i called hana-chan and lunya about him when i couldn’t find mune and the damn chicken and she nearly choked when i mentioned his name.” the quiet rumble of wooden drawers opening, latches being unclasped, and oh dear a’dewah needs to distract himself before he starts blushing like a drunkard. “i think ihget’sae nearly strangled him; ‘pparently lunya wrangled everyone to come investigate when she heard mune got lost in kugane-dori.”

lost in kugane-dori. even a’dewah’s a little frightened by the thought of mune getting lost, remembering what almost happened to elwin. “anyone would, really. hildibrand is…” a’dewah mumbles. he pulls his boots off and tosses them next to elwin’s sandals, hachigane and gloves placed on the countertop by syhrwyda’s new cookbooks. it takes a lot more effort than he thought it would not to just collapse into bed with his battle robe on, carefully moving to grab his kimono cardigan and pajamas from where zaya folded and placed them on the bench. “he’s a force of nature. a very dense force of nature.”

“so, like us, but… worse?”

he sounds almost hesitant, and a’dewah feels his ears pin back in slight embarrassment. “you’d have to ask hanami for her opinion. she’d described us as, er, something colorful when she realized i hadn’t told anyone i was no longer interested in g’raha. lunya overheard and, well… i feel you know us all well enough to understand just what happens when lunya finds out your secrets.”

“you didn’t tell them, ” haruki exhales in a wheezy breath. his voice is muffled momentarily by metal and leather being carefully set aside, back onto the third shelf in haruki’s closet just behind the spare miqo’te sized clothing, just for him. he usually wears his yukata to bed, and convinced a’dewah more than once to take one of his spares when he’d realized his normal sleeping attire was back home. he—rather shamefully and awfully desperate—imagines haruki digging through his closet for the right colored yukata, chest bare and shivering as a’dewah bites back a laugh of his own, remembering how he had to point a bleary, rushing haruki to where his usual clothing was when he nearly missed mune’s genealogy presentation because he kept both of them up half the night. he imagines seiryu’s scale and how it never comes off from haruki’s chest for longer than a few moments, mostly because it keeps coming back, and a’dewah can kind of hear the thrum of the auspice’s aether. he’d always jokingly stuff it in his own pocket when haruki got fussy about it, and they hadn’t realized it would stay in his pocket so long as he didn’t leave yanxia til a’dewah went with hanami to namai with it still there, sitting quietly in his robe’s pocket. “did hanami—”

“she threw me to the wolves, yes, and i can still hear lumelle and a’satina’s screech of excitement, do not laugh at me,” a’dewah says fruitlessly, since haruki’s already choking down his laughs so not to wake maki and have her yell at both of them for being rowdy at whatever time of night it is. at some point, haruki sounds like he’s inhaled helium, and that sets a’dewah off in the middle of taking off his robe, bending over and dropping one of the clasps for the chain keeping the front close and the sash tumbling to the floor.

“i—kami, i really love you,” haruki says as easily as he breathes once he catches his breath, followed by the sound of the closet door closing, the drawer rolling back into place, and his lance being set against the wall. a’dewah’s breath hitches, something more than a little terrifying starting to worm its way out from the cracks haruki’s i love you tears into his tempered walls. his cardigan feels scratchy against his skin as he sits on the too large bed, moving to grab a blanket or two as haruki resumes his routine.

and after he’s practically wrapped himself in the blankets to the point where he’s swaddled like a newborn, he mumbles, “i’m in bed.” the rumbling static climbs in volume as a small clap of thunder sounds—he wonders, briefly, if the storm is zaya’s fault somehow—but a’dewah can still hear haruki’s quiet humming, the tune familiar from when they were just ten and still tripping over the lyrics. haruki makes a small noise of affirmation, hums quieting down. he can see haruki’s eyes scrunching up, focusing in on whatever it might be.

he starts to remove the clips and pins in his hair as haruki’s softened hums keeps him company. part of him wonders if haruki’s untied his hair yet, letting the mess of turquoise and teal down from the singular hair tie he somehow keeps it all in, or if he’ll wait until he’s already in bed and about to fall asleep when he suddenly remembers about it. his fingers tingle with the feeling of carding through haruki’s hair and braiding it just to see if he could. part of him hopes haruki will let him do it again, even though the first time he’d somehow tangled up the three parts into more of a twist than a braid.

“okay! now i am too.” a loud puff of air comes through; haruki must have flopped onto the futon with his arms and legs spread out. the rustling of the blankets, even though a’dewah is certain it’s summer and there’s a rather humid storm outside. he usually pulls the covers up to his stomach, especially when haruki tugs him onto his chest and into his arms. “anyways, how was your da—er, night?”

“i was in the library for the past sixteen bells, ruki, i don’t think you want to hear about it. talk about your… your past few weeks?”

“ah, right,” he says, not at all phased by the confused tone of a’dewah’s voice. “well, i got back from gangos with a new staff for mune! i’m saving it for when he finishes his current lessons with the kojin on, er, water aether? he still doesn’t like going there alone, though; he keeps asking when you’ll come back whenever i mention it.”

“is that so?” a’dewah cracks a weak smile like haruki might see it somehow. “promise i’ll be back soon… but who made a custom staff for him?”

“oh, the bozjan resistance got… was it gerolt? well, it’s something about him being a great blacksmith perfect for reconstructing the blades of gunnhildr, and he was offering services to anyone who could get him the materials, so!”

haruki rambles on about how he’d needed to “expertly persuade” hanami into helping him out with finding the inscriptions for the weapon only to realize he couldn’t do shite since they’d have to delve into the memories of poor cid, who really deserved to have a break and a lot of tea, and with each sentence a’dewah sinks deeper into something horrible. the part of him that is selfish, craves attention and touch, seems so much colder now than it was before, the hollow pit now a yawning chasm of wanting. of yearning.

he does not deserve to be yearning for haruki’s hands running across his skin, scratching at the nape of his neck to comfort and behind his ears just for fun. love is not meant to be as one-sided as he’s making theirs, a cycle of unrequested but nonetheless cherished actions rather than one side constantly wanting and the other giving. part of him wonders if he really ever loved before, or if it was just the terrible, horrible monster inhabiting the same space as him craving affection and getting it however it could, wringing it from the people a’dewah cared for.

(did his short-lived love for g’raha feel as twisted as the garden of emotions he grows in his chest for haruki? or was this what being loved and loving in return felt like?)

he bites his lip as haruki mentions a few other things he’s had happen in the time a’dewah’s been away—a very lovingly made omamori from mune, complete with a cat charm that sounds terrifying to him that lunya chose out, something about meeting tsukiko in her civilian clothing and her panicking, a visit from seiryu and suzaku inquiring to his and hanami’s whereabouts that spooked shomi and maki for a precious few seconds, a conversation with someone who said how people dream to stay with someone even in sleep—and tries not to wish for too much. even with suzaku’s blessings, his heart was still weaker; if he stressed about how good a partner he was to haruki, he might die here without ever seeing him again.

he’s probably exaggerating a little, but he’s got that odd feeling he’s going to die soon. just a little.

when haruki finishes going on about his incredibly interesting past few moons, a comfortable, smothering silence begins. a’dewah shuffles himself about so his tail isn’t suffocated under the blanket, whipping about slowly. “hey, are… are maki-san and shomi-san still, er, angry at me?��

“you really can drop the honorific, dewah,” haruki chides quietly. “but! no. not really. mother might talk to you about communicating when you come back, but you’ll be fine.” it sounds an awful lot like i won’t let them hurt you, which is stupid; they’re haruki’s mothers, they wouldn’t hurt him intentionally—but a’dewah is much softer than the stuff aymeric and hanami and haruki are made of. a golden heart, haruki says, but gold is soft. malleable. melts, under enough heat, and he is already filled with enough molten feelings to rival the sun’s heat. a’dewah is fairly certain he will melt if he damages his relationship to the haganes more than he already has, the solar flares of regret and guilt worse than any magical red lilies he could conjure.

he wants and yet he fears what he craves, left wondering which part of him is the broken bit that needs to be healed so that he might be able to just ask for it instead.

“i… er, don’t believe you, really… but i miss all of you,” a’dewah admits, feeling a bit smaller and colder than before. then, a quieter, less sure thought that really has no business bothering him: “e-except maybe itomi-san, even though she d-doesn’t really count?”

“well, y’know, she and naonaka kinda disowned themselves, so you’ll be fine.” haruki’s voice drops a smidge into bitterness—well, that wasn’t what he meant to do, curse his stupid mouth—but haruki recovers easily. he always has. “homesick for here, huh? tell you what; you can list what you miss the most, and i’ll see if i can get hana-chan to carry it over for you. maybe a’khebica has some ideas.”

“i don’t—it’s. what i miss from there isn’t, er, something hanami can bring through the rift. khebica wouldn’t know, either.”

“well, the offer still stands; i might be able to arrange something,” haruki says, and a’dewah just knows he is winking to his ceiling with a gleaming grin across his face like a’dewah can see him, and in a way, he can. it takes everything he has not to groan and smile at the goofy thought in return.

even if he did list what he missed so much about home, he’d just sound so desperate because what he misses most is haruki. for the past four years he’s been confined to the first it’s been haunting him just how much he’d relied on haruki’s energy to fuel his own once garlemald started pressing down on them double time, wondering if any of his strength was really his own. he wants what the letters they send back and forth describe; the quiet nights spent in each others’ company, the adventures in eorzea he promised, the hugs and kisses and that one dance haruki really wants him to do, the garden they’ve been caring for since he’s been gone.

lunya had offhandedly mentioned, once, how he and haruki wrote to each other like a married couple in their honeymooning phase, and he flushed a brighter red than dalamud not because she implied they were married but because he really, really wanted that more than he should. a step too far too soon, especially with the empire breathing down the warrior of lights’ necks, but fuck he really wanted to promise his future to haruki even if he didn’t know how much longer he would live just because it felt more right than everything else a’dewah could have done.

he wants too much. greedy, needy, childish wants. he just wanted to be loved for so long, and now that he has it he wants more. wanton.  

“i can’t quite think of anything,” he lies through his teeth even though what he really wanted to say was i want to be yours, forever because he is and will always be a coward. “but if i figure something out i’ll tell you.”

for all his perceptiveness when a’dewah is sitting in front of him, haruki doesn’t seem to be able to pick up on him feeding both of them lies through linkpearl. maybe something to do with the interference. “‘kay.” the silence rolls back in, like an early morning fog that chills a’dewah because he knows what he’s dreading is hiding in that fog.

please don’t say you love me, a’dewah pleads even though that’s exactly what he wants to hear. i don’t want this to end, i want to listen to your voice for so much longer, i want to hear about you, i want, i want—

he must have pissed off some sort of kami of misfortune, because the very next thing haruki whispers to him, so sweet and kind and not at all knowing what he’s doing to a’dewah’s heart, is “i love you, dewah.”

“...l-love you too, ruki,” he barely manages to say, not even toying with the idea of saying love you more like usual, and oh he’s starting to cry, how embarrassing. it takes everything he has to clamp his hand over his traitorous mouth and patiently wait for haruki to end the connection, pull the blankets over his chest and go to sleep while a’dewah fights with the monster leaping out of the holes in his greedy, greedy heart.

for a moment, haruki goes quiet, only soft breathing coming over the aetheric connection, and a’dewah thinks he might be asleep. he… hopes haruki is asleep; he doesn’t know what he’d do if haruki heard him, really.

and then of course a’dewah’s fingers slip, a loud sob that sounds more like a dying cat than him tearing through the cracks, and the silent turmoil is broken as haruki obviously gets pulled from the beginnings of sleep.

“...sunshine?” haruki asks, sleep fogging up his voice and a’dewah stupidly opens his mouth to respond which only lets out a whimper instead of it’s fine , and gods he’s a horrible, horrible mess, why is he like this . it’s not fair of him to keep asking for haruki to talk him down from the edge, to cry every time he calls and expect haruki to pick up the pieces when they both know hearing him crumbles hurts both of them. “dewah? was that noise you?”

and on the other end, a’dewah can hear the rustling of blankets being pushed off—shite, he’s keeping haruki up by being a child about this—and haruki’s hands slapping onto his bedding in a light thump as he pushes himself up in fear. “what’s wrong,” haruki says so kindly and fuck, he’s crying harder now and a’dewah was already teetering on edge of something completely and entirely disastrous before he did this, why did he do this again? “did something happen?”

everything is happening at once, more like. 

“i don—i don’t know,” he cries, wrapping his arms around his head like he used to when prisca would say stop crying like it would keep him safe from his own thoughts… but haruki’s not prisca and he’s using his time for him instead of for himself so why is this even happening, he shouldn’t be panicking. the blanket tangles around him, comfort twisted into a trap and a’dewah feels like he’s drowning. “i wish i did but i don’t and i’m so sorry please just end the call i need you to sleep—”

part of him is screaming please don’t leave me alone and the other part wails don’t listen to me cry again, i can’t be good for your health while a third, utterly confused bit of him sits trapped in the middle, hunkered down. the monster a’dewah has been running from has opened its maw and spews out all the things he utterly craves but ultimately does not deserve from life, threatening to swallow him whole and permanently, this time.

“sunshine, i’m not going to let you be alone when you’re crying like that,” haruki says, and a’dewah can’t tell if it’s pity or disappointment pouring through the linkpearl but he hates it, please just leave him here to suffer. “unfortunately, you’ve found a very stubborn person to date.”

he knows, but he also knows haruki knows danger when he hears it, so why doesn’t he run from this? 

because he loves you, part of him thinks in mune’s voice, remembering the comfort the little raen boy could bring in four words when a’dewah looked worried in the middle of teaching him something and gods, since when was a child more emotionally mature than him?

maybe because you never got the chance to be a kid and grow up normally, he thinks again, teetering dangerously close to hyperventilating as he practically strangles his fingers in his tangled hair.

he has absolutely zero clue what haruki has been saying for the past few moments, evident in the rising worry seeping through haruki’s usually calm, energetic, happy voice. “love, i need you to breathe,” he coos, and a’dewah hisses, lungs not working with him no matter how much he wants to listen, his wanting finally turning on its head. “here; listen to me. follow, please, i can’t help you if you hyperventilate.”

he’s extremely glad past him had the forethought to tell haruki a bit about how he deals with scared patients, because he remembers to murmur in, breath deep, out, breathe out, and even though a’dewah chokes on his own air he can catch up. i’m here, i’m here, haruki hisses between breaths, and hells open, heavens weep, if he wasn’t already crying his dedication to making sure he’s alright rather than listening and cutting the call would have made him weep.

“hey, sh-sh-sh,” haruki coos once a’dewah’s breaths sound less like desperate gasps for air and more like struggling to breath past the fat tears streaming down his face. “i won’t leave you alone, you can pretend i’m there next to you until you can actually lie down next to me again.”

but you know i’m no good at playing pretend. he can’t believe himself, sobbing and wrapping himself further under his blanket and letting the fluffy, stuffy feeling wrap around him in some poor facsimile of being hugged. nothing here could possibly measure up to the feeling he so desperately craves, even though it’s just being in haruki’s arms. all he really wants is a hug. imagine that. 

gods, it must be killing haruki to listen to a’dewah sob like he’s dying—he’s never going to tell haruki that he actually died, a bolt of ice piercing through his chest and suzaku’s feather on a staff he had no access trying to save him once more—and he has half a mind to cut the connection between linkpearls just to save one of them from being in pain but his arm makes the executive decision to try and rip his hair out instead. he almost never has control over himself when he’s blubbering, so he’s not so much surprised as he is sickened by his lack of restraint.

“i—” he chokes on the words, a hiccuping gasp shocking both of them. “i’m s-orry, i didn’t mean t’ pull you back from sleeping.”

his chest feels like there’s a thousand ponze weight crushing it down into dust, his emotions becoming too much like they always do, inevitably. in a better universe, maybe he would have had the restraint to let haruki go to sleep first, cut the call, and be miserable on his own until wyda came back, or duscha decided to return because he somehow always knew when he’d break down next. so did krile. maybe there’s just something innately motherly about scholars when it comes to their younger peers (was krile older than him?).

“i wasn’t meaning to pass out then and there, dewah, but i’m sorry for making you think i was going to leave you hanging like that.” haruki makes a little noise that sounds like oh dear, followed by the quiet ripping of fabric. did he clench his sheets so hard his nails tore into them? “i had a feeling something was wrong from the moment you said you called because you had time.”

well then. isn’t that a bit embarrassing, to be found out from the beginning. “i shouldn’t have called.”

“but you did, and i’m very glad for it,” haruki answers honestly, and a’dewah can imagine him sitting, a little hunched over and relieved, eyes half-lidded and foggy with sleep, because he’s always been one to work himself down to the bone and pass out, and a’dewah’s been keeping him up for stupid reasons, this time. “you deserve to feel okay, and i don’t mind losing a lil sleep over it.”

a’dewah doesn’t deserve anything, really, but he’ll take what haruki gives just because he doesn’t want to be rude when he’s offering support so kindly. even if it��s exactly what he’s craving—comfort. haruki knows him too well and one day it’s going to get him killed, either from heartbreak when a’dewah screws up for the last time or from actual danger when a’dewah gets the haganes in trouble by being a public figure with a very peculiar lover and an adorable nephew that also happen to be related to another warrior of light.

“ruki, go to bed.” he curls up into his pillow, poking his head through a hole in the tangles of the blanket to breathe. he’ll just stay up until his stomach rights itself and the sickening dread-guilt sets in, something more comfortable than panic and safer than feeling content, because when he wakes up he absolutely won’t be okay no matter what.

“no, dewah, i think i won’t go to bed if you don’t too."

fuck, please don’t start this. “i—no, ruki, you can’t stay up on account of me being emotional, i’ll be—”

haruki scoffs, though more at the stifling tension and the lie than at a’dewah himself. “fine? please don’t lie to me. don’t close off again.”

“b-but… it’s not fair to you,” he croaks out, finally, throat raspy and dry. “to keep asking you to care for me when i break down. you—you’re not supposed to constantly have to listen to me cry, not when it hurts both of us because listening to someone you love in pain is horrible, horrible work.” he had experience with listening—watching over someone as they writhed in pain and knowing there was nothing he could do but watch if he didn’t want to harm them. he’d done it a thousand times before, and would do so a thousand more so long as the world needed heroes and wars. walking around amaurot besides hanami and zaya nearly tore his heart in two because no matter how afraid of them he might be they were suffering the whole time and even when he was pulled from the rift by g’raha and could heal again he couldn’t stop their pain as they all valiantly fought emet-selch. “let me just be fine, let me learn to take care of myself.”

he doesn’t want haruki to have to care for someone broken as him when the dirty work could easily be done by himself. he might be a caretaker by—not by nature, but by experience —but even the most stalwart caretakers have their limits and by nophica’s grace he does not want to be the straw that breaks haruki’s back. if haruki ever got tired of him, because everyone gets tired of a stubborn crybaby eventually no matter how much they love the person they can be, he wouldn’t know what to do. he’s too reliant, acting like a child when really he’s an adult, and it isn’t healthy for either of them to be like this.

a’dewah doesn’t want to leave but if his solar flares of emotions are hurting haruki he’d rather jump into the ocean and be extinguished forever instead.

“well, most people learn best by example. breathe,” haruki says, quiet even as the storm outside his home rages. he takes as deep a breath as he can, listening to haruki breathe with him. “can you name one person, besides me, all of balefire, and the scions, that has shown you how to care for yourself?” 

haruki leaves him in strenuous silence as he thinks, still there but waiting. he almost says my parents, but the last time he saw them was when he was eight, long since buried and he’s nearly thirty-six now—and really, did the nunh of any tribe really care for his sons past their strength, of which he had none because khebica said he’d inherited their mother’s love for the elements. mahja and tahja were too busy trying not to be a burden for him, atoh and vahno were both too young and needed to be cared for first, khebica was taught to care for herself first after what happened to her, and he was the only one castrum fluminis wanted anyhow and they nearly broke him before he was eighteen so who else? tsukiko was still too afraid of yudai, louisoix had so many others to look for first, e-sumi-yan didn’t even know—

“...i. i don’t know,” he says, and the revelation nearly shatters him. even among the people haruki had him exclude, he’d only just started letting them fuss about his wellbeing, except... “you might—you were the first. for a while, the only person i let try. you were just too—too...”

“persistent? thank you, it’s one of my strengths,” he says, a smile leaking through the crackling connection that makes a’dewah’s chest stutter in its rise and fall. “and besides, when i first saw you in that rice paddy i seriously got worried ‘cause i saw kotone almost drown there that same day. you were so much shorter, too.”

“ hey, i w-wasn’t that short then.”

“were too. anyways, you kinda proved my point. let me help, because i want to, and i’m sure you’ll be able to do it on your own soon. i want you to get better,” haruki promises, and the words a’dewah turns over in his head have a cool warmth to them, like diving into the one river in summer. something distinct, grounding. loving. “and if it means i have to share your pain, so be it. i can take a fair amount.”

great; he’s going to cry again, all because haruki loves him too damn much and he doesn’t know how to deal with it all, an ocean’s worth of devotion and promises poured into his hands and leaking through his fingers.

“i—i did warn you that this stuff is horrible, right? i don’t want you to get hurt from my issues,” a’dewah murmurs, hands grasping uselessly at his cardigan’s sleeves and fingers cramping from it all.

“yeah, and? it’s you. there’s not a lot that can keep me from helping you, save this damned soul-ghost situation. no matter what comes up, you’re stuck with me for the near future.”

a shaky breath on both sides, trying to survive the last few tremors of a’dewah’s fragile temperament. fabric rustling on haruki’s end; good, he must be tucking himself back under the covers, albeit gingerly. the guilt might eat at him later, if haruki says he didn’t sleep well, but for now the weirdly soothing thought of you’re stuck with me smooths the prickly bits in his chest back down.

“i have an idea.” haruki shifts, horn with his linkpearl brushing against his pillow. maybe he’s looking out the window, or looking out his door to check if he’d woken someone up in talking sense back into a’dewah. “we can keep the connection open ‘til morning; i’ve got aether to spare and you’ve even more than i do, right? it’ll be kinda like waking up next to each other,” haruki says soothingly, even though it won’t be like he says because a’dewah won’t be able to turn over and laugh at haruki’s bedhead, won’t be able to lazily pull haruki’s arm over his shoulders and feel safe. “we’ve got similar sleep schedules. it shouldn’t be too hard compared to saving the world.”

“i—i know what you mean, but…” what if when i wake up hearing your voice but not seeing you beside me just makes it worse, he would say if he had the guts, but all of those had jumped out the window with common sense when he made this damned call.

and yet haruki just knows him too well and answers anyways. “hey, it’ll be fine. think of it this way; part of me is always thinking about you, even if i don’t realize it, so just think of me,” haruki says, and a’dewah already knows where he’s going with this but isn’t that a thing they all reserve for mune, who is starting to grow up faster than they can keep up with? “and i’ll be there with you, always, because i trust you with my heart—and if that isn’t enough, i’m still just a call away, right?”

“r-right,” a’dewah whispers back, eyes brimming this time not with pained tears but happy ones, not even knowing how much he needed that little bit of permission until now. his heart is finally settling, after three or four nights of restless searching, restless wanting , simmering quietly in its proper place rather than leaving him hollow and melting. “and... i trust you with mine.”

neither of them have to say it, but even with the rain pouring down by haruki’s window and the winds outside a’dewah’s the silence coming over the linkpearl finally feels calm.

haruki’s next yawn is loud, and a’dewah can hear the tension melt from his voice like frost in spring and silver dew from plants in summer. “d’you think you can sleep now? or… should i serenade—”

his voice is utterly wrecked, but he somehow manages to yowl, “i can sleep fine!”

haruki’s bubbling laughter rises with the thunder outside his house, filling a’dewah with liquid gold warmth—not molten, but soothing, comforting, home. no longer threatening to melt him from the inside out but strengthening, and he can feel himself blushing at the thought of warm hugs just like this even though it’s not all that much, in the grand scheme of things.

when both of them manage to calm down—haruki from his ever bubbling joy and a’dewah from his constant state of embarrassment when it comes to haruki—it’s not too much for a’dewah to rub his eyes one last time and simmer in the dark warmth sitting further inside his chest, no longer threatening to overtake him for now. not bright, like his magic and the light and the harsh sun. dark, like the sunless sea and the stars and shooting stars overlapping, even if two of those things aren’t quite dark.

for someone proficient in white magic, it feels safer in the dark than the light.

“i miss you,” he whispers even though he has a feeling haruki found a way to laugh himself to sleep—oh, no, his breath hitches when a’dewah hiccups in an ugly croak, gods why does haruki find him attractive despite all of this—thinking of teals and oranges and fireflies that light up the white scales lining haruki’s jawline. “and i think i always will, a little bit. i want to be yours forever.”

there, he’s said it; i want. the simmering, unknown dark cools off, no longer warbling his voice, and his eyes start to feel heavy as adrenaline bubbles away.

“i could say the same, dewah,” haruki whispers back, words fraying as a’dewah’s past few days of running catch up to him, finally. “i miss you too, but you’ll be back soon, so for now? sleep tight.”

and he does, the tinny sounds of haruki’s breathing evening out lulling him to his dreams where he isn’t so far away from home.

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #seaswolchallenge #a'dewah tia #haruki #s: sitting in a persimmon tree #my writing #hey so im sorry for emotional damages? #but if i have to be cursed by the inevitable linkpearl idea so do you #luckily! there's gonna be a fluffy/crack/joke fic version. do with that info what you will >:3 #tales from the blue