Never Get There [Wolf & Apotheosis]

The truth is that it's just as dangerous for her as it is for him to reveal pieces of his true self. Because the moment she hears him speak a little on his real life, she leans in a little. Wanting him all the more. An admirer of poetry. She'd never imagined him to have similar interests, never imagined that they had anything really in common. Her eyes are sparkling things then to learn something real about him, her smile so wide and so... Genuine.

I love him, she thinks, but this time it's easy. Not accompanied with the pang of pain but just as itself. That blissful revelation, that happy blooming in her heart and mind that felt so loud as much as it felt real.

"Do you like Dickinson?" she asks. But before she can really wait for his answer, excitement gets the better of her. One of her worst traits. She recites one that she knows from heart. One that she has thought of many times when thinking of him:

"My River runs to thee—
Blue Sea! Wilt welcome me?
My River wait reply—
Oh Sea—look graciously—
I’ll fetch thee Brooks
From spotted nooks—
Say—Sea—Take Me!"

And then she realizes how... Forward it sounds. It's an... Urgent poem of sorts, yes, but maybe not the best Emily Dickinson poem to recite for a dinner date. Her cheeks color greatly. Almost as deep as when he kissed her for the first time.

"I like poems about love. And death. And... Hope, too. I studied Shakespeare back in college." There is no Shakespeare in Savior. She is destroying the immersion. But she is just too excited. Too happy that she can speak on something she cares about that he cares about, too. It is a treasure. A thing that feels real. A thing that... She's stolen.

And she feels guilty again for it.

He knows that he should stop, but he has his own attachment to the poet, and he's so surprised that she's not laughing at him or worse. That she actually seems to be happy that he has an interest that's similar to hers. When was the last time someone had an interest that they wanted to share with him? He smiles at her recitation and offers his own.

"Withdrew the Sun—to Other Wests—
Withdrew the furthest Star
Before Decision—stooped to speech—
And then—be audibler

The Answer of the Sea unto
The Motion of the Moon—
Herself adjust Her Tides—unto—
Could I—do else—with Mine?"

It's the second half of the poem, but... it's the part that had always spoken to him. A thing of the changing times, and the distance between what is desired and what can be reached. How everything is a part of something even if they seem distant. He finds himself smiling not because he's supposed to smile, but because he really enjoys the poem, because it's a bitter-sweet thing.

"I didn't study them really or anything... My dad didn't like me reading books like that. But I pick them up from the library sometimes now that I'm older." Though he still hid them in his sock drawer as if expecting them to be found by an angry parent. He supposed now he hid them from Marsward. The other was already so disappointed in him all the time... there was no reason to do anything else to make it worse.

Now they're interrupted by the arrival of their food and he finds himself a little disappointed this time. Talking to someone about something that he actually found enjoyable was... a rare thing.

Again he finds himself releasing her hand, more reluctantly this time and scooting back so that the food can be placed down before them. He graciouly nods to the waiter and starts to mechanically cut into his steak. Everything looks delicous, and it's nice to experiance food here. There's so many unique flavors and exciting experiances to try. If only Marsward were here. He looks at the woman across from him, and feels a little tingle run up his spine from his toes to his head.

What was that?

There's an undeniable happiness in her violet eyes when he recites the poetry to her, a radiant thing that is the sort that would be so hard for her to articulate in words. She beholds him then not just as the man she is in love with, but the man who was...

I never believed in soulmates until now, she thinks to herself. A beautiful and terrifying thought. That he's her soulmate, a man who is this kind to her, this wonderful to her, that they share more in common than she'd ever previously thought they did. How many more secrets did he have hidden and buried underneath his layers? Would she recognize them as some of her own? Things she never talked about with anyone?

"I went to the library sometimes when I was young," she says gently. "I'm sorry your father didn't like you reading. I--"

Her own expression, as well as the thoughts she'd had before that are cut short when the food arrives, but while it gives her time to think as she eats, she finds herself already faltering. What would it mean to be soulmates with the man who she paid to be wonderful to her? What she loved about him was an act. A thing she was paying for him to act out, to be kind, to be gentle, to adore her from head to toe as she'd never been loved and cherished before in all of her life...

But then she looks up from her food and catches him looking back at her. (He loves you for real.) It's the part of her mind that craves him, that looks for all the secret signs that he might love her back, because she's hooked on him.

He loves me for real.

Tears bloom in her eyes. It's such a warm and wonderful thing to think. It's such a hurtful and cruel thing to think. She smiles so sweetly at him and reaches her hand across the table.

"Can..." She steels her courage. "Can we talk a little more? When we're not on dates, just sending each other chat messages? And could we... continue the way we talk in those too?"

She feels the tears threatening to fall down her face as she watches him for a moment. Does he love me for real? Does he or does he not? That wasn't the question she'd asked him, but it feels like it was, because they might as well have inspired the same anxiety in her no matter which she'd asked. "I'll--make it worth your while if you do." She has to add that. Otherwise he wouldn't. Why would he want to? Why would he want to do anything with her if she wasn't paying for it?

If he were a good person, if they were really dating, he'd ask her about the tears that he sees blooming in her eyes oh-so often. That's not the way this works though, he ignores them instead and plays the part of obliviousness. He eats his food and it tastes like nothing. Oh, it's good enough, she pays for nice places to take him, but... Maybe it's just his mindset today.

The truth is that he'd gotten in a fight with Marsward earlier about not wanting to do this sort of thing anymore, and the short answer was that he had to. That he owes it to Marsward. That Marsward... doesn't want him at all if he can't do what he's told to do. It's always the same.

She finally manages a smile and reaches out for him. He does what he's supposed to do, he lets her take his hand. She's so sweet. Always reaching out for him. She's in love with you, you fool. As if. Who would really love him? This was just a paid arrangement. She knew underneat it all that it was just a game. Like this place they were in. An illusion.

"Can we talk a little more? When we're not on dates, just sending each other chat messages? And could we... continue the way we talk in those too?"

He blinks at the question, stomach roiling with nervousness.

"I'll--make it worth your while if you do."

There, now he can't say no. He smiles at her, trapped like a rat in a cage. "Of course you can talk to me like this. Always. You don't have to do anything special Apotheosis." His voice is low and soft, comforting. He hates to see her so sad. She's always sad. "You already take such good care of me; helping me out like you do. I don't know what I would do without you."

It's strange really how much the words are true.

content warning: mention of suicidal ideation

---

"Of course you can talk to me like this. Always."

It's a lance through her. Just like the thought that he loves her for real, it's wonderful. It's warm. It makes her want to live. It makes her excited for a future that otherwise, she feels nothing for at the best of times, and doesn't want it at all at the worst of times.

She could live if he's talking to her. If he's smiling at her. If he's speaking so kindly to her. Holding her hand, letting her hold his hand, pressing his lips to hers, inviting her to do the same to his. She can't recall feeling this strongly about anything, hasn't recalled being this happy about anything. He wants to give me a ring. It's a reason to live. It's a reason to be actually and truly happy for the first time in her life--maybe ever. She can barely remember much before Savior. It's a life that's gray and gray, faded like sunburnt and sunfaded photographs left out carelessly for the heat to take.

But hers, here with him, is in full color.

The tears fall down her cheeks. She's forgotten her food entirely. She can't eat. It's because she's full on his love. His care. His affection. He loves me for real. Even the part of her that's always telling her to remember it's just an arrangement, just a service, just a thing he's doing because she's paying him for it--it falls away.

Leaving her so vulnerable and she doesn't even know it. Doesn't realize it. Like watching someone skewer herself on swords and not even realizing it.

"I couldn't live without you." She says it so softly, so tenderly, even as horrible of an admission as it is. She lets him in because she's forgotten her defenses. Lets him in where he can hurt her the most.

He's made her cry.

It's no small sin to make someone as kind and as gentle as the woman before him cry. He immediately reaches out for her, to chase the tears from her face. It doesn't matter suddenly that he's just paid to be kind to her. One person doesn't leave another to weep in the middle of a restuarant without offering some sort of comfort.

He starts to ask her what he'd said to make her cry, but the moment she speaks he understands. She's...

She's just like him.

She cares for someone totally out of her reach. She wants something that the cruelty of the universe has determined to deny her. What a cruel fate that she actually cares about him, him that doesn't deserve it. Him who cares for someone just as much out of reach. Suddenly he feels tears of his own threatening. It takes no small amount of his will to keep them bound up inside himself. He'd always been fooling himself, thinking that he could have Marsward. That Marsward loved him. Just like she was fooling herself thinking that she could have him.

It crystalizes in that moment, a little sliver of light in the center of his chest. That he can't let anything more hurt this woman. He's done enough. Doing enough. She deserves better than to have any more harm befall her. Maybe he can't give her the kind of love that she deserves, but he can give her something. His protection, his care.

"Come on." He says, pulling her to his feet and leaving his own money on the table for the first time in their relationship, he pulls her toward the door gently but urgently. "I want to show you something."

The fact that he's pulling her up to her feet thrills her. The fact that he's ushering her out with him, that he wants to show her something--it doesn't concern her in the slightest. He loves her. He loves her for real. He's going to confess it to her somewhere secret, somewhere quiet, where it's just the two of them. She knows it so keenly in her heart that this is to be true that she can't help but feel that happy little rush of excitement in her chest. She's in love. She loves him. He loves her. It's not complicated anymore. He really does want her. All of her. Not just her money, not just what she has to give him in stability and resources--he wants the parts of her that no one else wants. He wants her.

Except...

(He's never paid for the meal before. Why would he start now?) The thought comes unbidden from that critical part of the brain, the thing that's wounding her first so that his wound won't strike her nearly so deep. It's the way she's thought since forever. It's easier to be disappointed when you already disappointed yourself in your head. It's easier to grieve when the person's already dead in your head.

But she leans into him as they walk, her arm taking his in the way she loves to do. She loves to feel him close. Loves to think she has a right to it. Her mind's a battlefield now between the part that wants her to be happy, that wants to believe that maybe there was a chance for her happiness all along--and the part of her that would stop short of killing her if it meant that she could play dead so her would-be killers would walk away.

"Where are we going, Wolf?" She says his name so lovingly. She wishes it was his real name. She wishes for the very first time that this was real beyond the game. If it was for him, maybe...

That thought still scares her. She trembles.

He leads her out of the restaurant, a smile spilled across his face as they leave the stuffy establishment behind for the warm night air of the open world beyond it. She grabs his arm and he cuddles her close to himself as they make their way around the restaurant. She asks him where they’re going and he can’t resist the little laugh that rises from deep inside his chest.

“Sometimes it’s not the place that’s special, it’s what that place means to you.” He turns from the street into the alley beside the building and glances around for anyone that might be lingering in the area. He’s not worried about player-killers so much as he’s just looking for anyone that might notice him about to do something that’s not strictly polite.

He leans into her ear and whispers. “We’re going up!”

There’s a flash of a grin, and he kneels beside the building, cupping his hands so that he can boost her up onto the roof of the restaurant that they had just left a few moments prior. He looks into her purple eyes with his own silver. Silently urging her to trust him. Or at least play along for just a little while longer.

There’s a sound down the alleyway, and they’ve only a few more moments before someone walks by the alley. It’s no hard and fast rule that they aren’t allowed on the roof of the buildings in this area - all of Savior is open to explore - but someone might think that they’re up to something nefarious and ruin his plan by calling an npc guard or worse… an admin.

The laugh. It's such a happy, genuine noise that it makes her feel hopeful again, makes her heal some of the damage done by that critical voice around her heart. It's that laugh and the way that he holds her as leans into him that results in something blooming in her chest that...

It's almost a foreign concept to her. Savior's the closest she had to this feeling in general for a very long time. The memories of it from before are back in those sun-damaged photographs of her mind. It's a comfortable sort of happiness. The kind that comes with feeling at ease, at rest, at home. It's not a place so much as it is a concept, an idea, and it's the first time she feels home with him. Something strictly so precious and beautiful that it exists outside of her home--

"We're going up!"

"Up!?" She can't help it. She wasn't expecting Wolf to encourage her to do something like this. Not illegal, no, but it's something she's only done a few times in the past, when the game wasn't necessarily so strictly policed in some areas of the map.

But she doesn't want to disappoint him. That grin means everything to her. She connects with the roof and she looks down at him. There's nerves in her eyes, that's unmistakable. But... They sparkle, too.

He's doing this with her. Something playful. Something a little naughty. He loves me for real, she thinks again, unbidden. He wouldn't do this with just anyone, would he?

He gives her the little boost she needs to get up on the roof and he’s glad that she’s playing along, that she trusts him. It hurts his heart that she does, because it means that he’s right. That she foolishly cares about him. You’re the fool. That voice in his head isn’t wrong. Yet right now, it’s exactly what they both need. For her to trust him just like she does.

Wolf smiles up at her, her Wolf. He bunches up his legs and leaps for the edge of the roof, clamoring up. The wall scuffs his shirt a little, but he doesn’t care. Didn’t particularly like the shirt anyway, and it’s not like it’s that hard to get it clean in a world where magic actually exists. He has to wiggle a bit to get himself up there, but he’s got plenty of upper body strength to manage pulling his own bodyweight onto the roof.

He laughs and huffs once he’s up on the roof with her and pulls a little bottle out of his inventory and sits on the roof at her side. “I was… saving this for a special occasion. An anniversary of ours or something. But… I think we deserve it tonight. Sometimes… special occasions sneak up on you. I think tonight is one of those.”

The dark-haired man quaffs half the potion and then offers the other half to her. “It’s a special event potion; meant for two to share.” He’d gotten it thinking to share it with Marsward, but… Marsward hated romantic things. With him.

He pushes the thought away and offers the potion to the woman at his side. “And I want to share it with you.”