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Entry tags:
DIFFERENT
Fandom: Tales of Vesperia, RP (Parasomnia)
Character(s): Duke Pantarei, Yeager, with mentions of others briefly
Pairing(s): Duke/Yeager
Word Count: 2,957
Summary: Once again post-game AU. This probably takes place after the previous one? IDK. Yeager's got Issues about his blastia and Duke actually helps.
Notes: For Lum, again! SOMEDAY I'LL RUN OUT OF THINGS TO WRITE FOR THIS SHIP. Also this is vaaaguely nsfw? Vaguely.
This isn’t the first time in the past ten years Yeager has woken up tangled in the sheets with another person, but it’s certainly the first time he’s woken up undressed. He could never show anyone else the blastia that replaces his heart, after all, but things are a little different with Duke. They’ve always been a little different with Duke.
Duke isn’t in the bed though, which is probably why Yeager’s awake this early in the first place. The sun is just now beginning to rise and the first rays of sunlight won’t hit his bed for another ten minutes or so. Usually that’s when he’d get up and start his day, but he can’t really be too grumpy about being woken up early when this is what he gets to wake up to.
The door to his bathroom is open and Duke is standing there in front of the mirror carefully coming out his long, perfect hair. It already looks perfect and he’s still carefully working the brush through the ends. How long has he been at this? Even though Duke’s back is to him Yeager can see his reflection in the mirror and as usual, Duke’s expression is exactly as stiff and stoic as always. Some things never change, even when his usually perfect clothes have been scattered to the bedroom floor.
Most of Duke’s hair is over one of his shoulders, which gives Yeager a nice view of his back. He’s more muscular than Yeager would have imagined, but that’s not exactly surprising. There are a few old and faded scars marring Duke’s otherwise perfect skin, but they’re the sort of scars that don’t detract from his ethereal beauty any. If anything, they add to it. They make Duke look almost human, as opposed to… well, whatever rank comes above a perfect ten out of ten, really.
The scars aren’t like the thick, disgusting ones that run across Yeager’s chest. He’s been lucky not to be scarred elsewhere, but the marks around and beneath the blastia are raised and never properly healed right. It certainly doesn’t help that the blastia itself is a blight on his body. He’s always been vain and waking up to find the blastia and scars had been a dreadful experience.
He finds that his fingers are digging into the golden casing surrounding the core of the blastia. Sometimes he used to wonder if he could actually pull the damn thing out. He had never worked up the courage to try and then suddenly Gauche and Droite were in his life and it would be cruel to risk leaving them on their own. Droite and Gauche were his reason for living. They still are, in some way, but it certainly isn’t the same sort of reliance he had on them even months ago.
(And that’s strange to think about. If he’d let himself think about it. Which he won’t.)
Yeager hasn’t moved from where he woke up, but Duke suddenly turns around anyway. His crimson eyes are striking, piercing in a way that just sort of makes you want to open up to him even if you’re the kind of person who would never open up to anyone else under any circumstances. (Like Yeager is.) It helps that Duke is quiet, a good listener, and strangely kind despite his ever-serious expression. “Yeager,” He says simply.
He lazily holds up a hand in greeting. “Good morning! Did you sleep well?”
Duke doesn’t seem to know how to answer that. His eyes flick from Yeager’s face to the wall, then to the floor. He carefully moves to let his hair fall down his back properly (and my, how does he get his hair to look so perfect at such a length?) before turning to set the brush back on the counter with the rest of his things (he doesn’t have many). When he finally looks at Yeager again he seems ready to speak. “Yes, I did.”
Ah, yes. Typical Duke. He usually doesn’t have much to add to conversations when he’s feeling awkward like this. Yeager laughs lightly and forces himself to let go of the blastia (it takes longer than it should; he hopes Duke doesn’t notice) before sitting up. The covers pool around his hips and Duke’s eyes follow their descent. “You don’t need to be so stiff!” He considers his words, then smirks. “Well, I suppose you could be, if you’re feeling particularly generous this morning~”
It takes a couple of seconds for it to sink in, but when it does Duke quickly turns pink, with the blush steadily darkening. Will it stop before it hits the same vibrant red color of his usual clothes? “I—” Duke starts, then stops. Starts again. “You mentioned you have work today, did you not?”
Yeager sighs loudly and reaches up to run a hand through his bangs. The dark hair slips between his fingers easily until he’s twirling the ends, as he usually does when he’s thinking or otherwise bothered. How does Duke manage to get his hair looking so nice when Yeager’s is a complete wreck? The back of his hair is probably sticking up at all sorts of odd angles. He doesn’t even have to worry about hair down to his thighs and yet Duke’s still looks incredible. Did he wake up that way? Yeager’s a little disappointed he didn’t get to see it. “You had to remind me, ja? How cruel.”
As usual, Duke doesn’t seem to know what to make of that. He doesn’t respond either and Yeager waves it off languidly. “Only joking. I suppose I really should get going soon.” Which means he has to get up. Another loud, suffering sigh as he finally throws his legs over the side of the bed and stands. Why can’t he sleep in for once? It would have been nice to share the bed with someone for a little while.
(But that would have put Duke closer to the blastia for longer.)
His morning routine is simple and easy and Yeager doesn’t have any problems with Duke watching as he goes about it. And Duke certainly is watching; those piercing red eyes are on him every step of the way. It might be sort of exciting, if he didn’t have a meeting in Dahngrest in two hours. It will take him at least an hour to get there, assuming the monsters aren’t particularly aggressive today, anyway. Oh well. Some other time, perhaps.
Yeager pauses by the mirror as he always does. He can usually get his hair properly fixed in a matter of minutes (Regaey’s took longer, and that was worth every second) but it’s never an easy process because he finds his eyes drawn to the blastia.
The red core is always lit, glowing faintly even beneath his clothes. He’s learned ways to hide it over the years but at night there isn’t much of a point. It’s his own personal nightlight and he hates it. Sometimes he wonders what it would look like if it wasn’t lit, but there’s no way for him to find out.
(It would be better off unlit.)
His fingers find the casing again and for a brief moment his nails dig at it while he studies his reflection in the mirror. The usual smile is gone, replaced by a blank look.
(If this abhorrent thing wasn’t attached to his chest, then maybe—)
“Yeager.”
(He can remove it, can’t he? He’s certainly strong enough with the power it gives him. It would be a simple matter of digging his nails in hard enough, and if that doesn’t do it then he could use a knife or—)
“Yeager.”
(Shattering the core would be possible too. It’s solid and thick, crystalline in appearance but diamond-like in structure. It wouldn’t be easy but it’s certainly possible—)
“Yeager!”
He jumps a bit when Duke’s hand comes down hard on his shoulder, his pale fingers digging sharply in like he’s expecting Yeager to resist. It’s only then that Yeager notices he’s got his nails in the skin around the blastia hard enough to leave nasty-looking crescent marks. There’s no blood (not yet) but it will definitely bruise by the time he’s reached his meeting.
“Ah.” He says after a moment, because he can’t think of anything else to say.
Duke doesn’t let go of his shoulder and he sort of wonders if Duke will ever let go. He wouldn’t really mind it if Duke didn’t, even if that meeting with the investor is important. “What happened?” Duke’s voice is soft; it’s not gentle, exactly, because Duke isn’t the sort of person who can really manage that with his voice, but his expression is concerned. He means well, even if he’s not sure what question he should really be asking.
What happened is pretty good though, because something certainly did happen in Yeager’s head, like it does every morning without fail. He shakes his head and smiles, trying to brush it off as nothing as he always does. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine!”
Duke doesn’t look frustrated (he never really looks frustrated), but his expression somehow manages to look even more unamused than usual. “Do not lie to me.” He states simply and his fingers dig a bit harder into Yeager’s shoulder. If he keeps up, he’ll probably leave bruises. Not that Yeager would mind, really. He’s got a few Duke left last night, after all.
“I really am fine.” He shakes his head and reaches up for Duke’s hand. He doesn’t have to try to pry the other man’s hand off, Duke lets go and their fingers lace easily.
(Like they did so often back in the hotel, when neither of them really knew how to comfort the other.)
“I was only thinking.” He doesn’t elaborate on what. He doesn’t think Duke will ask.
“Yeager…” Duke starts softly. His hand tightens on Yeager’s for a moment before he finally manages to speak again, “How can I help?”
It’s an interesting way to approach the problem, Yeager will certainly give him that. Duke isn’t letting him have any room to argue that there isn’t a problem (which there obviously is, and which Yeager obviously won’t admit) so while he can appreciate the response, he finds himself still annoyed at Duke seeing right through him so easily. This wouldn’t have happened earlier.
(But earlier they weren’t friends and they certainly weren’t sharing a bed in the Manor of the Wicked some nights.)
Instead of giving him an answer (because he doesn’t have one), Yeager leans in to kiss Duke. He’s caught by the chin and Duke’s steely gaze makes it very clear that he’s not getting out of this one by being his usual charming self. “Honestly…” Yeager sighs dramatically. He can’t really be too mad, though.
“How can I help you?” Duke asks again, a bit more urgency in his voice this time. “Surely there is something I can do to assist you in handling this issue?”
Yeager shakes his head sharply, getting his bangs to flick a bit with the force of it. “No, nein. There isn’t anything anyone can do. This is something I will always have to deal with, ja? There is no stopping it or… or fixing it or replacing it, or…” He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t have the words to finish.
Duke is quiet for a very long moment. His intense eyes don’t leave Yeager’s and the guild leader finds himself looking away first. “Yeager, may I…?” He doesn’t continue the question in words though, instead he moves his hand down from Yeager’s chin to hover over the blastia. He doesn’t touch it, waiting instead for permission.
Despite knowing that this is Duke, someone he trusts with both his life and his secrets (two very different things requiring two very different levels of trust), Yeager jerks back immediately, pulling his hand from Duke’s and bringing both up to cover the blastia.
(“Let me see it,” Alexei had asked. He hadn’t hesitated.)
While Duke’s expressions usually don’t show much, his eyes are wide and his mouth is open a bit, as though he’s already trying to form a response to Yeager’s reaction. He’s faster though, and while his words are rushed he’s trying his best to keep his voice even. “Oh dear, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you like that!”
“No, I didn’t mean—”
“Nein, forget it! It really isn’t a bother!” Duke’s hand is still outstretched (perhaps it hasn’t occurred to him to lower it yet?) so Yeager grabs it immediately. His grip is tight and when he pulls Duke’s hand to his chest he can feel his pulse flutter, despite there being no real reason for it to.
The blastia is just a poor mimic of a heart, after all. It has two functions: to pump his blood and to provide him the power boost all people get from blastia. Even though the world no longer has any, that much hasn’t changed. Its function cannot change and it should not be capable of mimicking the feeling anxiety that comes from having a cherished person so close.
Duke’s hand rests over the red gem and while Yeager can’t feel anything more than the weight of the hand, his breath hitches anyway. Yeager doesn’t allow Duke to pull back at that, just shaking his head in silence.
They stand there like that for a minute and Yeager’s heartbeat slowly returns to normal. “It’s warm,” Duke says suddenly.
He smiles, though he can’t meet Duke’s eyes. “Ja. It’s my heart. I’d be a bit concerned if it wasn’t warm!”
“Your heart…” Duke repeats, though Yeager’s sure he already knew that. “Thank you, then.”
“For what?”
His fingers lightly trace over the crystalline surface, then over the smoother golden casing and finally down to the thick, ugly scars beneath. “For trusting me with this. I would never dream of hurting you.”
“Ja, I know.” His breath catches in his throat again and he’s not sure he can say anything else.
Duke continues speaking so he doesn’t have to. “You have been watching me since you woke. Your hand has been on your blastia all morning.” Too bad Duke is exactly as observant as Yeager himself; he had been hoping to keep that to himself. Shame about the mirror’s placement. “You find it ugly, do you not?”
Again he can’t bring himself to speak. He starts to shake his head, but he couldn’t lie to Duke about this even if he tried. It becomes a hesitant, uncertain nod.
“I thought as much.” Duke’s fingers glide over one of the longer scars and Yeager shudders. “Your blastia and these marks tell a story. It is a tragic tale and one that should never be repeated.” He pauses, then moves his hand to trace the golden extensions of the blastia, the ones that rise toward his neck. “But without this I would not have had a chance to know you. We would have never come to be where we are now.”
He wouldn’t have had to go through everything back in the hotel either, but that feels so distant now. Despite how much he hates the blastia and Alexei, he really does have that man to thank for all of the opportunities he’s had in his second chance at life. Gauche, Droite, Duke, Yuri, Jason… He wouldn’t have met any of them had Alexei not interfered. He would have died without experiencing so much.
“I am very happy you are still alive, Yeager.” Duke’s voice draws him back to reality and he finally does manage to look up. Those crimson eyes aren’t on him though, instead studying his blastia curiously. Duke’s hand moves to trace the lower extremities of the blastia, the golden parts that point down toward Yeager’s sternum. “So if there is ever anything I can do for you…”
“Don’t,” He interrupts Duke suddenly, but when he touches Duke’s hand again it’s not to pull him away. “You don’t need to do anything for me. Don’t you see? You’ve done more than enough already.”
From the look on Duke’s face, he isn’t sure he has. Yeager’s smile is soft though and when he reaches up to touch Duke’s cheek it’s light, gentle. “I need you in my life, Duke. I don’t know how I could manage without someone to remind me why I’m still here every so often.” He laughs quietly. “I’m going to continue to have problems. I’ll likely have them frequently. But as long as I have you to rely on, I don’t think I’ll ever truly be in trouble.”
Duke’s smile is very pretty. It’s small but genuine, and certainly not the sort of thing he shares with most people. Yeager always feels a bit honored when he earns it. “I am pleased to hear that.” Duke’s reply is a little lackluster in comparison, but that’s how he always is and Yeager loves that about him.
“Good! Now help me pick out an outfit~!” Just like that the status quo has been reset. Duke will be in a better mood today and Yeager will be even more obnoxious than usual, but that’s part of the process of healing isn’t it? And it certainly is healing. He never tried it before, but with Duke around it’s a bit easier to believe that someday he really will be fine.
After all, things have always been different with Duke.
Character(s): Duke Pantarei, Yeager, with mentions of others briefly
Pairing(s): Duke/Yeager
Word Count: 2,957
Summary: Once again post-game AU. This probably takes place after the previous one? IDK. Yeager's got Issues about his blastia and Duke actually helps.
Notes: For Lum, again! SOMEDAY I'LL RUN OUT OF THINGS TO WRITE FOR THIS SHIP. Also this is vaaaguely nsfw? Vaguely.
This isn’t the first time in the past ten years Yeager has woken up tangled in the sheets with another person, but it’s certainly the first time he’s woken up undressed. He could never show anyone else the blastia that replaces his heart, after all, but things are a little different with Duke. They’ve always been a little different with Duke.
Duke isn’t in the bed though, which is probably why Yeager’s awake this early in the first place. The sun is just now beginning to rise and the first rays of sunlight won’t hit his bed for another ten minutes or so. Usually that’s when he’d get up and start his day, but he can’t really be too grumpy about being woken up early when this is what he gets to wake up to.
The door to his bathroom is open and Duke is standing there in front of the mirror carefully coming out his long, perfect hair. It already looks perfect and he’s still carefully working the brush through the ends. How long has he been at this? Even though Duke’s back is to him Yeager can see his reflection in the mirror and as usual, Duke’s expression is exactly as stiff and stoic as always. Some things never change, even when his usually perfect clothes have been scattered to the bedroom floor.
Most of Duke’s hair is over one of his shoulders, which gives Yeager a nice view of his back. He’s more muscular than Yeager would have imagined, but that’s not exactly surprising. There are a few old and faded scars marring Duke’s otherwise perfect skin, but they’re the sort of scars that don’t detract from his ethereal beauty any. If anything, they add to it. They make Duke look almost human, as opposed to… well, whatever rank comes above a perfect ten out of ten, really.
The scars aren’t like the thick, disgusting ones that run across Yeager’s chest. He’s been lucky not to be scarred elsewhere, but the marks around and beneath the blastia are raised and never properly healed right. It certainly doesn’t help that the blastia itself is a blight on his body. He’s always been vain and waking up to find the blastia and scars had been a dreadful experience.
He finds that his fingers are digging into the golden casing surrounding the core of the blastia. Sometimes he used to wonder if he could actually pull the damn thing out. He had never worked up the courage to try and then suddenly Gauche and Droite were in his life and it would be cruel to risk leaving them on their own. Droite and Gauche were his reason for living. They still are, in some way, but it certainly isn’t the same sort of reliance he had on them even months ago.
(And that’s strange to think about. If he’d let himself think about it. Which he won’t.)
Yeager hasn’t moved from where he woke up, but Duke suddenly turns around anyway. His crimson eyes are striking, piercing in a way that just sort of makes you want to open up to him even if you’re the kind of person who would never open up to anyone else under any circumstances. (Like Yeager is.) It helps that Duke is quiet, a good listener, and strangely kind despite his ever-serious expression. “Yeager,” He says simply.
He lazily holds up a hand in greeting. “Good morning! Did you sleep well?”
Duke doesn’t seem to know how to answer that. His eyes flick from Yeager’s face to the wall, then to the floor. He carefully moves to let his hair fall down his back properly (and my, how does he get his hair to look so perfect at such a length?) before turning to set the brush back on the counter with the rest of his things (he doesn’t have many). When he finally looks at Yeager again he seems ready to speak. “Yes, I did.”
Ah, yes. Typical Duke. He usually doesn’t have much to add to conversations when he’s feeling awkward like this. Yeager laughs lightly and forces himself to let go of the blastia (it takes longer than it should; he hopes Duke doesn’t notice) before sitting up. The covers pool around his hips and Duke’s eyes follow their descent. “You don’t need to be so stiff!” He considers his words, then smirks. “Well, I suppose you could be, if you’re feeling particularly generous this morning~”
It takes a couple of seconds for it to sink in, but when it does Duke quickly turns pink, with the blush steadily darkening. Will it stop before it hits the same vibrant red color of his usual clothes? “I—” Duke starts, then stops. Starts again. “You mentioned you have work today, did you not?”
Yeager sighs loudly and reaches up to run a hand through his bangs. The dark hair slips between his fingers easily until he’s twirling the ends, as he usually does when he’s thinking or otherwise bothered. How does Duke manage to get his hair looking so nice when Yeager’s is a complete wreck? The back of his hair is probably sticking up at all sorts of odd angles. He doesn’t even have to worry about hair down to his thighs and yet Duke’s still looks incredible. Did he wake up that way? Yeager’s a little disappointed he didn’t get to see it. “You had to remind me, ja? How cruel.”
As usual, Duke doesn’t seem to know what to make of that. He doesn’t respond either and Yeager waves it off languidly. “Only joking. I suppose I really should get going soon.” Which means he has to get up. Another loud, suffering sigh as he finally throws his legs over the side of the bed and stands. Why can’t he sleep in for once? It would have been nice to share the bed with someone for a little while.
(But that would have put Duke closer to the blastia for longer.)
His morning routine is simple and easy and Yeager doesn’t have any problems with Duke watching as he goes about it. And Duke certainly is watching; those piercing red eyes are on him every step of the way. It might be sort of exciting, if he didn’t have a meeting in Dahngrest in two hours. It will take him at least an hour to get there, assuming the monsters aren’t particularly aggressive today, anyway. Oh well. Some other time, perhaps.
Yeager pauses by the mirror as he always does. He can usually get his hair properly fixed in a matter of minutes (Regaey’s took longer, and that was worth every second) but it’s never an easy process because he finds his eyes drawn to the blastia.
The red core is always lit, glowing faintly even beneath his clothes. He’s learned ways to hide it over the years but at night there isn’t much of a point. It’s his own personal nightlight and he hates it. Sometimes he wonders what it would look like if it wasn’t lit, but there’s no way for him to find out.
(It would be better off unlit.)
His fingers find the casing again and for a brief moment his nails dig at it while he studies his reflection in the mirror. The usual smile is gone, replaced by a blank look.
(If this abhorrent thing wasn’t attached to his chest, then maybe—)
“Yeager.”
(He can remove it, can’t he? He’s certainly strong enough with the power it gives him. It would be a simple matter of digging his nails in hard enough, and if that doesn’t do it then he could use a knife or—)
“Yeager.”
(Shattering the core would be possible too. It’s solid and thick, crystalline in appearance but diamond-like in structure. It wouldn’t be easy but it’s certainly possible—)
“Yeager!”
He jumps a bit when Duke’s hand comes down hard on his shoulder, his pale fingers digging sharply in like he’s expecting Yeager to resist. It’s only then that Yeager notices he’s got his nails in the skin around the blastia hard enough to leave nasty-looking crescent marks. There’s no blood (not yet) but it will definitely bruise by the time he’s reached his meeting.
“Ah.” He says after a moment, because he can’t think of anything else to say.
Duke doesn’t let go of his shoulder and he sort of wonders if Duke will ever let go. He wouldn’t really mind it if Duke didn’t, even if that meeting with the investor is important. “What happened?” Duke’s voice is soft; it’s not gentle, exactly, because Duke isn’t the sort of person who can really manage that with his voice, but his expression is concerned. He means well, even if he’s not sure what question he should really be asking.
What happened is pretty good though, because something certainly did happen in Yeager’s head, like it does every morning without fail. He shakes his head and smiles, trying to brush it off as nothing as he always does. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine!”
Duke doesn’t look frustrated (he never really looks frustrated), but his expression somehow manages to look even more unamused than usual. “Do not lie to me.” He states simply and his fingers dig a bit harder into Yeager’s shoulder. If he keeps up, he’ll probably leave bruises. Not that Yeager would mind, really. He’s got a few Duke left last night, after all.
“I really am fine.” He shakes his head and reaches up for Duke’s hand. He doesn’t have to try to pry the other man’s hand off, Duke lets go and their fingers lace easily.
(Like they did so often back in the hotel, when neither of them really knew how to comfort the other.)
“I was only thinking.” He doesn’t elaborate on what. He doesn’t think Duke will ask.
“Yeager…” Duke starts softly. His hand tightens on Yeager’s for a moment before he finally manages to speak again, “How can I help?”
It’s an interesting way to approach the problem, Yeager will certainly give him that. Duke isn’t letting him have any room to argue that there isn’t a problem (which there obviously is, and which Yeager obviously won’t admit) so while he can appreciate the response, he finds himself still annoyed at Duke seeing right through him so easily. This wouldn’t have happened earlier.
(But earlier they weren’t friends and they certainly weren’t sharing a bed in the Manor of the Wicked some nights.)
Instead of giving him an answer (because he doesn’t have one), Yeager leans in to kiss Duke. He’s caught by the chin and Duke’s steely gaze makes it very clear that he’s not getting out of this one by being his usual charming self. “Honestly…” Yeager sighs dramatically. He can’t really be too mad, though.
“How can I help you?” Duke asks again, a bit more urgency in his voice this time. “Surely there is something I can do to assist you in handling this issue?”
Yeager shakes his head sharply, getting his bangs to flick a bit with the force of it. “No, nein. There isn’t anything anyone can do. This is something I will always have to deal with, ja? There is no stopping it or… or fixing it or replacing it, or…” He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t have the words to finish.
Duke is quiet for a very long moment. His intense eyes don’t leave Yeager’s and the guild leader finds himself looking away first. “Yeager, may I…?” He doesn’t continue the question in words though, instead he moves his hand down from Yeager’s chin to hover over the blastia. He doesn’t touch it, waiting instead for permission.
Despite knowing that this is Duke, someone he trusts with both his life and his secrets (two very different things requiring two very different levels of trust), Yeager jerks back immediately, pulling his hand from Duke’s and bringing both up to cover the blastia.
(“Let me see it,” Alexei had asked. He hadn’t hesitated.)
While Duke’s expressions usually don’t show much, his eyes are wide and his mouth is open a bit, as though he’s already trying to form a response to Yeager’s reaction. He’s faster though, and while his words are rushed he’s trying his best to keep his voice even. “Oh dear, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you like that!”
“No, I didn’t mean—”
“Nein, forget it! It really isn’t a bother!” Duke’s hand is still outstretched (perhaps it hasn’t occurred to him to lower it yet?) so Yeager grabs it immediately. His grip is tight and when he pulls Duke’s hand to his chest he can feel his pulse flutter, despite there being no real reason for it to.
The blastia is just a poor mimic of a heart, after all. It has two functions: to pump his blood and to provide him the power boost all people get from blastia. Even though the world no longer has any, that much hasn’t changed. Its function cannot change and it should not be capable of mimicking the feeling anxiety that comes from having a cherished person so close.
Duke’s hand rests over the red gem and while Yeager can’t feel anything more than the weight of the hand, his breath hitches anyway. Yeager doesn’t allow Duke to pull back at that, just shaking his head in silence.
They stand there like that for a minute and Yeager’s heartbeat slowly returns to normal. “It’s warm,” Duke says suddenly.
He smiles, though he can’t meet Duke’s eyes. “Ja. It’s my heart. I’d be a bit concerned if it wasn’t warm!”
“Your heart…” Duke repeats, though Yeager’s sure he already knew that. “Thank you, then.”
“For what?”
His fingers lightly trace over the crystalline surface, then over the smoother golden casing and finally down to the thick, ugly scars beneath. “For trusting me with this. I would never dream of hurting you.”
“Ja, I know.” His breath catches in his throat again and he’s not sure he can say anything else.
Duke continues speaking so he doesn’t have to. “You have been watching me since you woke. Your hand has been on your blastia all morning.” Too bad Duke is exactly as observant as Yeager himself; he had been hoping to keep that to himself. Shame about the mirror’s placement. “You find it ugly, do you not?”
Again he can’t bring himself to speak. He starts to shake his head, but he couldn’t lie to Duke about this even if he tried. It becomes a hesitant, uncertain nod.
“I thought as much.” Duke’s fingers glide over one of the longer scars and Yeager shudders. “Your blastia and these marks tell a story. It is a tragic tale and one that should never be repeated.” He pauses, then moves his hand to trace the golden extensions of the blastia, the ones that rise toward his neck. “But without this I would not have had a chance to know you. We would have never come to be where we are now.”
He wouldn’t have had to go through everything back in the hotel either, but that feels so distant now. Despite how much he hates the blastia and Alexei, he really does have that man to thank for all of the opportunities he’s had in his second chance at life. Gauche, Droite, Duke, Yuri, Jason… He wouldn’t have met any of them had Alexei not interfered. He would have died without experiencing so much.
“I am very happy you are still alive, Yeager.” Duke’s voice draws him back to reality and he finally does manage to look up. Those crimson eyes aren’t on him though, instead studying his blastia curiously. Duke’s hand moves to trace the lower extremities of the blastia, the golden parts that point down toward Yeager’s sternum. “So if there is ever anything I can do for you…”
“Don’t,” He interrupts Duke suddenly, but when he touches Duke’s hand again it’s not to pull him away. “You don’t need to do anything for me. Don’t you see? You’ve done more than enough already.”
From the look on Duke’s face, he isn’t sure he has. Yeager’s smile is soft though and when he reaches up to touch Duke’s cheek it’s light, gentle. “I need you in my life, Duke. I don’t know how I could manage without someone to remind me why I’m still here every so often.” He laughs quietly. “I’m going to continue to have problems. I’ll likely have them frequently. But as long as I have you to rely on, I don’t think I’ll ever truly be in trouble.”
Duke’s smile is very pretty. It’s small but genuine, and certainly not the sort of thing he shares with most people. Yeager always feels a bit honored when he earns it. “I am pleased to hear that.” Duke’s reply is a little lackluster in comparison, but that’s how he always is and Yeager loves that about him.
“Good! Now help me pick out an outfit~!” Just like that the status quo has been reset. Duke will be in a better mood today and Yeager will be even more obnoxious than usual, but that’s part of the process of healing isn’t it? And it certainly is healing. He never tried it before, but with Duke around it’s a bit easier to believe that someday he really will be fine.
After all, things have always been different with Duke.