[Ah. So the most straightforward explanation is the correct one after all. Lobelia can't entirely believe it, silent just long enough to let his answer sink in until he nods, smile thin but genuine.]
It was my pleasure, Vergilius. You caught me by surprise, certainly, but I would never begrudge a kiss from you.
[Still... they've kissed many times. This is the first time Vergilius has ever thanked him for it. Is someone feeling emotionally constipated?]
[Hm. Lobelia reaches out to take Vergilius' hand, gently folding both of his own around it.]
Merci, mon amour. I'll have you know that I'm thankful for every kiss you've given me. A kiss from your lips makes me feel as if I'm still very much aliveโ more than ever before.
[That dusty pink is as effortlessly charming as always. If he were not already deeply in love with this man, Lobelia would think he were falling for him all over again.]
Oh, but it is. Your kiss makes me happy, Vergilius. [Squeezing his hand tighter.] Your kiss makes me whole.
[He's destroyed so many lives. Even the children who were so happy with him eventually perished. What happiness? This is hardly new territory, but he always falls back into the same pits, over and over.]
[Lobelia's tone is playfully chiding, but even that doesn't last long, laughter rumbling low in Lobelia's throat. Rubbing his thumbs along the back of Vergilius' scarred hand, Lobelia looks at him a little plaintively.]
May I have another?
[Vergilius was kind enough to thank him, so it's only natural he repay his kindness by beseeching him for another kiss in earnest.]
[Not Lobelia. Never Lobelia. That's the face he loves, after all, drawn towards his piercing gaze and right into his kiss like a moth to a flame.]
Merci. I love your kisses just as much as I love you.
[Lobelia feels that telltale ache in his chest saying those three little words, but fuck it. He can't resist telling Vergilius how he truly feels even when he knows those feelings may never be returned. It's fine, it's fine, it's fine.]
It aches, but of course it does. Nothing for it, really. Lobelia's smile falters just the slightest bit, but then he's lightly tugging on Vergilius' hands before it can come to his attention.]
Will you hold me?
[This feeling will pass, as will the flecks of sorrow in his eyes, but that's easier done when Vergilius doesn't have the means to study the way those tiny bits of emotion work their way through Lobelia.]
[There's no answer here. He simply moves to wrap his arms around the man, firm and strong as anything. A warm, loving body. Of course he misses the sadness in Lobelia's eyes. He's always been too wrapped up in his own self-made hell.]
[It hurts more.]
[What kind of pathetic, hypocritical monster is he?]
[It hurts. It hurts. It really hurts.]
[A whisper creaks out of his chest, unable to be contained.]
[There's no need to keep up pretenses now, Lobelia's expression falling entirely flat once he's looped his arms around Vergilius and embraced him tightly. What the man says next, however? That makes his frown deepen.]
...
[What does he say to that? Has Vergilius been worried all this time?
Lobelia's fingers dig into the back of his blazer.]
I would not worry if I were you. I'm stubborn, rappeler? You won't be rid of me that easily.
[Foolish, stubborn old man. Lobelia's fingers seize into Vergilius' blazer until the fabric groans beneath the press of his nails.]
That isn't the problem, Vergilius. You're so afraid of losing what you treasure that you consider the loss of it to be an inevitability. You would sooner give something up than have it taken from your hands, wouldn't you?
[Fear is a funny, funny thing. As contradictory as that may sound, Lobelia has observed it happen enough times in his life that he understands Vergilius to be no less human than anyone else.]
But let me assure you of one thing: you may never come to love me, I will never stop loving you. That much is an immutable fact, something that can never be taken away unless you cast it aside with your own two hands.
[Of course its inevitable. Life has taught him that. Over and over again, beaten into his heart and his head. And still, he cares. And still, he fights. He's always been a hypocrite. He can't help it. The City couldn't fully turn him into a beast. It would be easy if it did.]
[He feels the hands digging in, and a foolish part of him almost imagines if he was able to combine with Lobelia. Like that horrific monster that destroyed the orphanage, a smashed mess of flesh and bone with two heads crying endlessly. It would be easy to live like that.]
[But they're only human.]
[The last part makes him pause, though. Something feels off, a twinge of an offkey note. What is it...?]
But of course he can. He has to. Lobelia won't settle for allowing Vergilius to give in, but hearing those words now hits differently. His resignation carves into Lobelia and spreads salt into the wound, and for once, he can't simply brush off Vergilius' casual dismissal of himself. It's for that reason that there's something rare in Lobelia's answer โ a note of anger, genuine anger โ when he lobs a question at him in return.
Be happy. I want you to be happy no matter what. If only it were so easy. Lobelia, of all people, knows why it isn't.]
Hm? What part of my answer are you struggling to understand?
[The needle in his heart burns as if its made of lava. Its a pain that throbs through his chest, as if the man is putting his hand in it to be bloodied once more.]
[He grits his teeth, his own spark of annoyance coming out between his words.]
I...you think... [The words. He has to find the words.] I'm just...tolerating you?
[Something reels inside of him, like the wave of a black sea. He had turned his back on his own emotions, yes, it was like instinct for any Fixer like him, but even so...even so....wasn't it obvious?]
[Maybe it wasn't? Maybe he didn't even know?]
[Regardless, after a pause, his first inclination is to snap, and snap he does:]
[Sorry, Vergilius, but you started this. You did this to yourself. His anger further fuels Lobelia's own, laying waste to whatever reservations he had about cutting loose and saying whatever the fuck he wants to this man. A fucking idiot? Yeah, maybe he is. Maybe they both are.]
What have you told me of your feelings, Vergilius? That you hate me. Can't stand me. If I were to go on your words alone, do you not suspect I would believe them?
Edited (adds one whole letter s) 2023-06-25 03:41 (UTC)
By the same token, Vergilius, some words are meant to be spoken. How can we communicate if we never speak to one another?
[Lobelia is shaking when he pulls back from the hug just enough to look Vergilius in the eye. This horrible feeling settles in him again, this bone-deep fear. Even so...]
...Even if you only speak them once, I want to hear how it is you feel with my own ears. S'il te plaรฎt, Vergilius.
[He feels like someone has put a bright spotlight onto him. A magnifying glass to burn him away. His hands are trembling now, caught between his kneejerk reflexes to turn and leave and deny and the need to just get it over with, now.]
[But how does he feel? Does he actually even know. Lobelia wants to hear it. Irritating, hateful, impossible Lobelia. He's shaking, too. Vegilius wants to stop him from shaking. Who is making you shake, so? Ah, of course its him.]
[If I give word to it, if I make it real, then that will seal his fate. Then I'll have to turn and stare at the sun until it burns out my eyes or burns out himself. The flow will carry on. He will be swept up in the current. That is that, and this is this.]
[And then Lobelia's words suddenly come, as easy as anything.]
[Humans are hypocritical creatures by virtue of their very being. Moreover, you are a hypocrite. You may not want to hold others close to your heart, but refusing to acknowledge that you have does not make those feelings simply disappear.]
I think you're the most infuriating person I ever met.
[A beat.]
You're a murderer. You've caused more harm than anyone can even count on both hands. Your sins are innumerable. Your attitude is so horrid as to grate on everyone you encounter. You're frivolous, messy, and selfish. I could go on for eternity.
[His hands are shaking, words toppling out like broken shards. He hopes it all cuts his own heart and he bleeds out for good.]
And I say eternity, because I promised you that. And I wouldn't promise anyone that. Not just anyone. Because as much as you're the most infuriating person in the world, you're mine. I made that oath with you because I love you, you empty-brained magician. I haven't said it because I'm scared, I-I'm terrified, yes, but you know what? Fuck it all. I love you.
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It was my pleasure, Vergilius. You caught me by surprise, certainly, but I would never begrudge a kiss from you.
[Still... they've kissed many times. This is the first time Vergilius has ever thanked him for it. Is someone feeling emotionally constipated?]
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No, I know that. I do.
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Merci, mon amour. I'll have you know that I'm thankful for every kiss you've given me. A kiss from your lips makes me feel as if I'm still very much aliveโ more than ever before.
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[He really wishes his ears weren't visible. They're dusting pink, again.]
[He doesn't know why things like this make something seize in his chest. Something so good, and yet...as if he's fearful.]
It surely isn't that powerful.
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Oh, but it is. Your kiss makes me happy, Vergilius. [Squeezing his hand tighter.] Your kiss makes me whole.
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[It doesn't feel right.]
[He's destroyed so many lives. Even the children who were so happy with him eventually perished. What happiness? This is hardly new territory, but he always falls back into the same pits, over and over.]
[...He gives a nod, heart fluttering a little.]
...I see.
[He really doesn't know what else to say.]
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[Lobelia's tone is playfully chiding, but even that doesn't last long, laughter rumbling low in Lobelia's throat. Rubbing his thumbs along the back of Vergilius' scarred hand, Lobelia looks at him a little plaintively.]
May I have another?
[Vergilius was kind enough to thank him, so it's only natural he repay his kindness by beseeching him for another kiss in earnest.]
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[He looks down at him, red eyes as piercing as ever. Its a face that would intimidate most. Not Lobelia.]
...You may.
[He leans down, and gives what is asked for. Merlin take notes!!!]
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Merci. I love your kisses just as much as I love you.
[Lobelia feels that telltale ache in his chest saying those three little words, but fuck it. He can't resist telling Vergilius how he truly feels even when he knows those feelings may never be returned. It's fine, it's fine, it's fine.]
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[He glances down to their hands, fingers gently brushing against the other's palm.]
...I'm. I'm glad you do.
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It aches, but of course it does. Nothing for it, really. Lobelia's smile falters just the slightest bit, but then he's lightly tugging on Vergilius' hands before it can come to his attention.]
Will you hold me?
[This feeling will pass, as will the flecks of sorrow in his eyes, but that's easier done when Vergilius doesn't have the means to study the way those tiny bits of emotion work their way through Lobelia.]
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[There's no answer here. He simply moves to wrap his arms around the man, firm and strong as anything. A warm, loving body. Of course he misses the sadness in Lobelia's eyes. He's always been too wrapped up in his own self-made hell.]
[It hurts more.]
[What kind of pathetic, hypocritical monster is he?]
[It hurts. It hurts. It really hurts.]
[A whisper creaks out of his chest, unable to be contained.]
...I'll lose you too.
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...
[What does he say to that? Has Vergilius been worried all this time?
Lobelia's fingers dig into the back of his blazer.]
I would not worry if I were you. I'm stubborn, rappeler? You won't be rid of me that easily.
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[That's so, so easy. But no amount of saying it has ever mattered.]
[The City exacts its cost, in the end. It always does.]
Everything good will be taken from me. I've accepted that.
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That isn't the problem, Vergilius. You're so afraid of losing what you treasure that you consider the loss of it to be an inevitability. You would sooner give something up than have it taken from your hands, wouldn't you?
[Fear is a funny, funny thing. As contradictory as that may sound, Lobelia has observed it happen enough times in his life that he understands Vergilius to be no less human than anyone else.]
But let me assure you of one thing: you may never come to love me, I will never stop loving you. That much is an immutable fact, something that can never be taken away unless you cast it aside with your own two hands.
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[Of course its inevitable. Life has taught him that. Over and over again, beaten into his heart and his head. And still, he cares. And still, he fights. He's always been a hypocrite. He can't help it. The City couldn't fully turn him into a beast. It would be easy if it did.]
[He feels the hands digging in, and a foolish part of him almost imagines if he was able to combine with Lobelia. Like that horrific monster that destroyed the orphanage, a smashed mess of flesh and bone with two heads crying endlessly. It would be easy to live like that.]
[But they're only human.]
[The last part makes him pause, though. Something feels off, a twinge of an offkey note. What is it...?]
[His brow furrows.]
.....What?
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But of course he can. He has to. Lobelia won't settle for allowing Vergilius to give in, but hearing those words now hits differently. His resignation carves into Lobelia and spreads salt into the wound, and for once, he can't simply brush off Vergilius' casual dismissal of himself. It's for that reason that there's something rare in Lobelia's answer โ a note of anger, genuine anger โ when he lobs a question at him in return.
Be happy. I want you to be happy no matter what. If only it were so easy. Lobelia, of all people, knows why it isn't.]
Hm? What part of my answer are you struggling to understand?
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[The needle in his heart burns as if its made of lava. Its a pain that throbs through his chest, as if the man is putting his hand in it to be bloodied once more.]
[He grits his teeth, his own spark of annoyance coming out between his words.]
I...you think... [The words. He has to find the words.] I'm just...tolerating you?
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Is that not the case, Vergilius?
[As far as Lobelia knows, he's simply a pain in the ass Vergilius tolerates for one reason or another. It's not like he ever brings those reasons up.]
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[Something reels inside of him, like the wave of a black sea. He had turned his back on his own emotions, yes, it was like instinct for any Fixer like him, but even so...even so....wasn't it obvious?]
[Maybe it wasn't? Maybe he didn't even know?]
[Regardless, after a pause, his first inclination is to snap, and snap he does:]
....Are you a fucking idiot?
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What have you told me of your feelings, Vergilius? That you hate me. Can't stand me. If I were to go on your words alone, do you not suspect I would believe them?
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[His eyes are flaring like never before. His words? His words?]
Is a man made of nothing more than his words, Lobelia?
[Haven't I shown you everything? But then, also. You haven't shown him everything, have you?]
[Again, that pang of fear, shaking to his core.]
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[Lobelia is shaking when he pulls back from the hug just enough to look Vergilius in the eye. This horrible feeling settles in him again, this bone-deep fear. Even so...]
...Even if you only speak them once, I want to hear how it is you feel with my own ears. S'il te plaรฎt, Vergilius.
1/2
[He feels like someone has put a bright spotlight onto him. A magnifying glass to burn him away. His hands are trembling now, caught between his kneejerk reflexes to turn and leave and deny and the need to just get it over with, now.]
[But how does he feel? Does he actually even know. Lobelia wants to hear it. Irritating, hateful, impossible Lobelia. He's shaking, too. Vegilius wants to stop him from shaking. Who is making you shake, so? Ah, of course its him.]
[He always causes problems like this, doesn't he? Irritating, hateful, impossible Vergilius.]
I...
[If I give word to it, if I make it real, then that will seal his fate. Then I'll have to turn and stare at the sun until it burns out my eyes or burns out himself. The flow will carry on. He will be swept up in the current. That is that, and this is this.]
[And then Lobelia's words suddenly come, as easy as anything.]
[Humans are hypocritical creatures by virtue of their very being. Moreover, you are a hypocrite. You may not want to hold others close to your heart, but refusing to acknowledge that you have does not make those feelings simply disappear.]
2/2
[A beat.]
You're a murderer. You've caused more harm than anyone can even count on both hands. Your sins are innumerable. Your attitude is so horrid as to grate on everyone you encounter. You're frivolous, messy, and selfish. I could go on for eternity.
[His hands are shaking, words toppling out like broken shards. He hopes it all cuts his own heart and he bleeds out for good.]
And I say eternity, because I promised you that. And I wouldn't promise anyone that. Not just anyone. Because as much as you're the most infuriating person in the world, you're mine. I made that oath with you because I love you, you empty-brained magician. I haven't said it because I'm scared, I-I'm terrified, yes, but you know what? Fuck it all. I love you.
I love you so much it hurts like hell.
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