sleepytimejunction | ❧ open rp

[Admittedly, Greed would deserve no less than to have his head torn off. He could probably recover from it, so it wouldn't be a death sentence. Just a very painful, very nasty way to be out of commission for a while. And given how savagely he'd shattered their bonds years ago? He definitely has it coming.

But there'd been a reason for it. He could have just ended it amiably; Adrian would have been hurt, but he would have understood. Instead: Greed had done it nastily, pointedly, all cutting remarks and taunts, outright laughing at Adrian for being fool enough to think there was anything more than sex between them. He'd torn their relationship apart in a few sentences, and the physical fight they'd gotten into afterwards was just icing on the cake.

His room is a grand old thing, more like a loft apartment than a single room. Up on the fifth floor, it's unsurprisingly packed with things. Valuable things, of course, jewelry and diamonds, makeup and scattered clothes, but other things as well. Little knickknacks, pointless things whose only value is sentimental. Nothing from Adrian, no-- but then, there's a locked box on a dresser, so maybe his things aren't as far gone as they appear.

He's sprawled on the bed when he hears footsteps, and sits up, one arm resting on his knee, his gaze locked on his bedroom door. He's ready to spring up and fight if it's necessary, but he'll at least try something peaceful first.]

There you are.

[He hates being here.

Alucard remembers better days, where he was foolish and naive and threw everything into what he thought was love and he was an idiot. He's never forgotten how Greed laughed at him, mocked him, said everything to make him hurt. If nothing else, his father had sighed and soothed as much as he could, Mother held him privately when he wept and whispered reassuringly that Greed was a right arse who could fuck off.

And what he hates, most of all, is how much he wished he had Greed at his side when Mother died. Because he remembers how warm he'd been, how he held him.]

You'd best hurry and state your business, exactly.

Stop being so fucking cryptic and get to the point.

[Get rid of him, that had been the only frantic thought banging around Greed's head that last day. Get rid of him get rid of him make him run away, make it so his noble little dhampir wouldn't get any ideas about making some kind of last stand. Make it so that he wanted to be away, and yeah, sure, it would hurt, but at least they'd both be alive to feel that.

And boy, he'd done a great fucking job, hadn't he?

There's no real going back. That's what burning a bridge means. And yet here he is, his stupid heart hoping desperately anyway, wanting so badly to have everything he's ever wanted.]

Sit down.

[It's an order, not a request.]

This is gonna take a while.

[. . .]

You hear, when my Pops died? Or did you not know til later?

I'll stand.

[The order is noticed, and dismissed coldly. Alucard refuses to adhere to anyone's demands at the moment.]

I caught wind of it, but I didn't hear significant details until I took my father's throne. Even then, demons love their rumors.

[What does he know, exactly? But ah, Greed had tried so hard to keep Adrian out of Father's eye. Sexual dalliances were fine, if not slightly disgusting in Father's point of view, but something deeper than that . . . oh, he didn't like that at all. And no matter how Greed bluffed and scoffed, Father wasn't stupid. He'd seen right through it all.

Just because he hadn't acted right away didn't mean he didn't know.]

. . . we'd been planning it for a while.

[And having to lose Adrian was half of what tipped Greed over, made him passionate instead of scoffingly only in it for himself. He takes a deep breath, stands, goes to grab a cigarette and busies himself with lighting it.

God, but he hates being emotional. He hates being weak, baring his soul, but he's got one shot at this.]

We found out a few years ago that he'd been conducting these experiments down in the dungeons. We thought . . . I don't know. We knew he did shit down there, but we didn't realize what it was, not really. All those orders he gave, all those plans he talked about . . . turns out the fucker was into some real messed up shit.

He wasn't just testing blood samples or experimenting with new magic. The bastard kept prisoners down there. He was mutilating all kinds of people, fairies and elves-- even some vampires, and don't say anything to anyone, I'm not telling you that officially-- but he'd been cross-breeding them, making them fight against each other . . . and if they didn't make the cut, he did this . . .

He wouldn't just kill them. He'd mutilate them. Use them to see how long they could stay alive, or how much pain they could take until their minds snapped.

[It was sick. He's fairly comfortable with violence, but there's violence and then there's a sickening sort of torture, sadism purely for sadism's sake, and that had been the latter. Even now it makes his stomach twist.]

Even my shitty siblings and I have our lines that we don't cross. So we started planning then. Me and Lust, first, and then Wrath . . . Envy was the last one to come over. We knew we'd have to be real careful about it. And in the meantime, we would play along. We'd go with what he wanted, make him think we were real loyal.

[A beat, and he glances over at him.]

And then you came along, little brat.

[It's far more affectionate than he's allowed to be, but here he is, doing it anyway.]

I couldn't stay away. Not from you. I couldn't help it, not when you looked like you did, acted like you did. Maybe if . . . I don't know. Maybe if you'd been nothing but pretty, it woulda been fine, but you had to be a fighter, too. You remember that first meeting?

[Of course he does. Of course he remembers. Greed had flirted the way he always had, leering and teasing both, expecting Adrian to either melt or fluster. And instead, he'd talked back, putting Greed in his place within two sentences. It'd been the first time in ages anyone had dared do such a thing, and oh, he'd been utterly enamored right then and there.]

I couldn't help but go after you. But hey, it was fine, I thought. The old man had never cared much about me anyway, so he'd probably think it was sex and nothing else. I thought I was being real slick.

Turned out your daddy wasn't the only one who disapproved.

The difference was, Dracula only ever came after me to tell me all about how he'd rip my throat out if I hurt you. My father . . .

[He inhales sharply on his cigarette and glances away, shrugging.]

You were gonna be an experiment too. A lesson on how stupid it was to get attached to anyone outside the family.

So. I made sure you weren't attached to me anymore.

[Miserably, he doesn't want to hear this. He doesn't want to hear an explanation that perfectly establishes as to why Greed broke his heart years ago. Adrian folds his arms around himself, as if trying to put on a guard against... well, all of this. How angry he is, was, and wants to stay being.

He doesn't want to be reasonable. He doesn't want to hear affection from Greed; it wrenches him wrong and right. Briefly, he wonders if his father knew anything. Not that he thinks that Dracula would have lifted a finger to do much, so long as his immediate family was safe.

Finally, Adrian finds he has to look away from Greed, because he can't honestly handle this, knowing that this is true. It's far, far too elaborate to be any lie.]

You did a good fucking job of that.

[And he wishes that there wasn't a tremor in his voice.]

Yeah, I know I did.

[He hesitates for just a moment before stubbing the cigarette out on the windowsill. Now he can look over at Adrian, and what a pair they make, the two of them never meeting each other's gaze.

He can hear the tremor in his voice. And maybe it's a stupid move, but when has Greed ever chosen caution over impulsiveness?

He steps forward slowly, carefully, approaching him.]

Look at me.

[It takes him a moment, but eventually Adrian does look at Greed, just a hair shorter than him. He refuses to let himself become more emotional than he already is; he knew coming here was a mistake, he should have just left it be courts be damned--

But he's here anyway, wishing he wouldn't buy into this. It's probably true, he could find out as such.]

What do you want from me, then?

[He's silent for a few seconds, his purple eyes dark as he watches his expression.]

What do you think?

[Soft. And though he knows it's a risk, though he knows there's every chance Adrian might break his wrist for this, Greed reaches for him.

It's not much. Just two fingers gliding against the back of his hand, quick and quiet, an easy implication.]

I let go of you once. I'm not gonna do it twice.

You-- you can't just--

[Adrian jerks back from the touch, as much as he wants it. As much as he wishes he could just have it all back.]

We can't pick up right where we left off! I can't just forget what you've said to me.

I was alone when I watched the humans burn my mother alive. My father wept as I shoved a stake through his heart. And I was alone, Greed. Maybe you're right and you had several reasons to keep me away, but you still hurt me where it wasn't necessary.

[He's older than Adrian, this is true. He's seen a lot more things, that is also true, simply by virtue of being around longer. He's suffered pain and he's fought bloody wars.

But in some ways-- some fairly vital ways-- Adrian has more experience than him. Greed had never really bothered with relationships, not before Adrian, and god knows he tries not to feel anything particularly deeply. So yeah, why shouldn't they just pick up where they left off? Maybe not smoothly, but surely now that the truth is in the air, things can be straightened out, right?]

How the hell else was I supposed to get you away? You wouldn't have gone. You would have stayed, you would have tried to be noble about it. I had to be sure you'd run.

Well you did a great fucking job of it!

You've had your reasons, but you can't just come back into my life and expect me to welcome you into it. You haven't even apologized!

I appreciate-- [sort of, he sort of appreciates it] --the explanation, it does... clarify much. But I can't just get over it at your demand!

I--

[An apology? His stomach twists at the thought. He is sorry, or at least rueful, bitter over how things had gone, wishing that he hadn't had to do what he'd done, but . . . what? Does Adrian want him to get on his knees and kiss his feet, desperately begging for forgiveness?

I'm sorry. Two words, and yet his lips tighten.]

I'm not asking you to, all right? Not right away. But you asked me what I wanted, and that's it: you. I--

[God.]

I've missed you. All of you. And yeah, I did a real shitty thing, I know I did, but--

[Why is this so hard? He glances away sharply, one hand running over his mouth.]

I just . . . wanted to talk to you. Honestly.

Did you want to talk to me, or did you want to justify yourself?

[The distinct lack of apology is telling to him, he thinks. There's too much here to process, and he isn't done hurting. Even though he's missed Greed too, he doesn't feel ready to just jump back into everything like nothing happened.]

[It's not undeserved, but still, a low blow, Greed thinks. It's not like he isn't trying, for god's sake, isn't that enough? Clearly not, though.]

You really think I'd bother getting you alone if all I wanted was to justify shit? I know what I did.

[At worst, he thinks, they still have a few days. This doesn't have to be solved in an hour or two, he can work on it-- though god, he doesn't want to. He wants things done now, he wants Adrian in his bed and in his arms, he wants things the way they ought to be again.]

Would you at least sit down with me?

I know you'll do anything you truly want. That's who you are.

[And for a time, he liked that. He liked how freely Greed would take for himself, but it wasn't always at the disregard of others. He was more complex.

That's what he thought for awhile, in any case.

Reluctantly, Adrian sits down, but keeps a space between him and Greed. It is, at least, a step closer than Adrian fuming by the door, ready to begin a physical confrontation.]

[It's something, anyway. Not a lot, but at least he isn't gonna bolt. Greed exhales harshly, moving to sprawl in one of the other chairs, facing him. He's tense, and yet it's hard not to roll his eyes and scoff at Adrian. It's hard not to instinctively push him away, just for the sake of protecting his heart.

But now that he's got him here, what does he say? An apology, maybe, but . . . he glances away for a few seconds.]

. . . you know, you're right there.

[His voice is lower, softer.]

And I definitely wouldn't be bothering with all this shit if all you'd ever been was a fuck. And I think you know that.

Perhaps that's true.

[And really, they aren't any different. For all of the loss Adrian has endured, he is less than willing to bare himself to Greed again. It isn't just forgiving and moving on; it's the lack of assurance he has to go with it. His parents are dead, parents he loved; his friends will one day die because they are mortal.

All Adrian will be left with is the court. A terrible, miserable life in just a few decades. And he knows that.

So in turn, he too is desperate to protect himself.]

But that also means making sacrifices if this is something you dare to want again.

[For a moment, nothing more, he looks almost laughably uncertain. Not necessarily of what Adrian is saying, but god, he hasn't this out of his depth in a long, long time. Even when they first started, it was Greed leading the way, Adrian eagerly following at his heels. Greed had been the one to steal them both away, to urge Adrian outside in the dead of night, to steal kisses in shadows and pin him to the forest floor.]

You got something specific in mind, or's that just in general?

Get the fuck over yourself and apologize.

[Truly, Adrian wishes he could say that with more vitriol, but instead it comes out as a whisper, a request instead of a demand.]

[He almost-- almost-- laughs. Not at Adrian, but rather at the simple vulgarity of his statement, the enormity of what he asks in so few words. Apologize, like it's so easy.]

. . . it just about killed me, letting you go.

[He says it slowly. They're still standing terribly close, but he can't quite bear to meet his gaze. Not for something as raw and sentimental as this. He swallows thickly, glaring down at the wooden grain of his dresser, the stained oak and all the little nicks it's gained over the years.]

That last fight . . . I hated it. You looked so stricken, I never forgot that. So shocked. I knew I'd done a good job right from the start, and I hated myself for it, because I could see how bad I was hurting you.

[They'd both poured so much of themselves into that summer. Whispered words of adoration and fascination, soft caresses and little glances-- and no, they'd never confessed love, but they might as well have. Every morning was a thrill; every meeting a rush, no matter what they did. Stolen kisses and little feasts on the riverbank; confessions of childhood and insecurities; teaching him, over and over, tip your head like this, lift your legs up, I'll show you, let me show you, he'd taught his little Adrian so much. He'd loved him that summer, as fiercely and as intensely as he knew how, caressing him and fucking him and whispering words he'd never said before (or at least: never said and meant).

And then he'd thrown it away, and it was the worst thing he'd ever done.]

. . . I am sorry. For what it's worth. I . . . everything I said before that night, I meant. And it was fucking miserable from the minute you left.

[A beat, and he bears his teeth in something that might be a grin, bitter and filled with grief.]

First and only lie I ever told. First time I ever cried over someone, too.

[Admittedly, he doesn't know what he expects. That maybe Greed will back out, but he won't, because he's not Pride. He does what he wants, what he truly wants, inside and out. If that's true, then terribly it means that Greed put everything into making sure Adrian was as far from him as possible to keep him safe.

And it's-- shitty, and he almost hopes that it's just Greed being an asshole, but it isn't that simple and it never was. It never could be, because Greed is clever and complex, and he's always known that. It was just easier to be angry and hate something as simple as being used.

But it isn't. And he can hear the sincerity.

Adrian had wept privately then, but he can't exactly resist the way tears come out now.]

Fuck you.

[It tells him that Greed is serious, apologizing and explaining and how raw and genuine he is. He appreciates it, hates it--

He just wants to be angry with him, but he can't.]

[He truly doesn't know what to do. Whatever Adrian wants, yeah, but if that's to be alone or to be held, he truly doesn't know, and it seems as though things will break if he picks wrong. Touch him, maybe, and he'll lash out, but run away and surely he'll see it as Greed doing the same damn thing all over again.]

I know.

[It's soft. He hesitates-- and then, slowly, his fingers brush up against Adrian's arm. It's an invitation for more, but god, he won't take. Not right now.]

I missed you.

[This time, Adrian doesn't jerk away from the touch. With a shudder, he's roughly rubbing away tears, his head tipping down and not wanting to look at Greed like this.]

I missed you, too.

[And he doesn't want to admit that, but it's true. He's missed Greed, he's wanted him close and near when he needed it most. But he can never get that time back.]

[Cautiously, carefully, his touch firms. Fingers sweep over his arm, his shoulder, over his back as he steps in closer.]

Every day. Every single day . . .

[His fingers stroke lightly against the fine fabric of his shirt, smoothing it flat against his back, feeling the heat of Adrian's breath against his throat, near enough to be felt. Near enough he could gather him up, if he really wanted, but he doesn't dare, not just yet.]

Stay with me. Just for a while.

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