sleepytimejunction | ❧ open rp

[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.

[Slowly, Adrian curls against him, like he had in the past, as if trying to get lost in his warmth. In silence, tears roll down his face, but he quivers faintly against Greed.

It's frightening, he thinks, to give so much of himself like this, but hell he wants it, he wants it bad enough it almost hurts him.]

I will.

[He's slow to wrap his arms around him. Not because he doesn't want to, but because he's so scared of taking too much too quickly and frightening him away. But as he moves and Adrian curls against him, he pulls him in closer, until at last he's curled up within the shelter of his arms, pulled up against his chest. He tips his head down, brushing his lips very gently against the top of his head.]

Hey . . . hey, hey . . .

[They're meaningless noises, more hushing and soothing than anything real, as his hand runs over his back and he stares at nothing.]

[With how cautious Greed is being is enough to settle some of Adrian's fears. He shudders, curling against his chest, letting out a strained, miserable noise, afraid and wanting.]

Touch my hair. Like you used to.

Please.

[An easy request to fulfill. Greed shifts, his fingers curling just slightly as he pushes them through Adrian's hair. It's longer, he thinks faintly-- and obviously, of course it is, he'd known that from the moment he'd seen Adrian, but it's one thing to see it and another to feel it.

Soft hair, and his fingers sliding through it as easy as anything, combing it back, hunched over just slightly as if that might help him better surround his Adrian. (And it is his Adrian, it's always been his Adrian, whether the man in question knew it or not).

He's quiet for a while. Pretends he doesn't hear those muffled sounds of grief, nor feels his chest growing a little damper. Just stands there, stroking his hair rhythmically, hoping it helps.

Eventually, his voice still pitched low:]

You wanna lie down?

[Gratefully, Greed doesn't say anything awhile and... it is rather convincing that he is being genuine in all of it. Slowly, his doubts melt away, though not all of them at once. It helps, in any case.

The fingers in his hair are no different than his memories, save for how much longer the length has become. It's comforting, it always was, and he appreciates it now.

At the question, he nods mutely.]

All right.

[Despite his idiocy, despite his stubbornness, he isn't entirely stupid. He knows, deep down, that things aren't going to be the same. No matter that this, right now, feels like old times; things aren't just as they were. They can't be. There's got to be more to it, fights and tears and harsh words, loath as he is to hear them all.

But Adrian is worth it.

Anyway. That comes later. For now: he tugs him over to his bed. Slides the sheets back, kicks off his boots; tugs the curtains around it half-closed as he climbs in next to him. It's nice and contained that way, close without being entirely claustrophobic. And yet the window is open, the summer evening air slipping in, leaving him pleasantly chilled as he gathers Adrian up again.

There's a tension in his body, because truthfully, he doesn't know what's going to happen next. He knows what he wants (Adrian, his again), but god knows how they'll get there. If they'll get there, or if after all the tears Adrian will straighten up and tell him politely that he can't do this again.

His fingers resume their stroking through his hair, and now Greed sighs, a little more obvious about how he curls back up against Adrian. He's not the only miserable one here, truthfully.]

[For his part, Adrian nudges his boots off as well, because he isn't a rude heathen. It takes some squirming, but he also pushes out of his ornate coat before he settles back against Greed. All of it is familiar like this, sans the weeping, which he isn't happy about but it was inevitable.

Hesitantly, he places his arm back around Greed's waist. He has missed this, so much, and he had wished so much that he could have fallen back onto him when the tragedy of Lisa and Dracula occurred. But there's no changing the past, and they both had their own demons to deal with metaphorically.

He's warm. Just as warm as he remembers, and he's missed it.]

[It's easy to fall into a lulled rhythm. Stroking his hair, his eyes half-closed, feeling Adrian's body slowly relax, his tears slowly abating. He could spend the rest of the night like this, he thinks, or at least the next few hours.

Eventually, his hand drifts down, moving from his hair to cup Adrian's cheek, tipping his head up. His thumb brushes over his cheek, and he smiles faintly.]

You gonna bite my nose off if I try and kiss you?

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