#endless pining

[mechandra]

I’m just a cartoon cat

[pink-wasteland]

The sun was just about to drag itself over the horizon when Otabek hung up his phone.

Damn. Trouble at home meant he would have to fly back to khazakstan and cut this little vacation short.

He looked out the window to catch the sun glinting back at him, waving good morning. A picturesque view, handpicked out of many Airbnb listings by Yuri just for them. Otabek thought they’d have a weeks worth of chances to watch the sunrise together. If he knew today would be the first and only one he would have made breakfast with the weeks worth of food they had just bought. Maybe he still has time to make something before..

“Otabek?”

His voice is soft, muffled by the wall separating the small living room to the even smaller bedroom, but Otabek hears him anyways. So small it only takes him five strides to make it to the bedroom threshold, and seven to round the corner and see Yuri; red in the face with marks from the folds of sheets and considerable bed head; half sitting up in the mattress they shared last night. Otabek watches Yuri brighten, looking as if he had been woken up by Otabeks absence and wanted him back. Without breaking stride Otabek slips back into bed and wraps his arm around Yuri, his heart melting into honey already. Something poked at his brain “This is a perfect moment! You should kiss him now!” Otabeks brain nag was right, this was a perfect time. Perfectly domestic and natural. Almost like he hasn’t been searching for moments like these since they exchanged numbers at worlds.

Otabek pulls himself up slightly, Yuri’s body slides against him, and he moves his hand to cup Yuri’s cheek...

And gets a snore directly to the face.

Otabek slouches back, comedically defeated. So much for the perfect moment.

“Ah well, another one will come soon enough.” a more soothing voice tells him.

———-

Yuri wants to explore the area so they go out to eat at the breakfast and lunch only cafe close by. Otabek tries not to think about the food in the fridge.

They place their orders, hand over their menus and Otabek is left again to think about how he should tell Yuri he’s leaving tomorrow morning. Just a little over one day out of their carefully planned, made months in advance, just them in a place with no one else they know for the first time ever, vacation. His hear ached just thinking about it. He had been on cloud nine for the past month just anticipating this trip with Yuri. Anxious of course, but the idea that Yuri wanted to spend this kind of quality time with him had sent him into a happy daze that could still put a smile on his face in public if he thought about it too hard. And this morning had been... something. Yuri had woken up again, still cuddled against him, nuzzled his nose into Otabeks neck, and whispered “good morning” in his ear. Otabek could already feel his skin prickling, tingling with the feeling of another anticipated moment. Otabek was reaching for his waist when Yuri’s stomach growled, loudly. And then Yuri almost as loudly proclaimed he wanted to go out to eat.

So here they were. And there was no way getting around it, Otabek could not seem to get the timing right for these perfect moments.

“What’s wrong?” Yuri asks, leaning close to the table, recently removed back nail polished fingernails tapping on the spot directly between them. His eyes are intense, trying to read him before he can even decide to come clean

“I got a phone call from my mother this morning. It wasn’t good news.”

“Is it your grandmother?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry.” His reaction was honest, a selfless first thought. A different Yuri than the one he had befriended and he felt lucky to know both. “You’re going to have to leave, aren’t you?”

Otabek sighs, honest and ill-mannered because Yuri isn’t the only one who has changed. “Yes. I’m so sorry, I was so looking forward to this vacation with you.” Otabek brings up his hand and offers it across the table. “Forgive me?”

Yuri takes it, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth. “You don’t need to apologize, family is the most important thing.”

Otabeks heart warms again. This is something he was so glad Yuri understood. Family was the epicenter of his life and sometimes explaining why he would drop anything just to help them was hard. Nothing had ever been more important than family and he would be there for them no matter what the cost. And that was something Yuri and he agreed upon. Family is irreplaceable.

“It is too bad about the apartment thought, I really did like the view. And I wanted to hike around the mountains here.”

“Why don’t you stay for another day or two? Explore the area, you can go-“

“There’s really no point though if you’re leaving. I won’t be interested if you’re not here.”

Otabeks ears heated and he was glad their plates of food interrupted them. The statement was simple enough, and if Otabek really wanted to go down that path he could say Yuri had made far more provoking ones, but there was something about this trip. Maybe it was their proximity; always close, because unlike the other times they traveled together, they had no mutual acquaintances to create buffer space. The well manicured front they put up for the public eye no longer needed. Otabek must just be on edge.

“When are you leaving?” He asked later, most of their food finished.

Otabek sighed again, “later tonight”

Yuri looked more crushed than he expected and Otabek kicks himself for not lying to his mother about finding a same day flight. Family was important, but Otabek likes to think of Yuri as his family too.

“Oh.”

He’s reaching across the table again, “I’m sorry Yura, I’ll make it up to you I promise.”

Yuri smiles, one of those small smiles he’s never seen him give to anyone but Otabek, and Otabeks heart floats up from where it had sunk in his belly. “You’d better.”

Otabek gives him the smile he saves especially for Yuri, “I will, I promise.”

———-

Later on; when they had packed up the stuff they had had the chance to take out, and asked the neighbor across the hall if she and her two little kids would like the food in their fridge, and had cuddled more than significant amount of time on the couch for two people who are supposedly platonic; Otabeks Uber pulls up. Yuri looks so sad Otabek could hardly bare the guilt. He begs Yuri to forgive him, and he does everytime. Assuring him there is nothing to apologize for, things happen and he hopes Otabek would be safe traveling. Otabek clings to Yuri’s arm, wishing for more but not knowing how to ask for it.

Yuri hugs him close, arms around his shoulders and Otabek can feel the brush of Yuri’s fingertips on his neck. “I’ll see you again soon. Don’t worry Beka, go take care of your family.”

Otabek swells with gratitude, and knots their little fingers together, “I promise it will be soon.”

Yuri’s smile is bittersweet when he pulls away, Yuri’s hand not falling when he lets go. “Be safe Beka, good luck.”

“You too.” He doesn’t dare say goodbye.

Neither does Yuri.

Otabek is about to turn his back when Yuri almost yells, “I’m going to miss you.”

Otabeks world seems to tilt. And he can’t quite explain why. They often admit to missing the other, but for some reason... for some reason this one feels like a confession.

Otabeks face flushes red to match Yuri’s. “I’m going to miss you too, so much.”

Yuris wearing that smile just for him as he loads up his suitcase, climbs in the car, and is still wearing it as Otabek waves goodbye through the rear view. He slumps back in his seat and sighs. Too many what ifs weigh on him, so instead he opens up Airbnb and starts searching.

[bipercabeth]

original characters | 1500 words | commissioned by @lizzybizzyo 

There is a moment just after Astoria wakes where she is still dreaming. She hears the click of her door, the hesitant footfalls echoing across her chambers, but it’s like her head is underwater. Here, the world is still soft at the edges, still in the haze between consciousness and sleep, between late night and early morning.

The pain in Astoria’s abdomen demands attention before she can devote it to the woman standing at her bedside. Astoria’s eyes flutter open and find her stomach freshly bandaged—someone must’ve changed them while she slept. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

Gravity pulls Astoria’s eyes to the center of the room, where Emera stands wearing an expression Astoria has never seen: wide eyes, furrowed brows, parted lips. Fear. 

“You didn’t,” Astoria half-lies. Her injury would have woken her, anyway. Waking up to Emera is far more pleasant.

Astoria attempts to sit up, determined to close the space between them. 

“Stop, you’re injured,” Emera frets, sitting gingerly on the bed and resting a hand on Astoria’s shoulder. “I’m here.” 

Those simple words make Astoria’s heart rate double, and she sits despite Emera’s protest. Perhaps she can blame her reddening cheeks on the pain. 

Emera’s hand burns into Astoria’s skin, her palm hotter than usual. That’s not to say that Astoria has Emera’s temperature memorized, given how rarely their skin touches, but she does her best to memorize little pieces of the woman in front of her. How the corners of her mouth twitch when she tries to hide a smile, how she glows brighter with each day they grow closer, how her shoulders never quite relax until the two of them are alone. And, yes, perhaps Astoria cherishes the cruelly brief moments Emera’s hands have spent on her body enough to make a mental note of their temperature. Those hands will be her undoing. 

Her eyes are drawn to Emera’s other hand, helpless in the wake of her wanting, and they widen over what they find in it. 

The journal rests in the palm of Emera’s hand, hidden in bound pages and a leather spine. All those hours researching ways to keep Emera alive while the truth burns in Astoria’s chest, and now she has brought the answer to Astoria’s chamber. Surely this means she knows. 

Yet Astoria still can’t find the words. They are stolen from her throat, inscribed on the pages Emera holds. The Sun and the Moon ruling together, bound by a force no man could understand. The life of the first Sun to burn out is inked on those pages, penned by Astoria’s predecessor: the meeting, the loving, the living, the burning, the mourning. 

Emera is Astoria’s, and if Emera asked, Astoria would be hers. She is already hers. 

If Emera wants to ask, she will. This is still too much for Astoria to push, even with the truth so close to the light. 

Astoria wrenches her eyes away from the journal to meet Emera’s eyes, which blaze despite the soft caress of moonlight. There is a triumphant gleam in them when she holds the book up, raising an eyebrow with the movement. 

When Astoria makes no move to respond, the triumphant facade fades to something a little more scared, a little more earnest. The dichotomy could only find a fitting home on Emera’s face, fear etched between her brows, conviction in the set line of her mouth. 

“Is this what we are?” Emera asks breathlessly. “Is this why I’m drawn to you, why I can’t help but stare at the full moon? Why I can’t help but feel empty when I look up and there’s nothing? Is that what this is? Is that what we are?” 

Moonlight trickles through the window, highlighting the space between them and how the truth fits in it. Astoria knows she cannot lie after a direct question. Not with Emera looking at her like that, like she wants her. 

And so her response comes out quietly, a soft “Yes” that Astoria doesn’t know what to do with. The hardest part is yet to come. After all of this, Emera could still not want her. She could still burn out. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Emera asks, half-hurt and half-relieved.

“I wanted you to choose it—choose me. You’ve had so much taken from you already. I wanted to be the thing you choose for yourself.”

“Wanted?” 

“Want.” 

“And yet you never gave me this? I know you’ve read it.” Emera tilts her head, her earrings swinging and catching Astoria’s eyes. It’s easier than meeting Emera’s piercing gaze. She knows the truth, but she wants to hear it. 

Astoria looks her in the eye. “If I didn’t want you to find that journal, you wouldn’t have found it.” 

“But I did,” Emera presses. 

“And that was no accident. I just couldn’t give it to you myself.” 

Emera nods, turning the journal in her hands. “What if I hadn’t found it in time?”

“What?” 

“What if I lost too much light before finding this? A fire left untended burns out slowly, but it burns out just the same.” 

“I have been tending it for many moons, Emera,” Astoria confesses. “You will not burn out so long as I burn too.” 

The confession should feel bigger than it does, but it’s eclipsed by the weight of Emera’s hand finding Astoria’s, cradling it as her brown eyes fix on the bandages Astoria is set on ignoring. 

“Then don’t run into the line of fire,” Emera says. “I do not expect to outlive you— I don’t want to outlive you.” 

Astoria tries to interrupt, but Emera squeezes her hand and gives her a look that silences her. 

“My entire life, it has always been you. As a child, I would stare out at the ocean and watch the tide come in until the sun rose. It felt… right, watching the sun and the moon share the sky, no matter how brief it was. I don’t want to share the sky with anyone else. To look up and not see you on a new moon is unsettling enough—I can’t imagine looking up and seeing someone other than you.

“The moon brings me home. I was loved, cared for, safe. And then I was Blessed. I didn’t think I’d ever feel those things again.

“But then I saw you under the stars and Goddess, I felt that pull, like a child watching the tide. Or maybe I was the water drawn to you. Either way, I’m— I just…” 

Emera leans forward and presses her lips to Astoria’s, and the world stops.

Her lips are soft, gentle: the first beams of light glimmering in the sky, signaling sunrise. Their hands remain clasped between them, where Emera can surely feel Astoria’s heart beating out of her chest.

Emera’s other hand cradles Astoria’s cheek, the journal lost somewhere in the sheets as her thumb traces sweet circles. Everything is warm and soft like the first daybreak of summer; Astoria sees future seasons laid out in front of them for the first time without seeds of fear planted in her chest. 

Her life will not be a lonely one. 

They part for air, resting their foreheads against each other, unwilling to part now that they’ve allowed themselves to get close. The waxing moon fills Astoria’s chamber’s with inevitability and the potential to be more. Everything is changing, growing, expanding. 

Astoria looks at her hand in Emera’s, both of them glowing brighter where they touch. She feels full. 

Their eyes meet, genuine happiness shining in them. And something else, too, if they are brave enough to name it. 

“I choose you,” Emera exhales against her lips. “In any phase, in any century, I choose you.” 

It’s the first time Emera has referred to the time she has left as anything other than days. Astoria is helpless to do anything but pull Emera to her, cupping her face with both hands. 

This kiss is certain, every reassuring touch and prolonged stare pouring into an effortless push and pull that rivals the tide. All the promises they never made for fear of time breaking them fill the room, the kingdom, the sky. They can give that to each other now. 

“I choose you too,” Astoria sighs against Emera’s mouth. She can feel the corners of Emera’s mouth twitch before turning upward in a full smile, and then the two of them are too busy beaming to kiss. 

The sun chooses that moment to break the horizon, that first ray of light shining straight through Astoria’s window. Emera’s skin glows in the light, brighter than she’s ever been. 

Astoria tears her eyes away long enough to watch the sun dawn, joining the moon in the sky for what feels like the first time. Men have always said that if you watch the sunrise so many times, it fails to move you, but Astoria has watched them far more than any of them. Still, she never tires of it. Each day washes over her like a new beginning. 

She looks back at Emera and knows she will never tire of it.

[ancientcitylullaby]

Eyy

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Endless pining?

No | rather not | I dunno | I guess | Sure | Yes | FUCK yes | Oh god you don’t even know |

Look, I'm all for pining. Pining is great. You can get a lot of drama and softness out of pining, but it is a tension that needs to be resolved. Even if one does not reciprocate the other's feelings, the tension has to release and both have to move on. Endless pining is not cathartic and I don't like it.

[ericbroflovski]

not to be a freak but every waking moment of my life im consumed by thoughts of kyle and cartman growing up and living separate lives in far apart cities and gazing out the window during the day thinking of each other and then meeting again for the first time in years and realizing how much they missed being around each other but not being able to admit it