Heart Exchange
It was time to do something. For months now Snail had been hanging around, almost torturing him with this game of “try to guess what we are”, and it infuriated him. So he had to make the move. He had to push for more than this friends with benefits situation.
His reflection looked terrified for a moment. But he took a deep breath, and straightened out his tie. He’d been through this before. The worst case scenario couldn’t be too bad when you’re already numb to it, right? And he was numb. Of course he was. Why wouldn’t he be? It would be fine.
The doorbell rang, and he rushed down the stairs to go answer it. As expected, Snail stood there, dressed how they usually were even though he asked them to dress up a little. Actually no, they had a little clip-on bowtie on their shirt.
“Cute,” he muttered, already tired. But of course, he really didn’t expect much else. “It wouldn’t kill you to look nice every once in a while.”
“You don’t know that,” they countered with a grin. Then their eyes moved past him, and a frown took over. “Uh, why’s your house lit like a horror movie?”
“God, it’s mood lighting, you prick,” he hissed as he stepped aside to let them in. “I made dinner for us. Daniyal isn’t home, so I thought I’d do something a little special. But I guess you wouldn’t know romance if it dropped right on your thick skull like a brick.”
They had brushed past him, but they froze in place. “Romance…?”
Fuck.
“C’mon,” he rushed out and grabbed their hand to drag them along. “I don’t want the food getting cold.”
He sat down in his place, ready to dig into the soup he had made for himself. Though he carefully watched as Snail slowly sat down, eyes locked onto their own plate like they couldn’t believe what they were seeing.
“You made me a burger,” they said, one eyebrow raised up at him. “What is this, turkey, or tofu, or some shit?”
“Pure beef,” he answered honestly. “You can check the fridge, I still have some leftover.”
A single fry was held up gently between their fingers. “And you actually fried these?”
“Happened to buy a little fryer a week ago,” he replied, eyes now firmly on his own food. “Figured I’d make some use out of it.”
The silence spoke for them. Bullshit.
“Anyway,” he said before they could call him out, “give it a try. I did my best, so you better like it.”
That wasn’t at all what he wanted to say. Damn his stupid fucking mouth, why couldn’t it just work for him for once? Oh well, no use in dwelling on it.
He risked a glance over at them, and wasn’t surprised that they had already taken a huge bite out of it. Carefully, he watched their face. Doubt. Confusion. Realization…
And pure delight. They instantly lit up in a way he’d only seen when he bought them some garbage fast food they really liked. And, well, he would’ve taken that as an insult if they weren’t so damn happy.
“This is really fucking good,” they praised with their mouth half full, already going in for a second bite.
Oh. His heart skipped a beat, and he had to put a hand to his chest to keep it from leaping out. Something about them changed in that moment. He didn’t quite know what, but he wanted to see more of it. He wanted to cook for them more and make all the foods they liked. Just to see that look on their face again.
“Uh, can I help you?”
“I- what?” Daniel instantly tensed up, straightening his back out even though he didn’t even quite realize he had relaxed so much. “No?”
“Well, you were staring at me,” they teased with The Grin on their smug face. “Guess you just can’t get enough, huh?”
“No,” he softly said before his brain could effectively keep his mouth closed. “I can’t.”
That shut them up. It was almost funny how their eyes grew wide, disbelieving. It was almost funny, and… A little sad?
No matter. Dinner passed by in a comfortable flash after that, with just small chatter about both their respective days. Which was mostly the two of them griping about the idiots they both had to deal with at work.
“There’s no fucking way someone can be that stupid,” Daniel said incredulously. “You can’t ask for something then say that’s not what you wanted! Who the fuck does that?”
“Too many fucking people!” Snail huffed and popped their last fry into their mouth. “It’s such bullshit. I hate clients.”
Daniel then realized that the two of them had been engrossed in conversation a little too long. With a curse, he shot out of his seat and grabbed Snail’s hand so he could drag them off to the living room. After he gestured for them to sit down- which they did with a look that screamed I think you’ve gone crazy, but whatever- he grabbed the remote, and sure enough…
“Fuck, it’s over!”
Credits rolled across the screen. He huffed and plopped down next to Snail. If he could make the TV explode with just his glare, it most certainly would’ve happened right then.
Snail leaned forward. “Don’t you hate this show?”
“Yeah, but you like it,” he muttered, putting his head in his hands. It felt like his whole plan was falling apart, even though, reasonably, he knew it wasn’t a big deal. “And this whole night is about you.”
“...It is?”
He sighed and dropped his hands into his lap. This was too soon. He wasn’t ready, but what else could he do?
“Yeah, it is. I wanted this to be a great night for you. Food you like, your favorite show, a good fuck. And then… I’d give you something important.”
Snail tried finding looking at him for answer, eyebrows furrowed together. It was like they almost knew what was going to happen. But they couldn’t, right? That would be the last thing on their mind, he knew that.
But still, he took a deep breath. His heart raced. Then slowly, almost hesitantly, he let it free, shaping it into the world. It hurt, just from how many times he’d done this already. His own hands felt too hot, too rough against it. Each dark, ugly scar ached and stung with just the tiniest brush against them. He sure was numb to this, huh?
He turned to Snail, eyes locked onto his heart, and presented it to them. “I’m not perfect. Far from it... But I want to be yours.”
A long moment passed. Then a cool touch settled around his heart, gently pulling it from the terrible safety of his hold. He dared to look up at them, and almost broke at the look on their face.
“I…” They took in a shaky breath, thumbs sweeping across his heart. “Daniel, fuck.”
“You don’t have to accept it,” he assured them, hands now in his lap. “I can live with another scar. It’s really not a big deal.”
That only made the look on their face more pitying. Up until that moment, they had carefully maneuvered around every scar- both the huge gashes and the hairline knicks. But then they gently cradled his heart in one hand, and delicately put a finger to one of the dark lines curving along the edge. Not big or small, but somewhere in the middle. Their eyes were curious.
A shiver ran through him. And with no other choice, he let out a sigh. “Slept with a close friend in college. We were… Looking for very different things.”
Snail let out a soft “oh”. Then they looped their arm around him and pulled him flush against their side, then their hand went right back into position, tracing along and soothing every little line it came across. He practically melted against them, and softly explained each scar. A girl he had gone on a couple dates with that wasn’t too interested, a month-long relationship that ended- albeit on more friendly terms. With each scar Snail touched, they unlocked another story about an idiot who fell far too easily for his own good.
After god only knew how long of talking, they settled on the last scar. The darkest mark on him. It stretched across from top to bottom like a bolt of lightning, jagged lines branching off to fill more space. Even with their careful touch, that one stung just a bit.
“I…” It had been years, why was he choking up? “Fuck, I don’t think I can…”
“You don’t have to,” they said in the most understanding tone he’d ever heard from them. “But if you want to… I think… Fuck, I don’t know.”
A long pause of silence passed. His mouth lost function in that time, but his thoughts raced by a mile a minute. If they stuck around this long, then this wouldn’t drive them away, right?
“I fell in love with the person who helped start my show,” he finally said. The memories almost flashed before his eyes, like an old home movie. Memories he tried locking away. “While I was an intern, they found my ideas and… Gave me my big break. And they were just so kind, so generous, I couldn’t help it. So I gave them my heart, obviously.”
“They sure didn’t treat it well,” Snail muttered bitterly as they ran their finger a long one of the scar’s branches.
“They tried their best,” he insisted, because of course they did. Why wouldn’t they? It was his heart. “But they wouldn’t give me theirs in return. They wanted me to focus on my career first.”
Snail grew a little stiff.
“Anyway, after the show started airing, I… Got a little full of myself. I wanted to fight the decisions they made, the ones I didn’t like. Overblown guests, topics I didn’t care about, segments that just drove me crazy. And they… Didn’t like it.”
A thrum of fear surged through his heart, which Snail no doubt noticed. They held it close to his chest, as if trying to comfort it. “What did they do to you?”
“Nothing,” he answered, but his heart gave away his doubt. “They got pissed, of course. And they yelled, tried to make me see reason. And afterwards, well… I had made them so angry, they slipped up. Accidents happen, I get that.”
The arm around him tightened.
“After a couple years, I made them so angry that they gave my heart back and left,” he finally finished in a rush. “So, there. That’s it, you know my story.”
“...You don’t get a scar like that from accidents.”
That… Was not what he wanted to hear.
“What the fuck do you know!?” he snapped pulling away from them. “They didn’t do anything on purpose, if that’s what you’re trying to say. They cared about me, more than you fucking do! God, just give me my fucking heart back if you’re gonna be like this!”
Despite his anger, his heart only grew more fearful, as if it didn’t want to go back to him. And maybe it didn’t. Maybe he wanted them to keep it, but… Fuck, how could they even think that?
Snail glared at him, hands tightening around his heart. Then they set it on their lap, and took a deep breath, hands cupped in front of them. Slowly, a purple heart filled in.
A purple, scarred heart. Almost exactly like his.
“My last relationship before you was the worst thing to ever happen to me,” they said, voice low. “Mike was an asshole. He took my heart and didn’t give me his. And when he couldn’t control my body, he…”
Daniel grew cold. No, that couldn’t be right. But the scars, that broken look on their face. He didn’t want to believe that anyone could hurt Snail like that, but… Everything said otherwise. So he reached out, hands together, silently beckoning for Snail’s heart. As soon as it was dropped into his hands, he pulled it close, hands as gentle as they could be.
“You were abused,” he said under his breath.
“Yeah,” they sighed out, with his heart back in their hands. “I sure fuckin’ was.”
He pulled Snail’s heart away form himself just to get a closer look. The dark purple lines looked like they were begging for comfort, for someone to just reassure them that everything would be okay. And he could feel Snail’s eyes on him, as if they were ready to snatch it back if he made the wrong move. But could he blame them?
A light touch. Just to test the waters. Snail gasped and had the most visceral reaction he’d ever seen. He quickly pulled his hand away and asked, “Fuck, sorry, did that hurt?”
“No,” they answered, voice strained. “Shit, I just… I’m not used to it feeling like that. It’s… Nice? Fuck, I don’t know.”
His finger went back to the scar, feather-light. It had been an eternity since he held someone else’s heart, he almost forgot what it was like. Soft and warm, but almost as if nothing was there. Hearts were odd. On another plane of existence. But he didn’t care about that philosophical bullshit.
A touch on his own heart surprised him, making a shiver run down his spine. But he kept up his soothing ministrations. After a moment, he even lifted it up closer to his mouth, so he could sing softly to it. A little love song he heard in passing a couple days ago. It had gotten stuck in his head and now he just had to get it out. Their heart thrummed quietly in his hands, making him almost grin.
“The hell are you doing?” Snail asked, giving him a side-eye.
“Some hearts like it when you sing to them.” He pressed a light kiss to it for good measure, then smiled to himself. “Guess yours is one.”
That incredulous look on their face softened. Then, unfortunately, his eyes were drawn to his heart. The scars stood out to him even more now. You don’t get a scar like that from accidents. But they had to be wrong about that.
He looked back to their heart. And it hit him that they couldn’t be. They’d know. Without a shadow of a doubt, they’d know about scars like that. About abuse. What it’s like to be used and manipulated, living in fear of the person you love. And apparently, now he knew too.
“Daniel… Are you crying?”
Well, shit. He sure was. He wiped away the tears with the back of his sleeve, then let out a deep sigh. “I won’t hurt you like he did. Fucking hell, I’m going to keep your heart as safe as I can, Snail.” His finger trailed along one one the unmarked patches of their heart. “I promise. I don’t want to be another scar for you. Just… Please, don’t be one for me too?”
The way his own voice cracked made him wince. But Snail pulled him onto their lap, so they could hold him close. He could feel the firm grip they had on his heart. Like a promise.
“I won’t.”