It’s Not Just Pretend Anymore
Caden Fluff!!! Look I promised, now I’m delivering! I guess I gotta make up for That Scene, yes? If you haven’t read it, you can find it here
Tag List: @reeseweston @forlornraven @ofvisitorsthefairest @cirianne @indecentpause @lady-redshield-writes @reining-in-the-fire-writing (as always let me know to be added or removed)
Caden hovered in the door listening to the melody Nathaniel coaxed from the piano. He could have stood there forever, content to get lost in the music. But, as beautiful as it was, he couldn’t let it continue, fearing the sound might attract unwanted company. He moved further into the room just as the clouds shifted and the space was bathed in silver light from the moon. Caden cleared his throat and the music faded.
“I'm not in the mood for another fight,” Nathaniel said, barely turning his head towards Caden. He dropped his hands to his lap, tapping a silent rhythm against his knee.
Caden hesitated. He took a deep, calming breath and closed the gap between them. Without a word, Nathaniel slid across the bench making room on the once polished wood. Caden accepted his invitation and sat, resting his fingers lightly on the keys.
Nathaniel watched his movements with unnerving intensity. “Do you play?”
“No, I’ve only seen one of these before. Mas – Montgomery, he had a – well, you know.” He pushed lightly on the keys, making no sound. “I used to listen to you. It always seemed so enchanting, even when it was just a simple tune.”
“I could teach you if you'd like?” Nathaniel shifted, turning his body towards Caden, their knees brushing under the piano.
Caden laughed. It was harsher than he'd meant but Nathaniel appeared not to notice. Clearing his throat, he muttered, “I think it's a little late for that.”
Despite the darkness, Caden saw the smile tugging at the edge of Nathaniel’s lips. It was barely a ghost of a smile, though no less infectious, and he couldn’t help but return the gesture.
“It’s never too late. Look.” With confidence Caden envied, Nate caught his left hand and positioned it on the keys. Placing his own over Caden’s he pressed each finger, filling the room with music again.
It was a broken version of the melody he’d heard moments ago, but Caden couldn’t focus on that. Instead, his eyes fixed on Nate. He was different like this. In the city they’d played pretend, a happy couple for the masses to see. In the Glitch they were constantly on guard, danger ever present. But here, in the relative safety of an abandoned house, the tension in Nate’s shoulders had eased.
“How’s your hand?” Caden slid his hand from beneath Nate’s, running his thumb gently over the bruise already spreading on Nate’s knuckles.
Nate shrugged. “How’s your face?” He pulled his hand back, examining the bruise. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hit you.”
“I should be the one apologising. You were right, I let my emotions cloud my judgment.”
The clouds shifted again, and moonlight streamed through the windows in front of them. The silver light illuminating Nate just enough for Caden to see Nate’s eyes linger on his forearm. The black ink of the tattoo begged to be spoken of, yet Caden never could find the right words.
“I’m sorry I pushed you into this,” Nate said, his voice soft.
Caden ran his thumb over the ink, still not entirely used to its presence. “You couldn’t push me into anything, Nathaniel. I chose this.” I chose you, he wanted to add but stopped when he saw Nate shaking his head.
“Marriage was my idea. You made it clear you didn’t want to, but I pushed. I should have tried harder, I should have-”
“Should have bought me?” Caden reached across the minute gap between them, taking Nate’s hands in his own. “Montgomery would have bled you dry.”
“But this, what we’re doing … two people who aren’t in love shouldn’t be married.”
Nate tugged his hand free, turning away. Caden’s empty hand hung in the air a moment longer before dropping to the bench. “Does that really matter?”
“Yes.” Nate stood abruptly, moving to stand by the windows, his back to Caden. “Maybe not to you, but most people find it ideal when the person they like reciprocates on some level.”
Caden froze, his eyes wide and lingering on Nate. He’d thought maybe – despite the messed-up circumstances of their partnership – the two of them could be friends. The idea of loving anyone again, of making himself that vulnerable?
Caden followed Nate, slower than he would have liked, but he was aware the situation called for a gentler approach. He wasn’t sure how he felt, he only knew he felt something. If it was something more, and he ruined it now he’d never forgive himself.
Stopping in front of Nate, Caden brought a hand up under Nate’s chin, drawing his attention away from the overgrown scenery. He paused. He’d never noticed how dark Nate’s eyes were before and he’d have been content to stay, frozen, like that for the rest of eternity. But his mind had other ideas. Moving before he could stop himself, Caden lowered his lips to Nate’s, brushing ever so gently against them before Nathaniel wound his arms around Caden’s neck, pulling him closer.
Time became meaningless in that moment. All Caden could focus on was the weight of Nate’s arms on his shoulders, the warmth of his breath, and the softness of his lips. Nathaniel’s lips.
Caden stopped. His heart clenched painfully in his chest.
Pulling away from Nathaniel’s hold, he backed up towards the piano, putting distance between them again.
“Caden?” Nathaniel frowned, taking a tentative step forward. Caden moved back two.
“I – I’m sorry. I can’t.” He strode towards the door.
“Because of Thomas?” Nathaniel’s words hit him harder than any infected ever had. He heard Nathaniel moving behind him and attempted to track him across the room. “You’re allowed to let yourself feel again, you know.”
Caden shook his head, turning around he stumbled into the doorframe. Nathaniel was closer than he’d thought, barely a foot between them. Caden steadied his shaking hands against the decaying wood and whispered. “No.”
“Caden –” Nathaniel reached for him, slower this time. Caden allowed Nathaniel to rest a gentle hand against his cheek.
He leaned into the touch, wrapping his fingers around Nathaniel’s wrist holding him there. “Imagine you lost the one person who – who taught you to be human again, who taught you what it meant to truly feel for another person.”
“You can have that again. It isn’t something reserved for one person.”
“I know. And maybe … maybe someday.” He pulled Nathaniel’s hand away and released him. “I’m sorry.” He turned on his heel and left, fighting the urge to go back.
