@scarburnt sent: "There is no one else in this life for me but you." / gary
At the best and worst of times. Garrett needn’t choose when to open up his heart and let its blood flow. A soft smile beneath tired eyes was the sight V had bestowed his lover’s vision, his every fiber pleased and adoring in spite of the hungry breaths he was taking, the grime sticking to his face, and the odor wafting over them from the multiple Behemoth carcasses that lined the road only a handful of yards away. “Ever the sentimentalist.” As lighthearted as he’d made that sound, he couldn’t have said anything that pointed to their mutual love more. As a matter of language, sure, there were a hundred ways V could have returned the sentiment, but the fact that he didn’t, the fact that he’d a world of confidence in Garrett and himself, and in their bond, afforded him the courage to express those feelings through a fond humor. The look in his eyes was more than telling; V need not always say so much.
Given that his heart was tender now, he was at some loss anyway. V’s gaze did, in fact, not persist for long when he ultimately faced forward, eyeing one of the carcasses to tame himself. But he was still smiling, Garrett was smiling, and he could feel that devil’s attention solely, completely on him. Good lord, the warlock was blushing like a little fool. How weak! Adrenaline was fading since the battle ended; V might have attributed his bashfulness to the languid void left in its stead, but he knew painfully better.
They could have been wading through the depths of Hell and Garrett would say something sweet, and it would have affected V the same way. He knew that it would. For that reason, if for no other, V would admit without hesitation that there was no one in this life for him but Garrett Nolan. The sentiment was a blade that cut both ways. V would gladly bleed from that wound. He knew, at least, that Garrett had been bleeding just a little while ago, but to no one’s surprise his injuries had healed promptly. Peridots returned to blue upon remembering that. No less tired, no less fond. Sitting against concrete had become a small pain, however. “You wear your heart on your sleeve and it bleeds. It bleeds on me, and it stains, and...I have never been more grateful for feelings that are not mine,” he replied at last. Now, there was a sobriety to his air and a solemnity to his brow. “I mean, another’s feelings. Yet, feelings that I feel in my own way. Reciprocal. That’s I mean.” It wasn’t like him, a man so enthusiastic over poetry, to find himself short of words and not knowing how to use the ones he did have. Perhaps that was born out of a prevailing sense of inadequacy and a desire to give back in equal measure that which was received. This certainly wasn’t the first time. But he wasn’t bothered, and he knew his mate wouldn’t mind it.
Garrett must have said what he did because he loved even these things about V. Not only the mediocrity of his person and character but the unconscious tendency to draw danger to himself and others, to gravitate toward it, to put endlessly his life on the line and thrive off the rush, enjoying the killing blow he would deliver in a manner befitting a devil, not a man. He took up his trade for a reason; it was his and Garrett’s job now; and it was what brought them out here, to exterminate the vermin lingering in broken city streets. It was why the air was foul with death and why the pair was spent, seeking a moment’s reprieve before they went back out to finish the job. V loved Garrett for that. For loving V even at the worst of times. He shook his head, realizing something that went unspoken. With a smirk plastered full on his face, he broke eye contact before rising to his feet. A sigh, and he said, “Let's make haste.”
