“ when you look at me, i feel seen. i feel like you see past everything i’ve always surrounded myself with to try and protect my heart. no one has ever looked that deeply at me. ”
The fire within him spread across every inch of his body, lighting up every inch of him with pure magic, the sensation playing a dangerous game of tightroping on the line that separated euphoria with destruction. Joy mingled with a hint of sadness, and that helped hold back the intensity of his emotions. They clashed among each other inside him, every blow they took making it harder to breathe, and he was never sure which would come out on top. Sometimes he wondered if he would be able to feel that pure happiness he once felt, or if he was now doomed to always hide a note of melancholy behind it. Logically, he was over it, he understood what had happened, why it happened, it was in the past . . . but his heart was having a hard time letting go.
Numbing out his feelings had been a tactic for survival before; if he didn’t give them anything, they couldn’t hurt him. So they would laugh, they would tease, they would lash out, but he’d remain expressionless. It’s why he cut off his tail. Now that he knew more about himself, the control he once exerted over his emotions was a bridge into controlling the fire within him, or at least attempt to control it enough as to burn everything but specific targets. Those who matter.
All that control didn’t exist around Astarion, though. He could feel the way he lit him up from the core of his being, the fire that was him growing wilder at the mere sight of the vampire. It rhythmically pressed against skin at the same pace of his heart, and the faster it beat the hotter he would burn all over. The glow around his eyes turned a brighter shade of yellow as he listened to the other, and he could hear himself in Astarion’s words. He, too, knew something about surrounding oneself with walls to keep everything out. Once he had been desperate for connection and let people slip in through the cracks – he pulled them in through the cracks, only to then reinforce his defenses to protect his heart when he found himself bleeding. With his walls high as ever, Astarion still managed to disarm him with just his eyes, and he would have to put great effort into avoiding to lean into the other’s touch. For all the bleeding he caused, he still made his heart beat in a rhythm he had become addicted to. It wasn’t the adrenaline of a bad decision, or the fear of looking at a devil in the eyes, it was something else that slowly had become strong enough to override the ache that had overtaken him not too long ago.
He held Astarion’s hand in his own, fingers intertwined, his thumb caressing the side of the other’s palm. No one has ever looked that deeply at me. Amay squeezed his hand, his eyes drifting away from the other’s for a brief moment as he brought the pale hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against the delicate skin.
“Others always looked at me like I was the dirt beneath their shoes.” That was what was waiting for him once this was over, one way or another, he would be dragged back to hell if he didn’t figure out a way to claim his freedom. It’s a question that plagued him ever since they set foot on the city; what now? He had made his peace with the fact he had to go back to Cania, that that was where he belonged, but with every caress and affectionate words from Astarion he grew more and more hesitant. The future was uncertain, and it filled him with dread. “But whenever your eyes are on me, I feel like I’m the only person in the room.” He lowered his gaze to the pale hand in his grip once more, one claw gently pressing against the skin to draw circles on it. “I am glad that . . . you feel something similar when I look at you. You’re not just a pretty face to look at. You’re so much more than that to me. You always have been.” He began to trace the strokes for love in his language on the pale skin in his hands but stopped himself midway, a wave of shame hitting him. “Not saying you are not pretty to look at, though.”
He fell silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on Astarion’s hand as he was lost in thought.
“I don’t want to go back to Mephistar.” He blurted out. “I want to stay with you.” He squeezed Astarion’s hand slightly, his palms growing warmer. “I want to be with you, for as long as you’ll have me.”
