He was always drawn to warmth, ever since he emerged from a cold room into an even colder castle all alone, Mesh had always been drawn to the heat that life just seemed to exude. His own hands were ice cold most days, finger tips tinged with the palest of purples and blues as he plucked flowers or did his siblings' hair. Joining the games didnāt change that either. Instead of Ranga's hair, he was brushing out Sebās or Ariaās, instead of flowers for crowns, he plucked them as gifts and requests for kindness. Soft purples dancing up his arms as he tended to his hive, to his loved ones.
It was an accident the first time it happened. He had been reaching to grab from their crop when he felt the soft give of Paperās hand, barely processing the texture before he had had to rip his own hand back, the side of his hand that had touched the other burnt and aching with the sharp temperature distance between them. He hadnāt mentioned the way it had hurt, laughing it away and silently thanking Jimmy for his abrupt return with more supplies for them. Still, that sting had lingered heavily on his mind as they later departed to find some supplies themselves, just him and the slime.
The next time it happened was also a mere accident. Just the briefest brush of his calf against Papers ever warm body as he got settled in a boat behind him, eager to go exploring and see what everyone else was doing. It ached all the same, and all the same he bit his tongue about it, settling in and shifting back until he nearly hung out the back of the boat. Surely if paper burnt his skin then Mesh himself had to harm the other in turn and that was plenty reason to maintain his distance even in these close moments. Hurting his beloveds was a thought that twisted his guts up, made his nails ache as though they had freshly torn through flesh to leave behind blood and poison alike.
His mind supplied the faintest memory of someone with flaxen hair, a beautiful smile charming him even now despite his inability to recall more.
The third time, it was intentional on both their parts, cold arms wrapping almost possessively around a burning hot torso as they sat with Seb by the pond. His tears burned his eyes almost as much as the slimeās touch did, hand prints scorched against the soft give of his shoulders. It was just the three of them now. Trizz had been forsaken, Aria had taken itās leave unseen by them all, and Jimmy laid dead in his grave. The burn did so little to reassure him but it kept him grounded, kept him aware, kept him from taking another big leap with wings that would never work. He just tucked his face away in the safe cushion of Papers hood and waited the night through with them both.
The last timeā¦ He hadnāt even thought it would be the last time. They were getting desperate, everyone was. Their home had been trapped, their ghasts killed, they were running out of options to even feign survival. Paper was red tooā¦ He had a bloodlust to handle and two teammates incapable of helping him. If Bee had known then that the burning hot hug would be the last, he wouldāve clung to Paper for longer, would have scorched his hand proper just cupping the man's face as he made him swear to be safe, to return to them in no less than an hours time. But he hadnāt known, none of them had. So he hugged paper just a touch too tight as if punishing himself with the burn before wishing him well, a promise to meet him back at home and a teasing remark being the last words they shared.
He was ice cold the next time Mesh saw him, body stiff and desperate from clawing at the oceanās cruel grasp. Bee couldnāt even fully find it in himself to cry, simply cradled the body in the boat he had taken out to retrieve paper. There was no painful sting or instinct to snatch his hands away, just the coldness that had plagued the bee hybrid for his entire life. It wasnāt until they had buried paper in the graveyard, his hands slick with mud, that he seemed to even process that the slime was gone for good. There wouldnāt be anymore boat rides together or joking in the hydroponics home, no more warmth to follow after and depend on.
He sobbed by himself that night, curled in the darkest corner he could find.
It was just him and Seb for so long after that, the sheep's warmth pailing in comparison to the slimeās. He was at least grateful that Seb remained through it all. Even tried to convince him to put his armor back on and flee as the network of death was built above them. But Mesh was tired, exhausted to the bone and colder than ever before.
The first flash of heat made him flinch back as it landed, destroying what he had just finished fixing up and only partly eased by the water they all rushed to place down. The second one had his gaze snapping up to peer out at his soon to be killers in between the remaining boards and stone of his home.
His vision caught and blurred on the soft pink of the original wood, the warmth that was surrounding him and the scent of burning flesh. He raised his arms out almost desperately, tears billowing up only to fizzle away against his cheeks as he did, pushing himself as high on his toes as he could. He could feel the overwhelming burn of Paperās hands reaching out for his own, scorching his flesh as he pushed himself further and further. He could hear his voice, reassuring him of their promise, consoling him, gently scolding him.
It was easier to imagine the screaming agony of being blown apart was the kind embrace of an old friend and Bee had always been the type drawn to warmth. Had always been the sort so delusional to believe himself capable of protecting his beloveds, to believe that jumping to a ghost was better than to be axed down by the monster that wore its face. His body would crumble under the heat and weight of his desperation for that kind delusion, the heat replacing his ever present coldness in the same way the cold had replaced paperās warmth.
theartofmadeline
2087
yousharknotpass
amandla
kianamaiart
