suttungr ;

felix alvarez ll 34 ll blackburn

[xsuttungr]

solareclipsxd‌:

[Where] Village - Bar

[When] July 24th

[Who] Open

Luke had just thrown down his suitcase stuffed with his clothes and gear. The lads had decided to hit the bar their first night before their high intensity training began. Luke loved his team, they were like a family to him, especially since he didn’t really have family of his own. The boys threw on something decent and within minutes their dorm smelt like Adidas deodorant and cologne. It wasn’t long until he found himself at a bar table surrounded by so many other athletes. The team had ordered jugs of beer but Luke would rather die than get drunk on beer. He hated how it made him feel sluggish the next day and bloated. He peeled off from the boys and head to the bar alone. 

“I’ll have a double vodka and passionfruit.” He turned and noticed someone next to him waiting to order. “Oh, and two tequilas and whatever they’d like.” He called to the bartender and gestured to his neighbour. “Welcome to the Olympics” He said with a smile and passed the shot to the other, ready to take his already. 

What Felix wanted to do and what he’d been allowed to do were two very different things. It had been the encouragement of teammates and manager for him to get out rather than going straight to bed or writing some more. He knew it should go out and have fun. The first day of the Olympics. Everyone gathered today for what was a monument of events. Why wouldn’t he want to go out and have some fun? Well.. considering what happened only a few months prior when he’d gone out with his teammates... Felix could figure out why without much trouble.

 So now here he stood awkwardly at the bar and having had short conversation with the bartender who at least seemed to understand that Felix was an odd man out. It wasn’t that he couldn’t party or be comfortable. Felix just had a very hard time separating work and play. He’s here to win - not make friends. He has all the friends he needs at home and with his dog Flora. When he wanted to have a good time, Felix knew how to have a damn good time.

And apparently fate was trying to tell him something considering that shot that was in front of him and the good looking man to his side. Ah -- perhaps fates didn’t want him to sit this one out. Or maybe they wanted him to just let loose a bit. One shot wouldn’t hurt. “To the Olympics and future winners,” Felix said as he took the glass and raised it. With a nod, he tosses it back and sets the glass down on the bar, upside down.

[xsuttungr]

[ where ] village - batting cages [ when ] july 28th [ who ] open 

          The air is warm and crisp with the sound of birds tweeting through the sky as they fly from one tree to another. There’s laughter from somewhere afar but Felix can’t pin it down nor find the need to do so as he walks the now familiar path so he could get to the batting cages. Staying shut up in his little room wasn’t going to do him any good and the more time wasted on not practicing, the more time he had to convince himself that this year would not be a winning year. No — that couldn’t be an option. So he’d gotten himself up and dressed in a pair of gray joggers, a black t-shirt, and one of his many baseball hats from the top of the little closet where he’d unpacked them. As always, his bag was already packed up at the door and he’d only needed to throw it over his shoulder before he headed out.

          Felix isn’t necessarily anti-social. He’s well aware that there have been plenty of hosted events and non-hosted parties that have let everyone get to know each other beyond those who already did. Countries coming together, it was a great way to make partnerships. But Felix spends enough of his time at the back of a room for his allotted time unnoticed. He doesn’t want to do that now — he’s here to play baseball.

         When he reaches the batting cages, Felix finds one he prefers and starts to get his stuff together. It’s out in the open rather than private — it unsettles Felix since it means that people can just come on by but what are the odds? Low. Everyone else is absorbed in their own lives. Unless one of his friends comes by… well, then he’ll have to talk to them. Not entirely a bad thing but Felix knows he’ll end up with another lecture about letting loose and having fun. Does he even know how to do that? The jury is still out on that one.

      Turning his hat around on his head, Felix lines himself up with the plate after having pushed the start button. The bat feels natural in his hands, the weight of it in the air a strange comfort somehow. His eyes are straight in front of him — waiting, waiting, and there! The ball comes loose and flying and Felix can feel time slow, watching the ball spinning toward him until he releases his wind up, sending the bat straight into the ball and the resounding CRACK shattering the air as the ball goes flying. And Felix doesn’t stop. He continues to strike home with every swing of his bat — only one landing off to the right. A foul ball. The first series is done and Felix relaxes, letting the bat rest against his shoulder.

[cain-douglas]

OPEN

[xsuttungr]

cain-douglas‌:

“Bitch I don’t give a shit about your vision,” Cain hisses, grip tightening. “And don’t tell me what to fucking do I’ll eat as many of these green fuckberries as I want.” His hackles rise at the way Alvarez talks. He’s all prim and proper like a fucking a lawyer, throwing around how his little ratclaw hands got to to the avocado first like it’s some sort of rote legal decree that he gets to have it now.

“I was here first reaching for all of ‘em. You don’t just get ta’ take it cuz you swung in at the last second.” Cain pauses then, recalling what little he knew about Alvarez’s power. “And can’t you just like….cell magic one of these fuckers ripe?”

Felix lets out an exhausted sigh but he makes no more to actually let go of the avocado. He’s prepared to stake his claim on it even if only to get under the other’s skin. The word fuckberries alone gives him plenty of reason to want to take the avocado. “My ability only extends towards people and why do you need this avocado?” Felix tilts his head to the side, resemblance of a dog curious. “How many people do you plan on feeding? You do know they don’t last very long?”

He hums for a moment; however, before he begins again. “Or as you simply intending to drop all of the other avocados in here before you walk away and leaving everyone else to suffer from potentially unripe ones?”

Now that would only be rude. And potentially cruel. He could imagine someone running in minutes before their dinner party, in desperate need of an avocado and only left with the remains of Cain’s destruction.

[cain-douglas]

OPEN

[xsuttungr]

cain-douglas‌:

LOCATION: Trader Joe’s DATE: Friday TIME: 5:30 PM STATUS: OPEN

The problem with avocados is that you never know if you’ve got a good avocado until you give it a squeeze. Unfortunately, when you’ve got indelicate punchy fist hands like Cain’s it means you bruise every goddamn avocado you touch, ripe or not. He’s got about 15 avocados in his basket and none of them are good. There’s one avocado left in the entire damn store which means that Cain’s got one chance at getting good guac tonight. 

He’s reaching for it when another hand swoops in out of nowhere, closing around it like a vice.

Motherfucker. Cain is not about to buy 15 unripe bruised avocados and exit this Trader Joe’s without the only ripe ‘cado in all of Chicago. 

“Hands the fuck off,” he growls, glaring as he closes his hand over there’s firm but not hard enough to hurt.

Felix stares at the avocado for another beat before his eyes find their way to the person attempting to claim it. Seeing that it’s Cain only makes Felix raise an eyebrow up in his direction The moment he catches sight of the numerous avocados within the basket held by the other doctor? Felix gives a slow blink at Cain before his grip only pulls on the prized treasure toward himself.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, although I can assure you my vision is twenty-twenty, but I do believe you have far more than enough avocados in your basket.”

A plain fact. Proven by the evidence that is nearly impossible to hide. Felix knows there’s a potential that Cain might be throwing some large party that requires numerous amounts of avocados but certainly he can suffice without this one.

“And as my hand is on the bottom, I do believe it is mine. Fair and square.”

[xsuttungr]

anastasia-ahn‌:

Location: A coffee shop

Date: January 30th

Status: Open

Anastasia stretched her arms above her head, a warm fluffy jacket wrapped around herself. It’s not often that she gets up this early in the morning. If she had it her way she wouldn’t leave her bed until at least noon. But unfortunately, today wasn’t one of those days. She found herself unable to stay warm and content in her own bed. So she figured the next best thing was surrounding herself with people and flexing her powers just a little bit. So she walked down the street, keeping a lazy feeler out for the emotions around her to keep herself safe.

As she made her way into the coffee shop, the warm and sweet smell brought a genuine smile to her face. It was something that didn’t happen often but sometimes small things brought it out of her and this was one of them. Her drink order was complicated, it always was but she wanted things her way and didn’t care if it was an inconvenience to anyone else, but she reached out to the barista in front of her and brushed away the prickly strand of annoyance and pulled to the front a warm fondness for her. The kind you would give to a friend who annoyed you but you love them dearly anyway.

Once she had her drink in hand, she made her way to a table in the center, thankfully empty. After a few minutes and sips of her drink, she found herself bored. So without even looking up, she reached out to a person close to her and pulled forward interest, willing them to come and sit with her to talk. As they strode closer to her, Anastasia looked up a charming smile on her face. “Oh, hello. I could use some company. Go ahead and sit.”

The clock is counting down until he’ll be due back to the hospital, but Felix is in no rush as he walks through the city to the coffee shop. He wants to enjoy the morning, to feel the sunlight and enjoy the warmth. The craziness would come later, Felix had plenty that he had to do later but for now it was the calm before the storm that he could relish in for now. He wants to be back home, to take Flora out to the dog park. Spoil her rotten with treats and sit on the couch watching reruns of old history documentaries.

Unfortunately duty calls and he has to finish out the shift. There might still be time near the end of the day but for now he’d get his coffee and hope the hours would pass by before he could go home. Inside the shop, Felix made his way over to the counter to order, getting a simple dark roast and adding a bit of creamer and sugar after he’d paid and received it.

On his way past came the sudden strike of interest and Felix found himself at the table, sitting down in the seat opposite of the woman. “I have a few minutes,” Felix says as he takes a sip from his coffee, relishing in the taste of it. Really, he should be starting the trek back to the hospital but he doesn’t move from the seat, finding himself wanting to talk to the woman. :A good morning so far?”

[xsuttungr]

fightthegods‌:

When Felix pulls his head back, Eoin pulls in air slow and calm. Watching the man under him, forehead to forehead, the grin spreads across his face once more, entirely unbidden but not at all unwelcome. This is not an unusual situation for Eoin to be in; not when he still lived in Dorchester, and not here either, but yet… people like Felix usually aren’t the kind of people he manages to attract. Most of them are thrill-seekers of some manner; the kind who look at him and see a danger they want to tame or overcome. And if they’re not aware he’s a mutant, it’s not even anything to do with him at all.

But this is different, right? Felix never struck him as a thrill seeker. Maybe he is, it’s just never come out in all the months he’s known him, and it’s certainly not the reason they’re here now. If anything, Felix has always scolded him for not being careful enough, and Eoin would just watch him silently, following him with his eyes as he darted from corner to corner to clean another cut or scrape or stab. He never said anything. There was never a response to Felix’s scolding.

There are always two reasons Eoin doesn’t mind getting hurt, particularly since he’d arrived in this city. First is… well, it’s just what happens, and he’s not a careful person. He’s an all-or-nothing, make it happen or die trying kind of person, too relentless to let something like bodily harm get in the way of ruthless goals, long-term or short-term. And the second… at least in the first few months, Eoin’s reasoning was, you can’t see a doctor without getting hurt, right? Perhaps it wasn’t always intentional, but Eoin’s gone through his entirely with minimal medical assistance, even when it would be very, very advised that he did reach out. He could’ve dealt with his injuries the way he’d always done; alcohol, his lighter, and a piece of metal.

But he didn’t. He’s let himself bleed ever since waking up to see Felix’s cold, hard face of concentration, telling him he’s going to be okay back in June. And then eventually, he’d just show up without a good excuse. Every step he took was one step closer into Felix’s personal space. Only reason he never stopped is because Felix never told him to.

Eoin watches him, sees the words on his lips as they part, but the room stays silent. A chuckle escapes him before he has an idea to stop it. “Yes, doc?” he asks teasingly, lowering his head to nuzzle his nose in a sign of unadulterated affection. There’s been a few of those littered throughout their relationship, but tonight has been a night for a lot of them. His voice lowers. “Cat got your tongue? Or y'think I could have it?”

There’s open mischief on his face, eyes sparkling with trouble in a manner they’ve not done before in Felix’s presence. This spells a different kind of danger; light-hearted and cheeky, but equally devastation for the target of said mischief. Give a finger, he might just bite your hand with a wicked grin.

Felix likes that soft chuckle. It’s the first thing that crosses his mind quickly followed by how much he wants to hear it more often. Everything is always so serious, balancing precariously with no sense of which way the scales will tip. Felix lives his life constantly in a state of ready. He’s ready to heal someone. He’s ready to fight if it has to come to that. He’s ready to analyze the situation and find the best possible route. Every room he walks into, Felix finds every exit. If he’s not ready, that’s when he’s caught off guard.

Eoin’s caught him off guard.

A sigh escapes from his lips as he leans his head against Eoin’s, the affectionate nuzzle making him smile and a silent laugh rumble through his chest. “Aren’t you funny,” Felix finally manages to say. He runs his hand up and down along the other’s back, fingers bumping over the soft raised scars. Would Eoin let him map them all out? Not mentally... but to physically touch each one and follow the trail that it spiders along Eoin’s body. It would only make him sad, but it would be another part of Eoin for his memories.

This isn’t a time for sadness. It isn’t a time for him to get lost in his thoughts despite how hard that might be for Felix. He has to pull himself out from his own ocean, to rest on the sandy shores and let the moon of the night sky awaken him, give him the promise of sunlight one day or another. Doing that means opening up, even if it’s a small bit.

“It’s different with you.” Felix finally says the words after finding Eoin’s eyes. They aren’t many words. Just four small ones but Felix can hope that it gets the point he wants across to the other. Where this goes, he isn’t sure. Felix has his own ideas and as much as he wants Eoin to be the one to question, he’s almost certain he wouldn’t. For now, he can leave it. For now he can work on opening the box little by little and maybe he can do it one of these days.

Is this real? Is this just fun? Will you leave me broken too?

“Maybe we should spend our time more like this than me healing you,” Felix teases to lighten the moment. Although, there is truth to the words. He’d much prefer this than seeing Eoin coming to him bleeding and injured. At least then he knows that the other will walk away okay. He shifted just enough to press his lips against the other’s neck, trailing a row of kisses down to the other’s shoulder before nipping the skin there.

[xsuttungr]

where: green mills when: jan 15th who: @ofhati

The aftermath of the riots can still be felt. Felix could see it in the newspapers. He could see it in the hospital, patients coming back in for check-ups after their previous discharges, and in the hurry of the streets. People have a sense of fear. There had already been three altercations in one week at the hospital between Felix and someone else. Two with patients who refused to be treated by him. One by a fellow doctor. The hard burden of being a mutant out in the limelight and well known meant it was all too easy for people to direct their anger at him. It never mattered if he was the one helping them, healing them. Those were hard moments for Felix... he has no power in that situation, no way to change the color of their world and convince them otherwise.

When he shows up at green mills, it’s after a long day and all he wants is a drink. Later he has a meeting with Alma and he’ll bury down the exhaustion and the worry in favor of his usual composed mask. He’ll give her the answers she wants to hear and the ones she doesn’t want to hear, he’ll play devil’s advocate and leave with whatever decision she makes for her next move or next job. It’s what he always does until she’s pushing too far. Lately that did seem to be the common trend, however.

Not surprising, Felix finds himself in the company of Minka and after his day, he isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. For now, he takes his drink and has a slow sip before he looks to Minka with what smile he can manage.

“Tell me you’ve had a much better day than myself?”

[xsuttungr]

fightthegods‌:

Eoin looks at the hand and the invitation attached to it, considering it for a moment. Not the first time he’s slept in Felix’s presence, not the first time Felix has slept in his presence, but certainly the first time an invitation like this has extended. He’d resigned to sleep on the floor, as he usually does. Of course he doesn’t like sleeping on the floor, it’s not conducive to a long night’s sleep to him, finding his eyes open every two hours, and his headache worsening every time. But he would’ve committed to it anyway.

Now the invitation’s here, however, and Eoin can’t say he’s not surprised. Hand lifting slowly, he rests his palm in Felix’s gently, noting for the first time that they’re rough in a way he never expected them to be; a little grin tugs at his mouth. “Who else are you gonna listen to?” Eoin replies in a murmur, fingers wrapping around his hand.

There’s something in his gut now, like a tugging, but not the same kind he associates with the death he spreads. This is… magnetic. Of course he’s always felt a pull towards the other mutant; his subconscious mind autopilots to him even when he doesn’t have it in him to make the active decision. He’s always found himself at Felix’s door for one reason or another. If it’s not a scrape — or more — it’s the safety he feels in his silence, in the rustling of pages, the muted scratching of pen on paper, the way that couch gives just enough when met with his weight. For the longest time, he considered it as much a home as he could anything.

But this pull is different. This pull doesn’t just bring him to Felix’s door and onto his couch; this pull brings him into Felix’s bed and over him. He’s not as heavy as some, but he’s still a grown man, and he eliminates his full weight onto Felix’s body by leaning on his forearms at either side of his head. He watches him, eyes moving over his face; the curve of his cheekbone, the dark of his eyes, the angle of his jaw…

His gaze stops. Now there’s something he hasn’t considered before. Has Felix? He wonders, sure, but not for very long; before he actually has an active mind to, his head is moving down and his lips connect with Felix’s. And now there’s no stopping. It starts soft, slow, and it quickly turns into a lot more than that. Like a patience that’s been broken, an itch finally scratched until your skin is raw, a waiting and waiting and waiting that’s ended.

Maybe this could be forever.

Eoin accepts the invitation and there’s a relief in Felix’s eyes that he tries his best to keep hidden. This moment leaves him vulnerable. It’s natural the way his body complies and relaxes against the bed again, eyes unwavering on Eoin hovering above him. There are no walls here - the steely gaze that Felix typically adorns is replaced with something softer but jagged. A piece that has been hidden away for far too long. Most occasions when it has come out, it has only been for the briefest of moments. But this time, it lasts. Felix accepts the kiss, lips molded against lips in something soft and tender before it turns into something more desperate and urgent.

One of Felix’s hands is slow to drift up, fingers finding Eoin’s jaw before sliding up to rest his hand against the other’s cheek. Thumb glides along his cheekbone, a caring soft caress that’s sharply contrasting of what the kiss has morphed into between the two of them. His other arm wraps around Eoin’s waist, hand at the small of his back and touching the hot skin. There’s that need to touch, to know that this is real.

He doesn’t want to admit to himself or to Eoin that he’s scared. No, he’s terrified. A simple gesture, a hand held out in an invitation meant much more to Felix than it would have to anyone else. After Rosa, Felix pulled away from most people that weren’t family or Blackburn. Even among them, he kept a distance. He dealt with his emotions, his depression, in the best way that he knew how and that was by shutting down. Everything was shoved into a nice little box, wrapped with a bow, and left in the attic of his mind to never be touched. It was easier to do that. He didn’t have time to be sad. He didn’t have time for emotions when he had people to heal, jobs to do, and Alma to watch out for every day.

Sure, since then he’s let a few people inside to a certain point. One person in particular Felix had let in more than others and his recent suspicions had left him recoiled back into himself. Uncertain. Lost. Worthless. Felix had accepted his place as the one who would never be first. He would only be the one people sought after when they needed help. And yet, here above him in the bedroom of his apartment, his sanctuary, was Eoin. Somehow this man had weaved his way in without Felix noticing. The door to that old lighthouse had been melted away to nothing, the old stone stairs that were cracked and eroded away, covered in dead vines were climbed one step at a time until the top was reached. And without Felix realizing, Eoin stood in that room in front of the box that had long since been forgotten and rusted shut.

If Felix had been asked a long time ago, when the two of them had met, if they would one day be in this position - he would have laughed.

Felix is the one who pulls away from the kiss - a deep breath of air to try to fill his lungs again and bring his mind back from the muddy waters of Eoin. He could have stayed deep in those waters forever. His eyes close as his hand moves away from Eoin’s cheek to the back of the other’s head, to gently press his forehead against the other’s. There are questions swimming around in his mind, ones that he wants answers to but don’t necessarily need. Why does he have so much trouble talking sometimes? Because they’re selfish. Felix tries so hard not to be selfish and even in this moment when he could be, he can’t find it in himself to do it. Felix has locked himself away in his own prison and trying to break free feels impossible. He feels as if he’s just reaching his arm out through the bars, a desperate grab for Eoin.

When he drops his head back against the bed and opens his eyes to look at Eoin, it’s with the intention of saying words. His lips part but nothing comes from them. Instead, his arm around the other just tightens.

[xsuttungr]

ofmizuno‌:

Jack took a deep drag to swallow the scoff that rose like bile at the back of his throat, yellow and bitter. Maybe he was spiteful, driving the point home with a lit cherry end. Maybe he was just hungry and only knew how to inhale. He didn’t turn his gaze from the city, only acknowledged Felix’s announcement of his presence with a slight inclination of his head. The good doctor was here, always lurking a few steps behind.

“Never know these days,” Jack shrugged, flicking at the filter end of his cigarette. He was, at the very least, decent enough to keep it pointed away from Felix. “Alma has us doing all sorts.” 

He was of course, referencing the last four-odd days, most of which for Jack were consumed by binary and command line, digging and turning and digging some more, until his fingers were dark with dirt. Too many wires tangled, footprints in the sand blown over, to discern the truth in the riots. It haunted him regardless.

Another long drag. “What do you think?” Jack turned to Felix, finally, with a flat expression and raised eyebrows. He knew he looked like shit and shrugged before Felix could lie about it. “You’re a doctor, of a kind, right? What happens when you go two days without sleep? Three? Four?”

Since the observatory disaster, Blackburn had been chaos. Information being passed, jobs being ran, and tension running on high. The New Year riots hadn’t helped the situation so Felix isn’t surprised to hear those words from Jack. He can guess that out of most of Blackburn, Jack might be the one doing the most work. Up every night.

“I didn’t go to medical school for nothing,” Felix said with a soft chuckle. “It takes only one full day of no sleep to start to exhibit signs of sleep deprivation. By day three or four, you’ve entered a dangerous realm. Survivable but not recommended. Moodiness, trouble with concentration, memory starts to go as well. Fatigue hits hard after day two. Paranoia is the biggest one that can cause issues. Some have recorded hallucinations.”

Felix took in a deep breath of air, the bitter city air mixed with the faint whisp of smoke from the cigarette that could reach him with the breeze. Knowing that Alma has Jack working too much adds more stress to Felix. He doesn’t want anyone overworked. Mostly for health reasons. But it can also render someone useless. And it’s bittersweet since Felix needed Jack’s help. Not now.

“Mierda... Do you need me to put in a medical recommendation to Alma for you to get some sleep?” He’d do it anyway. Felix’s first priority would always be the health of those in Blackburn.

[xsuttungr]

ciarasawyer‌:

Ciara smiles over at Felix. She couldn’t imagine having his job, or even his power for that matter. It was so much on someone shoulders. Holding people’s lives in his hands every day. But without him, Blackburn would not function nearly as well. She was extremely grateful for what he did and she wasn’t sure that enough people told him so. Her formerly burnt hand flexed instinctively. The burn was no longer there but the memory remained.

“A lot of things would be easier if everyone just took better care of themselves. Some just don’t know how to. Others don’t care to.” She laughed lightly. Taking care of ones self was easier said than done. Ciara knew that very well. The months of trying to figure out how to function on her own. It was a challenge but a welcome one, when the other option was a home where she was never thought of. “I know at least one person who should take better care of himself.” She was inferring to her partner, who she knew both of them had dealt with.

“I know mine is.” Her response was quiet, her voice low. She wasn’t even sure if he heard her say it. It was hard for her to think back on that time. Hard for her to remember the loneliness and the way it seeped into her for years. She seems lose track of their conversation for a few seconds before she lightly shakes her head. “Oh, yes. We need to get to the produce. I’ve got somethings to pick up there. Is there anything you’d like me to me for you?”

“Oh, how true those words are, Ciara.” Felix would never be able to wrap his head around the fact that there were people who didn’t care to take care of themselves. But the value of life was different between each person. Some valued it above all else. Some did not fear death. Others lived with the idea that it was worth risking everything. “The only thing we can do for those people is be there when they need us and watch over them. Which, I’m sure you do well.” He smiled, warm and promising.

Felix waved a hand out in the direction of the end of the aisle to gesture that they could move on. The produce section was only a few aisles away. “I don’t need anything else,” he said as he held up his basket. “I grabbed a few things for the apartment and some stuff for Flora. She likes homemade treats. I think I honestly spoil that dog a little too much.” But he couldn’t resist. Flora came into his life when the loneliness began to seep too deep and they’d been inseparable ever since.

“How are you holding up with everything that’s been going on?” Felix asked a bit quieter, careful with people around. Not that they would really know what they’re talking about. “Things have been hectic and so many jobs being done around it all. You’re over here worried about everyone else, but how are you doing?”

[badmoonstatic]

[thread 01 | open]

[xsuttungr]

badmoonstatic‌:

Danger-sense was an interesting case study.  The mix of alcohol and the blurred weight as his limbs kept his brows from quirking; there were hands on him and they felt good, felt at place in his hair.  The mouth against his disarmed the same way, offering the things he liked.  Gerrard may have been a battering ram, the supercell of a storm with knives for a smile, but in those moments, there in that dark corner, the alarms didn’t sound until a picture was shown point blank in front of his eyes. 

It took the form of this man, of his smile and his fingers.  The snap was lost to the world around him, sound claimed by the loud room.  His mind filled the blank in for him and it echoed in his head as there was a shout at the back of his skull.  Everything in his mind strained against the haze Gerrard had imposed against himself.  He knew, as the words pulled off the man’s lips, that it was already too late.  All he could do was brace himself for the unknown and hope that it wouldn’t bury. 

The edge of animosity his eyes had taken was blotted out.  Instead, there was a look of delirium.  It sent a shiver down his spine, made his eyes widen and go dark at the sudden sucker punch that flooded him.  It was staggering, but instead of wheeling backwards he planted a hand to the wall at the side of his new-found companion’s head.  He leaned against it heavily as he tried to clear the smoke, fighting a battle he didn’t want to win— it was better than any drug he’d tried.  He was leaned close, his head dropped forward as his breath caught and struggled to proceed normally.  His head felt like a revolving door, short circuited by the endorphin-laced baseball bat that had been taken to his brain.  

When his head lifted, his eyes were heavy, focusing in at the face he’d only just met.  His weight was still held by the wall, the other hand lifting to slowly wrap its way around his throat; the same fingers that had just brushed his skin lightly.  There was no pressure, just the lick of his lips as the world swayed the same way they’d danced.  His voice was low, lips by his ear as a rough, grittiness rose in it.  “Why don’t you join me?”  He pressed a kiss to the nearest skin, just in front of his ear.  

Played in the slowest motion, perhaps it could have been seen.  Radicals seemed to almost spin loose on a micro-scale, failing to meet the Oxygen met to send them from his body.  Each cell, its own generator, shaking particles loose like a wet dog, dangerous and mean electrons that he somehow managed to grab and redirect—- purpose given to what should have been chaos.  He made that sacrifice, energy that should have been his, instead directed into his partner in their dangerous dance.  Those tiny soldiers interrupted— they covered and tricked and giggled as they disturbed the impulses that fired from synapse to synapse, meant to make their way to his attackers brain.  They were replaced, in a singular and succinct note at the peak of an orchestral piece.  

The knew feeling was pleasure and nothing but, the same simulated high he’d been given, a phantom message pushing the feeling through his skin as his teeth met neck and he added the tiny ping of pain amid the flood.  He itched for contact.  He thought he might drown without it—- so his body pressed flushed to one he didn’t know as well as he would have liked.  

There’s a sick satisfaction that ebbed inside of Felix, something unknown and dark. A taste of what others have given themselves into while Felix has fought against. It was so simple, to flood the endorphins. How harmful could that be? But no, it isn’t about that. At the surface it is innocent, exploratory. At the root, it is about control. Just the slight press of it, his fingers just adding enough pressure to that point to feel what it would be like but not give into it completely. Felix couldn’t give into it.

When the stranger’s head reared up, the look on his face was what Felix would have expected from such a trip and that bite of satisfaction grew. At the same time, the moment he felt the hand around his throat came the danger pulse through his brain. There may have been no pressure, but there’s the potential and Felix knew enough about people in this cruel world to know that potential is all any person needs. The shiver that ran down his spine; however, was not from the satisfaction of his power nor the sense of danger. It came from the brush of lips at his ear, the whispered words that were followed by a press of a kiss.

Too lost in that haze to realize he should have slipped away, should have left the stranger with the memory of an intense high. Pressed against the wall, an arm on one side of him and a hand at his throat, Felix was left vulnerable. And then he felt it. He felt it. Beyond what would have been normal for any other person who could have been in his position. Felix could feel every individual cell’s shift, change in the current that he had no control over. This was not him. His head fell back against the wall, eyes closing as his arm wrapped around the other man - already pressed against him and Felix only encouraged the contact more.

It’s rare. Felix doesn’t meet people who can interact with him on a level like the man in front of him. Not the same way Felix can interact with others. When he came down from it, the intense charge still leaving him in a blissful state of unknown, Felix opened his eyes to take it the sights around him. Warehouse. Lights. Music. Alcohol. Stranger. Felix brought himself back to reality slowly, but when he had it was with a smirk on his lips. “Now aren’t you fun,” Felix hummed out softly as his free hand found the hem of the stranger’s shirt, fingertips brushed against the skin underneath. His voice was soft, not quite together as the high still left him buzzing. From the other’s ability or from Felix’s own shock at someone manipulating him that way - he’s not sure.

“But I really should be going.”

[xsuttungr]

fightthegods‌:

The question tears abrupt laughter from Eoin’s throat and he wraps his hand around the wrist of the hand resting on his chest. “God no,” he chuckles, and lifts his hand to kiss his chuckles. The fact that he’d offer is so… wild is probably the right word. He can see the anger on the man’s face, mixing with the exhaustion, and if he were anyone else, Eoin might’ve felt bad for it. But he is who he is, so he doesn’t. In fact, he doesn’t really understand why there’s anger at all.

It’s as sweet as it is strange that Felix thinks to ask. 

Sweet because he thinks removing the scars will mean they’ll be gone; there’ll just be new ones, in different patterns but entirely the same. These scars are just never leaving if he keeps certain company, which he entirely plans to. 

Strange because… scars are not wounds. They’re remnants of wounds, surely, but they don’t harm him. He doesn’t understand why Felix would ask him that; he has plenty of other scars that haven’t warranted the question, so it’s not about the scars, but what caused it. And what caused them is an ongoing venture.

“If you remove these,” Eoin explains, kissing Felix’s knuckles again, “there’ll just be new ones that’ll take their place.” Letting go of his wrist, it’s Eoin’s turn to splay his hand on Felix’s chest. “Besides, you’re goin’ to sleep right now, ‘cause you’re all old an’ tired an’ shit.” And with that, he gives the other man a sharp shove back onto the bed, the hint of a grin at the corners of his mouth.

Felix doesn’t like the answer but it’s a fault of his own. Used to fixing everything, how could he just leave them there? But Eoin’s given his answer and sealed it with a kiss to worn knuckles. The offer would always be there even if the words never leave his lips again. It would take just a touch, a moment of concentration and he could vanish them. But they would remain for now. Maybe forever.

A frown pulls at the corner of Felix’s lips at the mention that new ones would only take their place. There’s a vital piece of information that he’s missing and a part of his brain is screaming a red alert. Felix never likes not having all the information - all the chess pieces in line. It means he’s at a disadvantage and Felix hates being in that position. Felix’s hand falls down to his side again and he falls to the bed easily with Eoin’s push.

You never actually told me what happened. What’s happening.

The words bounce around and they’re at the tip of his tongue before they’re drowned away once again. Does he want to know? He does. He’ll suffocate with worry, more than he already does. But Felix doesn’t want to push. What right does he have? None.

“I am not old, thank you very much,” Felix says instead with the smile he can manage. “But tired, yes. The world is far too busy for people like me to sleep.” Too much truth in those words. “Besides, who are you to order me around, hm?” Felix questions with a quirk of an eyebrow and the smile turning into the faintest touch of a smirk - as if Felix is almost too scared to give into the playful side of himself.

A man always forced to be serious, composed, it’s too easy to forget other parts of himself. Forget that he’s allowed to feel other emotions. He can’t lie and say he doesn’t enjoy relishing in it just a bit. It’s a freedom he doesn’t allow himself very often. And moments like these... it’s too easy to forget everything on the outside. Forget about Blackburn and the Kings. Forget about the mutants warring against each other and humans. Forget that this is dangerous. 

Felix reaches a hand up and palm out to Eoin. A silent invitation. For what... he’s not even sure yet. But it’s there.

[xsuttungr]

fightthegods‌:

People protesting is always amusing to him, in any context. Begging, whining, praying, objecting, in his experience, it’s always born from the loss of control; especially funny when it’s someone insistent on their own authority. Eoin has always enjoyed breaking the unbreakable, shaking the unshakeable, and since he’d met Felix, he’s been just that. So having him whine and protest over his shoulder is not just delightful, it’s downright endearing.

The smirk he fixes Felix with as he stands next to the bed spells enough of his thoughts out. Fight me, it says. Struggle, it taunts. Misbehave, it challenges. The expression on Felix’s face Eoin knows too well; he prepares for a lecture. A lecture that never comes. There’s a sudden lag in the other mutant’s movements, and Eoin watches curiously as the hand comes up, landing on his wrist only to snake up his arm and back down again.

Phantom pain. God, of course the creation of those scars had hurt. They’d hurt, for days and days, the burns uncovered, dragging against the fabric of his threadbare hooded vest; a reminder until the wounds healed, until they stopped burning, until all there was left were the fuzzy imprints of electricity that now have Felix’s entire attention. And then it would start all over again.

Anyone would look at them and the pain their creation had caused and they would’ve cried torture. Eoin calls it being dreadfully and emphatically alive. The burn grounds and centres him even through a high, the initial impact sending every inch of his body reeling until he’s lying on the floor amid the white noise of screaming nerves. Heart hammering, the smell of ozone and burnt flesh ravaging his nose until it becomes the safest place he could be.

Felix asks a question, and another, and for a moment, all Eoin can do is tilt his head. A second of five passes as he contemplates words; they all make way for his hand reaching back to grab the collar of his shirt, and Eoin pulls it over his head until it’s on the floor. He’s always been scarred; this is not the first time Felix has seen his harsh life written like words on his skin, but they’re paled by these new scars. Like branching from his shoulder, an ugly scar speaking tales of improvising; twisting like live lightning, like bolts of electricity burnt straight into his skin, darker against his pale skin. It’s almost like artwork, if you don’t consider what it would’ve taken for those scars to come into existence in the first place.

“It’s fine,” Eoin assures Felix, raising an eyebrow as he watches him. He’d not considered the worry; he doesn’t want Felix to worry. “It was mostly voluntary.”

Felix has long since been used to silence. When he was a child and his questions were met with silence. The days when he shut himself away in his bedroom from sun up to sun down. The long hours in a library corner with books surrounding him. The silence that stood between him in Rosa before he turned around and walked away from a life that should have been his future. Silence has been a long friend of Felix and it’s the only reason why he’s so patient in that moment. With his brain running rampant and needing to know more, it’s hard for him to clamp his mouth shut. But not impossible. Felix is rarely ever out of control. Eoin has only ever seen that once and Felix would like to keep the occasions to a minimum for his own protection. His own sanity. He’s built his kingdom up far too high to watch it come crashing down.

Those two words drive themselves into Felix and he hates them. He hates the sound of them in his ears, hates the taste of them in his mouth when he almost dared to repeat the words. Why does everyone always utter those two words and expect them to not cause a reaction? When is anything in this world just fine? This. This map of history. This map of scars that Felix can now commit to memory are not just fine.

His eyes are running over the scars that had been hidden from him. Felix is on his feet despite what little distance had been between Eoin and the bed. His fingers are tracing the scars, the ones within his reach. His touch gentle and feather light but the look on his face is far from gentle. It’s full of concern and anger. Partially at Eoin. Partially at fate. It’s sudden the way his hand moves from such a ghost of a touch to pressing hard against the center of Eoin’s chest, Felix’s eyes closing and connecting all of the lines. The pathway of cells, the network and all of them speaking to each other and to him. Felix can see them. He knows he just needs to destroy them. All at once, every fibrous cell that does not belong to just be gone. A moment of pain until new skin replaced where the scars had once been. Healthy cells. Not a single trace of a scar to be seen.

But Felix doesn’t do it. It was mostly voluntary. Those words hurt in a different way. Felix doesn’t like them either but those are alone the words that stop them. There are too many questions in his brain and he doesn’t know where to begin when his eyes open and land on Eoin. His shoulders sag with a weight that had not been there moments ago.

“Do you want them gone?”

It’s permission. Consent. The scars are part of Eoin, physical history that mars his skin and Felix can’t simply take that away no matter how much he hates seeing it. It means that pain was there previously. Something Felix couldn’t have fixed. A pain that Eoin wanted and what right did Felix have to take those away?

It was mostly voluntary. Those words repeat again. Felix hates the mostly part of it almost as much as he hates the voluntary part of that sentence.

[xsuttungr]

ofmizuno‌:

Time: 4 January, 05:47 Location: a rooftop Status: open

It’s one of those mornings – no sleep, an open and emptying pack of cigarettes at his side, and time like a punch clock in purple under Jack’s eyes. Morning slashes red and orange claw marks into the sky as he blows smoke into the air above him. He’s chain smoking, obviously, and it could either be from the nicotine or the stress he can’t wring out, but Jack feels knee deep in a grave. He can’t figure out if it’s his, or someone else’s. He lights up again from the last dregs of a dying cherry and inhales. It isn’t enough. Chicago is on fire and he can’t swallow enough of it to get some fucking quiet.

There’s movement behind him, he knows, but he doesn’t turn. If there were someone here to put a bullet in his brain or wrap a cord around his neck, he assumes they wouldn’t be so quiet about it. He takes another drag. His fingers ache from the last seventy fucking hours and there’s a knot in his back his shoulders can’t roll out. He flicks the cigarette, watching as the ash catches in the frigid wind. Still, he stays forward, eyes out towards the waking city.

“For the record, you’d be a pretty shit assassin.”

Felix had kept his distance for some time. It was the observer in him, the curious part of his brain that wants to take a snapshot of someone and pick apart the pieces. Impossible to do in a single picture. Felix knew from experience that he could only get a small piece of them - a fragment of their reality. And really, his version of their reality might be very different than their own reality. Another lesson learned.

Felix finally closed the distance, hand in his pockets as he took slow steps forward but made no effort to be quiet as he moved. “A good thing I have no intention of being an assassin.” Felix said with a soft chuckle as he stepped up beside Jack. “I think that might go against my nature and there are others much more suited for that.”

With a sideways glance to the other, Felix let out a quiet sigh. “I’ll skip the lecture of the cigarettes. You doing okay?”

A simple question. But if Jack were anything like everyone else in the world, it was never one with a simple answer.

[xsuttungr]

fightthegods‌:

Eoin’s spine straightens slightly at the mention of food, idly patting the Great Dane’s face, whose nose is nudging into his palm. Of course he wants food, he always wants food when it’s offered; so much so that the words that pass his lips take him by surprise. “No, not right now, I’m good.” If Felix hadn’t looked the way he did, he would’ve taken him up on it. 

Following Felix through his apartment like a second pet, Eoin makes note of the gun before shrugging in reply to the question. Honestly, he hadn’t considered it, simply because he hadn’t thought it was an option; now that it seems like it is, there’s no way Felix will be able to rescind the implied offer. With that in mind, it’s why Eoin hadn’t yet taken his jacket off, hadn’t yet gotten comfortable like he usually does when he decides to stay the night with Jordan, or Gerrard. But this is what it is now; he pulls his jacket off and drops it in front of the closet. If he forgets it come morning, it’s no skin off his bone, thing’s not even his.

Felix has already moved to the living room when Eoin catches his sentence. He looks around with a scrunched nose; they each have a different idea of what a ‘mess’ is, and despite the books everywhere, Eoin doesn’t see where this so-called mess might be. Leaning against the wall, he folds newly scarred arms across his chest and just watches Felix, corner of his mouth upturned slightly.

“You’re good,” he replies, looking him over. Felix is tired; of course he’s tired, even if he does a great job pretending he’s not. It’s like he sucked himself in the moment he realised he wasn’t alone. Eoin saw it back in November, when he’d found the doctor drunk in the silent dark of his office. Had stayed with him the entire night then as well, and Eoin doesn’t really see this as anything different. He wonders how often this really happens; wonders if maybe he should take to sticking around more often to watch over him while he sleeps.

It’s not until the plants are watered that Eoin pushes himself off the wall once more. Without warning and with plenty of determination, he walks towards Felix and, bending his knees slightly, easily hauls the shorter man onto his shoulder — the one that hasn’t seen a bullet in a little over two weeks ago. He has no idea where Felix’s bedroom might be, but that’s not about to stop him; It takes him two doors — bathroom, bedroom — and then he drops Felix onto the bed.

“Go to sleep, doc, you’re tired.”

The last to get Felix’s attention are the little succulents in a pot in the kitchen by the window. He’s careful in watering them despite knowing that they seem pretty much impervious to death. A certain someone would likely tell him otherwise but he’s not about to play mad scientist on them to find out the succulents’ limits. It’s odd, he thinks to himself as he sets the cup in the sink, to do this with someone else in his home. The only two people who have likely seen this ritual would be Alma and Isabel. Felix can be very methodical in many aspects of his life - sometimes to a point where it can hinder him. But this… there’s something gentle about it. Felix can’t heal these plants. He has to keep them alive through traditional means - love and care. Does Eoin think it’s too much? Does it seem silly? Felix always thought it was silly but it was something that had always brought him joy.

After washing his hands and putting the cup back once it was clean, he’s ready to ask Eoin again about dinner. He could cook them something easy. A grilled cheese sandwich sounded like heaven to him in that moment. However, he’s only facing Eoin for a single second and could only open his mouth before he let out a gasp of surprise at being lifted and sent over Eoin’s shoulder. This… is not what he had expected. “Eoin - let me down,” Felix complains with a whine that sounds uncharacteristic from Felix. He’s not really fighting. Felix is tired and he sees no point because the other is going to set him down eventually. Where… he’s not sure yet. He can find one reason to be content this way.

“Wrong door.” Felix had said when Eoin had opened up the bathroom door. Felix can guess where he’s being taken to now that the other rooms are being searched. When he hits the bed, Felix bounces slightly and looks up at Eoin with a look of mild annoyance. “I could have walked, you know,” he says despite knowing that he would have argued if Eoin had told him to go to bed. There were a number of tasks that needed his attention, plenty to do before he could rest and go to bed. Like every night. It isn’t usually for Felix to get only a few hours of sleep by choice - even if he lectures others about sleeping properly.

There’s another set of words on the tip of his tongue - another lecture or complaint - but they fade away into an afterthought. Everything shuts off for a beat of time, Felix looking at Eoin standing above him. It’s slow motion in his own line of vision, the way his hands come up to find Eoin’s wrists, to bring them gently and slowly between them. His fingertips graze over Eoin’s wrists to the inside before they ghost up along his arm, tracing the visible scars up and up until they disappear under the sleeves of the shirt and Felix stops only to trace them back down once again.

The look in Felix’s eyes is guarded. His mind is running a mile a second suddenly - where did they come from? Something mechanical? A strike of lightning? Then a shift - how far do they extend? How much of Eoin’s body? Not all of it, Felix has seen some parts of Eoin’s body. Then another shift - what memories are attached to these scars? Dangerous? Traumatic? Then another shift but different. Felix can see the map in his head. Only of Eoin’s arms, the cells vibrating with life but particularly the cells that make up the fibrous tissue of the scars. Everything fades away until it’s just the trials and Felix can see them all in his mind, can feel them without even touching them.

“What happened?” Felix finally says, but his voice is dazed as he’s still looking at the map in his mind. A part of him wonders if Eoin did something stupid, but his voice wasn’t accusatory. It was worried. “Are there more?” This time, he breaks away from the map in his brain to look up at Eoin. Exhaustion be damned.

This is important.

[xsuttungr]

badmoonstatic‌:

dated — january 3rd, around 9 pm located — unknown alley status — open 

Gerrard couldn’t find his feet beneath him.  

As he stepped, the world felt like it turned, off kilter with a laugh track that liked to watch the way he’d fucked up.  He was a frequent patron of the proverbial ‘Fuck Ups’ bar, but that particular night he’d made himself a deeply inlaid feature; a piece of the counter, the leg of a bar stool.   Gerrard was a walking PSA, one that looked like he’d just stumbled out of the deepest dope den he could find. 

He looked sick.  Pallor settled in and his eyes were surrounded by rings of darkness, indicators of the sudden onset of fatigue that had sent him stumbling down the side walk.  The sound of sirens weren’t far off.  Normally, each car would have blazed across his internal map, but instead of bright white spots of electricity, each was barely a flicker. 

He tried to catch himself as he ducked into an alley, away from prying eyes.  He didn’t manage that basic piece of movement.  He missed the wall entirely, falling to the ground as his periphery flickered. 

It wasn’t a bad trip.  It wasn’t any drug.  Gerrard had run himself close to empty, the natural electricity in his body short circuiting, coming up empty as his body threatened to shudder to a stop.  His breaths were shallow, eyes glazing over as he stared up at a dark sky.

Fate has always been a funny friend to Felix. Sometimes an enemy that comes with haunting surprises. Other times the familiar touch in the passing of the night. Felix and fate have always had a complicated relationship and apparently tonight would be no different as he walked the city streets. It began as a good night - one of quiet and freedom. Felix had taken Flora out for a late night walk much to her pleasure. When he’d gotten back home, he’d left Flora with her food and ventured back out for some time on his own. The city at night had always been his favorite. Felix couldn’t imagine living elsewhere. Chicago had been everything he’d known... he could only continue to hope that it would live up to the past with all the recent turmoil.

Considering that fact, he likely shouldn’t just walk around. For all his paranoia and cautiousness, a part of him did tell him to go back home where it would be safe. But for once, he wants to enjoy something. Even something as simple as a walk. As expected, fate paid him a visit in the form of a face Felix had been sure he would never see again. It had taken a moment to place the man. That had been back in November and in the expanse of a rave at a warehouse. A far different experience than this current meeting. The man hadn’t had such a great night from what Felix could tell. His mind instantly ran through visible symptoms, a fast attempt to find the problem and solution.

“Do you need help?” Felix inquired with some caution, keeping a few feet away for the moment. “I’m a doctor, I can help.” If the other really was ill, Felix had options. Hospital or office. It would be closer to get the man to his office, but he’d risk people spotting him and asking for help. Some ignored the rule of the light in the window.

[xsuttungr]

fightthegods‌:

If Felix’s sharp exclamation startled him, it doesn’t show. With a hand still in the jar, Eoin only barely looks around the hulking figure of the tail wagging dog to see Felix put the gun down; the click of the safety going back on gives Eoin a clear indication that the doctor was ready and able to shoot him if necessary. Good. His hand pulls back from out of the jar with a treat in his hand and, after quickly pushing the eager dog’s face away, he shoves it in his own mouth. The crunching in his ears almost makes that Felix’s follow up question missed its mark.

“Your name’s Flora?” he asks the dog, again pushing its — her — face out of his space. Without really thinking about it, Eoin kisses the top of the dog’s head and with a single smooth movement he’s on his feet; he sets the jar back atop the fridge where he found it. “We shared.”

He moves towards Felix, stopping two feet away to look him over. He looks tired. Not unusual maybe, but particularly, this time. Regardless, though, he’s alive, and that’s what matters. Yes, he’d already had his confirmation, two weeks ago, by text message. But… a text message and actually seeing the man in the flesh, hearing his voice, and the relief on his face, they’re two entirely different things to Eoin. This isn’t something that can be faked; not easily anyway.

And then he just smiles at him. It’s not the kind of smile he gave the doorman, or the smirk he often shoots at Hyperion when he’s ready to make a mess of him. This one is, dare he say it, happy; pleased; equally relieved. There’s a beat and his arms wrap around Felix’s neck, pulling him flush against his chest; it’s the most unusual feeling he’s experienced in years, and he’s the cause of it at that.

There’s so many words that shoot through Eoin’s head. I’m glad you’re okay. And he is, more than just glad. Thank you for being alive. There’d be hell to pay for anyone who thinks they could kill Felix Alvarez without consequence, and then for anyone foolish enough to let him die. But he says none of these things. Instead, Eoin presses a lingering kiss to his cheek before pulling back, removing himself from Felix’s personal space.

“Sorry about fuckin’ up your dog, I guess,” he says once there’s a comfortable space established again. So maybe it’s not any of the things he wanted to say, but they might as well be. It’s as soft as Eoin’s sentiments are going to get outside the privacy of his mind. His eyes still give Felix a measured look. “You look like shit.” The words are mellowed by the chuckle that follows.

Felix likely would not have believed that Eoin had shared the treats with flora had he not witnessed the other man shove the treat in his mouth. He ate a dog treat. A fucking dog treat. A single action somehow managed to send Felix on a rollercoaster of emotions ranging from concern to disgust. Felix also had the overwhelming urge to push past Flor and Eoin, to break out a skillet and try to get real substance into Eoin. Not a fucking dog treat. What did he eat? Felix didn’t entirely trust Eoin to feed himself properly.

“I’m always for displays of sharing capabilities; however, dog treats do not go on that list. You could have helped yourself to something in the fridge.” Felix could almost guarantee that Flora would have also helped herself to whatever was in the fridge that Eoin thought would be suitable. Despite the concern over the dog treats - and having a surprise visitor - Felix can feel the tension releasing from his shoulders. There’s no danger here. Especially not from someone so kind to Flora. No. No, that’s not quite it. Felix would be stupid to believe that. But it’s a good excuse for the moment.

The fun needs to go back into the closet. He also needs to put his shoes away at the door. He isn’t sure if the bathroom is completely clean and ready for visitors - which for Felix means its immaculate and he’s likely just left his toothbrush out. His thoughts are interrupted by the sudden realization that Eoin is in his space. It’s impossible for him not to notice beyond the hum of life from another person. It’s almost odd to be in such a casual setting with Eoin - not in the midst of medical supplies or his dingy office tucked in a spot within the city alleys. What throws Felix for a look, a feat impossible for many, is the smile. Dare say, a real smile? He’s trapped in a cage of shock the moment he feels the arms wrap around his neck. A hug?

Maybe it’s the exhaustion to blame for his brain being slow to process that he was receiving a hug. It felt... nice. It felt warm. Welcoming. Safe. Felix wraps his arms around Eoin’s torso, his grip tightening as he leans in greedily wanting more of the touch. But it ends too soon. Felix’s arms fall away and the kiss is pressed to his cheek as if it were just a lazy daydream. Felix suddenly feels very cold and empty. Normal. He feels normal.

Eoin is gone and out of his space, leaving behind the ghost of what happened. A daze is left, Felix’s brain trying to process what he should do next till he hears the words “you look like shit” and it cracks a tired smile from the man. “I bet, I just finished pulling a double at the hospital. Things get crazier every day.” Were all the pieces of him back together again? Of course they were. Felix unfortunately knew all too well how to pull all the parts of him back together into the safe facade that showed everything to be alright. Without his shell, Felix is far too vulnerable. A part of him hates that Eoin broke it, but so long as he can pull it back, there’s no reason to dwell.

Felix gives himself another moment before he finally shoulders off his jacket and made to grab the gun off the counter. “Do you want real food? I can cook, I need to eat anyway.” The distance is closed to the front door where his shoes are toed off and placed against the wall, lined up straight and neat. The jacket goes into the closet and the gun follows, tucked under the blankets. “Also, are you spending the night?” Felix would sacrifice the bedroom for Eoin if the other wanted to stay the night. They could share but Felix isn’t sure he can produce those words.

Despite Eoin being in his apartment, an interruption to the normal routine, Felix went about as if everything were normal. He turns the television onto the history channel but puts the volume low enough for it to be a soft hum in the background, closes the blinds now that the sun has gone down and it is late into the night, and waters the plants. “Don’t mind the mess and you can move things out of the way. I know there are books everywhere.” One day he’d buy bookshelves... but it still seems like a waste. Felix loves the look and feel of being surrounded by books.