[It's not fair of Finnick to look at him that way...
[The sun is setting. People - "locals" as Eren calls them, despite it being the farthest thing from the truth - pass by on the street, as they always do. The beach itself is relatively empty, and Finnick Odair is watching his lips.
[Over the last month or so, Eren has struggled to recognize whether he needs to protect his reputation or not. He doesn't want to be seen as anything but a threat to those that ought to feel threatened.
[It's exhausting, and this place is feeling less and less temporary. The Rumbling has probably been long since squashed by now if it hasn't been completed, but...no...that's impossible, because Eren has seen it happen; he made sure it would happen...
[He doesn't know what to think. He's lost all control of his life for the thousandth time; just when he'd managed to grasp control of the world.
[Eren glances around, and if anyone's watching, he doesn't notice. If he starts kissing Finnick on the lips, however, he knows he won't be able to stop; so, he lifts the man's rope-calloused hand to his mouth instead. Eren's lips brush lightly over Finnick's knuckles, pressing down only briefly in a kiss. He lowers their hands.]
[Finnick can tell by the way he looks around that Eren is afraid to be seen. It's understandable. Almost no one is as shameless as Finnick, and he doesn't expect them to be.
But he's caught completely off-guard by Eren kissing his knuckles. His heart skips a beat. All he can do is squeeze his hand back, smile gently again.
All at once, he realizes he's found out Eren's closely guarded secret. He's sweet. Incredibly caring. And he masks it.
Finnick knew it from the start, of course. When Eren had gotten drunk and admitted he missed "all of them." When he told Finnick that they both wear a mask. But he never expected to see such clear evidence. He never expected to be someone Eren was sweet to. To be fully trusted with that secret.
He wants to ask him about it, but he fears it will sound judgemental, when it's not at all. Finnick has his own facade, and he knows there's good reason to put effort into something like that. But he wants to know that reason.]
Remember when you said we both wear a mask? Why do you hide?
[Finnick's hand is still in Eren's, his eyes watching where they rest on the towel. The question gets his attention; he pauses before looking up at Finnick, which he shouldn't do, but does anyway. He tries to steel his expression; then again, what does it matter? Finnick sees right through it.
[This started long before that night they spent together, didn't it?
[He doesn't have the slightest idea of how to answer, because he doesn't particularly want to lie. There are plenty of reasons. The Scouts - his people - couldn't know his plan, nor could the Jaegerists, despite their support. For four long years, Eren could trust no one but himself, least of all the people who loved him the most. He had to become someone else; he had no choice. He saw the future right before he turned sixteen. There was no coming back after that.
[But the Scouts aren't here, and the Jaegerists aren't here, and even if they were, they know his plan now, and there's no way to stop it, so why does he hide, indeed - he realizes that he doesn't truly know.
[He's silent for far too long, but he's watching Finnick, and his eyes are focused. He's just...thinking.]
I had to. [He had to.] For a long time.
[It's more than that, though. Some of it, he just can't help. That dullness in his eyes, the way he can't get himself to smile, or laugh, or cry; there is a terrible rot inside of him, always and forever growing. He died the day he kissed Historia's hand - maybe even before that.]
[Finnick nods. He himself also had to, if he wanted to survive and keep his loved ones alive. He had to play the game, no matter how hard it was. He had to be ruthless.
But the next part, he shakes his head.]
You're not the mask. There's lots underneath. I've seen it.
[He sees it in Eren's eyes sometimes, feels it in the warmth of his touch.]
You don't have to abandon it, though. I wouldn't ask you to.
[It may still have its uses, even if the only use is making Eren feel safer.]
[Eren’s life is wrought with danger. He hasn’t often had the luxury of feeling safe, but he can remember now that last time that he did.
[A warm chest, a steadily beating heart, a single hand moving through his hair, the ghost of lips on his forehead every time he woke up for too long…
[Finnick’s words make warmth bloom in Eren’s chest, but he doesn’t believe them; can’t. Finnick only thinks that he’s seen the real Eren. The real Eren is made of blood and rot, hatred and wrath, wrath, wrath. He isn’t a sweet guy who ties knots and buys wine and curls up close under the covers. He’s a monster. He’s a devil. He’s the end of the goddamn world.
[What would Finnick think of him if he could see the future that Eren does? Men, women, children, crushed to death in an ocean of tar-dark red.
[He and Armin sat on very different shores.
[He couldn’t keep the doubt off of his face if he tried; not when Finnick is looking at him, saying things like that. Eren’s fingers curl through Finnick’s again.]
I couldn’t. [A terribly honest answer.
[He used to have fire. He used to have hope. He used to smile, and laugh, and roughhouse, and cry, and rage, and rest…]
I told you that I was a dead man too.
[Because when he goes home, he will die, but that isn’t what he means. He’s been dead for a long time.
[His eyes drop away from Finnick, brows settling into a glare at the towel. It’s a melancholy thing, as much as he tries to look angry. His voice drops just a pitch lower.]
[Finnick doesn't have any idea what Eren is thinking, but he seems distraught. He wants to wrap another hand around Eren's, but can't. Instead, he returns Eren's sweet act, lifting his hand to firmly kiss his knuckles. He smiles warmly, trying to convey his care, wanting it to be received, hoping it won't be rejected and pushed aside.]
Pretty warm, for a corpse.
[His smile turns wry and he pulls Eren's hand into his own lap and squeezes it.]
You're not dead yet. I want to stay with you, for however long you're here.
[If Eren wants or needs to go back to his world, Finnick wouldn't stop him. He just hopes that won't be too soon.]
[Finnick's lips press firm against his knuckles. Eren is grateful. It's overwhelming. It feels human; he feels human, or...at least right now, and the other night, and the night he killed Finnick, and the moment he saw him again, and that night at the bar, and the last two days, spent pacing his apartment, waiting for a text or call.
["I want to stay with you," Finnick says, and Eren wants it too - badly. Hell, he wouldn't mind if the bastard moved in. "For however long you're here." It's all temporary.
[That's why Eren can have this. It won't last, and when he leaves, he'll die, and he won't have to feel this terrible longing for all that he's lost.
[It's a lose-lose, but Eren can paint it as a win if he tries. He just wants to wake up to the sun through his window, shining light on a too-handsome face.]
[He wants to kiss Eren so badly. He won't. He doesn't want to fuck this up.
[Instead, he chuckles lightly.]
You're gonna regret saying that. I'll give it a week until you're sick of me.
[He holds fast to Eren's big hand, pulling it down further into his lap to make Eren lean over toward him slightly. He'll take any part of him he can get.
[He doesn't know what it is about Eren. Maybe he's attracted to cold people because it's a fun challenge to warm them up. Maybe Eren intrigues him, the stormcloud of mystery that surrounds him. Maybe he wants to look out for him, protect him.
But there's also just something about the way the air feels electrically charged, not just when he's near, but even speaking over text. There's something indescribable about it. It feels like he can't get enough.]
But this is nice.
[He smiles, says goodnight to the sun as the last sliver of orange slips under the covers of the lake. The beach is cooling, quieting. It's just them.]
[It's electric. It's addictive. Right now, it feels all-consuming. Eren wants to drown in Finnick's ocean. He doesn't want to feel anything else. He's right there. The beach is quiet. People pass by in fewer numbers on the street, and the breeze is so pleasantly warm in this perpetual summer, humidity making his lips feel wetter.]
I'm not exactly the type to get sick of people. [If only Finnick knew how true that was. He thinks of Reiner Braun.
[Shuts that down right away. Not now. Not ever. Not him.
[Finnick Odair, and this warm summer air, their hands intertwined.
[He's brought Eren in closer, closer. Eren's kiss is quick and all too fleeting, but he gets to taste that sweet, kind, laughing mouth with just the smallest tug of bottom lip.]
It's late now...[They haven't even touched the wine past that first sip. Wasted credits? Eren's glad he isn't drunk.]
[The kiss is quick and sweet and tastes like more. But Finnick can be patient.]
No? Even the ones who annoy you on purpose?
[There must be some reason Eren keeps talking to him, keeps coming back, but Finnick can't fathom what it is. He realizes he has no fucking clue what Eren likes about him, and it's not like he's going to ask. Maybe Finnick's just a warm body. He hopes not. God, he hopes not.]
You're welcome to come back to my place, but no pressure.
[They've hardly touched the wine, and Finnick, oddly, doesn't even want to. He doesn't feel the same compulsion and need for alcohol that he did before. If Eren decides to go home, he'll probably drink, to force himself to fall asleep, but if Eren stays, he won't have that problem.]
the co-dependency begins (as if it hadn't already)
[At Finnick's little joke, Eren has to drop his head a bit to hide the way the corners of his mouth ever-so-slightly lift; maybe it's not enough to notice at all, but he feels like smiling. He keeps his tone controlled, at least.]
Believe it or not, I'm used to it. [Leave it at that, but, as always, he's thinking of Them. At this moment in particular, it's Jean Kirstein on his mind, with their terrible, hollow rivalry, a poorly hidden excuse for being close without having to admit they cared about each other. They spent an awful lot of time annoying each other on purpose. Eren remembers well the tailored goodbye he crafted for his dear friend.
[They'll never trade amicable blows again; only fatal ones.
[Finnick wants him to come back to his place. Eren's never been. It doesn't matter. His apartment isn't any more of a home than Finnick's will be. If there's a bed to share, he wants to go.]
I'll come.
uh yeah did someone order a uhaul its under the name odair
[In the quickly fading light, is that a small smile Eren's trying to hide?
No, must be a trick of the shadows.]
I believe it. You make it too easy.
[He smiles at Eren's agreement, finds his shirt to put on because it's cooling off, not because he's trying to be decent or anything absurd like that. He's found the strategy of bunching the fabric up around the neckline and putting it over his head, then threading his arms through, tends to work best. He shakes off his towel and slings it over his shoulder, leaving the wine for Eren to grab so that Finnick can hold his hand.
It's not a long walk to Finnick's. He intentionally got a place as near as he could to the lake, and he's grateful every day that he did. Upon entering, it's similarly small and as simple as Eren's in terms of furniture, but every surface has a smattering of seashells, seaglass, bits of driftwood, and interesting rocks smoothed by the ocean. Most taken from the last amplitheater, some from the shore of the lake. On his wall, there's a complex woven tapestry of dried seaweed, and another of colourful rope braided into a spiral. On his table still lies a bunch of little half-finished projects of a similar nature from when he had both hands, including a piece of driftwood turned horizontal and tied with a curtain of several descending fishing lines wrapped around pieces seaglass, meant to be a suncatcher. There are a few empty liquor bottles around, and there's a weird amount of seaweed in his kitchen, too, upon inspection. There's a table lamp already on when they come in, and he turns on another standing lamp (also averse to the big light).]
Be right back.
[He goes to his room to throw his damp towel over the door to dry, and changes from swim shorts into sweatpants, then returns.]
[Eren did not expect to hold Finnick Odair's hand as they walked back to his apartment. It feels foolish and childish, embarrassing, undignified; Eren doesn't let go. Finnick's fingers are calloused from work, while Eren's are soft and pristine despite. They feel nice together. He finds himself squeezing periodically when he starts thinking to hard about it, his gaze cast in another direction, away from Finnick's face and off down the street instead...
[They make it to Finnick's apartment, and it looks like a home. Ocean-themed decor - collected by hand, if Eren had to guess - covers what feels like every inch of space (if only by comparison to Eren's blank, empty walls).
[Despite it all, Finnick still holds things like joy in his heart. Eren can picture him stopping along the shore (in his mind, they're still holding hands as they do now), yanking Eren off toward some shiny rock that means absolutely nothing to him - everything in the world to the man whose eyes reflect that terrible ocean.
[Eren wishes he would give him one to take home.
[Finnick leaves to change before Eren can steal a kiss, and it leaves him feeling antsy and uncertain, their fingers no longer intertwined. Eren explores the small apartment in Finnick's absence, observing the shells, the sea glass, the...strange fishing line construction that looks almost like a wind chime, but...not quite?
[Finnick returns, and Eren turns to face him.]
Finnick. I don't suppose you have a conch shell?
[His tone is even, betraying no particular emotion one way or another; his chest is tight, squeezing, burning. He's not quite sure why he asked. He'd just like to see one if Finnick has one.]
[As Finnick pads back out to Eren in bare feet, the guy asks him very seriously about a conch shell. He grins- it's random, and funny, and:]
Of course I do.
[He hums and looks around for it, not sure exactly where he put it.]
Ah.
[He shuffles over to one of his end-tables and picks it up, bringing it to Eren. It's about the length of his palm, light and shiny and pink. Beautiful. He holds it up toward Eren, turning it in the dim light, his face alight as he looks at it.]
[Finnick looks at that conch shell just the same way Armin did, but it's a different shell - different color, size, shape; not so raw, not so ugly, not so sharp.
[Eren can see that glimmer of hope in Finnick's eyes, and it's too much like the way Armin looked when he held up that conch shell between his hands, trying to show Eren the beauty of the dream they'd realized; Eren turned away.]
No. [But, before Finnick can get too disappointed:] A different one. Not a conch.
You choose.
[Finnick isn't Armin. Eren doesn't want him to be.]
[Finnick frowns for just a moment, then gets excited again. He gets to choose- that's a better idea. More fun.]
Okay! Does it have to be a shell, or...?
[He's looking around already, carefully examining all his finds. Seaglass is Finnick's favourite, so he'll probably pick one of those pieces... Or maybe it should be something that represents Eren somehow, or something that reminds Finnick of him... Oh, decisions... He wishes he could just make Eren a piece of jewelry or art. Not just a simple object that was found; something he himself invested time and thought into. Unfortunately, that's not easy right now, but he promises himself someday he'll get some kind of prosthetic and figure out how he can do it.]
[Finnick and Eren agreed earlier that Finnick is a "dog person".
[That appears to be accurate. He may as well be wagging his tail right now.
[Finnick begins looking around before Eren can even answer his question. It's exceedingly charming. Eren wants to smile again. With Finnick's back turned, he can't be quite sure whether he has or not. The muscles in his face never move all that much, after all...]
I want you to choose.
I don't care what it is.
[It feels a bit silly - like they're playing some kind of game right now, Eren teasing Finnick toward finding the correct solution. He forces himself not to mind, not to question. He wants Finnick's token. He has the rope - spent hours upon hours upon hours tying and untying knots while he waited to see if Finnick would text first...
[He wants more too. His apartment may well be filled one day with sea glass. He pictures again that imaginary scene with Finnick and he on the beach, and Finnick finding something that he considers important. Eren can practically feel the object being pressed into his palm.]
[Finnick nods, his excitement tempering as he slows down to really pore over the options. He isn't thinking of this as a test, rather an opportunity to express how he feels about Eren. While Finnick's love language is certainly touch, if ocean-related gifts were a language, that would be a close second. There are other ways to show love than by touching, and he wants to focus on those, wants Eren not to doubt for a second Finnick's intentions.
Instead of thinking about Eren's potential preferences, he picks up each piece and remembers what beach he was on when he picked it up, what the weather was like, what his mood was, what he was thinking about at the time. He thinks about how hard seaglass can be to find, because you have to look very closely in order to discern it from the rocks, especially if it's white or brown, and especially if it's wet. That's what Eren is like; at first you think he's a rock, but if you squint, you see the small gleam of light reflecting off of it.
So seaglass it is. He chooses his prized piece and goes back to Eren.]
The most common colours of seaglass are brown, white, and green. That's because most glass bottles are manufactured in those colours. Blue is more rare, at least in my world. But red is the most rare and special, because it's said to only come from the lights of ships and lighthouses when they break and fall into the water.
[He holds up a small triangle of red glass, worn and smooth and porous from the sea.]
This one is so smooth, it must have been in there for a long time. Maybe a century. Maybe many centuries. Think about it. A ship 200 years ago sunk, one of the lights broke, and that glass rolled around, was swept up by currents, washed by waves, churned in the sand, probably travelled hundreds of miles... To end up at my feet, on the beach, on a day I just so happened to take a look. It's such a rare coincidence that it feels like magic.
It's kind of like how, across the universe, or millions, trillions of universes, after being churned out by our own unique seas, we both ended up here, on this beach, meeting each other. That chance, I would say, is even smaller than finding red.
[Plus, it was cloudy and rainy on the day he found this, which made it harder to see. Like how he and Eren were both steeped in misery when they met, wearing their masks, unable to tell if the other was a common rock or a dazzling piece of glass.
He smiles, holds it out in offering.]
Any beach comber knows that if you find blue or red you never let it go. But I'll make an exception. Just because I know you'll keep it safe.
[Eren hadn't ever heard of sea glass before now; Finnick's explanation is certainly an introduction. He makes something as simple as a rounded piece of trash sound like the most profound thing in the universe; with Finnick explaining, Eren almost believes it.
[Then Finnick starts talking about magic, happenstance, and Them - as rare and precious as red seaglass, broken so long ago from what it once was, then made into something...
[Beautiful. Eren takes the smoothed glass into his hand, fingers running delicately over it, as if Eren's touch at all would cause it to shatter. Oddly enough, though, this "glass" doesn't seem at all prone to breaking.
[What exactly is Finnick letting go of? Eren feels more tethered than ever. He forgets to steel his face as he watches the glass, turning it over now between his hands. He looks...somewhere between puzzled and sad, but it's a gentle expression all the same, somehow.
[When did this happen? How did this happen? Is this what Finnick thinks of Eren? Something broken, then made beautiful over time? He couldn't be more wrong...
[In some ways, Eren is more honest with Finnick than he is with anyone; in other ways, he's never been more of a liar.
[His voice comes out quiet. He's still looking at the glass.]
I've become important to you. [He almost says it like he's sorry.]
[Eren doesn't scoff, or act like Finnick is just some corny dumbass, which is a relief, because he sort of is a corny dumbass, so that reaction would be kind of fair.
He looks like he understands the weight of the gift, or is at least trying to. Quietly, gently, he answers:]
Of course you have. You're special, and rare, and I found you despite all odds.
[He pokes the glass, making the connection solid that the red piece represents Eren, in case it wasn't totally clear.]
[Eren hasn't wanted to be special for a long time. When Shadis told him that story about Eren's parents, he walked away feeling different; in ways, better, and in other ways, worse. He learned the truth of the future shortly after that. He'd never wanted to be less special, less rare, less seen...
[Finnick's final words give Eren pause, and God he wants to laugh, or at least smile - this cheeky little shit, grinning, winking, calling him pretty like Eren's some girl in Finnick's Cadet Corps...
[He settles for pointedly closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, clearly affected by the comment in a way that he hopes conveys at least some vague amusement.
[He puts the seaglass in his pocket.
[If there were any doubts about his affections after all that, he decides to put them to rest. He takes Finnick's knuckles and brings them to his lips again just briefly; after that, a kiss to that lips - slow, warm, weighted - all of the affection and longing and pitiful loneliness that he's been holding in since the last time they were alone like this...
[He'll have to get Finnick something too. He's never been all that good at gifts.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[The sun is setting. People - "locals" as Eren calls them, despite it being the farthest thing from the truth - pass by on the street, as they always do. The beach itself is relatively empty, and Finnick Odair is watching his lips.
[Over the last month or so, Eren has struggled to recognize whether he needs to protect his reputation or not. He doesn't want to be seen as anything but a threat to those that ought to feel threatened.
[It's exhausting, and this place is feeling less and less temporary. The Rumbling has probably been long since squashed by now if it hasn't been completed, but...no...that's impossible, because Eren has seen it happen; he made sure it would happen...
[He doesn't know what to think. He's lost all control of his life for the thousandth time; just when he'd managed to grasp control of the world.
[Eren glances around, and if anyone's watching, he doesn't notice. If he starts kissing Finnick on the lips, however, he knows he won't be able to stop; so, he lifts the man's rope-calloused hand to his mouth instead. Eren's lips brush lightly over Finnick's knuckles, pressing down only briefly in a kiss. He lowers their hands.]
no subject
But he's caught completely off-guard by Eren kissing his knuckles. His heart skips a beat. All he can do is squeeze his hand back, smile gently again.
All at once, he realizes he's found out Eren's closely guarded secret. He's sweet. Incredibly caring. And he masks it.
Finnick knew it from the start, of course. When Eren had gotten drunk and admitted he missed "all of them." When he told Finnick that they both wear a mask. But he never expected to see such clear evidence. He never expected to be someone Eren was sweet to. To be fully trusted with that secret.
He wants to ask him about it, but he fears it will sound judgemental, when it's not at all. Finnick has his own facade, and he knows there's good reason to put effort into something like that. But he wants to know that reason.]
Remember when you said we both wear a mask? Why do you hide?
no subject
[This started long before that night they spent together, didn't it?
[He doesn't have the slightest idea of how to answer, because he doesn't particularly want to lie. There are plenty of reasons. The Scouts - his people - couldn't know his plan, nor could the Jaegerists, despite their support. For four long years, Eren could trust no one but himself, least of all the people who loved him the most. He had to become someone else; he had no choice. He saw the future right before he turned sixteen. There was no coming back after that.
[But the Scouts aren't here, and the Jaegerists aren't here, and even if they were, they know his plan now, and there's no way to stop it, so why does he hide, indeed - he realizes that he doesn't truly know.
[He's silent for far too long, but he's watching Finnick, and his eyes are focused. He's just...thinking.]
I had to. [He had to.] For a long time.
[It's more than that, though. Some of it, he just can't help. That dullness in his eyes, the way he can't get himself to smile, or laugh, or cry; there is a terrible rot inside of him, always and forever growing. He died the day he kissed Historia's hand - maybe even before that.]
This is just what I am now. [A monster.]
no subject
But the next part, he shakes his head.]
You're not the mask. There's lots underneath. I've seen it.
[He sees it in Eren's eyes sometimes, feels it in the warmth of his touch.]
You don't have to abandon it, though. I wouldn't ask you to.
[It may still have its uses, even if the only use is making Eren feel safer.]
cw: genocide, graphic violent imagery
[A warm chest, a steadily beating heart, a single hand moving through his hair, the ghost of lips on his forehead every time he woke up for too long…
[Finnick’s words make warmth bloom in Eren’s chest, but he doesn’t believe them; can’t. Finnick only thinks that he’s seen the real Eren. The real Eren is made of blood and rot, hatred and wrath, wrath, wrath. He isn’t a sweet guy who ties knots and buys wine and curls up close under the covers. He’s a monster. He’s a devil. He’s the end of the goddamn world.
[What would Finnick think of him if he could see the future that Eren does? Men, women, children, crushed to death in an ocean of tar-dark red.
[He and Armin sat on very different shores.
[He couldn’t keep the doubt off of his face if he tried; not when Finnick is looking at him, saying things like that. Eren’s fingers curl through Finnick’s again.]
I couldn’t. [A terribly honest answer.
[He used to have fire. He used to have hope. He used to smile, and laugh, and roughhouse, and cry, and rage, and rest…]
I told you that I was a dead man too.
[Because when he goes home, he will die, but that isn’t what he means. He’s been dead for a long time.
[His eyes drop away from Finnick, brows settling into a glare at the towel. It’s a melancholy thing, as much as he tries to look angry. His voice drops just a pitch lower.]
You held a corpse.
no subject
Pretty warm, for a corpse.
[His smile turns wry and he pulls Eren's hand into his own lap and squeezes it.]
You're not dead yet. I want to stay with you, for however long you're here.
[If Eren wants or needs to go back to his world, Finnick wouldn't stop him. He just hopes that won't be too soon.]
no subject
["I want to stay with you," Finnick says, and Eren wants it too - badly. Hell, he wouldn't mind if the bastard moved in. "For however long you're here." It's all temporary.
[That's why Eren can have this. It won't last, and when he leaves, he'll die, and he won't have to feel this terrible longing for all that he's lost.
[It's a lose-lose, but Eren can paint it as a win if he tries. He just wants to wake up to the sun through his window, shining light on a too-handsome face.]
Alright.
Do that, then. [...] You have my permission.
no subject
[Instead, he chuckles lightly.]
You're gonna regret saying that. I'll give it a week until you're sick of me.
[He holds fast to Eren's big hand, pulling it down further into his lap to make Eren lean over toward him slightly. He'll take any part of him he can get.
[He doesn't know what it is about Eren. Maybe he's attracted to cold people because it's a fun challenge to warm them up. Maybe Eren intrigues him, the stormcloud of mystery that surrounds him. Maybe he wants to look out for him, protect him.
But there's also just something about the way the air feels electrically charged, not just when he's near, but even speaking over text. There's something indescribable about it. It feels like he can't get enough.]
But this is nice.
[He smiles, says goodnight to the sun as the last sliver of orange slips under the covers of the lake. The beach is cooling, quieting. It's just them.]
Thanks for coming.
reiner is the dude in the icon btw lmao
I'm not exactly the type to get sick of people. [If only Finnick knew how true that was. He thinks of Reiner Braun.
[Shuts that down right away. Not now. Not ever. Not him.
[Finnick Odair, and this warm summer air, their hands intertwined.
[He's brought Eren in closer, closer. Eren's kiss is quick and all too fleeting, but he gets to taste that sweet, kind, laughing mouth with just the smallest tug of bottom lip.]
It's late now...[They haven't even touched the wine past that first sip. Wasted credits? Eren's glad he isn't drunk.]
cw alcohol use/abuse
No? Even the ones who annoy you on purpose?
[There must be some reason Eren keeps talking to him, keeps coming back, but Finnick can't fathom what it is. He realizes he has no fucking clue what Eren likes about him, and it's not like he's going to ask. Maybe Finnick's just a warm body. He hopes not. God, he hopes not.]
You're welcome to come back to my place, but no pressure.
[They've hardly touched the wine, and Finnick, oddly, doesn't even want to. He doesn't feel the same compulsion and need for alcohol that he did before. If Eren decides to go home, he'll probably drink, to force himself to fall asleep, but if Eren stays, he won't have that problem.]
the co-dependency begins (as if it hadn't already)
Believe it or not, I'm used to it. [Leave it at that, but, as always, he's thinking of Them. At this moment in particular, it's Jean Kirstein on his mind, with their terrible, hollow rivalry, a poorly hidden excuse for being close without having to admit they cared about each other. They spent an awful lot of time annoying each other on purpose. Eren remembers well the tailored goodbye he crafted for his dear friend.
[They'll never trade amicable blows again; only fatal ones.
[Finnick wants him to come back to his place. Eren's never been. It doesn't matter. His apartment isn't any more of a home than Finnick's will be. If there's a bed to share, he wants to go.]
I'll come.
uh yeah did someone order a uhaul its under the name odair
No, must be a trick of the shadows.]
I believe it. You make it too easy.
[He smiles at Eren's agreement, finds his shirt to put on because it's cooling off, not because he's trying to be decent or anything absurd like that. He's found the strategy of bunching the fabric up around the neckline and putting it over his head, then threading his arms through, tends to work best. He shakes off his towel and slings it over his shoulder, leaving the wine for Eren to grab so that Finnick can hold his hand.
It's not a long walk to Finnick's. He intentionally got a place as near as he could to the lake, and he's grateful every day that he did. Upon entering, it's similarly small and as simple as Eren's in terms of furniture, but every surface has a smattering of seashells, seaglass, bits of driftwood, and interesting rocks smoothed by the ocean. Most taken from the last amplitheater, some from the shore of the lake. On his wall, there's a complex woven tapestry of dried seaweed, and another of colourful rope braided into a spiral. On his table still lies a bunch of little half-finished projects of a similar nature from when he had both hands, including a piece of driftwood turned horizontal and tied with a curtain of several descending fishing lines wrapped around pieces seaglass, meant to be a suncatcher. There are a few empty liquor bottles around, and there's a weird amount of seaweed in his kitchen, too, upon inspection. There's a table lamp already on when they come in, and he turns on another standing lamp (also averse to the big light).]
Be right back.
[He goes to his room to throw his damp towel over the door to dry, and changes from swim shorts into sweatpants, then returns.]
no subject
[They make it to Finnick's apartment, and it looks like a home. Ocean-themed decor - collected by hand, if Eren had to guess - covers what feels like every inch of space (if only by comparison to Eren's blank, empty walls).
[Despite it all, Finnick still holds things like joy in his heart. Eren can picture him stopping along the shore (in his mind, they're still holding hands as they do now), yanking Eren off toward some shiny rock that means absolutely nothing to him - everything in the world to the man whose eyes reflect that terrible ocean.
[Eren wishes he would give him one to take home.
[Finnick leaves to change before Eren can steal a kiss, and it leaves him feeling antsy and uncertain, their fingers no longer intertwined. Eren explores the small apartment in Finnick's absence, observing the shells, the sea glass, the...strange fishing line construction that looks almost like a wind chime, but...not quite?
[Finnick returns, and Eren turns to face him.]
Finnick. I don't suppose you have a conch shell?
[His tone is even, betraying no particular emotion one way or another; his chest is tight, squeezing, burning. He's not quite sure why he asked. He'd just like to see one if Finnick has one.]
no subject
Of course I do.
[He hums and looks around for it, not sure exactly where he put it.]
Ah.
[He shuffles over to one of his end-tables and picks it up, bringing it to Eren. It's about the length of his palm, light and shiny and pink. Beautiful. He holds it up toward Eren, turning it in the dim light, his face alight as he looks at it.]
no subject
[It's not bleeding.
[Eren observes it for a few long moments.]
It's different than the ones I've seen.
no subject
[He tilts his head, looking at Eren curiously.]
Why'd you want to see a conch in particular?
no subject
[Not a lie:] It's the first sort I ever saw.
no subject
Well, that's significant. You want this one?
[Finnick raises it up a little more, looking at his face hopefully. It's clear Eren's answer to this will matter to him a lot.]
no subject
No. [But, before Finnick can get too disappointed:] A different one. Not a conch.
You choose.
[Finnick isn't Armin. Eren doesn't want him to be.]
no subject
Okay! Does it have to be a shell, or...?
[He's looking around already, carefully examining all his finds. Seaglass is Finnick's favourite, so he'll probably pick one of those pieces... Or maybe it should be something that represents Eren somehow, or something that reminds Finnick of him... Oh, decisions... He wishes he could just make Eren a piece of jewelry or art. Not just a simple object that was found; something he himself invested time and thought into. Unfortunately, that's not easy right now, but he promises himself someday he'll get some kind of prosthetic and figure out how he can do it.]
no subject
[That appears to be accurate. He may as well be wagging his tail right now.
[Finnick begins looking around before Eren can even answer his question. It's exceedingly charming. Eren wants to smile again. With Finnick's back turned, he can't be quite sure whether he has or not. The muscles in his face never move all that much, after all...]
I want you to choose.
I don't care what it is.
[It feels a bit silly - like they're playing some kind of game right now, Eren teasing Finnick toward finding the correct solution. He forces himself not to mind, not to question. He wants Finnick's token. He has the rope - spent hours upon hours upon hours tying and untying knots while he waited to see if Finnick would text first...
[He wants more too. His apartment may well be filled one day with sea glass. He pictures again that imaginary scene with Finnick and he on the beach, and Finnick finding something that he considers important. Eren can practically feel the object being pressed into his palm.]
no subject
Instead of thinking about Eren's potential preferences, he picks up each piece and remembers what beach he was on when he picked it up, what the weather was like, what his mood was, what he was thinking about at the time. He thinks about how hard seaglass can be to find, because you have to look very closely in order to discern it from the rocks, especially if it's white or brown, and especially if it's wet. That's what Eren is like; at first you think he's a rock, but if you squint, you see the small gleam of light reflecting off of it.
So seaglass it is. He chooses his prized piece and goes back to Eren.]
The most common colours of seaglass are brown, white, and green. That's because most glass bottles are manufactured in those colours. Blue is more rare, at least in my world. But red is the most rare and special, because it's said to only come from the lights of ships and lighthouses when they break and fall into the water.
[He holds up a small triangle of red glass, worn and smooth and porous from the sea.]
This one is so smooth, it must have been in there for a long time. Maybe a century. Maybe many centuries. Think about it. A ship 200 years ago sunk, one of the lights broke, and that glass rolled around, was swept up by currents, washed by waves, churned in the sand, probably travelled hundreds of miles... To end up at my feet, on the beach, on a day I just so happened to take a look. It's such a rare coincidence that it feels like magic.
It's kind of like how, across the universe, or millions, trillions of universes, after being churned out by our own unique seas, we both ended up here, on this beach, meeting each other. That chance, I would say, is even smaller than finding red.
[Plus, it was cloudy and rainy on the day he found this, which made it harder to see. Like how he and Eren were both steeped in misery when they met, wearing their masks, unable to tell if the other was a common rock or a dazzling piece of glass.
He smiles, holds it out in offering.]
Any beach comber knows that if you find blue or red you never let it go. But I'll make an exception. Just because I know you'll keep it safe.
[He winks.]
no subject
[Then Finnick starts talking about magic, happenstance, and Them - as rare and precious as red seaglass, broken so long ago from what it once was, then made into something...
[Beautiful. Eren takes the smoothed glass into his hand, fingers running delicately over it, as if Eren's touch at all would cause it to shatter. Oddly enough, though, this "glass" doesn't seem at all prone to breaking.
[What exactly is Finnick letting go of? Eren feels more tethered than ever. He forgets to steel his face as he watches the glass, turning it over now between his hands. He looks...somewhere between puzzled and sad, but it's a gentle expression all the same, somehow.
[When did this happen? How did this happen? Is this what Finnick thinks of Eren? Something broken, then made beautiful over time? He couldn't be more wrong...
[In some ways, Eren is more honest with Finnick than he is with anyone; in other ways, he's never been more of a liar.
[His voice comes out quiet. He's still looking at the glass.]
I've become important to you. [He almost says it like he's sorry.]
no subject
He looks like he understands the weight of the gift, or is at least trying to. Quietly, gently, he answers:]
Of course you have. You're special, and rare, and I found you despite all odds.
[He pokes the glass, making the connection solid that the red piece represents Eren, in case it wasn't totally clear.]
Plus, you're pretty. Like the glass.
[A lopsided grin.]
no subject
[Finnick's final words give Eren pause, and God he wants to laugh, or at least smile - this cheeky little shit, grinning, winking, calling him pretty like Eren's some girl in Finnick's Cadet Corps...
[He settles for pointedly closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, clearly affected by the comment in a way that he hopes conveys at least some vague amusement.
[He puts the seaglass in his pocket.
[If there were any doubts about his affections after all that, he decides to put them to rest. He takes Finnick's knuckles and brings them to his lips again just briefly; after that, a kiss to that lips - slow, warm, weighted - all of the affection and longing and pitiful loneliness that he's been holding in since the last time they were alone like this...
[He'll have to get Finnick something too. He's never been all that good at gifts.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
cw hospitalization,suicidal thoughts