I don't want to move yet, so pick up the wine on the way if you want to.
[He sends Eren the address of the little shop, too. It's down the street toward his apartment and he wants to stay on the beach. Finnick's not sure when he decided it was time to be waited on. Apparently just now. He wonders if Eren will actually do it, come to him, buy him wine.]
[He wouldn't. Can't. Separating Finnick from the ocean would be like separating Armin from it. Impossible. It's both or nothing.]
Alright.
[Eren doesn't feel like he's waiting on Finnick (if he did, he definitely would not be coming), but he does feel somewhat pathetic hiking over to District 1 to buy wine best paired with watching a sunset.
[It's...embarrassing. And he's doing it anyway.
[He wants to see him.
[So, sure enough, he shows up as the sky starts to turn pink. Out in public, there's no chance he'll be as close to Finnick as he wants to be, but at least he'll be close.
[He finds him. Sits down next to him in the sand. He tries not to look at the water as he passes Finnick the bottle.]
I didn't bother with glasses. [He wonders if his usual dead tone will scare Finnick away now that he knows it's half bullshit. Oh well. They're not safe in his apartment anymore.]
[Finnick smiles as Eren agrees. Perfect. The boy, the sunshine, and wine, without lifting a finger. He throws his arm over his eyes and is drifting off a little by the time Eren sits next to him. He doesn't notice until he speaks.
He moves his arm, squinting up at him and smiling. He did come, and he did bring wine.]
No need for all that fancy business.
[He props himself up to face Eren. He's shirtless, of course, with Hawaiian-ass swim shorts that are just barely dry from swimming, and a necklace of intricately woven fishing line wrapped around a light-blue piece of seaglass, which he made when he still had two hands.]
[Eren avoids staring at Finnick's body by focusing on his face instead, but it isn't easy - not that it's any mystery he's good-looking. Noticing it just feels a little different now. Eren's doomed either way, unfortunately; where Finnick's body isn't, his eyes are.
[He keenly remembers the feeling of Finnick's lips on his mouth - all night long, all night long.]
No one could accuse me of being that. [His voice remains dull, but at least the words are lighthearted enough (although almost everything Eren says has more than one meaning).]
[He chuckles lightly. Finnick examines Eren a moment, noting where his gaze lands. Eren looks directly at his face; his eyes and lips. He's a little surprised Eren doesn't avoid looking at him altogether.
He sits up on his towel, shifting it 90 degrees and crossing his legs.]
Sit here.
[He pats the space on the towel next to him. People who didn't grow up around the water are funny to him. To Finnick, it's second nature not to sit directly in the sand; that's just asking for a sandy asscrack later. But not everyone knows that.
He thinks about touching him. Holding his hand, giving a little kiss. But he doesn't want to act like that's granted just because they did it once. Especially in public. Finnick's not shy at all, but Eren's another story.
[Finnick is quite literally pouting, but Eren's seen it before, and it makes him feel fond, even if he still can't quite admit it. The shuffle over to the towel is a bit awkward, and he feels stupid for sitting in the sand, but he moves over anyway, taking the bottle from Finnick. His eyes briefly go to the water. He pictures steam rising from it as if it were boiling.]
Don't look at me like that. [It's...a tease, but Eren's not sure that it will land. He's not the best at jokes these days.
[The cork is easy enough to get out. Eren opens the wine, almost passes it to Finnick, remembers that he's the one who made up the stupid excuse about wanting it in the first place, and takes a sip.
[It tastes like that night. He passes it to Finnick. Assuming he takes it, Eren lets his finger tips run briefly over Finnick's.
[By now, at least in person, Finnick can pick up on the extremely minute changes in tone between Eren's teasing versus him actually being annoyed, so he just grins.
He pretends not to notice Eren's fingers brushing against his own. The taste of the wine brings back the other night for him, as well. It was so intense. All they talked about. Their argument. The peace offering of bread. The rope. Finnick crying (again). Eren tying on his fingers just to comfort him. The key (???). The unspoken decision that Finnick would stay the night. The nightmare. The kiss.
What looms largest in his mind is the memory of how Eren's warmth felt against him in the dark. The way he smelled. His hair tickling Finnick's nose. Drifting in and out of sleep became something blissful instead of terrifying.
He wants to touch him so badly. It almost hurts, but it also feels electric.
He sips the wine, hands it back, places his hand down on the towel between them as though to support himself in sitting. His fingers purposely land overlapping on top of Eren's. He looks out at the water.]
[Eren remembers how it felt too. They slept for hours - how many, he's not even sure. Periodically, he'd wake up. The sun came up and settled in the sky, but Finnick wouldn't stir. He remembers readjusting every few hours just to listen to his heart. It was soothing. It was profound.
[It was nice.
[Eren doesn't move his hand. His pulse quickens in his wrist. Finnick wants to stay on the beach, but what then? Eren hasn't slept the last couple of nights; how could he? He wants to feel that warmth wrapped around him again.]
I'm willing to bet you spend most of your time here. [He doesn't mean to talk so softly. He wishes they were alone.]
[It was the best sleep he'd had in recent memory, and the longest. Best of all, dreamless.
Since then, he hasn't been dreamless. Nightmares, sure. Last night he dreamt not of Annie or his various traumas, but of Eren. Not a sex dream, not even anything too intimate. He just... Dreamt of his presence. Sitting in his living room. He had both arms in the dream, and was tying Eren's hair into knots. He woke up feeling like he was still there, but then the yearning kicked in.
And now the yearning continues. But they talk over it, they act like it isn't there, even as it thickens the air around them.]
A good bit of it. It's not the ocean, but it keeps me sane.
[Eren nods, making a brief sound of acknowledgement. It's not the ocean, but it reminds him enough of it. Paradis has lakes and rivers, but Eren didn't spend much time around them. He's from the city.]
I went most of my life without knowing the ocean was real. [He's already told Finnick that, he knows.]
You're the opposite. It must have felt like you couldn't escape it. This is strange for you, then.
[He can't pretend to know Finnick, but he wants to. It's a miracle he admits that to himself at all. He can't help it. He feels it everywhere, and the air between them is only growing thicker with unspoken words, withheld actions. How did they ever go from this to tangling themselves together, waking only to make sure the other was still there, sleeping all night long, all morning long, all afternoon long...]
[It's not lost on him, the increasing thoughtfulness of the way Eren speaks to him, like he's genuinely wondering what Finnick is experiencing.
He remembers the confusing way Eren had talked about the ocean when they first spoke on the network, and then what Eren said the other night: that the ocean was said to be a myth, believing in it punished because it meant a world outside. Seeing it for the first time must have brought on a lot of confusing realizations, especially when he found out enemies lied beyond those waters.]
When I was a kid, yeah, I couldn't escape it. I didn't always love it as much as I do now. Back then, it felt like an inevitability, to spend my life on the water like my father did, and his father before, and so on. But then I was pulled away from it, again and again. For the games first, then to the Capitol to be sold. Every time I left, horrible things would happen, and every time I returned, I'd see Annie or Mags. I guess that's a natural positive association thing, but it's also more than that. It's part of who I am. It's in my family and my blood. It's in the food I make. It's who my people are, what we can provide others, and the pride that comes with that. It's where I feel at home and at peace. Centered.
[His eyes sparkle with the bright orange and pink of the sunset as he gazes out. The horizon means possibility. Something beyond. The opposite of trapped.]
[Eren has difficulty empathizing. He always has. He struggled making friends as a child. He's never been able to easily understand what people are thinking, or how they're feeling; so, when he makes statements like that - often taken as assumptions, and not always kindly - he genuinely is searching for confirmation, trying to understand.
[Finnick does well with it, so Eren understands him more, and he keeps trying. He's always craved connection; he's just never been all that good at it.
[He listens. Finnick watches the horizon. Eren stopped searching for it a long time ago. Doesn't Finnick realize what lies beyond? Hatred, rot, death - all just as terrible, just as devastating no matter where you turn...
[He understands pride for one's home; he understands longing for it too.]
When I was young, I felt like my hometown was a cage. Behind those walls, we were no better than cattle, just sitting around, waiting to die.
I'd wish that something would happen. [He wanted that horizon.]
After my home was destroyed, I didn't hate it anymore. Seems that happened all at once. It was gone, and I wanted it back.
[All that is to say...
[His fingers lock with Finnick's. It's a bit awkward - Finnick's hand is still on top of his, Eren's fingers simply lacing up between the knuckles. Eren watches the water instead of Finnick. It's really not all that much like the ocean at all. They're both unmoored - far, far away from a home they'll never return to.]
[Finnick can feel him trying to connect, to find common ground, the movement of his fingers solidifying it. He can tell that it doesn't come naturally to Eren the way it does to Finnick, to relate, to charm, to communicate, so these small gestures show he's trying. Finnick looks at him again, smiling softly in recognition.]
Don't know what you got 'till it's gone.
[Would Eren go back to his world someday? Will this moment be one he looks back on and misses terribly, the way he misses Annie now?
He lifts Eren's hand and interlaces their fingers properly. Finnick looks at his lips, his eyes lingering there purposely for long enough for Eren to notice. A silent invitation.]
[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.]
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[He drops a pin of his exact location.]
I don't want to move yet, so pick up the wine on the way if you want to.
[He sends Eren the address of the little shop, too. It's down the street toward his apartment and he wants to stay on the beach. Finnick's not sure when he decided it was time to be waited on. Apparently just now. He wonders if Eren will actually do it, come to him, buy him wine.]
(text > action)
[He almost backs out.
[He wouldn't. Can't. Separating Finnick from the ocean would be like separating Armin from it. Impossible. It's both or nothing.]
Alright.
[Eren doesn't feel like he's waiting on Finnick (if he did, he definitely would not be coming), but he does feel somewhat pathetic hiking over to District 1 to buy wine best paired with watching a sunset.
[It's...embarrassing. And he's doing it anyway.
[He wants to see him.
[So, sure enough, he shows up as the sky starts to turn pink. Out in public, there's no chance he'll be as close to Finnick as he wants to be, but at least he'll be close.
[He finds him. Sits down next to him in the sand. He tries not to look at the water as he passes Finnick the bottle.]
I didn't bother with glasses. [He wonders if his usual dead tone will scare Finnick away now that he knows it's half bullshit. Oh well. They're not safe in his apartment anymore.]
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He moves his arm, squinting up at him and smiling. He did come, and he did bring wine.]
No need for all that fancy business.
[He props himself up to face Eren. He's shirtless, of course, with Hawaiian-ass swim shorts that are just barely dry from swimming, and a necklace of intricately woven fishing line wrapped around a light-blue piece of seaglass, which he made when he still had two hands.]
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[He keenly remembers the feeling of Finnick's lips on his mouth - all night long, all night long.]
No one could accuse me of being that. [His voice remains dull, but at least the words are lighthearted enough (although almost everything Eren says has more than one meaning).]
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He sits up on his towel, shifting it 90 degrees and crossing his legs.]
Sit here.
[He pats the space on the towel next to him. People who didn't grow up around the water are funny to him. To Finnick, it's second nature not to sit directly in the sand; that's just asking for a sandy asscrack later. But not everyone knows that.
He thinks about touching him. Holding his hand, giving a little kiss. But he doesn't want to act like that's granted just because they did it once. Especially in public. Finnick's not shy at all, but Eren's another story.
Instead, he holds the bottle toward Eren.]
You're gonna make the one-armed man open this?
[He gives a small pout.]
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Don't look at me like that. [It's...a tease, but Eren's not sure that it will land. He's not the best at jokes these days.
[The cork is easy enough to get out. Eren opens the wine, almost passes it to Finnick, remembers that he's the one who made up the stupid excuse about wanting it in the first place, and takes a sip.
[It tastes like that night. He passes it to Finnick. Assuming he takes it, Eren lets his finger tips run briefly over Finnick's.
[That's it.]
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He pretends not to notice Eren's fingers brushing against his own. The taste of the wine brings back the other night for him, as well. It was so intense. All they talked about. Their argument. The peace offering of bread. The rope. Finnick crying (again). Eren tying on his fingers just to comfort him. The key (???). The unspoken decision that Finnick would stay the night. The nightmare. The kiss.
What looms largest in his mind is the memory of how Eren's warmth felt against him in the dark. The way he smelled. His hair tickling Finnick's nose. Drifting in and out of sleep became something blissful instead of terrifying.
He wants to touch him so badly. It almost hurts, but it also feels electric.
He sips the wine, hands it back, places his hand down on the towel between them as though to support himself in sitting. His fingers purposely land overlapping on top of Eren's. He looks out at the water.]
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[It was nice.
[Eren doesn't move his hand. His pulse quickens in his wrist. Finnick wants to stay on the beach, but what then? Eren hasn't slept the last couple of nights; how could he? He wants to feel that warmth wrapped around him again.]
I'm willing to bet you spend most of your time here. [He doesn't mean to talk so softly. He wishes they were alone.]
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Since then, he hasn't been dreamless. Nightmares, sure. Last night he dreamt not of Annie or his various traumas, but of Eren. Not a sex dream, not even anything too intimate. He just... Dreamt of his presence. Sitting in his living room. He had both arms in the dream, and was tying Eren's hair into knots. He woke up feeling like he was still there, but then the yearning kicked in.
And now the yearning continues. But they talk over it, they act like it isn't there, even as it thickens the air around them.]
A good bit of it. It's not the ocean, but it keeps me sane.
the hair knots ; v ;
I went most of my life without knowing the ocean was real. [He's already told Finnick that, he knows.]
You're the opposite. It must have felt like you couldn't escape it. This is strange for you, then.
[He can't pretend to know Finnick, but he wants to. It's a miracle he admits that to himself at all. He can't help it. He feels it everywhere, and the air between them is only growing thicker with unspoken words, withheld actions. How did they ever go from this to tangling themselves together, waking only to make sure the other was still there, sleeping all night long, all morning long, all afternoon long...]
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He remembers the confusing way Eren had talked about the ocean when they first spoke on the network, and then what Eren said the other night: that the ocean was said to be a myth, believing in it punished because it meant a world outside. Seeing it for the first time must have brought on a lot of confusing realizations, especially when he found out enemies lied beyond those waters.]
When I was a kid, yeah, I couldn't escape it. I didn't always love it as much as I do now. Back then, it felt like an inevitability, to spend my life on the water like my father did, and his father before, and so on. But then I was pulled away from it, again and again. For the games first, then to the Capitol to be sold. Every time I left, horrible things would happen, and every time I returned, I'd see Annie or Mags. I guess that's a natural positive association thing, but it's also more than that. It's part of who I am. It's in my family and my blood. It's in the food I make. It's who my people are, what we can provide others, and the pride that comes with that. It's where I feel at home and at peace. Centered.
[His eyes sparkle with the bright orange and pink of the sunset as he gazes out. The horizon means possibility. Something beyond. The opposite of trapped.]
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[Finnick does well with it, so Eren understands him more, and he keeps trying. He's always craved connection; he's just never been all that good at it.
[He listens. Finnick watches the horizon. Eren stopped searching for it a long time ago. Doesn't Finnick realize what lies beyond? Hatred, rot, death - all just as terrible, just as devastating no matter where you turn...
[He understands pride for one's home; he understands longing for it too.]
When I was young, I felt like my hometown was a cage. Behind those walls, we were no better than cattle, just sitting around, waiting to die.
I'd wish that something would happen. [He wanted that horizon.]
After my home was destroyed, I didn't hate it anymore. Seems that happened all at once. It was gone, and I wanted it back.
[All that is to say...
[His fingers lock with Finnick's. It's a bit awkward - Finnick's hand is still on top of his, Eren's fingers simply lacing up between the knuckles. Eren watches the water instead of Finnick. It's really not all that much like the ocean at all. They're both unmoored - far, far away from a home they'll never return to.]
I get it. [He thinks he does, anyway.]
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Don't know what you got 'till it's gone.
[Would Eren go back to his world someday? Will this moment be one he looks back on and misses terribly, the way he misses Annie now?
He lifts Eren's hand and interlaces their fingers properly. Finnick looks at his lips, his eyes lingering there purposely for long enough for Eren to notice. A silent invitation.]
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[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.]
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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?
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[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.]
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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.
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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.]
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["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.
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[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.]
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cw hospitalization,suicidal thoughts