Chapter Text
“You look tired, mijo.” For a moment, I truly believe my Mami has followed me into this dangerous new universe and I whip around, wide-eyed.
When I see that it’s not my Mami, but Miles’ mom, I look behind me, then around. She must’ve been talking to him. Mijo? Yeah, not me.
She laughs. “I’m talking to you, silly.” I point to myself, probably with some stupidly confused expression on my face. She laughs again and nods.
It’s been a couple hours since we’ve arrived in Miles’ universe, and already, I’m a little overwhelmed with just how much there is to take in. Sure, it’s noisy at night where I come from, too, but it’s nothing like the music and joy that radiates from the surrounding buildings. It’s usually sirens or shouting or both.
Then there’s the view. Bright lights dot the streets, weaving through a sea of colorful buildings- none of which, from what I can see, are collapsed or abandoned- and I haven’t really been able to tear myself from the window since we broke for the night. Aaron wants to talk to me, I know, he keeps trying to walk around the area I’m at, without alerting me that he’s there, but he should know better than to try that shit with me, I invented it.
I sigh, and turn to meet her eyes. They’re the same color as my Mami’s but there’s no steel there, at least, not the same hard, coolness my Mami has adopted. It’s easy to separate the two of them in my mind; easier, at least, than it is with Jefferson. I tear myself off of that train of thought.
“Not much time to be sleeping when there’s a murderer on the loose, is there?” It doesn’t come out as hard or intimidating as I wanted it to, but I am at least able to keep my expression impassive. Of course I’m tired. I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t. She hums, thoughtfully, and stares deeply within my eyes before nodding, and moving to turn away.
“I’m here if you need anything, mijo.”
I suck in a quiet, sharp breath, “Don’t call me that. Please.” She looks back at me, but I can’t bring myself to meet her gaze. It’s not steely, but god, whatever it is, is strong. Inescapable. She doesn’t respond, only nods to herself as she walks away.
My next breath comes out shuddery and uneven, and I find that the view isn’t as idyllic as it had been a few minutes ago. With a sigh, I turn to where Aaron is trying- and failing- to appear nonchalant as he leans against the back of the couch. A quick glance around the room tells me that it’s just us- and Hobie and Pavitr, but they’re engrossed in a heated discussion, won’t be eavesdropping anytime soon- so I sidle up next to him.
“Is it everything you’d hoped.” It’s not a question in good faith, and it leaves my lips like a venomous hiss. I regret the words as soon as I say them, wincing to myself. It’s not his fault Jefferson had been so warm to his dead brother, and not to an evil version of his still-alive son. It’s simple math.
Aaron doesn’t respond for a long moment. He turns to look down at me with an unreadable expression on his face, which is vaguely terrifying because I can usually read him like a book.
“Not ‘everything’. But it was nice.” I can’t help the soft scoff that judders through my chest, it’s as if I’ve been possessed by a green-eyed monster, puppet-ed to cruelty by the tendrils of my own vicious envy. I apologize immediately and shove my head into my hands.
“Sorry, fuck- I’m sorry Tio. That was rude. I’m glad you got to see him again.”
A warmth blooms on my far shoulder, and I find myself tugged into a sideways embrace. “It’s okay, Miles. I understand. For what it’s worth, I’m glad you got to see him again, too.”
I shake my head, it wasn’t the same, and he knows it. “He’s not mine, Tio, you know that. It was never gonna be what I hoped.” The honesty comes as surprise to both of us, it seems, because I wasn’t aiming to be that open. Still, it’s good to have said it and I can feel a weight lifting from where it used to press down on my chest. Aaron looks like he wants to say something more, but after a few minutes of furrowed brows and false-starts, he keeps it to himself, simply drawing me into a full hug and holding me there for a bit. I don’t hate it as much as I usually would.
He tells me to get some rest before pulling away- only after he presses an achingly gentle kiss to my forehead- and moving towards the designated space he’s sharing with Peter B. and Noir. I look to the other occupants of the room, my bedroll buddies, as has been established, and find that their argument has since fizzled to nothing and they’re now both staring directly at me.
I shoot them the sharpest glare I can muster and stalk over to sit heavily in the empty armchair across from them. In the low electronic light streaming in through the window, Hobie seems to shine like a light of his own. Pavitr has just completed a six-step skincare routine and glistens from the product still ‘marinating’ on his face.
“That was sweet.” Pavitr comments, entirely oblivious. Hobie snorts out a chuckle and shoves his shoulder a bit. “Oh come off it, lad’s been through enough tonight, yeah?” Pavitr grins over at me, “I mean it though! The way the two of you interact, it’s very sweet. Obvious you’d do anything for each other.”
Of course. I want to say. Of course, we’d do anything for each other, we’re all we’ve got left, save Mami, and the thought of fracturing our family further makes me nauseous.
But I don’t respond, simply stare daggers into the side of his shiny face. Hobie raises his hands, a facsimile of surrender, and clicks his tongue. “I sense a bit of tension from the subject. Why don’t we move to something else, eh? What’s everyone’s playlist look like?” He seems genuinely invested in the answers, eyes bright and flitting between the two of us. I’m not going to be the first to answer, though, and it looks like Pavitr knows it. He turns to Hobie, grinning before rattling off a few band names.
“Ritviz, and Pritam for me!” He then turns to me, eyebrow raised. I realize they’re wondering if I share the same music taste as my counterpart from here. The thought causes a flash of panging anger to flood up my throat for a moment, I have to take a second to swallow it down before answering.
“Kendrick. Lil Nas.” The second one seems to come as a shock, as both Hobie and Pavitr’s heads twitch a little as I say it. The sight gives me a little more satisfaction than it maybe should, but I enjoy the feeling of it nonetheless.
“What about you?” I incline my head at Hobie, from the looks of him I can guess what genre of music he’s partial to, but I can’t know any of the specifics. Don’t know him well enough, yet. Want to know him better. I shove the thought down as soon as it arises.
He hums for a few moments, bringing a slender hand to tap distractingly at his chin as he thinks. I try, and fail, to tear my eyes from it several times before he speaks.
“Ho99o9, Anti-Flag, those types are my favorite. Thanks for indulging me, you two.” He grins at Pavitr, then turns the expression over to me. I’m struck by how handsomely his cheeks dimple, then chastise myself for thinking that. Stop that. He’s leaving after this.
“Sure.” I croak, busying myself with stripping and stowing my makeshift armor. It won’t be comfortable to sleep in and I need something to do other than stare into his deep, hypnotizing eyes.
Pavitr laughs and tells us he’s turning in before curling over and promptly falling right asleep. Useful trick, that is, also probably dangerous. Hobie catches onto my train of thoughts and laughs, lowly. “Yeah, he’s a strange one. Great fighter, though.” I can do little else but nod and struggle with the catch on my bracers. Es hermoso, muy hermoso.
“You need help with that, mate?” Somehow, he’s gotten even closer than before, dragged a damn ottoman over to sit on so he can lean over my arm, too. I can feel his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of my underclothes and have to fight off a shiver. He’s so close!
I cough, once, “Uh- sure. You know how these things work?” Hobie grins devilishly up at me, I almost flinch away from the proximity of such beauty. “Not exactly, but I’m sure I could figure it out. Better than you wrestling with it all night, innit?” I am helpless to do anything else but nod, and swallow around the large lump that has formed in my throat.
He’s. So. Close.
His hands are warm and careful on my arm, every movement overflowing with tenderness as he allows his fingers to explore the brace, every so often brushing against the thin fabric covering my arm beneath it. I feel shaky and the air is thick, hard to breathe with.
It’s like I’ve had too much coffee, everything feels like a livewire. Then, a latch clicks.
“There we go. Good.” Hobie breathes, ecstatic. The tone of his voice sends a real shiver through my body, I apologize for jostling him but he waves it off. “You cold?” He doesn’t seem to believe me when I shake my head, no. “Here.” Carefully extracting his hands from my arm, he shrugs his vest off and drapes it over my shoulders. It’s still warm. I think I really might go insane.
He returns to his work, biceps now bared to the world as he fiddles with the brace. I can’t tear my eyes away from the way his muscles shift in the low light.
Click. Click. One more catch and this brace will be off. The warmth of the jacket, coupled with the tranquil quiet that has overtaken the room lull me into a hazy, half-awake state where my eyes droop further with each passing second. Before I can warn Hobie, I’m listing forward, into unconsciousness.
“Oh, shit! You alr- oh. Yeah, mate, you’re alright. Get some rest.”
The warmth doesn’t leave.