Chapter Text
Black Sapphire had been standing still for a very long time. Both literally and figuratively, even when the sun set and the lights turned on inside the towering estates of the republic, Black Sapphire didn't move, and neither did his heart.
He considered himself a practical person. If it isn't broken, don't fix it, and he liked things that way. He had a routine, he had a script, every second of every day was exactly the same as the last, and now it was all for nothing, dust in the wind.
Now he stood outside a bar, leaned against the wall, the cool evening air still cradling the scent of fresh rain as it wafted past his burning cheeks. If Black Sapphire were a stronger man, perhaps he'd have left before the bar closed, and the owner threw him out for being unable to pay his tab. But if Black Sapphire were a stronger man, he wouldn't be in this situation in the first place, would he?
The cold was biting now, and Black Sapphire wished distantly that the alcohol had done more to numb it. His nerves writhed at his lack of options, but his heart screamed when he considered the only one he had. The memory flashed in his head like a vengeful spirit, that warm, loving smile, and Black Sapphire felt ill.
Stumbling off into an alleyway, Black Sapphire fought to stave off his nausea until he was concealed— his pride may very well be the only thing he had left, after all. His gait felt unsteady on the cobbled streets, and he allowed himself to tumble to the ground, thinking it better than to cling to the dumpster.
His eyes stung. Why did they sting? He couldn't breathe right, and he suddenly became overwhelmed with a stabbing pain in his chest. His hands were trembling, clawing uselessly at the ground while the world spun around him. He was nauseous and suffocating at the same time, and for a split moment he feared he would die here.
Perhaps it was fitting. He had spewed endless vitriol towards the only person left to care for him, and yet he was the one who met the most pathetic fate in the end. It felt poetic, even, if he could feel anything at all.
Really, though, the only thing he felt was his head hitting the ground before everything went black.
It was midnight now.
Clotted Cream had spent hours pacing his office, waiting for something, anything. A voice, a flourish, a touch, someone to make him jump out of his skin and tease him for being foolish enough to worry at all.
But nothing came.
Even when absent, Black Sapphire couldn't help distracting him from his work, it seemed, and Clotted Cream could do nothing but run their last interaction over and over in his head, combing through every inch of memory looking for some kind of answer, some kind of explanation as to what he did wrong.
And then it became midnight, and the Consul's thoughts shifted. Black Sapphire was too prideful to sleep outside, no matter the situation, and he had nowhere else to go. If he had not come begrudgingly, then something must be preventing him from coming at all. The thought sent a shiver down his spine.
Paranoid as he may be, however, Clotted Cream was a pragmatist if nothing else, and donned the nearest coat he could reach, taking great care to slip out of the manor undetected. He knew the passages by heart, spending more of his teenage years than he'd ever admit mapping out the crawlspaces in the walls, finding a passage to every room in the house, and every hidden exit he could build.
The streets still glistened with puddles of fresh rainfall, the gentle sprinkling slowly washing away his footprints in the mud.
Clotted Cream dreaded the thought of being recognized, so he kept to the shadows, scouring the city in search. In his panic, he nearly passed an alleyway— turning back when he heard a soft groan from behind the dumpster.
He approached hesitantly, prepared to flee if he was mistaken, but Clotted Cream melted with relief despite himself when he recognized Black Sapphire, passed out cold against the stone alley. He looked nauseated and exhausted, and he radiated with the stench of alcohol, but he was alive and breathing, and even turned his head to meet the warmth of Clotted Cream's hand on his cheek.
Clotted Cream couldn't help the twist in his chest at the chimera's disheveled state, and lifted him into his arms smoothly, tucking him into the warm darkness of his cloak.
"Nnh…" Black Sapphire stirred, shifting in his arms. His body instinctively curled into the heat he was pressed against, wincing at the way his head pounded when he moved.
"Black Sapphire Cookie…?" Clotted Cream's voice was soft above him, gentle with his concern.
Black Sapphire felt the shame first, weighing heavy on his shoulders. "Idiot…" The bass of his own voice rattled his head painfully. "Are you trying to ruin your own life?"
Clotted Cream didn't answer him, but Black Sapphire didn't need to see his face to know he was smiling. He didn't have the strength to thrash himself out of the warm embrace, so he resigned himself to clinging tightly to his shirt as they began to move again.
Even if he couldn't see it clearly through the thick velveteen fabric of the cloak, Black Sapphire could still sense the warm lights of the manor, and hissed quietly into the Consul's chest. He couldn't quite recognize the paths they were taking, but he knew when they entered the office, the crackling fireplace both comforting and irritating at the same time.
The moment he was set down, Black Sapphire turned over, grasping for a pillow to hide his face in. His head was still pounding, and he found himself longing for the confined darkness of the cloak once again.
He didn't move when Clotted Cream ran a hand down his body. Perhaps it was penance for being such a fool, he decided, and turned to open himself to the touch— his eyes remained screwed shut, deciding the light to be an enemy regardless.
Something stung his arm. Black Sapphire chastised himself for flinching, but did not pull away. When something something began wrapping around his arm, Black Sapphire dared to crack an eye open, met with the sight of a dreadful gash down his forearm— something he only vaguely remembered sustaining on the way down. Something murky and disgusting oozed out of the wound, mixing with the clear solution tenderly applied over it, and Black Sapphire mercifully allowed it to be covered.
"You're pathetic, you know." He hissed, ignoring the tremble in his voice and the hot trail down his cheek. "Doing all of this, you're not even getting anything for it."
Clotted Cream nodded, focusing on dressing the wound with a content smile.
"You'll be ruined if someone sees you. Every day you entertain this you're just making the inevitable worse for yourself."
The Consul didn't waver, simply nodding and smiling as he finished the bandage off, only looking to Black Sapphire's face as if to check if he would fight being picked up again.
It seemed, in the end, that he had determined it was safe, as he lifted Black Sapphire with little ceremony, clutching him to his chest like a precious treasure and slipping into the adjacent bedroom— even more blissfully dark and silent than the office.
Black Sapphire was sure that he had been caught relaxing at the change in environment, as Clotted Cream made quick yet gentle work of helping him into bed, disappearing into the bathroom for only a moment before emerging in sleepwear to join him.
Despite himself, despite his internal protests and despite his pride, Black Sapphire curled into the Consul's chest, allowing himself to be held so tightly and so lovingly, and allowing himself to entertain the idea that even his secrets might be safe here.
"… You're an idiot for putting up with me." Black Sapphire admitted, his voice hoarse and pained.
Clotted Cream's voice, in comparison, was warm and loving, a beacon of safety amidst the dark sea. Black Sapphire wanted to think he sounded like an idiot, but the response warmed him in a way that felt almost too cruel to criticize. It was so simple, but so earnest, devoid of insincerity and judgment, like he truly, wholeheartedly believed it, and adored this truth all the same. In another life, it'd make Black Sapphire sick to hear. A few months ago, even, he'd spout nothings of superiority in its face. But here and now, it was a promise, something that brought him a comfort he could never replace.
"I know."