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"I think… I hate you." Dwalin said quietly, watching Nori move across the room toward him.
"What?"
"I hate you." Dwalin repeated, his voice even and careful, like he had rehearsed this a thousand times before the thief had arrived.
But they had said this exact phrase to each other hundreds of times before, playfully then, never truly meaning it until now.
“You don’t really,” Nori grinned, not noticing the seriousness Dwalin meant to convey. “What’d I do this time, hm?”
I hate you for always coming back when you shouldn’t have to leave in the first place, I hate you for pretending to care when you come, I hate you for expecting me to welcome you with open arms no matter how long you are gone, he didn’t say, but wanted to. Mahal knows how much he wanted to spill everything right then and there, lay everything out for Nori to hear, so maybe he could see the damage he'd been doing.
Nori climbed into the bed and stretched, like a cat, taking his usual place beside the guard like he lived there. And Dwalin let him. Just like so many other things Dwalin let Nori do.
It had been this way for years. Dwalin, letting Nori into his bed, catering to the thief’s needs, his wants, and everything in between. He held him when he asked, kissed him when he asked, like a pet, heeding Nori’s every command blindly in hopes of pleasing him enough that one day he would decide to stay.
He didn’t love him. How could he? What was there to love when all Dwalin has ever gotten was the familiarity of skin and heat, but nothing of the dwarf underneath.
They never talked about each other’s day, nor did they ever ask. They never tended to each other's wounds, never shared a secret, or even a remotely meaningful conversation. And the wrongness behind it all, Dwalin should be arresting him. Dwalin should be throwing him in a cell to rot for his numerous crimes, instead, he laid awake most nights, waiting for a criminal to share his bed with.
And if he did love Nori, it would be for parts he had taken and warped in his head, stitching them back together to create a version of the thief that would do what he said or love him back.
He was always alone when he woke up the next morning, heavy arms reaching out to feel an empty space, trying to recall the night on his own, as if he could imagine Nori beside him again.
Wanting Nori was longing and heartache, worrying and patience; it was relying on promises that were never spoken, hoping one day Nori would stop using the window and instead enter through the door. And it was the meshing of breaths in the dark of night, ripples and bruises in skin, taking one another into each other’s arms and pushing flesh around to see if either could ever be ugly to the other.
But it wasn’t love; it never was. He so freely provided everything he had to Nori, who took so much more than he gave. Does anyone stare at something so horrible and just forgive it?
“I do.” Dwalin assured. “Been thinkin’ it while you were gone,” because Mahal knows where he goes when he runs off for months, “still think it when you’re here.”
“If it’s ‘cause of that break in at that jeweler’s, I got nothing to do with that.” But it wasn’t that.
“It’s…” His chest heaved with his sigh, frustration surging through him already. “What is this?” Dwalin made a vague gesture with his arms. “You come into my bed, sleep with me, touch me, use me, and you stay the night, then you leave.”
Nori watched Dwalin, trying to read him. “You treat me like a lover, then you don’t. I need you to tell me what you want from me. From this.”
There was something in Dwalin’s voice, the tone, or even just the volume, but he sounded so tired, so defeated.
He must've invented every excuse for staying, but Nori kept giving him every reason to leave. Dwalin would put his hands all over him to keep Nori in the room, occupying him with a thought other than slipping away at the crack of dawn so he wouldn’t have to watch him go. But someone had to leave first. Really, actually leave. And if Nori was walking away, right now, Dwalin would ask him to keep walking.
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