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In terms of romantic outings, going to McDonald's was maybe not one of Aaron Stewart's best ideas.
But it was so late at night that it might have well been morning for all anybody knew, which meant that Aaron would be allowed a few mistakes here and there. Hopefully.
The McDonalds was lit up with neon lights that only seemed to work half of the time and spent the other half fizzling in some realm between operational and dead. The yellows and reds seemed to blur together in the backdrop of the pitch-black night sky, and as Aaron's eyes started to swim from staring for too long, Call tugged his sweater.
That's when Aaron remembered that he hadn't wandered up to the fast-food chain restaurant in the middle of the reasonable sleeping hours by himself. He had woken up in a cold sweat, feet tangled in the never-ending covers, and felt the chills that told him that he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep under any condition.
And so he did what he felt was right.
He got out of the bed and moved towards the small crack between the door and the hallway, aiming to reach the bathroom and clear his face with water before slipping outside to sit on the shadowed swings in the Hunt's garden. But, unfortunately for Call and Aaron both, there was somebody on the floor that Aaron had forgotten about. His boyfriend.
Initially, Aaron had felt bad about taking up the single bed, the only surface to sleep on in the entire house sans Alastair's room.
He had insisted on sleeping on the floor as Call's guest but they had just argued, not with too much passion considering how tired they had both been at the time until it was agreed that Aaron and Call would just have to share the bed.
Which worked out great until Aaron started waking up on odd nights with a sudden jolt that tended to send Call flying off the edge. A few bruises added up, scattered across Call's arms as he tried to stop himself from falling on his face even though that increased his chances of breaking a bone, and Aaron decided that Call spending the nights on the carpeted floor wouldn't be as painful as the bruises.
But this meant that when Aaron wanted to get out of the room that made him feel trapped and lost in the dark, he stood on Call.
The small yelp had been enough to snap Aaron into a behaviour more fitting of a normal human and so he dropped to his knees to check Call over for any new injuries he might've just caused.
"I'm fine, really," Call had repeated for the millionth time before pulling himself together and up, taking Aaron with him, "You wanna get out of here?"
From then on, it became an uncommon and strange custom that they shared. That whenever Aaron felt particularly nervous or alert, they would bike to the shops nearby. Every time they went out, they would hit a different shop: sometimes, a clothes shop; other times, a bookstore; one memorable time, they went to a hairdresser's where Aaron had silently asked for a haircut.
Every time, Call left a note for his father to tell them where they were going and locked the front doors behind them after picking up Miri and tucking it into his favourite jacket's pocket. Both his own and Aaron's favourite, actually. The red one with the magical wand on the back that Call had chosen out of irony and Aaron out of a love for Call's happiness.
They'd unlock their bikes from around the side of the fairly small house. Call often argued to his dad that they didn't need the bike locks whilst the bikes were present on their own property considering that there wasn't another house for ages. Alastair didn't listen and Aaron agreed on the extra protection, even if he never mentioned it.
Biking down the hills and along the empty South Carolinian roads for only slightly less than an hour, they let nature's silence overwhelm them, preparing them for the stale atmosphere that the purely commercial town nearest to them seemed to offer after midnight.
And that was how Aaron Stewart found himself standing in front of a McDonalds at approximately two-thirty a.m. on the week before they were due to return to the Magisterium.
It hadn't been his plan, none of these outings ever were, but since Call was with him, he preferred to address them as romantic dates rather than what they really were.
Call finished locking up the bikes to a rusty steel pole that could've been a bike rack or a bannister, with a self-satisfied click! before joining Aaron in front of the entrance.
"I'm going to assume that this is you, telling me that you're hungry," Call murmured under his breath, the heat rushing out of his body through his living breaths, whilst Aaron barely restrained the urge to ask him to stop the breathing before he realised that that would be ridiculous.
Aaron, like all the nights before, didn't say anything and instead made his way over to the main till, looking around to see that there were no customers except them and what looked like an art student with their headphones plugged in as they frantically drew a picture.
Aaron didn't really know much about art.
"2 large fries with a 20 pack of chicken nuggets," Call told the worker behind the desk, "1 vanilla shake and 1 strawberry shake."
As Call paid, Aaron wandered over to an empty booth on the opposite side of the restaurant as the student and waited for Call to sit down opposite him.
The seats were cushioned in red, torn in places and dirty in others. Yet, the table was pristine, as though someone cared about this place in particular. With the view it offered – of the drive-in’s exit in front of a mostly empty road – Aaron wouldn’t be sure to say that it was such a great seat but he’d chosen it and that was that.
He had to wait a while as Call returned first with some sauces, flimsy napkins, and a hell of a lot of straws -- which he dumped in front of Aaron ceremoniously before leaving him to puzzle over them.
Then, Call returned with a tray weighed down by a variety of different packaging, all containing something new. He shared out the food equally; one pack of fries for Aaron, the other to Call, and the nuggets lay in between them both.
Then he took the tall drinks and slid them onto the middle of the table as Aaron reached into the packaging and pulled out of a handful of fries. Call walked away then, which Aaron would've worried about more if he wasn't experiencing the glory of salt-laden fries on a fairly empty stomach.
"Slow down for a second or you'll have to wait for me to get through mine at the end," Call chuckled a little with that and tugged gently on the end of Aaron's long-sleeved sweater that was doing an admirable job of keeping him warm.
Aaron mumbled a rough noise of acknowledgement but returned to his food at a slower pace, taking the time to tentatively cover the ends of the fries in the many sauces presented in front of him in fragile, and white paper cups.
"Hey Aaron," Call spoke, his volume many levels quieter and lower than it had been before, which made his filling stomach do weird twists and turns, "What do you want to do? Y'know, when we run out of shops?"
The alarm bells rang in Aaron's mind, only dulled by the warm food, at the mention of this. The first unspoken rule that they shared was to not confront what had happened every odd night or so. The second was the agreement that no conversation would occur since Aaron would probably not be in the right or healthiest mind to answer.
Call had just managed to straddle the lines.
Aaron felt a strange energy bubbling up inside him, different from the shocking strength of magic and the sapping of strength that chaos magic left behind. It made him feel more human and alive than mage and dead. Which couldn't be all that bad, considering his... resurrection? awakening? some time ago.
And so, weary from the lack of sleep and focus, he relented to the desire coursing underneath his skin.
"I don't want this to go on forever."
It seemed that honesty was the most human thing to feel.
Call, shocked at the fact that Aaron was replying initially then at the contents of his response, stopped eating and returned his chicken nugget to the napkin in front of him, where he finally laid it to rest without even looking at it.
"What are you talking about?" Call whispered, staring at Aaron with something in his eyes that reminded Aaron of worry.
There was a long pause as Aaron searched again for that strength within him but as the silence slipped into being awkward then acceptable, Call accepting that as the only response of the night, Aaron felt the tingling again, watched the clock turn to two forty-two a.m. and said:
"...The waking up, the bike rides, the shops, the silence. All the things that we just forget about come morning. Later morning," he added, looking at the digital clock on the wall ahead go to strike two forty-three a.m.
"Oh," Call replied, obviously still confused that Aaron was responding, "That stuff."
Aaron picked up some more fries, put them in his mouth, and chewed them as he stared at Call, trying to get the message across that he wasn't going to start this conversation again.
"I'm fine with doing all this, you know, right? I never judged you for this." Then Call winced a bit, another chicken nugget halfway to this mouth. "Oh goddamn, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant--"
Aaron couldn't feel anything but sadness and a void as those words left his boyfriend's mouth, a painful reminder of how pitiful these nights were. The silence and the trips, all pointless and weak.
He must've looked even more pitiful because Call stretched a hand across the table and held onto the edge of his wrinkled, blue sweater once again. It was an invitation to hold hands and one that Aaron would've normally have ignored or refused.
Ever since he had been brought back, he had to admit that he had a thing about touching others. More than glancing touches or even high five-levels of contact.
No, he was only really affected by the kind of hug that meant that Aaron could feel the pulse of the other beneath the swamps of clothing, sense the warmth of the skin as his fingers felt the blood reacting to the pressure.
It might be safe to say that Aaron had a thing about life. And subsequently, death.
But he'd dealt with it. No lasting touches with anyone, which wasn't that big of an issue considering that the only person that had ever touched him regularly beyond the general mages had been Callum. He did acquire the habit of retreating as the first bubble of tension rose in his stomach.
This meant that he'd had to base his relationship with Call on fleeting touches and nothing else physical. He was fine with that -- had always preferred conversation to contact -- but sometimes he wondered if Call wanted to do normal coupley things like holding hands, hugging, kissing.
Aaron wasn't sure if he was ashamed to admit that this was a fairly major concern of his.
Aaron wasn't sure of much anymore.
Although he knew that Call and his dad had tried to provide him with a sense of normalcy, similar to the wonderful summer he had shared with them, and although Tamara regular texted and called him, Aaron couldn't seem to shake the idea that life was weird, unnatural even. A product of phasing in and out of the . . . living dimension would be the right way to describe it.
The little that he had experienced once dead had been different to anything else in his life; except for maybe the affection and attraction trapped inside of him for Callum.
Would it really be that easy to sink back into a working body now that he knew and had felt the alternate?
Probably not.
And so, Aaron had spent most of his time ignoring the feeling and the other time forgetting it. Spending time with Call had been the best solution to his problem. The first time he had realised this, he felt phantom energy blast through his body and collapsed in his bathroom.
It was also the time that he truly acknowledged what had happened and Call's hand in it.
And that same hand was offering itself to him.
It was obvious from Call's posture and silence that he was giving itself to Aaron, giving at least a part of himself to him. And Aaron remembered the calm that he felt around Call, the quietening of the instinct to hide, and considered what he had said to Call earlier.
He didn't want to stay like this forever.
He leant forward, the cushioned seats underneath him groaning soundlessly, and pushed his hands through the last inches between the comfort of the sweater, which he had bought with Call on one of their day trips at the beginning of the summer when it quickly became clear that Aaron was too tall for Call's clothes, and the uncertain outside.
The uncertainty held something better than fear, it at least had Call.
Aaron stretched out to grasp Call's hand and ran his fingers over his boyfriend's knuckles before sliding their hands together like a puzzle.
A complicated puzzle.
Not for how the pieces fit together; for it was easy to see the way that they slid together naturally. It was complicated for how the pieces of each side reacted with themselves. How the corner pieces of each side were meant to hold the rest in place but didn't know how to do that. How the pieces caught in the middle didn't know where they were meant to be.
Quite a complicated mess, one might say.
But, as Aaron watched their hands as he ate, he considered how it could all be solved and cleared-up in the end. And that would be worth it all.
Aaron finished his fries and reached for a chicken nugget, noting that most of them had already disappeared. Shooting Call a glance that aimed to tell him that he knew where the nuggets had gone; he felt a tentative smile ghost his features.
"I love your smile." Call said, smiling in return, much brighter and broader than Aaron's, "I love it so much."
Aaron looked into Call's eyes and saw pure honesty lacing every inch of his swirling grey eyes. A far cry from Call's usual sarcastic self but, perhaps, that swap could be how Call changed at night. Much like how Aaron tended to become more reserved.
“And I love you a lot, y’know.” Call finally said it.
“Wh-What the-“ Aaron choked on his food, had to cough a bit before the lump in his throat disappeared, and replied more quietly, “You can’t just say that.”
“Of course I can.” Call smiled again, when would Aaron get tired of that? “I’m meant to be your boyfriend.”
Aaron went silent, he knew what this was about, had predicted the conversation only a while ago. The accusations of his failings to act like a proper partner.
“And I haven’t been doing it right, I know.” Call sighed, the smile slipping into a frustrated scowl.
Aaron hadn’t expected that.
“It’s my fault that you went through that in the first place, my fault that you’re dealing with this right now.” Call looked like he might’ve held his head in his hands if they weren’t covered in salt.
“I haven’t done anything to help.” Call looked so lost, as lost as Aaron felt sometimes.
“You have,” Aaron said, left it like that, hoped he understood.
“But I haven’t,” Call implored, his free hand moving as he spoke, “I’ve haven’t done anything to help you. Nothing.”
“You’ve been here on these nights. These nights when I feel like I’m losing myself.” Aaron tightened his grip on Call’s hand, not wanting to lose any part of him, “You’re my safe place. I don’t really know how to describe it.”
The quiet returned; more a pause than a silence.
A car drove up to the lit-up drive-in and paused a short while from the window by their seat. Its dim headlights were distracting in the distance but they did a great job of highlighting the side of Call’s face.
His black hair suddenly featured silver stars that fascinated Call. It somehow impersonated the distinct desire of searching upward for the stars yet retained the familiar feeling that Call had always managed to provide. Something . . . homely.
His eyes were dark, possessed by regrets and memories, and little light reached Call’s worried expression that had fashioned itself a place across his eyebrows and lips.
God, Call’s lips.
He was chewing them again. Biting and shredding the thin layers.
“Honey, you’re amazing. You brought me back, something I’m so grateful for, but then you brought me back . To you, to your house, and to a normal life. You gave me all this when you didn’t have to,” Aaron pulled on his best comforting expression.
Despite his own worries and problems, it hurt him so much more to see his boyfriend like this.
“I love you too.” Aaron smiled, a proper one this time, that he mustered after thinking about Call’s bravery and selflessness alongside the happiest memories that they shared – the robots, the stargazing, the cooking. “Stop being so mushy -- they're looking at us.”
He pointed to the student across the room which made Call look over to check. Of course, the art student wasn’t actually looking at them and probably hadn't even registered their arrival but by lying Aaron was greeted to the wondrous side-view of Call’s face.
“No, they aren't,” Call pouted and turned back to face Aaron. Realising he’d been tricked, he chuckled softly and Aaron’s heart started beating faster. Somehow, Call’s smile managed to put off any sense of dread about touching another, skin to skin. Magical.
Call looked back at Aaron once he’d finished laughing and Aaron felt the tingle inside of him that told him that his boyfriend was peering into his soul, using chaos magic. It was faint, not yet unpleasant, not yet entirely relaxing.
“I’m still sorry for not doing more.” Call muttered and Aaron let him provide him with emotions and feelings as he watched the other in turn. “I didn’t want to push you, didn’t want to do anything wrong. But doing nothing might’ve been the wrong choice, after all.”
Aaron twirled a curl of his hair in between his free fingers as he chose his words carefully to respond,
“No. I’m- I guess--” Then he sighed a little, “I think this was the best outcome. I was touchy for a while afterwards; I guess that I still am, so pushing really would not have done you or me any favours. I would've spent all night preoccupied with worried thoughts of us on top of everything else.”
“. . . So, that means that you’re happy with the current us ?” Call ventured; most of the food gone.
“Yeah. . . I mean, other than, um, kissing, which I’m not so fine with right now but maybe I might in the future? I think?” Aaron said rapidly, “Other than that future worry, I’d really say that I love us.”
It was Call's time to splutter. “Y-You really can’t say it like that. It’s so blunt!” he complained before proceeding to blush.
Aaron laughed.
A fairly happy laugh, he would’ve argued. Born out of the happiest of situations that he could get his hands on.
He was content.