Work Text:
Verlis Mayvir, on the surface, could easily be mistaken for tired and despondent. His eyes were blinking rapidly from sleep deprivation, and his hands were beginning to shake quite rapidly as they threaded the needle over and over. Under the surface, though, he was truly elated. It might be hard for one to guess why, with the rustblood confined to a small hive with barely any furnishings, save for those he could craft himself. He was a competent decorator, but nothing special. He made himself comforting meals, but they weren’t extravagant. Nothing about his home screamed anything much about him, and it certainly wasn’t much to be happy about, save for his little desk next to his work table. A desk that held upon it a picture of the love of his life, and held within it so many things he’d collected to make him happy, some of them far too raunchy for this episode.
Feefid was the most positively darling person Verlis had ever met, from the day they first spoke. It was at a gathering hosted by mutual friends, and the grapeblood was behaving positively ostentatious. On closer inspection, closer meaning leaning in from a couch a few yards away as to not mix himself up with something so energetic so fast, he was physically an oddity as well. White eyes betraying some kind of post-normal-life state, a dazzling purple and white number hanging from his thin shoulders that made him look like royalty out of a propaganda poster, makeup that was positively impish. He was dancing around, introducing himself to the other mutuals at the gathering with a flourish, and Verlis decided to take his chance. He was just a simple troll, with hair that slightly hung over his eyes, wearing a plain hoodie that portrayed his symbol, though he had taken the chance and dabbed on a bit of basic eyeliner.
“(You look unreasonably glamorous, be sure the heiress doesn’t get all jealous. I’m Verlis, may I ask your name?)” Those were the words Verlis spoke, daintily holding out his hand with a curious smile as the other troll gracefully took it and shook it, replying in kind.
“Feefid Ellimi, at your ser-vice~ I wouldn’t wor-ry about the heir-ess, we have an understanding ever since she killed me.” Feefid had said, smiling, closing his eyes and emitting a little “hee” sound for effect.
“(I… Beg your pardon?)” Verlis said, as Feefid was whisked away before he could clarify.
And so it had started, and so it was that Verlis eventually got the troll’s trolltag, then his address, and eventually his heart. He acted as the cool, calm rock to Feefid’s over the top, extravagant flamboyance, keeping his lover in line and emotionally centered whenever he threatened to go off the deep end with anger, sadness, or manic energy.
Feefid, for his part, provided Verlis with a love that burned bright, and loud, and very public. For every tantrum addressed, fashion crisis defused, loving gesture made, Feef replied in kind with both heartfelt if over the top affection and lavish gifts from his hoard of ill-gotten wealth. After all, it was being a con artist, thief, and overall sneaky jester that ran him afoul of heiress Napedi in the first place, and even after his resurrection through a very complicated process he had plenty of leftovers to spare. It was curious to some that Verlis still enjoyed coming back to his little hive from time to time at all, but he’d always been too sentimental to leave it behind for greener pastures.
Sentimentality was always a huge part of him, deep down, born out of a desire to make people happy. Where that desire came from, he couldn’t quite place. He didn’t feel the need to be charitable in a grand sense, but when it came to people he cared about… Well, it was a very strong desire, and he’d used it to bend over backwards for some truly dubious trolls. There was the other rust loner, who related to Verlis only as an outlet to throw his problems onto, and eventually left him when he couldn’t offer any more truly passionate responses to the same problems for the millionth time. Then there was the sea dweller, she saw him as light entertainment even as he slaved away on piecing together cheap jewelry and rushed outfits that she’d throw out to sea just to see how he tried to keep a straight face. Every time, it was always Verlis who was left behind, never having the courage to fight back, never having the perspective to know what was so awful about the way he was being treated.
Meeting Promet helped, a sea dweller who finally had the compassion to give it all to him straight. Much as he wished he would have vented all of his pain and sadness, the truth was he just bottled it all up, internalized his struggles, and pushed on the same as always, with the only difference being how much discernment he had in looking for the right person to tether his emotions to. He felt so very lucky that Feef had turned out to be such an amazing experience, and wasn’t sure how he’d react if things went downhill now.
Something nudged deep inside of him, like he was playing tug of war with an unseen feeling, as he finally put the needles down and surveyed his work. He had mashed together a lovely little tuxedo and velvety dress from Feef’s extended wardrobe, trying to turn it into one single garment that was masculine leaning at the top, feminine at the bottom, and all very extra. He’d done a good job of concealing the connective points underneath the tux’s jacket, but it still looked like a mashup instead of a single garment. He just didn’t have the skill, not at all. He was starting to tear up, fluid welling at his eyes, but why? Feef would adore it, he would wear it outside, hell, he would walk outside for the sole purpose of showing it off to trolls passing on the street.
It just wasn’t good enough, not at all, not for the depth of his love. He tried writing a poem, once, and a song, and using the universal language of food. He wanted to scream out through them how blessed he felt. How living in a cozy, eccentric mansion filled with weird knick knacks was a magical experience. How he didn’t know what he did to deserve someone who had gone through so much and come out so alive. He couldn’t just shout either, he hated shouting, his voice never registered even half as loud as he’d heard so many get on a daily basis. Verlis pulled the strings of his hoodie taut and flipped up his hood, hiding his face and gently slapping the bottoms of his palms against his temples.
“(Not again… Please just calm down and be normal V. You’re supposed to be happy now!)” He seethed and pleaded with himself several times over. (“He’s everything you need, you’re not supposed to… Hhrhgh…)” Even when he was trying to push down an anxiety attack brewing within his conflicted soul, he couldn’t bear to sound truly upset, more like he was gently coaxing a puppy into behaving.
He stood up from his desk after a few moments, pacing back and forth while stretching his arms wide. He was just getting into his own head. He noticed so many superficial similarities in his relationship with Feef to the ones that came before. The fear of his gifts not being good enough, the necessity of dealing with his outbursts and eccentric behavior, it all tumbled around in his head. He was certain that it couldn’t be his love’s fault, that it was all on him, that he was completely destroying his own perceptions because he hadn’t gotten over his past abuse. He had the chance, but he didn’t take it, and now Verlis was practically running from one corner of his hovel to the other in emotional turmoil.
Feefid would need him most tomorrow, Verlis castigated himself for being so selfish as to feel how he was. He needed Feef, but Feef needed him too, needed his love and support. There he was feeling sorry for himself because he was so obsessed with being the calm, collected, put together one, that he never let anybody help him with his past. His little jester would be devastated, he could feel the tears welling up in his own eyes as he imagined them welling in Feef’s, he could sense lightheadedness coming on like the return of a recurring nightmare. Just when he felt like bursting, just when he was going to really pop inside, he heard a soothing string melody come from his pocket.
He shakily took out his phone and flicked it out of habit, seeing a message from his beloved on the screen in that soothing purple tone.
“Good e-vening be-loved, I hope you’re not in a tizzy! Wanna chit-chat about any-thing?”
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Today was not the day. Servla knew that much. The courage was lost in him, though he felt ashamed. He gingerly sat up from the warm folds of the bed, as his mate barely stirred, softly snoring. That snore was once the cutest thing in the world to him, but now the blueblood’s gentle stirs made him freeze with every pause, fearing that he would wake before all of the morning chores had been finished. Stepping out into the lavish bedroom, which itself was half office befitting such a successful business troll as his better half, Servla allowed himself just a few minutes each day to worry about his own appearance in the absence of any complaints from another.
His mirror and makeup station were large enough, with soft humming lights that didn’t illuminate so far as to hinder sleep. He began with a brisk brushing of his hair, long and wavy, which always seemed to set itself into a long swirl down the left side of his back, as the bangs coalesced in front of his left eye. He always had to sweep it aside or put a clip in his hair to remedy that, when he got to the hivework that required looking down and using his peripheral vision. From there he gently dabbed on some red shade on his eyelids, applied a muted few pats of color to his cheeks to liven them up, and slipped on his favorite outfit.
A sleek, glossy black number with a light sweater underneath and a light designer jacket over it, tall boots and tight pants included, not the kind of thing most people wear for housework but he’d always made it work when he needed a “pick me up” in the morning. It was the first outfit he ever received from his beloved and to that day, despite everything, it made him feel calmed and warm to wear it. A sign that even early on his more feminine demeanor was something to be proud of instead of ashamed of in his beau’s eyes, a validation Servla had never gotten from anyone else up to that point. Even when he received less than favorable looks out in public, or some when midblood was about to make a snide comment, his love’s support could always be counted on. That brought him joy, even with things as they were.
When he sensed that 5 minutes had probably passed, Servla swiftly stood from his little bright corner and exited the room, opening the door slowly and leaving it open just a crack as had become routine. The hive was massive, and he had a system drilled into his head to tend to it. Bottom to top, most important utilities and comforts to least. It was thankless work, mostly due to it being self-inflicted. The thought of leaving it anything less than sparkling was unbearable. The constant pit of fear and shame within Servla was driving him crazy, this time more than most, hence why he woke up with such dire thoughts. He’d shake it off, as always, talk to himself, as always.
“Recreation block clean, check” He ticked off a mental box, feeling a rush of endorphins wash over him. They’d just had a little in-hive date there, and while the pain was so very hard to push down during it, the knowledge that he’d cleaned up all of the bottles and the husks of numerous activities made him feel adequate all over again. A cycle that perpetuated his feeling of being trapped, but at least it had its high points. “Next is…”
The foyer was a purely transitional room, and yet it was the connective tissue of the whole hive, with a staircase on one side and doorways to various important rooms on the other, and all of the tracks leading to and from the outside were starting to pile up. “Stupid, how did I forget? Stupid.” Servla repeated to himself, wondering if this was the reason he woke up so perturbed. No, he reconsidered, he only just remembered he’d been neglecting the entryway. He’d fix it up right away, no doubt his mate was furious on the inside, disappointed, heartbroken.
Why couldn’t he say the name? Nobody could listen inside of his thoughts, that he was aware of. No psionics or Imperial agents were listening into his very brain. He tried to whisper it out to himself, hoping it would help. “M-Mer..” He just couldn’t, it was so alarming!
Servla, why can’t you just say their name? They love you, cherish you, take you to wonderful places, introduce you by name to everyone they know. It feels so wrong, like being led around as a prized pet or possession, but they clearly care about you. Is it that you’re ashamed? Do you hate hi-
Slam. The turning of a faucet. The rising of steam. Servla quickly undid all of his work on his makeup as he pressed palms full of hot water to his face, gently massaging it into his skin. He slapped his cheeks a few times, letting out a few inarticulate “aauuah” and “hrhrhrhff” noises as he did so. It was a good thing there was a faucet nearby no matter where he went in the house, or else he may have simply collapsed against a wall and stayed there for quite some time. As it was, he washed the bad thoughts away and shook his hands dry before shakily stepping back out to finish his duties.
“Servie… was that you down there? Are you okay?”
Servla instantly froze in place. Somewhere, far away, a jadeblood sipped colored ichor from a straw, their face a shadow that once pierced through his defenses and laid his soul bare. Elsewhere, a yellowblood yawned, rising from a pile of clothes and bodies, sparking with colored energy that once ground him down to powder in the name of a conquest. Servla tried so hard to be their everything, and he failed, and now he-
“Servla, hey, what’s wrong?!” The cry came, as a tall figure of impressive stature bounded down the stairs, their angular horns nearly tipping a vase off of a shelf parallel to the staircase. The rustblood was on his knees, paralyzed, wide eyed, fixated upon him. Fear, true terror, was written across his face.
“I’m sorry-” were the only two words he could muster, whisper quiet, between a wheeze. He started to collapse forward, only to be caught and embraced snugly, his chin resting on top of a shoulder.
“Hey, hey, sorry for what, Servie? I have a meeting today, I should have gotten up earlier. And nothing’s broken…” Merrov sighed, clutching him close and gently patting his hair. Servla felt sick that he was making him worry so much.
“I-I… But I-” He started to whimper out, pathetic to his own ears.
“You didn’t do anything, sweet, come here, just stay silent in my arms for a while. You aren’t in trouble.” Servla was hushed, and simply buried his face in that broad shoulder before weeping his heart out. He was a failure, the hive wouldn’t be cleaned in time, he’d arrive at his business meeting with an Imperial advisor in the flesh late and worn down, he felt bile rising in his throat.
“Servla… You know we have servants, it’s barely dusk outside, why are you running around trying to make the house pristine before they wake up again?” He sounded worried, tired, because this had happened before. How foolish he was, how incompetent he was to let him see it again. All the more embarrassing was that he had no answers at all, just light sobbing, matting his bangs and stinging his eyes.
“I just have to, I do it for you, I’m…” He tried to get it out, tried to articulate something, anything, but it was no use. Maybe this time Merrov would pick up on it, maybe-
“Don’t say anything, Servla, okay? Not another word. Let’s get you up to bed, I’ll keep you company. I can stay for half an hour, get all the tears out, hm?” No, perhaps not.
Servla was bleeding out inside. He wouldn’t be able to hold on forever. His will to keep it in and his inability to let it out were speeding towards each other. He only hoped that when his fate came, and he knew there was nothing to be done about it, he’d only hurt himself. The thought of hurting the love of his life, the thing that he lived for, his only use for the breath he drew… He would rather just die. But he couldn’t. Today was not the day, and the day would never come.
-----------------------------------------------------------
“(That’s all, thank you for listening so long FeeFee, I know it was a lot.)” Verlis was slow, polite, trying to stay composed, as he always spoke.
“Bless your heart Ver-lis, it was no-thing at all! Please, take my advice would you?” Feef had his hands resting on Verlis’ leg, sitting next to him and leaning his head on the taller troll.
“(Yeah, I… I will. I just care so dearly about you. It takes me to strange places sometimes. I wish it didn’t have to be your concern.)”
“Don’t e-ven start V! I’ve told you time and time again, and I ex-perienced it for the first time with you so it’s fresh in my mind! Some-times talking to you makes my heart burst and gets me ach-ing all over, fall-ing over myself to make you smi-le.” Feef said more forcefully. Verlis was… unique, in how deeply he felt the things he did, but he wasn’t alone. His gifts, his lavish displays of affection, they showed that Feef felt it too.
“(You’re just a wonderful adventure, Feef. I’m honored to be a part of your world. I always struggle with it. You’re so… You, and I’m just… This.” He extended his arms wide, gesturing at his modest, bare hive.
“Yes, you’re just you.” Feef said, looking up at Verlis’ emotive eyes, his own glimmering white and grey. He looked a bit solemn, not quite sure how to phrase all of the things he wanted to say. After a few seconds, he decided that being to the point was for losers and marks.
“The most en-thralling person I’ve ever had the plea-sure of talking to. You hold a conversation like no-body.” Feef leaned up, looking at V on eye level.
“(W-Well I guess, I’m just good at listening and adding on, I-)”
“The most com-fy cook ever, every-thing tastes like home and I’ve never e-ven been poor!” Feef started smiling, pushing his face closer and taking Verlis by the shoulders.
“(Feef…)” Verlis said, blushing, before chuckling and grasping at him as Feefid pushed him over and began squeezing him playfully.
“You’re so play-ful and free spi-rited without being a cra-zy idiot like Wex! And you know just how to make me smi-le! You make me so ha-ppy!” He kept squeezing and grabbing at him lightly, just enough to prompt Verlis to push and snatch his hands away.
After a few minutes, Feef just reached over and took Verlis by the back of the head, feeling his soft messy hair, drawing him in close for a light kiss on the nose, punctuated by a “Mw-ah~” In response, he took Feef’s hand that was softly gripping him and drew it towards his mouth, daintily kissing his hand like he had when he confessed his love. “Oh are you go-ing to give your jes-ter prin-cess the royal treatment?” Feef giggled, thinking back to the most recent time V had helped him dress up and put together a wonderful night on the town for the two of them.
“(Not without your new gift. You’ll have to wait until your wriggling day~)”
“Oh my sta-rs, is it a new neck-lace?”
“(I’m not telling, you know my willpower is too strong for your pleading.)” Verlis smirked, which invariably would send a shiver of joy down Feefid’s spine.
“Ah… A brace-let?”
“(No hints~”)
“A whole new dress just for me~?” Feef sat up, grabbing Verlis by the hands and pulling him up too as he asked over and over, every time being denied a satisfying response. Eventually Verlis simply arched his eyebrow at Feef through the questions, indicating that he was starting to feel a little bit sassy at the adorable display.
“O-kay, o-kay last one. Is it… You, in no-thing but ribbons, in a box just for me~?”
Verlis blushed a bit, before tilting his head with his eyebrow still raised. “(Oh Feef… It wouldn’t be special if I gave you something I’ve given you in the past month would it?)”
“Ehe-heheh, I sup-pose not~” Feef blushed too, at how cute his boyfriend was, at how candid they were getting, and most of all at how calm Verlis was now. He looked into his eyes again, sensing that the pain was still there but was muted now. “Just don’t for-get what we talked about, al-right my sweet?”
“(I won’t, I promise. It might take some time, but I'll find a nice hobby to feel proud of, a-and start talking more with Promet, too. I need to branch out a bit, socially, don’t I?)”
Feef nodded and made an affirmative little “M-hm!”, latching onto Verlis’ back and shoulders. He rested his head on one, from behind, looking over to his lowblood love’s positively scene face. “I won’t be jea-lous, I know that up-tight fish boy isn’t your time. You need your ro-mance to come with a side of cri-sis management and glam-orous drama, don’t you~”
“(Life would be so much less interesting, I doubt I could ever stomach being with anyone less glitzy than you. And as it happens, there is nobody more glitzy than you, or on your level. I think you’ve got me for life.)” Verlis said sweetly, resting his hand on Feef’s near his shoulder, before the two simultaneously interlocked their fingers, and rested their heads on each others’.
It wasn’t so bad, that they needed each other. It hurt, sometimes, but such was the prerequisite for living. As they sat there, embraced and full of love, after an approximately two hour long feelings jam, there were no fears and inadequacies anymore. Maybe they’d come back, soon, but in that moment, there was only love, love and bliss.