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Summary:

“I have a plan!” the doctor declares, looking at his companion with one of the satisfied expressions he has in his arcenal.

Asra returns him a smile.

“Oh, Ilya, do you really-really have a plan or you are planning to improvise again?”

It seems like they finally can understand each other.

Notes:

sooooooooo, i returned to arcana fandom and found my old fic about this two bitches... (dramatic sigh).
first of all, i need to warn you that english is not my first language, so i might make mistakes. secondly, i tried to understand julian's feeling. tbh, i think he feels something between angry and sorry? mostly, second one, but it is more comfortable to him to think that its first. ngl, i have NO idea what is going in this man head, i am literally lucio morgasson kinnie, but ehehe... here we are.

Work Text:

Julian would lie if he said he wasn't amused. Sitting in front of his old lover, attached to him with metal chains… It feels almost nostalgic. The difference was only in the fact that the last time they were enjoying each other, not waiting for a death warrant. And the last time there wasn't awkward silence between them, only soft breathes mixed with giggles. And Asra definitely didn't want to run away from him. Well, Julian hoped so.   

 

Maybe Ilya would be more anxious about it, if he (of course) hasn't taken this as another dramatic theater play. After all, there is nothing funnier than meeting with your ex, right? Even if you searched for him for years, waiting for answers. Even if he acted like they haven't been close for years. Even if he hastily was running to meet someone, completely ignoring his presence. Almost like if Julian was disgusting to him. Almost like… 

 

There are too many ‘’ifs’’, Devorak thinks. 

 

“Do you have any idea on what you’ve done?”  Asra finally speaks up, looking at him with judgement in purple eyes. 

 

Julian wants to laugh, truly. 

 

Do you have any idea on what you’ve done to me , Asra?

 

Ilya has all the right to be mad, doesn't he? It was him, who was left all alone. It was him, who was pathetically apologizing just because Asra couldn’t love him. Pleading not to dump him, asking to stay even though he hates him. 

Devorak hates these memories, he wants to erase them from his head for forever without a possibility to regain them back. But even more he hates that it was his egotistical love which ruined their connection. 

 

“Oh, I swear I have done nothing wrong!” The doctor gives him a crooked smile.

 

There is nothing sincere in his smile, they both know it. 

 

“We are closed in the cell, Ilya. And people will ask to execute us”. 

 

Ilya. Alnazar still uses his real name. That is good to know. 

 

“Well, maybe if you weren't so hard to find we wouldn't be here!” 

 

“I am not hard to find!” 

 

There is a minute of silence, filled with intense glares. Asra, surprisingly, looks away first. Usually the magician enjoyed making people break eye contact. Especially when it came to Devorak; Asra told him it was alluring .

 

Of course he started to hate this habit of his, when Asra left. 

 

“What is that, Asra? Are you ashamed or am I hallucinating?” He tries to mock him, but he sure sounds desperate. 

 

Everything about Ilya is so despairing, he almost desires to tear himself apart. It would be so much easier, if Count Lucio ordered his dogs to gnaw him. It would be so much easier to surrender to authorities, to die from guillotine or something worse.  But Julian simply couldn’t bring himself to die yet. Perhaps he was a coward or perhaps he wanted to talk with Asra first. Or it was a little bit from both.  

 

“What should I be ashamed of?” 

 

And so Ilya breaks. 

 

Maybe because condescending tone always pushed on his buttons. Or maybe because he has never been good at controlling his feelings, no matter how hard he tries. 

 

“You left!” Julian screams, clenching hands into fists. 

 

He has the right to be mad, Devorak reminds himself. 

 

“That is a little bit too melodramatic, don't you think?” the magician asks, lightly chuckling. 

 

It is a seconds later when he realizes that Ilya doesn’t plan to brush off their conversation anymore. 

 

Asra almost panics. Nothing has ever scared him more than talks about his feelings. Which is ironic, because Devorak absolutely needed them. 

 

Alnazar fidgets in his place uncomfortably, and Ilya swears he can hear a trail of his thoughts. Asra wonders what to say; something that will not hurt Julian (it is funny, because nothing will hurt more than leaving). Is he searching for an excuse? 

 

“I never thought that it would hurt you this much”, Asra sighes. He is lying again. “After all you have a lot of friends in the town, who could easily replace…”

 

“We are not just friends and you know it!” interrupts Ilya, rising from his bed. 

 

Chain between them clangs, and they both synchronically wince from a sudden sound. Asra copies his pose, coming closer as he tries to endear a wild animal. Well, Julian has some similarity with them: uncontrollable, destroying everyone near and himself, yet needing attention. Alnazar was always good with animals. Hah. 

 

“You are right”, Asra noddes. He is confused, Devorak can say it just from his posture, which has nothing in common with his usual calmself. “I was running away from you. From us. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore”. 

 

“For the record, you have done even worse,” Ilya tries (and fails) to sound less aggressive or poisonous, but how could he? 

 

Asra left him. Left him behind, started a new life, strapped on a mask of a law-abiding magician, who teaches his apprentice. Such a bad, nevertheless sweet,  lie. Julian inquired, if he liked this role more? Did Asra prefer to live, ignoring the past as it has never happened? Or maybe forgetting him affects positively on everyone?  

 

“We were scarred enough, Ilya. If I stayed we would only hurt each other more. We needed to live separately. To understand ourselves better, to become more… Mature. I did this for us.” 

 

“You said you couldn’t love me, even if you tried.” 

 

Julian’s voice cracks. He can’t let himself cry; not here and not now, when he should be angry. He should feel nothing, except hate and a desire for revenge. All Devorak can feel, yet, is an emptiness mixed with resentment. And at the bottom of this glass of doubtful liquor floats a thought, that Asra is the only one who can make him feel like this. Special and unwanted at the same time.  

 

“It was the only thing you believed so easily.” Asra smiles at him sadly, reaching out to his hand. “Ilya, I never said I wanted it to happen. I wish I could say there was a way to make this all better, but there’s not."

 

He lies to you, Ilya’s brain hints. Manipulates. Uses again and… 

 

And Asra’s hand feels soft and warm against his own. It reminds him of times, when they runned in the golden fields, joking about something stupid. Of times, when Alnazar squeezed his hand lightly in order to ease his worries. Of times, when they were laying in the hot bath, Asra washed Ilya’s hair carefully, singing songs in an unknown language. It reminded of a lot of memories. Memories, which Julian tried to hide for years. And the memories, which he almost forgot. 

 

“Ilya, say, have you… Began to value yourself more?” Asra counties and his eyes shining as stars in the night sky. 

 

“Not fully, but well… It is better than it was.”

 

Ilya doesn't want to sound so ordinary, so routinely. All anger at once leaves him, as it never was here. He hates how forgiving he might be. He also hates that it is easier for him to let go of another's mistakes than his own. He despises it in himself. And maybe he finally understands what Asra meant. 

 

Years ago he would never confess about how he felt even to himself. He too wanted to be comfortable for others, to become their safe space. And with this desire, Ilya strangled his kith and kins with love, which might be described as an egotistical one.  Julian denied that he can feel negative feelings; that he can be outraged because of someone’s actions. And so when Asra left, he genuinely couldn’t understand what mistakes he had made. 

 

He thought that without Asra he is nothing. An empty space, lacking ambitions and individuality. 

 

If Alnazar hadn't left him years ago, Julian might become even worse. 

 

“I am proud of you, Ilya.”

 

Devorak understands that he is choking in tears only when Asra gently cups his cheeks. Alnazar’s hands affectionately caress his skin, brushing tears away. He soothes him as a little child, whispering something that he can’t quite understand. Ilya cries until his throat hurts.

 

Ilya cries and for the first time he doesn’t feel pathetic.  

 

He has the right to cry. 

 

It's okay to cry. 

 

When he stops, slowly (and a little bit unwantedly) departing from Asra, it is already past noon. Julian feels himself astonishingly light and free, like with these tears he released all worries that nagged him through years.

 

“I have a plan!” the doctor declares, looking at his companion with one of the satisfied expressions he has in his arcenal. 

 

Asra returns him a smile. 

 

“Oh, Ilya, do you really-really have a plan or you are planning to improvise again?” 

 

It seems like they finally can understand each other. 

 

“Yes.” He answers deadpanned. 

 

It seems like they finally can walk together, side by side.