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Emil can no longer travel as easily as he used to, a long, long time ago. He can’t change the way the world keeps going.
Acrid lack of life, dusty barren wastelands. When wind blows, old dry wood creaks. It is almost a scream, and it hurts for Emil to listen. He takes another look at the withered grove, as far as he can see, and his head swims.
There was only so much he could do, not enough, never enough.
Despite everything, done and undone, there is not enough mana in this world anymore. Not for something like him.
He feels more hollow every day.
Ginnungagap is home, one that Emil avoids at all cost when he can, that is, before the yearning to feel alive again crests until it aches, until it hurts. It pulls, and pulls, and pulls, the neverending call that gets louder the longer he avoids it, no matter where he is.
His homing instinct always leads him to the Otherwordly Gate.
Coming back is relief. Leaving is subjecting himself for another loop with lost time and dimming hope. Leaving means running away from the purpose of his existence, written in his (their) core. Eventually, he will have to stay. Emil made peace with that. But there are still things left undone, and so he stays in the world of living, playing a role of what he is not.
It doesn’t help that it feels like Ratatosk is never happy to see him, and hates him more when he leaves again.
The guilt had sprouted a long time ago. In fertile soil it grows, and grows, and grows. Still not finished, this goldthread, this strangleweed.
On the horizon of time, there is only one outcome for them that keeps the world safe, where it involves them. Nothing really does, these years. They were made obsolete.
No reason to exist on the surface, no right to die. Ratatosk had been left with only an eternal task to fulfil beyond reach, more than an object, less than a being. His (their) reason for existing is not for, but despite.
Emil tries to live for him, too. A twicefold life for someone who didn't get to live as long as they deserved.
Between the visits, Ratatosk doesn’t change, but Ginnungagap does. It feels the same, and yet the pathways change, the spiraling scenery changes. What stays is the guilt when he leaves, again. For taking too much time, for staying indecisive.
Sometimes, Emil worries if his memory gets more frayed with time.
There is a pattern to Ratatosk's emotional state. Lively, if obviously bored, in summer, more prone to mood swings in autumn, lethargic in winter, but in spring Ratatosk is... Languid and mirthful, kinder, somehow. For all of Emil's misdeeds and mistakes and avoidance, in spring Ratatosk is at his most content. Seeing him like that makes Emil’s heart flutter, this hopeful, quiet joy.
They were never meant to be apart, that’s all.
That is all that there is to it, and he keeps these little lies to himself.
But now it is autumn, and Emil needs to see him. Even just being in his presence will be enough to not feel like he is about to crumble. They were never meant to be apart.
Ratatosk gives him a long, weary look, instead of a greeting. Reaches out with one hand.
Come closer.
Despite the wordless invitation, Emil makes a shaky, nervous step back, keeping his distance. Instinctual reaction, from wanting too much, a fearful reflex against giving in to what will make everything else meaningless. As if one touch will dissolve him on the spot. The pull is almost physical. It would be so, so easy, to give in and never, ever have to leave, never be apart again, never bear the phantom pain of core in his chest straining to a cracking point and...
Ratatosk doesn’t move, so unless Emil steps closer, he can stay away. He is allowed to choose. He is already here.
The silence stretches taut until Ratatosk groans, without malice, without any real disappointment, and beckons him again. "Are you just going to stand there?"
As if awoken, Emil does walk closer.
"You look awful, by the way."
Worse than Emil feels? Unlikely. But probably true. The script they have has freedom of expression, of genuine feelings, if one wishes to show them, but the desperation builds up, bit by bit, visit by visit.
"I've been... I have been waiting," Emil takes a slow, shaky breath. He isn't blinking, but his hands tremble. There is still too much room between the two of them, there is still hope to be able to leave.
"And I, am always here. You don't need an invitation."
Their very nature states that they can’t lose each other. The circumstances of their creation make staying apart a torture. For all it matters, Emil inflicts it voluntarily, on both of them. They depend on mana, like spirits do. Unlike those, their own existence is more complicated. Here, in Ginnungagap, is stored enough mana to keep both of them intact, and to keep the door locked. A stability, a stasis.
They, however, were made to keep mana circulating. They were supposed to stay whole.
Just take his hand. A minute unity rebalances them as if they were not split in two, and the ache eases for a while. Still, Emil hesitates, fighting an insistent thought that this time, he would not be able to leave.
They both can be so stubborn.
"I know, I just... I thought..."
There is a painful, dangerous edge climbing in Emil's voice, as he thinks about how it will feel, can not stop thinking, and it resonates with dull, gnawing emptiness inside that Ratatosk is used to. Staying away hurts. The pain gets easier, the mind grows scars. Emil simply had not felt existential pain worse than this.
Ratatosk had.
Even before Emil was created, they were already made defective. Now, they have no one else left but each other. The question isn’t if, it’s when Emil decides to stay. Not yet, Ratatosk know the answer, not today. Emil does not have to say anything.
It's fine. Ratatosk always allows him to leave.
Emil's eyes flutter shut for a moment, making a decision. Step after unsteady step, he comes closer out of his own volition. Need wins over guilt, but not by much. One step away from each other.
One palm pressed to another. Fingers lacing together. Start off small, see how it goes.
First touch is still painful, like it always is, white-hot needles to frozen flesh, and Emil can't hold back the whine and the shudder, their fingers interlocked in a death grip. The choked gasp turns into a sob. The sting turns to burn, spreading up his arm and into his chest. He swallows reflexive tears, and tries to stop the tremor going up his spine. When his balance wavers, Ratatosk pulls him closer, other arm curling around Emil's waist. The burn subsides slowly, to feverish warmth.
“You think yourself too human still,” Ratatosk murmurs, solemn, “but you need mana to survive. You don't have to make yourself suffer for that.”
Emil nods with his eyes squeezed shut. He keeps forgetting that next touches are never as bad as the first one, and jolts when Ratatosk lets his hand go, and instead cups his face. Warmth, more warmth. Emil leans into it without thinking, and exhales in relief.
Ratatosk’s voice is almost fond, “You should take better care of yourself, you know why,” Emil nods in understanding.
"It won't feel as bad if you won't wait until you start falling apart."
Emil takes a breath that he does not really need. “Did not want to bother you,” he almost whispers.
"Maybe you should bother me more often, then?" Ratatosk grins at him, and Emil's anxiety eases.
With linked existence, they have to consider each other’s wellbeing above anything else. Being selfish is the most altruistic thing they could do. The world has forgotten, but the two of them know. They only have each other. They will never truly be alone, in life and in what counts for them as death.
Affection and gratitude bloom for his other half.
The needy, insistent kiss Emil plants impulsively under Ratatosk's ear is new. Words can not convey this feeling, tangled and soft. He hopes Ratatosk understands. Emil winds his arms around Ratatosk’s neck, and arms lock around Emil’s waist. Has it really been this long since they last saw each other? Time loses it's meaning for ones like them, and yet it still feels like far too long. It is Emil's fault, and he wants to make up for that.
Ratatosk does not refuse him, but also does not answer, doesn’t respond to words Emil mouths silently against his neck.
Thank you, thank you, I am sorry, I -
Emil chokes on heavy, simple words. They mean so much more for them than mortals that use them so casually. Words that are still not enough. There is no word for it, for this.
Consummation, devourment, union. Their selves will not stay separate, if this was to come. But what they could turn into as a result, may finally know peace of existing whole. One day they will be just like before one became two, one day it will stop hurting.
Emil calms down, quiets down. Then, as if a spell broken, he startles and draws back, pulls away, steps away, flustered and predictable. "I, uh. I think this is enough for now." The betrayed look is a bit out of place, as if he can’t quite believe he did this to himself, knowing he will do this again. His eyes dart back and forth between Ratatosk and the exit. The blush seems right on him, somehow, and Ratatosk can't help but feel both fond and exasperated. This is his precious other half, and he entrust their one shared end to him.
They were not meant for happiness either way.