Archive of Our Own

Elias leans back, eyes half closed as he sticks the blunt back into his mouth. 

“You know, one day I’m going to do something.”

Michael starts a little at the voice, almost forgetting that he wasn’t alone in the room, before shoving Elias with his foot, laughing. 

“You’re so dramatic.” 

“I’m serious.” 

“Dude, you’ve got, like, a billion pounds. Do something with that.” 

“No, I mean like actually do something. Make a mark on the world, you know. Or something.” 

Tipping his head back, Michael stares into Elias’ eyes, the rest of the world spinning faintly around them - or maybe that was just the smoke curling through the air. 

“I don’t know. Throw some money at a charity.” 

There’s a beat of silence in which Elias sighs, “You don’t get it.” 

“Nope. You’re sounding like a right tory right now.” 

For some reason that notion is incredibly funny and Michael giggles again, prodding Elias in the side until they’re both giggling like idiots. 

“Honestly, don’t even bother joining my work, you’d be better off going back to uni and doing a drama degree.”

At that, Elias stands up, so suddenly that Michael topples off the sofa, almost hitting his head on the sagging coffee table as he lands. Before him, Elias spreads his arms wide, smoke still curling off the blunt in his fingers and Michael has half the mind to take it off him before he can drop it and set something on fire. He really needs to keep that deposit. 

“The Magnus Institute is a perfectly respectable job! They’d be lucky to have such a fine young man!” Elias is doing a really shocking impression of his father, accent even more stuffy and posh than usual and this time Michael laughs until he can’t catch his breath, dragging Elias down to the floor. He plants a sloppy kiss against Elias’ cheek, something that the man grumbles at half-heartedly, though the effect is ruined by his grin. 

“I hope you’re ready for the weirdest interview of your life tomorrow. The head of the institute is really strange. Nothing like my boss.”

“Yeah, yeah, the nice old lady who’s like a hundred years old and never smiles.” 

“Gertrude is nice! It’s not her fault that James Wright keeps her on when she’s so frail.” 

Elias snorts, “Sure.”

Extremely pointedly, Michael ignores the comment, choosing to instead snatch the blunt out of Elias’ fingers and take a draw from it himself. 

“ Like I was saying , Mr Wright is just a bit… creepy? You know those photos where the eyes follow you around the room? That’s what his eyes do.”

“I think if a person does that, it’s just called looking.”

“No! It’s really weird. Like, even when he’s not looking directly at you, he’s still seeing you.” 

Elias takes the blunt back, waving it teasingly in front of Michael's face, “I think you’ve had too much of this.” 

“Oh stop. You’ll see what I mean tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, I’ll let you know if his magic eyes start glowing or something.” 

Michael pokes Elias in the side again, maybe a bit harder than he strictly has to, “I’m being serious.” 

Elias just hums a little and Michael flops fully onto the carpet, closing his eyes. 

“I hope you get the job anyway.” 

With his eyes firmly shut and his head swimming pleasantly, Michael completely misses the way Elias’ face tightens momentarily. 

“Yeah.” 

***

His day at the Institute was normal, completely and utterly normal. Making tea for Gertrude, watching as Emma studied him in a way that made his skin crawl and smiling right back as if nothing was wrong, doing research on a statement way too full of ants for his taste. Normal. Or it would be normal if Michael could get the image  of Elias’ face, scared and pale before he left for his interview, out of his head. 

Come to think of it, Elias had seemed distinctly off ever since he decided to stay the night. Jumpy, almost, which was especially odd, since Michael can’t remember a time that Elias had been particularly bothered about any job or application. Maybe his father had threatened to cut him off if he didn’t get a job, but that thought didn’t stop the creeping unease in his stomach throughout the day. 

Five o'clock can’t come soon enough, and after making sure Gertrude is okay walking home in the dark, Michael practically bolts to the cafe where Elias had agreed to meet him. The anxiety coiling in his gut lessens somewhat at the sight of the familiar figure in the window, hunched over a steaming tea and staring mindlessly into the cup. 

“So, did you get the job?” 

Elias jumps about a foot in the air at the voice as Michael slides into the chair next to him, eyes darting restlessly around and face about as pale as it was before the interview. Oh. 

“That bad, huh?” Michael asks, and moves to pull Elias into a hug, and stopping after it becomes clear that Elias is resisting him, trying to curl away. Michael pushes down the small feeling of hurt - now is not the time. 

“No…” his voice is distant, “I got the job.” 

“And that’s… bad? You’ve wanted this job for ages.”

At that, Elias seems to suddenly perk up, face losing its numb expression as he stares at Michael, a grin on his face that looks only slightly forced. 

“Yeah - yeah, no, it’s great. I’m an admin for the library, I think? To be honest it wasn't super clear.”

Michael really, really wants to push, to ask why Elias is so clearly not okay, but Elias looks so painfully, frantically happy that, cursing his stupid heart, Michael grins along too. 

“Hey! I’ll probably see you around then. Oh yeah, and how weird was that interview? I remember mine, Mr Wright grilled me for like half an hour on the meaning of fear.”

Elias’ perfect grin slips slightly for a moment, before being placed back on, “Yeah, something like that. You were right about his eyes though. Fucking weird.”

“Right?”

“The guy should wear contacts or something.” 

Michael smiles at the thought, “Well, you’re an employee now. You could submit a formal complaint about it.”

At that, Elias snorts, looking slightly more like his old self, and Michael feels safe enough to ask: “Are you alright? You looked kind of freaked out before the interview.” And afterwards, he almost adds, but doesn’t have the courage to, not as the smile slips from Elias’ face almost immediately. The silence that follows is thick and suffocating, Elias staring firmly into his untouched tea.  

“Have you ever had a… supernatural experience?”

“What? Like seeing a ghost?”

“No, just something so messed up that can’t really be explained.”

By the way Elias absently reaches up to touch the skin around his eyes, he clearly has one in mind, and Michael feels like pushing would be a distinctly bad idea. 

“I don’t think so.” He gives an awkward laugh, “I mean it’s weird, I work at the Magnus Institute and don’t really believe in it all. I just needed a job and I had a degree in library sciences. It all worked out.”

“You weren’t, I don’t know, drawn there?”

“I was drawn by the salary, if that’s what you mean.” 

By the look on Elias’ face, that’s absolutely not what he means and Michael swallows. 

“No.” 

“Oh.” Elias sounds almost crushed by that answer, sagging into the seat. 

“Did - did something happen to you?” 

“Maybe? In Mr Wright’s office, I think he did something to me, I think-” Elias blanches and cuts himself off, eyes wide and terrified, looking beyond Michael with such an expression of fear on his face that it makes Michael's skin itch with anxiety. 

“Elias?” he asks softly and the other man snaps out of it, rubbing his eyes furiously. Hesitantly, Michael reaches out and gently pulls his hands away, setting them in Elias’ lap.

“Hey, hey, you can always quit if it’s upsetting you that much.” 

“Yeah,” if anything, Elias’ voice is just flat, unconvinced, and Michael eyes up his now-cold tea, reaching out for his hand. 

“Why don’t you come back to my flat and you can think it over in the morning. I’ve got nicer tea there anyway.” 

Elias blows out a breath and rubs his eyes again. 

“Yeah, that sounds good.” 

This time when Michael hugs him, Elias lets it happen.

***

Something is wrong when Michael wakes, some irritating, persistent sense of wrongness so intense that Michael has already opened his eyes and sat up before his brain catches up to him. Automatically, he’s reaching for Elias’s sleeping body and it’s only when his hands land on the cold, empty sheets that he does a double take. 

It’s been a few weeks since Elias first started at the Institute and he’s only been acting more and more distant ever since. Though this isn’t the first time Elias has left before dawn, sneaking out to work without waking Michael, that doesn’t ease the sting of rejection at the sight of the empty bed. 

He considers trying to ring Elias, but Michael knows full well that it will just go straight to voicemail and that will just make him worry and worry until he arrives at the Institute and finds Elias trying to hide from him in the breakroom. 

It’s getting beyond a joke. 

And anyway, Michael is fine with this. He’s fine. If Elias doesn't love him anymore, if he can’t face breaking up with Michael and is just avoiding him, then Michael can play the same game, but - he would just like to know why. God, is he really that repulsive to the man he loves?

Michael's breath is shuddering and his face is tearstained by the time he realises that he’s late for work, and with deliberate, mechanical, motions, Michael scrubs the dampness away and starts getting dressed. He supposes Elias’ sudden coldness is part of the reason that he jumped at the chance to go to Russia with Gertrude at such short notice. They leave tomorrow and though Michael's pretty sure that she only invited him because of how much he’s been moping recently, maybe the distance from Elias will do them both some good. Maybe it will make Elias realise that he actually needs to talk to his boyfriend, not just avoid him. 

Michael slams the door on the way out. 

It takes him twenty minutes and two tube changes to make his way to the Institute and this time when he arrives, Michael heads straight down to the Archives, not even bothering to look for Elias in the library breakroom. He knows exactly how the conversation will go, a lot of one word answers from Elias and undignified begging from Michael - and he’s fine. 

That’s part of the reason why, when he enters Gertrude's office, he jumps about a foot in the air at the sight of Elias sitting at the desk. 

For a moment Michael can only stand there, blinking dumbly as his brain catches up in an overwhelming rush of relief. It means Elias has finally decided to talk to him, and maybe Michael doesn’t have to go to Russia, maybe they can work this out-

There’s something wrong with Elias’ face. 

The thought hits him like a physical blow, knocking the elation out of him completely and thoroughly. There’s something wrong with his face and Michael's sure it’s not to do with Elias’s expression of severe disapproval. 

“Michael,” Elias says and his voice is flat. “I need to speak to you.” 

“I-uh-” Michael fumbles, eyes still glued to his boyfriend’s face, “yeah, I think that’s a good idea. Why-”

“I’m going to need you to drop off any of my clothes and belongings still at your flat and bring them into work tomorrow so I can collect them.” 

It feels like the whole world has been ripped out from under his feet.

“Are you - are you breaking up with me?” Michael's voice breaks and Elias just looks at him with that same cold stare. 

“Yes.”

“ Why ?” 

“Because, frankly, I find you exhausting to be around.”

Michael can only stare at him, brain shutting down. He thought he had prepared for this, that he was ready, but clearly not. Clearly not, since he’s standing here with tears rolling down his stupid face, staring at Elias and that sense of wrongness building and building -

“Why are you acting like this? You could have told me! But no, instead you chose to avoid me and now you’re breaking up with me, acting like this - all posh and formal. Acting like your father !” It’s a low blow, and Michael knows it, but he’s so sick of Elias’ cold, unruffled, demeanour that he wants to make him hurt as much as he’s hurting Michael right now. Wants to make him angry. 

It doesn’t work. 

“Are you quite finished?” He asks and Michael very nearly breaks right then and there. 

“God, what is wrong with you?” 

Elias doesn’t respond to that and it finally - finally - clicks why there’s something so off about his face. 

“Are you actually wearing fucking contacts right now?” 

Elias’ eyes are empty and grey as he stares unblinkingly back at Michael.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Really? This is the hill that you’re going to die on? Your eyes are green. ”

“They have always been grey. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to be doing.” 

“What? That’s it? You’re just going to leave?”

“Indeed. Considering this is my Institute, I really can do what I want.”

“Your-”

“James Wright has named me his successor.”

And with that, Elias sweeps out the room, leaving Michael staring numbly after him. He doesn’t remember falling to the ground, but that’s how Gertrude finds him hours later, curled into a ball and sobbing.

They leave for Sannikov Land early that evening. 

***

Your name is Michael Shelly and you are walking through a maze of corridors. The walls flicker and shift and distort into shapes that have no name and colours that have no meaning and you do not know how long you have been here. Maybe you have always been here. There are memories of another world, another life, but they feel vague and indistinct, like a dream. You can remember sunlight and laughter and a man with green eyes who slept in your bed. You cannot remember his name. 

Your name is Michael Shelly and there is a map in your hand. You do not know how it got there, but you follow it anyway. It leads you through a bending, twisting maze that vibrates through your bones and makes your teeth ache. There is a voice in your ear, whispering and cracking but you do not listen to it. The only thing you know is real is the map in your hand and so still you follow it on. You think maybe you are going insane. 

Your name is… what is your name? You’re sure that you used to have one. People have names, but you do not, so maybe you are not a person. You doubt that a person would be in this place anyway, this place of madness and twisting deceit. But the map in your hands pulls you on, and so you follow. You open doors and smash mirrors and walk deeper. 

You do not have a name and there is a figure standing before you. It looks like maybe once it was a person. It is made of cracking static and swirling fractals and you are terrified. You have been terrified for a long time now though, and the map doesn’t have any more instructions and so you wait. You know this is the end. The thing in the corridor reaches out a hand-like projection to touch you. You scream.

Your name is Michael. You are not meant to be Michael. You are deceit and spirals and manipulation. You are not Michael. But here you are, and your twisting, maddening brilliance has been reduced and constrained to a sad, lost human named Michael. 

Your name is Michael and you hate it. 

***

The distortion called Michael opens a door into Elias Bouchard’s office. Doors are its domain as much as manipulation so it’s as easy as waving a hand, though as soon as the door opens with that creak it’s spent so long perfecting, the Eye’s influence slams into it. The edges of Michael fray and swirl as it steps into the office, meeting the gaze of Elias with a smile that twists across its face. It doesn’t know why it’s here, but it suspects that this puppet of the Eye will have a good idea. 

Elias’ unforgiving grey eyes narrow at the sight of it. 

“Hello,” the words crackle out of its mouth, coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Michael is only slightly annoyed by the way Elias refuses to be disconcerted. 

“Michael?” He asks, “How did - ah. Gertrude Robinson, I take it?”

“ Yes .”

“So you are, what? An avatar of the Spiral now?” 

Michael's smile widens on its face, splitting and stretching and growing and curling. 

“I am Michael.” 

“That’s not an answer.” 

“I know.” 

Elias sighs and stands up from his desk, a vaguely irritated expression on his face. 

“Are you here to kill me then? Take revenge for Michael Shelley?” 

A thousand memories race through Michael in the second it takes for its hands to turn sharp and heavy. Memories of the humans the two creatures were before they changed, laughing and kissing and crying. They’re foreign and distant and vaguely Michael feels like, yes, it should feel some kind of anger for how Elias treated his former body, but even that’s so faint and indistinct that it has to grope for the emotion. 

“No,” Michael hums out finally, though it makes no effort to move, “Not today.” 

The two monsters stare at each other for a long time. 

And then a door clicks shut behind one.

And the other goes back to his computer.