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The storm had finally stopped. The sea was calm, the water and the waves gently rocking the boat. The moon glowed in the sky, everything was tranquil. The noises coming from above deck from the rest of the crew had ceased, and a peace and quiet fell over the ship.
But Chip was restless, tossing and turning in his bed as he tried desperately to sleep. He was exhausted, having finally found Gillion and returned to the ship.
He could see, so vividly, the pearl in his hand, holding it up to the sky as the lightning struck him, as his vision went white, his body filled with a searing hot pain, and then he blacked out. Next thing he knew, Gillion and Jay were with him, having rescued him from drowning in the storm.
He heard Jay breathing quietly, dead asleep, and he looked over to Gillion’s barrel-bathtub thing, and could see him sleeping peacefully under the water.
Gillion. Gods, Chip was so glad he was back.
It feels as though he’s known Gillion all his life, and yet it hasn’t been that long at all.
He closed his eyes, and remembers the first time he met Gillion, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the ocean. The first moment he saw him, the only thing he could think was how ethereal he looked. The water dripped off of his body, hair glinting in the sunlight, coral atop his head making him look otherworldly, which he was.
His mind began to wander through all of the adventures they’d had since they met. He lands on the memory of walking out onto the deck of the Albatross and standing in the middle of the ice arena. He remembers seeing Gillion, remembers what they said to each other, then hears him say,
“There is only one way to resolve this. As is tradition of the Undersea: I, Gillion Tidestrider, Champion of the Deep, challenge you to ritual combat in defense of my honor.”
He remembers the rage he saw in his friend’s eyes, remembers the rage he felt in himself, and then the adrenaline rush as he drew his swords, and Gillion charged.
Why couldn’t he get his mind off of this? God, he didn’t particularly want to think about Gillion trying to stab him right now.
He remembers the longsword hitting him, remembers the sharp pain slicing across his arm.
He remembers how angry he was, remembers being so furious at his friend.
He remembers furiously slashing at Gillion, weaving around him to strike.
He remembers Gillion jumping into the air towards him, lightning sparking around him, his eyes, hair, and coral all glowing a brilliant white, the power literally radiating off of his body. He almost looked angelic, if it weren’t for the smite hitting him square in the chest. Remembers the thunderous and very painful shock of lighting emanating from the sword. He brings his hand to his chest, feeling where the smite had struck him, knowing there was still a pretty nasty scar.
He remembers how that lightning had knocked him to the ground, bloody and exhausted. Remembers shifting to his knees and dropping his weapons, kneeling in front of Gillion, hearing him say,
“I will not accept a forfeit, I will accept a win or a loss.”
He remembers reaching out his hand to pull the sword to his neck, offering his neck to his opponent, hears himself say,
“Go ahead.”
And in that moment, as he left himself completely vulnerable, he remembers how Gillion had looked at him.
He remembers the rage leaving his brilliant blue eyes for a moment, remembers seeing him realize what he was doing. He remembers feeling so much, so many emotions, all at once.
Now, in this memory, he could look at Gillion in that moment, look at him, just as bloody as Chip was. He remembers feeling so small, his friend towering above him. He remembers seeing Gillion’s muscles tense, remembers how the sweat and water ran down his arms.
He was beautiful, such a funny thing to remember in this memory where he had a sword to his neck. But he was, the glowing energy still sparking off of him a reminder of just how strong and dangerous his friend really was.
He liked danger though.
Where the fuck did that come from? He shut his eyes tighter and buried his face in his pillow, realizing things about himself that he shoved to the back of his mind to deal with later.
He rolled over, looking at Gillion’s barrel, and he felt guilt well up inside of him. Dragging himself out of bed, he walked quickly out to the deck. The fresh air felt nice, the wide open sky beautifully reflecting off of the calm water. He walked to the railing, looking out, and his mind began to wander again.
He remembers how, after their fight, He had slunk back to the barracks, horribly hurt and seething with rage. He remembers curling up into a ball on his bed, tears streaming down his face as the pain seared and stung his entire body. And he remembers hearing the door open and the stairs creak as Gillion walked down. He was pissed at him, he didn’t want to see his face for several days at least, yet here he was. He was still beaten and bloody, but yet he still looked so perfect. He turned over, back facing Gillion as he sat down next to Chip on the bed. He heard, quietly,
“Thank you for giving me that.”
He wanted so desperately to let this wall of his down, but he couldn’t, and so he said nothing.
He felt those hands press against his back; they were warm, not the usual cool that they usually were. But he felt that warmth radiate throughout his body, he felt his pain dissipate, and he felt emotion well up in his chest.
He wanted to apologize, but didn’t move. He heard Gillion say something, but didn’t register what it was. He heard him leaving, the door shut quietly, and he started to cry.
He looks back out to the sea, he wonders how far away from Gillion’s home they are. He tried desperately to think about anything else, but his mind always came back to Gillion.
He remembers last week, gods it was only last week, but he remembers their adventures in the Sanctuary and he remembers the pond, the pond? the- oh my god the pond.
He feels himself smile slightly, and then shakes his head, trying to make the memory go away. It doesn’t work of course, he can still feel Gillion’s strong hands on his waist, on the back of his head. He can still feel Gillion’s wet lips on his own, he can still see the look and the sparkle in Gillion’s eyes once they pulled apart. He remembers staring blankly as Gillion saved Jay from the pond, and then he remembers how they just moved on from that; he hadn’t brought it up, Gillion hadn’t either, Jay didn’t even know it happened.
He hung his head as his elbows rested on the railing of the Albatross, a pleasant breeze flowing by and ruffling his hair. He laughed to himself.
“God I am such a moron,” he smacked himself in the forehead a couple of times, “Why can’t I get him out of my fucking head?”
His entire body felt hot, his mind was racing, this was his best friend he was thinking about-
No. Best friends didn’t give each other the best kiss of their lives, best friends didn’t feel this way about each other.
Was this love? Was that what this was? Was that the reason he was so fucked up by what had happened over the past month?
He started to walk back to the barracks, but remembered the barrel, and instead went to the captain's quarters, laying down on the couch in there, and shutting his eyes. He thought that would fix it, being in a different room than Gillion, but he was still restless. He thought about his friend, his wonderful friend who cared for them so much, his friend that gave him the best kiss of his life, the friend who keeps him up at night, the friend who almost killed him, but the friend who healed him.
He shut his eyes, finally feeling tired.
And then there was a knock at the door. Chip jumped, not expecting anyone to be awake.
“Uh! Come in,” he said, and Gillion Tidestrider opened the door. Chip’s heart skipped several beats.
“I woke up and noticed you weren't in bed, so I came looking for you.” He said quietly, moonlight streaming in through the doorway behind him.
“Oh well, I mean, I’m fine, Gill. Really,” Chip replied, shifting nervously.
“Why did you come up here?” Gillion made his way to the couch, sitting down next to Chip, just as cautiously as he had after their fight.
“Well, I couldn’t sleep, so I came up to get some air, and just decided to rest here.” Chip felt like Gillion was looking straight through him, like he could see every thought swirling in his head.
“Ah,” Was Gillion’s only response, the two sat on the couch and listened to the gentle lapping of the waves against the ship.
“Chip, I-” Gillion started to say, and he paused, thinking through his words carefully. “I wanted to ask you something,”
“Okay, I mean, ask away.”
“Well, you know I don’t know very much. I mean I’ve only been on the Oversea for about a month and,” he paused again, “I haven’t experienced a lot of people, I mean, I was locked in the palace for my entire life.” He chuckled, “I never had very many friends, I mean, I had my sister, my family, but that’s different. You and Jay are really the first true friends I’ve had.”
Chip just listened, keeping quiet for once and just letting Gillion talk.
“And I’m so confused, Chip. I look at you, and I see one of my best friends in the whole world, I see someone I would fight tooth and nail to defend. I care about you two so incredibly much, and-” he paused, looking over to Chip, then quickly looking down at the floor.
“There’s something I feel, when I look at you, that I don’t see in Jay. And I don’t know what it is, Chip.”
Chip was stunned, not quite processing what he was hearing.
“Chip, about the, the uh, the act of love. On Desire Island, I-” Another pause, “I realized this feeling then. Sometimes, when I look at you, I remember the feeling of you in my arms, my lips against yours. What is this, this feeling I have been experiencing?” Gillion asked.
They sat in silence for a moment, the wheels in Chip’s head very obviously turning.
“Well,” Chip started, thought for a second, then, “It might be easier if I just show you.” Chip said, reaching a hand up to Gillion’s cheek, and then leaned in and kissed him.
Gillion was frozen for a second, then melted into the kiss, one of his hands resting on the back of Chip’s head, tangled in his hair, and the other snaked to his back, drawing him in closer.
Chip smiled as they parted, sighing contentedly.
“Maybe there isn’t a word for it,” Chip said, hand running down Gillion’s arm and grabbing his hand.
“Maybe you’re right,” Gillion responded, a calm smile on his face.
The waves gently lapped against the ship.