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Jonah was dying, what else could it be? After almost 200 years of escaping death at every corner this was it. He laid (dramatically) in his unmade bed, he hadn’t moved from there since Monday and his floor was littered in tissues, there would’ve been more but he ran out. So here he was, alone in his flat, surrounded by his own germs and sickness, breathing some of his last shaky breaths when the entire flat suddenly went freezing. Peter. He knew it was Peter. Not Knew, his brain was far too foggy and even trying to Know gave him a splitting headache for hours (he already tried.) But he knew it would only be Peter to walk in on Jonah, Elias whatever at his lowest, and the lonely had a distinct chill to it, one Jonah could recognise even before meeting Peter.
“Hello Elias! Rather messy in here for you isn’t it?” the faux-cheery voice rang out from the living room, shooting metaphorical spikes into Elias’ head though they both wished they were real spikes at this very moment.
“You weren’t at your office today, very strange for you really. We need to do the funding thing on your fancy spreadsheets. Your receptionist was very insistent. Ruby was it? I don’t know but she’s very nosy! Kept wanting to know-” Peters useless ramblings were interrupted by a painful sounding cough that rattled Elias’ whole body. The Sailor looked confused towards Elias’ bedroom where the sound had came from, debating whether to leave the sick man on his own (Elias is lonely but not embarrassed) or go forward and mock the man (Elias is embarrassed by not lonely) (and more social interaction for Peter :(). Eventually he decided on the latter and walked almost curiously towards the door (but definitely not concerned! Where did you get that idea from.)
When he opened the door it was a state only a corruption avatar would like. Peter almost drew back into the welcoming fog away from the stale air of the room and the sight of a pale and sniffling Elias’ tied up in various bed sheets and blankets from either being too hot or too cold. He cautiously tip-toed over the sea of used tissues and stood next to Elias’ bed.
“Please just leave me to die with my dignity.” Elias croaked out with a raspy voice that clearly hadn’t been used in days.
“Wow, you’re clearly in no state to use your excels and spreadsheets!” The Captain chuckled towering over the sick man.
“Did you not hear me Peter!” Elias attempted to yell but it barely came out as a whisper and was thus followed with a series of chesty coughs. Peter turned away from the weak man before him, attempting to stay clear of the germs flying out his mouth.
“I did hear you Elias! I just chose to ignore you!” Peter smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. Although Elias didn’t much care, this comment had enraged the little man as he attempted in his knot of blankets to get up. However this plan was very short lived as the quick movements sent searing, hot pain to Elias’ head, his vision went foggy and he doubled over, his weak voice mumbling curses. He felt weak, embarrassed, and worst of all watched as his (ex?) husband looked down at him with pity.
“Elias are you alright?” Peter asked as though he was calming a cornered animal. He only received a pained grumble in reply as Elias felt his eyes begin to water. Watering is what it was, he wasn’t crying, why would you suggest that? He wouldn’t cry! This is just a side effect of the cold, everyone’s eyes water when they have a cold. But despite all this reasoning he still felt weak.
He didn’t look up, he didn’t want to know how much pity or sadistic joy were in Peter’s eyes right now and he didn’t want to add to either expression with Peter knowing of the tears slowly rolling down Elias’ face and getting caught in the bed sheets but then he heard footsteps as Peter left the room and a sob escaped his dry throat and he cried into his bed sheet despite how each sob rattled his weak body and felt as though it was ripping layers of tissue from Elias’ throat. He cried because he was dying and he lost all his dignity and now the last person to see him was a reclusive sea captain who looked at him with pity and he was all alone and this was all Peter’s fault. He would die in pity. And he couldn’t take it. He had worked so hard for it all to just end like this?
The footsteps approached again but Elias didn’t notice, he was ignorant, hopeless without beholding.
In his grief he didn’t feel a callus hand tentatively reach out and slowly pull Elias back up. Elias looked him right in the eyes, swallowing his sobs and biting back the remaining tears but some still escaped and silently fell. Peter was now holding a box of tissues and a glass of water that he placed on the bed side table.
“Oh Elias…” Peter whispered, looking down at the crying man.
“I’m not crying Peter! I don’t do that, I’m above it!” Elias whispered back his voice breaking at each word.
“Sure you are.” Peter reached out and handed Elias a tissue to wipe his eyes before leaving the room again.
The next time Peter came back he held a bowl of soup and some painkillers, “For your throat and the headaches.” He smiled, seemingly uncomfortable himself at how nice he was being, especially to Elias. Elias Nodded slowly and with Peter’ help downed the painkillers with some water. Swallowing hurt but drinking water felt nice. Elias never thought water would ever taste that nice to him.
Peter cautiously sat at the side of the bed next to Elias and helped sit him up so he could eat his soup himself; the sea captain did have some limits as to how much physical contact he was ok with. Elias immediately dug in, more hungry than he had realised and the swallowing did still hurt, the soup seemed to dampen the feeling of a cheese grater in his throat.
“So, how long have you been like this…?”
“Since Monday.”
“It’s Tuesday.”
“...and?”
“Elias, you’ve been sick for a day and already managed to get into this state?”
“Shut up Peter.”
“Hey, I’m the one helping you! I can leave any minute!”
“Then leave!”
Peter looked at the little, arrogant man in frustration but didn’t move, “Just finish your soup.”
Hours had passed since Peter had shown up and he still hadn’t left or killed Elias, it was very confusing especially to the beholding avatar with only two eyes at the minute. Instead of doing what Elias had expected the man to do, he cleaned up the tissues, gave him food and drink and was all in all very helpful. Very unlike Peter! Had the not!them took him or something? Surely he would Know, well in this state probably not.
The lonely avatar now laid down next to him, at a distance away of course, Elias was sick and Peter hated all forms of human interaction.
“Are you sure I’m the sick one?”
“Your voice isn’t as compelling when it sounds like you’re pinching your nose.”
“Oh shut up, you!” Peter chuckled as Elias choked on his own frustration.
“I’m very sure you’re the sick one.”
“Well you’re not acting normal yourself either!” Peter hummed in reply and glanced at the man next to him who for once wasn’t staring right back, “Why are you still here?”
“Would you rather I leave?” Silence filled the room for a few minutes, only broken by the sound of Elias clearing his throat or the bed rustling.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Neither did you.” This time the silence stayed for a while longer before Peter got up and got Elias a new glass of water.
After a while, Elias’ weak body finally fell to sleep, feeling comfortable enough to rest. The larger man next to him hadn’t realised this until an arm slung over his chest. He froze, starting to feel sick himself from the human contact but also scared, Elias’ arm was so thin and pale. Of course the stupid stubborn little man had managed to get himself into this state so quickly. Peter knew Elias wouldn’t die, it was just a cold, but he was still worried, which he shouldn’t be. Emotions were difficult, the lonely made them less feeling-y but being away from the fog for too long made emotions come on in more strength. He tried to stop the fog as it made Elias more cold and wanting to go under the covers despite him having quite a high temperature. But nevertheless Peter didn’t really care about Elias, he only cared about the bets, if Elias wasn’t ok then that was one less person to makes bets with and Elias was really bad at winning the odds and their was a sweet kind of loneliness that derives of leaving your spouse as you go to sea though they weren’t married at this very moment. These were the reasons to help at least that's what Peter told himself. It wasn’t because the silly man looked so weak and helpless or that Peter had any fond feelings for him, because he didn’t! Why would he, Elias is infuriating and rude and noisier than his assistant and is everything Peter hated.
But if someone else found him what would they do? Kill him probably. And Peter can’t have that, he wants to be the one to kill him of course. So he should kill him now. It would be so easy. He can’t protect himself, he can barely sit up but it would be too easy. At Least that's what he told himself. But I think we all know that isn’t really true and so does Peter, deep down somewhere. So he helps the man even though Elias would watch his agony, assist in his pain, kill him while he had the chance but isn’t that so beautifully lonely. To love- care for someone who will never see you the same way.
So Peter doesn’t push Elias’ arm off, and he doesn’t pull away when the little man, in his sleep, crawled to him for warmth and doesn’t object when his own eyes begin to weigh down and he lets sleep take him as well.
Elias woke up. At least he thinks he did. Dreams and reality seem to warp, vision is unclear and time doesn’t exist. He can’t tell what parts are real, he doesn’t know where he is, but he feels safe. Someone else is there, that he knows, to feed him, help him and speak to him. They sound concerned. Who does Elias know who would be concerned for him? Barnabas? He’s dead. Elias isn’t dead. Is he? He could be. But they don’t sound like Barnabas. And they don’t feel like Barnabas. So how could they be Barnabas? But if it’s not Barnabas who else could it be?
It hurts to think but he needs to know. The beholding has abandoned him behind layers of fog. Fog. It could be-
It hurts. Without beholding he’s forgotten how to think, without beholding he doesn’t know how to do anything. His God had become a crutch that he had lent on to move but now it is broken and he is left alone. All alone. Except for that one person , they were here. Who were they again? They made him feel less lonely. But they feel lonely and they sound sad. He thought they sounded concerned. Maybe both? Maybe none? Maybe this was all a dream and no one was concerned for Elias. That would make more sense he thinks, he’s not sure why though. Maybe he is alone.
Elias is in and out of sleep. He opened his eyes a few times but there was nothing behind them. At least Peter knew he was still alive. He whispered things throughout his delusion: Barnabas, concern, alone, dead and lonely. The fog might still be nipping at him, probably the end as well. His fear would make such a delicious meal but at the minute Elias needed to live. “He’d hate to die like this.” Peter thought while pressing a cold compress to Elias’ head. He would also hate for Elias to die but he doesn’t say that, he could never say it.
He was worried for Elias, despite his denial of the fact but he was still here. He really did care. The little man had gotten to him and he couldn’t bear for him to be gone. Who would he have his arguments with, who would nag him about his appearance, who would be his reason to come back to shore. He gave Elias more soup, more water, more painkillers. He brought more tissues to the room if Elias were to need them, he pressed cold compress after cold compress to his forehead, and even changed Elias out of the sweaty suit he had been lying in but he was still left there waiting. Peter waited and waited and paced throughout the room. He spoke to the man, things he knew, hoped Elias would never actually hear. He told Elias many things, things he would never repeat. He told Elias that he was ok, he would be ok and that he would get better. Peter had stopped caring if he would get sick himself and only that Elias got better. It felt alien to him to care, it felt wrong but it felt worse to try and leave. Human emotions were weird and messy and he much preferred the numbness of the lonely but he also felt real. He felt alive for the first time in years.
He placed a kiss on Elias’ forehead, his head was far too warm but it still felt right. He and Elias had kissed before but it was never real, never had real emotions or vulnerability in it and Peter felt very vulnerable at that very moment. He hoped Elias didn’t feel it, he wished he’d stay oblivious but somewhere deep down inside him, that betrayed his whole being wished he did know. Peter’s chest began to ache and he knew what would happen if he stayed any longer so he took back to the lonely and went on search for a sacrifice. The lonely welcomed him back and the fog chilled his skin and numbed each traitorous feeling inside and then he was gone.
Elias felt something on his forehead, it wasn’t cold as usual, it felt slightly warmer and dryer and chapped but it felt nice. He thinks it was a kiss but he’s not very sure, he’s not very sure about most things, It could’ve been anything. And as soon as it started, the touch was gone and the room went freezing, he felt fog wrap around him but that too was soon gone along with whoever was with him. He could feel they were gone the same as he could feel reality and dreams begin to unblur as everything went dark.
His next memory was waking up, everything slightly clearer now but his head still ached. He sat up and he knew where he was just not when. The room was empty aside from him though. Maybe the other person was a dream.
“Hello?” He called out. Each syllable felt like a nail dragging along his throat. There was no response. But he could’ve sworn someone else was here before the delusions. Could he have died? No. He wasn’t dead, he could definitely hear his heartbeat in his head, it was a terrible addition to his headache. So who was here? Had they left? He wouldn’t blame them, honestly it makes a lot of sense. He was all alone- Peter. Peter was here. No wonder he left then. Elias wouldn’t expect him to stay, he wouldn’t stay for Peter. But he had stayed and he had looked after him. He thinks. That could’ve been a dream. Maybe he could go and pester the Captain when he was better again or maybe he could Know. But now he was by himself and wondered what was that feeling on his forehead. It had felt rather real. And how long was it, had anyone reported to work for him, he did have full control of the institute but it could hardly run without him, he thinks. He needs to phone Rosie. As soon as he can stand and find his phone.
It wasn’t hard finding a victim. Her name began with L he thinks or M. He doesn’t remember, she wasn’t important. All that matters is that she was incredibly Lonely. She had moved away from her family to live with her boyfriend, Jake? Or was it Jeremy. Names don’t matter. But he had left her, been cheating on her for a while and the silly, dim, hopeful girl had only just found out so she went for a walk, to clear her head. Big mistake. Peter had found her and the fog had wrapped around her ankles like chains, sealing her fate. Peter had appeared and walked alongside her, asking a few questions, pretending to care but never revealing anything about himself, a skill he had mastered years ago. His faux-cheery voice and human-like smile that never reached his eyes met the girl and she fell prey to his trap.
She didn’t notice the build up of fog, how less and less people walked by, how it got colder and colder and how the path never seemed to stop. Eventually the man next to her left too. Was there ever a man there? There was! She thinks. She’s not sure. Who was she again, did she ever have a name? She must have! But then why can’t she remember it. She couldn’t have had one. She was sad, she felt tears. But what about? Why was she sad? Why was she cold? Who was she and where was she? All she knew was that she was incredibly lonely.
The Lonely was fed and Peter was numb. His earlier feelings felt silly and he decided himself that he should go for a walk so he did. He walked and walked and fed the lonely and the despair and his patron was ever so pleased so he continued to walk until his legs felt tired and he remembered how very sick Elias was.
The flat felt cold again, cold and dark. As a large figure appeared in the room.
“Peter?” Elias croaked out from under the covers.
“Elias.”
“It’s cold.”
“Is it?” Elias didn’t respond, instead he shivered under the covers, Peter was infuriating and impossible to reason with.
Peter tried to climb into the bed next to Elias before Elias hurriedly pulled the covers away.
“If you’re going to be this cold with your fog then go sleep on the couch!” Elias yelled with as much force and anger he could before he began to start coughing and curling up on himself.
Peter stared back blankly before responding, “Alright.” They were both too tired to argue at the moment and Elias caught the disgusting pity in Peter’s eyes again as he trudged out the room. It didn’t get any warmer but Elias still attempted to fall asleep in his empty bed as Peter attempted to get comfortable on the couch. He had slept there many times before but tonight felt different. A part he thought he numbed of himself felt concerned so he tried to ignore it but it only made it stronger and stronger. He hated it.
Halfway through the night he heard stumbling footsteps from the bedroom, thought nothing of it. Maybe Elias needed the toilet until they got louder and louder. Peter opened his eyes and saw his stubborn, shivering little man in front of him. He was holding a blanket and a pillow and cleared his throat to get Peter’s attention, not that he didn’t have that already.
“It’s too cold.” He whispered.
“Ok.”
“And the bed is very empty.”
“It’s a big bed.”
Elias sighed, “Please don’t make me ask. I’m sick.”
“You’re well enough to walk and pout.”
“Peter.”
“Elias.”
Elias sighed again louder this time then stifling a cough, “Could I please, possibly maybe, only because it’s very cold and I’m sick-”
“Spit it out already.” Peter interrupted with a sly grin on his face.
“Just move over you insignificant man!”
“You want to sleep here? Wouldn’t the bed be more comfortable and to your incredibly high standards?”
“Well-Well I’m already here! And the bed is rather… sweaty.”
Peter chuckled and moved over as much as he could, which wasn’t much. The small man crawled next to him and curled up with the blanket. He was practically sleeping on top of Peter.
Peter had taken the pillow for himself and Elias used Peter’s chest as his new pillow. As uncomfortable and cramped as it was, it was also quite nice. Though neither would ever admit so, even at gunpoint.
“Peter?”
“Mmm?”
“Did you look after me and- and kiss me on the forehead?”
“Maybe. Did you miss me?”
“Maybe.” They both smiled, smiles they tried to hide and hold back but they both smiled nonetheless. However this didn’t change anything, Peter would eventually have to go back to the Tundra, Elias back to work and they both would destroy the other in an instant- at another time, as Peter said “This would be too easy.”
“Peter?”
“Don’t ruin this.”
“Peter!”
“What?” He sighed.
“What day is it?”
“...”
“Well?”
“I don’t know.” They both laughed. They could destroy each other another time.