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Gale is many things: a scholar, a handsome man, if he says so himself, and a walking bomb waiting to explode just any minute now. Okay, the latter is truly not that bad – really, it isn’t --- and can you blame him if he happens to snack on a rare artifact or two?
Please, it isn’t that bad. Truly. But the thing, having someone control his actions, that’s where he draws the line. Alright, maybe it won’t have been such a bad thing, as the unknown entity was – is? – feeding him all the rare artifacts and making sure he has plenty of rest.
However, right now, in this moment, he is walking toward somewhere, or more like, someone, he has no wish nor desire to see or talk to.
“Hello, darling, it’s always quite the sight to see you sauntering around here with those gorgeous legs,” Astarion drawls, running his lips over his lips, and is that a low purr?
“Aye,” Gale says, awkwardly laughing. His clothing is very scandalous: the thin laced up shirt; calling it a shirt is a disgrace, but nevertheless, he has no control over any of this. Most certainty, not the pants, black as midnight, doing nothing but amplifying his thin, not that overtly muscular or gorgeous legs.
“Hmm… why don’t you spend the night with me?” Astarion asks, voice laced thick with lust and dark desire. “I’ve been a very patient man, darling, but alas, a man has needs especially when those gorgeous legs are such a snack.”
Gale internally screams. “I’m afraid I can’t spend the night. I promise Shadowheart---” he begins, trying to think up of a logical excuse. He has refused Astarion every single moment of every single day after the Goblin Camp’s defeat. It is the twentieth day mark now.
“Ahh,” Astarion lets out, but he doesn’t look relieved, or even understanding. An ugly sneer crosses his face, and his eyes get dangerously dark and wicked. “I don’t mind sharing, but—”
There is a “but;” of course there is always one. Here we go again, Gale thinks, preparing himself for the most nightmare fueled discussion again.
“--- I’d like to have a little taste first. It seems like Shadowheart is having all the fun, and I’m left all alone in the open.”
You’re mad, Gale desperately wants to shout, absolute mad to think I am interested in Shadowheart! Romantically interested! My heart belongs to you. Gale’s eyes widen at his thoughts; he doesn’t even like Astarion. Oh no, is it the unknown entity controlling him forcing him to view Astarion as a romantic interest again.
“I see how it is,” Astarion goes on. “Go have fun, love! Just know I always have room for another if you change your mind.” He winks suggestively and then goes back to reading his book.
Gale stands there like a dumbstruck puppy. How far he has fallen? One time, he foolishly lets Astarion feast on him, and after that, the vampire won’t leave him alone. Even though, his blood is supposed to be toxic, unsafe to consume, and even Astarion stated this! Yet the vampire keeps on coming for more when he stupidly keeps on offering up his blood.
Stupid, you are, Gale. Dumb, you are even more, he scolds himself.
“Love?” Astarion peers from behind his book. His eyes dangerously beautiful and welcoming. Gale wants to get lost in them. No, you don’t! “Have you changed your mind?”
“Uh,” he begins, face heating faster than the bomb ticking away inside of him. “I’d love to.”
What? You fool, what have you done now! His resolve has last this long. How could this have happened? No, no, he doesn’t want to spend the night with Astarion. Truly, he doesn’t dislike Astarion that strongly, but he doesn’t want to sleep with him. They are too different: one is a poisonous flower, and the other is surprisedly a fragmented rose.
Astarion seems to be taken back. He settles his book down. “Darling, are you certain of this? Once I have you, I might be unwilling to part with you. I don’t mind sharing, or indulging in the finer pleasures in life, but there’s something irresistible about you. I can’t help but want to have you all to myself.”
Gale cannot go through with. True, this reality might be constructed by someone other than him, and it has given Astarion this false interest in him, most likely. Gale isn’t one to discredit one’s feelings, so he can’t say for sure if Astarion’s feelings is genuine or not.
But this, whatever is happening in this moment, he cannot do this. Physically, he cannot bring himself to sleep with Astarion. Shed his skin and show his true self. He’s a toxicant, a poisonous flower, and even if he had been genuinely interested in Astarion, it’d be wrong to indulge in those acts. He is a dead man walking and he cannot put someone through that. His death is slowly approaching, this, he is aware of.
The panic settles across the pit of his stomach. His mind becomes blank, and the feeling of numbness is all he can feel and think of right now. It is as if he is just simply existing. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less. Just existing.
“Love?” Astarion’s voice blurs in the background, resembling a soft melody that is hidden behind impenetrable walls.
“Are you alright? Love, talk to me. Have I been too demanding? I apologize. I, as uncharacteristic of me as it may seem, can wait till you’re ready, or if that’s not the case, I’ll try to put aside those wants and desires to make sure you are comfortable, safe, and well.”
Hearing Astarion’s words does nothing to ease the panic, but Gale has longed learned how to control the uncontrollable. So he shoves this unceremonious pain deep down, knowing full well it will return again, and it will be much worse when it comes back.
Alas he has no choice. He is unwilling to show Astarion this side of him. Astarion and him are merely companions, and that would be a cruel thing to burden him with Gale’s own demons and traumas. While Astarion may be attracted to Gale, the truth is Gale is not.
Everything he does is controlled by an unknown entity, and as much fun as it was at first, it’s becoming to be a very tortuous process: giving someone false hopes and being unable to do anything about it.
And more importantly, Gale is not a good fit for Astarion. Learning of Astarion’s past and seeing the vulnerability he wears as an amour, Gale is simply a bloody dagger, and he won’t taint Astarion’s image any further. He had gone through so much already.
Finally, after finding his voice, he says softly, “I can’t.” His thoughts are all scrambled and putting this all into words is a challenge. How does he say, “I’m not interested in you, because I’m not worthy of you? Oh, and I just happen to have an invisible controlling my actions and behaviors?”
It’d be mad of him to say any of that. The most is he can say is, “Can’t spend the night with you, I mean. Spent too much time hunting down those nasty bandits. I’m spent, utterly and completely,” he adds in, nervously chuckling at the end, but it doesn’t show, blending in effortlessly with his other chuckles.
“It was a bloody massacre. Quite exhilarating!” Astarion’s eyes light up for a brief second but then it changes to something a little bit more serious. “This is new to me, but I’m truly concerned for you, Gale. I haven’t felt this way in centuries, but I know there is something bothering you. I see it. I’m not one to pry and I respect your privacy. But I do worry about you. I might be a little blunt, harsh, and not pleasant to talk to, but I am here if the need ever arises.”
Gale gives him a half-smile, not quite reaching his eyes. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, hating that he is leading Astarion on. No one deserves that.
“Anytime.” Astarion smiles.
That night, sleep escapes him, and his heart grows heavy with uneasiness and guilt. This will end badly, Gale, he tells himself, twisting and turning in his bed. Only pain and sorrow can result out of this.