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The movie droned in the background, words and music merging together into a meaningless mix of sound and images blending into a mind-numbing twist of colours and distorted faces on the laptop screen - but all Phantom could focus on was the pair of eyes that kept flicking back to watch him.
"Y'know if you'd rather watch me, you coulda just asked, handsome," the Quintessence ghoul lulled with little thought, not taking his eyes off the tv screen in feigned interest.
"I'd rather say you're the handsome one here," the other rumbled, deep grey eyes studying his features. Only then did Phantom return the gesture. Swiss was more than just handsome to the rhythm guitarist. The line of his jaw speckled with stubble that only served to draw up imaginary scratches on the slighter's chin; the way his locs framed his unmarred face in perfection; a husky voice honed with song that echoed in the halls with such power; large, strong hands that could crush his skull in an instant, but instead he chose to cradle and caress with the most careful earnesty; his tendency to nickname just about anything; everything about him to Phantom was a saccharine sweet whiskey and, Hell, he would never get enough of that drool-worthy taste.
"I'm not so sure on that, big guy," he chuckled, Phantom never thought himself a looker, not anymore at least, but he would play the game if thrown the ball.
"Well then, let me show you just how pretty you are," Swiss murmured, all of a sudden much closer. Enough to taste the breathe on his lips. Where he should have gone puppy-dumb and blushing, panic set into the back of his mind at the implications - he'd never shown anyone, not anyone topside, his body concealed under clothing. Yet, he could not miss the golden opportunity to kiss the devilishly hot ghoul inches away not even God would deny.
Swiss met him halfway; all of a sudden soft lips were all over his own, warm and wet and pillowy and so, so good. He tasted of fresh ground coffee, black, and rejuvenating as one on an early morning; Phantom would happily drown in it. He did not quite know when the other's hand came up to cup his jaw but Swiss' hot-spring warmth against his own deep space chill felt like a divinity he could pray to forever, a heaven he would repent for. The perfect contrast and comfort.
"Sit up," Phantom whispered as they pulled away, panting against the multi instrumentalist's lips, "I wanna kiss you better." The taller obeyed instantly, pulling himself and the Quintessence ghoul upright. How kiss-swollen lips, half-lidded eyes and blown-wide pupils could make a ghoul so pretty, each thought. As their mouths met again, he could finally feel the stubble scraping the grey skin off his chin that he had thought about too often. But in the forefront of his mind, the sharp fang piercing his lip had him gasping, and Swiss dove in like a starved beast. Desperate breaths and the accidental clacking of horns saturated the silence, the empty space between filled with the disregarded film running. Then a hand ran over the shorter's shoulder and he yanked away.
"Stop, stop. I shouldn't." He said, full of regret at Swiss' confusion.
"Tom?"
"I- uh, I have a lot of- um- scars..." Phantom trailed off as he avoided the look in the other's eyes.
"Oh, Tommy, I'm sorry..." He looked. That damn weak pity in his eyes.
"No- No I'm sorry for ruinin' that-"
"-It's ok to have scars, Tom," the Multi ghoul started again and smiled softly, "I promise, if it helps, I'll even show you some of mine!" And before Phantom could process it, the ghoul was pulling off his shirt. He stammered, awfully flattered by how vulnerable Swiss was being - at least that is what he told himself, nothing to do with the gorgeous hunk of a ghoul right in front his face. Maintaining enough composure to neither cry nor dig into the meal in front of him, he picked back;
"Is this just an excuse to flex your muscles?"
"...Well no, but I don't mind showing 'em off," Swiss grinned cheekily as he flexed a well-built, dad-bod bicep towards the other. The guitarist was not quite certain how visible his blush was, but he sure felt it could not get any brighter. That damn ghoul knew just how to push all the right buttons in his brain.
"Yeah, I kinda gathered that, not that I'll complain," he joked and wiped away the welled tears, both laughing, "Now show me those scars you were talking about?"
"Yeah, yeah, get some patience, Tom cat," he smirked softly, tail landing a soft swat at the other's hand, "This one by my belly button is from when I was a kit, me 'nd my siblings playing hide n seek, I was up in a tree and one of 'em found me, bugger pushed me off and onto a bad-placed branch. Oh, that one hurt for ages," soft chuckles resounded.
"What about these on your shoulders? They're so pretty..." The rhythm guitarist couldn't help ogling at the faded lines warped over layers of skin.
"Those? Ah, see I got real stressed when I was first summoned and I'd end up clawin' at myself 'til I bled," the vocalist placed a reassuring hand on Phantom's, "Don't worry, I'm all good now, bug," he lulled, the latter felt his ghoulish heart flutter, and twined his thumb over the other's palm. Phantom could swear on his life a slight sadness misted over the other's pupils, for just a moment. He continued on.
"What about this one, on your thigh?" The shorter pulled the seam of Swiss' shorts up tentatively, revealing more of the long, vertical scar. The Multi ghoul sucked in a breath at the easy demeanour.
"Long story short, Sunny."
"Ah. That explains a lot," Phantom giggled, partially in pity, "Wait. That one!" He exclaimed, affirming when the other pointed at one on his forearm, "I have one that's just like it, hold on, hold on." The Quintessence ghoul pulled his calf up at an angle that mildly disturbed the taller.
"Oh man, they're so similar!" The suave singer commented, however more focused on the...interesting degree that his dear's knee had bent. But a mark caught his eye.
"Aw, wait, this one looks like a duck," Swiss traced the paler, toughened flesh just above the other with a nail, "y' see its wing there and the beak?" Now that he looked at it, it did quite look like a duck. He laughed at it, for once - maybe some scars were not so bad after all. He supposed some slashes could be rather pretty, or in this case, cute. The happy pair journeyed across more of Phantom's speckled and streaked skin, allowing the shorter to lead and divert from the painful stories to the softer ones. But he knew where the other's guilted gaze flicked back to, the anticipated question burning into his skull.
"Uhm- If it's not too personal, what about - uh - that one?" Swiss asked tentatively, looking away. Phantom knew damn well which ugly disfigurement he meant. The jagged slash that tore his face apart. Oh, how he hated that scar. Resented it. How it caught in the way he kissed, how it protested and pulled his cheek when he smiled like it wanted him miserable, how people looked to it for a first impression instead of him; how it blinded him. Sure he didn't notice it all the time, he had grown used to its presence after all, but he seethed nonetheless at it always managing to ruin everything. And it was not even a dainty, pleasant, clean cut either. No, it twisted and writhed and split in him like a parasite crawling under his skin, controlling every aspect of his life.
He touched his face where it ruined his face and irreparably damaged his sight; that foul injury mutilating him. His pads only grazed it, but pain shot through his skull like a bullet. It throbbed violently as if it were freshly carved from his flesh and bone. His fingers flinched away warm and wetted with scarlet blood; the same dripped onto his collarbone steadily, a mockery of the mortal clock that ticked. He looked at his palms. Both his hands were bloodied. He was not sure if it was only his own again. Its sickly metallic stench filled his sinuses, so intense the thick putrid odour caught in his lungs, holding his breath hostage until it stung and burned. Grief, anger, defeat, vicious pain. Those four cruel horsemen circled, bringing apocalypse, plague, upon his mind. Something tugged at his arm. Someone was talking. Maybe yelling. He didn't care to check it when the ringing in his ears muffled all out in favour of consuming the ghoul. Every ritual-given cell in his body screamed at him to run, as far as he could go - the fibres of warm bed covers under his legs were no longer a downy soft, rather a prick of a million icy needles into his hide. He squirmed in the sheets trying to escape, but the duvet held on to him, grabbing at him with hundreds of hands. But then again, how in hell could he escape when blackness creeped into his vision and the wound gushing blood made his head light as clouds? The instinctual need to get up and out tightened at his ribs like a constricting snake, crushing, twining unbearably. But his mind resisted, he deserved it after all.
His back hit the pillows. The shock grounded the guitarist. His chest heaved with the strain of remembering. His red-stained hands were still damp, but only with the drops of his own mind-forged agony. Doom’s jaws around him receded just a fraction, but not enough to lull the deafening, thrashing pound of his heart over the head-splitting ring. Cold silver in place of a tooth felt foreign in his jaw; it shouldn't even be there, and its edge spiked against his gums more than ever, like an ice pick hammered directly into the bone. A gentle thumb wicked away the blur of tears on his waterline. Two grey eyes calmed the weeping ache with a gaze, like cauterising a bleeding vessel. Surely that fuck up would be enough of an answer for Swiss.
"I'm so so sorry, Tommy, I'm sorry, I had to push you," The Multi ghoul was....crying? "You were like shaking and-and wailing 'nd you wouldn't respond to anything I said, I'm so so sorry, Tom, I should've never asked..."
Phantom would not be able to speak even if he had the ability. He did not intend anyone to see those memories haunting him, certainly not wanting them to. Yet the way Swiss held his face in strong hands could be nothing but care. A type of care he had not really had before: for him, not for what will happen next; for him, not for the other person.
"Whatever it is that hurt you, you're safe here, so so safe with me and Dew, Cirrus, Lus, all of us. I promise now and I'll keep promising..." he trailed off, wary eyes blurred.
"Why do you care so much?" Phantom queried, voice heavy with exasperation and crackled with emotion, now leaning of up on his hands.
"Anyone with half a brain would care about you, Tom cat," the taller asked quizzically, eyebrows furrowed. The way the Multi ghoul looked at him, he felt so small then, like an ant under a magnifying glass. Shame rattled in his head.
Where the singer still held Phantom's cheek, the gentleness of his fingers, lack of claws and all: the way they dimpled into the flesh - the latter needed the feeling tattooed into his brain. And Swiss could not deny how fragile yet perfect the ghoul felt in his hands - and looked too. The clouded, muted colour of the damage so easily overshadowed by the vibrancy of the other eye, and the flecks of gold freckles dotting his sweet cheeks, and the way the ghoul's hair always managed to look good, even after this episode.
"Don't say that..." The guitarist whined, overwhelmed with emotion again. He couldn't look Swiss in the eye. A few droplets marched down the trenched skin from the watery barracks, falling onto his collar. Maybe it was a retreat, considering the worst of the war was waged in his head. The rhythmist knew well these thoughts would plague him worse that night, worse than in that moment, alone in the loveless, undecorated emptiness of his room. He felt so dirty, sticky with crimson. His ghoulish heart pumping adrenaline away, dulling the edges of panic into a sinking aching that sat heavy as lead in his hollow chest. A mixture of the Multi ghoul's swell of calming aura and the stinging after-sparks of the rhythmic guitarist's panicked element left the air heavy as another weight on the latter's shoulders.
The taller kissed the salty tears that streaked the ghoul's cheeks away, lingering touches on the features that made the ghoul into Phantom; only pausing to whisper.
"Do you know just how beautiful you are?" Then Phantom sobbed again, the few stray tears turning into to a fresh flood. The Quintessence ghoul threw himself onto the other, cold droplets smearing onto the other's collar. The vocalist curled himself around the trembling ghoul in his arms protectively, tail trying to twine with the leathery spade that clung to the shorter's calf - perhaps something to calm the vocalist himself. Sweet nothings whispered were soft on Phantom's still-ringing ears, and the arms holding him close felt so much safer than the restraining grips he knew; and the soft rub of Swiss' calloused finger pads on his horns was a comfort he had not known since kithood. The crackle of the other's internal fire warmed enough for the both of them, cold as the shorter could be. It was going to be alright on Earth.
Soon, sobs stifled into softer sniffles and pauses of silence. The lither's breathing eased and the nervous, stinging buzz of his element in the air reduced to a pulsing hum, not unlike that of a heartbeat. Around them, the world slowed its spin. Cheering in the common room - probably Aurora winning yet another game of Uno - though only the first of tonight. The rushing chatter of siblings outside, desperate to get back to quarters before the early Autumn sun dipped too low. The mutter of the movie's credits at the end of the bed. The wind rustling the flowers on the windowsill. Where the quintessence's eyes screwed shut, his ears took over; the resting beat of their hearts and almost silent breaths drawn in. He'll stay here for a while. He could not leave even if he wanted to, with the way Swiss had a hold on him, physically then and there, and with his heart always. It is going to be just alright on Earth.