Work Text:
Twisted in my dreams, inked spots on the sheets,
Covered in my tremors, bleeding sunlight out into the streets.
Shadow of my shadow, entwined in darkness,
Stepping close enough to hold, far enough in sadness,
and bleed through me, my lips wet with that word,
not trapped, but unhurt, and red as blood.
Akk is not trapped, has never truly been, headstrong and cautious and contrary though as he may be. With Ayan, there has always been an open space between them from where Akk is supposed to safely eject, as soon as the red lights start blinking in his head and the air cannot sustain his breaths.
Ayan is looking at him with a silent wonder in his eyes, and—affection, or a form of it. An unfamiliar shape of it that is too big to grapple with, or to ever truly be seen in its entirety. That look in Aye’s eyes makes Akk feel small and light, and Akk wouldn’t be surprised if he turned around and saw a pair of wings poking out from behind his ribs.
Redundant, that’s what that look is, because Akk’s never going to admit it between the two of them, so Aye bending closer to his ear and whispering ‘Goodnight, boyfriend’ isn’t any sort of fix, and it hasn’t solved anything for Akk. And Akk is always going to try and suppress his smile and refuse admission—but the smile is an admission. The ‘Fine’ is an admission, the accepting kisses from Aye is an admission, and all the other little horrible things Akk thought he’d exhausted the capacity to appreciate in terror are an admission.
When Aye had pushed him into his car repeatedly and they’d been in that closed space together, it took Akk only one trip in the car to get used to it. Aye pressing Akk against the lockers hadn’t felt trapping even in the worst of times. Aye on the mats under him but always with the upper hand (quite literally) hadn’t felt trapping, rather it had felt calculating and enlightening. Aye finding him at the reading of his favourite book—a place where Akk really shouldn’t be—and making him stay there for the whole thing hadn’t felt trapping even though that’s exactly what it was. Akk hadn’t felt trapped when Aye sneaked his way into his bed that first time he’d stayed over and had a nightmare, with one hand on the bedpost behind Akk’s head and eyes pinning Akk to the bed while he towered over him and insinuated something outrageous (but not untrue) once more just to get a reaction out of Akk. Akk hadn’t felt trapped even on the boat when he had Aye, resplendent and golden in the sun, in the middle of a sea, caging Akk against the boat in broad daylight. In fact, that one time Aye had refused to hand Akk his wet clothes and they had ended up in a compromising position because Akk’s arms were around Aye, and even though Aye was the one who was actually trapped, Akk had still acknowledged that Aye wasn’t the real captive—and yet Akk hadn’t felt trapped.
In the washrooms, the shower stall, the open footpath in school when Aye would grab his hand, the café, the moments when Aye’s arms would come up to tug his hoodie over Akk’s head, or in Akk’s bedroom, Akk’s face between his hands and urging Akk to kiss him—to let him have a shred of the care and love Aye has shown him, there wasn’t any place or time where Akk felt trapped.
So, now, in his bed again, and again with Aye’s face hovering inches above his own, Akk can’t feel trapped. He doesn’t. And he’s starting to realise that he never really did, and that always the panic that drove him away from Ayan wasn’t a separating but rather a connecting force. It was the stretch of rubber, tied securely to its place, like in a catapult, so no matter how far or how violently Akk pushed himself away, he always ended up even more violently back to Aye. To this bed, to Aye’s eyes above him shining like the stars and containing whole night skies.
But Akk has always distanced himself. He has been saying no to everything, dismissing Aye’s pleas, or is unable to fulfil them. Akk has stepped away and refused Aye more times than he can count. He has done worse. And Aye wants to keep him—or something.
Akk’s not sure if Aye knows that it’s impossible for Akk to be anyone other than himself.