Work Text:
The irony of a lifelong ache in your chest is the comfort you find in its presence.
"Here, sit."
His body moved without much thought, and he silently took a seat on a wooden stool in the corner of the small bathroom. Pressing his trembling hands on his knees, he tried to distract himself by staring at the ugly yellow floor tiles— Cracked and stained. Pale and sickening. Unclean no matter how hard one tried to scrub them. His throat tightened, making it difficult to breathe.
When it's gone, you mourn it,
"Astarion?"
His rage, the fire that burned his skin but kept him warm, was now cold and silent. He desperately clawed at the ashes, searching for something, anything to fill the hollow void in his chest and alleviate the ache in his bones. But all he found were blackened fingers and the lingering scent of smoke on his skin. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He wasn't meant to feel like this. He was freezing. He crossed his arms and dug his nails into his arms. Something rose in his throat, and he tasted the metallic tang of blood on his tongue.
Because it was familiar.
"Astarion, please! Look at me!"
He blinked, and there was Avin, kneeling before him on the floor. He was still covered in dried blood and sweat. Astarion felt Avin's hands on his cheeks—gentle and warm. He struggled to focus on Avin's face. Was he... crying?
"Breathe."
He watched Avin's lips move, blood staining them. Someone had struck a nasty blow to his nose, though the broken bone had already healed. A thick stream of blood had flowed down his chin and neck. Astarion inhaled, taking in Avin's scent, filling his lungs.
"It's okay. I'm here."
Astarion reached up, holding onto Avin's hand on his cheeks, wanting to keep it there. He took another breath, his lungs aching.
"You're safe now."
Was he truly safe? Yes, from Cazador, but how could he escape his own mind? The invisible hands of darkness reached out once more, threatening to tear the skin off of his body, and now, there was no fire to shield him. No motivation to distract him. He was afraid to even blink. What if the horrors found him in that brief moment of blindness? His mind was not kind to him and his dead heart didn’t believe he deserved mercy.
"I've got you."
Astarion's lips trembled. Avin had made that promise countless times, and so far, he had kept it. When Astarion looked into those concerned eyes, he dared to hope that Avin would continue to keep it. He needed Avin to keep that promise. He didn't know what he would do if Avin ever decided he had given Astarion too much and received too little.
He caught those silver eyes searching his face, reading him like an open book. "I'm not going anywhere."
Astarion pulled him in then, burying his face in his shoulder. Avin's arms wrapped tightly around him, as if he feared Astarion would slip away. Astarion couldn't assure him that he wouldn't. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Beneath the blood and sweat, he could still sense Avin's unique scent—the scent he had become addicted to from the moment his teeth sank into Avin's neck for the first time. He clung to that scent, attempting to pull his mind away from the smoke.
Gradually, the real world returned to him. He could hear the familiar hustle and bustle of the inn, but he had no memory of returning there. His skin began to itch beneath his damp clothes, yet he couldn't recall being in the rain. He trembled again, this time shivering from the cold he actually felt. He sniffed, opening his eyes.
"You smell like a dead wolf," Astarion commented, hating how broken he sounded and how his breath caught in his throat mid-sentence. But Avin responded with a slight chuckle, and for a moment, Astarion didn't mind feeling so vulnerable.
"I'll get the bath ready," Avin replied, moving away from Astarion's embrace to stand up. Reluctantly, Astarion let him go, watching as Avin used magic to heat up the water in the tub and conjured some towels. Avin then began removing his armor with strained grunts. Astarion noticed how his shoulders slumped and his movements were slower than usual. He hadn't fully healed himself after the fight.
Looking down, Astarion realized he was wrapped in Avin's cape—yet another thing he couldn’t remember. Beneath it, he wore only his ripped and bloodied pants and boots. He carefully removed the cape but practically threw away the rest of his clothes. He doubted even a mage's magic could salvage the torn fabric.
“The water should stay warm for an hour. Take your time.” Avin said as he collected his discarded armor. He was still in his pants but had quickly washed his face. He smiled at Astarion, walking towards the door.
"Wait," Astarion called out, feeling a sense of uneasiness sending shivers down his spine. He had a strange feeling that if Avin left, the darkness would return for him. "Stay... I just... I don't want to be alone."
Avin nodded and placed his armor in a corner. Astarion turned his head away to give Avin some privacy as he undressed. In the past, he would have scoffed at such an action, but this moment felt different. Avin was different.
Astarion sank into the tub, feeling the warm water ripple around his pale skin. It carried the pleasant scent of sandalwood soap, the only kind Elf Song had to offer. Leaning back, he scanned his body for any bruises that could explain the ache he felt in every inch of his being. Finding none, he closed his eyes and tilted his head back, observing the small spots of light beneath his eyelids. After a few seconds, he heard Avin approaching, but instead of joining him in the tub, he felt the tub shake a little and change. He opened his eyes to see Avin settling in a tub that was definitely bigger now, smiling shyly but remaining silent. Avin reached for a cloth on a table beside the tub.
"May I?" Avin asked, dipping the cloth into the soapy water.
Shaken as he was, Astarion was still capable of cleaning the blood off of his face and hair. However, the idea of Avin doing it instead made warmth spread across his chest. It was a new sensation, and he was willing to embrace it. He nodded, and Avin moved closer to reach Astarion's head more easily. Placing his left hand on Astarion's cheek, Avin began gently scrubbing his skin with a tenderness that made Astarion want to sink into the water and hide. How was he supposed to respond when Avin treated him like the most precious being in the world?
Feel it.
So, he did. He felt the careful fingers washing his white curls, the water trickling down his face, and the love freely given him by the person before him. He allowed himself to believe in it. That bathtub became his whole universe and he allowed himself to find peace in it.
"I love you."
Astarion held his breath, observing Avin's eyes reflecting the water. Despite the countless horrors and deaths Avin had witnessed, there was a softness to his gaze. Astarion blinked, and more water slid down his cheeks. Avin wiped them away, “I love you.” He repeated.
“After everything you saw?” Astarion asked, finally breathing. He could sense the darkness threatening his little world. He curled his fists beneath the water.
“I love you,” Avin said a third time, “I loved you in the sun-bathed mountain path, I loved you in the deep calm of the Underdark, I loved you in the silver light of the last light’s inn and I loved you in the cold walls of the Moonrise towers. I love you now and I will love you for as long as you let me to.”
Another drop of water slid down Astarion’s cheek. Avin wiped it away, this time with a soft kiss on his cheek. A weight lifted from Astarion's chest, revealing a burden he hadn't realized he carried. He now felt the safety Avin had promised earlier. As long as he gazed into those eyes, nothing could touch him. He hadn’t uttered the same words to Avin yet, not in a way that mattered. Not when it was true. But admitting such intense feelings scared him. Was he allowed to experience such happiness? What if Avin was merely a beautiful dream he had conjured to cope, and feeling too deeply would shatter the illusion?
"Are you even real?" Astarion blurted out without thinking, immediately turning his head away in embarrassment. Avin chuckled, this time louder and more freely.
"I promise you," Astarion tried again, this time with more confidence in his words, "I will stay with you until the very end. I will help you fight and overcome your urges, and I will stand by your side when we destroy the brain. Then, we can both be free. Together."
"Together," Avin replied, his smile radiating warmth. The ache in Astarion's chest remained, but it was no longer suffocating. Maybe, one day, together, they could banish the shadows that plagued them.
Astarion was willing to try.
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