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Another ember of the remains of their lost home landed on Joel’s sleeve. Momentarily transfixed, Etho didn’t flick it away until it began to leave a mark. He kept thinking they must be done, that the Relation had fully burnt out, but there was always another one floating down. Even if he’d been able to sleep, he couldn’t, not here. He had to protect Joel.
Etho had wanted to find somewhere reasonable to sleep, somewhere indoors — they’d had offers, and they could have slept underground. But Joel wasn’t ready to give up on the Relation — he asked Etho for one more night, and how could he say no? Joel had loved his ship, their home, more than Etho had realized. True, the arson had partly been an excuse for Joel to let his darker urges out, but there had been real grief.
Joel murmured in his sleep, lying next to where Etho sat, practically in his lap. He didn’t seem to be on fire. The night Joel first climbed into Etho’s bed instead of his own, he didn’t say anything. It was bizarre, but you quickly got used to bizarre, being soulmates with Joel. Etho had assumed Joel would make a move on him, and that he’d accept, but they just… slept. By the third night, what they were doing could only be called cuddling.
They never spoke about it, but there was a lot they never spoke about. Etho didn’t care, not really. He’d never been much of a fan of words, for all that he enjoyed the company of some wordy people. What mattered to Etho was that words not being expected of him, and like Bdubs, Joel was happy to chatter on and not require much of Etho. It was easy, it was comfortable, it was… home.
And now their home had been burnt away, four of them were gone, and no one could deny that it would soon all be over. He’d see Joel again, he assumed, but it would never be this. He had one opportunity here, and instead of taking it, he was… watching the opportunity. Like it was another presence sitting in the room with them, something he could just reach out for, could easily take, if he weren’t a coward.
Once again, Etho gazed down to consider the strange man, his soulmate, who was absolutely not a coward. Joel was brave and bold and wild, and here Etho could follow in his wake, be with him, and be those things, for a little while. Or at least imagine he was. Maybe he’d take some of it with him, be a bit more brave or bold or wild… but he doubted it.
Another ember, this time on Etho’s leg. He waited even longer to brush it away this time, though he didn’t know why. He let his hand continue, to brush Joel’s hair, a stray strand of brown hair that didn’t need to be moved.
They didn’t touch much, not while awake — but Joel wasn’t awake. It had been a struggle, briefly, to get accustomed to Joel and his energy — the way he moved, the way he talked, the space he took up in a room, in Etho’s mind and heart. Then one morning, he woke up and it was like they’d always been together, always would be. For a while, on Yellow, he’d forgotten they wouldn’t.
Joel made Etho happy, Joel made him energized, Joel made it so easy to know what to do. And Joel seemed to like him, really like him. He cared about Etho’s opinion far more than made sense, he wanted to please and impress him. It was almost funny — Joel didn’t need to work so hard to do those things, but Etho couldn’t just tell him that.
Etho couldn’t tell Joel how much he liked his smile, or how much easier it was to sleep with Joel in his bed. He couldn’t tell him that all his voices — calm or shrieking, focused or distracted — they all made him feel good and stable. He couldn’t tell Joel it was easier to talk with him than most other people, that he didn’t worry, didn’t stammer. He could try to tell Joel that he didn’t know why he made the jokes he did, that Joel was all the soulmate he needed, wanted — but he was a coward.
Etho couldn’t tell Joel that the ship was a metaphor, that Joel was home.
This time he saw the ember before it touched Joel, touched his hair. He rushed, and burned himself a little. Joel stirred. Daringly, Etho pet his hair and shushed him back to sleep. He thought Joel was waking, but it was only enough to move his head properly into Etho’s lap.
The morning would soon come. Joel would surely be sullen, but Etho would push him into a new project — he’d been brainstorming. Starting tomorrow, they would be very distracted, finding somewhere to live, making plans for the rest of their Red lives — Etho had never felt bloodlust the way Joel did, likely never would again, but with Joel? It was delicious. Maybe they’d had their last quiet moments at home, maybe he’d never be able to calm Joel down again, maybe Joel would want his own bed. Maybe this was it.
Maybe opportunity wouldn’t be leaving the Relation with them.
Joel mumbled again — restless from being half outdoors, the stress of the day, not cuddling in their lost bed? Regardless, he wasn’t sleeping well. Etho bent forward, not realizing what he was doing until his breath was on Joel’s skin, his lips almost touching his forehead.
He didn’t stop.
He didn’t mean to wake him, but Joel had been barely asleep. As Etho pulled back, Joel opened his eyes, soft and sleep, and warmly said “Eefo.”
Joel reached a hand up, and Etho seized opportunity, for all the time they had left.