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Their bonding is slow and careful. One is afraid to make the next step too soon and ruin everything, another is fully cooperative and willing to put off things as much as it was needed. Meursault patiently gives his partner freedom of action and all time to think over his feelings; he had been on good terms with his own feelings for a long time already. We like spending time together both mentally and physically. You can decide what kind of physical contact it will be. I will respond to your suggestions with my opinion on them.
For Gregor it was especially hard to discuss relationships, much less physical contact – it was the first time in his life he could sit down and talk about that. What could he suggest at all, was there anything good he could recall and disclose? His childhood years have faded away almost completely, save for bright spots of holding Greta’s hand and running somewhere without looking back, losing his old holey mittens on the way. None of the touches after that held a place in his memories as pleasant. The cold steel of surgical tools; the way more chilling hands of his “mother” who praised him for making progress. He used to look up to her praise and now he was shaking in repulsion as he remembered her fingers mechanically moving his hair from his sweaty forehead. Like a nurse preparing a body area for surgery. Then “mother” vanished, taking away his whole wonderful arm and sending him to maim people unknown to him, maintaining that sickening smile. He tried to suppress the war memories as hard as he could; to forget how intoxicating it felt to tear apart flesh and how important he thought himself to be on the battleground, leading others to fight… and how alien those soldier bodies felt, bodies of those amongst whom he marched on just the morning before.
That final thing didn’t quite leave him though as he still needed to carry dead Sinners so that their manager could revive them in a safe place. Surely, knowing they weren’t irreversibly dead helped him on that task. He couldn’t resist patting them on the shoulder afterwards, partly to make sure they’re warm and alive again. Contrary to his memories.
Evening after evening, he unraveled the yarn ball of his tangled self to Meursault. Usually Gregor is fine with small talk but anything related to his own self makes his tongue numb. He jumps from topic to topic, unable to fight his own mind’s defense mechanism; then Meursault carefully but steadily places a hand on his knee and gives it a small squeeze. Just tight enough to remind Gregor of his presence and restore the shorter man’s confidence. It works a bit and he goes on with the search of inner truth until he reaches his limit and refuses to continue. It’s awkward for him, having Meursault tinker with him to get necessary information word by word with the final aim of just… making love to him. Giving him comfort. As he leaves to sleep, he wonders every time whether he should tell his partner (could he even use that word?) next morning that it’s not worth his time and he should just give up on Greg entirely until it’s not too late.
But the morning comes and Meursault greets him, fixes his tie patiently and follows him to the bus seats like a silent bodyguard. He applies such tenderness, such endearment while he straightens Gregor’s shirt collar and tightens the tie knot just high enough, it makes the Sinner forget all nasty thoughts he had the night before.
They make sure to share incidental moments of success in physical contact, like the tie fixing, in their evening conversations. Sadly they can’t have them every day; with the nature of their job they couldn’t even rest well enough in some days and even Dante couldn’t find the strength to tick-tock their final “you have this many hours for sleep and rest”. Faust took his job of declaring that whenever it happened, and even though her pale voice did make words a little less blurry, it still gave no extra time for sleep. Fortunately boring days happened as well; the Sinners mostly stopped to feed Mephistopheles and spent the rest of the day just cruising around the City. After days of bus trips they could not only enjoy the solitude of their rooms as the evening came, but also chat with those who didn’t get on their nerves during the daylight hours. Gregor likes those boring evenings as they cast a shadow of ordinary living on them. Sometimes you forget that you’re on a somewhat endless journey through various Districts on a vehicle that defies the spatial laws. As if you’re living in a dorm somewhere, get out of your room and knock on the door number five at the same floor.
Meursault noted during their conversations that Gregor felt better after those “boring days” and was more prone to talk and relax overall while being in the same room with him. For Meursault himself, it didn’t matter whether he stayed in his own room or visited his colleague, though it most often happened that he hosted the meeting. He had a hunch that Gregor was embarrassed by intimacy he hadn’t quite got used to, so he wasn’t pressing on. First they talked while keeping a physical distance from each other – the host sitting at the table and the guest taking a seat at the chair by the door. Time passed, and one day they enjoyed a cup of coffee together at the same table; Gregor even admitted that he wasn’t a big fan of coffee before that evening and that little cup warmed his soul so much he’d gladly repeat the experience. And Meursault did so, evening by evening coming up with the ideal formula to make coffee to Gregor’s liking. At some point though the thirteenth Sinner noted to himself how the coffee became… he was at loss of words. Sterile, perhaps? But he didn’t dare tell Meursault about that – he was only trying to give him comfort… right?
The day came when they ended up sitting on the same bed next to each other. Gregor joked about how their relationship was going too fast but unfortunately to him, Meursault didn’t get the joke and began asking what exactly he did wrong and if they should slow down. Their new conversation topic was born right on that day, the compromise they came to after several hours of night talk. They decided to share little facts about each other so that they will know what to do and not to do to keep everything comfortable. Gregor started the exchange: he shared an observation that his unruffled close friend noticeably relaxed while being alone with him. His constantly somber, even ominous face expression changed into something more or less relaxed. Blissful, even. And Greg had been watching him for a long time, noticing how Meursault behaved in company of Sinners and alone with him; seeing his fortitude shift and give way to something else, give him a chance to rest just a little bit in the company of Gregor. To drop the mask of an employee of the month. As expected, Meursault calmly listened to all his observations and reaffirmed his guess, saying that he feels calm while he’s alone with Greg and this sort of calm would be unachievable by other means.
“I remember how you’ve asked our Dante bud whether you need to smile more often,” Gregor reminded him.
“I can remember that too. Manager never gave a definite answer.”
“Yeah, I doubt they’d make you smile unless you want to.”
“Do you want me to smile more?”
“Uh, you see…”
Suddenly he fell silent and scratched his chin. Meursault made a light grimace at the sight of his unshaved appearance and recalled his last night promise to be all fresh and clean this morning. Anyway, not the biggest problem.
“I like to see you smile. I mean, it’s nice to make you feel better, to make good jokes, to bring you comfort. But not when you adjust yourself to me liking what you do, get it?”
“Not really,” he admitted after a pause. “You want to see less change in my mood?”
“No, no no no…”
Gregor sighed softly and looked down at his knees. He wasn’t upset or anything despite the topic he chose but Meursault read his reaction as distressed, moved closer to him and kissed his forehead, all in one swift motion. Any thoughts Gregor was trying to shape in his head were immediately blown away like leaves in the wind; he looked back up at his companion and let out an awkward chuckle.
“Feeling affectionate, huh?”
“I’ve heard that one can comfort their partner with a forehead kiss. I was unsure if that would work on you for the lack of experience, but since it was a success…”
Without letting him finish, Greg lowered his head again and lightly pushed Meursault in the chest with the top. The bigger man obviously wasn’t shaken by that physically but he did stagger a little bit – probably out of surprise.
“Yes, it was comforting but now I have to think it all over again, my speech I mean.” Gregor faced him, looking straight at those fatigued dark-green eyes, feeling pierced to the core by his gaze. “It’s for the best I think. A good point for me to prepare in advance so that you can’t break my trail of thought like that…”
Tonight, however, the game has changed. Gregor knocked on the much too familiar door, ready for a reverse conversation topic: asking Meursault about the small things he liked.
Somehow Greg ended up spilling like ninety percent of the information that came out of those late night talks; it was easier for him to open up about different things, easier to tell something he’d be happy or hurt about. Even though he still felt somewhat embarrassed, talking to his crush like that, it was still way more calming than opening up to anyone else. For Meursault though he wasn’t so sure: it felt like he talked exactly the same way all the time, he never derailed in the middle of a sentence to tell more information and always told the exact amount of words he felt necessary. Yeah, Gregor muttered to himself, the bug guy himself was a chatterbox if one could gain his trust. An open question, still, was how to gain the same amount of trust from Meursault.
To Gregor’s surprise, the door was unlocked this time. Not invitingly, waiting for a visitor, or open whatsoever. He once asked Faust how these doors worked besides the mental gymnastics of seeing the correct room behind, and she cut the explanation to simply saying that while you are in your room, no one else can enter it besides those you want to. So no one can intrude while you’re not inside and speaking about wishing to see someone… Faust mentioned it to be something tied to the room owner’s mental condition and Gregor didn’t press on. Meursault’s door never opened for him, as much as it hurt to admit that; according to him it only opened for those he had specifically arranged a meeting with and Gregor wasn’t among them as he randomly knocked on his door at evenings, not at all doing this everyday as his most frequent pastime was to drop dead and sleep till next morning. And they never arranged any time and day specifically, so it only opened for Gregor after he knocked, time and day no longer mattered after that action. The fact that it let him in without performing that had scared him a little bit.
The thought of Meursault getting into trouble and losing control of his room was instantly discarded: it would’ve destroyed any remaining chances for Gregor to get inside. The owner wants him to come in, he thought, so it’s fine to do so. As a well-behaved guest would do, he shut the door as he entered; the room seemed empty at first glance, not a single light left on or any smell of food lingering in the air, even though Sinners usually had some food at the end of the day and sometimes even cooked a whole dish for many to enjoy. Something did come to Gregor’s attention though. He looked up at the prison window that was the source of outside world projection in this room. Usually clouds covered the view, sometimes giving way to glimpses of sunlight. Tonight it was raining.
Greg didn’t trust his eyes that much, but his ears functioned well so he had to believe them at least. The rain wasn’t a slanting one so it didn’t get inside and soak anything in the room. Although, knowing the way their bedrooms worked, it would hardly touch anything here and was merely a reflection of the owner’s mental state – just like Smoke War constantly raging behind Gregor’s window.
Which led him to some questions. Why was he able to enter Meursault’s room without a knock or invitation and why did he just witness rain behind this window for the first ever time.
As surprise subsided, he realized it wasn’t only the rain making noise even though it was already pouring quite heavily. He also heard water running somewhere inside and Gregor identified the bathroom correctly to be the sound source. He didn’t know much about utility system stuff inside the bus and he preferred to stay in the dark unless he was really keen on listening to Faust’s prolonged talking. It was just enough to know it’s all running as intended, although sirens in the middle of their rest sometimes proved just otherwise. Putting two and two together, Gregor decided to wait for Meursault to leave the bathroom and talk to him then, not bust in and demand explanations when he’s not done yet. The Sinner looked around the room again and saw its owner’s clothes neatly folded on a chair with a pair of steel gauntlets lying atop a now bloodstained white shirt. He remembered Meursault looking mostly clean at the end of the day so he assumed it was the blood dripping from the gauntlets. It wasn’t uncommon for Sinners to be soaked in someone’s blood but he didn’t quite expect such composition from Meursault of all people. In any case, this chair was occupied so Gregor had to find another one in the room, put it near the table and sit down. He turned on the desk lamp to brighten the mood, took a sheet of paper out of a clean pile and began folding it.
At the same time he kept listening to the background noise, telling himself melancholically that it rained pretty hard and the sound almost melded with the noise of running water. Then he realized another thing: if everything was alright, he’d also hear a voice through the water. It was quite shocking for him the first time he heard it but Meursault calmly explained afterwards that yes, he did often sing in the shower. It sounded uncharacteristic and yet soothing. Gregor rarely ever heard his colleagues sing, it was mostly Rodya humming something on the way or Don Quixote with her marching songs to raise the spirits. Meursault’s singing was way deeper and slower, and he sang in a language Gregor didn’t understand but still retrieved something quite… romantic from its current. As if the lyrics took him by the hand and led him out to a moonlit sky, just the two of them.
Tonight no one led Greg anywhere. It gave him some unhappy thoughts along with other factors he’s noticed. Maybe something did in fact happen to Meursault and he just wasn’t aware yet. He heard from Rodya and Ishmael that Heathcliff’s room bothered them with thunder sometimes, most often on the days when he looked particularly distressed. Heathcliff never discussed that matter with anyone and only growled at complaints about ruining someone’s sleep; and a person as withdrawn as Meursault especially wouldn’t bring up similar topics about himself… Good thing I came in today, Gregor mumbled and folded the paper one more time. He was adept at making paper cranes and passed the time by doing that; it wasn’t very convenient with a single hand but he’d learned harder things through the years.
He reached out for another paper sheet when he heard the shower noise stop, leaving just the rain. Some time passed and Meursault emerged from the bathroom – barefoot, wearing a bathrobe and a towel over his head. He dried his hair a bit, threw the towel down on his shoulders and ruffled his hair like a dog shaking itself while wet. Only then he noticed a visitor in the room with him who appeared happy to see him, albeit also worried to a degree.
“So, hi once again,” Gregor waved a hand in a shy greeting. “Sorry for intruding but the door was open today and I… is everything okay? Meursault?”
He asked again and still received no answer. The room owner froze at his place staring at Gregor, even though it felt like he actually looked straight through him. Then he looked over at the table and suddenly headed that way; Greg flinched and thought he’d be escorted out right away but Meursault only turned off the lamp and put his towel on the second chair to dry. He briefly glanced at the bloody gauntlets, let out a sigh and turned away. Watching his gaze wander, Gregor hurried to explain himself.
“I-it wasn’t me, it was like this when I came in! I mean, I was surprised to see it like this, staining a clean… well, almost clean shirt with even more blood, why would that…”
“I know,” a quiet bleak answer followed. “I put it there myself.”
Without turning around, Meursault went to the bed and sat down. It was hard for Gregor to see his silhouette with no light sources save for the window, but what he could see looked like the man placed his palms over his face and ran them down slowly.
“Forgive me, Gregor. I… am not completely sure that tonight would be a good time to stay for you.”
“Oh, it’s fine! I’m glad to see you at any condition, not that I’m easily frightened by these things,” he chuckled and fell silent instantly at the realization. “W-wait, you mean… you don’t want to see me today? Sure, I can leave but…”
He heard a quiet sigh from the opposite corner of the room but neither yes or no. And then it dawned on him.
“Waaait a minute. If I was able to enter without your, uh, invitation so to say, that means you allowed it. Maybe you even wanted it, I remember Faust explaining how this works. So tell me, in all honesty… do you want me to stay now?”
Silence. For the first time since they’ve met, Gregor felt a burning desire to be next to him. Usually Meursault was the one yearning for touch and Greg was happy to give in; tonight he knew he needed to act. It was a different case. He rose from his chair, carefully avoided possible obstacles on the way to bed and placed himself near his colleague. Who hasn’t moved an inch since his last spoken word.
Gregor spoke as softly as he could in hopes that his voice will do the trick if his words fail. “Meuri. I know you’re not the one to reckon with your own desires, not those of others. Maybe you’re used to desiring nothing and instead waiting for others’ wishes to fall in line with your needs. I reflected on that a little bit and… uh, that’s not the case now, yeah. I want to remind you that your wishes are important too and they are to be fulfilled. I’m here with you now and… I dunno, maybe I can somehow help you. But not against your will, too. Maybe… your room got it all wrong and you don’t want to see me, and it did this trick to lure me in and help you out. No idea.”
Now next to Meursault, Gregor recognized his outline better and saw that he put his hands away from his face and just sat in a hunched position. A typical pose for someone who just returned home from work. He still hasn’t said a word, neither approving or rejecting; on one hand it was good that he didn’t chase the guest away, on the other it was still unclear what to do to his condition and what could he possibly want at the moment. So Gregor decided to act. If he wasn’t kicked out before for all his words, his actions won’t hurt much too. He put a hand on his colleague’s shoulder, feeling him flinch, and then pulled Meursault closer into his chest; however, the tall Sinner suddenly resisted and froze in place.
“I just want to give you a hug. May I?”
“…My hair is wet.”
“So what? I’m not going to bed wearing this so it’s not a big deal.” These words didn’t work out. “Okay, if you give me a spare shirt or something to change into, I’ll do it right in front of you. Deal?”
A dirty trick. Gregor had long before noticed that Meursault somewhat enjoyed watching him wearing his clothes; he must’ve found it cute to see his partner drown in shirts several sizes larger than his own. The promise to repeat it played its role perfectly and Meursault gave in, going limp and placing his head at Greg’s chest where he was pulled into. It felt heavy but Gregor gave no complaints. It was his turn to be all big and sturdy.
“And you say your hair’s wet? Pfft, you haven’t seen MY hair after washing. No towel can wipe that beast in a single go.”
“…It’s not dry, still. That will be enough to drench your clothes.”
“Fine, fine… It’s nothing, still. We’ll deal with it in due time.”
Back then, in the dark corner of an unlit room, Meursault felt infinitely distant. As if Gregor was on the different side of an interrogation room window, watching the detainee. He had to leave the investigator’s place to get a word out of the arrested one, so to speak; to quit watching and just act. He wouldn’t start speaking without a question asked but Greg decided to leave that for later and give him some time to bask in his embrace. They haven’t seen each other for several hours after ending the day and if Meursault was feeling down for all this time, it was wiser to calm him down first. Gregor didn’t know what exactly he should do and just followed his heart, holding his friend and listening to his echoing heartbeat. It slowly became more relaxed and his breath slowed down; Gregor placed a hand on his hair, already dry enough to scatter from a touch, and ran his fingers through it.
Meursault flinched and froze, scaring his caring companion to death. Did he screw up? Shit, he had to ask first… He was the one to suggest they needed to discuss where to touch each other in case someone doesn’t like specific ways of that, for example he didn’t want to be pet on the head like an obedient dog because of his troubled childhood… But the physical reaction was the only kind of reaction he got, no words came out, so Gregor took the lead.
“Are you okay? Sorry, I needed to ask first before doing that…”
“I’m fine. You… can keep going. It feels nice.”
“R-really? But you’re so tense…”
He didn’t respond at once which prompted Greg to worry even more about the reason. “I became… unaccustomed to this sort of contact. The last time it happened was too long ago and… this is not something I wish to recall.”
Oh no. His mother died, right? Could it be that it hurts him to remember…
“Sorry I’m being tactless but… who was it, stroking your head? Your mother?” Gregor asked tentatively. He was really glad that the room didn’t have any light sources on and Meursault wasn’t looking him in the face, buried in his embrace instead.
“No. A woman from my past before I joined the Limbus Company.”
Oh. Even worse. Gregor swallowed hard and felt his heartrate spike. Good job, buddy, you seem to have reminded him of his ex. But asking more about this woman was way out of place at the moment.
“You are very agitated about this,” Meursault spoke, muffled. “I can assure you that she has no influence on my life now. On our relationship with you, too.”
“But I reminded you of her with how I…”
“Gregor.”
He withdrew for a minute and looked the short man in the eyes. The dim lighting of a rainy evening was bright enough for Greg to see his partner’s face and how keenly he was being watched.
“Before her, nobody touched me the way she did. It is logical that your actions reminded me of Marie exactly and nobody else.”
“So her name’s Marie.”
“Is that important?”
“No, I’m just… I’ll be better informed about who I’m supposed to pay attention to on the way. If we’ll meet her anywhere in future, that means your Bough is next in line.” Gregor’s voice sounded a bit irritated now, even jealous. “Sorry, I interrupted you.”
“No problem. I wanted to say that my personal contact with you is a separate thing which should not correlate with my past. If your touch feels nice, it should not remind me of what I had because I need to concentrate on what I have here and now.”
He pressed his cheek against the warm chest once again, feeling the cloth slightly dampen from his wet hair, and sighed. “On you, Gregor.”
“Yeah, I figured as much…”
“Just making sure you understand. It is important to me that you know.”
Greg suppressed an urge to give him a flick on the forehead and pulled him closer instead, pressing his cheek against the top of Meursault’s head. His own heartbeat slowly returned to normal as his thoughts went back to rational direction, giving way to his colleague’s words. I concentrate on you. You are what I have here and now. The pessimistic side of Gregor’s mind could start a rant about how “here and now” is a relative thing, one day it will end and Meursault will move on from him, but the bright side spoke louder this time. If anything happens to them, the only ones to blame would be the two. It did scare him just as much as an outsider driving them apart but at least it narrowed the range of possible problems. The Sinners never ceased to have them but… problems felt a lot less intimidating when observed from at least two points of view and not a single one.
“Meursault…” he began out of silence. “You asleep?”
A negative answer vibrated through his chest. Gregor chuckled and went on.
“Listen, I… guess it’s gonna sound foolish or maybe naïve. It’s just I’ve never told anyone that and…”
He hesitated and coughed awkwardly to the side. No reaction came from the man in his arms though. “Ahem, so yeah… I love you.”
Meursault held his breath for a moment but kept silence still. It was both relieving and scary but Gregor fought the stupor and spoke up again.
“I mean, we certainly do affectionate things. Cuddles, kisses from time to time but… a lot of people do that out of mutual sympathy or so I’ve heard. No, I feel something… greater towards you. I don’t have enough experience to discuss it in all seriousness, but here’s what I know. People say love makes them stupid, lose their head, think about that one person all day and spend all their time by their side. Can’t say it’s all that bad for me, after all we’re working together and spending a lot of evenings with each other, too… I’m talking about something else. I think that if you truly care about someone, you need to be ready to protect them, to support them whenever possible. To wish them all the best with your whole heart. And I will do all I can. Not that I’m that good of consoler, not the best protector too… remember that time we both got pierced by the same nail, haha. But I feel like I’m getting somewhere. I feel at least somewhat confident that I can help you.”
“Hm. Did you come to that conclusion because my room let you in?”
Gregor expected irony from this response but it contained genuine curiosity. “No,” he smirked, “because when I came in, it was raining behind your window and now the sky is clearing.”
He didn’t look at the window but knew the rain stopped some time ago as its sound no longer created awful white noise at the background. Then he felt the first ever grand movement of the person he was holding: Meursault slowly slid his arms out of his embrace and hugged him back, placing his arms at his waist as comfortable as possible. Although some time already passed after he left the bath, his body still kept a lot of warmth and a thin pleasant scent of bath soap. It felt like a big warm blanket enveloped Gregor. Well, a reaction within his best expectations, he chuckled to himself nervously. For several minutes they kept silence, and then Meursault began talking again.
“I doubt whether I can tell you the same.” Probably not the best way to start this. “It is… hard for me to pinpoint what exactly love is. If you can share more details, maybe I will determine if I love you the way you do love me. But people require a different answer as I figured from my experience – they need to know what I feel without interference. And I cannot give them an answer.”
“Ohh.”
“If you want me to say that I love you back…”
“No, we’ve already discussed that…” Gregor sighed quietly and pulled him even closer so that he almost whispered into his ear. “I want you to be yourself no matter what you are. If you don’t know what love is for you, I’m ready to wait until you work out the definition. Even if you don’t come to one, I’ll just be happy to know that you’re having a good time with me. Who knows, maybe you’ll be able to define love after your experience with me. Even I’m not sure if what I said means love! It’s just what you make me feel like. Guess I’m just more audacious to call it love, heh.”
While talking, he felt his eyelids grow progressively heavy. It was way too intoxicating, being embraced like that. “We can talk about that next time… about what you feel towards me, I mean. I’m way too tired now, don’t think I can…”
“I’m not ready to discuss this now either. Though I feel that my condition has improved significantly thanks to you. I was unsure if I would fall asleep tonight.”
“Oh, and now you’re sure you can?” Gregor laughed.
“Sure enough that I can fall asleep and spend an adequate amount of time resting.”
“Great. My mission’s complete, then…”
He yawned and moved to the edge of bed but the hands holding his waist kept him in place. “You… want something else?”
“I thought whether it would be reasonable to suggest doing that…”
Oh god. He’s going to ask me about something! Something he wants, something he came up with! Gregor nearly jumped in his place at this thought. “Oh speak up, sure thing!”
“I suspect that if my exposure to your presence continues for a while longer, the effect will be strengthened.”
“So you want me to stay.”
“If it won’t disrupt anything…”
“Oh Meursault… I’m happy to be with you. I can stay for the whole night if that’s what you want.”
“If that was a question, my answer is yes.”
Greg laughed again and moved back into previous position, falling into his partner’s arms and kissing his forehead.
“I’m ready to fulfill your any wish. Within reason, of course.”
“So am I.”
“Oh, I’ve never doubted you for a single second.”