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Phineas Thatch and Jonas Spahr have been in Sequester for a month, and Jonas feels like everything is finally, finally starting to settle.
The first week was spent at the Mothers’ Lazaretto— between the shattered knee, opalescent scar, mica exposure, and deep-set cult trauma, the two of them needed a lot of healing. The Mothers were indeed merciful, and while Phineas will carry the scar for the rest of his life and Spahr will always have a limp and a cane, the two have been medically cleared to begin… whatever life could be for them now.
The Mothers set them up with a basic house on the outskirts of Sequester. Jonas has never seen anything like it before. It’s an odd little place— the whole structure leans heavily to the left, but contrary to its exterior appearance, the interior is perfectly level. It’s constructed out of a dark purple wood from a tree the likes of which Spahr has no clue about. Thick, trunk-like vines sprout from the ground, run up the walls of the house, and naturally entwine themselves in a crosshatched pattern to form the roof. Inside, the furniture grows up, bursting through the floor; organic roots flourishing into shapes that mimic counters, chairs, tables, shelves, a bed. Everything is cast in a twinkling, ethereal blue light, lit up by bioluminescent flowers that drape down from the viney roof. It’s just a single room, but it’s cozy— intimate is the word that flashes unbidden across Jonas’ mind.
He thinks of his old mansion in the Highest Light; how grand, dazzling, and opulent it was compared to this new ramshackle hut. It’s borderline laughable how he once had bathrooms larger than this entire house. His mansion had been shining, resplendent, buffed to absolute perfection. This new place is humble, uncanny, gnarled with imperfections. Everything that was light is now dark.
Jonas has never been happier.
The most prominent difference is that the big, empty, lifeless mansion was never truly his, but this delightful little house is theirs. Phineas Thatch and Jonas Spahr’s shared home. Jonas thinks he could live anywhere in the cosmos if Phineas was there too.
Everything is still new between them, but they grow more comfortable together by the day. Spahr remembers fondly how bright red Phineas had gone when he had noticed the Mothers gave them a house with only one bed—now he has no hesitation when joining Jonas in it (rather the opposite, in fact).
There are bad days, days when Phineas turns upset or skittish and Spahr is brooding or in pain. But the good days are starting to outnumber the bad days. He and Phineas took slow-paced strolls out to the night market to exercise his knee and test out his new cane, gawking together at the alien nature of the wares. Spahr found himself drawn to the flora of Sequester, imagining Costigan’s reaction to how utterly untamable these vibrant plants are. He listened to a vendor explain how to grow a type of bioluminescent vegetable, and purchased a packet of its seeds on a whim. He still isn’t entirely sure how to water something with tearror, but remains determined to figure it out. Phineas was on a rabid hunt for a hobby (some recommendation given to him by the Mothers) and soon half-finished drawings and carvings and knitting projects began to fill their house with life. Jonas was taken aback by how charming he found it. The knitting isn’t very good, but the drawings show some definite promise.
And Jonas and Phineas explore the rapidly expanding… thing between them. Jonas thinks he could map Phineas’ musculature purely by memory now and never get tired of it. Jonas learns that Phineas likes to run his fingers through his long hair when they kiss, makes a fucking incredible noise when Jonas pulls him in by the waist, and that he always has a slack expression on his face for a split-second after they pull apart. Jonas spends a night tracing the opalescent scar, kissing every diverting branch of it, until he’s pressing his face into Phineas’ pulse point while Phineas clings to him, reminding each other that he’s alive, alive, alive and they’re here together. Most nights, Phineas uses Jonas’ chest as a pillow.
It’s a night like that when Jonas wakes up crying.
He jolts awake, a choked off yell just barely passing through his lips. He and Phineas have been struggling with nightmares, to no one’s surprise. Tonight it was a rarer one— Phineas, brutalizing Sherman while a black tearror consumed him from his neck out. Spahr yelled at him to stop, “stop, Phineas!” but when he finally managed to tear Phineas off of Sherman, Phineas turned to sizzling black goop in his grasp. Jonas desperately reached for him, but the sludge that once was Phineas fell uselessly through his… red hands? Spahr was inexplicably dripping with blood despite not having thrown a single punch. Blood sloughed off of Spahr and mixed with what remained of Phineas on the floor, Sherman’s body covered in a gory blend of it all— Jonas feels tears spring to his eyes at the mere recollection of it.
Fuck. He can’t remember the last time he’s cried.
Spahr focuses on his breathing the way the Mothers instructed him. Phineas is in his usual position, passed out and drooling just a little bit on Jonas’ pecs. Jonas cards a hand through Phineas’ hair, his eyes trained on the opalescent scar the dim bioluminescent blue light doesn’t quite know what to do with.
Phineas is alive. Phineas is okay.
Usually, Spahr would be able to drift back to sleep after this assurance. For some reason, it isn’t quite working tonight, his mind abuzz and uncomfortable emotions pressing at his chest. Regretfully, Spahr gently lifts Phineas’ head off his chest and places a pillow underneath it so he can extricate himself. Phineas, still asleep, makes a faintly dissatisfied noise behind him as Spahr sits on the edge of the bed and stretches his knee out.
Sitting upright, it suddenly becomes harder to keep the tears at bay. Jonas hates it. They silently slip from his eyes in a pathetic display. Sitting here crying in the dark, armorless and Valorless, Jonas has never felt so far from the glorious Prime Consector he’d been— holy shit, three months ago? It’s been an entire lifetime.
He feels like a new person. Scratch that, he feels like he is haunted by his old person, like the Prime Consector still floats around him, whispering what he used to believe in into his ear at the worst possible moments. Jonas realizes all at once how differently his life has turned out than what he always expected. This alien room, this Valorless existence— it’s almost repulsive for an instant. For a long, guilty moment, he fiercely misses the Highest Light and the Trust and all the old dreams he had that exploded when the Vault did.
It’s in this moment of weakness that Phineas wakes up.
Spahr freezes as he feels the bed rustle, Phineas absently reaching for him in the dark and startling awake when no one is there.
“Spahr?” Phineas’ bleary voice calls out. “What are you doing there? What’s going on?”
Jonas surreptitiously wipes his face and whispers back, grateful when his voice comes out deceptively steady. “Just stretching for a second. Go back to sleep, Phineas.”
Phineas refuses an order and does not go back to sleep, instead hoisting himself up to a sitting position. “Come back to bed.”
Jonas can’t turn, can’t face him when his eyes are still bright with tears and everything feels so frayed. “In a minute.”
Phineas sighs, and swings himself out of bed, going to putter around in the kitchen for a moment. Jonas watches him, expecting the gratefulness for this new life of theirs to come surging back as he sees this incredible man exist in their shared home. Instead, a new emotion, a grief for the life he thought they’d share in the Highest Light, unexpectedly fills him with a rapid intensity that leaves him breathless.
Jonas feels absolutely disgusting. Here he is, living off of the Mothers’ generosity, happier than he’s ever been in his life, and he’s missing the cult that fucked them up.
Phineas has finished in the kitchen and walks toward Spahr, a glass of water in his hand. He abruptly freezes as he gets a look at Jonas’ face for the first time.
“Are you… crying?” Phineas asks, concern and tenderness and disbelief warring in his tone. Jonas will not lie to him, so he says nothing.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry before.” Phineas says, before his words catch up to him and he looks horrified at his bluntness. Jonas can’t help but laugh slightly, partially to help ease his nerves.
“I can’t remember the last time I have.” He admits.
Phineas sets the glass of water on the nightstand beside Spahr, and awkwardly sits on the bed, leaving some space between them. Spahr is appreciative for it, actually. He feels like one touch could fracture him right now.
“Jonas,” Phineas’ voice is hesitant but soft. He struggles with his words for a few seconds, before settling on: “Will you… talk to me?”
Jonas… wants to. He suddenly wants to pour everything out, to put it into the air for whatever Phineas decides to do with it, leaving nothing in between them. That’s a very selfish impulse, he thinks.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Phineas interjects, misreading his hesitance. “I don’t want to push, or presume, or upset—“
“I’m homesick.” Jonas hears himself say. Phineas blinks, completely taken off guard. Spahr relates to that. What the hell is he doing? He clamps his mouth firmly shut.
It’s silent for a minute. “Me too.” Phineas confesses faintly. “I thought I was the only one.”
Jonas turns to look at him, and Phineas is staring at his lap, one of his hands pressed to where his bead of Caenum used to lay. Phineas looks up at him, eyes filled with that too-familiar hurt… and something tender, too. Spahr finds he couldn’t form words if he tried.
“The Trust was our home.” Phineas finally says. “A shitty home. But still. Mother Trauma… he told me it was okay to miss it. That guilt doesn’t have a place with grief. I just… I didn’t know you felt the same.”
“I do.” Jonas admits in a rough voice. “I don’t feel like I should. I’m happy, here with you.”
Phineas looks like he’s about to cry as well at that. “I’m happy here with you too.” Even with the sea of complicated emotions Jonas is drowning in right now, something sparks in his heart at that.
Phineas’s face transforms into that familiar tortured, indecisive look Spahr knows all too well. He waits patiently for Phineas to work out whatever it is he needs to. Still, he doesn’t expect for Phineas to eventually settle on saying “Will you… tell me what you miss?”
Jonas wants to. He really, really wants to. He also really doesn’t.
It’s painful to admit, to drag out from inside of him, but Jonas Spahr would do anything for Phineas Thatch.
“I can’t believe everything is gone.” Jonas says quietly. Shamefully. “I wanted so many things for so long. I’m not used to not wanting them anymore. I’m not used to the life I thought we’d have not having the potential to exist anymore.”
Phineas says nothing, but watches Jonas patiently, inviting him to go on.
“You were going to be Valorous.” Spahr says. Phineas intakes a sharp breath. How Spahr’s voice is staying so steady is a mystery even to him. “I was going to throw you the biggest breaking even ceremony— the whole press would be there, I’d pull in a favor from Senior Notary Fleit to officiate, there were going to be silver and gold fireworks— and those tasty little floral bouquets, I still needed to ask which kind was your favorite. I had this idea in my mind that I would pull you to the side at some point and give you a gift. Something really special and personal. I just hadn’t figured out what yet. I thought once you could just break even, everything would click into place.”
Phineas’ own eyes are welling up, his breath becoming increasingly shaky. This is still a tender spot for the both of them.
“I’d still have a long time left as Prime Consector.” Jonas goes on, a distant look in his eyes. “But we’d be more… equal, I suppose. You’d have this whole new side of society to see, and I was going to teach you everything. You’d be invited to the galas and events, and we’d go to all of them together. I always thought it would be more… enjoyable, with you by my side. I’d show you what Upper Trust life was like, take you to the most glamorous restaurants and point out what silverware to use and what dishes to order when. You were going to be so bright and shining and Valorous and I thought everyone would finally see you for who you are, and you’d have everything you deserved.”
Phineas wetly laughs. “You wanted to take me on fancy Upper Trust dates?”
Jonas is startled into a laugh in return. “I guess I did. Yes. I didn’t realize it exactly, but I did.”
They’re silent for a long moment, before Phineas quietly says “I wanted that too. I still want that sometimes.”
Jonas looks at the space between them, and takes the plunge. He reaches across the bed, and touches the back of Phineas’ hand. Phineas immediately turns his palm to slot their fingers together, holding onto Jonas a little too tightly. Jonas clings back just as hard.
“What else did you want?” Phineas eventually asks, his voice soft and hesitant in the calm of the night. Jonas surprises himself with how openly the words keep tumbling out.
“My career as Prime Consector would go on for another… ten years, probably. I’d outlast Costigan. I was going to be beloved and scandal-free, and at the absolute peak of my popularity I was going to graciously retire. No mishaps, no injuries,” He jabs an angry finger toward his shattered knee. “Just smooth sailing and a fuckton of Valor. Then you’d be Prime Consector. And I’d get to… rest. Figure out what the hell to do with retirement.”
“I never imagined being Consector.” Phineas says in a low tone. “I felt like I was just going to be an Adsecla forever.”
Jonas squeezes Phineas’ hand. “I thought one day you’d make a wonderful Consector. Once you learned some showmanship, at least. The media would sell you as this strong and silent type, and you’d be… kind. Genuine. Self-assured.”
“Perfect.” Phineas says darkly. “You wanted me to be perfect.”
Spahr sighs wearily and doesn’t deny it. He can’t. “Worse than that. Yes, I wanted you to be the perfect Prime Consector, but then I wanted you to always come back to me and be the Adsecla. After a stressful mission or meeting, I imagined you’d seek me out, and you would tell me everything you felt went wrong or were unsure about. No one else would get to know it, only me. And I’d reassure you or coach you on it, and that’s how I would keep my value in your life once you were Prime Consector. I needed you… to still need me.” Jonas can’t quite look at Phineas in the wake of this admission.
There’s a long moment of dead silence. “‘Do not show weakness.’” Phineas finally recites in a cracked and unsure voice. Jonas flinches at the phrase. “I don’t understand, isn’t that what I was supposed to do?”
Spahr lets out a brief laugh, the harsh and bitter sound cracking in the darkness. “I’m a fucking hypocrite, Phineas. I wanted you to be perfect and imperfect at the same time. I wanted myself alone to always be perfect. I want myself to be perfect. Fuck,” Jonas’ voice finally breaks open. “I fucked everything up so bad.”
Phineas moves suddenly, his hand wrenching from Jonas’ grasp. Jonas has a moment of absolute, breathless, all-encompassing terror, before Phineas’ arms circle around his torso from behind and Phineas rests his forehead on Jonas’ shoulder. His tears have reignited and are streaming freely down Jonas’ face, but he can’t untangle his arms from Phineas’ grip to furiously wipe them away the way he wants to.
“You are not perfect.” Phineas says firmly from behind. Jonas unwillingly makes a sound in the back of his throat, and Phineas’ arms tighten around him. “I am not perfect. We never will be. We have to find some way to live with that. And I… still don’t know how to do that. But maybe… we can be imperfect together. Maybe that’s enough. Maybe we can make that be enough.”
Like a final crack in a glacier, some long-held tension deep inside of Jonas seems to release. He takes a deep, rattling breath. Twisting himself around, he turns in Phineas’ arms to face him. Jonas reaches out, cradles Phineas’ cheek, uses his thumb to brush away some of Phineas’ tears that have fallen loose. The tear-tracks on his own face glint incriminatingly in the blue bioluminescence.
“Phineas Thatch,” Jonas Spahr says sincerely. Phineas’ eyes are filled with such vulnerability and fear that Jonas almost looks away. He fights it. He looks him dead in the eyes, baring his own vulnerability and fear that must be shining through clear as Unlight. “I have never wanted anything more in my life than that.”
The fear fades from Phineas’ eyes, but the vulnerability stays. Jonas doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more incredible.
“You are not perfect,” Phineas whispers. Jonas doesn’t flinch at that this time. “But I still need you.”
Spahr softly snorts, masking the way those words nestle inside his heart, and runs his thumb along Phineas’ cheek. “I don’t follow just anyone into the depths of the Fold after some horned figures, Thatch.” He softens, convinces himself to follow suit: push through and bare this last weakness. “I need you too.”
The words come out ever-so slightly easier than he expected, and their impact is made immediately apparent. Phineas smiles, his cheek moving under Spahr’s hand, and Spahr is suddenly, dizzyingly aware that he could get used to making that smile appear. How terrifying. How wonderful.
Jonas reaches for him, and Phineas reaches back.
The world doesn’t fade away when they kiss. Spahr’s knee aches, his face is still damp with drying tears, and Phineas faintly tastes like the fish they had for dinner. It is an objectively imperfect moment.
But Phineas is here with him, and Jonas is happy, and he thinks he’s never had a more perfect moment in his life.