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A key turned in the door to Wriothesley's office. Only moments later quick footsteps ascended the stairs. Wriothesley smiled to himself, and then to the person approaching him.
"Welcome back," he greeted Lyney. "How was your–"
Before he could finish his sentence, Lyney skirted around his desk, pushed Wriothesley back into his chair and climbed into his lap. His arms snaked around Wriothesley's waist and his face buried itself into Wriothesley's shoulder.
"Just hold me tightly, please," Lyney said, his voice strangely monotone.
After a moment of hesitation Wriothesley complied. "Are you okay?" he asked, wrapping his arms around Lyney's still figure.
"Tighter," Lyney said in lieu of an answer.
Wriothesley squeezed Lyney against him.
"Tighter."
"Do you want me to strangle you?" Wriothesley asked with a chuckle.
"Ideally you'd lie on top of me and crush me with your giant body until I've settled back inside myself," Lyney mumbled into his shoulder.
Ah.
Wriothesley's hand drifted to Lyney's head and started scratching at his scalp. Lyney let out a sigh, the tension starting to seep out of his body.
"Long day, huh?" Wriothesley smiled. "Did your show go well?"
Lyney hummed an affirmative, though it didn't sound particularly satisfied.
"I'm just growing weary of the act," he said softly.
"I thought your lineup was brand-new."
"Not... not that act."
Wriothesley's hand stilled. When Lyney didn't elaborate, he softly prompted, "then what act?"
"You know, just–"
Lyney sighed again, pushing himself upright and brushing his bangs out of his face. His gaze hovered on something behind Wriothesley's shoulder, his brows furrowing.
"Pretending to be someone I'm not. I mean– When I'm on stage, I'm– I'm me, but also not? And it's so second nature to me that Lynette looks at me weird when I smile too much or say something strange but I can't seem to turn it off?"
Lyney hid his face in his hands. "I-I just... Sometimes I can't remember which "me" is the real one. Whether there's a real ‘me’ at all, or that I am just– just a blank slate. An empty husk pretending to be a human."
His hands slid up to his hair, tugging at the strands hard enough that his gloves strained against his knuckles.
"It's– it's stupid, I know. Forget I said anything."
Wriothesley reached up and started gently untangling Lyney's fingers from his bangs.
"It's not stupid," he said, prying one hand loose. "I think... I think you've had to play so many different roles over your short lifetime. Sibling, protector, breadwinner, representative, entertainer... you've been so busy fulfilling those roles you haven't had the opportunity to discover who you are outside of those things."
Once he'd freed Lyney's hair from the prison of his fingers, he took Lyney's hand and pulled off his glove.
"But who you really are shines through those roles. It's what got you to take them up in the first place, even if it wasn't completely voluntary."
Lyney's eyes were distant, heavy. They looked like they wanted to cry but were too tired to. Wriothesley brought Lyney's hand to his mouth and kissed his palm. Lyney's gaze flicked to Wriothesley's.
"I... I feel like I'm losing myself," Lyney said softly. "I don't like what's left behind if I drop the smiles. But they're getting so heavy... I don't want them anymore. I don't want any of it."
As much as he ached to, this wasn't something Wriothesley could solve. Lyney's pain ran deep, rivers eroded into his bones after years and years of scraping by. Wriothesley wished he could snap his fingers and make it disappear, but the reality wasn't nearly as magical.
"I've got you," he whispered, pressing a kiss into Lyney's cheek before he pulled him closer again, squeezed him against him as tightly as he could, as though they might merge into one if he kept it up long enough. "You're not going anywhere, and neither am I."
Lyney stayed quiet, but his hands clung to Wriothesley like a lifeline.
"You're brilliant. You're enough. You just need a little rest," Wriothesley murmured. "Just let it out, Lyney. Don't hold on to it." Lyney made a sound of protest, followed by a wet sniffle as the dam finally broke.
They sat like that for Archons knew how long, Wriothesley rubbing Lyney's back and stroking his hair as tears silently dripped into his shirt. Wriothesley could only imagine the pressure Lyney was under, the responsibilities he had to balance. Selfishly, he was glad that Lyney was spending more and more time underground; he felt that maybe he was pulling Lyney away from all that harmed him on the surface, and hoped that the water and the pipes and the metal could shield him, create a place where he, however briefly, could exist untouched, untethered. A place where he could find himself before he gave facets of himself away again.
Wriothesley imagined a world where both of them could be free, unburdened by their pasts or their futures. A world with only sunlight, and rolling hills of the greenest grass, and rainbow roses and fireflies. It was but a dream for him as well, one too bright for his sensitive eyes, but perhaps they could start building their small, flawed version of paradise down here.
That is, if Lyney desired it.
"You should go back up," Wriothesley said when Lyney's breathing had evened out. "Your siblings probably worry about you."
Lyney shook his head. "They know where I am."
Wriothesley tried again. "You should tell them about your struggles. You know they want to help."
Lyney's head shook again. "They won't understand. Not like you do. They... they should be kept in the light. That's where they belong."
"And you don't?" Wriothesley asked softly.
Lyney thought it over.
"I've had enough light for a while," he said, his voice carrying the weight of his exhaustion. "I want to be someplace quiet. Where no one can see me. Where I can't see myself."
Those thoughts sounded all too familiar.
"Just rest," Wriothesley nudged him. Away from that all-consuming darkness. "Stay here, or sleep in my bed. I'll join you when I'm done."
Lyney stayed put, shifting only to make himself comfortable. He curled up in Wriothesley's lap like a cat, pulling his knees up and resting his head in the crook of Wriothesley's neck. Wriothesley used one hand to keep him in place while he sorted through documents with the other.
"You're so warm for someone with a Cryo vision," Lyney mumbled, just before his grip on Wriothesley loosened, his tense fingers finally slackening.